Librarian Maedus knelt on the cold, gray, stone pedastal, the millenia old rock cracking beneath, the awesome weight of his Terminator armor. He was resplendent in all the regalia and acutrement of the Deathwing, his bone white armor shining brightly in the gloom of the chamber. He knelt, chanting faint catechisms and whispered words that only a pysker of his abilities could understand. His hands grasped tightly his ornate staff, covered in mysterious runes, imbued with psycic power. He paused in his arcane whispering and stood, raising the staff above his head. Hideous words, spawned of the Warp, rasped from between his thin, cracked lips. The shadows in the deep recesses of the chamber stirred and writhed with every daemonic syllable that rolled off his tongue.
His chants grew in volume, filling the chamber with their tangible hate, every word adding to the build up of psycic power that permeated the room. Maedus stopped the chants and violently, slammed the staff into the pedastal on which he stood, cracks spidered across it's surface, leaking out shadows that climbed up his legs and disapppeared into the seams of his armor. Swirling, black winds whipped around the chamber in an inpenetrable vortex of shadow. When the wids subsided and the darkness cleared, Maedus was sprawled on his back, unconcious, across the ruined pedastal. Wisps of shadow teased around him before being sucked into his armor. His armor. It was as black as the night when the Warmaster betrayed the holy Emperor. As black as when Luther fired upon the righteous Lion. No, it was blacker.
Just a bit of a starter. If you guys like it i'll do some more.
tell me if you like it or if there is room for improvement.
Also tell me if you don't like it.
