WARHAMMER 40,000: A Thousand Tiny Suns (40k/Exalted Crossover!)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry for the delay! My TTRPG's kickstarter started and I got too scared to write for a bit.

Two sorcerers, discussing the finer points of the complexity of weaving spells and harnessing daemons. In the background, there was a manse being built, piece by piece. They were so fascinating - and when you stepped forward, they turned to you. One smiled and said-

You blinked.

You were standing on the ground before the two Chaos Space marines. Your Lens Lance floated to your left and your great coat swirled around your hips. It settled as you finished your drop - and you realized that your body had moved you without your conscious brain realizing it. But as Sindraxian and the Thousand Son's sorcerer both goggled at you, clearly shocked, you realized why you had moved, why you were down here. You stood a bit taller - still a solid head and shoulders shorter than both giants, and said, clearly.

"What are you two talking about?" you asked.

"What!?" Sindraxian asked.

The Thousand Son's sorcerer, though, simply picked up a flask that set on the table he was sitting beside. He tossed back some water, sighed, then said: "Well, do you mean, the poorly considered, badly planned, needlessly cruel waste of life that my fellow sorcerer is seeking to undertake - or do you mean our overall plans for conquest and domination of this world? Be specific, Krieger."

You glared at him. "Don't be so smug! You killed my squadmates, you-"

"I thought that was what you Kriegers all wanted," he said.

"Well, yes, but..." You shook your head. "The first! Then the latter."

"Thark! What are you doing, bandying words with a mortal?" Sindraxian asked.

"If you did not notice, Sinner, I currently have half my extra organs hanging out," Thark - his name was Thark? - said, amiably. "Besides, what do you take me for? A running dog of the Corpsers? Did I get a wolf ears and tail while I wasn't watching? Failed to shave?" His palm rubbed his bare, dark cheeks. "Lose my melanin content and get really big into drinking ale and eating mutton." He rolled his eyes expansively. "If you want to turn your nose up at talking to the most fascinating anomaly seen since Celestine, feel free. Me? I want to hear what she has to say for herself." He paused. "That is correct, right, I didn't muck that up?"

"Yes!" you said.

"Good," Thark said. "Ah, the name, by the way, is Thark-Thakunen, Sorcerer, Thousand Sons. I joined the Legion in the year...12 of the prior millennium's first century, I believe. They recruited me off a space hulk, if you'd believe it-"

"Thark!" Sindriax bellowed.

You risked a glance back.

Kit was looking down at you, his eyes full of...pure amusement. His lips were twisted up in a smirk.

Well, at least Kit approved.

"Anyway, long story short, I ended up as part of 'Lord' Cartheniax and his merry band of sociopaths with an eye towards my own particular advancement. His planned invasion route went through several worlds with remarkable artifacts I wished for my own panoply - and in exchange, I provided my somewhat impressive array of psychic powers alongside my battle-brother. When the Imperial Guard proved more sturdy than anticipated, he tasked me to break their backs and the Changer of Ways set me to you. It was nothing personal." He shrugged his shoulders. "But as you have chased Lord Cartheniax off this world, that leaves me and Sinner in a bit of a pickle."

You swung your gaze to Sindriax. "And what are you doing?"

"I..." He cocked his head. "I was planning to sacrifice these souls to summon a demon-"

"First circle, or second circle?" you asked without understanding. It was frustrating. If you focused and furrowed your brows, you could draw fragments of memories into your mind. But there were so many gaps. But if you let those gaps show, if you faltered...well, you didn't want to find out what these two giants might do.

"I...what?" Sinner asked.

"I believe the mortal is asking if you have the temerity to summon a greater demon with its true name," Sinner said. "Though I've never heard a Greater Demon being called a second circle. What would a first circle be?" He smirked slightly.

"Well, the way I understand it," you said, the words bubbling out as you leaned on Lens Lance, using it to prop up your back as you crossed your arms. "The Third Circle is the outermost edge of the conceptual space that any particular Infer...Chaos God takes up. Independent souls, chunks of their consciousness, given form and direction The Second Circle is the layer above that, one step closer to the totality of the God in question and likely immortal...um, the First Circle are the innermost part, the fetish souls, the diagramatic chorus that creates the paradigm by which the Chaos God takes shape. As we might have a sense of charity, or a memory, or dreams of a better world, so to do the Chaos Gods - but their individual parts are each, themselves, individual divinities. To change or kill one is to carve one's vision of the world upon the face of infinity..." You paused. "So, which demon were you trying to summon?"

"What...what are you?" Sinner asked, slowly.

