Mathias, A Warhammer 40k Story

part 1

Part 1

Deep within the Warp, in a forgotten and rotting throne room. Horoxx, The Great Unclean One casts a malodorous grin over its pleasantly appalling servants scurrying about their thoughtless motivations within his dominion. Currently this sanctuary resides within the massive warship commanded by Grandfather Nurgle's most recent acquisition, nothing but a mere mortal turncoat. A clever fiend who uses the brutal strength of his enraged and animalistic brethren to dominate all those before him in the name of Chaos Undivided. Lord Commander Terminatus, Mathais.
Nevertheless this greater demon is completely complacent in his role aboard the Grim Talon. The entire lower hull of the warship has been dedicated to the musings and entertainment Horoxx seeks. Having spoken with the cybernetically-twisted abhuman warp smiths, former men and women of the Imperium that have dedicated their existence to a better understanding between their natural born organic flesh and the cybernetic augmentations of the Mechanicum. Horoxx now watches and listens to all aboard the Grim Talon through this digital possession.
Mathais is a slave to the whim of no man. Not after his spiritual rebirth upon the demon infested energies of the Warp. Not after personally witnessing the blessed benediction of the gods of Chaos Undivided upon the brow of his Primarch, Lorgar. Not after living beyond the countless millennia promised and given by the gods themselves. His goal anymore are that of only one constant; to harvest souls for the true Gods. Having led his battalion to victory after victory in the name of the Gods of Chaos Undivided, Mathias is now charged with amassing ever more pestilent-ridden bodies to be used in Nurgle's deleterious experimentations.
A barrage of noise exploded up from the cages below deck. Chains rattled, vocal cords wailed, most however were still sedated. A patchwork of staples and stitches pattern several heads within the cages. The remaining thrashed and began brawling with one another.
The rusty cages hung relatively closely together. Long, spiked chains ascend into darkness above the cages. Rusty, pitted iron bars and rotted, brown and yellow flesh make up the cages equally. Small mouths protrude and bite into the flesh nearest them. Green and purple mushrooms sprout on moldy flesh in the corners of cages. All along the top, holding the cages to the chains are purple tendrils of flesh that squirm under the low light. More mushrooms sprout along these tendrils, each shaking spores on those below with each swing and clang into another cage.
"Brothers and sisters!" Roars out of Mathias, his helm being plugged into several vox amplifiers to simply be heard over the tumult of battle, is easily heard over the current excitement. Far above the hanging cages, Mathias blazes brightly in the dark. In the bleak shadows above, a brilliant psychic wave of energy emits from the Dark Apostle. Green, red, blue, and purple colored waves ripple brilliantly one after the other. Starting from Mathias the colors of energy wash out over the millions of infected and Chaos Marines alike. Their rage soothed slowly as forms sink to their cage floor, or stand statuesque. Bathing in the radiance of their Dark Lord.
"Brothers and sisters...I know. I KNOW the hate and pain you feel. I have FELT the pain in knowing the existence of our traitorous brothers who still follow the FALSE...God Emperor." This last word spat out with righteous contempt. Mathias spreads his arms wide, fingers splayed openly. "I KNOW, you understand the love and benevolent reprieve the true Gods have bestowed upon you all." All eyes with remaining sentience were cast upwards. Rotted, Pox-Infected abhumans shuddered silently within their cells. Piled and mashed upon each other with the broken forms , basic humans litter as piles of flesh. The lobotomized chaff began silently carving demonic symbols and icons into their scarlet-red flesh upon mere utterance of the Gods of Chaos.
Writhing bone knives greedily suck in the liquid blood dispensed from the self-mutilation. Small packs of muscles contracted and relaxed simultaneously. A few contractions later and the pommel opened to disperse liquid as a gas from the hilt. Small puffs of red gas began shooting into the air from within the cages. Countless proboscis-like tongues reach far above the heads they are contained within, tasting the air itself.
With a pounding of his fists, Mathias chokes laughter aloud and raises his hands to shush the crowd before continuing.
"Most of all, I know that no matter what form of low-life Cur is thrown before the might of the 10th Horde, the true Gods shall bathe in the victorious blood spilled in their names! For Chaos! For the True Gods!" The agitated front line erupts in a miasma of blood curdling screams and soul chilling wails. "MATHIAS! CHAOS! MATHIAS! CHAOS!"
With hands raised high, Mathias drinks in the emotions and psychic energy. Small vibrations are felt in the ship as the speed increases slightly. Sigils and unholy images blaze to life causing all to shrink from the light emitted by Mathias.
Dark robed Cultists stagger on top of the cages and begin flagellating the mounds of flesh and rage. Chains holding the cages are whipped violently to and fro. The arc-light sparks dazzle and lightning shoots from contact with the rusty iron. A large cell filled with ceramite plated berzerkers slams into a cage of abhumans. The power armor covered lunatics near the front grasped the opposing bars as their brothers behind them ripped into the rotted meat. Moans escaped the Pox-Infected humans, feeling nothing for their evisceration. Their cloudy pupil-less eyes stared forward, jaws hanging slack. High above the chaos, Mathias grinned behind his ornate skull mask.
Finishing his speech Mathias turns and heads toward the subsection of the Grim Talon. The quick movement whips his cape around behind him. A heavy smack follows the cape as the stretched human skin lays flatly back in place. The outward facing wards and sigils continue to shine a dull green against the scarred, red-tinged flesh. Mathias, following in the footsteps of his old Legion, believes that only following all four Gods of Chaos Undivided is the true way of worship. Shortly after the unification of the Word Bearer's Legion with their true Gods, Mathias was picked to deliver his own tasks to 'make his fiefdom within the Warp; if he dared'.
