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post #1 of 53 (permalink) Old 03-27-11, 09:38 AM Thread Starter
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Default The Dead...

Fate riled against his prison, unable to pursue the treacherous thief who had stolen his weapon. It was his sacred duty to safeguard the Blade of the Lost, and it had fallen into the hands of a warpspawned sorcerer!

A metallic scream shook the entire tomb complex. The Necron lord, Fate, had not been able to awaken himself. Though his mind was active and his command absolute, his form had not received the power necessary to completely revive itself, thus reducing him to a mere spectator through his minion`s eyes...

His only hope now lie with the strangers, those who had arrived not long ago and claimed to be servants of Lord Misery. The news they brought of Misery`s demise only increased Fate`s agitation for it meant he was now under increased pressure to succeed. If he did not, The Forgotten`s plan would be... He did not wish to even consider it.

For now, he simply had to trust in this group of Necrons. If they truly were servants of Lord Misery, then perhaps there was a chance for success yet. Surely his own subordinates would see his plan through regardless. With a moment of lucidity through his rage, he summoned them forth.


--- --- ---

Shadow, Taint, Destruction: The three of you (Pain as well) have been damaged heavily following your encounter with the warp based life forms in the battle above. Despite your efforts, you were unable to stem the tide and you were forced to retreat without achieving your goal. The weapon is lost.
The four of you stand in an isolated chamber within Lord Fate`s tomb, contemplating your failure as swarmos of scarabs tend to your repair. Recall your encounter with Lord Fate earlier, he did not seem happy with being forced to trust you. Converse among yourselves what you think of this. Also note that the chamber you are in is guarded by eight Tomb Spyders. After a short time, a cryptek enters and summons you before Lord Fate.

Mourn, Reaper, Terror, Deathbringer, Unending: The four of you are dormant until a cryptek awakens you. You will revive in the order in which you post, as the cryptek reactivates you.He asks you to remember your names and your past, take this oppurtunity to establish your character a little. Describe your memories, what you were in life, what you have seen, perhaps even your interactions with the other three in this chamber. The chamber is lined with row upon row of silent scarabs clinging to the walls. If you feel the need for maintenance, you can summon a few of them to help you. After a short time, the cryptek informs all of you that Lord Fate awaits you.


Nonsense is our Salvation


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post #2 of 53 (permalink) Old 03-27-11, 01:55 PM
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"Unit 249, Flayed One Class, 'Mourn', respond." Mourn's eyes flickered to life. How long had he been dormant? All his limbs felt numb, and false. A large, silver carapaced being hovered in front of him, its many green eyes fixed upon him. "What do you remember?" it asked, in a cold, metallic voice. "I..." he began. What did he remember? "I... I am Mourn." he replied, wearily. "Anything else...?" it asked.

"Yes... Yes, I was... I was a killer." The cryptek's many eyes swerved around and fixed onto the screaming face hanging from Mourn's back. "I..." he continued, "I murdered innocents. Children, mothers..." His voice was dry and metallic, having not used his voice for so long. "I felt like there was something missing in my life... I felt the need for power... To claim dominance over the lives of others..." The cryptek kept silent, its eyes rotating in calculated circles around the sockets. "Then, we were nearing defeat, and I was given a curse for my sins. I was cursed with immortality..."

The cryptek extended a long arm, and Mourn fell out of his cryo-tube. "You are ready, Lord Fate awaits you." it informed him, as it hovered off. Mourn got up wearily, but felt much stronger now. He turned his head, and tugged slightly on the husk of flesh extended over his back. He was a murderer, and now, he would have the chance to prove it again...


If someone lacks intelligence, than he is not stupid, because one cannot be stupid without intelligence.

