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]

And the next part. Blimey, I'm running out of pre-written parts...

Part 28-Grund

The giant stepped through the Nord lines, each footstep thundering upon the ground, not caring whether or not it stepped on any soldiers. With two massive strides, it reached their front.

“FALL BACK!” Alicarius roared. “FALL BACK NOW!”

The trebuchet sent another load of explosives into the monster, and as the soldiers of Chorrol and the Legion fled back up the hill, leaving only Alicarius behind, the giant's torso exploded in a waft of flame. The air began to stink of burning hair and chemicals, Grund flailing uselessly against the fire. He dropped, and for a moment Alicarius hoped that the monster had been killed by the siege weapon, but the giant rolled, his mass extinguishing the inferno.

Grund rose, ruddy skin scorched black and a murderous expression upon his face. He wrenched a rock from the ground and hurled it at the trebuchet, the siege weapon exploding in a shower of shattered beams and splinters. The men manning it fled to join their comrades up at the top of the hill, not wanting to risk the wrath of Grund. Only Alicarius remained, weapon at the ready, poised to fight.

Grund grabbed his massive club from where it had fallen, and with a single gargantuan swing, smashed it into the spot where Alicarius was. With agility that was surprising for someone of his size, the Grey Knight had already leapt aside and rolled. Grund's massive strength proved to be to his disadvantage, and Alicarius charged forwards and scored a deep cut in Grund's arm. The giant roared in pain and smashed Alicarius aside with a hand the size of a small car.

Wrenching his club out of the ground, Grund took another clumsy swing at Alicarius, but he had already scrambled to his feet and dodged away. Realising that his plan of simply crushing the space marine into the ground wasn't working, Grund instead took a long swing at Alicarius, his club parallel to the ground.

Alicarius realised he couldn't dodge in time, and opted for another plan. He stood firm, locking the leg joints of his armour and placed his halberd out before him.

The club slammed into the weapon with enough force to topple a building, and the impact drove Alicarius back several paces, his boots digging deep furrows into the ground. Warning runes flashed up on the HUD of his helmet but he ignored them-he had more pressing concerns.

Grund stumbled from the sudden change in momentum, dropping his club and almost toppling over. Alicarius wrenched his halberd free, unlocking the armour in his legs and charged at the giant, slamming his weapon into Grund's shin. The massive creature roared in pain and fell to one knee, the impact causing the ground to shake. Alicarius' momentum carried him through the monster's legs, forcing him to abandon his halberd, and straight into one of Grund's flailing hands.

The impact knocked the breath out of him, and Alicarius was stunned by it, head swimming as he was lifted up to go face to face with Grund. The giant roared at the space marine in his hand, the noise deafening even with the protection offered to him by his helmet. Grund began to squeeze, and Alicarius groaned in pain as he felt a rib break with a sickening crack. His armour began to pump painkillers into his system, the afflicted area already going numb, but Alicarius was less concerned with that and more preoccupied by his heart and lungs-the damage done to him by Ocato wasn't fully healed, and the strain of the giant's assault could be too much for his twin hearts.

The giant loosened his grip and squeezed again, gurgling in the simple joy of inflicting pain of something smaller and weaker than itself, before Alicarius marshalled his psychic powers and blasted them towards Grund.

They would have had little effect on something that could withstand a direct hit from the trebuchet's explosives, but Alicarius wasn't aiming to hurt Grund. A flash of blinding white light sprang from Alicarius' body, and Grund instinctively dropped him to shield his eyes. He landed with a painful crunch, but immediately scrambled to his feet. Grund, still dazzled by the sudden burst of psychic light from Alicarius, stumbled around blindly, unable to see where Alicarius was.

He immediately took his opportunity and tore his halberd free from the giant's ankles, sending blood and viscera spraying in all directions. He span and mercilessly hacked at the giant's good ankle, slicing through the flesh and bone with three blows. Grund gave a wordless scream of agony and fell, clutching at the stump of his ankle and causing the Nord army to groan in despair.

Alicarius immediately sprinted to giant's head, raised his halberd and slammed it down. In one slice, he severed the monstrous creature's head from its shoulders, and rolled it to face the Nord lines.

“Grund is defeated!” he roared to them.

He saw Jsashe, standing on her chariot and looking thunderous, roar out an order. From his position, Alicarius thought it sounded worryingly similar to 'Kill him!'

With a bloodthirsty roar, what was left of the Nord army thundered forwards.

“Well,” Alicarius murmured to himself as he readied his halberd. “I can't deny the claim that I fought an army any more.”

The nord army hit him like a tidal wave striking a rock. But Alicarius was no mere rock.

