Sunday, 30 August 2015

When The House of Saints Turns To Sin.......

 House Kensei, a Noble house of Old Gelt and entrenched power. Like a knife in shadow the house was everywhere, even the wind carried its essence. But when a presence is so omnipotent it is easy to deface, to portray in a far darker manner.

 A house of Swordmasters, a house of warriors, a house of Darkness; of Heresy.

 Let me tell you of the fall, the darkest act of Jimushi Koga and how it is you have never heard of the house of devils.

 House Kensei had humble beginnings as a sword school that  taught its ancient arts to any one who was willing to travel to the school. Located in a remote mountain range not too dissimilar to the Himalayas of ancient Terra. The path of Pilgrimage was frought with danger and most who set out never made it to the school.

 As time passed news spread of the sword saints and eventually the Planetary Governor, Philano Mearse, reached out to the school for an audience with their head. House Kensei answered and invited the Governor to their humble school and demonstrated to him and his council their art forms. Philano was captivated by the swordsmen and put into motion a series of events that would see the transformation from humble school to noble house.

 Over the following centuries the school became integrated in the planet's nobility and as a direct result of this, became host to an ever growing stream of willing students. As time elapsed the selection became more and more elitist, until only wealth or blood would see the doors to House Kensei open.

 As part of the House's new found position was tithe fealty, the house was to put Imperial Gaurd candidates through a strict training regime who would then pass the teachings on. This was a great honour for the House.

 Many centuries later and at the height of the House's power the planet was victim to a brutal invasion by one of the many Murder Cults of Khorne. It would seem word of the Sword Saints had spread to the very Warp itself, and Dark ears had heard the word.

 Whilst the invasion was brutal and many thousands were slaughtered by the invaders when the warriors of House Kensei descended the wrath of heaven was unleashed.
 The God of Murder granted his followers many gifts in the coming battles but none could beat the warriors of House Kensei, their martial skill a match for that of even of the most blessed scion of the Blood God and their fervour burnt hotter than the fiercest rage of the cultists.
 One of the Noble House's warriors stood apart from his brethren though. Jimushi Koga, his skill was unrivalled even within the hallowed halls of House Kensei. It was said he had practised every possible offensive and defensive movement a sword could make ten thousand times. During the battle he cut a swathe through the cultists and challenged their leader to single combat. The disciple of Blood God was bitterly enraged by the notion but would not refuse a challenge. The ensuing fight lasted one day and one night, and as the planet's star crested the horizon Jimushi's blade followed and laid the foul cultist to rest.

 It was in this instance Jimushi's fate was sealed. The Blood God cared not for any of his followers who had been put to the blade, they were weak and died because of it. But Jimushi was not weak, Jimushi had spilled blood and taken lives. This prize would not escape Khorne, and so it was with the that killing stroke Khorne did curse Jimushi Koga and would name him his champion.

 It was many years later before the seeds of this Dark act began to show their malign influences however and they were indeed insidious. Not known for subtlety the Blood God had known for his will to come to bear he would have to be patient. He had gifted Jimushi with a growing bloodlust, knowing the swordmaster was a man of inner peace and calm his curse would take many many years to erupt into his violent vision for a champion.

 It started with Jimushi training harder, his choler making itself present, sparring sessions turning vicious and the fierce rivalry that Jimushi formed with his once favourite student, Iga.

 The rest of tale is the same of many a heretic, the whispers of ruin offering their Dark gifts in exchange for sacrifice. The slow but steady descent of the chosen of the Gods and so Jimushi Koga's tale is little different.

 Knowing the House's tithe of swordsmen for the Gaurd was due Jimushi started a series of special lessons for his favourite students. Jimushi intended to sowe poisoned teacyings into the heart of the Imperiums finest and unleash the Blood God's rage into the heart of every bastion in the sector.
 Naturally he selected Iga, in spite of their ever growing rivalry Jimushi knew if he could light the fires of rage in Iga the pair would be unstoppable. Iga was pure of heart, clean of soul and was well aware of the growing darkness surrounding his Master.
 When Jimushi discovered Iga attempting to undo his conditioning on some of his selected students his rage erupted, and he struck an unarmed Iga. This was an attack without honour and defied the warrior code of House Kensei.
The growing tensions over the next few weeks was palpable and the Blood God knew if his desire was to be fulfilled he would have to gift the other students in order to ensure Iga did not succeed.

 The coming battle was bitter and bloody. The house divided and Jimushi slaughtered all who stood before him with his followers following suite with their new Dark gifts.

 All was not lost however, Iga and a small group of other students recognised the behaviours of this new Jimushi and his followers; the Murder Cultists. Knowing they would not back away from a challenge Iga challenged them all to single consecutive combat with the remaining loyal students lives as forfeit should he be struck down. Jimushi could not resist.

