Bellum pro Apparatus Deus

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  1. Mars, 31,000 exact date unknown, Precise location unknown.



    I ran my hands through my hair, they cold steel of my armor sending shivers down my spine.
    I can't tell you how long i have hidden myself down here, or how long i have toiled away, waiting for the sign to begin my plan.
    Knowing so much, and yet so little is infuriating, the knowledge that you alone have an idea of what is to come to pass, and yet I do not know how to stop it, All i can do is prepare myself and amass resources for the cataclysmic event.
    He would have known, though his bond to the architect of mankind's woe was simply too strong, all he could do was give me the knowledge of machines, their workings, all he, the vast mighty ruler of mankind in it's golden era of expansion could offer me was knowing.

    Though that is not to say that such knowledge did not give me considerable power, this armored shell that protects me and the computers in my mind that give me flawless recall and a picture perfect memory came from the knowledge he gave me, the machines i have built, the enhancements to common technology that the others on this red dust planet came from that knowledge, in fact, though those who rule this planet know nothing of me, i have lain the seeds of my plan in their technology, i have planted my cyphers to codes they have not yet conceived in places they will not know until it is too late, with my knowledge i have already achieved more than i ever could have dreamed of as simply myself, but this knowledge is also a curse, for though i bear centuries of wisdom and intelligence gathered by minds immeasureably superior to my own, i also know that what i am attempting is not only foolhardy, but that the odds of my success are a million to one, for even if i save those yet to fall, there still remains the question of whether or not the coming darkness will simply sweep over them, casting them aside as they scramble for the Emperor's throne, then as with the future i know, technology and invention will stagnate, machines revered as gods and any improvements made to them ignored and the individual who improved them excecuted by religious zealots.

    I shake my head, desperate to cast off this melancholy, for i ahve not the time to be so dramatic, i ahve but the time to build, fabricate and otherwise create an infrastructure, an army and defenses with which to save this world.
    Earth as i knew it died at least five thousand years ago, if not earlier, there now remains no plants or animals, all extinct in humanities wars and the Emperor's acension into power, now the enitire planet remains Giant administration building and palace, and i shudder with contempt at every thought of it.

    Red dust falls from the roof of my cavernous dwelling, disturbing my reverie and as i look to the monitors that display the outside world through a multitue of cameras, I am greeted with a sight that stops my breath and drags my heart into the pit of my stomach.
    A shuttle approaches from Earth, hardly unusual, but the glowing script at the bottom of the screen, my computer's interpretation of the shuttle's log is what causes my dismay.
    shuttle contains Rho-mu 31 and Dalia Cythera.

    I utter several words i have not used in years, the curses flowing from my dry lips like gas from a cracked pipe.
    I'm not ready, I need at least another decade to complete my works, i have but the power to create my army, Of that i have but one hundred thousand units of infantry, Hybrids of flesh and machine that I m,ade to be loyal and unswerving, that know the fullness of what is to come to pass and the hefty burden with which we must march.
    on top of that, five titan war machines, of which none are larger than an Imperial Warhound, though their armament is that of a Reaver, five machines is not enough to even scratch the surface of the enemy Titan Legions and i shudder at the thought of what will happen if i fail, if the wretched traitors that flock to the banner of Horus destroy my war machines and sack my facility
    "If it comes to that, then surely we must make the same sacrifice as the Magma City" I whisper to myself, if only to hear my own voice.

    I change the images on the screens with a pulse of thought, and the images of my forge complexes, all sheilded from sensors and hidden deep under the surface of mars, and i smile as i see the production lines moving and churning, every day ten more infatry units are given life, every day, a hundred are built and i have over a trillion in storage, though i have not the power nor resources to give any more than a million life, and at that their lives last only a century, several waves have come and gone in the time since i first built my catacombs.

