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The Rise of the Warmaster

Skirax

By Skirax
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Skirax Venerable Brother

Skirax

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The soldier’s weapons blazed red with warp-fuelled flames, and before Suroh could hope to defend himself, the flames were released from the Custodes Spear and, like a shackled hound broken free, it surged towards Suroh, intent on tearing him apart. It roared through the air, homing in on him, and preparing to shear the flesh from his bones.

However, as it came close to him, it dissipated, leaving nothing but the smell of charred air in the room. Suroh stared down at his limbs, waiting to see burnt flesh covering his bones, it hanging limp from his skeleton. But instead he saw his skin re-healing the wounds he had suffered at the hands of Uhlos’ minions. He felt a slow rippling over his back and his hand found only smooth flesh when they inspected the newly healed skin. But as his old wounds healed, another appeared as he was struck about his head, causing him to lose consciousness.

 

************************************************

 

He was opening his eyes for the first time in what was obviously a long time, his vision clouded and hazy, objects drifting in and out. Blood swam across his vision and, despite being in pain, he couldn’t help but smile at the fact that...he was back. Battered and bruised, on the verge of death albeit. But back. Unlike the other Gods, the Star Child had delivered his promise. As the ghosts of a smile crept across his scarred face, a large armoured boot crashed down on his face.

If he hadn’t been in pain before, he was now. He felt blood pour down his face, the quickened pulse of his heart pounding just beneath the outer layer of his flesh, sending what felt like several pints go streaming down the left side of his face. He brushed his hand against his wound and he realised that a large portion of his forehead had caved in. It was a miracle he was alive, although he soon realised the dent wasn’t too deep. Where before his vision had been clouded, it was now an impenetrable fog of gore and blood, his pupils trickling blood and his irises turning a sick red.

Sound filtered in through his ringing ears, the voices gruff and one of them sounded like the scraping of metal on metal, a rough sound that stung his eardrums.

‘The Psyker couldn’t penetrate his mind, my lord,’ came the gravelly voice. ‘I think he may have the Pariah gene.’

‘Impossible,’ the voice was commanding and powerful. Suroh instantly recognised it as Uhlos. ‘How could have been connected to the foul entities of Chaos?’ – it sounded as if he spat the word.

‘Hard to say sire, but even my honed powers and iron will couldn’t break him.’

‘Hmm... this is a matter of great concern... He wakes! Cease! Look at me, you foul bastaerd,’ Suroh’s vision cleared in an instant, as though this man willed it. Then he realised that his bleeding had stopped, and his wounds were slowly healing. So he had regained his gene-enhanced blood-clotting system. Useful.

‘You will stand before your lord, worm!’ shouted an Imperial Army soldier from behind him. Another clout round the ear saw him rise to his feet out of anger, not respect. But obviously Uhlos couldn’t tell, and addressed him.

‘You, maggot, are an enigma. You obviously weren’t born with the Pariah gene, and yet my greatest Acolyte cannot hurt your mind and instead you burn him alive. However, you have regardless gained the gene and so will be taken to the Calexus Temple and you shall be put to use against the nemies of the Emperor.’ Uhlos spoke like it was a great mercy and honour, but Suroh could think of no worse punishment.

Hubernator Veteran

Hubernator

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Don't worry Firenze, I'm sure one day you'll get hit with the Brick of Inspiration. Believe me, I've had it thrown at me many times over the past week, it's leaving bruises on my head. Curse you Tzeentch for changing it into something harder with each throw! :D

 

And Skirax, hope it's good. Keep them brain fluids flowing and produce something awesome :(

Skirax Venerable Brother

Skirax

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The next chapter of Suroh's bloody career is a time of mystery, scraps of records peiced togethor through the inventive imagination of the Departmento Historium, an almagam of history throughout the human-controlled areas of the universe and actions of individuals that affected the entire Imperium.

 

Suroh's training in the Calexus Temple was a long and arduous time, but, as would be expected of a demi-god, he was the top student, and slowly, Suroh rose to prominence in the Temple, his teachers and overseers consistently impressed with his mighty abilities. He had, obviously, crafted a name for himself. Suroh was such an obvious link to 'Horus' and he couldn't take that chance, especially since he was working for the inventively named inquisitive Inquisition. Using Xantes as a base, he eventually twisted it to Xerxes, who was once an influential figure in Terra’s ancient times. He continually proved himself ready to kill for his (temporary) masters, and even more so to regain his powers. However, his masters frequently said that ‘there wasn’t something quite right with the man’. This, twinned with the fact that he was extremely over-eager to begin killing, led them to refrain from fielding him in battle, fearful of the possibility that he may begin killing his fellow soldiers. And so, Suroh remained inactive for the better part of a decade.

