The Lost Primarch Quest

Chronicles of Baldur: Matters of Import

Kronos was a peaceful place, Baldur concluded, one whose entrance into the Imperium was already foregone. The stage he had set was giving them quite the role, one he'd sweet-talked other such worlds into. If only they knew the roles they played in this story. The Astartes let loose a small chuckle, the a tiny smile gracing his face before melting away as his thoughts turned back towards the Agri-World.

A reticent and reluctant isolationist of a planet, the council had been rather easily read and maneuvered around. It might have stopped whatever fools Vulkan seemed to keep close to chest in his diplomatic corps but for Baldur? It was delightfully simple and their obstinate refutations of meeting had folded in minutes. Sure Admiral Pierce and his battleship had aided in such a cause but it didn't hide the fact that where Vulkan's men failed… he did not. Not since Machoria and Mezoa. Never again.

Kronos was peaceful, a planet ruled by what was passable for democracy of sorts. In all honest it was just a dozen of the richest and biggest landowners on the planet who managed to get their fingers into the rich slices of pie that industry represented and ran from there. Over the years they'd manipulated the system and transformed what had been meant to be a return the more simpler democratic times of humanities past into a frankensteinian parody. Now it was nothing but an oligarchic council that played at land aristocracy without a clue how to even put upon a charming facade. Even more amusing was the laissez-faire course of action they'd taken and yet pretended like they truly ruled the land. He'd met urchins that posed a greater threat then this council.

At the end of the day whatever misgivings Baldur possessed it was them he had to deal with and them who through their families inability to actual pass true laws had managed to engender the goodwill of a populace. So he did. Forcing that meeting hadn't been pleasant but it'd let him bring the reluctant leaders before him without a shot being fired. If they'd refused, well, Imperial rules certainly meant a display of firepower would be demonstrated before forcing compliance. Even Vulkan recognized that - though he likely didn't appreciate it. Baldur hadn't either but there were bigger threats hiding out there.

As the Harvest Council sat arrayed before him enjoying the finest his budget had managed to nab and some of the delicacies more then a few planetary rulers and nobles had donated or gifted him the Fifth Captain of the Eternal Wardens could only smile. It was an angelic thing most had thought, turning the handsome statuesque figure into even more of a marvel. For Baldur it was but a simple trick of body language and true delight. That was something most of his own students had yet to learn, to truly succeed their had to be some truth - emotions that were fully meant. For him that was the delight in facing each precious challenge that diplomacy offered up, even if he was a sore loser.

Dividing this Harvest Council was as simple as separating wheat from chaff. Each a petty family so concerned for themselves first and foremost rather then presenting a united front. Once this would have been troubling - Machoria had shown him how, but he'd internalized such lessons and across the rest of the decade faced a trial by fire - tempering his skills on dozens of similar battlefields. There could be no surprises here, not when he'd established the foundational learning blocks on how to overcome such selfish creatures. By separating them and forcing them into their own little blocs he'd forced a horrible unity upon them that only grew worse with his stitching of this council back together from the fragmented pieces he'd further broken them into. Now they were but a puppet and he their master allowing them the illusion of choice; e pluribus unum all with his strings tying them together.

They had been divided with words, and now they were to be conquered with ideals, promises and support - in short more words, but ones with action to follow through. And so Baldur let the unsuspecting puppets dance upon those hidden strings even as he unveiled the deal they would be signing. It had been designed to appeal to their sensibilities - not just the Council's, but the other far more experienced players on this fifth dimensional chessboard that Baldur sat at and stood upon.

Kesar had ordered him to aid Vulkan and so he was. Malcador had ordered him to sabotage the Primarch and so he had. Vulkan himself had stood before him, looming behind the kind and fiery Primarch was his far more terrifying brother Konrad and asked for his help. For lessers they'd have folded. For Baldur? He'd looked at the rules and found that nowhere had it been written that he couldn't achieve all requested of him and do it with his own twist that contributed to those mythical hidden ambitions he, himself possessed.

It was a shame that Vulkan had to rely on him, a traitorous Angel with a beautiful smile and a spark in his eyes that represented only ruination upon his plans. And yet it was a greater shame that Baldur would certainly help the Fire Drake and the psychopathic batman he had at his back. After all - the Primarchs had yet to learn the adage of the djinn, be careful what you ask for. They would next time of course, if they ever discovered just how far this help extended.

