Imperial Agenda (Squishypink and Arcturus)

[ArcturusMagnus]

Empty space loomed in every direction, distant stars the only points of light in the otherwise empty black void of space. Lightyears away, the vastness of the Eye of Terror shone, a tear in the warp from which the lone ship had come. Rust shone on the hull of the vessel like open wounds, and jagged tears and rents in the massive vessel told the story of ten thousand years of warfare which the craft had seen. The Discordant had once been a vessel of the mighty Legions of the old space marines, back before the foolish Imperium had decided to split the marines apart, weakening themselves, leaving them open. Now, the vessel served a new master, the god Slaanesh. The ship, where paint could be seen, was done up in a cavalcade of color and designs too numerous to count. The massive guns of the ship had been modified, so that every blast resonated discordant music within the might war vessel, a cacophony of pleasure to those damned souls who toiled inside.

Master of the vessel was the Chaos Champion Heiros Lutherius. Once a member of the Emperor’s Children legion, Lutherius now served only Slaanesh. The Imperial Aquila had been besmirched upon his armor, which was now a mixture of purple and black. At his side was a terribly loud chain sword, which the champion did so enjoy to use. The roar of the engine and the whir of the blades as it tore into flesh made him practically giddy. The merest thought of it sent a shiver down his corrupt spine. His bolter, older than whole civilizations, had been warped and changed by the powers of the warp, the mouth of the weapon literally screaming with every unholy round fired at his enemies. Even his armor seemed to cry out with every heavy step which he took.

Beneath that armor, Lutherius was beautifl to behold. Unlike many in the service of Slaanesh, who became mutated in their pursuit of pleasure, Lutherius’ perversions were not as prone to warping him. Marines and acolytes around him were hideous creatures, eyes bulbous, ears melded into audio enhancers as they sought even the slightest pleasure, their bodies long since immune to regular levels of stimulation. Lutherius has skin which was nearly flawless, a lone scar running along his jawline from ages past. His eyes were the blue of lake water, back when Terra had oceans and lakes. His silvery-gold hair was cut close to his head. Powerful limbs and a broad chest were hidden beneath the armor, honed muscles taut and as ready today as they had been millennia ago.

At this moment, those ice blue eyes were focused upon the scanners set into the console. In the distance was an Imperial vessel. From the markings upon it, the ship belonged to the Sisters of Battle. He snorted almost derisively, his arrogance at his own strength showing at that moment. The Sisters of Battle might be brave and fierce warriors, but none could hope to stand against the might of a Chaos marine, especially those of old, when the technology of the Empire had been great, not this shadow of old glory which they were now, hanging on by a thread.

Their vessel was smaller than the great war vessel which Lutherius commanded. If he wanted to, his ship could wipe the sisters from existence, sending them to their precious false Emperor. That, however, was not what he had in mind. His plans had been rather different, but this would suit him just as well. ”Prepare to fire,” he ordered, his voice a deep bass which carried clearly over the command deck. ”Disable their engines and prepare to board. Take them alive.” He wanted to hear their delicious cries.

With a roar, the guns opened up, firing across a hundred miles of space in a near instant, the rounds smashing into the Imperial ship, punching holes into the hull and utterly destroying the engines with the first volley. Against a larger vessel such an action would not have been possible, not with the first volley. There could be no more than a company of Sisters on this ship, however, no doubt investigating some claim of heresy on another forsaken planet within the Imperium. Whatever the case, they were here now, and would suit Lutherius’ aims.

Several boarding ships, gunboats capable of holding half a dozen marines, burst from the hull of the Discordant like puss-filled growths, swarming toward the disabled craft. Lutherius was not on any of those ships. He was already making his preparations. Perhaps the Sisters had been heading to the exact planet which was his eventual goal. To most, it was a backwater agricultural planet, but Lutherius knew better. He had plans for this planet, which would be just the beginning.

 

[Squishypink]

RE: Imperial Agenda

The spine of the ship shook with tremendous impact, flinging menials from their feet and sending even the armored Sisters staggering despite their suits' integrated balance units. Emergency lighting turned the world a hellish crimson as girls dashed through the corridors to reach their posts.

"Emperor's immaculate balls! We're hit!" Celestian Sharia spat a mouthful of blood out across her pristine white breastplate, pushing herself away from the wall where her face had just impacted.

"Language!" Shouted Sister Stephanie of the Order Dialogus. With a sickening crunch of metal, a nearby hatch ripped from its hinges and sucked Stephanie into a depressurized vacuum, which was fine because nobody liked her anyway.

Still reeling from the series of impacts, novice Sister Gloria stumbled out of her bunk clutching her bolter to her chest, her freckled young face awash with panic and confusion. Celestian Sharia turned and barked an order to her, but the words failed to carry over the rush of air through the nearby hatch.

"I said, get to the--" Another hatch blew out right behind Sharia, who flew unceremoniously out into another depressurized corridor. Blinking in confusion, Gloria tucked her ginger curls into the collar of her armor and fastened her helmet.

"Why do the veteran sisters never wear these things?" she wondered aloud, ruminating on the sudden demise of her superiors. Then the unmistakable bouquet of centuries-old body odor hit her from the built-in air recyclers, and she remembered. "Oh Emprah's badass moustache, that is awful!" Her hands reached up to her helmet's seals of their own accord before she remembered the howling void. A moment of confusion reigned as she contended with a millennium of flatulence, taking short, shallow breaths through her mouth. Servitors trundling through the depressurized hallway barely took note of a single Sister flailing in their path while jumping up and down. Finally, she called upon her training to block out the horrible funk and made for the strategium, where she hoped the other officers still lived.

