First Captain Gabriel Santar of the Iron Hands, leading the Morlocks upon Medusa
The world of Medusa is a desolate place, harsh and unforgiving. To survive such a land unaided would be a grueling trial to many of mankind, but to the Iron Hands it was the perfect grounds to train and receive aspirants from. But now a new danger has come to the world, Eldar raiders under one calling himself the Warbringer had come to ravage and kill the people.
To Ferrus Manus, it was not the lives of his people that interested him, it was the brazen challenge to him, this Eldar was calling for their "Despoiler" to face him. So it was that Ferrus Manus and his first chapter known as the Morlocks would return to Medusa and answer this challenge, they would purge the invading Eldar from the world and prove their strength.
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Upon their arrival, it was clear to the Iron Hands and their Primarch that the Eldar had devoted themselves entirely to attacking the surface, no ships of theirs were in orbit and no such vessel was detected. Despite this odd occurrence, Ferrus Manus stood firm in his orders to begin the Iron Hand's attack on the Eldar.
While the Eldar ran wild across the land, the Iron Hands would fall upon them with their cold precision and show why their brazen challenge was misguided.
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Gabriel Santar first saw the explosions before he saw the fighting itself, Eldar warriors rushing towards the held positions of human fighters of Medusa's clans, despite the advantages of the Eldar over common unaugmented humans, the Clan warriors had held well, he would need to keep that in mind for the next bout of recruitment for the Legion.
Once the Iron Hands reached the battle site, the Eldar were boxed in and began to lose numbers heavily, however instead of fleeing like others of their kind, they fought to the last of their number, something that the captain found to be disgustingly honorable from the Xenos, something he did not wish to think more on.
The warriors of Clan Atraxii watched his Brothers with both fascination and relief once the battle began, a sentiment unneeded for the battle but it did not hinder their attacks so Santar paid it no mind. After the fighting had finished, he had searched for his lord Primarch for his new orders and where the Legion should move next, but he found that Ferrus Manus had left already. Only a single Vox message indicated where he had gone, the Vox message was clear and short "I Will seek the leader, you will deal with the rest".
His Primarch had handed control over the remaining campaign to him, while in another Legion this would be a great honor, to the Iron Hands, it was simply duty. Their Primarch needed to do this task alone and could not be burdened by his normal duties in the meantime.
He waved over Vaakal Desaan, a captain of the Morlocks and began to relay new orders, there still were reports of Eldar splinters out in the Felgarrthi Steppe, and the Morlocks needed to better refine their delay in arriving at the battle.
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Finding the Xeno's warlord was not hard, he displayed his trail openly, the path of carnage and conflict gave Ferrus all he needed to find their camp. It was a lively place, unlike many other Eldar he had fought across his time, they seemed more akin to the Crimson Gryphons then others of their kind.
The Eldar parted in Ferrus's path, it seems they were waiting for him. He could see their eyes watching him, feel their desire to kill him and rip him apart, but they did not act. The animals seemed to wait for the say-so from their master, said master stood at the end of their path, overlooking a crevice, no doubt opened by a tectonic shift. The Eldar was young, he had fought enough of their kind to know this much from a glance, he was of a clearly high standing amongst the Eldar and turned to face Ferrus.
"Ah the Despoiler has come, are you prepared to face my challenge head on?" He was impulsive and eager for battle, but his posture indicated experience, his armor well tended but worn, this was not a simple lord far too vain to fight himself, no this one had fought many times.
"Yes" he had no other need to say more, the Xeno's did not deserve that from him.
"Perfect, it shall be a glorious battle to pave the way for my ascension." exclaimed the Eldar warlord, with little other words needed he made his way down to the pit, which Ferrus followed,not before taking a glance to all the other eyes upon him, making sure to note how many he would need to kill after he was done with this challenge.
As the two entered the pit, Ferrus placed his hand upon Fireblade, prepared for any Eldar duplicity. The warrior before him seemed eager for this duel, spinning twin war axes impatiently, this was contrasted to the methodical and precise movements Ferrus had made, he would see if this Warbringer was worth all this trouble.
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The Despoiler was just as the prophets had described, arms of Iron and a blade of fire. Even as they attempted to gage each other before combat, Turann Maugadh watched the Mon-Khigh leader with all focus, shuting away all other distractions to make the world blur for anything not relevant to the duel.
The battle began suddenly, as Turann made the first move, rushing the Mon-Khigh with his axes from different angles, hoping to open the battle with a strong attack. Only for both axe swings to be blocked by sword and metal arm, this first act would set the stage for the battle to come.
To the Eldar watching it was like a battle between power and speed, their leader doing all he can to hack away at the Mon-Khigh's defense , while the Primarch blocked with either great skill with his blade or sheer brute force with his metal-like arms. As they fought the Eldar of course thought of the prophecy of the Despoiler in full, what his people had managed to collect from the last true prophecy of the Avatar of Lileath before the disappearance of the Crown World.
"The End of the Eldar is coming, born to the collected souls of man and forged upon the ashes of a ruined world
He shall be known for his blade of fire, wielded in arms of iron and desire for strength above all
It is he who shall usher beginning of the Rhana Dandra and the return of The Great War of the Ancients
He is Cataclysm, he is the Son of Man. in his wake all shall suffer an age of Strife unlike any before
He is The Despoiler of Order and all will know his name and tremble"
And as he fought the Despoiler, he could feel the strength to his blows and how much the prophecy had neglected to mention, the Eldar could feel his excitement only grow as each strike of his either was deflected by blade or metal arm. The Despolier's own strikes only grazing as he nimbly dodged, yes this was why he had come to challenge the supposed end of the Eldar, he was to prove that he was superior than all others, that he was destined to
Each strike from the Despoiler's blade was more akin to a strike with a hammer then a sword, it's flame only adding to the difficulty in defending from it, but Turann did not care, this was true battle. He saw an opening as the Despoiler had blocked one axe, so Turann swung with his other to his foe's head.
But his strike was stopped, the Despoiler had caught the axe and with ease, his metal hand crushed the axe's own metal, leaping away before the fire blade could take advantage of his momentary distraction, he took but a single moment to consider his options. Launching himself towards the Primarch, he felt true joy as he was pushed to his limits.
The two continued their battle, with Turann giving all that he could, sacrificing his nimble defense just to gain more clean hits upon the Primarch, causing a great many burns and cuts to mar his form. But he still continued to fight, even as he was knocked away by the hammer-like free hand of the Despoiler, he tried to cut away at the Primarch.
As he hit the sharpened craggy wall, he realized he needed to change his strategy, so he let all focus of the world fall away, only focusing on the warrior in front of him, to everyone else it would seem the barrage of attacks that had been the Eldar's main method of attack had ceased, to be replaced with an almost statue like defensive posture with his remaining axe.
For the first time of the duel, the Primarch moved from his position and towards the Eldar warlord, and in a display that only one soul would ever recount, two blades began a dance of clashing metal, both in perfect sync as each move was countered and deflected, only to move into the next attack. It was only with the most hardened combatants among the Eldar who realized that with each bout of clashing blades, the Primarch's free hand moved ever slightly, the purpose of this became clear far too late as he punched with all his might at the swinging axe, shattering the weapon against his fist.
Turann's eyes widened as his last strategy failed and his last weapon shattered against the metal arms of his race's destroyer of prophecy, the Despoiler's face was not a reflection of exaltation has he had hoped, but a mask of blank acceptance of a foe finally dying.
The last thing Turann Maugadh saw was the flash of a silver hand closing around his face, then pain as it clenched around him, He saw no more after that as the sound of cracking and crunching echoed around him.
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The Eldar of the camp watched as the Mon-Khigh monster crushed their leader's head in his hands of metal, they quickly raised their weapons to the Despoiler. "Surender Mon-Khigh, you are surrounded and face more than a hundred warriors of House Maugadh!" Screamed out one of them to the Mon-Khigh, who merely clenched the still gore drenched metal fist and looked towards the amassed Eldar
"All I am surrounded by is Fear and Corpses" He spoke sternly, the Eldar charged forward at that and battle resumed in the camp.
It would be a single day before the Morlocks would find their Father, sitting in the gore cracked remains of that camp, hundreds of bodies surrounding him, only minor wounds covering his body and his arms of iron, were coated in enough dried blood to nearly hide their silver complexion.
When retrieved, he had asked but a single thing, were the vermin gone from his world. To which his sons simply nodded and awaited new orders, something which Ferrus gave bluntly and simply "Now we return to the Crusade"
With the matter dealt with, the Iron Hands left Medusa, not bothering to clean the dead eldar or their weapons, the retrieval of said weapons would become a new source of conflict for the clans of the world and thus ensure any strength lost from the Eldar's attack, would be regained from the new conflicts.
But such things are not the concern of Ferrus Manus, as he went to return to the north, to continue the crusade against the Eldar Empire.
"For the longest time Mankind has fought with nature in a war over control, one has to wonder what that war could create." Terran Philosopher 28th millennia- from the library of Malcador
To the Imperium, the Dawi are a mysterious people, only having been brought into compliance with the same kind of treatment as the priesthood of Mars. However unlike the Mechanicum, the Dawi are a private and reserved people whose mechanical achievements are something they primarily keep to themselves.
What is known about them is their devotion to uncovering their past and near veneration of the actions of their ancestors, with the few open records show to Imperium diplomats about the Dawi's activities in the galaxy, being travels and expeditions to locate sites of their people and recover methods lost during their exodus. Though such actions have declined in the last few centuries due to outside threats to their home space, with Imperial protection now in place, the Dawi now move across the stars again.
The Skull legion, wishing to repay the aid the Dawi had done for their construction had agreed to travel with an expedition of Clan Ironpeak, sending a hundred members of the Praetorians, some of the best fighting force of the Legion to aid them.
Their mission would take them to the world of Roanoke, a world close to the Eye of Terror and no doubt bathed in energies of the Warp.
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On their journey, the astartes would hear many stories of Clan Ironpeak from the Long Beards leading the mission and their own defenders. Stories that pertained to the history of the world and what it once was before the Breaking of Stars or as the Imperial's would know it, Old Night. Apparently the world was a joint colony of both mankind and the Dawi long ago, potentially holding many secrets of the Ancestors and long forgotten machines of theirs.
The world of Roanoke despite its proximity to the Eye seemed to be an unremarkable world to the assembled force, a world covered in dark forests and broken down cities, overgrown by the plants of this planet. But even in their delpataded state they could all see the grand and almost artistic designs the layout of the cities provided.
Landing in a valley, the group was prepared to leave and search for the old Ironpeak hold upon the world.
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Captain Paren Viam walked along with his brothers as they watched the treelines for any movement, the Dawi Battlesmiths that walked with them keeping their own gazes forward and backward. He had heard through many of their own stories about their skills in battle and unflinching willpower in battle, even if some were exaggeration, their weapons and armor would prove to be a most useful aid for battle. And if their Runes were as powerful as said, then the captain was sure that he and his own were in the company of warriors to fight on par with them.
His own brothers had been restless on the journey to this world, the campaign against the greenskin horde was so far and each wished to remain with the Primarch as he fought in glorious combat, but they had their orders and they would follow them to the letter. The world was unnervingly silent as they walked to the supposed site of the clan holding, the few xeno wildlife detected seemed to avoid the group for the most part, with only brief glimpses from him and his brothers, they seemed to be on a feline classification, nearly the size of the largest battle cat, something that intrigued many of his brothers, perhaps this world could be used for creating a new kind of mount for the Legion. But such thoughts are for the Primarch to consider with the report Paren will write once this mission is complete.
The ruins of the world were breathtaking in some ways, the nature of this world seemed intent on overgrowing and overtaking it, crushing buildings of metal with the sheer number of them and their constricting nature.
The site was no better than the rest of the planet, overgrown and broken by the xenos wildlife over the centuries, but the Dawi were undaunted and began to excavate what was once a clan hold for Ironpeak. Battlesmiths taking sentry positions while Runelords and Longbeards oversaw the workers clear out the area, for a time it all was quiet, the Praetorians taking note of the planet's moving wildlife and erie silence while the Dawi worked, some of his brothers had even offered aid to the workers, something that was allowed by the Longbeards as they said "Aye they can lift those rocks there." or "Hmph, drag that bit of rubble away, might be covering something."
The quiet was interrupted by the sound of cracking metal and shouts from Dawi and Astartes, as the Battlesmith standing up on the largest vantage point fell to the ground with a crack, a large arrow-like object embedded in the faceplate of the armor. With their focus now on a potential threat the Praetorians scanned the tree line, before a barrage of arrows came flooding out. Quickly the Marines and Battlesmiths lifted up walls of metal and stone to prevent the unseen attacker. The arrow-like projectiles continued to fly towards the group, shattering through the simple barricades like a bolter round through ork armor, with razor focus, Paren saw where the arrows were coming from, something that seemed to move among the trees. With a single command, his brothers opened fire upon that area with a hail of bolter fire, not ceasing until the arrows stopped.
Once it had ended, Paren ordered that his brothers remained here while he and his second investigated the body, they moved with caution towards the dark woods.
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While one of the Longbeards tended to the wounded Battlesmiths, Paren and his brother made note of the strange attacker. At first it was thought to be a sort of mutant Beastman of some kind, but upon getting a clear look at the creature, a darkish red skin with three twisting horns and one broken off horn. It held two bows in four arms, upon one pair of its hands held only two fingers while the other hands seemed to have enlarged claws that dug into the bows.
It wore armor of broken metal, wood and bone, with the arrows of its bow being made clearly out of Horns like it had, this was presumably out of different members of its kind.
The sound of horns and great roaring interrupted the Marines and the Dawi both, the captain and his second who had gone to investigate the broken form of their attacker took no time to rush towards the rest of their group and the starting sounds of battle. But as they left to return to the site and the battle, they did not see as the body shifted and moved, standing upright and licking its lips with a barbed tongue.
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The battle before the captain was a grim one, bodies strewn about as the Dawi fought more of these unknown xenos and their beasts, holding to their lines with barricades and projectiles while their Rune forgers activated the shining energy based weapons of their kin. Axes of blue light combated with crude weapons of bone in mad acts of defense from the Dawi.
The Praetorians amongst the Dawi fought alongside them with bolter and blade; they fought more of those strange xenos and the previously seen beasts of the world, now fully revealed to the Astartes. They seemed like battle cats in some ways, but they hels great spiked horns and spear-like tails that dripped with some kind of liquid.
Captain Paren saw as his own brothers fought these Xenos creatures that when truly struck down, the beasts seemed to disappear into mist, thinking quickly he struck out behind with his Shield, blocking the arrow from the previously thought dead Xeno whom he quickly sliced away with his Lightning claw.
The ensuing battle was chaotic, as seemingly endless numbers of these creatures poured from the wood, however the Dawi lines held firm as Battlesmiths charged forward with their battle axes and shields or fired with their own versions of bolters called "Grudge rippers", while Runelords went out to battle with their own energy encased weapons, acting like great blue beacons of strength amongst the battle lines. The Praetorians themselves were focused on defending the weaponless civilian workers alongside the Longbeareds, who despite their age fought with a ferocity like the greatest of Astartes warriors.
The sound of the Horn seemed to cease the Xeno's attack as the woods themselves seemed to bend and shift at the approaching form, flanked by four beasts, walked another of these xenos creatures, it's body was covered in carved bones and held within two of its three arms was a spear made of a bone that seemed to radiate savagery, while it's third hand held a pure white horn, carved from what seemed to be a tooth of a much larger beast.
What at first seemed to be another bone armor for its jaw, quickly proved to be part of its body as it began to speak. "So these are our intruders upon the world, such willful strength they possess I can see how they have survived thus far." Its voice was akin to a snarling beast, with a harsh slur of certain words on account of its tusked maw. But its words were clearly calculated as it looked over the remaining Dawi and Astartes.
It continued to speak, clawed fingers tapping the horn it carried with it"Rejoice humans and Dawi, for I offer you the chance to excite us, and to live another day, partake in our hunt and you have the chance to survive, refuse and we shall crash upon you like a tide, taking your bones for the Hunt."
"What reason do we have to trust you Xeno?" Spoke Paren, unsure of what his father would do in this situation, would he fight the seemingly impossible odds or play along with the enemies game so that some may survive.
The creature grumbled and the very trees seemed to shake with rage as he could feel its gaze rest upon him. "What reason do we have to lie about this offer, we simply wish for a grand hunt for our Father, to lie is not our nature human, we are not kin of the Tyrant. To show this, we grant you a full minute head start, to make it sporting." The way it said the last word made it clear that if the creature could smile, it would be at this moment.
The sounds of the xeno's laughing and the sight of their ever growing numbers amongst the trees along with their leader's words, made the situation clear, Paren looked to the Longbeard in charge of the Dawi here who simply nodded grimly. A single command was all that was needed for the group to begin running back to the ship, and like the xeno said, they let them run for a single minute before the horn sounded again, the chase was on.
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As he ran with his group, his ears could still hear the snarling voice of the creature. "The Hunt waits for you Human, your scent is mine and your bones will be a gift to my lord." it was as if the trees themselves spoke with his voice, but he had to push the fear away, he and his brothers had to keep moving.
The damned horn kept bellowing out as they continued to run, more and more of those horrid beasts, cruel parodies of the beloved battle cats of the legion continued their chase on them, seeming to appear from the ground itself. But even as some of his brothers were pounced on by the beasts, he kept running with the Dawi, stopping only to fire out with his bolt pistol, hopefully saving one of his brothers from the beasts or the Xenos chasing them. The Dawi themselves seemed intent on slowing the chasing horde to the best of their ability, chopping away trees or charging back into the horde to kill as many as they could at the expense of their lives, only the Battlesmiths seemed to do this as the Runelords and Longbeards continued to run and fight any that came close to them.
They found the ship, seemingly being covered by the dark roots of the trees, like constricting serpents they moved and attempted to crush the ship, quick fire from bolter and grudge rippers dealt with the roots. The Dawi entered the ship first as the Praetorians held a firing line towards the woods and the encroaching horde of beasts and xenos, arrows fired out from the darkness, striking many of them, but they held firm and one by one they entered the ship. Before it was just the captain and his second, the two brothers standing side by side as they show and slashed away at all that came, but the two knew that if the ship was to leave, one of them needed to stay and continue distracting the oncoming beasts and Xenos, sharing a single look, Captain Paran Viam rushed to the door and began to close it, giving a final few shots at the beasts before doing so would damage the ship.
The ship's door closed as the beasts circled around his second who remained firing until Paren could not see him anymore.
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The ship launched off the planet with far greater speed then it had shown before, as if the Machine Spirit of the Dawi vessel could feel the creeping death of this planet had it remained upon the planet. As it left, the roots of the dark forest reached out as if trying one final act to catch their quarry before the ship left the atmosphere.
Paren and his brothers counted the wounded and the dead, counting thirty of their brothers who had perished upon that damned world, only able to retrieve seventeen of their geneseed, the loss stung at the captain's soul, at this failure.
The remaining Dawi warriors and Longbeards were found to be writing in a grand tome in the center of the ship, names of their fallen and of the Skull Legion who had fallen as well were embolden upon it's pages as the eldest of the Longbeards wrote out with clear care and precision, the surrounding Dawi each speaking of their kin and what had ended them, as well as the last moments of his brothers and their sacrifices against the beasts.
The Dawi would call these creatures Hirn-Gor and said they would devote a new chapter of the great tome of the clans to these creatures, for their defilement of their ancestors works and for the deaths of all who fought this day.
"You and yer own fought and bled with us, they are as worthy as any of the Clan to be avenged for their sacrifice." Spoke the Elder Longbeard to the Captain as he finished writing in the Tome, his voice wizened with age but with clear understanding of the anger that dwelt within the Astartes.
Paren Viam walked out into the halls of the ship, not wish for his brother's to see his own moment of weakness, he stood in front of a viewing port, looking out to the dark planet they had escaped from. The world of Roanoke was a dark spot against the kaleidoscope of colors the Eye gave out, but the sheer darkness of it seared its way in Paren's mind, he would make a vow to one day return to this hellish world and rip away the Xenos monsters that slayed his brothers, he would being the wrath of the Skull Legion upon them, this he vowed on the names of the thirty brothers who could not stand with him anymore.
The world of Than Boulagar, seat of the Southern Forges
Penatince, a method used by mankind for many years to seek atonement for transgressions to their allies or family. In the Imperium it is often a term used for the Penal Legions as they seek penitence for their crimes in service to the Imperium and Great Crusade, but it can also be used for members of the Imperium's grand armies to rectify their own misdeeds in service.
Such is the case for Savnok of the Eternity Guardians and Axinos of the Lightbringers, Primarchs of the Famed Legios Astartes and ones who have erred in their duty against the foes of mankind.
Both legions would be sent to the Burned Stars to aid in pacification of the region and to bring more worlds into the Imperium.
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Upon arrival to the Burned Stars, the penitent crusade would find the Star Knights in the midst of combat against Mutated Dawi under the banner of the Empire of Dark Forges
The beginning of the campaign was rife with events worthy of note and song as the heroes of mankind fought the cruel hate of the Dark Forges. Events such as the battle of Xenigo Primus, where the Star Knight's High Commander Sonus battled a self proclaimed "Forge Sorcerer" a Psyker of these Dawi, whose skin seemed to pulse with orange lines against it's pale gray body, almost akin to lava veins upon a mountain side. The battle was hard fought as the Psyker unleashed great acts of Pyromancy, burning and melting the area they fought in, but Sonus never fought without a plan and had set a simple trap for the mad psyker, leading the battle to his victory.
Or the battle of Fiz'ral, an apparent junk world coated in broken metal and scrap, brought to it to be remade into mechanical soldiers for the Empire, this was where Jean Geant held off six limbed behemoths of metal under the command of a mad Smith who led an attack upon the Imperial lines, weapons of different kinds adorned each area where a hand should be as they flailed about in mindless paths of destruction under their insane master. But with his quick thinking and skillful action he managed to slay these beasts of metal and dispose of the mad Dawi.
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The three Legions had convened upon the world of Than Boulagar, what was clearly a world of much value for the Empire of Dark Forges, seeming to be a world of vast cities and an abundance of pits of great flame. And with an extensive defense fleet and many orbital stations, the Legions had to push their own military expertise to the test.
While the Star Knights campaigned in the orbit,fighting the defensive stations, the Eternity Guardians and Lightbringers landed upon the world and began to take the planet itself, defeating cities defended by colossal mechanized guardians of metal and fire, and armies of stone skinned Dawi fighting with both Psyker powers of flame and mechanical precision with their disciplined armies. Their armored formations are more akin to walking tanks with their armor and fire power then lines of soldiers.
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Legate Util Cicero found himself hating the Eternity Guardians the more he fought beside them, they were an arrogant and clearly favored of the damned Imperium, each time he spoke to one he could see their devotion to the overarching rule that stifled his people under their rules, Actium was not the Imperium and yet they could not simply say so, as the Imperium would not abide their "Rebellion"
To counteract these increasing thoughts of anger, he threw himself into battle, his mechanical replacements for the limbs he had lost never quite reacting to the way he wanted and often left him dissatisfied with his performance in battle, even if none of his brothers said anything, he could feel their judgment.
As he fought, his mind turned to his Primarch, how this "Penatince" was unneeded, they were not in the wrong with their actions, he had created a solution to the problems of the Imperium, more enhanced soldiers to utilize sheer strength against their foes. He will admit that the vacant eyes of the Clone Brothers were unsettling to say the least, but the needs of Actium outweighed such thoughts and with them their legion could stand against the unjust Imperium and become fully independent.
But it was not to be, the eyes of their "Emperor" were all seeing and what lord Axinos had thought to be a great accomplishment had turned to ash, each of the many Brothers created were shot like canids and the Legion forced to partake in this farce of "Atonement" and even after it was done, the Lightbringers and Actium will be watched for anymore "Treason"
But he could wait, he was not of notice to the baleful eye of the Imperium, he could act in his father's stead, bring his dream of a greater Actium into light, already he had found other brothers who he could trust with their Father's dream, acting without his knowledge to create the right conditions for their freedom.
Christening themselves the Sons of Axinos, they would ensure that Actium becomes free from the Imperium, no matter the cost.
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Savnok watched the battle from his position, ordering for the Eternity Guard to reinforce the western fronts, watching as they moved around the reclusive Lightbringers. His thoughts turned to said legion and his brother who led them, his Brother Axninos had been secluding himself more and more in the past few weeks they have been fighting these Dawi.
Such matters concerned Savnok, but he allowed his brother his privacy and methods of leading his legion, for they have been effective in combat despite their stand-offishness.
Reports from his Vox alerted him to something occurring that needed his direct orders about what to do about the Northern front, tearing him from his thoughts he looked to the Northern front and saw what was happening. Savnok watched in horror as the Lightbringer section on the Northern front moved without warning and slammed into the eastern front, winning that battle, but leaving the north with only a handful of his own sons to defend it, he quickly called in for his reserve forces to rush to the northern front and reinforce, he himself would also head into the field, leaving command of the wider attacks to Reon Essling.
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After the battle, Savnok found himself angered at his Brother, that action nearly cost far too many lives and was a tactic that could have left them vulnerable to a harsh counter attack by these Dark Forge monstrosities. His privacy be damned, Savnok was going to have words with his reclusive Brother.
Ignoring the requests of the Lightbringer Guards, Savnok stormed into his brother's tent, ready to berate his brother for such a reckless action. The sight before him was of his brother standing in front of a enclosed runic symbol, hovering inside of it was a strange xeno creature
"Brother...this is…you were not supposed to see this." Spoke Axinos in a slightly alarmed tone.
[THE SECOND CHILD APPROACHES US, HOW CURIOUS] "Spoke" the being, with not words but thoughts into Savnok's mind,ignoring the creature for now, Savnok turned to his brother questions alight in his mind.
"Axinos…what is this, what are you doing with this Xeno?" He hoped it was not as it seemed, that his brother had not betrayed the Imperium even further than his actions before.
"You don't understand, they have given me knowledge that will help Actium, The Krell have given me much and-" He began to speak his excuses before Savnok cut him off, his anger at this beginning to rise.
"Helping Actium, what of the safety of the Imperium, do you know that these beings can be trusted? Xeno life will always look to it's own advantages, they do not care for human life."
[THIS ONE SEEMS RELUCTANT/AGGRESSIVE, SHOULD WE TAKE ACTION ONE WHO HEARS?]
"N..no we can still talk, Savnok listen, the Imperium is a fragile peace, i know you hold loyalty in high regard, but listen, the Krell have shown me much of what threats are coming, Stormgard can survive with Actium, you just need to let them show you the right path."
"...I am sorry Axinos, but the lives of the Imperium and mankind are too valuable to allow any threat to exist. The emperor will hear of this, but first this creature must be dealt with." As he stepped to strike the so called Krell with his hammer, Savnok's eyes widened as Axnios stood in front of him.
"I can not let you do this Brother, they offer too much to be sent away, I can see the right path to victory with them and i won't allow it to slip away."
"I see, so it is treason then, as the highest ranking representative of the Emperor of Mankind, it will be my duty to take you to him for this, I will not let you endanger the Imperium for your own selfish gain."
"..Damn your Imperium Savnok"
Sword met hammer as the two battled inside the tent, both Primarchs not letting the other have an inch of ground, blocks and parrys were abundant as they fought, but while both seemed to be unmatched, Savnok himself had not stopped trying to improve himself in combat, his encounters with Eldar have shown him where he lacked and he had sought to fix that.
As Axinos was knocked down by Savnok's strike the floating being inside the runic carvings seemed to watch more intently at the battle.
[ONE WHO HEARS IS UNABLE TO WIN WITHOUT POWER, SECOND CHILD IS STRONG]
Axinos's eyes began to glow intently as a familiar presence of a Psyker began to fill the air, wild warp energy shot out in the tent lashing out at all around it, the Battle continued with Axinos's new power almost overwhelming Savnok, but he stood his ground and with another great swing he crashed his hammer into Axinos , sending him flying towards the rune circle.
Rage seeped off his brother who stood up from being knocked away, his eyes manic and looking for any method to win, before he looked to his side at the "Krell". Before Savnok could stop his brother, Axinos's sword cut through the runes and the energies of the warp began to fill the Air, the being that seemed so small grew in size eclipsing the Primarch it floated behind.
"I will not be your pawn or lesser Savnok, Actium will stand and become a shining beacon that is the envy of all others, hear me Krell, give me the power to destroy my brother and his Imperium!" Time seemed to stretch out as the creature did nothing for a moment before it shifted it's mass towards Axinos.
[AS ONE WHO HEARS REQUESTS] The words seemed to scream out from the air itself as the being ever so placid before reaches out with it's tendrils and surround his brother, the energies of the warp that he projected did not grow stronger, but…weaker.
Despite their conflict the moments prior, Savnok wasted no time trying to remove the tendrils from his Brother, as it became clear that this being was showing it's true colors. The screams coming from Axinos were almost other worldly as space and matter seemed to warp around him.
A harsh wave of force was projected outwards, knocking away Savnok and the tent. What now stood in place of Axinos was little more than his body moving to the tendrils of this Krell, his once vibrant eyes glassy and blank as they gazed out into empty space.
[WE HAVE CLAIMED WHAT IS OURS, NOW IS THE FEAST] The being roared in the minds of all present. Where before the fight between the two primarchs was a battle of skilled warriors, now it was more like an unflinching warrior fighting a storm, Axinos's body moved in unnatural angles and without any fear of harm. Savnok himself had no moment of hesitation, his mind focused on saving his brother from this abomination of the Warp, while the creature fought with no regard to the puppeted body it threw into battle.
As they fought, many Lightbringers watched as this battle occurred, some trying to help Savnok, while others tried to open fire on the creature attached to their primarch. But such actions were for naught, as the wave of force kept any but Savnok from interfering, each strike of his hammer felt like he struck a wall, the creature using his Brother's power like a tool, this only further increased Savnok's rage.
With this Rage he began a new attack focusing on striking the creature puppeting his brother striking with all his might upon the being, he found very little success at first, as the body of Axinos moved to defend the Krell at every turn, but one strike found purchase.
The strike seemed to knock away one of the beasts tendrils from his brother's body, but this seemed to agitate the Krell enough to raise Axinos's blade and swing it downward with energies of warp collecting around it, as it ripped into the air, it sliced open reality and opened a massive tear into the Warp. The creature wasted no time rushing in, dragging the body of his brother with it. He looked upon the wound in reality, a means of going into the warp itself, in any other circumstance he would not be as recklessly as he was about to do, but he would not allow himself to fail and potentially lose his brother.
As he jumped into the wound, it vanished, the entire camp and soon entire Imperial force would be on high alert to find the missing Primarchs, the entire situation becoming unstable, luckily Starscream was able to complete the campaign in their stead
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It would be some days before the two were found, the Black Hands, sons of the Umbral Watch who would find the Aftermath of this battle miles away from the Imperial camp, Savnok himself would be scarred by what had happened, burns of the warp along his back arranged like tendrils of a foul being etched onto his flesh, his once pristine armor was dented and warped in some areas, as if the metal itself was molded like clay into an unrecognizable shape.
While what remained of Axinos would be naught but a hollow husk, his glorious armor now tarnished and broken, face twisted into a dried husk of an endless scream, eyes long since burned away.
It would be Util Cicero of the Lightbringers who would be first to collect the corpse of Axinos, carrying what remained of the proud primarch back to their ships, silent as the grave. Attempts to offer aid or condolences were met with a hateful silence as the precision of Lightbringers only grew in size.
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The suddenness of Axinos's death and exact nature of what had just happened would be kept from the rest of the Legions there, only the Emperor would be told all that had happened from Savnok as his eyes darkened whenever he was asked by his sons.
It would soon become apparent that the Lightbringers, even those who saw the exact circumstances behind their Primarch's disappearance, now held both great resentment and to the Eternity Guardians and their Primarch, who they saw as responsible for not saving their father or in extreme cases holding them responsible for his death.
This hostility from the Lightbringers would soon extend inwardly as without their Primarch to unify them, those who held loyalty to the Imperium and those who held Loyalty to Actium began to distance themselves from each other.
But Savnok had other matters on his mind, the events in the Warp plagued his mind as the last words of Axinos or the creature rang in his head.
"Child of Light, you know nothing of this place or of its rulers, the Fall of Man is coming and one of you will be it's herald, Chosen of the Aberrations."
"There is still much we do not know about our world, it's history, but I know this much, our forbearers would not stand to see a war tear apart the ground beneath our feet"- Governor Malarn Qadar speaking to the People of Rallas IV
There was war under Rallas IV, a war between the Skaven Clans and intruding Ur-Ghuls. And while it only just touched the edge of human occupied settlements, it was far too close for the liking of Governor Malarn Qadar or Reclusiarch Harlen. Already they were preparing for when the War under their feet reached the surface ,once reinforcements from the rest of the legion arrived, they saw a world prepared for invasion from its depths.
The two chapters arriving were the Castigators and the Executors, selected to aid the Luminaries and strengthen Rallas IV against the threats that face both it and the Imperium at large. Upon their arrival and briefing, a plan would be made to send Astartes and Auxiliary forces to the supposed most vital point of this underground war, of course this would mean sending many into unknown territory against foes they know only little about, but the Duty of the Umbral Watch is clear, and the Sons of Alaric will protect their home.
