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x-esiv-4c
09-07-2005, 06:05
And there it stood, a venomous composition of daemon, man and machine. Its scorched oily skin gleamed as pistons pumped and gears churned. Sinew was stretched across its furnace of a chest. Fires fuelled by immense hatred burned feverously under its skin. Batteries of curved horns adorned it’s back, it’s spine was a heaving rusted smoke-stack belching foul smelling exhaust.
No one ever successfully merged madness with machine. The Daemon-thing stood a full twenty feet and was bound with consecrated chains. Hooded priests shoveled a black ore into the monsters open belly. The chamber was festooned with chaotic symbols that caused nausea just to look at. A howling cacophony accompanied the guttural wailing of the machine.
Priest X’yag watched the proceedings from his desecrated pulpit. His atrophied eyes stared longingly at the Daemon. This was his work, he would be known throughout the legions of darkness as “He who created”. Perhaps gifts of the gods would be bestowed upon him for his nefarious achievements. For years X’yag worked on the beast. It was his ambition to merge the Daemon-prince with technology and the indomitable will of man. He had replaced much of the Daemon-prince with mechanical equivalents and fed it souls of mankind’s bravest warriors.
The halls of the forgery groaned as the Daemon-machine pulled at its restrains. It let out a symphony of roars and snarls and continued to tug at the chains holding it down. X’yag sat back down and reminisced about his previous aberrations. He had never really created a successful Daemoniton, something that could be controlled and yet wield untold of devastation. X’yag had previously ventured into manipulating the Obliterator virus, this gave birth to sentient, polymorphic tanks and other engines of destruction which all proved to difficult to control.
His eyes glazed over as he contently watched his servants stoke the embers in the Daemonitons belly. Today had been trying and X’yag had become weary. He reached over the main control console and activated the speakers. Massive trumpets crackled into life over the factory floor and X’yag began to speak into the microphone.

“Enough for today, suppress the daemon for regenerative cycle.” X’yag sighed. “All Daemoneers return to your warrens, tomorrow we continue.”

The priests on the floor scurried to begin the suppression rites. One priest scuttled up to a gantry above the daemon-thing and started to lower what looked like a huge pacification helmet over the Daemonitons gleaming skull. A wail of screeches and cries disgorged from the trumpets and immediately had a soothing effect on the Daemoniton. Its violent throes eased and it’s grunting became less forced. X’yag relaxed back into his throne.

“ The indomitable will of man, so easy to control”. X’yag remained pensive for a few minutes then left the pulpit.

X’yag ambulated down the dark corridors of the factory, chains dangling from him clanked across the rusted corrugated gantry. The mortal parts of his body ached and groaned, he was old, at least the parts that hadn’t been replaced were. The corridors were lit by glow-globes that saturated the ancient walls with an ominous red hue. The stench of singed flesh and burnt machine oil seemed less now and so did the cantankerous dissonance of the machine-works.
He keyed into his warren and rested for the night, the morrow would be very taxing for him.

Swirls of impossible landscapes twisted and whirled within each other. Clusters of vaulted towers wrapped around one another. They were cast of bubbling flesh, writhing in mortality. A squalid squeal echoed across the blighted nether. Figures hanged suspended in the limbo. The only feature that could be made out was their outstretched arms and legs. The shadows merely remained perched, watching. They were watching for the future to come again.

X’yag jolted upright from his rack, beads of oily sweat mottled his twisted face. He was panting feverously. he had had this dream before, he remembered the figures and couldn’t help but feeling watched, like in the dream. Watched by legions of the blind, all who have seen the future and are waiting to see it again. If it wasn’t for the flesh that held his bionic components together he would begin the apotheosis of machine-hood, no more dreams…No more nightmares.

Siege-master Centrus viewed the Daemoniton from the observation tower. Centrus had pledged his life, death and soul to the legion of the Iron-Warriors. They were masters of the siege, trench and tactics. The Iron-Warriors were renown throughout the galaxy from their infamous use of pillaged artillery platforms and an inordinate number of Obliterators. The Iron-Warriors saw flesh as a weakness, something easily compromised and hard to replace. Centrus’ armour was scarred and pitted from hundreds of years of war. His entire skull was a bionic augmentation, no eyes, nose or mouth. Simply a single red ocular lens positioned between where his eyes would have been. His right arm had been converted into a weapon augmentation; several haphazard barrels of varying lengths weighed the Iron-Warrior down. Ammunition belts and fuel cables disgorged from his modified pauldron. Centrus had lead thousands of sieges, he had seen all manner of battle but what he was looking at now stirred something inside of him.

“Lord Centrus!” A voice rasped behind the power-armoured monster.
“Priest Daemoneer X’yag” Centrus bellowed without turning around. “When will this thing be ready?”
“My lord, it takes time! The Daemon is very strong and we are having trouble containing it!” X’yag bleated as he scampered around Centrus.
“The longer we take, the stronger the walls of the Giatian hive get.” Servos and gears churned inside Centrus’ power armour.
“Please lord….” X’yag muttered
“Silence! You have wasted too much time. Redouble your efforts and finish this. You have perverted the glorious machine with this daemon-filth, if this proves to be a waste of my effort…”
Multiple guns cocked simultaneously from his augmentation.
“If you weren’t one of prince F’xel’yag’xmar chosen I would disembowel you right now…”
Centrus turned and marched out of the observation tower. X’yag plopped onto his control throne, his blackened heart beating hard. He pulled the console toward and activated the trumpet speakers, for a moment he paused….and smiled.

“Daemoneers, change of plans.”

The boyz
09-07-2005, 16:26
Wow that was very interesting read. I really enjoyed reading that. I enjoyed reading the bit at the beggining describing this huge Deamon.
I liked the bit about the Iron Warrior with one big red eye, reminds me of an Cylon (sp) from Battlestar Galatica.

x-esiv-4c
09-07-2005, 21:12
The story will continue, I just wanted to start it off.

The boyz
10-07-2005, 13:04
Ideal looking forward to reading more.

Hideous Loon
13-07-2005, 12:48
In the beginning, I thought of Chaos Squats (is there even such a thing?). But, somewhere in the middle, it began to dawn on me that we were talking about Iron Warriors. Kudos to you, x-esiv. A good composition, a great level of detail (great, but not fiddly) and a good 'cast', characters with character are my favourite characters. ;)