Locum Ignotum Chapter 11
In the golden light a town was burning, smoke and ashes rising high in a towering column of darkness. It was a simple settlement, built out of wood and stone and thatch. Small buildings were dotted here and there, laid down not according to some grand plan but rather around the routes cattle took to get to market and random urban growth. Perhaps ten thousand people lived here in total, living their lives blissfully unaware of the danger falling upon them.
Perhaps if they had known what was to come they would have invested in defensive walls and studier construction but it would have made no difference. Hundreds of screaming horrors had come, a wave of rampant corruption and mutation. Mutilated beings, covered in obscene tattoos and piercings, were running amok in the streets, unleashing nightmares.
The mob broke down doors and dragged people from their beds, smashed open every hiding spot and pulled screaming men and women into the streets. The acts committed upon those helpless victims would have blasted the sanity of any witnesses, leaving them gibbering mad wrecks. The lucky ones were those that died quickly, the unfortunate ones were those who lived long enough for the degenerates to work their vile practices.
Amid that carnage Jubila strode with a jaunty tune, enjoying the depravities on display. These amusements pleased him; it was always good to see his followers pushing their boundaries. New and bold experiences were being tested here; every follower of Slaanesh striving to reach the most extreme limits of what was possible. It was not that they didn't know these things were obscene; it was that the knowledge added a delicious relish to the experience.
Jubila's followers had found this little settlement and he had not hesitated to lead a selection of his followers here personally. Let his lesser minions undertake the monotonous task of breaking this strange land's ethereal walls; he was bored and needed something to attract his God's attention. This was his driving motivation; Slaanesh was a fickle entity and wont to abandon any worshipper who did not provide a constant stream of amusement. So Jubila moved ever on, never looking back and always striving to surpass his rivals. He was on a quest, one that ended in elevation to Daemonhood and immortality, but he had a long way to go yet.
Jubila spied a lone man cowering in a dark corner, gripping a wooden pitchfork to his chest. Jubila paused and let the man see him in all his glory, every perversion and mutilation on full display. It was always amusing to see how mortals reacted to his presence, the overpowering sensation of looking upon him. Some would throw themselves at his feet, some would attack mindlessly, others would sit drooling as their minds collapsed and on rare occasions, they would slit their own throats, rather than live in a world that could contain such nightmares.
The man's eyes went wide and then filled with incoherent rage, he gripped his pitchfork and ran at the warlord, screaming in horror. Jubila's smile widened, he liked it when they fought back, it was so futile and so improbable that they could achieve anything. Jubila let the man close to within an inch of his armour and then his hand flashed up, grabbing the pitchfork behind its head. The man stopped like he had slammed into a wall and Jubila made a lazy gesture with his Charnabal sabre. A quick slash across the belly and the man's fate was sealed, viscera and guts spilling out. The man collapsed, weeping and clutching at his entrails as Jubila stepped back in satisfaction. He was an expert at this sort of thing and knew it would take hours for the man to die.
Jubila had fought in countless wars and could kill with supreme skill but he never favoured that. Why kill quickly when he could do so slowly and excruciatingly painfully. To gift his foes with the maximum amount of experience from every blow, the joyous despair of seeing their deaths upon them. This was the first thing he had learnt when he pledged himself to Chaos, never go for the kill when one could go for the pain.
From afar he heard a frustrated bellow, half organic, half mechanical. Jubila smirked as he recognised the cries of Ozymandias, the Soul Grinder screaming in frustration and rage. The Daemon Prince within could sense the slaughter all around but was bound by numerous wards and silver chains. To see such delights and not be able to take part was an agony to a Daemon, to any follower of Slaanesh. It warmed Jubila's hearts to think of his former Captain in such torment, suffering eternally and unable to escape. It would have to be a truly desperate battle indeed for the Warlord to free his former master.
Jubila strode onwards, seeing his horde at work. There was Salmacis, throwing himself into the melee and cutting down fleeing mortals left and right. Salmacis was young, as Chaos Marines measured such things. He had not been there for the great Heresy, had not fought upon the soil of Terra or laid eyes upon the glory of Fulgrim.
Jubila had no coterie of genators in his horde, no Magos to forge new warriors. Such orderly and systematic work was anathema to him. Like many warlords when he needed new warriors he approached the flesh-smiths of Chaos, bartering spoils in exchange for blood. Fabius Bile was the most well-known of these savants but far from the only one and Jubila kept good relations with many of them.
