Grey Knight, Warhammer 40,000 meets the Elder scrolls Options

[Colonel Mustard]

This is an idea I had a while ago, and had been entertaining for a while. As you may have guessed by the subtitle, this is an Elder Scrolls/40K crossover. For those you don’t know the rich lore of 40K, here’s a rough image of it.

It is the 41st millennium, and war has raged for eternity. The mighty empire of humanity, the Imperium of Man, rules the galaxy, home to a million worlds and untold trillions of people. Guided by its divine Emperor, interred on the golden throne after being wounded by his most favour son, the Imperium is a force that seems unstoppable. Yet mankind’s great empire is beset on all side by aliens, traitors and, most fearful of all, the daemons of the warp. These creatures, existing in a realm not dissimilar to Oblivion, are the most deadly threat to all living things. Existing in the warp are the four Gods of Chaos, Khorne, blood of skulls, death and battle, Slaanesh, God of Debauchery, Nurgle, god of decay and disease and Tzeentch, the god of plots and cunning, the weaver of fates and destinies, playing the great game of existence with the skill of a grand master. Whether they are united or they are divided, the four gods of chaos plot, scheme and plan to destroy the material world and make it one with the warp, damning all living things to a nightmarish existence of eternal torment.

And to fight these foes are the mightiest of warriors. The Space Marines, the Adeptus Astartes, the greatest warriors ever to stride upon a battlefield. Made by the divine Emperor of Mankind, each Space Marine is genetically engineered to be stronger, faster and far longer lived by any ordinary man, and psycho-indoctrinated to know no fear. Wielding the most powerful weapons and armours humanity has available; the Space Marines form an impenetrable bulwark against the foes of man. And greatest among them are the Grey Knights, Humanity’s last line of defence against the denizens of the Warp. The military branch of the Emperor’s Holy Inquisition; the Grey Knights are clad in blessed adamantium and wield the fabled Nemesis force weapons. Each one of these holy warriors is able to fight and defeat an army single handed. And now, a company of these blessed warriors has been sent to combat the dread army of Askillarrat the Insane, a greater daemon of Tzeentch, and amongst them is the fabled Brother Captain Alicarius.

Grey Knight-Book One of the Liber Oblivionicus

Part 1-Daemons

Purple flames clawed the sky like the talons of some bizarre, reality defying monster. Buildings were consumed by its twisting blaze, it intense heat melting the rockcrete and steel that made them up, slumping them down into a thick syrupy liquid.

And in the flames, creatures charged forward. Twisting and dancing impossibly, Daemonettes, the alluring yet repellent servants of Slaanesh, made their way through the flames, giggling and singing sweetly. Next to them shambled the Plaguebearers. Corrupted hulks, with a single eye and a horn sprouting form their foreheads, they dripped with disease, buboes spilling pus and gashes in their stomach spilling thick, rubbery intestines. They carried huge, rusted blades, thick with rotten blood and the entrails of their foes, whilst flies buzzed about them, occasionally stopping on their host to feast on a small part of rotten flesh.

Next to them sprinted Bloodletters, murderous servants of Khorne. Their skin, coloured blood red, split and bled constantly, an unending tribute to their monstrous patron. They hefted great broadswords, roaring and screaming in their hatred.

And most bizarre of all were the daemons of Tzeentch.

To behold a creature of such madness and lack of logic was enough to drive most men insane. The cavorting and twisting monstrosities giggled with insane laughter as they advanced, flames crackling around them. Faces formed on their bodies, in any place they could, sometime even being held between their outstretched hands.

And against this horde of unholy death stood fifty of the Imperium’s finest warriors. Nemesis force weapons were activated, electricity crackling around the blessed halberds and claymores. Storm bolters, mounted on the wrists of suits of adamantium armour, were cocked and loaded. The Grey Knights were the only force that stood between the Daemons and the utter annihilation of the planet.