Suroh was sitting in his quarters, a once bare room now riddled with deep marks he had scratched into the ceramite walls. Some depicted iconography of his old Legion, others were marks of the Chaos Gods that glowed with ethereal powers. Strangely, he was continually drawn to drawing the Imperial Aquila. Unable to explain why, he consoled himself in its beauty and, even though it was the bastard Emperor that had first thought it up, he couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer simplicity of the design. A blind head to the past and an eager head to the future, with two majestic wings spread out around them. He was staring at a large one which took up most of the wall behind his bed, when one of his masters entered the room. A large man, he dwarfed Suroh in his current state. A thick moustache sat atop his upper lip, and hollow cheeks sat beneath sunken eyes, ringed with scars and weighed down with dark bags that hung below them. Suroh snarled at him and turned back to the vast Aquila.

‘Prep your gear,’ said the master, ‘you’re to report to the landing pad in fifteen minutes. No later.’ He spat the last two wards at Suroh. He hung in the doorway, waiting for Suroh to speak. But the silence he had kept since his induction into the temple would not be broken. Muttering to himself, the master closed the door on Suroh and immediately he got to work. Bringing his gear out from under his spartan bed, and laid his weapons out on the floor. A small pistol, capable of taking a xeno’s head off, but as for armour, it would do nothing. A long sabre, crafted by master artisans, sheathed in an ornate case. And there, resplendent though an affront to his honour as a servant of Chaos, a suit of armour able to enhance his movement and make him incredibly nimble, emblazoned with wide-spread eagles and symbols of ‘I’s with strikes at their sides. It was dark black and the helmet was elongated, stretching far beyond the back of his head. He wasn’t sure yet as to why it was so long. Maybe it would all become clear, he thought.

He was being marched down a long processional street, lined with modified Storm Troopers and penitent Psykers, which cringed and recoiled at his presence. Atop a stage at the end of the street stood Uhlos, his fur cloak draped around his shoulders and badges of high honour, given to him by the High Lords of Terra, shone in midnight gloom. Alongside him stood his acolytes, one carrying a single, large-barrelled piece, one end riddled with sensor-plugs, the other a large hole. It was empty, he could see that from here, and its exact purpose was lost to him. As he approached the stage, and began climbing it’s steps, Uhlos smiled a grand, yet pitiful smile, as if he would never see Suroh again. Heh, think again, he thought. He stepped up before Uhlos, and prepared to receive his speech of honour. Instead, one of the acolytes moved forward and attached the weapon to his head-piece. Whilst plugging it in, the acolyte began to silently weep. Suroh wondered why. The weapon began to glow, and as the final plug was installed, a beam of stringent lightning leapt out and hit the acolyte square in the chest. Flying back, Uhlos calmly stepped out of the way of his acolytes flight, and there was a loud thump as he hit the wall. According to the acolyte’s fried face, he had been long dead. Turning to look at Uhlos, Suroh finally realised what the weapon was. It was a fabled Animus-spectrum. A Psyker killer. They were using his Pariah ability to weaken Psykers then deliver the killing blow, and he was the weapon.

 

It wasn’t a battle that Suroh was shipped to. It was cardinal slaughter on an unimaginable scale. All across the battlefield, deamons rampaged, the raw power of the warp left unchecked and unrestrained, organised massacre was the only thing here, and death could be the only victor. Killing grounds stretched for miles, fields filled with bodies of dead soldiers and streams of blood running into the horizon, a scene of an ever-changing sun, leering faces screaming death-calls out to the beleaguered defenders. At the centre of this planet-wide cull stood a Sorcerer, a servant of the Lord of Change, ethereal powers drifting around him, the Empyrean’s raw power his play thing. This was his target, this mortal who had sworn his soul to the fickle gods of Chaos. The death of such a faithful servant was regrettable, but necessary. It would all be in his service, and their souls shall be thanked at the Endtimes.

