The Dark Ages [Dark Data]

[Okor]

Okor blinked away the afterimages that had scorched themselves upon his retina, the sheer power that Samus had channeled momentarily blinding him. He was a creature of darkness, of the abysses and charnel houses at the edge of sanity and space that all wise men feared. Acidic bile gathered in his throat as he brought his blade to bear, the charred flesh of the corpse-construct before him descending, intent on crushing the contagion-riddled crusader beneath its unliving might.

Okor more than matched it. With a dismissive snarl, the tormented and twisted mass of metal he had the audacity to call a sword sliced through its flesh,a glistening limb being cut free from its bulbous body, impacting against the corrupted soil behind him. Already, it began to reknit itself, more meat flowing from the folds of fat stitched onto its mass, whatever unholy application of alchemy and necromancy that animated it giving it regenerative capabilities nearly on par with his own. The charred flesh that had replaced its chest fell free, ash and blackened chunks of carbon being renewed as it advanced, a low moan being issued from somewhere within its tortured self.

Another bludgeoning blow came towards him. A tendril wrapped around itself descended, like a fist born from slick, skinless flesh. With an almost resigned sigh, Okor’s blade met its blow, splitting its erstatz fist in two, the rusted length of warped copper stopping only once its manipulators gathered the strength to catch the corroded cleaver. ”Path… etic,” he spat, wrenching his blade from its prison of pseudopods, a solid kick from his boot sending the beast stumbling backwards. He drew his bolter from his side, almost leisurely bringing it free, slowly leveling it as the hulking mass of meat began to regain its balance. The primitive consciousness that dwelled within the weapon more than made up for Okor’s flagging enthusiasm for the conflict, howling with rage and glee as it let loose its bolt, the explosive shell burrowing deep into the hulking creature’s chest, before blossoming into flame and radioactive shrapnel a moment later.

As the smoke cleared from the latest scar upon his opponent, a voice permeated his thoughts. The chasm his armaments had left was surrounded by teeth and fangs, scars and stitches along its sides opening up to reveal corrupted canines and insidious incisors, lithe tongues wrapping around the dirtied ivory as they all spoke in unison.

”Why do you oppose us? We are both weapons of flesh and bone, born to fight a war not of our own making. We are both monsters. Why fight along these all-too weak humans?”

”I am tired of explaining myself.” Stated the Plague Marine, another bolt blowing its left knee to disparate fragments of bone. As it fell to its knees, a shell sunk into its shoulder, shards of shrapnel scything through its flesh. ”For 10 millennia I have killed. My gauntlets are stained scarlet with the blood of innocent worlds. My soul is claimed by a thousand daemons. I am a betrayer. I am a murderer. I am a heretic.”

One of its tentacles sought to wrap itself around his leg, only to be pulped beneath his tread, his advance implacable. ”I am a monster a thousand times over, a blood-soaked veteran of the wrong side of history.” With an irritated grunt, he backhanded the beast, sending it sprawling backwards as it struggled to repair the damage it had suffered.

”And you are… vermin,” he spat, pointing his bolter directly at the center of its mass.

All three tentacles that the abomination sported wrapped around his legs, dragging him upwards, his bolter falling to the cobbles below him as he was thrown into a ruined building, long spears of lumber piercing exposed flesh. With a grunt, he was forced through the other side of the stone hut, rubble and ruin accompanying him as he rolled over the skeletal remains of its previous occupants.

”You would defy us?” Spoke the beast, its many mouths falling out of sync, each word echoed a hundred times from a hundred mouths as it propelled himself over the distance on its one functioning leg, its trio of tentacles dragging it along the alleyway. ”You will become one.”

Okor struggled to regain his balance as tendrils ensnared his limbs, dragging him closer to the ravening maws of the monster, gnashing teeth promising a painful conclusion to his tale in between whispering dark promises in his ear. ”You will join our unity, and you will embrace service under your new mast-”

It’s attempted conversion was cut short as shimmering Omnillium coalesced in Okor’s fist, a bubonic blade cutting through his bonds, its flesh necrotizing, a flesh-eating contagion spreading through wildly flailing tentacles as the marine moved. An appendage careened towards him, a desperate attempt to stave him off denied by the unnatural resilience of its intended victim. The Chosen of Nurgle pressed himself close to his prey, driving the blade deep into what passed for its stomach as its many mouths desperately bit at armoured ceramite. Already, the poison spread; flesh blackening and falling apart as Nurgle touched his latest child.

”When you get to hell,” whispered Okor, twisting the blade as he began to slowly drag it upwards, eviscerating the abomination by inches. ”Tell them to make room.”

920 Words according to docs, used Septic Shiv (-1 SP), 5/6 SP remaining.