NationStates Jolt Archive

Upon the largest of the Chronosian Glyph worlds, great edifices dedicated to the gods; marred with runes and sigils that leak foul warp energies across the surface of the sphere, there stood the temple to Tzeentch, sorcerous lord of Magick. At its heart, taming the flowing energies of the warp, foccusing and harnessing his patrons craft; there stood Severino Jeriacor; the Sorceror Primarch of Chronosia; and lord of the Black Hand.

He moved his staff, warp energy coiling and snaking about the perverse runes carved into its surface. Energy crackled about him as he gestured with clawed gauntlet to a communications console, which flared to life. His burning eyes stared out from the helmet as he chuckled lightly.

"Denizens of the galaxy; I offer you the chance to tame the lore of Chaos itself. Our power is a great one, fed by the Gods of Chaos, fuelled by the Immaterium. The power over life, over death; the power to create and to destroy; to evolve to the heights of power and promise. That is the offer of Tzeentch. I open the doors of this establishment; the Black Academy; to any with magickal or psychic potential; that they learn the source of true power."

"Come forth, disciples and acolytes. Your education awaits"

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A person, clothed from head to toe in black robes arrived at the gate of the academy. "I have come to see about your training program." The person said in a voice that was gender neutral.

ooc: my character isn't a citizen of Theao, just a random person.

The guards looked the stranger up and down before stepping aside, the great black gates swinging open.

"Welcome" A voice boomed, rich and dark, exotic with a strange charm "You have travelled far to arrive here. Your journey is at an end..."

The person at the gate glanced toward the speaker, "No journey ever ends, it simply change directions." S(he)* said as s(he) stepped in.

ooc: * basically I'm not revealing my person's gender yet

"Indeed. This is the end of one path, the beginning of another; one quite unlike those before them. Do you know what we offer here?" the figure stepepd from the shadows, armor and robes; his eyes blazing with arcane knowledge beneath his helmet, marked with the sigils of Tzeentch, branded with the mark of the Impeirum. "Do you know that which you seek?"

"I know some of what you offer, and I know what I seek." S(he) replied facing the speaker, or at least giving the impression of facing him.

Tiiroch strode heavily upon the surface of the world, looking in awe at the sheer power shown by the Gods of Chaos on this planet. The very rock was etched with runes written by the beasts of the Warp, their pain and fury fueling the power of their followers. As he rose over a crest, he saw his destination, and heaved a heavy sigh as he knew his travels would soon be over. He continued on toward the twisted spires of the temple that would soon be his home.

::Later::

A figure appeared before the gates of the Black Academy, wearing Power Armor that had been blackened by travel, time, and testing. Tiiroch flexed his fingers on the hilt of his Daemonblade, and walked towards the guard.

"Hail. I have traveled far to be taught by your master, and I will not be easily turned away. Will the Elders harbor a Youngling in their academy, or will they force me to learn the ways of Chaos alone?"

"All are welcome here before the Gods; to learn the power of the warp that surrounds you, and to harness it. To wield the power of the Immaterium as your own, and to bring forth Daemons. To bring about the power of the Psyker and the Sorceror; of Wych and Warlock. I offer this power to those who wish to learn. This is the heart of Chaos Magick; the darkest secrets of the warp; that other colleges of Magick would deny you..."

"Where do we go from her." S(he) asked the man. If he looked closely into his/her hood, he would see a faint glimmer of red light.

"This is what I wish to learn," Tiiroch stated as he flexed his fingers of his opposite hand, a mechanical hand that crackled with the energies of the Warp. "I will learn all that you would teach me, and I shall use the knowledge as it should be used."

"Come forth, disciples of Chaos; Acolytes of the Warp. Servants of the Dark powers, and embrace your destiny. Here you will be schooled for the wars to come. There are many forces that despise us, none less than those that practice lighter magicks. Or those who stand with ideals of order or morality. I shall teach you to sunder them"

Green cloak swirling about his dark skinned form, and holding onto the runed staff, the glyphs burnt a fierce yellow as they went into the heavily magick strewn lands, propped up only by a nearly black wooden staff, twisted from the normal, good piece of oak it once was into a tool of chaos. Magnus Antioch struggled through the cruel winds that dominated the land about the Black Academy, in the harsh buffeting air, that seemed to carry the laughter of damned souls, Magnus noticed that the land began to lose its sanity. Sparse trees were warped beyond all recognition, faces imbued in the dark wood. Red earth had long since mixed with the bloody soles of Magnus's feet, he had travelled far and his corporeal form had suffered much but the price of his material form paled next to the potential prize that awaited him.

