Locum Ignotum Chapter 8
Over the landscape an army poured, flowing over every hill and through every dell. They raced across wide fields and through verdant forests, eager to explore the limits of this strange land and break them. Small animals fled before the tide, but not just out of prey instincts. There was something offensive about this host, a vileness that went beyond the mundane.
Throughout the horde bodies were flayed and mutilated, flesh pierced and peeled back in places. Eyes had been sown open and mouths hung slackly, unable to close. Writhing tattoos described unspeakable acts and many bore self-inflicted wounds that dripped purple blood. There were men and women in that horde, all grinning like maniacs, mixed with mutants so twisted they were barely human. Thousands upon thousands of filthy degenerates flooded across the land, searching for victims but they were as nothing compared to their masters.
Among the horde strode massive giants in Ceramite armour. Each one was a sight to blast the sanity of any mortal who laid eyes upon them. Their armour was covered in lurid images and clashing colours. Pink and black and gold were predominant but they were chased with every colour imaginable and some that should not exist. Their physical mutations were far worse to behold, tentacles for hands, bulging eyes the size of plates and tongues that hung down to their navels. They were a parody of the Emperor's noble design, an insult to all he had intended, just as their name was: Emperor's Children.
The Chaos Marines bore bulky weapons in their hand, chainswords, archaic bolters and cumbersome sonic blasters. These were often fused into their flesh, skin and metal woven together as one. Many crooned over their implements, treating them as if they were alive and hungry to inflict torments. At the heart of the horde strode Jubila, the Lord of this host and leader of its revelries. He was whistling a jaunty tune as he walked, seemingly pleased by the sights on display. His eyes took in the strange contours of the sky and the virgin potential of the land and his mind stirred, imagining the rack and ruin he could inflict.
Jubila licked his lips and said, "This has potential."
From behind him came a voice, gruff and impatient, saying, "It's dull, there's no one here to kill."
Jubila glanced back and saw a fierce warrior behind him. His name was Salmacis Gala, a pale Astartes with long white hair reminiscent of their beloved Primarch Fulgrim. His armour was covered in short spikes and in his hands he bore a sonic pistol and a long chainsword. There was a face upon that sword, an inhuman one that gnashed its teeth as one watched and whispered a constant sing-song tone of threats and pleas. A minor Daemon of the Prince of Excess was bound into that weapon, minor maybe but a hungry one.
Jubila grinned and said, "This is why you'll never be a leader, you never see the big picture. This place exists half in the Warp and half in the Materium, making it the perfect base of operations. Oh, the revelries we could host here, it's positively titillating."
Salmacis grumbled, "No conquest is worthy unless it is taken by force, without the spilling of blood the ground is not consecrated to Chaos."
Jubila's smile widened and he proclaimed, "Rest assured There is somebody here, the Neverborn speak to me of great slaughters to come. The heady rush of battle awaits us; we just have to find it."
From the other side came a rumble as another, deeper voice said, "It better had, I need to expand my collection."
Jubila glanced over and saw another warrior. This one was tall; a giant among their kind, swollen with corpulence so that rolls of fat hung around his gorget. His name was Baeghost the beautiful, a cannibal and a glutton whose insatiable appetites were pleasing unto the Dark Prince. He bore a large bulky Blastmaster in his hands, a Sonic weapon that could carve a tank apart. He wore Mark III plate, a model that had never found much favour in the Emperor's Children Legion, being too ugly and brutal for their refined tastes. To compensate Baeghost had covered his plates with a collection of skinned faces, each one chosen for their perfect beauty, hence his moniker 'The Beautiful.'
Jubila looked at him and questioned, "You grow impatient?"
Baeghost replied, "I grow hungry, I yearn to gnaw upon the bones of the innocent and drink the nectar of their tears. The hunger grows in me, I cannot control it."
Jubila patted him affectionately on the shoulder and said, "Do not try to control it: revel in it. Our patron demands that you indulge in every sensation, take every impulse to its most extreme edge. The only crime is to deny yourself."
Baeghost nodded and said, "I shall my Lord."
Jubila spread his arms and proclaimed, "Remember one and all, Perfection is not a state of being it is a state of striving. We must always press onwards, never pausing and never ceasing in our efforts to be all we can be."
Salmacis snorted at that but his contempt was covered by a shrieking roar behind them. Jubila glanced backwards and his grin spread from ear to ear. Behind him was a massive war machine, bound down with silver chains, held by scores of bulky mutants. It walked on six mechanical legs but its torso was fleshy and lurid pink. It had huge claws for hands and a roaring Daemon face that snarled in frustration and outrage. It was a Soul Grinder, a Daemon engine but not just any random Daemon.
Jubila had once served a Captain called Ozymandias, a proud and haughty Legionnary who gleefully followed their Primarch into the service of Chaos. So great had been his slaughters that he had been rewarded with elevation to a Daemon Prince, a state of affairs that had stirred jealousy in Jubila's hearts. The warlord had gone to immense lengths to track down his former Captain and learn his Daemonic true name, binding him into this shell of metal and shackling it with spells and wards. Ozymandias' screams at this betrayal and his loathsome confinement were most pleasing to Jubila and it made him laugh to hear the rage in his former Captain's voice.
