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Servants Of The Gods

Started by Swarbie, July 23, 2010, 12:30:10 PM

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Swarbie

Servants of the Gods
This being a by-no-means complete documentation of the Daemonic inhabitants of the Empyrean

Foreword

Their name is legion, their visage death. Since time immemorial, the daemons of the Warp have shed the blood of mankind for their own satisfaction. They have tainted us, twisted us, subverted our minds and our very bodies to suit their purposes.

Despite of all this, very little is known about these mysterious creatures. Being a member of the Ordo Malleus, I myself have knowledge of the daemons, but I am forever surprised by how little I truly know. If we are to triumph, I believe we must combine our knowledge. All of us, inquisitors, both puritan and radical, daemonologists, and even members of the honoured Astartes, must pool our knowledge of all the daemons we have encountered.

To this end, I have created this, the beginnings of a compendium that may be accessed anywhere the Emperor's Light shines. I have been granted the use of a full Astropathic Choir, and their instructions are to weave the words into a song that resonates with the Astronomican. This means that wherever an astropath can sense the Astronomican, he will also be able to access this compendium.

Anyone wishing to add to this font of knowledge need only acquire the services of an astropath. Only those trained by the Adeptus Telepathica will be able to read or edit this information. The Choir will sense any changes being made and adjust their song accordingly.

I leave now in the hope that our knowledge will grow. To plant the seed, as one might say, I have encoded information on a form of minor daemon I recently encountered. I will also update this compendium periodically as my research continues.

May the Emperor's Light guide you, now and forever,

Inquisitor Darius Forghas, Ordo Malleus



Troll
"Trolls exist! They steal your socks. But only the left ones . . ."
-Daemonologist Fral Zimmer, three days before he was executed by Tzeentchian cultists.


The troll is a minor daemon that serves the Dark God Tzeentch. Anywhere between one and four feet in height, a troll's material form will exhibit a variable number of limbs, along with fur, smooth skin and beaks or many-toothed mouths.

Trolls are among the least intelligent of Tzeentch's servants. They can speak in any language, but their vocabulary appears to be limited to the equivalents of: "sparrow", "lump-like", "gnash", "sock", "traffic-light", "gravedigger", and "seeker". Possessed of highly mischievous natures, trolls are often summoned by cults in the lead-up to an uprising. They will attempt to cause mass confusion and panic in a number of ways.

Their methods include, but are not limited to: stealing socks and shoes (but only the left ones), backing up sewers, swapping street signs, shaving/dying the fur of household pets, filing all the information in the Administratum records under 'W', replacing bow ties with low-quality cravats, putting stringed instruments permanently out of tune, and, on rare occasions, assassinating high-ranking members of the society unfortunate enough to be plagued by them. The more trolls there are, the more widespread and destructive the havoc they cause will be.

This behavior tends towards the goal of weakening peoples' resistance to oncoming change, or even initiating the planned change itself. Although they appear nonthreatening, they possess super-human strength and the imagination to use almost any conceivable object, such as newspapers and balloons, as deadly weapons.
And I saw her body burning,
With it, my world
To dust returning

Swarbie

Syren
"I heard its voice sing sweetly, offering all there is, was and ever will be. I followed it, and never asked the nature of its fee."
-Final words of a Slaaneshi cultist, executed with purging flames on the third day of 908.M41


The Syren. In the ancient legends of Terra, it is a cruel sea-beast, leading unfortunate sailors to their doom on hidden rocks. The truth is something far worse.

Taking the form of a tall temptress, the Syren, unlike the Daemonettes that often accompany it, has no need for glamours and enchantments. It, alone of Slaanesh's servants, is truly beautiful. The only indicators of its inhuman nature are elongated canines and tentacles hidden in its long hair.

Syrens will usually materialize near brothels or neighborhoods of ill-repute. Once it is safely ensconced in an abandoned room, it will begin to sing. Its song is not heard on the physical plane, but echoes through the Warp. This draws Daemonettes to the area where the Syren materialized.

The song also has a profound effect upon nearby people. The longer the Syren is allowed to sing, the more time these people will devote to leisure. The depravity of their pastimes grows over time. Soon, those affected by the Syren's song will be drawn to it, like moths to a flame. This is when the Syren strikes.

