Academia Nut wrote:Hmm... now, the question is, which thread to pick up for the next chapter?
1.) Keep with SG-1, and pick up in the latter half Nanoha (tentative title "Kids")
2.) My utterly evil idea for Buffy
3.) Start up the British Invasion, although I still have no idea what to give Reigle (anyone know any good stories in Britian involving plagues and the like?)
4.) Have the Feddies trying to come up with an adequate response to the Stiletto while balancing the shit going on with the Cardassians and the Founders
5.) Open up a new front to test out their fighter technology. I'm thinking Macross Frontier for that one. Sure, the 40k type fighters don't have anywhere near the manueverability of Macross ones, but that's because their linear acceleration makes it both impossible and a moot point anyway
In order of preference (first most prefered):
2. - Hehe, I'm looking forward to it.
3. - It doesn't have to be a plague, mama Reigle loves everyone. Even other kind of freaks. I don't have any concrete series in mind, but look at the way "The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen Volume II" (the comic version) added Dr. Moreau. Even most of the other works of Alan Moore takes place in Britain, so you could take a look if you find anything suitable there.
1. - You left a cliffhanger, I want to see want exactly happened to Anise.
4.
5.
Ah, it was good to be home! While it had been fun in the Palace of the Gods, more fun than a berk like him deserved really, everything came with a price that needed paying. Ethan was currently working to pay off his time of debauchery amongst a group of people who had a library dedicated to their books on the subject. Fortunately for Ethan, he was one of those rare, lucky individuals who had discovered a career where he could do what he loved and get paid for it. In exchange for power and the chance to bang the hottest birds an entire dimension had to offer, all he had to do was spread chaos. Not even big C Chaos, just chaos and mayhem in general! He had more or less been given free rein to cause trouble back home whatever way he wanted.
Best of all, he had a chance to both make up for a few of his earlier indiscretions and to shake some of his pursuers. The gods had some rather interesting abilities with regard to time, and boy had that been a trip trying to wrap his head around how they had come to be! But that meant that they had deposited him not back in his cell with the fine blokes of the US Military after his little prank with Ripper, but instead he was back in time a few years, just a few days before one of his crowning moments as a chaos mage.
It had been quite a shock to see his younger self prancing about, and if not for the assurance by the gods that he existed outside normal causality, he would have been rather wary of attempting anything like this, although the thought of the damage he could do with a temporal paradox did intrigue him on some levels. Still, he had taken great pains to avoid letting his other self know of his presence.
That would spoil the joke!
Unbeknownst to the younger Ethan, the shipment of costumes he intended to enchant had been intercepted and modified. The gods had given him a set of symbols, no real explanation as to their meaning, and the order to distribute them discretely amongst the costumes. Their explanation had been breathtakingly simple really. The original spell had been based upon the association of the costumes with concepts: a gun does not make a soldier and a dress does not make a lady. By adding the symbols extra energy could be drawn into the spell and it could travel beyond its bounds. The effects would be… unpredictable.
Just the way Ethan wanted it.
Of course, he had been more or less in the dark about which symbols to use, but he had decided to go with the general rule that the more bestial looking the symbols went on the monster costumes while the more human ones went on the various props and costumes that would not produce such an effect. Of course, it was just guesswork, and the results could be quite interesting.
As night fell and all of the kiddies went out on the street, Ethan sat a good distance away from his shop on the roof of a small convenience store where he had a good view of the action. By his measure his younger self should be completing the ritual right about…
Now.
He could feel the waves of magic as old Janus did his handiwork, and then the unexpected surge of power as his alterations threw a monkey-wrench into the works, tapping into a source of power more raw and wild than anything this world had ever seen. Magic could do terrible things to the minds and bodies of the unprepared, but it rarely tried to actively eat the practitioners. The admixture of this universe’s magic and the power of the Warp was… unstable, to say the least.
As the flaming remains of the costume shop rained down over the town, Ethan knew that all of his old pals looking to make him pay up his debts would now think him part of the fine ash floating the air, which was technically true, but it meant that Ethan now had an extra layer of secrecy and thus protection. He idly mused about what would happen to the spell now that the bust of Janus had been destroyed, but it seemed that the raw cable of energy was still connected to the costumes and was taking its energy now directly from either the Hellmouth, the Warp, or some combination of the two.
This would make things interesting.
Unbeknownst to Ethan, the list of symbols provided to him had primarily been drawn from Imperial and Orkish sources, with a bit of Eldar and Dark Eldar iconography thrown in for good measure... with one notable exception, and even that had originally been Imperial. The mishmash of ideas and metaphors produced random results, although in general there were suddenly a huge number of waist high orks running about smashing, stomping, chopping, and shooting things as their kind was wont to do, along with numerous Imperial citizens of varying description. There were however three very important people affected by the spell.
The spell struck a young woman wearing the long, exquisite dress of high nobility, and under normal circumstances would have transformed her into the sort of brain dead sop who would have been worse than useless under these sorts of circumstances, but included with the dress had been a small signet ring with a stylized ‘I’. Suddenly the dress became an order of magnitude more baroque and complex while also concealing the sort of body armour that would shrug off .50 bullets and a variety of compact weapons. And instead of emptying a mind of all capacity for active thought and assertion, it was filled with the sort of cutthroat, razor sharp intellect that could survive the dangers of the Imperial Inquisition for a century.
The spell had a bit more work with another young woman nearby, as the metaphors were a bit more stretched, but the semi-sentient energies quickly found the form that they desired. The sheet she had draped over herself was meant to represent a ghost, but in one corner the symbol of the Officio Assassinorum changed the form significantly, from a literal spectre into a metaphorical one. But which temple? As the spell sought more information, it noted that the woman underneath was wearing clothing significantly different from the simple sheet expressed outwardly. A ghostly assassin that wore a different form on the outside from the inside. The spell had enough to work with and wrapped the young woman in the sheet, morphing it into a form fitting uniform that could change shape along with the body underneath. Weapons materialized about her as the spell made the finishing touches on the Callidus Assassin.
And then there was the final member of the group, a young man dressed as a soldier bearing a plastic gun with a small mark hidden upon its surface. This was perhaps the hardest one for the spell to work with as it needed to do the most modification. Had Ethan chosen differently then the young man probably would have ended up just another Ork or Guardsman, but the symbol demanded something more. The gun warped and changed, growing larger and more powerful to fit with the pride and honour associated with the symbol.
As the spell did its work, its energies danced up and down the continuity of the young man’s life, finding the hardships he faced and the stoicism in which he met them, even against impossible odds, and his maiming against a superior foe in the future. It made a decision. The young man’s honour, courage, and loyalty in the face of the monstrous could only truly be expressed by one member of the group to which the symbol upon his gun belonged.
