Age of Burning Empires: IC

SteelWriter77 · Oct 8, 2022

"Anger may in time change to gladness; vexation may be succeeded by content. But a kingdom that has once been destroyed can never come again into being; nor can the dead ever be brought back to life."-Unkown Ancient Terren Proverb

The unexplored spaces across the Imperium, places that hold unknown peoples and potential dangers, the task of explorator fleets, rogue traders and the newly established Adeptus Ad Astra. But sometimes direct work from the orders of a Primarch must be enacted, as the Jade General had ordered an entire company of his Legion, a thousand of his sons to explore the south of his own homeworlds, to being them into the Imperium and find secrets pertaining to Qi and other boons such as STC's.

Joining these explorers was teams of diplomats from the Umbral Watch, who sought to expand the Imperium's control over these worlds with methods of diplomacy, who while not intending to work with members of the Warriors of Peace, the two groups decided to pool efforts to ensure the most effective method of establishing contact and completing their goals.

Leaving from the world of Wei, they would first come into contact with Knassia's world, a world of nomadic seafarers whose world was dotted with various islands and flying creatures that needed to be dealt with lest they continue to attack the native human populations. For the aid in this matter, the many leaders of the people said they would bend the knee to the Imperium for this aid, and so with little effort the Astartes wiped out the malicious flying beasts, earning the first of many worlds to now join the Imperium in this pocket.

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From the Dunes of Araby to the spires of Giza'tre, worlds quickly joined the Imperium, their people rejoicing or appreciative to join with their lost peoples from across the stars, and while other then some scraps of knowledge or the odd new practice with Psykers, the teams from the Warriors of Peace were not having much luck with their own findings.

Speaking with the elders of Ciarpold Primus, they would however hear of worlds once said to be repositories of science and knowledge, places where many wonders were made and said to hold libraries of many arcane subjects. These worlds were close by and were known as Idernia and Fel'zez.

Coming together, the group would plan their route and efforts, creating a division that placed equal numbers of the two Legions in two separate groups, they would be led by two rising figures from these missions on the worlds of this pocket, the first group being led by Umbral Watch member Marlen Pearse and his team, and the second being led by First Brother Xiahuo Tao of the Warriors of Peace.

The brothers would wish each other well, unaware that many would never see their kin again.
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The World of Idernia, to put plainly, was a dreary world, coated in thick clouds as a eternal rain covered the world, landing upon it, the members of the Legions were met with by the leaders of this world, who much unlike the dreary atmosphere of the buildings and planet itself, were found to be a cheerful and respectful group. Bringing the Imperial group to meet with the people and learn of their culture.

However whenever it was suggested for a look at their vaunted archives and emmased knowledge, there was a slight tension to their words and the topic brushed aside for something else. And as time went on, Marlen and his team noticed odd happenings, Apothecary Jarn Ullen who catches something moving in the edges of his vision and a shifting form inside every shadow he is not directly looking at.

Chaplain Kristoffur Torren, who sees something out in the rains growing closer each day they remain, but no sensor detects it nor is there an effect of his mind. Cybermancer Dyson Galle whose connections to the technology of this world left him feeling like there was a force watching his every move, like a predator watching their prey.

Marlen Pearse and his team were not the only ones uneasy with the oddities of this world, as many of the Warriors of Peace felt the Qi of this world, it was not a flowing thing, but a trapped thing, Librarian Corvus Darn corroborating this feeling with his own feelings as each night he can feel something in the Library screaming to get out.

It only got worse as Chaplain Kristoffur Torren was found eveserated by a unknown assailant, this was the final straw for Marlen Pearse, who questioned the leader of the world, who finally broke down into tears, he told them of a monster of shadows who had been summoned by power hungry fools, using ancient tomes found in the depths of their libraries, they had brought forth a supposed "Master of Shadows" who was to give them what they desired, but the monster did not listen, killing the summoners and creating a reign of terror across the world for the last twenty years. The leader improlded the Astartes to venture into the darkest parts of the library, into it's lair so that the ritual's catalyst could be destroyed, as that was the only thing binding it to this place.

It took no time to relay the situation to the four hundred and thirteen on world, and thus they gathered in front of the entryway of the library, there was no speech of glory or of duty, the gathered Astartes knew their purpose and what failure meant for this world, to continue living under this shadow warp entity. In unison, they all matched into the depths, the shadows seeming to consume them as they entered, the only thing left of them was a simple leather bound codex containing information from Marlen, to give to other Astartes who would come if they did not return, discussing the situation and requirements to evacuate the planet.

