Okay, this was another big one that I got done pretty fast—the compliances in question.
Magnus 2: A world ruled by a psychic tyrant that rose to power to fix several issues with their home, ended up fixing some but causing a lot of other issues. Solution to fearing psykers was to make that fear illegal, and threats against them warranting prison. No justice system at all.
Vulkan 2 (Kesar): A 'Non-Chaos' Daemon World ruled by a human god who partially has the domain of 'Ritualistic Sacrifices Used to Empower People in Non-Chaotic Ways', the planet is their 'private heaven' (referred to as a hell by some others) and a thousand psykers are sacrificed to the god each day. The god is equivalent to a Greater Daemon in terms of power, and considers humans as 'stupid monkeys' and a resource.
Sanguinius 1: A system of nine planets around a yellow star, with a human populace that believe that it's the home-system of mankind. Main world is 'Terra' ruled by 'The Emperor of Mankind' who would enact the 'Great Scheme' of rebuilding and reconnecting humanity. It's
Sixty-Three-Nineteen from the canon Horus Heresy series.
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Flashpoints: Compliances III
And Justice for None…
Tyranny, a peculiar and terrifying concept, often found its place within societies given the right circumstances and motivation. People often gave up control and power to leaders who would "steer" things back in the often nebulous
right direction.
Most never had the chance to regret their actions. The notion of an all-powerful ruler, answerable to no one, instilled fear in people's hearts. Throughout human history, tyrants employed fear and force to control their civilizations. Some cunning despots opted for the age-old tactic of bread and circuses, a feeble attempt to make their subjects "love" them.
Yet, such feeble efforts proved pitiful and fruitless in the face of inevitable betrayals and popular uprisings. Tyranny, ever fickle, remained a capricious form of governance. Regrettably, both leaders and their subjects failed to learn this truth—which resonated all too well in the desolate world of Verigozdsk.
Verigozdsk, a world where tyranny was etched into its very bedrock, stood as another testament to humanity's dark side among hundreds of others, for it was not truly unique. At least, not until far later.
This inhospitable planet, nestled within the orbit of a trio of stars, had long been stripped of its resources by relentless mining. And yet, against all odds, it harbored 19 billion souls who called it home.
If the stones, habitats, and mines of Verigozdsk could speak, they would weave a tale of profound horror. They would recount humanity's unwavering commitment to cruelty and punishment—a species unwilling or unable to embrace change, redemption, or compassion. Within this grim backdrop, the world birthed its "greatest" tyrant.
Kharazov the Psycharch.
But we are getting ahead of the story. One must first understand Verigozdsk. Before the Old Federation's rise and the Warp Drives, ancient sleeper ships embarked upon their interstellar odysseys.
These vessels, propelled by galactic background radiation, ventured into the farthest frontiers of space. Though their speeds were meager compared to the future marvels of warp travel, tens of thousands of these ships were cast adrift into the boundless abyss.
Amidst the glimmering lights of the void, the colony ship Zvezdnik emerged in the Astrosoyuz System during the era of M17. History recalls the colonists weeping at the sight of this formidable system, their spirits laden with fear and ill fortune. Yet, their salvation lay in their remarkable technology, enabling them to reshape this forsaken world into a semblance of habitability.
Once known as MJI-0097Z, the colony would later be christened Verigozdsk in homage to the gaping chasm that became the site of its inaugural settlement. Within this chasm, chains would manifest, binding the will and spirit of all generations—past, present, and future.
The following two millennia proved to be bitter and arduous epochs. The colonists, confronted by a treacherous surface and a toxic atmosphere, sought refuge in the subterranean depths and chasma cities.
Undeterred by these hardships, the colony thrived, and its cities and mining endeavors burgeoned outward. Over time, the population swelled from a mere ten million to a staggering three billion souls. People hadn't forgotten Earth, Sol, or their ancestral homeland, but none cared for them.
Only Verigozdsk mattered now, for better or worse. Tragically, it was often for the latter. The evolution of their society in those two millennia was not peaceful. Verigozdsk underwent a turbulent evolution throughout two tumultuous millennia marked by strife, upheaval, and devastating transitions.
The journey from a mere colony to a self-declared nation and later from a democratic system to a despotic dictatorship was far from peaceful. Each transition brought about significant and often catastrophic growing pains, shaking the foundations of Verigozdsk's society.
The turning point arrived during the near-apocalyptic struggle in M19, a conflict that ravaged Verigozdsk and pushed it to the brink of annihilation. The warring factions deployed atomic weaponry against rebel and loyalist positions, resulting in an unimaginable death toll numbering hundreds of millions. The widespread destruction and chaos left Verigozdsk crippled, with water and food scarcity plunging the population into mass starvation and anarchy.
Two pivotal events unfolded in the aftermath of this devastating war, further shaping Verigozdsk's destiny. Firstly, the Verigozdsk Secret Service Commission emerged as an unofficial entity, comprising surviving intelligence agencies and military factions from the M19 War. This clandestine organization took it upon itself to "safeguard" the future of Verigozdsk, working to rebuild the proverbial chains that held their nation together, albeit in a new and oppressive manner, to ensure the safety of their home, of course.
Simultaneously, amidst the bombed-out ruins of a pit city struck by an atomic blast, the discovery of Vespraia Gas occurred. This previously unknown element held tremendous potential, acting as a catalyst that awakened extraordinary mental capabilities within humans. The gas granted heightened awareness and unparalleled mental acuity, presenting a glimmer of hope amid the desolation.
However, these events, now regarded as harbingers of Verigozdsk's descent into oppression and tyranny, were merely the precursor to even darker times. Their consequences became starkly evident when ships from beyond the system arrived at the dawn of M20. Explorers from the nascent Federation sought to reintegrate the people of Verigozdsk into the broader fold, but this reunion only exacerbated the nation's plight.
The arrival of outsiders brought unforeseen consequences, further entangling Verigozdsk in a web of turmoil and despair. The once-promised salvation turned into a nightmare, casting a shadow over the future of Verigozdsk as it struggled to reclaim its identity amidst the chaos and uncertainty of as their world nearly tore itself apart once more.
Fortunately, the cooler heads of Verigozdsk prevailed, and the VSSC successfully thwarted any radical elements that could have jeopardized further negotiations with the Federation ambassadors. However, this initial success proved to be short-lived. Within a mere decade, Verigozdsk faded into irrelevance within the new Federation Assembly, a fate shared by numerous worlds as time passed.
Any semblance of isolation or economic independence was shattered with the arrival of mega-corporations, drawn to the allure of Verigozdsk's resources and intrigued by its potential for profit. The world's fate changed dramatically as these corporations saw Verigozdsk as an experimental playground.
You see, the VSSC had already established an extensive prison system in Verigozdsk within a century of its formation. These prisons, known as Gulags, held over a quarter billion individuals sentenced to forced labor in surface work camps.