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Lysander Adrois watched as his brothers checked their equipment for the trek into the deeper tunnels of the world, a place only just being understood by the Imperium and Legion if a whole war began in that darkness without notice.
The tunnels that snaked under the Hive Cities of Rallas all seemed to shift in size and make, some were clearly old tunnels that made way to older parts of established settlements for the human population, while others were new and cramped. But in all of them the signs of Skaven and Ur-Ghul combat could be seen, bodies left after a recent or old conflict, what was once Skaven built structures torn down and defaced with what could only be Ur-Ghul action.
The current object he was looking at seemed to be a pillar denoting the strange Skaven language, but splattered across it was a mixture of blood and some kind of dark liquid of unknown origin, the symbols of the Skaven language were covered and defaced with the image of a all consuming maw. However as he observed the pillar, he did not see the ground shift beneath his feet as several pairs of arms grabbed onto his legs and dragged him down a new tunnel.
As he was dragged downwards he quickly drew his chainaxe and cut away at the grasping claws of the Skaven, shrieks of pain and the sound of cutting flesh followed his ceased movement. The area he was in now was darkened, but his helmet's optics were suited to this environment, he could see hunched and furred forms hobble and flee away, their blood leaving a trail towards smaller tunnels.
Before he could follow his optics saw movement from one of the tunnels, a dark shape seemed to dash out of one and rushed towards him, in his reaction he swung his Chainaxe in the shape's path, only for the strike to be deflected by metal and the Shape backing away.The Skaven that dodged his attack was adorned in some kind of sleek leather like material, a harsh metal mask covered it's face that made it seem to hold a manic and cruel grin. It held two blades coated in some kind of green engravings, these blades were of excellent quality if Xeno made and was obvious for their purpose, not for a prolonged fight like his Chainaxe, but a quick and silent death.
He noted that the Green tinted blades of the Skaven seemed to crackle with an odd energy, keeping it in his mind as he kept himself facing the creature, not letting it out of his sight. The cold green lenses of the Skaven's mask betrayed no thought as it rushed forward again, blades
The battle between the two was not clean or something people would describe as honorable, the fight was brutal as so semblance of respect between the two was had, both going for strikes to cripple and brutalize their opponent rather than giving a quick end. Both managing to gain a slight strike to the other every so often
Letting his instincts lead him, he closed his eyes and struck downwards. When he felt resistance of something other than a blade he opened his eyes, he saw the metal mask of the Skaven split apart as the blades of the Chainaxe continued it's path downward through the rat creature's body, before it pushed tough the last of the flesh and struck into the stone floor.
With the Skaven dead and split into half, Lysander let himself and refocus on his surroundings and check his injuries. It would not be long before his brothers found him and with the checking of from the Apothecary, confirmed he was still fit to continue on.
Along the path of the tunnels, many battles like this were fought by Astartes and soldiers alike, fighting Skaven groups that seemed determined to halt their advance, but they would be undaunted. The exit to the tunnels would show the assembled army just what kind of war was being raged benath their world.
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The sight was one that would be burned into the minds of Auxiliary and Astartes alike, a monolithic battle ongoing in a grand chamber the size of an entire Hive. Giant monsters of flesh and metal battle hordes of blue gray xeno warriors, battles of xeno Psykers as they threw their power around without care.
Joining the fray was a simple matter as the Astartes and Imperial soldiers opened fire with their own weapons upon the nearest targets and began to take ground. One such Astartes who was leading his brothers into battle against the Ur-Ghuls was Konrad Hollis
Konrad Hollis could feel his instincts flaring for a single moment, before he dodged out of the way of a blast of energy that seemed to suck in all light, before it struck a nearby wall and Imperial soldier, what happened next was the wall and parts of the soldier being absorbed into an expanding mass of darkness before it collapsed on itself, leaving clean cuts in wall and flesh.
He turned to look at the source of the attack and before him stood a Ur-Ghul, it was adorned in dark robes covering it's lower body and an ornate mask of a Maw covered it's face, unlike others of its kind, it's massive claws seemed to be lessened as several fingers on both hands were missing
With purpose he rushed forward to strike with his Power Mace, hoping to end this fight quickly so as to not risk himself with this Xeno Psyker. The Hunched creature was like many others of it's kind and absurdly agile as it avoided each strike of his Power Mace, before it seemed to slash the air and space around it apart, creating that same light sucking energy in static tears around it.
Forcing his body to shift it's momentum to avoid touching the tears, only lightly grazing one that tore through a small part of his armor and cutting his skin. However this did not stop his advance as he powered through and brought his Mace down in a mighty strike.
A single strike smashed apart the Xeno's mask while it's few claws pierced Konrad's armor upon his entering its space, this did not dissuade him as he brought the mace upwards into the jaw of the Ur-Ghul, sending it flying back and out of his flesh.
The ensuing battle between the two continued, with Konrad battling a death of a thousand cuts just to avoid certain death, and the Ur-Ghul enduring brutal strikes to land precise strikes upon the Astartes.
Releasing a foul shrike, the Xeno struck it's clawed fingers into it's own body, seeming to direct the energy of the Warp through it, not wanting to allow this beast to continue it's foul Psykery, Konrad swung his mace towards the side of the creature, hoping to break it's arm and push it further into it body. However the surge of power coming from the Xeno created a sort of energy that reacted negatively to the Powerfield of the Mace, creating a bright flash that later reports would say they saw from across the entire battlefield.
When he awoke he had found that an Apothecary of his chapter was looking him over, the sting of pain soon followed his wakefulness, a pain ending at where his left arm should have been, what was there was a mangled mass of torn away flesh, bone and armor, the Mace still clutched into what was possibly his hand. The pain continued across his body as it seemed that lines of flesh and armor were in a similar state of having been torn away.
He would live, but he would not see the end of the battle in his condition.
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Reclusiarch Harlen knew that their legion's homeworld held many secrets underneath it's surface, but never would he assume such a place would exist upon it. But he had no time for such thoughts, now was the time for the enemies of man to face judgment. To many his gold plated skull was a source of inspiration and respect, but to the enemies of mankind it is to be their deaths, it was time the Ur-Ghul and Skaven learned this.
The Citadel before him was like a jutting mountain of haphazard metal and wood, sparking with green energy from the foul crystals the Skaven seemed to now employ. But despite it's crue appearance, this is what the Skaven and Ur-Ghul have been fighting over, a point of control for the underground.
Fighting through the Citadel was difficult as each room held Skaven and Ur-Ghul fighting and dying in hundreds, but the Umbral Watch pressed on. Fighting in each room and doing all they could to kill their foes, resorting to unorthodox methods in some cases, like tampering with Skaven Machinery in one room to use as a trap or leading groups of Skaven or Ur-Ghuls into recently bloodied groups of their foes.
Harlan found himself fighting across a bridge of questionable stability before he spotted a giant abomination. The creature seemed to be one of the Skaven's creations, already heavily injured and about to topple over, Harlan did what was most optimal and lept at the beast, stabbing into it with his Power Sword.
He crashed through the wall riding the giant creature, it collapsing with a harsh thud. Before him now was a dark throne room with two figures having paused in their own fight to the death. One a Skaven far more armored and battle trained then others he has seen thus far, it wielded a halberd of sparking green stone with mechanical claws, every movement created noise of some kind.
The other was a Ur-Ghul, who in contrast had a silence to its movements, wearing little armor and covered in markings and scars. Its clawed hands were tipped with metal that emenatied a deep cold from them, upon its side was what seems to be a small grenade type of object, it seemed to leak a black mist
Stepping off the creature's still quivering body, Harlan took in their appearances, and their level of combat that he seemed to have interrupted, it seems he has found the leaders of these Xeno forces. Taking a deep breath and letting himself be open to the possibility of dying, he issued a silent challenge to the two, taking his sword and raising it at them.
The Skaven Warlord snarled and hissed at Harlan, its mechanical parts sparking and smoking as it seemed to shake with uncontrolled rage as it looked to the two foes before it. Harlan could tell it understood his unspoken challenge. The Ur-Ghul seemed to sense his unspoken challenge as it was being made and prepared its own stance, less defensive oriented then Harlan's own, but possibly suited to its race's agile nature and methods of warfare.
The tense air seemed to quiet the ongoing battle outside as the three began to circle each other, looking for the first of them to lower their defense, when all of a sudden the three rushed forward. The battle between the three would be a fight worthy of song had any seen it, three masters of combat and champions of their people fighting in a three way duel to the death. While the Skaven used every trick in its defiled hands to gain the advantage, the Ur-Ghul had fought evasively relying on its unnatural movements and sharp claws to deliver harsh slashes and avoid direct strikes as much as it could.
Claw striking golden mask while power sword clashed with glaive, the three gave no purchase with each other, no strike was made without some form of retaliation. It seemed that this would be a battle of endurance as each warrior was covered in wounds as the battle progressed. The Claws of the Ur-Ghul raked through the Skaven's back, tearing into the mostly augmented Skaven , who answered with a slash of its glaive, the foul energies of the warp burning the Ur-Ghul. But as it was distracted, Harlan acted quickly, slicing through the Skaven's neck and stabbing into the Ur-Ghul in one fluid motion.
As the Ur-Ghul was stabbed through the chest, it ceased its struggle and movement, clearly still alive but…not fighting death. The confusion for Harlan would only continue as the being began to…evaporate, pieces of it decaying off into a black smoke, he could swear the creature was looking at him, even with no eyes he could feel it looking right at him. Before it simply took the sword in it's hand, ignoring the burning and moved it to the side, cutting into a different part. This made the being disappear completely into smoke,and like that, it was gone, no weapon or any true sign it ever existed aside from Harlan's new scars and the dead Skaven Warlord.
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With the taking of the citadel, the whole area was firmly in Imperial hands, the Astartes and Auxiliary began their secondary mission of clearing out all Skaven and Ur-Ghul they could find, under the leadership of Lysander and Konrad, the forces would find many remaining Skaven cities and outposts, but as time went on more and more of these places were abandoned.
As for the Ur-Ghul, after the first battle, they have completely disappeared, leaving little trace or sign they were ever in the world. Something that brought worry to all, twice now these xeno creatures have escaped battle via a means unknown to the Imperium, the question they all thought was where would they resurface next.
Reclusiarch Harlan would return to aiding the interim governor with restoring the Planet to greatness, his orations helping to smooth over the populous worry. His thoughts turned to the Ur-Ghul warrior he fought and how it had simply…collapsed into the shadows.
The War Councils of the Eternity Guard had a broad range, from huge multi-agency conferences taking up vast chambers to intimate and terse back and forths between a handful of chosen individuals to banquets for all the notables of the legion. In this instance however it was merely the high officers stood in a subchamber of the Eternal Guardian's medical wing facing their Primarch who stood up to his neck in a strange blue and yellow fluid as Apothecaries and Servo-Skull flitterered around or worked unseen beneath the tepid surface.
"The Lightbringers are withdrawing to their own ships, they were not in a talking mood and I broke communications before provoking a civil war." Louis Fer explained.
"Wise, If we're going to finish the task we should not announce it beforehand." Jean Geant complimented, a rarity but there was a general aura of uncharacteristic feeling in the room.
"There shall be no violence against the XV Legion. They shall be allowed to go in peace to return their Primarch to Actium and mourn there, it is for the best. The death of a Primarch will bring enough instability, we shall not make things worse." Savnok commanded.
"With respect, Lord Savnok." Reon Essling contradicted his genefather with his usual lack of respect. "The Lightbringers in quantity if nothing else remain one of the strongest legions, not strong enough to defeat us but there are countless worlds between us and Actium, if they choose to take revenge for the execution of their Prim-"
"There was no execution." Savnok corrected firmly. "The Warp Predators and the Xenos who controlled them and orchestrated these events denied us any process or justice."
"Delayed, not denied Lord Savnok." Louis Fer promised. "There are Lightbringers who knew what Axinos was doing and these…Krell remain at large. We will root out the Imperium's enemies without mercy."
"The Eternity Guard will suffer no treason or plot against the Emperor." Reon agreed in an another nearly unprecedented occurrence. "Which brings us back to my original point, right now the XV is concentrated, the bulk of its numbers and quite possibly all those involved in their Primarch's treasonous activities are here. We should strike now and subdue them and begin interrogations."
"They outnumber us greatly, we should call on support, the knights Romantic are closest but perhaps we can delay their departure somehow and allow the Umbral Watch to join us." Fer suggested.
"Are you afraid, Praetorian?" The Captain General asked, all mocking scorn.
"Only that your stupidity might infect me I beat you bloody you arrogant shit." Louis said, fists clenching and crackling with Psykek power.
Jean seemed torn between incredulity and merriment. "I had believed the war was to be with the Lightbringers." He jested, "but I do not complain this will be more amusing to watch."
"Its time both of you learned your place." Reon hissed, hand falling to his sword.
"ENOUGH." Savnok once again interjected, this time cracking the titanium of his tub.
The Officers turned to their Primarchs.
"I had thought the necessity of our penitence would have generated reflection and corrective action amongst you. Clearly I overestimated the three of you. Your lack of discipline, your disloyalty to each other, your arrogance. None of it is acceptable. I will tolerate it no longer. The Imperium has lost a Primarch, it might yet lose a legion, both totally avoidable with even a minimum of discipline or restraint or loyalty. It cannot afford to lose more or I would execute all three of you as a lesson to the rest of the legion. Instead you have one final opportunity to redeem yourselves. We are returning to Imperial space, we shall shadow the Lightbringers until their return to Actium and then I shall make my report to the Emperor and place myself at his disposal. The three of you will spend every waking moment from now until our arrival preparing yourselves to execute his commands whatever they may be. Whenever you are not undertaking your duties you shall report to the Discipline Masters and the Mortal Stewards and undertake whatever menial functions are required of you. The Eternity Guard shall be the finest instrument of the Emperor's will, it shall not be blunted any longer by your compromising arrogance, egotism and ignorance."
Savnok turned his gaze upon Reon Essling, hard emerald eyes boring deep into the Astarte's eyes, daring him to speak, to protest and complain and undermine his authority, daring him to die. When he was satisfied that the challenge was not going to be taken up he rose from the tub, revealing his scarred form, blood and warp energy still oozing from the cracked and broken flesh.
"That is all. Dismissed."
Once they were gone, too bewildered by this unprecedented censure from their father to do anything more than flee, he carefully and painfully donned his uniform, he would need to replace it with something simpler, the legion had grown too fond of ornamentation, something he would need to consider, so many things to think of. For the best, it left less space for memories.
Varil could end this. That wasn't much of a statement in itself. Those few things which she could not end with the blade, she could burn away with the viscous fire of the Warp. The last foe where such a thing was even in doubt had been the Lord of Ursh. Even this Ork, though he may have cracked her bones like a mallet and closed her throat with a grip like iron, was surmountable-- if only Varil had been fool enough to call upon her psychic might.
The Primarch wasn't surprised that she could end this.
She was shocked because she almost wanted to.
Ahurani lay on the ground before her, and she looked like death. Her body had been ripped though by the explosion. Her lungs were flooded by her own blood. Every breath was a struggle to generate pressure, every exhale a forceful gurgle as Ahurani's superhuman physiology, in spite of it all, labored to expel the fluids. The torn and skin which hung off her body like a tattered tapestry and the seeping pool of lifeblood draining into the snow, belied the depths of Ahurani's wounds. Damage so horrible it hid the rest-- broken bones, failing organs, muscles torn through as if they were half-devoured. And none of that was as bad as her wings.
A bird, when kept isolated in captivity, will obsessively tear away its own feathers. They will strip themselves raw in search of relief. That is what Varil saw when she looked at the skeletal bars of flesh splaying out around her sister to which the occasional blood-soaked feather still limply clung.
And Ahurani had been a fool.
Lady Varil crouched over a sister. Her mask, though cracked, betrayed nothing of her thoughts. Her mind remained private, as she willed it should be. She could not isolate herself from the minds of others, but the opposite would not be so easy. It was a… useful state of affairs, in times like this.
Varil's spear rested across her knee, her hand draping across it loosely, or at least with every appearance of being loose. She didn't mean to scare Ahurani. Even though, Lady Varil had to admit to herself, if her sister were still capable of thought at this moment, she should be very afraid.
Varil clicked her tongue. It was the first signal of any thought to escape her mask.
Months of training, and Ahurani threw it all away! For all Varil had told her sister about the importance of restraint, for all Varil had thought the lessons had been heard, Ahurani clearly knew nothing more than she had when they started. She was a child who had burnt herself time and again, who kept returning to the fire. Ahurani claimed to love her sister, but only so much as it let her do what she would have done anyway– to appeal to their love when she took in Xenos, to rip through the Orks while deigning to be disgusted by the battles she chose to fight, to listen to Varil's lessons and then behave like this!
The blade sat heavy on Varil's lap. There was always that solution to a rogue Psyker.
Something had happened during the Ork's final moments. Something had infiltrated her sister's mind. Varil felt it, coiling around Ahurani's soul like a creeping vine. Tying, strangling. It was a psychic wound that claimed to be the voices of the dead. Ahurani, Varil reflected bitterly, could never survive it. She would trust it, and let herself be pulled from the path by her own desire to bathe in grief and self-pity.
Maybe Varil could accept another burden from Ahurani. She could manage this poison in her name, stamp out the weed where it grew and care for the patient. But Lady Varil did not suffer such poisoned Psykers, as a rule. Why should she bend it here, even for her sister?
And yet, whatever venom flowed in her veins, Varil knew it would still be an indulgence. Selfishness on her own part; she didn't want Ahurani to die. Call it a weakness, a sympathy, a pity. The images of Ahurani the Threat and Ahuarni her Sister warred in Varil's mind: duty versus family.
And then, quietly, something reminded her of her promise to her father to tame Ahurani. It did not twist her the way it suspected she would. A few more drops of blood… if things were truly lost, and she would be free of the shameful failure to tame the untamable. And the Emperor would understand. He hated Ahurani. Varil and the Emperor, unburdened.
It was a step too far. Was the thought even hers?
Varil would never know.
But she did know she had sworn to help her sister. She… needed to focus on that. She clouded her mind with the thoughts of reagents and schedules and plans and treatments. Her loathsome will would be dammed and stopped in its flow, rerouted away from fearful plans for murder. She breathed like she was choking as she sent her mind careening away from the idea.
Help. She would help…
Should she help?
Varil felt the crackling pressure of Warpfire building at her fingertips. Biomancy, medicine for the sick. She knew it as well as any other sorcery. She could reach out and knit Ahurani back together, fixing her up like an old aircar, rewinding time until the body, at least, was whole. Maybe this was the only way Ahurani would ever obey her will…
Varil pulled her thumb and forefinger apart, and between them was a thin stream of electric power that held the energy of starstuff.
Ahurani was her weakness. Varil knew she cared too much.
But she didn't care that much.
Varil snapped her fingers shut, ripped apart the psychic conduit connecting herself and the Warp. Her body reverberated like a ringing gong. Though the gathering power tried to flee and manifest itself, Varil clawed it back into her soul. She had promised herself no sorceries. She would not betray herself. Varil could not help Ahurani. Instead, she pushed her spear aside and leaned over the Primarch. Her hand settled across the Warden's face with a microscopic precision. She was careful to be gentle, and careful not to touch where she would further inflame the nerves. As she did, she felt a tremor roll through Ahurani's body.
"The Light was seen across the entire fleet, but none of us beheld majesty at it's presence, merely disgust at what it meant." Unknown Voice of the Ancient upon the Sternrum's Fall Campaign
The War with the Greenskins had consumed much of the south eastern conflicts as of late, drawing in Legions of note, such as the Warriors of Peace or Cosmo Corsairs. But for the Sheildbearers their talents were needed for spreading Imperial rule over lost human worlds, they held to the belief that their inclusion would be unnecessary and acted to continue the pace of the Crusade in other ways.
For they were the soldiers of the Emperor, his faithful weapons to use against the evil's of the galaxy, and under Sampson they would choose a group of worlds near the now renamed The Antonian Sanctuary, formally known as Fortress of Sen.
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The world of Nocoulis was first, it was a world of ruined cities of grandeur and opulence, Human tribes live off the machines that still remain and are in working order. Once the Sheildbearers made their presence known, some fell in line quickly, while others became non-compliant and needed to be made an example of.
Solomon led the attack as the non-compliant humans fought against rightful Imperial rule, and for a while all seemed normal. Astartes warriors made quick work of humans who were barely able to master gunpowder, but then something unexpected came. Eldar warrior sightings soon became rampant as they appeared from nowhere and made battle with the Legion, some being seen to fight alongside the human resistance.
The interference of the Eldar and the apparent familiarity the humans had with the Xenos brought Sampson's full attention to this situation, and while there were few Eldar, he struck with the force of a vengeful angel upon them. Sampson's addition to the battle made all the difference as the resistance was overwhelmed and all Eldar were either dead or had fled.
After the battle, the remaining humans were made to tell Sampson what the Eldar were doing here, and apparently they have recently come to this world to claim some kind of metal that the machines of this world had dug up, a strange gray metal that seemed to be almost fluidlike in some instances.
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With Sampson now aware of a potential Eldar incursion near Imperial space, he continued on his path with a wider suspicion, finding the world of Nedrax Six in a similar situation to Nocoulis. The Eldar were clearly influencing this world, but unlike Nocoulis and its mines, the people instead seemed to grow some kind of herb for the Eldar in vast quantities and to the disgust of the Sheildberers, the human leaders did so willingly.
It would be here that David would unleash divine judgment, targeting Eldar overseers and the human leadership, freeing the people and installing a loyal government for the Imperium of Man. Upon study of the Herb it seemed to be useful for medical uses in humans, but what the Eldar would have needed for it was unknown.
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It would be the third world that the Sheildberers would find the source of the Eldar interference, the world of Sternrum's Fall, orbiting the world like a twisted Moon was something the Primarch only had heard about in reports about Eldar. A giant ship of immense size, more akin to Fortress Monastery of Grayskull used by the Skull Legion then anything he had seen the Eldar use.
There was little time to think on this as soon the Legion fleet would face battle with Eldar ships, their sleek designs and fast movements bringing to mind fish in a great sea avoiding their predators, the Imperial ships in contrast were akin to a herd of powerful beasts, not as nimble but powerful enough to require only one true clean hit to decimate the Eldar ships.
The battle between the smaller Eldar Ships and Legion fleet was spectacular sight, almost akin to a dance of death, but it soon became clear that the Imperial's had far more direct firepower with them, even as they lost ships to Eldar attacks, they would not yield.
It would not be long before alarms of Eldar boarding parties arriving on the ships of the Legion's fleet, soon battles of arms were had across the vast majority of the Legion's ships. The Eldar fought with a fervor that became familiar to the Eleventh legion, it was the same fervor as a human defending their home.
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The command deck of The Fourth Temple prepared in anticipation of the encroaching Eldar attack on their own ship, when the Eldar arrived they found a wave of bolter fire and absolute defense. Joshua would quickly rush to action, his mind nearly fading before he forces it to comply, axe and sword slashing into Eldar warriors as his father smashed the Eldar lines with his weapon.
He knew he had little time before he faded away again, he had to hold himself back once the alarm's had sounded, his duty to guard the Primarch overriding any of his desire to see these Xeno scum dead at his feet. But now that he could fight freely against the Eldar, he let loose those held back feelings and unleashed the Emperor's Fury upon these heathens, letting his vision fade as pure absolution replaced thought.
As he refocused himself he found a new warrior before him, it was different to the others as its red armor was different to the yellow shade others wore, and it had four arms, with two blades and two obvious ranged attachments. It was a strange sight before the Astartes, but the arrival of pain distracted him, it seemed that in his last fade the warrior had sliced into him, Its blades dripped with red from where it had slashed into him. He gave no thought to this as he rushed forward again into battle, however it became clear that while he was a master of the attack, this warrior was a master of offensive defense.
He knew he could not keep the attack as he was, but he had the means to overcome this Xeno, all he had to do was give in to his devotion yet again, letting the dark take his mind and allow his fury to be guided by the divine.
Joshua felt his mind return as he became aware of his situation, his arms were clearly broken in several places and his vision impared as one of his eyes had been cut away. As he looked up, he could see the Eldar was missing one of its arms and clearly was wounded greatly, but it still had one blade and was just about to bring it down on his head. In that moment, he could feel his entire life behind him and with little else he could do he stared defiantly at the Xeno, not giving it the satisfaction of his despair. The blade however was halted as his father's mace had caught the blade mid swing, Sampson of House Barcid no longer was held back by others, he had come to battle.
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Throughout his life, Sampson was asked what gave him his strength and today he has seen it. The sight of his son standing defiant to these xenos even as his own haze of battle closed around him gave Sampson his conviction, he would not give his Legion dishonor by being weak, not when they held such strength within themselves.
The Warrior that nearly struck down his son held firm even as the might of a Primarch was upon them, its remaining bladed arm trembling and nearly breaking under the wight before it raised one of it's lower arms, firing a sort of energy towards the Primarch, who dodged the shot to see the Eldar vanishing away.
Before he could even consider what had just happened, a sharp pain upon his arm was felt as the Eldar lept from the shadows and struck out. The cut upon his arm bled little, his Primarch body more than enough to heal from such a minor wound, Sampson ignored such minor distractions before he stepped forward and began his own attack, the cowardly Xeno was wounded and doing all it could to avoid his strikes.
With great agility it leapt to the wall and rushed towards Sampson, who had raised his weapon in defense before the Eldar vanished like it had before. Despite the Eldar's apparent vanishing, Sampson would not let it trick him again. With an almost supernatural instinct he struck towards the point where the Eldar would appear and with a sickening crunch, all that was left was a smear upon the wall. Not sparing another glance to the Xeno, Sampson went to check his son, who was merely staring out to the battle in space.
Sampson followed his son's gaze towards something he could not explain, space itself seemed to shimmer around the vast Eldar ship, before a great light shone before the fleet. With a swiftness that seemed impossible for its size, the Eldar ship rushed towards the light and in an instant, it had vanished into the light. It was as if they were never there at all, the only things left of them were their dead and broken ships.
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The world of Sternrum's Fall was in Imperial Hands and the Eldar seemed to have been driven off, but Sampson would not be satisfied until he found what the Eldar seemed to be searching for upon the world.
The world of Sternrum's Fall seemed desolate, no signs of human life or anything that would have possibly drawn the Xenos in. For days the Primarch would search, but he found nothing but a world with only basic plant life and sand.
It made no sense to the Primarch, why would the Eldar fight so hard for an empty world, why would they try to situate themselves over this random world, enslaving the nearby worlds for materials and resources. These questions would plague the mind of the Primarch for some time.
"Our worlds have been untouched for thousands of years, the arrival of more flesh to be seeded with our young is welcome" Only Vox Message received by the Knights Romantic
(Written by the wonderful @Mortis Nuntius )
(Just because I remembered @Carstein so you know this is your report)
Reckless, Brash, Courageous, Vicious, Gloryhound, all of these words have been used countless thousand times in praise and condemnation of the first Daughter of the Emperor Aurelia Verona, Grand Princess of Trono. Prudent and Patient? Mayhaps once or twice to describe the fools she tramples over in the charge to victory, but stupid? That was a word used even less, never by anyone who had even the vaguest appreciation of Primarch's razor sharp strategic mind.
Though she would never deign to let her siblings know it, she had paid close attention to their reports of the recent hard fought campaigns in this region of space and made her own efforts at gathering intelligence and of course her own struggles had been significant, everything indicated to her that the probability neared certainty that she would be confronted by some fresh horror once she resumed the campaign and anything less than every effort to strengthen her forces before hand could easily amount to complacency of the fatal kind, and she was not quite ready to die just yet.
Over the course of months she concentrated her legion and its associated forces around the world of Yaredets' Forge. Warships were repaired, Aspirants trained and brought into the fighting companies and most importantly the mighty Sun Gun, now renamed Aurelia's Brilliance and housed in one of the mightiest vessels ever fielded by mankind to date, would come to readiness under Aurelia's watchful gaze. At last she determined that they were ready and in perfect formations two mighty armadas disappeared from existence in the blink of an eye, naively thinking themselves ready for whatever horrors the void held in wait for them.
Aurelia's campaign would take her to a string of worlds of little consequence, poorly defended, barely civilized if inhabited and easily subdued, tempting targets in other words for soon she would learn that she was not the only agent of planetary conquest operating in the region and that the next two worlds in her sights had already fallen to an entirely different and terrible invader. The Slaught, a monstrous race possessing evil and malign intelligence. Initial intelligence reports led to erroneous speculation that they were a warp influenced race due to their hideous nature and technology that violated most common design principles.
Initially little would be learned of these monsters, they were driven from the world Lavar Prime in a matter of days, sporadic and uncoordinated resistance by feeble forces soon left the Knights Romantic in possession of a world of billions of slaves apparently from numerous worlds thrown together to breed and be collected as needed. Aurellia soon lost interest in these retches and after leaving a small garrison behind forgot they existed as she pressed on to the world of Tovag.
Disappointedly, this too seemed to promise a feeble challenge at best, if she was capable of self reflection (which she was not) she would have probably wondered if she had wasted time with her extensive preparations. Fortunately this was not the case and battle was soon joined by a physics defying warship of immense size and incredible speed far superior to any human vessel and well armed enough to deal crippling damage in a single salvo of strange energy weapons.
The warship, designated Behemoth, faced the entire Imperial Armada alone. It was outnumbered over a thousand to one. The fight was terrifyingly uneven. Dozens of smaller ships disintegrated or worse began to engage their former comrades as they found themselves seized by terrifying borders. Cruisers and Battleships would take severe damage in a desperately short period of time as the Behemoth flitted in and out of range in seconds.
Aurelia's admirals were men and women of incredible skill and vast experience but they were completely helpless in the face of this unprecedented threat, she had to take personal command and using all her talents develop a number of counters on the fly. Communicating with the entire fleet at once she sent hundreds of messages in seconds, firing solutions, movement coordinates and numerous complicated orders that would see the Behemoth struck several times, however the damage appeared largely superficial and losses were mounting.
The Obvious solution was Aurelia's Brilliance, the Sun Gun could surely defeat this dread foe in short order. But it seemed somehow aware of its capabilities and never remained in range for long, indeed its only contribution to the early phases of the battle was to charge its primary weapon so large parts of space were denied to the enemy limiting the amount needed to be covered by conventional fire. Still these losses were completely unsustainable and Aurelia knew it was only a matter of time until it turned its attention to destroying her new flagship with dozens of nimble hit and run attacks that she could offer no conventional counter to. Fortunately that still left unconventional counters.
Aurelia gave the command, cyclonic torpedoes, nuclear weapons, even ramming, all targeted against her very own flag ship, multiple decks were punctured or vaporized or melted, hundreds of crew killed or injured, and the great ship stricken by severe damage, but the carefully calibrated shots knocked it several degrees off course and seventeen point four seconds faster than would have been predicted by the Behemoth, to sum effect of this was that the Xenos ship found itself mid zig when it needed to be zagging.
Aurelia smiled as the darkness of space was temporarily abolished and the Galaxy was gifted a new if short lived star. Behemoth floated in the void, devastated and dead in space. Aurelian once again provided the firing solutions, taking her time, savoring each strike as the titanic ship was blasted to pieces chunk by chunk and those pieces targeted in turn until nothing but scorched atoms remained. Aurelia savored this victory only briefly before turning her attention to her next triumph; the conquest of Tovag.
Initial scans and recon flights revealed the world to be a gigantic flesh pit, billions upon billions of lifeforms, human and Xenos packed together in vast camps, pens and shantytowns seemingly without order and surprisingly no recognisable military concentrations. Aurelia had a Primarch's intuition and quickly dismissed suggestions that the enemy had counted on the Behemoth alone in achieving victory. Rather she believed that instead they simply at present lacked the technology and context to discern the enemy's strength and dispositions.
She proposed an elegant alternative, landing the full force of her legion following a titanic orbital bombardment and inspecting the underside of the feet of her Titans after the battle to determine if there was any enemy present.
Compared to the planet shaking bombardments of the Ursh campaign or Federation War the Knight's Romantic was a pale imitation in terms of duration and quantity of ordinance but that does nothing to take away from the utter ruin and carnage it brought to the world below, casualties numbered in the hundreds of millions as landing zones were burned onto the planet's surface. With atmospheric resistance was almost non existent and the initial landings would have no difficulty establishing multiple secured bridgeheads and within hours millions of Bloodsworn, thousands of Astartes and most potently of all no less than seven Titans.
The landing concluded the last coherent and sane portion of the battle, for almost as soon as the armored spearheads moved away from their protective wastelands they found themselves locked in whirlwind of steel and laser as they at last confronted the Slaught in open battle. Emerging from the depths of the world, the wreckage of the prisoner camps, even the corpses of the dead, they swarmed by the million but it was not mere numbers that they brought to the fight but a bewildering array of vehicles and weapons.
Post battle would identify the 'drone' as basica building block, no two were alike but none was less than a two or more than five fee in length and width and each was armed with either a high powered laser or some sort of plasma weapon or electrocuting tendril, but the true threat was in their ability to seamlessly combine with or detach from other drones and change form and purpose into numerous different vehicles and weapons platform depending on the situation. The larger creations possess some unknown form of void shielding, and the only reliable means of destruction was colossal amounts of firepower or close quarter demolition by an Astartes breaking the drones down until nothing remained but shredded worms.