Kronos was yet another example over the five year period of just how quaint Baldur could be in creatively recognizing his orders. One of those mortals he'd picked up had explained to him the charm that such a thing possessed. General Glen Ravens had used such a mindset to take a defensive initiative for peace negotiations and flipped it on its head. The enemy his people faced was ruined when he was done, shattered beyond measure and hope. Faded fragments, nothing but dust and echoes on the wind which inspired a terror so great that others merely folded. Konrad would love him. Baldur wasn't going to let that crazed bipolar madman of a Primarch touch his staff though. Not when he went through such great lengths to collect them.

Admiral Pierce, Archmagos Artemis, General Ravens, Achilles, and so much more… they were his. Just like Kronos and their Harvest Council.

A gentle shake of his head cleared such megalomania and tight-fisted control from his head. Looking down at the paper of such a contract he'd certainly sold - though not yet aware - the council on only sparked further memories of the meeting.

Baldur had kept the handsome smile up even as he launched into the warm sell. Explaining how he'd managed to review the scans his ship had enacted and the truth it'd shown as well as news other planets had told with regards to Kronos. They were facing a crisis of sorts that he'd seen before. Overproduction with no true targets for where the food would go. And so fields lay fallow, crops rotted away and people suffered they least of which were those of their "voter" base.

Baldur had a way to not only clear up the issue of crops rotting and costing precious space as well as time, but also bring fame, fortune, and favor to the hands of such a respectable body of individuals like the council. The Imperium was certainly a large forge that operated at full swing at all times and often required those that join partake in a tithe - a tax of sorts that directly benefited the Imperial Government so it could keep operating at such levels so that the safety of them and all humanity was guaranteed. Such a tax could be burdensome for planets like Kronos as it often was one that favored those worlds with a bent towards machinery and warfare and as such it could be quite unfavorable. However, Baldur possessed a rather large amount of standing and power - enough to control how this tithe could go down.

So moved by the plight of Kronos and eager to uplift the families that were on the council so that they could enjoy the high life their fellow aristocratic brethren in the Imperium cherished he would offer them a most favorable deal with a few concessions. See most of the tithe could be foregone - at least the monetary and machinery parts as Kronos would instead direct that food in which they were unable to get to buyers directly into the hands of folks who could really appreciate it. The Imperial Navy and Army for one would be their clients who they supplied. Two major forces who represented a large bounty of protection as well as favors. Connected to them they would be tied to the big movers and famous fellows of the Imperium. But that wasn't the biggest deal. See Baldur could get them connected with a Primarch - the Emperor who ruled this Imperium's son and his legion of transhuman supersoldiers that tore through threats like the Dark Eldar and Pysbirds that on the regular demolished the usual Imperial Army and Navy.

They'd liked the sound of that very much. Most would he'd concluded with a little chuckle that brought them into a state of relaxant. Everything was going their way and honestly the deal was sounding almost too good to be true. Which is why Baldur broke them with the latter bit of the diplomatic deal.

The Imperial Army and Navy and the Salamanders as clients would guarantee favor and defense, with the Salamanders ensuring they reached the top of the political food chain. And yet such favor and deals came at a price - one he knew they'd eat up like they had the deal even if they dared to try to counteroffer.
This was a concession that would not only enshrine the families in the heart of their people but in the eyes of the Imperium, most specifically their area which was what truly mattered for now. It was a concession the Primarch himself proved to be a huge fan of and could only hope such enterprising people would take up as a cross to bear proudly. It was his own personal brainchild and could only draw the eyes of such a prominent figure with gusto as he happily turned to thank such people for proving themselves with noblesse oblige.

Vulkan's brainchild, Baldur explained drawing close and activating the hololithe table to display the prepared images was directed at your people. The Primarch was big in restoring humanity to her former heights, and a part of that glory that it so embodied was the standard of living that our ancestors were free to cherish. The table showed them images of men and women enjoying creature comforts that surpassed even things this Council could lay claim to having.

"This is what your average person," his words carried gently to their ears stealing them away to the past, "enjoyed. And how? By enforcing a strict standard of living upon all. For when the lowest enjoyed these creature comforts it would drive everyone to further heights to be better, have better, and possess more. Competition initiated societally to ensure that the rich were richer and could truly show how rich they were to the others in the Galaxy. After all if their servants, their people lived in such glory - you couldn't help but imagine the insane heights they themselves were able to possess."

As the whispers and muttering broke out Baldur continued the sell. "By agreeing to the concession not only with you have taken the first step on the path our ancient forebearers walked, but you'll have also shown those have joined Vulkan's domain that you are the foremost planet deserving of the Primarch's favor and those that dare be brave and bold where others cower in the dark." Looking at them, the Astartes shook his head. "So will you hear me out and agree?"

