Confido autem in Imperatore
Thought for the Day:
"There is only the Emperor and he is our shield and protector."
Main Keep, Lescatie 839
"So, this is everything?" Straum asked to an Order soldier, a ranger based on his forest green garb and lightly armored frame.
The man nodded before replying,
"Yes milord. These are the weapons and tools recovered from the town of Threlkeld. As per your orders we had our people raze the settlement to its roots and burned the bodies of the slain as well. The lords of the Kaskuan Province shan't be happy about it though, and we have reports of them mobilizing their knights."
Straum clicked his tongue in distaste. It would be quite a hassle if he had to deal with this.
"If they send riders, direct them to me. I shall explain the necessity of my actions in razing the town of possible corruption."
The ranger nodded as the Lord Commissar sighed deeply. He gazed upon the trove of recovered imperial weaponry. It was a rather understrength really, but as far as resources went, this was a considerable boost in strength for them.
"Now if only the men that were trained with this equipment were still among us as well..." the Lord Commissar thought.
They had recovered a platoon's worth of lasguns, special weapons, grenades, ammunition, and other imperial equipment in varying condition. Additionally they also recovered bloodied and ragged uniforms and armor that could be repaired, cleansed, and reconsecrated from the fallen. However, Straum found to his misfortune that none of the guardsmen that carried said equipment were alive anymore. They at least did what all guardsmen strove to do at least. Died fighting to the bitter end.
"Milord...?"
"What is it?"
Straum's almost melancholic pondering was soon replaced with iron cold stoicism.
"There was some...complications. A few of the bodies appeared to have been dragged away. The only ones left undisturbed were the fallen from your order."
That was disconcerting news. Extremely so when chaos and dead bodies were involved in the same context. The man shook his idle thoughts aside while gesturing for his subordinate to continue.
"They left a real messy trail, that they did. Was real spooky for the lads. It was slick and oily, utterly disgusting an-"
"Focus."
"Sorry milord. Ahem, the lads and I went to take a look, but eventually the trail started to go deeper in the woods and..."
"Understandable. Your mission was simply retrieval, burial, and cleansing."
"Yes milord. But it was stranger still. It was almost like the missing bodies were dragged into one spot and then rolled away. We found bits and pieces of gunk and other disgusting things. It was an unsettling sight milord, and one that left the lads and I feeling queasy. It felt...foul. Like a sickness in the air."
That was extremely alarming.
"Captain, would you kindly have you and your men be checked out at the cathedral?" Straum asked, or more accurately, demanded.
"M-Milord?" the ranger asked dumbly, confused at his new orders.
"Now! Find Preacher Sorius, the one with the pendant of the doubleheaded eagle. He will help you with your worries, and do it immediately. Or else." Straum commanded, his voice brokering no argument.
The ranger jumped before fumbling with his salute and rushing out of sight. The Lord Commissar rubbed his chin in thought, mulling over in his head what this event could mean. It was quite possible that the bodies were simply rolled up and dragged away by an unknown party...but it was also just as possible that some malevolent force had taken the ample supply of corpses and used it was a vessel...
There were many such monstrosities that fit that description...and it was reported that there was a corrupted entity in the town before it was defeated, whose previous vessel had its remains blown to smithereens by Ludwig. And it was better to be safer then sorry when faced with such an entity. Better they soothe their souls now rather then let the daemons in. If the old man was fortunate, he could ward off the evils of chaos.
And if he failed? Then these brave rangers would have to "disappear".
And if Preacher Sorius managed to convert them as well to the true faith?
Well that would just be a bonus. Still, Straum would have to be cautious. The rest of the advisory council are always wary of him, jealous of his rapidly rising position in the King's court. The Lord Commissar was certain that if they found out he was subtly converting the populace to the Imperial Cult, there would be reckoning. Not that Straum was too particularly worried about his survival.
But the coming war with the mutants and heretics on this planet would be sped along much quicker with a sufficiently established power base. And Lescatie fulfilled that role. Even if it was a backwards medieval society compared to the likes of...
"Well...I've worked with far less before actually..." Straum mused.
His first assignment was with a feral world regiment after all.
Savage clansmen and tribals who barely understood a word he said and hated each other as much as they hated heretics, xenos, mutants, and for some reason, any kind of aquatic life. They had mostly consisted of light infantrymen, meant to harass enemy lines and scout them out. Which of course meant that the Adeptus Administratum must have made a monumental screwup to have them sent against Orkish armor instead.
The memories of those early days were almost nostalgic. A bright eyed junior commissar fresh out of the schola, with all his limbs still attached and full of passionate fury and zeal. Leading a charge of illiterate, half naked screamers into battle with nothing but faith in their hearts and explosives strapped all over their bodies.
The Lord Commissar idly flexed his bionic arm.
Perhaps he was just a bit out of his element and inexperienced. He'll admit that much. But he held the line, and they actually bloodied the orkish armor quite a bit really. Course in the chaos, the orks had killed each other just as much as they killed the imperials. It was a cooperative affair. Imperials killed orks. Orks killed imperials. And orks killed other orks.
By the time they were relieved, practically everyone under Straum's command was slain and the commissar himself was laying in a pool of his blood. His left arm was a charred stump and a rather hefty piece of shrapnel made a new home stuck on his face. The orks themselves had only ramshackle husks of scrap tanks left and most of them were slaughtered by imperial reinforcements.
It was a miracle he was alive really, and it was the promise he showed that day that made the Imperium even consider augmenting him with prosthetics. And so he was reborn anew, baptized in fire and coming out only better.
They were hailed as heroes that day by the joyous proto-hive they protected. A story for the legends.
They all celebrated and laughed together merrily, a moment of downtime.
The very next day the regiments went on to bomb that same hive to rubble when it was obvious the orks would overwhelm the defenses. And so began Straum's illustrious career. It was only uphill from there at least. The feral world regiment he was with had dissolved after it was clear they were decimated in the greenskin assault and Straum was transferred to a different regiment with the scant few survivors. And from there he would only rise in position...
"Milord?" said a nervous voice, snapping him out of his reminiscence.
"Hmmm?"
Straum turned around to see another Order soldier saluting him.
"The prisoners are s-secure milord." the man reported, shivering in fear as Straum gazed at him.
"Understood, dismissed."
The man shuffled out of the room quickly. Straum chuckled dryly to himself.
It seems his reputation precedes him, and the locals were certainly apprehensive of meeting him. How strange, that his career in the Imperium started with killing orks, and his career with the Order began with killing "orcs" as well. Though the supposed orcs of these lands were nothing compared to the savage greenskins proper.
"The Emperor works in mysterious ways it seems." Straum commented to himself idly.