Salmacis may be young but he was fierce, his weapon lashing out left and right, ripping and gouging at all nearby. The Daemon bound within cackled with delight, singing a fearsome tune straight from the depths of the Warp. Anyone who it touched was gifted with a revelation, a momentary flash of the power and glory of Chaos, communicated directly to their souls via the Daemon. Most touched by this Neverborn would fall screaming to the ground, filled with horror at the revelation bestowed upon them. Some others would start clawing at their own faces, drawing blood and tearing out their own eyes in an attempt to stop the visions. But a few, the most gifted , would abase themselves at Salmacis' feet, begging for more, just one more glimpse of Chaos.
Jubila left him to it, wandering on to find more delights. Soon he found Baeghost, his sonic weapon thrumming in his hands. His style of war was far more brutal, wonderfully bombastic and grandiose. He would take his Blastmaster and blow apart buildings, laughing fiercely as they collapsed in ruin. Home after home he levelled, blasting them into kindling. Every now and then he would pause and rip free limbs from fallen bodies, then his mouth would open obscenely wide, like a snake's, as he slithered the meat down his gullet. His fat form swelled with potency and his laughter grew and grew. Jubila was pleased to note that many of his victims were still alive and the Warlord approved of his tastes. If only these foolish mortals could understand the glory Baeghost bestowed upon them, in death they would achieve a greatness they could not hope for in life.
Eventually Jubila reached the town centre, where his followers had gathered. As he had commanded they had brought scores of mortals, each one unblemished and unmarked. They were being forced to kneel in the dirt, eyes wide with fear and dread. Jubila had a custom that he favoured, a practice that amused him greatly. He stepped up before the circle of people and saw that they were weeping, both in fear and from the smoke that filled the air. Jubila always savoured this moment, these people were friends, neighbours and lovers but he was about to show them how shallow those connections were. Under the right pressure any man would cast aside their supposed inviolable bonds and choose their own needs, it was the essence of Chaos to seize one's own glory over anything else.
Jubila spread his arms wide and addressed the kneeling people, "Rejoice! Today your paltry lives end and a new existence opens up before you. All you have done before was nothing but prologue, now you shall witness true drama play out. My followers demand fresh blood and new ideas, they offer you a place among them. You each have a chance to become the greatest version of yourselves that you can be, to embrace all that is excellent about yourself and take it to the most extreme potential."
Jubila's smile widened and then he threw a combat blade among the kneeling people saying, "Unfortunately, there is only one vacancy available right now, the rest of you shall be put to death." The kneeling people blinked and then a young woman caught on and dove for the blade, snatching it up in her hand. A man saw her move and leapt to intercept her but he was impaled on the point of the knife. Instantly a heaving scrum of people erupted, everybody fighting and clawing at each other, desperate to get their hands upon the knife and be the one to live.
Jubila stepped back, enjoying the sight of these people throwing away their morals and principles in the struggle to live. If there was one thing he was certain of it was that there was no line people would not cross in the name of survival. He relished the way friends and neighbours turned on each other, the way they betrayed and killed without thought.
His revelry was interrupted by a cough, both high and low in pitch and he sighed to hear it. As the crowd thinned in number Jubila turned to the nearest Chaos Marine and said, "Let them whittle each other down until one remains. Then take the winner and induct them into the practices of Slaanesh. Make them beg to serve me and then I shall show them the true glories of the Dark Prince."
Then he turned around and sure enough saw Rebis standing there, a bearing a smile that did not reach his eyes. Rebis looked elated one second and depressed the next as his personalities warred for dominance, a dichotomy that pleased their patron in the Warp. Jubila looked at him and said, "What is it?"
"Another Menhir for your damn plan," Rebis said in a high pitched tone then in a deeper timbre, "We grow closer to glory!"
Jubila cocked his head and said, "Well, what are you waiting for?"
Rebis nodded and blinked to activate his vox set. From afar there was the sharp rumble that Jubila recognised as the detonation of a det-pack followed by a crash of stone. A cloud of dust rose over the town as another Mehir collapsed but this time the result was different.
As the noise died away the rich golden light that surrounded them stuttered. For a single moment the light died out before blinking back into existence. Jubila drew in a breath but then it once again died out. For long seconds the darkness engulfed the world, broken only by the dim light of burning buildings. Slowly the light came back and Jubila's exultation soared as he cried, "The energy of the Warp returns, I can feel Slaanesh's attention being drawn to our works!"
"Damned foolish plan, the structure of this place creaks, we stand upon a cliff's edge," Rebis muttered in a feminine tone but then in a masculine voice, "The walls fall, our glory draws closer!"
Jubila looked up at the contoured sky and proclaimed, "Exhilarating isn't it, to walk the tightrope over an infinite pit. The knowledge that one wrong step could drop us all to our deaths. We have to find the right balance, that is all. Just a few more Menhirs and this place shall be ours."