Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! Here!
Now I may get some fluff things wrong, as you may see further down.
Chaos isnt really my favorite faction, and thus, know very little about them.
Anyways, I hope you can enjoy this chapter :)
(Also, ten chapters! Yay!)
Nightfall came once again, as Klaus sat by the campfire, roasting the murloc meat over a spit. He was spared of the horrible stench of the murloc meat by his gasmasks respirator. Ketzer sat next to him, as they both watched the fire. Klaus opened his backpack, and went through his bag. He finally found what he was looking for. His journal. He grabbed a pen, and took a good look at it. The pen was given to him by a Planetary Governor, who taught him how to draw, as he and several other grenadiers were ordered to guard him while they dealt with orks. His mind slowly went back to orks. Orks. Those foul, greenskin monstrosities, were now in this world. His hand firmly grasped the stock of his lasgun, the skin underneath his black gloves going white. How could those insidious eldar trust orks, enough to make them bodyguards? Orks, bodyguards? The thought was absurd! They hated humans, for all he knew! Why the hell would they trust orks? If he would of have xenos to guard him, he would at least picked a species which we could put a small bit of trust in, like the Tau, for example. Instead, orks! Forget the orks, he told himself, as he looked at his journal, opening it. He looked through his drawings, nostalgia running through his blood. The first one he ever did, was of his good friend, 435612-983610 'Karen'. She was also a grenadier, and they had been promoted around the same time, as well. Of course, the promotion was no honor. It just mean you had more skill, or more luck than your average rank and file guardsman. Underneath his gasmask, he smiled a little bit, as he looked at the drawing he made of her. She was standing at attention, with her gasmask off, making a crisp salute, heels together, one fist on her chest. He could never forget her silver like eyes, the white hair that would drive a sister of battle mad. She still had a face of stone, as expected, but in her eyes as he drew her, he could see something, which he would never forget. He could never name this emotion, but it made him happy, and made him blush on the inside. He liked this emotion, on someone so familiar. Of course, that was until the day when she left. The day she was inducted into an Inquisitor's retinue. It was a great honor, but on the inside, it saddened him slightly. He never knew why this made him sad. Sadness. It was an emotion a Korpsman should never feel. Ever. You felt no sadness as you watched your fellow troops died, because it was driven out of you a long time ago. You felt no sadness as you plunged a bayonet into a foul xeno, and both shared the same feeling that so many living creatures felt every day. The feeling, that one was going to die, and was looking into the eyes of their killer. Lesser creatures showed emotion. Pride, Rage, Sadness, Happiness. But true men, true Korpsmen showed no emotion, none that could be seen, at the very least. You were silent as you continued the charge, You were silent as fell to the ground, dead. Sadness was a strange emotion, and now Klaus was starting to feel it. Unlike the unnamed emotion that still chewed on him, Sadness was like a cloud, that simply slowly surrounded him. It got worse as drops of water began to land on the ground. Klaus stuck his hand out, feeling drops of rain fall onto his glove. He sighed, as he led Ketzer back into the trees, as the fire was slowly extinguished by the heavy rains. Klaus sat down, leaning on the back of a tree, as he slowly went to sleep.
/
Ahriman was normally, a calm sorcerer. He wanted to get into the Black Library for two reasons. He wanted to cure his legion of the Rubric of Ahriman, which he considered to be a rather colossal failure on his part, and to rebuild Prospero, the former homeworld of the Thousand Sons. Even though he was banished by their Primarch, Magnus the Red, he still wished to help his former legion. Now, Ahriman was seething. Ahriman glanced at Typhus, who sat a small bit away from him, for sanitary reasons. Ahriman was very surprised when Typhus and a Warband of Death Guard came to him, and asked if they could help get a foothold in the Black Library of Chaos. But when Ahriman asked why, Typhus replied calmly, that if they did not get a way into the Black Library, the chaos gods would simply be no more. Apparently, the eldar had found a way into the sacred realm of chaos, where the four gods came from, and now seeked to reverse the corruption they had made. Ahriman was not a dedicated servant of Tzeentch, like Typhus was dedicated to Nurgle. Ahriman simply was on a quest of knowledge, but this tadbit of information angered him to no end. Everything that he had seeked to do, would be ruined. Ruined, in a few months.
"Typhus, my friend. Are the Death Guard ready for the siege?" He asked, barely keeping the rage out of his voice. Typhus turned, his bloated bulk heaving with each breath he took.
"Yes… the death guard… are prepared… to serve chaos… once… more…" He wheezed, flies flying around his head like a small cloud. He made a slurping noise, and the flies retreated back into his flesh once again, digging in like bullets.
