"You truly are a cruel one Manathol, how is a human supposed to perform the duties you're forcing onto him? He'll be lucky to last a week." He could hear voices, they were sweet and harmonious, with an undercurrent of power and discordant songs. He couldn't remember a time that he had heard anything like them.
"He'll be fine, you worry too much really. Plus you aren't much better. I've heard about your little escapades with the humans in your territory. You are far more cruel than I." The voices were becoming more intelligible now, still unknowable, but as his consciousness returned so did his ability to think.
The voices reminded him of something, something that filled his heart with hate and fear. But from where? He was dead, he shouldn't be capable of feeling such in the first place. "I've only been granting their wishes, you know, it's not my fault that humans have no sense of sportsmanship or fun. Really they enter deals so easily it's a crime. They don't even read past the first layer of fine print most of the time!"
"Even so I've seen your so called contractors, I for one will not be inflicting such a fate on my new pet. Who from what I can tell has finally woken up. Hello." His heart was pounding in his chest as despair and fear warred within him.
He was inside a truly luxurious room. The walls were white and gold with inlays of silver along every surface. The bed he was in was large enough for five men with satin sheets and ermine pillows. It had massive currents, silky and smoother than anything he had ever encountered, and two of the Xeno's sat before him.
He could understand them now, if barely, as their speech was heavily accented and had touches of two or three other low gothic dialects mixed in. As he had suspected they spoke of committed horrors from time past and what they would be doing with him. He refused to be an alien pet.
So he did the only thing a rational man could do, and under the alien gaze he lunged for a small blade that was being kept on a nearby bedside table.
He didn't even make it five feet before he was engulfed in the aliens arms, constrained by its unnatural strength and size. "Oh you're a fierce one aren't you? I knew it from the moment I saw you that you would be quite the fun plaything." The Xeno said while he struggled against its, no her grip.
The two soft bumps against his chest told him enough to clue him into the fact that she was female, not that he particularly cared. "I'll kill you before I bow before you Xeno bitch. I'll cut our your eyes and crush your skull between my boots, that you can count on you bastard child of a thousand dead wombs."
Laughter met his words as the Xeno bitch loomed over him. "Oh you're so silly, I could just eat you up. But that's no way for a servant to speak to his master, you know? I'm afraid I have to punish you now. " She said with a pout across her impossibly beautiful face, a face that he wished to scar permanently with prometheum flames.
"Do your worst witch, nothing you can do will break my wish to see you suffer and bleed beneath my boot." His words came out curselike and full of pure malice, which only seemed to make the Xeno happier for reasons beyond him.
Picking him up with foul sorcery he levitated in front of the both of them, the one that had declared herself his master sat attentive and cross legged, while the other sat laid back and relaxed. From what he could tell the second Xeno was also a female based on the way its robes clung to its frame.
"I hope your spirit holds itself together against what is to come my precious pet, you would be quite the disappointment if you couldn't hold out against a small punishment."
"I'll die before I admit de-! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Pain, pain filled him as his very soul was twisted around inside of his body. His mind blanked out as the pain rocked every inch of his body and he could almost feel himself become less real, less alive for a second as the Xeno witch played with his very soul.
"If you can hear me through all that pain I guess I should go over your new life here with me and what all that entails." He barely registered the witches voice as he tried desperately to hold out against the agonizing pain that was ripping through his body.
"To begin you will act as my personal servant and attache for the immediate future. You will attend social events with me, perform various household duties, wait on myself and my guests, and handle the minutiae of my household. Of course I will have the requisite knowledge implanted into you so that you might go about said duties with a modicum of competence."
He ignored the witch, he felt like he was growing delirious. Why did his body feel so ephemeral and why were his hands see through? "Ahh you've finally noticed, yes unfortunately you died. It was quite the shame I must say. I was hoping to have your original body along with your soul, but compromises must be made unfortunately."
The pain was lesser now, the worst of the manipulations had ceased and his body began to feel real once more, no longer in danger of becoming nothing but green mist. "Thankfully the ability to manipulate souls is well within my skill set as a lady of the hunt. Though your soul fought me quite hard during the process, yet another unique little quirk of yours I must say. Most souls offer no indication that they even still possessed life."
He listened as the witch spoke, the pain was gone and with it came clarity. Clarity and dawning horror as he began to realize what the witch was saying. "In the end however my superior magic and power won out and I'm proud to say that I made you quite the handsome new body, it's almost enough to make up for your other human deficiencies but those can be dealt with in time."
"You've changed me, you vile witch, desecrated my body and stolen my soul for your own sick purposes. Why should I ever follow you or do as you say? You've robbed me of the Emperor's eternal light after death, I'll kill you myself for that." He could still feel the phantom pain of her punishment, but the rage he felt overcame the fear and he glared at the Xeno witch from his position in the air.
He would have spit on her were it not for the fact that his mouth felt bone dry and he didn't think he had the ability. "Nonsense! I've improved you! Saved you from the vile predators of the warp, and given you a new purpose besides serving that dying corpse on a malfunctioning throne. Here I'll show you what you look like now as proof even!"
