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post #19 of (permalink) Old 02-14-12, 07:13 AM
Serpion5
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Default A Different Life, A Different Time...

A different life, a different time...

1,099 words excluding title.

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‘Are you sure?’ Seprin asked. Though his face was a blank metal mask his voice conveyed confusion and even a hint of concern.

‘I am.’ Nemreth replied. ‘This decision has been some time coming now. I cannot continue as I have been. You are a psychomancer correct? What I ask is within your power.’

‘Indeed.’ Seprin replied, turning his head to glance at the glyph adorning his staff. ‘But you must realize what this entails. And further, you must understand that this is something I cannot reverse. The gift of the Forgotten God is a fickle one.’

‘I am aware.’ Nemreth nodded. ‘But it must be done.’ The two Necrons were silent for a few moments following this, before Seprin moved across the dark chamber to where his artefacts were being stored. Canoptek spyders watched his every move passively from the shadows.

‘You do not make use of wraith constructs I’ve noticed.’ Nemreth observed. ‘Why is that?’

‘Bad memories.’ Seprin replied. ‘Have you heard the tale of Shadow? The First Wraith?’

‘I confess I have not.’ Nemreth answered, still standing exactly where he had been. ‘Should I have? Or is it something I am better to avoid in conversation with our master?’

Seprin chuckled a coarse metallic laugh before replying. ‘The First Wraith, curse his name, was once one of out greatest allies. A true champion who carried the favour of Aza’gorod and the Forgotten itself. He was a fickle ally at best. We don’t know if it was the gods meddling with his mind or not, but we no longer count him among those we can trust.’

‘I see.’ Nemreth nodded, though truthfully deeming it irrelevant.

‘Remain here and prepare yourself for the procedure.’ Seprin ordered the noble before him as he carried several cubic devices towards the chamber exit. ‘I will furnish your servants with the tesseract labyrinths you require and return to you in a short while.’

* * *

‘Is he going to go through with it?’ Arakyr asked, taking the cube shaped devices from the cryptek’s hand and giving one to Socous at his side.

‘He is indeed.’ Seprin confirmed. ‘It will be difficult for both of us, but if it leads to benefit I will repeat this process.’

‘Repeat?’ Arakyr enquired.

‘I...’ Seprin hesitated for a moment. ‘I used this procedure once before on Lord Mithrahc. He has become quite a different individual since then. To lose so much of what was your driving force. His purpose will remain, but his reasoning will be hazy for some time. Guard him well lychguard, for this will be difficult time for all concerned.’

‘As you say, cryptek.’ Arakyr replied. He turned to Socous who, typically, had not deemed the conversation in need of his input.

* * *

Thousands of warriors died in an instant as the first blasts of energy washed over them. The devastating psychic attack from the great serpent like creature at the head of the lesser saurid attackers could not be resisted and Nemesor Nemreth was forced to watch as his army suffered a grievous blow in one swift stroke. He cried out in anger and despair. His own son was among those that lay dead. With the serpent alien’s power temporarily exhausted, he ordered the charge continue. He was fighting a losing battle, but worse would be the wrath of his king should he fail...

Necrontyr soldiers died in droves, yet their casualties were equalled by their reptilian opponents. The large serpentine leader remained motionless, gathering his strength for the second shockwave that would finish Nemreth’s already diminished forces. It was through his own tenacity and the skill of his bodyguard unit led by the ever blade savvy Arakyr that he managed to bring the creature down before it could decimate the remainder of his army.

He returned victorious, but without his son and with his army all but destroyed. The title of Nemesor was stripped from him and he was reduced to the role of an administrator. Thus began Nemreth’s fall...


* * *

He was an unstoppable warrior now, freed from the shackles of mortality and the weakness of flesh. He had become what he was always destined to be, a leader and a general, a Nemesor without peer. But the cost had been great. Even as the biotransference took place, he and the others could feel their lives becoming hollow. Their souls had been all but erased, and only the memory of this betrayal remained. The gods had fooled them, and the uncaring whims of the higher royalty had seen many unfortunates left to suffer the mass transference that would deny them even their own memories.

Nemreth’s wife was such an individual. Not deemed important enough to serve a prominent role in the upcoming wars, she had been claimed by the ghost arks shortly after Nemreth’s ascension. By the time he had found her empty vessel, it was too late. She had lost all semblance of memory and her life force had been drained to feed the hunger of an uncaring god. He cursed Szarek’s name with every fibre of his being, but at the same time shared the Silent King’s own lament.


* * *

Stepping back from the kneeling still form of Nemreth, Seprin looked upon the noble with a new sense of understanding. Nemreth was not like Mithrahc or Nayten. He was not a deposed phaeron looking for a way to reclaim a throne. Yet what he was about to do could change that. It could transform the lord into a being as power hungry as the legendary Imotekh himself.

It was a risk. But it was not Seprin’s place to deny the noble his request. He had glimpsed the memories of the lord through the link he had established. Now, as he activated an arcane piece of technology built into his staff, he prepared for the next step. To remove these memories required the cryptek to experience them himself first hand. Steeling his resolve, he opened his mind and advanced headlong into the fires of the god hunter’s turbulent mind...


Several days passed. Following his own preparations, Arakyr waited patiently at the chamber doorway. When the pair finally rose from their knees, he stood to attention as Nemreth approached.

‘My Lord?’ Arakyr asked. ‘Are you well? Do the memories still plague you?’

‘What are you babbling about Arakyr?’ Nemreth asked in response. ‘Come, we petition Lord Mithrahc for an expeditionary force immediately. We have a god to hunt.’

Rising to his feet on eerily shaky servos, the cryptek wondered if he done the right thing, or created a monster from the flames of Nemreth’s memories...


Nonsense is our Salvation

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