Aurelia was unperturbed by the chaos, if anything she seemed to exalt in it at least to the naked eye, but internally her frustration was growing. She was making every effort to preserve her precious daughters and to a lesser but still notable extent her veteran mortal soldiers and for every one that fell several were wounded and evacuated. A noble effort, but one that was delaying rather than preventing her legion being rendered ineffective on this hell world. She had no intention of bleeding to death as the Lighbringers had so shamefully verged upon months before. She needed an end to this battle and soon, her pride did not allow withdrawal and cyclonic torpedoes but alternatives were growing fewer, it was at the moment, in hindsight suspicious in its timing, that things were growing most desperate that at last her combat analysts identified what they believed to be the nerve center of planetary resistance. Orbital strikes revealed the location to be strongly shielded, a ground assault would be called for.
Aurellia would personally command her complement of Titans supported by the cream of her legion. They forced the breakthrough after an hour of hard fighting, nothing not even the strangely organic and infinitely adaptable technology of these Xenos could stop the sheer firepower of the Titans. The gigatuan war machines of the the Omnissiah thundered onwards causing earthquakes with each mighty step. Those that stood in their way were obliterated in a dozen different ways. Those that ran shared their fate a little later. Aurelia observed it all within the control room as large as her throne room atop the Emperor Class Titan Trono Sanguinem.
They were a mere ten miles out of range of the target when the Xenos sprung their trap, she had underestimated them, the ambush took place a whole second earlier than anticipated. A single mighty war machine, standing several dozen meters taller than even the Trono Sanguinem. Roaring defiantly in some alien tongue, part flesh, part machine, all evil. Aurelia smiled in satisfaction as the pre timed strikes by orbital assets and Stormeagles arrived, even before they had finished Titans unleashed their own mighty arsenal into the vast plume of smoke and dust for good measure.
The chainsword chatter of binary from the crew of her Flag-Titan triumphantly reported that the heretical enemy idol was disintegrating in the face of the Omnissiah's wrath pieces scattering for dozens of kilometers, some striking the various Titans as if in revenge from the grave. The thought killed her mirth in an instant, Aurelia's contentment never lasted, no victory could sate her for very long, but on this occasion it was stolen away from her through the realization that she had in fact walked into a trap after all. She was more enraged than alarmed as the first warning sirens began to scream. They were being boarded, the 'debris' of the enemy Titan had in fact been millions of drones breaking free, now swarming over the dust blinded Titans, breaking down into a foul black ooze seeping through every crack and crevice.
Aurelia personally led the Trono Sanguinem's Skitari to battle the invaders, they fought with the fury of a slighted Princess and the efficiently ruthless religious zeal of the Mechanicum defending the most sacred gift of the Omnissiah but the infiltrators was in their element in the tight confines of the immense machine. The tide shifted back forth, growing most ferocious at the power core and bridge and other critical sections, still in the end it was a rare Xenos indeed that could best a Primarch and on this occasion no such foe was present. However the other Titans were not bolstered by a Primarch, they had to make do with what Astartes could scale the mighty machines mid battle.
By the time Aurelia returned to the bridge the disaster was fully fledged, no less than three titans had be compromised their weapons turned on against the Imperium, two more were falling. Their remaining brothers and sisters in stricken with hesitation. Aurelia did not hesitate, giving the command at once, the enemies must be denied the Titans at all costs, five corrupted TItans was more than enough to turn the tide of the battle planet wide.
The Magos besides her howled in protest, its outrage did not quite die with it, continuing with its rolling head for almost a minute. "Your God Machines are lost to the Xenos, the true heresy here is tolerating this descartation for even a moment longer. Destroy them before I destroy you!" She told them in a tone that brooked no argument. As usual she got her way in the end.
An hour later she stood atop battered Emperor Titan watching five of its lesser brethren burn. The world was well on its way to falling but it was the Slaught who would claim victory, the Legion's losses were, at least temporarily, crippling, although the dead mercifully few and in most cases swiftly replaced the injured were many and the Titans effectively irreplaceable. For now the XX Legion was stopped dead in its tracks. Aurelia surveyed the ruination of her plans, tears falling down perfect cheeks. Her Liliana stood beside her offering a comforting touch to her arms. The Demigod turned to her amused by her misunderstanding.
"Oh beloved, I weep no tears of grief or rage but of joy. Such joy, this will be a terrible war cruelly fought and cruelly won, the greatest I have ever waged, perhaps even one at last worthy of me."
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Ignorant of the trials of his Primarch, Pietro's half of the legion arrived in the outskirts of the Bajor system. On this occasion they find the world still smouldering, for the Slaught it seemed had arrived mere days before and were still herding its shattered populace into cages, selecting them for execution, torture, or favour seemingly upon a whim. The forces of the XX sensing advantage attacked immediately. Fortunately there was no Behemoth present to punish their aggression, however what there was was a fleet of dozens of advanced warships, each nimbler and better armed and more maneuverable than their Imperial counterparts. Pietro had been a study of Aurelia herself and was second in ability only to her, this however was naturally a distant second and he found himself stretched to his absolute limit commanding a chaotic and multifaceted battle against what was increasingly clear was a superior enemy that he knew nothing about.
Typical boarding tactics proved impractical, the enemy was too fast and on rare occasions they took enough damage or were mischanced into boarding range the interiors of their ships proved to be shifting mazes that were deadly even to Astartes. The only answer was brute force and superior numbers slowly grinding the enemy down and at a steep price. The bitter consolation prize was an easy conquest of the world thereafter, for the Xenos were spread across its surface without foritication or strategy. The fighting was hard but one sided and the XX was left with another pyrrhic victory, their fleet having taken serious losses and with not a single ship amongst it undamaged.
It was now beyond doubt that this mysterious slice of space was home to one of the deadliest enemies the Imperium had ever faced and certainly ever faced by a single unsupported legion. Yet the as the XX licked their wounds and considered their options, no one who knew its Primarch in even passing fashion had any illusions that she would accept anything less than complete victory and revenge for the grievous losses suffered by her beloved subjects and other insults.
"When the Skull Legion came to us, i was hesitant, their talks of the Imperium seemed far too good to be true, but their leader, she gave a good enough reason for us to join...and everyday i am thankful that war did not occur, seeing their weapons now...we would not last" Personal Writings of Governor Issiha Thurson of Azerium from "Tales of Imperial Compliance "
(Written by the wonderful @Princess_Hex
It is true that an astartes is made for war, they are the weapon in the Emperor's hands as he carves out the Imperium amongst the stars. To be an astartes is to fight, to crush the enemies of mankind, to never waver under the most difficult of conditions. There is nothing else that an astartes can be, it is their life's calling.
Yet within the beating hearts of each astartes lies the soul of as human, one that can be fatigued by relentless bloodshed. For many legions this is a weakness, to be crushed by iron discipline and lust for bloodshed. It is a testament to the kindness of Adaam that this is not the case in the Skull Legion. No one could ever accuse the first legion of cowardice or of shying away from a fight, but their primarch was sure to take great pains to make sure that they kept their humanity intact throughout the great crusade. So it was that the brutal violence of the push that defeated the Twinfist was followed by a period of rest, to allow spirits to heal, to let them express their duty in a way that builds the Imperium up, not just by tearing their enemies down.
Their target was a small pocket of human worlds that had been left behind in the rush to tackle the ork menace. Three lost colonies, islands of humanity lost amongst the sea of stars for far too long and now could be brought into the fold with diplomacy and understanding.
Adaam landed on the world of Roycl III, a world dominated by frigid tundra's and dense evergreen forests. The people there had made a simple life for themselves, having abandoned many of the trappings of civilization that the people of the Imperium held dear. When Adaam approached them, they appraised him as a warrior more than as an emissary of an imperium beyond their comprehension.
The people of Roycl III had little use for talk of togetherness, of grand plans and high minded ideals. Their culture was one of cold realities, of the might of one's sword arm above any pretty words from a diplomat or scholar. If they were to join the Imperium, they would need to judge it worthy by testing its chosen champion.
The tests became a spectacle, people from across the world gathering to see the Imperium's champion tested. The Skull Legionnaires that Adaam brought with him were given the chance to partake in the festivities as if they were family. Ale flowed like water, food roasted on great fires to feed the masses all gathered for a spectacle that was sure to be once in a life time.
The first test was one for speed. No hunter, no warrior could survive if they were slow. Adaam took to the starting line alongside a dozen runners from the tribes, each one a powerful specimen of humanity. Many of the tribespeople were malnourished, their bodies shrunken from the tough life on their world, but they had put their trust and love and care into these champions and nurtured them like treasures until they had grown into incredible athletes.
When the signal was given, the race began. Running through the snow is no easy feat even for the most powerful of men but these champions sped across the snow with ease. They moved like predators, and even some of the astartes could not help but bee impressed by their form and grace. A shame then, that Adaam was beyond them, easily crossing the distance to the finish line before any of the runners had even gotten close.
Undaunted, the people of Roycl III prepared the second challenge, a challenge of power. One by one champions from the tribes approach heed Adaam. Where the runners had been lithe and agile these were brutes, tribespeople who could carry the heavy loads needed by the tribe so that the weak could walk unburdened. Yet their burdens were small indeed compared to the heavy weight upon Adaam's shoulders every day, and none were able to best him.
Adaam was told that the final test was a surprise, and he was forced to wait throughout the evening with nary a clue what was coming next. finally, a warrior came to fetch him from his tent, and he was shown to a large pavilion, an impromptu feast hall set up just for this occasion. The inside was warm, inviting, the sounds of merriment and laughter suffused the air and made Adaam feel safe. It was clear the last challenge would be no threat, though he couldn't take it lightly.
"The last test," proclaimed the great chief, "Is a test of spirit! Friend Adaam, drink from the horn of mead until it is empty without pausing and you will make of us an ally and forever friends.
Adaam sat at the head of the table with many expectant eyes on him. The horn in quest sat in a special holder square in front of him and brimmed with mead. Clearly it had come from some great beast,. but the lungs of a primarch were much stronger than of mortal men. He began to drink.
And drink...
And drink...
Eventually even his constitution could take no more and he was forced to pull away for air. He did so to uproarious laughter and applause that shocked and confused him. The horn was just as full of mead as when he had begun.
A strong hand patted his back as the Great chief stood next to him. "A special horn for a special guest, eh friend?"
Adaam took another look at the horn, and now saw the tube coming from the bottom which had previously been hidden by the stand. Realizing he had been tricked, Adaam laughed along with his hosts. He would leave Roycl III with warm memories and a world brought happily into compliance.
Teela did not find such a warm welcome upon Azerium. While the people there still lived in modern, beautiful cities, they were wary of outsiders and she wasn't given permission to visit. Her instincts flashed when she received the message, months of combat having prepared her for what should be done with non-compliant peoples.
But Teela calmed herself. There was a time for bloodshed, a place. These were just people, they were probably frightened of her and what she may mean to their way of life. How could they not be? The call for the Imperium was overwhelming, and for a quiet world like Azerium that may just be more than they were prepared to handle. Her grip on her combat knife eased, she could do this, she could find the way through.
So the Skull Legion did not land in any cities, they landed in a clearing among the world's many forests and ravines, and sent out thee message that they would like to get to know the locals at whatever pace worked for the people of Azerium. Results came slowly, but soon the Skull Legion was gretting guests every few days. Teela had prepared her troops well, and the visitors were met with kindness and openness. A patience that wore away the barrier put up by the Azerians. Soon enough there was a permanent diplomatic presence established with the major world governments and talks began. It was no complete victory, and Azeium would retain a great degree of autonomy, but it was thanks to Teela's patience and kindness that bloodshed was avoided.
The final world was Seion VI, a gas giant. The inhabitants lived in mighty floating cities that rode above the turmoil of the gasses below and used the bounteous elemental resources for fuel and power. Adaam and Teela arrived to the world together and they were welcomed hesitantly. Yet between Adaam's earnest charm and Teela's keen political mind the floating cities soon found themselves brought into the Imperium peacefully and joyously. A union made under the prismatic Seionian sunset with raucous celebration.
Not all of the Skull Legion had the luxury of such easy and peaceful tasks. Duncan had been given the task for defending two worlds: Noxcal and Gonast IX. They had been fortified well and the raids that had come their way had so far been weathered well. The Skull Legion was feared in combat for a reason and they had ample opportunity to showcase their prowess. The lessons from the books written by their primarch came in handy time and again in holding off the minor ork incursions into their space, but they were never truly pressed beyond what they were capable of handling easily.
That changed, after the death of the Twinfist. Suddenly, what had felt like light pressure to test the integrity of the front ramped up massively in intensity. No longer were these parts of a much larger force, these were concentrated expressions of an army's might being focused upon the two worlds under Duncan's protection. Waves of greenskins smashed into the defenders, but time and experience showed their merits and even this was held back without much trouble. Still, the change was worrying, Duncan knew enough to know that it could only mean one thing. New warbosses were rising to take the place of the Twinfist and they were gathering forces under their banner while looking to make their names legend amongst the orks of the shattered empire.
Knowing his primarch would need all the information he could get, Duncan toured the fortifications and talked to the soldiers on the ground. Much of what he learned was of little use: small quirks in tactics in individual warbands, changes in battle cries that had been known for millennia. Yet three names came up often enough to be noteworthy. Gab'smasha the Red, Zagog Iron-Eyez, and Gorekrak. These were the warbosses coordinating these new attacks, and most likely fighting amongst each other. The Skull Legion would doubtless be thankful for the knowledge in the months to come.
Tylan Cios "The Enraged Count"
"Life is all a contest of strength and power, through my bloodshed i gain more and more for my standing then i would playing the games of court. It truly is an experiance of the most tantalizing designs, to watch the Mon-Khigh realize that there is no Heroes coming to save them."
Worlds under Imperial rule were under attack by foul Eldar, and the call for aid was heard by many. Under the command of Alhirad of the Crimson Gryphons and Gambit Kryis of the Skull Legion, a combined force of eight thousand Astartes would be sent to defeat the Eldar attackers and rescue the worlds of the Imperium from the Xeno's barbarism.
The first world to be rescued by this combined force would be the frozen land of Rus, facing the Enraged Count and his bloody rampage.
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The World of Rus was a harsh and cold Hive world, the great hives being the only source of heat upon the surface of the planet. But out of these harsh conditions came loyal working people that were a boon to both the manufacturing of strategic materials and offering soldiers to the Imperial Army. Rus had such loyalty that each hive city had marked a large portion of it with the Imperial Aquila, able to be seen for miles.
But what decorated the cities now was vast frozen splatters of blood and death, for the Eldar had come to butcher the people of Rus with no reason or purpose besides simple bloodshed. Something that would not stand to the noble Astartes or the Imperium, but when they entered the system they found no waiting eldar fleet, nor did it seem any had ever entered the system.
Ignoring this odd occurrence for the time being, the Astartes forces began to land upon the planet. Reaching the surface however proved more challenging for the Eldar had dug into the world and set up plenty of defenses in the time. But a saving grace to the Imperials was that the people of Rus still fought the invaders and provided the Astartes lines to be inserted into for their own attacks.
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To Ser Kryis, the sight of so many frozen and dead bodies strewn about with little care and active malice enraged the noble soul. He had heard of the Eldar's cruelty and had prepared himself for when he saw it, but even he could not be prepared for the sickening sites of the dead left to freeze with their blood pooled around them.
He and his Skull Legion brothers rode ahead of the lines upon their noble Battle Cats, eager to avenge the dead of this world, and they would find battle. Raiding Eldar camps were broken and slaves freed, groups of Eldar were killed to the last and lines of human soldiers were defended.
Everywhere he went, Ser Kryis did as his teachers have taught him, lived by honor and glory, doing what he could to emulate the heroes of Old Eternia and live as a Knight for justice fighting the monsters of the stars. In contrast to his path of the Knight, his cousins in the Crimson Gryphons were led by one who walked a path of a lone champion, over the journey he had heard many tales about the champion of the Gryphons and of his accomplishments.
But to see it in person was another story, he almost swam through the bodies of the Eldar warriors. Truly the Terren born Marine was deserving of his title from his brothers, for he left a trail of blood in his wake. But despite his brutal fighting, there was a honor to his methods, he never stood down from a challenge and Ser Kryis had seen him use his great frame to defend his brothers and other soldiers on the front lines, so it was decided that Kryis would learn from the example of the old Marine and work even harder.
Before them was the tower of the planetary governor, a great frozen deluge of blood covered the top of the tower, the remaining Human resistance upon the planet had told them that the leading force of the attack, the "Enraged Count" was there, and it was the duty of both Astartes to end this bloodshed once and for all.
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Tylan Cios found that the Mon-Khigh of this world were an unenjoyable lot, their agony kept inside and subdued with a grim nature one gains from living and dying upon this frozen rock,
It was a disappointment to many of his warriors, but it did not matter, not when their work was nearing completion and the blood was running deep into the ice of this world, a baptism of carnage and pain for his dark masters.
When the reports came that the Mon-Khigh gene warriors had come, this had given him a chance to fully embrace his role as harbinger of the Master of Empires, to anoint this world in the unworthy blood of his lessers, so that his master will be pleased.
The Mon-Khigh before him was one of the planetary defenders, one of their leaders if he was correct, captured and now brought before him, hanging from the ceiling near a broken window, the cold air of the planet clearly did not agree with him, already blackened fingers and toes called to Cylan, but he had to properly proceed with the trial. He lifted the Mon-Khigh's face to his, the claws of his gauntlet digging into the skin of the wretch.
"Do you Mon-Khigh submit to your betters and pledge yourself to my house in service, as payment for the warriors you had taken from me." He knew that this lesser being would answer the same as all the others and he prepared his blade for its use.
"D..damn..you.." spat out the creature, a shame, its spirit would have made it a grand servant had it submitted.
"Defiance, the sentence is clear then, execution." His blade needed no extra force to cut through the lesser being's neck. The resulting shower of blood coated his already red stained body, he could feel the deep satisfaction in this act, for he was the actor of his God's will and all around him his work was clear.
The Nine Pointed Eye upon his chest burned with approval and desire for more blood to be split, a desire he would gladly indulge but this world was running low on lesser Mon-Khigh slaves, perhaps these "Astartes" would be a far grander offering.
As he contemplated, his chamber doors were burst open by the fire of Mon-Khigh weapons, his warriors' lifeless bodies collapsing as the shots tore through them as two rushing forms stood before him. The two Mon-Khigh before him were clearly of different groups and standing, one bearing the marks of a true warrior, or as close their feeble kind can reach, and the other held himself like one of the treasonous and self righteous Craftworlders of Altansar or Yme-Loc.
His grip tightened upon his sword as they approached, one wielding a greatsword that sparked with their primitive energy, while the other had a shield with that same energy and a Hammer weapon that infuriated the Eldar further, such a brutish weapon that the priests of the shattered god would use, always made Tylan, a true believer in the Pantheon Devourer, enraged at the blasphemy.
There was no need for words to be said, the three knew such a thing would not be needed as the three rushed forward and began the clash. The Fight between Tylan and the Astartes would be told as stories by the people of Rus for centuries, two noble warriors, one of the greatest warriors of the Imperium and a knight almost torn from the old stories and remade into a true servant of the Imperium. Both of them fighting against a icon of depravity and bloodshed, the battle would be many attempts to gain an opening to attack, while fending off devastating blows.
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The battle continued for sometime, the Eldar was a master of the blade but so was Alhirad, and with Gambit Kryis's stalwart defense, the two fought together with a small open vox channel to the two, both informing the other of their intentions and where the Eldar seemed to be focusing.
The blood covered floor made each movement obvious as the human waist high blood was kept at a near freezing point, but to the three combatants this was inconsequential. As the battle progressed it became clear the Eldar grew more and more enraged, soon he began howling in sheer anger with intent to tear apart the Astartes, it was only after a clear hit from Gambit that made a loud crack of the Eldar's leg that things turned.
The Eldar turned to face Gambit Kryis and began an assault of frenzied rage, Gambit Kryis blocked each strike as best he could, but he was unable to deflect the tendrils of blood from grabbing him and holding him to the wall. Leaving Alhirad to face the Eldar alone, but as expected of such a warrior, he stood firm and readied for the Eldar's attacks.
It was a clash of two masters, and with one single move the battle ended. Alhirad pulled free his sword from the chest of the still standing Eldar, who dropped his own blades and fell to the ground, collapsing and remaining still. A far cry from the screaming berserker he had been just a few minutes before.
Gambit Kryis recovered from his position, the Eldar's death freeing the Psychic grasp upon him as the tendrils of blood returned to a liquid. The Astartes landed on his feet and came to stand next to Alhirad, who simply checked his sword for damage, a simple nod was all that was needed before the two left the blood soaked room to continue the fight elsewhere.
With the Count dead and a majority of the Eldar defeated, Rus was firmly in Imperial hands once again. Though the cost was heavy,more than eighty percent of the planetary population was either missing or dead, a bitter victory if there ever was one as the remaining people of Rus work to rebuild their homes.
But for the combined force of Astartes, their work was not yet done, for they were needed on other worlds such as Atlas and Hemwick and swearing to themselves that they would not allow another world to face this many dead again, they left to fight the monsters of the stars.
"The Orks are a crude and violent foe, one I fear may never be truly defeated if we can not salt every source of their foul spores. Yet only none of the supposed greatest of mankind think to turn to methods to stem the tide, trusting either their skill in warfare or methods of biology, my mind is becoming increasingly wasted on this Alliance...yet they will be needed in the troubles to come" -Personal logs of Fabricator General Kelbor-Hal
Near what was once the world of control of the Angry One, non Imperial space was rife with conflict, Ork Warbands fought to establish control. Splintered from the WAAGGHHH and escaping Imperial retribution, they have fought and grown since then. Only the nearby Warboss Gaz'mash Git-Carver, held permanent power with his forming Waaaggghhh, yes the worlds of mankind were faced with great distress, but just as it seemed to be at it's lowest, hope appeared.
It was the combination of unlikely occurrences that brought three forces of three different Legions to this place to do battle with this lawless and wild space. First of the Three was members of the Coldiron Cages, coming to the west to help stabilize the region and bring the nearby known Forge world into Imperial Compliance, under the leadership of captain Philia the Handmaiden.
The Second of the three would be the Wardens of the Blessed Heart led by Rasantat, they were continuing their mission to bring worlds into the Imperium from the edges of space, now returning to face Orks of the region once again.
Lastly and most certainly not least would be members of the Doves of War, under the command of Itkara-1, seeking out Orks and other Greenskins for their Legion's experiments. Together these three forces would battle with the Orks of the region and defeat the Warboss Gaz'mash.
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The attack on Faust V would herald the beginning of the Coldiron's attack, a world of harsh marshes used by local orks to breed larger and larger Squigs, Philia would lead her sisters against the Orks in a brutal quick strike that decimated the ork's leadership, they bombarded the planet, burning many of the Marshlands.
They would spend little time in ensuring the complete eradication of the Orks on the world, as they had other purposes then simply killing Orks. They would make their way to the Forgeworld of Nix'tec II, already it seemed having to defend itself from the encroaching Orks. Philia would meet with the Fabrication General who was more than happy to ally with those who could fix the Greenskin menace, pledging his support and aid.
With this new aid from the Mechanicus, the Coldirons would quickly establish a zone of control and work towards destroying Ork Groups around them.
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Itkara-1 made note of how quickly her flesh eater pathogen worked through the Ork lines, and how quickly the creatures seemed to overcome the limitation, honestly fascinating. She and her brothers and sisters had found a sizable Ork population upon the world of Ozal IV and were quickly preparing for the experiments their Primarchs had ordered.
While the Wardens and Coldirons fought the Ork Hordes openly and honorably, the reclusive members of the Doves of War Legion fielded their own methods and operations capturing Orks and performing battlefield tests of their latest projects. For their remaining days, the Auxiliary who saw the methods of the Doves experienced a new form of Trans-human dread in regards to the Doves of War. Truly the experiments would provide excellent data for their Primarchs, both success and failure.
(To Be Continued in Misc Reports…Dear God the Doves did some things this time)
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Rasantat and her sisters would be the most spread out of the three forces, feilding their expertise across many sites of battle, rushing in to aid like Avenging Angels, a title that would quickly become a name for Rasantat and her Sisters to unite under.
The Wardens of the Blessed Heart would face battle upon the plains of Klorr against speedfreaks, they would be instrumental in fending off a Ork Invasion of Infaphin III, organizing a grand defense of the world against the Orkish Stompas.
However while they had found success against the minor warbands, the WAAGGGHH of Gaz'mash held against attacks from the Wardens even as more of their force united to attack. This of course would lead to a proposal of a three pronged attack on Warboss Gaz'mash in the system of Meratel with the other two Legions providing support..
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The world of Meratel was a Gas Giant, siphoned by Gaz'mash's WAAAGGGHHH for it's Burning fuel. The Orks had surrounded the Gas Giant with ships and a single station still being constructed by Grots and lower ranked boyz, it it was to be completed, then the Orks would become far more powerful and pose a threat to the west of the Imperium.
But the arrival of a combined legion fleet would smother this growing threat before it could go further. The battle in space would be one of speed, the number of Ork Ships was greater than Imperial vessels, but with aid from Mechanicus reinforcements and the determination of the Imperial Navy officers, they would begin to maintain superiority and were able to launch the second phase of the attack. Many boarding pods would breach the hull of the Ork station and unleash forces of the three Legions, ready for battle.
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Gaz'mash Git-Carver had longed for when the 'Ummies would return to give a propa fight, and he was not disappointed with what had come to fight him, three different kinds of 'Ummies. The Black ones he had fought before, hard to really put down and some of them got real mad sometimes.
Some Weird ones, dressed in purple,but not sneaky. Eh, must have been a 'Ummie' thing to dress their Weird Boyz in Purple. A right good trick, but no matter they still were a good fight, kept being around some real weird ones,made his boyz heads hurt whenever they got near
The last ones gave Gaz'mash some very bad feelings, 'Ummies like them Mad Doks with their stabby bits. Red and White, unnatural like they was. But they would be good fighting either way and as soon as the station rumbled from boarding impacts he and his boys rushed to meet combat. He and his nobs rushed to where the fighting was harshest, Gaz'mash could feel his blood pump harder and his eyes scanned the battle in the halls.
Two 'Ummies in particular stood out to him, a Stormboy like one and a Weird Boy. They got a lot more shiny things and were giving his boyz a right good scrap, so he did as was proper and bellowed out a shout of WAAGGGGHHHHH and cut his way to them. Past Ork and Astartes his Choppa would cleave to his chosen fight, nearly cutting in twain Philla and only being redirected by Rasantat's clean shot.
The Battle between the three beings was short but eventful, Gaz'mash for all his inexperience compared to other deadly Warbosses the Imperium had faced, was still a physical threat to any warrior of the Imperium. Nearly barreling through the two Astartes with his bulk, but the nimble natures of Philia and Rasantat kept them one step ahead of the Ork's swings.
Rasantat would keep to the sky unleashing bolter shot after bolter shot attempting to end the fight quickly, only to be deflected by armor or blade. Philia for her part would attempt close quarters combat with her combat knife, gaining several cuts upon the Greenskin but nothing substantial would stick.
Gaz'mash would bellow out and knock Philia aside with the flat of his blade before taking a shot at Rasantat, unleashing a hail of gun fire that forced the Astartes to land and take better cover, however the Ork was far quicker then her and rushed forward with his Choppa ready to swing. Unseen by the Ork, a glow began to emanate from Philia's eyes, one of great power.
The Ork's Choppa began to glow a burning white, alighting its hand and forcing it to drop the crude blade, this gave Rasantat an opening to begin another salvo of bolter fire. However unlike before, this truly caught Gaz'mash unaware, the Ork did not even make a sound as bolter fire tore into his body and head leaving a hole filled body to collapse upon the station's floor.
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And thus, with brutal application of force and cunning, the majority of the Ork Warbands had collapsed, leaving only minor bands on worlds for Dove Study or feral populations that would need a regular culling by the Imperial citizenry.
But for the Astartes, they had completed their tasks and brought more worlds into the Imperium and out of the Hands of the foul Orks.
The aftermath of the Primarchs' tumultuous meeting could at best be called a controlled panic. Commander Marcion scanned the ash plains and sulfurous pits for any sign of Lords Savnok and Axinos. The Second Legion and the Lightbringers were almost to the point of open war. Neither side willing to cooperate and both were blaming the other. Reon Essling's caustic remarks and open threats should their Primarch not be discovered had had blades bared openly against their cousins. Most surprising was how the other Commanders of the Second fell in behind him, all internal strife and tension forgotten in the face of their betrayal.
Betrayal it was, though it was not yet the time for culling as all the information had yet to present itself or be rooted out. Fact, Primarch Savnok had barged into a private meeting with his brother Axinos despite resistance by his guards. Fact, Primarch Axinos had emerged from the command tent with an unknown xeno puppeting him and Primarch Savnok and the Astartes present attempting to slay the creature. Fact, The beast had opened a warp rift and attempted escape with Primarch Axinos and Primarch Savnok had pursued. Theoretical, The Primarch Axinos had been parlaying with the xenos before Lord Savnok's interruption and the creature had assaulted the Primarchs. Theoretical, The creature was an assassin and had struck while the Primarchs were in counsel. So many unknowns, so much pressure waiting to boil over into an inter-legion conflict out here in these forsaken stars.
Marcion hailed his brothers, "Are the wards in place?"
"Almost Commander, The Warp is uneasy and our scrying is hampered by both the eddies of the otherside and our precautions.". Came the reply of Librarian Lorn. He and his peers stood in meticulously carved hexagrams and arcane circles as their more mundane brothers scoured the hellish mockery of a Forgeworld.
"Necessary ones, I am uneager to see our brothers meet the fate of the Primarch."
"We will be vigilant Commander. Rest assured Lord Savnok is on world. All three Legions' Psykers and those mortal ones in our fleets agree. We simply have to find him."
"You did not mention Lord Axinos?"
The honored Librarian's silence was damning all its own.
At length the ritual began and Marcion watched with a company of his brothers all with weapons leveled to their psionic kin should the strange xenos attack the ritual site.
The temperature plummeted and hoarfrost covered the plane as the Umbral Watch bent reality to locate their uncle. Witchfire blazed from helms and under psychic hoods as dozens of post-human psykers parted the veil.
"Commander!", the unified voices of the Librarians spoke as one. "We have found them."
+++
The only way to describe the scene was desolate, the pair of them lay together, scarred and burned and grievously injured, the finest wargear the Imperium had to offer reduced to scrap metal serving as broken and melted coffin, the ground and air around them remained charred and charged with intense warp energy and even the non Psykers present could feel the overpowering sense of wrongness smothering the entire area.
Savnok was sitting, staring sightlessly at something beyond the horizon, his brother's shriveled head rested against his thigh, of the Xenos there was no sign but its handiwork was tragically obvious.
The Servo skulls were the first to see the sight, followed shortly by gunships and Land Speeders. Marcion landed first with the Culter Dei teams at his back as they approached the scene. Lord Savnok didn't even turn his head to acknowledge them. Marcion sent a short message for his kin to maintain distance and he approached the Primarchs.
"Lord Savnok, aid has arrived."
The Primarch nodded wordlessly, rising to his feet and carrying the broken thing in his arms.
As the Primarch walked silently to the waiting Gunship Marcion surveyed the field. At length he spied the hammer his father had crafted Lord Savnok, covered in soot, its haft scarred and grooved as if gripped by a barbed mechandrite. It was still whole however and the Commander picked it up and began humming rites to sanctify its machine spirit as he followed the Primarch. Now, he thought, we just have to stop the Eternity Guard and Lightbringers from killing each other.
"How long have I been absent?" Savnok demanded.
"Several days, things have been…tense in the absence of yourself and Lord Axinos."
"I need a full situation report, and forewarn Captain General Essling of my return, tell him to prepare for a potentially violent reaction on the part of the Lightbringers."
"It shall be done, My Lord Primarch."
Marcion accessed the Legion's battlenet with a thought and sent communiques to their comrades.
+Lords Axinos and Savnok have been located. Returning to rally point.+
On the private channel between the Sixth and Second he sent another message.
+Lord Axinos has been slain by the Xeno, Lord Savnok advises a heightened state of readiness should the Lightbringers turn hostile.+
He studiously ignored the insult that was the communications servitor's reply instead of a techmarine of the Second. They'd get the message soon enough and the Watch had learned to tolerate the feelings of their cousins on their presence. Their Father after all favored them while being critical of their own efforts and resentment festered. Ironically he'd favor them if they cast off their pretensions and became the efficient war machines they infuriatingly showed the promise of in their best moments.
Lord Savnok continued to stare into the middle distance and refused to relinquish Lord Axinos's body to the Apothecary. Marcion passed Gutripper on to a Technomancer who immediately began warbling binaric prayer and repair rites upon the maligned weapon. Marcion came to stand before the sitting Primarch.
"Messages dispatched My Lord Primarch, how shall we proceed?"
"The campaign is almost done. Lord Starscream will see its conclusion in short order , I shall have to open communications with my father. We will need to return to the Imperium first in short order. However in the meantime we shall adopt a full communications blackout and deal with any insurrection in the vicinity with maximum prejudice."