Tempestor Jyrki came in not too long after, saluting the Lord Commissar.
"Sir."
"Jryki, I need you to see if we can fix the field vox-casters. There has to be at least one in working condition."
"Yes sir."
As the stormtrooper left him to fulfill his duties, Straum turned to look out the window. There was a war brewing, not the grox shit schola fights that the natives have been waging against these supposed "monsters", but a proper planet encompassing total war with the archenemy.
Ilian Quadrant, Lescatie
The citizenry did what they did best. They panicked, frolicked, and got in his way. The Grenadier growled as he shoved aside crowds of people running away getting into his path. He did not care who they were or if they even got up after he shoved them down. Mimil could only sigh as she helped the poor people up, giving a glare at the back of the grenadier as he ran ahead.
"What a big jerk." the hero sighed.
She caught up to him quickly, trying to get him to slow down to no avail. She tried to grind her heels in but was simply dragged along in a very undignified way. Yelping, the pinkette tried to right herself but lost her grip and slipped. The Grenadier hardly noticed as he moved on, eyes on the prowl for monsters to slay.
"Wait wait wait, come on let's think about this at least!" Mimil called after him.
It was no use, he was not listening at all. It was obvious that he's going to go charging on in brazenly like all the other meatheads she's dealt with. Why couldn't they just slow down and try to think first before running head first into the fray?
Then there came screams in the distance.
Scratch that, he has the right idea after all.
"Oh shoot! Let's hurry!" Mimil said, clapping him on the back much to his annoyance.
As they were running though, Mimil began conjuring a quick haste spell for the both of them as a boost.
She tapped her staff onto the ground and channeled her mana into a spell, imbuing both the Grenadier and herself with haste. The Grenadier was not expecting his sudden increase in speed and missed a turn, practically smashing through a wall of a building, much to the horror of the family inside of it. He wasted no time righting his mistake, not even bothering to apologize for the broken wall as the family watched him sprint away.
Mimil obviously knew the area well, making the numerous turns in the alleyways with ease. The Grenadier in contrast simply bulldozed his way through dead ends, breaking down rotting walls and scaring the shit out of anyone on the other side. By the time they made it to where the screams have long since gurgled into moans, the imperial had left a path made of broken walls.
Mimil gazed at him in exasperation before the pair rounded a final corner. There, just around an alleyway, was what appeared to be a blob of dark slimy...something. More importantly however was the woman currently in it's grasp, the lescatian inside moaning sensationally from it's foul presence oozing all over her. Based on her rapidly dissolving rags for clothes, it seems like this slime had picked up yet another street urchin.
"Oh no...it's a dark slime! This might be troub-" Mimil started to say before she was shoved out of the way.
The Grenadier aimed his hellgun and let loose a quick burst of lasbolts. They struck the slime where the "head", "neck", and "heart" should have been. The reaction was immediate. The slime recoiled in pain, it's body being struck with horrific weaponry. The captive inside of it also started screaming in pain as the shots struck her as well, though it was very minor second degree burns compared to the absolute agony the slime was feeling.
The dark slime writhed in pain as it recoiled from the volley. Upon seeing the danger, the dark slime shrieked at them both before holding her captive, screaming prisoner out in front of her like a shield.
The Grenadier was undeterred and charged his hellgun up against, the venerable war machine whirring up with power. He only snapped off one shot before his barrel was harshly grabbed by a horrified Mimil. It whistled past the slime's head, narrowly missing the woman's skull and singing her hair instead. Both slime and woman flinched from the harsh discharge.
"Wait! What are you doing?" the mage demanded, "She's got a hostage!"
"Irrelevant." the Grenadier retorted.
He shoved the hero back again and she fell backwards in shock as he callously took aim again. The woman was lucid enough again to realize the danger she was in, and the captive struggled against her captor.
"Please please please please." her eyes begged.
The Grenadier answered it with a bolt of dark crimson, the projectiles slamming into them both.
The woman let out a harrowing scream that turned into a wet gasp as her body was pierced. The slime's grip on her cushioned the projectiles somewhat, merely causing her to experience a lethal hole being drilled through her chest rather then being literally exploding through like most victims.
She was dead in an instance, much to Mimil's horror as she gaped at the corpse. The slime itself was not unharmed either, with her appendages quite literally boiling away from the single shot. Her arms disappeared and she was forced to shrink further as she regrew her appendages.
With a nauseated grimace, she flung her very much dead captive away onto the ground, just as the Grenadier had hoped. While she reformed back into her true form, that of a voluptuous monstergirl, and hissed at them, the Grenadier let out a pleased hum. She was wide open, and he let out a whole volley of lasbolts, watching in satisfaction as they splattered her spectacularly all over the place.
Mimil let out a horrified whimper, both at the heartless actions of her supposed ally and the speed at which the slime was defeated. She gazed at the Grenadier in shock, unable or unwilling to comprehend the actions he had just taken and was about to demand an explanation over his conduct when the slime stirred again. Their victory was short lived for the pair, as the slime immediately began pooling back to together again.
Both hero and imperial watched in surprise as the slime reformed itself quickly, though it was certainly weakened, and much smaller.
"That HURT!" she shrieked, her head forming before the rest of her body pulled itself back together.
She was definitely smaller then before, but now she was also more dangerous as she dropped her playful act. She hissed angrily and began forming whiplike attachments from her body, the "arms" forming heads and glaring at the pair.
"Hmmm." the Grenadier hummed as he adjusted the power of his hellgun. This was concerning, he should have been better prepared. It seems the humble lasbolts were not going to be enough after all. He considered using one of his incendiaries as another alternative but before he could respond accordingly however, the dark slime retaliated far faster then he was capable of evading.
In a blink, he was suddenly struck with intense electrifying pain as the dark slime let loose a spell. One of the heads had spat a bolt of lightning at the imperial, striking him full force and caused his body to spasm, causing him to fall onto his knees. He let out a pained growl as he tried to regain control of his body, grimacing as his insides protested severely.
"By the Chief God!" Mimil gasped as she saw the attack before narrowing her eyes.
"Take this!" she shouted angrily, the Grenadier's actions momentarily forgotten as she prepared for battle.
She let loose a spell of her own, her staff spitting out a fireball that struck the dark slime again. The slime recoiled again in pain, though this time she more easily recovered. She conjured a few more bolts of lightning, all of which struck only the ground as Mimil dodged with the aid of haste. She made a sign in the air with her staff, before chanting under her breath and letting loose a torrent of flames.
Scorching hot, they washed over the dark slime like a wave and the monster screeched loudly. With it's mass sizzling and evaporating from the attack, she curled up into a ball to weather the attack. As Mimil advanced forward to burn the slime away and recover her core, the dark slime suddenly retaliated.
