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The figure clad in crimson robes strode forwards at a measured pace, its great figure dwarfing the servitors and attendants that followed behind it. The stink of incense and constant murmur of prays to the machine spirit trailed in its wake as well, several long mechandrites extended from the figure and snapped and clicked aggressively. His bulk made him tower above all but the tallest of the myrmidons whom made upon his personal guard.
The procession of vat-grown servitor, adepts and lesser priests of the machine god came to a stop, while the constant murmur of prayers and the ever-present smell of aromatic incense filled the air, whom already was heavy with pollutions and vile chemical smoke from the countless foundries and the almost hellish landscape of the endless factories that ran for as long as the eye could see.

“What brings you to these dark depts, my lord,” said a priest who resembled machine more than man, his whole body all but replaced with metal and electronical parts, all that remained of his mortal form was his face, marred by sparks and various chemicals.
The hulking form of the forge master looked down upon his fellow priest of the machine and spoke in a harsh and all but inhuman tone.
“ I grow tired of the constant bickering of the unaugmented fools and the wanton power games that haunt the wider universe. Their constant yapping and pitiful prostrations of faith bores me.”
Pausing the forge master turned his eyes towards the din and noise coming from below where hundreds of workers toiled and struggled with massive pieces of white-hot steel and bubbling cauldrons of melted ore. The everpresent stink of molten metal was to him a soothing thing and made his mind relax, despite all the countless things that screamed for his attention.
“So I come to see how the ones who toil for the cult mechanicus fare, I take it all are well? ”

The lesser priest nodded eagerly and began a lengthy and extremely detailed report of what was being manufactured below. The priest who perhaps now saw his chance to impress his superior with endless numbers and charts, whom he shared over the noonsphere.
His superior stood silent and listen and inspected the charts that were poured onto him, but his mind was not at ease as he read all these things. Instead, he felt a surge of displeasure and annoyance.
Looking down below trough one of the sensor eyes attached to his mechandrites he observed how the manual labor toiled and worked without what appeared to be less than adequate shielding and tools. A feeling he had not felt in a long time began to bubble within his core and radiate outwards.
He was roused from these thoughts when the very priest who had been lecturing him for the past hour on the finer details of the forges and workshops below.
“ My lordship! Are you displeased? “
It took the forge master a few moments to rouse himself from the deep well of thoughts he had trailed of into before he answered.
“ Oh I am far, far beyond being displeased! You bombard me with nonsense and ludacris charts who is no more than the bragging of a far too incompetent overseer!”
These very harsh tones the forge master ensured to broadcast on an open frequency of the noonsphere so all those who had gathered around him and the priest whom prostrated before him could hear.
“ My master! What do you mean? I have toiled as hard as my mortal frame allows me and the menial plebians are being worked unto death to complete our quotas.”
Those who stood around watching now all but a few took one or more steps backward and cowered at the wrath that seemed to radiate from the forge master.
Only his myrmidons remained still and unmoving, weapons held in mechandrites and gauntleted hands.



“ Do not take me for a foolish bag of flesh! I have spent centuries dealing with all manners of foes, both external and internal! And yet I find someone willing to sell all our secrets, traditions and knowledge to souls whom serve only themselves! There are few things more despicable than one whom runs errands for the inquisition! “
The forge master sent a heavily encrypted code to his myrmidons as he gazed at the traitor at his feet. If the post human figure had retained his lips a cruel smile would have now formed on them.
“ My lord! I would never betray this forge of mine nor my duty to the cult mechanicum.” said his underling, and while the part of his brain that had been in control of emotions had been removed long ago the priest still shook with what could resemble fear, or perhaps it was the unnerving knowledge of just how cruel his master was to those who displeased him.

The towering forge Lord looked down upon the now exposed traitor and sent a stream of binary codes to his retinue of myrmidons and those whom he knew was loyal.
Before any of the lesser priests and aids could even react the towering myrmidons acted on the coded instructions, power axes flared to life and plasma weaponry flared like angry suns as the mechanical monstrosities went about the bloody task given to them.
Mortal men shouted in surprise as they were sett upon by the myrmidons and hacked down and the priests whom had served under the now exposed traitor howled over the noonsphere as they were hacked apart or reduced to molten slag.
The slaughter only lasted for a few moments, but it seemed like a lifetime to the one whom was spared as he prostrated before his lord.
“ You see now what your heresy has brought upon your worthless hide! Not only have you condemned yourself but those whom served you also had to pay the price. “
“ Anything to redeem myself my lord, whatever I must do to regain the trust of you and Mars.” he stuttered in binary.
“ Good, good!” the master said as he gazed down upon him and the advanced schematics of his mind showed him the things he had in mind for his disloyal servant.
With a mental command, the Forge Master shared the schematics for his revenge with the poor soul who had sworn to redeem himself.
When the unfortunate victim saw what was in store for him a horrid scream of pure binary emitted from his voxbox, he tried to act but his body was locked as if frozen in solid ice and ony his mind was able to act. But it alone was nothing that would save him.
“ Betrayal reaps only betrayal you simpelton” the forge master spoke aloud as he watched his guards seize the traitor and haul the hapless oaf away to meet a highly unpleasant fate in the depths of his personal chambers.
“What of the message he sent to his masters my lord? Said one of those who had not been put to the sword.
“ Let the fools receive it, I have a gift in the making for such foolish souls who think themselves safe from our wrath.” the forge master chuckled as he strode after his retinue.

