08-15-2016, 09:21 AM
The skull of the spiteful spirit crashed into a swarm of the living dead, sending them careening away, a tangled mass of limbs and rotting flesh. The Ghoulish Guardian stepped forward, readying his macabre melee weapon for another crushing blow against the horde. ”Why in the infinite hells did you… follow me?’ He snarled to his secondary companion, answering the scrabbling claws of the soulless creatures before him with a contemptuous crack of his pistol’s butt, shattering its skull and leaving it to join the ever-growing mound of corpses at his feet.
The heavenly chorus of the Phoenix’s shotguns heralded her answer, her bloodied and battered frame staying just out of arm’s reach of the ravenous dead pursuing her. “Are you kidding me? The only safe place on this island is right behind you, walking on the trail of bodies you leave in your wake.” Nurgle’s Chosen chuckled at the seeming compliment, driving his flail down onto the cranium of another corpse as he fired a flame-filled round at one of the ghouls pursuing his ally.
He looked up from the pulped remains of his latest victim, freezing in place as his adversaries began to close in. ”The rhythm's shifted,” he stated as he lashed out, the impact of his weapon sending a severed head flying through the air. “What!?” Yelled Fiara, her wrist-mounted blades eviscerating an embodiment of entropy as she pumped a shell into its chin. ”Fewer guns firing.” He took a step back, loosing a phosphex bolt into the face of another festering foe. ”It’s sporadic. They aren’t laying down suppressive fire on a horde, they’re focusing on a singular entity.” He dropped a shrunken skull from his belt, the biological bomb landing at his feet and releasing its lethal payload. ”They’re still… firing. Anything unworthy of our attention would have been felled already.”
“They need our help,” growled the gangrenous giant as he broke into a run, shambling towards the others as one of his few remaining rounds streaked towards the ever-expanding cloud of volatile gasses, igniting the airborne corruption behind them. Shards of bone and rockcrete flew from behind them, digging into his thick armour plates as Fiara jogged alongside him, her weary eyes staring into his crimson orb, the corroded construction of the city collapsing behind them. “This is going to be bad, isn’t it?” Queried Mogami a she slotted another shell into her gauntlets.
”Without a doubt. Should I… Fall, find Hiro. He shall guide you.”
“Please, just what on this island has a chance of ending you?” She teased as the pair turned a corner, the desperate bursts of gunfire reaching a crescendo as they looked upon their latest prey. It towered over them, dessicated skin rapidly mending itself as a barrage of bullets impacted off of the scarred surface, the bulletproof coat covering it slowly eroding a it bore the brunt of the Primes’ aggression. The half-scrapped remains of the Vice-Dean were wrapped around its waist, rent-ridden legs slowly being pushed back through the rubbled as they struggled to hold the abomination away from the survivors.
”That.”
He entered into a sprint as he charged towards the Tyrant, the creature snarling as its fist metamorphosized, bubbling over and breaking apart as it reformed into lengthy tendrils, the appendages still slick with the corruption of their creation as they struck. They flogged the pillars the primes cowered behind, rubble flying through the air as the impossible strength of the beast sought out fresh meat to sate its appetites upon.
Incandescent flame impacted against the side of its emotionless visage, the burning flame of Phosphex slowly eating away at its flesh as Okor approached, slowly shambling forward as he held the pistol steady, eliciting a howl of rage with every delivery of the alchemical payload. It turned to face him, ebon eyes ably expressing the full depth of rage and hatred infesting its being, even as the fires consumed its cranium.
”His enemies shall wither and die.” Stated Okor, dropping the blood-stained spine he had wielded, unwilling to allow whatever remained of the Ascended to derive any measure of pleasure from the battle, his now-emptied bolt weapon mag-locking to his thigh, his hands beginning to drip corruption.
A tentacle struck out, the unnatural strength of the being sending Okor flying into a wall, the construction cracking and crumbling beneath his weight, a near-perfect indent of his body formed in the architecture. The champion slowly pried himself from his temporary respite, willing himself away from the far too welcoming embrace of unconsciousness, and the inevitability of death that followed. Colonel still clutched at the thing, the Made-man, his engineered endurance and drive a mirror to Okor’s own gene-forged inclination towards violence. Scrapcode, oil, and tears streamed from their optics as they struggled to hold back the abomination.
”His allies shall wither and die.”
He could feel the shattered bones within his body grinding against each other, tearing into his mummified flesh with every step towards the freak. It mattered little to him, pain being but one of the illusions Nurgle strips away, freeing his Grandchildren from the plagues of hope and the suffering that comes with it.
Nothing could stop him. He was as inevitable as the end of all things, a manifestation of the entropy that would eventually claim all things.
The warped appendages of the Tyrant reached out and wrapped around his arm, and tore the unarmoured limb from his body as easily as a man would pluck fruit from a tree.Tatters of torn skin and flesh hung from the now empty socket as Okor’s stomach split, tendrils of his own emerging and joining his subordinate’s efforts to restrain the beast, the Plague Marine lurching ever-onwards, heedless of his own injuries.
”The universe and all within it shall wither and die.”
He lunged forward, adding his own mass to the effort to hold the monstrosity back as bullets and burning lances of energy alike began to take their toll on the titan. His warped maw and remaining claw dug into its flank, spreading the pestilence infesting his being, grinning as he watched the fester begin to take root in its flesh, competing with the plague already running rampant through its body.
”And so the Lord of All shall arise from the Rot and Ruin, and spread wide his… arms, to reclaim all his Dutiful Children.” He laughed, a hammering blow crashing against his back, cracking the ceramite warplate as the Tyrant attempted to dislodge its attackers. He tightened his grip, trusting in his blessed biology and sacred shielding, faith steeling his soul while power armour guarded the rest.
