I have become unsatisfied with the original thread due to the general clutter, poor writing, inconsistencies, and general bad. It can be found
here, but is quite poorly written, inconsistent, and is not recommended reading. This is especially true for the first ten pages. This thread picks up where the last left off however, so no progress was lost. However, some details have been changed from the poorly thought out ones from the old thread. In addition, there is of course a certain amount of creative license here.
A full textwall of background fluff and information will be written and posted in the OP soon*, but for now here is an update. The most basic rudiments of the story are that you are a newly born daemon in the Warhammer 40K universe. The date is 342.776.M41. For those unfamiliar with this dating system, this means that it is the forty-first millennium of the year 342, day 776. In WH40K, each year is divided into 1,000 parts. Anyway, we are currently on a
Feudal World by the name of Attica, with a population of about 200 million. Fully half of them live in the titanic hive city of the planetary capital, with spires reaching dozens of kilometers into the sky. The planetary defense force is comprised of 2 million troops divided into one thousand regiments, though the best ten percent are inducted into the Imperial Guard as per regulations. This makes the PDF inherently inferior to the Imperial Guard, though they are often the first and only line of defense against a potential invasion.
*Valve Time. It will be ready when it's ready.
StatsStrength: 15
Mind: 26
Souls: 3
Time: 3:00 PM
Sighing inwardly, you realize that at the moment the mine and those hiding inside it are more trouble than they're worth.
The three conscious miners in front of you are frozen in terror, making it disappointingly easy to dispach them.
With a flash of claws, one man's head is messily torn to pieces. With another, a throat is neatly slit and its owner collapses to the floor, gurgling. As the last miner turns to run he collapses heavily to the floor, blood gushing from an unseen hole between his ribs and through his heart. (+6 Strength, +2 Mind, +3 Souls)
Realizing your hunger, you open your mouth impossibly wide and devour the last, unconscious miner in a single bite. (+5 Strength, +1 Soul, -1 hunger penalty)
With that taken care of, you realize that the tasks remaining in the mine could be relegated to minions. Ripping off a finger from one of the dead miners, you draw a circle in blood on the floor. Surrounding it, you carefully weave several enchantments out of a long-lost language only known to yourself and an incredibly small number of mortals. In the center, you etch the traditional Chaos rune for death with your claw, and stand back.
Retrieving the pair of ghosts you released and the oldest three captured souls as well, you start the ritual. Eldrich flames whirl around the summoning circle, and a dirty red light glows from the various runes on the floor. With a terrible chorus of screams, cries, and less identifiable sounds the pair of ghosts are merged into a single, partially corporeal body. A spectre.
They are distinctly unhappy at being merged into one form, but are quickly able to work things out. Meanwhile, the red glow becomes even more sinister and for the second time in a day, a chill wind whips through the entirety of the mine. One by one, the souls are transformed into similar, but less intelligent entities. (-8 Mind, -2 Ghosts, -3 Souls, +3 Spectres, +1 Spectre Herald)
With this work done, you order the Herald to take command of the three lesser spectres and remove the miners by any means necessary.
"It will be done, Lord. None shall escape". it hisses. Having never experienced commanding truly intelligent beings before, you are quite pleased with the newfound feeling of power.
With a rippling of etheral cloaks, alien utterances, and a flash of matte black, ghostly claws the spectres race down the tunnel with the Herald in the lead. Within a few seconds, you clearly hear screams echo from the lower tunnels and the pleasing crack of bone against rock.
Striding down into the upper workings of the mine, you immediately see evidence of the spectres' handiwork. Barricades are overturned or smashed, a pickaxe is lodged into the wall to its shaft, and two eviscerated corpses lie on the floor surrounded by pools and spatters of a seemingly impossible amount of blood. Passing them, you see a headless corpse slumped against a wooden support with another impressive spray of blood dripping from the ceiling.
Reaching into the mind of the Herald, you see that he is lurking in a tunnel, observing the last bastion of the miners' defense. The other spectres are nearby in the blackness, having extinguished every torch they could find. Six men brandishing pickaxes and another gripping a sword are trapped in a dead-end passage with strong barricades of wood and stone barring the entrance.
You note that this leaves one man of the original twenty unaccounted for. You have personally killed nine, and the spectres have taken another three. As you continue to approach the miners' position, your mild annoyance is dispelled. The one you had not been able to account for is shattered against a wall, his head crushed and limbs at all the wrong angles.
Coming face-to-face with the Herald, you ask why he has not yet decorated the mine with their entrails.
"That sword is blessed. Even a scratch can kill us." You sigh in irritation, exploding the sword and the man holding it with a flick of your wrist. (-2 Mind, +1 Soul)
"Well there you go, kill them all!" you growl.
