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 now I've run out of pre-written parts. Eek!

Part 29-Nest of Vipers

Skyrim's army, defeated and battered, returned home quietly, escorted all the time by Chorrol's troops. The tension between the armies was palpable, but fortunately nothing happened by the time Skyrim's forces had reached their nation's borders. The army dispersed when they reached the borders, Nord soldiers taking the many different roads to their homes in the cities and towns.

Bruma was handed over without any problems. Alicarius personally thought the countess should have been executed for her treason and cowardly surrender of the city, but that was a matter beyond his control.

“That went cleanly,” Serrio said as the Nord soldiers crossed the border. “Lucky, really.”

Alicarius nodded.

“Could have been a lot worse,” Alicarius said. “All it really needed was one idiot and we would have been fighting again.”

“Still, with the muskets we would've made a mess of them,” Serrio pointed out.

“True, but I suppose no bloodshed at all is better,” Alicarius said. “Serrio, do you think you would be able to get the men back to Chorrol for me?”

“Yeah, sure I could,” Serrio said. “Why'd you ask?”

“Didn't you say that that Mythic Dawn place was near here?” Alicarius asked.

“That's true,” Serrio said. “Due east, I'd imagine.”

Alicarius turned to leave.

“Where're you going?” Serrio asked after him.

“To dispense the Emperor's law,” Alicarius replied.

#

The journey through the Jerall Mountains was a long, but pleasantly uneventful one. A system of roads had never been constructed through the mountains, and several times Alicarius had to backtrack and change his route to avoid getting lost. He ran into a tribe of ogres along the way, and used their supplies to stock up his own ones. He didn't touch the meat, however. There was no knowing where that had come from.

But after two days of travel, he reached his destination. The heretic's hideout was a cave, above Lake Arrius. The view was a stunning one, a waterfall cascading down into the river below the lake, and the town of Cheyindal and the rest of the Niben Basin stretching below him in a panoramic view. Shading his eyes against the sun, Alicarius could just make out the needle-like shape of White Gold Tower. It was a view worthy of awards.

The way into the Mythic Dawn's caverns was simply a slightly decrepit wooden door. Beyond it, the heretic's home awaited.

Danyil, the gatekeeper for the Mythic Dawn, had been having a bad day. For a start, that maniac, Erna Rahnis, had decided to visit them. The dark elf had, as he always did, made a nuisance of himself, and by the time he had disappeared the master had been most displeased. Danyil hadn't even seen the elf leave, and he had a nagging feeling that he was still around somewhere.

But what happened next was more than enough to eclipse his other troubles.

The door burst open, and in came the giant. The silver armoured behemoth grabbed Daynil by the throat in a grip like iron, and the cold, soulless visage of the giant's silver helmet.

“Do you repent?” the giant asked, his voice blaring through the helmet's speakers. “Do you renounce Mehrunes Dagon?”

Daynil gasped, struggling and kicking against the remorseless grip around his throat. Suddenly it was loosened and the wood elf was dropped on the ground. Desperately, he tried to scramble away, but it was no good; a massive boot had him pinned to the ground.

“What do you say?” the giant quizzed.

“Yes!” Daynil choked, his throat already beginning to bruise from the giant's grip. “I repent. Let me live, please.”

Alicarius stamped down, crushing the heretic's chest.

“The Emperor shall decide whether you shall live, by his side on the Golden Throne,” Alicarius said. “Not me.”

He carried on down into the darkness of the caverns, his halberd lighting the way with a crackling corona of electrical energy. A guard saw him, and with a scream of; “BLOOD FOR DAGON!” summoned a suit of armour and a weapon and rushed at Alicarius. For all his beserk fury, the fight lasted less than a second.

“Burn the heretic,” Alicarius murmured, the ancient catechism of hatred familiar to his lips. “Purge the xeno. Abhor the unclean.”