As soon as the Nord hit, Alicarius swung his halberd round in a wide arc, the weapon smashing through the soldiers, sending blood and limbs flying. He allowed his momentum to carry him in a full circle, carving a bloody path through the Nord army. Taking his halberd in both hands and whirling it like around him like a dynamo, Alicarius advanced forwards, the weapon crackling with electrical power, boiling the blood that coated it.

A man leapt on his back, pummelling at his power-pack with his mace, but Alicarius wrenched him off, sending him flying away. But more and more soldiers piled onto him, their numbers threatening to overwhelm the giant warrior. Within moments, Alicarius was weighed down beneath a mass of Nord soldiers, attacking mercilessly with axe, mace, sword and spear.

Alicarius suddenly exploded out of the pile like an erupting volcano, sending men flying away. He swung his halberd in an arc, smashing men away with the sheer force of his blows. He roared a litany of hatred, smashing his weapon into a mass of men, shearing through their ranks.

He gasped as he felt a sudden tight pain in his chest, a pain he had been dreading. The damage done to his internal organs after his fight with Ocato was still a problem, one that was now proving deadly. He stumbled, still swinging his weapon wildly, trying to keep the Nord soldiers back. Then he fell to his knees, gasping for air beneath his helmet. The Nords hung back, no doubt still nervous after he had slaughtered so many of their comrades.

Gasping for air, Alicarius wrenched off his helmet and spat a gobbet of blood. He heard the sound wheels approach and saw the feet of one of the bears pulling Jsashe's chariot. She dismounted from the vehicle and Alicarius, trying to ignore the feeling that one of his hearts might burst from the strain, raised his head to make eye contact.

“So, the mighty Grey Knight is laid low,” Jsashe said. She was gloating, over him all of all people. “I never thought I'd see the day.”

Alicarius struggled to his feet. He found the idea of being killed by this witch, while on his knees after a seizure, somewhat demeaning. He snarled at her weakly.

“Still defiant?” Jsashe asked. “We'll see.”

She sent her spear jabbing towards his throat, a blow aiming to kill him.

Alicarius caught it.

A contorted, pained, demented, predatory grin was on his features as he held the tip of the weapon in his fist, the iron point inches from his throat. With a flick of his wrist, he snapped it, the wood splintering. Still baring his teeth, grimacing in pain like a trapped and wounded animal, Alicarius spat.

His saliva, mixed with blood, hit Jsashe's eyes, hit home, and she dropped her spear and collapsed, screaming and clawing at her eyes in pain. After a moment, it overrode her nervous system and she fell unconscious. Alicarius picked her and his helmet up in one hand, his halberd in the other.

He advanced toward the Imperial lines, the soldiers parting before him. As he carried Jsashe with him, he spoke.

“Men of Skyrim!” he said. “Your leader is defeated, and you giant dead. You have been defeated. You have fought honourably and with courage, I cannot fault you for that. But today has already proved that your steel cannot bring down this warrior.”

That was a lie-the way his heart was holding out, if one soldier plucked up the courage to attack him and rescue his leader, the rest would follow and he would be finished. None of them did, however. They just watched him warily.

“I would bet good money on many of you not being professional soldiers,” Alicarius continued-after all, how else could Jsashe raise such a huge army without conscripting from Skryim's people? “And I would guess that many of you simply want to return to your shops and your farms, and to your wives and children.”

He reached the edge of the Nord lines, climbed a little further up the hill of the valley before turning to face them.

“I shall not stop you doing so,” he said. “You are brave soldiers, and I am willing to do the honourable thing and allow you disperse and return to your homes. If you leave quietly, surrender Bruma and restore Skyrim's old borders then there shall be no retribution against you soldiers. But if I hear any news of farms being looted, of people being assaulted as you leave, then believe me, there will be a reckoning! Now leave. Take your wounded and return to your homes.”

As Alicarius went up the hill to the Imperial ranks, he was greeted with an awed silence.

“Serrio,” he called.

His ever-reliable captain hurried out of the ranks, musket slung over one shoulder.

“Yes sir?” he asked.

“Get some details organised to collect our wounded,” Alicarius said. He could see a few captains down in the Nord army doing the same. “And give me your knife a moment.”

Serrio took a knife from the back of his boot and handed it to Alicarius.

“What are you doing sir?” he asked, as Alicarius lifted Jsashe's dress up, exposing the back of her legs.

“Crippling her,” Alicarius replied.

“Why?” Serrio asked. “Why not just kill her?”

“It's easy to rally around a martyr,” Alicarius said. With two neat cuts, he severed the hamstring tendons behind Jsashe's knees, letting the legs flop loosely. “It's not so easy to rally around a blind cripple.”

Serrio looked slightly pale as Alicarius handed back the knife. He was a soldier, used to bloodshed and death, but he obviously found the callous brutality of what he had witnessed somewhat shocking.

“Now,” Alicarius said. “Are you just going to stand there? We've got wounded to collect.”