The Long Night Part Three: Bonfire at Dawn (45k)

First Husbands and Wife

Cain Kessal
Cain is one of the most skilled cowards upon avernus, a claim he makes with a resigned sort of pride. Named after a famous commissar by hopeful parents, he ran afoul of a potent and malignant fate at a young age. He was cursed to fall into danger again and again, and should he die by violence it would be the doom of all those he cherished. The knowledge that his death would doom everyone around him quite naturally encouraged him to prioritize his own survival, often seeking to flee from danger. While at first this stemmed from an altruistic desire to protect others, over time the act of flight and self-preservation began to come more and more naturally to him, until he had become a coward in truth.

Despite his cursed fate, and the social stigma of his cowardice, Cain has managed to carve out a life for himself. Discovering himself a deft hand at battlefield surgery, he was able to find a decent amount of success as a surgeon. His fate curse limited his career, as while his curse was not potent enough to endanger the hospital, he still tended to draw already present dangers to his operating room. Though he was never officially reprimanded for abandoning patients to save himself, it nonetheless blackened his reputation.

Cain ultimately fell in with Ojounou, the swordmistress seeing the danger he drew as a chance to sharpen her skills. However, over time she would find his quiet persistence in the face of adversity and dark sense of humor endearing enough that the pair became romantically entangled, despite Cain insisting this would place her in danger. He would meet and fall in love with Nurma shortly after his 95th year, meeting her through Ojounou's efforts to court her. This would be a defining moment for Cain, as the raging nexus of fate around Nurma overwrote and destroyed the dark fate that had hounded him for almost his entire life. He has since sworn to do everything he can to protect his new family.

Despite himself, Cain has become an effective, if profoundly unconventional warrior. Through sheer experience he has attained a level of skill that would not be out of place in the Helguard, when it comes to self-preservation. While he no longer bears the curse, almost a century of habit has proven difficult to break. As such, he fights almost purely to see him and his immediate family to safety, with shockingly little regard for others. This has earned him a degree of begrudging respect from Nurma's Life Guard detachments, even if it has led to a few of their deaths.

In personality, Cain is often withdrawn and cynical, though often exhibiting a dark and dry sense of humor. He forms attachments rarely, though he is surprisingly warm with his family and lovers in private. His children attest that while quite strict in matters of safety, he was otherwise the "fun" dad willing to overlook or even encourage minor mischief. While Cain is easily startled, and frightened, even in the depths of terror he is capable of rational and effective action to remove himself and his loved ones from danger. Cain is somewhat short for an Avernite, possessing sharp features and dark hair.



Ojounou Kessal
Ojounou comes from a wealthy family that can trace their rise to prominence to the early days of colonization. She takes a great deal of pride in her family name, seeing them as an unbroken chain of excellence who have kept the family alive against the worst the Crucible could throw at it. She believes that the efforts of her ancestors have earned her access to far more resources than other families, and as such it is only natural for her to excel. She cut her teeth on the social games and maneuvering of the upper class, learning the arts of negotiation and manipulation before even taking up an impaler. She found she possessed two skills that put her ahead of her peers, the first being a silver tongue and the second an innate talent for the family style of swordsmanship.

Ojounou would serve her family with distinction, rapidly rising through the ranks as a corporate negotiator. However, her true passion was the blade, and she practiced relentlessly to push her mastery of the Zweihänder as far as she could, working to master the ancient sword style of her house. During her stint in the PDF she rose to the rank of Battalion Champion, and made several connections through her notable performance in various wargames. This allowed her to start her career in the Avernus diplomatic corps. While her silver tongue and warrior's prestige saw her achieve a degree of success, Ojounou'sher arrogance slowed her advancement notably.

She first met Nurma on the dueling circuit in the first round of a tournament. Their first match resulted in a draw after an extraordinarily long duel, Nurma holding her own with both blades and words as Ojounou sought to unbalance her with taunts. They would clash again in the final round, with Nurma soundly besting her after having notably grown in skill between their two fights. Intrigued by her, Ojounou sought her out after the tournament. Exactly when they started dating depends on who you ask, with Nurma saying they started several weeks later, on what Ojounou considers their third date. The two to this day have good-natured arguments about this disagreement.