In the gloom of the great brass gilded cathedral that served as his personal quarters, and the chamber of quiet reflection upon the wisdom of the machine spirit the Forge master stood silent and watched the vat-grown cherrubie fly on stubby wings and lighting the fresh candles and incense braziers. Soon the great cathedral was filled with the stinging scent of burning incense and the soft chiming of bells, being operated by mindless tech thralls.
In this rare moment of sober silence, he found himself pondering issues he seldom had time to dwell upon. Like the safety of his own grand library of knowledge and secrets gathered from a hundred dead worlds or pulled from the minds of screaming heretics or misguided souls.
He was alone now in this place, having sent his minions away to attend to tasks he considered below him or too mundane. But also for privacy, this offered him.
A familiar stink of sulfur filled the filters and atmosphere scrubbers that had replaced his sense of smell and he knew he was no longer alone in here.

“ I see you are busy offering prayer to your beloved machine god brother, tell me. Dose he ever answer?” said a deep and rasping voice.
“ The machine spirit answers in its own ways brother, what brings you here? I thought we agreed you skulking about was less than a stellar notion, for the both of us.” replied the forge master in pure binary code.
“ Now my dear brother Forndom, do not tell me you have grown a sense of morality? “
Forndom gazed at the post human whom he countless centuries ago had called his brother, while he stood head and shoulders above his fellow cult mechanicum brothers and sisters in his extremely augmented state of being, his brother stood taller and was equally if not unrecognizable from the wiery boy he had once been.
His battle marked face was a broken mess of scars, service studs and pale skin who looked more fit to graze a dead man to belong to a living being. Then it was the great suite of war plate he wore and the cold dead eyes that was devoid of any sign of humanity. His one bionic arm holding the hilt of his favored sword as it rested in its sheat on its bearer hips.
To the left and right of his brother stood two of his most trusted champions, each a battle-scarred and brutal looking veteran of countless wars and bloody slaughter.
It was never a good thing when his brother, who served the Sons Of Medusel came calling. Him and his fellow astartes were nothing but trouble, they were loyal to the imperium but one could never be too careful around those pale-skinned monsters clad in holy war plate. The chapter had a reputation whom made associating with them a rather costly affair.
The brothers had been separated at an early age and had not seen each other for a long time indeed, but either through sheer blind luck or the mysterious hands of fate or perhaps the emperor they had been brought together again when they had both served during the drawn-out and phyrric campaign to reclaim the Menhir worlds from the control of an unknown cabal of xeno sorcerers and cult followers. Of the countless regiments of the guard and the forces of the cult mechanicum only a few bloodied ragtag remains had survived. Alongside a handful of Astartes from the Sons Of Medusel, who had been originally tasked with the safety of the system, and which they had so horribly failed to do.
“ No Balder, I have not grown any such mortal concepts, nor do I appreciate the accusing tone of yours. What do you want?
The face of his brother was still a sheet of pale flesh and metal as he replied.
“ I come to your domain of molten metal, smog, and desolation to deliver a request from my lord and chapter master. “ his brother said and produced an ornate box from his belt and held it in his open hand so that his kin could take possession of it.
A snapping mechandriet extended from Forndom and took gently hold of the box and placed it tenderly in the palm of his left hand.
Inside the box, a sensor auger performed a complex scan and code verification sequence, before the container open and revealed a scroll of parchment penned by the skilled hands of a chapter serf.