The spell changed him.
Willow’s mind was afire as she struggled with the memories of two lives, to try and reconcile what was happening. Her own mind had been shoved to the background, to watch as another entity took over, but unfortunately that entity was one used to and accustomed to creating, assuming, and discarding identities at will while keeping track of her own core personality.
Sadly for the assassin known as Natalie she almost immediately realized that she was the false identity and that the true identity was the one shoved into the background. As she did not really know what was going on her training immediately prompted her to bring forward the true personality to assess the situation. Unfortunately Willow did not have the proper knowledge on how to control the polymorphine in her blood, and the spell resisted the transfer, forcing a war between mind, body, and soul as all three struggled for dominance, with ironically the mind and soul each trying to shove responsibility upon the other.
Through the haze and pain of this mental and physical struggle, a harsh female voice barked, “Assassin! By order of His Imperial Majesty’s Most Holy Inquisition come here!”
With survival instincts to control the polymorphine, the willing of spell, Willow herself, and now obedience training all kicking in, Natalie immediately snapped to attention and focused upon the one who claimed to be an Inquisitor. The true identity told her, “That’s Buffy! Where did she get that laser pistol? Or learn to use it like that?”
While Willow thought about that Natalie focused upon the numerous orks swarming about the Lady Inquisitor. The Inquisitor was engaged in close combat with the greenskins and thus use of the neural shredder would be ill advised. A quick analysis however showed that the phase sword and poisoned blades would be sufficient against this mass of gretchin.
The inner voice screamed that they were just children, under a spell like them, causing Natalie some confusion. Did the operational parameters call for minimal casualties? Such things were not unheard of, but holding back against ensorcelled orks seemed like an unlikely order.
While this internal conversation was taking place inhumanly fast reflexes and instincts took over as the assassin crashed into greenskin horde, phase sword dancing about and inflicting death and destruction while poison tipped blades found their way into soft flesh, adding to the deadly toll the Inquisitor’s laspistol was inflicting upon the horde. The inner voice screamed to stop, but within a few seconds it was all over.
Until of course the corpses on the ground began to melt away into mist, revealing human children from the broken pile of greenskins, unconscious but otherwise unharmed and intact.
Natalie would have blinked in surprise had such an emotional response been part of her personality that had not been scrubbed clean by years of training. So this was what Willow had been talking about. This also explained the confusion. Apparently she was under the effect of some foul witchery too.
Having access to some of Natalie’s memories, Willow wisely failed to comment on the witchery remark. What she did manage to do however was force Natalie to grab the Inquisitor’s hand as she moved to level her gun on the sleeping children and finish what was started.
“Stop,” they ordered, Natalie amazed at the audacity of telling an Inquisitor what to do and Willow amazed that she was actually fast and strong enough to stop Buffy from what she was attempting to do.
The Inquisitor glared daggers at them and said venomously, “You dare to give orders to an Inquisitor? I’ll have you executed for this!”
Natalie listened to what Willow had to say for a moment before she said, “You are not an Inquisitor; you are a changeling as I am.” As punctuation she morphed her features to match those of the Inquisitor perfectly for a moment before shifting back.
The woman’s fury deepened and she hissed, “You presumptuous bitch!” She then turned her hand slightly to present the face of a large ring on her hand to Natalie/Willow. Natalie knew what a digital weapon was and thus had enough time to dodge the blast, although at such short range avoiding the strike from a plasma based digital weapon was rather difficult, forcing her to leap back to avoid the splash of ravenous energy.
However, before the Inquisitor could call upon any other tricks, a gauntleted hand grabbed her wrist and gently yet firmly pulled her away. Both assassin and inquisitor turned their attention towards this new comer and immediately boggled in religious confusion at the being they saw standing before them.
It wasn’t quite right, at least according to the art, the spell incapable of causing the full suite of physical changes, instead retaining the majority of the features, but the spirit inhabiting the body shone through nonetheless and both of them could immediately identify the deific being that had ended their conflict by that alone.
Oh, and the armour and wings didn’t hurt the identification either.
“Sanguinius!” Both cried out in awe.
Grinning sadly, the Angel said, “I am afraid that the assassin is correct good lady, in that you are both changelings, as am I. That ground transport over there has a mirrored surface, gaze into it and tell me what you see good lady.”
Released from the demigod’s grip, the Inquisitor went over to the vehicle and looked into the mirror mounted on the side and gasped at what she saw. “What sorcery is this? This is not my face!”
Nodding, the Angel said, “Sorcery indeed. Someone has crafted an awful spell that has bound our likenesses to the bodies of the innocent for their own sick amusement. I detect the foul works of Chaos here.”
“What… what are we?” The Inquisitor asked, clearly shaken at the implications of this. She had fought her whole life to keep free of the taint of Chaos and heresy, only now to find herself the product of it.
“We are fleeting things, abominations in truth, but that does not mean we cannot aid those of this world. We must destroy this spell and free all of those ensnared by its foulness. It will unfortunately mean the end of our own existences, but that is a small price to pay to restore order and peace to this place,” Sanguinius explained.
“How must we do that Lord Primarch?” The Inquisitor asked.
A dark look crossed over Sanguinius’ face and he said, “We must destroy the focus of the spell, a task that will require all of us but that none of us will achieve.”
“Is this one of your fabled visions Lord Primarch?” The Inquisitor humbly inquired.
“It is, but even if we fall victory is not impossible. Come, we must go, every moment we wait the destruction grows worse,” Sanguinius ordered, and Inquisitor and assassin fell in behind him, honoured to know that they could serve unto death at the side of the Emperor’s most beloved son.
In the ruins of the costume shop the only unsold prop sat in a pile of ash on the ground. A set of Freddy Krueger style claws, they had the addition of a single staring eye, the Eye of Terra. Without the bust of Janus to serve as the focus for the spell, the writhing energies had grounded themselves in the claw. With no costume to form, the torrent of power flowing through the prop was forcing the formation of something, someone, that had caused the deaths of trillions the last time he had been counted amongst the living.
Horus was rising.
---
So what do you think, am I evil or what?
I love learning. Teach me. I will listen. You know, if Christian dogma included a ten-foot tall Jesus walking around in battle armor and smashing retarded cultists with a gaint mace, I might just convert - Noble Ire on Jesus smashing Scientologists
This should be incredibly amusing and bloody. Horus only beat Sanguinius the last time they fought because Sanguinius was exhausted and wounded by a Bloodthirster earlier in the siege. Horus conversely was rested and whole.
