NationStates Jolt Archive

Chronosia lay, silent and raven-cloaked in mourning; sombre, sable-suited; she was as though dead; locked in it's own tousled nightmares; it's own fabricated dreams. Yet it was not; it did not even slumber. For though it mourned still for its fallen Champion; a Lord of Chaos so cruelly cut down, so terrible destrotyed....It did not yield; nor surrender; nor go mute in silent fear, or rampant hate.

It waited.

The message rang out, alive with the echo of the forge; the clash of metal against metal; the roaring howl of the warrior, spilling blood for the very sake of it; the grunts of unbridled ecstacy, the howling screams of tortured Agony. There, the moan of the plague-ridden and the dieing, there the hiss of the mutant; the cold cackle of the Sorceror. And then the voice; that damned crooning voice that laughs from afar.

"Brothers; Lords of Chaos, one and all; I call thee forth. Too long have we sat divided; our council not as one. Too long have we languished, not fulfilling the duty of our alliance; not honoring the God's as rightly we should. Upstart alliances; pathetic beings that call themselves descended gods, or Ascended Mortal beings; all of these things bring order in their own twisted image. This is not the way! Are we not servants of the Gods!? Is this not our galaxy; to corrupt in their name? To enslave? To force to it's knees and praise the glorious power of Chaos!? It is! Come to me; meet with me and we shall have our meetings; we shall have our triumph! Come forth; be my allies; be my brothers..."

And Marcus De Drakan let his speech cease; and waited; waited for the inevitable tide of willing allies to return to the shore of Chronosia Prime. For though the void is vast, honor and duty are unshakeable. Even amongst fiends.

Totalius felt his spine tingle, like a cold shiver running through the cold dark recesses of the remains of his soul, the fingers in his gauntlets crackling in pain, his gasp of eyes squinting in wonder. Something familiar had done it once more, something familiar had needed assistance. It was only through a matter of time, in deep thoughts and meditation unchained, unraveled, that he tiny mystery be solved. The league of evil that whom he swore loyalty to, so long ago in his bloodlust; The Lords of Chaos. The call had echoed so loudly, and yet he could not make it out, until now. Marcus De Draken, the puppeteer of destruction, had called for aid once more, a gathering of power and instigation. As always, to feed his wrath, his lust, Totalius answered.

Once more, I shall return to your grip, and that in hope that others will do so as well. The feast is nigh, but there are other priorities in the darkness of the universe. Expect me back, for another ride.

Bump

OOC: I sort of downgraded Chaos to a lower religion, not the main one. My nation still is the forces of darkness, but doesn't use WH40K tech at all, and only takes the concept of Chaos from it[WH40K].

The New Emperor, Hellrot the Fallen, listened to the crooning voice of Marcus De Draken resounding through his throne room.
"...Upstart alliances; pathetic beings that call themselves descended gods, or Ascended Mortal beings; all of these things bring order in their own twisted image. This is not the way! Are we not servants of the Gods!? Is this not our galaxy; to corrupt in their name? To enslave? To force to it's knees and praise the glorious power of Chaos..."
Hellrot drew in a deep breath of air, and let it out corrupted and dead.
"It is, isn't it, Marcus?" He murmured. "Although my fool father built this Empire of Chaos and eventually brought it down, I will not waver to help you. No, I will not..."
The Glorious Lord stood from his gold-plated throne, tattered black cloak billowing behind him, skulls welded and etched into his titanium armour. The dragon-head helmet reflected the colored red and orange light that shone through the stained-glass windows, each of the depicting Death, and, to a lesser extent, Chaos. Bloody axes and great swords flying high, decapitating the non-believers and heathens.
Hellrot strode pridefully and slowly across the great throne room, titanium boots going thump!thump!thump! against the silver-plated steel floor, humongous laser rifle going swish,swish as it synchronized its movements with those of Hellrot's shoulders. He walked through the acceptance chamber, worrying the Sardaukar guards, out of the Palace, and made a beeline to the Imperial Spaceport, where his humongous flagship was lying in wait for it's master to return to it, to once again blast primitive peoples into molecules and claim their worlds for his own.
Puny human workers and his soldiers watched in awe and confusion as their Emperor strode gracefully through their ranks. Finally, a Group Leader cam running up to him. The Glorious Lord knew who he was, a one Beamspawn the Mechanical. Hellrot knew who he was, the man led a group of Sardaukar warriros tasked to protecting the bridge area of the Hell's Bells.
"My Lord! What are you doing here?"
Hellrot looked down at the man, although his eyes were pitch white.
"Gather all the soldiers and all the personnel tasked to my flagship. We live within the hour."

A message to the great Marcus De Draken:
I will come, my liege. I have answered your call. Be expecting my flagship, the Hell's Bells to arrive within two hours.
Sincerely,
Hellrot the Fallen.

