The Dark Ages [Dark Data]

[Okor]

”I wouldn’t say these are pure technology, Hiro,” Okor gurgled, his recent activities resulting in red rivers of blood running over his rotten armour, the host of parasites within him boiling over as they breached his leathery skin like so many microscopic whales coming up for air. He knelt beside the remnants of the rogue magus, the cauterized stump of their neck leaving precious little to take as a trophy. The plagued paladin pried a single chip from the warlock’s belt, holding the glittering black device in front of his single eye, still wide and hyperattentive as the scent of blood wafted over him. ENGULF IN FLAME AND CHARGE. He quietly rammed the corrupting chip into his armour, concealing with within one of the many cracks that ran through the once-gleaming artifact.

”Either this… Nebula's technology is too advanced for us to understand, or they’ve simply used sorcery as a shortcut.” The digital daimyo tossed his glass blade in the air, letting out a low whistle as he caught it by the handle, slipping it back inside its scabbard. “Well big guy, I can tell you right now that I’ve dealt with this exact same shit before, and it’s definitely possible to manage this with tech.”

”Really now? How did they manage that?”

“Ancient Sumerian mnemo- Okay, right, let’s just focus on gutting these bastards.”

Okor chuckled,running a ruined tongue over his rotting fangs, septic slime dribbling from his malformed maw. It was more like the laughter of an ancient hyena drowning in a tar pit than anything human, although the only accurate comparison between the two would be their dietary habits.

“I take it you two are familiar with each other?” Spoke the new arrival, Aran’s voice oddly feminine from beneath their sleek, powered armour.

”We met in Dante’s Abyss. Killed abominations, kicked ass, and… saved lives. That last one was a new experience,” he spoke, scraping his syphilitic sword against his armoured thigh, breaking its rusted edge into a new agonizing arrangement, red rust flakes falling against the blood-soaked earth. “And then, we fell in love,” spoke Hiro in a mocking tone, briefly posing by the hulking mass of rancid meat and corroded metal.

Pauldrons shrugged, warped and dessicated muscles shifting beneath synthetic flesh. ”Competence is a rare quality, even when the best of a thousand realities are brought together.” His eye slowly slid, focusing in on this ‘Samus’. ”You seem… adequate.”

“I’d be more worried about yourself. Are you certain you can handle those chips? I don’t want you turning into one of those things,” said the bounty hunter, checking the cannon that consumed their arm.

Raucous laughter greeted them as the Chosen bared their festering fangs in a mockery of a smile. ”If something as simpering as a sorcerous shard of silicon thinks it can lay claim to my soul, then it has something else coming. It will have to get in line, and make its bargain like the other thousand entities clamouring for my… service. I am Okor Paleblood, son of the Fourteenth Legion, Chosen of Nurgle, and someone described as ‘a badass motherfucker’. I do not intend on… falling to something so insignificant.” The flat of his blade fell across his shoulders as he rose, the bloody mess coating his armour slowly fading away as his host of parasites feasted. ”Who’ll be the next fortunate recipient of our… attentions?”

600 words according to docs, taking the charge chip.