Marcion was already relaying orders to his brothers and sending data packets of the Lightbringers' Officers for the Culter Teams to dispatch should it become necessary. His next message had the Blackout order being transmitted to the entire Expeditionary Fleet. He noted that the communications hub was filled with responses demanding answers and to speak with the Primarchs immediately.
"Acknowledged My Lord, but it will require your personal command to ensure the elements besides our own adhere to it."
Savnok paused in contemplation. "I shall issue the command once we have reunited with my legion. It may well provoke conflict in and of itself."
"We will stand with you Lord. Should I send for reinforcements from the rest of the Watch? Lord Alaric has issued us orders to disperse and secure the Imperium's interior, but we can reconvene and redeploy as soon as possible?"
"No. It would take them weeks to arrive, perhaps months, the battle would be decided by then and in the meantime it would leave the Knights Romantic as the sole legion in the entire North West." Savnok frowned, "We were spread thinly before, now…I must ensure the Lightbringers do not revolt, they will not abandon their father once we have arrived and made preparations I shall inform Legate Util Cicero what has befallen his genefather, he will come, I will make him see reason."
"As you command My Lord Primarch. Should he not see reason, shall we move to subdue the rebellious elements immediately?"
"We will have no choice, Axinos' folly has cost us too much already but an entire legion…that can only promise catastrophe. They will remain loyal to the Imperium or they will be destroyed like any other enemy."
"By your Command." Turning Marcion sent more orders across the battle net and the Watch made ready to strike swiftly and resolutely if necessary.
The Eternity Guard may have often fallen short of their Primarch's exacting standards but they were still second to none within the Adeptus Astartes and even before the craft carrying the Primarchs living and dead touched down near their primary fortified encampment it was joined in the skies by hundreds of fighters and bombers whilst the ground was muted but intense hive of activity, much of which concealed in a labyrinth of trenches and bunkers.
The Officers were waiting.
"Father, it is good to see you alive!" Jean exclaimed.
Louis Fer looked upon Axinos' body, still in Savnok's arms. "Though we carry your loss with us, heavy as it is, whatever the circumstances a fallen brother is always a tragedy."
"Tragedies are fate, this was preventable, his own doing and his own just rewards." Reon Essling dismissed. "Put his head on a spike as a warning to other traitors."
Savnok said nothing, waiting for them to fall silent, which eventually they did, feeling the pressure build by the Primarch's presence, battered and bloodied as he was.
"The Lightbringers will come to claim what is theirs. We must be ready for any eventuality, no one is to so much as speak without my express command. This is the most vital and dangerous hour in the Imperium's history and none of us can fall short today. There is zero room for error, either XV legion is pacified through peaceful means or it is utterly destroyed but that decision is mine to make and no one else's, the consequences of disobedience in this matter will be immediate execution, is that understood?"
Louis agreed first and in plain language, Jean swore an oath on his sword but Reon Essling met his father's gaze for the longest and most dangerously pregnant of moments before eventually allowing only a curt nod before striding off.
Savnok turned to Marcion, "That extends to you and your battle brothers as well. Do nothing that can amount to a provocation, that includes infiltration and reconnaissance, if they suspect a decapitation strike they will strike first."
"Acknowledged Lord Primarch.", with a salute Marcion relayed the orders and stood off to the side again until needed.
It would take nearly thirty standard minutes before the colors of the Lightbringer ships would be seen descending upon the scene. Several columns of Lightbringer Astartes would exit the Thunderbirds and stand at full attention, while the obvious leader of them stood expectantly at their front.
Util Cicero, Legate of the second Legio looked over the assembled group, his expressionless helmet conveying his own disgust at the Eternity Guardians and Umbral Watch, but as he looked upon Savnok he simply walked forward and bowed in slight respect to the Primarch. "Lord Savnok, it is good to see you are unharmed by the foul Xenos monstrosity,where is our father? I have…questions of my own about the events that have taken place these last few days." His voice was even, but to the ears of a Primarch he could hear the desperation born from a Legion fearing the loss of their Primarch.
Savnok was never one to cushion a blunt truth, and his tone betrayed nothing of his own feelings.
"Your fathers remains lies within awaiting collection, I was unable to save him from the Xenos who had manipulated him, they were numerous and potent but did not long outlive him."
The silence from the Lightbringer after each word manifested in small but noticeable ways, a treamble in the column's line, the slight sound of metal armor creaking in anger. The worst of it was in the Astartes before Savnok, what was a professional demeanor born of respect to one higher then himself was replaced with a coldness.
"I…See…" The words seemed to have been forced out of the man, who without word turned his back on Savnok and walked towards his soldiers. "Remus, Appolius, the both of you will come with me to…retrieve our Lord's body, the rest of you will return to the ships and begin preparations of the proper rituals." A resounding clang of fists on metal was heard as all but two other Lightbringers made their way back onto their vessels.
Util Cicero seemed to take a long moment before he turned to face Savnok once again. "You will take us to his remains." the statement came across more as a order then anything else. While the other two held hands upon their weapons, seeming to be awaiting any sort of attack.
"I will." Savnok nodded and turned to lead the way.
As they were led to the body, none of the three made any attempt to look at the Eternity Guardians or members of the Umbral Watch, almost ignoring that they were even there. If one was close enough they could hear the servos of the Lightbringer Armor as Util clenched his fists, staring ahead directly at the Primarch.
Axinos lay in one of the bunkers, on a plain table, a banner of Actium covered most of his form but nothing could disguise the smell.
Upon seeing the body of their father, the three rushed past Savnok and any others that were in their path. Util seeming to hesitate before uncovering the hollow face of their Primarch, he would slowly and deliberately take his own helmet off, before pressing his forehead to his fathers,muttering some unknown words of Actium origin.
One of the other Astartes seemed to shake with rage before placing a hand upon Util's shoulder "Brother…is it time for vindicta?" the question seemed to be spoken like a restrained force was trying to break out of the Lightbringer. "...No Remus, we must follow the rites of Actium before such action can be taken, he was more then just our father, he was lord of the five hundred worlds and must be treated as such." Spoke the marine, his forehead no longer pressed to his fathers.
As deliberately as he had taken it off, Util placed his helmet back on and turned to Savnok. "Tell me, Savnok of Stormgard, how did our father perish? Speak carefully and truthfully, and drastic action may be averted."
"The Krell used him, taking control of his form and continuing their efforts to kill me, during the battle the strain became too much for both of them, they perished within seconds of each other, the damage you can see here mostly resulted from their separation, I bear similar injuries though less extensive, the parasite's very essence was corrorissive I do not believe that my brother possessed a good chance of survival from the moment they merged judging by the damage caused by mere seconds of superficial exposure. I believe he was doomed from the moment of merger with the parasite." Savnok explained in his usual straightforward manner.
"Did you know of their pact?" He asked suddenly, gazing intently at the Lightbringer.
The three lightbringers seemed to straighten and gazed towards Savnok, until Util spoke again "A Pact…and when i thought your own failure was not enough, you seek to sully my father's name with this farce, covering for your failure to save him from a Xeno's assassin." Util's words seemed to harshen and become spiteful.
"He insults our father with his lies, Vindicta must be had at this point brother." Spoke the other Astartes, his hands reaching for his weapons. "No Appolius, we cannot break the traditions even against such lowly cowards."
"Watch your words Astartes, Vindicta? Cowardice? You speak as if Lord Savnok was responsible for your Father's death rather than a beast you yourselves fought as it used him. Whether it was an assassin from the start or decided to assault your Sire after its parlay was discovered by Lord Savnok the result is the same. A Son of the Emperor of All Mankind is dead by xenos hands and we must have its ilk answer for this. Look for these beasts to vent your fury, not your kin."
The glares of the Lightbringers fell on Marcion who bore them with stoicism akin to stone.
Util would look upon Marcion with contempt "Our Kin are now performing the rites for our father's return to Actium, the rest of you are nothing to us, only Savnok and all he claims as kin are to bear Vindicta once it is time, do not damn your own father and brothers Umbral."
"Given your deep emotional distress I will permit you to leave here unpunished. But understand one thing: Legate, your threats against myself, my sons and my nephews are unacceptable and unactionable. I tried to save Axinos from the fate he brought upon himself but it was not a rescue, it was a retrieval, he committed treason against the Imperium and Actium alike with his arrogant belief that his raw intellect and cunning could master forces the Emperor of Mankind had warned us to treat with the upmost caution. He should have faced justice for that, been given a chance to account for his actions and be judged and punished accordingly. We were robbed of that." He shook his head at the admission of failure before continuing.
"Regardless, I loved my brother and I have no desire to see any harm befall his sons but I will not allow your mistargeted rage to endanger this Imperium or any of its citizens. Keep your threats to yourself, if I for a moment believe you will act on them I will not hesitate, neither will the Emperor." Savnok spoke in a manner most unlike himself, there was emotion in his voice, pain and anger and determination yes, all rare insights into the famously inscrutable Primarch but there was something else, infinitely rarer, an echo of the Emperor's magnificent presence, for just a moment the son burned as bright as the father. "Axinos said he wished to save Actium, follow him in folly and you will complete the doom he so nearly brought it."
Util Cicero looked towards Savnok, helmet expressionless as he seemed to stare directly at Savnok. "...We will be returning our Father to Actium, we won't be returning to this or any other front until his proper rites are done upon his home." Without awaiting a response he and the two others hoisted the table up and began to make their way back to their transports.
Tannit had been called to the Horns of Steel in between deployments. Her Primarch, Ba'al Hamon, had joined the war against the Aeldari in a supervisory role; Tannit, meanwhile, had been hopping from world to world hunting down the Aeldari's military leaders for execution.
The missive sent to Tannit was a simple request for her presence, but included such names for her as "most loyal daughter" and "sound-minded champion". It was the way of the Steel Princes to call and be called by their deeds or virtues - some due to pride in hearing themselves be praised, while others out of prudence to know what the other speaker valued or wanted from them. That Ba'al Hamon chose names for loyalty and reason gave slight indication to the meeting's purpose, but not much.
As she traversed the ship, she spoke with some of her acquaintances in Hamon's honor-guard. They informed her that the Primarch had appeared on the battlefield shortly before she was called, which he rarely deigned to do; and that he had used his electoo's energy projection abilities, something he hadn't done since he first met the Emperor. Their lord's wrath, which Tannit knew him to fervently hide behind his stoicism, had been violently roused. Something was wrong.
Tannit knelt on one armored knee, resting against the cool metal of the ship's flooring, before the Primarch's throne. Hamon, rather than being armored as usual for when he was onboard the flagship, was wearing smokey gray robes in the mourning style of their shared homeland.
"Great Lord of Bulls," Tannit said, choosing a neutral title for him. "How may your daughter serve you?"
"I require a second opinion, gloried Astartes, on matters most serious," Hamon said, turning away slightly. Something was very wrong. "Doubt, especially in the mind and heart of one such as myself, is a loathsome thing in our Imperium; and I confess it to be deeply rooted and freshly nurtured."
"I am dismayed to hear this, beloved father. Tell me more, so I may set your heart to ease."
Hamon waited a moment, and then began. "One week ago, I received an astropathic message from my brother Savnok of the Eternity Guard. The penitent crusade of the 2nd and 15th legions has come to a close, following the death of my dear brother Axinos Bruti."
Tannit's eyes widened. "I. See. What details may I receive, that I can act on them to defend you?"
"The only details given by the 2nd Primarch has been the involvement of xenos, both material and empyrean. My queries to Savnok have gone unanswered, and I have not yet reached out to the 15th's remaining leadership nor to any other Primarch."
"The identity of his killers should be spread; if humanity's foes were able to kill one of your family, then countermeasures must be made to prevent another death. And of course, honor dictates that you avenge his death."
"Yet the 2nd has not provided the information," Hamon stood up suddenly. Tannit rose with him, and followed a few paces behind him as he leaned against the wall. "Besides the glory of the Machine God and the victory of mankind, my chief concern is the rank of Primarch, and the sanctity of my family's station. I do not always agree with my sisters, and I see faults in a number of my brothers, but I care about them all in my own manner."
The two were silent for a moment, before Hamon continued,
"I do not know if my lord father, the Emperor, shares my concern for them."
"Father!?"
"Their penitent crusade was undertaken at the Emperor's behest, for crimes unknown. Their crusade's path, which faced foes that could kill a Primarch, was decided by the Emperor. The son who has survived was the one with previously undoubtable loyalty to the Emperor," Hamon's voice slowly rose into a shout. "Is it mere misfortune, happenstance, that the most powerful psyker in the Imperium could not predict his son's death? When our sibyl Dido could predict an attempt on my person as a child?"
"My lord, I feel there is a difference- We speak of events happening across the galaxy's breadth! Even the Emperor could not affect or know such things."
"And yet his loyal old hound Malcador, regent on Terra, could choke the 18th Primarch in the midst of an astropathic conversation?" Hamon turned, and sighed when he saw Tannit's confused expression. "I met with the Angel last year, to discuss another incident of psychic assault on the Primarchs - which I'll discuss with you later - where she mentioned her altercation with Malcador."
"Is there a possibility of falsehood or manipulation?" Tannit felt the need to ask.
"From Ahurani?" Hamon scoffed.
"Father."
"...Minimal. It was an extended offhand comment, but one relevant to the conversation, and I saw no guile in her then. At most she presented the information and let me naturally decide my path based on it. Still, it demonstrates the Emperor's powers could reach across interstellar distances, and leaves every other psychic incident of such a magnitude with him as a suspect."
Tannit did not sigh or put her head in her hands, as much as she wanted to. "Ba'al Hamon, father of my brothers, lord of my home. I will stand by your side ever and always - it is my foremost duty to serve your will, and whatever you command of me I shall obey. But my second duty is to serve your interests. I do not know if pursuing this line of thought is within the second."
"Indeed?"
"Our perception of these matters is colored by your own grievances with the Emperor," Tannit said, and had to quickly continue before Hamon could react too badly. "Justifiably, for it has done harm to your reputation and hampered the Legion as a whole, but it is still something to keep in mind."
"...Continue."
"Before you press a case against the Emperor, or undertake any other course of action, you should speak with some of the other Primarchs. They will have their own opinion on the Emperor and current events which may prove relevant. With a broader perspective we will know better how to move forward, and with allies we can enact our will more clearly."
Hamon grimaced for a moment, before his face cleared and he closed his eyes. "Your reasoning is solid, my daughter, as it always is. I will think about this matter more in private."
"Of course, father," Tannit said, bowing and leaving the room. As she did, she felt a tension leave her, a relief of burden. She had said what she could; now, the Legion's path would depend on the Primarchs.
Ahurani awoke once again to a bright light. She still hadn't grown used to it, never before had she been confined to the medical ward for so long. The severe white light flashed against the similarly white walls and made her yearn for her dimly lit and comfortable bedroom. More than anything what she missed was the privacy. She was all too aware of how her Legion would be feeling, and right now she had no desire to be in public.
It was a childish desire, to hide away. Ahurani understood that. Even if she had never truly accepted her responsibilities as a Primarch, she had the imperative to not make the lives of others needlessly difficult. So she kept quiet; though she grew restless tied into the medical machines, she would not cause trouble. She stretched a wing and not for the first time winced upon seeing the extent of the damage. They had been shredded to pieces, and while bones and skin mended fast in her body, no factor could change the time it took for a wing to heal properly. They were ragged things, though she supposed that was the case with all of her after the encounter with Twinfist.
Without meaning to, Ahurani found one of her hands drifting into her robes. She softly clutched at one of their many hidden pockets. The letter from Varil seemed to weigh as heavily as the hard metal of the nail. She had already cried all the tears that would be shed for those words, so now all that was left was to lean back and wait for the day to pass.
Eventually, she heard someone approaching. More than one person, in fact, but the fast footsteps, long strides, shifting fabrics. They belonged to Varil.
After a few seconds more, the Primarch moved through the doorway. Her form was hidden by heavy cloth and her face by an impassive mask as they always were. It wasn't unusual, but it felt all the more severe. She could only imagine what Varil felt and her mask, so impassive, seemed like the face of a judge. As more figures filtered into the room behind her, Varil spoke, "I have found the time to step away from command. You are healing well. I am overjoyed." Her sister's voice hardly conveyed the emotion, but neither was it biting. Partly, Ahurani felt the comment was a twist of the knife. Partly, she felt it was simply the truth.
"My body, at least, was built for harsher trials than this." Ahurani's reply lacked much of the usual warmth when she spoke to Varil. Not that it was cold, just distant and tired. She had yet to decide on where she would allow herself to stand with her sister.
Following closely after her words came the whispers, voices of the people whose bodies had been broken by the trials she had inflicted upon them. Angry voices hissing at the luxury and comfort in which she sat as if such comfort did not rest upon a pile of corpses. The wails of those lost who would never see their families again.
Ahurani listened. It was all that she could do.
It was only after the tide of voices had subsided once again that Ahurani was able to continue. "It's nice to see you again, sister. I hope tending to my responsibilities is not proving to be a burden."
"Those roles you fulfill in leading your Legion and inspiring the mortals are vital, but they do not overwhelm me." Ahurani noticed Varil had balled a fist, and her sister's eyes seemed to bore into her, almost glowing with an intense energy that made Ahurani shrink back, at least as far as her bed allowed. Varil folded that arm behind her back, and approached Ahurani slowly. She laid her other hand on Ahurani's shoulder, "I have been wishing to talk to you."
The touch hurt, not in a physical way. The wounds had long ago healed. It hurt because Ahurani did not feel like it was earned. Her heart had leapt for joy when Varil had approached and made contact, but that very joy was the poison that festered in Ahurani's stomach. The thought that she may have lost her right to be by Varil's side had occurred to her more than once, and this confrontation was coming before she was ready to face it. "What can I do for you, Varil?" She managed to say, eyes downcast and voice quiet.
Varil's hand pulled back as she stood straight up, like a teacher who was about to demand Ahurani's full attention. "I have been thinking about your healing and… development. Not just from these wounds, but also the damage to your soul manifesting as these voices," she spit the word out like a bitter drink, "and the need to control your sorcerous manifestations. I have developed my plans to assist you. Your retirement from combat was one such scheme."
"How did you know about the voices?" Ahurani's own voice was quiet, genuinely surprised. Her face hardened quickly afterwards, ultimately it wasn't very important. "They are unpleasant, but if there was damage to my soul they are not the culprit. The dead can never truly harm their killer."
Ahurani took a breath as her sister's eyes settled heavily upon her. She was being unkind. She knew she was being unkind. That wasn't right, not with Varil, and yet the thought of being helpes like this rankled. Deep inside of her the iron core of her pride bristled at talk of her 'development' as if she were not a perfectly capable adult. That choices were being taken from her, even though she would have chosen the same fate for herself in the end, hurt. It felt more and more like the prison of the Imperium was closing around her, choking her, smothering her.
But she knew just as much that that wasn't Varil's intention. Ahurani was certain that this was just Varil's way of helping, no matter how clumsy and hurtful that may be. If she made the effort and engaged with Varil's plan it would surely lead to them becoming closer.
The letter felt heavy in its pocket.
Was that a good thing? Was it right for her to get closer to Varil as she was now? Ahurani had finally given in to the monster inside her, had finally allowed herself to seek out violence on her own terms. Was that the kind of influence she wanted to be in Varil's life?
Perhaps more importantly, could she refuse?
"Please, tell me your plan sister. I would never turn away your assistance."
Varil swept her hand in a slow, circular motion, "Your physical healing, in particular of your wings, should conclude shortly. You will enter into a regime of something like physical therapy and training. It should be… enjoyable, I would think. Simultaneously, you will be meeting with me and those I have gathered to myself to continue preparing you for the Warp, and moreover addressing these new damages. You will be introduced to your chief caretaker," Varil turned her head ever so slightly rightward, and her hand twitched out as if to compel a second figure, Ahurani's caretaker, to step forward from just outside the room. "Your staff is anemic, and thus I promoted an experienced woman of mine into the role. She has served me ably for many years."
Not like Ahurani needed to be told the woman was one of Varil's. She stepped forward with her hands clasped neatly behind her back. Her steps rang out with the precision of a concert drummer, and her expression had settled habitually into a reserved, intelligent look of appraisal. Beginning in her eyes and spilling out into her cosmetics were shades of purples and violets, but her robes were white as snow-- her attire was entirely unlike that of Lady Varil's usual attendants, with their muted robes and half-hidden faces. The woman bowed, "I am called Menial Melissa. It is my pleasure to be introduced."
Yes, Ahurani realized, she had never been introduced to any of Varil's attendants by name. She'd never been told, unless she asked after it herself.
Melissa rose back into place with the perfect motions of a watch's inner workings. Varil spoke for her, "She and her staff will take whatever oaths you desire, but it is my intention that they provide for you at all times and places. I realize you value your privacy, but this shall include your bedchambers and other private quarters of yours."
"Melissa, it is an honour. I hope that we can become close." Ahurani softened when speaking to her new caretaker, as frustrating as the thought of needing one may be. With mortals she was always at her best, her kindest, her most genuine. This would be no different.
But then she turned to Varil. The other Primarch's words settling in Ahurani's thoughts. "Varil, sister? Perhaps I am ignorant because of my lack of staff, but what could Melissa and her staff possibly provide for me in my bedchambers? In fact, not to question you and certainly not to disparage her abilities, but what exactly do you see her doing for me?"
Varil angled her head to the side, and once again Melissa spoke. Her smile grew thin, like she was in on the joke, "Our usual tasks with Lady Varil include handling the cleaning, arranging clothes, preparing supplies for excursions, preparing or finding documents, and arranging meetings as she requests them. Land Varil appreciates order and structure, but of course hasn't the time to do all the work herself. The Menial staff would proudly provide whatever you require."
Varil continued where she left off, "And it strikes me as unbeneficial to utterly isolate yourself in your chambers. I speak as a woman who spent far too much time alone with my thoughts in my youth. They may be silenced, be it your will, but even silent company does me well."
Ahurani had watched Melissa closely, not bothering to hide her appraisal of the woman as she spoke. It took her a few moments to digest the answers, but ultimately she seemed satisfied. "I cannot say it doesn't sound nice to have a few more hands to help with the work. Not to mention that I could use the company."
Ahurani stopped herself. What she wanted to say was that she wanted Varil's company. Saying so so openly would be uncommonly rude to Melissa though. Not only that but the thought of wanting Varil's company prompted dark thoughts to come crawling in.
"I suppose if we are to be each other's companions it would benefit me to get to know you Melissa. Please, come sit on the bed. There's no need to be so distant. May I ask you some questions?"
The attendant nodded and approached the bedside. What she thought of this, Ahurani couldn't tell. Varil's focus remained intense in the meanwhile, but she circled off to the side and gave the pair just that much more space. Ahurani made sure to give her sister the brightest smile she was capable of, a silent thanks for this opportunity and for everything else. She hoped it was enough.
"Of course," Melissa replied, hitching herself onto the bed in a side-saddle way, keeping her feet on the floor while she turned to face Ahurani. "Whatever answers I have, I will provide."
"You may, of course, ask any questions of me in return. That is only fair." Ahurani took note of the lack of title or deference in Melissa's response. It was a relief not to have to correct someone on that. "I am quite eager to learn of the circumstances around you being chosen for this role. Were you chosen specifically, or was it random? Were you given a detailed briefing, if so, what kind of impression did it leave? Are you looking forward to your new task, or is it simply another duty?"
"I was personally selected by Lady Varil for the task. As a member of her senior staff, she knows me quite well, but she never precisely elaborated on what qualities prompted my selection over any other." The attendant paused for a moment, clearly phrasing her thoughts to answer the next questions. It had been more than a bombardment, "I have been with Lady Varil as she has directed your Legion and drafted these plans, though not directly involved. My briefings have focused on the physical mechanics of selecting a staff: selecting people and requisitioning resources, and what your personal preferences are known to be among your Legion, in terms of creature comforts. I am honored to be selected for the task. From what I have heard, I think you try to handle too much. Lady Varil believes the minor tasks in life distract her..."
"I certainly won't turn you away." Melissa had offered a good answer. A very good answer, Ahurani was almost entirely satisfied. "What do you believe are your best qualities? I personally value expressiveness and independence. I know that my sister values discipline very heavily. What do you value most about yourself?"
"I am a coordinator," Melissa's smile broadened, "When one handles the ancillary duties for a Primarch, it can on occasion be important to get your whole staff on the same page very quickly." Before she posed her own question, the attendant pulled her legs up to sit criss cross on the bed. To Ahurani, she seemed to become more casual, but still in her sister's disciplined way where she made the active choice to surrender formalities. "May I ask if you enjoy flying?"
Ahurani had moved over to make room for Melissa, which left her laying on her side and her entire attention apparently focused on Melissa, though she found herself hoping that Varil approved. Her heart was always desperate to please her. "Flying is an experience like no other. When the winds are strong and I feel in tune with the world around me it is beautiful, peaceful. I used to go flying for hours on my homeworld while on my journeys. Naturally, not all flight is like that. The utilitarian, the desperate, the ugly, like any other action, flying has many faces." Despite how she ended her answer, Ahurani had the ghost of a smile on her face as she recalled memories of better days. "Would you like me to take you flying some time?"
"It sounds as fine a way as any to get to know you..." For a moment, Melissa's eyes flicked over to where Lady Varil stood in the corner, "... Ahurani."
Joys of Flight
The Primarch's days continued much in the way they had before, bedrest and medicae, except that her otherwise lonesome rest was increasingly interrupted by visits from an intent, otherwise busy Varil and a data-slate-wielding Melissa working to get her team in order. A collection of individuals had begun to fall into place. Barbers, tailors, savants and polymaths, military adjutants, Techpriests, and on it went.
By the end of the week, the day had come. A small army of Melissa's Menials swarmed over her, cleaning her up and preparing garments, in the hour before Lady Varil turned up to welcome Ahurani and take her off enforced bedrest, though she had stated she intended to continue handling Legion matters for the time being.
"Menial Melissa," Varil explained as they rode a shipboard tram towards… somewhere, "Recommended that we expand your training facilities to provide you more ability to fly." They now include one-quarter League of length and one-sixteenth League of breadth. They rise thirty stories high at their peak, and include what has been delightfully termed the 'Nest,' a private living and exercise area accessible to you by flight or others by elevator."
"Melissa is very thoughtful to have suggested such a thing. I hope that nobody was unduly displaced in the construction of the facility." Ahurani was sitting next to Varil, but whereas she would normally be right up against her sister today she had left a conspicuous amount of space. "I cannot lie though, it does sound nice to have a proper flying space. I look forward to inspecting it and putting it to the test."
Varil nodded understandingly, "My Imperial Army forces have been testing it for suitability. I believe some are still there now, if you wish me to call ahead and dismiss them."
"Please don't dismiss anyone," Ahurani shook her head. "I have no problems with them being in attendance. I am not ashamed of my wings."
Varil simply nodded. "I expected such." The tram began to slow to a stop, and Varil stepped towards the door, informing her sister as she did, "The new facilities will be the next stop, but our timings are unfortuitous. I must interview some of your daughters." Varil stepped out of the car, and Ahurani couldn't help but notice the collection of Coldirons and Custodes following her from adjourning cars. Varil was never alone, even when she put on airs of privacy, and for a moment Ahurani was left alone as the car rolled on.
In one way it was nice, there had been a lot of pressure being that close to Varil. In another it felt wrong, how Varil always left so abruptly and so authoritatively. It made Ahurani feel like she had no control over whether she was in Varil's life. She closed her eyes as the tram sped along, the voices returning in full force. It was good to reflect.
By the time Ahurani was in front of the doors to the new facility she had made her way through the worst of them. It hadn't done wonders for her mood but she wouldn't allow the people who had worked so hard to be put out by her own selfish sadness. One deep breath later and a smile, small but unmistakable, appeared on her face. She had long ago mastered the art of faking it.
Through the wide double doors was a room of titanic proportions. Were she not used to such grandeur then Ahurani was sure that she would have been awestruck by the sight. The shine of newness had yet to wear off, and so the stark metal of the supports on the walls shone in the light. Every inch of the room was lit, though the intensity was low enough that it was easy on the eyes. The floor was covered by soft wood, just natural enough to counteract the machine-room feel.
Most of the ground level was clear, but the air above was much more busy. Small ledges, aerial obstacles able to be repositioned to suit any layout one could imagine, jutted out of the walls. Of course the centerpiece was the large 'Nest' that Varil had described. It could easily have been a gym in its own right, and was suspended more than halfway up the wall. The only attachment to the ground was one slim elevator running down to the floor. Somehow even that bothered Ahurani, despite the practicality of it. It felt like a reminder that flight was no escape. The annoyance would have made her wings twitch, but to her surprise they were already fully extended. The sight must have inspired her more than she expected.
The first people that caught her eye were Varil's Imperial Army soldiers, though they didn't exactly look the part. They were outfitted more like Assault Marines, in a slimmer, mortal-sized variant of power armor with an attached jump-pack. Short, metallic wings stabbed out from beneath the pack like the wings of a falcon, and from their flight characteristics Ahurani could tell that they were honed to a hard edge. Most wore helmets, though some opted out, and as Ahurani had unfortunately expected, they universally slewed to a halt when she entered, their packs entering into a hover mode while they took up a salute. The motion was replicated by the soldiers on the ground, though not the Techpriests, who clearly considered their blessing of the exercise equipment to be much more vital.
Which honestly made Ahurani like them more. Holding back a grimace, she called out, "Please everyone, no need for salutes while we are together in this room. Be at ease and continue about your business."
One other person didn't wait to be put at ease by the Primarch. Melissa, of course, who looked surely out of place in the gym. She was made-up, dolled-up, and gripped a data-slate in one hand and a stylus in the other. "Lady," her face scrunched up in the slightest of ways, disappointed in herself, "Ahurani! I am pleased to see you on your feet! In a way I wish they had let you out sooner, but the Medicae had no idea how to handle your wings, I reckon."
"As for you Melissa, just Ahurani is fine. There's no need for titles between us." Ahurani shook her wings, though they were still far from their prime they were well enough to fly so long as she was careful. "Wings are a very complicated limb, and require an entirely different approach to care and maintenance. The medicae are sweet, but they are trained on the human body. I know best how to handle my own wings, they've been with me for a long time and I've done extensive research." She stopped herself then, before she began to ramble about the specifics. Perhaps Soter would appreciate such a chat but Melissa would have to ask before Ahurani even considered such a thing. "Will you be staying to watch, or are you very busy with work? It would be a shame to exercise alone but I wouldn't want to keep you."
"I have no intention of being anywhere else." Melissa promised, tapping something up on her data-slate. "I have to see how you acclimate, after all. How do your wings feel?"
"Cramped, but that's not a surprise. They are the most affected by being bound to a bed, since they are on my back." Ahurani reached behind her, undoing one button, two. "But they are strong, I just need to get them moving again."
Ahurani reached up with both hands to pull at the shoulders of her robes and in one grand gesture the entire ensemble fell forwards off her body. In coloration, the athletic wear underneath broke ever so slightly from her usual style. Her sports bra and athletic shorts, though still black, were accented with streaks of natural green color. The outfit did little to conceal her physique, almost the opposite of her usual robes. When she buried herself under her robes, it was easy to miss just how solidly built Ahurani truly was. She was almost the opposite of Varil, built like a glacier. As Ahurani stretched to warm herself up, every movement made her muscles ripple with undeniable power. Even the weeks in bed couldn't hide that Ahurani took very good care of her body.
She scooped up her robe after a couple stretches, folding it neatly and with a precision that spoke of doing it many times before, and she looked up to see Melissa had brought the hand holding her stylus up to her chin, her eyes flicking between the screen and the Primarch. "Lady Varil and her Daughters usually wear robes which are tightened up for safety, but still full," then she added, for the first time dumbly. "Or their armor's fibro-sensor padding. For vitals monitoring." Melissa blinked a few times in quick succession, "How about we get you in the air?"
"Robes tend to get in the way, and I have never been much of a fan of my armour," Ahurani explained as she walked over to Melissa. She gently tossed the robes to the ground beside her caretaker. "Watch these for me, okay?"
With that, Ahurani took a step away, and Melissa got a front row seat as her back's muscles flowed like a thundering ocean to power her massive wings. Ahurani started small, a couple broad wingbeats with her feet planted firmly on the ground. Melissa's dress fluttered in the wind. Even clipped as they were, Ahurani's wingspan was well over fourteen feet. Then, with a bit of confidence, one heavy beat that whipped through the air around her, Ahurani launched herself into the air.
Her wings fluttered with fast, correctional motions as she stabilized her flight. As she was still testing her limits, she stayed low to the ground and kept her speed low, a dull showing compared to even the mortal soldiers nearby. Eventually she glided down to a halt near Melissa again. The flight hadn't apparently exerted her whatsoever.
Menial Melissa had placed her devices upon the floor and offered up a quiet smattering of polite applause as Ahurani swooped in. "The women you see around you hail from the First Airspecialist Regiment. It's an experimental force consolidated by Varil ten years ago, mainly from rejects for implantation. It evolved into her Schola program. Newer units are cross-gender, but they also tend to be wrapping up puberty. We're integrating a few trainees, but the unit is veteran. Lady Varil had hoped you'll introduce herself."
"I was a little surprised when Varil mentioned reforming her Regiments, but they are all very capable, it must be difficult to learn how to fly like that." Ahurani paused, looking nervous for a moment. "Do you think they'd be okay if I introduced myself?"