As the forge master read the lengthy scroll and frowned upon the requests made by the Astartes he emitted a low metallic growl from deep within his metal-clad body. His mechandrites snapped angrily and his free hand curled and uncurled, the long metallic claws on his gauntlet tapping against his palm.
“ Scurry back to your lord and your fellow Astartes and tell them they will have the things they ask for, with the exception of the tanks they ask for. To part with such holy war machines I need payment, other than gilded words and vague promises of aid in dire times. Tell your master that my and the generosity of the cult mechanicus are not boundless, I demand in return for such machines a payment in knowledge and any secrets pried from your foes, or anyone else who may sit upon such things. “

Upon hearing these words and the insulting tone his brother spoke in, the towering warrior clad in war plate growled and his hand who gripped the hilt of his blade shifted its grip. His two companions did also shift the grip on their weapons and looked more than willing to draw them.
“ Watch your tone Coghead! You may hide behind the might of Mars and the position you hold. But remember that there is only one authority who rules us! And that is the master of mankind. Not some rusty heap of cogs and wires hidden under the sands of Mars. “
The two brothers glared daggers at each other for a moment and maybe it was the knowledge that any blows exchanged between them or between their personal guards would have grave consequences for all involved they seemed to take a step back from the edge of violence.
“ I may be convinced to demand a lesser payment from your chapter for these.... unscheduled supplies. My servo skull here holds information about a handful of individuals who have been a thorn in my side for a long time, see to that this information finds its way to those whom it may be of interest to. And ensure that things escalate from there and I will consider it a partial payment of sorts. I will discuss the remaining parts of it with your lord sometime soon.”
“Ever the political animal you are brother, that mind of yours must have been forged upon an anvil before we were ever born and your soul replaced with a solid pound of brass nails. I will carry your message back to Medusel, don't go and grow any ideas of grandeur now then....” his brother said with something resembling an evil tone as he turned to leave, flanked by his own retinue.

Watching the three Astartes depart his personal place of solitude and reflection he cursed as he lashed out with one gauntleted hand and pulped the torso of a servitor who had been so misfortunate to able past its master, the vat-grown thing went flying and slammed into the nearby wall with a wet thud and slowly slid down, leaving behind a trail of ichor and various liquids.
It seemed the omnisha had forever cursed him to be left to deal with lesser fools and the ever-present yapping humans that seemed to intent on harassing the true heirs to the imperium.
He could not phantom why his benevolent god had desired to place such a wreched faith upon, seeing how he had pleged his whole being to the one true savior of man. But the ways of his will was ever hidden in layers upon layers of mysteries for his faithfull followers to decode and understand.

The trio of Astartes stood in the smog and thick acrid smoke that hung heavy around the landing platform, they stood in silence and awaited the thunderhawk, as if testing the waters like a cautious animal one of the two grim-faced champions spoke to his lord.
“ My lord, do you think your brother will not waste the chance to wreack havoc amongst his opponents, be they human, xeno or traitor. Nor will he squander the chance to put a mark of debt upon our chapter. For he is far, far too greedy and full of resentment over having to part ways with every last nut and bolt that leave his forgeworld.”
“ I see, but will it not tarnish our chapter, to be known as having a debt to the cult mechanicus?”
“ No, for the one we own is not one to run about the galaxy and shouting from the nearest pulpit about his dealings, one of the benefits of having a paranoid and deeply distrusting forge master be the moneylender ones own said debt to so to speak.”
“ Sounds far too much like the scheming and plotting that is common amongst other servants of the Emperor, but you know the chapter will trust your judgement my lord.” said the horribly scared warrior and cracked his knuckles as the roar of the thunder hawk drowned out all conversations as It came in for a landing.
Allowing his battle brothers to board first, Balder turned to look out over the endless industrial hellscape that lay beyond the landing pad, countless chimneys and even vents and exhaust ports poured smog and thick dirty smoke into the atmosphere, and the neverending din of industry filled the pollution filled air like some deranged musician playing a maddening tune.
For a split second he thought he saw a very familiar hulking form observing him from the dark gloom of the halls they had departed, mechandrites ceaselessly moving and the cogwheels in the mind of his brother ever turning, planning and plotting. Not sure if it was just an illusion or maybe he had indeed seen his brother observing him as he departed, he raised one hand in a salute and boarded the waiting gunship.
Days passed and as the envoys from the Sons Of Medusel returned home with the message from the cult mechanicus, and the mentioned post-humans began to plan their method of attack, the massive forges upon the gloomy world of Mustafa IX began to pour out the requested supplies. And countless tech serfs toiled without any respite to craft the munitions, and other more delicate things asked for. Although this shift in production would without any doubt affect some other hapless fools somewhere in the imperium the master of this world cared not.
For he was nowhere near the forges and had instead taken the long journey deep, deep down into the bowls of the world to immerse himself in the study and work in the most sacred place upon this world. A Eden of knowledge, both forbidden and much needed by the wider imperium.
Passing countless layers of defense and hidden traps, designed to dispose of the uninvited, the foolish or unlucky soul that happened to stray down here.
He stood before a gigantic armored door, so thick that one would have need titan grade weaponry to force it open. Beside him two scores of lesser Magos stood and chanted the sacred verses of appeasement and pacification. A harsh and accusatory voice almost howled in binary from the noosphere and demanded to know whom intended to open the gate to the most holy sanctum and depository of knowledge upon this world.
Transmitting the proper codes and rites of decodement the forge master bowed in respect for the unseen guardian of this place.
With the tortured sounds of counterweights, truly massive cogwheels and other mechanisms the gate slid open and opened the hearth of this world to him and his underlings.
From within the sanctum, a thick mist of cool air and air cleansing chemicals drifted out and obscured the plasprecte and ferrocreet floor.