It is unknown exactly what had happened in those dark depths, only that the Astartes were successful and that none survived, their bodies were gathered and full honors given by the populace of the world, forever declaring their loyalty to those who had freed them, honoring the five hundred and thirteen with a monument inscribed with each of their names.

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Meanwhile the group led by First Brother Xiahuo Tao had reached Fel'zez, while their fellows fought with insidious forces hidden on a world drenched in rain. The threat that faced Fel'zez was overt in it's danger as strange ships, their designs bringing to mind a crude stabbing implement or mass of spears guarded by a shield, bombarded the world below, the cries of the inhabitants clear on the Vox lines.

There needed to be no order given for what was to be done, as Astartes of two Legions prepared for battle, preparing boarding craft and landing craft to fight these foes directly. With Lieutenant Huang Zu and Lieutenant Cao Shi leading the attacks on the planet and enemy ships respectively.

As Astartes fought on the ground of this world, they saw the Xenos raiders for the first time, almost serpentine with a long tail, but with four legs and four arms, holding weapons of primitive but brutal make, each having one or several of some form of obvious or hidden cybernetic attachment. They had torn through the cities and clearly were raiders of some kind, the sight of the human peoples being butchered sent Huang Zu into a cold fury as he led his brothers and the few members of the Umbral Watch with them into battle, proclaiming that he would see their commanders dead at his feet before he would let them get away with this atrocity.

Meanwhile, Cao Shi and several of his own boarding craft had landed inside the vessels of these Xenos, and were immediately set upon by the strange creatures and their foul cybernetics, their mission to learn as much as they could about the Rak'gol and their methods of war. And what the pict feeds showed, truly made even the stoic Warriors of Peace angered, they found weapons made with the intentiall purpose to cause pain, technology cannibalized from many different sources and made into something their own, bloodied trophies clearly of hunted human populations,of course before more could be learned, they had to retreat, as while their spirits were willing to continue the fight, they simply did not have the numbers for this kind of assault.

It was during these first engagements that the name of these Xenos would be learned from the remaining inhabitants of Fel'zez, Rak'gol, who had come to raid their stores of technology for unknown purposes. Despite the more mystic nature of the Warriors and little number of the Umbral Watch, the sheer audacity of these Xeno monsters taking what was the history of Mankind and using it on it's own people was an unforgivable sin.

It is said that Huang Zu, who had lost his own life in the fighting, died while charging into a mass of the Xenos, keeping them at bay while his men set up a bomb with the planet's own soldiers, destroying a major camp of the Rak'gol, his remains would be brought before the other commanders of the planetary defence, who would all honor his memory and sacrifice by bringing the heads of the Rak'gol commanders to his still body, as a method of honoring his work in their defeat.

The Xeno's own boarding attempts were fought by Captain Zhu Er and Lieutenant Gongsun Dao, who fought off the teeming hordes of the Rak'gol, and both facing a truly massive being of metal, more akin to a Dreadnought of the Iron Hands then any true organic being, it fought viciously with radiation spewing weapons and many blade like limbs flailing about it's bulky form, the two Astartes fought bravely but sadly they could not defeat it without loss of their own, as Captain Zhu Er lay dying from his wounds, his last moments would be to entrust Lieutenant Gongsun Dao to continue the defenses in the name of their Primarch. A task Gongsun Dao would take to with a vigor unmatched, soon becoming known as the Iron Crane by his brothers, for his swift decision making and fluid movements in combat.

The battle seemed to be reaching a standstill, before many of the ships began to disengage, while others began to spark and almost bend, as light erupted from the vessels, their weapons all firing at once in all directions before they imploded. The force propelled many metallic shards from the now destroyed vessels in all places from the ships, letting out one last bombardment on the world below and a barrage of shrapnel into the Imperiums ships. This distraction allowed for the remaining Rak'gol vessels to escape into the void, leaving a still standing Imperial force to pick up the pieces of this bloodied world.

All that could be found from the wreckage of their vessels was their strange technology and raided pieces of human technology, that to the remaining Cybermancers, seemed to scream.
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These trials would be overcome, and what remained of each force met, each with their own treasure from their ordeals, from the once trapped world of Idernia, comes many books on the summoning of warp entities, entrusted to those who would not be tempted by their use. From the battle ravaged world of Fel'zez, maps of resource rich moons and asteroid belts across the Imperium, places that would have been overlooked in first surveys.