Centuries have passed since that reawakening for Mathias. He is being driven solely by a hatred and loathing for any living being not yet understanding and within the loving embrace of the Gods Undivided. An unstoppable machine in single combat, having felt true death and beyond; he now walks the universe to tell the tale of Chaos, one bloody battle at a time
Young in the eyes of his rivals, Mathias is eager to jump to conflict and lead his battalion from the front line. A heavy handed Crozious smashes through any barrier or foe that dares apose a Dark Apostle for Chaos Undivided. Remnants of past battles scar Mathias' plate like puckering wounds. The edges of the metal writhes and shudders, giving the appearance of his armor crawling with insects. Skulls and the bones of hands and feet are tied decoratively into the plate's bullet holes. Along Mathias' torso these bones fuse together in hideous sigils that entrances and burns the sight of any intellectual. Between the sigils and symbols fused to the Terminator Armor, Cultists have painted even more symbols of destruction.
A smooth, purposeful, and deliberate ambulation is heard descending the iron stairs into Horoxx's necrotic womb. Dark yellow and brown pustular flesh is seen scarring the walls between flashes of gaseous combustion. Radioactive green puddles of ooze light up and reflect their sickly hue about the chamber. Lanky and thin shadows crawl spider-like along the wall following the combustions. The after effect of which causes cracked webs of light to blink into and out of existence. The Pox-Walkers shuffled about all over the throne room. Occasionally one would shove another into a radioactive pool. This in turn would cause the innumerous flying insects around the cavernous chamber to swarm forward and devour the helpless, mindless creature now struggling to free itself from an acidic death.
Horoxx, enjoying the constant chaos before him chuckles and chortles at Mathias with one massive hand. In his other, the demon holds a collection of servo-skulls, all seemingly fused together with the same ooze forming puddles in the room. As Horoxx inhales, the green eyes of the servo-skulls blink a digital binary pattern before they culminate in all igniting at once. A small bar of plasma shoots above the skulls meeting a second, then a third, fourth, and fifth. A design unknown to Mathias flares to life and begins bubbling mephitic slime, a tremendous cloud of acrid green smoke drifts slowly from the cracks in the piece as well as Horoxx's teeth.
"You have summoned for me, Horoxx?" Bowing low, Mathias removes his skull helm to stand at attention before the gigantic creature. At full height, Mathias barely reaches the knee of Horoxx. Mounted atop a sloped throne made of rotting flesh and rusted, squealing metal the massive creature moves.
The Great Unclean One laughs maniacally, wrapping a massive hand around a slew of his countless Pox-Walker slaves, and leans his head back; widening his mouth beyond mortal comprehension. Dropping the Pox-Walkers into its maw, masticating the many members of the slave pens with a malodorous grin. Several rotted skulls and limbs hang loosely about a greasy and spiked chain. A massive stitch runs diagonally across his belly, while two large smoke stacks are seen protruding from his back. Whatever substance Horoxx ingested through inhalation seems to be pouring from its back in constant gaseous waves. The voice of Horoxx drips out of the massive, jagged toothed maw. A low rumbling sound is emitted from Horoxx. As the demon finishes the sounds catching up to the raw essence Horrox uses as speech reverberates through static. Low-gothic words are eventually formed from the noise pollution. "Conqueror. Absolution. Odrodzenie." With that the Great Unclean One casually drops a massive battle ax, the chained blades of which stick and hold fast to the corrupted flesh breathing beneath Mathias' feet.
Mathias grabs hold and hefts the weight of the ax standing as tall as himself easily within his strength augmented Terminator Armor. The first thing Mathias notices about the ax before him are the exhaust ports nestled between the opposing edges of the ax head. Typically a chain ax's exhaust ports point directly upwards for the ease of burnt fuel to escape. These particular ports are inverted and facing over one another's shoulders. Hard carved sigils mark the entirety of the surface of the ax head, most symbols being out of Mathias' own sigillite knowledge. However one in particular repeats itself several times. A box shaped turned on its side to resemble a diamond, within this box was a hollow circle and another hard line drawn between the entire symbol. That of the 'all-seeing eye'. An ornate pommel made of skulls resembling Horoxx's servo-skull device stares back into Mathias' eyes. Taunting. Daring. Loving.
"You honor me with your gift. I shall discover the true identity of this weapon, and bestow upon it the blood sacrifice in my masters' names." With that Mathias turns and sparks the engine on the massive war ax. Using a delicate dance of death, the ax cleaves into and out from the mindless infected. A deep rumbling behind Mathias follows the slaughter as Horoxx watches the complicated battle dance performed before him. Soon a swath of dead lay dismembered in a ragged circle surrounding Mathias. Upon his last flourish, Mathias lands the head of the ax with the exhaust ports slammed into the rotted flesh below his feet. A finger bone protrudes from the pommel as Horoxx beings his rumbled speech again.
"Drink," comes the eventual understood word within the grinding electrostatic that makes up Horoxx's voice. Mathias bends to drink in as the exhaust ports begin sucking in the blood and viscera surrounding the ax head. The shaft of the demonic weapon contracts and relaxes. Pustular sacks expand and shrivel as blood is moved towards the drinker. Leaning back, Mathias' own tentacled tongue slides out and around his blunted, blocky teeth. Small serrated mouths open, close, and shudder at the ending of each tongue-tentacle.