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If any of you remember me as TheObsidianKing, you'd know I lost my pass code. But I've finally gotten about to building The Awoken IRL. "The rubricae who'd broken the curse of Ahriman" so I'll revive my story as I write it anew. This post will not contain but a sentence, and key characters have been changed or added. Thanks for the love Dakka. Here is my spoiler if you can't remember, but know this one thing as I write this, it will be in direct correalation to my campaigns IRL.


+‘This is Zhavastra of the Thousand Sons, 4th fellowship pyrae cult. We have awoken and all is dust.’+

From the bowels of hell, 5 sons of Tzeentch dead for ten thousand years, awoke to a universe much changed and with bitter rage. Festered over ten millenia, The Awoken's rage still burned vibrantly in all manners of kaleidoscopic warpfire.

+'I see her burning...'+

I do remember you, but that is a given. And I will be awaiting your work, just as mine awaits your scrutiny.

That sounds like it's gunna be awesome! How long till you get more up?

About 2 days max

Looking forward to it!

+'Brother Zhavastra we must go now! Magnus ordered us to the plaza! The wolves are coming!'+ the panicked cry blurting out of the vox on Azhyr's face. The Cataphractii Terminator jumped from his seat, only to be yanked back down by grav-lock placed around his breastplate.

+'Sarosh, if you do not stand down to my authority, by magnus' one eye, I'll have your head.'+ suddenly five Cataphractii terminators eyes illuminated to a sinister and ice-cold blue gaze.

+'DAMN you Ameretat! We must fall back and defend our temple!'+ shouted back Sarosh, his power maul cackling like a hyena as it ignited. Brothers are meant to fight, and this is exactly what happened. Both war-gods stood cracking off the grav-lock like they were wheat from chaff.

+'You'll blee..'+ began Ameretat, when a power maul came crashing down with the force of a meteor. Crushing Ameretat's helm to dust, the blow staggered the Cataphractii who fell to the ground. Motionless, millennia old ash from the Rubric of Ahriman drifted out and into the air in the holding cell. Triumphant, Sarosh hoisted his power maul over his shoulder, satisfied with his kill he turned to his seat and went to sit.

Ha ha ha... came the sinister laughter ...Did you really think I could die Sarosh? We are bound to these suits. We are Awoken. The suit of armour slowly stood as if doing a macabre waltz, its heavy limbs moving in jerked movements as if not used to using its own body. When it stood completely, it knelt retrieving its friction axe from amidst the steel floor.

+'You, Sarosh, are a vile traitor.'+ the suit of armour sat down. Occasionally the three Cataphractii Terminators would scream orders from their last days on Prospero. Only two had memory beyond it, to an extent. Ashtad could hear the beckons of Kalophis, roaring as he fought within the titan, and Zhavastra could see her burning. Beyond that the two had complete knowledge of their situation, whereas the others, would succumb to Dust, where the memories of Prospero's death would seem so vivid.


+'My brother? Ashtad? Do you see that code cell?'+ The Archaic armour of Zhavastra was unlike the others, said to have been blessed by the emperor himself, and then respectively cursed. From its headdress was a scroll, containing dark magicks of the pyrae cult one of the only in existence. It pointed to a code cell which controlled the steel bay doors to exiting the holding cell. Ashtad, without turning his head replied in a bland augmented voice.

+'Yes, brother. I have cracked the code for opening it 10.02 millennia ago when we departed Prospero. It is a polymorphic titus-6 code cell lock, but I can open it for you.'+ Ashtad stood, breaking free of the rusted adamantium grav-lock, and walked over to the code cell.
+'Script/A710-Bx-139%-SSxc, Identify'+ hidden machinations within the ceramite workings of the holding cell sparked to life, whirring like drones at work. Slowly the large adamantium doors slid open, screeching as they went. About half way open they jarred, sparks shot off throughout the holding cell and into the adjacent room. Floodlights within both rooms sparked on, flickering on and off after millennia of sleep, while sheared cables and smashed controls sparked with half-life. An ancient voice spoke over the intercom.

"Welcome Sergeant Zhavastra, to Ra, I am Prospero, your 'A.I.' We have crash landed on an unrecognized planet in the Thousand Sons log. Shall I designate?"