‘Get ready Xerxes,’ Suroh chuckled under his breath at his master’s foolishness, ‘we’re going to drop you in close to the target, and you will have five minutes to kill the Sorcerer before we warp-bomb the location. Launch in three.’ Suroh stepped up to the teleport and activated the animus-spectrum. Humming with the focussed power of the Pariah Gene, Suroh stepped forward into the teleporter, and into the mouth of hell itself.

The first thing that Suroh noticed was that it stank. Evaporated blood flooded the air and the contents of empty bowels filled his nostrils. The second thing he noticed, was how wet the floor was with blood, and the scream of deamons filled his head and made his nauseous. Oh, it was good to back in battle. Seeing the Sorcerer to his left, he trained his eyes on him and charged full-pelt towards his target. Deamons moved about him, yet as he approached a Greater Deamon, the screaming warp-spawn suddenly yelped, and changed its form to an old man, though twisted and leering, his expressions exaggerated beyond mortal possibilities, a canine puncturing his lower lip and his nose twisted upwards. Though as Suroh approached, he transformed into a tiny version of his original warp-being, the Pariah gene cutting of his connection to his master. Suroh took great joy as he plunged hi sabre into the beasts heart, banishing him back to the warp. The way was now clear to the Sorcerer, and although Suroh was mere metres from him, but the Sorcerer was lost in his pleasure. For a moment Suroh wondered if the Sorcerer was of Chaos of Undivided, but when he cried, ‘For you my Lord! May you transform this world into one of beauty!’ Suroh was sure of his loyalties. Touching the ground, he launched himself into the air, and finally the Sorcerer took notice. But it was too late.

Rocketing through the air, the animus spectrum lashed out at the Sorcerer. He was threw to the ground, lying on his back, and as Suroh fell upon him and lodged his sabre in the Sorcerer’s neck. As the lifeblood drained from his crippled form, Suroh felt it flood into him, helping him regain his powers. Now he could feel his heightened senses returning. As his hearing returned, a sharp ringing flooded his hearing, and he looked up into the skies, to see a bomb falling to his location.

Skirax Venerable Brother

Skirax

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His battle instincts returning in a flash, Suroh ran for cover, seeing an Inquisitorial Storm Tropper bunker to the north. Running for his newly returned life, he ducked inside the fire-slit, catching his leg on a mounted Heavy Stubber, the iron sights opening a deep gash in his leg and the blood pouring down his leg. The Storm Troopers holed up inside sared at him quizically, and through his helmet's grill, he shouted 'Raise the Vision Slit Barrier!'

Pausing, obviously confused, the Storm Troppers let their guns hang at their sides as they looked at each other as if the man who had just jumped in through the vision slit was crazy. Roaring in anger, Suroh looked for the lever and, finding it on the other side of the bunker, he lept across the room and pulled the lever to the 'Raised' sign. The bunker slowly seeled itself off, the barrier slow and lazy. Over the top of the Vision Slit Barrier, Suroh could see the bomb hitting the ground, just as it closed.

The sound was deafening, a loud ringing filled his ears and his vision blurred, the sound wave hitting the bunker hard. As his hearing cleared, the sunds of men screaming as their flesh was ripped from their bones drifted in through the tiny holes in the corners. Ash fell from the ceiling, covering the men inside from head to foot in dust. Caked in grime, Suroh got to his feet and looked around at the Storm Troopers. A few bled from wounds sustained during the fighting, and their haunted faces stared at him through sullen eyes. Then they raised their Lasguns level wih his face. Unable to beleive what was happening, Suroh went into a rage. Drawing his blade, he flew through the air, his sabre glinting in the light of the glow-lamps. Lopping the head off one soldier, he screamed a cry of hate and relieved another of his intestines, bringing his sword round in a backhand and removing anothers arm. Blood gathered in pools on the floor, as the laughter of a blood-thirsty demi-god filled the night.

antique_nova Venerable Brother

antique_nova

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lol here comes the cavalry, da dut dut deerrr! :teehee: FINGERS TYPE! ^^lol

 

I spell checked and grammar checked the story for you, bad Skirax! ^^

 

The next chapter of Suroh's bloody career is a time of mystery, scraps of records pieced together through the inventive imagination of the Department of Historium, an almagam of history throughout the human-controlled areas of the universe and actions of individuals that affected the entire Imperium.

