Crunch
Giga God Crunchmeister
[ Captain Titus Prologue ]
"The Dark Millennium"
It is the 41st Millennium.
View attachment 2564
For more than a hundred centuries The Emperor has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth.
He is the Master of Mankind by the will of the gods, and master of a million worlds by the might of his inexhaustible armies.
He is a rotting carcass writhing invisibly with power from the Dark Age of Technology.
He is the Carrion Lord of the Imperium for whom a thousand souls are sacrificed every day, so that he may never truly die.
Mighty battlefleets cross the daemon-infested miasma of the Warp, the only route between distant stars, their way lit by the Astronomican, the psychic manifestation of the Emperor's will.
Vast armies give battle in his name on uncounted worlds.
Greatest amongst his soldiers are the Adeptus Astartes, the Space Marines, bio-engineered super-warriors.
Their comrades in arms are legion: the Imperial Guard and countless planetary defence forces, the ever vigilant Inquisition and the tech-priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus to name only a few.
But for all their multitudes, they are barely enough to hold off the ever-present threat from aliens, heretics, mutants. . .
. . .and worse.
- - -
There is nothing colder than the void.
Emperor knows how many days have passed within the rusted corridors of this ancient vessel. Rust and filth paint the many scrambling hallways and tunnels reaching up and around every sanctum within the imperial ship. This had to the lowest deck on the vessel, reserved only for the Inquisition's involuntary guests should they find themselves worthy of even being interrogated at all, as opposed to just being given the Emperor's mercy in the form of a steaming bolt. No inquistor would be willing to own a voidship of his own and not express his vanity and power through excessive decoration and displays of wealth and status. Those bright inquisitorial sigils mark each of the airlock doors, the hollow skulls in the center of the large crimson "I" stare down the prisoner as they're forced to look straight ahead due to the neck braces.
Of course, this particular subject could disintegrate those braces just by thinking about it.
View attachment 2562
Titus sat in the wicked machination all alone, forcefully stripped from his power armor and left with nothing but his base undergarments. It was just as the stories and legends describe - the 7 foot rippling mass of bio-engineered muscle lay bare upon the braced interrogation seat, his obtuse implants made clear under the hazy green glow of the lights staring down from above. Titus stared ahead without any particular expression, glaring over at the door as it hissed open and a cloaked figure walked in, flanked on both sides by the noise of stomping power-boots and humming force glaives.
"I see that he is awake. Serf, did you not apply the proper dosage?"
A whirring noise resonated from the other side of a room as a hooded figure scuttled over, mechanical arms and implements creeping out of it's robe. "MY DEEPEST APOLOGIES, INQUISITOR. HE IS A SPACE MARINE. IT REQUIRES A SIGNIFICANT EFFORT TO PUT HIM UNDER--"
"Enough, then. Leave us be," the inquisitor ordered with a simple wave of his hand.
"YES, INQUISITOR." The serf bowed it's head with a whir, frantically gathering it's data-slate and sacred unguents before scuttling out of the room. The two Grey Knights glared with silent contempt as the scrawny adept fled the scene. The inquisitor placed his hands behind his back, stepping forward and observing the bare captain as if he was a captured test subject. "You are a resilient one, space marine. Resisting the best medicae upon my vessel, the will of the Inquisition itself, as well as the very touch of . . .corruption. The former, I can only attribute to pure tenacity. . .but the latter, I'm afraid, I cannot tolerate."
View attachment 2563
"Inquisitor."
The man shot daggers at Titus, as if he was ready to shoot the marine then and there for interrupting him. The inquisitor gave a coy smile, "What. What is it you could possibly want now?"
"I am far too ancient and experienced to not know how your organization functions by now. You would've executed me on the landing pad of Graia had you wanted me dead."
"Bargaining for life? This doesn't seem like the conduct of the Emperor's angel of deat--"
"I'm not bargaining for my life. I'm telling you this:"
"You've blindly fallen to the accusations of a misguided novice. You've threatened to destroy every Ultramarine under my command because of it, as well as my comrades in the Imperial Guard who fought at my side during the invasion of Graia. The Inquisition didn't seem to have any indication of Inquisitor Drogan being a traitor - the daemon himself declared that man was his puppet long before the Orks had even touched the planet. Many citizens, guardsmen and battle-brothers may have fallen during the Chaos incursion upon that world following Drogan's plan. It is a weight upon my shoulders, but it should be upon you and your kind's shoulders as well."
"You've done so much to bring dishonor on my name, my brother's name, and my chapter."
"I don't expect you to understand, so I ask you as a man - not as a captain, or an Ultramarine, or even a space marine, because this appears to be the only way you'd have a chance of understanding."