He came into a larger cavern, illuminated by guttering torches. Blasphemous runes were carved upon the walls, the skull rune of Khorne hacked into the stone by the zealous strokes of one of the cultists. An entrance to the deeper caves was blocked off by an iron gate, but Alicarius simply ripped the bars free and went through into the darkness.

The next cave obviously the central one, a huge cavern with a roof that towered several metres above the cavern. In the centre of the cavern, a stone altar had been hacked out of the rock, and a large archway that pulsed with warp energy was placed in the centre. Within it, Alicarius could see a vista of perfect beauty, a sun setting on a lush green landscape, completely at odds with the usual hellish realms of the warp. But what dominated his interest more was the elf dressed in ornate red robes standing atop the altar, and the amulet clasped in his hands. There were myriad other cultists assembled within the room, chanting praise to Mehrunes Dagon. Alicarius hoped this was not a summoning and simply another service-the last thing he wanted was a fight with a powerful daedra.

As soon as the elf saw Alicarius, he clutched the amulet close to him and shouted; “Kill him!”

He fled through the warp portal (for what else could it be?), the doorway into unreality sealing itself behind him. The rest of the cultists drew various weapons, willing to sacrifice their lives in a futile effort to kill Alicarius.

But Alicarius knew that it was his duty to convince these cultists the error of their ways and grant them absolution. For the heretic could still redeem themselves in the fires of redemption and sacrifice, and stand a chance at the Emperor's mercy.

With a wave of his hand, he extinguished the torches in the cavern, plunging it into darkness. He immediately activated the darksun filters of his helmet and the cave became illuminated in harsh tones of black and white, showing the members of the cult suddenly stumbling over themselves in the sudden darkness.

“Burn the heretic,” Alicarius said, loud enough for the men and women present to hear him. “Purge the xeno. Abhor the unclean. That is the creed of my people.”

He slipped past a stumbling cultist, before grabbing the man and sending him sprawling on the floor, leaving him to scream as his arm snapped under the impact of the blow.

“You are heretics,” Alicarius said, his voice still calm and flat. “Therefore you must be burned. Burn the heretic. That is the creed of my people.”

For a moment, he could have sworn he heard somebody muttering 'burnburnburnburn.'

“Can you expect mercy from me?” he asked. He smacked the flat of his halberd's blade against a stalagmite. “There can be no mercy from me. Mercy is a concept alien to me.”

By now, the cultists had stopped in their struggles and were huddled in the centre of the cave, at the edge of the altar.

“Yet there is still time for redemption,” he said. “Do you repent Mehrunes Dagon? Do you wish to redeem yourselves in the light of the Emperor, the true master of man?”

There was silence.

“Do you repent?” Alicarius asked again, his voice louder.

“I repent,” a terrified voice in the huddled mass of people said.

“I repent,” another said.

“Do you all repent?” Alicarius said.

“We repent!” the group said as one.

“Then embrace the light and warmth of the Emperor,” Alicarius said. He raised his hand towards the group and let white flames of psychic power burst forth. The cultists screamed and tried to escape, but it was too late-the burning phosphorescence of the flames burned their clothes and roasted them alive.

Only in death could the heretic gain redemption.

Alicarius relit the torches and looked on the altar to give him at least some kind of clue as to where the elf could have taken the amulet. The only thing he could find was a heavy, ancient looking book. Unholy symbols were written upon it's cover, ones that Alicarius guessed to be the unnatural scripture used by the daedra. He supposed that it could be useful to some extent, and picked it up.

As he was about to leave the cavern, he was stopped by the sound of slow clapping. He turned to see a man leaning against the wall on the other side of the cavern.

“My my,” the stranger said, sounding impressed. “What a mess you've made here.”

“Who are you?” Alicarius asked, raising his halberd.

“Call me Erna,” the man said. “Lovely to meet you.”

He walked towards the space marine, an erratic, zigzag walk that danced him across the floor like a mad waltzer.

He extended a hand.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he said.

Alicarius' halberd slammed into the man's chest and he wrenched it out in a spray of bubbling blood and viscera. The man called Erna toppled to the ground, dead.

Alicarius left.