A powerful gust of wind was created that blew the flames outwards, causing Mimil to widen her eyes in surprise as her own attack was blasted back at her. She dodged backwards and tapped her staff onto the ground quickly, dispelling the flames before they scorched her.
However, this left her distracted enough for the dark slime to begin slithering away. The monstergirl was wide eyed with terror as she ran quickly, muttering curses underneath her breath. She suddenly flattened herself onto the ground just in time for a burst of lasfire to pass by where her head was. The Grenadier had stood up again, gritting his teeth as he missed.
His arms shook from faint spasms but the imperial took careful aim regardless and tried to predict the slime's next moves. As she darted upwards, attaching herself to the walls, she tried to jump fro and forth like a ball, putting as much ground between her and her pursuers as possible. She tried to be erratic and unpredictable, but the Grenadier was undeterred and simply hosed the alleyway with lasfire.
Everything in his path was punctured and shredded. The sides of the alleyway were peppered with holes much to the confusion and terror of anyone nearby. The slime let out another loud shriek as her form was incinerated in several spots, and she once again splattered onto the ground, trying to slither away. The Grenadier wasted no time rushing forward, the initiative his, with Mimil hot on his heels incredulous.
"I never seen someone take down a dark slime like that so fast!" she shouted with surprise.
The Grenadier could hardly care less. The dark slime herself was reforming slowly, her injuries taking a toll on her and she gaped at the pair, hurriedly trying to slip away.
"No! No no no no!" she shouted in fear as the Grenadier got up close, pointing his menacing weapon right at her face.
"Wait! Stop!" Mimil cried out as the dark slime whimpered, her horrified face moving to beg for mercy.
The Grenadier did not listen as his weapon glowed, hissed, and then discharged with a bang. With such close proximity, he was confident in his kill as the dark slime splattered all over the two of them. Mimil let out a yelp at the sight and stared in mild surprise, fear, and exasperation.
"Y-Y-You absolute brute! You are a cruel, violent, and horrible man!" Mimil whined, smacking at his armored arm in annoyance, shock, and a bit of fear.
The Grenadier almost felt like sighing at her reaction. Instead, he checked over his weapon again before narrowing his eyes as the slime wiggled.
Then he noticed the core on the ground, still glowing dimly and watched in fascination as the remaining slime still around began drawing towards the core slowly.
"..."
He narrowed his eyes and aimed down at the dainty core when a hand grabbed at his rifle. Mimil stopped him, giving him an exasperated look and sighing obnoxiously.
"Come on. Look at her, she's not dangerous to anyone. Let's capture her. This would be the first time anybody has captured a dark slime!" she said, using her staff to tap against his helmet. "Please. No killing! What you did earlier? That was wrong!"
"..."
The Grenadier actually frowned this time, being quite annoyed at the young hero's attitude as she gave him one last sad look before turning around and picking up the core. The slime coiled around it's "heart", forming a body that is much smaller then what they encountered earlier. And shaking horribly with fear.
It coiled around Mimil and Ludwig was spurred into action as he saw the slime use Mimil like a shield against him, cowering behind the hero. Unlike before, the slime was now the same size as Mimil, and as such she was able to hide effectively behind the hero without getting blasted. And the Grenadier was certain that hosing Mimil down with her was not an acceptable action.
The Grenadier sighed, especially as he saw Mimil staring at him defiantly.
"P-Please spare me!" the dark slime hiccupped, eyes wide with fear.
"There there. If you promise to be nice and listen to us, my friend here won't splatter you all over the ground okay?" Mimil said with false cheer.
The dark slime gulped before nodding eagerly and the Grenadier was incredulous to realize that they really were going to just capture this abomination.
"..."
"Oh don't give me that look!" Mimil said playfully before tapping her staff on the ground.
She turned around and spat out an emerald green blast of energy that struck the dark slime. She seized up in shock, standing incredibly still before suddenly sucking herself back into her core and dropping onto the ground.
"Oh...that's new..."
"..."
"What? We got her didn't we? Now come on, let's go find someone with some jars." Mimil said, before her voice became quiet, "And also a gravedigger for that poor woman you killed. That was a horrible thing you did."
Mimil looked sick and both she and the Grenadier turned to stare at the corpse on the ground. The Grenadier was quite impressed. For all intents and purposes, it was quite the clean kill. Besides the ragged, bloody hole in her chest, the woman's body was untouched, and she could almost appear to be sleeping. He made it known to the hero and was quite nonplussed at her reaction.
Instead of placating her, this instead served only to upset Mimil, and the pinkette turned quickly and began walking speedily away from the scene. He was perplexed to realize he saw faint signs of tears. It was only collateral damage, the tradeoff was the capturing of an enemy spy.
The Grenadier could only sigh inwardly before holstering his hellgun and following after the small hero. Scratch one mutant down, Emperor knows how many more left to find. It's going to be a long mission hunting down all the filth.
As he saw the now quiet hero sternly ignoring him, the Grenadier mused that it would be a long, and annoying mission indeed if she persists on accompanying him.
Chaos Encampment, Osaros Region
Ioriel winced as she leaned on the wall, her injuries healing slowly. Her knee had clotted up but it still hurt to walk and she hissed in pain as she tried to rummage through her pouches for any supplies. Predictably they were either stolen by the cultists or just plain useless.
"Great...when I get back I'm going to start hoarding supplies." Ioriel muttered to herself.
Maybe some soldier pills, or perhaps a healing gourd. Those were always useful, even if they were bitter compared to some good old fashioned sex.
The sounds of rapid gunfire down the hall caused her to lose her thoughts and stand up straight however. The burst of gunfire ended as quickly as it appeared, and there came silence again. It was incredibly unnerving Ioriel had to admit. Why was there so little noise? Especially in what appears to be a cramped, rundown fortress.
She grew wary again and started calming her breathing to listen to her surroundings. She strained her ears and tried to sense her surroundings. The old fortress was poorly illuminated and her surroundings were dark and, if she was honest, terrifying. The shadows seemed like they would swallow her up. She tried to get a grip on her surroundings, closing her eyes and trying to see the world a different way.
There was a divergent path down in front of her, with the left being a dilapidated stone stairway down, but to where she hardly knew. Though the foul smell and faint growls she both smelt and heard likely spoke of a decidedly less then positive fate. The right continued on straight, however there were...obstacles on the way. Ioriel opened her eyes again and shuddered, before steeling herself and hesitantly going right.
She hobbled on with the assistance of the wall, wincing as she stepped through puddles of gore, both of slain cultists and fellow prisoners. She retched as she saw a maimed torso, it's limbs and head now missing stumps, but nothing came out except a sickly feeling, and she hobbled on. The hallway reeked of death.