One by one, they nodded confirming the truth as Baldur knew it. With their agreement to continue on the Warden did so with great pleasure drawing even more warmth into the room.

"It's such a simple thing, a tiny amendment to the life and the earth your Council rules over." He prodded them with a soft truth. "Lord-Vulkan desires you step forth into the light of a more golden age of mankind. One in which our ancestors lived like Kings - each and every single one of them having a blessed life unlike anything even the most hedonistic noble could conceptualize."

Pausing, Baldur looked out across the room at the small crowd that was the council. "He asks that you lift up the yoke resting upon the shoulders of your yeoman. That you grant them a release from the back-breaking, long hours of ache that are an unpoliced and underlegislated workers' rights." The murmurs that broke out were music to his ears, each a discontent grumbling he'd accurately predicted. "Enshrine it with your word and power in law that these peons laboring before you might be guaranteed food, water and pay!"

The fist that pounded the table saw each flinch back on surprise even as he continued to loudly elucidate his point. "Your righteous ways will only inspire those beneath you to honor you for such passage, such a laborious battle to ensure their safety and security in the ever evolving world of economic despair. Mix that in with the sudden boost in demand given the three new large clients… well your people would have never seen such prosperity before and it can only continue to rise as you undoubtedly continue to make such uniquely sound economic decisions."

Baldur laughed a bit as he brought that point up, his smile proving infectious as it dawned across other Council members. That smile hid an evil smirk beneath's pretty surface. "The only other item really asked of you is allowing these people to enjoy sixty hour work weeks. It frees your people to pursue the unique arts and culture Vulkan wishes to bring back and being at the forefront of a cultural explosion is the only place to be when setting trends."

"I'd rather not," called out one of the older gentlemen.

"I bet you wouldn't. But I also bet you'd like to avoid having to pay a hefty tax while also being given a bit of unique privilege to lord over others that might attempt the same of you." His snarky comment shut down the man even as his 'friends' around him chuckled. "Either way, this is a one time deal. I can't be as generous if you refuse this. It's just an unfortunate legality. In fact, if you look at current Imperial news - Lord Vulkan is right now crucifying a General for just barely doing his job wrong. Imagine what he would do if he found out I was trying to sneak you such a great deal? It'd be hell to pay for letting you enjoy something other planets regularly moan about. Have you heard of Thresh? I thought not, it's not a story many would tell you." He stopped there allowing the undeniable curiosity of humanity to proceed without any caution.

"Well what about them?" Shouted out one of the teens that had been brought by their uncle to learn how to handle the family business.

"It was a simple Agri-World that existed once upon a time," he led off with, not at all enjoying the darkness Baldur was letting fall upon their heads. "See the Primarch authorized such a similar deal and they rejected it out of hand before presenting a counter-offer. I had to rudely interrupt their collective belief of superiority with the simple fact that such a counter-offer was ludicrous. They believed that despite not being worth a quarter of your gross domestic product that they should be paid by us for simple joining. Even after breaking such haughty attitudes they refused. Even as I explained to them the rules in which our glorious Imperium operates by pertaining to diplomacy, how we were afforded into so much time and effort before a simple show was made and those leaders unwilling to accept our rule were replaced by those able to."

"Oh."

"Oh indeed," he couldn't leave well enough alone. "So now you're faced with a simple decision. Accept the wonderful deal offered or pray you could negotiate anything that good. Just know by walking away from this deal all of the following ones shall be inherently lesser on the benefits you receive and should this stray from peacemaking to war… then your families shall be replaced, after all, we can always find another crop supplier - especially on Kronos."

They folded at that. And for good reason. The threat was real. They had enemies and people hated seeing their enemies win even if they hated being backed into a corner. What's amusing was they weren't losing anything really. Despite their own false belief. Not with the money that was going to be subsidizing their attempts at expanding the means of production.

It came as no great surprise when the capitulation happened and he only smiled as the vellum script that was the original copy of the treaty was placed delicately in a box that would be delivered personally to Terra were some clerk would therefore send it off to whatever planet Malcador had devoted to the secretes of the administratum.

Hiya! Decided to make an omake for Vulkan after coming up with an idea on the Discord server of something Vulkan could make to help deal with the big costs of his reforms, and the direct losses for having to help cover for the Primarchs that were in the Maelstrom. Asked Daemon for some specifics and clarifications, and this is the result!
-----
The Dragon and The Spider.

You are Vulkan, Primarch of the Salamanders, and you traverse through the Warp to meet with the Emperor's Children.