+'Ashtad? How long have we been.. Gone?'+ As the five terminators forced their way through the jarred doors into the command deck, they began looking about and attempting to power up any systems that still had functions.

+'I'm not sure why no...'+ Prospero cut off Ashtad, the old chorus calling its words throughout the command deck.

"The last record of Thousand Sons usage in log is 046.M31: The Ra is commandeered by Ahzek Ahriman, course is plotted for Hynnexia IV from The Eye. 047.M41: err- unauthorized entry.... no further record 001.M42: err- 5 Thousand Sons activate Prospero."

The realization finally hit them. Ten thousand years had blinked by because of the damning sorceress of Ahzek Ahriman. He even had the audacity to take them along as rubricae. Zhavastra began to shake like a seizing animal. Ashtad walked over, his lumbering steps shook the command deck while they kicked overturned debris, and placed a heavy gauntlet on Zhavastra's shoulder.

+'We are Awoken now, brother, do not fret.'+ spoke the looming spirit of Ashtad.

+'We have awoken and all is dust. Damn Ahriman and Damn Magnus.'+ fumed Zhavastra as he pulled away from Ashtad, walking to the control panel.
+'Prospero, what are the conditions beyond the Ra?'+

The A.I. did not respond instead the exterior shields which blocked out the light, slammed open, revealing a sickly green haze that crept in ever so softly.
"The native landscape includes toxic air that would kill an astartes in .2 minutes, it is not corrosive though. After checking the systems, you have no heartbeat nor respiration. This atmosphere should not prove harmful."

+'Ameretat, Sarosh, Azhyr, go outside and check our immediate perimeter of .25 km.'+ commanded the leviathan, known as Ashtad. The three Cataphractii moved out into the green haze, disappearing in seconds. Feral calls and noises rang out all through the night. Silently Zhavastra and Ashtad waited for their brothers return.

Cataphractii are not very jumpebael as I am concerned, beside that it was a decent enough read.

I felt that some pieces were more explained than experienced, but I still like the concept and would read more.

The Blood Sirens; Ruthless Noise Marines wholly devoted to destroying the Corpse Children.
The Corpse Children; Decadent Noise Marines that display the bodies of the emperors finest on their grisly trophy racks.

One in the same, both warbands fought with the beauteous Fulgrim on one-thousand times one-thousand planets as rival squads. When the fall from glory came to the Emperors Children, a scant few fell further to the depths of damnation. Ossifer, champion of the Blood Sirens, wandered throughout the pantheon of the Gods with his warband, serving one God after the other. Three thousand years this continued, until Khorne, Nurgle, and Tzeentch all damned Ossifer, never for he or his warband to enter their realms. Ossifer crestfallen and defeated was found in the depths of the warp by Slaanesh, she who thirsts saw his beauty and marked him in His name. 200 years later, the Blood Sirens emerged from the warp with the power of their patron behind them only to find their millennia old rivals not only survived, but prospered and also gained a patron. The same patron which had claimed them. Ossifer had no reputation, no glory, and no support from the aether.

The Corpse Children had captured a space hulk and refitted it into a temple of damnation. They'd raided the imperium for ten thousand years, taking slaves loot and glory, eclipsing their embittered rivals ten-fold. Aekraci, champion of the Corpse Children had fought everywhere, gaining allies all over commanding the respect of his peers in a lesser degree of the Despoiler himself. So far did his name carry weight that even the scions of Khorne vied to fight under his banner for the glory of HIS name. The aether bent to his demand, sacrifices were devoted to Aekraci for hope he'd bless them. Aekraci, although claimed by Slaanesh and only a mere mortal was worshipped as a God, earning him the coined title "The False God"

The Praetors of Kopi & The Praetors of Zhava:

Kopi & Zhava, twin sorceror brothers born from holy Prospero, they fought across the galaxy side by side taking lost magicks and knowledge. They hold no allegience Tzeentch but the Dark God wouldn't let his champions go so easily. With a bat of the mighty Gods eyelash a raging warpstorm encircled the world on which they fought. capturing their ancient strike cruiser and them. They swore loyalty to Tzeentch and burst from the cascading warp storm, with a patron at their back.