However to the Astartes, such things are not worth discussing, not when their Primarchs needed to know of these worlds and what had occurred on them.

SteelWriter77 · Oct 10, 2022

Astartes Libarian of the Doves of War Legion

The appearance of the second Primarch of the Thirteenth Legion had been a shock to many, including many Primarchs, but when he had sent a message to all Primarchs who had the abilities to channel the Warp and ask for them to meet and discuss ideas and methods each had learned in their lifetimes and own traveling, the hesitation for some would not keep them from meeting their latest brother, while others did not bother to even take a passing glance at his message. But to those who did, they would follow coordinates to an isolated world in Imperium space that would serve as the site for this historic meeting.

Arriving to this isolated world would be members of two legions, the Warriors of Peace and the Doves of War, landing they would find a somber, but well constructed castle of sorts, acting as the place where they would all meet and learn of each other's ways. The Jade General and Soter would ascend in the castle, finding their brother in a massive chamber, clearly built to house many people, with thrones for each Primarch and a massive table in the center, clearly made to act as a focus for discussion.

The sight of the three brothers meeting would be one that if depicted without foreknowledge of the Primarchs, would appear as a stoic warrior facing two enemies, one a monstrous being of warped flesh and the other a shadowy warrior clad in dark armor. But the words spoken were friendly, if a little tense, Soter and The Jade General were unsure of their new brother and had made their own contingencies of guards and wards, but both found that their worries were unfounded as they spoke with Kolasi, who seemed to be far more personable then Fonias.

Introductions were made by all in attendance, and as the one who had called the other two legions to this world, Kolasi of the Revenants spoke first. He started with pleasantries and a reminder of what this meeting is all about, to exchange ideas of channeling the Warp and to best utilize it for the Imperium, and further explaining his proposal of collaboration and methods to better defend their Psykers from Warp Xenos own powers.

Both Soter and the Jade General saw the potential in this proposal and voiced their support for such a practice, both already having their own collections of such material and offering their aid to any projects to help protect Psykers from hostile foes in the Warp.

Next to speak was Soter of the Doves, who prepared a presentation that was transmitted telaptachily to the other Primarchs, showcasing the data that at the current rate of growth, mankind is well on the path to become a Psychic race. To best deal with this fact, he had created a prospective College System, much in the same way of the Schola's, but for collecting information on the Warp and Psykers, to ensure mankind is taught about their power and how to best use it.

This proposal intrigued both the Jade General and Kolasi, both having had their own efforts to expand their knowledge for their legions and to teach the mortal humans their ways, very quickly they would speak of their own attempts with this sort of practice and both began to suggest methods they have found in their own works that may help create these Collages quickly and efficiently.

Finally, it was the Jade General's own turn to speak, he had come to this meeting with a proposal of creating a position that with the Emperor's own choice would go over the traditions and arts utilized by the Legions, but upon some reflection, he decided to change it with one that worked with the ideas of a combined Collage of the Psychic arts, instead of a single position, it would be a body, who would go over what the specific collage intended to teach and decide if they should be folded into another grouping, allowed to continue with official support or be censored for dangerous actions.

Unlike the other two points there was a near heated discussion, but not from Kolasi, he had thrown his support to this idea quite quickly. But it was Soter who had reservations about how such a governing body may become stagnant in their ways, but concedes that there will need to be some authority over what is taught in the Collages.

After these discussions and some arguments over certain aspects that still needed to be ironed out once they bring their ideas to the wider Imperium, the event began in earnest as the members of the Legions mingled and spoke of their ideologies of the Warp, some would find fascinating connections between the three, seeing how the Improvements of the Five Paths work in tandem with the Doves own philosophy of "Evolution of the Mind" with some doctrinal disputes that some could overlook, or how the Revenants and the Dove's methods went against the ideals of stagnation, continuous looking past the present and into the future.

However not everything went smoothly, as some of the Doves did not take kindly to the dour nature of the Revenants, finding it to be to focused on death.Or they found the Five Paths limiting as it only went as far as the standard human physiology and not the ideal future of a galaxy full of diverse human life.

While some of the Revenants took issue with the ideas of an eternal Psyker race that the Doves seemed to be working towards or their methods of extending natural lifespans with the Warp, or how the Warriors seemed to judge them as being unstable due to their methods of using the Warp.

And even some of the Warriors of Peace, found that the Revenant's utilized far too much "Dark Qi" to be balanced and already had proven that their methods were more destructive than needed. Or how the Doves seemed to have a very librial idea of humanity, one that may exceed what is necessary for mankind's domination.