The room it led to was no better either. Perhaps it was once an entrance to the kitchen. Once.
She hurriedly made for the door on the end of it, trying her best to expunge the memory of skinned humanoid bodies hanging from the meat hooks like they were no better then animals.
In her hurry she practically slammed through the doors and barreled into the backs of half a dozen people.
"Oh shit!"
"They're coming from behind!"
"Get the bastards!"
An assortment of voices were heard and Ioriel quickly dodged the wild swing of a man, ducking underneath his overhang slash and delivering a swift jab at his throat.
She backed away cautiously as the man fell down clutching his throat wheezing. The rest of his fellows looked absolutely furious and looked ready to murder her in an instance with their assortment of weapons. However just as one was about to swing a falchion, a werewolf grabbed his arm.
"Wait stop! Look at her! She's one of us, not the savages." Nyssa said.
"I wouldn't call her one of us but she's not one of them at least." her sister dryly added.
The group still looked absolutely murderous however and Ioriel was almost certain they'd attack her anyway when a voice barked,
"Enough! We do not have time for distractions." said a towering woman dressed in simple fatigues.
Ioriel idly noted how very muscular this woman was and stared agape before blushing and trying to salvage her dignity. She couldn't help herself! This woman was more muscular then most of the men she has seen before!
However she was cut off as the woman raised her hand and waved her off.
"I don't give a damn. Fall in line or go die somewhere else." she said coldly, causing Ioriel to gape before nodding dumbly.
The rest of the group seemed cowed at the woman and followed her lead obediently. It helped when you carried a big whacking mace and was more muscular then half the men there, starving or not. In her left hand was a strange looking firearm, horribly maintained based on how filthy it was, but no less deadly. Likely looted off the guards.
However the other reason why she was so respected also likely had to do with the heavily tattooed meatheads walking by her side too. And they looked mean. Despite their relative state of undress, wearing only simple trousers, they were built like pure muscle.
She couldn't help but salivate slightly. Too bad they were decidedly less desirable as you went up. Their faces were monstrously twisted, and scarred to ludicrous degrees, and their beady eyes were cloudy, as if they were constantly under a trance.
She did not trust them at all, and her instincts warned her of even getting near them.
She didn't realize how distracted she was until Nyssa grabbed her arm and dragged her along with the group as they marched on cautiously.
"Yeah wouldn't recommend getting to know those two. They only got eyes for their leader..." Nyssa told the kunoichi.
"Not good ones neither. I think they only barely tolerate her..." Olyrei chipped in.
If the objects of their fascination heard them, none of them reacted. And for good reason too. Ioriel was reminded that they were in the middle of an escape. But actually doing so was a lot more difficult then imagined.
This whole place was a labyrinth and every room they entered was like a bastardized parody of the real thing. The group past through a barracks that was littered with foul writings, inscriptions, and distastefully enough, bloody skulls hanging off the ceiling like macabre chandeliers.
The group peeled away to loot the place immediately, finding an assortment of different weaponry. Any books or tomes however were immediately intercepted by the woman and her two bodyguards, the three of them taking them and throwing them into a pile, where a torchbearer would burn them.
"If you wish to remain pure, then I suggest you burn every and all heretical texts you find." she stated coldly to the group.
The two dozen or so people, an assortment of both mamono and humans, obediently nodded. It spoke volumes of their desperate situation and the woman's powerful aura that neither side were causing much ruckus. Still, the humans eyed her and the rest of the mamono warily. Just because they were stuck in hell together does not mean they trusted the mamono one bit.
They left the room just a little bit better off then they came in. Out of the two dozen of them, only half were armed with weapons. The leader and her bodyguards of course were the most heavily armed, with one of them carrying a big bulky shield made of heavy dark iron and the other carried a giant warhammer. The rest of them made due with simple falchions and spears. One even carried one of the cultist's firearms, though his unease spoke of his inexperience.
"Stack up, on me." the woman barked, knocking Ioriel out of her musings.
Immediately the group started splitting off and taking positions alongside the door, leaving Ioriel dumbfounded and scrambling to make herself useful. She stood by Nyssa and her sister, the two werewolves clutching their spears tightly and lamented her own unarmed status.
The woman narrowed her eyes, leaning against the door before nodding to herself. There were distant voices past the doors, and more worryingly was the pool of blood seeping through the cracks of the door.
"Francis, you're up." she said to a painfully thin man.
"M-Me?" he gasped, clutching a shiv and shivering like a leaf.
"Yes, don't make me repeat myself again. Now!"
The man gulped, whispering a prayer before grasping the handle of the door. With a fear induced howl, he flung the door open and charged through.
A flurry of bullets filled the doorway and his body practically exploded into gore and bloody mist in an instance. Whoops and hollering could be heard down the hall, where for a split moment, Ioriel was able to see the cultists had set up a strange contraption at the end of the hall. It was like an elongated firearm of the foreigners, set up on metal legs and spat bullets that would make any block of musketeers green with envy.
That was as most as she could see before they all had to duck for cover lest they became filled with holes. The group panicked in silence, only brought under control by the harsh commands of the leader. The woman stood fearlessly behind cover, even as the walls that separated them steadily chipped away. Not even the stone itself could survive the onslaught unscathed. Reciting what sounded like litanies to Ioriel's ears, the woman blindly fired her pistol down the hall.
It hardly did a thing as the gun kept on firing. An unending torrent of bullets that ensured anybody that moved in would surely die instantly! Ioriel was sure they were going to be stuck back here forever when the the onslaught stopped. She heard the curses of the cultists and banging as they struck their weapon, the gun having gone silent.
Ioriel used her shinobi training to try and hear what they were saying, her ears picking up their desperation.
"Shit! You didn't reload from the last battle?"
"Fuck you! I didn't have time!"
"Shut it you two! Reload! Quickly!"
It seems Ares favored them today, and the kunoichi dearly hoped the goddess of war was watching over them.
"Now! Advance!" the woman screamed, much to the disbelief of the group.
Ioriel gulped while the rest of the group stared at her incredulously. No one wanted to be caught out in the open if they happened to reload it.
"What? That's crazy!"
"Are you disobeying me maggot? Hurry up and move!" the woman snarled, just daring him to disobey.
"Yes! Are you serious? I'm not go-" a man began to protest.
Blam!
Only for the woman to nonchalantly turn her gun on him and blow his brains out.
"I said ADVANCE!" she barked again and this time there was little hesitation.
The group ran out with her, the front led by the two brutes. Their fears were increased as they saw the bloody hall, littered with maimed corpses of the previous prisoners that had ran ahead of them. It seemed this weapon the cultists had set up at the end of the hall had messily butchered everyone in it's path, and unless they hurried, they'll be next.