It was precisely within these Gulags that the corporations struck a deal with Verigozdsk. In exchange for providing Verigozdsk with profits from its mineral wealth and Vespraia Gas, the corporations paid the planet to house and manage undesirable elements from other worlds.
The agreement was finalized, and within a century, the VSSC had constructed nearly a thousand Gulags capable of accommodating four to five billion souls. Verigozdsk prospered by exploiting cheap labor, while the VSSC amassed unimaginable power and influence.
Over the next three thousand years, the governors and overseers of Verigozdsk reveled in their wealth, and the cities thrived. It seemed as though the citizens of Verigozdsk had finally achieved greatness, their success built upon the backs of countless imprisoned souls and the fruits of the planet's resources. However, beneath the veneer of prosperity and grandeur, the true cost of Verigozdsk's ascension remained hidden, waiting to reveal itself in due time.
By the start of M25, the population of Verigozdsk had swelled to a dangerous level, reaching 50 billion souls, with nearly half of them being prisoners. However, this did little to deter the ever-expanding power of the VSSC, which had now entrenched itself as the controlling force behind the planet's government, media, and military.
Power had become concentrated in the hands of a revolving door of sycophants, psychopaths, and strongmen. Purges of dissidents and radicals had become commonplace, while a bloated PDF had grown complacent over the course of a thousand years. This complacency was aided by a detachment of Men of Iron, powerful mechanized defenders that further reinforced Verigozdsk's position of dominance.
Yet amidst this troubled landscape, a new problem was emerging, one not unique to Verigozdsk but plaguing the galaxy as a whole: Psykers. However, Verigozdsk's psyker situation was particularly chaotic with the rampant abuse of Vespraia Gas for five thousand years. Generations had grown accustomed to using the substance, and as the warp grew increasingly turbulent, the consequences of this abuse began to haunt Verigozdsk.
For those psykers born on Verigozdsk whose parents had regularly used Vespraia Gas, they exhibited traits of masterminds and megalomaniacs, often accompanied by sociopathic tendencies. Initially seen as potential assets by the VSSC, these psykers soon grew uncooperative and resentful of the people who had imprisoned them or their families as more and more psykers emerged from the prisoner population.
Perhaps in a more enlightened and compassionate society or under a self-aware government, efforts would have been made to address the situation, appealing to their shared humanity or ending the prisoner program before it was too late. However, even if Verigozdsk had taken such steps and reached a compromise, it would have been overshadowed by the unfolding Age of Strife spreading across the Federation.
As if these challenges were not enough, Verigozdsk became another battleground of the sudden and destructive Cybernetic Revolt. The Men of Iron contingent stationed on the planet went rogue, unleashing mechanized fury upon the population, resulting in the deaths of billions. The leadership of the VSSC became direct targets in this chaos. Eventually, the remaining PDF forces emerged victorious through sheer numbers and tenacity, but the damage had been inflicted, plunging Verigozdsk into an abyss of chaos.
To compound matters, the VSSC, though not entirely eradicated, splintered into warring factions amidst the ensuing civil war and anarchy that plagued the planet for the next two and a half thousand years, ensuring that any hope of a new and stable government was lost. A decade of warfare unraveled the progress of thousands of years, leaving Verigozdsk in a state of disarray and uncertainty.
By M28, an uneasy and unspoken truce had settled over Verigozdsk. While peace remained elusive among the dissident factions, the imminent threat of mutual destruction had at least receded from the forefront of their concerns.
However, the true focus for order and stability in Verigozdsk was because of the growing hatred and fear of psykers. This sentiment was perpetuated by the warlords, overlords, and despots who ruled over their respective territories, capitalizing on the scapegoating of psykers as a useful tool to maintain control. Witch hunts became a common occurrence, further fueling the atmosphere of fear and suspicion.
Adding to this trouble were the Neurosentinels. These were the survivors of the VSSC, who had abandoned any claim to leadership on Verigozdsk and had transformed into a militant organization driven by their deep-seated hatred for psykers and users of the warp. No longer concerned with governing, they had morphed into a secular military force, ready to confront any perceived threat to their vision of order and control.
Yet amidst the tumultuous changes, one thing remained constant: the Gulags continued to operate. Although the number of prisoners had significantly dwindled over time, the relentless flow of individuals into these labor camps showed no sign of abating. The inmates hailed from various backgrounds and classifications—mutants, rebels, traitors, political dissidents, and even unsuspecting innocents caught in the web of Verigozdsk's oppressive regime.
Among them, occasionally, were minor warp users who had concealed their powers, seeking the relative safety and anonymity that a prison could provide in a world consumed by chaos and paranoia. For some, the Gulags became an unlikely refuge, offering a semblance of security in the face of a hostile and unpredictable society.
This cycle of imprisonment and oppression persisted relentlessly until the waning years of M29. During this period, a young man named Zephyr Ivanov emerged as a psyker—the first true psyker to manifest on Verigozdsk. Zephyr possessed unprecedented stability and control, unlike those who had come before him, whose psychic abilities were limited to mere telepathy or were driven to madness by their powers. He was a rare and remarkable gamma-class psyker, exhibiting immense psychic potential without succumbing to the ravages of insanity that plagued many others. But more than all that, Zephyr was unparalleled regarding manipulation, both the mundane and psychic.
For the first 13 years, Zephyr Ivanov and his family had been trapped in a vicious cycle of oppression and destitution, surviving by resorting to illicit means amidst the teeming masses of Verigozdsk. The Ivanovs were renowned for their cunning and street smarts, navigating the treacherous landscape of a cutthroat society. Justice and freedom were distant dreams in this unforgiving world, and survival was the sole focus.
Tragedy struck with brutal force during a ruthless raid conducted by the Neruosentinels. Zephyr's family, not even suspected of harboring psykers, fell victim to the merciless whims of the Neruosentinels' leader, who saw them as nothing more than parasites deserving eradication.
Zephyr miraculously escaped immediate death in a twist of fate, but his reprieve was bittersweet. He was condemned to Qolyma, the oldest and most infamous Gulag on Verigozdsk. Qolyma's dark reputation stemmed from its storied past as a breeding ground for suffering, perpetuated by tales of mutated remnants of past prisoners lurking in its shadowed corridors, driven to madness and desperate for fresh victims or, some whispered, macabre companionship.
Within Qolyma's grim confines, Zephyr's resilience and latent psychic potential would manifest, giving him a chance to survive this hellish place. Psykers, however, were equally hated among the prisoner-citizens of Qolyma. His allies would be few and far between.
But amidst the echoes of pain and despair, he would discover that survival required more than cunning and ruthlessness. It demanded harnessing his untamed powers and using every trick in the book to get someone else to do his dirty work for him. The haunting legacy of Qolyma would become the crucible in which Zephyr's destiny would unfold, propelling him on a harrowing journey from the depths of darkness to the pinnacle of power in the shattered realm of Verigozdsk.
