The Radiant Shepherd - A Warhammer 40K God-Emperor Quest

For a long while, you carefully ponder the portends before you. Uncountable futures stretch out before your vast mind. Carefully, you trace the strings of fate tying them together, where they branch and diverge, or coalesce back together. An imperfect effort. Vexing in its crudeness. Without the interference of the Great Enemy, it would be trivial to find the perfect path, but for now, you have to tolerate the vagaries caused by their existence.

While engrossed with your task, your guidance already manifests itself across the galaxy. Around the Eye of Terror, astropaths and fortune tellers see dire warnings in their dreams and cards. Nightmares of a putrid foulness seeping out of the great wound between the worlds into the Imperium. A cloying darkness devouring uncounted billions as it engulfs world after world. Not all can withstand the scenes you show them. Some reject your messages. Others break under the weight of the knowledge. But most can bear the burden you placed on them.

"How much more can we dare ask of these people? Of our people... we swore to protect them, and the most we can do is shine the light for them and wheeze half legible portents; there exists no words for the depths of our failings" A small voice in the back of your mind speaks unbidden. Tired. Weak. Maudling almost. You push it aside with practices ease.

The response of Governors, Castellans and Fabricator-Generals is slow at first. While a few take the portends as your divine will, others are hesitant or outright dismissive. "Too slow... too subtle.. you can't risk delays not anymore" Another voice whispers into your ear, treacherously echoing your own annoyance with their actions or lack thereof. How could your own flock be so shortsighted as to dismiss their shepherds words?

Those who have proper faith in your guidance do not remain quiet though. From their worlds, the news is spread and emboldened by others having received the same dreams, the chorus grows until it becomes undeniable. Segmentum Obscurus is mobilising. Imperial tithes are increased and collected with much more fervour. Forge worlds carefully awaken the machine spirits of dormant factorias as orders and raw materials arrive in rapid succession.

It is pleasant to see their works and its fruits. But the pleasure dulls as another whisper intrudes upon your thoughts. "More! This is not yet enough for the imperium!" It speaks in tempting tones, conjuring the image of endless rows of tanks crushing your enemies and stirring old memories of the Solar Auxilia as it marched onwards from Terra to conquer your Imperium.

Your attention snaps back to the present. With a gentle hand you guide your peoples efforts even as they move through the warp, the Astronomican shining ever so slightly brighter into the Agripinaa Systems. Few would even notice the difference as your will shaves off a few days of travel here and there. Keeps the odd freighter on track or helps a patrolling fleet to appear just in the right moment to scare off a minor corsair.

But all these small acts compound. Maybe a truly diligent scribe in the Administratum would notice how things seem to work just the slightest bit better despite the dire portends, though the faint press of your thumb on the scale will have much greater repercussions than any mortal could comprehend. "The morning will come, see its rays spread." Another voice sounds as you ponder your works, leaving you feeling as if it spoke a threat wrapped as a promise. Annoyance taints the feeling of accomplishment as you shove the whispers away once more.

Your attention wanders elsewhere, seeking a few certain souls in the teeming masses of humanity. Through them, the threads of fate are woven and through their hands you will put them to order. The first you look for already is moving to aid your great work. In the cavernous halls of The Rock, the Supreme Grand Master of the Dark Angels works tirelessly to reconcile his chapter's current commitments with the ancient oaths called upon. The Lions children were rarely idle, but as news is spreading through Segmentum Obscurus, the chapter and many of its successors are mobilising whatever they can to aid the preparations for the Despoilers arrival.

What their efforts will bring, even you can not see just yet. Glimpses of Azrael himself fighting through the halls of a chaos warship in a grim echo of a battle long ago mingle with the terror of The Rock being torn apart by some weapon eluding your sight. The Angels will bleed, as it is their duty, and they will do so to the last if necessary, fearing the demons of their own minds more than they would any host that Chaos could muster against them.