    I need to switch the lines over from Infantry units to Control nodes, for without control nodes and power generators i will not be able to activate my forces.
    Damn all this logic, why must everything be so hard? I mean if everything had just gone as i planned it, in another ten years i would have my five trillion strong infantry army, i would have enough control nodes and generators to power not only that much infantry, but no less than a legion of my own titans.
    Its just not fair. I mean for my enemies, every single fucking thing goes either right or they can make something of their loss, for me, well i get sweet fuck all.

    the steel tendrils that are wired into my spine move with a sort of empathy, their movements jarring as though they felt the same outrage as I, though I struggle to calm myself, for if i loose my temper, if i fail to retain my composure, i will surely fail.


    Over the past month nothing has happened to my great releif, I have successfully changed the infantry production lines over, and now i can activate up to five hundred thousand infantry, not enough to truely disembowel the traitor ranks, but enough to give them a sucker punch they'll not soon forget.
    Another of my Titans have been completed, though unless i have another year, i will not be able to make another.
    I doubt i have that much time.
    In storage i have at least another six Titans i can refit and rearm, and if I'm lucky, i will be able to Re-activate them all, though if even one is able to come back to life it will be a sweet miracle.

    The Tanks show better progress, though They need Activated infantry to crew them.
    I look at my figures with a growl of anger.
    I thought myself smarter than my enemy, i underestimated their cunning.
    The long decades that Kelbor-Hal and his lapdogs debated their positions before coming to the conclusion that unrivaled power trumped moral courage and allied with Horus went unnoticed by me, though my intelligence gathering devices captured many signs.
    had i only been able to read them, had I stopped myself from becoming consumed by the power i had been given.
    Now it is too late.
    Too late to turn back, Too late to change course.
    Too late to slow down.


    As predicted, the bastard Legio Mortis have begun their march, and even now the traitor skiitari shake the roof of my complex with their sheer numbers.
    They march for Zeth's city, Magma City, the only city on Mars to appreciate the value of invention, the only forge to look to the future of technology.
    They msut not fall.
    I look to the Vox device, linked to Zeth's defences, and i feel the old anxiety slithering across my skin from my spine, the dread of the unknown, the multitude of ways the conversation could go wrong flooding my mind, though with a growl a push them as far back as i can and grab the headset.

    "Zeth?, yes, I understand you are in the middle of a seige, look to your records, I KNOW! look to the year 1989, it will be the first entry, it will tell you what i want you to know, it will tell you of how i come to aid you.
    You see it? yes, oh, years of preperation is an understatement, Yes, Of course. In Mortis Est Extrimis" I lower the headset, he palms are sweating under the armor, and I flick a pale Blue hood over my head, the entire robe is that of a tech preists.

    I life the headset again, this time i switch the frequency to that of my enemy, their battle cant now open to my ears, though my purpose is far less wise than intellignece gathering.
    As I press the final key that signals the vast, caverous doors to the staging area, an area to the left of Magma City, on the flank of my enemy, I laugh into the microphone, and as i type the instruction to send my forces to war, I activate the vox system i ahd implanted in the walls, shaped charges blowing away the rock formations to reveal them.
    "Enemies of Terra, Enemies of Mars, Know this; We come for your heads, we come for your hearts, we come for your souls and most of all we come with vengeance in our hearts, with a cold, burning rage in our souls and with your destruction in our hands, We are the Deus Ex Mechanicus, and you have sown the seeds of your destruction this day" I Delcare, the words decided upon years ago, though i will admit that i the exitement of it all, as the first volleys of my nuclear missiles struck the Aquila Ignis simultaneously, the bright flash emenating from the blow blinding all sensors for a full five seconds and sending a vengeful wash over the surrounding titans and Skiitari, killing many, wounding even more and Irradiating all.

    as the smoke cleared, the Massive Imperator Titan struggled from the smoke, it's sheilds gone, it's massive frame stripped of all paint and burned, though still it trundled forwards.
    I cursed inwardly, regretting my hesitation to build any more than five nuclear missiles, though that regret was washed away as the Loyal Titans of the Legio Tempestus seized the initiative, their weapons sending burning death screaming into the Aquila Ignis, it's death sending a ripple of shock through the traitor legions.
    It was then that my Titans Emerged, surrounded by Infantry and Tanks, all mooved at the speed of the Titan unit, their weapons charged and ready.
    The Infantry held enhanced Lasguns and plasma guns, the tanks were deployed with three lascannon's in the turret and two twin linked lascannon sponsons.

