Editing Geshtinanna (section)

==The Creation of Israel==

"What are you?!" Cried the Guardsman. Seconds later he was erased from existence, another hapless victim of the Faceless Queen. At that same moment another soldier's eyes boiled. Another clawed his own throat out. A fourth shot himself in the head before he could expire in a more violent fashion.

In moments, the entire squad had either been ripped to shreds or, consumed by madness, had killed themselves. All but one. One very, very unlucky man that had been smart enough to screw his eyes shut tighter than he ever had before. The daemon-host drifted slowly towards him until it was looming over the man like inescapable Death. But this man would not be granted merciful oblivion like those he once stood side by side with had. The daemon Geshtinanna whispered to him, breaking into his mind like a battering ram.

"''Open your eyes, pretty little thing''."

The Guardsman, his defiance admirable if futile, shook his head. He could not even comprehend opening his eyes. He knew he would be reduced to nothing the moment he did. He spoke back in his mind, either out of continued defiance or in the vain hope of forestalling his inevitable demise.

"Tell me... Wh--what are you called?"

The daemon played with the thought in her head for a moment, then replied. "''Uttering my true name would destroy you, little thing''." The abomination, initially only planning to toy with this thing before she consumed it, had become suddenly interested in the tenacious little spark that flickered in her Warp sight. "''What is yours?''" She asked. The man didn't know how to answer. This was a sick game, and he knew it. But the rules, if there were any, were hidden from him. In the end, he answered the daemon swiftly for fear of what it might do if he refused.

"Tammuz. My name is Tammuz Israel." 

"''I hate that word: Israel''." Snarled the abomination. Reeling under the wave of anger that washed out from it like a typhoon, the guardsman collapsed, curling up on the ground and whimpering.

"''Why do you lament, Tammuz''?" Inquired the daemon, speaking in his own voice, driving him to the brink of gibbering madness.

"You're going to kill me," he stammered in between sobs, "You'll kill me like you did everyone else."

If the thing had possessed lips, it would have smiled then. "''Oh no, little Tammuz. I have much, much grander plans for you''."

Geshtinanna slowly moved her finger with delight towards the cowering man. Tammuz only shivered, helplessly trapped between death and something worse. Then Geshtinanna spoke to him again.

"''I'll make a deal with you, little Tammuz. Are you listening''?" Too horrified to answer, the man simply nodded. Once more, that impression of a smile. "''I can either kill you now, or I can make you mine. Would you like to be mine, Tammuz''?" He didn't know what to say, or what the hell she meant by 'hers.' At length, he replied in a way that he would regret for the rest of his wretched existence.

"Make me yours. I just--I just want to live." At his reply, the thing began to cackle insanely, and Geshtinanna touched the poor soul's forehead, beginning the process.

At first there was nothing. Tammuz heard only his own heartbeat, racing like a warhorse's. After a long moment, he was lifted from the ground and suspended two meters above the ground, unable to move. Erupting around him from seemingly nowhere were purple, turquoise, and black flames. The flames burned him awfully, but his flesh remained unblemished by the will of the daemon. The blistering pain he felt all over his body was nothing to what came next.
In the tongues of nine hundred ninety-nine thousand languages, countless souls cried for death's release in his mind. The voices drove him mad, then sane, then mad again. Now, though this tale is known to few, fewer still understand why what happened next happened at all.

Tammuz didn't break. Unlike all the others, he held onto life. His will shouldn't have, couldn't have been strong enough. But defiant of all reason, it was, and that is why Geshtinanna did what she did next. Leaning in close, she spoke to him as his mind settled with what had just happened. "''Now this... This is interesting, little Tammuz''." The man took a moment to respond, still wracked with the pain of the mind warping.

"What--what are you going to do with me?" As he spoke, Geshtinanna changed into something the man could look upon without losing his sanity: a simple form of a human female, though her face remained as blank and featureless as before. "''You may open your eyes now, little Tammuz. No harm will come to you. I have plans for which I require your assistance. There are some little insects on a filthy dustball of a planet that need to be reminded of something''."

And with that, Tammuz Israel, former Guardsman and faithful servant of the Emperor, opened his eyes to gaze upon his new life and form. And so it was that Israel the Unyielding, Herald of Geshtinanna, the Faceless Princess of Destruction, came into being. From then on, the terrible destruction wrought by the daemon princess was preceded by the hooded and cloaked Israel, posing as a doomsayer and clairvoyant. Though he has been captured several times since then (most notably by the Inquisition and even the Alpha Legion, allegedly), each time Geshtinanna has found him, and come for him. And when she does, her terrible vengeance leaves none to tell the tale.

Woe unto those who attempt to waylay the Herald of Geshtinanna.