This is dedicated to my favorite fantasy world: Warhammer 40k
Many of you might not fully understand this story but bare with me here.
I will add some definitions here if you do not know at all these things.
Adeptus Astartes- Greatest amongst the soldiers are the Adeptus Astartes, the Space Marines, bio-engineered super-warriors.
Tzeentch- The God of Change and Evil Dreams. He is the sworn enemy of Nurgle, God of Pestilence and Death. Tzeentch uses mutation and unnatural magic to bestow evil enchantments upon his elite warriors.
Nurgle- The God of Pestilence, Death and Decay. Nurgle is one of the Chaos Gods in the Warhammer: 40,000 universe. He leads thousands of rotting warriors into battle; most of which feel no pain. Nurgle is the sworn enemy of Tzeentch, God of Change.
Thousand Sons- Once were loyal space marines, but in the end followed the path to corruption. They worship and follow the ways of, Tzeentch bringing death and destruction to all who appose. The legion mainly contains sorcerers.
Plague marines-to the Chaos God Nurgle. Within their corpulent and disgusting armour their bodies are bloated with disease, swollen with corruption and rank with decay. Their weaponry and equipment may be pitted with decay and corroding away, but they are still terrifying opponents. They have an inhuman tolerance for pain.
His hands touched the book delicately feeling the roughness and the sharp solidness of the dark artifacts covers through his power armor. A small guilt emerged from within, questioning, why was he not overwhelmed with excitement? This was the very book once crafted and written by, Tzeentch, his dark god. Any noble servant would have felt some measurement of pleasure? Perhaps the answer was that this was gifted to another god who used it for his own selfish reasons, ‘Pestilence and decay’. Nakarith slowly understood the answer for his strange actions was because this very gift was used against the boundaries of his mighty lord’s ways of rule. Rage possessed him, it almost felt as his body was drowning in his own anger. After a moment a dark sense of pleasure was triggered within himself, he was serving his gods will and now he would return this unholy book back to his lord once again. His fingers hooked around the book with delicacy, and slid it into the leather bag tied to a belt, under his dark aqua robes.
Nakarith was about to turn, but his mind gave a warning of an aura of another presence behind him. The aura wasn’t even needed; the mysterious figure was betrayed by his poisonous stench of rotted meat.
A frantic panic struck his soul, “Damn the scums have caught me”. Nakarith stood still trying to concentrate with every part of his body, his ears heard a slight click of a bolt pistol being aimed at his head. He smiled slowly knowing he would not fail this mission, not like this. “So, here we are, brother.” Nakarith hissed very smoothly. His ears shot a warning sound of his enemy’s finger slowly squeezing the trigger saving Nakarith just in time slamming his staff on the ground teleporting himself behind the attacker.
The plague champion fired a shot confused he turned around seeing his foe in wait. The champion reacted, and fired his bolt pistol again. Nakarith freed his rage into thousand of electric energies smiting the weapon of his enemy’s hand. The disarmed plague champion kicked Nakarith in the chest, and rolled to the side behind a cover. A kick like that would easily crush a humans chest, but, Nakarith was an, Adeptus Astarte’s a super human that was constructed for war.
A delicate quietness entered the room giving Nakarith time to study his surroundings and plan a route of escaping this blasphemes place. His eyes scanned the cylindrical building filled with sky scrapers of book shelves surrounding him stacked with thousands of books that belonged to chaos. Nakarith looked up and felt discouraged, as the twisted, marble sculptors of daemons, stared down with disgust upon him, from the oval shaped ceiling. This terrain did not suffice his needs at all, the library was useless for cover. Nakarith gave another fast two seconds to look around and make his final conclusions. His eyes compromised a thin path led down a black hallway marked in millions of symbols that ended where the door awaited him.
His concentrations were interrupted as his ears gave away his foe smoothly sliding out two metal blades. He closed his eyes, and slowly began to gather the dark energies decaying inside him, the feeling was not pleasant, each small amount of rage pulled out of him created a grave weakness. At last he gathered the last gallon of hate towards the centre of his chest setting himself loose firing at the shelf with bolts of fire blossoming in orange flames. The force of the explosion sent the champion flying five meters backwards into the air.
Nakarith franticly restored his energy and violently charged at the stunned foe. The plague champion stole the sorcerer’s initiative. The dazed champion was still on his knees, but had a perfect reach to swing his blades at Nakarith’s pelvis, Nakarith leaped back buying the champion just enough time to stand up and charge. The two blades were lashed at Nakarith’s upper ribs, he instantly lifted his staff and stopped the champions blow, transferring his negative energies into his staff erupting an explosion bouncing the champion a meter back. The champion continued attacking his foe, but no matter how precise his blows were it would always be stopped by a perfect block. Nakarith knew that this warrior had more strength then him, and would probably last longer unless if he could counter attack now and finish this before the warrior of decay would be victorious. He had only one shot at this, if he would fail, the battle would end in his loss, which could not be allowed! Nakarith’s staff blocked several more vital blows from the plague champion. A puny trickle of sweet went down his nose giving a gentle itch to his skin. Panic stabbed into his heart squirming “No, I am not this weak!”
He contained the very last energy and began his counter attack. His body danced to the side of the plague champion flanking him. Nakarith swung his staff with great speed aimed at his foes head. The strike was met with a precise block made by the champion lifting his two blades holding them in a shape of an x. Nakarith furiously pressed his staff on to the blades making the champion kneel down. The last gallon of strength was gathered within him and used for teleporting behind the champions back and stabbing him with every ounce of what he had left in his body into the champion’s helmet.
Blood and brain matter popped out of the champion’s skull and splashed the, Thousand Sons blue armor. Feeling victorious Nakarith dropped to his tired knees allowing giving his body a small rest and regaining his energy. This was indeed a very strong and skilled foe he as ever faced. Blinded by his glorious pride the sorcerer didn’t even notice his foe lifting himself up again.
I will post more after I will get some reviews for this and I will be able to improve it
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