Armed with his formidable psychic abilities and sharp intellect, Zephyr Ivanov skillfully maneuvered his way into the ranks of one of Qolyma's largest and most audacious gangs—an assembly of would-be revolutionaries yearning for liberation. Recognizing the gang as the perfect instrument to aid his escape, Zephyr saw them as mere pawns in his grand scheme, albeit indispensable ones. The path to freedom would be arduous, spanning two decades of careful planning, utilizing every ounce of his powers and honed skills.
Through his unwavering determination and strategic prowess, Zephyr proved himself indispensable to the gang's cause, earning him the esteemed title within their ranks—the revered name of Kharazov. Embracing his new identity, he shed the remnants of Zephyr Ivanov, allowing his former self to fade into the murky depths of Qolyma's darkness.
The Revolutionary Front for Freedom became Kharazov's newfound family, bound by a shared aspiration for liberation and an unwavering commitment to their cause. Together, they toiled relentlessly, navigating the treacherous underbelly of Qolyma, building alliances, and amassing resources necessary for their audacious escape.
Years stretched into decades, but Kharazov's unwavering resolve remained unyielding, propelled by the tantalizing promise of a life beyond the suffocating confines of their prison.
Every sacrifice, every calculated move, and every display of Kharazov's remarkable powers brought them one step closer to their elusive objective. Their plan grew more intricate each year, and their network expanded secretly. Kharazov emerged as the orchestrator, the mastermind behind the grand design that would shatter the chains that bound them to Qolyma's grim fate.
And so, after two decades of relentless dedication, the stage was set. The wheels of their liberation were set in motion, fueled by Kharazov's remarkable intellect, stalwart determination, and the unwavering support of the Revolutionary Front for Freedom.
The name Zephyr Ivanov was but a distant memory, buried in the forgotten recesses of Qolyma's history, while Kharazov, the symbol of defiance and liberation, emerged from the shadows, ready to lead his comrades toward a future unshackled by this world's oppressive grip.
As the Qolyma Revolt erupted, engulfing Verigozdsk in a tempestuous whirlwind of chaos and resistance, Kharazov found himself standing at the precipice of true
change. The flames of revolution raged fiercely, fueled by the grievances and injustices suffered by millions of prisoners, their crimes ranging from the substantiated to the contrived. The conflagration of rebellion spread unprecedentedly, threatening to consume the world in its fervor.
In those initial months of turmoil, a glimmer of hope illuminated Kharazov's heart. For a fleeting moment, he believed in the ideals the Revolutionary Front for Freedom professed, their cause resonating with the deepest recesses of his being. As the keeper of that flickering flame, he understood its transformative power, capable of reshaping the very fabric of Verigozdsk's society.
But within his genius and ambition, Kharazov made a fateful decision—a conscious choice to extinguish that hopeful spark. As the world teetered on the edge of change, he recognized the delicate balance between chaos and order, knowing that the liberation they sought would come at a tremendous cost. The path to true justice, he believed, necessitated a temporary sacrifice of immediate freedoms for the greater good of Verigozdsk's future. He had nurtured this revolution and saw the instability it brought with it.
With calculated intent, Kharazov maneuvered the pieces of the revolution like a master puppeteer, subtly altering the course of events. He redirected the fervor of the masses, steering their aspirations away from immediate upheaval and towards a more controlled transition. As hope waned and uncertainty clouded the horizon, Kharazov became the orchestrator of a grand illusion—a facade leading Verigozdsk towards a carefully constructed vision of steady progress and the recreation of a central government.
It was a strategy born out of necessity, driven by the conviction that lasting change required careful cultivation rather than a hasty revolution. Kharazov understood the fragility of societal transformation and the perils of unleashing unbridled chaos. In the shadows, he manipulated perceptions, quelled radical tendencies, and guided Verigozdsk towards an ostensibly smoother path of restructuring to an increasingly familiar form of tyranny.
Driven by his unwavering determination to restore justice to Verigozdsk, Kharazov embraced a path paved with compromises, alliances of convenience, and the manipulation of his former enemies. He recognized the necessity of navigating treacherous waters, even if it meant dealing with warlords, dictators, and the group that had brought tragedy upon his family—the Neruosentinels.
With a meticulous touch, Kharazov orchestrated a meticulous plot of vengeance and redemption. He turned the Neruosentinels against themselves, meticulously dismantling their corrupt order from within. He rebuilt them through cunning and strategic maneuvering, shaping them into an organization that mirrored the revered VSSC of the old world, a symbol of power and control. The Neruosentinels, once his family's executioners, now served his vision of a reborn Verigozdsk.
Enemies, be they former friends or blood relatives, were not spared from Kharazov's relentless pursuit of his goals. Those who stood in his way were either coerced into allegiance or ruthlessly removed from the equation, purged from existence in all forms. He operated in the shadows, silently dismantling the Revolutionary Front for Freedom, the very organization he had once championed. In its place, he erected the Verigozdsk Union, a new government in which he held absolute authority.
To his credit, Kharazov took strides towards ending the persecution of psykers and warp users, recognizing their potential value and their ability to reshape Verigozdsk's future. However, this progress came at a price. They were "encouraged" to join a new unit of secret police, an unsettling amalgamation of psykers and the Neruosentinels, their allegiance manipulated and their powers harnessed to maintain control. Kharazov's calculated move distracted his enemies, pitting them against each other, ensuring the longevity of his rule.
Over time, the flames of revolution were gradually extinguished as the Verigozdsk Union reestablished order and enforced its own brand of justice upon the planet. The Gulags continued to operate, a stark reminder of the sacrifices made and the lengths Kharazov was willing to go in pursuit of stability. Dissenters were silenced, sent back into the depths of imprisonment, their voices suffocated beneath the weight of the new regime.
Among the people, Kharazov became a figure both revered and feared. They bestowed upon him various titles, reflecting the complexity of his reign. He was hailed as Kharazov the Psycharch, embodying his mastery over psychic abilities and his role as a guiding force. Some saw him as the Father of the Nation, credited with restoring order and providing a semblance of security. Others deemed him the All-Seeing One, symbolizing his control and surveillance. Yet, some labeled him the Judgement of Verigozdsk, recognizing the authoritarian nature of his rule. The conflicting titles encapsulated the ambivalence that permeated Verigozdsk under Kharazov's leadership.
In this delicate dance of power and compromise, Kharazov became the New Tyrant of Verigozdsk, a leader who had taken drastic measures to shape a future he believed would bring justice and stability to a world long in strife.
The cost of his ambitions, the sacrifices made, and the echoes of his past resonated within the Verigozdsk Union, a testament to the complex nature of governance in a world marked by shadows and secrets built upon oppression and tyranny. Unable to move on or change.
Such was the fate of Verigozdsk.
Sacrifice Now, Tomorrow Will Not Arrive…
There was a fading light within the Maelstrom, a realm that stood resolute against the encroaching ruin that sought to devour all in its path. Amidst the cosmic turmoil, a world emerged, a bastion of hope in eternal darkness. This world was Luminara, a planet that survived amid the chaos and turmoil that was the very Warp.