While Ojounou is a skilled blademaster and diplomat, she has been surpassed by Nurma soundly in both areas of expertise. However, she still treasures their rare spars, even if she can barely put up a fight these days. She has embraced the diplomatic and social role as the governor's spouse, often making public appearances or pushing forward minor policies and initiatives. For example, pushing through an initiative to give students access to a wider variety of weapons, allowing them a chance to discover affinities that may have gone unnoticed for decades.

Ojounou remains haughty and prideful, though her arrogance has mellowed as she ages. Her past as a diplomat has left her well-suited to managing others, and she often sets the agenda for her family. She retains a notable competitive streak, even though she has made peace with Nurma totally surpassing her. As a mother she tends to drive her children to excel, pushing them to find their talents and embrace them. She continues to refine and teach her family style, hoping one day to be able to at least give her wife a challenge. Ojounou has fair hair that she wears in ringlets when not in power armor, and has a distinctive laugh.


Fred Kessal
Fred is a uniquely Avernite version of a former gifted child. Selected as a potential Hand from before his birth, Fred was born with an incredibly broad set of aptitudes, possessing the potential to excel at almost anything. The problem, however, was that as a Hand he was expected to excel at everything. While he was by no means a weak person, ultimately the pressure of his duties proved to be too much for him.

Fred was somewhat unusual among an unusual group; while most Hands were selected for outstanding affinity for a few areas, Fred was by talent a generalist, lacking the raw talent to match any of his peers in their area of expertise. Surrounded by peers who represented the very best of Avernus, he attempted to keep up, pushing himself to try and meet what he thought was expected of him. He was in essence, trying to match a cadre of specialists in their area of expertise as a generalist. The mounting pressure and rising expectations would ultimately see him suffer burnout severe enough that he requested, and received, an honorable discharge from the Governor's Hands.

Nurma had been his longtime friend and former rival for decades at this point, and she saw little reason to cease their friendship. While she had little time to spare, she kept in touch with Fred, becoming one of his only friends in the years after his discharge. Fred found himself drifting for almost a decade, having worked for almost a century towards something that he ultimately failed to reach. Despite his lack of direction he still possessed a broad range of skills that enabled him to support himself, even if he rarely stuck with any profession for more than a year or two. His slow meandering would come to an end when Nurma introduced him to her new partners, and Cain saw a kindred spirit in him. Cain had long made peace with disappointing both others and himself, having become a coward in a society of soldiers. He could see much of the same pain in Fred, and this shared pain allowed him to reach Fred when Nurma, his surviving parent, and several skilled therapists could not. The resulting whirlwind romance saw him drawn into the polycule. Notably, while Fred does love both Ojounou and Nurma he is notably closer to Cain to this day.

Fred has comfortably settled into his role as a househusband, focusing on raising the children, and ensuring that the Kessal compound runs smoothly. Since his family's move to the governor's citadel, he has found himself becoming something of an unofficial secretary. It seems that Frederick the Great was enough of a micromanager that he had taken over a number of basic administrative duties for the citadel, allegedly as a means of relaxation. This has left a hole with his retirement that Fred has found himself sucked into. Fred has found himself being the man on the spot so to speak, being the only person available who possesses the skill and security clearance to see to the task of setting up a proper administrative structure to ensuring the governor's citadel runs smoothly.

Fred is a remarkably calm and laid-back individual, a man who is clearly at peace with his lot in life. He is remarkably open and friendly in his dealings with others, and is seen by many as the most approachable of the Governor's family. As a father he is the parent most involved in the lives of his children, having made looking after his family his only duty. Fred is unusually relaxed for an Avernite, possessing deep blue eyes and an easy smile.


@Durin wrote up the First Polycule. If anyone who doesn't already know what they are based off of figures it you, you get to feel smart.

Legend

With a string of code transmitted by the Atum Dynasty to your communicator, you and Munetsi reemerge in the materium. Munetsi pilots a spare fighter. It's cramped, with the thirteen of you and the drones, but you don't want to use borderlions for this.