If someone reverts to having to complain about your grammar, then you already won.
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post #3 of 53 (permalink) Old 03-27-11, 05:53 PM
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"Flayer 218 awake" the cryptek said, Terror tumbled to the ground his left arm landing a few feet away. " Scarabs " the cryptek shouted, all of a sudden two Scarabs had a hold over him Terror screamed and thrashed about trying to break free. It was over within a minute and Terror looked at his arm it was an odd feeling to have it on him again. "Name" the cryptek asked clearly eager to wake the overs. "Terror" he said and the cryptek eyes started to scan him "Flayer 218 'Terror you are now recognised.

Terror stared at him and was about to leave when he was asked the fateful question " History, what do you remember" Terror began to try and recall his past but it was hazy, apart from sudden clear images. He was sucked into one and soon he was replaying his past. " Private Smith reporting sir," " die you scum" "I can't believe that I'm the captain now" " Congratulations men we are the first to beat the Old ones" " Susan I love you, noooooo" " I'm sorry men this is the end, Sun you will grow up to be a great Necrontyre" " were saved, whats happening were turning into machines"

"That is enough" the cryptek pulled up Terror, "High Lord Pain is waiting for you, go now" and with that he left. Terror was in a daze the images had engulfed him. Soon like a tide they receded, Terror only was sure about one thing, His Wife dyeing at the hands of the Eldar, he would avenge her, and with that thought in his head he went to see Pain


For all who want to know you get this from magic the gathering



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post #4 of 53 (permalink) Old 03-28-11, 06:25 AM
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Default The Reaper Awakens

"Unit signature 451208, wraith class, respond."
Reaper stirred, and the ominous green glow that substituted for his eyes suddenly lit up. He looked around, and with a dark voice, he spoke. "451208 responding..." He said, as he uncoiled his whip-like tail and pulled himself out from his tomb. He hovered above the ground, and took a moment to scan his surroundings. He had been asleep for a long time. Even the dust of his tomb had practically been fossilized and was collecting some dust of its own.

"Your name and your memories, 451208." the Cryptek said, snapped him out of his musings. He paused, before he began to respond. "I remember...the C'tan, the horrible feeling of having my soul torn out and stuffed into this body...i remember the screams of my race, the war with the warp beings...I remember when the C'tan blessed me by removing me of my morality and my mortality...." He continued, rubbing the dull part of his blade-like fingers which resembled a flayed one's flayers together, enjoying the sound. He turned to look at the Cryptek over his shoulder as he paused the metallic shing sounds. "But most of all, I remember the terror, the screams of agony, and the pleasure it brings me to kill. To feel the blood of my lord's enemies warming my cold blades. To see the look of horror as I pounce on them from the shadows. You asked my name, cryptek? You may register me by what the enemies of my lord have come to call me; The Reaper."

The cryptek tilted its head, its eyes spinning and focusing on Reaper in what could count as confusion, Reaper had shown a hint of an emotion, an uncommon thing for the necron's. But it simply brushed it aside. "Accepted." It said, before moving on, leaving Reaper to his own devices. He momentarily shifted on his phase, and the dust that had collected on and in him fell harmlessly to the floor, before he phased back in and slowly hovered down the corridor, to find his lord. His lord wouldn't have awoken him if he wasn't needed, so he intended to find out what he had to do to please him.

Me--> <--You
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post #5 of 53 (permalink) Old 03-28-11, 06:55 AM
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Destruction did not like loosing, not one bit; least of all to the living. As the scarabs repaired his broken body he contemplated about the battle about. the living had been a sorcerer, a powerful one, but was not completely reckless. It had control of it's element, and that cautioned Destruction alittle into rethinking for the next time he meet it.

There would be a next time, Destruction swore to it!

Looking around, he didn't converse with the rest, realising it was futile, and ignored all incoming messages into his core memory. Suddenly a cryptek floated in, and summoned him to Lord Fates chamber. Destruction stood with the other, ready to receive his punishment that was due.