 

Suroh's training in the Cellexus Temple was a long and arduous time, but, as would be expected of a demi-god, he was the top student, and slowly, Suroh rose to prominence in the Temple, his teachers and overseers consistently impressed with his mighty abilities. He had, obviously, crafted a name for himself. Suroh was such an obvious link to 'Horus' and he couldn't take that chance, especially since he was working for the inventively named inquisitive Inquisition. Using Xantes as a base, he eventually twisted it to Xerxes, a once influential figure in Terra’s ancient times. He continually proved himself ready to kill for his (temporary) masters, and even more so to regain his powers. However, his masters frequently said that ‘there wasn’t something quite right with the man’. This, twinned with the fact that he was extremely over-eager to begin killing, led them to refrain from fielding him in battle, fearful of the possibility that he may begin killing his fellow soldiers. And so, Suroh remained inactive for the better part of a decade.

 

Suroh was sitting in his quarters, a once bare room now riddled with deep marks he had scratched into the ceramite walls. Some depicted iconography of his old Legion, others were marks of the Chaos Gods that glowed with ethereal powers. Strangely, he was continually drawn to drawing the Imperial Aquila. Unable to explain why, he consoled himself in its beauty and, even though it was the bastard Emperor that had first thought it up, he couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer simplicity of the design. A blind head to the past and an eager head to the future, with two majestic wings spread out around them. He was staring at a large one which took up most of the wall behind his bed, when one of his masters entered the room. A large man, he dwarfed Suroh in his current state. A thick moustache sat atop his upper lip, and hollow cheeks sat beneath sunken eyes, ringed with scars and weighed down with dark bags that hung below them. Suroh snarled at him and turned back to the vast Aquila.

 

‘Prep your gear,’ said the master, ‘you’re to report to the landing pad in fifteen minutes. No later.’ He spat the last two wards at Suroh. He hung in the doorway, waiting for Suroh to speak. But the silence he had kept since his induction into the temple would not be broken. Muttering to himself, the master closed the door on Suroh and immediately he got to work. Bringing his gear out from under his Spartan bed, and laid his weapons out on the floor. A small pistol, capable of taking a xeno’s head off, but as for armour, it would do nothing. A long sabre, crafted by master artisans, sheathed in an ornate case. And there, resplendent though an affront to his honour as a servant of Chaos, a suit of armour able to enhance his movement and make him incredibly nimble, emblazoned with wide-spread eagles and symbols of ‘I’ with strikes at their sides. It was dark black and the helmet was elongated, stretching far beyond the back of his head. He wasn’t sure yet as to why it was so long. Maybe it would all become clear, he thought.

 

He was being marched down a long processional street, lined with modified Storm Troopers and penitent psykers, which cringed and recoiled at his presence. Atop a stage at the end of the street stood Uhlos, his fur cloak draped around his shoulders and badges of high honour, given to him by the High Lords of Terra, shone in midnight gloom. Alongside him stood his acolytes, one carrying a single, large-barrelled piece, one end riddled with sensor-plugs, the other a large hole. It was empty, he could see that from here, and its exact purpose was lost to him. As he approached the stage, and began climbing its steps, Uhlos smiled a grand, yet pitiful smile, as if he would never see Suroh again. Heh, think again, he thought. He stepped up before Uhlos, and prepared to receive his speech of honour. Instead, one of the acolytes moved forward and attached the weapon to his head-piece. Whilst plugging it in, the acolyte began to silently weep. Suroh wondered why. The weapon began to glow, and as the final plug was installed, a beam of stringent lightning leapt out and hit the acolyte square in the chest. Flying back, Uhlos calmly stepped out of the way of his acolyte’s flight, and there was a loud thump as he hit the wall. According to the acolyte’s fried face, he had been long dead. Turning to look at Uhlos, Suroh finally realised what the weapon was. It was a fabled Animus-spectrum, a psyker killer. They were using his Pariah ability to weaken Psykers then deliver the killing blow, and he was the weapon.

 

It wasn’t a battle that Suroh was shipped to. It was cardinal slaughter on an unimaginable scale. All across the battlefield, daemons rampaged, the raw power of the warp left unchecked and unrestrained, organised massacre was the only thing here, and death could be the only victor. Killing grounds stretched for miles, fields filled with bodies of dead soldiers and streams of blood running into the horizon, a scene of an ever-changing sun, leering faces screaming death-calls out to the beleaguered defenders. At the centre of this planet-wide cull stood a Sorcerer, a servant of the Lord of Change, ethereal powers drifting around him, the Empyrean’s raw power his play thing. This was his target, this mortal who had sworn his soul to the fickle gods of Chaos. The death of such a faithful servant was regrettable, but necessary. It would all be in his service, and their souls shall be thanked at the End times.