We're nearly there, just keep going...

The rasping voice could've come from the wind if the young man didn't know better, he looked at his staff with a look of wavering trust, the battered piece of wood had long since left the pure bosom of nature and had been taken by the lord Tzeentch, god of magick and change. Suddenly, the young man's scar covered face contorted into a look of distaste as the stench of the Black Academy infiltrated his nasal passages. From the swirling, sandy winds, appeared two mighty figures: Chaos Marines. The servants of the Daemon Emperor were not to be trifled with, Antioch knew that from his staff, its name, the lump of wood would not tell, why, what Magnus thought to be a daemon would not tell, he did not know.

Moments more of laborious walking, his feet leaving a bloody trail in the red sand, seconds were dragged over an eternity as the black armoured warriors, roughly seven feet tall, blasphemous sigils and daemonic symbols marred the jet black substance that passed as metal, though it wouldn't surprise Magnus if it suddenly shimmered as water.

Truly instruments of the Gods...

Presenting himself to the mighty forms, Magnus half kneeled and half collapsed from exhaustion, struggling to breathe, the young man managed to utter the few words the staff had instructed him to say.

"I...I am Magnus Antioch, I am here to seek tutelage from Severino Jeriacor in the arts of magick and obscura, I pledge myself to the dark Gods but most of all and most binding, I pledge myself to the mighty Tzeentch, lord of all creation and the master of change."

The great staff thudded into the ground, slammed down by the gauntleted hand of Severino. His eyes burned with madness, insight, fury; his great armored form stepping forth, chanting.
The words whispered and hissed on the wind, they moved and swayed, took form. He brought the staff down again, and the world screamed. The great runes carved into the world moved and shifted, burnign with furious intensity. The skies screeched in alien torment, alive with the power of the Immaterium.

Severino raised a clawed talon of his armor to beckon this new disciple forth.
'Come to me, child" he whispered "Come, and the Lord of Change shall bless you...You are worthy"

Nature roared in discord and anger; the mauled world wracked with cataclysm, seeking to shake off the parasitic hold of Chaos.

'Will you accept?"

The booming voice inside the young man's skull threatened to rip him apart from the inside, to let him explode in a display of the Dark God's blood lust, it took all of his - and the Staff's - ability to hold back the decay of Chaos. Then it passed and all that remained was the desire, the need to go to the grand voice, a voice laced with honey of the most stunning maiden and imbued with the power of the Gods themselves. It roared at him, beckoned him. It was all Magnus Antioch could do not to run like a foolish child to the promising voice. Getting to his feet and beginning to walk at a slow pace, the voice turned from beckoning to ordering. The world screamed and the cries of the damned attacked Magnus’s ears.

Get moving cretin! Your lord awaits!

Small splashes of blood left Antioch's feet as he broke out into a run and the crimson sand swallowed the dark liquid as soon as it touched the ground, telling of the powerful, evil magicks that inhabited the place swallowed his life-substance as if it were a fine wine. Arriving, drained and exhausted from not only the flat out run but the powerful energies that coursed through his young and unprepared body, his hairs stood on end with the dark power that came from merely standing in his lord’s presence.

Taking the magnitude and the brilliance, Severino Jeriacor was the pinnacle of perfection, lock within the stasis of the raw power of Chaos, his power claw crackled as lightening leapt from claw tip-to-tip in a crescendo of primal power. Antioch’s jaw went slack as he fell to his knees, holding on for dear life to his staff.

”My lord!” Cried Magnus in a state of love and reverence.

The powers of Chaos are seductive indeed.

The crackling claw raised itself, burnign with a dark malevolence. it was as though the great and fabled Talon of Horus burned at his side; though that weapon was long ago lost to the warp, and to the sands of time.

