Chronosia
19-05-2006, 18:48
It dominates the night sky on so many worlds of the Segmentum Obscuras that it has become almost an accustomed sight. A baleful, weeping wound over the firmament of the Materium. Many curse the skies, the black abyss that surrounds this suppurating wound in the fabric of existence. It is the Eye. The Eye of Terror. So long ago, they were driven here; hounded by the Loyalist dogs of a dead and impotent Emperor. They the chosen of the Gods; the true heirs to the Imperium. Each heart blazed with the intensity of suns; hungering for vengeance. Revenge against those who had so long ago wronged them. Revenge against every last being in the universe.
Medrengard hangs amidst the cacophony of the Eye; a sphere of metal and industry. An orb of rage and focussed fury. From their towers, the Iron Warriors observe all; lording over a world of bleak slavery. Now, they begin to stir. The mighty vessels held in tenuous orbit begin to slowly move off; to scrape the skies in their ascent; to join the immense fleet gathering amidst the currents of the Eye; to respond to the call of the Despoiler.
Ezekyle Abaddon; Captain of the First Company, has come a long way from such humble beginnings. Once the favored son of the Warmaster; he was now the lord of Chaos. He was Warmaster in his own right; the warrior who had lead thirteen Black Crusades against the Imperium and the lapdogs of the False Emperor.
Countless vessels dominate the shifting torrents of warp energy; from the gleaming, sickly plague fleets of Nurgle, under the command of Typhus; to the warriors of the First Company of the Emperor’s children; warbands forged together under the eye of Eidolon; and the ever-present wrath of Lucius the Eternal. Kharn rampaged across the Eye; maddened, craving blood, skulls and torment; an army at his back, countless warbands of the World Eaters. Only the Despoiler could forge such a black alliance. The Iron Warriors came amongst the fray, their vessels shining; gold and brass and wrought iron. Steel and determination against the backdrop of unimaginable war and torment.
The Alpha Legion had its agents in place; ready to strike like serpents from the grass of the galaxy; the Night Lords readied for their own shadowy strikes. The automata sons of Magnus streamed forth from the world of Sorcerors; while somewhere amongst the abyss, Ahriman readied himself for a return to the galactic fray. So much lay at stake, so much was readied. Typhus and the Death Guard would strike the first blows against the foundations of the galaxy, and bring the foes of Chaos to their knees; at their backs would be the Word Bearers; their apostles ready to break every creed upon every world they set upon; to replace it with the glorious worship of the Dark Gods.
The preparations were being made; and upon his mighty Planet Killer; Abaddon waited; watching the armies gather. Heretics, mutants, warriors and vagabonds from all corners of the Eye. He had heard tell that Fabius Bile was preparing his own vessel for emergence into the cold galaxy once again; to seek new experiments. Let them come; one and all. This crusade would be as no other.
This time; they would triumph. The corruption pouring from the Eye would taint the entire galaxy, were the gods willing, and he alone had the will to lead them. The force to fulfil his own dark Destiny. He would succeed where Horus would fail; he would tear down the façade of the Universe, sunder all before him in maddened fury. The material realm would know the taste of Chaos. And it would bleed…
Medrengard hangs amidst the cacophony of the Eye; a sphere of metal and industry. An orb of rage and focussed fury. From their towers, the Iron Warriors observe all; lording over a world of bleak slavery. Now, they begin to stir. The mighty vessels held in tenuous orbit begin to slowly move off; to scrape the skies in their ascent; to join the immense fleet gathering amidst the currents of the Eye; to respond to the call of the Despoiler.
Ezekyle Abaddon; Captain of the First Company, has come a long way from such humble beginnings. Once the favored son of the Warmaster; he was now the lord of Chaos. He was Warmaster in his own right; the warrior who had lead thirteen Black Crusades against the Imperium and the lapdogs of the False Emperor.
Countless vessels dominate the shifting torrents of warp energy; from the gleaming, sickly plague fleets of Nurgle, under the command of Typhus; to the warriors of the First Company of the Emperor’s children; warbands forged together under the eye of Eidolon; and the ever-present wrath of Lucius the Eternal. Kharn rampaged across the Eye; maddened, craving blood, skulls and torment; an army at his back, countless warbands of the World Eaters. Only the Despoiler could forge such a black alliance. The Iron Warriors came amongst the fray, their vessels shining; gold and brass and wrought iron. Steel and determination against the backdrop of unimaginable war and torment.
The Alpha Legion had its agents in place; ready to strike like serpents from the grass of the galaxy; the Night Lords readied for their own shadowy strikes. The automata sons of Magnus streamed forth from the world of Sorcerors; while somewhere amongst the abyss, Ahriman readied himself for a return to the galactic fray. So much lay at stake, so much was readied. Typhus and the Death Guard would strike the first blows against the foundations of the galaxy, and bring the foes of Chaos to their knees; at their backs would be the Word Bearers; their apostles ready to break every creed upon every world they set upon; to replace it with the glorious worship of the Dark Gods.
The preparations were being made; and upon his mighty Planet Killer; Abaddon waited; watching the armies gather. Heretics, mutants, warriors and vagabonds from all corners of the Eye. He had heard tell that Fabius Bile was preparing his own vessel for emergence into the cold galaxy once again; to seek new experiments. Let them come; one and all. This crusade would be as no other.
This time; they would triumph. The corruption pouring from the Eye would taint the entire galaxy, were the gods willing, and he alone had the will to lead them. The force to fulfil his own dark Destiny. He would succeed where Horus would fail; he would tear down the façade of the Universe, sunder all before him in maddened fury. The material realm would know the taste of Chaos. And it would bleed…