Brother-Captain Alicarius muttered the prayer of vengeance as he slammed the specially made magazine of bullets into his weapon. Around him, warriors murmured prayers to the God-Emperor as they prepared for battle, checking weaponry systems and getting into battle formation. Behind, he heard Brother Deacus attach a tank of prometheus into his incinerator, the highly volatile fuel having been blessed and mixed with holy oils to cause the most damage possible to their daemonic foes.

The warriors took up their battle positions, and allowed the auto-senses in their helms to pick their targets and display their range.

The Daemons thundered onwards, approaching faster than ever.

“Pick Targets!” shouteded Alicarius. “On my order…fire!”

Bolter shells ripped from the Grey Knight lines, the bullets detonating inside their targets, causing the daemons to be blasted apart.

Yet they continued.

The Daemons came within Incinerator range, and burning blue fuel was jettisoned onto the creatures, burning many of them to cinders. Their screams echoed across the battlefield.

Then the creatures were upon the Grey Knight lines.

Alicarius swung his halberd in an arc, slicing through a bloodletter, before spinning and planting it in the bloated, rotten belly of plaguebearer. He yanked his weapon upwards, sending an arc of rotten gore flying into the air, before it splattered onto his armour. It hissed as it contacted the blessed adamantium, the ichors reacting violently with the holy oils and unguents upon the armour.

Alicarius span and slashed with his brothers, slicing through the daemons, bellowing litanies and prayers and sending off bursts of bolter fire at point blank range into any Daemon foolish enough to get close enough.

Suddenly, he was slammed to the ground by something that looked like a mechanical rhinoceros made of reddened brass, ridden by a Bloodletter. A Bloodcrusher of Khorne-a dread knight of the Blood God. The rider’s massive obsidian sword made a swing for Alicarius’ head, but he jerked his neck back to avoid being decapitated. He raised his own weapon and slashed through his enemy and its mount. Gore and mechanical parts scattered around him, and Alicarius rolled to his feet, slamming his blade into a daemonette too slow to avoid him. Then he was wreathed in blue fire.

He stood his ground, his body battling against the flames’ physical assault and his mind fighting the sorcerous one attempting to consume his soul. He took a step forwards, then another, constantly pushing against the power of the flames, to be confronted with the most bizarre creature possible.

Its body was shifting mass of purple-blue flames, while screaming maws that belched fire twisted and writhed around its body. Alicarius’ halberd slice through it, and it disappeared in a cloud of glittering blue smoke.

He turned as his hyper-enhanced senses picked up the sound of someone moving behind him. He span, storm bolter raised, to see a monstrous creature born of man’s worst nightmares. Similar to some massive, bipedal vulture, the creature’s multicoloured feathers flickered and twitched madly. In one of its clawed hands it held a staff, crackling with sorcerous power.

It was a Lord of Change, a greater daemon of Tzeentch and most powerful of his servants.

Alicarius let of a burst of fire with his storm bolter, the weapon’s immense recoil dampened by the servos contained within his armour, but it was to no avail. Even with the innumerable blessing laid upon them, the explosive bullets could not penetrate the shield of magical power that guarded the daemon. Hefting his halberd, he charged.

His first blow was blocked by the daemon’s staff, but Alicarius could see that its daemonic creature within it was struggling to repulse the holy power of his weapon. He span, allowing his momentum to carry him away from the daemon, before his weapon sliced through the monster’s ankle.

At least, it would have done.

With a boom of air being suddenly misplaced, the daemon disappeared, and reappeared to his left instantaneously.

“Very good, captain!” it roared over din, its beak clacking with every word. “But you won’t kill me that easily.

It leapt forward, attempting to crush him with its taloned feet, but Alicarius had expected this and simply dodged out of the way. He turned, just in time to block the daemon’s descending staff. It withdrew, only to strike again, but Alicarius parried it before charging forward, allowing his weight and momentum to plough him into the monstrous bird-creature. It reacted too slowly, and roared with pain as the sigils and wards upon Alicarius’s shoulder guard touched its skin, burning and blackening it. In return, it sent a blast of warp fuelled lightning towards him, but the same psychic shields that had just hurt it so stopped the attack.