The cultists at the end of the hall were panicking with their weapon, fruitlessly trying to do something with their firearm to reload it. The rest of their fellows panicked and began firing with their own weapons, hoping to slow them down. A volley of fire was thrown at their group and they all hurriedly took cover behind the point men.
A majority of the volley was absorbed by the men at the front, with the shieldbearer blocking most of the fire and deflecting the rest due to how massive and heavy it was. The rest slammed into the other brute with little effect. Their sheer bulk meant that the bullets barely fazed them, soaking up the fire with nary a grimace on their faces besides mindless rage.
However not all the bullets struck at the point men, and a woman let out a wet gasp as she was hit with a few stray bullets. She moved a few more feet before slipping and collapsing into a broken heap. A man had the top of his head get struck, causing him to stumble with a shriek, and he collapsed onto all fours clawing at his steadily bloodying face.
Their leader raised her firearm and opened fire as they ran, striking one of the cultists just as he racked his weapon open. It was too late for them to reload now.
They were able to reach the now terrified cultists position and their man with the warhammer let out an enraged howl as he swung the brutal weapon in a wide arc. Three of the cultists ducked in time to avoid it. The rest were struck full force and had their heads and torsos splattered against the wall. It was pitifully easy then for the rest of the frenzied group to descend onto the terrified cultists like rabid animals.
Ioriel hesitated, standing to the side as she watch her fellows tear into the three messily, butchering them without any remorse nor hesitation. For these savages had none for them, and they gave no mercy. But when it was over and the adrenaline had left their bodies, the escapees began to realize their actions. Some stared at their bloody hands, while others looked at the maimed bodies, though whether it was in horror at their own action or a sick fascination, Ioriel was unsure.
"Sound off!" their ever so stoic leader suddenly shouted.
"Hrgggh!"
"Grragh!"
Her two bodyguards barely responded, their grunts and growls being the only sounds they made as they prowled around hunched over like beasts. Ioriel noted with disgust the blackened sludge that was their blood, dripping onto the ground from where their wounds were already clotting up from. She stepped away from them quickly, especially as their eyes shone over the exhausted prisoners.
They had a malicious look to them, and she did not trust them one bit. They looked like one bad moment away from turning on them, and it seemed like their illustrious leader noticed as she smacked them on their arms and admonished them quietly. Whatever she said it seemed to calm them down and they moved away, securing the door down the hall. A heavy set pair of iron doors that seemed to lead outside...
"Soundoff!" she repeated, this time with a slight snarl.
The rest of the group nervously responded, a few responding just simply nodding as they tried to catch their breath. The screaming did not stop however and they looked back to see their two fallen. The woman was dead, her lung having been punctured, but the man was still crying now as he held his bleeding head.
"Get up maggot! You're not dead yet!" the woman barked as she marched over to his fallen body and hauled him up.
"Come! We must keep moving! Every moment we spend lollygagging is a moment the traitorous heretics draw closer!" she continued as she dropped him at the feet of the group.
A woman with the looks of a healer came up to the man, whispering sweet nothings as she tried to bandage him with strips of cloth while another tried to hold him steady. Their leader however was heartless, taking no heed of her fellows and Ioriel couldn't help but be disgusted. She did noting to soothe her people's fears and Ioriel pondered on what to say when she saw Olyrei shaking her head.
They heard the sounds of tinkering and turned to see the woman grabbing the weapon the cultists were using earlier to fill the hall with a storm of bullets.
"Hmmm heavy stubber. Belt fed...poorly maintained..." she muttered.
Ioriel watched with interest as the woman easily hefted it up. She smacked the gun a bit, racking it and doing something that unjammed the heavy belt fed stubber. She inspected it one more time before nodding to herself, then unlatching a peculiar box on the ground and handing it over to her bodyguard.
The brute nodded, grabbing the weapon with a sense of familiarity.
"It'll do. Grab some weapons off these filth. Now come, we have a lot of ground to cover!" she said harshly to the rest of the group, heedless of their wellbeing.
There were some halfhearted grumbling, but no one wanted to face her wrath fully and the group carried on as best as they could. The woman continued to look displeased, a perpetual scowl on her otherwise gorgeous face.
"Emperor forgive us for using such profane tools, and may your mercy see us through the day." Ioriel heard the woman whisper to herself.
She joined her two hulking companions by the door and, after gathering themselves, the group followed the three of them as they made their way through the doors. If they hoped the doors would lead to freedom, then they would sadly be mistaken.
For there was only more foreboding hallways, reeking of evil and a sense of wrongness permeating every stone. It was a dreadful, insidious labyrinth that they were stuck in. They were in the underbelly of a tainted fortress, twisted by dark magic and eldritch powers.
They hurried their pace as quickly as possible, sticking closely and following the directions of their veteran leader. The woman had still refused to tell her name, but she did give her title. Arbites. None of them knew what that was, but they knew she was the closest thing to salvation down here in the dark. Her and her Savlar Chem Dogs.
The name itself was incredibly disconcerting. Ioriel did not know what to make of them, but she did know one thing. The three moved with an ease that spoke of experience, and none of the escaped prisoners wanted to be separated from them. Even if the two towering brutes made for incredibly unnerving allies.
It was a maze of hallways, seemingly endless and without reason. Numerous times they stacked up against a doorway and knocked it down, only to reveal more and more blasted hallways. Ioriel was honestly astounded at the amount of them, as they led to nowhere and had no end. Did the Order create a fortress? Or a labyrinthic series of tunnels?
Ioriel has heard of the Order's love for escape passages and secret tunnels but the sheer amount they have seen just did not seem right! And the worst thing was the increasingly cursed and eldritch nature of the rooms as they progressed. It seems it wasn't enough that the cultists began squatting in them, now they perverted them as well. Eventually the cold stone turned to sickly, fleshy walls. Like a cancerous growth, unnatural and foul, covering all over the walls and protruding at odd spots.
It was a relief when they finally saw light, proper light from a shining sun. The group had worried their next room was going to be yet another unnerving, endless hallway or worse, but this one was better for one reason.
There was a big fucking hole in the ceiling.
Perhaps the support beams had given out, or an earthquake had weakened the foundations, but in the corner of the room was an opening. The ceiling had collapsed entirely and the stonework rubble made a convenient, albeit uneven stairs out to the surface.
The group couldn't wait to be free, and despite the protests of the Arbites, the bulk of the group rushed forward, overcome with blind hope.
"Wait you fools! We must have a plan of action!" the Arbites shouted angrily, but she was unheard as the escapees had only one goal. Freedom.