A cruel chuckle intrudes upon your senses, devoid of warmth or myrth. "How amusing, Fulgrim believed his Emperor's Children embodied you most, yet it seems the Lion's spawn may lay claim to that honor." It mocks you. Taunts you. You wish to strangle the false whisper, but like smoke, it disappears from your grasp. The spike of wrath lingers though, needing precious moments to be driven from your mind, lest it take root and consume your thinking.

Somewhere in the Armageddon Sector, another soul prepares to continue a war that has consumed his whole being. Not a Commissar called Yarrick, but Old Bale Eye who you see, though it is hard to determine what is his past, present and future. A cloud of green hangs around him and covers every path, thread and vision that you try to grasp. You can see endless tides of greenskins, sometimes advancing, sometimes fleeing. A caged beast, pacing and waiting for its release. Titans march on land scorched so many times, and yet remembering your own touch upon it. This war will rage, one way or another, and its outcome is yet uncertain.

Not much is certain with the next target of your gaze either. Deep inside the warp, in a storm called Maelstrom, you can faintly find the lingering traces of Lufgt Hurons presence. Once he patrolled the outer reaches of this storm to protect the Imperium from the horrors lurking within, now he had become one of them. For his soul, all hope was long lost and the taint of the Great Enemy clouded your sight of his actions. Only a few glimpses of a man in black armour came to you, wishing to speak to Blackheart on behalf of his master. Though what he proposed and how Huron answered escapes your senses.

Likewise you scour the shifting fates and farthest corners that your senses reach for the whereabouts of Bronsilav Czevak, High Inquisitor of some renown and undeniably important. To your senses, he always was the locus of many plots and important crossroads, though most of them with him as the target of others actions. It has been quite a while since you gazed upon him and now, as you try to trace some of those threads that you know lead to him, only his absence can be found. Not even the hand of the Great Enemy or another beings interference can be found. After a while, you put the matter aside for now, two more tasks ahead of you.

In contrast to many others, it is trivial for you to find Ciaphas Cain. If fate had a mind of its own, this man might just be its favourite toy. "So frail and so human, poor poor Cain... He deserves a blessing, right...? Please..." One more voice intrudes, sounding far away and alien. Another divine being? There are so many and Cain always attracted them.

No being of your might ever had trouble finding him, for good or ill, least of all you. The mantle of belief into the Hero of the Imperium clings to his soul, no matter how much he wishes to be parted of it. More than once have you wondered what would become of him if he ever accepted it. What he could become if he embraced your favour and acted on the convictions he thinks are only an act.

The next voice speaks, making you mildly regret to watch a man drawing so much of a crowd. "In some small way, he's a damnably wise man in avoiding that which he neither wants, nor, from his point of view, needs - a small comfort when it renders him neutered and inoperative." The comment lingers and fades, while you are once more reminded of how many have vied for Cains soul. A tempting prize, just out the reach of any who would try to claim it.

As your senses find him, he is once more embroiled in a plot far grander than he thinks himself worthy of. Having volunteered for an apparently meaningless investigation of a minor world's irregular tithes, he prepared himself for an easy duty, though you can already see the gears turning behind the scenes as another being carefully orchestrated events. A demon of Tzeentch of quite some power, though you gaze not directly upon it to not alert the creature. Once more an agent of the enemy wishes to see Cain fall and you almost are inclined to laugh at their feeble attempts as the portends you see spell nothing but ruin for them.

Compared to Cain's shining presence in the Immaterium, the last of the people you wished to observe is very ordinary. Forgettable. And yet you saw him in so many portends. Colonel Creed, a rank unbefitting of the future you have foreseen for him, is just one of thousands among the officer corps of Cadia and yet he could be the most important of them all.

"More like him is needed. Heroes and geniuses rising from amongst the common folk of the Imperium, with true concern for their people that nobles prepared since birth and genetically modified transhumans lack." An errand thing speaks over your shoulder, rising your hackles with its dismissal of your very own sons.

