About five thousand feet in the air, somewhere in Teracot's Overworld...
The sky was incredible on this particular day, with only a few colossal clouds obstructing the view from below. It was a brilliant shade of blue, with a smattering of large birds carelessly flying across it. It was the sort of day on which certain farmers might have wanted to have a party of some kind, possibly related to a particularly large harvest of crops. They probably would have invited friends and family to this event, planning to sing and dance and do whatever it is farmers did for parties.
It was in the middle of this perfect sky on this flawless day that an eight-foot screaming man covered in heavy blue armor fell out of a white rip, shrieking obscenities in a language nobody spoke.
As he plummeted through the sky, limbs flailing wildly, his fall was interrupted by a large blue board appearing directly in front of his face. Unfortunately, seeing as he was currently traveling a little over six hundred miles per hour straight down, the board was instantly left behind. It flickered briefly, almost as if in confusion, and then disappeared.
The armored warrior hadn't even seen the board, but as he finally seized some control over his fall, he squinted down at the lush green hills below him. Speaking out loud, he politely and quietly asked, "WHAT IN KHORNE'S NAME IS GOING ON!?"
Before he could answer his own question, the air around him ignited, and he went from a curse-screaming man decked in armor falling through the air to a flaming curse-screaming man decked in armor falling through the air. The board seemed nearly frantic about this particular development, flickering in and out of existence around him along his descent.
Well, he couldn't fly, so it was only a matter of time before he crashed into the ground. The resulting crater was immense, a monolithic plume of dust erupting into the sky. As the chunks of dirt and stone slowly clattered and thudded to the ground, the warrior lifted his head from the dirt and coughed. "WHAT-"
He didn't make it further than that. A particularly massive hunk of rock had been shunted upward by the impact, but slowly teetered downward. The blue board flashed directly in front of the warrior, a blaring message on its surface. Startled, the warrior punched it, and it promptly shattered, reforming a short distance away.
A shadow fell over him, and he rolled over, eyes widening as he saw the boulder topple downwards. A final expletive burst from his mouth before the twenty-ton chunk of rock slammed down on him.
There was silence for all of four seconds before the rock blew up in a cascade of orange sparks and sheer concussive force. Several more shots from whatever devastating weapon had obliterated the stone were pumped into the surrounding area, and then the warrior finally crawled out of the pit, holding a strange-looking weapon.
Shaking himself off, he raised the bulky gun. It had no stock to speak of, but a heavy-looking magazine and a truly enormous barrel that a normal person could probably fit their arm through. The brutal weapon was made of some black, featureless metal, and his helmet gave off the impression of a permanent grimace. Overall, he looked like the sort of person who could walk into an enemy barracks and be the only person to come out of it.
The board appeared again, and he whipped his helmet towards it.
|<Okay... not what I expected, not going to lie. I wonder if this is how #119 felt when he got his hero...>|
The warrior shot it. The bullet that blazed from the barrel of the bolter in his hands punched a hole through the center of the board and continued onward, digging a sizable trench and sending twin waves of dirt to either side.
After a moment, the board reappeared.
|<That's a heckuva gun ya got there. Dunno how you brought that in, what with the whole dimensional warping and all, but color me impressed. Doesn't look like you're gonna need too much assistance in this world... but what the heck, I'm here to help anyway. Any questions?>|
The warrior didn't shoot it this time, taking a moment to consider his words. Finally, he said bluntly, "DO YOU FOLLOW KHORNE?"
|<I'm afraid I don't know who Corn is, but I can assure you that my sole purpose in being here is to help.>|
The soldier promptly shot it once again. It came back persistently.
|<Ohhhh, you're Corn. Gotcha. Makes sense to me! Here are your stats. By the way, the guys upstairs probably would have made you a new Class, but there actually happened to be the perfect one sitting around. Brand-new, too.
<Corn> - Level 1
As the confused warrior (whom shall be referenced to as Corn for the remainder of the story, despite his actual name being Zeadrasil Frumentum) examined the board's displayed information, something hit the back of his helmet.
He spun around to find a man wearing flannel overalls and an itchy-looking white shirt. He tossed the rock in one hand aside, scratching his butt with the other. "Hey, bud. Get off my land."
Corn leveled his bolter at the man, who promptly slammed his hands into the ground. Six red circles with hexagonal markings and runic inscriptions instantly appeared as the man roared, "Ya messed with the wrong farmer, moron! I'm a level 139 Diabolist! Suck demon!"
Demon? Corn's instincts lit up as he readied his bolter. He could definitely handle demons, although he'd prefer having a few more of his brethren backing him up if there were six of them. Seconds later, the crimson discs erupted upward, and six unfamiliar shapes burst forth from the ground.
Corn's forehead furrowed in confusion behind his helmet. These weren't demons at all! They were far too scrawny to be the demons he was used to fighting. Sure, they were a little bigger than he was, but only barely. And they didn't have any armor! They just wore leather and spiked pads!
...Unless that was the armor.
Before his thoughts could progress any further, the demons began screaming. Four of them made fireballs appear in their hands and blew their own heads off. One of them used a knife to slit his own throat. The final one glanced around frantically, searching for a weapon or tool of some kind, and then gave up, pulling his own head off.
The corpses slumped there for a moment, and absolute silence reigned. Finally, the farmer asked tentatively, "What just happened?"
Corn sucked in a deep breath to deliver his polite response. "I WOULD BE LYING IF I SAID THIS HAD NOT HAPPENED BEFORE."
The farmer processed that, and then hesitantly asked, "I don't suppose we could work something out?"
"I AM HERE TO PURGE HERETICS, AND TAKE YOUR LAND."
"...You can have my land."