Metal Legion



Original poster
Metal Legion



Deio breathed in the recycled air, his twin hearts racing in unison. In front of him were arrayed the various visionaries that Deio had recruited into his personal warband.

Damus shivered in excitement, clutching his chainsword. His brutal features were cast in a hellish glare by the red warning lights. A former Space Wolf, the Emperor had finally been shown to him as the corpse he was, and Damus had gladly taken up the mantle of Chaos. Brutal trophies covered his greay armor, relics of many great battles.

Omnibus stood silent, no doubt reflecting on the battle to come. He had once been part of the Night Lords legion, but had seen Deio's warband as an opportunity to kill at his leisure. Omnibus was an excellent scout, death from the shadows. Creeping silently around the battlefied, sowing discord and terror before executing the enemy with lethal precision.

Razarius's hood was drawn over his head, but the gleam of his augmetic eye illuminated his sadistic smile. A Dark Mechanicus elite, Razarius was a pariah of man, machine, and daemon. Or perhaps machine and daemon, as there was no visible indicators marking him as a man. His bare skin showed through beneath his red cloak, the eight-star of Chaos on his right pectoral. Clutched in his hand was the fearsome Bassaxe Cleaveland, mounted on his back was a servo-harness clutched a plethora of deadly weapons. By his feet gibbered the daemonhost Quaritch.

Beside them was the mysterious Alpharius. He was honoured to look similar to teh great Alpharius, Primarch of the Alpha Legion. His eyes were closed, perhaps offering a benediction to the Gods of the Warp. He held his chainaxe across his chest, and the bolt pistol rested in it's holster. He rarely came alive outside of combat, but when he did, he was a maelstrom of death, sowing disaster and murder in the name of Chaos.

Kalas stood immobile, clad in his scratched black-armor. He claimed to be of the Fallen from the Dark Angels chapter, yet he seemed to enjoy killing more than worship of any God. Deio know little about Kalas, having found him alone on an damaged Imperial ship in the middle of the Eye of Terror. At the offer to join, he had agreed, and ever since he had shed blood in Deio's name.

To Deio's right was the Chaos Sorcerer Serbion. Clad in the ornate armor of Thousand Suns, he held the Black Icon, a symbol of Serbion's devotion. On his belt hung his power sword, Simae. An aura of power surrounded him, as he was one of the psykers of the Thousand Suns, a Legion devoted to Tzeentch, god of Change. Serbion, for a Change, had approached Deio. Serbion had led a force of twenty Thousand Sons at the behest of his Commander, to hunt down the traitors and make them suffer for the disruption Deio had sown. Serbion had invoked ancient magicks to bring him and a squad of his followers to the bridge. He had fought with Deio, and had been about to strike him down when Ozzure had emerged and blocked the fatal spell. Falling to his knees before the mighty daemon, he had mentally executed his men and pledged eternal service to Ozzure.

Deio nodded to the two serfs holding the powercutters to slice through the thick hull of the Imperial ship and let loose the servants of Chaos. They scampered over to the hull, and a dull whine filled the air as the lasers went to work. He faced his warband, clearing his throat.

Deio lifted his chainsword, letting out a bloodthirsty roar that was amplified by his Hellvox. The serf's dropped to the floor, their unprotected ears rushing blood. He kicked them away, stepping through the hole they had carved. He grabbed the laser-cutter one handed and cut away the rest of the hatch. A angry red outlined the passage. He lifted his boot and kicked it inward. The thick hatch fell to the floor with a heavy Thunk!

[ame=""]YouTube- Black label society - Counterfeit God + lyrics[/ame]

Deio's howl brought the Guardsmen firing upon him to their knees, clutching at their bleeding ears from the intense noise. Scattered volleys of las-fire were deflected by his power armor. He raised his bolt pistol and fired, the chest of a nearby man exploding as the bullet punctured the puny flak armor. The lasered hatch opened onto a crowded corridor, white tile floor already running with blood. Around him flowed his roaring warband, weapons raised, cutting down the enemy. Deio raised his arm, bolt pistol spitting death. Guardsmen broke left and right, fleeing for their lives. Serbion struck them down with savage bolts of power.

"Slaughter." He said, boredom in his voice. Deio laughed, and lept into the fray. He thumbed the activation rune on his guillotar, the serrated teeth coughing to life. He cleaved through a screaming Guardsmen in a single fell blow, and kicked another to the floor, smiling at the crunch of bones. It was indeed a butchery, little finesse or glory about it. The Guardsmen were already routing, but the warband fell upon them, weeks couped in a ship with no combat or sport. They needed slaves, as this ship was full of potentials.

"It is time to kill again, brothers. The corpse god's boot licks are crawling all over this ship. Slick the floor with their blood! Slake your thirsts! Kill in the name of Chaos!"

(Kill Count: 3
Points: 3)

Karsikan the Berzerker

Original poster
[ame=""]YouTube- 3 Inches of Blood - Deadly Sinners (Demo)[/ame]

Razarius was the first to follow after Deio, at his heels the twisted form of his Daemonhost Quadritch, It was strange to look upon, even by the standards of a daemonhost, being that it was a host to not one but 4 lesser daemons, it spat fire and struck with quick, but brutal talons, sending guardsmen who did not die Immedeately to the ground howling with pain as decay ran rampart over their shattered bodies.

It was kind compared to it's master.

he Fired the Lascannon mounted on one arm of his servo-harness and screamed agnoy from the blastmaster mounted on another. His cloak billowed as he marched onto the ship. He strummed the activation rune on the Daemon Bassaxe in his hand and Began to Shred, his ruinous melodies rending the flesh of the nearby guardsmen, ending their pitiful existence.

Every Guardsman in the room lay dead or dying as he and Quadritch began the messy work of Decapitating the corpses offering their blood and skulls to the throne of the blood god.

"Tis good to be slaughtering again, let the corpse throne's servants flee before us!"

(Quadritch 5 kills 5 points, Razarius 20 kills 20 points)


Original poster
Damus' face twitched as battle lust raged through him. The sound of lasers cutting through steel was no substitute for battle. As soon as the way was clear Damus' jump pack shrieked to life amplifying the effect of Deio's cry on those guardsmen within.

With a rush of recycles air He sped past Deio and a boot caved in the ribcage of a guardsman and sliding on the floor leaving a streak of blood. His tongue played along his lower low as he watched the man beneath him. Sweet agony. There was no time to savor it though as more guardsmen took up positions to repel the boarders. The sound of battle filled the corridor lasfire his power armour to little effect. Damus ballelled into their new line bull rushing and scattering them as his chainsword cleaved a line through armour, flesh and bone. Screams filled the air as the enemy broke and ran, screams of fear and screams of pain, it was the latter that sent a shudder of pleasure up the raptor's spine and the shriek of his jumps back at it propelled him after them was his litany, a promise of death.

KIlls: 7


Original poster
While his new found brothers had their fun ripping the first line of defenders apart Kalas kept on the move. When the hatch was opened he fired a few rounds into the guardsmen, blindly suppressing while his compatroits moved in for the assault. He was sure that he hit one though it was difficult to tell amongst the chaos.