"Walk Softely, and Carry a Big Gun!"
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post #6 of 53 (permalink) Old 03-28-11, 05:56 PM
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"Awaken immortal, the living appoach one more"
A passionless voice broke through the void, smashed the bonds of his solitude and as always, he tried to breath. Tried to inhale, tried to feel cold air within his lugs, to reassure himself he was indeed alive. Yet he had no lungs, the reflex was futile, pointless, the actions of a soul encased in a metallic tomb. Immortal, yet not truly alive, he merely lingered... dwelled within this prison of precious metals and loathed it.

Not just it, hatred ran through his body like rivers of molten ore, gnawing at the metal, a beast within desperate to get out. The immortal had heard the words, yet now he allowed them to penetrate his soul, there meaning reverberating within his mind, a sonic wave which turned the trickle into an avalanche, into a raging storm of bitterness.

The living approach once more. He would crush the life from there bodies. Slowly he reached up and ran his fingers delicately along the blade of his warscythe. Nothing, no receptors to carry the feeling of his blade, yet te sudden halt of his fingers, the grinding of servos as they pressed against nothing told him it still lay strapped across his back.

Now the immortal, looked and saw, saw scarabs clinging to the wall their eyes lifeless, bodies limp. Yet he was awake. His limbs moved slowly, for a mere mo,ent foreign to his as they both recovered for the years they had remained idle, waiting, watching.

The cryptex lingered and the immortal's stare turned directly to him, fixing him with a questioning gaze

"Your memories?"

The immortal laughed a high cold laugh

"I remember so very little yet so very much, i remember the day the old ones came for us, the day there counterstroke drove us to ground, the day they flooded over the barricades in a lving seething mass even as our weapons stripped the very flesh from there bones. I remember how we flailed, searched for a power to defeat them and then found them, amidst he stars... Gods... Gods whom we pledged too, and who through salvation became our metallic doom."

The cryptex, merely nodded and allowed him to pass, placing his guass blaster in his hands. As he exited the silence was broken

"Lord fate wishes to see you"

The deathbringer gave throaty chuckle

"Who else"

kudos to lillian thorne for the awesome sig
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post #7 of 53 (permalink) Old 03-28-11, 07:45 PM
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The weapon is lost...

Shadow stirred, the voice reverberating through his metal skull, the angry voice, shouting out for its lost possession,

The weapon is lost!

Shadow remembered something, if only for a fleeting moment, a face that the voice matched. No, it did not match, but it was similar. So, very similar.

A laughing face, cackling as Shadow spun away into oblivion...

"Wraith, respond. What is your number and designated name?" clipped the voice of the cryptek before him. Shadow was inside some kind of tomb complex... Lord Fate's tomb complex. It came back to him now; the battle which had been lost. Shadow watched as scarab swarms flew around him and repaired the damage to his chest-plate and shoulder.

"Don't you know my serial-number, cryptek? Can't you analyse it?" sneered Shadow, rising from the sarcophagus inside which he had been left. The cryptek just blinked, unmoving.

"No? Ok, how about... one?" Shadow said, with no small measure of pride. "Progenitor-class Prototype Alpha, Lord Shadow, the First Wraith. That good enough?"

Shadow heard the data-coils whirring furiously inside the cryptek, before finally it made a grunting acknowledgement, and moved on. Shadow cast his eyes around the chamber, noticing his old companions: Misery's Company.

Ugh, what a pathetic little band that was. thought Shadow dismissively, floating past nonchalantly as the scarabs finished their repairs. Shadow slid through a set of doors, where he awaited the address of Lord Fate.

"Angry words and a good helping of reprimanding, I should think..." muttered Shadow to whoever was listening.

Give a man a match, and he's warm for a day.

Set a man on fire, and he's warm for the rest of his life!

Cato Marquand
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post #8 of 53 (permalink) Old 03-29-11, 12:01 AM
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Taint fidgeted, feeling a measure of discomfort, its neck servos were strained and it had the most unsettling feeling hanging about it like a shroud, its encounter with the Daemonette had not gone well, the Daemon refusing to stand still and then...