"Excellent. We head to the Imperial World of Baratos, in the Segmentum Tempestus. There, a hidden webway gate waits for us, and we shall lay siege to the Black Library. Then, we find the way to get into the strange realm, and we shall sanctify the realm of the dark gods once more." Ahriman declared. Typhus nodded, and walked away, using his manreaper like a cane. Ahriman followed, although carefully. Even though Ahriman was close to death, with that sanctified bullet ever so slowly digging into his armor, he still cared about his health, so he would not go within twenty steps of Typhus. Even then, he was making quite the mess, with a small trail of bile following him wherever he went.
"The eldar… will giggle…in delight... with our gifts…" Typhus said aloud, as he stepped out of the ruined building, looking at the vanguard of death guard. Three hundred Plague marines stood at attention, each in a different stage of decay. The Prodigal sons stood at attention as well, a good distance away from the plague marines, and for good reason. They shared the similar color scheme of the thousand sons, but they did not serve Tzeentch, but they served the quest for knowledge. Knowledge that was lost during the burning of Prospero.
"We shall capture the planet, and secure a beachhead from both Imperial and Eldar forces. We shall ask assistance from any chaos warbands that wish to show their qualities to the dark gods." Ahriman said, as Typhus turned to him.
"Indeed… The Purge… have heeded our call… they shall secure… the planet… powerful… are their chemicals…" Typhus wheezed, and Ahriman frowned underneath his helmet. The Purge were a nurgle warband that were hellbent on killing everything. Why they would seek to help the Death Guard and the Prodigal Sons, he did not know.
"Then we shall strike." Ahriman said, and at his command, the warbands began to board their ships, marching to glory.
" And we shall not fail."
/
Bluddflagg sat down at the table, crushing the chair that he tried to sit on, breaking it into large splinters. He growled, ripping the splinters out of his ass, sitting on the floor. On the other side of the small table was the ork warboss of the horde, Thrall. Bluddflagg was disgusted of how… small… this runt was. He barely reached his leg, and this annoyed him greatly. How could a warboss be so small? He looked well composed, which also annoyed him to no end. The warboss should the flashiest ork! Thrall at least was a bit flashy, wearing black armor, trimmed with gold. Two dreadlocks came out of his hair, which was covered by a hood. He wore two thick encasing gauntlets on his hands, and the look of confidence on his face made Bluddflagg want to laugh out loud.
"So Captain Bluddflagg… you dont appear to be of this realm… are you?" He asked patiently, drinking a small glass of water. Bluddflagg scoffed, lightly putting his hand on the table, making it groan.
"No. Some pointy eared twigs sent me and me krew to foind and guard some humie." He scoffed, taking the picture out of a pocket in his tunic, putting it on the table. Thrall grasped the picture and took a long look at him, and then grunted.
"Yes. I know this human." Thrall said, pushing the picture back to him. Bluddflagg's interest suddenly peaked.
"And were da humie be?" Bluddflagg asked patiently.
"An... ally... told me that he was heading to Darnassus, to apparently burn some spellbook. Although if I were him, I would head to Ratchet, and then get a ride to Astranaar. That's most likely what he would do." Thrall suggested.
"Ratchet? Da zog is dat? Aint dat a tool?"
"No, Ratchet is a port town not far from here. Largest port in kalimdor, and friendly to all races."
"Das anuvva problem. Why da zog are ye boys so friendly with uvva species?"
"Excuse me?"
"Da orks huld neva be friends with uvva species. Weze orks. Weze got no friends."
"So why are you protecting this human?"
"I'm gettin paid."
"How much?"
"Wots it to ya?"
"Curious."
"Da twig promised da boyz da best foight I evva been in. Except smashin dat spiky lord. Dat was zoggin awesome." Bluddflagg cackled, pointing to the horned helmet of the chaos lord that he killed several years ago. He remembered as he screamed BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD, and was killed after twenty seconds of fighting. His helmet was on his bosspole now. Thrall took this into consideration. So fighting is considered a payment he mused to himself. Perhaps he has some use...
"Bluddflagg, are you aware of the history of the orcs, and the horde in general?"
"You'ze askin me loike I care."
"You know, captain, you dont have to be rude."
"I just need a roide to dis ratchet place, and den foind da humie. I aint da lernin type. Ask Mista Nailbrain for dat."
"In all due time. However, I need to validate that you can be trusted."
"Escoose me?"
"I can't just simply send you over to one of the most populated neutral cities in Kalimdor now, right? Captain Bluddflagg, small I may be, compared to you, I'm no fool. You are a very dangerous orc, and it would be a sheer miracle that you didn't kill anyone in Orgrimmar, or in Ratchet. But it's unlikely. Unlikely as say, a Tauren and Centaur living in a house together. Possible, but extremely unlikely. As so, If you want to earn my trust, you could help us out, and in return, we can send you into the next boat to Ratchet, and you can meet up with your human friend." Thrall said, looking Bluddflagg right in the eye.