    Thus did my forces go to war against the enemy, who despite taking innumerable casualties to my nuclear wapons, still outnumbered even the combined force of my own army and the Loyalist armies now moving to support me from the Magma city.




    To Be Continued.
     
  2. Wow.
    I rarely read anything of military genre-ish, but this was really really strong. In that captivating way.

    There's a place or two which was a little confusing (but I wasn't sure if you wanted criticism, too xD).

    &&& most of all, I LOVE the way you use sentence structure to give rhythm. The story is more compelling because of your style of writing it.
     
  3. thanks Sakura, its always good to know someone liked reading what i wrote!


    oh, and im always up for criticism, what parts did you find confusing?
     
  4. I got a little thrown off right there. :33 The entire planet remains as a giant building and palace ? or under the control of ?

    Literally steel tendrils ?

    A little confused on "can't now open to my ears" ?

    -------------------------

    And other than that, it was awesome.

    I don't really get some of the terminology, hence, I just imagine tanks and stuff blowing up on mars, but not in the funny sense. After I read that, ( I read it twice), its like I'm stunned silent and blinking at the screen expecting something big to go kaboom in a dramatically suspenseful way.

    Very powerful, Warmaster, very powerful <3
     
  5. AS for the first point, In the Warhammer 40,000 universe Earth, known now solely as Terra, is basically the Emperor's palace and the head of the Administratum and Ecclesiarchy, the Administrators and Preisthood respectively.
    what flora and fauna it once had is now replaced by a mass of concrete.
    well, there would probably still be massive defensive fortifications as well, and housing for the workers, adepts and preists, but otherwise yeah, the planet is pretty much a giant administration building and palace. or at least that's how i;ve always taken the descriptions in the rulebooks.


    as for the second point, indeed, though they're called Mechadendrites, basically think of Doctor Octopus from Spiderman, though less bulky and more versitile.
    Mechadenrites can have manipulator ends from grasping and other similar tasks, they can have medical or mechanical tools to aid the controller in healing men and machines.

    The way these are controlled is that they are wired and connected to the individuals nervous system, usually though the spine, though often an implant is insterted into the brain to help the implanted individual control the Mechadendrites to the level of dexterity needed.


    as for the third point, i should probably have used a different word.

    I meant to write
    Their "Battle Cant" now open to my ears
    in that instance i used "Cant" as another word for "Code".....mostly because i've read some "black library" (Official citadel/Games workshop publishers) authors use the term.

    and thank you Sakura, I felt inspired to write the piece, and I'm glad that the Inspiration shows through.

    Hmm, perhaps when the weather is less uncomfortably warm, i'll continue the peice.
    dunno why, but the cold seems to help me concentrate.
     
  6. I love it! Your writing style is kickass, WMD!
     
  7. Were it still possible, i would be sweating, for despite delivering a crippling blow to my enemy, despite forever changing history with my actions it seems the enemy will still take Magma City.
    I cannot allow that to come to pass.
    I Will. not. allow that event to pass, i must. change history here if I am to succeed, if i am to survive.

    For me to live and my plans to succeed, the traitors must perish.

    My war machines began to push the Traitor Skiitari back, though at the cost of many machines
     
  8. Wow, the transition is great. From "I cannot...I will. not.." its so powerful. You get this little shudder or thrill as you read it. XD

    Do you write these as they come to mind or write and edit ?
     
  9. i write it as it comes to mind, then edit for spelling usually, though sometimes stuff slips through
     
  10. Thats why I feel this strong feeling when I read it :P
     
  11. In the end, all that remains is death, whether it be the cold hand of time or the boiling cauldron of war, death comes to all, and all you can do is struggle against the tide for a while, fighting the current of fate with the strength of conviction and self belief.

    that is what brought me here, though now, as i watch my machines fight against vicious, biomechanical monsters made reality, i wonder if i can really win or if the future is already written, and nothing i do can change it.