View attachment 2560
"Do not lie to me or waste my time here. Have some honor and dignity for once, if that is even possible for you and your ilk."
Titus spoke with an authority and aloofness that left even the snobbish rats of the Inquisition speechless. That is, of course, because he simply has nothing left to lose but his own life in the Emperor's name. Although his kind is engineered to have perfect memory and cognitive function upon the fields of battle, the captain chooses to blot out the earliest days of his service as an Ultramarine - as an angel of death. To him, his service to the Emperor could only be accurate chronicled beginning at the moment he was named Captain of the Ultramarines 2nd Company, because before that point he had no glory to his name. He was another warrior on the field, first a scout and then a stout battle-brother. In a way, the chapter's strict adherence of the Codex Astartes helped to further leave Titus feeling like he and battle-brothers weren't. . .human.
That is a heretical thought. Possibly. Most definitely. But it is the truth.
When the helmet went on, Titus was simply a vessel to be directed by his superiors. There was no personal achievement to be had at the end of a hard-fought war. No glory in the name of the Emperor, simply another victory for the Imperium. Sidonus seemed to alleviate this feeling of hollowness - he was loud and boisterous, a well of infinite wisdom and morale for the 2nd Company. He wasn't as enamored with the Codex as some of his fellow brothers, but his service on the fields of battle did more than just compensate. He was an icon for Titus when he was but an initiate.
It would be no truth if Titus said he wasn't still subtly mourning him. A space marine knows no weakness as he knows no fear - for his only thoughts should be that of service to the Emperor and endless hatred and rage for the enemies of the Imperium.
The enemies of the Imperium.
Who is the true enemy, really?
Titus was left staring off into space for a few moments, before the grumbling voice of the Inquisitor continued. "Our time together will be short, space marine. I do not intend to kill you just yet, for the Emperor still requires your body. Your resistance to the touch of Chaos is an untapped source of potential, and I. . .do not spoil my resources. Time is one of those resources, and I'm not willing to call upon the next Psyker I see to test your mind for the taint of heresy. The Inquisition is to assume that with your direct contact with the daemon of Graia, you've already been lost. We'll have to find a blank slate with you, it seems - a wipe of your loyalties and consciousness."
"A sacrifice. . .I am willing to make."
The tranquil rage boiling within the space marine seemed to reach a peak as he saw the future. The solid restraints about his arms began to strain under the force of his muscle. "You wish to turn me into your puppet, Inquisitor? Just like them? A hollow man?" Titus glared at the Grey Knights. The two of them did not react, staring ahead at nothing.
Like machines.
The Inquisitor laughed in the face of the space marine, turning to the doorway. "Loyalty and honor are. . .fragile things, Captain. You should've focused on what was concrete - what was in front of you."
"Perhaps Sidonus would still be alive."
". . .Inquisitor."
The inquisitor turned, opening the door. "I am done with you, space marine--"
"No, inquisitor, look--"
"What? What could you possibly. . ."
"INQUISITOR, LOOK OUT!"
SHHHWING!
Titus burst from the restraints as if they were nothing, scrambling to his feet and rushing forward to seemingly tackle the man. In response, the two Grey Knights swung their glaives in a swift downward motion, intending to bisect Titus as he attempted to grab hold of the old man. Though neither could do so, as found themselves clutching as the steaming blade gouging out from their throats.
View attachment 2559
"HSSSSSSSSSSSSS"
The pair of Bloodletters swung their blades to the side, swiftly decapitating the daemonhunters before they could even react. A twin geyser of bright-red blood spurt from the gurgling stumps left in their place as the pair of power-armored bodies slumped to the ground like bags of rocks. A third Bloodletter wrestled Titus against the wall, the accursed daemon whipping it's forked tounge madly and snarling at the scent of sweet blood. The captain made an effort to block the daemon's advance towards the Inquisitor, who scrambled back after nearly tripping on the decapitated heads of his guards. Behind them all, a twisting maelstrom of chaotic energy occupied the hallway - a gateway to the Warp. A torrent of roars and screams echoed from the portal, as Titus could sense another wave of daemons about to burst through the gateway. With no time left to spare, the captain effortlessly clutched the Bloodletter by it's veiny throat and smashed it's head against the steel wall, crushing it's skull like a walnut and sending it's vanishing body hurling towards the other two daemons.
Titus beheld the gateway for a few moments. There was no other way to block the advance of the coming daemons. They would flood the entire ship otherwise, sending every soul on the ship to their doom.
View attachment 2565
"Begone."
The space marine let the Emperor's will take over his body. He ran forth into the screaming maelstrom, diving in to take any of the heretical bastards with him.