Once they were occupied he started to move forward, jogging past the fray towards the routing troops. He caught up to one as they were closing the blast doors, jumping at him with his powerfist leading the way. The trooper was knocked to the ground by the blow with several bones audibly breaking. Kalas looked down at him before back up at those still running and taking aim at one, firing a single round at him. It hit home in his lower torso, ripping the man in two as it exploded.

"Your false hopes in the Emperor saving you after perishing have brought you here along with your inability to fight an Astartes. I shall leave your fate up to those maniacs I have come with." He told the man, looking down at him before kicking the guardsman's lasgun away and moving on down the corridor, crushing the man's forearm beneath his foot as he goes.

(Kill Count: 2 guardsmen)


Original poster
"More speed." Damus barreled down the corridor towards the hanger shrieking jump pack aiding if his reckless charge. Four guardsmen fled before in terror, worthless cowards, not not to even serve as slaves. A bolster round from the raptor's pistol found its mark and one of the pathetic worms fell, its leg flying to pieces and as he law bleeding Damus shot past after the others there was the roar of a chainsword and a spray of blood.

The other three had reached a dead end, the hangar doors were shut and dead come for them, its laugh reaching them before its armored shoulder did. He hit them at full speed and they seemed to liquefy from the impact as the door dented and the end of the passage was showered with blood and gore no piece of his victims recognizable, or was there? As the predator stood back, power armor and most of his face glistening red with blood a whimper could be heard as the guard who was been quick enough to cower was showered with his companions.

Damus holstered his bolt pistol and curled his hand around the man's torso and lifting his victim pinned him against the wall.

"Swear yourself over the chaos." he demanded "Embrace the true gods and forsake the corpse that cannot help you." there was the crack of a rib and the guard screamed Damus imitated the expression of pain on his face feeling the delightful agony as if it were his own.

Karsikan the Berzerker

Original poster
(now i play with Razarius in melee)

He marched up the hallway heading to the bridge, these imperial ships were all the same, machine spirits telling anyone who asked anything they wanted to know. well....maybe not willingly at first anyway, but after heading off down the hallway, Quadritch jumped into the ventilation ducts, it's nimble body easily navigating the tight space before coming over one of the crew's mess halls. It began to exude a plague gas from the foul pores on it's back. causing the crew to choke and gag while they desperately tried to breathe. It was in a strange act of mercy, or the blood lust of the Khornate daemon trapped within that it broke into the mess hall and began killing everything, ripping through flesh and bone with equal ease.

(Quadritch Room 15, total 20)
(Razarius, still 25)


Original poster
Deio cursed as Damus rocketed down the corridor.

You would do well, Commander Deio, to keep your men under your command
"I apologize, Lord Ozzure. The men have be-"
Accept responsibility Commander.
"...O-of course, Lord Daemon. It shall not happen again." Ozzure didn't reply. Fuming internally, he voxed to the men, his clear voice cutting through the din of battle

+Razarius, go fetch Damus, would you? He'll be spending some time with me for running off like that. Besides, he's heading in the general direction of the Hangar. While you're there, do make sure they don't escape.+

+Serbion and myself will head to the bridge. Kalas, follow us until we reach the bridge. Keep the reinforcements away while I deal with the Captain and his retinue. Alpharius, direct the readying of the slave cages. Omnibus, make sure no Guardsmen wander onto the ship.+ Deio stepped on the spine of a wounded Guardsmen for emphasis. Serbion rammed his staff into the floor of the ship, silencing the wounded. Deio grinned ferally.

+What do you say we put this ship to good use? I imagine they wont see a forty megatonne ship crashing down upon them through all those thick polluted clouds. Come Serbion, time to avenge our Chaos brethren.+

Deio: 1 Kill, 1 Point
Serbion: 3 Kills, 1 point.


Deio: 4 Kills, 4 Points
Serbion: 3 Kills, 1 Point.

Deio and Serbion are behind, but their points will go up when they slay the more skilled captain and his retinue. Ozzure will get the 1.3 Million kills from crashing the Light of Orar into the capital. Since he's already a daemon, it won't count against us.


Original poster
He left the guardsman alive though unable to move, a salve to be picked up later spirit and faith in the corpse god already broken. Now the was a door. Damus unslung a melta bomb and placed it on the lock, the machine spirit inside immediately grabbed the metal door and Damus fled down the coridor taking cover as the lock disintegrated. Before the smoke even cleared Damus soared into the massive hanger on wings of fire. Two men in the squad closest to the door broke and started to flee while the rest opened fire their contemptible weapons and even worse aim brought a howl of laughter from the Damus as he landed among them chainsword ripping open the chest of the closest loyalist.

"If you will not fight for the emperor you will die."

The voice bore the hallmarks of authority as a tall man turned his laspistol on the two fleeing guardsmen. Then as Damus turned the commissar pointed a sword at Damus, lightning playing down its length.

"For Emperor and Imperium attack the traitor."

With mixed yells they charged from all sides and with a savage grin Damus met them the first guardsman to reach him paid for his folly with his head a clean strike with a roaring chainsword cut through the arm of the next and into the side of the next where it stuck. A strike from a bayonet glanced off of Damus' side and letting of his weapon the stuck out of the man iron fist striking home as the man went sprawling then let his end from his own bayonet.

Something hit Damus' pardon, and the predator turned to meet the eyes of the attacking commissar. in the split second their eyes met, steely determination backed by zealous faith arrayed ageist a savage pursuit of pleasure in all its twisted forms. Then boot hit stomach and the commissar was knocked back, winded but undaunted.

Damus row his bolt pistol and retrieved his chaisword just before the renewed assault, the powerful swing of the crackling powersword blocked just in time by the snarling teeth of Damus' own sword the teeth's movement knocking the blow aside as the imperial raised his laspistol aimed dead into the fallen marine's eyes. Damus was faster with centuries more experience and a bust from his jump pack sent him upwards and the commissar barely rolled away in time to avoid the crushing blow of several tons of marine and equipment. Demus saw the opportunity to end this. On all fours the commissar quickly got to his feet before the ifs holding the chainsword slammed into his sending him back down on his back powersword sliding out of reach. The commissar flew several feet as ribs broke from a kick to the side. The last thing he saw was the inside of a boltpistol poised in front of a savage grin.

There was no time to savor the victory as Damus was knocked to the ground by a powerful blast.

Hit him again."

Damus scrambled to cover behind a valchary as the karsigans fired their grenade launchers again as those armed with las weapons rushed to cover closer and opened fire. Pain flowed though Damus' head wonderful, euphoric pain but he could not die here and holstering his pistol he drew a melta grenade. He had once shot at this.

"We have him surrounded keep those grenades raining down on him."

His jump pack shrieked to life and the marine soared upwards the guardsmen too surprised to react fast enough as he sighted the perfect target.


He slew low and released the grenade and without stopping flew onwards as the grenade detonated the surrounding fuel and munitions and a dozen men disappeared in a fireball the officer silhouetted for a second before he to was engulfed. Landed craft ignited and exploded causing a chain reaction that spread like wildfire throughout e ground craft, vehicles fuel and munitions the shockwave throwing the marine forward bouncing his off of the floor and sending his sliding a halt as the fired burned and men screamed in agony, chaos regained, figuratively and literally as Damus was saved by his astartes implants as the oxygen was sucked from the room by the inferno. By the time it extinguished itself no one was left alive in the hanger other than the lone predator who stood in bloodied and blackened armor.

