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post #20 of (permalink) Old 08-14-11, 02:52 PM
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Hi all,
Inspiration finally hit me (but it doesn't mean it's any good though -lol).
Hope people like and comments, queries, positive/negative criticisms welcome because I always want to improve (might need to edit if there are any glaring errors/spelling mistakes, so any pointers gratefully received):

"Forbidden Knowledge" (1079 words I think?)

Sacred oils burning in nearby braziers sent flickering shadows across the ancient machinery.

Myriad bronze glyphs covered the walls, proclaiming their devotion to their God-like master, reflected not only the the room’s silent sentinels, but also the contorting form of their prisoner.

Instead of eyes, the captors bore mere lenses of green glass set into titanium coated grills where faces should have been.

From beneath deep cowls and ragged hoods, these ‘eyes’ bore into his being, analysing pheromone scents and muscular exertion, yet gazing upon his frenzied motions dispassionately.

Recording every motion and reaction, all was to be filed and stored for later retrieval, yet not one of the seven figures lifted a finger to prevent the ongoing tortures...made all the worse for the prisoner because of the fact that he knew there was no hope.

Of course, few amongst the assembled even possessed fingers in their emaciated hybrid forms:

Purity of machine having replaced most of their frail organics, the five autocannon-toting servitors did not require even their arms to fulfil their guardian programming.

The lesser of the other two had brought him here in the first place and -under the unflinching stare of it’s master- there would be no succour from that quarter, either.

Adept Tharlus watched the man shout and writhe in agony as five syringe stimulants entered his body.

The sedatives should have been sufficient to knock out even an Astartes, yet still there remained a spark of defiance within.

‘Though it is a sign of potential success, how could this be happening in a mere unaugmented..?’ he wondered.

Even unspoken, just the recognition of that last word left a foul taste in what remained of his augmetic trachea.

The sacred purity of enhancement was to be preserved and encouraged, yet the reason why this one deserved such special treatment had hitherto been beyond his understanding...until now, that was.

Of course, “treatment” was entirely the wrong word for what was now being done to the young man:

Take one healthy human specimen in the prime of it’s life, one which is already trained for war and battle-hardened.

Inject a cocktail of especially selected growth hormones and stimulants.

Addmix a Grox-felling amount of sedative, followed by up to nearly a litre of ‘Onslaught’ to test the purity of their furious dreams whilst they slept.

Then, and only then, would they be ready for the next stage in development.

As always, the failures would be rendered down into nutrient paste, passed on to the next generation.

As the human suddenly stilled, his only motion being to open his eyes, Tharlus leant closer. His mechadendrites’ needles lashed eagerly, mere millimetres away from the man’s eyes, alert for any signs of treachery as the fettered prisoner uttered four words.

At this, Tharlus staggered backwards -almost losing his footing- and shuddered in incomprehension as his cortex sought to find the meaning of the diction...now believed having been lost to time.

The man gave a bloody smile through broken teeth, but his sole moment of triumph at his tormentor’s discomfiture was lost in a violent coughing fit which wracked his beaten body and which vomited yet more gore down his heaving chest.

His final chance at laughter turned into low sobbing as more of his vitality leaked out of him.

Finally righting himself, Adept Tharlus returned to the excruciator-rack and gave his barely-audible reply.

The remaining 17% of Tharlus which had remained obstinately organic was infuriated by the captive.

As such, it was also the part of him which could not deny a considerable amount of pleasure, as the man’s eyes froze in abject terror upon hearing the almost expressionless, metallic, response:

“Nevertheless, Lieutenant Geraint, your body will be transmuted into a newer form, one more pleasing to The Omnissiah and more suited to a useful function in this Galaxy.

“Your former life will be scrubbed away, washing your memory clean of previous affiliations, friends and family. I see your eyes sparkle in hope and, yes, they still exist.

"But when you next meet them, it will be as one of ‘ours’, not as one of ‘theirs’.

“As you can see, your former Company -now sacrificed to take the most promising- is not the first to have tasted our... attentions...

At this, a pale azure light bathed a previously unseen plaque, almost 3 metres high...one which bore the unit designations of dozens of former PDF regiments which had garrisoned the planet.

“Your service record says that you used to be useful to the Master of All, yet you will now serve a new God, reborn in new form to serve Him.

“Your previous unbelief will be turned into dutiful loyalty in the fires of the Forge, perhaps even supplied to the Ecclesiarchy as the driver of a Penitent Engine if your prior rage is any indication of future conduct.

“Duty is not without it’s sacrifices, however, so no trace of that loathsome cancerous affliction you call ‘humanity’ shall remain.

With the words now stored for later evalutaion, the Tech-Adept turned around as the screaming prisoner was hauled away to it’s new fate.

“Make your report upon his last words, Tharlus.”

“There was only the second word that I still do not understand, High Magos Xanten, but comprehension is not required. Relaying now:

“Assignment 24, Day 4493: Subject 478-XD55-F has mentioned a new vocabulary to Theta-Level Adept Assiognis Tharlus, Sacred Arc IV Cognitive Preceptory.

“Previously unheard of by our Order...Praise Be to The Omnissiah, who guides us to the recovery of lost knowledge...it shall be dutifully filed away for further research and understanding.

“Suggest cross-reference with Chaos Battleship of the Line ‘Harlot of Least Mercy’ destroyed M.39.559.415, cross-reference with Astartes Legio Tertius.

"Also refer to the stealth-data-capture of Astartes Legio Primus practises on Helix Prime and -of course- therefore with Archive Core VIII concerning Geneseed.

“New information revealed previously undiagnosed weakness: redundant systems will be exloaded, purged and replaced, purity is all.

“Subjects 478-XD55-G to U are also to be examined, lest they also prove to posess similar, forbidden, knowledge. In the meantime, this one can be used, yet it shall be scrutinised with the utmost severity.

“His last words, High Magos, were ‘No mercy for you’.“

With Lieutenant Travis Geraint now storeys below deep in the bowels of the Forge, neither of the Technomagi could hear the initial detonations of their newest “recruit’s” latent psychic backlash as he was fed to the skin-stripping machines and his prophecy came true.

Urgently trying to trace any living relatives of Private Sam/Samuel "Jock" Wilson (Black Watch, No. 6 Commando, UK Army Service ID 2764432, died 10.06.44). Any info/suggestions gratefully received.

"Mockles! Pent on silpen tree, blockards three a-feening. Mockles! What silps came to thee, in thy pantry, dreaming?"

Please check out the HOES (Heresy Online Stories) threads and vote for the tales.
More feedback = better stories for everyone.

Last edited by andygorn; 08-14-11 at 02:59 PM.
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