“ Begin preparations for the procedure, and ensure that the atmosphere scrubbers are activated!”
“ At once my lord! All required containment measures are in place and active.”
“ Good, good.” the forge master said as he turned to the detachment of veteran skiitari that stood unmoving near the great armored door.
“ Bring in the required specimens and begin extracting the needed vore specimens from the vault.”
At the mention of these horrid creatures, a few of the tech adepts seemed to grow a definitive shade of sickly pale. These foul and outlawed bestial creatures were one of the many secrets that were hidden from the wider imperium down in these dark depths. And made the master of this world such a foul foe to cultivate a hostile relationship with.
“Once the specimens is properly secure, begin the introduction of the biological component.” the overseer chimed as he recited the prayer of diligence under the watchful gaze of the forge master.
Screaming and sounds of commotion could be heard as a pair of veteran skiitari dragged a howling woman and her equally frightened husband across the cold floor and towards a test chamber of clear class chamber, the chamber strong enough to withstand a sustained barrage of heavy projectile weaponry.
The woman whom had her hair shaven cleanly of and a series of identification tattoos applied to her neck and face kicked and screamed in abject panic and anger as she tried to reach for her husband who was pale with fear and had been equally tattooed. The face of the young man a mask of absolute terror.
As the pair of damned souls where forcefully secured to the surgical table, each who was stained with blood and other far, far less pleasant liquids.
The young man yelped in pain as one of the tech adepts jabbed a needle into his arm and sett up an intravenous drip and fastened several devices to his bound person. His wife where sobbing in fear, pain and shock, a thin yellowish stream of urine flowed down her leg and added to her missery. She too was given the same crude treatment and where equipped with an intravenous drip and other devices.
With these preparations in place, the heavy doors to the chamber were slammed shut, and a series of metal bars slid into place to properly zeal the chamber, and prevent any chance of an unfortunate spill of anything less than beneficial to one's health.
Inside the chamber the pair of abducted and very roughly threated test subjects screamed and begged for mercy as they looked to each other for some slimmer of comfort.

As he looked at the scene unfolding before him, the forge master felt something he had not felt in a long, long time. His cerebral implants throbbed with the almost heretical sense of euphoria and the enjoyment of the torment and suffering of one's opponents.
“ Begin the procedure, ensure to record every detail and upload it to the noosphere. I demand nothing less than perfection in this matter!” he sent over the noosphere so not to taint the recording with his own voice.

Well, that's both grim and dark!

Nice detailing and sense of scale here (I loved the fact that the forge master's personal quarters are an entire cathedral). Looking forward to seeing how the various plot strands progress.

Thanks for sharing, Trondheim!

 Necroagogo wrote:
Well, that's both grim and dark!

Nice detailing and sense of scale here (I loved the fact that the forge master's personal quarters are an entire cathedral). Looking forward to seeing how the various plot strands progress.

Thanks for sharing, Trondheim!

Glad you liked it, friend! And yes, as they say, go big or go home when it comes to personal quarters! Not quite sure on that myself but someone will definitely not come out smelling like roses