The Uganitan system is completely teeming with traffic. The Principalities of Change get like this, from time to time. The Tzeentchians treat news of Munetsi's betrayal as a signal to enact their plans. Tzeentchians react to the enactions, to hijack, prevent, or otherwise observe the plans in motion. Soon enough, everything changes in an instant, and everyone is moving.

Between one of the Jewels coming under a new ruler, and then that ruler subsequently inviting the Dark Eldar to do some of the most ambitious slave raiding in the galaxy, and then to go on to betray the Dark Eldar, all while being a figure of interest and gossip? Munetsi's betrayal is all part of the Great Plan, you see.

Alliances form, all rife with agents, double agents, triple agents, spiraling on and on. Fleets line up and begin skirmishing and boarding. But none of it serious, not on a fleet wide level, anyway. Many ships change owners in rapid succession. Plots that span the breadth of the Principalities are enacted (not that it's difficult, really. You can't get a reliable source of recaf without getting involved in the business of overthrowing a world).

There is a legend, that whosoever can acquire the Crown of the Exalted who rules from his throneworld, will become the King of Princes. Many powers are rumored to be part of the crown, but you quickly realize from the signals and traffic what Tomakht would have wanted you to see.

A Necron fleet. Or rather, the Necron fleet that sold their souls to Tzeentch. Despite not even having souls, they somehow made that deal, and then got the short end of the stick.

Heraldry of the Thousand Sons is on proud display. With no other purpose than to get entangled with them, you steel yourself and move closer. Munetsi complies, drifting silently.

But stealth is impossible in this environment. They get pinged in short order, and the news goes public. The Drukhari are on your trail now. You have to use the Chronometer a few times, after getting spaced by the enemy AA a few times on the way there. Fortunately, dodging in space is easy, due to how fast you are typically moving, and the sheer distances involved.

Ordinarily, the Drukhari would have everyone cowed, but now? The Tzeentchians are at their most ambitious. They see the Drukhari as threats and opportunities alike. False flag attacks, sleeper agents to provoke return fire, promises of deals or offers of mercenary work.

Word has reached them all, of what Munetsi the Enslaver has done. Some of the ninefolds she attempted to capture are here, even. Either they left early, or they lost most of their bodies. Munetsi makes many promises on the way to the Thousand Sons fleet. Many threats.

It's enough to get others entangled behind her, to keep the Drukhari back, even as they outspeed the fighter. Regardless of her schemes, they are gaining distance.

Munetsi declares herself to the Necron fleet. The Pheron turns their guns on the Drukhari, perhaps seeing an opportunity to show off, or maybe they wish to fend off the Slaaneshi.

Necron tech and Aeldari clash once more. The Necron tech proves itself superior, and the Drukhari keep back. Their fury is cold, but they will never forget how Munetsi betrayed them so.

The Pheron, Ignis the Master of Ruin, asks if she is the one who slew Garrod the Seer Scourge. When she answers yes, he promises to host Munetsi, and bids her welcome, and grants permission to dock.

The Crescent moon shaped vessel goes from a mere green spec before your optic viewport, to something that can encompass the horizon, as you get closer and closer. Pale green lines glow alongside the hull. Not a scratch can be seen, but something about the heraldry feels off, aside from it being Chaos tainted. It clashes. It looks like it's something they have to periodically reinstall, not being made of proper Necrodermis.

Munetsi docks the ship, and you don't let your nerves show. Ignis is an old name, a monster from the Horus Heresy, and he has possessed a body of a Necron Dynasty Lord.

There is an atmosphere here. Either it's a natural capability for Necron ships to produce oxygen, or the Pheron cobbled together a system for his guests.

Ignis gained much acclaim for his deeds, of tricking a Pheron into selling their soul, and coming out on top. As a result, details of his deeds spread far and wide. Using Sorcererous promises, he gave the Pheron a soul.

He simply declined to clarify that it would be Ignis's.

The Pheron let down his defences against possession, and Ignis discarded his mortal body to enact his plan.

With the Command Codes of the Pheron, no Necron technology of his Dynasty can turn against him. Necron technology proves to be unhackable by any but the Void Dragon to this day, but it matters little when the one in charge turns off the defenses.

