Ruins. All around him, ruins.
General Hiedal Kryten staggered as more rubble crashed around him. He could barely hear anything over the ringing in his ears - a shell had impacted in the cathedral the Zoltorian 38th Regiment 'Warp Rangers' had been using as a command post. His advisors and command entourage were all dead bar one - Sergeant Bruno, who had betrayed them by relaying their co-ordinates to the enemy. Kryten thought he heard muffled screams and looked up. He realised he was right and soon wished he hadn't been, as Bolter fire began to rip through the air. The Iron Warriors were already on them.
He fell back to a wall as his own men began to open fire. Commissar Dagent levelled his Bolt pistol and fired at the traitor Astartes, and in his swimming vision he saw at least two collapse with holes in their sneering helmets. His senses began to clear slightly as he drew his Plasma Pistol, believed to be a relic from the Age of Apostasy. As he stood up, he drew his sacred power sword, more a symbol of rank that he was now forced to use in the inevitable combat. He fired twice, clipping a rubble pile and scoring a hit on another Iron Warrior. Most of them were now clearly advancing in silence, and firing one shot and killing with each Bolt. Some, however, were screaming to the Ruinous Powers, and Kryten felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle at the obscene language and tones used. A squad of Scions counter attacked, catching some of the giants off guard, but to no avail. Chainswords ripped through their carapace armour and shells detonated within guts, splattering the metallic ceramite plate with fresh gore.
As the Iron Warriors reached Kryten's position, he fired point blank into a traitor's side torso. Knowing he was outmatched, Kryten fell back, attempting to save himself as more of the twisted Space Marines came. Now he could hear the screams of his men - he saw Commissar Dagent fall with a massive hole in his throat where a Bolt had clipped him and exploded to the side of his neck. As Kryten prepared to get up and run, he realised he needn't have bothered.
A massive hulking figure in a twisted mockery of Terminator armour smashed through the wall. It had a power fist and an ancient combi-flamer. It didn't seem to have spotted the General at first, instead seeming to focus on something more distant. Kryten took his chance and fired his plasma pistol again. A direct hit to the face and sheering orange light was held for a second, the longest second Kryten ever felt. Then his heart sank.
The terminator turned its attention to the mortal. A force field had stopped the shot, not even a smudge blemished the horned helmet. He raised his weapon and fired, but Kryten managed to dodge the shots and hid back in cover, although he knew it wouldn't be long before the cursed enemy was upon him. As he held himself against the wall, feeling his heart smashing against his chest, he cursed to himself. Why wasn't The Emperor helping him? Surely now, a devout servant of the Imperial Creed, would be able call in aid from the master of mankind. But there was no answer. No saviour came that he recognised. Nothing but darkness around him and the screams of the damned.
The terminator rounded the rubble pile. Kryten again dodged the first shot. He rolled nearer to the corrupted killer, knowing his life was already spent. Realising he spotted a weak point he thrust his sword into the neck joint and drove it further, snapping the blade in the process. Crimson blood splurted up from the wound, and the terminator dropped his firearm in the process. Kryten was about to yell out in victory when the Iron Warrior grabbed Kryten's right arm and activated the power field. The General felt a massive thud as his world turned black.
Again, he opened his eyes. He wasn't sure if seconds, minutes, hours or days had passed, but there was a certain numbness to his body. Kryten felt as if he was swimming again, and looked at his armour and saw there was only a small amount of superficial damage to it. Nothing the armourers couldn't fix. It was the wreck of his right arm that almost stunned him, and he realised he had lost much colour to his skin from blood loss. He stumbled, not noticing the pain from the numbness, and picked up his sword, or at least what was left of it. He looked down and saw his hand, still clenching his plasma pistol. The wrist was where it ended - the power fist had enveloped the entire arm and disintegrated it on activation. He tucked the sword hilt into his boot, and went to pluck the ancient weapon from his lifeless fingers. As he did so, an iron boot landed in front of him.
He looked up, and saw terror incarnate. The terminator before seemed like a saint of legends compared to this beast. Instead of a helmet, this Iron Warrior had his face exposed. The suit of Terminator armour was ancient beyond his reckoning, and his armament seemed to have a malign presence of their own. The sword in particular seemed archaic, as if not from this realm and calling his name. Scars marked his experience, and Kryten felt hope gone.
"By the Throne! Emperor help me!" the General muttered. And then the Iron Warrior began to make a sound. Gutteral at first, and when his entourage of similar suited Iron Warriors it sounded like a chorus of wolves. It got louder, with the look in the Iron Warrior's eyes becoming even more insane as a grin erupted from his face. Kryten realised it was laughter, and he couldn't help but have a smile himself. More of a nervous smile, and one that would earn a Bolt to the back of the head from the Commissar, but he had given it all up. No one was coming for him. No savior, no Imperial Space Marines, none of the blessed saints he had been raised to believe in. This was it. He threw down his plasma pistol, and drew in a deep breath, then flew his remaining arm. "I don't care anymore. Do your worst. My men are dead, and I have seen the true horror of your capabilities. What is there left? Finish it." He spat at the Iron Warrior leader, the last vestige of defiance. "I give up!" The terminator grabbed Kryten by throat and lifted him up.
"There may be a use for you yet, Kryten," said the deepest of voices the General had ever heard. "If you wish it, I will end you here, and you will be a name on some bureaucrat's screen for history. But if you join me, renounce the Imperium and their corpse leader, I will show you a life worth living. I will give you armies of untold power. But most of all, you will have life. Now choose wisely, time is of the essence."
