Amor the Sorcerer

# **The Immortal One**

Recruited into the Emperor's thirteenth Marine Legion, the Ultramarines, Amor was a rising champion. Strictly devoted to his leaders and ideals, he exemplified the ideal warrior, fighting without rest or doubt no matter what the galaxy sent his way. He fought with a insane zeal, charging into pysker storms and onto ork warbosses in order to save his precious comrades. He took so many wounds meant for others in battle that his armour was often heavily damaged, along with much of his flesh. But always when it regrew he felt even more resilient than before, over and over again. He fought forever it seemed over the decades killing hundreds if not thousand of unworthy ones, slaughting ork hordes, and bringing rebellious sectors into the future Ultramar realm. He saw fellow Battle-Brothers laid low, and dying men calling out for mercy. He grew tired of death, saddened by the galaxy's slaughter, the end of the precious energy and zeal, the irreplacable zeal of life he always tried so hard to protect. Eventually even rumours of the Emperor's death reached him, and no longer could he comply. No true god could fall, be extinguished like a mere candle. When he next fought, it was against an assorted stronghold held by Traitor Legionnaires who had yet to retreat to the Eye of Terror. The fight was going as planned, when suddenly an ear splitting shriek tore through the air. Warp gates split the wall of a nearby librarium, and all hell poured through. Amor's unit, caught completely out of position the pursuit of the routed traitors, fell quickly to enormous daemons. Though their weapons pierced the hideous bloated creatures no effect could be seen, burnt flesh healed, pierced would close, and small wounds mattered for not. Enthralled by the creatures seemingly immortal presence, Amor slowly walked forward, his weapons forgotten beside him, into the warp. Inside he found limitless energies, true immortality, the true power of chaos, and before the heretics in the temple on the other side he knelt. He pledged himself to the Ruinous Powers, to a mission of bringing his powerful zeal and gift of neverending worship to everyone in the universe. He hailed the mighty Nurgle. Interestingly enough, his stay in warpspace and through several realms of chaos had cost him time, it was now the 41st millennium and the Emperor's influence has waned considerably over the galaxy. By this Amor was pleased, for this proved that Nurgle's very nature was immortal, and eventually his word would be spread.

In the Kono Crusade timeline he ended up becoming a major power in the Screaming Vortex, but was killed by Ezreal and his group.

**Greatest Achievments Thus Far**
Looted valuble merchandise he was entrusted with by a treacherous enemy. Now wields the cargo with a rightous fury, squishing smaller enemies with enormous sandbags few could hope to lift. Oh and some mutants or something happened as well

Also known as the Throne Agent Torpe Pereza

He also decided that the mission wasn't hard enough, so decided to turn half of the population into aggresive rage zombies.

## **Skills**

Athletics
Awareness
Common Lore (War)
Dodge
Forbidden Lore (Adeptus Astartes, Daemons, The Horus Heresy and the Long War)
Linguistics (LowGothic)
Navigate (Surface)
Scholastic Lore (Occult)
Operate (Aeronautica)
Parry
Psyniscience

**Talents & Traits**
Traits: Amphibious, Unnatural Strength (+4), Unnatural Toughness (+4).
Talents: Ambidextrous, Bulging Biceps, Legion Weapon Training, Heightened Senses (Hearing, Sight), Nerves of Steel, Quick Draw, Resistance (Cold, Heat, Poisons), Unarmed Warrior, Two-Weapon Wielder, Psy Rating 4, Sound Constitution (4)

**Psychic Powers**
Seal Wounds, Thought Sending, Telekinetic Shield, Warptime

### Equipment

Legion Force Scythe, Legion Chainfist, Terminator Armour, Legion Bolt Abomination, Synthemuscle