Before he could respond an image appeared in his head, his new body, almost nothing like his previous. He was taller now, nearly six-foot total. His once brown hair was now silver-gold with an otherworldly sheen. His green eyes were the same but now they shone emerald, gemstones in all but name.
His skin had tanned a bit, no longer quite as pale as it had been but still light enough to give him an angelic look. The largest change however was the presence of the folded wings upon his back, feathery and light. They reminded him of the saints that he had seen in a few picts that had been distributed among the troops a few years back.
"What… what have you done to me?" He asked, no longer trapped within his mind but sat gently upon the bed in the embrace of the Xeno witch. Her hands ran through his hair and down his wings, which he was now truly conscious of. It was like lightning shooting through him when she gently placed a hand upon them, they were sensitive it seemed.
She leaned close to him, bringing her lips close to his ear as his heart beat quickly in his chest and he felt true fear. "I made you mine. No longer are you a man, but my servant, Gwasann." The name washed over him and he felt a compulsion nearly overtake him, one he barely held at bay. A need to obey, a duty to serve.
"You will not break me witch. Not in a thousand years." He said, causing her to laugh. "Then we shall see if you are saying the same in a thousand years." He glared at her, He would not bow before this Xeno, he refused. He would kill her, even if it was the last thing he did. That he swore upon the God-Emperor, not as Gwasann, but as Rikel the Guardsmen.
-
The war is going well, three hive spires have been secured in the last three months, roughly a spire per month. The cult is on the retreat and the Guard Regiment that my new puppet General left behind was wiped out and the collected souls used to expand my war machine.
Though I have noticed that some of the souls that were supposed to go to the war machine were instead acquired by my lords for various reasons, all with one inane excuse or another. Not that I particularly cared truly. As long as it didn't damage the war economy I couldn't care less.
Moving away from off topic issues however, I must say things are going well. Not only have my artificers been hard at work supplying my armies with everything they needed to be a truly devastating force upon the battlefield, but the tactics of my commanders had improved as well.
The problem before was both groups had been relying far too much on implanted knowledge and my orders to fulfill their objectives. The artificers for instance were far too focused on their production quotas and hit times and not nearly enough on their secondary purpose. The creation of new and unique technology and items.
Thankfully that didn't last too long and only four months ago the last of the war machines that I needed to fully kit out my armies in a fashion that didn't leave them missing key components for conventional warfare was rolled out of the production lines. Artillery, Tanks, Personal Equipment, and various light vehicles are great and all, but in the 40th millennium you can't go without one crucial vehicle.
The Mech. Did it make no real tactical sense? Yes. A tank would always be better on the whole, of that I was certain. Or at least I had been certain of it until I saw the first of my new Dullahan in action. The thing moved like a tank never could, speeding around the battlefield and dealing death on a massive scale.
Suddenly I was a big fan of mechs, I even apologized silently to all those randoms that I had gotten into flame wars with on the internet over the effectiveness of a mech in real combat. Apparently mechs actually DO have a place on the battlefield, at least when they have bullshit magi-tech to back them up.
Moving on, while the artificers were hard at work providing my armies the equipment they needed to destroy my enemies, my commanders had been hard at work refining and improving upon the tactics I had given them. Of course I had never been a large scale tactical commander in either life, so I could only give them so much.
That had hampered them in the early stages of the war as we moved on from simple squad level tactics where I was adept and had the most experience into theater level operations. Quite the difference in scale I must say, and one I left nearly entirely too my commanders as I fell more and more into a more administrative role than anything else.
Perhaps I should join the battle soon? I've been getting a bit bored sitting in my office all day or in front of the court dealing with their issues. Something to think on.
Moving on, as they learned for themselves I've noticed a marked increase in the effectiveness of our forces, and an even greater decrease in our losses. Something that brought me no end of happiness, because it meant our supply of souls wouldn't be quite as stressed keeping up with the sheer amount needed to keep the warfront supplied with an adequate number of troops.
None of that accounted for actually expanding our numbers of course.
Needless to say the increased effectiveness and speed at which my armies were conquering was quite the happy pill for me. Now if only I could remember how long fey pregnancies lasted and all would be good in the world. Nuvi was going on 14 months pregnant by this point and Dyrrath is starting to get a little antsy.
Not that I could blame my right hand, I would be worried too if my wife was slowly fading before my eyes as she carried our child to term. But oh well, we would see with time, I really couldn't bring myself to care.
Yet another problem to be dealt with later, I seem to have a lack of empathy for others now a days. Worrying, very very worrying. Perhaps a side effect of too much time spent in my Fey form? Rage comes much easier now, along with perverse pleasure from sources unknown.
Too many questions, not enough answers. Maybe I could talk too Dyrrath about this? He would know more than anyone close to me, what with him being the oldest of my fey.
Hmm, something to think about.