Tag Archives: horror

Deathwatch – Binary Stars Episode 1

In the year 755 of the 41st Millenium, in the Calixis sector, on a routine visit with Rogue Trader Blain Arcadius, the navy frigate Spear of Tarsus made a discovery that would change the course of a trillion lives. On an emergency exit from a warp trip through the heart of Imperial territory, their astropath immediately collapsed frothing at the mouth, the auto-recorder recording a single phrase: “The unravelling is begun.” On further investigation, the Spear of Tarsus found a station, a ring kilometers in length, of unknown xenos architecture and purpose. After years of careful study, the station was activated, opening a stable portal to a region of space isolated for thousands of years by warp storms: The Jericho Reach. The Jericho gate, connecting to the center of Imperial territory, presents one of the greatest threats or opportunities yet encountered to mankind.

In the year 777, 22 years after initial discovery, the High Lords of Terra issued the official decree secretly authorizing the Achilus Crusade, under the command of Imperial Warmaster Tiber Achilus. Striking forth, he found early success, securing the “Iron Collar”, a near-impenetrable series of Imperium-sympathetic worlds that were quickly conquered, fortified, and turned into staging areas for further strikes. However, the early victories were quickly followed by failures. To the galactic southeast, the Tau empire, having assimilated many formerly human worlds into their system-spanning organization for the “Greater Good”, slowed the crusade. To the east, spewing forth from the Hades anomaly, demonic influences and aligned forces, the Stigmartus, threaten to corrupt or overwhelm the crusade. And in 786, a mere 9 years into the crusade, Tiber Achilus is lost forever during a routine warp voyage within the Iron Collar.

His successor, Solomon Tetrarchus, has been in charge of the crusade for 31 grueling years. In 812, 26 years into his command, Tetrarchus reorganized the crusade into three distinct entities. The Canis Salient, led by commander Ebongrave, would engage the Tau. The Acheros Salient, currently under the command of Duchess Magratha Von Karlack, would engage the Stigmartus army emerging from the Hades anomaly. And the Orpheus salient to the galactic north, under general Mikal Curas, sought to reunite the easily broken and sympathetic worlds therein. While the other salients settled into a long stalement, the Orpheus salient was successful, advancing quickly, until the shadows of new foe, the unknowable biological hordes of the Tyranids, crashed into the front, pushing it back slowly and steadily. The fate of dozens of worlds remain entirely unknown.
The year is 817. The Achilus Crusade has raged for 40 years. In these troubled times, the Ordo Xenos, the arm of the inquisition with ultimate authority and duty to face all alien threats to mankind, operates among the crusade, pursuing goals that may save a million lives or doom an entire fleet in a heartbeat. Their greatest warriors, the Deathwatch, are drawn from the ranks of the Space Marine chapters, genetically engineered warrior-monks, armed with the greatest implements of war the Imperium can muster. And on Watch Station Erioch, the millenia-old fortress of the Deathwatch in the Jericho Reach, a new killteam is ordered…

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Deadlands – Fallen Flags Episode 12

Dear Diary, what am I doing here? In the name of pride, I find myself eating soot for breakfast, having failed a recovery even when I knew full well the target’s location. But it’s not simply shame in my heart. This place instills a sort of misery in you, a feeling of running in circles, just like every wagon wheel and damnably grinding gear in this creativity-prospector’s languishing silver mine. A cleverly hidden boot flask is enough to keep my walls standing, but the futility is crashing against them more like waves than enemy action, more like a force of nature than a strike to anticipate. The exhilaration of discovery, the prospect of making one’s fortune, I’m certain these distract, but in this town more than any other… It seems only a matter of time before it asks more of you than you can offer. And one way or another, there’s no escaping when your debt comes due.

-Recovered from a cognac-stained page in the diary of an unnamed debt collector, written mid-August, 1877
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Dungeons and Dragons – Curse of Innistrahd Finale

Innistrad is not a place of life. It’s colors are deep and dismal, it’s people sturdy and sullen. But there are times of triumph. Singular times that stand out as proof that this doesn’t need to be the way things are. The world is not black and white. The harvest moon has begun to set. A new chapter is left for the outland valleys, a place even those from Stensia thought inhospitable. And for those brave enough to change the world; They find a need to change along with it.

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Deadlands – Fallen Flags Episode 11

Agency Internal Dossier
Verification Code 22-9-3-20-15-18
Subject: Dr. Manfred Stark, PhD (Biology from Oxford University)
Author: “Tom Bondsley”, Field Agent

A proper doctor, as I understand it. As proper as a graverobber can be. Allegedly, anyway. By proxy. I know it’s more or less standard practice these days, but it unsettles me either way. Regardless, this one is most famous these days for being an outspoken opponent of the smog and steam that covers Salt Lake City and associated land. He claims that it’s killing both the people and the game used to feed them. I’m not much of a scientist, but if he’s right, that’s obviously bad news. Maybe not worth putting a stop to the production in our own labs, but maybe worth a more in-depth cost-benefit analysis. That’s just my opinion, though. Most folks have been calling him a lunatic, but if he’s been rooting around in people’s bodies, maybe he has a more in-depth look. And maybe it’ll come down to either building a better factory, or building a better human to use them. I’m sure Hellstromme is working both angles anyway.

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Dungeons and Dragons – Curse of Innistrahd Episode 37

Tatyana was dead.
Sergei was dead.
Maurer wasn’t sure what he was.
The deal was simple and perfect. A conception bathed in a sense of infamy, but answered by the urgency of nobility and want. The Markovs had been generous that day so long ago, lit by candles and surrounded by stone and blue blood. Edgar Markov was a smart man, a calculating man, one who spoke of need and duty. The blood of Stensia would live on he proclaimed loudly, his hands staining black crimson in the basin of prepared elixir. And they followed. One by one, marching to his new tomorrow. Toward an eternity beyond death. Even then Strephan Maurer was mad. Even then he was a fool.
And even now, he waits for an eternity, not fearing his coming hunters.
Death awaits.

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