Kills: 104 (hanger crew and guardsmen died from suffocation along with those directly killed)

Karsikan the Berzerker

Original poster
Razarius and Quadritch had only just caught up with Damus by the time he had massacred all the Kasrkin's, His bionic and daemonic flesh no longer requiring air he simply basked in the slaughter.

"Damus, I commend you on your bloodlust, but next time wait for the Warmaster."
Razarius said before heading off to clear out the engine rooms, quadritch all the time at it's masters heels

at took him but a few short moments to reach the engines, the tech priests and servitors scurrying about trying to calm the machine spirit, unaware of his presence until he made himself known. He thumbed Cleaveland's activation rune and began to play, but this tune was different. Rather than rend the flesh of everyone around they stopped everything they were doing and were seemingly drawn to him.

As they gathered around they began to go Wild, pushing, shoving, kicking and punching indiscriminately. to the untrained eye this was a riot, to Razarius, it was the beginnings of one of the oldest ways to worship the choas gods.

The Mosh Pit!!

[ame=""]YouTube- Brocas Helm - Cry of the Banshee (Lyrics in Description)[/ame]



Original poster

Serbion inspected his auspex once more.

"All is preceding as planned, Lord Deio." Deio nodded.
"To the bridge." Serbion led the way, checking his auspex every turn to determine the way. Their treads clanged against the steel floor of the ship. The din of battle reached them, even here. Around them scampered fearful crewmen, staring in horrified fascination at them. One of them howled and drew a laspistol, attempting to put a bullet in Deio's head. Serbion flicked his hand out without looking up from his auspex, and the man dropped to the deck, convulsing.

Foul sigils wrote themselves in blood across the mans skin, as he squirmed on the deck, gurgling sounds coming from his bloody throat. Serbion finally looked up, putting out a gauntleted hand, firing a blast of ruinous warp energy that connected with the crewman's forehead, blasting away the last vestiges of his mind, his will. The body crumpled, smoking to the deck. The Sorcerer let out a deep, rumbling laugh, before waving at the body again. The bloody sigils came alive with eldritch energy, and the body staggered to it's feet. Deio looked on, impressed.

A spectacular pulse of energy coursed through the body, it's eyes and brains erupting from every orifice on it's head. It hung it's head for a second, before coming alive, howling through it's ripped throat, and pouncing on its former shipmate. The stunned men cowering around them let out wails of despair, and fled. The creature ripped the crewman's throat out, screeching with glee. Serbion patted it once on the head and sent it bounding down the corridor. Further screams ensued.

Deio turned to the Sorcerer, laughing.


(Kills: 3
Points: 3

Epic Modifier: +2

Total: 5 points.

Total Total: 4 Deio, 6 Serbion

Karsikan the Berzerker

Original poster
Razarius voxed Lord Deio

"I have the engine room Warmaster, Damus Is holding the hanger secure. What are you're orders?"

He stood amongst the crew, now converted to Chaos for love of his metal.

The crowd was out of control, Cleaveland was on auto appeasing the crowd, his music subliminally manipulating them to the glory of chaos undivided. the crowd turned in on itself, selecting two of its members to be offered up to the blood god. Razarius obliged them and taking cleaveland in both hands severed their skulls with one clean sweep, Quadritch went about exsanguinating them. It's wicked talons tearing through their flesh into ribbons, It then flayed them and donned their skin like a cloak as if to emulate it's master.

(Razarius kills 27 in total quadritch 20)


Original poster
The hangar was quiet now. Charred bodies and burnt out wrecks lay silent testimonials to the violence that had taken place there. From the dark passageway the guardsmen rushed and half of them stopped dead. A wave of smell hit them, burnt flesh, molten metal, cracked energy cells and fuel vapors mixed into a pungent brew that hung in the oxygen deprived room that the ancient systems had yet to cleanse.

The sergeant was the only one who kept his Vigil.

"Stay alert."
he said pushing the closest man ahead of him to get the squad moving again. "They're still around here somewhere."

"Sir.. what could do this? What monsters are we facing?

"We face the emperor's enemies...."


"Footsteps get behind cover... Guileman a want the plasma gun protecting out flank." the men dispersed to cover as the footsteps grew louder.


A large shape appeared in the smoke-filled air, roughly humanoid and it raised its arm pointing at the squad as they watched in horrid fascination.

The bolter round exploded against a fragment of metal three of the men were crouched behind and with a scream one of them took the full force of the shrapnel and fell backwards blood poring from his face.


With the bust of lasfire the sound of more running boots echoed in the coridor as more guardsmen approached. A flash filled the room as a bolt of plasma arced towards Damus.

The figure was gone. There was only the sound of men coughing in the foul air... Weapons ready they moved towards where they had seen the traitor marine their eyes watering, behind them they heard order as more comrades entered the vast inside space. Clear vision was impossible with the smoke in the air and water streaming from the eyes of every guardsman they were visually blind barely able to see the back of the man in front of them.

Suddenly there were screams close by accompanied by the roar of a chainsword. Then silence. Moral was low even s one by one they slumped over.... the lack of air and burning fumes overcoming them.


Original poster
Kalas proceeded down the spanning corriders of the ship in the direction of the bridge. He was moving in much more orderly manner than the other boarders, advancing at a slower but much more alert rate.

As he moved he passed through many fighting positions, set up to defend against boarders but oddly abandoned. Breaking through yet another access way he saw he was almost there. He also found the guardsmen that he had been missing between him and bridge.

Diving for cover back the way he came he avoided the majority of a lasgun hail. The few laser bolts that hit him were absorbed by his armor. Kalas peaked his head back out to get a guess on the number of soldiers out there, figuring it to be about a squad he forumlated a plan quickly.

His assualt started with a pair of frag grenades. The guardsmen rushing for cover even as they went off. As soon as he heard the detonation of both he rushed around the corner and back into the corrider, firing precise bolter shots at those still trying to fight.

Running towards the bridge access the last guardsman lept out, the sergeant swinging a chainsword at the fallen marine. He brought his powerfist up to counter, grasping the blade and crushing it into pieces even while it's teeth dug into the armored gauntlet. Kalas struck neck, kicking the man's leg out from under him before bringing the powerfist down accross the man's shoulders like a sledge hammer. As the man sank to the ground he made a last ditch effort to shoot the marine. Kalas struck again, dropping his fist on the man's gun hand with a crushing blow.

He made a final look down at the crippled sergeant shaking his head before moving on to the bridge, taking up a defensive position in the access way.


Original poster

"I have the engine room Warmaster, Damus is holding the hanger secure. What are you're orders?"

+Warmaster? You flatter me, Razarius. Hold position for now. Kill anybody that wanders in. Destroy any ships left over. We are almost finished here+ Deio turned to Serbion.

"This is it?" The Sorcerer nodded. They stood in a ornate corridor ending with a set of steps lit by glowing torches. Deio lifted a foot, but Serbion stopped him.

"Wait." He rested his Black Icon on the first stair, and the angel statutes dotting the walls slid apart to reveal a row of gun servitors. The mottled gray flesh and dead eyes stared down at Deio. It whirred for a second and raised it's las-cannon. What was left of the machine's brain splattered against the wall. Deio ducked behind a banister for cover as the rest of the servitors opened fire. Great beams of energy rent the decorative tile, drawing great streaks across the floor.

