Colchis - 830.M30
In the vast expanse of the desert, you stand, the weight of your questions heavy on your mind. The spirits, ancient and wise, await your inquiry. With a deep breath, you speak, "Where is the most significant lore of the Ancients on this World?"
"With the weight of ages and the words they bring, cities of Ancients, once grand and bold, now consumed by sand, their stories untold. Whispers of glory, echoes in sands, ancient civilizations, by time's cruel hand. Desert's relentless, unforgiving embrace, leaves only remnants of a once mighty place."
Your heart sinks at the thought of these lost cities, their secrets buried beneath the sands. But the spirits continue, "In the Wound, a scar on earth's skin, some ancient lore is buried within. To extract their secrets, wield steel's might, for there, the Ancients' knowledge takes flight."
You pause at that. Not knowing what to say. There was a cryptic warning but the meaning eluded you.
Archeotech, something from one of the dead cities made in the time of the Age Before. All such artifacts were supposed to be turned over to the Covenant but many tribes and rival sects within the Covenant hoarded the archeotech for themselves.
Your Tribe had none, for the dead cities were called that for a reason. Only the bravest dared to enter the same and few, if any returned. Yet time waits for no one and the second question burns in your mind, eager for an answer that could change everything.
"Do any spirits serve the Covenant?" you ask, the words hanging heavy in the air.
The spirits around you grow still, their ethereal forms wavering as if touched by an unseen breeze. Silence descends, stretching into eternity as you wait for their response. Minutes pass like hours, and just when you begin to doubt if they will answer at all, a voice, ancient and weary, speaks.
"In the realm where the Dark Kings reigns, where the Black Dreams remains, a force that twists and corrupts the soul, in the Immaterium's depths, it takes its toll. Spirits that serve this malevolent might, are tainted by its unending blight, their essence warped, their minds askew, in the Immaterium's depths, where nightmares brew." It pauses. "A darkness that festers, a darkness that sears, in the realm of chaos, where madness veers, beware, O Prince, of the Covenant's call, for in its voice, many dark spirits fall."
The spirits' warning was clear, a reminder of the dangers that lurk beyond the veil of reality. But your curiosity burns bright, a flame that refuses to be extinguished.
Thus, you pose your final question: "Where did Lorgar come from?"
"Of the warp we speak, where Dark Kings reigns, reality twists, in nightmare's chains. From this realm of horror, Lorgar came, brought by forces of enigmatic name. Horrors of the warp, ancient and cold, scattered him across lands untold. Their motivations, intentions obscured, in darkness they dwell, in chaos they're lured."
With that the spirits leave. You had much more questions, yet you knew that you would have to wait to get answers.
As you leave the spirits behind and make your way back to the tribe, you carry with you the knowledge that Lorgar is no ordinary child, destined for a fate unknown.
As you and Lorgar journey back to your tribe, the weight of the spirits' revelations about his origins weighs heavy on your mind. The desert stretches endlessly before you, the sun beating down relentlessly, yet neither you nor Lorgar seem affected by the harsh conditions.
After what feels like an eternity, you finally arrive home, only to find the tribe bustling with activity. A caravan is on its way, a rare sight in these desolate lands. You can't help but feel a sense of unease at the timing of their arrival.
Raheem approached you with a grave expression, his eyes betraying a hint of concern. "There is something you must know," he began, his voice low and solemn. "The caravan that approaches belongs to Kor Phaeron."
Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of that name. Kor Phaeron was a figure of great importance, a powerful enemy, a man with his own agenda. In the chaos of recent events, his presence had been completely forgotten.
"We... I forgot that we reached out to him," you realized, a pang of guilt tugging at your conscience. In the midst of dealing with Lorgar's origins and the tribe's challenges, the Kor Phaeron had slipped your mind.
Raheem nodded, his expression sympathetic. "Yes, and now he approaches, unaware of all that has transpired. We must tread carefully, for Kor Phaeron is not one to be taken lightly."
