NationStates Jolt Archive

The fires burned brightly on Chronosia Prime; a sombre flame, for a sombre evening. The braziers were annointed and burning with eldritch fires; alighting the shadows cast by the vast processions of black clad warriors and cultists; each bearing a smoking black candle; a procession of flames through the cold streets; a line of light through the immutable darkness, ever pushing at the edge of their aura of light.

Here he came; forth in terrible splendor, Marcus De Drakan; the Emperor; leading the procession. His garb was black as night; mourning clothes adorning his mighty form; silent, implacable as a statue. Behind him, his Primarch sons bore aloft the great slab of gold, inlaid with precious stones and metal; lined with silks. Upon it; lay the body of the Warmaster.

His flesh annointed with oils and ungents; gleaming with sepulchre light; alive with color and dancing with the refractions of arcane fire; he seemed at peace. His armor had been replaced; gold, upon platinum into silver; jewels and fineries, indulgence even in death for this child of the Imperium; this Son of the Emperor.

The great tomb yawned like a mouth; as the procession passed into it's gullet; and laid him upon the altar; the dais that would bear him to the warp; gleaming with glass and adorned with decadant luxury; a fitting temple for this servant of indulgence and excess.

"Let none say that he was a failure in his Father's name; let none say he failed his Gods in action or word. He was ever the devoted disciple; his writings and thoughts shall live on forever; his ideals exemplified by the Imperium and all it's servants. Cursed be the name Masaki, which took him from our Material Embrace; and blessed be the Ruinous Powers; who recieve into the Warp their true servants soul." Marcus bowed his head; warp tears blazing in his eyes; an uncommon sight. At the moment of his death, a colony on Thrancia V had wept blood; an astropath had carved runes of death and torment upon his own flesh; and an auto-seance had been wracked by unspeakable energies; as of the passing of some great power.

And now, the Imperium prepared for the 10 Weeks of funereal games and celebrations in honor of the deceased; and for the delegates of other worlds who wished to pay their respects to the lost son of the Emperor....

Marcus sat alone; glancing up only to see the form of Turel, ambitious whore of the Nelo Angelus, knelt before him. He sighed softly; not even allowing him to speak. "You come to seek advancement...I can see this...But it is not of the kind you wish. You shall not ascend in my child's footsteps; rather I shall make you an instrument of vengeance..." He gestured; the fineries torn from the armor; iron dulling to replace gold; tattered cloth to replace his silk excesses "You shall remove all red from your heraldry; you shall adorn yourselves in the raiment of funeral and mourning! Across all the stars shall you roam; bereft of homeworld! You shall serve me in Crusade unto Death! You shall fight to the edge of the known worlds, all to avenge this wrong! You shall bring death and pain to all who cross you!"

Turel fled; and the Three Khornate Primarchs came before their Father; bowing, kneeling, as he rose.

"Cabot; Hakar, Radu; rise..." They rose to meet their Master's gaze. "You shall go forth; rally your fleets; a great war of vengeance awaits you. We shall have games and festivities for ten weeks; and then you shall lead your legions forth; you shall cleanse all who oppose us; you shall shatter all who hold allegience to the bastard name Masaki; you shall burn any Coredian's you come across; and leave their violated bodies strewn across space, crucified upon their worlds and vessels; as symbols; that this....Travesty shall not be tolerated! GO!"

He lashed out at the air with the hissing claw upon his right hand, and snarled; raising both hands to the awaiting air; as they left; whispering in arcane, obscene chant

"Oh great Lords of the Abyss, great beings of Warpcraft; bring me vengeance for my stolen son; bring me power everlasting; bring me their blood in a goblet; their heads upon pikes! HEAR ME!"

OOC: Should have been posted by Khurgan, but the damn forums won't let me log out of Otagia.

IC:

The psychic cries of the grief-filled Emperor rang out in the Warp, echoing through the vast energy-filled emptiness. The cries of their favored servant were heard by the Gods.

And the Gods answered.

Rending the fabric of space and time, a gate to the Warp slowly opened, small gouts of hellish flames rippling about its edges. Stepping through the portal, beings of dreams and nightmares came forth. Many-armed beings, gibbering in unholy languages that could drive a man mad. Beautiful, seductive beings, clad in nearly invisible garments. Great brutish redskinned behemoths, mounted on metallurgical nightmares. And among them all, standing tall above the rest, a great winged nightmare, its wiry frame belying its awesome strength, birdlike head bobbing as it knelt before the Emperor.

"Marcus De Draken, the Gods have heard your cries of grief for your lost son, and grieve with you. However, what better monument to your lost child than the death of his assassin, and all those that shelter him? The forces of the Gods are at your command, Emperor. You need but give the order, and we shall fall upon the Masaki brat and destroy him utterly."