Seeing your eyes flash blue in the darkness, the miners advance to take full advantage of their barricade, which is promptly punched through by the Herald. In the resulting chaos, the spectres claw five miners to pieces.
Seizing upon a sinister idea, you quickly order them to let the last one live. Somewhat irritated, the Herald still gives him a good slash across the chest before falling back.
As they approach you again, you notice that the Herald and two of the three other spectres are leaking a dirty red light, the telltale sign of the Warp. You quickly realize that they have been wounded and give them permission to feed on the corpses. What happens next surprises you. Instead of immediately tearing into them, they proceed to pummel and crush the bodies, shattering bones and pulping the soft tissue. While they feed on their tenderized meals, you ensure that the last miner is alive and stand before him in the tunnel.
"Today is your lucky day. Few survive coming face-to-face with a daemon, but I have decided to let you live. Now go, and tell your friends about me. I'm sure they will be interested in your story."
"Th...Tha...Thank you!" he stammers, and you stand aside to let him pass. As he stumbles along in the darkness, you provide him a guiding light to the surface. Spreading terror is always nice, you muse.
Taking stock of the situation, you see that the spectres are gnawing on the remains of five of the corpses, occasionally spitting out bone fragments. There is very little left, and much of it is unrecognizable as human at all due to the splintered and broken skeletons. As they finish, you order them to take all of the intact corpses to the meeting room in the upper levels of the mine. They grumble at being used for such menial tasks, but comply nonetheless.
Making your way back to the meeting room, you spot the fleeing survivor and smile to yourself as he sees the clawed monstrosities carrying his colleagues away. Reaching the room, you see you have five relatively intact corpses to work with and three so damaged that at first glance are unsuitable for anything but food. Unfortunately, meat and especially corpses have an unfortunate tendency to rot, so you deftly skin and gut them with your claws, then preserve them with a quick burst of magic. This method of preservation ruins the taste a bit, but is easy and effective. (-1 Mind)
Searching the rest of the mine with the spectres, you find a small crate of hardtack, a number of pickaxes, some wood, a small amount of iron, and several mattocks.
Piling the food in a corner, you consider what to do next.
Time: 12:00 Midnight
StatsStrength: 26 (-1/day - spectre/Herald upkeep)
Mind: 17 (-3/day - spectre upkeep, -2/day - spectre Herald upkeep)
Souls: 9
Food: 3 dressed and Warp-preserved human corpses (9 food, low quality), 5 intact human corpses (15 food, high quality), 18 hardtack (18 food, terrible quality, unsuitable for carnivores)
Total food: 42
Consumption: 6 per day
Tools/Weapons: 18 pickaxes, 4 mattocks
Building Materials: 10 Wood
Spectres
Formation - Spectres are occasionally formed naturally when mortals die in a particularly violent and gruesome manner, but are far rarer than ghosts. It appears that those who are stronger-minded are more likely to become ghosts or spectres.
Spectres can also be formed artificially by binding souls to a ritually created, partially corporeal body.
Behavior - Spectres are infamous for their feeding habits. Unlike most meat-eaters, mortal or otherwise, they instinctually tenderize their prey by repeatedly smashing it against any convenient hard surface and with devastating blows from their minor telekinetic power. This softens the meat and shatters bones, making prey easier to consume.
Spectres are generally extremely hostile to anything not undead and are perfectly capable of killing individual, even armed, humans. However, they can be wounded by conventional weapons and, like most undead, are extremely vulnerable to blessed weapons.
Appearance - When fully corporeal, spectres appear as cloaked, legless, skeletal humanoids with enlarged, shadowed eye sockets. They are noseless and have a permanent, skeletal grin due to the lack of tissue around the mouth.They have humanlike five-fingered hands ending in incredibly sharp claws, capable of cleaving through steel, flak armor, and combat blades.
Psychology - Spectres are as intelligent as any human, but are far more aggressive and most of their thinking is geared towards combat and killing.
Requirements: 1 food unit per day (1 food unit = 1/3 of a human corpse), 1 Mind per day
Spectre Herald
Spectre Heralds are incredibly rarely created in nature but can be summoned by a sufficiently powerful psyker or daemon. While similar to ordinary spectres in nearly every way, they are far more intelligent than the average all humans and can be brilliant tacticians. They are also slightly stronger physically and more skilled in combat.
Requirements: 2 food units per day (1 food unit=1/3 of a human corpse), 2 Mind per day
1 Spectre Herald (Minor wounds, recovering)
Well-fed
3 Spectres (2 with minor wounds, recovering)
Well-fed
You
Well-fed
I don't believe I missed anything serious. Anyway, questions are encouraged.
Author
Topic: Now You Are Become Death, Destroyer of Worlds - Redux, Suggestion Game! (Read 2220 times)