The Blighted Body & the Iron Crown.

Leaving at the time Typhus struck out on his own, The Blighted Body brought the Necrosis on Mordis, Juniz Plague on Kala, and unleashed Nurgles rot on numerous other systems, their ranks swollen with traitors heretics and mutants. Lan, champion of the Blighted Body had caught the gaze of a patron, he turned his eyes from Kala to the galaxy with envy in his eyes.

Iron within, Iron without, A damning motto that meant nothing to Khalister, former sergeant in the Iron Warriors, he now led his havocs under the name the Iron Crown, their motto: "Death within, Death without." He cursed Pertuarbo and his warpsmiths turning his back to his brothers he left to find new forbidden technologies, praying to the pantheon for a way to assault the soul forge itself.


The one thing which all the champions vied for was a cursed death planet named Yrth. A pebble on the path to victory, but a step no less, the God-forsaken rock, would meet the wrath of tyrants and feel its Ire. Yet deep in the myriad swamps of Yrth, undeath stirred as heavy feet tread its poisoned earth.



(Just an Intro to the upcoming not much content but more-so just bio's on important characters.)

Some really awes

Some really awesome bios there mate. Could be a whole bunch of fun to read when you get some content up. Will there be a central protagonist, or will you provide each champions POV?

The Protagonist has yet to reveal "themself" but everyone so far will play a big role, However they must now meet the Cataphractii, who have no experience with chaos. They've been entombed for Tzeentch knows how long.

Blood Sirens~

It tightened its grip as it held its hands firmly onto the side bars looking over the command deck to the mutant crew which piloted "the Wail of Sorrow." Eight ceremonially placed bolts in its breastplate forming the star of chaos. Its grip slackening, the foul champion of the Blood Sirens turned away barking guttural tongues to his crew in a language only they could comprehend.

"Shaddarn Kuh'm, anak wa V'an tel Slaanesh histe!" It is by our God Slaaneshs grace that we hunt Aekraci and his bastard brothers. A massive claw, once a revered lightning claw but now a warp flesh dirge coursing with malevolent power, was bitterly thrust into the exotic gas that replaced the air. The ornate armour of Ossifer groaned after milennia of constant usage, its pearled white paint still polished to a blinding sheen. All the mortals averted their eyes from their ruthless master as it paced to and fro the bridge, loping like a hyena and cackling as it went. Andekk, a lowly slave looked at his lord for a mere moment, catching the chilling ice blue eyes of Ossifer, then immediately averting them and returned to polishing the command throne.
The pale master of the blood sirens stopped, an eerie aura protruding him, and walked to Andekk. Each lumbering step, brought the hound to its kill, it's breath was heavy and shuddering as it stopped. Peering down on Andekk, Ossifer screeched his hallow voice amplified ten fold thought the loud hailers of the ship, wracking the brains of slaves and marines alike! Andekk spasmed like a madman with lunatic seizures foaming at the mouth! Then layed still, unmoving, brain dead the young boy of eight Terran years was carted to Xyyxthim the Perfect's labratory. Blood curdling screams were all that was ever heard from the gore stained decks that comprised Xyyxthim's realm. Ossifer sat on her command throne as more slaves rushed to cleanse its armour, polishing it to a glass. Ten days the mortals toiled, without food, rest, or drink, those who begged were not killed no, that was an escape. Those who begged were fed to Cryllyx the Mad a former marine who devolved into a chaos spawn hundreds of years past. From Xyyxthim's decks the guttural tongue lashed the loud hailer.

"N'gath mu Udu an Andekk, ka'tel Nuu" My precious child is born again, Andekk the Conceived. Bask in my handiwork and from the hell pits of the Wail of Sorrow, step by step the newly initiated Blood Siren climbed its way out of Xyyxthim's sanguine halls. The birth of a Space Marine is sometimes referred to as a triumph, but the birth of a Chaos Space Marine is always called a damnation. It would be years before, Ossifers wonderful child would be a battle ready Blood Siren. In the meant time though, he would wait and plot his sweet, sweet revenge on Aekraci.

Quite interesting indeed, well done!

Thank you friend, ideas for improvement?

Well to start with I would work towards longer chapters, it would really help with building the pace of the story so to speak.