“You cannot beat me,” it shouted. “No-one can beat me!”

“I wouldn’t be so sure!” he shouted.

The daemon raised a multicoloured eyebrow.

“Behind you,” Alicarius murmured.

The daemon turned, cautiously keeping an eye on him to ensure against a surprise attack. Then it saw two grey knights carrying incinerators behind it. It didn’t have time to dodge before burning promethium, mixed with blessed oils and unguents, was pumped directly onto it.

It jerked and spasmed as the hyper-volatile fuel gushed over it, and fell to the floor, writhing in agony. The burning hot assault abated suddenly, and Alicarius nodded his thanks to his two battle-brothers.

“I said you shouldn’t be so sure,” he said, as he walked over to the daemon, his blade raised and readied to deliver the killing blow.

“Neither should you,” the deamon riposted, its beak splitting in a perverse mirror of a grin. A barrier of warp fuelled lightning formed around them, crackling and twisting madly. Alicarius tried to back away, but the lightning would not let him pass, at least, not let him pass without burning him to a crisp.

The light shone brightly over them, dazzling Alicarius even through his helmet’s filters, and the only noise louder than the crackling was the daemon’s laughter.

“You’re coming with me now!” he roared. “I’ll torture your soul for eternity!”

“Never!” Alicarius roared back.

As the warp and reality began to merge around him in the tiny, self contained space, Alicarius did the only thing he could. He turned, sprinted, and plunged his blade into the daemon’s feathered breast, killing both its physical form and the essence of it soul.

And around him, reality shattered in a flash of light, sucking him into the warp.

This post has been edited by The Bean: Feb 22 2009, 04:37 PM

[Colonel Mustard]

Part 26-War

Two days later

Serrio pushed the, curiously unmanned, gates of Chorrol open, to find the main street deserted, except for a pigeon industriously pecking at the remnants of a loaf of bread. His forehead creased in a frown of concern, he headed towards the castle, then stopped as he heard the sound of cheering and yelling coming from the north of the castle.

He hurried over to see what was going on, to be greeted by the most bizarre sight imaginable.

Two towers, fairly ramshackle affairs built of planks, had been constructed on the town's common area, and what seemed to be the entire garrison was fighting over them. Half of them seemed to be wearing blue sashes, the other wearing red ones, and they met in the middle, shields locked together in a wall. Both of them were shoving against eachother, the men's weapon's lashing out over the top. Around them, the rest of Chorrol's citizens were gathered, cheering them on. One particularly enterprising Nord had even set up a stall to take bets.

For a moment, it seemed that the stalemate would last for a long while, before a trio of men from the red group pushed round from the side, knocking their opponents aside before the entire blue wall crumbled as the men fell back, gaining a cheer from the crowd. Forced back, the blue team retreated to the base of their tower, shields raised.

The red team surrounded them, pushing them back to the base of the blue's tower, before they withdrew up the ladder, refusing to give ground. A group of five men bravely elected to stay at the base of the ladder to allow their comrades to get away. They held the attackers back long enough for them to get up the ladder, before they were overwhelmed and pushed out.

“Alright, enough!” Alicarius yelled, holding up his hands, causing the legionnaires to halt. There were some cheers and groans from the crowd as they collected or parted with bets.

“Good work, everyone,” Alicarius said, as the legionnaires around the tower dispersed to grab a drink. “Well done to Orras' men.”

The five men who had held the base of the tower gave a cheer.

“What's this all about?” Serrio asked, as he hurried over to Alicarius.

“Serrio,” Alicarius said, smiling. “You arrived sooner that I thought.”

“I mightn't have arrived at all,” Serrio said accusingly. “Those cultists are a nasty bunch, and no mistake. But you haven't said what this is supposed to be doing.”