    i shake my head, the thoughts clog up the workings of my mind like sediment in a pipe, yet i must remain sharp, for my enemy is still very much a danger and a threat to my plans, they still have god machines, they still have troops and heavy weapons, this force i struggle against is but the tip of the iceberg, they are but a shadow of the force i will have to fight in order to save mars, and through that, the Imperium.
    i do not have time for these delays! i do not have the time to spare trading blows with these dogs, these filthy traitors who hold their own ambition above humanity's survival! that is the prize here, the survival of our race, and these fools stand on the side that will award nothing but pain and death to all that live!

    the fools! the unrepentant, repugnant fools! in my mind i curse them as i once more assume command of one of the titans, this time i activate the massive voxcaster that I had installed into the chin of every machine, to further enhance the humanoid feel to the machines, though the voice of the god machine is harsh and unforgiving
    "God Machines of the Legio Temptestus, ONWARDS! FOLLOW ME AND AWARD THESE TRAITORS THEIR DUE! let us show them the error of their ways and the folly of their choice!" i snarl, the vox caster making each word even more feral, and through the machine's eyes i see tiny infantry figures fleeing before me, my weapons cutting vast swathes through their ranks and incinerating the very ground.

    the feeling of power is unmistakable, echoes of the machine's semi sentience make my movements and actions animalistic, and with a fury i press onwards, evermore pushing the tip of the spear deeper into my enemy, deep into their heart.

    this ends now. it must or else all is for nought.
     
  12. MARCH 25, 2017
    BOSTON, MA

    The empty rec center that the Sanguinaar had converted into their hideout proved useful over the last few weeks, providing a safe haven -- particularly a secretive one -- for Lorentz to prepare. He had not been idle in the weeks since Emily and Lucrezia introduced him to the Magister. Understanding the methods and resources employed by the Sanguinaar took time. The cult had four thousand years of material at their disposal: assets, hideouts, personnel, material components, spells taught to no other mage, entire reams of history. A few weeks was far from enough to delve through it all, but it was barely enough for Lorentz to get a sense of a plan of attack.

    Now, he poured over maps of Hushcobb's campus and infrastructure spread out on a table. He felt two presences approaching behind him and smiled. "Ah, poppets. Came to check on your hound?" he inquired without facing them. It was no trick nor spell; years of fighting had left him with a finely-honed danger sense and both Emily Sternit and Lucrezia Louis were quite dangerous.

    "You've been planning for weeks," Lucrezia snapped impatiently. "How much more time do you need, Lorentz?"

    "As much as I require," he smoothly replied, turning to face her. His long coat swished around his legs. "You do not plan to capture a goddess with only brute force!"

    "I'm surprised you, of all people, appreciate subtlety," the cultist countered.

    "My version of subtlety just uses brute force intelligently," he said. He gave Emily a nod of his head. "But I can safely say our time has come." He tapped the maps with a finger. "Aegil's intel is the first stroke against Hushcobb. Are the blood puppets ready?"

    "Fifty await deployment," Lucrezia confirmed. Her brows furrowed. "I still think we should just teleport them in."

    "Lorentz is wise to smuggle the puppets in through Hushcobb's weekly supply shipments," Emily opined. "Hushcobb will no doubt detect enemy magic ahead of time, even from me. At least with the compromised supply trucks, the puppets will get inside undetected until the last minute."

    "Well, then, ladies," Lorentz said grandly, spreading out his arms, "let's wait for the show to begin...."

    ---

    MARCH 25, 2017
    HUSHCOBB, KA

    "Not babysitting today?" Crippling asked, joining Sam on the roof of one of the houses in the town that was actually the quartermaster's armory. The former agent was sitting on the edge of the roof with a gun kit and his sidearm broken down for maintenance.

    Sam glanced up at him, the barrel in one hand and cloth in the other. "Not nose-deep in a book today?" he countered. He wiped the barrel down with the cloth and eyed down its length. "Raven, Erika, and Natalia are fine. I took a flight back in yesterday to take care of some things here."

    "Lorentz?" Crippling asked. "You were digging around my archives concerning Ivory Tower graduates."