"Nobody ever inferred from the multiple infirmities of Windows that Bill Gates was infinitely benevolent, omniscient, and able to fix everything. " Argument against god's perfection.
Setesh wrote:This should be incredibly amusing and bloody. Horus only beat Sanguinius the last time they fought because Sanguinius was exhausted and wounded by a Bloodthirster earlier in the siege. Horus conversely was rested and whole.
Horus and the Primarch of the Blood Angels at full power on lil' ole Sunnyhell?
If that plane has way too much luck, to the dawn, good part of Sunnyhell will be nothing but a smoldering crater......
Although, you must show something. the Vamp lover and sire of Spike, Drusilla, clearly has seer/Psyker abilities of some sort. The Warp Sorcery infusion into the Janus bust, must have set all her inner senses into overdrive, along with good part of the mystic/psykers on that dimension....
Alas, poor old Spike, we knew you so well.....
A devoted follower of the Chaos Goddess and her way.....
Buck Murdock: Oh, cut the bleeding heart crap, will ya? We've all got our switches, lights, and knobs to deal with, Striker. I mean, down here there are literally hundreds and thousands of blinking, beeping, and flashing lights, blinking and beeping and flashing - they're *flashing* and they're *beeping*. I can't stand it anymore! They're *blinking* and *beeping* and *flashing*! Why doesn't somebody pull the plug!
Academia Nut wrote:Hmm... now, the question is, which thread to pick up for the next chapter?
3.) Start up the British Invasion, although I still have no idea what to give Reigle (anyone know any good stories in Britian involving plagues and the like?)
Hmm......why not start that mess on Colonial India? Reigle would be likely revered for the Hindies of the 17th-18th Century, who are very malleable to accept new deities, specially if she saved the lives of the lower castes, during one of the plagues what were so common on that period among the natives....hell......Tzintchi and Ashukon would be easily associated with Kali, and Shiva...or as the Gods's new identities......
A devoted follower of the Chaos Goddess and her way.....
Buck Murdock: Oh, cut the bleeding heart crap, will ya? We've all got our switches, lights, and knobs to deal with, Striker. I mean, down here there are literally hundreds and thousands of blinking, beeping, and flashing lights, blinking and beeping and flashing - they're *flashing* and they're *beeping*. I can't stand it anymore! They're *blinking* and *beeping* and *flashing*! Why doesn't somebody pull the plug!
Nitram, slightly high on cough syrup: Do you know you're beautiful?
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
It was a bad day to be a member of the supernatural community. Halloween was supposed to be their off night, the one time of the year where they could put their apocalyptic plans on hold, kick back with a beer and have a poker game and not get any funny looks from their peers. It hadn’t exactly been always like that, but with so many human kids running about there had been a mutual agreement amongst the various demons and such that unless they wanted to draw attention to themselves and bring down the full wrath of several billion pissed off people, hunting on Halloween was a bad idea.
Unfortunately tonight some tosser had gone and pulled some seriously bad mojo and now Spike was trying to keep Drusilla from tearing herself apart in a fit as whatever magic was at work interacted badly with her already screwed up head. Finally the spasms seemed to subside, although perhaps that was because she was locked in tetanus, her back arched painfully while her eyes were tiny pinpricks surrounded by white.
As Spike tried to keep her, still, he heard a whimper that sounded like a word escape from her clenched jaw. Leaning in closer, he heard her squeaking out, “…kitten no more… tiger! Tiger! Tiger has wings. Tiger… tiger… stop the One Who Sees! Stop her! She’ll kill us all!”
Spike rolled this around in his mind for a moment, trying to divine some meaning from the madness. One thing he did know was that Dru liked to call that twit who hung around with the Slayer ‘kitten’, so he supposed that some thick headed berk was trying to end the world again and the Slayer and her little band of dimwits were involved.
Spike sighed. He hated it when some idiot got it in their head that they should go beyond talking tough and actually try to end the world with all of its lovely walking meals and football games and pints of beer and… sigh… and of course he had to act like a complete tosser and actually have to team up with the good guys to try and stop the idiots. Unlife could be so trying at times.
Pointing to some of his best muscle, Spike said, “Alright, you lot, you’re with me, the rest of you stay here and guard Dru. Some idiot is trying to muscle in on our turf and we’re going to have to throw them out on their ears. The Slayer and her mates are probably already trying to give the berk a good thrashing but I just see that as chance to kill two birds with one stone.”
Thus Spike stepped out into the violence of the night.
Iral crouched over the body of the mon-keigh bitch he had stalked down, watching as she faded in and out of consciousness from the pain of having her face flayed off. Such a pretty little thing she had been too, which made her screams all the more delicious. She would last a good while yet too, for Iral had been exceedingly careful to not touch any of the larger blood vessels.
Hmmm…. what to do next? The mon-keigh body had so many spare parts she could lose a few more and still survive. Perhaps… perhaps…
“Cease your playing dark one,” an imperious female voice said behind Iral. Amazed that he could be surprised, he whirled about whilst drawing in the shadows to his frame. Standing behind him, well out of range of his knives, was an accursed member of his kin from a Craftworld, a Farseer if he had the iconography right.
The Farseer held up a hand and said, “If you have it within you to do so, I would speak to you in peace dark one. What I have to say concerns us both.”
Iral considered it for a moment. If he could close with the witch he knew he could take her, but the blasted seer had judged him perfectly and she could no doubt summon forth some damnable magic to prevent him from completing any strike he made. Hissing angrily, he said, “Say your words witch.”
“In your play have you stopped to consider why we are here on this world, surrounded by humans and greenskins?” The Farseer asked.
Iral grumbled but admitted, “No.”
“Look at yourself in that piece of glass over there,” the Farseer commanded, pointing to a pile of shard from a shattered window.
Iral considered this for a moment before he slowly backed up towards the glass, never taking his eyes off the Farseer until he delicately picked up one of the pieces and glanced at it with one eye. He immediately devoted his entire attention to the dim half reflection he saw there.
This is not my face!
Gone were his proud, noble Eldar features, so sharp and cruel, to be replaced by the disgusting, fatty softness of a mon-keigh child. He touched his features and for the first time noted that beneath his gloves his fingers were the fat, stubby digits of a human as well.
“What trickery is this witch?” Iral wailed.
“Not mine. Some fool has summoned us here and bound our spirits to these disgusting mon-keigh bodies,” the Farseer explained.
“I will eviscerate the one who has done this to me!” Iral cried out in fury.
“And then what? And then what dark one? When the spell that binds us ends, what will happen to us? Will we return to our bodies? Will we have bodies to return to? Or will we be destroyed?” The Farseer asked.
