Deep Space :: GM9 Background Fluff

Gomeaz waited impatiently in the anteroom of the main battle barge. His anxiety was ornately carved into his upper thigh by his own talons. The pain which usually soothed his worries tasted bland from the worry of the moment. Herne was not pleased.

At present, the Wild Hunt followed the Black Storm from a distance, waiting for a moment of weakness to present itself. Whereas their prey relied on tactics and strategy, Herne relied on the Whisperers in the Warp. They were the ones who told him to pursue his nemesis. "By stealth, you will be allowed one moment to strike, and if done swiftly & with fury, you will tear the fight from your enemy." the oracle told Herne. The moments passed by like rain on the feral worlds of his prior existence. Despite the Black Storm scouring the system for a trace of their former leader, Herne's small bands of ships have gone unnoticed. Despite the oceans of moments gone by, none was deemed proper to strike out.

The doors opened with the screams of mutilated guardsmen. Gomeaz peered inside at the dangling flesh which was strewn throughout the ceiling. His mouth watered with the possibilities. The sacrifices were needed to fuel the warp possession rituals that Herne used to communicate orders. There always seemed to be an abundance of willing traitors who disappointed their Master. A hard slap followed the shadow that entered the anteroom. "Gomeaz, keep your mind on my words! There will be plenty of time to play with your fleshy things later." Zar'weth was not especially fond of this carnal fiend. However, if Herne told him to keep his chainaxe slung, then it shall remain unused, until such a time when Gomeaz no longer proved useful. "You shall take a small reconnaissance group to Iago Prime. See what you can find. Be especially vigilant for recruiting more corpse mutants unless you are able to 'enlighten' more of the emperor's faithless guardsmen. Above all, we need to know more about the Black Storm's strength now that they are virtually leaderless. See if they will not choose a stronger voice than that of 'pity' for their fallen."

Gomeaz was burning in his skin. He would agree to anything for permission to enter the corpse strewn room. Zar'Weth still stood in his way. Looking past him, he saw the life drain from the traitors that were found wanting. Now, nothing but lifeless pieces of flesh waiting for his touch to revive them. "Agreed" was all he could muster.

As Zar'Weth stepped aside he had one last order - "Clean up when you're done or my axe will find you where you feel the least. "






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Deep Space :: GM9 Background Fluff :: Lord Herne