Incoming Transmission

To: Chronosian Royal Family
From: Dinar Jetz, CEO of Gadget Corporation
Subject: A Tragic Loss

Gadget Corporation is deeply sorry to hear of the loss of one of the Universe's greatest warriors, and your own son. He was a great follower of his God, a true disciple to the very last. It is a horrible, horrible loss, one for which, as you know, should not go undealt with. If there is any way we at GadgetCorp can assist you in this troubled time, please feel free to ask it of us.

On a second and related note, I would like to personally come to pay the respect that is due to this great fallen one. If you deem this acceptable, I should be able to arrive within half a day or so with a small entourage.

Best of Wishes,
Dinar Jetz
CEO of Gadget Corporation

End Transmission

Khurgan:

"Yes, crush him utterly; leave him as bones; ashes; nothing next to the grand power of Chaos! Shatter their worlds under a rain of fire; scatter the ashes to the wind...I care not; no longer...Simply burn my enemy from existence; leave him as filth and degenerate offal; leave him as vermin to be sundered from the face of the Earth!"

GadgetCorp:

This is acceptable; come forth; bear your tribute to the fallen warrior; partake of the feasts and games that will mark his passing for these next few months. Once this is done; we shall discuss much of the Universe; much of the twisted fabric of reality; and it's impact upon our nations and their relations

Bump

OOC: Is this one of those, The Emperor is taking his vengance in a black Crusade agaisnt all the nations or just the one responisble for the death of Remiel?

OOC: All good things to those who wait...Blame can be properly allocated soon enough

The small transport ship, a Stelvan Alpha-Minor vessel which looked a bit similar to a Terran dolphin, blipped into existance several thousand miles above the surface of the Chronosian planet. Inside this small and utterly unoticeable craft sat the completely noticeable Dinar Jetz, on an otherwise unremarkable, personally-molded, plushy-topped Carbonite chair.

It was on this chair that the Narzoth had spent most of the trip, playing 3D holochess with one of the highest-ranked Scariliun Chess-masters in the universe, Gygan Fortude, a personal friend and trusted advisor.

Mr. Jetz was currently scanning the board for a possible move. "I believe that that is check-" He moved his Starcruiser (Queen) up to the second level, vaporizing Gygan's Flagship (King) in an incredible, life-like explosion,"-and mate."

The squid-like creature shook his head, in mock self-pity. "Looks like you win again, Din. What does that make it...Twelve to one?"

"Hmm, yes, I believe so, even though you switched the pieces when I wasn't looking to get that one win. Of course, I always did have knack for this game."

"Only because you've had millenia to practice, while I've only had a few centuries to do so."

Jetz had a slight smirk on his face. "Not my fault I'm more than nine hundred million years older than you."

"No, I suppose it's not. At least I'll get the same chance once my brain's been implanted into a robot," Gygan said with a sigh, leaning back in his chair.

As the door to Mr. Jetz's quarters opened up, both beings turned to face the Ga-Sing droid who had just entered the room with a covered tray in its arms. "Sir, we've arrived over the planet of Chronosia Prime, and are descending towards the planet surface. Also, here is your tea." The droid set the platter down on a small table next to the GadgetCorp CEO, lifting the lid to to unveil the teapot, filled with Nocturian Paciforan Tea.

"Thank you, 1-9-76/0B. You can go." As the droid left, the Narzoth took a cup and the teapot, beginning to pour himself some of the near-black, steaming-hot liquid. "Well, it looks like we're here. Ready to go and meet these Chronosian peoples?"

"Oh, yes, indeed, indeed."

From the Hand of The Sorcerer King himself.

Sad Greetings brother. Sad Greetings indeet.

I am sorry to hear about your sons death. forced to abandon my own planet, to loose my wife once more, I realise your pain. My two children now will be the carriers of my empire.

I have lost my children before, so I know of the rage you must feel. Thus it is I pledge to support you in all forms. I shall now your follower until your enemy is purged. As a further sign of good will I would wish to attend this sad funeral. Even now I assemble combatents for the Gladitorial games, and Millions of slaves will be sacrificed to the Dark gods.

Lord Samuel Atriedies, Sorcerer King of The Holy Kingdom of Naggeroth, Searvent of Chaos Undivided, Wearer of the Armour of the Midnight Star.

Deep within the confines of the now blackened Strike Cruiser, Brother-Captian Ricaud, his demeanor changed, his face of hate, mused at the new news.

"One great power down, how many left to go? It does not matter..."

He tuned on his voice modulator, and spoke to the ship's captian. "Captian, send the Chronosians our... deep greif." His voice sinister, and tainted. "Tell them, that what the Coredians did to their... beloved Remiel De Draken, is only but the beggining..."

So the message was sent.

"One more power suffers" said the Saraval as he talked with his officers "With the Alcalid Empire weakend by this civil war, which also makes the Collective hungrer. Soon they will arrive, and it will be so much easier to bring about the Vasapo."
"Sir, how shall we make best use of the situation?"
"We shall wait...and we shall see."