You pondered the situation for a moment, weighing your options. Kor Phaeron was dangerous, but his caravan vastly outnumbered your tribe. You needed to handle this situation delicately, lest it escalate into something beyond your control.
"We must greet him with respect and honesty," you decided, your voice firm. "We will explain the situation and send him on his way. With luck, all will go well. But hide Lorgar and the Ambulls. Hopefully they will believe that it is just fanciful tails made up by children."
Raheem nodded in agreement, his expression reflecting a mix of apprehension and determination. Together, you prepared to meet with Kor Phaeron, knowing that the fate of your tribe could hang in the balance.
As the caravan draws closer, you notice that it is led by a group of travelers, their faces weathered by the sun and wind. Among them is a man of imposing stature, his presence commanding respect.
The leader of the caravan approaches you, his eyes curious yet guarded. "Greetings," he says, his voice rough from years of travel. "We come seeking shelter and trade. Is your tribe willing to offer us hospitality?"
You nod, welcoming the travelers into your camp. As they settle in, you can't shake the feeling that there is more to their arrival than meets the eye.
As the caravan bearing Kor Phaeron drew near, the anticipation among the tribe grew palpable. A caravan filled with slaves and guards, of the two, which the Priest wanted from your tribe you did not know. But as you watched the caravan approach, a sense of unease only increased.
When Kor Phaeron's caravan settled into the camp, he wasted no time in asserting his presence.
Standing tall, his voice booming across the gathered tribe, he proclaimed, "Nothing is hidden from the gaze of the Powers. All is laid bare before their immortal scrutiny as the desert is set before the blazing sun."
This declaration stirred a visible reaction among the crowd, with furtive glances exchanged between some, and a nervous shifting among others. Stepping forward with a determined stride, Kor Phaeron walked forward and the crowd instinctively parted to let him through. He made his way towards you, fixing you with an accusatory gaze.
"What are you hiding, Fan Morgal? When the Powers turn their gaze upon you, shall they see one of the Faithful, or an agent of the faithless?" he asked.
"They will find one who is defiant, Priest. One who finds you pressing dangerously on traditions of hospitality," you say with disdain.
You saw that Kor Phaeron was visibly taken back but quickly gathered himself. He pointed towards your dwelling.
"What secrets do you hide in your hut, nomad?" he spat out. "You may think that you can keep your secrets away from the sight of mortals, but the Powers see all."
You opened your mouth to respond, only for the tent to open and for Lorgar to step out. The moment Kor Phaeron saw Lorgar's purple eyes, he gave a piercing cry and fell backwards, his hands clutching his face.
His guards reacted immediately, a giant of a man shouting out orders and to your surprise, the tribesmen did not cower, instead arming themselves. As you drew your sword and readied yourself, a fight seemed imminent, but no blow was struck. The guards merely secured the area. Your own tribesmen were of the same mind, Haraq running up to you.
A slave walked up to Kor Phaeron, only to look into Lorgar's eyes and fall to the ground as well. You frowned and looked at Haraq who also nodded. You recalled that no one other than you actually looked Lorgar in the eyes. But that was for another time as the slaves and guards were already rushing towards Kor Phaeron, surrounding him.
Whatever happened, Kor Phaeron had clearly recovered, if his constant stream of curses was anything to go by.
"What heresy is this?" Kor Phaeron demanded, his voice echoing with righteous indignation as he got up and pushed his way towards you.
"Hersay, Priest?" You retorted. "He is my son."
"Son?" Kor Phaeron's voice thundered, his eyes ablaze with fervor. "Do you expect me to believe that? With how blessed by the Powers he is? Why would you hide him from me, the Bearer of the Word?" Kor Phaeron said as he tried to grab your robes.
You simply backhanded him away. The act sent him sprawling on the ground, and tensions heightened, a fight seeming all but imminent, stopped only by the Priest who continued spewing his hate.