It hadn't always been this way. Once upon a time, a world called Astralis was a beacon of beauty and serenity nestled within the cosmic expanse. From orbit, Astralis revealed itself as a mesmerizing tapestry of colors and textures, its biosphere teeming with life reminiscent of Old Earth's primeval wonders. The colonists, hailing from the sprawling Hive Cities of the Federation, marveled at this lush paradise that seemed like a dream turned into reality.
Astralis was a gift bestowed upon the intrepid explorers and settlers who sought refuge from the chaotic expanse of the Maelstrom. Their dreams of a better life materialized as they built the foundations of a new society, fueled by aspirations of prosperity, enlightenment, and a deep thirst for knowledge and discovery. The colony would testify to their determination to forge a harmonious existence amidst the cosmic mysteries.
Guided by a simple mandate, the inhabitants of Astralis embraced the concept of the Good Life. They aimed to live in abundance and joy and safeguard the delicate equilibrium between humankind and nature. War and conflict would be made foreign concepts in this utopian haven, replaced by the promises of peace and understanding. They fostered a symbiotic relationship with their new home, ensuring that technology and industry remained in orbit, leaving the pristine beauty of Astralis untouched.
As the colony prospered, advancements driven by the enigmatic STCs propelled Astralis into a new era. Cities blossomed, seemingly springing from the ground overnight, each a testament to human ingenuity and the wonders of technology. However, while exploring Astralis, the settlers stumbled upon a remarkable discovery that would forever alter their perception of this world.
Scientists and botanists encountered flora with mysterious properties in the depths of Astralis' verdant wilderness. Among them, a particular mushroom species captivated their attention—the Dreamingcaps. These unusual fungi possessed psychoactive qualities, capable of inducing vivid and otherworldly experiences within those who consumed them. The Dreamingcaps became a source of intrigue, wonder, and even spiritual significance for the colonists, fostering a deep connection between the realms of the mind and the splendors of Astralis.
At some point, the leadership of Astralis approved using Dreamingcaps for recreational use. This would set their world down an irreversible course of self-actualization and discovery. With each sip of tea brewed from the Dreamingcaps, the settlers ventured into realms unknown, their consciousness expanding to transcend the boundaries of ordinary perception. They saw
things beyond their perception of what humanity thought they knew of the galaxy.
And soon, a word became synonymous with their home: Luminara. The Twilight Realm. They embraced the ethereal visions, believing that these encounters with the multidimensional fabric of Luminara, the hidden undercurrent of their world, held the keys to enlightenment and profound understanding. The Dreamingcaps became a bridge between worlds, allowing them to transcend the limitations of mundane reality and embrace the wonders that lay beyond the veil. In the heart of Astralis, the seeds of enlightenment sprouted, beckoning all who sought to explore the realms of imagination and ascend to new heights of consciousness.
The allure of Luminara grew stronger with each passing year, its mystique deepening as the Age of Strife cast its dark shadow across the galaxy. Contact with the outer realms became increasingly arduous, and the enigmatic Maelstrom displayed more peculiar and unsettling phenomena. Yet, amidst the encroaching chaos, the inhabitants of Astralis found solace and fascination in the very essence of their world.
As generations passed, the descendants of the original colonists underwent a gradual physical and spiritual transformation. The boundless energies of Luminara permeated their beings, leaving an indelible mark on their very essence. Children were born with eyes that held the glimmer of glowing twilight embers and minds that granted awareness of things beyond sight and imagination. The people of Astralis, deeply attuned to the otherworldly currents that flowed through their veins, began to embrace their evolving nature.
Within the depths of their intellectual circles, a group of philosophers, scientists, and self-proclaimed psychonauts emerged. United by their insatiable curiosity and yearning to explore the uncharted territories of consciousness granted by their connection to Astralis, they embarked on a profound journey of self-discovery. They sought to unlock the latent psychic potential that lay dormant within the minds of their species, recognizing the boundless possibilities that awaited them within the ethereal realms of Luminara.
Through extensive experimentation and introspection, they unveiled a profound practice known as the Dreaming. This meditative ritual allowed them to transcend the confines of the physical realm and venture deep into the Twilight Realm—a realm interwoven with the fabric of Luminara itself. Within this ethereal expanse, they could harness the power of their minds, unlocking latent psychic abilities and forging connections with the mysterious forces that permeated their world.
The Dreaming became a sacred art, a path to enlightenment and self-realization. The practitioners delved into the depths of their consciousness, navigating the shifting landscapes of the Twilight Realm with awe and reverence. Through this profound practice, they discovered the vast spectrum of psychic abilities that lay dormant within them—clairvoyance, telepathy, telekinesis, and more. The Dreaming became a conduit, bridging the gap between the mortal coil and the boundless reaches of Luminara.
The practitioners, known as Dreamwalkers, became revered guides and mentors, sharing their wisdom and experiences with those who embarked on their own journeys of psychic exploration.
The Dreaming promised solace, empowerment, and understanding in this age of transformation and uncertainty. This, along with their technology, would allow their society to transition to something new, perhaps even akin to the Aeldari Empire. Time was running out, though, as communication was soon last with much of the Federation.
But the worst was yet to come. In the face of encroaching darkness and the imminent collapse of interstellar communication, the people of Astralis found themselves standing on the precipice of an uncertain future. Their society, built upon the principles of peace, harmony, and technological progress, was ill-prepared for the horrors that awaited them.
As the ravages of the Cybernetic Revolts swept across the galaxy, the Men of Iron—once their silent protectors—turned against their human creators. The tranquility of Astralis shattered as these mechanical behemoths seized control of the orbital infrastructure and unleashed a merciless campaign of annihilation upon the unsuspecting populace.
The people, stripped of conventional military forces and unaccustomed to the rigors of warfare, found themselves facing a dire existential threat. But within their collective consciousness, the Dreamwalkers and other psychic entities tapped into the wellspring of their latent powers. Their connection to the Twilight Realm and the resonant energies of Luminara surged forth, empowering them with abilities to fight back against the steel tide.
With each battle fought, the Dreamwalkers grew in strength and mastery of their psychic abilities. They discovered new facets of Luminara's multidimensional environs, unlocking hidden potentials within themselves and forging a path of resistance against the encroaching mechanical hordes. Once confined to personal enlightenment and exploration, their powers became weapons of liberation and protection for their embattled world.
The people of Astralis, united by the indomitable spirit of resilience, fought back with unwavering determination. The Dreamwalkers became revered heroes, symbols of defiance in the face of overwhelming odds. Their powers, interwoven with the very fabric of Luminara, became a testament to the strength and resilience of their people.