    Sam paused in his cleaning and admitted, "One of Natalia's new friends mentioned to her that a mage went insane conducting an experiment to enhance his mana output. I was curious if it was him and if it would give me some insight."

    "And did it?"

    He shook his head. "Didn't find much in your archives or the Tower's -- not even the nature of the experiment or who mentored him." Satisfied with his work, Sam expertly snapped the parts of the handgun back together.

    Crippling blinked. "Oh, its your old Mauser," he noticed. "I haven't seen that design since World War Two."

    "I guess you would have fought against them at one point," Sam said; the Mauser was of German design.

    "You haven't fired that gun since you left," the werewolf went on. "Planning on breaking out the Empiric Bullets?"

    Sam slid the weapon back into its wooden holster, which he belted at his side. "I've been waiting for the other boot to drop, Nathaniel," he admitted. "I can feel it. Lorentz is biding his time, waiting to strike."

    "Then why leave Natalia in London?"

    "...Because I don't think he's going to attack her."

    The werewolf tilted his head in confusion. "Huh?"

    "He's never attacked his primary target directly," Sam reflected. "In Bamingui, he made us think he wanted the village, when he actually wanted to wipe out the Hushcobb camp. At the auto factory, it seemed like he was running his prostitution racket when he was actually targeting Natalia. And now we think he might actually have an ally inside Hushcobb. I can't help but think he has a different objective in mind...."

    "You think he'll attack us?" Crippling wondered, aghast. "He must be insane! We'll have home field advantage! He barely survived the last encounter with you, Crossfire, and the girls -- we have almost five times that number of active, experienced agents right here!"

    Sam stared out into the streets thoughtfully. "I know. Its a tactically disadvantageous decision to strike at Hushcobb itself. But he has to have an angle...."

    "Does Ferrara know?"

    The former agent nodded. "I told him yesterday. I've had a lot of time to think about this. Surprisingly, he was all too willing to beef up security. But so far, no strange activity -- magical or otherwise -- has been detected in the area." Sam absently ran a hand along the length of the wooden holster.

    A rumbling caught their attention. Both men looked to the side, where they saw three large semi trucks pull in. "Oh, the weekly shipment," Crippling said. "I heard we're getting an extra order of meat this week." He licked his lips, a touch of his inner wolf shining through. "Guess there was room in the budget."

    Sam didn't share his glee. Instead, Sam's eyes narrowed down at the three trucks. No strange activity detected in the area. But those trucks were just coming in....

    His pulled a comm out his pocket and barked, "Security! This is Ebayan! I need a detail on the supply trucks, ASAP!"

    The drivers were just getting out of the cabs, seemingly to assist the Hushcobb clerks with unloading their cargo. The drivers suddenly stiffened and convulsed. An instant later, the drivers all exploded in a rain of gore as blood puppets emerged from within their fleshy disguises. The trucks themselves shrieked as their metal walls were rent open. More blood puppets tore free of their confines. Hushcobb agents and security guards ran into the streets from the nearby buildings, quickly opening fire and just as quickly dying at the claws and fangs of the rabid puppets.

    "Oh my God," Crippling gasped in horror.

    Sam was already in action, hopping onto the edge of the roof. "Crippling! I need weapons!" With that, the former agent leaped off the roof, grabbed the window ledge below to stall his descent, and then dropped the rest of the way into a shoulder roll to disperse the energy of the fall. He came out on his feet and smoothly drew his fully-loaded Mauser.

    He squeezed the trigger three times, each bullet striking a different blood puppet. Two of the puppets were about to eviscerate another agent. The effect was instantaneous.

    The puppets screamed -- a high-pitched, ear-splitting, blood-curdling wail -- and twisted and contorted in agony. Motes of mana burned off their gory flesh, which desiccated and tightened against their very bones. Then the three monsters collapsed in heaps. They looked like skeletons with the flesh tight against the bones, leaving even their eyeless faces in the visage of a screaming skull.

    This was the power of the Empiric Bullets, ammunition forged from his own powdered ribs. They were the manifestation of his Empiric Field of Reality within whatever body they struck, fully deployed as if the Field were his own. In a weak mage, it simply cut off their ability to use magic permanently. In a creature made from mana, it was a death sentence.