But despite these arguments and near actual conflict occurring, the three Legions learned a fair bit from each other and would part amicably enough. With all preparing for a true collaboration of all the Psyker Legions to create something for Mankind's future, each of them confident that even despite their own differences, they all sought to better Mankind in the ways of the Warp.

SteelWriter77 · Oct 17, 2022

Orko of the First Legion, Abhuman Psyker of the Homo Magi and close ally to Adaam Primus

While in recent years the Primarch of the First Legion has been known to spearhead efforts to improve the means in which the Imperial Army conducts war, but Adaam is more than a general, he wishes to be a symbol to the soldiers of the Imperium. So with a wish to give aid to the morale of the various campaigns across the Imperium,he quickly brought together entertainers from New Eternia and created what his people would call "I.S.E" or Imperial Serial Entertainment.

This along with several…what many will call moral boosting pict films, showcasing acted events from across the Imperium with more emphasis placed on combined efforts than factual events. All of this had made a slowly growing discontent for war among some members of the Imperium's citizenry abated for a time being.

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The effects of these shows were an immediate boost in favor and moral for the Imperial army on campaigns across the Imperium, inspiring other worlds to add their own performers and entertainers to the shows, creating a network of traveling groups to inspire the soldiers, which while not an official group in terms of the Imperium's hierarchy, was not treated like other attempts to create new organizations without the oversight of the High Lords, this being seen more as a minor thing that Generals and on the ground leaders of regiments can deal with.

All of this would have an unintended side effect of unifying the populace of the Imperium with ideas of the different cultures from other worlds, leading to units from entirely different worlds bonding over differences and similarities.

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In the midst of this reinvigoration of the Imperial Armies, other members of the Skullbringers were hard at work in uncovering secrets and information about several prior discoveries, led by Orko and Head Archivist Ardinian of New Eternia, this group would look to three worlds and their mysteries.

Starting with the world of Hale's Fall, the first point of study of course would be with the massive station, having long since crashed upon the world and becoming a center for the world's human population, the seat of power for many influential peoples and requiring several assurances of not doing anything too invasive to such a cultural monument.

Despite the limitation, the study of the crushed station proved that the massive creation once belonged to members of the old Federation of humanity, before the Old Night, even boasting the patronage of several important generals and scientists. The reason for it's crash into Hale's fall however seems to be from a strange event nearly two thousand years ago, where a traveling Eldar had, in the words of the various reports "Brought ruin and death in his wake" taking various cultural items before fleeing the crashing station.

Aside from the information still perhaps hidden inside, the relatively complete nature of the site has made it a potential site of significance for historians of the Imperium.
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From the moment their ships had entered the Lemuria system, Orko could feel the energies of the warp still raw even after the Ork's attempts had failed, their energies persisted in the feral population that still remained on world and dug into the wounded reality, much like a parasite ensures it can live on in the wounds of much larger creatures.

But he was not here to think of Orks or their effects, merely explore more of the ruins of this world and what it may tell of the xeno's who remained onboard castle Greyskull. Putting aside those unnerving thoughts, Orko and a small team would head down to the ruins and begin to study what they could.

A major find was when it was discovered that the facility was indeed still operational, powered down after the Orks had attempted to use it incorrectly, but still operational. Slowly gathering power for something, at current estimates it would take close to ten thousand years of it all to be ready again.

This find, while deeply intriguing to Orko, was the only thing of real note found on the world, something that was frustrating, but luckily there was a Feral Ork camp nearby to allow the Abhuman some relief in the form of population control of the Greenskins.

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Their final destination would be the silent stations of Viamarr, first explorations having found them to be airless and untouched by anything, despite their proximity to the Orks. All apparent systems seem to function, yet no air is detected, these Xeno's structures were an unnerving sight to the Skullbringers, and now Orko was meant to uncover their secrets.

Wearing a mask speciality made for his use and guarded by several Astartes, he made his way inside what many believed to be the lead station of the ten seemingly abandoned pristine Xenos stations. Studies quickly began on the technology and it's potential functions, or even their purpose for being in the middle of Viamarr's ring.

Orko while being a mind more suited to the study of the Warp, would not be alone as Head Archivist Ardinian and several Magos of nearby Forgeworlds joined him in the investigation, setting aside the found logs of the potential builders for the moment, the first thing of study was the power system. Something that the Mechanicum members found to be an unnerving thing, as it seemed to be a self powering station, no obvious source of power was found across the station, even a look into the Warp showed nothing afoot in this place. Further exploration of the inside of the station showed that it had an easy to understand layout, but as before, it was completely barren of any and all signs it had ever been used.