Ahurani looked down at Melissa and seemed to immediately understand her mistake. "No, that's a silly thing to ask. I will go and make their acquaintance. Thank you Melissa." Ahurani put a hand on Melissa's shoulder and very gently squeezed. "It's nice having you around."
Without giving Melissa a chance to reply, Ahurani had jogged over to the closest group of groundbourne soldiers, fourteen in all. She made no attempt to hide her approach, though she did have a lightness to her step. Ahurani had picked up the habit over years of preferring not to be noticed too much. "Hello! I have been watching you girls in action and I must say I'm very impressed by your flying. It is nice to get to share this gym with you." She cleared her throat, wanting to do things properly. "I'm Ahurani. It's a pleasure to meet you."
Ahurani could tell this was a mixed group, mostly because half of the girls quietly turned their helmeted heads towards her and the other half snapped into salutes. Were the young ones starstruck, or were the veterans getting familiar? Ahurani couldn't tell.
Now that she had drawn close, she could see that this unit's armor was distinctly a dark navy blue. One woman was marked out by a brighter slash running diagonally down her faceplate. She was the one who spoke, as she moved to greet the Primarch with her hands folded behind her back. "Captain Harskk, ma'am. I'm in overall command of the company you see in the air above you, and to my right, you will see my Third Squad, in the process of remembering themselves." At that, the rest of the group came to attention, "I heard you hoped to get airborne."
Ahurani suppressed a sigh, this was the main reason she found it difficult to approach new people. The voices in her head grew louder, feeding on the frustration and guilt. "At ease girls, I had hoped that we could be friends in this gym instead of letting rank get between us. Very few people get to fly, we should be embracing that togetherness." She managed a bright smile at the captain who had made the effort to introduce herself. "You heard right. My wings have grown stiff from underuse. Do you have a first name, Captain?"
"Umayya Harskk," the captain said with a nod, after a moment. Ahurani had picked up on the faintest tremors that made her suspect the captain had used the security of her void-rated helmet to convey the Primarch's request to the rest of the troops before she'd responded. "Number Three," Umayya said as she turned to face the other soldiers, "not to let rank come between us, but I believe we can all agree to practicing some formation flying with the lady?"
"Oh that sounds delightful, I would love to fly with you!" Ahurani's wings snapped out, driven by the excitement of the moment. She tended to try and unfurl them more slowly around mortals, she knew that her full wingspan snapping outwards was a bit alarming, but she could hardly contain herself. "Though I don't know any of the formations. I do hope I don't slow you girls down."
"My Lady, I'm none too worried." Captain Harskk powered on her pack and shot upward, propelled by a wave of heat. Ahurani noticed the floor beneath her wasn't even discolored, and wondered just what sort of wood Varil might have found for this place… and by the time she was done, the rest of the soldiers were airborne. They did fly in an entirely different way to her: using engines to generate thrust and short wings that didn't even extend beyond their full armspan to maneuver. They were quicker to turn and could hover where she couldn't. In a way they were tireless, and in a way they could last exactly until they ran out of Promethum, while Ahurani could do this all day. They were overall slower, with most of their thrust going to fighting gravity. The Primarch was much more aerodynamic, but Ahurani's wings were not quite recovered, especially the outer primary feathers, so the effect was less pronounced.
With one great leap Ahurani joined the third squad in the air. It took a few moments for them to fall into place around her, the difference in flying styles causing a little confusion. The biggest difference was the impact of momentum, for the soldiers, it could be canceled out entirely with some quick work of their jetpack as they transitioned into an easy hover. For Ahurani such a maneuver was difficult, flying in place being extremely tiring, not something she should be doing on weakened wings.
Once they had found a rhythm, they had little need to slow down. Soon Ahurani and the squad were flying together in unison. They allowed her to set the pace and the pace she set was slow, but gradually she began to open up more. It was nice to have company in the air, even if she couldn't communicate with them properly while in the middle of flight. The Aerospecialists were fantastic fliers, and followed her nearly perfectly. Ahurani was just beginning to think she might want to try moving to a higher altitude when captain Harskk tapped her shoulder and pointed at one of the small ledge outcroppings.
Ahurani landed on the ledge easily enough. It had clearly been designed with her in mind, and it had enough room for Umayya to join her in her perch while the rest of the squad hovered in the air around them. The captain quietly approached her with the idea of a game to make the exercise more engaging, the other squads in the Company were to try and catch her, winning if any of them touched her with both hands. The third squad would fly in protective formation around her.
After Ahurani was reassured that everyone would be careful and not shove each other midair she agreed. Privately the idea was kind of thrilling, she had never really flown with anyone before, so her skills had never been tested quite like this. It itched something deep inside her that enjoyed the spirit of competition, that same part of her that really, really wanted to win.
With a great push off from the wall Ahurani was once again airborne, and this time it took only a few seconds for the Third Squad to gather in formation around her. Harskk nodded, the only signal anyone needed to know the hunt was on. The other squads were pulling together and looking on. It felt predatory, but in a way that was fun, thrilling. It made Ahurani smile.
A moment of stillness. Then, suddenly, one of her hunters shot out of formation, climbing high towards the ceiling, and everyone lept into action. When Ahurani began to move, she abandoned the slow and gentle pace from before. It caught everyone off guard, including her own guards. They scrambled to get back around her. They had internalized that she was a skilled but slow flier. Time to prove them wrong.
But her pursuit was also built for speed, and that burst didn't put anyone off for long. Soon her hunters were closing in. Some of the more daring began to even make attempts to grab at her. Ahurani noticed that first mover wasn't among them, and dodged those few who weren't boxed out by her escorts with ease. Still, it was a style of flight she had rarely explored before. Rapid change of direction, shifts to momentum, but all the while communicating with the Third Squad with fast gestures and body language, it was so much more involved. Never before had Ahurani thought so hard about the where and how of flying, it was very satisfying.
That thought was also starting to open the door back up to the voices. How dare she, they said, have fun like this. Engaging in casual recreation with people she would one day watch fly into battle, maybe even on her command, just to die pointlessly somewhere endlessly far from home. It was cruel, to give them hope that she cared, that she was one of them. That she was something other than a m-
Ahurani's thought process hit a brick wall, her combat senses kicking in. The whine of engines from above. She backwinged, as fast as she could, and just in time. An Aerospecialist went screeching at incredible speed right through where she would have been, if not for killing her momentum.
As she fell, the hunter flicked her wings to face Ahurani. She was helmetless, and the force of the air pushed her raven-black hair back straight. For a moment her eyes met Ahurani's, and she flashed a cocky smile.
"Tyber!" She heard Captain Harskk growl.
There wasn't time for much talk, but the word had its impact. The semi-conscious, battle-minded parts of her made sure to pay attention to Tyber, keeping track of her with rapid glances or by the roar of her suit's engines. She was daring beyond compare. She was good, really good, but now Ahurani had an eye on her.
Though she had missed with her first strike, Tyber was quick to exploit the gap that had opened up between Ahurani and the bulk of her guard. She drew herself in and spun around, then burned the full force of her thrusters in killing her downward velocity and rocketing back up. But now, gravity wasn't on her side, she was fighting it. She was slower, and a member of Third Squad managed to put herself between the two of them.
The pressure from the others intensified now that Ahurani wasn't moving. Third Squad roared about her like a tornado, while Ahurani's wings beat heavily just to maintain her altitude. The Primarch sensed Tyber wasn't near for now. In fact, a moment of thought told her exactly where she was: nearly twenty meters behind her, above her and flying higher. A glance confirmed it. That gave her what felt like an opening.
Ahurani pulled her wings in and fell like a bombshell, Third Squad following close behind. She lost nearly half her altitude, but she was on the move again.
And there was Tyber, tearing in quickly from above, same as before. This time, Ahurani was ready with a sweep of her wing that propelled her sideways. And then she realized her mistake.
Tyber wouldn't try the same thing as before.
Already, Ahurani could hear that Tyber was firing her engines, slashing her downward velocity at the cost of experiencing enough g-forces to drive the average pilot to black out in seconds. They were at equal altitudes now, and when their eyes met, Tyber didn't force a smile. Her jaw was set, her expression determined, and she lunged.
Ahurani had no choice. She dove straight out of the Third Squad's defensive envelope. Her saving grace was that none of her pursuers expected it, either. Nobody got more than a hand on her before a quick twist or sweep of the wing drove them apart. Soon, she'd punched entirely through the wall of hunters, and the entire Company wheeled about, friend and foe alike caught off guard. Except for Tyber. She'd tailed Ahurani through her whole escape.
Tyber wasn't quite as fast as the Primarch, but she was fast enough. Ahurani would run into the chamber wall before she'd put enough distance between them to break apart.
So Ahurani ran into the wall.
Not at full speed. She slowed down right before impact, but it was only by hitting the wall that she could execute her best way out. For a moment she latched onto a support beam, before one surge of power shot straight her upwards. Tyber was heartbeats too late and very nearly smashed into the wall herself, but where Ahurani would go she would follow.
Ahurani kicked away from the wall to give herself room to maneuver. She was all too aware that without Third Squad she was dangerously exposed to the crowd. She needed distance, and to reconnect. There was only one opportunity to do both.
The Nest was just ahead of her. It would shield her from the pursuit, but she didn't need to see the battlefield to know exactly where Third Squad would be. She would have to take the corner tight though, for a moment she was worried about her wings. Adrenaline overruled her worries.
Ahurani shot up and around the corner, beating her wings furiously to force the turn. She pulled in tight enough that she found herself dodging the private exercise equipment set up here for her. A magos shook one of his seven fists as the force of her passing blew down an incense burner.
Ahurani had passed the lip of the Nest and was beginning her dive when she heard a dull thunk behind her. A normal person wouldn't have, the air rushing past and the blood pumping in her ears would have been enough to drown it out. But Ahurani heard it and instantly knew what had happened.
She came to a screeching halt and looked back. Tyber wasn't there, where she should have been. Before Ahurani even knew what she was doing she shot back, pushing herself harder than she had been all day. Tyber was falling fast.
Ahurani fell like a meteor, great beats of her wings propelling her forwards. There wasn't any rational process to it, she simply needed to catch the falling woman. It would be close, Ahurani had turned too late, but if she just tried hard, moved faster…
Contact! She caught Tyber, cradling the soldier in her arms, and her wings flared out to their fullest extent. They screamed in protest, the new weight and harsh demands straining her new growth feathers. It hurt, but by the time Ahurani landed she did so safely, mostly, twisting her body just enough to avoid tumbling over the soldier.
"I'm so glad you're safe," Ahurani whispered, just loud enough for Tyber to hear. Her next words were not so quiet. "What were you thinking? You could have been seriously hurt!"
"That I was gonna catch you," Tyber's voice was a quiet, pained hiss, but she did shift her arms slightly to technically be the first to put two hands on the Primarch, "and probably 'I can make this turn' but it happened too fast to say… any landing you can walk away from, right?"
"No!" Ahurani hissed, actually and genuinely upset. It looked like she was going to say more but all that came out was a frustrated huff. Instead of speaking she stomped over to where Melissa was.
"Melissa I am taking Tyber here to the Medicae. Can I trust you to handle things here?"
"I'll… have your clothes sent over." Melissa responded with a short moment of indecision. Truth was, there wasn't much to handle, at least that the Army soldiers couldn't wrap up on their own, but best not to delay the Primarch.
"Thank you Melissa, sorry to run off like this." As always, Ahurani wore her heart on her sleeve and her sincere gratitude came shining through. "Give my thanks to the Aerospecialists for the game, reassure them that everything is alright, and remind them that safety is paramount."
Ahurani took a few steps forward so she and Melissa were quite close. With so many women here that might deserve her thanks, she didn't want to bruise any egos when she whispered, "I'll find a way to thank you properly later."
Not waiting for a reply, though she sensed Melissa take a quick breath behind her, Ahurani took Tyber towards the doors to the gym in a quick march. She couldn't run and risk jostling her patient, and she had already taxed her body far too much today. Once she was out of Melissa's earshot she sighed and looked back down at Tyber. "Now, you! Any landing you walk away from? Really? You could have died! Or been seriously injured! Do you have any idea how scared I was of that? You need to be more careful."
"Yes ma'am. Yes ma'am." The Specialist ground out. It wasn't that every word was an effort, but neither did speaking seem particularly fun. The damage to the armor indicated her chestplate had caught the edge of the nest before the start of her fall. "No ma'am. Yes, ma'am, I will try my best. And thanks for rushing me to the doc. Comfortable as a stretcher."
If Ahurani had been any less worried about Tyber's health she would have stopped on the spot. Instead she navigated through the gym doors and began making her way through the halls. Technically she could have found a tram, but the more direct and quick route was on foot and Ahurani was very familiar with the Litany's maze of twisting hallways.
"You didn't listen to a word I said did you?" It wasn't a question. Ahurani was used to people like this. Ahurani was like this. She stopped, it wouldn't be for long. "Then how about this, hopefully I can get this across to you."
Ahurani lowered her head so that she and Tyber's foreheads were touching, oh so very gently but so immediately present. Her voice dropped to a whisper with just a faint tremor. At this angle Tyber couldn't see the tears welling up in her eyes. "Your life is so incredibly important, there is no game, no mission, no stunt that can ever be worth even a fraction of you being alive for another day. I want you to remember that, that you make this galaxy a better place just by existing, that you are so, so precious. It's not only me who thinks this, I'm sure, you have friends and admirers who care about you more deeply than you can ever know and they would never want you to be hurt like this. So please, please be more careful. If for no other reason, do it because I care."
"Ma'am, I have to think some things getting done are worth more than I am… And if this is what happens when– heh. Nah. Not sharing that one." Specialist Tyber coughed, and her face screwed up in pain, "Okay, yeah. Serious. I'll keep myself together for you."
"Nothing. Nothing at all is more important than a life. But thank you, I look forward to getting to fly with you again. After you have recovered."
The Twin Sisters
It had been five more days and she hadn't seen Tyber again: schedules and plans surrounded her. Ahurani waited in her antechamber. She had sent her summons to Varil earlier that day, not without a great deal of trepidation. Varil was always so busy these days. They rarely got to see each other.
Which was another part of the issue. Varil was the one doing everything, planning out Ahurani's life without any input from Ahurani herself. It was frustrating, and was getting to the point where if something wasn't done soon Ahurani would be in the horrible position of truly resenting Varil. She didn't want that, she wanted to avoid that, but to do that they had to talk.
Except she was still nervous about being anywhere near Varil after the incident on Twinfist's stronghold. Anxious that she might be a corrupting, violent influence on her favourite sister. It was this or potentially lose her though, so she was prepared.
The antechamber was empty, nobody else was present except for Delara, who sat quietly in front of Ahurani and was showered with pets.
Melissa had conveyed a response that Varil would arrive at 1430 hours, but uncharacteristically she arrived three minutes early. Her eyes flashed with psychic power as she turned her gaze on Ahurani. "You must forgive me," came her greeting, "My previous engagement allowed me to come early." Her sister made every pretense of coming alone. She surely wasn't, but she made the pretense.
Which was enough for Ahurani. She had learned how to tune out the ever present group following Varil long ago. She offered her sister a smile, as always warm and genuine. It made her feel so much better just to see Varil again. "Being early is a good thing, I think. You have nothing to apologize for. Thank you for making time for me."
"What is it you wished to--" Varil paused, "No, I know what you wish to talk about. Shall we be seated, and shall we begin?"
"Of course, you are free to take a seat. My home is yours, after all." She waited for Varil to sit before speaking again. It was only then that the warmth in Ahurani's voice became strained. "Since I am so easy to figure out, do you have any thoughts on why I called you here today?"
Even seated, Varil was still taller than Ahurani. The chair had been made specifically for her, the woman a time and a half larger than any individual in the Wardens. Between Ahurani's letter and her thoughts, she knew there was no question as to her sister's intentions, "You are growing dispirited with the regimen I have prepared for you."
"Close," Ahurani replied with a sad smile, "but not quite. The regimen you've made is... fine. As I would expect from you it's smart, it's healthy, it's designed with my best interests in mind. Melissa is a capable assistant, and I've met several other fantastic people. I'm nearly fully recovered and I can already see a brand new daily routine before me. The problem, Varil, is that I wasn't the one who chose it. I'm so, so thankful that you want to help, but I feel suffocated by my lack of choice. The parade of staff you've assigned to me seems bent on making it so that I never do anything on my own, or of my own will, ever again. I know you wouldn't do this on purpose, but I don't want to be kept like a bird in a cage."
Varil had watched her sister with a sort of strained silence, which left Ahurani feeling like a boat becalmed. She had no idea what Varil was thinking, until her sister spoke. "Ahurnai, I stepped in to help because you were wounded. That wound is not healed. I speak not of the physical harm," Varil's voice was almost forceful and almost conciliatory. It settled in the middle, and could be both, woefully ambiguous. "So I ask: do you believe me? Do you think these voices should be fought as harshly as a plague, cut from your mind like a distracting pain, or do you think they convey the essence of the truth?"
"How could I think they say anything but the truth? I killed those people, whether it was with my own hands or not the reason they are dead is because of my decisions. My will. They are hardly new, just louder and more numerous." Ahurani had felt it, the conciliatory heart of Varil's words, so she was trying very hard to keep herself composed. It was working, she was getting better at this, so despite the frustration her voice came out calmly. "I inflicted so much more pain on them than they could ever inflict on me! Even if they were excised the guilt would live on, I cannot be saved from my own actions. I do not deserve to be."
Ahurani saw a fire in her sister's eyes which grew in intensity the more she said. Varil's hands gripped the armrests to her chair like she meant to scramble the life from them. Ahurani's throat clenched shut for a moment, but then she asked, "Varil, I have never once spoken of my victims. Why do you know of them?"
Silence. The embers died in Varil's mind: or it would be more accurate to say that she smothered them. The Primarch worked her hands together, staring into them. "You don't know. You hadn't… concluded it, of course. I have always heard the whispers of the soul, and of the Warp. But all I have learned," she drew her hands into two fists, her nails biting into the skin, "is that they lie. Always. I can sense voices pealing off of you like parasites, and you must trust that they are the enemy."
At that moment there was very little that Ahurani wanted more than to reach out and to comfort Varil. She couldn't, what right did she have to offer comfort? Especially for a topic she clearly knew so little about. Especially as she was now.
Her heart ached, and if Varil truly was able to read her soul then Ahurani could only hope that she could feel her sincere love and worry.
"Are these voices manifestations of the Warp? They sound so familiar, like what I have been telling myself for decades. If they are..." Ahurani couldn't keep the smile anymore, no matter how hard she tried. "I apologise, I should have been more thoughtful. Of course you understood the danger… and if it would put you at ease I will seek treatment for it. Still, I don't see how the voices in my head relate to the way you have been controlling my life lately."
Varil rose slowly to her feet. Though she now looked down upon Ahurani, there was no power in it. "It was so much easier with my Legion… No complaints stood before the Primarch. You were broken in body, so I directed your healing. When all your wounds did not close, I thought to continue so doing." She reached out, extending a hand towards Ahurani's shoulder, "But I have been busied, of course. My full faculties unfocused on you as they should have been, I postponed the necessary work."
"I'm not a project, Varil." The admonishment had no heat, no blame. Ahurani had no interest in making Varil guilty, just in making herself clear. "I do not need work. Left to my own devices I will heal, body, mind, and spirit. I will survive this, I have survived worse."
Varil's hand paused. "You are wrong."
Ahurani began to reach a hand up to Varil's, to hold her again like she used to. It was halfway there before she realized what she was doing, and her hand clenched into a fist, which she buried in her robes. Varil's worlds stung, but her heart came pouring out. "I fly with your auxiliaries, and all I could think of was how you used to join me for exercises. I discuss my schedule with Melissa and think of how we used to plan days together. It hurts, to feel like I have been sidelined, passed off to subordinates. All I want is to be in your life, not as some... some glorified pet, but as your sister. I want to walk with you, not watch you from below. I am well aware that it is selfish, that you are busy, that you're fixing the rot in my legion that has taken hold because of my failings. But still, I cannot change how I feel. If you really can hear the whispers of my soul, then surely you know how important you are to me, how important our relationship is to my life. If I'm wrong, I need you."
Without regard for Ahurani's internal struggles, Varil's hand came down on Ahurani's shoulder. Partly comforting, partly heavy as lead. "I swear to you, this will not heal like a cut that knits itself shut. Me, or the Emperor Himself: those may be the hopes for a cure. But we must also work on mitigation. You already believe these voices. It is a dangerous dance. Please, I wish nothing more than to help… I can work with you, but I must seek progress."
"I won't turn you away, if these voices are from the Warp… then it is only right that they be gotten rid of. I understand that you want to help." Ahurani looked down at Varil's arm, where her hand was clenched on Ahurani's shoulder. "I know that to let them stay could lead to me being a corrupting influence on others. I don't want that."
"Good," Varil lowered herself down on one knee to kneel before her sister. Her free hand reached up to her mask and fiddled with its workings, but she didn't take it off. "But this may be both our work, be it your will."
"Yes, I want us to work together." Ahurani finally managed to smile again, sad though it was. She reached forward, and oh so very gently stroked the cheek of Varil's mask. She saw it like armor. Perhaps, she thought, the mask could protect her beloved sister from what she had become.
Castle of Svartalfheim, know to the Eldar as "Castle of the Scions of the Old Souls "
With their earlier victories against Krae's Hold and Vackmire, the Steel Princes and Crimson Gryphons were in high spirits, working in tandem the two Legions found comradery and strength in fighting alongside each other.
Now they move towards the world of Svartalfheim, a world that the Eldar consider sacred and holy to their race as a whole.
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The world of Svartalfheim was an old world, a world revered by the Eldar, submerged in near darkness at all times and given light only by it's moons. But underneath the beauty and almost serene nature, laid the same cruelty and horror of the Eldar, pools of silver water coake the life around it, intricate patterns of metal runes inflict ghost pains of thousands upon thousands of slaves.
The arriving Imperial fleet found this world under guard by several fleets of Eldar ships, no hesitation was had as battle began immediately. The agile ships of the Eldar facing the unflinching storm of the Imperium, the space battle would continue until the very end of the planetary campaign with the remaining Eldar ships fleeing the system.
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Landing upon the world, the idyllic nature quickly gave way to hidden Eldar and the various dangers they had placed upon this world. Crimson Gryphons and Steel Princes fought amongst the vast gray plains against ever moving Eldar warriors.
It was here that the Steel Prince's unleashed their new weapons, a combination of speed and firepower that catered to both theS teel Princes and Crimson Gryphons, dubbed the Lamassu after a myth of a winged bull upon Hamon's homeworld. This new Land Speeder cut though the Eldar, it's systems blessed to find and destroy the foul Eldar.
Meanwhile the Crimson Gryphons continued to showcase their skills in the air, riding upon their noble beasts and hunting the Eldar where they hid. The most dangerous of these Eldar being their Psykers, who made use of the fragile Warp in their space to cause havoc upon the senses of Astartes and Imperial soldiers alike. However upon this planet their power took a much more deadly form, the shadows of the world becoming solid and striking out at the Imperial forces.
But Lord Khaldeon had a new strategy in mind for these, his Thunder Speakers have been at work learning all they could about how the Eldar fought, and could create methods to counter their mind altering effects, while this could not stop the physical dangers, the Astartes could maneuver and avoid such things far easier.
While Lord Khaldeon continued leading the air attacks on the Eldar defensive lines, Hamon and several teams of his legion would prepare a deep strike onto the largest castle in the world.
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The Castle seemed to be the main point of control for the planet, with the Eldar using the ancient structure as their command. So Hamon and his legion prepared their own attack to destroy this place, launching several stormbirds full of Astartes towards the castle and creating openings for the Steel Princes to enter inside.
Stepping out into the now broken hallway, Hamon gripped his two weapons, the new armor made by his brother Alaric had served him well in several duels at this point, but this was to be it's first taste of active combat, the connective feeling of these new arms was an odd sensation, and perhaps what many new acolytes of the Mechanicum feel upon getting their own augmentation.
He shakes his head, he did not have time to think about such matters at this moment, he had a war to fight. He would lead his group through the castle battling the scattered defenders, the many different avenues of attack his legion had taken, proving to be an effective means of confusing the Eldar defenders.
Hamon and his group would break through many barricades set in place as they made their way to where the supposed command center was, finding the doorway to the chamber guarded by many more Eldar warriors, who while fighting to the last could not withstand a Primarch.
What was in the chamber was a circular room, surrounded by robed Eldar around a silver coffin, the face of it seemingly in an endless scream.The Eldar in the center of the room, in front of the strange Silver coffin. Turning to face Hamon, a blank helmet looking back at the Primarch, intricate patterns lining it, despite having no means of vision the Eldar looked trite at Hamon and spoke in a smooth, even voice.
"I am Zurnarath, Scion of the Old Souls, you will not find victory here Mon-Khigh."
The battle between the two groups would begin at this, Astartes battling Eldar psykers and abominations of their own admittedly horrid forms. The Primarch and the Scion would also do battle, the many arms of Hamon moving like a whirlwind of blade and bolter, not giving an inch to the now named Zurnarath, but he was not without his own tricks, moving like water he struck at each hand containing a weapon, his blade releasing a toxin akin to a muscle relaxant, forcing Hamon to drop his normal weapons in his arms and with a second blade cutting deep into the mechanical arms of Hamon.
While he may seem to be more like his brother Ferrus with his Legion's use of augmentations, the Primarch of the Steel Princes was not one to simply overpower his foes, he was a man of means and tools, if those were not enough then he would trust in his own power. Bear handed Hamon grappled the Eldar and with little effort broke several bones before tossing him towards the coffin, the Eldar hitting it with a harsh crack as yet another bone had broken.
The Eldar stood up unsteadily, his body bent in ways that no matter how alien the Eldar truly were, their bodies should not be like that. His mask had broken when it had hit the silver coffin and Hamon could see the face of the Eldar he had been fighting, a deep sneer seemed to be carved into the stone like face of this Eldar, not shifting even as he was in clear pain.
For a moment he simply stared at Hamon, before he looked to the coffin with an odd look in his eyes, and in one fluid motion he took his blade and impaled himself onto the coffin. His smile is apparent in his broken helmet and a laugh releasing itself from his lips.
As the Eldar stabbed himself onto the coffin, laughing the whole time. Hamon could feel his very being become sick, the Eldar's blood did not drip onto the ground but be siphoned onto the coffin's lid, becoming intricate symbols that Hamon at first did not recognize, until he saw symbols used by mankind in many different cultures across the Imperium, symbols of power and rule.
A great wail began to be heard inside the minds of all who still lived inside the chamber, it was agonizing even to the Primarch, like the screeching of metal and the screams of a million dying souls. The Psychic shrike seemed to come from the coffin, shaking not only the castle, but across the world itself as earthquakes and reports of the ground itself collapsing shook Hamon out of his confusion, quickly he ordered for his group to leave the castle immediately. The ground would begin to open up like a broken maw of a waking beast.
Hamon gazed back at the coffin as he ran, seeing before it fell into the growing pit, that whatever was inside was dragging the body of Zurnarath into it's depths. He and his Legion would soon contact the Gryphons and both Primarchs agreed to leave the planet before whatever that Eldar had done could be finished.
The two legions fell back, returning to their ships and watched as the planet of Svartalfheim tore itself apart.
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Despite the world of Svartalfheim shattering away, the battle was won by the Imperial forces. The damages sustained by the conflict had made the tactical decision to halt the advance here and allow for the lines to close in more on the Eldar.
Ba'al Hamon and his Legion would focus their efforts on refining their new machines, fine tuning them with aid from attached Mechanicum aids and their tech marines. The data of this first field test had shown the use in such specialization of the Land Speeder, and would create active discussion for the Legion to perhaps continue "Adapting" the sacred techs in more speclization ways among the Mechanicum.
However Ba'al Hamon himself would be hard at work himself, trying to decipher what the strange events on the world could mean, what sort of Xenos tech could shatter this "Holy" world so thoroughly, and what it could mean for the war.
Khaldeon and his Legion would also be hard at work, they had learned much in their new battles with the Eldar, and their new trophies provided plenty for study and preparation for the continued war.
The two Primarchs would of course settle in on the system and the two would perhaps have time for another collaboration of brothers, but for now the war in the North had settled.
"Today we honor the Fallen and still fighting, we shall avenge our world, for Stormgard"- Words engraved on the side of one of the remaining Nukes from the Age of War , known to the Imperium as the Age of Strife
The world of Stormgard was in strife, for some time an ever present conflict shook the streets and lower hives of the world up to the highest spires. On one side was the Cascadian Fourth, brought to this world to deal with a uprising from the lower districts and emerging Ganger population, now fighting in a brutal guerrilla war with the Stormgard planetary defense forces after the Cascadians butchered nearly three thousand citizens in a manner that was not agreed upon.
On the other side were the local defenses of Stormgard and the few remaining Eternity Guard stationed on the world, fighting to protect their home from the mad actions of the invaders and their bloodthirst.
And caught in the middle was the common Imperial citizen, men and women who knew not what this conflict was about, not truly. Struggling to stay alive in a time of blood and chaos. Unseen to all however, there was a fourth side, the teeming masses forgotten about and dismissed as an unimportant fact of Stormgard, yes the Skaven would have their moment soon, but even they would be outshined by one unknown to all.
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Deep below the Proto-Hive Brama, in a small dark corner of the so called Pit would be a tunnel with three unlikely figures walking down it, it is here we find Lilith and Andromalius, now she could admit that she was not a good person, not many of those who grew up in the pit, but those Cascadians were mad dogs ripping apart any in their path. So she decided that she should try and avoid that matter all together, Andromalius woke up later and was just as keen to survive this whole event, even if he nearly attacked the Skaven Zich upon seeing him.
She somehow managed to get the Law man to help her with this whole deal, turns out he was one of those types to see surviving worth having to work with unpleasant sorts, she could tell he hated every moment. So the three wandered the tunnels using Zich's knowledge to try and find a way back up to the proper pit and not this hellish realm the Skaven called a pit.
She watched as the hunched form of the Rat-Man followed them, muttering about one thing or another, the Law man only had to look at her for his question to be asked "Do we have to show where this creature can find a nuke?" And he already knew the answer, Lilith was going to pay back the debt to this creature before it could make things worse
"How much long-further man-things, becoming far from Clan-Warrens of Scurry" spoke the Skaven in an annoyed tone.
"Not much further Zich, if the old stories are true then one should be just around the corner" she said trying to keep the Skaven from saying anything to set off the Law man.
"Would be much swift-quicker if Man-thing did not slow us down" Said the Sakven in reference to the broken leg of the man. Andromalius turned to face the rat but before they could begin another argument Lilith stepped in "Law man here still has his shooting arm and you said it yourself earlier Skaven, these tunnels need every weapon to move through them."
The rat creatures hissed but continued to follow behind the two, honestly she knew that the Skaven were nothing but bad news, but she could trust Zich to not risk his own neck in trying something when he was outnumbered and outgunned.
The trio would eventually find the chamber with one of the many old nukes of Stormgard, sitting in the middle of a broke room that looked like it once was some kind of factory floor, there were other explosive devices scattered about, some broken as they were scavenged by others over the millennia or others covered in a fine layer of dust.
"Hard to think we once threw these things around on our own world." Andromalius said, his leg obviously giving him a great deal of pain. Zich snorted and walked to the old device, clearly unimpressed but looking it over "foolish design flaws of man-things…but can be salvaged with the right tools." the Skaven began to mutter in its own strange language.
"Come on Law man, I need to check and see how the leg's doing, Hey Zich, once your done we need to keep moving." She shouted to the Skaven who made a harsh guttural noise of confirmation. As they moved to the side and checked the broken leg, they left Zich to his devices as he looked over the nuke.She did not seen the gleam in the Skaven's eyes as it placed a small device on the old Nuke, before scurrying after the two, following them deeper into the unknown tunnels.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Andromalius found that he was hatinging these last few days more and more. It all had started with his own attempts to clean up the lower hive and now here he was, leg broken and alongside a Ganger and a Skaven, having to rely on them for his safety, somehow Lilith had convinced the little monster to not try and kill him while unconscious.
Whatever had happened in those tunnels, Lilith would not say, leaving him in the dark and owing her a debt which he had to repay somehow, which is what led him to this horrible situation of working with a Skaven, he had always hated the creatures even in his youth. Legends of rat monsters that fed upon the dead during the wars, he's seen enough of what the monsters do in reports to know that is the least of what they do.
The three of them were currently were taking a "Shortcut" the Skaven knew about ,from what he could gather from the Skaven's muttering and poor attempts at Gothic was that this place was a vault of some kind, something that the Skaven have been trying to get into for centuries, and with the current conflicts up above the "Clans" were busy hiding deeper.
He would have to make a note of it for his superiors, perhaps the Imperium could benefit from whatever was in there. As they stood in front of the giant vault door, observing the many marks of Skaven attempts to get in as well as small structures that have piled on each other trying different areas, Andromalius noticed a light, as he went closer it seemed to shine brighter and nearly blinded all three of the people.
The light shone on the three of them, blinking in an orange pattern before flashing bright Blue. The great metal doors before them began to open, the Skaven writing and structure covering it falling away as it moved.
"What the Fraking hell was that?" Said Lilith in her usual manner.