[ame=""]YouTube- Megadeth - Play For Blood[/ame]

"Silence them!" He roared, before popping back out to let out shots with his bolt pistol.

The servitors swung around the train the cannons on me. Two more shuddered and died as Deio put rounds through their brains. A bolt of eldritch power shot out from Serbion's hand and another servitor evaporated, leaving the mechanical parts as molten slag. The servitors whirred loudly as the swiveled to pour fire into the heavy banisters the used for cover. Deio heard something crack and cursed. He sprinted up the first few steps, leaping over blue las-blasts. He reached the nearest servitor, and took cover behind it's immense body. He snarled in fury,

"We don't have time for this!" He leaped from behind the cover, and put a bolt through another servitor. He sprinted heedlessly through a veritable storm of las-blasts. Holstering his pistol, he drew the giant Guillotar. The air crackled and popped as Serbion snapped into existence beside him.

"Shield me." The Sorcerer nodded, and began speaking a foreign language, invoking ancient pact's with ruinous Daemons. A shimmering field of warp surrounded Deio, and he stepped out in to the fire. The servitors spun quickly and began pouring las-fire into him. The warp field shimmered slightly under the onslaught, but held. Deio held up the Guillotar, and strummed once. A massive wave of sonic energy fired from the neck of the Guillotar, to impact on the nearest gun-servitor. The circuits fizzled and blew, scattering brains and tissue as the energy surge hit decaying flesh. Behind him Serbion continued to read, the flowing script seeming to crackle and fizz as it emerged from his mouth.

They walked slowly up the stairs, Deio's fingers flying along the frets, sending blasts of sonic energy flying into the still-firing machines. Old, dry flesh caught fire as jets of electricity flew from their blown circuits. The squealing sound of his Metal accompanied by deep booming as Serbion slammed his Icon rhythmically into the stair as they ascended.

"With the thirty-seven keys of Tzeentch, we open the way for our brothers.
With the thousand whispers of Slaanesh, we call to them.
With the twelve plagues of Nurgle, we fell their enemies.
And with the mighty axe of Khorne, we cut open the world for them!"

Deio howled the Litany of Daemonicus Cultus, all the while sending blasts ripping through the last of the servitors. Finally, they lay silent, their remains smoking. Deio sheathed the Guillotar, the warp field surrounding him stuttering and going out. Before them stood massive, golden embroidered doors. Behind them rose the sound of battle as Kalas went about his task. Deio nodded once in thanks to Serbion before raising his Guillotar, activating the chainblade. It coughed violently and spun to life. Deio smashed it in between the doors, the blade screaming as it cut cleanly through the bolt. He raised a boot and kicked it inward.

He stepped inward, and flinched to the right, las-bolt smashing into his neck guard, not two inches from Deio's chin. He snarled and leaped behind a cherubish statue. The entire bridge was modeled to look like some sort of garden. The deck beneath Deio was entirely grass, lush, green. He spat into it in disgust. The ceiling arched high above them, painted a electric blue to resemble the sky. The door he had breached led unto a golden path, winding through what seemed to be real trees towards a giant pond. The pond was rectangular, and across it scrolled lines of data.

Surrounding it were child-like angelic servitors suspended by massive lines of cabling, their dead faces staring down into the water. At the head of the pool was a large golden throne, upon which a large armored figure sat. The captain was massive, dwarfing even Deio. From his belt hung a decorative power sword, and in his hand was a massive plasma pistol. Arrayed around him were a retinue hardened soldiers, donning flak armor and bearing a large assortment of weapons.

"Come out, Chaos scum, so that we may scour you from this sacred place." The captain boomed, getting to his feet, and raising his plasma pistol. Deio laughed again. Beside him Serbion looked to him questioningly. Deio nodded. Deio spoke loudly to cover the sound of Serbion's chanting.

"Your death is inevitable. Nurgle's decay eats at you, as surely as my chainblade will rend you apart. Your corpse god will not save you now." The captain fired, sending a bolt of superheated plasma into the statue behind which they took cover. It bored into the head of the angel, seemingly melting and exploding at once. It tossed superheated concrete all over, to sizzle in the grass.

"Quit cowering." He said. His retinue raised their weapons and let fly a massive fussilade of las-blasts, bullets and plasma. Even the gargantuan statue would not hold long beneath this onslaught. Deio glanced urgently at Serbion. The powerful sorcerer spoke a final word, his lip splitting beneath the power of the ancient language. A reek of brimstone rose from him, and power crackled around the snarling face of his Black Icon. A cacophony of voices began as a small rift in the warp emerged.

The firing stopped and screaming began. Deio poked his head out, seeing the hooktors flash into existence among the captain's retinue. The daemons were almost three metre's tall, matching the height of even a Traitor Marine. Instead of hands, they held long, sickle-like claws which tore through flesh and armor with equal ease. They fell upon the men in earnest. One ripped both arms off of a howling soldier, and tore into his chest with it's circular fanged orifice.

"YOU HAVE DEFILED THIS PLACE!" The captain howled in anguish, firing his plasma pistol into the mass of daemons.

+Damus, get back to the ship and get Omni and Alpharius to start herding crewmen into the Ozzfather. Razarius, sabotage their warp engines, I don't want to risk them going martyr on us. We are almost done, brothers.+

Deio leaped out from behind the statue, readying the Guillotar. He let out a long, powerful warcry, amplified by the Hellvox, and began to play as he charged down the path towards the melee. The hooktors were cutting through the ranks of men surrounding the giant throne. The captain leaped into the combat, force sword cleaving daemons left and right. Deio's fingers leaped deftly up a fret, down two, up one, sending quick blasts left and right to erupt, sending gore flying. Scattered las-blasts pinged off of his armor, and he screeched again. He slid his palm along the neck of the Guillotar, sending a current of sonic sound the split eardrums and ruptured internal organs with it's intensity. The captain remained unphased, some sort of field projected by archeo-tech armor.

Suddenly, the throne on which he had sat slid apart, to reveal a smaller alcove containing a lithe figure. The Navigator. The small, white-skinned pilot emerged from the alcove and sent a blast of psychic power to cleave apart a nearby hooktor. He saw Serbion grin ferally.

"Take her alive."
"My pleasure." Deio laughed and thumbed the activation rune once more, jumping into the fray. The spinning blade rent easily through the nearest man. A gibbering wreck fleeing a moaning daemon. Deio roared, exalting in the bloodshed. A boot heel sent another man into the open arms of a hooktor, which gurgled with glee. He decapitated one, and in the same swing severed another's legs. He shouted once more, the Hellvox sending men staggering off, clutching their bleeding ears. Something hit the back of his armor and sent Deio flying over the heads of the battle and crashing into the grassy field. He rolled over quickly, leaping up in time to catch the downward swing of the power sword with the Guillotar.

The captain was massive, towering above him, staring hatefully down at him as Deio struggled against his sword.

"DIE!" He screamed, raising the sword for another blow.


[ame=""]YouTube- Megadeth - Vortex[/ame]

I strode among the battle, sending blasts of power into the combat at random, grinning wildly at the butchery. The hooktors had performed admirably, but the Navigator's powers made short work of them, boosting their morale. The retinue's weapons helped as well. A blast of plasma sent a hooktor screaming back into the warp. A las-cannon carved a hole in another's torso. All the while, the Navigator popped them one by one, her warp eye shining. I snarled, changing course for her. They would falter without their artillery, and the hooktors couldn't cut it on their own against one of the Nobilite.