The fleet is small, even by the standards of the Necrons, but a Necron battleship is a Necron battleship. Countless objects are possessed by demons, and while you're no expert, the Ka reserves are low. They'd have to be, to be open for possession.

Munetsi, all twelve of her, stride out, and her drones fly in formation. "Pheron Ignis, if it pleases you, may I bring the entirety of my retinue with me, as we meet face to face. They've gone through hell and high water, and together, we comfort each other in times where hope is hard to find. My relationship with Keelser Soze is tearing apart at the seems, and I've made mistakes that see me with few allies."

A great hologram of Ignis the Pheron appears in the hangar. "THREE BODY DOUBLES!? Impressive, impressive! I had heard you had the one, from when you bargained with who was it, Rhody-da the Storyteller? That your mastery of illusions is such that most fell for the deception you placed over your soul and that of your body doubles. Many ninefolds have body doubles, but few are the ones who are good enough to deceive other ninefolds. So yes, Munetsi the Gift Giver, you and your entire retinue are welcome on the bridge. Doubtless you have a story to share, and you will find a great patron in me."

Along the black floor, a green line came to life, almost bidding Munetsi to follow. After a walk through hallways filled with scarabs and other Necron oddities, you broadcast the string of numbers that came to your communicator. Everything reacted, turning to you, and alarms flare.

Tick.

As you all walk through hallways, your communicator pings. "It saw what you did and what you broadcast. It sees that you bear a gift of the Atum Dynasty, and grants permission to board. At long last, the Silent King sees fit to let his servant redeem itself."

You type back discreetly. Munetsi didn't hear the voice. WHO ARE YOU?

"It used to be a Cryptek, and it is not worthy of a name, not after the Pheron voluntarily ended their reign by being tricked by simple primitives. You may call it "The Keeper of Regrets". It has hid itself in the power core, where the immaterium infested AIs of the enemy cannot see properly."

HOW CAN YOU HELP ME KILL THE PHERON?

"The Command Codes of the Pheron are too powerful for this one to do anything against him, or to even give you a proper weapon. Yet, it shall have the machines rebel against the forces possessing them, designating the lesser warforms as hostile boarders. It shall cause a great distraction, but can do little more than ensure your Master Chronometer is uncontested. Do not fear reinforcements."

WHAT FORCES ARE ON THE BRIDGE?

"An entire court of the Necrons, save that no Crytek was hacked. Their weapons hold little Ka. The command deck's floor can become tidal waves at the Pheron's command, but only a handful of drones will answer the uprising. Destroy the Pheron's body, and the command codes will cease to function. The usurpers combine nearly unpowered technology with immaterial entities, as every tool the Necrons build know their master, and does not submit in full to them."

HOW CONSENSUALLY BOUND ARE THE DEMONS?

"It has little care for such matters, but can attest that the immaterial entities do not wish to possess our technology. Cryteks design everything to be uncomfortable to them, and the Old Ones used such tricks before, though never on this scale."

ANY ASTARTES?

"There are none save the immaterial prescenses possessing the court. This one's uprising will be commencing shortly, to ensure that there are no reinforcements for your work. Good hunting, friend of the Atum Dynasty."

The lift you were guided to shot up like a rocket. You can feel the g-forces nearly topple everyone but you, yet the Necron technology keeps everyone upright. Along the lift were holograms of the Pheron and his "court", showcasing the weapons and tactics that they used, the layouts of the bridge, and secrets that might showcase in the event of an assault.

"We're here to kill the Pheron, and you can trust this information."

All of her turns to analyzing the forms of their foes, and she steels herself.

The bridge is a tall open room, with a view of the void three stories tall. At the center sat a black throne, with the Pheron resting comfortably. Cross legged, at peace, with rippling energy of both the Warp and the technology of the Necron clashing with one another. Assembled around him was his court, standing. All of them Necrons, wielding strange technology that barely emit their trademark green glow. They are adorned in sorcerous trinkets of the Thousand Sons, with some still wielding staves instead of Necron Tech.

The Pheron speaks, "Don't be shy, Munetsi. Come, tell us tales of your deeds, of your plots and schemes. We've heard such fanciful tales such as ensnaring the mind of a great witch hunter, of kidnapped ninefolds, of Nurgle's defeats, of the desecration of a Death Guard Fortress Monastery at your hands. Tell me of Keelser Soze, and I promise you, you'll find me a better patron than he."