Arch Magos Forndom brooded in silence as he searched the endless treasure trove of knowledge and arcane secrets long thought lost to mankind, seldom did he venture down here in person as the centuries if not millennium's worth of dust contained in between all the great tomes that was kept down in these dark and silent vaults did not agree with his mechanical components, but the irritation it would later cause when he needed to tend to his then dust-covered self was worth the silence and lack of hangers-on that trailed him at times. Such was his curse he supposed as the master of a whole world turned to industry and the glory of the machine god.
That and he did not trust all but a very few souls, with what could be found down in these depths. Deus Mechanicus knew what damage could be done or guilt found if some snooping member of certain organizations weaseled their way down into his most beloved chambers.
Pausing before a towering bookshelf where great slab like tomes stood in the gloom and the bronze and gold bindings they all had made it seem like a great pile of treasure.
Without thinking one of his mechandrites extended and pulled one tome, who stood apart from the rest due to the simple cover it sported. It was not clad in precious bronze or gold, no this was clad in a pale almost pinkish leather.
If he still had lips and could have grinned a most evil and foul grin would have spread across his face.
“After all these centuries I have found you again my prize! “ he said and gazed upon the book and felt a shiver of static energy surge across his body not felt since the last time he had read these sacred pages.
“ Now the true crafting of flesh can begin! The repayment of sacrilege will soon fall upon our hated foes and naysayers” he growled in a deep tone and turned to the servitor who trailed behind him. Using the noonsphere to hand down his command to the flesh construct he gripped his halberd in one gauntleted hand.
The construct answered his master in a slurred tone and shuffled away to deliver his orders to the other minions of the forge master.
Returning to the broad and marble-covered central walkway of the great vault, cursing the amount of dust that irritated his optic sensors and stuck like glue to his crimson red robes he strode like some skulking warlord of ancient terra, lost in deep thougths and plans upon plans alongside schemes that would have driven a lesser soul mad with its endless shifting factors and considerations.
He excited the great depository of long lost secrets and forbidden lore and watched in silence as his myrmidons sealed it shut and performed the rite of security and activation of the hidden defenses that ensured it remained a secret.
Turning to the leader of the myrmidons he spoke in a tone reserved for his most beloved and trusted servants.
“ Return to my personal quarters, see to that my instructions are carried out and send a requisition to the nearby prison worlds for more labor stock. We have much work to carry out in the name of the machine god!”
“ At once my lord, no further personal protection addends required?”
“ You will remain here. I need not the rest of you for the moment. “

The leader of his myrmidons sent a short order over the noonsphere and some two hundred myrmidons began to depart the depths of the great library they had followed their master too.
Speaking to his remaining servant Forndon used a private and highly encrypted frequency.
“ How goes the cultivating of the vore beasts? Are they soon ready for the next and finale stage?”
“ My lord, the xeno based weaponry are entering the final stages of gene-based modifications as we speak, it has proven difficult however as they have responded poorly to some of the chemicals but the final result will not suffer from it. We have increased the amount of sacrificial flesh used to nurture them in between the modification stages. All of which have been recorded and marked accordingly to your instructions.”
“ Good! Ensure that no one whom is disposable remains alive to speak of these things when the project is done! I will not have loose tounges left alive to endanger what has been achieved!”
“Of course my lord, I ordered the Magos biologis to update the wetware on all the serfs and lesser servants with a viral kill agent. You need only send the command via the noonsphere and the agent will be activated.”
“ Good! What of the magos biologis?”
“ I shall ensure she is disposed of and the remains tossed into a furnace when the rest dead.”
Far above two servants of the machine god, the colossal wheels of industry and manufacturing churned ever onwards and the billowing clouds of foul acrid smoke grew ever thicker as the city-sized furnaces processed metal and chemicals needed to forge and assembled what its master had orderd crafted.
While tanks, countless hordes of las guns and auto guns were assembled and packaged by the hard toil of the mortal servants of the machine god under the supervision by lesser tech-priests and grim-faced enforcers that handed out motivation at the end of a humming stun baton and steel-tipped boots. and ammunition were loaded into massive containers awating transport to the countless warzone that needed more arms and munitions.

Meanwhile deep below the polluted and industrialized surface a world of flesh made horrors, and scenes of terror that would make mortal men soil themselves the flesh crafters of the forge world toiled away, attempting to fullfil the project their master had undertaken.
Vats of strange chemicals and mutagenic agents bubbled and filled the air with noxious fumes and strange smells, while the constant hymn of chants and rumbling machines produced a strange choir.
The senior magos biologis whom oversaw these proceedings was a small and gaunt woman, her face marked by the scars of service and various experients that gone awry while she had delved into the studies of the flesh and the mysteries of flesh secrets of the universe, her broken and twisted form was kept alive by arcane means and metal. Her mind was a trove of the knowledge of the flesh craft and all manners of knowledge about countless xeno life forms. Both sentient and those who where no more than wild beasts without any form of sentience, amongst her fellow biologis she had a dark reputation. It was said she had given herself fully to the forbidden arts of crafting living xeno flesh weaponry and other far less savory tings.
She stood and obersvered while her underlings toiled to move several heavy cages, whom were inhabited by the madness given flesh form. The pride she felt as she studied the schematics and various genetical charts that showed how the forbidden creatures she had overseen the crafting and rearing of.
Regrettably the need to maintain the health of these xeno life forms had seen several hundred prisoners and disposebal menial laborers feed to them. This had been highly avoidebal if her underlings had followed the draconic sermons she had laid down, but the bumbeling incompetence one of her underlings had proven to be costly, both in time and other resources. Witch was what angerd her greatly, she had orderd the fool feed to the xeno life forms and his howls of abject terror as the vore beasts devored him and left only scraps of cloth and metal bits.
This alongside liberal use of pain inducers embeded in the flesh of her underlings had motivated the tech serfs and lesser tech priests.
Working under the cold glare of a dozen of the myrmidons, who served the arch magos and thus they acted as the enforcers of the iron will of the arch magos. The tingling sensation of their unblinkg gaze made her sweat sometimes with fear, she knew the price of failur to deliver what she had promised she could craft for him.
Normally she did not care what those who required her services intended to use the menagiers of horrors and esoteric items forged from human and xeno flesh that she could bring into the world at large. But now, she felt far from safe and a tingeling sense of unease had begun to grow in her fractured mind.