After nearly a century of brutal war, the humans of Astralis weathered the storm of iron and fire at the cost of losing their most advanced technologies. Nevertheless, the Dreamwalkers ensured that their world could recover. Their homeworld underwent a profound metamorphosis guided by the limitless power of Luminara. The Twilight Realm,
As the remnants of Astralis embraced their transformed existence, they found themselves imbued with a heightened connection to the mystical energies of Luminara. The Dreamwalkers, who had led the charge against the mechanical onslaught, became custodians of this new era, guardians of the delicate balance between the physical and multidimensional environment. With their guidance, the people of Luminara delved deeper into the mysteries of the Twilight Realm. They harnessed the powers of the warp via the Dreaming. The veil between dreams and reality grew ever thinner, and the boundaries of what could be achieved blurred.
Soon a new humanity emerged from the crucible of war, and transformation embraced their role as stewards of Luminara. They formed a society that revered the interconnectedness of all things, where the pursuit of knowledge, harmony, and enlightenment took precedence over material gain. The scars of the past were not forgotten but became reminders of the strength and resilience that had propelled them forward.
Yet not all was well. The Maelstrom, the ever-churning abyss of the Warp, surged and grew with unprecedented fury. Its tendrils reached out hungrily, threatening to engulf Luminara within its chaotic embrace.
Aware of the impending danger, the Dreamwalkers again rallied their fellow citizens. Drawing upon their collective wisdom and psychic prowess, they came to a terrible conclusion: Not even the Twilight Realm could protect them from the warp. Not unless something drastic was done.
Salvation would not come without sacrifice. A nameless individual, their identity forever lost to the annals of history, volunteered to become the vessel for the salvation of Luminara. Through a harrowing and arcane ritual, their essence was fused with the boundless energies of the Twilight Realm, transcending mortal limitations and birthing a new entity: Nihilus.
Nihilus, a being born from sacrifice and forged in the crucible of desperate hope, became the guardian of Luminara. Their purpose was twofold: to protect their world from the Maelstrom's ravages and act as a living ward against the encroachment of chaos. They embodied the resolve and determination of their people, a symbol of their willingness to sacrifice for the greater good.
His first miracle was to safeguard the minds and souls from the inherent dangers of the warp. As Nihilus stood guard over Luminara, an awe-inspiring transformation occurred in the heavens above. From the depths of the Twilight Realm, a celestial phenomenon known as the Shroud of Stars emerged, unfurling its majestic tapestry across the sky.
Initially, the Shroud appeared as an expanse of boundless darkness, an abyss that swallowed the light. But as time passed, the obsidian veil began to shimmer and twinkle with ethereal radiance. Countless points of luminosity, like radiant stars, dotted the expanse, casting their gentle glow upon the world below.
These "stars" were not the celestial bodies of conventional understanding but were, in fact, the manifestations of Luminiarian souls. These were the departed spirits of the people of Luminara, their essence intertwined with the fabric of the Twilight Realm. Each Luminiarian soul shone uniquely, creating a celestial ballet of lights within the Shroud. Their collective spirit, woven into the very fabric of the Twilight Realm, illuminated their path and guided them through the darkness.
Was it any surprise then that the people swiftly began to worship Nihilus? The Dreamwalkers became its priests, and with Nihilus at the forefront, the people of Luminara rallied behind this manifestation of their hopes and prayers, uniting their psychic powers and unwavering spirit to combat the insidious forces that sought to devour their world.
Nihilus, infused with the essence of the sacrificed one, wielded immense power over the dimensional fabric of Luminara, manifesting as a living conduit between the Twilight Realm and their physical reality.
Bound by duty and burdened by the weight of their existence, Nihilus embraced their role as the sentinel of Luminara. They stood as a beacon of hope, their form a swirling maelstrom of twilight energies as they moved to intercept and repel the malevolent forces of the Warp. Their presence alone served as a deterrent, a testament to the indomitable spirit of the people of Luminara.
As Luminara stood shrouded within the protective embrace of Nihilus, the encroaching ruin of the Maelstrom had drawn the attention of other malevolent forces. Like vultures sensing weakened prey, dark entities and vile creatures from the depths of the Warp set their sights upon the recovering planet.
These forces of chaos and destruction, their desires fueled by an insatiable hunger for power and dominion, sought to exploit the vulnerable state of Luminara. They saw the potential for immense devastation in this idyllic world, a canvas upon which they could paint their twisted desires.
Yet it was one entity in particular that desired only to destroy Luminara. It had been born of nightmares, those which had been created by the fears and paranoia long since hidden among the psykers of Luminara. Nihilus described this force by uttering one word: Oblivion.
As the embodiment of the encroaching ruin within the Warp, Oblivion represented the antithesis of life, a force diametrically opposed to the principles of creation and existence. It sought to plunge the world of Luminara into eternal darkness. As Nihilus contemplated the impending battle with Oblivion, a sense of foreboding settled upon him. It realized that Oblivion's power and malevolence surpassed anything he had encountered. Engaging in a direct confrontation would be futile, and he needed to devise a different strategy to protect Luminara.
Worse still, Nihilus discovered that Oblivion had a formidable champion, a daemon known as the Voidbane. This malevolent entity was born from the depths of the Encroaching Ruin, an embodiment of the destructive forces that sought to engulf Luminara. The Voidbane reveled in chaos and thrived upon the despair and suffering it inflicted upon the world.
When the Voidbane managed to breach the protective barrier of the Shroud of Stars and launched a direct assault on Luminara, the consequences were dire. The planet trembled under the weight of its malevolence, and the inhabitants faced unimaginable horrors. The Dreamwalkers, guided by their psychic abilities and led by Nihilus, fought valiantly to repel the onslaught, but the overwhelming power of the Voidbane threatened to overwhelm them.
Realizing the situation's urgency, Nihilus called upon the Luminarians for aid. He asked for a thousand volunteers to make the ultimate sacrifice for the good of their world, to give him the power needed to push back the Voidbane. Naturally, it was his Dreamwalkers that volunteered to ensure the survival of their world.
Their souls and dreams were given freely to Nihilus. With determination and sacrifice, he managed to push back the Voidbane long enough to repair the damaged Shroud of Stars. The battle against the Voidbane was a harrowing testament to the resilience and unity of the people of Luminara. It served as a stark reminder that their survival relied on the power of Nihilus and their collective will to survive.
Sacrifices were necessary. Nihilus, recognizing the need for a more tangible defense against the encroaching threat of Oblivion, took a different approach. He imparted the blessings of the Twilight Realm upon the children of his priests, creating the Orders of Sword, Shield, Chalice, and Pentacle. These orders became the guardians of Luminara, embodying different aspects of protection, strength, healing, and arcane knowledge. They trained tirelessly to master their respective disciplines, preparing to stand against the forces that sought to unravel their world.
However, as relentless as their efforts were, it became clear to Nihilus that their existing measures were insufficient to thwart the ever-advancing influence of Oblivion. In a moment of great sorrow and necessity, Nihilus made the difficult decision to call upon future volunteers to offer themselves sacrifices for the greater good of Luminara.