I raised the Icon and slammed it into the disgusting field. The wave of energy sent daemons and men alike hurtling away, clearing a corridor towards the Navigator. She turned and saw me, a flicker of fear(Which I relished) crossing her face, before being replaced by steely determination. She raised her hand and a flickering beam of lighting smashed against the field protecting me. I felt the power beneath it, but merely smiled malevolently. I raised the Icon, a massive black staff tipped with a four-sided daemon head sculpted of same stuff the treacherous Eldar used to focus their warp powers, wraithbone. I pointed it at her and invoked the daemon An'Ferash, a black, snake-like tunnel of thick fog snaking out. It drifted rapidly over at her, almost sentient, and surrounded her own shield, probing for an entrance. In seconds, all that could be seen was a swirling cloud of black miasma. The men shrieked, thinking her dead. Without their psychic artillery, they broke, running from the remnants of the summoned daemons, who just fell faster beneath their claws.

I felt the Navigator struggle to push past the prison of dead warp I had enclosed her in. All I had to do was contain he long enough to slay the rest of the Guard and then I could deal with her at my leisure. I noted that Deio was now combating the captain, the blows struck sending sparks flying about as they dueled. The remains of his retinue had not fled with the remnants of the cowardly Guard. They had climbed the steps of their Captains throne and now poured fire at the hooktors attempting to ascend. The Icon shivered as the Navigator tore rents through the dead warp, sending blasts of energy out periodically to disrupt my grip. I snarled and tightened the hold mentally. If the Guard managed to regroup they might have a chance at disrupting the hooktors.

(Points: 85 Deio, 20 Serbion

Epic Modifier: +5)

Karsikan the Berzerker

Original poster
"Be back with you a moment, it seems my welcoming party has finally arrived,"

His welcoming party was a company sized element of guardsman entered the engine room firing. They were the Kasirgan shock troops. The finest of the Imperial Guard, their weapons and armor were the best the imperial guard could provide them, and their skill was second only to the illustrious Space marines.

Their las fire tore the room apart, butchering Razarius newly converted cultists and forcing him and Quadritch to cover at opposite sides of the room. the daemonhost looked to it's master, who nodded in response, It knew what to do and it would slaughter them all.

Razarius crouched behind cover more than 50 meters from the guardsman, he was out of range for all but his two cannons, powerful though they were they couldn't save him, there were simply too many soldiers, and he had to distract them before quadritch could move anyway. He then decided he'd commune with the machine spirit and force it to defend him.

The cable extend from the side of his head, and it was dripping with protective fluids. It allowed him to speak directly to the machine spirit of almost any device, for his dark purposes. He tormented the machine spirit to half insanity, when it saw any living thing as hostile,

That's when it started to get interesting.

The ships internal defenses came to life, gun servitors dropping from the ceiling, and fired on the nearest living thing. The majority of the remaining purely human life signs were the kasirgans. as neither Razarius nor Quadritch counted anymore.

"Everyone, things are about to get a lot more interesting, if there's any gun servitors left destroy them immediately"


Original poster
[ame=""]YouTube- Black Label Society - Counterfeit God[/ame]

"Give up and die!" Deio roared, swinging the Guillotar in a side sweep, all of his might behind the blow. The captain raised the force sword with one hand and swatted away the strike. He was stronger than even Deio, augmetics and brute strength. He was fast as well, a lethal combination. Deio realized that he could not win in a fair fight. That was fine. Deio did not do fair anyway. He ducked the next swipe of the power sword and sprinted past the towering captain.

"Fleeing already, bootlick of Chaos?" Deio simply laughed. He sprung up the first three steps of the stair in one leap and took them two at a time. All around him lay bodies of the men, ripped into pieces by the hooktors. He depressed a the dispenser on his belt and a small egg dropped into his hand. Deio tapped the button once and chucked it. It latched directly onto the captains decorative gold breastplate. He stared down in surprise at it, before it exploded. A massive blast sent the smoking form of the captain hurtling into the grass field. Deio grinned ferally and drew the Guillotar again. He turned to face the rapidly dwindling veterans of the Captain's retinue.

He began to play.

Slowly at first, small licks up and down the fretboard. As they picked up speed, the wave of sonic emitting from the neck hit the melee. The vibrations forced the men back, faltering under the simultaneous assault of the daemons and the Guillotar. Deio's playing sped up, fingers flying up and down the board, flinging the veterans far from the attack. The men finally broke, turning and fleeing across the field for the escape pods. Behind them, the howling hooktors went into a frenzy, leaping entire meters to cut through the backs of the fleeing men. Sporadic las-fire echoed back, barely even turning the charging daemons.

"STAND YOUR GROUND!" A hoarse yet firm voice called. Deio whirled, snarling. The still-smoking form of the captain stood where he had fallen, leaning heavily on his force sword. The men halted, even as the hooktors fell upon them. They gasped at the sight of their captain, who had taken a grenade to the chest and still stood. His face was bleeding heavily, cuts from the shrapnel drawing rivers of blood down his face. He wiped at it constantly, yet there was a steely determination in his eyes. His chestplate had taken most of the blast, a smoking crater in the middle of the shattered plate.

"By the Ruinous Powers, why won't you fall!?" Deio howled.

He jumped from the stair and charged the captain. The man nonchalantly slapped Deio away with a swipe of his hand.

"Cut them down." The men all saluted, and sprinted away, firing their las-rifles and melta's behind them. The hooktors were practically shredded, falling like grass before a scythe. Concentrated las-fire tore them apart, blasting their screaming essence back into the warp. A melta beam bisected three in one swipe. Grenades eviscerated their ranks. They thinned visibly within moments. The prison of dead warp Serbion maintained vibrated and hiccuped, the struggling Navigator visible within. The men redoubled their efforts, cheering at the discovery.

"YOU WILL NOT TAKE THIS VICTORY FROM ME!" Deio screeched as he leaped to his feet. He swung the Guillotar around his head, charging at the captain. He raised his force sword, aiming a strike at Deio's head. The Guillotar clashed again, this time faltering beneath the force sword. It slid across the serrated teeth, shearing them off. The Guillotar stuttered and failed. Deio cursed and tossed it away. He rolled underneath the next swipe and side-stepped the next. He backed away, and the captain followed slowly.

"Give up. Die!" He said, advancing slowly. Deio simply sneered at him. The captain beckoned, and Deio charged. He sprinted, the captain readying a beheading strike. At the last moment, Deio leaped through the air, bringing both feet up and bending at the knees. His weight slammed into the captain, hurtling him back to fall into the pool, taking a servitor with him. Deio got back on his feet and sprinted to the side of the pool. It was surprisingly deep, containing banks of sealed cogitators. The immense weight of his armor dragged the captain down, forcing him to shed the shattered chestplate.

Deio got an idea. He drew his bolt pistol and fired at the banks of servitors, severing the cords binding them and sending them tumbling into the pools. Deio strode to the end of the rectangular pool and tore the cables trailing down the the cogitators from their sockets. He lugged it to the side of the pool, the massive cable as thick as a Bloodthirster's forearm. The captain drew himself up on the bank, and stared up at Deio hatefully.