"Step forward, come..." the voice hissed and crackled, as Severino stepepd forth. "Come and learn all there is to be learned. All that would be denied you at other schools." He chuckled. "I will bring you glory and power at the hands of the Four Gods. I will show you the true nature of that power, and you shall learn from it. You shall grow fat on experience and knowledge. Step into these halls, my Sorcerors. Step forth and learn the secrets of the Immaterium"

Magnus Antioch, while not a weak man by any means, was forced to restrain himself from gibbering about the greatness of the figure before him, such a man, he was perfection itself. Feeling excited in the extreme, Magnus could only kneel and look upon his lord with wide eyed admiration. Not only was he the epitome of raw power and strength but he was the embodiment of what Antioch aspired to become. Well built chest rising and falling, Antioch only began to notice what he felt about the soles of his feet, at first he felt abject terror, throwing himself backwards and bringing his bloodied foot up for him to see, his terror disappeared and instead deep gratitude replaced it. The foot, bloodied and open, was actually knitting itself shut, new skin rapidly appearing where before all one could see what the incarnadine fluid of life.

However, the blessings of the Gods did not end there, the blood loss and the fatigue that came with it remained until Antioch actually began to feel new blood pump its way through his veins, his weary form began to feel stronger than ever before, it was as if the dark liquid within him was blessed, and with the way things were going, that wouldn't surprise the dark skinned fellow one bit. Feeling stronger and sturdier, Magnus got to his feet, leaning on the unwavering support of the staff that had guided him to this blessed place. Composing himself, Magnus began.

"My lord, I am ready for any trial and task you require! I am ready to embrace the true power of the warp!"

And with that, Magnus started towards the ruddy reddish halls, each step growing more and more certain and his unsure walk became full strides, glee oozing from his being each time his once bloodied foot hit the red earth.

It was once said that whoever discovered water wasn't a fish.

Magnus Antioch no longer heard the screams of the damned.

Severino smiled wryly. "Good; it is so rare to find...competant students in the arts of sorcery. Long had we thought that servants of the true powers were rare as the remenants of the Imperium; but we seek both, and use both" He smirked softly, moving towards Magnus. "I shall instruct you in every method of Sorcery. My Father requires good strong servants, rich in dark lore for our next objective....The Black Library"

Tiiroch had been told by his kind that the buildings of the Elders resembeled the very architecture of the Warp, the towers striking upward as if in an attempt to cut the very fabric of the Immaterium and free the trapped souls of the Daemons. The pillars in the great halls were no different. They were so inscribed with Runes of great power that Tiiroch became dizzy as the will of the Gods flow freely about him, driving the Acolytes in the temple to madness as they refined their great art.

"The power here is amazing," he said softly. "The Gods were surely involved in this building's creation?"

"They were in the minds of its builders, and influenced each form." he smirked softly, stretching out a hand to carress the surface of the undulating temple.
"Indeed; the Gods have blessed this place, and now I invite you to come forth, rest. You have much to learn, and so first, you must be rested for the great trials ahead."

A body strained against its bonds as Severino's talented hands etched symbols in the flesh in ink and blood; teasing the tormented skin with the sharp talon of his gauntlet, he chuckled softly. The thing hissed and struggled; eyes ablaze with Warp fire as he slammed a hand against its throat; holding it down, mouth yawning to reveal fangs, slipping forth from mauled gums, long sharp serrated teeth that sought him now, yearning, eager.

"The Daemon" He intoned to those assembled "Is powerful in its own right; yet limited. Constrained by connection to the warp; untrustworthy...Unfettered, they are as likely to tear our own men down with them, as to fight out enemies. Yet we have an answer" He stepped aside.

"Behold the Daemonhost; bound within flesh, depending on its bindings, the daemons power can be controlled, regulated, used...Even far from the warp." He chuckled softly. "Of course, using these beings requires a life to be lost; a soul voided; but these are worthy goals in serving the Emperor."

He paced the room "Now; who here, shall learn these and other arts from me? Who shall help me make this Black Academy, the greatest school of the dark and eldritch arts in all of existence?"

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A dark figure clad in blood red power armor strode across the surface of the acursed world. A hood concealed his grey face, the glow of his cruel red eyes piercing the darkness. Carved into the armor were hundreds of small, horrified faces. These were his victims. Their very souls.