That gave Iral pause. If there was one thing all Eldar were after the birth of She Who Thirsts, it was survivors. The Dark Eldar and their Craftworld brethren took very different paths and hated the other for it, but they both clung to their existences with everything they had.
“Do you know witch?” Iral asked.
“I do not. I will need time to examine the spell, to see what it will do, but there are already those on the move that wish to end it, to end us. That cannot come to pass until we can be sure we will not be extinguished along with the spell… or worse,” the Farseer explained.
“And you wish my help,” Iral asked.
“It is preferable to trying to get the mon-keigh to be reasonable,” the Farseer said contemptuously.
“Very well witch, but know that I am watching you,” Iral said as he stood up.
“As am I dark one, as am I. Come now though, we must make to the centre of this magic and stop those who would end it and us,” the Farseer explained.
Sunnydale was burning, the orks having gone on a rampage and engaged in numerous fights with everything that moved and wasn’t an ork, and even some things that were orks. While those wearing enchanted costumes were simply knocked out when their false forms were killed, those not affected by the spell were not so lucky, and already the town stunk strongly of blood and smoke.
Willow mused within Natalie that this would take quite a bit of explaining to do tomorrow.
Already the tides were turning against the forces of destruction. Sanguinius had taken to the air a short time ago and let out a call to rally all forces loyal to the Emperor to him. Already they were receiving an influx of people from all walks of Imperial life, from hive city drudges and mutants to robed Techpriests and members of the Ecclesiarchy, all drawn by the promise of the Angel.
While Natalie took up the point, slipping from shadow to shadow, Sanguinius and the Inquisitor, named Bella, organized what they had to work with into a fighting force. Sanguinius alone was probably enough to win the day, but with his expert leadership he soon had a formidable force organized, and they began to drive into the heart of the blazing city, slaying everything that stood in their way, liberating many from the curse upon them.
Wiping out an entire squad of rampaging greenskins with her neural shredder, Natalie watched as Sanguinius’ face turned increasingly sombre and furious as they approached the centre of the storm. There was something waiting for the Lord Primarch, she could tell.
Finally he called a stop and said, “Come out of hiding jester.”
Dropping out of the shadows a grotesquely costumed figure hiding behind a ghoulish mask stalked towards a short distance before stopping and saying, “Most impressive winged one, most impressive indeed.”
“Say your piece jester, time grows short,” Sanguinius ordered wearily.
“It does. I have only this to tell to you,” the Harlequin said before launching forward into the crowd about Sanguinius, shuriken pistol hissing death and its Harlequin’s Kiss leaving liquefied remains behind as the alien ripped into the ranks with impossible speed and grace. Sanguinius and Natalie both became a blur of motion as they rushed to stop the Harlequin, but it was already too late for the majority of those they had gathered about them.
Sanguinius was the first to reach the agile Eldar, at which point the creature discovered that the fury of a Primarch made its own power seem truly pitiful indeed. With a single hand Sanguinius grabbed the Harlequin and dashed it against the ground, the force of the impact punching a hole down to the sewer beneath. As the magic that had given life to the Harlequin in this world faded, it did not even need to dissolve the body into a mist first the Eldar was so utterly destroyed by the force of the blow.
Glancing about, Sanguinius found that only Natalie and Lady Bella were still fit to continue, the rest having been reverted back to their original forms by the treacherous xeno. He then muttered darkly under his breath, such that only Natalie could hear, and even then she doubted she should have, “Thank you.”
Forming up, he glanced at the two women still at his side and said, “Come, the final battle lies ahead of us. Two more of that creature’s cowardly kind are still out there, and they make for the same objective as us. You two must stop them while I handle what is to come.”
Nodding, assassin and Inquisitor took up flanking positions as they wondered what was to come next. Turning a corner onto a street, they discovered the remains of an entire block of buildings set on fire by the obliteration of what had once been the costume shop. And standing at the centre of the inferno…
Natalie and Bella both made the sign of the Aquila in warding as Sanguinius bellowed out, “HORUS!”
The devil himself turned upon the group, all four metres of him. Unlike Sanguinius, his power was not restricted by being confined to a merely human frame, and was instead being incarnated into the vile creature that had laid siege to Terra. His form still flickered at times, still not full manifest, but once complete this world would not stand a chance against the greatest monstrosity Chaos had ever spawned.
“Well, well, it seems that one of my little brothers followed me through the void to this place. Only a pale shadow of him it would seem,” Horus said with a sneer.
Glancing at the women at his side, Sanguinius said, “Stop the Eldar, you are no match for him. Stop them with your life, and do not let the witch speak.”
Then with a roar and a rush of his wings, Sanguinius launched himself at the monster that commanded this holocaust, bellowing a war cry. For a moment the two watched transfixed as the two deities collided, the impact of their weapons and their armoured bodies shaking the earth.
And then the Eldar arrived on scene, a Farseer and a Mandrake. The Farseer hissed and cried out, “You fools! You’ll kill us all!”
Lady Bella glanced at Natalie and said, “You deal with the Mandrake, I’ll take out the witch.”
Natalie agreed and sprinted off to take care of the Dark Eldar hunter. Bella immediately got the Farseer’s attention by shooting her in the side of the head with her lasgun. While the alien armour protected the prophetic witch, it certainly forced her to focus upon the Inquisitor. Natalie soon lost track of their battle though as she leapt into close combat with the Mandrake.
Imperial Callidus Assassin versus Dark Eldar Mandrake, it was one of those rare, fabled duels of the ghost versus the shadow as they both sought to tear the other apart. No mortal human could follow their blazingly fast moves as they lunged, spun, countered, and parried. Between them, Natalie probably had a slight advantage as she only needed to be lucky once with her phase blade and she could disarm her opponent, but they were nearly evenly matched in terms of skill and dexterity, and the way the Mandrake could cloak itself in shadows gave it an extra layer of protection that evened the fight just enough to keep it from being over in an instant.
Of course, this fight was utterly overshadowed by the duel of the Primarchs, the rematch of the aeons as Horus and Sanguinius laid into one another with the sort of fury that blew out flames with the shock of impact and turned concrete into fine powder. Arcs of lightning danced off the interaction of power weapons, and sparks were thrown up from armour as actual hits were landed.
Throwing Sanguinius off of him, Horus sneered and said, “You are weak brother! I will kill you this time as surely as I did the last time we fought!”
Spreading his wings wide, Sanguinius turned a tumble into a graceful landing and bringing his own weapon to bear, he said, “It is true brother that this frame cannot bear all of my strength, but this is not the last time we fought. You are weaker as well, and I have no exhausted all of my strength slaying your minions for weeks on end without rest. Come, let us finish this!”