Investigation of the inner systems of the station had uncovered that all of them were connected and running some kind of series of calculations that had been going on for some time. But none of the Magos could make any sense of it, as it seemed to be just random calculations adding, multiplying and subtracting in an endless non repeating pattern.

With all of their minds at work, the unknown language of the logs would slowly be deciphered, bits and pieces would come together and form something that could be understood, if only slightly. From what could be understood from the logs, seemed to paint the picture of beings awaiting commands from some sort of leader before they move on and leave this area for another group, in fact it was only the last set of logs that seemed to indicate anything of note, their contents explaining that "The Identity Matrix was secure and still operational" and that "the recent Neverborn attempt of subversion had been eliminated, departure will occur ahead of schedule." What followed seemed to be a set of orders and instructions for the next group, as well as an odd statement that may have cultural meanings "Our purpose began with the Stars that broke reality and falls when our preparations of vengeance are finished.", but like a majority of the logs, further work was needed to understand what the Imperium had found here.

The names of these stations and the apparent name of the beings that once operated them would be also among the logs, with the Stations being called "The Troop Rests" and the species being called "Jokaero-Kong" the name of which quickly confusing Orko and other Imperial researchers as the Jokaero have been encountered several times in the span of he Great Crusade, thought to be nothing more than a odd traveling race of Xeno crafters, mute and seemingly benign creatures aside from their weapon making, the accounts of these Jokaero-Kong paint a far more aware set of beings with full knowledge of how effective their technology is, dealing with something called the "Neverborn" and preparing for some kind of vengeance.

ZealousThoughts · Oct 17, 2022

The Lightbringers had been a legion that had lived in the minds of many within the Imperium as a juxtaposition between perfection and travesty, goodness and evil, light and dark. Much like their unfortunate gene-father, the Lightbringers were possessed of a dual nature, one which in the days following 'The Fratricide' as many among their ranks called the death of Axinos meant that the legion fractured into many pieces. Their brittle pride and unity shattered like a plate dropped from a great height. To many of their brother legions were successor chapters assigned with some even left in the home systems to defend their recruitment worlds.

As was often the case the Warriors of Peace were seen as being somewhat different, somewhat apart from the other legions and it was not a surprise when it was discovered that only the secretive Fonias and Axinos' killer gathered less of the legion to themselves among those who received an allocation. Those chapters who joined with the Warriors of Peace were roughly sorted into two camps dependent on their reaction to their fathers death. More than half of those under the guidance of the general were possessed of a dark anger at what had occurred and it was decreed that these would be named the 'Yang Phoenix Chapter' with members told that within their rage they must find their inner light and bring it once again forth.

The lesser number had turned towards the pacifism and apathy that had gripped large portions of Ahurani's Wardens. Rather than reject them as they rejected the Imperial Truth, instead they were named the 'Yin Dragon Chapter' by Zhukelion himself. The Old Marshal declared that within them they would find a new path, as he had followed the ascendancy of The Jade General and the taking of the mantle of duty from Zhukelion before the reunion with the Imperium. It was Zhukelion who worked with these astartes, exposing them to the opportunity to help others and leaving them with the philosophical quandary of whether they wished to bear arms once more and go to war in the protection of others.

It took some months before both sides of the Lightbringer coin accepted what and who they were, as both brought forth the light of their worth once more in their own ways. The 'Yang Phoenix Chapter' proudly wearing the midnight black of their previous despair, their armour anointed with the white Phoenix Tear on shoulder pad and face armour. Their former brothers in their pearlescent ceramite accepting the Dragon's Claw a reminder of the need they all felt to protect and defend with whatever means necessary refusing to abandon those in need even if they had to turn back into the warriors they wished to no longer be.

To The Jade General however the work was not complete, where before there had been one united whole, a perfect merging of opposing natures and wishes now there stood two and that was only within those who had been seconded to his command. It was his decree that only by finding the duty and purpose that would unite them once more would the Lightbringers move past their heritage and reforge themselves as a better, more balanced whole. It was The General's view that the duty of all of Axinos' brothers would be to fix what he or Savnok broke, not to subsume, not to vassalise and not to merge with the shattered remnants of his gene-children.

It was his hope that one day more of Axinos' sons would be drawn to the new unity being formed, with the heritage of failure returned as Samsara Legion equal in importance to all others…..

