Imotehk the Storm Lord Fan Fic
Be Gentle its my first try.
Imotehk the Storm Lord sits at his terminal tapping his metallic fingers against the screen below. Blankly he stares at the screen as he remembered a lifelong past. His eyes grew dim as servos began to swirl in his mechanical brain, and suddenly he was back on his home world, before he was cursed with this metal form.
“Imotehk,” his wife called to him. “Come back inside, there is supposed to be a radiation storm soon.”
“I am coming dear,” he responded. As he entered the home he gazed at his wife and their beautiful children, he went to embrace them again as he had in the past, “Lord Imotehk it is time.” He snapped out of his daze and back to reality. “Yes, I suppose it is,” he replied to Mathous his faithful Cryptek. “How long have you been standing there?” He asked trying to express as much anger as his mechanical voice would allow. “You know I don’t like to be disturbed while I plan for battle.”
“Yes my lord, I apologize. However, this worlds Tombs are now fully awakened and reprogrammed to serve you. The lesser inhabitants are trying to mount an offensive against us, shall I send the wraiths?” the Cryptek asked impatiently.
“No, I will handle this myself” Imotehk said as he rose from the terminal. Still haunted by past memories he walked through the corridors of this Tomb, and made his way to the ascension platform. As he rose to the surface he saw the world’s new inhabitants in the distance shooting their inferior weapons and he let out a distorted laugh.
The Imperial Guard advanced on the Tomb with full force, eager to drive these would be invaders from their home. Lascannon fire pelted against the walls and seemed to do nothing. Inquisitor Gerald Hathrick scanned the battlefield through binoculars and that’s when he saw the first enemy since the assault began. He focused the binoculars to confirm that his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him, a lone Necron stood atop the Tomb holding nothing but a single staff in his hands.
“You there!” he yelled at the nearby heavy weapons team. “Bring that fool down!”
With that mortars sang through the air towards the lone Necron. Hathrick watched as the projectiles seemed to avoid their target, and then he saw one hit its mark. He quickly adjusted his binoculars to inspect the damage. The Necron had lost its head, half of its torso had been disintegrated, however it was still standing.
“Someone save us,” a sergeant next to Hathrick cried and tried to run away, one lone pistol shot rang out over the battlefield as the sergeant fell to the ground. The Inquisitor holstered his pistol and barked an order “Everyone will stay and fight or I will kill you myself!” The guard rallied around him either out of respect or fear and continued the assault.
Imotehk reached down with his still intact arm and grabbed his skull, reattaching it to what was now his neck. This was one of the few times he was glad to no longer be flesh and blood. The hole in his chest still glowed red from the impact of the shell, but this did not deter his repair protocols from turning on.
The hole closed almost as quickly as it formed, his arm that had been blown off crawled its way back up his body and into the socket reattaching itself. It was amusing how these lesser creatures thought they could harm him, Imotehk, the self-proclaimed ruler of the Necron race.
Imotehk glanced across the battlefield to find the leader of this poor excuse for an army. He continued scanning until he saw him, a tall man dressed in a formal uniform that looked to be giving orders to the others. Then Imotehk saw something he had not seen before, another man began to run and this so called leader turned and gunned him down in cold blood. “You would make a fine Necron,” Imotehk said to himself, as he raised his staff into the air.
The sky became illuminated and began to boom as Inquisitor Hathrick looked on in horror. Clouds began to swirl and lightning shot across the heavens. The first casualty was a Lemon Russ tank the lightning struck it tearing a gash into the hull; there were no screams from the crew just an eerie silence. The smell of burnt flesh seeped out of the wreckage causing nearby men to gag and vomit. Then came the storm.
Lighting arced across the sky striking the Imperial Guards ranks with lethal accuracy. “What is this witch craft?” The inquisitor asked the companies Psyker who stood nearby.
“I do not know sir; it is like nothing I have seen before. The Psyker responded “I do not sense anything in the warp.”
“Well do something about it!” Hathrick barked as he turned back towards the Psyker. Hathricks’ eyes met the Psykers just as a bolt pierced the man’s’ skull exploding in a marvelous display of grey matter and gore. “Dammit all” Hathrick cursed. His army was decimated the battle was lost, the world was lost. “You won’t take me demon,” Hathrick said as he raised his bolt pistol to his temple.
Imotehk heard a shot ring out above the storms call, a final effort he thought to bring him down. When nothing struck him, he scanned the battlefield once more and saw the slumped form of the man he assumed was in charge with a self-inflicted wound through his skull.
“I spoke too soon, you would be a terrible Necron, we have no need for cowards.” Imotehk continued the storm until all the attackers were dead. He then willed the storm to continue across the entire planet, killing all in its path. “Another world submits to the will of Imotehk the Storm Lord.”