Grasping his blood red sword with both hands, Sanguinius brought it up to a ready position and hurled himself once more at Horus, the Angel once more hurling himself as a thunderbolt at the Devil who betrayed their father. Horus swung his mighty power maul at the oncoming charge and the two godly weapons met, energy crackling between them, until, with a mighty explosion, Horus’ weapon shattered. Continuing forward, Sanguinius rammed an armoured shoulder into his brother’s chest. With an awful crack of ceramite and adamantium Sanguinius’ shoulder pad shattered while Horus’ breastplate cracked down the middle. The Angel, having the much smaller body mass, bounced back several metres, but even mighty Horus could not shrug off such a blow, and he was instead forced to back, his armoured feet stumbling for purchase on the ruined ground.
The battles between the others were going about as well, with Natalie having stabbed the Mandrake in the leg with one of her daggers, but having taken a hit from one of its poisoned weapons in the exchange. Her whole body was on fire, the poison sapping her ability to control her own form, but with typical Dark Eldar inefficiency the toxin was designed to cause pain more than incapacitation. The Mandrake was clearly losing sensation in its leg and thus slowing down considerably. This let Natalie take a quick glance over at the battle between the Farseer and the Inquisitor.
The sight was one lost upon Natalie, for somewhere along the line the two of them had closed to close quarters and engaged in a vicious brawl that left the smoking remains of weapons scattered about them. A shattered shuriken pistol lay next to a broken laspistol, while an empty inferno pistol sat next to a molten wraith spear. With no other weapons, the two of them resorted to going hand to hand, a fight where the Farseer had better dexterity and experience, but the Inquisitor curiously had far greater strength. The result was a great deal of clothing and armour ripped apart.
The fact that the two of them had wandered into the spray from a ruptured fire hydrant merely indicated that whatever author of fate was in charge of this scenario was as juvenile as he was twisted.
It was at that moment that Spike and his cronies decided to leap into the fight with Bella and the Farseer.
Natalie took all of this in with a single glance before returning her attention to the Mandrake. The cowardly xeno could see the situation turning against it and was clearly trying to make a retreat, but powerful poisons flowing through its blood had already taken its strength from it, and with a single swipe from her phase sword Natalie removed the crown of its skull from its head.
The Dark Eldar blinked a few times before dissolving to mist and leaving a burly, brutish looking young man wearing a pirate costume lying on the ground in its place.
As the Farseer and the Inquisitor struggled with the vampires, Natalie tried to make for them before the Inquisitor decided the battle for her. Turning her ring hand down so that it pointed into the puddle on the ground from the breached hydrant, she activated her digital weapon. A ball of brilliant plasma arced down into the ground, flash vaporizing the puddle, the concrete, and some of the water in the sewer beneath in a blast that killed her instantly and flash scalded the Farseer, causing fatal burns. Several of the vampires struggling with them took too much heat for their undead bodies to stand and spontaneously combusted, leaving behind little more than fine ash.
Thrown back by the blast, Spike saw the still standing Imperial assassin and the duelling demigods and decided that he had done his bit in shutting up the witchy bitch and hastily beat a retreat, accompanied by the only one of his flunkies still alive.
It was at that time that the poison finally overwhelmed Natalie’s self control and she fell to the ground screaming as the chemicals already in her blood stream began to rip her apart.
Covered in wounds and his armour practically falling off him, Sanguinius glanced up at Horus and said, “This ends now.”
“It does brother, it does. You may have done me more hurt than last time, but you are surely the worse off and you are alone,” Horus said.
“That I am brother; that I am. I am the last one affected by the spell, and do you know what that means?” Sanguinius asked.
Horus looked at him curiously.
“It means that when I die the spell is over and you vanish,” Sanguinius spat before reversing his grip on his sword and plunging it into his own chest.
“What? NO!” Horus cried out before stumbling, the magic that had created him already starting to come undone.
Smiling, blood on his lips as he sank to his knees, Sanguinius grinned and said, “We were only ever fleeting things brother, two ends of a whole. And unlike you, I would rather die than let you continue for eternity.”
Sanguinius then keeled over, fading to mist, his sacrifice complete. Horus’ bellow of rage faded away as he crumbled away to nothing, leaving behind only a set of plastic razor claws.
I love learning. Teach me. I will listen. You know, if Christian dogma included a ten-foot tall Jesus walking around in battle armor and smashing retarded cultists with a gaint mace, I might just convert - Noble Ire on Jesus smashing Scientologists
Nitram, slightly high on cough syrup: Do you know you're beautiful?
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
Observation one: Why do you think I updated twice in 13 hours?
Observation two: Everyone acted the way they were supposed to. Imperials in 40k will sacrifice any number of humans to achieve victory. Similarly, Eldar will sacrifice any number of humans to achieve victory.
I love learning. Teach me. I will listen. You know, if Christian dogma included a ten-foot tall Jesus walking around in battle armor and smashing retarded cultists with a gaint mace, I might just convert - Noble Ire on Jesus smashing Scientologists
Well done, but it still needs a followup for the day after.
Academia Nut wrote:
As the Farseer and the Inquisitor struggled with the vampires, Natalie tried to make for them before the Inquisitor decided the battle for her. Turning her ring hand down so that it pointed into the puddle on the ground from the breached hydrant, she activated her digital weapon. A ball of brilliant plasma arced down into the ground, flash vaporizing the puddle, the concrete, and some of the water in the sewer beneath in a blast that killed her instantly and flash scalded the Farseer, causing fatal burns.
I had to read this part trice before I figured out who 'her' was referring to. I would suggest that you replace:
Okay, I'm still torn (heh) on the exact identity of who got mauled by the Dark Eldar and their face flayed off. The choices are:
Cordelia, for the angst and character development factor
or
Harmony, because she's a bitch
Any thoughts?
I love learning. Teach me. I will listen. You know, if Christian dogma included a ten-foot tall Jesus walking around in battle armor and smashing retarded cultists with a gaint mace, I might just convert - Noble Ire on Jesus smashing Scientologists
The group sat in the library very quietly, no one wanting to really say anything about what had happened the night before, especially now that they knew what the extent of the damage was. Not the full extent though, that was something still being counted. So far the full toll looked like several million dollars in property damage from the burning and the looting, along with dozens, possibly hundreds dead. While the usual blind eye the population of Sunnydale turned towards such things was still in affect, the fact was that this was quite simply an event that could not be ignored, especially by the outside world. While the mayor had managed to talk the state and federal government from sweeping in with the National Guard and declaring martial law, the situation was still grim and the casualty count still rising.