Taint purged the thought from its memory coils, getting rid of the feeling in the process, it was Taint, Flayed One to Lord Misery- No, Misery was dead; then who was the new Lord? Or was Taint to function independent for now?

No, that was not right either, a recently introduced memory flashed through its mind; Lord Fate. He had not seem too pleased to be forced into trusting Misery’s Company, but it mattered not to Taint, who returned its gaze to roaming around the chamber. Tomb Spyders watched, perhaps guarding to prevent them from leaving or causing damage to the Tomb complex.

The Flayed Ones claws twitched as scarabs swarmed over its body, repairing the heavy damage sustained from that accursed Daemonette, Taint did not usually get angry or show much emotion, but in a sudden burst of fury it swore to itself that it would find and slay the Daemonette and cast her torn and broken body in the Abyss. But it drove thoughts of vengeance from its mind; it had to concentrate on the matters at hand.

Taint watched as Shadow, an old acquaintance from the days serving Lord Misery, toyed with a Cryptek, boasting about his serial number, foolish arrogant Wraith, yet he had chosen to aid them when Shadow could have easily joined the Deceivers forces.
Taint knew its own number, but when the Cryptek moved to it and asked for Taints name and serial-code, Taint merely looked at it, until even the Crypteks logical mind began to experience old forgotten feelings, discomfort and unease.

The Cryptek moved on, leaving Taint to dismiss the Scarabs, who had finished their work; it rose from its crouched position and headed to where Lord Fate was imprisoned. It had been summoned and thus it would go and see what its new Lord wished of it.


I do commissions (Mostly non-human) on DeviantArt, PM me if you want a drawing of a character or whatnot. Descriptions are needed as I am not a mind reader

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post #9 of 53 (permalink) Old 03-30-11, 04:59 PM
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A cold dark silence seemed to stretch on toward eternity. It was peaceful. It must have been what death was like, nothing, oblivion. Then there was sound. It was faint at first, a slight murmur at the edge of existence. It was a call back to his nightmare, back to the living. No, his mind screamed, let me sleep! The sound was louder now. It had become the scuttling of a thousand feet and the sound of a voice calling. The footsteps changed from the light patter much like a rain storm, to the sound of a million heavy hammers beating on metal. The voice turned from a slight murmur into a booming thunder.

A pair of emerald eyes lit against the metal background. “Respond,” the voice said again. As the eyes scanned over it readouts flashed to life. It was startling to his mind, yet so familiar. The analysis finished. “Cryptek,” an alien voice said. It took several milliseconds for its owner to register. He didn’t add the second part, minimal threat. The thing before him gave a puzzled look, as puzzled as a necron could give.

“What is your number and designated name,” the Cryptek asked. The heavy destroyer stared back. “Unending,” was the only reply. The cryptek looked at him while trying to recall the data, but was unable to find anything but the name.

“Your memories,” the thing asked. Memory engrams slowly activated. An ancient self made system of recovery began its work. Unending felt the restoration begin, but wondered had he made this? If he was the only one who had it then yes, but how had he done it?

Reconstruction of memory block one finished: code 083116097114116. There was some massive thing. It hovered above beings of flesh and blood. It spoke in words that were purposefully lost: An offer. There was compliance. Green lightning speared through him: one of the first? Skin bubbled and blood boiled: pain. Suddenly a cold metallic feeling. He watched as his own body was stripped away: Amazement.
Block two finished: code 072097116101. A battlefield. Green light speared from something in his arms. A creature was torn into atoms: The living. Something hit him in the chest. Eyes looked down to see a gaping hole in his chest. There was no pain: Intrigue. A new blinding light filled his view, then darkness. A tomb: Bewilderment. Something calls, he moves forward. Sudden blackness, the battlefield again: Why had he not died? A sudden flash of a thousand such battlefields and a handful of deaths. Realization: Life/Death unending, death unobtainable.

It had all taken less than a second. Life/Death.. Unending… Expunge.. Living… Memories reconstructing…A cold feeling coursed up and down his spine. Death unobtainable.