Within the confines of the Flamewrought you prepared your personal forges for the next project. Hammer and metal at the ready, fires roaring and ready to shape what you sought to form. Next to it were examples of technology you requested from your Apothecaries, only what was needed for comparison.

You had dedicated several giant screens to be placed within your forge, all of them filled with various aspects related to your proposals and future efforts for the Imperium. Pending requests and messages from countless figures. Notes on projected costs for your reformations. Reports of your compliances and findings. You would read through as much as possible while you worked, to save and use as much time as possible.

Among them was the current device you sought to create, the basis of it surrounding you from multiple angles. Taken from recordings by the sons that were exchanged with that of the Third Legion.

It was almost like a Servo-harness in design. Vastly less bulky in proportion, appearing finely delicate yet brilliantly dexterous. The joints of its limbs allowed a far greater amount of movement than most mechadendrites you had seen, even those from the rulers of Forge Worlds. An array of syringes, bonesaws and armour-piercing drills that was greater than any Narthecium by orders of magnitude.

It had been named the Chirurgeon, the personal creation of the one known as Fabius. From what information he shared of it, the medicinal device was the dedicated work of over a century.

Your sons that had seen Fulgrim's Chief Apothecary had claimed that the surgical device he wore was a thing that rivalled the artifice of your Forgefathers. A few that had been operated under its direct care, with healed injuries that otherwise would require attaining bionic limbs or even dreadnought entombment in one case, had claimed it to be worthy of your own work.

Even from what little of it you could glimpse, merely the outer frame and a little of its work in action, you understood their perspective. And with it, an answer to one of your many problems.

Over the years you and your brother Konrad Curze had helped fill the void of the forces left absent for the Maelstrom, and it had taken its grave toll. You were both stretched to the breaking point. Too many lives were lost, many strong warriors giving their lives tirelessly for not only the Imperium's commands but the designs of your dreams to change it.

Aside from you and your sons personal feelings on such matters, each death cost so much to your Legion. Training. Armour. Weaponry. Munitions. It all added up. There was always a heavy cost for every single action and loss and you had to be aware of them now. But you had dedicated yourself to fixing all the issues you saw, this constant loss of life included.

The idea for a solution came about to you as you went through all records on medicinal devices, ways to improve upon what surgical and medical procedures that could be accomplished. The highest praise had been afforded to the Chirurgeon, and you knew that you had to find a way to access its inner workings and speak to its designer.

You had sent a message to your brother Fulgrim. Simply stating your desire and intentions, making it clear that you would not come to discuss your reforms and only to recreate and share this miraculous device with others. He had been more than accepting, writing a long response and sending it to you And an admittance that even he did not know just how wonderful of a machine his son had created.

He agreed to your request to come and meet with Fabius with only one stipulation, that you would share what you could to the Iron Hands as well afterward. You saw no reason to disagree, and thus as your accord had been formed you traversed through to meet with the Emperor's Children the moment you had the time to spare for it.

-----

You had exchanged brief pleasantries with Fulgrim as you entered the Pride of the Emperor, meeting within the deck of the grand vessel as he briefly showed you across the latest victories and artworks he either made or found and brought before allowing you to go.

He had prepared a meal for you that was a mix between the cuisine of Chemos and Nocturne, even having native animal life from your world used in cooking. It had been prepared in the exact style you would have expected back home, with quality beyond anything. The Sauroch in particular had been divine in its taste, and he had beamed when you said as such.

You had to admit, while you just wanted to quickly get this done as fast as possible, it had been a relaxing affair. And an enjoyable time with your sibling, who seemed to recognise that you were going through a difficult time. You'd be sure to remember this and make a gift for Fulgrim for both this and allowing this project in the first place, done whenever you had time for it.

But thankfully your brother didn't keep you waiting too much longer than that. He offered his farewells as the meal ended, said that he'd be sure to praise Fabius for his glorious creation later on and be excited to see what you'd be able to make of it. He then directed you to the next room.

Meant for meeting with others, this was somewhat smaller than the dining hall but no less decorated and ornate. Gold-coated adamantium walls lined the room, carved with intricate patterns of phoenixes flying through the stars. Onyx pillars that bordered the walls. Artwork of peaceful times, ages of prosperity. Statues of ancient heroes of various cultures. An array of ceremonial blades.

And, just sitting down as you entered, the Master of the Third's Apothecarion.

Dressed in purple and golden colours of the Emperor's Children, the Prime Helix prominently displayed on his pauldron. Features grimmer, older and more cynical than Fulgrim but otherwise looking quite similar to him.

