THE_KING_OF_WOLVES-THE_EYE_OF_TERROR-THE_APOSTLE_OF_APOCALYPSE
I was BETRAYED. I was SCARRED. I was CHOSEN.
I am R I S E N
~
THEME~
They dragged the prisoner through the cold metal corridor of the ship. Dried blood, mud and weapon oil all over him, burn marks and several cuts distorting the figure which under any circumstances and in any light could only be described as perfect - but here. It was a mutilated hull of a humanoid, muscular and tall and clad in nothing but the shards of skin which hung from parts of his perfectly shaped muscles. Unprotected, undone he was physically as close to being broken as a being could be. His two captors were every bit the opposite of the god-man. One humanoid clad in red and black armor, a metal visage covering most of his face but not hiding the madness and lust in his eyes, he was massive for an apparent human but not as perfectly built as the one they dragged, it was more like a bulky giant. The other was bulky as well, large fangs exposed, a leathery dark skin and guttural groans as his pure muscle strength dragged the prisoner on.
The threw the god-man into the room, the deck covered in odd glass with a red and orange mist or glow below it and emitting a strange warmth. The two stayed, the human and the Graug and watched the prisoner as he tried to get up. Broken bones, lost fingers and blood slowly oozing from wounds did not make him entirely agile or even able to even get to his knees.
The prisoner view went up, blinking dirt and blood away so his grey eyes could see. The pain of the torture and being dragged around still echoed through his senses, the serious concussion and probably brain damage did not help clear his vision. He did actually not remember the past days, except that it was a miasma of pain and cacophony of hatred unleashed upon him. Every normal organic would have died from what he had suffered through, but he had been built to withstand such immense damage, he was a Son of Aurelian.
He blinked, now realising the overwhelming smell of dried blood, olibanum and sweet decay which nearly made him vomit, left gagging and spitting out. He did not care that much about being naked, he did not care much about anything except for coming up with his own ideas of how to get out of this situation. He blinked again and looked ahead. His vision could make out a figure in front, rough but plenty. Braziers burning behind a dreadful throne upon which an even worse figure sat. He didn't know the individual personally, nobody but the Hegemon did, but he knew the stories. He felt the presence in his heart.
The Fallen Imperator.
After Vjun I was nearly ecstatic. It was my first real battle and experiencing the imperial victory was second to none in feeling, the sweetness of triumph together with the bonding of brotherhood was an incredible feeling which I did not believe in at first. I was raised and improved for war and I had engaged in more exercises, trainings, drills and spars than I could count. It was me who the High Imperator had chosen back then to lead. It felt incredible.
Under the command of our High Imperator we advanced on battlefields and brought down Sith, Bryn'adûl and Mawites, we fought in a dozen campaigns and on even more worlds. We were the speartip of Vandemar, the Rim-Guard was embraced as a capable fighting force, small but deadly. Yet we were growing thinner, our ranks dwindled with every battle and demands for reinforcements were not heard. It was like we were an exhausted resource - a matter which I knew was not true. The program was viable for most near-human species and the bio-engineers had perfected the way of making us. I did not understand and neither did my companions. But every time we wanted to talk about it, we were denied, he denied us audience and actually separated those who were approaching him about the topic. We were sent to outposts, alone, to hold for nothing.
I found myself alone on a frozen world, covered in mud with just some auxiliary soldiers and other imperials. It was a rear-guard action, it was a deathtrap. The Maw was overwhelming us and we covered in our trenches. It didn't take them too long and we were slaughtered, my men fell around me, the imperials died and retreated, but I did not. They captured me.
And they showed me the truth.
I am Augustus Tassar no more. I am Ushyrtan Etogaur.
I will bring the truth to every imperial, every faithless and every betrayer.
There is no salvation, only the merciful touch of death.