"Zich…not know" The Skaven said in a quiet voice "Great metal doors always closed-shut, all Clans try to open, none ever have."
"..well i suppose this is better then trying the tunnels." She said trying to keep the fear from her voice "Come on then Law Man, maybe there is something we can find for your leg in here."
"Go on ahead, i'll catch up, never was one to turn his back on a Skaven." he grunted out in slight pain.
The Skaven in question hissed a little before replying in it's broken gothic "Smart Man-thing, Skaven deadly killers." before it skittered forward along with Lilith. He looked up to the faded letters upon the top of the gate, not Gothic in any way so even if they were complete, he would have no way of knowing what they said, sighing he moved forward with some difficulty.
Asse_ c_ntai_ment rho
HIG_Y _ANGE_US
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High in a supporting tower lay a prone figure, watching silently like a statue for any sign of his target's movement. Frost considered himself an adequate Shrykura, one who knew his place in the Mountain and would follow orders till his body could not continue the rightful obedience required, but despite what the angered screams of those he and his fellow soldiers of the Fourth heard from their enemies, they were still only humans, flawed and prone to failings of the flesh.
His eyes continued to watch intently as his target sat behind a three meter thick wall of metal pipes and stone fortifications, this little base of Stormgardian PDF had been holding a vital supply line to the eastern lower levels and gave them a fall back line, his target was the commanding officer of this base and with their death, the warriors of the Mountain would descend upon the unknowing fools.
His thoughts turned from his mission only slightly as he contemplated on the war, the "war" if one could call it that had continued for far too long, and already there were talks amongst the remaining holdouts of entrenching in for prolonged warfare, ceasing their aggressive charge into the battles with the Stormgardians. The more vocal of these voices quickly found their way to the lash of their commanders for speaking out of turn, but the plan had merit. Especially with the recent news of a group of Crimson Gryphons having come to aid them, something that made the man excited for the coming conflict, the galaxy's eyes would be on Stormgard and the righting of the wrong the Cascadains were subjected to.
His train of thought ceased as he had visual on his target, the man was walking alongside a younger soldier, if the information was correct, then this was the target's son, a slight adjustment had to be made in his calculations to include the second individual but within milliseconds it was ready.
He felt his muscles relax as he focused on his target, the words drilled into him from his training coming out of his mouth like a harsh whisper of Wind "The Grey Mountain suffers no fools or weaklings" and he took the shot, the man was dead before he even heard the alarmed screams of his comrades, as the Cascadians descended from above on the base. His son did hear the alarmed screams but only for a few more moments before the new hole in his neck made him bleed out.
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The sight of the high spires of Stormgard reminded Eprham Gaul of his homeworld, the capital of Traynor however was a far cry from it, a city built upon a far larger bunker complex. Something fitting for the former war torn world he supposed, but he did not have time to think about these things, he had a mission to complete.
He and his Brothers had come to try and keep the situation from deteriorating and becoming the basis of a far larger disaster, bringing along plenty of their own soldiers, veterans of the Ursh Campaign, in case they had to pick a side to aid. Something he hoped would not have to be done, they were meant to fight the foes of mankind, not each other.
They were welcomed warmly at first, but once it became clear that they were here to try and broker peace, the citizens of higher standing seemed to pay them less and less active attention. The conflict having already shoved a divide between the groups, only the PDF leaders and the respected Elder Stehno seemed to show them any courtesy in their work. Something he found to be refreshing and an interesting experience speaking with another child of a Primarch, even if they were of different kinds.
While his brother worked to cease the fighting between the groups, he was busy with finding the source of this conflict, the Cascadians were violent yes, but they were not mindless berserkers who would betray the Imperium. Nor would the Stormgardians act without reason.
For days he looked over the reports that could be gathered and more did he feel that deep dread that clawed at him, the Umbral Watch was no stranger to espionage, close work with the Regent of Terra and their unofficial brothers of the Cuter Dei were proof enough of that. But the more he looked deeper, the more he found that things did not add up without some kind of interference. Not of Xeno or outside forces, but one that had a deep amount of control and influence over the world.
His mind ran with the what the implications of this all could mean, who among the Stormgard elite had called the Cascadians, why would they then send for the PDF to attack them for doing what they were asked to do, the violence and nature of the Cascadian Fourth was why they were chosen it seemed.
Gaul leaned back in his chair and looked out to the city from his window. None of the conflict has reached here yet, but he knew that if he and his brothers could not stabilize this world, then this city would also be in anarchy.
He chided himself for allowing the what ifs to be his focus, when all his attention should be on finding the way to stop the conflict, he would keep the information he had discovered for Lord Malcador and lord Alaric, they would find the scum who dared to set this war in motion.
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Colonel Felsenmeer of Briggs was called many things, monster, brute, soldier, atheist god of war. But he always considered himself first and foremost a servant of the Imperium, born of the Gray Mountain and was able to see when the Imperium found and claimed his world, he remembers the harsh cold winds parting as the Golden ships descended upon the world, bringing them out of squalor and gave them purpose.
So it was without question that his people gave all they could, to fight the dark things between the stars, he was among some of the first for the fourth regiment from his world, the proud Cascadian Fourth, something he had helped forge with his own two hands. They were celebrated amongst their people for their dedication and bravery, true sons and daughters of the Mountain.
And now…he stood watching the training of his regiment in their makeshift camp, turning to walk to a nearby balcony, overlooking the so-called "Pit" the under-hive of this world, a false mountain standing before him, he waved for his guard to leave him be. The Guide-Pioneers saluted and left the Colonel to his thoughts.
He looked out to the metal pit in disgust, even before he came to Stormgard, he hated this world and it's false mountains. He hated how it's people lived and how they fought, that these people had the gall to act superior due to having a Primarch and Astartes Legion. His world knew their duty to the Imperium and did so without such gifts, they were the true souls of the Imperium, not these entitled fools.
He was ordered to come to this world under request to stop the riots of the under-hive, he obeyed even if his own force was more suited to fighting the xenos and other foes of the Imperium, with brutal precision and hate the rioters were torn apart, but the resistance did not lessen only become far more organized.
What a fool he was to trust these people, those who did not understand the struggle of War, even his people had retained that understanding. But Stormgard had grown soft and allowed rot to take hold on this world, corruption that allowed for the supposed "Rulers" of the world to fall to backroom deals and the weakness of lesser warriors.
He should have seen the betrayal coming, seen that the damned women held no regard for his soldiers, to sacrifice them all just to bring her world into war again, and then there was the respected elder of this world, a child of a Primarch. He would have thought she could look past the politics and reach the heart of the issue, she knew who was to blame and how this could all end. But she refused and now the pound of flesh must be excised from the world itself, all because of some misplaced pride.
His gray coat shifted from the empty wind that flowed in this deep place, the sounds of gunfire were still present but were subdued, far too subdued in his opinion. He turned and began to walk back to his troops, he saw Sergeant Sahzi Lyzcah standing to the side, waiting for him to order his men for the next attack. He had found the Astartes to be a subdued sort and one who could be trusted to act as a soldier of the Imperium.
He stood before a crowd of his soldiers, each ready and willing to fight and die for him. He did not have to yell, his voice would be heard by all.
"My soldiers, true sons and daughters of the Gray Mountain, we fight on this day not only against forces of those who betrayed us, but against the soldiers of the Legio Astartes, they who were made to be the perfect soldier and fight the wars the common soldier could not. Today we show that the Cascadian Fourth are no common soldier, able to stand against the supposed best of the Imperium, let out fury as the Mountain, falling like an avalanche upon our enemies."
Cheers of rage were heard across the camp, as the Cascadians prepared for war.
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Captain Allecor has had little time to truly consider the events that have led him to leading a small squad of reckless and potentially dishonorable candidates for his legion, but like all things he would see his orders through, even as the war upon his world continued to grow.
Recently he and his squad have been sent to aid an under attack supply depot, this battle however seemed to be more than just another raid, it had far more of the Cascadian forces then Allecor had ever seen before in the prior battles, all attacking a single target. Allecor watched as the Cascadians fought like a moving tide, brutalizing any and all that stood in their path. While he and his brothers and their own teams had held the line as best they could, even with the vast numbers difference, the Astartes and their trainees were not alone, this battle was shaping to be potentially a turning point of the war if the Stormgardians could hold.
But none of that matter as Allecor stood defiant on the east side gate, two of his brothers and several squads of PDF had attempted to hold back the eproching line of Cascadians, and while all but one of their number had died , so too did all who attempted to stop the last fighter.
The man before him was short, even for a baseline human, barely reaching five feet. But Allecor could see it in his steps, this man was a warrior who wanted to make the Astartes bleed. Had the captain not seen how the other man fought, he would assume to simply be facing an overconfident foe and not one he had to watch. His foolish trainees, not even in the first stage of training for the Eternity Guard, even they knew not to get in the way of this, they had seen how this normal human tore through twenty other soldiers on his path to this point.
He knew who he faced, the supposed "God of War" for the Cascadian Fourth, Felsenmeer of Briggs, warpick in one hand, chainsword in another, gray cloak coated in blood from his own wounds and the blood of Allecor's allies.
The fight began slowly at first, the Chainsword of the Cascadian kept at a relaxed angle while the pick was raised in defense, Allecor's own Warhammer was in a similar ready position. The two circled each other, scanning their opponent for any weakness or flaw in their defenses, it was the Colonel who made the first move, making two attacks, one aimed to kill and the other to wound. Allecor made a snap decision to block the Chainsword reaching for his neck, allowing the Warpick past his defenses.
The pick found it's mark and cut into the joint of his leg armor, but it was no matter as he brought his warhammer with a full force into the side of this foe. He was knocked to the side, but even with the power of the Astartes behind it, that soldier continued to fight
The two continued in this manner for some time, the Cascascadian taking extreme damage to score potent and precise damage to the vital areas of the Eternity Guardian, but neither would submit or accept death to this foe. So they continued to fight, warpick and chainsword slicing into ceramite armor, hammer striking and breaking the human's body.
As the two readied for another part of their combat, a harsh green light washed over the area, stopping the fighting as all looked up to see explosions from above and below. The Pit was alight in green as metal began to fall from above.
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Humans were such easy fools to influence, Zich thought to himself. Throw a little broken gothic at them and they assumed you feeble minded, his kind's manic manner of speech helped in that regard, he did have to admit.
The events over these last few days have thrown his own plans into flux, but soon Scurry and Rottooth would be at War and his former Clan would surely be destroyed, leaving him free to pick up the pieces with his new Clan.
But never in his wildest dreams would he imagine finding not only a large amount of Nukes thanks to meeting some human female, but that she would bring him to the sealed tomb of precious treasures his kind have been trying to get into for centuries. And actually get the damned doors to open, he must have done something to truly gain the favor of the Horned Rat this day, everything was going perfectly for his rise.
The inside of the vault was a strange place, unlike other parts of the underground it was lush and full of life, no treasures could be seen but for some reason the humans seemed interested in the unimportant parts. Like the odd tubes of some kind of liquid, a broken and useless frame of some kind of machine or the inferior medical equipment compared to his kinds.
He felt great rage almost spill forth, this was it, the promised treasures and power for his Clan, this was nothing. He almost considered killing the two humans in frustration and simply
That was until he saw it, the Orb in his dreams, the one each Gray Seer had sworn would denote the next age of the Skaven. Without thinking he rushed toward it, the humans walking after him in confusion, before they stood in front of an illuminated wall he had missed. A wall of monitors was set up, watching many different tunnels and places around the planet, Zich could see some of his soon to be ex clan members in one such tunnel digging around where they knew one of the nukes would be. Quickly Zich took out a small device from his pockets and threw it at the feet of the Man things.
The light of the device shone and tapped the two between walls of green energy, this clearly took them by surprise, fools never even thought to check him for his own devices.
"Zich what the Frak is this?" Angeraly asked the female. "Something of my own make-creation, it traps the man-things well yes.yes." He spoke in a mocking tone to the humans.
"You stinking creature, when I get out of here I'm going to make sure your hide is burned" yelled the male man-thing impotently, his broken leg would have made a nice meal, but there is time for that.
"Zich…what are you doing, we had an agreement, remember." pleaded the female, how pathetic.
"Oh but sweet foolish Lilith, did you really think i did not tell my Clan where the other Nukes were, you had tried to hide them well with your choice in words, but me and my Clan know far more than you think" Oh how he had waited to let out his full vocabulary of Gothic on her and the gasps were worth it.
Zich delighted in the look of horror upon the Man-thing Female's face, she knew what was coming, she told him where he could find several nukes after all, in a way she thought she was being sly, hiding behind Ganger language. Learning that distinction of Gothic and Ganger was not that hard, it simply used local slang for locations and cultural shorthand, watch and listen enough and you understand it.
"W…why?" She asked, like the answer was not obvious. "Why, you ask why HEHEHEHE, it is the way of the universe, Skaven waits and plans, Man-things die or serve. And with your aid my clan will rise higher than any other of this world."
Zich's manic laughter was drowned out by the sounds of several bombs detonating across the planet, great green mushroom clouds rose up as they hit the Nukes, the monitors showcased devastation on a massive scale across each of the cities of the world.
"And of course…now that the Vault is open, the treasures are for me to enjoy and use for my rise." He walked towards the Orb as it was held by metal restraints, he took out his Warpshard tipped Dagger, a prize obtained from a Grey Seer he killed of the Blight tail Clan. He greedailiy licked his lips as he brought down his weapon upon the restraints holding the precious artifact, again and again he smashed his dagger onto the strange orb, the trapped humans trying desperately in vain to get out of his trap.
He almost laughed at their attempts, but despite his attempts he made no scratch upon the surface of the orb, this only angered the Skaven. How dare he be denied his rightful treasures, with one last slam of his dagger he jammed it into a point to where the blade was stuck in, a harsh green light was shown from the small opening he had made, this was enough for energy to be let out.
The release of energy knocked the Skaven back and shook the whole chamber, the orb began to shake and spin, the metal covering it falling away as a small Green light was all that was left. Growing ever slightly as it was released. The chamber continued to shake and began to crumble around them.
The ball of energy flew upwards after this, tearing through metal and stone as it grew larger and larger. Zich could feel his flesh still sizzling and his mind screaming of the danger that was coming, Zich quickly fled deeper into the new uncovered tunnels and away from the two humans as they left back out the way they came.
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Freedom…a concept he had long thought to be a harsh delusion ever since his entrapment all those billions of years ago by those treacherous servants of his kind. Trapped in a small container to be used as a weapon for their dynastic conflicts, what a waste for a God's power. The humans who inhabited this world were not any better, but they did not know what he truly was, using a small fragment of his vast power for their own uses of "society" if it could even be considered that. His slumber went for far too long and he had missed his chance for freedom in those days and once their pitiful civilization collapsed none had been able to free him from this new prison, a tomb of metal far below the crust of this planet and away from their memories. He had to take drastic measures to draw in the feeble minds of the Skaven, feeding their greed addled minds promises of power if they found and released him, the unfinished custodians of the Astral Paths
It had taken several thousands of years longer than anticipated, but now he was free. He flew upwards through the metal and earth, reaganing a proper form before reaching the surface. What he saw was a truly pitiful attempt of a civilization, but what he expected from the humans at this point, having the power of a being such as himself at their fingertips and they waste it.
He looked around, seeing the primitives scamper and some even still fighting in the dying wreckage of their cities from the vermin's explosion, how…quaint. It almost reminded him of the Krork in a way, tenacious and determined to keep fighting. That changed when he could feel the annoying pressure of their own weapons being turned on him, that would need to stop.
With a simple thought he let loose some of his pent up energy, the towering metal city below him quivering and becoming as water with his heat and power, it flowed down the vast pit it had in the center, the metal running down into the cracks and crevices of this malformed construction.
He reached with his power, deep into the crust of this planet, feeling the tectonic plates long since stilled via mechanical means. How distasteful, he willed these devices to break apart and begin his first real act of shaping since his imprisonment. The earth upon Stormgard seemed to split and rise as new formations in the very landscapes took shape, the cities shook and many buildings nearly crumbled away.
He briefly considered staying upon this world to continue his work, but the feel of the tectonic plates told him more than enough, this world was far too rigid for expressing himself in a grand manner, perhaps in a few millennia he can return to this place and make something rigid.
Looking out to the vast cosmos and past the unsightly mass of screaming space, he found such a world, one that one of his many Shards had seen a few eons ago. So with a simple desire to move, Yggra'nya, the World Shaper and one of the C'tan left the world.
To all watching, the great green being simply vanished, the immense force it exuded pulled inwards before it expelled outwards, creating a far larger hole where the liquid remains of Hive continued to flow downwards.
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In the following week, the final tally of the dead would be collected from the two events, millions were dead and even more were dying from the wounds. The camps set up by the Wardens quickly became refugee camps for those who escaped the melted zones, as thousands would make their way to these places for sanctuary. These tent cities near the bottom of the Pit would become endangered as the new threat would emerge.
Rumors of increased Skaven activity would surge from the underground and many would report a banner of a burned rat skull would be flying over the territory of many known Skaven settlements.
The remaining Cascadians simply left the cities, making camps on the outskirts and trying to collect what was left of their people. Colonel Felsenmeer still lived despite his injuries all thanks to the efforts of Sergeant Sahzi Lyzcah of the Crimson Gryphons.
With the disasters having destroyed many of the fighting forces on the planet, none seemed willing to continue to fight, what this could mean is still in dispute by many, but with the efforts of the Umbral Watch further conflict seems unlikely at this given time.
The entire sector burns. Fanatical Imperial armies in the billions dash themselves against the spirited and dogged bulwarks of the Federation. Mighty battlefleets tear each other to shreds in the cold void of space. Heroes are born and die by their thousands in minutes or less.
It's a war that would forever echo in the annals of history. Something that would leave an ever enduring mark in the psyche of the Tristar Federation, if only they had any chance at surviving this. For the Imperium, it was an embarrassment. A shameful stumble that should have never been.
Now a Primarch, a different one, leads the Imperial forces. Tasked with the bloody duty of finishing this war and wiping out the stain of shame from the Imperium's honor. The Federation's fate was sealed from the moment the Emperor decided to embark upon his Galactic Crusade. But what could have been a quick and painless death has turned into more butchery. Bloody, lengthy and difficult work.
Lesser Empires would shatter themselves at the rock of the Tristar. Crippled for generations by the effort in blood and treasure to overcome the Federation. But the Imperium of Man is no lesser Empire. It's the greatest power in the Galaxy, guided by divine might and will.
The Federation will fall and the Imperium will move on to the next conquest. Memnon will make it so.
Except now the colossal war raging outside is the last thing on the Tyrant's mind. For the Primarch has secluded himself in the inner sanctum of his flagship. A luxurious paradise of marble, ivory, stone, soft fabrics and beautiful greenery. Greater and more sumptuous than the courts of many a planetary governor.
Fitting for the divine son of an even greater god. A master of artistry, crafting and forging. With an unmatched eye for beauty and aesthetics. Few places in the Galaxy could match the beauty of the Tyrant's chambers aboard the Lady Penelope and surely, all those who ever had the privilege to visit there are blessed for having the chance to experience such beauty.
The small group of assembled servants, officers and officials, however, was too busy to admire the beauty of the setting. For their divine Lord was, in short, freaking out. It was not, fortunately, the destructive outbursts of mythological demigods. or the angry lashing out of slighted deities that have brought down countless realms and heroes.
The Tyrant instead stood still. Still clad in ceremonial armor, standing before the solid marble table that centered the reception room. Breathless and looking beyond everyone and everything. It was as if he had been turned into one of his own statues. But even Memnon's statues were more lifelike than the Primarch at this moment. There were no bright, ever roaming eyes, no smiling lips or words of affection coming out of them. No grasping hands, ever eager to touch, feel and work everything around them. Even the nervous, stress induced energy that pooled through Memnon's body during difficult campaigns seems to have left the Lord of the Third.
It is a distressing sight to say the least. Enough that the Astartes and mortals called by the Primarch seem just as equally enthralled. None of them have yet been informed of the reasons for their summoning. But it has clearly shocked their father into inaction.
"A Primarch is dead." Memnon finally spoke, barely above a whisper but loud enough to elicit gasps of shock and surprised exclamations. "Axinos of Actium is dead." He continued, paying his servants no heed. "Savnok killed him." The Primarch sneered. "He blames Warp Predators and Xenos. But we fucking know better, dont we?!" He turned to look at the small assembly. Mortal and Astarte alike recoiled at the sight. Never had they seen the Tyrant's face twisted with such rage.
"Perhaps he is speaking the truth, Uncle?" Admiral Erastes suggested hesitantly. "Savnok is not known for his subtlety. If he was responsible for it, then we all would know it."
"Savnok is as capable of keeping secrets as anyone else." Memnon spat back at the flinching Admiral. "If they had somehow stumbled upon an unknown threat capable of killing a Primarch we would have more information. Actual replies instead of this thrice cursed FUCKING CRYPTIC SILENCE!" The marble table cracked with a blow of one of his armored fists. "Savnok, that bald headed, scum sucking, dog loving Admnistratum bootlicker, has killed my brother because he hates our freedom! He hates that there are still places when someone can shit without applying for a triple stamped form from Terra. HIM AND THAT DEMENTED OLD BITCH MALCADOR HAVE KILLED MY BROTHER!" And the divine fist took down a decorative marble pillar.
"Yes. It is a disaster." Astyanax agreed, stepping out from the huddled mortals. The Primarch's foster brother calmly approached the demigod. "And a disaster of such magnitude needs an immediate response! Your will is our desire, great one."
Memnon, having recovered enough of his composure thanks to his brother's interruption, saw the gesture for what it was and took the offered lead.
"There is little we can do here." He started somberly. "Stuck as we are finishing off the thrice cursed Federation. Actium's days are likely over. No doubt the Admnistratum will use this opportunity to sink their withered claws into my brother's legacy. But we can still weather this storm." Memnon paused, giving his assembled officers a once over. "I'm afraid there is little you can do besides continuing your duty and winning this war. When news spreads, you must be ready to offer all comfort and support to our brothers and sisters of Actium still serving with us in this front. The war to salvage Actium will not be fought by your blades and guns, ever sharp and ever accurate as they always are. I shall make the necessary arrangements to set up our response. And in time, quite possibly soon, I will call upon you again so that we may talk of this. All of you already know of the joint efforts I organized with several of my siblings, Axinos included, to shape this Segmentum into a province worthy of our divine Father. These plans have not been shelved. Axinos' death will force us to change and adapt. But we still have a duty to ourselves and all of humanity here to see our plans through. Now we also have Axinos' memory to honor too, in this."
The Primarch paused again, hesitating for a few moments as he looked at everyone else in the room. Making eye contact and measuring each and everyone of them. Finally, after an eternity of a few seconds, Memnon squared his shoulders and continued.
"It pains me greatly to even consider this, but the signs cannot be ignored anymore. I now firmly believe that we are now threatened from within. The evidence cannot be ignored anymore. Savnok and the Administratum are likely working together to target those of us that refuse to blindly toe Malcador's line. Others are probably involved, either knowingly or not. Myrmidia and her 4th Legion, Alaric and his sons to name a few. Those both close to Savnok and his oppressive ultra centralizing ideology. We cannot act openly without proof. Proof that I will now tirelessly work to gather. But until I can present the proof of their crimes to the Emperor, we must remain watchful and ever careful. Our enemies are amoral, heartless, fanatical and insidious in their uncontrolled lust for control and will stop at nothing to see our god given rights taken away and see us reduced to mere serfs."
The Primarch paused again, giving a side glance to the destruction he had wrought. "I am sorry you had to see me like this, my children. And I am sorry to put such a heavy burden upon your shoulders. But we now have no choice but to act in defense of home and hearth. I dont think I need to ask you to keep this talk an utmost secret."
Taking this as their cue, the room emptied. Save for the Primarch himself and his foster brother.
"I wasn't close to him, you know." Astyanax started as he took his brother's arm in a one armed hug, resting his head on the cold armor. "But I love you and I hate seeing you hurting like this. I'm here and so is the rest of your family. This doesn't work if we don't support each other. Let us do our part."
"It's just so tiresome." Memnon sighed. "Every wall broken just seems to hide an even worse enemy. And now this. A dead Primarch, knives in our backs. All of this is just too much."
"And if we stop now we die." Astyanax countered. "We can only go forward. Wherever destiny leads us."
"Quoting my own words back at me, Asti?" Memnon smiled slightly. "I suppose I can't expect better from my own High Priest."
"It worked before when Starscream almost died. You reacted almost as badly then as you did now. Worried us all half to death too."
Memnon was about to reply when a mad thought seized his head and in the span of a microsecond turned into an idea and made its way to his mouth.
"Asti, I think you deserve to know what really happened back then."
For the first time in a century direct sunlight graced the Pit, those of its denizens not blinded by the flash of atomic fire or razor shards of glass looked up in mute incomprehension sometimes to the point of blindness themselves so unfamiliar and magnificent the blazing orb in the sky was even behind an ever present screen of smoke and dust. It was in a metaphorical and literal sense the only ray of light to be found, Brama was no more, the city of billions, a jewel of the Imperium, in minutes reduced to molten slag drowning and burning and crushing countless innocents beneath its falling corpse.
Mere hours after the blast a dispirited patrol mounted on assault bikes crossed the still smoking desolation of the Northern slope atop, the only coherent way of segmenting the city now that its streets and major structures had all become one, fused into a new and terrible creation by the most potent form of destruction witnessed by mortal eyes. A tired peace had settled on the troubled world, everyone was too dead or injured or spent to keep fighting any longer, millions of people crawled over the ruin of their stricken city like ants, picking up the pieces of their lives.
Sergeant Gusian of the Eternity Guard surveyed the scene, "Yesterday we were fighting tooth and nail for these streets, now there aren't any streets. Anyone who isn't dead or dying is wishing they were, this isn't our world anymore"
Lieutenant Seir looked over to him. "We're Eternity Guardians Gusian, our duty is Eternal, we will recover from this, Stormgard will rise again. Look around, its already started."
It was true, already there were bread lines, rescue parties, guides leading chains of the flash blinded to assembly points, hoversleds loaded with wounded, enforcers patrolled in squads and blared out information and instruction over their vox hailers though whether anyone was following their instructions or just doing whatever they all thought best was up for debate.
"We should help, but where do we even start?" Gusian asked as he took it all in.
"Over there, that might be a good start. Bike sensors detecting friendly contacts, Wardens."
Seir's voice was tinged with contempt and suspicion, Gusian felt the same way.
"More offworlders, where will it end?" He wondered aloud.
"Lets find out."
The pair accelerated, navigating the rubble and survivors at high speed, taking as direct a path as possible to the interlopers.
They were spotted early. Not only were the bikes less than stealthy but everyone was on edge, head whipped around at even the slightest unexpected noise. It would be a long time before anyone who had been in the underhive would feel safe ever again.
In response to the approaching Eternity Guard, the Wardens just stopped. It was a full squad, eight astartes, they seldom moved in anything less. Five of them immediately slumped down, some found convenient places to sit but a couple just sat on the ground. There was an air of exhaustion on all of them, and even from a distance one could make out the grime caking their armour. One at least did wave, acknowledging the Eternity Guard's approach. Another moved forward to kick a large piece of debris out of the way so the bikes had a clearer path.
The bikes pulled up just short, weapons carefully readied but not aimed directly at the Wardens.
"Identify yourselves and your purpose." The Lieutenant commanded haughtily.
The display and the attitude didn't seem to get much of a reaction from the Wardens. The one who had waved earlier cocked her head to the side. "Melika. Squad leader of the Wardens of the Blessed Heart. We're on patrol duty, or just finishing it. How about you?"
"We're patrolling our city on our world, what makes you presume the same right?" Came the angry response.
"This isn't a city anymore, Eternity Guardian. I would know, since I've been working to save the people in it since this whole sordid affair started. I've walked its streets and combed its alleys looking for anyone alive in the bloodied remains of what should have been a peaceful city." The words carried admonishment but Melika's voice was too tired for any real anger to get through. "I've spent over a year up to my elbows in blood for this world and the people on it. Not once did any of us ever consider stopping our work for any reason. But if you have an issue with us patrolling then we will gladly put our work on pause while you discuss it with Stehno and Ahurani."
"The Angel is coming here?" Somehow the title came off scornful rather than reverential. "There are more of you coming?" Seir looked at the wardens in dismayed anger.
"We could use the supplies anyway. And perhaps this is the one time a legion of nurses would be of some use." Gusian allowed generously.
"It was letting outsiders intervene in our affairs that brought this about anyway, look around, this is what help looks like." Seir gestured towards the vast ruin. "If you wanted to help you should have thrown the Cascadians off their precious hill or purged the rat things instead of wrapping bandages."
"We were told we could provide medical relief, not to get involved in the fighting. Our auxiliary regiment was told to guard infrastructure, not get involved in the fighting. We were trying to be respectful and not interfere in Stormguard's affairs without invitation." Melika doesn't bother to follow Seir's gesture and look out at the ruin, she's seen it enough.
"I don't know what Ahurani is doing, but she is the one who ordered me to be here. Stehno agreed, and put us to work." Melika shifted her weight, taking in the rest of the patrol. She was still easy, no hostility at all coming from her. "But duly noted. Next time I will interfere in the way you most prefer."
The pair of Guardians seemed to be growing more angry not less at her lack of reaction,
"Don't put yourself out." Seir grumbled.
The lingered in a strained silence for a time bar the groans of protesting metal and the gusts of thermal lifted wind rising from below.
"You've been operating below." Gusion finally spat out as much to break the silence as anything. "What the fuck happened down there? The Bombs were one thing but what hit Brama wasn't an Atomic like any I've ever seen."
Melika sighed, and with a click she released the seals on her helmet and removed it. Her face bore the exhaustion of her year long tour here more than her armour ever could. Sunken eyes with deep, dark bags, and obvious signs of not eating enough. She looked like shit. "I'll never forget it for as long as I live, but that doesn't mean I understand a single thing about it. This... green light exploded out of the pit, and then a massive translucent figure looked down at us. Then the city started melting and the screaming started. You know the rest."
"My best guess is some kind of ultra powerful xenos was locked away in the planet's crust before humans ever got here. Can't be a weapon, it was too deliberate for that. Maybe some kind of incomprehensibly powerful psyker among the rats did something? But I doubt it, it didn't help them much either." She shrugged, "it's the kind of thing I leave to experts. When things like that get involved I just fall back on my oath."
They looked at her stunned, whatever they had expected it was not that. "If that is some twisted mockery." Gusian threatened.
"Maybe she believes it? Mental fragility must come with the geneseed." Seirs guessed.
"You asked for what happened, I gave you my best guesses. Unless you can think of a weapon that can effortlessly melt all the metal in the hive without directly harming anyone inside or the surrounding area. And then, separately, cause the earth to shake and new mountains to begin to form." The insults continued to just roll off Melika's back. Either she was a very patient woman or this was starting to be fun for her. "As I said, I'm no expert."
They looked at each other for some time. "We should investigate this."
"Fucking warpfuckery…great."
"What we should do, nameless Eternity Guardians, is work to alleviate the suffering of the people whose lives have been destroyed by this tragedy." It was only now that Melika's voice took a harsher tone. She could handle insults but saving lives was deadly serious. "Unless either of you are librarians, I would suggest calling in experts and leaving it at that. Maybe the Lady Varil, she would be the foremost expert as far as I know. Until then there is work to do, and if you have the time to investigate something like this you have time to come help at the refugee camps and we need the extra hands."
"In case you have noticed there are two of us and whatever we can carry on our bikes, we'd not be able to help a millionth of these people, what we can do is provide up to date intelligence on what nearly destroyed an entire planet. You are an Astartes, a weapon of the Imperium that saves lives through proper deployment, your killing thousands by helping dozens." Spier lectured. "And, you can call me Sir if it matters so much to you."
"Then you may recommend to Stehno how best to deploy us. A weapon saves nobody by going rogue, Eternity Guardian. I have already delivered a thorough report to Stehno as well as all audio and video data we could collect." Melika went back to being placid, her moment of heatedness wearing off quickly. "So unless you have something new to add other than an opinion, you can shift boxes or go back to patrol. I'm slated for medical tent duty when I get back to camp so I do not have much more time for your little games."
"Manual Labour?" He shook his head in contempt at the concept, "We're going to find out what is going on down below, some of us remember what a space marine is for."
"Yes. We do." Melika put her helmet back on, clicking it into place. The acrid air of what was once Brama wasn't a problem but the two men in front of her were souring the environment. "Best of luck then, do let us know what you find. And if you ever remember what a space marine is for. We won't wait up though, we have actual work to do."
Artistic representation of the so called Eldar Wych, warrior Eldars who are of a far more adept nature then others of their kind in melee combat.- Found in the "Studies of the Xeno Menace: Eldar and their natures"
Barlak, a world that is the source of food for many hundreds of worlds, with bountiful fields of grains and vast orchards of fruit bearing trees. It was this world that faced the appetite of an Eldar known as the Gourmet, intent on tearing apart the planet for its foods and resources.
Patrek Barbara was in command of the relatively small force coming to deal with these Eldar raiders, he knew they would be outmatched and if they were to attack as they were, he and his brothers would surely die. So in secret he and trusted members of high rank of their forces concocted a plan to draw out a sizable portion of the Eldar raiders. This plan would soon be aided by the arrival of a squad of Cuter Dei of the Umbral Watch, known as Squad Ferrin.
