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 I finally get round to updating. I've been hit by inspiration, and soon things are going to take their own path.

A very, very different path.

Part 31-Dusk and Dawn

Alicarius spent the next few days in a whirlwind of activity, changing the legion and reworking it from the ground up. Soldiers were organised into squads led by sergeants. Certain members contained specialists such as marksmen, while the others were armed simply with rifles, swords and shields. Ten squads would form a company, led by a captain and each garrison would consist of three companies, with any troops left over to be moved to fotresses or cities where garrisons were under strength. Alicarius wanted Martin to inherit a realm that would have a viable army-no doubt many nations would be keen to dispute his claim to the throne and seize territory. Skyrim had just been the first to do so.

It was a hectic time, and by the time Alicarius had sent out orders, considered the logistics of his plan and threatened repercussions to a commander who refused to put through his plan. By the time his plans had been implemented, a week had passed.

“Message for you sir,” a legionnaire said, as he entered the barracks room where, but a week ago, Alicarius had comprehensively humiliated Hentius Annit. “From the Blades.”

The message was simple and curt.

Alicarius

Return to Cloud Ruler Temple as soon as you possibly can. Trouble has arisen.

Jauffre

Alicarius sighed as he saw the message. Yet another distraction from his duties. Still, Mehrunes Dagon was a threat to Tamriel. Even though a base had been purged, the cult probably had others scattered around to work from.

“Bad news?” Serrio asked. He had been appointed the commander of Chorrol's garrison almost immediately, and had taken to his job with the same gusto that he approached everything else.

“Letter from Jauffre,” Alicarius said. “He says there's been a problem and that I need to return.

Serrio frowned.

“He really love to keep you busy, doesn't he?” he said.

Alicarius nodded.

“It happens,” he said. “Thann!”

Alicarius' new right hand man, a redguard, turned to see what his commander wanted.

“There's something that has come up,” Alicarius said. “I'm needed at Cloud Ruler Temple.”

“Don't worry sir, we'll keep things sorted out while you're there,” his lieutenant replied. “There's no point in keeping Jauffre waiting.”

Alicarius nodded his thanks.

“I should be going then,” he said. “Get somebody to send a pigeon to Jauffre and tell him I'm coming.”

“I'll get on it sir,” Thann said.

“Good job,” Alicarius said. He grabbed his halberd and clipped it into the sling he had attached to his armour's power pack. “I'll be going then.”

#

After he had gathered together a few supplies for travelling, Alicarius set out on the long road to Bruma. The journey was uneventful, but he was delayed when came to the point where, not long before, he had done battle with Jsashe and her army. He paused as he saw the wide circled of freshly turned earth that lay just a few metres from the road, the grave for both the Nord and Imperial troops that had died in the battle.

With great care, Alicarius took a handful of large stones and piled them up in a small mound on the frozen earth next to the grave. Hopefully, if continuously topped up by travellers, this cairn would last long after the memory of the battle had been forgotten

After travelling a while longer, Alicarius finally reached the stone walls of Bruma. As he made his way through the town noticing a blacksmith's shop already proudly displaying a selection of muskets and pistols. Alicarius had had his doubts about allowing the powerful weapons to be sold, but he knew that if he didn't they would be smuggled and sold illegally in any case, proably within just a few weeks. As long as he kept the Legion's models as the most up to date then he was confident that Cyrodiil would remain the dominant military power.

He pushed the north gate open, savouring the feel of the crisp breeze on his craggy and scarred face. His helmet was stored in the backpack he had taken, and he now let the chilly air whip around his face. The walk up to Cloud Ruler Temple was quiet, his only company the wind blowing through the bare pines, but by the time he reached the fortress his face was becoming numb with cold.

As he approached the wall, one of the sentries spotted him and shouted down from his tower; “Who goes there?”

“Alicarius Justinian, Lord Commander of the Imperial Legion,” Alicarius said. “I have a meeting with Jauffre.”

“Heard you were coming, sir,” the sentry replied. “If you wait just a moment I'll have the gates open.”

The huge wooden gates rumbled open, their hinges groaning. Alicarius made his way through the huge stone portal, boots clanking on the frost coated flagstones.

“Mind your step sir,” one of the Blades called down. “The stones get very slippy when its frosty.”

“I will,” Alicarius said. He made his way up the steps, concious of the warning and avoiding the thicker patches of ice. He quickly made his way to the top of the steps, up to the main hall of Cloud Ruler Temple.