As his heavy boots crunched against the sand, the ground hissed and sizzled, smoke rising to the air. Strapped to his back was a great blade; nearly as tall as he. The black gates of the academy beckoned to him and he answered, drawing nearer and nearer.

This particular convert was unique; one of the few dedicated to Chaos from his very rebirth. He was born with the fury of the Dark Gods and that was easily apparent in his appearence when compared to his brothers. His skull was sleak, almost areodynamic, his lower jaw protruding out, his great fangs jabbing upwards, his firey eyes burning with Khorne's fury.

Rather than hands, he had mighty talons with which he evisorated his enemies with great pleasure. The very air around him was choked with disease; life did not exist around him, only death.

When at the gate he halted and stared into the academy.

"I come to learn of Chaos." he hissed from beneath his hood.

"Come forth" The voice boomed "Come to me and learna ll I have to offer; Chaos welcomes its faithful servants and rewards them. Come, beings of Chaos; Chaos as flesh!" Chuckling now, it beckoned with silken tones.

"Come to me and you shall know all the secrets of the Immaterium; that much I promise you. You shall each learn, grow, and found your own schoools; and so shall our word by spread; cults shall rise in your footsteps, and we shall corrupt throughout the universe..."

The Ancient Plague Marine stepped up to the door of the great Chaotic temple. His putrid form was covered in the marks of the Lord of Decay, and Nurglings were skittering around the power-armour encased feet, running in and out of the gaping holes. On his armour was the mark of the Aancient Angels of Ankhmet Legion, the First. His was the first Legion of Ankhmet, and the first to give in to Ra.

"I am Mors. I once stood alongside the Legions of Chronosia, when Ra and Chronos were allied in the cause of the Ruinous powers. Let me study here, that I might one day bring corruption to my people once more."

Magnus Antioch held a look of realization and a turgid lust for knowledge, curiosity oozing from his very essence, leaning heavily on the possessed lump of wood. Still in awe from the miraculous healing of his feet by merely being in Severino's presence, perfection it almost was. However, the daemon and daemon host before them was not quite the pinnacle of brilliant Severino was, the daemon was ugly by no doubt but the real repulsive creature was the host, skin bulging and protesting now and again at the daemon entombed within the cage of human flesh.

Caution and curiosity mounting and fighting a brief battle before curiosity overwhelmed caution in a torrent, Antioch put forward a question most relevant to him.

”My lord, would you mind me asking – would this staff I have been daemon infested and if so, is it serving my own interests, its interests or both of our interests? It has guided me to the Black Academy, so I presume it did that with the best of intentions in mind for me.”

"You speak of Ra and Marcus; my father, the Lord De Drakan" Severino spun, hissing at the plague marine. "Speak that pestilent treacherous name in my presence again and I shall make it so that you serve as the next host. My....erstwhile sibling shall recieve his punishment in time...

He sighed; calming as he turned to Magnus, smirking softly. "A Daemon Weapon, will usually put its own goals, usually service to a higher power, or escape, before the needs of its host; even at the cost of said hosts life...What does it want, I wonder, to come here? To have come so far, seeking me..."

"Please. Try and take me as the next host. I carry within me one of the Shards of Ra that were scattered across thelegions upon his... Destruction. Any daemon wishing to inhabit me would be most rudely surprised. Can I study here or not?"

The marine moved his hand down to a squirming daemon blade at his side.

As the black gates creaked open, the red warrior stepped through the threshhold, into the courtyard of the academy. As he walked along the dark, stone ground, it was seered from the very heat coming off of his boots. This was a particularly strong Dooman. Throwing open the doors to the academy, he removed his hood, revealing his grotesque face. Wounds festered all over his hard, grey skin, and his eyes burned with Khorne's fury. He was a blooded warrior; the blood of his kills stained on his face to form foul runes.

Upon entering the room, the temperature instantly shot up ten degrees. The air around his body was distorted by the sheer heat, and the souls in his armor screamed in agony. Yet they let out no sound.

"I am Osrael, servant of Khorne. I hereby dedicate myself to the study of my lord, the Blood God." he hissed proudly.