Echoes of Creation (30k/Exalted)

Colchis - 831.M30

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The group gathered around a makeshift table in their camp, the flickering fire casting long shadows across their determined faces. Settra, Lorgar, Thalassa, and the rest of their comrades knew that the next challenge they faced would be even more daunting: the Shard of Winters, a formidable entity of immense power.

"We have two main objectives: to defeat the two Hekatonkhire that act as anchors for the Shard of Winters and to get to a suitable location to dream up the terraforming machine. Both goals are crucial, and achieving one without the other will still leave us vulnerable." You explain.

"We must divide our forces." Lorgar proposes. "One team should engage the Hekatonkhire directly, drawing their attention and preventing them from interfering with Thalassa's mission. The other team will focus on getting Thalassa to the strategic location where she can perform her task. The soldiers we assign there will need to be under our command to benefit from the protection of the Oath."

"I refuse to give command of my armies to anyone else." Settra stated simply, his eyes hard as steel, his gaze unwavering.

"Oh King of Kings, we understand your determination. But we will need some of your men for the latter assault." Thalassa cajoled, her voice calm but firm.

Settra crossed his arms, his expression resolute. "I will not hand over my command. My armies follow me because they trust me. They believe in my leadership. Dividing my forces without me at the helm? Never."

"Great one, your dedication is admirable, but we need to consider the bigger picture. The oath of non-violence stops the Shard from attacking me, allowing me to focus on protecting Thalassa while she dreams up the terraforming machine. Your men are formidable but without it, the second assault team might falter." Lorgar said, his voice gentle but insistent.

Settra's eyes narrowed. "No."

"Very well. Let's not argue this any further," you interrupt, sensing the futility of pushing the discussion.

"Then let us prepare. We will face this threat head-on, and we will emerge victorious," Dharok added, his voice filled with a determined edge.

Settra nodded curtly, his expression still hard but resigned to the agreed plan.

"Follow me," he commanded, turning sharply and striding towards a hidden path. You and the others followed, feeling the weight of the upcoming battle pressing down on your shoulders.

Settra led you through winding corridors, deep into the heart of an ancient temple. The air grew thicker with every step, heavy with the scent of incense and the echoes of long-forgotten rituals. Finally, you reached a grand chamber, its walls lined with hieroglyphs and intricate carvings that seemed to pulse with an eerie, otherworldly light.

In the center of the chamber was a vortex, a swirling maelstrom of energy that crackled and sparked, casting strange shadows on the stone walls. Settra stopped at the edge of the vortex, turning to face you and the others.

"This," he began, his voice reverberating through the chamber, "is how I commune with the Gods. Through this vortex, I can reach out to them, draw upon their power, and summon my armies."

He gestured to the vortex, the swirling energies reflecting in his eyes. "It is a direct link to the divine, a conduit through which I channel their might and command their legions. My armies are not just soldiers; they are extensions of the Gods' will, bound to me through this sacred connection."

As he spoke, you noticed his four champions standing nearby, their formidable forms bathed in the vortex's glow. Three of them were visibly repairing themselves, their damaged armor knitting together, and their wounds closing with an almost magical rapidity. The sight was both awe-inspiring and a testament to the power that Settra wielded.

But your gaze was drawn to the fourth champion, Ankhaten. Unlike the others, Ankhaten was not repairing. His form remained still and unmoving, his wounds gaping and his armor broken. The stark contrast between him and the other champions was striking, and a sense of unease settled over you.

Settra noticed your focus and followed your gaze to Ankhaten. His brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of concern crossing his otherwise stoic expression. "Ankhaten has not been able to repair himself since our last battle," he said quietly, more to himself than to you. "I do not understand why."

He stepped closer to Ankhaten, examining him with a critical eye. The silence in the chamber was palpable, the only sound the faint hum of the vortex and the occasional crackle of energy.

"This is troubling," Settra muttered, his voice laced with frustration.

You exchanged glances with the others, the weight of the situation pressing down even harder.

Then the vortex pulsed with an eerie, mesmerizing energy, its tendrils of light reaching out as if beckoning you closer. Settra's voice faded into the background as you found yourself drawn to the swirling maelstrom. There was something ancient and powerful about it, a force that resonated with the deepest parts of your being.

You stepped closer, feeling the energy prickling against your skin, a tingling sensation that grew more intense with each step. As you neared the edge of the vortex, the world around you seemed to blur, the chamber's walls and the figures of your companions fading into an indistinct haze. All that remained clear was the vortex and the power it held.

Reaching out with a tentative hand, you touched the edge of the vortex. A shock of energy coursed through you, and for a moment, you felt as if you were falling through endless space. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of exhilaration and terror, but as you adjusted, you began to sense the possibilities within the vortex's depths.