Kryten the Iron Dragon looked out across the desert. He often remembered the day he chose life over death. Infamy over ignominy. Chaos over the Imperium. When he left being General Hiedal Kryten and was reborn Kryten the Iron Dragon. And he regretted none of it. One hundred and ninety years before the close of the 41st Millennium, he had been granted the mortal forces of the Siege Makers, to forge anew a ragtag group of traitors and renegades to serve the purposes of the Siege Makers. He had been taken to the Cogs of Madness and set upon by medicae-servitors, having bionic implants installed to replace his right arm. The plasma pistol had been defiled and built in to his bionic arm, becoming a permanent part of him. He had received a new sword, and had steroid glands implanted to enhance his combat potential. He had renamed the mortal army the Nihilists, with the aim of tearing down the authorities when they invaded a world. The fact that he was put into his position by the Warsmith Helslash and undertook missions for him was a small price to pay for his new lease of life. Now, the Nihilists, Siege Makers of Helslash and Dark Mechanicus forces of the Arch-Magos Chaapoza were in position to annihilate the Emperor's Watch chapter on their homeworld. Although the Siege Makers and Chaapoza's forces were to engage the loyalist Marines, Kryten had his sights set on the motor pool of the PDF.
He enjoyed the challenge, and looked forward to bleeding the forces of the false Emperor....
Greetings fellow traitors and scum to the thread of my Traitor Guard, Kryten's Nihilists. I hope you enjoyed the intro fluff for Kryten's downfall, I love fluff and this is what keeps me in the hobby. Currently, the Nihilists follow C:AM, and this is how they are configured. However, as soon as I get my mitts on IA13, I'll be looking to reconfigure squad loadouts.
Now without further ado, the main man himself, Kryten the Iron Dragon:
Bruno, meltagunner, traitor of the Warp Rangers, Nurgle follower. The idea was when I made the Command Squad each god would have a representative. Whereas the others weren't so obvious, Bruno stood out from the pieces he is made from. To this extent, I expanded his background slightly more and he is the one with the most fluff after Kryten and some of the other units.
Sergeant Bruno had met up with his fellow conspirators shortly after the shelling had begun. He grabbed a melta gun as he withdrew, but he knew the command section knew he was a traitor. He had been caught voxing co-ordinates to the enemy as to the whereabouts of the Warp Rangers' HQ position. But now, he was in the bosom of fellow heretics. As he greeted them, he coughed uncontrollably, the tumours in his stomach having now spread to his lungs. He was dying, and he didn't like it. He wanted to live.
A servant of Nurgle had shown him the path of life and decay. He knew if he kept a rigid mind, he could use Nurgle's gifts to his advantage. But he had to make an exchange - his life for the HQ position. He had pondered, but deep down he knew he would damn someone, either himself or his comrades. And so he betrayed those who he had known from a young age, and knew that he would survive. And then he discovered that Kryten himself had defected, and his world seemed to expand.
When Kryten had arisen as the Iron Dragon, he set upon Bruno with a savage fury. How dare he betray his commander! How dare he defect sides and call in an artillery bombardment! But they were now fellow traitors, and Kryten held back the worst of his new found strength. When he was done asserting his position, he allowed Bruno the use of the melta gun, and the two have formed a dark bond since. Bruno, for the most part, is just glad to be alive, and has proven his loyalty to the Nihilists at every opportunity, as far as traitors go.
And the rest of the Command squad:
Soceror Diagis. Made from an Empire soldier as the base, milliput, Chaos Mutations sprue, zombie bits and a head I think is from the Vampire Counts range. Now he is currently a Sorceror, when I change the army over I might use him as a mutant commander, maybe with a Tzeentch theme, I'm not entirely sure yet.
There was an air of...something as Kryten walked into the chamber. His cloak, made from scaled leather of some death world beast, billowed and flapped, something not usually expected to happen in the lower depths of a trench network. In the centre, the mage known as Diagis was hunched over a series of runic stones, each baring a sigil of the Dark Gods.
On his left side, a tentacle replaced the mage's arm, although this was known to harden before combat and was ended by an exceptionally sharp tooth. It was often used to perform blood magic or carve symbols onto objects, and sometimes 'enchant' a weapon if the situation demanded it. On his right, two appendages came from his shoulder. The upper one ended in a snapping maw, and was extremely strong. It was known on occasion for the caster to spew fire from the mouth, which led to an air of suspicion among the men. The lower limb was a frail looking arm, clutching a weapon that can only be described as a femur bone at one end and a rune etched sword blade at the other. None knew where the bone came from - some rumour it was a loyalist Astartes, some say an Iron Warrior who crossed the mage, some say something alien altogether. Diagis kept quiet about it, knowing the rumours would do a more effective job than the truth ever could.
"You have something for me," said Kryten as he came to a stop at the edge of the room.
"I do, master Kryten," came the rasp from beneath his gold plated helmet, fashioned into a reptile of some description. Only a handful of medicae-servitors had seen what was beneath that helmet, and both Diagis and Kryten were happy to keep it that way. As long as he did his job, the Iron Dragon cared not for looks. Maybe, he thought sometimes, that was the result of being with the Iron Warriors for too long. "The gods demand payment by your hand, Iron Dragon. Though your guns are great and your tolls heavy, this campaign is not bestowing you favours from some of them."
"You have for me....riddles!" Kryten clenched his fist, and flexed his bionic arm, then sighed.He was used to Diagis's speeches, one so Warp touched was bound to have a looser grip on reality. "Fine. Is there a specific area? Kill totals..."
"You know as I do there are no specifics, my liege. There are but merely...signs. I see a hall, and I see the sun swallowed by a dragon. But I also see your victory to be in the void, not here on the ground. Do this, Iron Dragon, and you shall receive a reward like no other!"
That's it for tonight folks. I'll post some more up in the next day or so. Hope you like it so far. C&C is always welcome.
Death to the False Emperor!