Surely the magos biologis has more in her future than to be tossed into a furnace? Nobody with that attention paid to her by the narrative should die that easily, surely?

I guess we shall see.

 Necroagogo wrote:
Surely the magos biologis has more in her future than to be tossed into a furnace? Nobody with that attention paid to her by the narrative should die that easily, surely?

I guess we shall see.

As they say in management, bad things roll downhill. So things are not set in stone,

The magos biologis stood bent over a great mass of schematics and charts and completely lost in her work, while her underlings thought her occupied with the improvement of the processes of nurturing of the newly spawned vore larva and thus not to be disturbed unless the arch-enemy stood at the gates.
The tang of fear that had begun to worm her way into her very core had taken form, and now she was delving deep into the schematics of the pain inducer she too had been given.
So consumed was she in the task at hand that she did not notice the looming figure that entered her laboratory behind her.
It was only when the soft whirl of a mechandrite that extended from the figure and picked gently up a vial of some murky and unpleasant looking liquid that she was awoken from her trans like state.
Turning around and half expecting to be gunned down or cut down by a gleaming blade she was instead greeted with the figure of the forge master and his ever-present shadow in the form of his myrmidon captain.
“ Do not fret Magos biologis. I come in peace and with no ill intent, if you were marked for termination I would send a score of Arco-flagellants or had the containment systems of these hallowed halls of flesh craft deactivated. As they say, accidents do happen.”

She obviously did not believe him and he did not blame her, he would not trust himself either had he been in her place. Seeing how betrayal always comes when least needed or expected.
“ Arch magos, what brings you here?” she said in a neutral tone as her mechandrites began to frenetically gather the schematics and charts she had been pouring over. The sense of dread that she had not felt for a long time until this day began to swell in her chest, where the arcane mixture of machine and flesh beat like a war drum. Her flesh growing cold and her mouth turning dry as dust.
“ You see magos..... I have a very infuriating issue at hand. For one I have a task for which I need someone I can trust not to betray me, on the other hand, it seems I am beset by traitors and deviants at every turn. It seems the long talons of the inquisition has been sunk into far more of my once loyal servants.”
The towering arch magos seemed to radiate anger and displeasure as he spoke to her over the noonsphere, but she noticed one very particular ting. The communication link was private and extremely encrypted.
“ What do you require of me then my lord?” she said and prostrated herself before him as much as her withered and old form allowed.
No sooner had she done so, and then the world went mad it seemed. A powerful explosion rocked the whole laboratory and halls of flesh crafting, a choir of claxnons and warning sirens went of like a choir of the damned.
The sounds of gunfire and the screams of the dying followed alongside the horrific echo of sounds coming from the containment cells where the Xeno flesh-based weaponry where kept.
The noonsphere was filled with frantic voices from unseen tech adepts and lesser priests whom was reeling under this wave of noise, violence and madness, the short communicaton bursts from skiitari troops caugth unprepared for battle also echoed across the ether.

Still prostrating herself before the arch magos, the old crone felt like she had been beaten with an electro staff as the idea of all her hard work and her countless flesh crafted beauties being left useless by the acts of the fools.
“ Myrmidon! Remain here and protect the magos biologis at all costs. Activate the sickle protocol and mobilize all our forces planet-wide!” Forndom said, his metallic voice filled with rage as the numerous mechandrites he possessed now emerged from his billowing cloak snapping angrily as if mirroring his mood.
“ As you command my lord” the towering warrior said as he took a protective stance in front of the prone figure behind him.