Ears ringing.
Everything was white.
"The Dark Millennium"
It is the 41st Millennium.
View attachment 2564
For more than a hundred centuries The Emperor has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth.
He is the Master of Mankind by the will of the gods, and master of a million worlds by the might of his inexhaustible armies.
He is a rotting carcass writhing invisibly with power from the Dark Age of Technology.
He is the Carrion Lord of the Imperium for whom a thousand souls are sacrificed every day, so that he may never truly die.
Mighty battlefleets cross the daemon-infested miasma of the Warp, the only route between distant stars, their way lit by the Astronomican, the psychic manifestation of the Emperor's will.
Vast armies give battle in his name on uncounted worlds.
Greatest amongst his soldiers are the Adeptus Astartes, the Space Marines, bio-engineered super-warriors.
Their comrades in arms are legion: the Imperial Guard and countless planetary defence forces, the ever vigilant Inquisition and the tech-priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus to name only a few.
But for all their multitudes, they are barely enough to hold off the ever-present threat from aliens, heretics, mutants. . .
. . .and worse.
- - -
There is nothing colder than the void.
Emperor knows how many days have passed within the rusted corridors of this ancient vessel. Rust and filth paint the many scrambling hallways and tunnels reaching up and around every sanctum within the imperial ship. This had to the lowest deck on the vessel, reserved only for the Inquisition's involuntary guests should they find themselves worthy of even being interrogated at all, as opposed to just being given the Emperor's mercy in the form of a steaming bolt. No inquistor would be willing to own a voidship of his own and not express his vanity and power through excessive decoration and displays of wealth and status. Those bright inquisitorial sigils mark each of the airlock doors, the hollow skulls in the center of the large crimson "I" stare down the prisoner as they're forced to look straight ahead due to the neck braces.
Of course, this particular subject could disintegrate those braces just by thinking about it.
View attachment 2562
Titus sat in the wicked machination all alone, forcefully stripped from his power armor and left with nothing but his base undergarments. It was just as the stories and legends describe - the 7 foot rippling mass of bio-engineered muscle lay bare upon the braced interrogation seat, his obtuse implants made clear under the hazy green glow of the lights staring down from above. Titus stared ahead without any particular expression, glaring over at the door as it hissed open and a cloaked figure walked in, flanked on both sides by the noise of stomping power-boots and humming force glaives.
"I see that he is awake. Serf, did you not apply the proper dosage?"
A whirring noise resonated from the other side of a room as a hooded figure scuttled over, mechanical arms and implements creeping out of it's robe. "MY DEEPEST APOLOGIES, INQUISITOR. HE IS A SPACE MARINE. IT REQUIRES A SIGNIFICANT EFFORT TO PUT HIM UNDER--"
"Enough, then. Leave us be," the inquisitor ordered with a simple wave of his hand.
"YES, INQUISITOR." The serf bowed it's head with a whir, frantically gathering it's data-slate and sacred unguents before scuttling out of the room. The two Grey Knights glared with silent contempt as the scrawny adept fled the scene. The inquisitor placed his hands behind his back, stepping forward and observing the bare captain as if he was a captured test subject. "You are a resilient one, space marine. Resisting the best medicae upon my vessel, the will of the Inquisition itself, as well as the very touch of . . .corruption. The former, I can only attribute to pure tenacity. . .but the latter, I'm afraid, I cannot tolerate."
View attachment 2563
"Inquisitor."
The man shot daggers at Titus, as if he was ready to shoot the marine then and there for interrupting him. The inquisitor gave a coy smile, "What. What is it you could possibly want now?"
"I am far too ancient and experienced to not know how your organization functions by now. You would've executed me on the landing pad of Graia had you wanted me dead."
"Bargaining for life? This doesn't seem like the conduct of the Emperor's angel of deat--"
"I'm not bargaining for my life. I'm telling you this:"
"You've blindly fallen to the accusations of a misguided novice. You've threatened to destroy every Ultramarine under my command because of it, as well as my comrades in the Imperial Guard who fought at my side during the invasion of Graia. The Inquisition didn't seem to have any indication of Inquisitor Drogan being a traitor - the daemon himself declared that man was his puppet long before the Orks had even touched the planet. Many citizens, guardsmen and battle-brothers may have fallen during the Chaos incursion upon that world following Drogan's plan. It is a weight upon my shoulders, but it should be upon you and your kind's shoulders as well."
"You've done so much to bring dishonor on my name, my brother's name, and my chapter."
"I don't expect you to understand, so I ask you as a man - not as a captain, or an Ultramarine, or even a space marine, because this appears to be the only way you'd have a chance of understanding."