They excitedly climbed up the rubble and into the blinding light, leaving behind everyone else in their dash for freedom.
"Frakking civvies." the Arbites seethes before turning to look at the rest.
They had lost more then half their number, leaving behind Ioriel and the two werewolves, the Arbites and her Dogs, the injured man along with the healer, and a pair of harpies.
All of whom looked to the Arbites with nervous apprehension.
"We must be cautious. Get into single formation, we need to figure out what we're facing here." the Arbites said with a biting tone.
They nodded obediently and stacked up behind their point men, with the shield bearer in the front and the now machine gun armed right behind him.
They climbed up the rubble cautiously and found themselves climbing up into what was likely once an armory based on the number of mostly empty barrels, containers, and weapon racks. All in various states of disrepair and ruin.
A few corpses on the ground, both cultist and not, meant that there were others before them. Looted of course, though the Arbites didn't seem to agree as she rummaged through their pockets and pouches and picked up strange objects.
Frag grenades she calls them.
Ioriel wondered what use a peculiar shaped metal ball would be.
The fallen containers held numerous strange trinkets and baubles to her eyes. Many books, pendants, and what seems to be metal flasks, all stamped with a doubleheaded eagle. But none of their strange weaponry, something that both gladdened and disappointed her.
As terrifying as those weapons were against here that night in Lescatie, they would have been a great boon here. In whatever hell they were in.
It was not the only trinkets the others before them had looked over. The Chem Dogs practically cried with joy as they found freakish masks and backpacks in a messy pile.
Ioriel had no idea what purpose they served, but it seemed to calm the brutes somewhat. There were 8 more like that, but nobody wanted to use those strange contraptions, especially the Arbites who stared at them with disgust.
The kunoichi wondered what they were, and why they made strange wheezing noises when the Chem Dogs put them on. She almost swore they were breathing in something, but that was ridiculous.
Still, she noted how their eyes dilated, how their postures relaxed, and how they went from mindless brutes to focused killers. Something about them changed when they put on the mask, and Ioriel made even more of an effort to stay away.
She put aside her troubling thoughts and focused on trying to look through the scarce armory.
They found no other useful supplies, other than useless pendants and books. Though she made sure not to voice those opinions as the Arbites pocketed them into the Chem Dog's packs.
The light came from another hole in the ceiling, and this time they could tell it was a result of a siege weapon, for no boulder of this size would just be randomly deposited inside.
Whatever few actual weapons remain were rusted beyond use, crushed beneath said boulder, or utterly useless. It seems their imperial friends had more to gain, with their strange masks and backpacks.
The group fanned out, curious to know where the rest of their fellows went before a terrifying loud barrage of gunfire broke the silence.
"...!"
Panic began to set in as the gunfire was soon joined with shrill screaming and shouts.
"Downtime's over, it's time for battle." the Arbites stated grimly.
Ioriel grimaced. It seems they weren't free just yet.
"Come on you dogs! Don't you want to live forever?" the Arbites shouted at her two companions, before the three led the charge outside and the rest of the group followed.
Upper Dungeons, Lescatie 839
"Hmmmm. And this is entirely truthful?"
Straum's voice was chilling. It struck fear into the prisoner's very core and she squirmed underneath his visage.
The succubus was proving to be quite the boon, despite being a "regional spy" rather then a city-state spy. Intel about their "fellow" provinces would be just as useful as the intel regarding this Royal Makai. She likewise proved rather amenable to his interrogation so far.
As such, he'll keep the blades and truth serums away, for now anyhow. Better he save the serums for a more serious interrogation anyhow.
He'll have to file away the information regarding the surrounding provinces later however. Right now, Lescatie was his main concern. And there were a lot of concerns, more then he expected.
"Y-Yes..." she said defeated, shrinking away from him.
"How...perplexing..." Straum commented to himself as he pondered the influx of new information.
It was more then perplexing. It was both utterly disgusting and pathetic really. An expansive spy network infested Lescatie's society, from the lowest street urchin to even high ranking officers in the garrison.
Espionage, sabotage, and even "assassination" if you could even call the filth these so called assassins do to their targets. Straum made a note to have Captain Wymarc captured, interrogated, and then executed in front of the troops.
He also made a note to cleanse a few tainted districts. Supposedly these spies had tainted the food supply, first with their own foul sorcery and then with the influx of traitorous merchants selling poisonous foodstuffs for cheap. Straum smiled grimly.
He's been looking for an excuse to arrest those annoying defeatists. Always going on about the imminent collapse of the Order and the dominion of monsterkind.
They'll have to screen the populace the traitors sold to, separating the ones that have been tainted by this "demonic energy" laced products. The words were nauseating to even think of, but Straum sensed no foul tendrils of the warp.
Just local "magic". It was strange to think really. But he digresses, they must fix this immediately.
"And just what is the objective of this army? Burning the city? Killing the people? Enslaving us all? What is this goal of yours mutant?" Straum started, taking careful interest in seeing their reaction and responses.
The gremlin's ears twitched in annoyance, "Did you... Did you just call us mutants?"
"You may appear human, but it's quite obvious you are not. Not fully, so either you are a xeno that bears striking resemblance to the holy human form...or you are a aberrant. Does this displease you?" Straum said, narrowing his eyes.
"A lot of things displease me," the gremlin said, "Trying to kill me. Taking my tech away. Getting my species name wrong. A lot of things actually."
The greenette peered at him with annoyance, the defiance causing Straum to reconsider his current no torture methods.
"Shh," the succubus put a hand over her compatriot's mouth, "She's just scared, sir. She just can't keep her mouth shut."
Fortunately it seemed her actions served only to make the other one even more responsive and forthgiving. A decent trade, at least for now, even if Straum resisted the urge to rip out this miscreant's tongue. He had guardsmen executed for less before.
"Hmmm. What are you exactly then?" Straum continued, trying to give them a reassuring smile. It came out feral and insidious.
"Are you a result of rampant technology? An unholy byproduct of heresy and sin? Or are you perhaps simply just divergent of the human race?"
It paid to know who and what you were up against. And when chaos is involved, one can never be too careful.
Or opportunistic.
"We are mamono," the succubus answered, hoping to get on this human man's good side.
He honestly bothered her. Most men would stumble over themselves in front of a succubus, yet she felt no such thing from him. He was like carved from hard, cold stone and his unwavering stare unnerved her. As was his ever so faint xenophobia.
"We were born out of the Demon Lord's love of humans. That's why we're here." she continued.
"Daemon?" Straum started, leaning in and narrowing his eyes in fury and disgust.
At their frightened looks however he relented, and resisted the itch to immediately draw his boltgun. He sensed no faint, foul tendrils of the warp.