Attached to the back of his armour was the object of your journey, the Chirurgeon. Its limbs idly moving, not twitching but minute adjustments ot its placement. Poised to strike as serpents or the limbs of a spider. Their design was truly graceful, up close you could properly appreciate it than just from recordings.

The surgical blades were sharpened to an extent that matched the swords and daggers framed and put on pedestals here. The drills able to puncture through even Terminator armour with ease. Bonesaws and syringes able to cut and pierce through the hardest of flesh.

Fulgrim nodded to his son and then to you, a smile on his face as he silently left for his own projects. You sat down opposite the Astartes, idly nothing the construction of the table between you seemed to be made from wood grown on Terra.

"Lord Vulkan," Fabius politely greets, bowing to you in his seat. "The Promethean Flame."

"Master Apothecary Fabius," you respond, returning the gesture. "Lieutenant-Commander of the Third."

"You want my Chirurgeon." he bluntly stated, leaning back. "Why?"

You blink at the question, wondering how much Fulgrim actually told his son about why you were here. "Did my brother not mention to you about my project?"

"He did, but I wish to hear the reasons behind it from you before I part with my life's work."

This you had prepared for. With experience in managing your reforms, more than just honesty was needed for the dealings you made. You had to understand the wants and desires of those you met, how to fulfil or compromise them. And the Emperor's Children were notorious for the aspect almost all of them shared, their pride.

"My sons that were exchanged to your Legion had many things to discuss about. The brilliant tactics and skills in warfare's many forms, the beauty of what you built either for yourselves, those you fought with or the worlds you discovered. One thing they praised most highly upon seeing it, especially those saved by it, was your construction."

"I see," Fabius said, tone betraying how unsurprised he felt at your words. "Then the Salamanders truly possess good eyes to recognise the worth of my device."

"They reported it to match the best artifice my sons have made, some saying it equaled my own work. Seeing it in person, I have to agree."
That got a reaction from the Chief Apothecary. His eyebrows raised in quiet surprise, evidently not expecting praise on that or you agreeing with it.

"Hm," he said as he looked at you closer. "But that does not fully explain why you want it so strongly enough to visit personally now, just the perceived value of my construction."

"I wish to improve the Imperium of Man." you continue, waving an arm to the "There are a great many costs to the loss of all Astartes, from literal in expense to deeply emotional for each past on warrior. I seek to find the answers to such problems that we are forced to face, and I believe what is upon your back is a key to this one."

Fabius nodded approvingly at your words. "A worthy goal to follow, one I can understand and accept. It is partly how my tool was formed in the first place."

He takes a deep breath as he further considers your proposal, not breaking eye contact from you as you see the gears within his mind turn before reaching a decision.

"I am willing to part with the device so that you can create more of them." the Chief Apothecary declared, relief flooding your mind as outright rejection is avoided. "No more than just for a day, though I suspect that would be more than enough for you. But in-exchange, I expect two things in return."

And there is the bargaining you expected. "What is your price?"

"Officially name the subsequent devices after me."

That had been both surprising yet unsurprising at the same time. Even before you had tried to enact your plans, you would probably have expected to hear something like that from one of the Third. It was just part of their nature.

"And the second thing you request?" you ask.

The Master of the Apothecarion visibly hesitates before speaking, biting back the first response they had. It takes him half a minute of internal debate before he reaches a decision.

"Promise me a favour." he finally said. "A minor one, something that would not take too much of your understandably busy affair in trying to reforge the Imperium. It would be my way to help mankind to better itself, similar to what you propose in that sense."

"Oh?" you replied, genuinely interested in what Fabius claims. "And what might that be?"

"In truth, it is nothing less than one of the other reasons I created the Chirurgeon in the first place. My device is a reflection of myself, both the means to my greatest goal and a practical example to the improvements such pursuits can bring. I refer to my advancements in biological research."

"And how could I assist you there?"

"I have extensively studied the human, the ork, the eldar and countless other species that have been encountered. Astartes by the thousands have been analysed personally, from prime condition to twisted carcasses. Psykers, abhumans, mutated populaces and twisted flesh constructs all under my blade and investigation. I assure you, my records are vast and the sum of it is once more the Chirurgeon."

He leant forward slightly, intently looking at you. Eyes moving up and down as he examined your body, an approving gaze. You realise what his second request is.

"Now there is one more example of humanity, and of biological perfection, I have yet to study."

"A Primarch." you answer.

