40k Fan-Fic
The (extensive) trademarks & copyrighted material of GW [www.games-workshop.com] are not mine. 'The Warband of Lance' and most, if not all, chacters are of my own devising. And yes, I do own these models...
*--------------------------------------------------------*
As he strode towards the command post, Lance considered his surroundings once again. Even though the walls, the floor and even the ceiling where all comprised of steel and pipes and man-made materials, one could not hope to miss the obvious signs of decay. Rust and oil made deep impressions along almost any given surface, so much that if it where not for the flesh and organic matter integrated into the very essence of the ship Lance would be concerned for its structural integrity.
That of course, would be the second thing one would notice. 'Entropy's Aide' was no longer a true Imperial ship, but something more. Uncountable decades of use within the warp had changed it. For the better. It still moved by good old Imperial technology, but was powered by the captured essence of the most terrible deamons. Entities that had found disfavor with Nurgle though some action or deed where punished so. As usual Lance both enjoyed and feared this thought, to be immortal yet in permeant agony simply on a whim of his Lord.
Pain was something Lance knew well. He more then his kin understood the torture of service to the Plague God. Over time his body had been 'gifted' with all manner's of disease. His once sublime form had since distended and grown horrible to sight. His face was a ruined mess, the flesh had once flowed free of its bonds to settle in a new shape. What else had happened, he did not truly know. He never took off his armour these days.
As horrible as it may all seem, Lance enjoyed his new existence. No longer was he bound to the ritual of eating. No longer did he feel damage to his deceptively powerful flesh. His sense of smell had long gone, yet now he could choke a man to death in minutes, simply by standing withing a few feet of him. He was blessed with unholy strength. Blessed with unnatural endurance. Blessed.
Lance was Old, yet felt not the grip of time. His experience and battle prowess had grown over the centuries. Now he was a force to be reckoned with. Blessed. Favoured above most by Nurgle. He had his ship, a mighty cruiser over 10km in length. He had his army, all strong and battle worthy like him. He had the power to bring forth the dead as his slaves, though his Sorcerer. He had Powerful equipment. He had many great things.
He had ambition.
Whilst he may be able to shrug off wounds such as the loss of a few limbs, he was not immortal. He would live forever only if he kept alive. This risk was not acceptable. He wanted Immortality, he wanted Deamonhood. The greatest blessing Lance could ever aspire too. To be one with the Warp. To be able to manifest himself after being vanquished over and over. To be the unrelenting force in a war of attrition. If he could not be stopped, then he could not lose.
As always, Lance was amused by the track of his mind. He would start at the same place, just looking at the walls, and always end up here. The path was always different, but all roads lead to Deamonhood.
Well then that is what he planned to do. Making a resolution to truly please his God, Lance burst though the door into the Command Centre.
"Father, we are about to reach the outskirts of the Runts Empire"
Excellent, he had timed that well.
"Make for the nearest uninhabited rock. These Aliens have a habit of trying to talk before they shoot. Let's take advantage of that, shall we?"
"Yes Father"
Yes, he was going to make short work of these naive creatures. They may have enough firepower to obliterate 'Entropys' Aide', but his plan should see them long gone before such unnessecary risk need be taken.
Short work indeed.
*--------------------------------------------------------*
Bah-humbug. I write this for Robbie. Time to show you how a _real_ scenario would play out.
Fear the unclean, they are the death of you.
The (extensive) trademarks & copyrighted material of GW [www.games-workshop.com] are not mine. 'The Warband of Lance' and most, if not all, chacters are of my own devising. And yes, I do own these models...
*--------------------------------------------------------*
As he strode towards the command post, Lance considered his surroundings once again. Even though the walls, the floor and even the ceiling where all comprised of steel and pipes and man-made materials, one could not hope to miss the obvious signs of decay. Rust and oil made deep impressions along almost any given surface, so much that if it where not for the flesh and organic matter integrated into the very essence of the ship Lance would be concerned for its structural integrity.
That of course, would be the second thing one would notice. 'Entropy's Aide' was no longer a true Imperial ship, but something more. Uncountable decades of use within the warp had changed it. For the better. It still moved by good old Imperial technology, but was powered by the captured essence of the most terrible deamons. Entities that had found disfavor with Nurgle though some action or deed where punished so. As usual Lance both enjoyed and feared this thought, to be immortal yet in permeant agony simply on a whim of his Lord.
Pain was something Lance knew well. He more then his kin understood the torture of service to the Plague God. Over time his body had been 'gifted' with all manner's of disease. His once sublime form had since distended and grown horrible to sight. His face was a ruined mess, the flesh had once flowed free of its bonds to settle in a new shape. What else had happened, he did not truly know. He never took off his armour these days.
As horrible as it may all seem, Lance enjoyed his new existence. No longer was he bound to the ritual of eating. No longer did he feel damage to his deceptively powerful flesh. His sense of smell had long gone, yet now he could choke a man to death in minutes, simply by standing withing a few feet of him. He was blessed with unholy strength. Blessed with unnatural endurance. Blessed.
Lance was Old, yet felt not the grip of time. His experience and battle prowess had grown over the centuries. Now he was a force to be reckoned with. Blessed. Favoured above most by Nurgle. He had his ship, a mighty cruiser over 10km in length. He had his army, all strong and battle worthy like him. He had the power to bring forth the dead as his slaves, though his Sorcerer. He had Powerful equipment. He had many great things.
He had ambition.
Whilst he may be able to shrug off wounds such as the loss of a few limbs, he was not immortal. He would live forever only if he kept alive. This risk was not acceptable. He wanted Immortality, he wanted Deamonhood. The greatest blessing Lance could ever aspire too. To be one with the Warp. To be able to manifest himself after being vanquished over and over. To be the unrelenting force in a war of attrition. If he could not be stopped, then he could not lose.
As always, Lance was amused by the track of his mind. He would start at the same place, just looking at the walls, and always end up here. The path was always different, but all roads lead to Deamonhood.
Well then that is what he planned to do. Making a resolution to truly please his God, Lance burst though the door into the Command Centre.
"Father, we are about to reach the outskirts of the Runts Empire"
Excellent, he had timed that well.
"Make for the nearest uninhabited rock. These Aliens have a habit of trying to talk before they shoot. Let's take advantage of that, shall we?"
"Yes Father"
Yes, he was going to make short work of these naive creatures. They may have enough firepower to obliterate 'Entropys' Aide', but his plan should see them long gone before such unnessecary risk need be taken.
Short work indeed.
*--------------------------------------------------------*
Bah-humbug. I write this for Robbie. Time to show you how a _real_ scenario would play out.
Fear the unclean, they are the death of you.