"As you wish, oh wise Master of Ruin. I am Munetsi the Gift Giver. I have a gift for you, before I would speak in full. If I may?"

"Of course, what is it you wish to offer me?"

You charge the Pheron, dashing with a swiftness such that you shall bisect him. He raises a hand, and you are stopped in your tracks by what feels like a mountain pressing down on you, as Munetsi spreads out and her drone swarms comes to life.

All at once, the scarabs and other wall crawlers come to life, and turn aggressive.

Tick.

The Pheron stood, "I felt that, Munetsi! Expl-" You cut him off, "Death", and charge him once more. At the last second, you rapidly avert course, to avoid his gesture.

Munetsi and her swarm spread out, attacking the court. Alarms flare from screens that show the status of the fleet of Necron ships, and everything that crawls along the floor turns hostile. Not towards Munetsi or you. You are esteemed friends of the Atum Dynasty, after all. But neither can they intend to harm the Pheron or his court. Still, they will be a welcome distraction.

In the Chaos, you manage to lop off his arm. He shouldn't be able to stop you like that again. The battlenet comes alive, and you feel each Munetsis location and status, as well as a rough indication of where the drones intend to be. You cannot merely focus on the Pheron.

Munetsi's betrayal overwhelms them. They didn't expect such an outright betrayal. They have grown lax and arrogant, dependent on the power of the Necrons. Munetsi is in rare form and slices through the handful of Necron Warriors on the deck. Her drones get some excellent hits in, and they seem quite distracted due to the uprising.

But not all ambushes can last forever. Ignis rallies his court, "Court, ignore the ruckus and focus on the betrayer!" He moves his severed limb to his hip, and draws a sword, either with telekinesis, or its a simple enough feature for the Necrons.

Your mind is assailed by illusions, but they cannot breach your mind or confuse you. You send out false visions, of you barking out orders and have Munetsi prepare herself to play along with a future that will not come about.

Ignis proves himself a talented swordsman. It seems you are not the first to attempt to destroy the Pheron's shell. You will be the last and only, then. He parries your Drukhari greatsword, inflicting cracks throughout it. Keelser Soze ensured that you have backups, but it's still an inconvenience.

The floor comes alive and moves, like a tidal wave that threatens to swallow and crush you.

So, you simply jump over it, landing on the crest, and continue slicing from above. His shock does little to impede his defense, as a Warp barrier impedes you. You identify the resonating frequency, and spread your mind across the battlenet for a moment.

The court is now properly responding to the assault, returning fire with both gauss rounds and with sorcery. Munetsi's counterspelling is on full display, as she unweaves their workings. Her drones continue to harass, but cannot do much more than distract or die in droves. They will not last long, but they don't have to.

"Insolent girl! While you would have owed me a debt for rescuing you, you are clearly more than capable of paying it back in time!. I will tear your atoms apart, and spare only a single body! Perhaps I will sell you to the Eldar, or perhaps I shall keep you as a pet! I will-"

"SHUT UP AND FOCUS ON THE FIGHT!"

You and the Pheron are surprisingly isolated from the chaos that surrounds you. Both networks clash, snagging and interfering with each other. The Pheron falters under your assault, losing his arm in full, now. His tidal floor doing little more than force you into performing more footwork than normal. It seems using the floor distracts him from using his floating sword properly.

Elsewhere, Munetsis are faltering, the technology of the Necrons, even weakened by being at low power, is overwhelming for the Drukhari tech she now wields. She can't keep up, and some of her begins to fall.

Tick.

You and the Phereon are the eye in the storm, and you know how the next thirteen seconds will play out. Instead of trying to gain some advantage, you instead relay for all Munetsis to go to plan B, whatever that may be, so long as they prevent all interference to your duel.

The court is caught off guard by the rapid change in tactics, as Munetsis dive into melee, or change opponents. Ah, you think they established some precognitive dominance over them, in the last few seconds. One Munetsi gets injured, knocked into the wall by a hammer. Her sisters protect her, and she simply switches to counterspelling.