It was also awkward and uncomfortable for the Scoobies as there was the unasked questions between them all of what had been left behind by the beings that had occupied their body. They could see it in the little things in each other. Willow had suddenly developed poise and grace of the sort that indicated that she was innately aware of everything she did down to the minutest detail, in stark contrast to her bubbly, borderline-klutzy personality. Buffy on the other hand had buried her nose in one of Giles’ grimoires, a complete turn around from her previous behaviour.
And then there was Xander, who alternated between looking like he had the sort of cool, calm, collected sort of pride and arrogance that said that he felt like he owned the planet and looking like he just realized that he was acting that way and suddenly felt self-conscious and annoyed about it.
Then of course there was the layer of guilt and horror liberally spackled on top of everything else. Aside from just the local damage, there were the memories of the others to contend with, and the fact that all three of them were killers at the core. Killers from a universe that made life on the Hellmouth look pleasant, in fact downright cheerful and optimistic.
Willow was the first one to break the silence when she asked, “How long for you guys? Natalie, that is to say the assassin woman, was about sixty and had been training from birth.”
Buffy looked up morosely from the book laid out in front of her and said, “Bella was a hundred and forty and she had been working for the Inquisition since she was twenty.”
Both of them looked at Xander, who sighed and said, “There are a lot of memories in there, but… somewhere between two hundred and a thousand years of near continuous combat. Sanguinius himself forgot more about interstellar warfare than anyone on this planet actually knows. And now I have most of the big details stuck in my head. It’s… it’s…”
Buffy made a disgusted face and said, “I know what you mean. Bella… Bella probably personally tortured to death more people than I’ve staked vampires.”
“Natalie killed dozens… hundreds of people and then assumed their identities, inside and out, just so she could get close to other people and kill them. One time she poisoned a mother just so that she could approach a three year old child prophesized to lead an uprising. It… it…” Willow looked close to breaking down in tears.
Giles had just watched in appalled silence as the teens under his care began to talk, but finally he said, “Good lord, who were these monsters?”
Xander shook his head and said, “Giles, that’s the worst part. For all the horrible things they did, I don’t think anyone of us can truly hate the people whose memories we share. Sanguinius was a soldier, a warrior, a leader of men, and while he killed millions… billions even… in his campaigns, it was to liberate and unify the galaxy to protect it from the horrors that would prey upon them.”
Buffy nodded and said, “Bella… Bella did horrible, horrible things, but she did it because there were worse things out there that she had to stop, no matter the cost. I want to say that there should have been a better way; that she should have upheld higher ideals, but in her culture Bella was considered an idealist, and for all the people she murdered or tortured or had executed, she probably saved entire planets from being plunged into a hell dimension or enslaved and butchered by evil aliens. It’s hard to hate someone for that.”
“I… I… I almost pity Natalie more than anything. She never had a chance to be human enough to decide. She was brainwashed since birth into being the perfect, utterly loyal killing machine. She never thought about what she did… she just did it. Killing people to her was the same as staking vampires for us and…” Willow couldn’t finish the sentence as she immediately made a rush for the doors of the library but failed to make it as she violently became sick.
The point hit hard amongst all of them. They had seen through the eyes of monsters, people who did terrible things that offended every aspect of their morality, and yet they could not fault them for their actions. It was depressing to think about. While none of them would condone acting all cuddly with the next vampire or apocalypse demon they met, there was a sudden moral dissonance. It might be necessary to kill a man eating tiger, but once you saw through its eyes and felt the hunger in its belly, could you really fault it for its actions?
Suddenly the majority of the Slayer’s job description felt less like fighting the forces of evil and more like animal control, with all of the depressing implications that conjured up. Stabbing things that looked human was hard enough as it was already, not being able to despise them was even worse. They were monsters, but they had no real choice to be monsters. True, some were worse than others and could be categorized as evil…
And yet when you had the memories of people who did worse and yet could not call evil, what then? Perhaps motivation was the key, or enjoyment of the activities, but even then all three of those people had often taken pride in their work. It was… it was… hard. Hard to sort it all out.
While everyone else tried to help Willow, Xander found himself standing back, a melancholy look on his face. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help; it was just that he had something else that he had to deal with, something that would put an uncomfortable distance between him and all of his friends. Because while he had some of the most abstract memories of committing atrocities as a military commander, he had a few deeply personal ones.
Like the final fight against Horus. The original Horus, and the ghastly way he had slain Sanguinius. And what had happened to Sanguinius’ sons, the Blood Angels afterward. And how that was in him too now. He had it there within him, that lurking psychic scar that opened him up to power beyond understanding. Just behind his eyes the Black Rage lurked, and if he ever succumbed to it, he could probably tear apart Buffy in his frenzy. He did not have the already super human strength of a Space Marine, but then again none of the Blood Angels had been touched so strongly by Sanguinius’ spirit either.
Of course, far worse for Xander than the Black Rage was the Red Thirst; the animalistic desire to not just kill but to feed, to rip apart the foe and let their hot blood trickle across the tongue and down the throat. It was a sickness, one that Xander would struggle with for the rest of his life, and considering that of the group he probably hated vampires the most, the fact that he now suffered from their affliction was so bitterly ironic.
Xander could already feel his gorge starting to rise, his anger building at seeing his friend hurt, and then that fact pissed him off. He knew that he could bring a lot to the whole saving the world business, but he would trade it all to be the happy-go-lucky guy in the group who knew how to make his friend Willow smile, not the dark, broody guy with the superpowers and the arrogance to match. Angel already had those bases covered.
Xander suddenly felt sorry for the poor bastard, which annoyed him even more. He had to get away before he hurt someone. The fact that he was mad enough that he felt he needed to leave angered him as well, and he had to exit in an absolutely foul mood, his face dark and stormy.
As he left the library, thoughts of ripping off the limbs of the one who had done this to him and his friends, he soon found that everything about him was some sort of annoyance that made him want to lash out. The noises of the school, the bleating of the sheep called his peers; it all disgusted him and made him want to lash out. Only the knowledge that if he let his anger boil over that he would Hulk out and never return to Bruce Banner kept him from giving in to the impulses that screamed at him to make them all shut up.
Then, amongst the prattling of gossip amongst those so shameless as to not have been humbled by the disaster last night, he heard something that stabbed him in the gut and made him pause.
“Did you hear? One of those drugged up freaks last night cut off her face,” one of the Cordettes said in disgust and horror.
“Looks like poor Cordy won’t be Homecoming Queen this year,” Harmony snickered.
Had she been paying attention to him, Harmony would have seen Xander’s head swivel like a tank’s turret towards her before locking on with utterly murderous intent. Within seconds those who had a feeling for danger, which was a good chunk of the school considering the sort of subconscious survival instincts required to last long in Sunnydale, had vacated the area.