The Syren, like several other daemons, devours souls. However, while the other daemons with this ability devour souls for pleasure or to ensure they remain on the material plane, the Syren's motives are radically different. It will devour souls until its essence has swollen to the bursting point with power. 

The Syren will then rapidly dematerialize. This event releases the energy it gathered in a single, horrifically powerful burst. The energy tears a temporary hole in the fabric of reality, and within minutes hordes of Daemonettes are pouring through into the material plane. This almost invariably results in the destruction of large settlements, and poses a serious threat to hive cities and worlds.   


Gobbling
"Within seconds they were all over Jerry, prodding him with their little knives. Then they started to eat. God-Emperor, the noises they made!"
-Anonymous (presumed to be a survivor from a daemonic invasion)


The Gobbling is a minor imp and a close relative to the Nurgling. They are approximately the same height as Nurglings, and can be identified by their slimy green skin, over-sized jaws, rusted cutlery held in both hands, and the dirty napkins they wear tied around their necks. Their role is to consume those who fall to the plagues and servants of the god Nurgle; however, they have been known to attack living people when they have sufficient numbers.

They carry rusted knives and forks, the blades and tines of which are encrusted in diseased material. Survivors of Gobbling attacks often fall victim to gangrene or a variety of noxious diseases. They also move with surprising speed, and possess far greater strength than could be expected. Groups of Gobblings have been known to carry off fully-grown grox.

However, the true danger of Gobblings is that, if they consume enough organic material, they will actually begin to grow, eventually becoming Plaguebearers. This eventuality can be avoided by seeking out Gobbling nests and burning them in the early stages of an invasion. 
And I saw her body burning,
With it, my world
To dust returning

Swarbie

Centar
"The stars have been read; their alignment is true. Soon will be the days when Tzeentch comes for you!"
-Recovered audio-fragment from an overrun PDF emplacement on Ancephelia VI.


Centars are daemons of a middling-rank in the service of the Changer of Ways. They are large, up to twice the height of a man, and they wear hoods over their heads, beneath which nothing can be discerned except for three glowing, multi-hued eyes.

Centars have four arms, attached to a relatively humanoid torso. However, they are quintapeds. Five insect-like, multi-jointed segmented limbs protrude from a bulging abdomen. This allows them to move at truly astonishing speeds, as individual Centars have been clocked moving at over 60 km/h. Each arm ends in a hand with two thumbs and one finger.

At some point in time, the Centars were granted a gift by their master; they were given the gift of prophecy. This is the purpose of their three eyes: the left eye reads the cards, the right eye reads the stars, and the central eye reads the Warp itself.

All of this daemon's assets make them a valuable patron for any Tzeentchian cult. They are large and imposing, carry the knowledge of ages, have the speed and strength to aid cultists in battle, and may determine the path that will give their followers the best chance at victory. 
And I saw her body burning,
With it, my world
To dust returning

Inquisitor Kravin

"Its not the teeth or the mouths or the smell that I feared. No, its the hate and the hunger. An entire world, an entire place in time and space that hates us, hungers for our souls. Such hate you cant imagine. How do you fight that?" The final words off Grenadier Helms, before "Self Purification"

The Hydra

Tares from our world to the dreaded world off the Warp are feared indeed, through theses come the demons of our nightmares, but should a cultist lose control of a tare in space or one be created simply through the madness of chaos corruption the end result can be truly terrible. The Hydra appears where a tare from our realm to that of the warp is forced and unmanaged by chaos cultists or sorcery. This can happy for many reasons, from  foolish or lazy chaos sorcerers, to physker filth losing control and even some reports off powerful explosions accidentally opening tares (Though theses are unconfirmed)

Once opened theses holes can begin to grow long serpentine heads stretching out from the warp through the hole in space and time. Mouths lined with razor sharp, blade like teeth, reported to be able to make quick work off power armour and once the ripe out of our world spreads, even tanks. The skin of theses beasts is made off the shifting and vile stuff off the warp, ever changing. Often gaping maws and eyes appear on its skin like bubbles on, only to burst and disappear under a layer of scales.

As the ripe widens the heads grown in size and number, seeming to force the ripe wider as more serpents force there way through the gap. The limit to this growth is unknown, but there are legends and even some sketchy reports of entire hives being devoured by masses of heads, hundreds off feet in hight.