"And just what is a mamono?"
The succubus and gremlin held each other tighter as they shivered in fear.
"It's... It's just a title," the succubus answered, "She's a powerful succubus who made us like this, the mamono. We're beings who live to find love with human men and show women the joys we experience."
"I'd like to let you know," the gremlin chimed in with a raised hand, "I'm more of a freelance agent. I was just here to find a husband and get some good tech."
"..."
Straum's fury and disgust was immediately replaced with pure unadulterated bafflement.
"What?" Straum started. He was truly surprised by this.
This was preposterous. Utterly ridiculous. The idea of mutants infiltrating this deeply into human society, sabotaging infrastructure and defenses in preparation for an invasion...was all for finding husbands? To spread the joys of what? Love? Hedonistic debauchery? Degenerate weakness? Mindless sex like in a heretical pleasure world?
Preposterous! Heretical, and utterly disgusting and foul to the highest degree.
"Do you take me for a fool? What are you really here for mutant? I will not repeat myself." Straum snarled.
"We just want a husband," the succubus shook in fear, "We don't want to hurt anyone. That is something we never want to do. We love humans."
Straum was in shock. Total shock and disbelief. The very notion of this...this...this folly was incomprehensible!
And worst of all, she was either the best liar on this damn world, or telling the truth for Straum could neither see nor sense any deceit.
Mentally he wanted to execute these mutants and be done with them. He found their appearances to be unsettling and their mannerisms disgusting.
He gazed at them with contempt. "Spare me your mockeries and lies. I see that you're not fully understanding this situation currently." Straum began, "Do you truly expect me to believe you have been infiltrating Lescatie and paving the way for an invasion...for that ridiculous goal."
"Okay buddy," the gremlin glared at him, "She's already told you what we're here for. A few times in fact. What more do you want?"
Straum barred his teeth in fury, gazing at them with utter contempt, so much that it could practically be felt.
"In all my years of service in His Majesty's name, I have never found a single race, organization, or thing that ever fought for something as ridiculous as that." Straum sneered, "I have seen entire worlds burned, their people butchered, and the rest either enslaved or lured over to the insidious hands of the archenemy. I have seen more horrors and evils then you will ever experience in a hundred lifetimes."
The Lord Commissar glared at them both, letting all the years of grief and grit and hate and rage into his next few words.
"I have fought on a thousands battlefields, against innumerable xeno breeds of all shapes and sizes, hundreds of soulless abominations who can flay you alive, and against an incomprehensible horde of madmen whom all had delusions of grandeur and who lived only to spread misery and evil. So yes, I am incredibly skeptical of your claims!" Straum spat.
The two were silent for a moment. His rage silencing them for a moment as they took in all of what he said.
"I think he needs a drink," the gremlin whispered to her companion, who was unresponsive as she shrinked away from Straum.
"Did I scare you? Are you perhaps harmless, naive imbeciles after all? Whom truly believe that all they're doing is spreading joy into the world?" Straum sneered.
He in particular coldly stared at the gremlin, making sure his scarred face and blood red optic was glaring right into her eyes.
She shrinked back in fear just liker friend before blinking slowly. Then, as if she forgot her situation, she let out a gasp. Her hand shaking as she stared up at his eye and said,
"Is that... is that tech?!"
"What?" Straum blinked.
Once again he was floored by the seemingly oblivious prisoner in front of him. He searched for signs of deception, unsure if this mutant in front of him was simply idiotic, or lulling him into a false sense of security.
"I don't think you're fully understanding the situation here." Straum growled, feeling increasingly agitated by this mutant.
"Can I have it?" The Gremlin's eyes twinkled as her ears twitched in anticipation.
"Shush," her succubus comrade pulled her close. "He's already angry."
"But I want his cyborg eye," the gremlin drooled slightly.
"You can't just ask for someone's eye," the succubus chided her companion, "That's rude."
Faintly, Straum felt something almost akin to amusement, before the wave of irritation slammed into him.
"You want my eye now do you?" Straum started. He tried to make his voice sound jovial.
It came out as pained and forced.
"Gimme, gimme, gimme." The gremlin held out her hands to grab it.
"I'm so sorry," the succubus tried to plead, "She's not normally like this... I think."
"No that's fine." Straum said lightly.
That is before he grabbed the gremlin harshly and slammed her against the bars of the cell. A flash of steel and suddenly there was a knife right by the gremlin's eye. Hovering threateningly.
"You still want my eye mutant?" Straum said rhetorically.
"I lost this eye in a distant battlefield, a lifetime ago. Lost it in battle against a race of monstrous and bloodthirsty beasts. Could you say the same?" he lectured.
"Wait! Please don't hurt her!" the succubus cried out, afraid for the gremlin.
The gremlin's eyes were swirling, "What?"
Her head pounded from the impact and she had honestly missed out on what he had said due to the pain, "Why did you do that?"
"You think lightly of such things don't you? It's only expected after all." Straum snarled.
He squeezed his hands and envisioned himself strangling her here and now when the door opened.
"Lord Commissar." Jyrki began, closing the door behind him and saluting him.
"Stormtrooper." Straum acknowledged before gazing at the gremlin in disgust, who was beginning to slowly understand the situation as she gasped for breath. She wheezed in his grasp and tried to escape, looking at him with fear and anger.
With a disgusted motion, he slammed her hard against the bars again before tossing her backwards.
"Report." Straum ordered, and Jyrki complied.
"The voxcasters appeared to be damaged Lord Commissar. All of them, and unless we find a cogboy there won't be a way for us to fix it." Jyrki reported, causing Straum to grind his teeth.
He sighed, rubbing his face as he thought of another alternative. Perhaps he could hire some rangers to scout for stranded imperials, or even more signs of cultists.
They needed intel, and they need it soon. The courier system in the Order territory was sporadic at best and downright useless at worst. He had quite literally no information outside the surrounding holdings of Lescatie.
While the two imperials discussed, their prisoners had their own conversation.
"Owww! Owww! Owww! Owwww!" The gremlin whined, rolling on the floor and holding her head tightly.
The succubus pulled her close, "I'm sorry you had to go through that."
"He does know that torture is literally the worst way to get information, right?" The gremlin whispered.
"Shhh," her companion gulped.
"I mean, it literally forces you to do and say whatever the guy wants."
"Shhh!" The succubus tried again for the sake of both of their lives.
"Or they die of their injuries."
"Do you want to die?" The succubus asked.
"Not until I get my mecha mits back, so no." The gremlin snorted, whining as she rubbed at her head. She grimaced as she felt a bump in her head before sighing.
The two of them turned to gaze at the new arrival, the gremlin narrowing her eyes before gasping as she recognized the dark black armor plates of the stormtrooper.