**Wounds :24**

**Corruption Points:** 5

**Gifts of the Gods / Rewards of the Dark Gods**
Wings

A blinding, harsh light glints off cold ceramite as an angel appears above. Futile cries and desperate pleas gurgle unheard in the throats of panicked malnourished souls as the unmistakable outline of one of the God Emperors warriors falls roaring from above. With a jet of fire he lands, laying about into the screaming crowd, pleas of mercy cut through with chainsword, desperation crushed in a glowing fist of energy. Those with the gift struggle to find purchase on his mind, finding it receptive, but closed... a mile of steel wall made through conditioning and holy litanies blinding itself to its own gift, its purchase on the warp. An emancipated child with bright eyes beyond tears in a dreamlike state as his mind softly rejects the scene of utter carnage stands alone. He raises a weak hand, quivering with broken fingers, as if to stop this being, this god without mercy. Without hesitation, with all the fury of His holy war, the man treads forward, bloodstained boots crushing the child underneath, splintering and powdering the thin bones as he seeks more victims. Aptly named, these pitiful wretches will have a short lived chance to observe this Chosen warrior truly represents the Emperors “Amor” of those who would consort with heretics or aliens.
No second thoughts, only the rush of battle, the righteousness and glory of the ultramarines. His was a world of clear black and white, to lay down one’s life to protect and lead in His name, and to annihilate, to purge all traces of the outside; he is devoid of all feeling improper, a steel trap of mind possessed by his mission. He continues for days without rest, weeks without end, stopping only to fuel his jetpack, repair his armour where he has interrupted missiles for others, and unclog his chainsword of the accumulated filth of corruption. Finally they reach the central spire, a communication array, linking these lost souls with the heretical aliens they live peacefully aside. He leaps joyfully into battle, a tide of armoured soldiers invincible and pressing forward. The grimy weaklings scatter before their furious advance, all but 4, all jabbering nonsense as they struggle to lift an enormous weapon of obvious xenos origin. They seem grim, unafraid and lost in technical nonsense as they lift the weapon at their head, squad leader Romaris. Like metal lightning he flies, careening to intercept, then it feels as if the sun itself burns into his flesh. His scarred flesh, veteran of over a thousand excruciating wounds, ignites with a pain never felt before, and a horrible emptiness fills him.
Fever dreams, soaked in rage and horror, availed in nightmares too real, too chaotic to come from inside. He cries in these dreams, runs in terror, longs for others, wrestles curiosity and doubt, and a hundred other wrong thoughts, thoughts forbidden and forgotten in his creation. In the warp there are shadows of all things, and only there can the mind truly be set free. His defenses were somehow shattered, overgrown with a dark sludge of corruption, and all the eager entities that sought his powerful mind now had free rein. Doubt appears, horrible doubt, moaning souls with shattered rotting limbs and sunken eyes; thousands of lifeless apparitions Amor had killed for the simple crime of yearning for freedom from tyranny shuffle towards him. Impossibly large, a vast sea of wasted life and innocent souls, they tear at him with whispered pleas of mercy and injustice. One perches upon his chest, spider like limbs of inky darkness supporting the smashed and bloodied head of an emancipated child.
“You yearn to protect.....yes?......” it whispers through the shouting, “but we are all death... we must all do our duty in the end... we can resissst............. I can ask you to help me” black tears drip from empty pockets onto his face, “but with them I, I... I am merely dust again.” The child melts and skull cracks, falling dry and dead.
“RISE IMMORTALIS!!!” the order blares, and his strength rushes back, more than ever before. He feels aflame again, reflexes electric, vitality boundless, his muscles rippling with power. Mind... attuned, more aware than before, quickly he shuts down, rebuilding a bastion, strength of mountains to deny the horror of his nightmares; only now there are cracks.
“We have rebuilt you exemplar! Truly your deeds and actions are heroic, why had you not set out on this campaign immediately upon your return you would have been assured a position in our portable dreadnought armour squads! You were more than dead by the time we found you, but all I saw was great opportunity to further mankind’s glory. An incredible warrior in close combat untainted by corruption more than willing to improve his abilities through experimentation!!!” here the technician grins, “ While rebuilding your flesh we accelerated the growth of your muscles while inserting a bionic weave to support your frame! The results are astonishing although it seems we may have affected your cognitive processes a little during the process... there may be some side effects but the only permanence should be a significant decrease to your intelligence... an inconsequential thing for a warrior surely. BUT the mind is a muscle after all, I’m sure it only strengthened your defenses to the warp and I can only imagine the effects were you to show any psyker potential.”
The technician does not pause for breath, bionic lungs sustaining the tirade, the warrior looks down to notice the powerful and oddly designed armour he wears.
“Yes you will take to the battlefield with your incredible rebuilt strength and with one of our new Terminator suits! You are our prototype, a warrior reborn from the grave, your name I dub you IMMORTALIS the first of my immortal space marines who shall never die!”
“Surely this promotion will earn me my rite of clear thought; soon I shall be rid of this ecstasy of achievement!”

 See me after class. ~teacher

Possibly one of the most lore-raping fics I have ever laid my eyes upon, the sheer outlandish plot and jumbled vocabulary makes it very hard to read. Brb, cleansing eyes with cyanide. - Kono
Cant deal with desriptive language, too much imagery and sheer imagination for the non AP english or above to truly understand -Hendrik
Brilliant, simply brilliant -Matt Ward
For a fact, I read far more fantasy novels than you do, AP English is a joke, and I could process the imagery coherently, but you did was the equivalent of taking a perfect good virgin and then lettin a nocturne have it's way with her -Kono

Yeah, it did sorta go off and describe things for far too long when it didn't need too. Also, the brain is not a muscle. "Ropey strands of vat-grown muscle tissue, thick with slurried
nutrients and laced with flakweave, are **woven** into existing muscle groups" is the flavour text for Synthmuscle. meanwhile "the function [of muscle] is to produce force and cause motion. Muscles can cause either locomotion of the organism itself or movement of internal organs." So unless Amor has been using his brain to move his, well, brain around no one would stick Synthmuscle in there. -Callum

Also another gripe is that your whole aquiring a suit of Terminator Armour and the matter of the fact you do not reflect the pride - Wealth. And I'm sorry, Terminator Armour also wouldn't just be handed out just because some chump got gibbed, it is rewarded to those belonging to the 1st Veteran Company (regardless of the size of the legions at the time) which you failed to even mention, instead stating that you had a jet pack, making you more likely to belong to a lesser Battle Company. There is no way a "technician" would just happen to have a highly designed suit all for himself to for a test subject unless the higher-ups said so, nor would he have the authority. Going back to the whole wealth thing, if you don't include it at all in your roleplaying or story, than why did you even take it? Oh yea, because you were power gaming. Having read your story the prides "Fortitude" or "Devotion" would have worked better. Deal with it. -Kono

Also, how does Synthmuscle in the brain, make Amor "attuned, [and] more aware than before" anyway? Attuned and aware of what? He just had a nightmare, one that made no sense. And a lot of ellipses. -Callum

Had a Truly great plot. -M. Night Shyamalan