    Sam holstered the Mauser and scooped up an M-16 dropped by one of the slain agents. He racked the slide back in a smooth motion, instantly took a bead, and sprayed a line of gunfire at a group of approaching blood puppets to keep them at bay. The monsters staggered and howled, but kept on coming. By his count, there were just shy of fifty of the creatures massacring their way through the streets -- far more than he had Empiric Bullets.

    Sam fought his way to a group of clerks hiding in an alley. A pack of four blood puppets was bearing down on them by the time he interceded. He gunned down two of them and engaged the other two in close quarters. He used the M-16 like a staff, parrying claws and countering with kicks and elbow strikes; his touch caused painful burns on the monsters as his Empiric Field chipped away at the magic animating them.

    Sam leaped on one of the puppets' backs while choking it with the rifle from behind. Motes of mana floated into the air as the creature howled at his touch. In a few seconds, the abomination collapsed, literally coming apart. Its arms fell from their sockets, followed by one leg. Sam regained his footing only to cry out himself as one of the three remaining puppets raked a claw across his back. He turned and opened fire, pushing it back.

    He snapped at the clerks, "Run! Now!" The rifle clicked empty. He dropped it and stepped into melee with the three other puppets.

    One tried to bite his face off, but he grabbed the lid of a nearby trash can and shielded himself from its jaw. Then he punched the lid, eliciting a satisfying clang as it banged into the monster's face. He raised the edge of the lid up into its jaw to knock its head back. Then he swept its feet out, causing it to crash to the ground. Finally, he severed its head by slamming the edge of the trash can lid on its neck.

    Sam then found himself flying back as one of the two remaining puppets caught him across the chest with an upswing of its claw. He groaned as he struggled to get back on his feet; his chest felt like it was on fire. He took some grim satisfaction when he saw that his attacker's claws had motes of mana bleeding off the ends from where it connected with his flesh.

    Sam raised his fists for another round when the two puppets were suddenly struck by a series of blue-white bursts of energy. The creatures howled in agony as more mana bled off them. They clawed at their wounds like rabid animals. Sam took advantage of the distraction to grapple one of them to the ground and lock it in a guillotine choke. In seconds, his Empiric Field had done its work, leaving the creature as a decomposing puddle of gore. The last creature's howls also stopped as the barrage of blue-white energy continued to rip it apart. Soon it, too, was just a pile of ichor.

    Sam stood with a moan from his injuries. Crossfire approached him with a pair of blocky rifles in his hands. "Figured you'd be in trouble, as usual," the marksman said, flipping one rifle over in his hand so he can offer it handle-first. "Empiric guns. I don't think you've have a chance to play with one yet."

    Sam took it and expertly inspected it.

    Crossfire gave him the brief. "Twelve-round capacity, uses some kind of charge. Like the name says, shoots out a miniature Empiric Field. Not as strong as your Empiric Bullets, but they get the job done. Since it fires energy instead of bullets, it doesn't do a whole lot as far as physical damage."

    "Unless you're made of mana," Sam noticed.

    "Unless you're made of mana," the marksman agreed. He brought the rifle up to his eye and Sam did the same. He continued, "Looks like you called it, Sam. Lorentz must've compromised the supply trucks outside our detection zones."

    "He couldn't have known those variables without inside help," the former agent said. "There's definitely a traitor here."

    "We need to regroup before the puppets -- or their converts -- rally up." He and Crossfire then opened fire on a trio of blood puppets charging their way. They were all nothing but gore by the time they got within ten feet. The path clear, they made their way toward the center of the town, where the main headquarters was located. All around them, small battles raged between Hushcobb agents and the abominations. Smoke and fire wafted from some of the buildings, where the fighting had turned into a blaze. Gunfire roared all around them.

    When they arrived at headquarters, they found a pack of of the blood puppets trying to break in through the front door. Fortunately, the walls, door, and windows were reinforced, but even those wouldn't hold forever. Ruth, Eliza, Karin, Matthew, and even Ferrara were on the roof, using the high ground advantage to rain gunfire upon the puppets below.

