For years the man had given them platitudes, spoke of them with little promises half solutions and Faustian bargains for each inch closer to a cure he could find. Meditation, for some even hypnotic memory erasure could stave off the effects but it was never enough. Nothing they did could stop it from claiming their members, as the Sigillite saw that every option failed; he spoke less with the lord's of the Fifteenth, what the man thought was unknowable. The fifteenth felt the effects of his decision, they were denied new blood recruits that would have fed them instead passed to the others, more salvageable forces. To be discarded, the indignity, curses a thousand fold on the man he who let the legion fall to only a gross of marines.
The legion was to be deprioritized until their Primarch could be found, the dwindling soldiers of the Legion would find that ancients made a great number of their ranks as they could not afford to lose a single legionnaire to the tides of war. They command the forces of auxiliaries and army with unmatched fervor but hidden rage. A broken tool used as needed, all they were for the golden lord and the blind fool. Three companies each a joke, none more than fifty men, the fifteenth legion was all but dead. A coven of crypt keepers, watching over empty lore, some would wonder if things would have turned differently if another choice had been made, and surely something different would have happened but nothing would have solved it. The Legion was cursed and there was little one could do to undo it. They could only hope that their genefather held the secrets of their curse, the knowledge to undo it, and the wisdom to aid.
He was a member of the smallest company, though each was made of those that shared a vision in how they were to stand before the change his kith where the rarest of those cursed sons. Those that had taken no steps beyond meditation and will to fight the change. The slumbering company was a far larger kind but he would not wish to be locked away beyond the world until it was time to be unleashed like a mad dog. The empty company was the one he held contempt rather than pity for, to have themselves wiped clean each battle to wear armor that stopped them from ever touching the arts that made them the Fifteenth. It was a travesty.
Wyrdmake watched as Magnus revealed in the feast, drinking of his ale and mead like water, the great beast had delivered many of its prey as food so no one on the island would grow hungry this night. Wyrdmake knew the look upon the Storm Lord's face for all that he played mery; he had a face like that of thunder. A brewing storm hidden from the world by his strength of will. Something was coming and it drew the master of magics into a contemplative mood. That a man who could call or dismiss the storms to settle boiling seas and the very wrath of Fenris was drawn to worry was an ill omen. Wyrdmake pauses his thoughts hearing the thunder outside a strange sound on the island as Magnus commands the skys. The master of Fenris stood and walked to the doors of the hall.
"Companions, someone is here to see me." He threw open the door and before them was a great beast shining gold flying as it lowered itself to the ground. Several storm binders called shields of winds, as runesmiths held their glowing blades, Wyrdmake called his own bound spirit to his side the spectral bird ready to aid him, and even the restless pulled free from their slumber stone body tight as the bound shaman of ages past came to the defense of the fortress library.
Then the beast of gold opened its maw and a man stepped out clad in golden armor, a wreath on his head and an eagle's head decorating his pauldron. He held no weapon though the black armored man beside him cared a spear of a strange material. There was no question in his mind on who these were, the gods had come to Fenris.
A number of more figures, gods in red and grey armor, a large beast of metal with a glowing claw crackling with lightning. The beast growled as the god in gold spoke to Magnus. "Brother, I am glad we have met." Magnus turned, casting his eyes over the figures arrayed before him, his cape of scales and crown of bone pale before the gods' strange crafted armor. Wyrdmake noticed he was one of the few standing, many of the hall even those of the restless had taken a knee before those that called Magnus brother.
Magnus whistled and the seas churned; the golden beast rumbling with internal thunder was cast in the shadow of the Tendrils of Magnus' ancient ally. "Brother you say, and I feel the kinship between us, it is wrought in our souls. What brings thou to this place, what wergeld do you come to demand of me?" The golden man stepped forward gesturing back the soldiers of the heavens.
"I ask for no compensation brother for the time of that has long since passed. No, I come to ask my brother to join me in the conquest of all the stars, to give you the sons forged in your image." He swept his arms wide and all shifted; he had a presence to him, a grand orator as the gods must be. Magnus shifted and the beast returned to the sea.
"Then come, bring your soldiers for their is Leviathan on the fire and we have much to discuss." With that those in the hall stood moving to clear a table for the gods and bring more mead and ale from the larder.
Ahriman didn't know what he expected of their father, the man happily speaking with Guilliman, questions the regent with inquiries on the stars and the galaxy was not it. Though Ahriman could feel the presence of psykers he saw it all dressed up in ritual and myth, where he had come to find a father with wisdom and a vision this man seemed to let himself become clouded in primitive culture. He flexed his Force claw growling at one of the primitive men who dared draw near. Time would tell if this man was truly their father or if they were cursed two fold.
When Magnus and Fenris as a while we're brought into the imperium there were many things to do and of them all Magnus took his time to ensure that of these some were taken care of with the best of his might.
(Choose 3)
[]Curse Cured
Of his son's Magnus found a dower and somber lot, a curse that had taken its toll from them and the survivors bore the scars.
-[]the Aether
-[]the Runes
-[]their Souls
[]A Light in Heaven
In the sea of souls this empire has lit a pyre that allows their ships to sail the storms of the immaterium. Magnus has done his best to learn of it and aid.
[]New Companions
His sons come with their own ancient traditions and culture as he moves forward and brings the blood of Fenris to them; he must be careful if he doesn't wish to sweep it aside.
[]Old Friends
Fenris has long been his home, but this war of the heavens will take him away for great ages, before he departs for the skies he insures his works will remain, that his people will endure without his aid.
[]Learning
He has projects remaining and even as he takes to the stars he continues his studies of them.
-[]The Soul
-[]The Runes
-[]The Aether
-[]The Mind
[]His Foes
If he is to be asked to fight a war, then fight a war he shall. He takes to battlefields to learn the nature of War of these new people.