Images and sounds flooded your mind, distant echoes of battles fought and yet to come. You could hear the clash of weapons, the cries of warriors, and the thundering of hooves. Among these echoes, you discerned the voices of Lorgar and Dharok's bloodline, their struggles and triumphs reverberating through time. They were fighting even now, their strength and determination palpable across the ages.

The vortex responded to your thoughts, its energy shifting and molding to your will. You realized that you could use this power to shape soldiers, to summon aid from the ether. Concentrating, you envisioned a legion of warriors, each one forged from the essence of the vortex itself. Slowly, one thousand figures began to materialize around you, their forms solidifying into spectral soldiers clad in ancient armor.

These warriors stood silently, awaiting your command. The realization of what you had accomplished filled you with awe and a sense of newfound power. You could feel the connection between you and these spectral soldiers, an unbreakable bond forged through the vortex's energy.

But amid the exhilaration, you felt another pull, a whispering call from the edge of your awareness. Turning, you saw Ankhaten's still form, his wounds stark against the backdrop of the glowing vortex. There was something about him, something that called out to you with an urgency that you couldn't ignore.

Stepping away from the vortex, you approached Ankhaten. The pull grew stronger, a compulsion that you couldn't resist. Kneeling beside him, you placed a hand on his damaged armor, feeling the cold metal beneath your fingers. The energy of the vortex still thrummed within you, and as you touched Ankhaten, you felt a strange resonance, a hidden potential waiting to be unlocked.

Closing your eyes, you let the energy flow through you, into Ankhaten. You could sense the intricate weave of spells and bindings that held him together, the ancient magic that had sustained him through countless battles. But something was wrong, a flaw in the weave that had prevented his self-repair.

You focused, letting your mind delve into the depths of his being. The secrets of his construction began to unravel before you, revealing the complex interplay of magic and machinery that made him what he was. With each discovery, you grew more certain that you could fix him, that you could restore him to his full strength.

The swirling vortex of energy continued to pulse with an almost hypnotic rhythm, its power beckoning you to make a decision. The weight of the choice before you pressed heavily on your shoulders as you contemplated the two paths that lay ahead. Both options held immense potential, but each came with its own set of consequences and responsibilities.

To one side, you saw the spectral forms of warriors waiting to be shaped into existence. These would not be ordinary soldiers; they would be Space Marines, forged from the very essence of Lorgar's bloodline. These warriors would carry with them the legacy of one of the most influential Primarchs, embodying his strength, resilience, and unyielding faith. You could see them in your mind's eye, towering figures clad in Mark 2 power armor, their eyes burning with the same fervor that had driven Lorgar through countless battles.

The idea of commanding such a force was intoxicating. With these Space Marines by your side, you would have an army of unparalleled might, warriors who could turn the tide of any battle. They would be your sword and shield, capable of striking down any foe and defending against any threat.

Yet, the other option tugged at your heart just as strongly. Ankhaten lay before you, his form still and silent, the ancient magic that sustained him faltering. To repair him, to restore him to his full strength, would unlock the secretes of his construction.

You considered the complexity of the task. Fixing Ankhaten would require delicate work, a precise manipulation of the ancient spells and bindings that held him together. It would be a test of your skill and patience, but the reward would be a powerful ally, one whose strength could see you through the challenges ahead.

The internal deliberation was agonizing.

The echoes of Lorgar and Dharok's bloodline fighting in the distance only heightened the tension. Their struggles reminded you of the importance of both faith and strength, the delicate balance that had to be maintained. Each choice represented a different aspect of that balance, a different path to the same goal.

As you stood there, the vortex's energy continued to swirl around you, its power a constant reminder of the decision that needed to be made. The spectral soldiers and Ankhaten seemed to blur together in your mind, their forms intertwining in a dance of possibilities.

The choice before you was not just about power or loyalty; it was about the kind of leader you wanted to be, the values you wanted to uphold.

The answer lay within you, waiting to be discovered. The power of the vortex was at your fingertips, ready to be shaped by your will. The decision you made now would shape the battles to come and define your path forward. As you stood on the brink of this monumental choice, the weight of responsibility settled over you, a reminder of the profound impact of your actions.

With a deep breath, you prepared to make your decision, knowing that whatever path you chose, it would be a testament to your strength, your faith, and your determination to see this journey through to the end.

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CHOICE
[] Ankhaten

[] One Thousand Space Marines of the Imperial Heralds.
-[] You have 27 BP to buy Merits. NO Mutations for now.

–They are in Mark 2 Power Armor and will be armed with Bolter Weapons. They are factory fresh but ping off Dharok, so Veteran in terms of ability/Attribute.

Before you ask, Ankhaten is a Valid Choice as he is an Experienced combatant whose utility exceeds 1000 SMs who are basically echos of Lorgar's gene-sons. They will take time to develop distinct personalities and not all have the potential to be heroic.

So you are choosing Ankhaten for better combat advantage now or SMs for some combatant advantage now and better advantage later.