"Indeed." Fabius smiled. "And think of what I could learn from this, what we could both learn. The Chirurgeon enhanced by research that reaches into the very peak of what is possible. General knowledge for healing, gene-seed implantation, augmentation and more! You say that you wish to save as many Astartes lives as you can? Lord Vulkan, you too are an answer to that. Perhaps one better than my tool ever could be on its own."

The limbs of the Chirurgeon twitched erratically as the Chief Apothecary grew more animated. Normally that would make you slightly question the quality of such a product, but judging by its owner it was but another sign of how well it truly reflected what made and wore it.

"My apologies for asking this," you said, paying attention to how the metal limbs swayed with its wielder. "But wouldn't it be better to ask your own Primarch about this?

"I have considered such matters, and somewhat already have a minor amount of such data after the Phonecian saved the future of my Legion. But you have to admit your own strength, your physique, is fairly unparalleled in terms of raw might. And a wider range of data would only enhance my research, it is not as if exclusivity is a matter when it comes to science."

You hesitated for a moment. You didn't truly feel comfortable of being put onto an examination table and examined like some sort of specimen, a researched thing of interest to coldly be recorded. The gaze Fabius gave you and way he talked about it only further brought unease, the palpable hunger behind it.

Yet you couldn't deny the appeal of the idea. You had thought before the strength and will of your sons was enough alone to withstand what would be faced in the galaxy, but you were sorely mistaken. To be stretched so thin, to lose so much, to endure against the tide that pushed against your dreams. You loved your sons with all your heart, so why would you dismiss this chance to help them even more than before?

It wasn't an unprecedented idea for a Primarch to go to such measures to help improve or save their sons. Magnus had saved the Thousand Sons from the Flesh-Change. Kesar Dorlin had made several breakthroughs in gene-seed research. Compared to that, this was only a minimal effort on your part. And it'd strengthen the Emperor's Children too, and hopefully to the rest of the Legions afterward.

"Very well," you decided. "Shall we start now?"

"Now?" repeats Fabius, a look of temptation briefly flickered in his eyes before he shook his head. "No, I have neither the tools nor the facilities prepared for what I would require for a true study. I would request for you to arrive at a later date. Do not worry, I assure you I plan for nothing too invasive."

As he reaches behind him, ready to unlatch the Chirurgeon and hand it over to you, a thought occurs in your mind. Before you would have accepted the deal as it was immediately, for already it seemed only beneficial and a stepping stone forward even aside from what you dedicated yourself for now.

But as you leant, enough was not enough. You needed to fulfil every cost and requirement you had, not just one at a time. You needed to think of the whole future, not just the present before you. When there was opportunity, you needed to fully take it.

Sigma had taught you much about the ways of understanding the hidden intent of others, how best to find the truth that hid behind a mask. Fabius made it clear that he had a vast hunger for knowledge, even aside from his request to examine you, but the depths of it… perhaps it could be used to sweeten the deal.

After all, from the very words of your own Apothecaries, you knew just the person that Fabius would truly want to meet other than yourself.

"I sent a message to my brother Kesar," you venture, idly offering this prize. "And he has agreed to meet with me later on. Perhaps as I offer one of these copies to him, I could mention your work and desires. Maybe ask for some more of his knowledge on the topic to calibrate what I construct better, then share them with the original creator."

His eyes widened instantly. You guessed correctly.

"You would do that?! Truly?" he says before he can control himself. He pauses, realising his reaction and attempts to compose himself. "I mean to say, you'd be willing to broach this subject with the master of gene-seed? Mention me to him, recommend my own expertise?"

"Yes. And if I were to share those vast records you mentioned, I'm sure he would most certainly be interesting in discussing with you this craft."

It was obvious what you were doing, but then it didn't need to be so hidden. There were times where issues had to be danced around, and others where it had to be struck at front and centre. In this way your old skills held the answer, to strike the metal when it was hot.

There is barely even a hind of hesitation in the Chief Apothecary's expression before be emphatically nodded, the limbs of his device twitching with his excitement.

"I will prepare all my notes!" he declared, sounding truly happy now. "All I can share of my records will be yours, and I'll include whatever designs and plans I had for my Chirurgeon too for you to use and share."

"My thanks," you sincerely said, grateful that circumstance has allowed you to this. "I swear that wonders shall be made."

-----

You had assumed, even as you took the device from its original owner's very hands, that you understood precisely what the Chirurgeon was meant for.

You were mistaken. There was a hidden feature only visible when it was detached from its host, only truly apparent when you looked into its inner-workings and the design documentation.

Aside from surgically working on other patients, it doubled as a life-support system. An extremely advanced, customised one. The limbs and surgical tools you thought were so wonderfully wrought were nothing to the complex cogitator and analysis systems hidden within, and the intricate century-long perfected programming they possessed.