[ame=""]YouTube- Megadeth - You're Dead[/ame]

"You're dead."

He kicked the captain back into the water and tossed the cable in after him. The severed end of the cable touched the water and sent enough volts to power seven ton-heavy banks of cogitators jolting through the water. Deio smiled and broke out laughing as the captain convulsed in the water. The smile froze as the captain tried to swim on, even as his limbs jerked from the onslaught. Desperate fury sparked in his eyes. Deio snarled and fired, sending bolts into the water. They exploded, sending clouds of gore spreading throughout the water, reddening it. The captain convulsed again, but somehow managed to keep coming. Deio screeched.

"SO. DAMN. SICK OF YOU!" The captain reached from the bank and grabbed Deio's ankle. He stared up at Deio, loathing in his eyes. Deio kicked him again, breaking his nose. He tapped the dispenser and depressed the timer five times, shoving the grenade into the captain's mouth and firing his bolt pistol into his wrist. The bone shattered and the grip loosened. Deio kicked him in the face severl more times, and finally punted him back beneath the waves.

He turned away and briskly strode to the bottom of the stairs, smiling smugly as the explosion tore through the water, sending gore and water in a giant plume skywards. The men wailed, their hail of fire wavering. Serbion sent a final jerk through the dead warp and released it, the unconscious form of the exhausted Navigator tumbling to the floor. The last twenty hooktors surged forward, tearing the veterans to ribbons. They finally turned and routed beneath the pressure. Deio howled triumphantly, the Hellvox shattering eardrums and slaying men.

He spotted the force sword lying discarded on the grass a few yards away. He strode to it and picked it up, spitting on the aquila set into the hilt. He hung the trophy from his belt. The hooktors had finished off the remaining veterans, and fell upon their corpses. Serbion strode over to Deio, the body of the Navigator suspended in a nexus of energy beside him.

"Interesting method, Captain." Deio laughed.
"Nothing more satisfying, Serbion. Plot the course to the surface." Serbion bowed slightly and turned towards the throne.

+Loot and slay, brothers. We have won. Alpharius, send the serfs out to gather slaves. Dispatch any resistance. You have an hour, men, before the Eternal embarks on it's final voyage.+

(Points: Deio 100, Serbion 15

Kills: Deio 16, Serbion 0

Epic Modifier: +84 Deio, +15 Serbion.)

Karsikan the Berzerker

Original poster
"I INTEND TO, MORE SKULLS FOR THE THRONE!!" Razarius bellowed into the vox as Deio announced victory. he charged forth with lightning speed, he servo arms catching two Kasrgans by the throat and Cleaveland slicing through another three. the sheer strength of the servo-arms crushed the kasrgan's necks and effectively decapitated them, Razarius hacked gun servitors were doing equally well, their surprise attack on the kasrgans had cut down more than half of their number in an instant. The disarray caused forced them to split their fire, sending 1 quarter to razarius, 1 quarter to Quadritch, and the remain half on the servitors suspended overhead. they were eventually gunned down, but not until their numbers were decimated, and those that survived quickly found either Razarius or Quadritch removing their heads in homage to Khrone himself. Razarius stood there in a moment of pure exhaultation, overcome with the rush of battle. Quadritch knew it's masters standing orders, it began gathering technology.

It's master shortly joined it,
"GAther any advanced weapons they may have, arm yourselves then return the others to me. That i may manufacture better versions."



Original poster

"All proceeds as planned. Get the Navigator back to the ship, I shall be there shortly." Serbion smiled.

"As you wish. I will perform the consecration. The course is plotted, and locked. The remaining Guard have routed, and our cultists are currently rounding up the remaining crew members. We will have them processed and converted within the month."
"For Chaos.
"For the Ruinous Powers." The Sorcerer turned and strode off, the hooktors in tow, the Navigator hovering beside him.


"You are a slippery one." Serbion commented, shifting the weight of his Black Icon to his other hand.

"I spent far too many pacts containing you." The Navigator, suspended in a nexus of warp energy stared daggers at him from behind a curtain of grimy blonde hair. Her Warp Eye was closed, a Seal of Silence super-imposed in bloody red lines of power over it. Her arm's hung outwards, the wrists tied by a nimbus of Kinetic Leech. What was left of her gaudy velvet vestment was torn and ripped from the battle aboard the Light Eternal. They stood in Serbions meditation cell, a large chamber with a deep pit in the center for sacrifice and rituals. Arrayed around the circular pits were twenty or so cultists, wailing softly as their souls were drawn out, bit by bit, to sustain the spell Serbion cast over the Navigator.

"Kill me now, Chaos scum, or stop blathering on." Serbion simply laughed and waved his hand, sending bolts of power sizzling along the intricate lines of the Warp Prison. The Navigator jerked and gasped as the bolts touched nerves and over-stimulated them. She twisted and bent, wriggling within the restraints.

"The Agonis Pentraxis. A Slaaneshi cultist's invention no doubt. Perhaps next the Submergi Abyssum. There is so much knowledge up here," Serbion tapped his cermite helmet for emphasis. "Your psykers would give their lives up to possess even a fraction of my might."

"I want nothing to do with your filthy brain or it's contents!" The Navigator spat, the gobbet frying against the lines of energy binding her. The line fizzled and loosened. Serbion hissed in surprise and the Navigator pushed with all her psychic might against the line. The energy poured around the severed line and rushed at the Sorcerer. Almost contemptuously, he waved the blast off. It careened into the wall, smashing into one of the daemons pressing against the wall to witness the ritual. It gibbered as it absorbed the blast, swelling slightly, before burping out a blast of energy. The Navigator sagged, attempting to summon another blast, but Serbion reinforced the line.

"Try that again and the pain you will suffer will be unimaginable!" He swung the Black Icon, and black lines of shadow lashed out from the circle of warp energy against the Navigator. She screamed as they drew light rents across her torso. Half-burn, half-cut, they leaked a constant stream of crimson blood. The velvet of her already torn garment was no protection. She subsided, twitching at ever hit, but remaining silent, staring stoically at the blood-stained floor through a curtain of blonde hair. Serbion stopped the lashing with another wave of the Icon.

"You will break, child. It is inevitable." She did not respond. He lunged forward, reaching through the warp field and tore away the Navigator's robes(or rather, what was left). Beneath it was a tight-fitting jumpsuit, little larger than a leotard. Serbion took another step forward, smiling wolfishly. He ran a finger along her thigh, pointed gauntlet finger drawing blood. She shuddered and gasped, yet remain silent.

"Renounce the Emperor." She said nothing. He grabbed the Vindicus Prisarius hanging from a chain from his belt and opened it. Turning swiftly to a ear-marked page, he began to read the blocky unholy script. The air shimmered and seemed to turn inside out. Colors inverted, sound became distorted. Depth perception disappeared entirely for the Navigator. Every shriek she let out as Serbion dragged his finger down her other thigh amplified a hundred times over to echo back and torture her. He dragged it on another few moments before slamming shut the book and speaking the final word. Reality slowly drained back in, sound returning and colors fading back to their normal spectrum.

"Renounce your corpse god." She remained silent, shivering, half-naked in the frigid recycled air. "Unresponsive to pain. Good. However it presents a problem in the now. He turned and climbed out of the pit. Serbion slotted the Icon into it's holder, and unclasped his helmet, slotting it over the daemonic visage on the tip of the staff. His skin was a deep, ash colored hue. His eyes stared milky into the distance, and his long mane of hair was bright white.