 

[ArcturusMagnus]

Lutherius knew that the Sisters of Battle were brave, and that they would fight nobly against the forces of Chaos. Yet the veteran of millennia of battle also knew that they were no match for the enhancements, training, and armor which a space marine underwent. They might be able to handle the average cultist, and even be a match for the many traitor guardsmen and planetary forces which always threatened to turn to the ruinous powers. Yet, for their training, their prowess, they could not stand long against his forces. As the boarding ships smashed into the Sisters’ ship, Lutherius turned away. He would see whoever was brought aboard in due time.

Sister Gloria was close to where the ships collided, but not close enough to prevent eighteen chaos marines from spilling out into the halls, bolt guns throwing explosive shells toward the sisters as they scrambled to fight back. The sizzle of melting metal could be heard as a plasma fun belched forth its deadly ammunition, spraying armor and corroding metal. “Death to the false emperah!” one proclaimed, charging forward, only to be brought down by a hail of bolter fire which pierced the armor which had been old when Horus turned traitor.

The demise of their comrade brought forth a roar of rage from others of the Emperor’s Children traitor legion, and they began to attack with the ferocity that was legendary among their legion. Towering figured in purple and black armor opened fire with weapons warped by chaos, felling sisters as they tried to hold them back. It was, however, about as good as trying to hold back the tide, and the chaos forces advanced, only one or two falling in the process, the sisters finding chinks in the ancient armor of their most sworn of enemies.

Before too long, the forces of Chaos were upon Sister Gloria and the last of the defenders, who were holed up on the strategium, which had but one entrance and exit. The roar of bolter and plasma fire could be heard as the chaos forces slowly advanced upon the doorway where the last handful of sisters bravely stood. In the chaos of the battle, a lone frag grenade rolled through the doorway and detonated behind the sisters. While it did little against the armor which they wore, it stunned them, and gave the chaos forces their opportunity. With the crushing force of power armor, the sisters were disabled, wrapped in the irresistible strength of the metal and ceramic of their armored limbs. “Come with us, darlings,” one of them hissed, his face twisted into an unrecognizable mound of flesh by the multitude of things which the marine had submitted itself to over the eons. Sister Gloria could feel the prick of a needle against her flesh as the marine injected her with a sedative. The other four sisters experienced similar pricks in the small amounts of exposed flesh, and soon were limp in the arms of the terrible forces of chaos.

“Horus’ testicles get them on board!” Lutherius exclaimed, seeing the boarding vessels detach from the dying vessel. Moments later their ship opened up on it, sending the ship of the false Emperor to the abyss which was annihilation.

The ships landed back on the Discordant, the marines lumbering forth to the sound of what the insane might declare to be music. At least one had juiced up with a cocktail of mind-altering chemicals, eyes dilated as they dumped their cargo before Lutherius. Their weapons had been taken, and they would awaken before too much longer.

”Take them to the brig,” he proclaimed, deep voice carrying even over the noise of a hundred of Slaanesh’s finest. ”I want a rapt audience when I tell them what we are doing.”

 

[Squishypink]

Gloria awoke with a head full of fog and a dull ache in her temples. The room was dark, or was that just her vision struggling to recover? No, it was definitely dark in here. Or dim, at least. Twilit? Was twilit a word? For once in her life, she actually wished one of those insufferable Ordo Dialogus twats was around. On second thought, never mind. Nobody liked them anyway. After a moment, as the ringing in her ears subsided, Gloria realized she was not alone. There was movement, heavy breathing and low whimpering coming from nearby, along with the unmistakable sound of power armor joints whining with repetitive motion. Four other sisters shared Gloria's cell, which was not so much a cell as a very secure budoir, many sliken cushions and expensive silk sheets covering the floor and a censer leaking luxurious incense fumes in one corner. The Gloria's sister Sisters were...yeah, yeah. Yeah, they were fucking. No doubt about it, even in this low light.

"What the dealio?" Gloria asked, her mouth parched after her long sleep. The sisters had all detached the various plates of their armor which normally covered their privates, and they were going at it in a tangled pile of armored bodies. "What are you doing?"

"We're fucking," said one of the sisters. "Duh."

"Yeah, we're basically just sluts," said another. She paused and corrected herself. "Sorry, 'Ordo Hospitalier'." She even threw in some air quotes for flavor.

"Don't tell me you've never wondered what our order does."

Gloria blushed. "I guess it makes sense now that I think about it." Watching them lick and finger each other through their armor prompted Gloria to poke at her own suit. The quick-release plates over her breasts and groin all popped away at the slightest nudge. "I always wondered why they did that," she said. "So I guess we're all captured and stuff."

"Yeah, looks that way," said one of the random slut-sisters.

"Did you guys even try to escape?"

"Nah, too busy fucking."

"It's a full time job," said another.

Gloria stood and reattached the quick-release plates over both her breasts. The crotch plate, however, was being a total pain in the ass again and she couldn't get it to lock in place. Sighing in frustration, she realized she'd have to go naked down there for now, and was thankful for her long tabard that at least covered her naughty bits. Reaching out a little gingerly, the little ginger girl tried the handle on the cell's door. A loud click echoed in the small chamber and the door swung outwards on well greased hinges. "Well, damn. This brig is a joke." Gloria popped her head out and looked around. Sure enough, there was a single guard bearing the mark of Slaanesh branded about a million times across her flesh. Apparently, she'd tried masturbating with a chainsword and realized too late that it wasn't such a great idea. "Umm, ouch. I mean, for the Emprah!" Since the evil slutty slut wasn't really using it anymore, Gloria wiggled the chainsword free and rested it across in both hands. She gunned it a couple times, experimentally, and had to clear some labia out of the motor before it would work properly. With a confused shrug that spoke of her bewildered acceptance of this strange place, Gloria set off down the corridor to find...something. Someone. Whatever, she'd probably just end up smiting it anyway.