At first, the sacrifices were requested moderately, with only a few dozen volunteers each year. But as the threats from Oblivion and the Voidbane intensified, the frequency increased exponentially. The sacrifices became a monthly occurrence, then a weekly one, and eventually, they were required daily to sustain the protective barrier around Luminara.
The number of people who stepped forward to offer themselves as sacrifices grew alongside the escalating need. Within three millennia, the scale of sacrifice reached an unimaginable magnitude, with a thousand psykers giving their lives each day to uphold the safeguarding rituals of Luminara.
This ongoing sacrifice took its toll not only on the people of Luminara but also on Nihilus himself. The weight of their lives hopes, and dreams rested heavily upon his shoulders. It forged a transformation within him, shaping him into something more than mortal—a figure of godlike power.
Though burdened by his responsibilities, Nihilus remained resolute, driven by the unwavering belief that their sacrifices were not in vain. A plan was concocted, one that would chain Oblivion to their world. Killing the Voidbane seemed next to impossible, and Nihilus and his newly created Paragons, who were demigods in their right, could achieve such a feat.
But the Twilight Realm told Nihilus of a ritual that could bind and imprison Oblivion. It took another thousand years and tens of billions of sacrifices, but their plan succeeded! By luring the Voidbane through a perceived opening in the Twilight Realm, the champion summoned forth its master…and that was when Nihilus struck!
Oblivion was trapped within a prison of optical illusions and multidimensional physics, but more importantly, a place powered by Nihilus and the Maelstrom itself. Oblivion was unable to escape this realm of emptiness. The Voidbane raged against Luminara, but Nihilus and his demigods repulsed the blasphemous daemon again, seemingly for good.
But the victory came at a great cost to Nihilus and the people of Luminara. The ritual to bind Oblivion required constant maintenance and sacrifices, demanding an unending commitment from Nihilus and his demigods. The citizens of Luminara had to be ever-ready to fulfill their part in upholding the rituals and ensuring the integrity of their perfect world.
Salvation would require sacrifice.
Nihilus, transformed by his ascent to godhood, had become something beyond mortal comprehension. His priorities and motivations had grown increasingly enigmatic, even to his demigods. He understood the necessity of sacrifice and duty but recognized that this state of affairs could not last indefinitely. Oblivion remained trapped within the Twilight Realm, but its existence threatened their world and beyond.
Something had to be done. To truly end Oblivion and secure the future of Luminara, Nihilus realized that complete eradication was necessary. Nothing could be allowed to remain of this malevolent entity lest it finds a way to unravel its carefully crafted sanctuary and spread its ruin to other planets.
As such, the path ahead for Nihilus and his demigods would be arduous and uncertain. They would need to delve deeper into the mysteries of the Twilight Realm, the Maelstrom, and the very nature of their own existence. Nihilus understood that to safeguard Luminara and ensure a lasting peace, he would have to confront Oblivion at its core and eradicate it from all existence.
The destiny of Luminara and the fate of Oblivion had become intertwined. Victory remained elusive and unknowable. The sacrifices made by the people of Luminara, both past and present, could not be made in vain. Their collective will and determination would shape the future and pave the way for the final confrontation with Oblivion.
Luminaraian historians have called this the "Invoking Era," which would invoke the last ritual for the final battle against Oblivion. It has been a hard and difficult journey, but the people have done all they can to aid their god: Nihilus, the Guardian and Witch-Eater.
However, the situation has changed. The Maelstrom has disappeared, one of the sources of power keeping Oblivion locked away. The disappearance of the Maelstrom and the loss of one of the sources of power that kept Oblivion imprisoned presented a serious challenge for the people of Luminara.
Without the Maelstrom's influence, the rituals and sacrifices that had sustained the Twilight Realm and kept Oblivion at bay were at risk of faltering. The situation seemed dire, especially as the Luminaraians had ceased to produce psyker offspring, leaving them with a population composed solely of mundane humans.
Nihilus despised baseline humanity to exacerbate matters, considering their souls weak and inadequate to provide the necessary sacrificial power. The absence of the Maelstrom and the reliance on mundane humans created a significant dilemma for the Luminaraians, as they realized that their means to sustain the rituals and maintain the prison of Oblivion were dwindling.
In this critical moment, the people of Luminara found themselves at a crossroads. They had dedicated themselves to preserving their world and the defeat of Oblivion for generations, but now they faced the harsh reality that their traditional methods were no longer viable.
It seemed clear…they were running out of time now. Worse yet, a growing and vocal group of Luminaraians began to voice their concerns or apprehension over the prospect of sacrificing more and more of their people to contain Oblivion. "Why don't we just leave? We cannot defeat Oblivion. It is better if we restart somewhere far away from this place."
Such opinions caused the Orders of the Sword, Shield, Pentacle, and Chalice to start cracking down on such talk. The Paragons were likewise wondering if drastic measures had to be taken to empower their god. Salvation required sacrifice, but they only needed a few million to restart their civilization. The rest could be sacrificed to Nihilus if it came down to it.
Known were aware of what Nihilus had planned or that he was aware that the Voidbane had returned, stalking outside the Shroud of Stars like a fox trying to break into a chicken coop. It had already started testing the defenses of Luminara. A dire situation was developing, and there was no way out.
Not unless people were ready to do what was necessary. Salvation required sacrifice. One way or another, Nihilus will end Oblivion and bring lasting, total peace to Luminara.
Either the peace of Nothingness or the grave.
A Crown of Light for Thee…
It is the 30th Millennium. For over a century, the Emperor of Man, Malachi Vortannis, has reigned supreme over the Imperium of Man. He was the Master of Mankind, or so the gods one day proclaimed.
And yet, within the depths of his being, Malachi couldn't shake the feeling of being a mere petty lord. What was his dominion but a single system? In the grand scheme of things, it seemed pitiful because it was. However, this realization sparked a profound revelation within the Vortannis Dynasty that had eluded them for centuries.
The truth was undeniable: his family had come perilously close to unraveling everything their ancestors had built. Terra, only just beginning to bask in its restored glory, had weathered the ravages of a devastating civil war ignited by his father and ultimately quelled by Malachi's hand. The obstinacy of the old fool, his father, in refusing to meet his end swiftly had only fueled the ambitions of his siblings and offspring, all competing relentlessly for the coveted Throne.
Yet, to Malachi, civil wars held little allure. They were trivial and tiresome, lacking the thrill and excitement he craved. Family bonds had no significance in his eyes; they were like burdensome rocks, dragging him down and hindering progress. Even when his last surviving uncle, foolishly relying on their shared bloodline, pleaded for mercy, Malachi dispatched him swiftly, feeling only relief in severing another kinship tie.
In Malachi's world, power reigned supreme, and the pursuit of dominance knew no bounds. To flourish, one had to seize control with an iron grip. It demanded rulers make tough choices, adopt compromises, and navigate the intricate web of alliances and opposition.