Should the the Hydra be aloud to grow unchecked, the ripe will eventual become unstable and implode in on itself, this is a rare occurrence, but always a deadly. To out best estimates, the resulting explosions can be anywhere from 100 to 150 Megatons in force.

Facing the Hydra is no easy challenge, although the heads are very susceptible to fire, once killed they collapse to the ground and quickly melt into a tar like black substance, only to be replaced by another head, or maybe more. In a cruel final act off hatred the black tare animates any dead it touches, burning away its skin and compelling the fallen to charge, clawing and screaming at the living.

The only proven way to defeat a Hydra is cause catastrophic damage to the tare in space itself and the area surrounding. New born rips with only a few Serpentine heads can be destroyed with a well placed charge, normal within an hour only sustained artillery fire will do, within six hours, only orbital strikes have any likely hood off success.

Most believe that the Serpentine heads off the Hydra is in fact a bestial species of demon native to the world of the warp, only cunning enough to take on one form, its only thought a burning hunger for souls. I however have long have long been of a different opinion. After seeing theses, abominations with my own eyes, take my contingent of body guards and kill them to the last. With a hunger, a ferocity I have never before seen and pray to the Great God Emperor, never to see again. I believe theses long, bestial heads are the very hunger and rage off the warp itself, forcing itself into our world, in search of souls to devour the souls of man, to feed the never ending need of the warp and its demons, to feed. Emperor protect us.

From Inquisitor Larhims journal, two weeks before sacrificing himself to slay the Hydra of Orbits Helena.[/colour]
Redemption can be found at the end off a bolter pistol.

Swarbie

Wraith

"There are many rumours about what happens to psykers taken by the Black Ships. Some say they are used as fuel for Dominator-class ships' warp-drives. Others say that they are used to create psychically-active holo-dramas for Imperial nobles. There are even stories that they are used to feed the Space Marines, who are too big to survive on nothing but field-rations. The truth is far worse. So many souls, innocents and sinners, soldiers and saints, infants and the elderly. God-Emperor! How could they have thought there would be no repercussions?"
- Acolyte Havnas Torran, extracted from his suicide note.


Wraiths are, perhaps, not true daemons, but after my recent encounter with one, I have decided that they must be included in my tome, for they are as numerous and as deadly as all the servants of Chaos. A Wraith, when it takes physical form, resembles a mist-like human, complete with clothing, tools and all the other trappings of life. Almost all of them show some sign of physical abuse, particularly scars or gashes that ooze an ecto-plasmic substance.

The origins of these entities are somewhat of a controversial subject among members of the Ordo Malleus and Amalathians, for the existence of these ghostly creatures is a direct by-product of the continued existence of the Imperium as we know it. Although many will speak out against me for releasing this information, and many will attempt to hunt me down, I feel I must speak out. Wraiths are a product of the warp-resonance created when psykers are harvested by the Black Ships and fed into the Golden Throne.

The pain and suffering of this experience causes their minds to enter a state of overdrive. This frenzy of psychic activity is, as far as I can tell, both what fuels the Golden Throne's systems and what creates Wraiths. According to my contact on board a Black Ship, psykers are grouped according to power, and then separated into groups of at least a hundred. A hundred psykers of level Gamma or higher would be enough to make any Inquisitor fear for their life, yet we callously and cruelly execute them on a daily basis!

The Wraiths know this. More importantly, they are able to transmit this knowledge. One touch, and all the memories of the psyker whose death created the Wraith will be channeled into the person touched. In my encounter, I was grabbed by several, and have had to take temporary amnesia-inducing treatments to stop my mind collapsing under the flow of information.

If there was to be an outbreak of Wraiths in the middle of an Imperial space-port, the number of people with the seeds of rebellion planted within their mind could be huge. They could venture far and wide, telling the truth to all who would listen.

I am too much of a coward to do this. I love the Imperium and its comforts dearly, and i feel my research is too important to risk losing. However, I cannot rid myself of the pain, the soul-wracking agony I saw in the Wraiths' faces as they clutched at me in desperation. They will haunt me forever.   

And I saw her body burning,
With it, my world
To dust returning