 As the first of Jimushi's followers leaped at Iga the other students struck the remaining followers with blessed swords, carved with ancient warding glyphics and sanctioned with holy oils. Enraged at this trickery and act of cowardice Jimushi called forth the power of his patron and fuelled by unnatural rage, speed and strength he became a paragon of Murder. Iga could barely make him out as a bestial red aura formed from the arterial spray surrounding Jimushi as he eviscerated everyone in the room. Non saw escape from the Swordmaster's blade, loyalist and follower alike were struck down. But Jimushi wanted to savour the death of Iga and so saved him for last.

 None can say precisely what transpired between those two souls, but both live to this day. Iga cursed with desire for revenge at the treachery of his Master and to avenge his murdered brothers. Jimushi ever looking to spill worthy blood for his Dark God.

 It is whispered Iga is a Throne Agent now and uses the thrones network to search for Jimushi.

 One day there will be reckoning, and when that day comes Devils and Saints will clash.

 May the Emperor Protect us all.

Jimushi Koga


Sunday, 23 August 2015

Hereticus: Rogue

How long have I wandered the ever welcoming cold of the void?

How many centuries has it taken to get here?

How many untold have died?

Not nearly enough.

The noble war draws close and now, at last, my sponsors shall taste the endless suffering of reality.

Tell the Crow his persistence was admirable, but it would never be enough. Icarus will take flight, and the Galaxy shall burn.....

~Inquisitor Felden Heliosz

 The ramblings of the far fallen Inquisitor Heliosz. A once powerful and respected Inquisitor of the Ordos Hereticus, now a deviant rogue feared for his knowledge and what his actions suggest his end game to be.

Heliosz is danger incarnate.

 Spurred on by a tome of forbidden lore and empowered by the darkest of energies, bound in iron and soaked in blood. Heliosz has indeed fallen far.

 Like a moth to a flame Heliosz is drawn ever downward by the whispers of the ruinious powers. What they provide with one gesture they remove from him with the next. The power that sustains him, is also devouring him from the inside.

 When Heliosz kills with the bound daemon weapon his strength and martial skills are heightened, when he reads the secrets which should never be read he is granted powers over the molecule and atom. Able to dismantle those who would oppose him in an offering to those that need him.

 These gifts as stated are not free however. Maintained in ancient suite of atificer armour with internal works blessed by the darkest rituals and operated by the foulest of machine spirits, Heliosz's is kept on the brink of death on a promise of immortality. Every time he taps into the power of the warp his physical form is the currency for the exchange. His left arm is withered and is a bare shadow of the noble frame and muscle it once was. For each person laid to ruin he is rewarded with Dark vigour, his right arm overly muscular as the black energies within poison and taint what's left of his organics.

 Felden Heliosz, hereticus rogue.

Thursday, 13 August 2015

Narc Farms and Throne Ghosts

 So we was sat in the local sink downing jars of sump wash. Funny, cos it’s the only time I rightly remember everyone smiling, though after pulling the narc farm from the Cloud Boys there weren’t any reason not too really. Strange how quickly things change.

 Oh, you wanna know more eh youth? Well in that case sit yourself down my son. Allow me to illuminate……

 It was more cycles back than I’d like to think now. But, like I just said, we’d cleared the patch of dandy Cloud Boys and inherited a nice little narc farm. You know blitz, raid, obs, frenz and all the other usual gear. What was weird though was this like grey metal powder stuff, but we dint think too much on it, weird lot them cloud boys with plenty of fancy up Hive buyers. Just figured it was something that hadn’t reached our lot yet. 

 Anyways, after a few weeks of pushing anything and everything we suddenly realized we knew nothing about any of this stuff other than how to sell it. The only stuff we really had left was the weird grey powder. Now, I’ll not have it said that I’m the sort who backs away from, what d’you call it? Innovation? Yeah that’s it, innovation. So I figured if we could get some of the local dregs to try some maybe we could get ‘em hooked you know? Then bang, we’re back in the gelt. There was bins upon bins of this stuff.

 So, we gets a few of our locals round for a special ‘tasting’ you know like them lordly sorts do?

That was probably our first big mistake.

 We figured the best way to do this was to bang the stuff in a few bowls and let this lot show us what to with it. 

 That was definitely a big mistake.

 After watching about 8 of these dregs go to work on this stuff, and I mean go to work. Oh it all started rather tame but after a little taste they went mad for it. It was in their eyes, nose, mouths anywhere they could get it. Then it all started to go really, really bad.

 Turns out not every odd looking grey metal powder stuff found in a narc farm is actually a narc. It’s also fair to say that not every upper hive wannabe cloud boy rolls solely with other dandies.

 This stuff was pure evil.

 They went mad for it, no I mean like actually crazy. They was pulling at themselves and screaming, that damn noise, something I’ll never forget that, damned noise. But that was only the beginning, they got strong, like real strong, started fighting each other but they was rippin’ each other apart, they was tearing ‘em selves limb from sodding limb. That’s when we stopped being shocked and started shooting.

That was the final mistake.

 The first slug hit one of ‘em square in the noggin, and then, disappeared. Literally, the damned thing should’ve blown his head clean off but no, it hit clear as I’m sat with you, but no splat. Now the guy he was holding on to at the time, his head did go splat. It was almost as if the slug went in the first dreg’s head but came out the other guys head.

