05-29-2015, 07:34 PM
"Arise, my Champion... The voices echoed in his mind, a thousand thousand souls all speaking in unison. It was deafeningly loud, blotting out all conscious thought and reducing the proud marine to a reeling husk. He fell to his knees, his bolter disintegrating in his hands as he fell forward. Just barely he stopped his descent, cringing as the psychic onslaught bombarded his unshielded mind. Nothing could have prepared him for such a sensation.
His mouth opened, but no sound issued forth. His silent screams of pain fell upon the deaf ears of countless daemons as they writhed and shifted with mischievous glee. "No longer do you serve the Anathema. No longer will you admire your gene-father. For now and all time, you shall be beholden only to my splendour, my glory, my infinite plots." Galel pushed with all of his will, his hand raising and reaching out, grasping at the iridescent energy that was the warp.
His willpower was eroding under the relentless power of change. He felt his body shifting and being corrupted. His armour, once immaculate, was battlescarred by bolter and las shots. It too, began to shift. The adamantium aquilla on his breastplate shifted, becoming a motif of flames. The proud red of the Thousand Sons bled away to reveal a deep azure, forever marking it as dedicated to tzeentch. He felt his skull rend in two, the forehead splitting open to make way for a third eye.
Galel's third eye shot open, darting about in an effort to figure out where he was. Slowly, his mortal eyes opened as consciousness returned to him. He sat up, rubbing his head. The lobby? He thought, then looked down at himself. Where there used to be a metal spike sticking down out of a bloody stump, was now a fully intact left leg. His armour was untarnished, with no scratches on it, and no hole above his heart. Galel reached out, tapping on the bonded Ceramite plating to ensure he wasn't hallucinating. Real enough. He placed his hand over his heart, probing for any patched holes. Intact. He considered what had happened.
Several minutes before Galel's death
Galel winced as Okor drove the metal spike into his stump. The fourth one was always the most painful. Each time it was pushed deeper into his flesh it jostled the other three spikes, causing a surge of pain. It had to be done, however, in order to secure the wooden stake that was to serve as his crude prosthetic leg. The Sorcerer nodded to the Plague Marine, hoping off of the gurney and testing out his new 'leg'. It hurt every step he took, but it was better than using a branch as a crutch. The Sorcerer tested it, then nodded in satisfaction. "It will suffice." He said.
Turning to Okor, he began to speak. "I scouted out a structure before I journeyed here. It is secure. A single entrance, and solid enough walls. A few places to set up an ambush. It would be ideal to defend." He glanced around. "This place seems too central. With the medicine here, enemies will be drawn to us, even those who are uninjured. I say we go there and wait for the others to tire themselves out. There is a large beacon we could use to illuminate the path to the structure, and the tower provides a vantage point for ranged combat." He glanced over to Tartaros, who was busying himself watching for people on the main road.
Galel leaned in close to Okor, gesturing to his bag. "The helmet in there is for you. I have no doubt that you will be the last of us standing. If that happens before the end, then wear it. It is possessed by some bound warpspawn. The being within will strengthen you, but does not tolerate cooperation. If you are depserate, wear that helmet. Otherwise, leave it be." He said, glancing over to Tartaros. "And do not trust him... he is not loyal to the same cause that we are..."
Galel was roused from his thought by a Syntek employee shaking his arm. "Sir? Sir?" The sycophant asked. Galel scowled, swatting the man's arm away from his armour. "Touch me again, and it'll be the last thing you ever do." He growled angrily, standing up and drawing himself to his full height. He reached for the back of his neck, intent on tearing the damnable collar off, only to find that it was missing. He grinned, reaching down to his belt. Finding the familiar grip of his blade, he drew it and impaled the employee through the ribcage. "I'm sorry about that." He said, laughing gleefully.
Galel drew his blade out of the dying man, turning to walk towards a shimmering portal. "REJOICE, ALL YE WHO DWELL HERE. CHANGE IS NEAR, AND I AM IT'S HARBINGER!" He bellowed, stepping into the shimmering rift in the skin of the verse. Where he was going, nobody could tell but him. Even as the Sorcerer vanished, the Syntek employee slumped to the floor, clutching his chest and coughing up blood as he gasped for air. Soon the man would be dead, the first of many deaths that Galel would ultimately be responsible for.
