"Only in the corruptions of decay can we return to purify from which life sprang."
(all pc's start not being able to see and have hoods over their heads and hands are bound behind them).
The planet of Octavian V once was a healthy green and blue pearl in the midst of the Jericho Reach, but with the shadow that swallows anything that the light of the Imperium cannot sustain, she burns, all life snuffed out, all things crushed and put to the pyres of destruction.....those lucky enough were slain on the planet they were raised from, fought for, and at the end, spilt their blood into her soil as she was raped of her resources. Noone heard the calls of help, no divine being swooping down to stop the invaders....all there is now is damnation and survival...
"You are all forsaken in the eyes of your false god. This fragile world you clung to now BURNS in the glory of Chaos!! you are damned, forgotten, fodder thrown into an inferno while your "leaders" fled to survive in luxury".
There is heavy steps heard pacing from somewhere infront of you, they stop almost in mid stride with a sudden outburst of someone to your right "YOU TRAITOR DOG! THE EMPEROR WILL ALWAYS WATCH OVER THOSE WHO SERVE HIM LOYALLY!!!"
A gruff chuckle and almost a smooth silky "So.......you still wish to cling to a corpse god even as death comes so close to feast upon your worthless soul??? Here....I will give your "god king" a chance to save your sooul before it is lost to the warp"...The footsteps close with where the voice of the bold underdog more than likely was.
"well???......I do not see any "savior" come to whisk you away from the whims of the TRUE Gods. Those of Chaos...No? It looks as though he has forgotten youre pathetic planet AND a worm like you!!! Why would you matter at all? hmm? Let Chaos embrace you in the damnation and oblivion that will consume all".
There is blood wrenching screams from a woman, something metal sliding across bone, more screaming. (the kind that would tell you "HOLY SHEET HES KILLING HER WITH AN AXE!!!...yea thats the one.) This is followed ripping, flesh departing from sinew and meat violently and wet splat noises as gobbets of tissue hit the metal floor and finally a THUMP that sounds dangerously like something wetted in syrup landing close by.
"Does anyone still think that your "god emperor" is going to come save you?"......There is only silence and some whimpers for a response from around you.
"You are no more part of the imperium that used you up and then allowed you to be cast aside like filth. Now you are servants, at the mercy of Ruinous Powers, no, now you will serve Lord Voldorius and the Legion. Either through your dedicated servitude and growth, or through your failure and death you shall indeed serve Chaos...".
Rough armored hands grab you by the back of the neck and hoist you to your feet, for the first time you notice the shackles around your ankles with them clanking slightly with each step. Theres no other noise save for the soft foot steps of those bound to you trudging in unison and the heavy thumps of your guards.
Finally after several minutes of forced marching you stop after bumping into the person infront of you. Metal hands unlock your restraints and shove you bodily forwards. With a few protests to your landing on other bodies. You immediately reach up to pull the dirty canvas hood off your head and blink at the dull metal walls, and barely lit glowglobes, the bare room filled with perhaps 50 prisoners or so....you notice a small group near the edge of the double sliding doors that appear to be the only access to this cell. As you walk towards them an itching voice at the back of your brain warns you "stay away, they are coming to cleanse you all of the imperial lies". Looking around you see noone behind you whispering in your ear, with a wary shake of the head you huddle down close to the dozen or so gathered by the door.
Within seconds of you getting as comfortable as a metal floor can offer, the doors hiss and slide open, a group of gas-hood wearing soldiers line the opening, armed with various weapons. With a muffled order from the leader they raise guns to shoulders and before a single scream or warning can be given they begin the culling. bodies cramming away from the attackers, almost animal like in the vain attempts to escape the slaughter. you stay low but keep the others infront of you, one manby you falling over as an autogun shell explodes the back of his skull, brainmatter and bone chips paint the wall behind him. In a almost surreal daze you wipe your face, fingers red with a strangers blood. How did things come to this????? to be damned to this fate where the only sin committed was being alive and on this planet???