For the briefest of moments Xander could picture it in his mind’s eye, the stupid bottle blonde bitch hurled through the nearest window, the glass shattering into razor sharp shards that cut and lacerated her, robbing her of her shallow beauty, letting her know that it wasn’t a god damn joke to laugh at other people’s pain like that.
But down that path lay the Dark Side.
For just the briefest of moments Xander’s anger cracked at the absurdity of that statement and how nerdy he was to think of that, which was just enough to turn his head away from the shallow bitch. And once he was no longer looking at her he had nothing to focus his anger upon and it dissipated a little, still there, but not focused into a laser fine point.
Xander walked away. He just walked away. It wasn’t worth it. I just wasn’t worth it.
Then Snyder showed up. The troll was about to open his mouth when he discovered Xander making eye contact with him and abruptly forgot what he was going to say. For a brief moment they stared at one another before the little weasel said, “Right then, I think you got the message,” before he scurried away to find someone less likely to beat him to death with his own arm to torment.
Xander left the school and immediately began to run, just to exert himself. He had been surprisingly fit since shortly after he had joined with Buffy in fighting the undead, but now he had the lingering power of what amounted to a demigod running through him, and he wanted to burn it all up. He ran, and he ran fast; overtaking cars in residential zones fast.
At first he ran without conscious thought, simply running for the sake of feeling the burn in his lungs and muscles and the air whipping across his skin, but soon he realized that his subconscious was leading him towards the hospital. Cordelia was a friend, an odd sort of friend, but still a friend, and she was hurt.
Slowing down as he reached the hospital, Xander tried to figure out what to do. He couldn’t really help, just stare and gawk, but… but he had to see her. He would figure out the rest from there.
The hospital was overcrowded, and the staff overworked with all the injuries inflicted last night. The already overworked staff were having a rough time of it and all Xander had to do was ask for the room number for Cordelia Chase and it was given, no questions asked. There was no time to ask questions.
When Xander found her, Cordelia was lying unconscious in her bed, tucked in tight and hooked up to a variety of monitoring devices. Her entire face except for about her eyes, nose, and mouth, were wrapped in thick bandages, stained yellow with medicine and leaking fluid.
Brother Castor stared up at him, a grim smile on what was left of his face after he had caught an ill fortuned round from an Ork gun with his plasma gun. Despite the fact that his hands were missing, he was blind, and his head was nearly reduced to a skull, he still exuded an aura of good cheer.
“We got them my lord.”
Xander blinked and tried to shut out the ghastly memory. Cordelia’s pain was just beginning as the skin grafts and surgery would soon begin. Sanguinius had seen thousands of his brothers maimed in every possible way over the centuries, and he, and now Xander, knew all the things a man had to go through to be returned to health after something like that.
But he also knew that there was a species out there that had a tendency towards the sort of behaviours that would so horrifically mutilate a beautiful young woman. Willow had fought one last night. The Dark Eldar. The creature that had worn Larry like a suit.
Xander knew what he could do for Cordelia.
Leaving the hospital, he ran back to the school, although at a more sedate pace this time as he carefully thought about what he was going to do when he arrived. He was going to make sure Larry’s face never haunted Cordelia again.
Stalking into the school, Xander hunted through the halls seeking the jock football player, until finally he found the young man. Lightning quick, he shot his arm out and grabbed Larry by the neck and hauled him off his feet with supernatural strength granted by unnatural rage. Larry looked down into Xander’s eyes from his position nearly touching the ceiling.
…break his back over your knee and hurl his carcass off the Eternity Gate into the howling hordes to let them know what pitiful creatures they truly are and…
Xander fought back the memories of Sanguinius and instead said, “I know what happened last night Larry, even if you might not want to remember. I know that it wasn’t your fault, which is why you’re still alive. But it used your face, so your face isn’t welcome here anymore. So convince your parents, however you need to, that it isn’t ‘safe’ to live in Sunnydale anymore. Got me?”
Larry nodded once.
Xander put the football player down ever so gently before giving him an exhausted look that said Xander did not have the patience to look at Larry any longer, and the suddenly timid looking boy scampered away in fright.
Xander then found the nearest chair to sit down in, and which point he practically collapsed from mental and physical exhaustion. Despite looking effortless at the time, lifting up Larry had taken a lot out of him. Seeing Cordelia like that had taken a lot out of him. Every minute of his life since last night had taken a lot out of him.
This was going to take some work.
The giant’s eyes opened with a snap, bright yellow light burning off them with feral power. Grumbling slightly, he turned to his companions and said, “Come Freki, come Geri, my brother has shown me the path to the Tree of Life.”
I love learning. Teach me. I will listen. You know, if Christian dogma included a ten-foot tall Jesus walking around in battle armor and smashing retarded cultists with a gaint mace, I might just convert - Noble Ire on Jesus smashing Scientologists
Nitram, slightly high on cough syrup: Do you know you're beautiful?
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
von Neufeld wrote:So, you went with Cordy after all.
And, we are left to wonder how the wolves of Odin fits into the story.
Edit:
Good job with writing Xander, but the story could benefit from also seeing things more from Buffy's POW.
Freki and Geri, are also the names of the Pack-Brothers of Leman Russ, the Primarch of the Imperial Space Marines's VI Legion, the Space Wolves, who dissapeared, as he left Fenris, in search, from some rumours, of the "Seed of the Tree of Life, a mythic item what could restore the GEoM back to full health and life.
A devoted follower of the Chaos Goddess and her way.....
Buck Murdock: Oh, cut the bleeding heart crap, will ya? We've all got our switches, lights, and knobs to deal with, Striker. I mean, down here there are literally hundreds and thousands of blinking, beeping, and flashing lights, blinking and beeping and flashing - they're *flashing* and they're *beeping*. I can't stand it anymore! They're *blinking* and *beeping* and *flashing*! Why doesn't somebody pull the plug!
von Neufeld wrote:So, you went with Cordy after all.
And, we are left to wonder how the wolves of Odin fits into the story.
Edit:
Good job with writing Xander, but the story could benefit from also seeing things more from Buffy's POW.
Freki and Geri, are also the names of the Pack-Brothers of Leman Russ, the Primarch of the Imperial Space Marines's VI Legion, the Space Wolves, who dissapeared, as he left Fenris, in search, from some rumours, of the "Seed of the Tree of Life, a mythic item what could restore the GEoM back to full health and life.
I'd wondered if they were Space Vik... errr... Wolves.
Nitram, slightly high on cough syrup: Do you know you're beautiful?