His mouth opened, but no sound issued forth. His silent screams of pain fell upon the deaf ears of countless daemons as they writhed and shifted with mischievous glee. "No longer do you serve the Anathema. No longer will you admire your gene-father. For now and all time, you shall be beholden only to my splendour, my glory, my infinite plots." Galel pushed with all of his will, his hand raising and reaching out, grasping at the iridescent energy that was the warp.
His willpower was eroding under the relentless power of change. He felt his body shifting and being corrupted. His armour, once immaculate, was battlescarred by bolter and las shots. It too, began to shift. The adamantium aquilla on his breastplate shifted, becoming a motif of flames. The proud red of the Thousand Sons bled away to reveal a deep azure, forever marking it as dedicated to tzeentch. He felt his skull rend in two, the forehead splitting open to make way for a third eye.
_____________
Galel's third eye shot open, darting about in an effort to figure out where he was. Slowly, his mortal eyes opened as consciousness returned to him. He sat up, rubbing his head. The lobby? He thought, then looked down at himself. Where there used to be a metal spike sticking down out of a bloody stump, was now a fully intact left leg. His armour was untarnished, with no scratches on it, and no hole above his heart. Galel reached out, tapping on the bonded Ceramite plating to ensure he wasn't hallucinating. Real enough. He placed his hand over his heart, probing for any patched holes. Intact. He considered what had happened.
_____________
Several minutes before Galel's death
Galel winced as Okor drove the metal spike into his stump. The fourth one was always the most painful. Each time it was pushed deeper into his flesh it jostled the other three spikes, causing a surge of pain. It had to be done, however, in order to secure the wooden stake that was to serve as his crude prosthetic leg. The Sorcerer nodded to the Plague Marine, hoping off of the gurney and testing out his new 'leg'. It hurt every step he took, but it was better than using a branch as a crutch. The Sorcerer tested it, then nodded in satisfaction. "It will suffice." He said.
Turning to Okor, he began to speak. "I scouted out a structure before I journeyed here. It is secure. A single entrance, and solid enough walls. A few places to set up an ambush. It would be ideal to defend." He glanced around. "This place seems too central. With the medicine here, enemies will be drawn to us, even those who are uninjured. I say we go there and wait for the others to tire themselves out. There is a large beacon we could use to illuminate the path to the structure, and the tower provides a vantage point for ranged combat." He glanced over to Tartaros, who was busying himself watching for people on the main road.
Galel leaned in close to Okor, gesturing to his bag. "The helmet in there is for you. I have no doubt that you will be the last of us standing. If that happens before the end, then wear it. It is possessed by some bound warpspawn. The being within will strengthen you, but does not tolerate cooperation. If you are depserate, wear that helmet. Otherwise, leave it be." He said, glancing over to Tartaros. "And do not trust him... he is not loyal to the same cause that we are..."
_____________
Galel was roused from his thought by a Syntek employee shaking his arm. "Sir? Sir?" The sycophant asked. Galel scowled, swatting the man's arm away from his armour. "Touch me again, and it'll be the last thing you ever do." He growled angrily, standing up and drawing himself to his full height. He reached for the back of his neck, intent on tearing the damnable collar off, only to find that it was missing. He grinned, reaching down to his belt. Finding the familiar grip of his blade, he drew it and impaled the employee through the ribcage. "I'm sorry about that." He said, laughing gleefully.
Galel drew his blade out of the dying man, turning to walk towards a shimmering portal. "REJOICE, ALL YE WHO DWELL HERE. CHANGE IS NEAR, AND I AM IT'S HARBINGER!" He bellowed, stepping into the shimmering rift in the skin of the verse. Where he was going, nobody could tell but him. Even as the Sorcerer vanished, the Syntek employee slumped to the floor, clutching his chest and coughing up blood as he gasped for air. Soon the man would be dead, the first of many deaths that Galel would ultimately be responsible for.