‘Get ready Xerxes,’ Suroh chuckled under his breath at his master’s foolishness, ‘we’re going to drop you in close to the target, and you will have five minutes to kill the Sorcerer before we warp-bomb the location. Launch in three.’ Suroh stepped up to the teleport and activated the animus-spectrum. Humming with the focussed power of the Pariah Gene, Suroh stepped forward into the teleporter and into the mouth of hell itself.

 

The first thing that Suroh noticed was that it stank. Evaporated blood flooded the air and the contents of empty bowels filled his nostrils. The second thing he noticed was how wet the floor was with blood, and the scream of daemons filled his head and made his nauseous.

Oh, it was good to back in battle. Seeing the Sorcerer to his left, he trained his eyes on him and charged full-pelt towards his target. Daemons moved about him, yet as he approached a Greater Daemon, the screaming warp-spawn suddenly yelped and changed its form to an old man, though twisted and leering, his expressions exaggerated beyond mortal possibilities, a canine puncturing his lower lip and his nose twisted upwards. Though as Suroh approached, he transformed into a tiny version of his original warp-being, the Pariah gene cutting of his connection to his master. Suroh took great joy as he plunged hi sabre into the beast’s heart, banishing him back to the warp.

 

The way was now clear to the Sorcerer, and although Suroh was mere metres from him, but the Sorcerer was lost in his pleasure. For a moment Suroh wondered if the Sorcerer was of Chaos of Undivided, but when he cried, ‘For you my Lord! May you transform this world into one of beauty!’ Suroh was sure of his loyalties. Touching the ground, he launched himself into the air, and finally the Sorcerer took notice. But it was too late.

Rocketing through the air, the animus spectrum lashed out at the Sorcerer. He was thrown to the ground, lying on his back, and as Suroh fell upon him and lodged his sabre in the Sorcerer’s neck. As the lifeblood drained from his crippled form, Suroh felt it flood into him, helping him regain his powers. Now he could feel his heightened senses returning. As his hearing returned, a sharp ringing flooded his hearing, and he looked up into the skies, to see a bomb falling to his location.

 

I spell checked and grammar checked the story for you, bad Skirax! ^^

 

His battle instincts returning in a flash, Suroh ran for cover, seeing an Inquisitorial Storm Trooper bunker to the north. Running for his newly returned life, he ducked inside the fire-slit, catching his leg on a mounted Heavy Stubber, the iron sights opening a deep gash in his leg and the blood pouring down his leg. The Storm Troopers holed up inside seared at him quizzically, and through his helmet's grill, he shouted 'Raise the Vision Slit Barrier!'

Pausing, obviously confused, the Storm Troopers let their guns hang at their sides as they looked at each other as if the man who had just jumped in through the vision slit was crazy. Roaring in anger, Suroh looked for the lever and, finding it on the other side of the bunker, he leapt across the room and pulled the lever to the 'Raised' sign. The bunker slowly sealed itself off, the barrier slow and lazy. Over the top of the Vision Slit Barrier, Suroh could see the bomb hitting the ground, just as it closed.

 

The sound was deafening, a loud ringing filled his ears and his vision blurred, the sound wave hitting the bunker hard. As his hearing cleared, the sounds of men screaming as their flesh was ripped from their bones drifted in through the tiny holes in the corners. Ash fell from the ceiling, covering the men inside from head to foot in dust. Caked in grime, Suroh got to his feet and looked around at the Storm Troopers. A few bled from wounds sustained during the fighting, and their haunted faces stared at him through sullen eyes.

Then they raised their lasguns level with his face. Unable to believe what was happening, Suroh went into a rage. Drawing his blade, he flew through the air, his sabre glinting in the light of the glow-lamps. Lopping the head off one soldier, he screamed a cry of hate and relieved another of his intestines, bringing his sword round in a backhand and removing another’s arm. Blood gathered in pools on the floor, as the laughter of a blood-thirsty demi-god filled the night.

 

Paragraph your stories when something new happens.

 

Apart from that good good, but Suroh is very disturbed and that disturbs me! lol

P.S I JUST BOUGHT THE CASIUS CAIN OMNIMBUS!:P

 

thanks

antique_nova

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