View attachment 2560
"Do not lie to me or waste my time here. Have some honor and dignity for once, if that is even possible for you and your ilk."
Titus spoke with an authority and aloofness that left even the snobbish rats of the Inquisition speechless. That is, of course, because he simply has nothing left to lose but his own life in the Emperor's name. Although his kind is engineered to have perfect memory and cognitive function upon the fields of battle, the captain chooses to blot out the earliest days of his service as an Ultramarine - as an angel of death. To him, his service to the Emperor could only be accurate chronicled beginning at the moment he was named Captain of the Ultramarines 2nd Company, because before that point he had no glory to his name. He was another warrior on the field, first a scout and then a stout battle-brother. In a way, the chapter's strict adherence of the Codex Astartes helped to further leave Titus feeling like he and battle-brothers weren't. . .human.
That is a heretical thought. Possibly. Most definitely. But it is the truth.
When the helmet went on, Titus was simply a vessel to be directed by his superiors. There was no personal achievement to be had at the end of a hard-fought war. No glory in the name of the Emperor, simply another victory for the Imperium. Sidonus seemed to alleviate this feeling of hollowness - he was loud and boisterous, a well of infinite wisdom and morale for the 2nd Company. He wasn't as enamored with the Codex as some of his fellow brothers, but his service on the fields of battle did more than just compensate. He was an icon for Titus when he was but an initiate.
It would be no truth if Titus said he wasn't still subtly mourning him. A space marine knows no weakness as he knows no fear - for his only thoughts should be that of service to the Emperor and endless hatred and rage for the enemies of the Imperium.
The enemies of the Imperium.
Who is the true enemy, really?
Titus was left staring off into space for a few moments, before the grumbling voice of the Inquisitor continued. "Our time together will be short, space marine. I do not intend to kill you just yet, for the Emperor still requires your body. Your resistance to the touch of Chaos is an untapped source of potential, and I. . .do not spoil my resources. Time is one of those resources, and I'm not willing to call upon the next Psyker I see to test your mind for the taint of heresy. The Inquisition is to assume that with your direct contact with the daemon of Graia, you've already been lost. We'll have to find a blank slate with you, it seems - a wipe of your loyalties and consciousness."
"A sacrifice. . .I am willing to make."
The tranquil rage boiling within the space marine seemed to reach a peak as he saw the future. The solid restraints about his arms began to strain under the force of his muscle. "You wish to turn me into your puppet, Inquisitor? Just like them? A hollow man?" Titus glared at the Grey Knights. The two of them did not react, staring ahead at nothing.
Like machines.
The Inquisitor laughed in the face of the space marine, turning to the doorway. "Loyalty and honor are. . .fragile things, Captain. You should've focused on what was concrete - what was in front of you."
"Perhaps Sidonus would still be alive."
". . .Inquisitor."
The inquisitor turned, opening the door. "I am done with you, space marine--"
"No, inquisitor, look--"
"What? What could you possibly. . ."
"INQUISITOR, LOOK OUT!"
SHHHWING!
Titus burst from the restraints as if they were nothing, scrambling to his feet and rushing forward to seemingly tackle the man. In response, the two Grey Knights swung their glaives in a swift downward motion, intending to bisect Titus as he attempted to grab hold of the old man. Though neither could do so, as found themselves clutching as the steaming blade gouging out from their throats.
View attachment 2559
"HSSSSSSSSSSSSS"
The pair of Bloodletters swung their blades to the side, swiftly decapitating the daemonhunters before they could even react. A twin geyser of bright-red blood spurt from the gurgling stumps left in their place as the pair of power-armored bodies slumped to the ground like bags of rocks. A third Bloodletter wrestled Titus against the wall, the accursed daemon whipping it's forked tounge madly and snarling at the scent of sweet blood. The captain made an effort to block the daemon's advance towards the Inquisitor, who scrambled back after nearly tripping on the decapitated heads of his guards. Behind them all, a twisting maelstrom of chaotic energy occupied the hallway - a gateway to the Warp. A torrent of roars and screams echoed from the portal, as Titus could sense another wave of daemons about to burst through the gateway. With no time left to spare, the captain effortlessly clutched the Bloodletter by it's veiny throat and smashed it's head against the steel wall, crushing it's skull like a walnut and sending it's vanishing body hurling towards the other two daemons.
Titus beheld the gateway for a few moments. There was no other way to block the advance of the coming daemons. They would flood the entire ship otherwise, sending every soul on the ship to their doom.
View attachment 2565
"Begone."
The space marine let the Emperor's will take over his body. He ran forth into the screaming maelstrom, diving in to take any of the heretical bastards with him.
Ears ringing.
Everything was white.
