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The Return of the Warmaster


Skirax

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Calgar dying: Thank you very much

Lysander dying: Ain't happy but hey, he was supposed to be dead anyway (your retconned armour is no good here!)

Shrike dying: unimpressed, why does the shadow captain wear his jump pack in on the ship? I think he would also not be so hasty in using his jump pack to escape nor for such a long time.

The black templars dying: never cared about those guys anyway

Pedro kantors death: hill joke broke the feel of it all, maybe 'quick brothers, defeat our brothers bodies' but not such a atomosphere breaking joke such as that. However I feel pedro was rather screwed out of his life in a sence.

Dante: Deus ex machina, just 'assassin landed on his shoulders and stabbed his head'

Khan: bike bombing? well thats a first

vulkan: you are driving me up the wall not killing the smurfs first, I liked vulkan and such a quick death isn't fair, but hey, canon is a great thing!

(deny those I like with canon and hope to hell the rest i don't like get it)

 

I want to see azreal bite the emperor forsaken dirt, get rid of that of him.

Please, kill azreal. (oh and get rid of sicarius, cassius and tigerius. Don't forget mephiston!)

Abbadon sat atop his dark throne, brooding over the plan to come. This was to be his greatest triumph, the ultimate destruction of all things non-Chaos and Chaos' complete rule. His gods had relished the chance for the ultimate blow to Humanity for millennia on end and now he had begun it. When he first told the Gods of his plans, they had at first been exhilarated by the idea, but then they had seemed quite withdrawn, almost sad to have their source of misery and pain lost forever. However, Abbadon cared not for any bar himself.

The assassin entered the room, and it had become quite clear that his plan was not a false promise, like that which the Emperor had made him those many years ago. He was much larger, almost the size of Abbadon, and the Warmaster had recently become wary of the assassin. So many things had come to light in the recent months, and Abbadon was exasperated with pleasure at first, but then contemptuous jealousy grew with Abbadon’s black heart.

‘I see you have completed the Last Mission, assassin,’ boomed Abbadon.

The assassin lowered his hood, and revealed the most shocking scene Abbadon had seen in his ten millennia of service to the Ruinous Powers, the most perverted mockery of a face that he had ever seen, even by Grandfather Nurgle’s standards. Before him, with a face deformed by twisted sorcery of resurrection and warp-spawned horrors stood Suroh, a deformed son of the Emperor. The once Warmaster.

‘Father Horus, I-‘

‘DO NOT CALL ME BY THAT NAME!’ roared Suroh in his wheezing voice. Pure agony flashed across his face. His soul was tormented by the Gods for his failure, and they screamed his name until even he hated it. It was the name bestowed upon him by the Emperor, and although Horus had loved the Emperor, Suroh, his dark side, had always held contempt for the Master of Mankind. Now Suroh was the dominant one, and he was going to lead the attack against Mankind. Behind, of course, the Warmaster, as he was the stronger of the two now.

‘You seem stronger than you were. How come?’ asked Abbadon, ignoring Suroh’s outburst.

‘I managed to gain an extra kill, another to add to my blood soaked history,’ said Suroh, regarding the question with little concern.

‘But who?’

Suroh smiled. It was neither warm nor one of a happy soul. It was a dark, brooding, cold smile. ‘Khârn was weak. I thought his god would be able to defend him from the blades of my armoury, but no.’

Kharns death didn’t surprise Abbadon; he had died nearly one hundred times in the past century. However, he would soon rise from the embrace of death, and return to the Gods for an eternity of slaughter.

‘So, now there is no opposition to the Chaos Forces, and once I have united them, none shall stand before me. The Primarch’s shall be reunited, or at least those who have embraced Chaos, and the Imperium will be crushed!’ roared Abbadon, his almighty voice filling the chamber.

‘No,’ said Suroh calmly.

Abbadon rounded on his former master, a cold expression on his face. ‘What?’ he roared at Suroh, saliva flying from his mouth. Suroh wiped a bit of spit from his left cheek.

‘You have taken my Legion, and destroyed its honour. You have renamed it and blemished its mighty heraldry. Now I say no more!’ cried Suroh, his enlarged vocal cords swinging wildly around his neck. Before he could react, a large silver knife embedded itself in Abbadon’s neck, blood spilling from around it. He clawed at it, but to no avail. Somehow, by some dark powers, darker then Chaos itself, the knife was slowly pushing itself down Abbadon’s throat. ‘I shall take your head and for the dishonours you’ve performed, I shall hold it on a trophy rack atop my armour!’

 

A full two hours passed before Abbadon wielded. He was a powerful warrior, but Suroh had built in speed over the millennia, and he had ripped his spinal cord out of his back. Now Suroh had killed him, the powers of his former body were returning. Due to a bargain he made with a beast that resided deep in the warp, every time he killed someone, their power would become his, and slowly he would regain form and power. Now the black powers were rolling around him, as if reluctant to enter his body. Willing them into himself, Suroh closed his eyes and waited for the power to fill him.

It was pure sensation, an experience that filled him and made him feel like the strongest man in existence. As he regained his original shape, he wanted – nay, he needed – his onyx coloured Armour once again. Willing a small amount of his power to become his armour, a black suit covered him and engulfed him in a dark sensation, none like he had experienced before. One thing he didn’t expect however, was the pain.

He screamed and cried as his twisted shape regained that of a Primarch, the pain burning him up. He clutched his head and roared praises to the Warp Child.

When the sensation passed, he rose from the floor, a man so perfect it was unreal. His obsidian armour glowed deep within, and his Talons glinted in the dark light. As he admired his form, the Warp Child touched him.

The shadows thickened and the entire room became engulfed in darkness. ‘I see you have regained your form. Just as I predicted...’ growled a deep voice from the far reaches of the dark shadows. ‘Now, go and destroy the Imperium and the Emperor!’

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