    "Why aren't they using the automated defenses?" Crossfire wondered as he assessed the situation.

    "The puppets must've knocked out the power or the relays," Sam reasoned.

    "Sam! Cross!" The two men turned to see Crippling running toward them with an aluminum attache case in his hand. The werewolf panted, "Here, I brought you weapons." He opened the case, revealing a quartet of grenades, an M1911A, and several clips of ammunition. Both men re-armed themselves. Sam took the handgun, since Crossfire always carried his own.

    "This is for you, too," Crippling said, handing Sam a skull-shaped mask. It was like a stripped down motorcycle helmet and one he knew all too well. The scratches and dents were still there, from years of field use. Sam took it and ran a thumb over the scars upon its surface. Crippling said, "Thought you'd like some protection, at least."

    Sam wordlessly slipped the helmet over his face, ignoring the small smiles on both Crippling and Crossfire's lips. Then he knelt by a manhole cover and lifted it over. "Come on," he said to the two, "We need to get those defenses back online."
     
  13. whcih is exactly what im going for cheers sakura!
     
  14. *watches the others, going back to the table to watch from there*
     
  15. Please, more?
     
  16. i shall endevour to get inspired!
     
  17. ENDEAVOR ENDEAVOR
     
  18. For the Emperor, Brother Severdus!

    seriously though, that is awesome.
     
  19. The disconnection from the Control Apparatus after my Victory had forced me into unconciousness, the sudden deprivation of a thousand senses all at once, no matter how gentle, was excruciating.

    but it had been worth it for I prevailed, I fought what future generations would revile as the legions of hell and I won.


    or rather, I beat the child and now had to prepare to face the parent.

    Other than the fact he is not here, i have no idea where Horus, the Archtrator and architect of this entire heresy, has gone
    , and I shudder to think of what will occur when he gets here, for i know what he brings in his wake, the sea of rape, mutilation, murder, biological experimentation, corruption, ships madde of steel with interiors of living flesh.

    I cringe and force oil back down my mechanical oesophagus in an approximation of the way i used to have to force back bile, and my brain creates a pseudo burning sensation in my throat.

    the Adepts gathered before me wait in tense silence, and i realise i have been standing before them for at least five minutes in sheer silence.

    "My apologies" i mumble, a complex vox system imitating a deeper, more 'gravelly' version of my flesh voice, and one of the Adepts nods at the sound, Maximal i beleive his name is
    "None are needed Mikaelus" he speaks with the voice of Pavarotti, and my face twists over sub dermal steel implants into a pleased grin
    "It is a wonder to hear the voice of Luciano Pavarotti Adept Maximal, though i fearI must in fact apologise, for this conflict is far from over, even now, the arch traitor Horus, once greatest of the Emperor's sons, approaches, and understand me when i say that no power on Mars or Earth, I mean Terra, barring the Emperor Himself has any chance of stopping it" the Adepts look at me with what i assume is bewilderment, for how could i know all this? i raise my hand to still their questions, there just isnt time to ask or answer questions. Horus comes. and we are no where near ready yet.
    "A moment please my comrades, I KNOW that horus comes, and I KNOW we cannot defeat him, if he turns his eye to our conqest before that of Terra, now I beleive i know what you're thinking, you're thinking, what can we do to prevent these filthy twisted once paragons of Imperial Glory from annihilating us, and the answer, my freinds, is simple" I pause for a moment, looking each in the eye before i move to continue
    "the Answer my Adepts, is that we do what the Adeptus Mechanicus does best, we build, we maintain, and we create, we keep the Emperor's armies supplied, we make more Skiitarii, more of my Robotic Legions, more Control stations, more Psuedo titans, i have the blueprints, and all of you, my freinds, have the resources and facilities, let us get to work, for there is much to do and no time left to do it!" i finish, and the Adepts, though perplexed, seem to be convinced, and as the last, Adept Zeth, leaves my command bunker, i sigh and fall into my command chair.


    I hope we can make do with the time we have.
     
  20. Powerful and thrilling as always :D


    THIS THREAD HATH BEEN REVIVED ;D
     
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