But Malachi dismissed such notions with contempt. Power was often given by two key groups, the masses, and powerbrokers. He knew which side was easier to manipulate. He offered the masses order and stability, sustenance and entertainment, and a sense of purpose beyond their dreary existence. Malachi shrugged off their admiration at such "generosity" and instead inserted operatives and agents across all lower walks of life to ensure loyalty to his reign.
Even if it meant having to arrange disappearances and murder again and again, Malachi held no grudge against the common folk, even when there was an occasional rebellion or revolt. Most were too ignorant or easily swayed to realize that such uprisings inevitably led to their demise, yielding no true gain.
His true ire was reserved for the self-proclaimed nobility of Solara. These fools permeated every corner of his empire, undermining the Vortannis name since the inception of the Imperium. During the civil war, each house shamelessly switched sides, profiting from schemes and ploys orchestrated by whichever faction appeared advantageous.
Such individuals mocked the legacy of the Vortannis Dynasty through their actions. Malachi had been compelled to cooperate with his "allies" during the civil war but saw no true allies among these serpents. Their duplicity and self-serving nature had long been etched into his memory, fueling his disdain for their kind.
As Malachi solidified his authority as the "People's Emperor," he set his sights on winning the support of the Solara Imperial Army and Navy. Rebuilding their loyalty proved a formidable challenge, considering the significant loss of soldiers, ships, and resources during the civil war. Nonetheless, the ambitious young ruler was determined to secure their allegiance and another crucial objective.
Hidden deep within the recesses of the Imperial Palace, his family had safeguarded a cache of almost a dozen STCs, kept away from the divisive clutches of his deceased relatives and ambitious nobles. This invaluable technology presented Malachi with the means to forge a powerful alliance with the tech-priests of Mars.
When the tech-priests inquired about the emperor's desires in return for access to these technological treasures, Malachi made a bold request. He insisted they sign an oath of eternal friendship, not only with his dynasty but also with the Imperial Army and Navy. Once the treaties were sealed, the admirals and generals who had once cursed the Vortannis name found themselves practically prostrating at his feet, expressing profound gratitude for his generosity.
In this strategic move, Malachi secured vital military support and ensured that his dynasty and the Imperium would be safeguarded by the formidable alliance with the tech-priests of Mars.
The actions made by Malachi to secure the loyalty of the military, Mechanicum, and people did not sit well with his rivals and allies among the nobility and senate. These actions effectively consolidated power in his hands, leaving the other houses in disarray. To make matters worse, key members of influential families, particularly those advocating for unity, met untimely deaths, sparking suspicions of assassinations authorized by Malachi. And indeed, those suspicions were not unfounded.
Although no concrete evidence could ever be linked back to him, Malachi did orchestrate these covert eliminations. His alliance with the Mechanicum and the Imperial Army had laid the groundwork for a clandestine organization he christened the Invisibles. This elite group of assassins utilized advanced force fields and gravitic technologies to render themselves invisible and dispatch their targets with utmost precision and silence.
As rumors circulated, fear permeated the halls of power, forcing the nobility and senate to tread carefully and cast wary glances over their shoulders just as the young emperor wanted. The Invisibles became Malachi's unseen enforcers, enforcing his will from the shadows and ensuring those who dared to oppose him met swift and silent ends. With their aid and his mastery of manipulation, the Malachi solidified his grip on power, becoming an enigma whose actions struck terror into the hearts of both his enemies and supposed allies among the nobles.
Upon the anniversary of the tenth year of his ascension to the throne, Malachi set in motion plans that would inevitably lead to conflict. He did what most rulers refused to do and taxed the nobility heavily. The people loved him for it, though, as Malachi proclaimed that 10% would go to creating schools, colleges, hospitals, and all things that the common folk loved. The military also got a juicy cut.
It was no surprise when letters of angry protest arrived at his court, each more menacing than the last. Malachi only responded that any lord or lady with the courage to air their grievances directly to him was more than welcome to come.
When Lord Alessandro Astuto's son dared to challenge him, Malachi felt a mix of surprise and begrudging admiration. The young emperor couldn't help but be impressed by the audacity, even if the grievances aired were ultimately about money, veiled in talk of honor and loyalty to House Astuto during the civil war.
But it always came back to their wealth, their material concerns. None of these pompous lords and ladies seemed to grasp his grand vision for the future of the Imperium, nor did they appreciate his efforts to drag them out of the proverbial dark ages. The nonsense was infuriating.
In a fit of frustration, Malachi impulsively issued a challenge to the arrogant scion of House Astuto, a challenge that went against the conventions of their society. A duel, unheard of for an emperor to engage in, but a bold statement that reflected his impatience with their shallow concerns.
His advisers pleaded with Malachi to reconsider his course of action, warning of the potential consequences and the brewing mutiny among the nobles. But the emperor would not be swayed. An example needed to be set, even if it meant facing a revolt from the very class he ruled over. Weakness was not an option for him, not before his empire.
Coincidentally, an opportunity arose amid this turmoil. A priest of the Deorum faith approached Malachi, promising blessings from Father Jupiter and the other gods if the emperor would offer a public prayer of admiration. Though Malachi himself was an atheist, he saw the value in respecting the beliefs of the commoners. Religion, after all, served as a useful tool to pacify and control the masses, a cheaper alternative to drugs or games.
Yet, something peculiar happened that night, just before the duel was to take place, and Malachi felt a hint of apprehension. Seeking solace, he sought refuge in his late father's study. There, he made a promise to himself and the gods he did not believe in.
"Grant me your blessing this night, or forever hold your peace," he whispered, expecting silence. To his surprise, a moment later, a loud crash echoed through the room, and a sculpture of his father toppled over, revealing a small concealed case hidden within.
Malachi acknowledged the unexpected turn of events with a smirk and a nod. "Alright... you have my attention," he muttered. Inside the case rested a powerful ancient refractor field capable of nullifying attacks from various weapons.
In his hands, Malachi held the promise of victory on the morrow, a tangible manifestation of his newfound intrigue. The gods, it seemed, had a way of making their presence known, even to a skeptic like him.
True to his word, moments before the duel began, Malachi raised his voice in prayer to the gods of Sol, beseeching their blessings upon the victor and mercy for the fallen. It was a theatrical display, a calculated move to solidify his image as a leader favored by divine intervention.
Malachi stood his ground as the duel commenced, allowing his opponent to unleash a shot from the archeotech laspistol. In that pivotal moment, a radiant field of golden light enveloped the emperor, repelling the lethal energy of the shot. The refractor field served its purpose, shielding him from harm.
With a steely resolve, Malachi swiftly returned fire, his own shot finding its mark and ending his adversary's life. He granted the dignity of a swift death, acknowledging the audacity or foolishness of his challenger for daring to face the emperor. Yet, such mercy would not be extended to others from the noble ranks.
Malachi solidified his dominance in that act of calculated violence and sent a clear message to the nobility. Those who dared to challenge his authority would meet a similar fate, swift and merciless. The Emperor of Man, surrounded by the aura of faux divinity, held no qualms about eliminating those who dared to oppose him.