The plan was to create a false report of a new shipment of foods from other Agri-worlds and make it seem this was Stormgard solution to the issues, the ravenous master of these raiders would not resist such a prize and send forces too, Squad Ferrin's arrival would be a great boon to the subterfuge needed for this plan.
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It was a simple matter to spread the rumors of the new shipment of food and it would be even simpler to set themselves in position to await the Eldar ships who would come. They did not have to wait long before the ships of the Eldar arrived, prompting the Imperials to fire their first strike.
The strike was almost too effective, the Eldar ships not having been prepared for the potential attack were torn apart by the smaller fleet actions, the ships that did not die immediately would find themselves outmatched as the guns of the Imperials were unyielding, the ships of the Eternity Guard and their combined plan had trapped the Eldar, slaying them before they could escape or retreat.
All that was left after the barrage of ship fire was the wreckages of Eldar ships, with confirmation about no life signs left on the ships, the Fleet made their way to Barlak.
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Patrek Barbara watched as his forces approached the world of Barlak, large swaths of the world now laid barren and already the Vox could detect the frantic calls for aid the Eldar did not bother to stop. The sight enraged the Astartes and quickly he prepared for his forces to land on the world and begin to rescue the planet and it's remaining inhabitants from their fate.
The landing was not as smooth when compared to the flight over the planet, for while the Eldar Fleet had been nearly wiped out by the Imperial ambush, the planet itself still held Eldar that had prepared for a counter attack.
Battles across the surface would occur in frantic struggles of the Astartes trying to maintain their numbers and hold ground against the larger numbers of the Eldar, while the prior ambush of a majority of their forces had taken plenty of the Eldar's fighting force, enough still remained to give the warriors of the Imperium pause. The secretive Cuter Dei in particular would be reported across the planet, seeming to be fighting a single squad war of their own against the Eldar forces, one that had taken them to the edges of the front lines to the deepest incursions of enemy territory, but they would complete their orders no matter the cost.
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Cethlimh Eochu sat upon his throne, watching the armored warriors of this so called "Imperium" on the Crystal Eyes of eternity, these warriors were certainly a spectacle to watch as they fought, clear effort and care was placed in their creation, but even this could only account for so much. The chamber where he sat once was the main hall of the Planetary Governor, whose family made for quite the main course for the first feast of the world before he was made into dessert. This place had served him well despite it's modest accommodation, but as a true Servant of the Prince of Corruption, such base living made his skin itch. It was only the nightly feasts that staved off this discomfort and affront to his lord and master.
"More wine" he called out to his servants "And tell me the current casualty rate of my forces while you are at it." He spoke plainly and methodically to the other Eldar, born of lesser families and under his command.
"At the current rates my lord, we have lost nearly seventy percent of our forces remaining in the last few hours, it is unlikely for us to slay the Mon-Khigh Dogs at this rate."
He was reminded of the lack of his warriors at this, with the few remaining having had to be sent to the front, with his personal of Wychs having been mostly slaughtered by the Mon-Khigh's ambush, leaving only his personal guard and a handful of other Wych Cults he had brought along to strip this world bare of all it's delicacies, he was quickly finding that the attacking Mon-Khigh Barbarians would not be repelled.
The explosions grew closer and closer by the minute, he knew they would reach the mansion soon, if only this primitive place had even the most basic of his palaces defenses, he could perhaps wait out the Mon-Khigh's rage in comfort before they would be slaughtered like the Primitives destined for the jaws of the God Beast.
As the doors to his chamber exploded outward in splintering wood and dust, Cethlimh took another swig of his wine, before he stood up and looked to the attacking beings, wondering how many he will be able to eat before more arrive later.
One in particular seemed to be the leader,the Mon-Khigh warrior wore the same armor of the rest of his kind, White,green and gold. But the rest of his form gave the Eldar some consideration, he was old for a Mon-Khigh with weathered and scarred skin, obvious mechanical augmentations were part of his frame which either inferred injury or needed to improve themselves, how quaint. But it was the eyes that truly gave Cethlimh something to consider, unlike others of their kind who looked at him with fear or hate, there was only calm fury in this one, a refined experience that was hard to find in the raids he had fought in.
Cethlimh's grin grew wide as he could feel that this one would make for an interesting pre feast fight, he licked his lips in anticipation and his sharpened teeth almost tingled in his newfound hunger for the Old warrior in front of him. His own Blade seemed to share his hunger as the Djin blade called for him to kill this one and eat their heart. The two locked eyes and made their first movements toward the other, beginning a duel that would span the entire mansion.
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The halls of the governor's mansion were alight as bolter and energy tore through it, but the main event would be the two warriors who crashed through the walls, one an Astartes warrior, faced old and weathered, wielding a Power Axe. Facing the Astartes is a relatively smaller Eldar, wearing little armor and wielding a Blade that seemed to shift and gave off an air of Hunger and bloodlust.
Despite the Eldar's lack of armor compared to other's of its kind, the skill it had with it's blades shifted any of Patrek's attacks away from the dancing form of the Eldar, before striking out with one of its own against the Astartes own defenses. The Fight between the two was akin to a battle between the Wind and the Earth, the Eldar never ceasing his movements and quick strikes, while the marine kept his defenses firm and eyes open for any opening to attack on his own.
They continued like this, creating minor wounds on each other that only served to showcase that the other could be wounded and killed, but it seemed that the deadly dance between the two could not be stopped,not without one committing to a dangerous move. And unfortunately, it would be the Eldar that made that move, rushing into close quarters with the Astartes and swinging his blade in a way that was aimed to cut away his arm, Patrek was able to block the attack, but he would soon find that the blade and Eldar gave far more force then their size would indicate.
The old wounds of the man ached and screamed as he held back the hungering blade, while his Bionics worked to their limits to keep the Eldar from overwhelming him, realizing that his foe had an opening and all that it required was his own injury, the Marine took his chance. Sliding his Power Axe towards the Eldar in a sudden burst of speed that caught the Eldar off guard, Patrek's Axe had finally found its mark, cutting into the Gourmet's chest and slamming him into a wall. Not without cutting a deep gash in the marines still flesh arm, but to him any pain was worth it to defeat such a foe.
"M..my…Line has…withstood the test of billions of years, what right do you have to END IT!" The Eldar spat out, looking at the Marine with pure disdain. "The right of a servant for the Imperium, nothing more is needed to face you." The old warrior simply stated with a cold certainty before he grasped his Axe free of the Eldar and buried it into the Eldar's skull with one clean strike.
The blade of the Eldar warrior fell to the ground, before writhing in apparent pain and turning to ash, the sight of this however was the least of Patrek's concerns, as reports from his brothers would inform him of something far more prudent to him in particular.
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The death of their leader did to the Eldar what all Imperial forces had come to expect from their cowardly race, fleeing in their remaining ships and strange portals. The surviving people of Barlak would express weeping thanks to the Astartes, who nodded and left the people to begin the long process of repairing their world.
As they left, the Eternity Guardians spent their journey home repairing both body and equipment alongside the Umbral Watch squad who had aided them, Patrek Barbara did not join his brothers, he was confident in the apothecaries and tech marines skills. He had his own matters to attend to, namely the strange artifact they had found deep below the mansion of the dead governor, obviously placed there by the Eldar, but for what purpose and why situate it arounds other treasures of human make. The object in question was a shield of excellent quality and make, with a reflective surface that seemed to remind Patrek of a massive and still lake. His duty of course was to contain the object and bring it back to Stormgard for study as is his Primarch's standing order, treating the object with care and keeping his brothers a distance from it, who knows what kind of Eldar trickery it could contain.
Their return to Stormgard however took all thoughts of the Mirror like shield away from Patrek, the planet altered and still burning in places from its recent events.
A cool, ghostly hand on his brow, a gruff yet tender voice reaching across decades,
"Poor little Andal, burning up, I know it feels bad but you'll get better soon, you're through the worst of it, just keep fighting little man, everything will be alright, I'm here we'll get through it together. Your and me? We're tougher than some stupid fever, its a fact, we're just made that way."
He woke to the taste of ash, powderised ferrocrete and blood. He couldn't see much, his vision a blur of dull flickering colors and wet retinue burned shadow, the lancing pain in his leg was worse than ever but didn't come close to the pain rushing in through the hole in his head washing over even feverish delirium that had summoned the memory. Something heavy was across his back, debris most likely, had the roof collapsed? He needed to focus, self indulgent agony could wait, he was on the chrono now.
Take stock old man, there were two…no three of you here, the citizen and that fucking rat.
"Lilith?" He rasped into the gloom, noticing the slight gurgle and strange whistling sound, so there was more than a little blood in his mouth and he had even less unbroken teeth. "Citizen Lilith, what's your status?"
No answer. Waste it. He owed her, more importantly the Law was owed its due, he hoped she wasn't dead. But he would find no answers verbally it seemed. Gritting his teeth he pushed downwards, muscles straining, new injuries revealing themselves, old ones reacquainting themselves, he pushed both down deep as he rose higher, he effort left him coughing and spluttering but he forced his battered old body up all the same until he was just about on his knees, the broken leg was not up to much, but he was not about to grow a new one so he would have to make do.
Andromalius dragged himself across the floor, feeling out with his hands, listening intently, trying to get a sense of the bunker and laying it against his memory even as his vision slowly returned, more or less. The ceiling above seemed intact, as did most of the contents of the building, the shockwave seemed to have merely moved around the furniture and knocked some dust loose. Whoever had built this place had done their work well, it was banged up but still functional, he could only hope he could boast the same.
He finally laid eyes on Lilith, she lay there, flat on her back staring sightlessly up at the ceiling, the flickering monitors casting a ghostly light on her still form.
"No." He'd failed too many times today. Not again. He forced himself all the way to his feet, striding forwards, ignoring the pain, ignoring everything until he could collapse onto his less bad knee again by her side. He fell into well practiced motions, checking her vitals or rather lack of them and setting to work fixing that, rescue breaths, compressions, the jumpstick from the medkit on his belt. He worked until sweat dripped from his body, his lungs and heart seemed ready to burst and he'd definitely heard something crack in her chest. He didn't stop, wouldn't stop until he passed out, or she woke up.
The weakest halting splutter, it looked like it was to be the former. Andromalius was not one to smile, he didn't break that habit now, nor was there much relief or warmth in his voice when he spoke.
"Citizen Lilith, remain calm, take deep breaths, you have been resuscitated ."
"If…if you're waiting on a thank you…" she gasped, sounding more or less how he felt, as to be expected but not promising.
"Don't try to speak."
"Fuck…off.. where's Zich?"
"Gone, he'll answer for what he did in due time." He assured her, leaving out for now that she would have to answer for her own actions in short order. But for now the priority was her well being, she needed to be alive for a trial after all.
"Now, again, do not try to speak, you have been through an ordeal, you need to rest. Recover your strength, not die."
"Not…going too…everyone wants us gone, dead or just buried alive…even the rats think they can do whatever they want…use us, use me…" She rolled over, violently shaking free of the hand he put forwards to stop her.
"Come on…we need to catch him…thought you'd be all for it lawman."
"His time will come," he assured her.
"Yeah, right now. If he gets back to those tunnels we'll never get him and your topside friends, they've got bigger problems, they've always got bigger problems than the likes of us." Lilith brushed off the platitude as violently as she had his touch.
Instead she limped over to the bank of monitors. Andromalius followed her, thinking.She had a point, but in their current condition…she was still right. He'd just have to endure, he'd endured worse before. Those Atomics, that creature had almost certainly killed thousands, maybe millions. Justice needed to be done, could not be left to chance. The pair of them scanned the bank of monitors, it made grim viewing, more than half were blank or showing static, the rest showed collapsed tunnels, masses of skaven and…
"Is that…no….it can't be…even an Atomic…" Lilith gasped in horror, somehow the scale of the devastation was enough even to break through the shell built by a lifetime of cynicism, violence and loss. His own was tougher, he'd been in the Pit longer than even she had. Still it was a blow, the hurt was dulled but it was there. His city, his home, everything he'd fought for, every criminal locked away, every citizen saved, every drop of sweat and blood, all those decades, his entire life fighting for the Law and Justice all of it, molten slag and a giant hole in the ground. He forced down the despair, it was worthless and unworthy of him and his position. What was left? His duty.
"There he is." He spoke, pointing to one of the monitor, Zich was looking worse for wear himself, he'd not had a shield to take the worst of the creature's energy, what little fur was left on him was still smoldering, the rest of his form was almost entirely bleeding burn and sloughing flesh.
"He's not the only one." Lilith noted, pointing to a different monitor, one showing the path they had taken to the gate of the bunker, the scene was barely recognizable, both due to damage and to now being covered in the bodies of a swarm of exceedingly well armed skaven.
"Zich doesn't know this place any better than we do and most of the gates seem intact and shut, it will take him time to find an alternative escape route than the way we came in." He observed calmly. "We deal with his accomplices first."
"There must be dozens of them!"
"What's your point?" He asked her.
She looked at him intently for several moments before glancing back at the monitor.
"That looks like an armory to me, maybe it will open up for us like the front door did? Going to need a lot of lead for this one. What you say lawman? Up for a bit of stealing?"
"It's called requisitioning when I do it."
--
Norveg Steelclaw, thrust his namesake claws forwards towards the opening urging his vermandos to make haste, every second counted. The first scoutrats bounded forwards, covered by the gunnerats and sniper teams with practiced skill vanishingly uncommon across the rest of Clan Skurry's fighting packs. Squeal Team Six were the best of the worst and simply without equal in the entire great lair.
They had already brought the man things low with their own crude weapons and now they had been sent to seize the prize that had gripped the greed hearts of every Skaven from conviving clanrat to imperius leader for thousands of years they'd all tasted the raw power when the manthing's city had been purged and now that power would be all theirs to destroy their enemies above and below the surface.
Clan Scurry would rise! And perhaps Norveg would rise too, no no perhaps he would! Why should the fat rats back safe and snug in the lair get the prize, it was in his claws what would they do about it if he kept it? What would they do about it if he kept him and killed them all with it?
Sped on by his exhortions and his threats they swept through the open gates and into the vault, despite his excitement he waited at the entrance for a time as the first teams swept and cleared, there were less important rats than himself to do the dying, he was not a scaredy rat by any means but the entrance was a natural killzone and getting shot to pieces in an ambush was a great way for his enemies to die but he had better things to do, like rule his clan with a steel claw for all time.
It seemed that the Great Horned Rat was with them that day, or perhaps was with someone else making them suffer instead, because the first shrieks of triumph and relief came back over the Sqeakcaster. "No enemies! Victory! Loot is all mi-ours." Krek Halfsnout boasted in his distinctive whistling voice.
It was time to move with haste, the Vermandos were as close to loyal as Skaven could be to each other, mutinies and self promotion via assassination were rare, but ultimately they were as close to loyal as Skaven could be and rare was not never. He needed to be seen and to more importantly see the good stuff and claim it before someone else did.
"Two Mischief forwards, Three Mischief no one enters, no one leaves, kill all!" He commanded.
The Stormvermin and Heavy Weapons Rats pushed forwards now with him at their head, the pushed through the open gateway and emerged into…a somewhat different hole in the ground, filled with junk.
One Mischief were squabbling over a broken metal can and the others were cheering on the carnage in the tunnels as various clans fought each other on a bank of flickering monitors but everything else was boring except for…
"Warpjuice!" Norveg shouted in triumph, nothing glowed so beautifully sick and deadly like the product of the Warp, the Horned Rat's poisoned gift.
"Uh Bossrat!"
"Shuttit." Norveg commanded magnanimously.
"I found them I get to keep…at least half." Krek Halfsnout suggested.
"You can keep however many of my claws stick in your greedyguts belly." Norveg offered raising the claws in question, sharp as ever.
"Bossrat you should see…"
"Shuttit!" The two of them shouted in unison before glaring at each other.
"He was talking to me." Norveg declared, "I'm the only Bossrat here."
"He's in my Mischief. He was talking to me too." His in-subordiante responded.
"Everyone in every Mischief is in my Mischief so he was talking to me."
"Who died and put you in charge?"
"Who says it was just one dead rat?"
"Bossrat there are hum"
"Shuttit!" The pair screamed again at the unfortunate clanrat.
Krek shot the interrupter in the belly. "My clanrat, my discipline!" He crowed.
"That's no good, bullets are boring, this is how you discipline!" Norveg criticised, setting to flaying the wounded rat with his claws. "Hear how much more he screams?"
"Yeah but guns quick and you can do this with them!" Krek pointed out before revealing his grand trick of placing the barrel right above Norveg's snout between his beady eyes.
"Thanks for the promotion Bossrat!"
"You sneakyrat!" Norveg said with enraged pride at the student becoming the master. His life flashing before his eyes, it seemed so unfair, he'd done everything right, the lies he'd told the lives he'd ruined and for it all to end here.
"Takes one to slay one!"
"Are we interrupting?" A new voice spoke, in horrid Gothic rather than the musical nailed Skaven-speak.
"Manthings approaching, thought you should know Bossrats." The half flayed clanrat groaned helpfully from the floor.
Across the chamber stood two manthings armoured head to to, their gear was pristine and ready for use after thousands of years, the maw of their weapons seemed to be smiling hungrily in delight at finally being put to use.
One last time the two 'Bossrats' spoke in unison. "Oh S-"
Thousands of years and still the flames were hotter than the surface of the sun, truly the manthings do not build flamers like they used to.
--
Gaining access to the armory had been the easy part, it was finding it that was the hard part, the screens had been disjointed, lacking context and the signs on the walls completely intelligible, still by this point she was well practiced at wandering through a labyrinth of ancient evil with a wounded companion she trusted as far as she could throw. The reminder made her reconsider yet again whether or not to just get ahead of the game this time and shoot the old bastard in the back of the head. He was an Enforcer, that was almost as bad as a Rat, worse in some ways, and he made no secret about liking her or making exceptions. If she let her guard down again, or even if she kept it up like she had with Zich it would still end horribly. Everything always did.
She'd been trying not to think about what was going on in the Pit or Topside, whatever was left of either. Her fault, she'd been used, taken in by the least trustworthy bastard possible with a trick a three year old would have seen through on a bad day. Maybe the old man would be right to slap her in electros or blow her brains across the wall. Frak it, she'd just be alive and wrong than rightly dead then, same choice everyone in the Pit had made every day. She eyed up the back of the Enforcer's skull one more time.
"Stop." Andromalius had told her flatly.
"Stop what?" She'd asked in surprise.
"You know what, stop. We need to work together right now, this bunker could be full of other weapons from the dark age, if those rats get a hold of anything else like that creature then the surface is going to be in for even a worse time. Its our duty to stop that happening, however we can."
"Our duty?"
"Pit or no, you're still from Stormgard aren't you?"
"When has that meant anything at all? Never meant food in my belly, never meant the boot off my neck, never meant my family not fighting and dying. If that…thing and Zich had just left it to giving Topside a taste of their own medicine and left mine alone you think I'd be doing anything but saluting?"
"They didn't just leave it there though did they?" He asked pointedly.
"No." She admitted, "but that doesn't stop it being shit."
"No. But it does mean it will get worse if they get their claws on what's in here."
"I'm just so Catthreed with all this." She cursed, knowing he was right and hating it worse. "Shit always drops on me and my family, has since ever and its got worse since you showed up, everything is always just two steps forwards three steps back and then a dive into the septic lake. Whatever the hell happens here its just going to blow up in my face again, and you…you still just think I'm a crim, maybe one you have to work with right now but you hate it, I'm beneath you. Just FUCK." She hit a wall.
He'd not said anything, of course he didn't. She'd not wanted to hear anything but it would at least have been something to ignore, didn't even get that. And she'd been left feeling sorry for herself like some release valve coming down from their high or a Ganger crying for her mama as her guts spilled out after a street war. All she was able to do was keep her mouth shut and seethe until they finally came across a set of blast doors that looked similar to the ones in the image of the interior of the armory.
"I think this is it." She'd said,
"Looks like it, any bright ideas how to open them?" The Enforcer had asked.
She'd examined the barrier, "that looks like the piece of junk that let us into this place in the first place." She said pointing at the machine in the middle of archway of the door.
"The other one was lit up, this one doesn't seem to be functioning."
"Stuff down here is always breaking, I think I have an idea to fix it," she said, before taking off her boot and throwing it with full force, hitting the machine dead center with a heavy thunk and a electronic buzzing sound. Sure enough a light blinked on.
"You have a way with machines." Andromalius had grunted.
"You're welcome." She bowed low in response as they were once again illuminated before the heavy blast doors had shifted just like before.
Within they had found a treasure trove of weaponry, stretching on for hundreds of meters maybe more, an arsenal worthy of army.
"They just locked all this stuff away one day and left it down here?" She asked in amazement.
"Worked fine for thousands of years, until we came along."
"The Rats were already working on this, they seemed to have some heavy artillery, eventually they'd find a way through, enough time and effort and anyone can get into anywhere."
"And eventually any building will collapse, it's still a crime to blow it up."
She had wondered what possible crime she had committed to deserve having to put up with the pain in the arse Guard, even blowing up the planet didn't seem fair. Then again since when was the Law fair?
"Quit smiling like an Incom and lets load up. If those rodents haven't arrived already they will do by the time we get back."
She'd grumbled under her breath but looting an ancient arms stockpile had been the most fun few minutes of the worst year of her life. They'd ended up selecting matching sets of body armor, autoguns and two flamers, all of an unfamiliar yet basic design. She'd worried the old man on his bad leg would struggle with the weight but if he did he suffered in silence and kept up. She had had to admit the old bastard was tough, whether he was tough enough though? Well they were in the process of finding out, the rats had made it too easy to get close and now they were paying for it.
"How do you like it huh?" She demanded, voice muffled by the mask and drowned in the roar of her flamer as she poured fire at the dozens of rats still clustered at the entrance.
A great stream of flame enveloped them, setting their fur and clothing alike and scattering those fortunate enough to not be caught in the stream. Panicking gunners fired wildly, their bullets shredding their retreating comrades and each other. The two humans circled the room, keeping clear of its central inferno, the only sounds loud enough to be heard over the flames was the screams of those vermin caught up in it. It was carnage and chaos and it was amazing that it took as many seconds as it did for all semblance of discipline to fade and the rats to cast aside their weapons and flood out the door, leaving behind those too wounded to follow. There must have been twenty burning, shriveling corpses, the smell was sour and wretched and made her want to vomit, the sounds however scared her, because they were the best thing she had ever heard.
"Come on Guard, none of these rat bastards are getting home!" She cheered pushing forwards.
She jumped over the bodies and charging towards the door, she'd just crossed the threshold when she felt a great weight crash into her back, forcing flat on her body. Andromalius the bastard lay atop her, seconds later the space where they had bene was filled with hot lead and lasers.
"Get back inside!" He roared, following his own advice, crawling quickly even with his broken leg. She needed whatever drugs they pumped into ancient enforcers. Behind them a hundred Skaven continued to fire what seemed like every gun in the galaxy at them.
"Creeps brought the whole family for a fight." She complained as he drew his autogun.
"Switch to firearms, longer range." He barked
"`Doesn't matter what we use, it won't be enough for all of them and all the friends coming to lay a claim to what's here, we gave it a good go, lets look for a back door." She reasoned.
He ignored her of course, creeping forward again to fire short accurate bursts before pulling back just as swiftly, further forward was a light show of thousands rounds richoteting everywhere.
"Or I guess we can enjoy the pretty lights before ours get put out for good." She sighed.
"We go out, we go out fighting."
She glared at the cliched, geriatric, lawdog with all the hatred in the Pit. She hated his stubbornness, his arrogance, his fucking death wish, most of all she hated how she must have had more than a bit of all that in her too because the way he said it, didn't sound sound so bad.
"Asshole." She offered up as she unslung her own autogun, as last words went at least they came from the heart.
--
They had seethed the entire ride from their ill humored meeting with the Wardens, there was no coping with the products of such inferior geneseed. It was a given that no one could measure up to the Eternity Guard's exacting standards, but the disinterest in even trying, the rejection of the fundamental purpose of being an Astartes.
"Those soft bitches will rot the Imperium inside out." Gusian prophesied.
"Only if the Galaxy doesn't devour them alive, how they survived the last year I cannot imagine." Seir wondered.
"By hiding and leaving the fighting to the real warriors of the Emperor, but they can't hide forever, I just hope I am there when the Emperor's wrath finds them."
"That's likely, it shall be the Bronze Shields all over again."
"I was just a neophyte back then. But I've heard the stories."
"Its not the same, I was there, you would have had to have been there too, to spend those weeks cleansing the Emperor's enemies only to be handicapped and left in peril by our supposed allies at every turn. Oh they threw a good feast and could hold a conversation, sometimes you'd almost think their absurd culture had some dignity to it…but we all could smell the stench of corruption. Lord Savnok himself uncovered the full truth, beat it out of that coward Memnon, a full confession, but we all shared the glory of exacting justice. Putting their books to the pyre to the fire, stamping on their ill won battle honors and staining their undented armour in ash. I think some of them actually wept like mortal children." Even now the hate, scorn and righteous joy animated the Officer's face.
"And they let you shame them so?" Gusian asked.
"They had shamed themselves, besides it was the Emperor's will, if they could not stand against Xenos, how could they stand against us? The Wardens will be the same, mark my words."
"I'd prefer burning traitors to burning books but anything that puts that smug bitch back in her place will do."
The Lieutenant's agreement was cut short by an alert on their HUDs; intensifying weapons fire directly ahead, the journey down into the disemboweled guts of the Pit had been largely quiet, those not burned or crushed in the cataclysm has been asphyxiated by a billion tons of carbon monoxide and other noxious gas were unleashed in the inferno. Those same chemicals swilled around their bikes a toxic, blinding soup that left them reliant on instruments alone to navigate the treacherous descent, often driving off ramps and ledges with nothing but certain if very distant death below them as they descended deep into the planet itself. But now their sensors were screaming, someone was throwing a lot of ordinance around.
"Mission relevant?" Gusian queried.
"We'll keep at least one alive to find out. But I am not letting this war restart, The Legion's homeworld has suffered enough, resumption of hostilities would render us a laughing stock."
"Acknowledged, arming bolters, accelerating to attack speed. Maximum lethality."
The Bikes accelerated until it was at the limits of even transhuman reflexes to control them, the pair almost breached the sound barrier as they hurtled down into the depths towards the promised battle, soon they left even the the lowest reaches of what had been the Pit behind them and all that was beneath their threads was bare, natural rock. Their foes became visible exactly seven tenths of a second before contact. Their enhanced minds working in tandem with the most advanced sensors in the imperium and decades of experience to track almost a hundred targets.
Bolter, Grenade, Chainsword, the weapons of an assault bike were simple and laughably light the standards of an Astarte's war machine, but an Astartes rider was a war machine all unto themselves. There was not a pack of rodents spawned in the entire galaxy that could last more than scant seconds against them. In this specific action the last piece burning hunk of Skaven was deposited seven hundred feet away approximately nineteen seconds after the Astartes began the engagement and eight seconds after they ended it. The riders never even halted their bikes, instead slowing them to a gentle climb as they ascended the ramp and entered the chamber, disarming both mortals there in the secondary and most debilitating phase of Transhuman Dread.
"Why are mortals always so terrified of rescue?" Gusion asked.
"I could not begin to guess." Seir responded, withdrawing a battle rag to begin wiping away the blood that completely coated both his own armor and that of his ceramite steed.
The shield crackled, boulders shattered, metal groaned and Zissa screamed, clinging for dear life. The threat alarms of her hover chair screamed out in binary and senseless noise as if they needed the reminder. Stehno could see the base of the nearest tower closing through the viewport as the spire swayed perilously, green light lit the sky and she could already see other, weaker structures than her own collapsing or more alarmingly thrown away like discarded toys, it seemed to be a city wide disaster. The Cascadains must have finally lost their minds or perhaps this was some Xenos assault, regardless the results were surely devastating if they could be so potent even beyond the atmosphere.
She knew that countless beings across the galaxy would turn to prayer in such times, she hoped it brought them comfort, she preferred more self sufficient measures. Deft fingers manipulated the controls, sending the chair hurtling at some speed towards the other side of her chamber, the only ornamentation in the room was a stone statue of the Emperor, it swung smoothly aside revealing a circular shaft, barely a second after they were upon it they were hurtling down through the building stopping only upon entering the secure chamber. Its furnishing was sparse save the bare necessities to survive for up to a month, but its walls were reassuringly thick Adamantium and even if the entire Spire collapsed they would not notice thanks to the chamber being suspended in a second equally strong chamber filled with a semi liquid stabilizing and impact absorbing compound.
She stroked Zissa's back, as they sat in the UV rich light. "Hush now little one, no one and nothing can hurt us here."
"What…what is happening grandmother."
Stehno observed the girl for some time, feeling a swell of pity, she indulged in it, allowing a single moment of hesitation, her favorite deserved that much at least. But however long they waited in this danger room they would have to utilize every moment.
"Some troubled soul is committing suicide. Do you know what that word means?"
The girl nodded hesitantly.
"Rest assured, whoever did this is as surely doomed as if they took the traditional intimate approach to the matter. We will find them and make them pay, the ones who pushed the button, the ones who commanded it, and the ones who made the clothes, cooked the meals and supplied the womb that allowed our enemy to live and grow and do their work against us, our revenge will be total, do you understand? "
"You're scaring me grandmother."
"I know sweetling, but you are nine now. Your generation, your parents' even, you've all hand the indulgences afforded to the young in peace and plenty…I fear that is at an end. Its time to grow up little one or else you may never get the chance at all. Someone tried very hard to kill us, they did kill at least thousands of our fellow citizens and they did so in the most evil and cowardly fashion they could, from within. Such demands an answer."
"I…think…"
"You think?" Stehno challenged sharply. "I know that sounds wrong grandmother…you do not sound like yourself."
"Zissa, I'm afraid I sound exactly like myself, I fear I was not always the sweet old grandmother you may have come to know, I wish, but in fact once upon a time I was the daughter of a soldier, and then one myself, and a leader and a business woman and mother and through all that I had to be ruthless, this Galaxy is utterly unforgiving, comfort and safety let us forget that, but sooner or later its true face is always revealed, and in such times…we can stand strong or we can break."
"I…I'm strong. Like you grandmother."
"I know you are, but you are for the moment underprepared, that needs to change by the time we leave here, it could take them days to find us, maybe longer. We are going to spend every minute of that preparing."
"Preparing for what?"
"The War,"
"What war?"
"There is only one war child, fought a thousand different ways for a thousand years but remaining unchanged for all that; Stormgard against the Galaxy."
Her eyes widened, "Us against everyone else?"
"Us against everyone else." Stehno confirmed. "Now lets get started, repeat after me. "I Zissa Venturi do solemnly swear allegiance to the state, I shall defend Stormgard and its people against all threats in all forms, I shall not hesitate nor ever be negligent in my duties, I shall obey all lawful commands, fight bravely, live selflessly, work diligently, endure all trials and tribulations and undertake all tasks be they humble or dangerous in service of Stormgard, if needed I shall give my possessions, my health and my life for Stormgard without hesitation or right to redress. I shall never forsake my fellow citizens or the honor and virtue of Stormgard, I pledge that I will serve so all may know freedom, I shall fight so others may no peace and I shall die so others may live. I do this knowingly and irreversibly until past the span of my life, however long or short that may be."
Stehno listened to the child turned soldier repeat the words, her voice was steady, the fear and excitement and pride as heady and pure a mix as had made up Stehno's own oath so many lifetimes before.
She knew that countless beings across the galaxy would pray for forgiveness for this abominable crime, nine, but Stehno had only herself to answer too. She envied those pious idiots, no God could match her hate. It would be a long lifetime, however many days or even minutes it lasted, she was not one to forgive or forget, not least herself. But neither was she one to ignore the necessary.
--
The rescue party breached the seal eight days later, she parted ways with her grandaughter and made her way across the ruined city to the Supreme Defence Council's Headquarters. Taking the time on the way to observe the devastation up close and to take in as many scattered and disjointed reports from her badly frayed network of informants and confidantes. Devastation was on a planetary level, at least several billion dead, billions more homeless, more wounded or missing, large scale disorder in several areas, a handful of surviving enforcers utterly losing control of the surviving protohives, disaster relief efforts hampered by the same destruction that necessitated it, a terrifying surge in Skaven attacks across the planet and to top it all off the damned Umbral Watch had all but occupied the planet and were using Malcador's word as writ of law.
And Stormgard's own government was paralyzed. Infuriatingly the Supreme Defense Council Headquarters boasted of course some of the most elaborate and fortified network of bunkers on all of Stormgard, a proud boast and had there been even minutes of warning one that would have doubtless made all the difference. Such hypotheticals were vexing as they were unhelpful. Of the fifteen members only four remained alive and uninjured, three more had been replaced by deputies, the other seats remained unfilled.
"Comrades, I understand that tact, good manners and mutual convenience have long been well served by the fiction that I play no role in the running of Stormgard, such pretenses have lost their value in the current crisis. From what I saw of the damage and heard on the way in there has been devastation on a planetary scale and this crisis shall require all the resources of House Venturi, it also may well need the personal intervention of the Primarch of the Second Legion, as his daughter I may be able to secure his cooperation. As such I respectfully shall be taking up a place on this council effective immediately."