"A side-effect of the gifts bestowed upon me by Tzeentch." He slid his hands underneath the decorative breastplate and removed it. Patches of skin came away around the edges. It was normal, warp and combat effectively bonding them. Soon he would become one with his armor. For now, he required separation from it. He slipped the backplate and the shoulder pads off, placing them reverently in the iron chest set to the side of the pit. He sat upon the bench he used for meditation, modeled to look like a supplicating daemon. He leaned over and removed his greaves. He rose, placing the last of the pieces into the ordered pile. He bent over them and spoke words of blessing, before stepping back and facing the Navigator.

"I ask you one last time. Revoke your vows and renounce your faith. Give up on the rusty pile of bones sitting on ancient machinery." She wavered, he saw, as she guessed his intentions.

"No..." She said in horror. Serbion only grinned in response.

(Warning: Erotica and rape follow. Not ordinary erotica and rape, Slaanesh erotica and rape. Following rape scene contains copious amounts of win blood, epic jizz, and fuck yeah sodomy. Those who remain sane would do well to avoid it.))
Serbion spoke the Incanto Depravis, unholy magicks swirling around the pit. The Navigator struggled furiously against her restraints, horror growing in her face.

"You sick, depraved, Chaos-worshipping-.." She trailed off, staring in horror as vents along the wall slid up, letting out a torrential deluge of crimson blood. It flooded down cut channels and sprayed from four leering daemonic imp's mouths surrounding the circular pit. Serbion flung his arms out, exalting some evil entity, and both his body glove and her torn jumpsuit disintegrated. She felt the blast of hot sticky air from the blood vents on her grimy skin, goosebumps sprouting all over her. Serbion opened his eyes and dropped his arms to his sides. The blood was up to his ankles now.

"Your name?" He said.
"Fuck you." The Navigator replied. Serbion sighed, snapping his fingers. She screamed out as the Eight-Star of Chaos drew itself in blood across her stomach. The Navigator prayed feverishly to her corpse god, lips murmuring some ancient prayer as her eyes closed to the horror around her.

"Can't have that." He snapped again. Her eyes flew open, pinned by the spell. Her lips froze, and despair joined the horror and desperation in her eyes.
"Your name."
"..K-K-Kasteen." She mumbled. "Kasteen Perincius."
Serbion closed his eyes, intoning another verse of the Depravis. The wide doors were flung open, robed figures entering carrying lecterns full of incense. They slowly filed around the pit, taking positions surrounding the softly moaning acolytes maintaining the containment spell. They opened latches on the lamps, and out wafted a heavy perfume. As Kasteen smelled it, she felt her senses seem to both dull and sharpen at once. Her vision grew fuzzy and she felt drowsy, yet within her she felt a fire of lust spark into life. Kasteen struggles grew more feeble, the perfume eroding her resistance. Her eyelids fell, half-covering her eyes, and she felt herself begin to both ends.

Coming alive for an instant, with all of her willpower Kasteen forced her eyes open. She turned her head and sank her teeth into her shoulder. The pain cut through the curtain of drowsy lust, and she snarled at the Sorcerer. He simply chuckled. Serbion waved his hands, and the incense-bearing figure's robes fell away. Beneath they were entirely naked, each with the eight-star symbol of Chaos on their stomachs. Kasteen realized her own marking was not simply a punishment. Serbion smiled and nodded.

"You will become one of us." The nexus surrounded Kasteen disappeared and she dropped into the pool of blood, now up to Serbion's knees. The acolytes wailed once more and died, the rest of their essences swirling down the channels and into the pit. The naked cultists descended giggling into the pit. Kasteen tried to drag herself over the lip, but one of the men pushed her back in. He descended on her, sitting on her as she tried to resurface. He plunged in after her, seeking her mouth. At the intrusion, she wriggled and slapped him away, pushing off and staggering to her feet, dripping blood. The cultist came up as well, laughing maniacally. He grabbed her from behind, arms around her stomach. He nipped at her neck as she tried to break away.

All around them, it had descended into a depraved orgy. Couples lay about, moaning as they fucked in a pool of crimson. It was indiscriminate, men with men, women with women. In the center stood Serbion, intoning further unholy verses.

"Embrace the Prince of Excess, Kasteen." The Cultist whispered into her ear as he held her tight. She gasped as a foreign prescence invaded her mind. All around them, the air had taken on a livid quality. Colors ran with no sense of order, the moans amplified and raised in pitch. Women howled as men thrusted furiously. Scents intensified, the metallic odor of blood, human sweat, and the ever-prescent sickly-sweet smell of taint. A gibbering cacophony of voices sounded about the room, and the door's flung open once more. Instead of the decorative corridor from before, it was a swirling vortex of the warp. Daemons crowded over each other to see the sick orgy. Cackling harpies flew around the pit, spewing blood and a familiar and horrifying white substance on the slaves, who simply screwed harder for the daemon's amusment.

The cultist pulled Kasteen down into the growing pool, his girth hot against her. Kasteen convulsed in revulsion, but her struggles were in vain, for the man was strong, his skin glowing with the taint of Chaos.

"So pretty." His voice had taken on a feverish tone, and it seemed as if a second voice spoke with him.

Possession! Her mind screamed in terror, blind fear and lust warring for supremacy. The blood had rose and had almost passed her stomach as she lay utop the cultist. Her hair was soaked wit the stuff, lying across her breasts, panting in a mixture of feelings. Serbion waded over to her, and broke into a smile.

"Is it not beautiful, Kasteen?" He stared around him in satisfaction. "The daemons are pleased. Kasteen was far beyond speech, yet shock had not settled on. No doubt part of the foul sorcerer's magicks. The cultist holding her licked behind her ear, and she jerked.

"Do not resist, Navigator." Serbion warned. She ignored him, and began screaming, kicking and thrashing. The cultist giggled wildly, and Serbion sighed in exasperation. Around them, the capering daemons turned to inspect the source. Screeching in unison, they flew into cultists, followed by double-tone moans as they possessed them. Eye's turned red, teeth sharpened and nails became talons. And somehow through all the mutations, they kept up the furious sex. One couple stood, the man holding the women, who was gasping in time with his thrusts. She raked her new talons along his back, drawing a river of blood to join the still-growing pool, yet he only increased the pace. Two women lay near the edge of one pit, masturbaiting each other furiously, eviscerating each other's thighs due to their long claws, yet both screamed in unison in an ecstacy of agony.

The cultist shivered beneath Kasteen and drew his own talons across her breasts, licking at her neck and ears while constricting her with his legs. Kasteen was ragingly horny, it threatened to overwhelm her, to steal her will if she did not satisfy it now. She pried and arm free and touched herself, immediate guilt flattened by hormones. A life of abstinence and protocol, restrictions and etiquette. Daily stress, the thought that thousands of lives were resting on you. A unloving, greedy father, and a vicious buisness woman mother. The tension and the headaches from staring into the Empyrean, it built up. A small(yet rapidly growing) part of her mind was enjoying it. No, ecstatic. Kasteen thought disconnectedly that it was the sorcery, but a deeper part knew it to be her own self, committing heresy.

