Monday, 30 July 2012




The Helmet of Horror

For those privileged  lords that measure their life times over millennia, for those few monsters who have gorged on the terror of empires for time out of mind, there arises an ennui; a crushing all consuming boredom at the perversions of dark eldar culture. The soul shrivels, and excess burns to a thin lingering smoke trail of blasted memory.

Few have done so, but sometimes these lords will give his house's wealth, political assets and holdings over to an ancient homunculus in exchange for internment in the helmet of horror; the pain engine of the lords of Comarragh. For what care does a lord have for the welfare of his court if they bring him no joy?

The helmet of horror resembles the Talos, with an extended serpentine tail to keep it in contact with the ground. The carapace is thronged with an extended nervous system. Chemical injectors line the flesh of the pain engine, and at the end of the shielding lies the helmet. The is another sensory node that replaces the head of the lord and pumps a chaotic stream information into the body. This concussive assault of sensation is relayed into the minds of other combatants and in turn, so to can their sensations be fed into the Helmet:  a reinforcing harmonic of agony that grows in pitch of intensity.
For the dismembered head, many light years, if not dimensions away from the danger, there is only the numbing cessation of being; waiting in one of the Homunculus's oubliettes for the sensations  and experiences of the Helmet of horror to quicken their souls.