Green lighting sparked between pronounced spine segments. What was once his right arm came to life. Lightning danced throughout the bulky metal frame and into the weapon’s primary tube. Unlike the standard version it appeared bulkier at the capacitors and mounting point. Unending rose from the ground and slowly moved forward. The Cryptek took a step back. “Lord Fate awaits you,” it finished.

Others stirred in the room. Two flayed ones his systems told him. A warning flashed, virus infection. What kind of a virus could infect them? Two others, wraith appeared in his vision near them. They floated off the ground much as he did. More data flashed ahead of him. Then there was the last one. Immortal flashed for this one. The word brought something to Unending’s mind. He had been an Immortal once, but not one of those. This one had fluid lines, he had never shared those. He was something more primitive. Was this what came after him? Was he a mistake? No, he thought. A shard of memory flashed forward. When so many had chosen to reform themselves, he had not. No, he had chosen to remain as this even after taking up the destroyer body. He did not understand why. Perhaps it was to keep himself closer to the flesh he had once owned, or so that he would always remember himself. As more shards of memories flashed through his head Unending moved quietly toward the room’s exit, and fell in line with the others. Best not to keep their lord waiting.
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post #10 of 53 (permalink) Old 04-01-11, 09:01 AM Thread Starter
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The chamber was as cold as the grave it resembled as the group of ten necron commanders assembled. The enormous upright casket at the epicentre of the chamber hummed softly with the contained essence of one of the Forgotten`s greatest servants.

'My Lord, they are assembled.' The cryptek called, bowing before the giant coffin.

I see them. Fate replied. Do they serve?

'They serve, my Lord.' The cryptek replied. 'Those of your house and those of Lord Misery`s house bow to your will.'

I need...

'My Lord?' The cryptek stepped forward.

...L...I...F...E...

'I understand.' The cryptek called. He turned to the assembled necrons. 'I am Observer. I am the one who will command you for now.'

--- --- ---

All: For now, you have one goal. Fate needs energy to fully revivify, and the most ready source of energy lies in the cities above. With the daemonic incursion passed, it should be far easier to harvest the living.

Taint, Mourn, Terror: Observer gives each of you a cohort of three flayed ones to command. These possess no will and will simply act according to yours. They don`t speak, think, or feel.

You will be teleported to the city above. Though the daemons are gone, there are still human survivors who escaped their grasp. But they will not escape yours. Your task is to harvest the living, take anything up to half a dozen prisoners each. You might encounter some military resistance, and you may also be tempted to indulge your own hate fuelled desires upon the living rather than capture them.

Shadow, Reaper: Observer tasks the two of you with reconnaisance. Given that you have far more mobility than most others, you should start with the upper storeys of the highrise buildings toward the city core. You are teleported fairly close and have a wide view of the city. From here, you might see bastions of resistance or clusters of survivors that you can contact the others about.

Unending: With little other role suited for you, Observer tasks you with clearing a section of city so he can establish a surface base. As you begin to remove the buildings from existence with your heavy weapon, a group of ragged militia launches an attack against you. There are roughly a dozen of them against you, equipped with autoguns. You can try to take them all on yourself, or you can seek assistance from one or both of the wraiths.

Destruction, Deathbringer: Observer sends you both to the battlefield where the vanguard of Fate`s army so recently fought against a daemonic incursion.

Destruction, your task is to seek out any reasonably intact imperial vehicles and mark them with a beacon. The damage wrought is heavy, but you might find anywhere between half a dozen to thirty such vehicles across the scorched wastes. You may also find survivors. As with the flayers, they are to be taken for harvesting. The Immortal, Pain, will assist you.

Deathbringer, Observer tasks you with seeking out a weapon that was lost previously. It is a staff of light, left behind in the previous battle. Also be aware that any prisoners you come across must be harvested. You have a cohort of two necron immortals. They have no thought, voice or will they simply act according to yours. The importance of this staff will be revealed later.


Nonsense is our Salvation

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