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
holyknight wrote:
Freki and Geri, are also the names of the Pack-Brothers of Leman Russ, the Primarch of the Imperial Space Marines's VI Legion, the Space Wolves, who dissapeared, as he left Fenris, in search, from some rumours, of the "Seed of the Tree of Life, a mythic item what could restore the GEoM back to full health and life.
Ah, thanks for explaining. So it's probably Leman Russ that's speaking, but where is he? Did he have contact with Sanguinius during the Halloween spell? Is he going to try to resurrect the emperor with said spell? Or is it just the chaos four that are impersonating someone to manipulate him?
Another thing that I'm wondering about Halloween: What about the people that dressed as Orks and Eldars, did they keep attributes/mindsets of said races? Is there a deliberate seeding that happened? (It's a bit hard to formulate the question correctly, but I'm asking because I noticed that the races/sides added during Halloween corresponds to those Gods that showed up in the end of Thousand Shinji.)
I think I may need to write an "Aftermath: Part 2" for this one simply because this bit has evolved a bit out of control. There is a definite plan in effect, I can tell you that, but there are wheels within wheels spinning at the moment. The new Chaos gods are playing games, but very dangerous ones, and very subtle ones.
Currently I think the writing agenda is going to be "Aftermath: Part 2" followed by "Kids" where I'll pick up where I left SG-1 and up the ante a little bit. And by a little bit I mean bringing in a certain pale coloured devil.
I love learning. Teach me. I will listen. You know, if Christian dogma included a ten-foot tall Jesus walking around in battle armor and smashing retarded cultists with a gaint mace, I might just convert - Noble Ire on Jesus smashing Scientologists
holyknight wrote:
Freki and Geri, are also the names of the Pack-Brothers of Leman Russ, the Primarch of the Imperial Space Marines's VI Legion, the Space Wolves, who dissapeared, as he left Fenris, in search, from some rumours, of the "Seed of the Tree of Life, a mythic item what could restore the GEoM back to full health and life.
Ah, thanks for explaining. So it's probably Leman Russ that's speaking, but where is he? Did he have contact with Sanguinius during the Halloween spell? Is he going to try to resurrect the emperor with said spell? Or is it just the chaos four that are impersonating someone to manipulate him?
Another thing that I'm wondering about Halloween: What about the people that dressed as Orks and Eldars, did they keep attributes/mindsets of said races? Is there a deliberate seeding that happened? (It's a bit hard to formulate the question correctly, but I'm asking because I noticed that the races/sides added during Halloween corresponds to those Gods that showed up in the end of Thousand Shinji.)
Leman Russ's most likely location, its on a Daemon World. Of all the Marine Legions, the Space Wolves are renown by their most virulent rejection and hatred of all that it's chaos. Also, Leman Russ...well....LOATHES Sorcerers and Sorcery on all forms and with a passion. This was quite well evidenced as they were the ones that executed the Exterminatus upon Prospero, the Homeworld of the Thousand Sons legion on the original WH40K timeline, the one that was rewritten into the new one with Tzintchi, Asukhon, Mislaato and Reigle as the new Chaos Gods of Mankind.
So i can discount with a 99% of certainty that Russ seeks something related with Sorcery or magic on the Buffyverse.
About the possessed by Orks retaining something ? Naaahh....except some goons. The Orks in general were almost blind to the Warp on general.
Eldar/Dark Eldar?, its hard to say it. It certainly will be determined for two things, and it's if the possessed had some sort of Psyker potential, and the power of the being what possessed, as those with null Psyker potential, are less likely to be altered by the Warp-fuelled spell or hold long-lasting memories from it, specially if they were possessed for run of the mill beings for Eldar/Dark Eldar standards. Of course, this points to the Scoobies to have such abilities, even if only on potential form still. However, the Psyker abilities have been likely "unlocked" on all those with said potential, meaning that now they are like beacons on that plane to entities attracted to such individuals. Sunnyhell and it's entire dimension it's going to become FUBAR Zone for a long time......
PS:.....gee, really i'm bored....so AN, when we can expect a new chapter of your works?
A devoted follower of the Chaos Goddess and her way.....
Buck Murdock: Oh, cut the bleeding heart crap, will ya? We've all got our switches, lights, and knobs to deal with, Striker. I mean, down here there are literally hundreds and thousands of blinking, beeping, and flashing lights, blinking and beeping and flashing - they're *flashing* and they're *beeping*. I can't stand it anymore! They're *blinking* and *beeping* and *flashing*! Why doesn't somebody pull the plug!
holyknight wrote:
Leman Russ's most likely location, its on a Daemon World. Of all the Marine Legions, the Space Wolves are renown by their most virulent rejection and hatred of all that it's chaos. Also, Leman Russ...well....LOATHES Sorcerers and Sorcery on all forms and with a passion. This was quite well evidenced as they were the ones that executed the Exterminatus upon Prospero, the Homeworld of the Thousand Sons legion on the original WH40K timeline, the one that was rewritten into the new one with Tzintchi, Asukhon, Mislaato and Reigle as the new Chaos Gods of Mankind.
So i can discount with a 99% of certainty that Russ seeks something related with Sorcery or magic on the Buffyverse.
The big question is: If the reality was rewritten, then the only reasonable way he could be around seems to be Halloween. But why is he then still in control? And if he isn't alive because of Halloween, then how did he escape the rewrite?
About the possessed by Orks retaining something ? Naaahh....except some goons. The Orks in general were almost blind to the Warp on general.
Eldar/Dark Eldar?, its hard to say it. It certainly will be determined for two things, and it's if the possessed had some sort of Psyker potential, and the power of the being what possessed, as those with null Psyker potential, are less likely to be altered by the Warp-fuelled spell or hold long-lasting memories from it, specially if they were possessed for run of the mill beings for Eldar/Dark Eldar standards. Of course, this points to the Scoobies to have such abilities, even if only on potential form still. However, the Psyker abilities have been likely "unlocked" on all those with said potential, meaning that now they are like beacons on that plane to entities attracted to such individuals. Sunnyhell and it's entire dimension it's going to become FUBAR Zone for a long time......
Ok, that was the the mental side. But, what about the physical side? Has Halloween warped their DNA also?
EDIT: Changed the Leman Russ comment. I was too sleepy to see the obvious.
It's possible he's from a universe where the Warp Gods didn't write themselves out of existence. We've already seen Chaos totally fuck up canon Eva, so we already have precedent.
Fragment of the Lord of Nightmares, release thy heavenly retribution. Blade of cold, black nothingness: become my power, become my body. Together, let us walk the path of destruction and smash even the souls of the Gods! RAGNA BLADE!
Lore Monkey | the Pichu-master™
Secularism—since AD 80
Av: Elika; Prince of Persia