A message from Marcus De Drakan to the faithful

Come forth brothers; come forth to Chronosia Prime where we shall meet and have parley. THis meeting shall not falter as so many others; this night we shall settle many issues; we shall come together as an alliance; truly, definitively. We are divided; rough-hewn; but no longer. No longer isolated in outer darkness; now it is the time of ascendancy and triumph!

Immediatly after recieving the message, the Emperor of Sonaj gave orders of command in his stead and made for the Imperial flagship, the Imperial Flame. On arrival, he sent a message to the supreme Lord of Chaos.

My friend; my ally; my brother: I have heard your call and I answer it. I travel immediatly upon my flagship for Chronosia. The time has indeed come for us to unite: For us to bring fear into the hearts of mortal men.. No longer shall weak men speak of greatness in our prescence. The time of the Lords of Chaos is here.

"Bat, Bexotk, Gak, Knedm, Mezd, Mubord, Rsetz, Xab, Xkezag, Zraxed!" Hellrot barked out. The 10 hobgoblins scrambled to line up in front of their master, their hands raised stupidly in salute. Hellrot shook his head, and continued. "My men are all accounted for. Now you go through and make sure that every single station is totally ready for takeoff and warp. We can't have my liege thinking that I have raised my hordes to be sloppy, do we?" Hellrot asked rhetorically.
"NO BOSS! IS THERE ANYTHING ELSE, BOSS?"
Hellrot waved his hand. "I suppose I'll let you have the pleasure of killing any slackers you find."
Eyes gleaming with bloodlust, the ten scampered off, ready for wetting their claws with blood...

Half an hour later, the Hell's Bells slips out of warp, ever so slowly. A message is transmitted to Chronosia Prime, directly below the Hell's Bells.

My liege:
We have arrived and are landing on your esteemed planet. I shall be at your Palace within 40 minutes.
Sincerely,
Hellrot the Fallen

OOC: Chronosia, mind rolepaying my landing and how Hellrot gets to the meeting place? I'm kinda tired and all out of will to write.:(

Deep within the great Vaxintorian Citadel, the call of Chaos was heard. Varduk Myandariin smiled at the message... finally, the Lords of Chaos were gathering. Reaching out with his mind, the foremost of the D'zukaru replied...

I hear, and I come. My flagship shall arrive as soon as possible.
-Varduk Myandariin

"I have business with our allies; Chronosia has called a meeting. High Lord Jergeth will be in charge while I am away."

Standing, Varduk strode out of the chamber, leaving speculation about the meeting in his wake. Reaching a balconey, he simply jumped off the edge, unfurling great black wings as he fell. There was no other way to reach the heart of the Citadel - a security measure against intruders. He landed softly on a narrow ledge before a small, heavy steel door, its frame worked with ancient runes of guarding. At his touch, the door swung open, and he bent his usually towering frame to fit through the tiny gap.

Here, in the heart of the Citadel, was the Gate, linking flagship and fortress. A flash of blue light carried him to the depths of space, where his fleet was waiting. On the D'zer'kar, his flagship, his arrival was unexpected but not surprising. His orders, however, did generate some excitement.

"Set course for Chronosia Prime; I've a meeting to attend. With luck, we shall have a target soon..."

Leaving the rest of the fleet to await further instructions, the great ship set off for Chronosia Prime.

OOC: Not much of a post, but it'll do for now.

Click, Click, Click, Click,

The sound intruded in the mind of Samuel. He looked up, his eyes bleary and coated in the Cream that kept them alive. He swore, placing on his face the mask that allowed him sight, the Mask that was part of the armour of the Midnight Star.

He looked on, and he saw the Cyborg moving towards him. His most trusted warrior, Arkiss, the Cyborg Daemon, who moved with the grace of a born warrior. As the Sorcerer King rose, calling to him the other pieces of the armour he wore, the Cyborg bowed, as the armour was upon his scarred body, the Cyborg Spoke.

"My Lord, Marcus has called for a gathering of the Lords of Chaos" he said. "I have your ship ready."

"Very well, let us be leaving then." he said softly.

"Yes my lord"

The great docks that orbed the planet stood ready to recieve each vessel that arrived; locking it into place; uniting them with the vast rings of dock and defence grid; the immense constructions that seemed symbiotically linked with the world itself; a halo; a crown of bloodied thorns above the tormented world; it's writhing skin evident from orbit.

Escorted through the corridors; taken down to the planets pulsing surface in vast Thunderhawks, the delegates were escorted into the main hall; where he waited. Food and drink adorned the vast tables, a goblet raised; sipped, softly, slowly, tasting and savoring that sensation; before chuckling wryly. "Greetings; esteemed guests. Come; sit, feast. Others shall come; and once they do, we shall have our talks. We shall have our plans; and our victories to come...Yes...Much to come."