Jubila sighed in satisfaction then said, "It seems our former lord grows bored, Rebis, find me something amusing!"
Ahead of them a Chaos Marine nodded, he boasted a long cloak and a twisted staff, glimmering with arcane energies. Rebis was a Sorcerer, one who had an affinity for summoning Daemons, and it was he who had opened the portal to bring them here. Rebis replied in a deep masculine voice, "My sister whispers of great power nearby, a source of energy just over the next hill."
Rebis was an odd one, even by Emperor's Children standards. He claimed to have power of his own but also that he was possessed by the ghost of his dead sister, a witch of no mean power. Perhaps it was true or perhaps he was just completely insane but the result manifested as a form of split personality, at times masculine and bloodthirsty at other feminine and shrill. Jubila followed Rebis over the hill and saw before them another Menhir set in a valley, carved with angular glyphs. He led his army down towards it and then had them pull up short, before circling it with curious eyes. Jubila looked up at the Menhir and said, "This is the source of the power?"
Rebis stepped up and his voice changed, becoming feminine and soft as he said, "Yes, great power flows through this, it holds this whole environment together."
Baeghost looked up and said gleefully, "Looks breakable, smash it!"
"No you fool!" shrieked Rebis in a feminine tone but then in a masculine voice shouted, "Yes, unleash the power!"
Salmacis pressed, "What would happen if we did?"
"This place could fall apart, we would be dropped into the warp," cried Rebis in a feminine voice but then in a masculine tone spat, "It would break the walls, allowing Daemons to manifest inside; we could set free a host of Neverborn!"
Baeghost looked at Rebis, his fat features screwed up in consternation as he said, "Seriously out of all of us, how messed up do you have to be to be known as the crazy one?"
Suddenly there was a flash of light and a shining ball of energy flew over their heads. It was a plasma bolt and it struck the Menhir half-way up its length, burrowing into its structure. A web of cracks spread over the dark stone and then it crumbled, splitting across its width so that the top half toppled over and hit the ground, smashing into a thousand pieces.
Heads spun around in shock and everybody gasped to see Jubila standing there, with his plasma pistol shimmering from the heat of its discharge. Jubila grinned and proclaimed, "Your arguing bores me."
"Yes, yes! Revel in the carnage," Rebis' masculine voice cried but then his feminine voice shrieked, "You have no idea how dangerous that was!"
Jubila was unmoved and cocked his head to say, "But did you die?"
Salmacis brandished his Daemon weapon and cried, "You fool, you have no idea what you're doing!"
Jubila saw his brash underling was spoiling for a fight and he casually lifted his Charnabal sabre, placing it upon Salmacis' breastplate. It wasn't a fast move or in any way harmful but it was very deliberate. Salmacis suddenly froze, his expression a rictus of uncertainty and intimidation.
Jubila enjoyed the trepidation stealing over his underling's face, the anxiety and distress building within him. Salmacis was a good warrior but was no match for Jubila. The warrior knew that the warlord could gut him without effort and had just realised that he had pushed too far. Jubila had casually violated his personal space and there was no way to tell what would happen next. To be honest Jubila himself didn't know what he was about to do. He was a creature who followed his whims; the unexpectedness of his actions pleased even him at times.
Jubila kept his sword perfectly still and coolly asked, "You have an issue with my actions?"
Salmacis dared not move a muscle but whispered, "No my lord, I have always served you loyally."
Jubila started circling his blade's tip, scratching a pattern on the purple breastplate as he said softly, "And for this, I should spare you?"
All eyes were on Salmacis as he pleaded, "I am yours to command, I serve at your pleasure."
Jubila increased the pressure on his blade, drawing a sharp screech as it scored the Ceramite and he said, "So you think my leadership has room for improvement?"
"No… yes… I…I," stammered Salmacis desperately looking about with his eyes for allies but finding none.
Jubila was entranced by the beads of sweat running down Salmacis' face and he began tracing his blade's point upwards as he asked, "Tell me, do you want to be the leader?"
"No never," Salmacis spluttered pulling his neck back from the rising sabre, "I follow your every word, my lord."
Jubila paused for a moment, utterly still and then withdrew his blade and said, "Good, glad to hear it."
Salmacis breathed a little easier and looked relieved but very subdued. Jubila drank in his submissiveness, enjoying his dominance over the warrior. Then he declared, "Now, tell me what effect destroying that rock had."
Rebis waved his staff for a moment then said in a masculine voice, "The etheric walls have cracked; the Warp begins to seep in. Smash a few more and we can summon our Neverborn allies, just enough mind you, smash too many and this place falls apart."
A ferocious roar greeted that, the war machine Ozymandias bellowing at the prospect of destruction. Jubila's felt a wave of eagerness sweep over him and said, "It seems our beloved former Captain likes that idea, we should indulge him. Go, spread out and find more of these Menhirs and break them, then we shall have a cavalcade of horrors to entertain us."
As the horde broke up and raced in all directions Baeghost asked, "What shall we do in the meantime?"
Jubila looked up at the sky and said, "I'm getting bored again, let's go find somebody to kill. That should pass some time."