 It didn’t stop getting worse, you’re wondering how, I’m thinking? Well that’s when the Thrones turned up. Yeah that’s right, blasted ghost agents.

 You ever seen a massacre boy? I mean a proper massacre, you know, the sort where three people show up and waste everyone in a room by yourself and the freaks your boys were trying to blast? It never leaves you, ever.

 The only thing that kept me alive was I figured the one thing they couldn’t. How to finish ‘em proper. It was the powder, one of ‘em knocked a bin over and while one of the Throne Ghosts was popping shots of at ‘em he hit the powder. Well whatever he was firing outta that fancy slugger sent that stuff up quicker than a pyro in a promethium tank. I don’t mean normal fire though, this stuff was like a blue white kinda flash and then it was gone, nothing, not even a scorch.

 Now I’ll have it known whole Hive wide I’m afeared of nothing, nothing you hear? But I don’t mind telling you that was not right. So in the manliest manner I could muster I shouted to the Throne Ghosts to get ‘em in the powder and light ‘em up.

 That was only a little mistake.

 See, they’d noticed me now,  so the second I start shouting one of ‘em starts blasting, I could not believe it, here I am trying to save everyone’s sodding life and this scavvy starts popping rounds off at me! Anyway, for all the myth, they ain’t as hot as everyone makes out. Naturally I couldn’t kill him but I had to stop him shooting at me and get him to listen. So I did what any one else would do, I ran straight at him and walloped him. Well, almost. That’s exactly what would’ve happened if he the slippery sump rat didn’t move and flick his arms and legs about so much. I don’t know what happened but either way he got lucky and sucker punched me. So there I was rolling about screaming at this blithering idiot to listen to me and when he eventually clocks I’m not fighting and hears what I say he moves off and bang, him and his pals finish em off. Just like that.

 I thought that was it, medals, honours, lordships the works. How could they not? I’d just saved their lives right? 

 That was definitely the final mistake.

 After they’d done they went and shot everything again, one slug to the skull, I figured they was just making sure and all but then it started to get weird. I mean I’m no tech expert but these lads had bits that looked plain alien, I mean proper xenos. Then they started speaking in tongues, all clicks and pops. That’s when I noticed they had no markings, well nothing imperial. That’s when I got’s to thinking maybe these lads ain’t what they seem.

 On that I was right, dead bloody right.

 I starts seeing this shape on their armour, you know sort of like a question mark or a bloody weird knife or something. Now I’m no military man but I damn well know that ain’t normal so I tries to slip off, now, while were on about things I ain’t, quiet is most definitely among them. Oh I did a right good job of getting away all right, up until the point I tripped over my own feet and went stacking into possibly the only standing shelf unit left. Naturally, these other lads noticed.

 So there I was, three mercs staring down the barrel of some serious hardware, pointing at me bonce, saying my final prayers. Then flash!

 I’m thinking that’s it I’m dead, then I starts getting me sight back, I’m still in the farm and the mercs are laying all about with considerably more holes in ‘em than before.

 Then this fancy looking sort, I don’t mean like Cloud boy fancy I mean real gelt fancy, all finery and gear. He weren’t alone either, had a right crew with him, not to say there was many of ‘em but this lot made the other lot look like some dandy juves.

 The main man strides over all billowing coat and whips out this thing that makes this floating pict, that’s when I realizes what Throne ghosts really looks like.

 Borgvald, his name was and as it happens it weren’t that bad, as far as these sort of…

Woah woah kid, where you off? I ain’t done with my tale yet, sit down.

No really, I insist.

Sit down.

What? Where’d you pull that from?


 Now youth, that is why you don’t try silly little tricks like that. See you pull a shady little shooter on me, you end up all busted up. Been around the sump a few times me kiddo. 

 See I’ve noticed you lurking round for a few days and I know you’ve been asking questions. First rule of Downhive, know who you’re talking to.

 You gave yourself away though when you started squirming at the mention of your buddie’s logo, yeah that’s right, I know all bout you Query sorts.

 What’s that?

 Oh them, yeah guess that slipped my mind pal, you see that blinking light over there? Yeah that’s the one. Well that’s my man telling me he’s cleared the ‘killzone’, that’s what these official sorts call it, of all ‘hostiles’, that means your lot.

  Now since you’re only a young un I guess they’ve promised you all sorts of goodies, right? Well, let me tell you son, their promises is what they call Heresy, and that’s about as bad it gets. So you’re going to come with me and we’re going to have a little chat with my new pals.



What the!?

+++What was that? Status report+++

I’m guessing some of your lot’s mind tricks boss, or possibly a high ex round

+++No warp anomalies detected, What’s the prisoner’s condition?+++

Condition would be, errm, ‘incapacitated’ sir.

+++You mean to say he’s dead, correct?+++

Well, errm, yes. Dead boss.

+++We will discuss this shortly+++

Ahhh bollocks.
















 This is the old Half Face's Crew and this little narrative is a work to attempt to tie them in to the ever evolving fluff I'm accidentally creating. Next I must try and figure out how Old Half Face got himself a new crew!