He pushed the doors open, and entered the main hall. After the biting cold of the outside, it was refreshing to be in the warmth again. He noticed Jauffre conversing with the Argonian, Walker-on-the-Water in a corner, and called out a greeting.

“Alicarius,” Jauffre said in surprise. “You arrived quicker than expected.”

“I can travel fast when I need to,” Alicarius said. “But that's beside the point. Have there been any developments on finding the amulet.”

“There have,” Jauffre said. “Both good and bad.”

“What's gone wrong?” Alicarius asked.

“Walker's been doing some excellent undercover work for us,” Jauffre said. “And we discovered that the Mythic Dawn has been spying on us, trying to gauge our defences. Walker managed to deal with them, but they have obviously recovered from the elimination of another base, and we're racing against time here.”

“So what's the good new then?” Alicarius said.

“Martin has managed to translate some of the Mysterium Xerxes,” Walker said. “We know one of the things we need to enter Paradise and retrieve the Amulet of Kings.”

“And what's that?” Alicarius asked.

“According to the Mysterium, the 'blood of the daedra,'” Jauffre said. “We think this is some kind of daedric artefact.”

“Why not simply use a piece of daedra made weaponry?” Alicarius said. “It isn't too hard to find.”

Jauffre shook his head.

“It's not that simple,” he said. “It needs to be something powerful and rare. Something made by one of the daedric princes.”

“And how am I supposed to get that?” Alicarius asked.

“There are various shrines scattered around Cyrodiil,” Walker said. “Secret places, usually, dedicated the worship of the daedric princes. If you find one and run an errand for the prince there, people are often rewarded with an artefact of some sort.”

“And you think I can get help from a daedra?” Alicarius asked. “Despite the fact that at least one of them is determined to destroy Cyrodiil.”

“The daedric princes fight and squabble amongst themselves all of the time,” Jauffre said. “They are fractional beings-one of them is bound to benefit from the downfall of Mehrunes Dagon.”

“So which one do you think I should appeal to?” Alicarius asked.

“I think our best bet would be Azura,” Jauffre said. “She has aided the empire in the past and I believe she may do so again.”

“So where can I find her shrine?” Alicarius asked.

“It's east of Bruma,” Jauffre said. “In the mountains. Be careful, will you? The passes can get quite treacherous now winter's setting in.”

“I'll be fine,” Alicarius said.

Little did he know, he would be wrong.

#

The wind whipped round Alicarius' helmet as he crested yet another hill. Fine and downy flakes built up against his armoured arm as he raised it against the wind, scanning for any kind of statue or temple, something that would show there was a shrine present.

There was nothing, only another valley, a gentle lee that was being slowly filled with snow. Alicarius sighed and trudged on, down into the valley.

And into a warm, sunny glade.

Alicarius gave a start of surprise as he saw the sudden change. He was standing on a carpet of grass. The valley was lined with rows of rose bushes, massive plants with flowers blooming a foot wide. Here and there, bobbing and dancing points of light rose from the ground, waltzing together lazily in midair.

One of them approached the space marine, softly rising and falling before coming to a halt before him.

“Approach, catalyst,” it spoke in a voice as soft as the sun hitting a lake. “Approach.”

Alicarius frowned at it in confusion, before stepping forwards. The light danced away, before stopping again, once more whispering; “Approach.”

Alicarius followed it, and he noticed more and more of the lights came, whirling and spinning around him in a corona of brightness. Despite himself, Alicarius smiled- there was something refreshing about the lights, something simple and joyful that left him feeling rejuvenated and reborn.

The lights led him onwards through the lush and green valley, a guiding halo that took him through the strange place to a statue. There were a few benches on the ground in front of it, and about half a dozen people waiting in a semicircle around.

As one, they saw him and turned.

“The catalyst comes,” one of them said. “Approach the statue, Grey Knight.”

They parted before his figure, the lights retreating to ring the strange congregation.

“You have come,” a voice spoke, laden with ancient power. “As was foretold.”

Alicarius frowned as he heard this.

“You have been expecting me?” he asked.

“I have,” the voice said. “At long last I meet Alicarius Justinian.”

“Who are you?” Alicarius asked, suspicion laden on his voice. “What do you want with me?”

“I am Azura,” the voice said. “Lady of dawn and dusk. And you, you are Alicarius Justinian. You are the Catalyst.”