Arch Magos Forndom emerged out into unholy chaos that had until a few moments ago, been amongst the things he took most pride in as the leader of this forge world.
Now it was a tattered and burning mess, the stench of acrid chemicals burning and the stink of dead and dying laborers hung heavily, someone must have hit something very flammable or employed high yield weaponry he concluded.
Bringing up the plans for the fire suppression systems and the rites to activate them and muttering a silent prayer to the machine god he implemented said protocols. And nothing happened when he did, instead, he got a series of messages from the various systems that the encryption was corrupted and a manual overide was needed on all vital systems for this section of the endless complex of labratoirums, forges and other sites.
Just whom dared to infiltrate and commit such horrific sins against Mars and its servants he knew not, but they would all die and made to pay for their sins.
Gripping his halberd in one gauntleted hand the Arch Magos began to make his way across the scenes of destruction, around him those whom had not died or been gravely injured scurried about in attempt to salvage equipment and tend to the wounded.
As he did a sense of anger rose within him, as such wanton slaughter and thoughtless destruction of valued equipment and finished specimens of the horrific weapons being crafted here in these now smoke-filled halls.
Then it seemed fate decided to hurl yet more adversity at the stricken souls, the din of heavy weapon fire and the distinct hiss of lasguns, alongside the muffled roar of what could only be a flamer drowned the sounds of the dying, the howling Saxons and other sounds.
Out from the dark acrid smoke several figures came into view, all stood head and shoulders above a mortal man. The dark copper tone of their armor and dreadful iconography carved into the dark metal of their chest plate said it all, alongside the blasphemous runes marking their helmets and the burning hatethred in their eyes hidden under gargoyle faced helmets. And shuffeling into view came creatures he knew all too well from the wars he had partaken in, spawned by rituals and infernal experimentation upon man and machine they had been born and made to serve foes far more foul than a warband of traitorus astartes was in his mind. Clad in dark uniforms and gripping autoguns and far more arcane and foul weapons the footsoldiers of the dark mechanicum stood.
The great arch-enemy had come to his world alongside his own traitorous kin, who still dared serve the dark gods.
“Slay anyone who still draws breath! The quarry we seek must not escape.” barked the individual whom seemed to be in command to his underlings.
With barking bolters who seemed more like some horrible creature given a metallic form, the traitor Astartes advanced into the smoke-filled halls of the flesh artists who normally toiled here.
These warriors had fought the eternal crusade for centuries and carried nothing but hatred for all who still served the false emperor of mankind.
As they gunned down servitors, skiitari and fleeing tech adepts and kept the momentum of their advance they became aware of the looming figure clad in crimson robes that barred their way.

Arch Magos Forndom stood and watched these....abominations made manifest desecrate they very ground of his world, and felt every fiber of his towering frame scream in zealous fury. Not only dared they attack this shrine to the machine god but they also sougth to steal his underlings and employ the poor souls to whatever dark and heinous task they had come up with.
With a thought he activated all primary, secondary and tertiary systems he could call upon in time of war.
His mechandrites appeared from under his billowing robes gripping weapons and with a flick of his thumb the power field on his halberd came alive with a sinister hue to the energy fields that danced across the brutal weapon. Yes he thought, these would indeed be a good start for him to vent his rage upon, their deaths would please the machine god and when all the foul vermin was slain the hunt for the real master behind this most foul act of heresy could begin in earnest.

Cometh the hour, cometh the Arch Magos.

Looking forward to this fight!

