More chaos ideas and a short story

Now that I've started to scratch the surface of my Chaos project I think I've finally come up with something I like. The army will likely be called the 'Warband of the dark harvest' unless I come up with something better (suggestions?) and revolve around an ancient Lord and his dwindling retinue who have had misfortune after misfortune. The sudden appearance of a sorcerer offering them a pact with a group of Daemonic outcast no longer favoured by the Dark Gods comes with the promise of glory vengeance on the Imperium. The Lord in his desperation accepts, but has his doubts about the true motives of these new allies.

Hobby wise, the Lord, his remaining forces and the Sorcerer will all be dark vengeance conversions. As my collection grows (and indeed the revamped range) so shall his list of allies rallied to the cause. For example, a few daemon allies waould represent the Dark powers behind the scenes. The cultists, some possessed and a Dark apostle may be a word bearer cult that joins the Dark harvest. I want to ultimately try to include a bit of every one of the original legions in their own colours, plus some dark mechanicus stuff. Thus the only unifying element between such units will be a shoulder pad icon of the dark harvest (I'm thinking skull and scythe). 

Lastly, the colour scheme. I was inspired by some of the mixed colour schemes in the current CSM book, so I'm thinking a medium red and dark blue mixed together as flames (bi like optimus prime from the new TF film). Mainly, this is because it's different to anything else I've done and doesn't clash with any of the other legion colour schemes. Opinions welcomed, but in the meantime enjoy.

Disclaimer: I haven't had time to re-read or edit the story yet so there may be a few mistakes. You may want to read the previous post for more background on the army.

The Sorcerer was late. Terranix had been waiting for almost thirty minutes  for Tumikupah to report to his war room. The irony of the rooms name was not lost on Terranix, as he now barely had an with which to press home a war with. A mere twenty or so legionnaires and one dreadnought, or at least what used to resemble one, were all that remained of his once mighty warband. Millennia of attrition had taken its toll upon them. They stood upon the brink, isolated in Imperial space with no fleet to protect them and no allies to call upon for aid. He has thought the end near. That was, until the sorcerer came.

His arrival had been enigmatic. A small craft which had been able to slip past the Scourges early warning augers bore him to them. In his arrogance the Sorcerer had teleported directly onto the bridge of Terranixs ship and stood before him without ceremony nor apology. Terranix almost wished he had taken his head there and then and been done with it.

But he hadn’t. Before anyone had a chance to kill him, the sorcerer had introduced himself as Tumikupah, emissary of the Dark powers and gateway to their salvation. That last point had been the one to give him pause, and after a brief berating Terranix had insisted that the Sorcerer explain himself. He had gone on to detail a treatise between him and a faction he named the Dark powers, evidently outcast warp creatures no longer favoured by the Dark Gods. Terranix knew the feeling.   

Ironic as it was, Terranix could not recall when he had fallen from the favour of the dark Gods. In fact, he couldn’t remember if they had even ever shown him favour. That was part of the problem; why couldn’t he remember? None of his men could. They were clearly Legion Astartes, not the successor chapter spawned renegades who claimed, with their dilute blood, to call themselves servants of the dark Gods. No, he and his men were part of the original enlightment and had cast off the shackles of the false Emperor ten millennia ago. He could remember, fragments here and there, of fighting all the way to the gates of the Imperial palace. And then of course he rememebered the bitterness of defeat when Warmaster Horus had fallen. Bitterness, and rage. So close, and yet not. After that however, nothing.

The cogitator banks in the Scourge had long since ceased to recall records. It was more Daemon than machine now, fortunately it seemed more than happy to oblige his commands however. For how much longer he would not care to guess. Terranix could not even remove his armour to look for legion markings on his skin as it had long since bonded to him. The paint and iconography was long since worn from said armour. He could not even recall how long it had been since his forces had an apothecary to analyse their DNA. Why could he not remember something so inherent to an Astartes, any Astartes. His Primarch and his Legion, his very reason for existence. All lost to the dark millennia.

Terranix’s thoughts were interrupted as the doors to his war room swung open and the Sorceror strode in, arrogance in every stride.

‘You are late’ said Terranix, a hint of anger in his voice. ‘I do not tolerate being kept waiting Sorceror’.

‘Forgive me my Lord,’ Tumikupah intoned with a bowing gesture. ‘It was not my intention to anger you.’

Terranix doubted that. As he let the anger subside in him he realised that unconsciously his hand had moved to the hilt of the Daemon weapon Razalghul, gifted to him by Tumikupah upon his acceptance of the pact with the Dark powers. A bribe no less, or perhaps something more insidious. Terranix had kept his distance from the blade so far choosing not to allow the daemon bound within the chance to corrupt and influence him. An instinct told him this was the right way to proceed. Terranix had learned to trust his instincts, especially in light of his failing memory. And his instincts told him that under no circumstances should he turn his back on Tumikupah.

‘I want answers sorceror’ Terranix commanded standing to his full height a half head above the Sorcerer. ‘No lies. Why are you really here?’

Tumpikupah took a step back from Terranix. ‘But you know why I am here Lord, as an emissary of the Dark powers to cement the servitude of your warband to their grand plans.’

Terranix paused a moment, then in a fraction of a second he rushed forward and seized Tumikupah by the throat. ‘I am no-one’s servant witch,’ he growled, his temper barely restrained. ‘I have an alliance with your Dark powers until such time that it no longer suits my purposes. Understood?’

Terranix released the sorcerer who took a few steps back, grasping the armour around his throat.

‘Of course my Lord, I am you humblest servant’

Tumikupah made the same melodramatic bow he had when first entering the room and Terranix was sure that under the helm he wore the Sorceror was grinning at him.

‘Fine, play it that way,’ said Terranix, no longer willing to entertain the Sorcerors games. He would kill him at the first sign of treachery.  ‘I have another matter for you.’

‘Oh,’ said Tumikupah. Terranix was unsure whether his interest were feigned or sincere. ‘What might that be my Lord?’

‘I’ll cut to the heart of the matter,’ aid Terranix.’You and your masters know a lot about me and my men. I want to know how.’

‘Your dread reputation precedes you my Lord,’ Tumikupah said, again half mocking.

‘Don’t patronise me insect,’ Terranix rebuked. ‘What do you know of our history, who we used to be and why we can no longer recall these facts?’

‘Surely the past is of little consequence to one with so important a path mapped out before them,’ said Tumikupah. ‘The present and the future are all you should concern yourself with.’

Terranix was about to press the matter when a thought entered his mind and suddenly he wanted the Sorceror gone from his sight.

‘Leave then if you are no use to me.’ Terranix instructed. The same indolent bow preceded the Sorcerers exit from the chamber.

Terranix felt a sensation utterly alien to one such as he, the cold touch of fear at the periphery of his senses. This arrangement, his delivery from damnation and promise of glory was all so very convenient. Much too convenient. The passage of time in the warp moves very differently from that of realspace. How long had these beings been watching and waiting. More to the point, had they any involvement in the string of disasters that had led him to this situation? To be at the point of desperation where he would accept such a pact. Worse still, were they involved in the amnesia that plagued them all?

As he sat alone in his chamber, Terranix began to feel that he had not been rescued from the edge of the abyss, but instead been shoved into it.