Board Thread:Warhammer 40k Roleplay/@comment-4948356-20150412000734/@comment-24580172-20150523170759

Achilleus screamed and he began clawing at his mask. The pain was blinding, he hadn't felt this way since the Dark City itself. He could feel the shadows clawing at his face as he saw twisted apparitions of his past run laughing down the hallway pulling him along. He felt his skin boiling and he finally ripped his mask away before throwing it off. He was gagging and tears came down his face. His vision turned red as he looked around, he was slowly limping down the hallway mask still tightly gripped in his scarred hands. He felt a fist collide with his face and he went flying into the ground. He looked up to see his old eldar Master standing above him, anger on his face as he screamed at him in his stange language. He slowly began crawling away before he felt a boot connect with his side. He looked up to see his mutilated Mother, screaming at him to kill himself as all he did was cause trouble. He slowly started to stand before he was pulled up by his collar, to stare at the skeletal face of his bastard father. The Priest's skeletal face was shattered in several places as he slowly held the shaking psyker to his side, whispering words in his ear;

"Why my dear boy, why? Why do you cry, why do you fear? Don't you know? All men die, and so shall you. So why fear? Why try to stop it? Don't you wish to make Father proud? Make me proud. Make me proud."

Achillieus looked up watching as insanity occurred around him. He watched as the mutants slaughtered themselves, watched as they tore into each other with claw and fang. Watched as they devoured each other. He was so tired, and so hungry. He slowly fell to his knees as the skeletal face of his Father slowly leaned close to his ear, still whispering. The Astropath slowly stood to his feet and looked around. His hands began to burn with psychic might as he reached forward to caress the minds of these insane mutants. He would bend them to his will, make them follow him.

Make him proud

Make him proud

Make him proud?

Make who proud, and how? What is pride? His mind flashed. His Father, the Inquisitor who recruited him into his role as an Astropath, his Trader Master, and than. Light, a wonderful light. The Emperor. Was he to make the Emperor proud? But how? Such a being would despise a lowly dirt crawler like himself. But did It matter, the Seer's daemons were coming. And he couldn't hold them back alone. He slowly walked foward, still reeling with psychic might. He had to find his Master, but so many individuals stood in his way. He would enjoy carving into them like a blade.