Pale Riders

[A short intro piece for an upcoming 40k game. I play a group of techno-mystics in a desert who have retreated from civilization to better ponder the mysteries of faith.]



“…And I heard the voice in the midst of the thunder saying ‘Come and See,’ and I saw,
And I beheld the Children of the Green bearing terrible weapons while the eight-toothed cog was trampled at their feet,
And the sixth seal was shattered and the stars of heaven fell unto the earth and a great beast encircled the world.
The ancient ones bore silent witness, their hands dipped in blood, and the lamentations were mighty as the serpent moved through the firmament dripping poison, And the Voice in the Abyss spoke again saying ‘It is done’…”
-Liber Arcadia
“Santuary! Sanctuary!!” cried the technosatyr as the monk’s arm tightened around his neck.
“Doubleshaped bastard! Half-and-half beast!” said the monk, slamming the monster into the dusty monastery wall and cracking his mask with the force of the blow. The monster let go of the horn it held, stunned. The stink of ozone filled the air as the monk charged a blast of lightning to incinerate the interloper. In the distance, the afternoon thunderstorm rolled through the dunes and craters surrounding the mountain.
“Peace, Brother Physter, peace,“ Archimandrite Quine said, laying a hand on the monk’s shoulder. The technosatyr squirmed against the wall.
“I know this one. I recognise his call,” Quine said, taking in the beast’s creaking bionics and boiled-dry coolant. The half-and-half man had travelled far, and at great danger. He too had made that journey through the desert once, and remembered the sting of rusting joints and parched logic circuits. But Quine had chosen his exile, and did not mourn civilisation. Why had this creature come so far? Surely not just for the wyrdstone the monastery collected for its keep?
“He snuck in, Father Quine, crept until he was 10 paces from the door and then blew that dreadful horn. It’s technosorcery to get that close and not be spotted. A bolt of lightning put an end to his cavorting,” Brother Physter said, releasing the technosatyr, who slumped against the wall. Quine was now confronted with a choice – reject this estranged brother of the Machine Cult or offer him the succour afforded to visitors. Before he could speak, the technosatyr gurgled his damaged voicebox:
“I bring a message, my lord… a warning… “ he began as the thunderstorm began to roll over them, letting lose a flinty rain. The technosatyr’s voice rose between the thunderclaps:
“We that held fast against the Green have been defeated. What we feared most… what we protected against… has been unleashed…” At that, there was a green flash on the horizon that split the clouds, followed by silence as the light scorched the rocks. Quine was sure he could see the few bones that remained in Brother Physter through the green glow. The technosatyr’s voice reached an unearthly screech and the light itself seems to break into a thousand pieces.
“The Seal… is broken.”

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