[4-12] The Mines

[Okor]

The shining light that had promised them salvation flickered and dimmed as they crested the lip of the tunnel, their high hopes crushed as the cerulean sky was denied to them, their prison of stone still enfolding them. Massive machinery groaned under its own weight, the lack of maintenance evident, the oxidation marring their garishly painted flanks like mortal wounds inflicted upon great beasts.

There were other, less metaphorical bloodstains in evidence, spattered across the minimalistic construction in the cavern, several of which twisted into Runes even the Champion of Nurgle failed to recognize. Marcus and Fiara followed behind him, making the wise decision to stick behind Okor’s bulk, shielding themselves from any unseen assailants with the cancer-ridden carapace of the Plague Marine. “What happened here?” Asked the Phoenix, gawking at the abandoned facility before them, her scarlet eyes widening as she looked upon the vista of violence before them.

The mechanisms within Okor’s ancient warplate protested as he knelt, the motion unfamiliar without his Rightful Lord before him. He grasped the haft of a pickaxe, the steel topping its handle adorned with blood and gobbets of grey matter. From beneath the verdigris-coated helmet came a growl. ”In short? Nothing… Good.” He dropped the tool to the ground, the sound of steel on stone echoing through the cavernous quarry as his gears ground, struggling to raise his weight upwards once more.

”It’s safe to assume they found a relic. A receptacle of some Dark God’s… strength. Absolute power, corrupts the weak absolutely.” He ran a hand along a railing, the sanguine stains upon it flecked with iridescent particles. ”They would have already been open to temptation before they unearthed it.” He raised his claws, displaying the rainbow-ridden matter that made this false world go round. ”Omnillium. They were sent to extract pure… power. A few whispers would start driving them, fuelling their greed and weakness. Three days for the corruption to find a foothold, at most. Drive one, perhaps two men to madness, break their minds and reforge them in its own image. Another three to consolidate. Bring others into the fold, locate arms, and cast aside what remains of their humanity.”

The gangrenous giant looked upon the disturbingly corpse-free carnage surrounding them. Sparse bullet holes riddled the surface of one wall, the haphazard placement indicative of panicked sidearm fire, a holdout weapon against the horde that descended upon them.

”Maybe one hour to undertake the act.” Smeared trails of crimson led around a corner, explaining the disappearance of at least one carcass. Was this the start of the Cannibal Cult that assailed their position? Mere miners, driven to madness by some incomprehensible truth they uncovered, tempting them to feast on the flesh of their fellow men?

“How do you know so much about this?” Queried the false-man, the subtle hum of electronics audible, betraying their inhumanity. “Did you deal with this often, in your home ‘verse?”

Tainted tusks slowly split themselves open in a sinister smile beneath his horned helmet, blackened fangs wholly immersed in the toxic effluence that coursed through his veins. ”Deal with it? I… Dealt in it.”

There was silent for a moment, broken only by the shuddering death rattles of the abandoned industry around them.

“Just what do you mean by that?” Came the response from Fiara, her teeth gritted together, threatening to crack under the pressure as the flames encircling her gauntlets began to flare to life.

”What I mean is that you did what you had to in order to survive. You killed, you corrupted, you swore your soul away. You did whatever you could, because if you didn’t, someone… else would do it to you, and take what little life you had left in you.”

“And does that excuse what you’ve done? You’ve slaughtered how many, Okor?” The Phoenix practically screamed, her voice echoing off of the man-made mausoleum they had stopped within.

“How many lie dead by your hands?”

It was practically a whisper, a near-silent accusation that sought to condemn the Chosen of the Dark Gods for all the bloody deeds done in their unspeakable names.

”Worlds. I have seen… Solar Systems set ablaze, and tasted the ashes.”

“I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like to go a day without violence. Do you know what it’s like to have to kill? I don’t mean in self-defence, or survival. The urge is built into my genome, wrapped so tightly around my psyche that it’s become… a part of me. It used to be so… simple. The Emperor of Mankind had abandoned his sons, and sought ascension, at any cost.”

He breathed deeply, ruined respiratory systems serving no other purpose than to house a host of parasitic organisms that would have long since killed and hatched from any other ‘living’ being.

”So we fought, because that’s all we can do. We killed brothers, burned worlds we once paraded upon, and swore ourselves to the only Gods that deserved our worship. For ten thousand years, we sought to cast down a false God, because we hated them, and they… hated us.”

“It was all so simple.”

A corroded gauntlet fell down upon a railing, irreparably bending it as his inhuman strength destroyed any hopes of it ever retaining its structural integrity.

”But now, it’s twisted. The dead return to life, realities even I could never fathom… existing spawn forth new pawns for Omni’s great game, and I still have to hate.”

A bare hand twisted the steel further, warped metal digging further into deadened flesh, Okor incapable of heeding the wounds.

”And it’s all I can do to try to hate the right people.”

The Plague Marine looked up from the ravaged architecture at his companions.

”What of you? What were your worlds like?”

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