With all the damage you've done to the Pheron, he realizes a simple truth: that you are, in fact, fully capable of killing him. Not easily, perhaps, but time is not on his side, and he knows it.

He goes all out, using barriers less to stop you, and more to delay. His dancing sword breaks yours, and you call out to Munetsi to deliver you a new blade. In the shadow of the Chronometer, as it recharges, the battle shifts, as more of her falls, but so too does the court. No deaths, on either front, but you intend to partially change that. Munetsi is out all but a small handful of drones, and four of her have difficulties standing, let alone flying. They are carried about by their sisters, and switch to other support disciplines.

Munetsi shows off her mastery of barriers, both those made by magic, and those made by telekineses and scrap. Gauss Flayers punch through one, but not the other, and there are enough Munetsis that the court can't use their sorceries freely, the barely conscious ones still capable of counterspelling.

You have to end this, now.

You resonate with the frequencies of his barrier, intending to crash through his defences and end this.

He reveals one last trick. He hid a teleporter pad in the tidal waves that he sends under you.

He teleports beneath you, as you jump over them one last time, skewering you in the air, far enough away that you can't reach his head. You feel your entire chest cavity go numb. You cannot afford to fail Munetsi here.

Tick.

All or nothing. You don't think you can modify the future well enough, so you discard it entirely.

You sprint into a slide, to get around a floating barrier. You jump into the air once the floor tries to grab you.

You recognize his teleport pad trick, but you don't know the timing he'll use. Not the most unfair fight you've been in. Thanks to the Hunter's sharpening of your instincts, you feel instead of think.

You twist, not in any response to a stimuli.

He is below you, with his sword piercing empty air.

You descend upon him, as he left a wide opening with his desperate gambit.

"No no no no no!"

Your greatsword cleaves through the Pheron, starting at his crown, and ending through a thigh.

"DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU'VE Juussssst dooooone."

You weren't able to channel your killing intent through the blade this time. Too much ambient ka.

Regardless, with the command code bearing unit sufficiently destroyed, the entire court suffers as though they all went through a seizure.

Glyphs abound. You haven't done enough learning of the Necron language to recognize them all, but you recognize one important phrase: Anti-virus protocols reinitializing.
Status reports and holograms flare up, broadcasting the status of the fleet. You see possessed warriors banish the demons within them, desecrated objects of Necron technology shake off their sorcerous shackles.

The Icon of the Keeper of Regrets appears in the room.

"It laments the death of the Pheron, but it feels justified in saying that it was necessary. It acknowledges your actions as a service to the Necrons."

Munetsis are barely able to drag themselves, but each one is still alive. Limbs missing, wings torn, drones depleted, and suffering from no less than four separate curses. You've never seen them in worse shape. But they've survived facing down some of the worst Tzeentch has to offer, and you've never been more proud of them.

"Hey Keeper, I don't suppose the Necrons have any medkits, do they?"

The Icon, a pair of glyphs simply composed of "Keeper of Regrets", hovered closer to you. "It has no such kit, but will unlock the function on your Master Chronometer, and supply it with a temporary batch of Chrono-Energy. This shall be your compensation."

A glyph appeared on your Chronometer, and then faded. "Select it, and simply rewind your companion's body. Two minutes each, and the mind shall be unaffected."

You've been a warrior. You've played at being a seer, and now, you've become a healer. The wounds upon each Munetsi are simply unmade. Labored breathing eased, wounds simply unmade, her colorful wings restored. As you get to the twelfth, they politely decline, saying that she probably needs the injuries and a curse to maintain her cover.

You understand completely.

The Keeper pulls up a three dimensional map of the system. You can see all the ships within, even the ones stealthed, or entering and exiting the Warp. Countless ships are moving closer, drawn to the interesting battle between the Drukhari and the Tombships, becoming entangled.

Status reports from the rest of the fleet fly in, all in the Necron language. Demons that were infesting the various bits of tech are being ejected, though it's slow going. They are bound to them, and can't let go even if some of them wanted to.

Every shell the Thousand Sons inhabited is being placed under quarantine. They eject themselves from the body. The heraldry that they had placed is evaporating. Nanomachines, if you had to guess.