"You wish to turn him into a desert soothsayer? A useless shaman? Begging lesser powers for scraps?" Kor Phaeron's words were sharp, cutting through the air. "What falsehoods would you lay in his heart, corrupter?"
"He is my son," You repeated. "And you have pushed hospitality to its limits, Priest. Any more and you and yours will no longer be welcome."
To your surprise, Kor Phaeron raised his hands, touching his fingertips to his briefly closed eyelids in a gesture of apology.
"Forgive my blindness, Fan Morgal," Kor Phaeron said from the ground, his voice softened with what he thought was sincerity. "You must know that the child is not of mortal birth."
"Mortal, immortal? None of that matters, only that he is my son," You say.
"He should come with me, Fan Morgal. I shall lead him to the Truth. You know it is more than happenstance that we have met this day. Of all the deserts to cross, of all the preachers and tribes to meet, the Powers have placed you and I together in this place, at this moment. A greater work is unfolding around us. You have done your part, kept safe that which the Powers have gifted us. Let me take him, Fan Morgal."
You open your mouth to……you're not sure what, but someone spoke and it was not you.
"Why do you not ask me?"
You stiffen as does the Priest. The voice was that of a child and had a degree of innocence to it. But it was also steeped in wisdom and had a calm tone to it. A voice filled with dignity and was spoken perfectly.
"It is alright, you can look at me now." Lorgar said, looking at the downed Priest.
"Lorgar…." You murmur, not intending to say it out loud, but something Kor Phaeron heard and was furious at.
"'You gave him one of your filthy sand-names?'" he spat out.
"He brought rain to my parched heart and thus I named him, Lorgar, rain caller." You absentmindedly say as your eyes remain fixed on Lorgar.
Lorgar however ignored you, instead slowly walking up to Kor Phaeron and helping him up.
"I have heard your offer. Your speech was very moving, Kor Phaeron. I know that I am different. You are the Bearer of the Word, and I would learn of the Powers and the Truth if I accepted your offer." Lorgar says.
You feel pain in your heart, yet if Lorgar wanted to leave with the Priest, you would not stop him. Not if it was his choice.
"You seek to accompany me?" Kor Phaeron asked with a range of emotions in his voice.
"No." was the simple reply, before Lorgar pulled back his fist and sent it through Kor Phaeron's head.
GAIN:
Lorgar's Loyalty. Lorgar sees you as his dad and is as loyal to you as he was to Kor Phaeron in canon.
Will add Background, now that you have Lorgar's loyalty.
In canon he left the declined and was not at all phased when Kor Phaeron had the declined slaughtered, only showing slight regret. Here, thanks to your choices, he ultimately chose to be Loyal to you and reject Kor Phaeron's offer. Why he did that in canon is unsaid but there are implications if you read in between the lines.
I will not say what factors and circumstances lead to him accepting you in the quest, only that it did. So be on your toes and choose wisely.
BATTLE:
Battle has started and you need to plan. A fight is about to break out and the fate of your tribe is at stake.
You have to fight and subdue an entire caravan filled with Guards and Slaves. They number in the hundreds while your tribe has barely 60 to 70 people out of which only 20ish are combat ready.
You have Lorgar, who is currently the size of a child of around 6 to 7 years old. The Dread Ambull and its brood.
The thing is not about WINNING, because you will win, but not losing your tribe members.
CHOICE:
[] Intimidate them into submission and bind them to the tribe. But word of Lorgar's existence gets out.
- Intimidate them into submission by flaring your anima. They are very god fearing people and you can bind them into your tribe, boosting your tribe greatly. Not only do you get a lot of trained professionals, you also get the Caravan completely undamaged, complete with the guns and other weapons. But Lorgar's existence gets out.
[] Order the Tribe to flee while you, Lorgar and the Ambulls slaughter the Caravan. This way, it is guaranteed that Lorgar remains hidden.
- This may end up killing the entire caravan and losing the stuff on it (like the guns) or even loosing tribe members, depending on the rolls. But Lorgar remains hidden for now.
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