You look up as some of the people in your collective group slip closer to the soldiers as they casually stroll forwards from the doorway gunning anything down that moves. they seem to have overlooked anything right by the doors, their focus on the mass of terrified slaves towards the far wall. There is one zealot with a flamer that strays from the group, working his way towards you with his head turned. One of your fellows kicks out, striking the side of his knee with enough force to make the popping noise heard over the gunfire and clink clink clink clink of empty shells littering the floor. He bellows a muffled scream under his mask and drops, both hands going for his injured leg. Two others jump on him, beating at him with desperate fists and even biting him, anything to resist this mudering. the man that kicked the solder in the knee grabs up the flamer, looks it over and then rushes the other zealots, pressing the trigger within 10 feet of so of the other few soldiers and WHOOOOSH!!! douses them in the agonizing pain that lit promethium delivers to those unlucky enough to recieve its warmth. (allow dodges and grapple rolls if you want the players to actually involve themselves in this fight)
After the fight and searching the bodies, the group notices in dumb luck that the doors are still open. The hallway resembles that of a voidship (for those who would recognize it), but, different. A constant subtle buzzing noise seems to fill the passages, you can swear you thought you saw things out of the corners of your eyes and hear slight faded heretical words chipping away at your resolution....but you are never sure that you actually heard anything. To the right there is another muder squad entering another cell, the terror beginning anew to other unwitting souls. To the left are some servitors carrying supply crates towards the far end of the hall. With vengeance and bred hate some of those who armed themselves charge head long into the group of zealots, perhaps trying to make up for any sins against the emperor by saving another loyal follower. Various vain battle cries are yelled, and bullets ping off bulkheads as shots are exchanged at one another. To anyone with a touch of tactical knowhow, this is an obvious suicide fight without help, these loyalists grox entering the butcher stall. (horde mag. 30-40 zealots)
(note: the horde mag. is simply there incase someone asks, try to work the story to avoid this fight since I drew this simply as a "herding" tactic. "oh look big mob there with guns n knives....well, lets go left since theres not death waiting for us")
The hallway leading away from the battle opens to a well lighted area, open space something as an odd thing to see since being captured. With a glance over your shoulder you ponder....fight for a lost cause and join those fighters in death??? or embrace self preservation and servitude to fell powers???
Looking back to the opening of the new room that will possibly spell your "salvation", you see that it is some sort of warehouse, supply area. A gantry running the length of it to the far end of the large space. The bright flourescent tube lighting stings your eyes after such dark rooms and lack of usage. (-10aware/percep) There on the gantry is an armored giant his armor sort of purple and almost a glow hue like green sheen of....scales? , leaning down and watching you and your fellow heretics enter the room. He stands up and walks closer before addressing you his voice a sharp grating bark from the grill in his dragon shaped helmet.
"Enter slaves. You have forsaken your fellow dogs of the corpse god, I know you abandoned them to be cut down for their lack of faith, but then, only those who wish to gain power know that sometimes sacrifices must be made"....theres something drippingly sinister to his last words that make the hairs on your neck stand on edge, you can almost imagine a leering viperous grin spilling the hint of secret betrayals and backstabbing. "I am Nullus, leuitenant to your new master, Lord voldorius. You have no home, and only death awaits you. Serve loyally under our master and myself...and make your petty exhistance perhaps worthy of the Dark Gods".
Nullus then points to your group, "KNEEL before your master!...(-20 to resist WP Nullus' WP is 50, successful rolls result in armed zealots popping out from behind crates and machinery with guns aimed at whoevers standing till they obey).(also if the whole group obeys without coazing then they should get some sort of cookie at the end of the session, and they each gain 1 corruption for willfully casting off the light of the emperor)..Good. I can see that you all are ready to embrace and serve Chaos. Our Master has a task for you to test your fealty. There is a planetary govenor that needs dealt with before Lord Voldorius can fully take what is rightfully his. With him removed and the seeds of chaos planted this process will take significantly less time." He pauses, glaring down at each member before continueing. " I need not remind you slaves that trying to warn anyone of our plans will *chuckle* not only fail but....end with deamons feasting on your souls for eternity". Zealots emerge from behind the group, shadows cast off, and they grab the group members restraining them no sooner can you try to fight back than a shock maul meets each person, dropping them to the floor like chaff.
You awaken to find that you and the others in your group are in a barracks type room, no real aminaties(sea animamnemamennameeees HAHAHA sorry couldnt help myself) freshly branded marks still red, no real blistering but the pain still present. 8 pointed stars burned into chests, foreheads, and shoulders. On the left shoulder of each person has been burned a multi headed dragon....a hydra. Yes it would seem that indeed any hope of returning to the imperium and the Emperors grace has been all but snuffed out. Surely any imperial forces would shoot first and ask later...
So its getting late, This goes on to set the stage for the assualt on an imperial cargo ship and from there on to this planet to start paving the way for the warbands invasion. please lemme know what you think, some suggestions, and feel free to use this in any of your games.