Creed is not one of them though. Son of a Guardsman and a guardsman through and through. He might become the Lord General of Cadia. His name might be cursed by Abaddon himself and spoken with hatred by traitors for millennia to come. Or it is cut short through a stray bullet in one of the many battles he still faces before the day that Cadia will be tested once more.

One last vision comes to you unbidden. One of your pawns from long ago. Faithfully carrying out its tasks for millenia like the clockwork it wishes to emulate. The mechanical monstrosity is working in one of his many laboratories aboard the immense Zar-Quaesitor. His project is a man of grandiose proportions. One the purported Primaris that the arch magos has been working on for the past ten thousand years. It is crude work done with distastefully barbaric methods. It pains you to see such liberties done with your Astartes. But the result is undoubtedly impressive.

Many more of this man's ilk lie in the titanic holds of Zar-Quaesitor. But this army is the least important aspect of Cawl's work. Potential futures spin out around him. Defending Cadia, reawakening the Lord of Ultramar, finding the Guardian's sword. Or perhaps not. Nothing is certain. In other lines he falls on a nameless world, abandons his works, or rallies the Priests of Mars for another civil war.

At last your mind returns to Terra once more, the strain of looking so far away from the Golden Throne mounting once more. And as you sit, you contemplate and plan. The path forward remains unclear, even with the few spots of light shone on it, though no obstacle was insurmountable to you. The only question was where to focus your efforts next, once you had rested.

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The Emperor's power is tremendous but so are the draws upon it. Every turn, you only have a limited amount to spend on actions to guide the galaxy.

Plan voting only please.

You have 10 points to spend.

[ ] Guide the Tarot (1 Point)
Use your influence to give cryptic advice to people through the Imperial Tarot. You must write-in what messages you want to send and to whom. The more detailed and complex the message, the more likely that it will be misinterpreted or only understood in part. You can target these messages broadly, like to all governors in a sector, or specific, like sending the message to a single Inquisitor that fulfils a set of criteria you define.

[ ] Observe (1 point)
Sometimes you need more information than what your own visions of the present and future can reveal. Spend some time observing a specific place, person or something else.

[ ] Aid or Hinder Navigators (3 points)
The currents of the warp are treacherous and many a war was decided by one side receiving reinforcements just at the right time. You can put your finger on the scales by trying to alter the travel time of a fleet, though the gods of chaos might counteract you, especially if you try to influence their followers.

[ ] Send Visions (5 Points)
You send a prophetic dream and portends to specific people. Only one individual can receive this guidance, but you can communicate much more detailed information this way with a vastly lower chance of being misunderstood.

[ ] Displace Fleet (6 points)
The right person at the wrong place can make all the difference. Exert your will to fling a fleet off course to a different destination than it intended. This is unlikely to work on chaos fleets.

[ ] Commune (10 points)
Through a great exertion of your power, you can directly communicate with the soul of another being while shielding them from being overwhelmed by your presence. Communication in this way is always perfectly accurate and your touch will linger on the recipient, making it apparent to anyone that they are acting in your name. This power only costs 4 points if the target has been brought to your throne room on Terra.

[ ] Create Warp Storm (10 points)
The warp is never a calm place and with the right infusion of your vast might, you can conjure a storm in it that will make travel in an area all but impossible for anyone without divine guidance. However, your control over this storm is not perfect yet, so the storm might grow larger than intended and you can not control when it calms down again.

[ ] Blessing or Curse (variable)
Many call out for you to guide their hand every day. Sometimes you do. With this action, you can directly aid a mortal with a fraction of your power. Investing more points increases the effect. Blessing larger groups or giving very broad blessings will weaken the effect.

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AN: Your perception is not all that burdened with linear time, so in some cases it gets difficult to pin down an order of events. Yarrick for example has always been fighting Orks in the Armageddon Sector, so good look figuring out which war you are seeing.