“Training,” Alicarius said. “For large scale combat-they've gotten used to fighting just bandits. I need them fighting well trained soldiers, so why not legionnaires?”

“Why though?” Serrio asked.

“Read this,” Alicarius said, handing Serrio a copy of the Black Horse Courier.

Skyrim invades Morrowind! the headline exclaimed.

“Ah,” Serrio said slowly. “This doesn't look good, does it? What happened?”

Alicarius nodded.

“They attacked from Rifton,” Alicarius said. “They crossed the Skyrim mountains in a few days and have already taken Blacklight.”

“So you're worried about an attack on Chorrol?” Serrio asked.

“After Bruma, Chorrol's the closest to Skryim, and I don't think Jsashe is going to stop there,” Alicarius said. He had heard a few things about the witch that ruled the town of Rifton, and non of them were good-she was ruthless, cruel and cunning, and a very dangerous foe indeed.

“Bruma's been taken?” Serrio asked.

“Taken? Pah!” Alicarius spat, causing the grass his saliva hit to bubble and hiss. “The countess just handed over the city as quick as you like. Filthy traitor.”

“So what are we going to do now?” Serrio asked.

“Jsashe isn't going to stop until she has the entirety of Cyrodiil in her hands,” Alicarius said. “She conquered Skyrim while we were distracted by the Emperor's assassination, and now Ocato's gone she's taken Bruma. She's proclaimed herself prophetess of Lorkhan and has the entire nation behind her. It's as I feared-Tamriel's already falling apart.”

“What about Cloud Ruler Temple?” Serrio asked suddenly.

“I received word from Jauffre,” Alicarius said. “They negotiated a truce with the Skyrim forces. Still, if the army want to take it then it's their funeral. I've seen that place, and believe me, it's impenetrable.”

“What are we going to do though?” Serrio asked.

“Us?” Alicarius asked. “We're going to war.”

#

Chorrol's army was on the move. From fresh faced recruits to grizzled veterans, soldiers marched from the city's gates, a full three hundred of them. Only a skeleton guard was left behind, the town's garrison otherwise leaving in it's entirety.

The odds were stacked against them, and badly so. The Nord army numbered in the thousands, the entire nation's soldiery fighting on the two fronts of Morrowind and Northern Cyrodiil. And Skyrim's soldiery was practically the entire nation. There seemed no way that a few hundred soldiers from Chorrol could hope to halt the rampaging monster that was the Nord war machine.

But Alicarius had a plan, and even though he said so himself, a damn good one at that.

He did not lead the column, leaving that to Serrio, but instead occupied himself in supervising the wagons that were following it, particularly the covered carts. He needed them intact.

For the past week, booms and blasts had echoed around Chorrol as Alicarius tested his new devices and trained the soldiers in their usage. With luck, they would turn the tide of battle, and could well revolutionise the way wars were fought throughout Nirn.

Karros came up next to him, saluting.

“Everything is in order sir,” he said. “Their packed away safely-I saw to it myself.”

“Good,” Alicarius said. Karros turned to leave, before Alicarius stopped him with a question. “Karros, what do you think of these?”

“With all due respect, I don't like them sir,” the veteran replied. “They're noisy, they're heavy and they hurt like hell if you hold them wrong and fire. Give me a bow any day.”

“True,” Alicarius said. “But think of the damage they'll cause. Believe me, the Nord army will crumple when they see this.”

“And if they don't?” Karros asked. “What about a plan b?”

“I'll be the plan b,” Alicarius said.

“There are thousands of them,” Karros said. “Even you can't...”

Alicarius raised his hand.

“I killed a deadrahost with no armour and only my halberd,” he said. “I don't mean to boast, but I'm fairly sure I can handle some nords.”

“Thousands of them though?” Karros asked. “No offense sir, but you must be mad to think you can.”

Alicarius shrugged.

“If that's the case, then I'll just have to be a little mad,” he said.