Let the heavens bleed.
Let the galaxy burn.
Nurgle’s Chosen will outlast both.
The heavenly chorus of the Phoenix’s shotguns heralded her answer, her bloodied and battered frame staying just out of arm’s reach of the ravenous dead pursuing her. “Are you kidding me? The only safe place on this island is right behind you, walking on the trail of bodies you leave in your wake.” Nurgle’s Chosen chuckled at the seeming compliment, driving his flail down onto the cranium of another corpse as he fired a flame-filled round at one of the ghouls pursuing his ally.
He looked up from the pulped remains of his latest victim, freezing in place as his adversaries began to close in. ”The rhythm's shifted,” he stated as he lashed out, the impact of his weapon sending a severed head flying through the air. “What!?” Yelled Fiara, her wrist-mounted blades eviscerating an embodiment of entropy as she pumped a shell into its chin. ”Fewer guns firing.” He took a step back, loosing a phosphex bolt into the face of another festering foe. ”It’s sporadic. They aren’t laying down suppressive fire on a horde, they’re focusing on a singular entity.” He dropped a shrunken skull from his belt, the biological bomb landing at his feet and releasing its lethal payload. ”They’re still… firing. Anything unworthy of our attention would have been felled already.”
“They need our help,” growled the gangrenous giant as he broke into a run, shambling towards the others as one of his few remaining rounds streaked towards the ever-expanding cloud of volatile gasses, igniting the airborne corruption behind them. Shards of bone and rockcrete flew from behind them, digging into his thick armour plates as Fiara jogged alongside him, her weary eyes staring into his crimson orb, the corroded construction of the city collapsing behind them. “This is going to be bad, isn’t it?” Queried Mogami a she slotted another shell into her gauntlets.
”Without a doubt. Should I… Fall, find Hiro. He shall guide you.”
“Please, just what on this island has a chance of ending you?” She teased as the pair turned a corner, the desperate bursts of gunfire reaching a crescendo as they looked upon their latest prey. It towered over them, dessicated skin rapidly mending itself as a barrage of bullets impacted off of the scarred surface, the bulletproof coat covering it slowly eroding a it bore the brunt of the Primes’ aggression. The half-scrapped remains of the Vice-Dean were wrapped around its waist, rent-ridden legs slowly being pushed back through the rubbled as they struggled to hold the abomination away from the survivors.
”That.”
He entered into a sprint as he charged towards the Tyrant, the creature snarling as its fist metamorphosized, bubbling over and breaking apart as it reformed into lengthy tendrils, the appendages still slick with the corruption of their creation as they struck. They flogged the pillars the primes cowered behind, rubble flying through the air as the impossible strength of the beast sought out fresh meat to sate its appetites upon.
Incandescent flame impacted against the side of its emotionless visage, the burning flame of Phosphex slowly eating away at its flesh as Okor approached, slowly shambling forward as he held the pistol steady, eliciting a howl of rage with every delivery of the alchemical payload. It turned to face him, ebon eyes ably expressing the full depth of rage and hatred infesting its being, even as the fires consumed its cranium.
”His enemies shall wither and die.” Stated Okor, dropping the blood-stained spine he had wielded, unwilling to allow whatever remained of the Ascended to derive any measure of pleasure from the battle, his now-emptied bolt weapon mag-locking to his thigh, his hands beginning to drip corruption.
A tentacle struck out, the unnatural strength of the being sending Okor flying into a wall, the construction cracking and crumbling beneath his weight, a near-perfect indent of his body formed in the architecture. The champion slowly pried himself from his temporary respite, willing himself away from the far too welcoming embrace of unconsciousness, and the inevitability of death that followed. Colonel still clutched at the thing, the Made-man, his engineered endurance and drive a mirror to Okor’s own gene-forged inclination towards violence. Scrapcode, oil, and tears streamed from their optics as they struggled to hold back the abomination.
”His allies shall wither and die.”
He could feel the shattered bones within his body grinding against each other, tearing into his mummified flesh with every step towards the freak. It mattered little to him, pain being but one of the illusions Nurgle strips away, freeing his Grandchildren from the plagues of hope and the suffering that comes with it.
Nothing could stop him. He was as inevitable as the end of all things, a manifestation of the entropy that would eventually claim all things.
The warped appendages of the Tyrant reached out and wrapped around his arm, and tore the unarmoured limb from his body as easily as a man would pluck fruit from a tree.Tatters of torn skin and flesh hung from the now empty socket as Okor’s stomach split, tendrils of his own emerging and joining his subordinate’s efforts to restrain the beast, the Plague Marine lurching ever-onwards, heedless of his own injuries.
”The universe and all within it shall wither and die.”
He lunged forward, adding his own mass to the effort to hold the monstrosity back as bullets and burning lances of energy alike began to take their toll on the titan. His warped maw and remaining claw dug into its flank, spreading the pestilence infesting his being, grinning as he watched the fester begin to take root in its flesh, competing with the plague already running rampant through its body.
”And so the Lord of All shall arise from the Rot and Ruin, and spread wide his… arms, to reclaim all his Dutiful Children.” He laughed, a hammering blow crashing against his back, cracking the ceramite warplate as the Tyrant attempted to dislodge its attackers. He tightened his grip, trusting in his blessed biology and sacred shielding, faith steeling his soul while power armour guarded the rest.
Let the heavens bleed.
Let the galaxy burn.
Nurgle’s Chosen will outlast both.
Quote:1192 Words.
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