"What will we do with these sir?" Jyrki said, upon noticing the pair.
He set the wrecked voxcasters down and gazed at the Lord Commissar expectantly.
"They will be of use to us," Straum began, "They will help us track their fellows, or they will be hanged, and their body exposed and left to rot as an example."
"Or I could fix that stuff for you," the gremlin quickly offered, raising a hand hesitantly.
"I'm great with tech. No one's better then a gremlin with a piece of machinery."
She mimicked working with her hands, and Straum seemed to ponder her offer. Jyrki however only gazed at her with disgust, and said, "Heresy. To let a filthy mutant touch our holy instruments of war is unthinkable."
"But not unheard of." Straum started, much to the stormtrooper's surprise.
"Mutants have been used before stormtrooper, even by our Inquisitor did you know? Course the freak was long dead before you came along." he continued.
He pondered about his options, and found that he had very few, as usual. Sometimes rules had to be bent in order to keep the gears going. It would not be the first time he had done things considered heresy for the Imperium. And it won't be the last either.
"Could you repair this?" Straum demanded, bringing the three voxcasters over to the cell and setting it down with a thud.
"Of course I can," the gremlin said instantly upon looking at them, "These sweet babies need a tune up if ever I've seen one."
"Sir. This is blasphemy." Jyrki argued.
"It is a necessary evil stormtrooper." Straum told him.
"The signs are here. Ludwig's arrival was proof that there are more of us out there. Stranded, lost, and wandering aimlessly. The ruins of Thelkeld was another. A whole platoon worth of imperials slain because they were cutoff and in unknown territory." Straum noted.
"And this morning, when the majority of the bodies were found missing. Dragged away, and leaving behind a truly foul stench. Chaos is here, and with it the the arrival of the archenemy. And you know just as I do of the danger. Where there's one rat, there's likely more."
"We will need every advantage we can get, and if it involves collaborating with mutants, then so be it. The Imperium will prevail." he stated with certainty.
The stormtrooper shifted on his feet. Unlike inquisitorial stormtroopers, he was unused to serving as a part of an Inquisitor's retinue, and he was out of his depth for once. But his training won out, and he trusted his superiors. With an obedient nod, he quieted down.
"Look," the succubus spoke up, her voice shaking. "We don't know anything about this 'Chaos'. We don't want to hurt you. Please let us go. We'll leave the city, okay?"
It was as if the pair remembered the two mamono were there. Or the succubus was anyway, for the gremlin was much too enamored with the voxcasters.
Something that caused the stormtrooper to curse as he took them away much to her protesting. Meanwhile Straum kneeled down until he was eye level with the succubus, who took a frightful breath.
"Do you remember what you saw at Threlkeld? The evil that you sensed at that place? That permeates it even now? The foul servants of the archenemy who would gladly murder each and every man, woman, and child they can find?" Straum said coldly.
"There will be no distractions. We can not afford them when the enemy is near. No, you will help me. Or you will serve as a warning, do you understand?"
The succubus gulped and reeled backwards. She grimaced as she thought, before nodding quickly, "Yes. I'll help."
"Excellent." Straum smiled, and this time it was a truly feral one.
"Jyrki. Have our dear little, what was it? Gremlin? Escort her to a secure workshop and have her jury rig something usable. Watch her closely, for I hear her ilk have not only an affinity for technology but tricks as well." Straum ordered.
The stormtrooper nodded and opened the cell door, causing the succubus to scoot away in fear while the gremlin stared at him defiantly.
"I'm a gremlin, of course I have an affinity." The gremlin snorted.
She gave the succubus a thumb's up, "Don't worry. We'll be fine. These guys are probably big softies underneath."
"But he smashed your head against the bars and stuff," the succubus pointed out.
"Oh just because they are softies doesn't mean they aren't dicks too." The gremlin deadpanned.
The succubus took in a deep breath, "It's okay. She's not trying to get us killed." She muttered to herself, "She doesn't mean it."
Jyrki gave a dry chuckle, one that lacked any humor.
"Sir?" he asked, giving Straum a knowing look.
"Have faith Jyrki." Straum said, his arm hanging loosely by his side. Next to his boltgun.
The hidden meaning was clear. Loose ends must be tied in the end after all, but only after they fulfilled their purpose. Chaos was not a light issue, and measures have to be taken.
The stormtrooper nodded contently before gripping the gremlin's arm tightly and practically dragging her out.
"So speaking of dicks," the gremlin started to speak. She gave Jyrki a wide grin, "I think I know what I want as a reward~"
The succubus groaned and hid her face in her hands, "I know I'm a succubus, but even I can read a room." She muttered under her breath.
"I'm pent up without tech," the gremlin griped, "Let me live a little!" She called out as she was dragged along.
Jyrki looked at her with utmost disgust. If looks could kill, she would be dead long before they could have disappeared out the door.
Straum narrowed his eyes, before gazing at the succubus. He thought about asking about their infatuation with sex, before disregarding it. Useless information, especially when there were far more pressing matters at hand.
"Now, about your compatriots." Straum started, his voice growing somehow harsher.
The succubus gulped.
A.N: This chapter took way too long to write and honestly? I'm still unsatisfied but I don't think I'll ever be satisfied either. After rewriting it numerous times, I just decided to post it as it is.
Additionally, thank you to Evowizard25 for helping in writing the mamono dialogue. Even if the gremlin was particularly annoying, I felt that was in character.
Empirialtank: I'm incredibly charmed good sir! To think that the author of a story I follow actually enjoys my writing as well! Hoping to see you update Shepherd of Humanity soon haha! And yes, while I love our boys from Krieg (hence the name) I do agree that the other various Imperial Guard regiments deserve some loving as well.
And I can definitely see that for sure. One of the scenarios I'm contemplating is having a few of the mamono breeds be classified as abhumans. After all, some of these ladies have quite useful traits and skills that would benefit the Imperium. After all, in the fight against Chaos everybody and anybody will be used.
Definitely plan to get a Catachan eventually, maybe a PTSD ridden sergeant that has gone insane and is currently going all Aliens & Predators in a nearby woods, haunting it as the Green Devil hah. I likewise have plans to have Maccabian Jannisaries, Steel Legion, Penal Legion/Savlar Chemdogs, Drookian Fen Guard, and perhaps even Beastmen. I've always found their plight in the WH40K universe to be quite grim and sympathetic. Poor bastards.
And indeed, Death Korps have nifty units. Gonna introduce the Deathriders for sure, as well as the engineers too. Would be interesting to have the Deathriders be "Noble Knights" in grim armor, acting like chivalrous knights
Take care everyone, and Merry Christmas Eve or something like that.