You should have noticed it before you had properly looked into the Chirurgeon's function. How Fabius winced terribly as he took it out, how tired and pained he seemed the day later when you gave the machine back to him. It made you fully understand why the Master Apothecarion had not considered to give away his device for replication before, it was the very thing keeping him alive.

You knew the tragic history that the Third Legion had undergone before Fulgrim was discovered. You had thought that they had been fully saved from the Blight. Evidently, at least Fabius still suffered from its effects.

Your admiration for the Third's Master of the Apothecary grew when you considered that. To face such a dreaded, horrific fate and do everything he could to prevent and hopefully fix it. How pained he must feel, how desperate yet determined. You understood and sympathised more with him upon learning what he must go through every day, what fire must burn within him.

And with that known to you, it only further ignited your desire to replicate this wonder of medicinal technology and share it across the Imperium.

T'kell, your greatest Forgefather, had assisted you in examining and recording everything you could from the Chirurgeon before it was sent back. Data from the device's various cogitators fully duplicated within your Legion's archives, ready to be used again whenever required. The very angles and length of the limbs written done to microscopic-precision.

Harath Shen, your own Master Apothecary, had delved through all the biological research that had been given to you. Fabius had not merely been boasting about his records, they were truly enormous and heavily detailed. From his early notes when he was but a recruit up to a recently recovered mathematical report from the Dark Age that apparently proved that Blanks had souls.

Together you worked on replicating this wonder, the trio of you working valiantly upon the very first result of the Fabius-pattern, and together you reached the same regretful conclusion. You had hoped to start producing hundreds immediately once you understood the precise details of the machine, but the secrets within the Chirurgeon heavily complicated that. As it was now, if you focused for a year you believed you'd be able to make around ten full copies of the device without making dedicated facilities for it.

But that was to perfectly replicate it, as Harath Shen pointed out. To make a lesser version, one without the direct life-support system to its user, would be considerably easier. It would sadly reduce the effectiveness of the by an order of magnitude, the life-support cogitators were inherently linked to the surgical limbs, but it could be done.

T'kell also proposed an idea you were also somewhat considering. The base form of the Chirurgeon would make a perfect foundation for other constructions. A perfected form of the Servo-harness that Masters of the Forge wore, for to build and repair with something as fluid in motion and skilful in action would be a tremendous boon. Or an array of weaponry for a champion to wear, to decimate foes with up to eight weapons in his hands.

You deeply considered the proposals, writing down them all for the screens around your forge, and you knew they both had a lot of merit. Even in the notes that Fabius shared it proved it was possible, with his writings on potentially adding a shield system to his device or his usage of STC designs such as with the Makina-pattern mechadendrites. But for the moment dismissed your two sons as you finished the first of the ten copies. Thanking them for their assistance and drive as they went back to their own duties.

It was only a brief respite for your arduous reforms, if one still connected to your dream, but to work at the forge with your sons… to physically build something that will help your Legion, your brothers and those people you fought for…

…such things made it more bearable.

Ruirk said:

Cultural Exchange, Part Three

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Alright, omakes. And first up we have something amazing that I found to be hilarious. The comedy hijinks of these three were amazing, and I loved every word of it. Ricco is great as a Harlequin, and Gensela is also hilarious. I do love the density of Kazar, it's a very Thousand Son trait. Not to mention that misunderstanding humor is also just one of my guilty pleasures. As for your reward:

[] +15 to a roll of the GM's choice
[] +10 to this group's rolls during this turn
[] Slight increase to hero possibilities of this group

Ruirk said:

The Stir of Dawn

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Alright, next up we have the leadup to the Birth of Morningstar which I very much enjoyed now that I'm looking back on it once again. I really like how it sets things up for the following omake and how a lot of the threads it sets up are completed in the next omake. It's a great bit of writing, and definitely shows the Luceferians nicely. As for your reward:

[] +10 to a roll of the GM's choice
[] +10 to Morningstar's rolls for the turn
[] Slight increase to Ravenloft's information on Morningstar's birth

TinyGladiator said:

You'll Know It When You See It.

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And then we have Magnus in the palace, I do love how much tension you managed to insert into this omake. The part where Magnus just barely teleports away was great. I also thought you nailed Cegorach. The little shit is beyond trolly, but he has his moments of sheer glory. Polaris was also fun~, especially their thoughts on Cegorach. Then there was the ending which was a great cherry on top. As for your reward:

[] +15 to a roll of the GM's choice
[] +10 to Magnus' rolls for the turn
[] Perfection Lost - Not a trait. Not revealed if chosen.