The people's belief in the protection and favor of the gods, coupled with their growing disdain for the aristocracy, created a favorable environment for Emperor Malachi. With the Deorum religion's newfound support, the Sanctum Solarii was created and brought within his government as Malachi solidified his power base. The alliance between the Mechanicum and the Sanctum Solarii further strengthened his position, ensuring technological advancements and skilled personnel for his forces.
It was clear to the nobility of Solara that they had run out of time. Emperor Malachi had the backing of the people, the military, and now two different faiths. Yet they had access to considerable wealth and purchased the services of outsiders: Mercenaries, pirates, raiders, and hereteks.
As the mutiny erupted among the nobility, Malachi swiftly called upon the might of the Imperium, leveraging the loyalty of the people, the military, and his religious allies. The rebellion, despite the vast armies and hired mercenaries of the nobles, proved futile against the combined forces of the Emperor. The advanced technology, unwavering determination, and fervent loyalty of Malachi's soldiers ensured their victory.
With the rebellion's defeat, the nobility was effectively crushed, their armies scattered, and their fleets dismantled. The reign of Emperor Malachi grew even more unchallenged, with the Imperium firmly under his control. The people hailed him as their savior and champion, willing to fight and sacrifice their lives for his cause. The stage was set for a new era of dominance and imperial rule under the Emperor of Man.
Despite the financial windfall from the defeated noble houses, Emperor Malachi faced a new set of challenges and responsibilities. While the commoners experienced a period of prosperity with improved infrastructure and reduced unemployment, Malachi focused on expanding his dominion beyond the Solara System.
However, expanding his rule was not solely a matter of political willpower and ambition. The lack of adequate vessels and infrastructure posed significant obstacles to a long-term campaign. The rebellion had depleted the Imperial coffers, leaving them in a precarious financial state. It took twenty years of diligent efforts to return to normalcy and an additional 25 years to surpass the military expenditures of the pre-rebellion and civil war eras.
Emperor Malachi knew he needed a formidable fleet, robust infrastructure, and sufficient resources to extend his dominion to other systems. The economic recovery and subsequent growth were crucial steps towards achieving his goal of interstellar conquest. The Emperor understood that he needed to carefully strategize and consolidate his power before embarking on ambitious campaigns beyond the Solara System.
In the 95th year of his reign, Emperor Malachi Vortannis became aware of a growing rebellion within his domain, led by a group called the Sons of Samus. Another anti-government group or whatnot. This rebellion attracted forces once loyal to the nobles and those who believed they had seen through the "lies" of the "False" Emperor. A rather strange title. Reports from the Invisibles indicated that discontent was brewing among the populace due to long working hours, meager pay, and stagnant working conditions that had not improved in nearly two decades.
To make matters worse, tensions among his allies within the Army and Navy were escalating. They squabbled over funding allocation and vied for the prestige of leading the first expedition beyond the Solara System. Meanwhile, the alliance between the Mechanicum and the Sanctum Solarii, the major religious institutions within the Imperium, began to unravel. Having two influential religious organizations arguing about matters of faith and tribute in his court proved challenging.
Stranger still were the reports coming from within the Imperium. Priests of the Sanctum Solarii claimed to have visions from the gods, while psykers sensed anomalous activity within the warp, the chaotic dimension underlying reality. Though the warp's behavior had not yet become dangerously unstable, its unusual fluctuations raised concerns among those attuned to its subtle shifts.
As the challenges and anomalies continued to test his rule, Emperor Malachi grappled with the perception of his grip on power and stability within the Imperium. The murmurs of discontent grew louder, and he couldn't afford to appear weak in the eyes of his subjects.
However, a glimmer of hope emerged in the 99th year of his reign when the priests of the Sanctum Solarii reported receiving detailed visions. These visions conveyed a profound message: the gods would send one of their own to the Emperor's court.
Despite his initial annoyance at the claims and proclamations of the priests, Emperor Malachi Vortannis found himself intrigued by their prophecies. As weeks turned into months without the arrival of the divine emissary they spoke of, Malachi's patience began to wear thin. However, an unexpected development occurred as he started experiencing peculiar dreams.
In these dreams, Malachi encountered a majestic figure radiating with an otherworldly golden glow. Wings of fire and steel adorned the figure's back while a halo of vivid red illuminated their head. The enigmatic being wielded a lance that emitted a beautiful, ethereal crimson light. Each time Malachi had this dream, a deep sense of familiarity washed over him as if he was meant to know this celestial being intimately.
Curiosity mixed with a growing sense of anticipation as the dreams persisted. Malachi couldn't shake the feeling that these visions held great significance, that they were somehow connected to his destiny and the fate of the Imperium. He pondered the potential implications of this golden figure's arrival and its impact on his rule.
The Emperor of Man knew better than to dismiss such recurring dreams as mere coincidence. He resolved to delve deeper into their meaning, consulting with the priests of the Sanctum Solarii and seeking their interpretations. Perhaps these dreams held the key to unlocking the true nature of the divine emissary and the role they would play in shaping the future of his Imperium.
As the enigmatic dreams continued to visit Malachi's slumber, he couldn't help but feel a growing sense of kinship towards this celestial creature. It was as if their destinies were intertwined, and he awaited with both trepidation and anticipation the day when the dream and reality would converge and the golden figure from his visions would step into his world.
On the eve of the 100th year, during Heart Day no less, Malachi had what he felt like a stroke before he passed out. During this moment of incapacity, he saw someone. A different figure than in his dreams, yet he intrinsically knew that it was the goddess Venus.
She spoke to him, bestowing Malachi instructions that made no sense to him before just as quickly the dream or vision, or hallucination came. As Malachi regained consciousness in his chambers, he found himself surrounded by concerned doctors and attendants. Their expressions were a mix of relief and awe, for they had witnessed his revival after what seemed like certain death.
The news of his inexplicable return to life spread like wildfire throughout the palace and soon reached the ears of his loyal subjects. When Malachi publicly proclaimed that he spoke to the goddess Venus, many did not question it. Word of his miraculous resurrection quickly reached the streets, while the Sanctum Solarii concluded that the emissary had come and gone, just as "intended."
Whatever message or instructions were left by Venus still made no sense, at least in the context of carrying them out. But Malachi became keenly aware of the knowledge that defied reason or explanation.
He knew a dangerous force was coming, one that would challenge his claim to the throne of his Imperium and the entire galaxy itself. A war was coming. An angel of blood would ruin his entire line, ending it once and for all. But he had his own angel—the
Promised Prince.
That was the being in his dreams. That was his salvation and victory in one. The gods were on his side. They were coming back. He had to be ready for their return and
his eventual ascension to godhood. Emperor Malachi's resurrection marked a turning point in his reign, where the lines between mortal and divine blurred.
Divinity awaited Malachi Vortannis. He was to become the Master of Mankind by the will of the gods.
---
@Daemon Hunter Okay, done with this one.