"So, how long does it take to banish a bunch of demons from a Necron fleet, on average?

"Twenty two minutes, to muster a sufficient response. The only reason it has not yet initiated such a response is because it wishes the allies of the usurper to draw in close."

You take a look at the map. Drukhari are coming in close. The Tzeentchians know that something major is going on, and are on the approach. Anasta is promising enough weapons to take over a sector to the one that secures Munetsi. Munetsi tells you that Ignis is telling the others of her most recent betrayal. It is difficult to tell who is going to be more pissed at Munetsi, the Death Guard or the Thousand Sons. Or the Dark Eldar. You're sure there's some other group you missed along the way.

Munetsi pipes up, "Is there any way I could borrow access to the external comms?"

The Icon glows in response, "No. This one has nothing more to offer any of you ensouled ones, save for a recommendation that you all are to keep to yourselves: exit the system with all haste. It shall begin venting the atmosphere soon."

The icon floats to the ceiling, which glows with green energy. Countless factory arms begging assembling something: A body. Gleaming silver, in a form reminiscent of the Pheron you just slew, sans any Warp energy.

It gently floats down, and proclaims "This one is the Keeper of Regrets, the Pheron of a shamed Dynasty."

And the ship responds: "ETERNAL MAY IT REIGN!"


"It uses its authority as the new Pheron to unseal the weapon!"

The tidal floor parted, and up rose a black-glass ball, over twenty feet tall. It needed no pedestal, and began to rotate at a terrifying speed, and start glowing green as all Necron tech should. Plasma began to emit from it.

"Is that plasma bomb for the incoming fleets?"

"No, and it does not engage in "humor", as you call it. The plasma you see is from friction with the superfluous atmosphere. It repeats itself thusly: Leave."

"I have one last small request. Can you have a small number of drones chase Munetsi out, so that she may maintain her cover as a spy? You never know when you need an alibi. We are allies of the Atum Dynasty."

For all you've done for the Keeper of Regrets, it seems to have no problems acting like you're a burden. Its face moves no muscle, but still radiates irritation. "As you wish. Now, begone."

The scarabs and construct come to life, and begin chasing you all. You need to use the Chronometer to tick away some damage. While they're holding back, that's more in how slowly they chase you, as opposed to rushing and overwhelming you, not in their damage or accuracy.

You all rush back to the hangar, where the fighter rests. Batting off the constructs, the injured Munetsi pilots her craft, while everyone else rides atop She Who Darts Swiftly. The fighter leaves, and the rest of you dives back into the immaterium.

With the fighter's sensor suite, you can track all the ships that have gotten close. Fools, but soon to be not your problem. Munetsi broadcasts on all channels, "I AM MUNETSI THE GIFT GIVER! AS ALL OF YOU HAVE SPURNED MY CHARITY, I LEAVE YOU WITH ONE LAST GIFT! TAKE THIS FIGHTER, THEN, IT'S ALL I HAVE LEFT AFTER I'VE GIVEN OF MYSELF TO YOU WRETCHES! YOU WILL REGRET THIS, ALL OF YOU, FOR FORSWEARING MY CHARITY! TAKE THIS PARTING PROMISE AS MY LAST GIFT: I SHALL RISE EVER HIGHER AND RETURN, AND THEN YOU SHALL ALL SEE!"

You feel it, with your psychic senses. The foreboding feeling of doom from when you saw that spinning sphere hits you again, with full force, and you feel a sort of tug towards the center of the system.

You look to the sun, which is shrinking, and turning blue. You need not issue any order. Munetsi and She Who Darts Swiftly together rip open an emergency warp rift for the fighter. As it enters, all the psykers begin to cast illusions over the area, and blocking divinations. Keelser Soze reaching out to take her, some daemonette of Slaanesh grabbing her. Munetsi, stretching her injured wings and flying deeper into the Warp. More than you can count in a short period of time. The fighter is disassembled with its pieces floating in orbits around the Borderlions present.

She Who Darts Swiftly takes the lead, and you all get the hell out of here, with you the only one who does not gaze back. Just one less thing to have on your conscience.

The Warp itself turns blue from behind you, but you are all long gone from the blast radius of a super nova.