Ruirk said:

Mercenary Ideals

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Next up we have Morianne, Magnus' little sister. I do love the cultural bits in here that Morianne runs roughshod over, especially with Mcmanus. That ending really highlighted how irritating it can be for mortals to work with the Eldar just due to their immense amount of manipulation due to farseers. It's natural to them, but alien to humanity. The mercenaries as well were very nicely expanded on, each was unique and had an interesting personality. As for the Kabal, well you'll be happy to know that Morianne did roll two 91s, and so the mercenaries get to counterambush the Kabal in question. As for your reward:

[] +10 to a roll of the GM's choice
[] +10 to rolls against this Kabal for the turn
[] Prophecy of Battle - Revealed if Chosen

Altered said:

Last Time on Speak Softly: "Come Into My Parlor," Said the Fire-Drake

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Up next we have a Baldur negaverse, which I'll be nice and reveal its cannon. I do love the back and forth between them, especially when it came to the reveal Vulkan knew. It's a great bit of exploration into the topic, and I do love Baldur being who he is. It's always great when that happens. As for your reward:

[] +10 to a roll of the GM's choice
[] +10 to Baldur's rolls for the turn (even the secret ones )
[] Slight bonus to Vulkan-Baldur relationship

Ruirk said:

The Harbinger

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Up next we have Harbinger, who I enjoyed a lot. The lore around them is great, especially the add on about how it's looking for something. I will say that Gage did in fact find it, but was also forced to destroy it in the process, and Harbinger shut down in the process. However, they now have an intact sample of the gravity wave tech that might be useful in the future. As for your reward:

[] +10 to a roll of the GM's choice
[] Gage gets increased trait gain for the turn
[] Foundations Project for Guilliman unlocked. Essentially an independent research complex for his domain.

Ruirk said:

The Angel of Humility

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And up next we have Orion and his moment of heroism. One of several and the one that pushed him over the edge. I will say that I really did like him, and it'll be interesting to see how he does among the White Scars. I also really enjoyed this omake, mainly due to how well it fit into the update. As for your reward:

[] +10 to a roll of the GM's choice
[] +10 to Orion's rolls for the turn
[] Bonus to White Scar relationships for Orion

Ruirk said:

The Black Chambers

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Man, after rolling for this heist, that last line is brutal. It really seemed to foreshadow the sheer insanity that followed. I did love the introduction of Paglacia as well, that was a nice bit. Also, thanks for including Arvhor, he's a fun little guy. The interplay between everyone was great as always, and for your reward:

[] +15 to a roll of the GM's choice
[] Increase potency of traits gained for one of the following, you choose (Alden, Arvhor)
[] Next heist of the Squat world gets a +20 for improved information

Xemness the Good said:

So uhh...I forgot I hadn't posted this. Truth be told, this Omake has been half-complete for what seems like nearly two months now, and I believe I even started on its follow-up a while ago. I uhh...fogot this wasn't posted, to be honest. But then I started looking for it last night, and realized it wasn't quite done yet. So if you're wondering why the end seems a bit worse than the beginning....that's why. Well, regardless.

Also, funnily enough, I realized while writing this that the topic of this Omake was likely made obsolete by the Ritual Crusade, since now we have a ton of Warp materials that don't necessarily obey all the laws of physics. So long-term this barrel will likely get replaced with one of them as a small-time upgrade to the weapon. Also it was suggested that it shoot gellar-field bullets at some point, and for sure that sounds like an awesome Warden upgrade.

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Man, Gannon is such a fun character, you've got a knack for making your guys entertaining. His interactions with Auro were great, and I found myself very much enjoying the technical details you gave. Those were very much accurate to IRL, and entirely made sense which I loved. Technobabble is great, but technobabble you can understand is amazing. As for your reward:

[] +15 to a roll of the GM's choice
[] Material Sciences - Revealed if Chosen
[] Plasteel 293 - Minor Relic, Revealed if Chosen

Ruirk said:

Skeleton Key

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And last for today we have the Skeleton Key. I do love the story behind it, and the process by which you had the characters come together to make it. Each added something to it, and each one made it stronger than before. I do also love Corvus' thoughts here. It very much felt like he was in an alien environment. As for your reward:

[] +15 to a roll of the GM's choice
[] +10 to rolls for the Venusian Heist
[] Skeleton Key slightly improved

For the rewards, do make sure to NOT enter something like this [X] that'll mess with the main tally.