They looked at each other and her incredulously, but none of them were even half her age nor could they fault her logic.
"Master of War Flauros? Injured or Dead?" She asked bluntly, taking the initiative.
"Missing, presumed dead, he was at a dinner on the Strongbank Spire when it collapsed in the blast, none of the guests have yet been found." Answered the Master of Resources Zagon, and older man with dark features and a permanently furrowed brow. She knew him to be better to be hard if unimaginative worker and there was little he did not know about Stormgard's labyrinth bureaucracy…but was he adaptable for the current situation? Time would tell, she'd need to sound all of them out before she started making changes.
"Who are we considering to replace him?" She asked.
"Casualty lists are being updated by the minute, we've taken horrendous losses across all ranks in all branches and organs of state, until we know what we have to work with we've decided to assume collective responsibility and issue commands as a council." General Belial, Master of Training and an officer of the PDF informed her, a thin and wiry man and career soldier she was distinctly unimpressed with his solution. Perhaps he genuinely thought it a sound one, perhaps it was politically but such collective leadership had no place in the gravest crisis since Stormgard's induction into the Imperium.
"A thoughtful and creative solution, however some direct control of the military response is needed, an individual to receive reports in detail, generate plans and if necessary make executive decisions." She said with more tact than she felt like offering.
"But if we choose the wrong individual for the task it could be delicate to replace them once we have a better notion of what is happening." Belial cautioned.
"Anyone too delicate to step aside for the good of Stormgard will be too delicate to resist getting cast aside as needed. We're in a war, we need a master of War." She pointed out flatly.
"Now see here, we've not even agreed to your inclusion on this council." He blustered.
"I assure you I at least am not delicate enough to be cast aside, though you are oh so welcome to try." She smiled.
"Enough!" Phobia, A short brown haired woman with a bloody bandage across her left eye interjected. "We don't have time for any of this. "As Acting Master of Public Safety, Sanitation and Sustainment I'm working with a seventh of my usual department to contain the worst humanitarian crisis since the long war. We need unity now yes, we also need decisiveness, I believe Stehno has more than enough of the latter and I for one want to get back to doing work that matters so plead for the former. We need to work together."
"I agree." The small bespectacled man Purson of the Research Department offered. "We also need a Master of Intelligence and a Master of Security, I suggest we fill all those positions immediately with whoever is on hand and set to work.
Stehno allowed herself a single moment of satisfaction at the vital victory but almost at once it became old news as the door opened and an aide rushed in. Not even bothering to excuse the interruption, the young man looked alarmingly close to a nervous breakdown.
"The Rats are moving, beneath Brama at least five million strong counted already, millions more joining them every hour."
"Moving against the surface at last." Belial judged, "We've got almost nothing to stop them, what units we have in Brama are all tied up in disaster relief and the terrain is even more of a mess than the Proto Underhive ever was, we should be able to hold the upper city and cover most of the relief efforts in the mid and lower levels but we may need to make sacrifices."
"If they must be made then they must be made." Stehno agreed.
"There is something else Sir, Maam, the initial warning came from a small Astartes team in the Vault, they report they will soon be cut off and that several thousand Skaven are already converging on their position from all direction."
Dead silence.
"I'm sure they can make good their escape." Stehno waved a hand dismissively before pausing, noticing the looks from the others. "What do I need to know?" She asked simply.
"The Vault is the source of the weapon that destroyed Brama, it also contains the largest cache of Dark Age of Technology Artifacts ever discovered on Stormgard and the most intact and intricate surveillance system on the planet."
Stehno blinked in surprise for the first time in decades. "I see, that does change things."
"Does it?" Belial asked. "We've barely got the resources to defend ourselves, never mind fight our way through millions of rats to occupy some bunker filled with what is no doubt junk. We have to prioritize."
Stehno nodded. "Indeed. We do." She turned to the messenger, "I want a message sent out on all frequencies. Every Astartes still on Stormgard plus any Special Mission PDF Units in Brama remotely combat effective and mobile are to immediately begin relocating to this Vault, the future of Stormgard may well rest on defending its contents. Brama's endured so much, it can endure a little more, Stormgard's cities always have in the past."
"You can't make that decision." Belial roared, rising from his chair, only to fall back dazed with a dart protruding from his neck.
"Ah Balam, I knew you were too much of a sneak to die as honest a death as a building collapse." Stehno greeted the Master of Shadows as they emerged from a hidden doorway. "Now what friends do you have to send to this vault." Balam smiled, "That would be telling, but rest assured, they are up to the job."
"I only wish I was as confidant about the rest of us." Stehno sighed rubbing her forehead, frak her stubbornness, first chance she got she was rejuving herself into the body of a twenty year old super soldier. This frail form was going to make the next sleepless month a horrific torment. Then she remembered Zissa and everything else that her complacency had cost…the decrepit old bones would stay, with luck her heart would give out before it pumped any more poison into the world.
One of several forced hundred portraits made by captured artists of Hemwick, forced to paint Dravall of the Wailing Palace, this one in particular shows the Eldar in his "Non-battle Armor" drinking of a unknown liquid that smelled of iron and rot to the human painters.
The World of Hemwick, a simple feudal world of small hamlets and minor lords owing tribute to the Planetary Governor of the world, a place none would ever expect the Eldar to take interest in. But as with other worlds in the Imperium, Hemwick was under siege by the Eldar threat and something needed to be done.
Alhirad of the Crimson Gryphons and Gambit Kryis of the Skull Legion, fresh from their victory upon the world of Rus, this combined force now made it's way to Hemwick and to save it from the foul invaders who put the people of the Imperium at risk.
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Approaching the system was an easy affair, for at first it seemed that the Eldar had not noticed the Imperial fleet, but that quickly changed when the first Eldar ships were sighted. For what surrounded the world of Hemwick was not a mere raiding fleet, but a full armada circling the world and immediately moving into battle positions.
The battle over the world of Hemwick would be the first time the Eldar Empire seemed to have brought a fleet of the same firepower as the Imperium, macrocannon fire and energy coursed through the space, striking shield or hull. But the fighting did not cease, ships throwing themselves into certain death to gain the advantage, it seemed nothing would shake the chaos of this battle, that is until new ships joined the battle on the side of the Imperials.
Indeed, joining in the space battle were other Imperial ships, their Vox signatures denoting them as members of the Umbral Watch, whose ships quickly joined the fray and blasted apart many of the more aggressive vessels attacking the Imperials.
The battle soon became in the favor of the Imperials as it became clear the Eldar ships could not withstand the same amount of firepower being thrown upon them, with several abandoning their positions and fleeing the battle.
As the Space battle concluded, a quick meeting was held between the leaders of the three Astartes forces, Alhirad of the Crimson Gryphons and Gambit Kryis of the Skull Legion welcomed Commander Lex Varrun if the Fourth Chapter of the Umbral Watch, known as "The Subjugators" his Legion having been ordered by their Primarch to patrol the space of the Imperium and deal with any active forces against their rule. With fresh and ready members joining their side, the Imperial force began their preparations to land upon Hemwick and deal with the Eldar.
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Landing upon the world quickly showed that even with their extensive space defenses, the planetary actions of the Eldar were comparatively slim in scale, several regions fell under cruel blade. While others were untouched, such an odd occurrence of course was put to the side as the tactical benefit of the planetary defenders working alongside the Astartes forces.
The land of Hemwick was a world of great forests and as such had an extensive network of roads and pathways cutting through the many dense forests. To the members of the Skull Legion and Crimson Gryphons, this landscape proved most apt for their warbeasts and tactics, leading the armies of the world against the Eldar strongholds, with Gambit Kryis leading the charge on top of his noble companion "Storm Strider" he would protect many a towns against the foul grasp of the Eldar. Earning himself a true Knighthood from the world's nobles and several hundred followers becoming attached to his forces, these men would fight and die alongside the Skull Legion members, earning much respect between the two groups.
Lex Varrun himself would lead his brothers into the slave camps of the Eldar, killing the xenos and free the Imperial citizenry, it is said that the name of Lex would become a name denoting freedom for this world for many years.
Meanwhile the ever aloof Alhirad, champion of the Crimson Gryphons would act has he often has before, joining battle where he pleases and fighting alongside his brothers or other members of the Imperial forces, wherever battle was the most bloody, Alhirad would soon appear, like the Great Gryphons of the Homeworld he would strike with precision and strength.
Soon Thunderspeakers of the Crimson Gryphons and Librarians of the Umbral Watch would detect a great source of Psychic energy upon the world, it stood to reason that this was what the Eldar were after, so with the site where the leadership of these Eldar may be hiding now in sight, the three leaders of the Imperial forces gathered their most trusted and prepared a strike.
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The deep woods of Hemwick were a dark place, with tree lines so thick no light could shine through, leaving the ground beneath bear and coated in roots of the many trees, the trek across the lands here was filled with an eerie quiet. They would eventually find the source of the Psychic power, the site seemed to be covered in noiseless warriors, their helmets betraying no emotion or semblance of life as the Astartes found the area.
It seemed to be an area like any other on the world, only the ancient and massive tree standing in the middle of the site seemed to be of any difference, and it was clear the Eldar were hard at work cutting into it.
"It seems even the Mon-Khigh can tell when an artifact of importance has been unearthed, how tiresome." The Eldar who spoke was the only one without a helmet or mask of some kind, decorated in a light purplish armor that seemed far older than him. In his hands was a small stone object, covered in shining blue runes that seemed to spark at the Eldar's hands. It was clear that this being was their leader, as when the Astartes opened fire on their position, the silent guards of the Eldar blocked the bolter fire however they could, one throwing their body in front of their master. Who coldly took out his own blade and sliced away the warrior who protected him.
"Kill them, the Wyrdstone needs time to be unlocked." he did not shout, nor raise his voice, but his silent guards all moved at his words. The battle between the two groups was instant at this, each of the three legions fighting with all they had against these odd Eldar warriors. The members of the Skull Legion working alongside the Umbral watch as they attacked from different angles, while the Crimson Gryphons fought in the middle, slicing apart their foes.
The more the group fought the strange Eldar, the more it became clear that despite feeling pain, these warriors seemed to revel in it, allowing near fatal strikes just to claim another wound or kill upon their foe. These warriors of pain did not stop nor did they consider their allies, however none could match the strength of Alhirad, nor the skills of Lex or the honor of Gambit, these three wove in and out of death like a well oiled machine, ready and willing to fight all for the Imperium.
"Hm, perhaps it is time to ensure no more distractions can occur." spoke the still watching Eldar leader, before walls of light began to block off his area, Gambit Kryis and Alhirad noticed first and gave out the order to step away, but some were unlucky to be sliced apart by the walls of light. Three however rushed forward before being closed off, Gambit Kryis, Alhirad and Lex Varrun had managed to get to the otherside before it was closed off.
The walls of harsh evershifting light cut away all methods of their allies reaching them, but the three had a duty and they would ensure this Eldar dies. A harsh sigh comes from the Eldar as he begins to make his way down from his elevated position up near the base of the great tree "Of course there would be those who are beyond the common scum of the gene soldiers. Come then Mon-Khigh, step forward and meet death."
The three Astartes stepped forward, the bodies of the slain Eldar squlching under their boots, each of the three had no intention of stopping, for their honor, for their duty or for their mission, the three warriors would do battle with this Eldar.
The fight between the four was not as one would expect, this Eldar fought like others of his kind, but the mastery of his weapon was enhanced by his innate talent of a Psyker. Unleashing bolts of warp energy or forcing the Astartes in a certain direction, the comparison to Imperial Psykers was immediate in the three's minds, unlike humanity who feared the potential destruction of a Psyker, it seemed the Eldar had no such worries and finely honed their powers to be as brutal a weapon as they could.
For a time it seemed that even with the wits of Lex, the strength of Alhirad and the defense of Gambit,they could not truly kill this Eldar before them, he evaded the most deadly of blows and pushed back with his might of a Psyker to ensure any wound he had received would not be without
The three were bloody and on their last legs, but the Eldar was not without his own damage, such a fight would in normal circumstance would need the arrival of reinforcements to truly determine a victory without sacrifice, but often in the strange galaxy of the thirtieth meleninia, events come to pass that defy such outcomes. For when it seemed the battle to be even, the shining of the runes upon the stone ceased and the battle shifted, instead of continuing from a strike, the moment the runes lost light, the Eldar evaded battle. Stopping only to smash a small ash gray glass figurine, the smell of burning atmosphere was present as a rip in space appeared behind the Eldar.
Despite the last ditch efforts of Lex Varrun, he could not stop the Eldar from entering the rip in space with the so-called "Wyrdstone". And like that, he was gone, the rip in space vanished and soon all reports of Eldar had stopped, the day was won. But despite their victory against the Eldar and the retaking of the world, the Astartes all could not shake the feeling that they had lost, what was the purpose of this raid, why did the Eldar do any of this and what was this Wyrdstone.
These questions would haunt the three leaders of this combined force even as they prepared to leave for another world in need of their aid.
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Dravall entered the Webway to armed guards awaiting him, members of the Strategist's own little group, as was expected of course, this was all planned by him. "Ah Dravall, a bit early are we not? Was there an issue in the predictions I gave you?. " The smooth and even voice still carried with it that same arrogance that permeated his being. But the question carried with it the threat of cruelties unimagined, such a waste for such talent to be focused on politics.
"The Mon-khigh Gene soldiers gave some issue and killed a fair bit of my own forces brought from the Wailing Palace, but as promised my…Lord, a Wrydstone at your disposal." he held out the rune covered stone, it's blue markings no longer giving off the same glow they had upon the Mon-Khigh's world, but it was taken by the Strategist who gave no notice, after all why would the Psychic locks on it matter when it was to be read.
The Strategist held the Wyrdstone, his mask hiding his features, but the satisfied mirth could not be hidden from his tone. "Ahha perfect, my dear boy you have done quite well." the masked Eldar turning the Wyrdstone around and letting his eyes wander around the many runes. "Hmm oh Eldard, your little game is falling apart around you now" muttered the masked Eldar, Dravall did not care to comment on the Traitor and his little leftovers, a deal was a deal.
"Now I assume our deal is complete then Strategist, I have matters to prepare for. After all, the Mon-Khigh show no signs of stopping against the rest of the lords and I must prepare for when they reach me." Dravall spoke plainly and with some respect thrown in, despite his own standing in the courts for being outside the control of the Lords with his unique status, even he was aware of what it would mean to step out of line with this one.
The Strategist does not need to speak, only motion to one of his aides, who walk forward and gave Durvall what he had been after. A finely crafted skinning knife, used by one of the Dark Muses themselves oh so long ago, an artifact worthy of all this bother.
Grasping the Knife handle tightly, as if he was subconsciously afraid that it would slip from his fingers, Dravall could feel the wraithbone construct's song, echoing inside the blade as memories of thousands of screaming animals and slaves came rushing, all engraved into the essence of the Knife, creating an excellent sense of euphoria for the Eldar.
The two gave the proper respectful bow and left, Dravall walking the pathways to one of his many fortresses inside the Webway and the Strategist back to his own plans and schemes, but Darvall could care less about what he did. After all what concern should Dravall show Asdrubael Vect and his schemes, let him play his games of Empires and Gods, they all fall to time, but the Legacy of the Dark Muses is eternal.
A Dossier on the Worlds of Gryphon Space for Administratum Records in the Year (Turn 2)
Azulii is the newest homeworld of the Ninth Legion, an overgrown world with savage, dark forests and high mountain peaks. It bears the fortress monastery of the Crimson Gryphons in the mountain-side of Mt. Jabal, the largest mountain on the planet, which is part of a mountain range called the Hajit. The planet also contains the chief colony of the Azulians, as they begin their lives anew in a familiar environment, with the griffins released to the skies.
Alari's Heaven is an expansive Forest World, its native trees growing to massive sizes where a new griffin population has rooted itself by introduction of the Legion. A training barracks is on the world, with the majority of the Aspirants' learning and conditioning taking place here under their Oathkeepers. In addition, an Administratum headquarters for the region is being built currently within its forests.
Cadia used to be a desolate world having only enclaves of humans learned in defense that suffered frequent raids by the Aeldari. Now they are a burgeoning Fortress World with the aid of the Administratum, Mechanicum, and Legion, as well as serving as a center of military operations by the Gryphons in dealing with the northern Eldar Empire. Their people are training as soldiers to serve in the Imperial Army dutifully with great Regiments forming locally.
Barghast was a former xenos world containing massive spires, carved out of mountains, telling the species' history through pictographs and symbols. An Azulian colony was founded there even with the air hard to breathe in. The lower classes persevered through practicing deep and long breaths, while the upper-classes bought air masks. There is a nascent Imperial cult which has taken to converting the spires into statues of notable figures and events from the Imperium. Its inhabitants are expected to slowly evolve over the next few millennia to have bigger lungs and double the red blood cell count of the average Terran.
Zarlan XI is a Jungle World that used to be inhabited by Orks, Eldar, and an unknown xenos race. The xenos have been purged and the Eldar fled, but the Orks' spores remain to have sprouted as Feral Orks. The local aristocracy of Gryphon Space though have made the planet into a hunting reserve where they aim to track the world's great beasts and even Orks for the hunt. There is a lone Legion outpost containing only a squad of veteran Gryphons to curb the Orks every now and then with some trainees stuck with them.
Fordrost One was a world settled by humans that had to be brought to compliance through force by the Crimson Lords due to a stubborn population. A cold world marred by taigas, its survivors have transitioned as a mining population to work in the oil and natural gas fields of the taiga. There they built their small industrial communes alongside processing plants for their fuel, to then trade with the Azulian colony as the only spaceport for Fordrost One.
Felidom I was once an independent world settled by human farmers and shepherds and came to compliance by harsh actions from the Crimson Gryphons due to its stubborn population who wished to continue self rule. It is a humble Agri-World with marshes and swamps around its equator, and bears thousands of farmsteads with its Imperial Governor frequently being replaced due to remnant dissenters forming a watchdog paramilitary against corruption. A new stone capital is being constructed as a fire precaution after the old one's burning. Their tithe comes with the annual Harvest Moon where much of their crop is exported.
Los'da was a former world settled by feral Beastmen, then purged by the Crimson Gryphons and Steel Prince scouts. Now it is one of many Azulian colonies eking out their lives on the frontier, with a number of towns on the planet's surface. They are running stably so far with the bounty of the forests available to them and have begun putting together a fleet support base that may have the potential to expand into a minor shipyard.
Lancia was a former world settled by feral Beastmen, then purged by the Crimson Gryphons and Steel Prince scouts. With high winds and a dry sun, Lancia turned into a land of steppes and prairies where Minotaurs often frequented to inhabit, and with the Imperial pacification it became a grazing ground for its native grazers to soon return with Terran bison like creatures. A small Azulian colony lives a nomadic lifestyle on the planet, following after the beasts with their own short and stocky horse variant.
Maxim was another world that had been settled by feral Beastmen, containing notably Kurdag the Brass Fang, a Beastman with knowledge of their terrain and basic tactics. They were slain by Khaldeon, and the planet cleansed to be assimilated into the Imperium. Now another colony.
Biregrest is an Agri-World known for its deep seas, thus it exports chiefly fish and aquatic produce as its industries and workers focus largely on being fishermen for their livelihoods. It also sports a diving tradition in its populace as many frequent the coastal shores for the abundance in shellfish with molluscs and crabs. Being one of the local Agri-Worlds in the region, a marine heavy diet has taken place in Gryphon Space.
Mithreba's World has the namesake of the human who found the planet and funded the colonization of it. The planet has been a stable Civilized World for a long time, not really needing to go out into space due to the system's abundant resources and ruling stable government.
Tassudard II is a new Roost World under the protection of the Crimson Gryphons sporting large mountain ranges and a frigid environment where its alpine environment is enjoyable for the griffins to fly in, and the heavy storms that brew in the sky are a good selective factor for the gene creatures to train their wings for harsh weather. A minor fortress of the Legion was built.
Vivgolia is a new Roost World under the protection of the Crimson Gryphons, another cold planet with vast arctic oceans and spanning tundras that frequent snow and sun to have fields of durable grass and lichens that native herds graze on. Here the griffins lay in the higher altitudes of the valley forming mountains to then swoop and pick off the prey when hungry. Vivgolia is more compatible with colonists as well, with Azulians trekking across the landscape and living in small settlements built out of ice to fish and hunt from.
Annor is a new Roost World under the protection of the Crimson Gryphons with its open plateaus and great steep canyons that run deep into the earth as rivers course through them, and show sedimentary works of the planet with its long history. The griffins live in dugout caves on the canyon faces to hide from the sun, as their young fly in the natural obstacle courses provided by the routes through the canyons. Multiple vertical cities have been established by the Azulians, above the river routes as they live rugged but peaceful lives.
Artus is a new Roost World under the protection of the Crimson Gryphons, with a harsh cold world sporting thousands of islands bearing high cliffs and fjords. The Azulians who have settled here have taken to sailing in between the islands with numerous settlements and diverse wildlife, as the griffins themselves rest on the cliff tops, and take off with herd animals or fish. Many of the cliffs are dormant volcanoes providing a subtle warmth as new ones form more islands.
Corvn I is a new Roost World under the protection of the Crimson Gryphons that is heavily forested with dense foliage but also has rising stone pillars out of its mountains from the result of ice expanding in its history. The world is constantly moist and heavy with fog, and the griffins form nests under the trees on stone pillars selected by them. Only an Astartes base is the sole mark of habitation on Corvn I.
Haakinax Four is a rugged savanna world, with no human populations but home to loads of animal species, including what is probably a close relative to the old Terran Rhino. The presence of the plethora of life implies that this world was seeded for human life but was never colonized.
Malfis's Bastion is a Death World, acidic rain coats the surface, leaving the human population to make vast bunker complexes and cities in the mountains and underground, a lot of ruins of cities above ground, implying that surface habitation was possible at one point.
Jath is a Paradise World. With outstanding beauty in its environments, it has been decided to be left untouched by industry, and only small villages have formed purposefully built to coexist with nature. Many artists frequent the world to write poems or create paintings to be enjoyed by the nobles, and others travel through to enjoy the heights. A select few have built centers of martial training to practice philosophy and combat, with the view helping hone their minds.
Vostroya is a cold and extremely polluted Industrial World who has had to suffer by their proximity to the Eldar Empire, but continues on with dignity and stoicness, with their massive manufacturing and assembling plants producing arms and ammunition for the Crusade now. Their lives are scheduled with efficiency to be productive in the factories and a minor Mechanicum base is established there, as Vostroya has ties to the ancient mechanical order.
Ichars, the once House World of Dios, and where the Hound Lord was slain in his fortress by the Ninth Primarch. A planet bearing an extensive menagerie of creatures that the House bred and cultivated, it has an active Apothecary presence as well as forming Trainers out of the Gryphons.
Kepix was a minor Eldar world brought into Imperial territory.
Ter'vast was a minor Eldar world brought into Imperial territory.
Havel's Rest is a world defended by an order of human warriors whose founder proclaimed it as a haven of humanity, and now serves within the Imperium.
Across the Imperium, the forges of the Mechanicum and Astartes Legions were alight greater than ever before. New armors were made and equipped, while new weapons and vehicles were developed and made ready for battle, even as the grand forgeworlds of the Mechanicum were beginning to shift to their own preparation against the now revealed Men of Iron, the sheer amounts of new armor and weapons was more than enough for the Legions who had requested such construction.
But it was not just the equipment of the Legions that would be forged, for across many shipyards new ships were being made and sent to become part of the Legions, most notably would be the Cosmo Corsairs, who gathered more and more ships for their purposes by the day.
Across the Imperium, more and more worlds began to become home to individuals belonging to these self described Gene followers, claiming the supremacy of mankind lies in its evolution and mastery of the body. It has gotten to the point where Malcador the Sigillite, lord regent of Terra, would send individuals to meet with these people and gain an understanding of their beliefs. The results showed a very close connection to the Lunar Cult of old and clear interference from the Doves, while such things are allowed as this was no Faith or religion, it did fall to Malcador to assign watchers to many of these worlds in case some unexpected occurrences should happen.
Even in the Legions these ideals seemed to spread, Apothecaries would soon pick up on some of these tenets and beliefs, while some would simply regard them in mere passing interest, small numbers of them in almost all of the Legions would see their value and begin to emulate them. Resulting in far more effective Apothecaries yes, but several becoming more isolated for their own projects away from the Legions.
This is Itkara-1 head apothecary for the Doves of War Legion, writing the field notes for the series of projects to be done on the Orkiod race and further our understanding of them and how best to kill them.
Our first series of experiments was to capture or produce three groups of Orks, set in large enough enclosures to be watched and studied while we perform a series of means to create a "Docile" Ork, perhaps finding an end to their aggression and thus becoming nothing to mankind.
The three groups were watched extensively and while unsuccessful in the attempts to create a docile orkoid, they were quite informative.
Group A was to be the simple removal of the sections of the Ork's brain responsible for aggression, with some revisions having to be done once it became clear a large portion of the Orkoid's brain was responsible for such actions. This however seemed to…have an unusual result, despite having a lowered reaction time and longer process for decision making that Orks seemed unchanged by any of the surgery done to them, review of the subject's brains showed that while they were regenerating the Orks seemed not able to notice the full effects. Denoting this as a failure, I ordered their termination.
Group B was to have metal plating's of varying kinds implanted into their skulls and inside their brains blocking the areas cut out. This at first seemed to be much the same as the previous group, however they soon began to advance at a rapid rate, with more of these "Meks" becoming active in their groups as they tore apart their enclosure for resources to build their machines, they were quickly terminated before further advancement could be done.
The final group was Group C. Instead of cutting out parts of the brain, the process here would be to insert wires and electrical currents directly into their brain, at first it seemed to do nothing. So i decided to increase the voltage, this would have an effect as the Orks rapidly began to become used to the constant shocks and dazes that followed, creating a new culture within the group that seemed to almost begin to channel the electricity in a way, they were all terminated before this could develop further.
The current running theory proposed is that the Orkoid internal system is highly adaptive and built to absorb even the harshest of conditions, while there were effects on each group, nothing able to stunt their tendencies or instincts seemed to work, autopsies of their bodies have proven that perhaps looking at the Orkoid race with conventional methods might not be as effective for gathering answers.
(Addendum: We are going to need more new soldiers, the Auxiliary we have conscripted to capture and guard our experiments have become agitated by what we are doing)
After the rather lackluster results of Project Ratched, I was not in the best of moods when given this project to attempt, study of the Potential Ork "Hivemind" is more theory work and experimentation.
Isolated testing groups were captured and brought for experimentation and examination, chemical mixtures and psychological tests were made to test and see if this idea held merit. As expected, after many trials with the chemical based smells it seemed the Orkiod ecosystem was not based on a sort of pheromone based system, further research is required for if they are part of a Warp based organism or if their instincts are guided by another force yet unknown to us.
The Psychological trials did inform us on a few key notes of the Orkoid process of forming culture or in their brutish language "Kulture" it seems that roles for a growing Ork band are filled with pregrown knowledge or in depth talent for a skill, why some seem to have this and not others is still being investigated. But testing has shown that we can influence it…to a degree, having the group be exposed to different stimuli and surroundings changes the makeup of their tribe/group's culture, it is unknown why it happens so rapidly compared to others at this time.
However something strange did occur during the research, after some time and the other experiments had come and gone, the captive Orks began to call our Legion something to the effect of "Weird Doks" a seeming combination of their own cultural names for Psykers and doctors, while this is not worth noting in normal circumstance. When arriving on a new world to collect specimens, away from any connection to the already captive ones, they called us the same thing, before any kind of experimentation.
While no true Hivemind like structure was found, there was a connection of some kind between the race as a whole, but nothing conclusive, more tests will need to be done on this connection to further our understanding of what the Orks truly are.
(Addendum, it seems the Auxiliary seeing our work are becoming increasingly distressed by our work…perhaps some work into lessening emotional output will be necessary for a future project.)
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Project Anteater
Field Notes-G/7-0
It was this project that I held the most faith in, creating a predatory species not for the Orks themselves but the spores they emit and produce that creates the reason for their species continued prevalence across the galaxy.
The creation process was simple enough and the resulting creature was sent to work in an area heavily coated in the Spores of the Orks after a large battle, in order to gauge the results of their consumption, I had ordered them to be placed in quarantine and observed.
The first day after consumption no changes were documented, aside from a slight decrease in energy. The second day, the creatures seemed to have swelled in size, while slightly curious all scans show their vitals as healthy, even as the swelling is uneven and seems to move slightly when observed for long periods of time. After three days the creatures began to swell in size even faster, their irises gaining slight green veins during the process. Some have begun to scream in pain as their weight has exceeded what their bodies could normally support, upon my orders only the ones with the slowest rate of growth were given means to ease their pain.
Four days after the consumption the once small hand sized creatures now are the size of a full Astartes, their pain has made them extremely aggressive to any that come near them, many have begun to shed their fur and revealed deep green veins pulsating across their bodies. Our scans now showed what the cause was, it seems with no fertile soil to grow Orkoid life, the Spores have rooted in the bodies themselves.
[Information Redacted]
The Project was an abject failure, we did not account for what the consumption of Orkoid spores would do to the creating beings, the containment breach was settled and all Orkoids created were eliminated.
It is a shame that none of the creatures survived the process, perhaps we could have studied the process, gain a far better understanding of how the Ork growth process occurs and the effects of concentrated exposure to the Spores. But it was not meant to be.
A Pict feed of one of the Smaller Mining pits of Atlas, the shining light is believed to be Eldar Portals opening for their invasion force to steal something found.
Atlas, a mining world of importance for it's abundant riches and materials to make many of the Imperium's greatest metals, including the much valued Ceramite that makes up the Armor of the Astartes Legions. It was here that more Eldar had begun to raid and pillage the works of mankind, thus it was on the path for the defenders of mankind to stop the Eldar attack.
The combined force of the Skull Legion, Umbral Watch and Crimson Gryphons made their way to what would be the last battle in defense of the Imperium.
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The World of Atlas as it was seen in orbit was a barren world covered in deep holes upon its surface, set in between vast mountain ranges, the highest of which were said to touch the edge of the planet's atmosphere.
However this wondrous sight would not be the attention of the Imperial forces as they entered the system, before them was an Eldar fleet engaging in a vast planetary raid. With quick action and pre-established orders set in place, the Legionaries created a simple and effective plan on route to the world, where a small number of Astartes would go planet side and attack the Eldar raiding the world, while the main force would remain in orbit to reinforce if needed, but to also destroy the Eldar fleet.
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Leading the forces attacking planetside would of course be Alhirad of the Crimson Gryphons, taking only the Astartes he deemed swift enough to keep up with his own plan. These two hundred warriors of each of the three legions would descend upon the world of Atlas with only the death of the invading Eldar on their minds.
Alhirad in his imposing terminator Armor was an unstoppable moving force , cutting his way past Eldar warriors with ease, none of his companions could keep up with the warrior, even as he would never slow, never stop his endless attacking and ignoring when his already damaged body would keep him from battle, he pushed on.
It is said that one of the Thunderspeakers had to pull Alhirad away from the front of the battle, just so the Apothecaries and Tech Marines could fix his damaged body and armor.
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While Alhirad would lead against the planetary forces, Lex Verrun and Gambit Kryis would lead the navy and boarding attacks on the Eldar ships, while these boarding actions were dangerous and likely to lead to unavoidable deaths, Gambit Kryis would always lead the charge on top of his loyal companion Storm Strider, ship after ship would fall to the Imperial borders, and while the naval battle continued above, something strange would occur.
The largest ship of the Eldar fleet, which follows the main designs of what is believed to be a Flagship for the Fleets. Would begin to shimer and fade, telltale signs of the ships leaving into their unknown warp portals. Despite attacks ordered by the Imperial fleet and Lex Verrun, they would escape with the unnatural actions of other ships blindly charging into the line of fire to protect the escaping vessel, even now it is unknown why Eldar would throw themselves into such a position when it would mean death, whatever the reason, it was enough to save the Eldar Flagship and their leader.
With the apparent flagship of the Eldar disappearing as they fled the battle, the remaining ships either fled as well or could not escape the jaws of the Imperial Fleet. Their dying messages being screamed out by their captains, damning the "Golden Claw" for abandoning them for his treasures.
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With victory achieved, Atlas quickly returned to their work in producing the metals and materials for the Imperium, the assembled Legion group staying only for minor repairs, safeguarding in case of a secondary attack and discussions amongst themselves.
The Astartes of the three Legions, who had fought several battles alongside each other would develop a comradery between each other, Unmatched Alhirad, whose skills in battle left him as a source of inspiration amongst the Astartes warriors. Honorable Gambit Kryis, whose unwavering noble spirit reminded all of their duty and prestige as warriors. And Lex Verrun, whose tactical mind saw outcomes unheard of and grasped victory from defeat.
These three saw how their forces fought alongside each other and all came to the same conclusion, those who had fought and died in these campaigns were more than Astartes cousin Legions, they were companions and friends, thus the three cemented this with the proclamation of the "Undaunted Sons" a group comprised of the remaining Ten Thousand Astartes who had fought across the Imperium against the Eldar, they would showcase the best of their Legions and Primarchs, coming to the aid the others whenever they could.