The traitor astartes who acted as point man saw the looming figure from afar and barked a warning over the squad intercom. He then leveled his bolter, and was about to let loose with all the infernal fury the warp forged weapon possessed when a molten slug the size of a fist tore trough his rigth shoulder and thus rendering him unable to aim and fire his weapon, this setback however did not matter as several more shots punched through his chest plate and showered the already stained floor in gore, molten metal and white-hot metal.
The last thing the traitor saw was the shimmering heat of the fires that now raged across the blasted hellscape the flesh laboratories had been reduced to, then darkness swallowed him and sent his soul screaming into the warp.
Forndom lowered the volkite weapon with a mental command and gazed upon the red ruin it had created of the traitor marine. Truly these weapons where a blessed gift from the machine god to his most devout followers he mused.
But he had not the luxury of time to dwell upon such craftmanship now, for now, that the blood of one of their own had been spilled and they were aware of a new foe the other cretins would join the fray.
The sensor augmentations that had replaced one of his biological eyes and were linked directly to the immense vaults of data scribed knowledge possessed by the cult mechanicum recognized the fell symbols upon these servants of the dark gods.
They belonged to a Warband of great size that had over the centuries sinze their fall from graze, taken to serve the dark mechanicum in return for weapons, armor and all manners of foul creations those delusional heretics could cobble together. While not dedicated to any particular of the four greater gods of darkness, they still were a fearsome foe. More worryingly they had realized the use of fodder in battle and did not hurl themselves at the nearest foe with a blood-curdling scream.
The leader of the squad of traitors, whom where one less member growled in anger and leveled his sword at the magos. “ Slay him! And see to that he does not hack you all to pulp! I will secure our prize and deal with any remaining foes.”
The brute clad in war plate millennia-old grabbed the leader of the dark mechanicum troops and growled a set of orders to him, and nearly threw the vat-grown creature to the floor as he went about his task.
Doing as his towering overlord has ordered him, the champion of the vat-grown and flesh crafted horrors that were the footsoldiers of the dark mechanicum enforced his will upon his men with the tip of an electro rod and the growl of a chain sword, in addition he also activated the combat drug injectors each one of his underlings had embedded in their bodies. The foul concoction of chemicals turned already rabid mutants and slaves into frothing zealots, who had just one goal and that was to drink the blood of their foes and dine upon their marrow.
So with the howling flocks of thrall troops leading the way, the traitors advanced upon the Arch Magos.
While other more noble souls may have met the enemy head-on or used some clever tactic to cause their demise, Forndom did not.
As the first of his foes came in range he swung the halberd he carried in a wide arch and thus gutted or brutally maimed anyone who was within its reach, as he wielded the weapon with both hands thus increasing the power behind each blow his mechandrites went about their assigned tasks.
Phosphor Serpenta pistols spatt fire and made men and mutants into bloodied rags as they fell, their bodies devastated, and the more threatening and thus priority targets fell cut down by the hiss of volkite projectiles or pulped by razor-sharp metallic claws.
It only took a few minutes of furious and desperate battle before heaps of the enemy dead lay around him, his robes stained by various liquids and chunks of gory remains tainting his weapons. The stink of burnt ozone and the prickling sensation of low lever radiation also lent their feel to the nightmarish scene.



The enemy did not relent and waves upon waves of fodder hurled themselves at him if only to expend time and munitions. But they did in doing so allow their far more capable masters to join the fray.

“ Die cog lover” howled the first chaos marine that came at him, the deep red lenses on his helm seemed to boil with barely contained bloodlust and Forndom wondered if the marine he had slain had been the companion of this individual.
A snarling chain ax in one hand and the other gripping an unpleasant looking spiked mace the chaos marine fought like a blur, and the forge master found himself giving ground to be able to parry the hail of blows. But fighting with such bestial fury was not without risk, for it left the attacker wide a sizebale hole in his defense.
Blocking one blow with one of his mechandrites and using the spike of his halberd he stepped in close and drove the energized spike deep into the leg of his foe, drawing a howl of agony from his foe as the energy surged and paralyzed the warp mutated flesh hidden beneath the armor, cauing the marine to drop like a pole axed grox. As his foe fell Forndom watched as his gun-wielding mechandrites focused fired upon the head and chest of his foe, reducing the now immobilized foe to molten slag.
“ Suffer the judgment of man traitor” he growled, as the sting of molten metal ran up his left leg.
But he had no time to savour his kill, a horrific pain shot across his body and a vast number of warnings flashed across his eyes.
The sound of metal being sheared and he fell down to the floor like a felled tree, his mechnadrites flailing in disorder and panic as their master felt a surge of what almost could have been said to be panic surge through his body.
Then before he could act or bring a weapon to bear to defend himself as he rerouted systems and sent retasking orders to his most sturdy mechandrites, a second blow severed his left arm.
Looking around for any means to save himself with, he found none, except his still working mechandrites, each still flailing widly in response to their master's agony.
“ Leave the wretched Coghead, no time for carving him apart from any further. Even if his tickets would make for great trophies.” said a rasping voice from somewhere behind him.
Then as he braced himself for a slow death here in this wretched place as he felt life trickling out of him, a very familiar sound filled the halls.
It was the sinister yet familiar sound of one of the xeno containment cells opening, and the sounds of something deeply inhuman emitting a deep growl of discontent.
Then the sounds of bolters firing, men and posthumans shouting in surprise and maybe even terror followed by the screams of the dying and flesh being torn asunder.

Laying there and listening to the choir of madness and death unfolding somewhere, he was surprised when the noonshpere was filled with deeply encrypted code and bursts of binary filled the communication channels.
Then a pair of metallic hands drenched in blood and soothe gripped the wounded forge master and hoisted him, up like a butcher hoisting a grox calf.
“ I have secured the Magos! All cohorts focus con eradicating the foe and slay the escaped xeno lifeforms.”
Then darkness swallowed him and unconsciousness took him into its warm embrace.