"I..." You smiled behind your mask. "...I'm a simple Guardswoman. Medicae. Corpsman."

Sinner almost tripped over his own feet as he stepped away from you. Thark laughed. He clapped his hands. "Oh! And Russ was just a simple brawler!" He laughed. "And Magnus merely liked to read a few books!"

You coughed behind your mask. "Because if you thought that demon would stop us...what was your plan after that?"

"Well, to get off this useless dirtball," Sinner growled. "To continue the war against the rotting Imperium you cling to. You see, we seek to bring you freedom, to throw off your chains."

"It's not that hard to fix," you said, rolling your eyes. "Basic technological overhauls in a few basic areas will propagate an immediate improvement in human life. Just making the communications technology less spotty, improving the administrative records, maybe fixing up the ecosystems of a few chosen Hive Worlds, that'd already have a knock on effect." You stepped away from the Lens Lance. "See, your problem is that you are kowtowing to a...a Chaos God! It's all twisted up and insane." Your words were coming out faster and faster. You mashed your fingers together, your lips almost spluttering trying to get the words out. "You...you need to...to...to just...you need to..."

You felt a gusting touch. A quivering, finger-like prod sticking into your mind. It was like a cold finger, plunging between your forehead.

"Get out of my head!" You shouted, snatching your Lens-Lance out, even as Thark fell out of his chair. He cried out in shock and pain alike, his back splattering into the muck and mud. He scrambled up, grabbing onto the side of his table, blinking at you, his jaw dropped open in shock. Sindraxian, his hand dropping to the hilt of his sword, tensed and stepped back.

"What is it, Thark!?" he barked.

"S-She's...she's..." Thark-Thakunen gaped at you.

"I'm not!" you said, hurriedly, before he could say anything.

"She's the Emperor," he whispered.

You hunched slightly, like you'd been kicked in the stomach.

"She's...a Living Saint?" Sindraxian asked, slowly.

"I have touched the minds of chosen Sisters of Battle. I have felt the scourging flames of a hexagramatical foci. I've once been burned by the touch of the Crux Terminatus...I have felt his shadow, his echo, his touch before. Would you mistake a candle flame for a star, Sinner!?" Thark boomed, shoving himself to his feet, wobbling. "She is the Emperor. He is dead. He died! I felt him die when the Crusade began - we all did, Abaddon's great work was a success, we were there. He died! But she...she is him again! How!?"

You blinked at him.

Sindraxian looked from Thark-Thakunen, then back to you.

Thark...

Thark was looking at you with...with...something approximating hope. Hope and despair. He wanted to hear something from you - but he was terrified of it. What legends and histories had he read? How did the Thousand Sons see the Emperor, in their heretical documents? Sindraxian was harder to read, but...well, he was pure hatred. He clearly was horrified at the idea of standing before the Emperor. And if he saw the Imperium as a rotting edifice, worthy of all this to take...down...

Most of the planet wasn't destroyed by Chaos.

Your stomach churned.

---
So, if you want to convince someone of something, you need to target intimacies that support what you want them to do. You know that Thark has a Major Intimacy of (Confused Hope and Fear) towards you, while Sindrixian has a major intimacy of (Burning Hatred and Fear.) Both the pre-written and any write in that addresses both will be a Flurry, giving you a -4 dice penalty.

[ ] Address Thark: "I'm not Him. But...part of Him is in me. So, what you want to say to Him, say to me."
[ ] Address Sindraxian: "...I'm sorry. I never meant for it to...He didn't mean for it to...get so bad."
[ ] Address Both, flare your anima banner and lie your ass off: "I am 41-22. I am Warpsmith and Gravity Tamer both. I am the Firstborn Natural Magos. I am the herald of a Night of a Thousand Stars. I am not the Emperor. He was of me. And if you wish to survive, you will kneel before me and thus, name me...Warptamer!"
[ ] Address both, flare your animal banner, and tell the God-Emperor's honest truth: "I am 41-22. I am Warpsmith and Gravity Tamer both. I am the Firstborn Natural Magos. I am the herald of a Night of a Thousand Stars. I am not the Emperor. He was of me. And if you wish to survive, you will kneel before me and thus, name me...Warptamer!"
[ ] Write IN

Health: Fine
Anima: Dim
Willpower: 5/5
Personal Motes: 13/13 | Peripheral Motes: 28/28 (Committed Motes: 5)
Limit: 1/10 (Trigger: Being stymied by indulges around her)
XP: 7 | Solar XP: 8
Major Projects: 0/5
SXP: 46 | GXP: 15 | WXP: 3