A female cultist staggered over and fell upon her, licking at her breasts, her exposed skin, finally leaping forward and shoving her tongue almost violently into Kasteen's mouth. Kasteen's first impulse was to bite, but the growing heretic in her rebelled, stopping her jaw from severing the tongue. She pulled the bite, but her teeth sank into the tongue, drawing blood. The female only gasped in pleasure and pain, and continued to play tonsil hockey. The sorcery and perfume drove her, and Kasteen sucked greedily at the blood pouring out. She in turn invaded the cultist, and she bit as well. The pain mixed with the pleasure, and somehow(no doubt the incense and magick) it intensified everything. Kasteen convulsed, moaning loudly. The cultist grinned, and lowered herself, biting fiercely at her breasts, chewing as she stared lustfully up at Kasteen.

Sensing her change in attitude, the cultist spooning her cooed, and nudged her legs apart. She drew them together again, fear resurfacing momentarily. The female culstist astride her slapped her, and the fear disappeared. Slowly, reluctantly, the man managed to pry her legs apart, and she felt a warmth against her skin. Before he could slide in, the female was jerked away by some unseen force, sending her splashing a few feet away. She truculently crawled away to join what resembled a beating heart of people.

Serbion towered over her, eyes blazing with lust and smugness.

"I knew you'd see the light." He pulled Kasteen to her feet, pulling her against him. He intoned a verse as he lifted her, her legs sliding reluctantly around his waist.

"N-n-no!.." She cried, but to no avail. He pushed inside her, and agony pierced her. She screeched like a daemon, as he violated her. Incredibly, he laughed.

"A virgin? Unexpected." She couldn't reply, too busy howling like one possessed. Kasteen arched her back, digging her fingers into his back, feeling hot blood well up. Her toes were clenched in a rictus of pain. He sped up his thrusts, eliciting more shouts, drawing hoots and cheers from the cultists around them. It felt as if he was bisecting her with a chainsword, repeated thrusts sending bolts of pain into her. She began to bleed, clitoris split under Serbion's massive girth. Her eyes went back into her head, and she saw black. The pain was unbearable, she was on the verge of fainting. Yet the damned sorcery kept her awake and in anguish.

Then something popped and Serbion slid in entirely. An explosion of pleasure ripped through her, and she shook wildly as her nerves were lit on fire with sensations entirely new to her. Lust redoubled, and she began to respond, meeting his thrusts with her own. He grinned.

"The advantages of Chaos Undivided...." She ignored him, brain melting. He slowed, not even breathing heavily. She looked at him expectantly, craving more.

"Wh-" Kasteen stopped as she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned as far as her neck would allow, and -saw the smirking cultist from before. She didn't even manage to protest before her second sacred place was violated.


Kasteen lay draped over a pile of bodies, licking lazily at the puddle of blood. Around her were bodies, some breathing, other staring glassily at the ceiling, dead from blood loss of excessive cutting. Kasteen knew not how long she lay there. She felt bloated, having drunk her fair share of body fluids. After being double-teamed by Serbion and the other cultist, she became the life of the party. Every single cultist had had his or her way with Kasteen, many more than once, most more than one at a time. She still bled from a dozen cuts, yet she was suffused with a feeling of pleasure and satisfaction, as if digesting a meal.

The doors swung open, and Serbion strode in, clad once more in his immense power armor. Kasteen smiled drowsily at him, and he nodded. Serbion was accompanied(no, was accompanying) the Traitor Marine who had slain Captain Darris. A pang of regret was silenced instantly by recollections of the orgy. That life of pressure was behind her now. There was no way she could go back now. She was damned.

"That is the Navigator?" Serbion nodded. "Rise, converted one, and follow me." Kasteen tried to drag herself to her feet, yet her limbs collapsed beneath her. Serbion stepped forward, lifting her with one hand. She leaned heavily against him, limbs wobbling. Serbion helped her out of the pit, following the other Marine down the corridor, half-carrying Kasteen as the massive stride of the other Marine far out paced her staggering. The corridor twisted and wound, splitting off into similarly confusing corridors. It was most likely designed to confuse borders, each corridor made of the same metals and with the same decor, simple glow-globes illuminating row after row of daemonic faces that twisted and jerked on the edge of her vision.

"Where are we go-..?" Serbion silenced her with a look.

(Kill Count: Serbion 3, Kasteen 5

Epic Modifier: Serbion +100, Kasteen +45

Kasteen is now a main character. Thank Slaanesh for rape!)

Warmaster Death

Original poster
Musical Score, Down With The Sickness - Disturbed

the crewmembers marched, some defiant, msot humbled, a few even wept tears of joy as they strode past the Rhino and into the Ozzfather.
even as they did so, their ears beheld the sound of the Deus Metallicus, the pounding of the drums of chaos.

Little Alpharius played a sombre beat, one to which the once servants of the Emperor could march to, and slowly, unknowingly, they began to nod their heads, some even began to tap their sides with their hands, one wounded guard veteran stumbled, and the Alpha Legionary slowed his beat, his eyes locking onto the guardsmans.

hate met soft understanding and almost pity, though the chaos space marines soul was hardened by millenia of war, he felt nothing like the useless pangs of empathy the slaves filing past the guardsman felt.
The Alpha Legionary did not increase the tempo, but rather, brought the adamantium sticks down harder on the drums, and the guardsman lowered his head, a smile forming on his bloodied and bruised face, now he rose with a strength of conviction he had not felt in all his life, the energy of metal filling his soul with pride and self worth.
"Rise brother of metal" a cultist intoned, approaching the guardsman, and as he was lifted, the Guardsman raised his hand in the metallican salute, a closed fist bar the index and little finger, the 'devils horns' as it was once called.

Little Alpharius laughed and nodded to the guardsman-come-cultist and increased his tempo once more.

on and on the pathetic remenants of the Imperial Navy Vessel moved, but as they passed the Rhino of Little Alpharius, they seemed to walk with a little more pride and purpose, as if their loyalty to the golden throne was being overcome by the power of the msuic he played, though the cultists themselves could tell that even as it uplifted them, it was not one of the standard battle musicks of the Chaos Gods.

Little Alpharius: Unknown Converts. at least 50+ no kills.


Original poster
Damus was practically wading through the mass of captured guardsmen being herded through onto the cruiser. The look on his face was far from happy.

A voice whispered to him making his face twitch but it lost none of its resolve. From his belt next to the holstered bolt pistol hung the large powersword taken from the corpse of the commissar, its previous owner's head serving he decorate the scabbard gore still dripping from the fresh cut. Several other heads hung from his belt many of then sporting mangled faces still set in expressions of agony.

"Damus still yourself it was a glorious victory.

The marine marched on chainsword still clenched firmly in his fist the ex-wolf guard caught up to the still talking Deio and with a violent jerk on his arm pulled his commander away from the group and pushed his against the wall a deep anger shining in his eyes. "I AM NOT A PEON!" he half bellowed the hand holding the chainsword twitching. "IF A WANTED TO BE A BOOTLICK I'D STILL BE SERVING THE FALSE EMPEROR!" his entire face seemed to shift then he turned a hungry glance at Kasteen.

With no further words he threw the chainsword to the floor, perhaps as a defiant gesture or perhaps to prevent himself from using it, then with a deep throaty growl released Deio and stormed down the corridoor.