"Are, we, clear?" He asked slowly, and deliberately. Bluddflagg merely snorted. All of these puny runts certainly were brave, brave to argue with a warboss like himself. However, Bluddflagg was caught in a sticky situation. If he let his rage get a control of him and squish the runt here and now, he would not survive. In addition, he still had to find that humie, otherwise those twigs would come after him, and rob him of the promised fight.
"Foine. I'm in. Ill do… one… two… two fings for ya, and den ya take me and me krew to Ratchet." Bluddflagg stated. Thrall nodded.
"Then it is settled. Where is your crew anyways?" Thrall asked, a tad bit worried. Bluddflagg looked around, and merely shrugged.
"Probably drinking dem selves to deff. Zog, I dunno." Bluddflagg shrugged.
"Keep a tab on your crew, Bluddflagg." Thrall said. Bluddflagg stared long and hard at the retreating form of Thrall. Maybe he did deserve his rank of warboss.
/
Klaus awoke, on the familiar white field. To be honest, this white field granted him something that he would have never thought. It made him feel calm. Out of all things, it made him feel calm, which was rather disturbing. Truly, this place was hell to him. It was a Korpsmen destiny to die on the battlefield, for the emperor. One more body to add to the altar of war, and more corpses that would be sent back to their unholy masters. Klaus should have died on Mystikos Prime. No, he WISHED he died on Mystikos Prime, at least then he was in service of the emperor. Now he was the slaves of xenos, a puppet, and they were pulling at his strings.
"Do not think of us like that. You mon-keigh enjoy being puppets. You only get mad of who pulls your strings." A voice said, and Klaus sighed. She was back again. He guessed that it was a she, because her voice sounded faintly feminine. He turned to face her, donned as normal, in her wraithbone armor.
"And for good reason. I should have died on that battlefield. I would rather have been the eternal plaything of a daemon, then the servant of a xeno." He snarled.
"And what would be the difference? They are both enemies to your ideology, are they not?"
"That they are. But at least I can be defiant should I be captured by a daemon. When you, however force me to believe that the fate of the galaxy is in my hands, is a different story."
"Your ignorance never stops amusing me, mon-keigh. However, their are more pressing issues to deal with." The warlock said, ending the conversation.
"Now, listen closely. The most powerful farseer of our craftworlds, Eldrad Ulthran, is sending his granddaughter to aid you. She will protect you, but you must protect her as well. She will be there to accompany you, and to make sure you make the correct moves."
"So I'm being babysitted by orks and eldar? What's next, the tau?"
"If you wish it."
"No! I tire of being with xenos. I follow your wishes, by controlling my thoughts of strangling every living thing here."
"Good. It means that you are slowly, but surely, getting rid of your xenophobic ways."
"How long do I have until the ruinous powers come after me?" Klaus asked suddenly, catching her by surprise.
"You do not have long. Ahzek Ahriman, sorcerer lord of Tzeentch, is trying to get into the webway. Along with him is Typhus, chaos lord of Nurgle. They are planning to attack the webway, and breach the Black Library of Chaos. However, things will not be easy for them. The Daemon Hunters, the Grey Knights, the Ordos Malleus, has been sent to intercept their invasion. We will assist them as best as they can, however, the fleet has caught attention of an ork warlord, and will soon lead a WAAAGH! Against the forces of chaos, eldar, and space marines."
"Why do you trust me with this information?"
"What does it matter to you?"
"Good point. So who is the Eldar that you send to me? Isn't there no way back?"
"There is, but it is very dangerous. However, she wished to redeem herself in the name of the craftworld, and we have given her the chance."
"What could she have done to possibly risk her life, only to redeem herself?"
"She has been cursed since birth, I'm afraid. She is viewed as an abomination, and I cant say I disagree with them."
"What does that mean?"
"That is not for me to say, though you may find out."
"Is she a mutant?"
"Yet again, that is not for me to say, though you may find out."
"Now, it is time for me to go." The warlock said, as she slowly started walking away.
"What do I call you, xeno?" Klaus asked, part of him wondering why he would waste more of his breath on the xeno then it deserved. The warlock partially looked at him, one red visor peering at him.
"You may call me The Messenger, Klaus." The Messenger said, before Klaus was flung back into the real world.
Review Time
Neterlan: Whatever man, as long as you enjoy the story, Im happy :)
Tenash: I was wondering where my most valued customer went. But anyways, thats for you to find out.
Guest: Will do :)