SteelWriter77 · Oct 21, 2022

Across the Imperium, Astartes forces are being sent to garrison worlds or aid in the establishment of their own Legion's recruitments, while some stay to their own homeworlds, other spread far to places recently put into compliance or have close ties to specific Legions.

Most notably efforts would focus on the region of Actium, while it's governing Chapters have ensured that most discontent and the transfer of power was handled smoothly, forces of the Bronze Shields, Skullbringers and hundreds of Imperial Administrative workers went to work on smoothing things over, the Lord Regent Malcdor himself even was sighted speaking with governors of the five hundred worlds, confirming that out of respect for the services done by Axinos and his legion, that Actium will retain it's self governance and cultural indepandce as if their Primarch and never fallen.

This combined with many efforts of familiarizing the general population to the Astartes has created a lessening of the Transhuman Dread they may feel, and in turn has taught several Astartes how to better operate around normal humans. This seems to indicate that with the final days of the Great Crusade inching ever closer, the Imperium and it's mighty warriors may yet be able to co-exist with relative ease.

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In a contrast to most of the Imperium's space, the realm once known as the Tri-Star Federation was an unforgiving place, as rememants of their forces still fought on with their xeno allies. Memnon of the Bronze Shields led his legion against these forces in efforts to root them out and begin work on stabilizing the region.

At first things would seem to go smoothly as monuments to the sacrifices of the Imperial army were erected and worlds were rebuilt in inspired architectural designs that combined Hellenic culture with the more human aspects of the Federation, done in attempts to keep some from joining the rebellions. But things would not remain as simple as that, as more and more worlds reported uprisings and the lists of active federation cells kept growing, for all their experience in fighting these forces in the past, the sheer scale of the Federation space left the third legion spread out thin and without means to reinforce quickly.

Aid would come in the form of Crimson Lords and Coldiron Cages who sought to establish recruitment for their legions and keep the peace of the unstable region. The Astartes cut down any rebellion that they found on worlds they had claimed and set up Imperial governance on nearby worlds. This would lessen the pressure for the Bronze Shields as they continued their projects and efforts to root out any dissenters to the Imperium, Memnon himself however would find himself in competition with the forces of Malcador as he set up worlds more akin to ones under his Hellenic League then ones under the Imperial system, this would be a race that eventually would tie between the two, leaving both sides unsatisfied.

During his off hours, Memnon would write correspondence with Adaam Primus and members of the Lightbringers who were part of the Federation war and it's opening battles, collecting the experiences and the lessons that could be learned from it with multiple points of view, this book would both serve as a reminder of the tenacity of some enemies the Imperium will face and the methods of war that were instrumental in defeating the Federation.

Of course Memnon would also collect much of the Federations technology, to gift to nearby Forge worlds and see if it could be reverse engineered for the Imperium's use, unfortunately during transit much of the Mecanhicum's work was lost into the warp after a series of brutal warp storms, losing the precious cargo and the remade weapons. Condolences were given to the Primarch and offers of payment in other ways to make up for this lose were given, but the Primarch would refuse, stating that such ill fate perhaps was best for Human and Xeno technology, he would lament the loss of sons and members of the Mechanicum however, creating a small monument upon what was once the capital world of the Federation, inscribing the names of the crews of those lost vessels.

Mortis Nuntius · Oct 27, 2022

The Trial of Focalor

The Tribunal as tradition demanded an august body, three Captains, three Counts and two Propraetorians. Eight of the most respected and authoritative Astartes in the Imperium. Their uniforms were as pressed as their posture, hard lines for hard men, the products of decades of warfare, unyielding and unforgiving, there was neither warmth nor sympathy in their gaze, even the emerald fire of the torches ensconced in the walls behind them offered nothing but harsh light without the warmth of natural flame.

Focalor had no need for either, he stood tall and unashamed at attention, he had done nothing more or nothing less than his duty. This tiresome formality might see him dead or worse disgraced but ashamed? Never.

"State your name." Propraetorian Maximillian of the Fourth Maniple of the Middle Guard, tall even for an Estartes long silver hair and pale gold eyes, his voice was as sharp as a combat knife and was well suited to a man known even by the standards of Eternity Guard as a disciplinarian. If Folacor cared for his life, he would have taken the choice of presiding officer as a significant setback.

"Centurion Focalor, Fifth Century." Focalar answered not without pride.

"This Tribunal has been convened to sit in judgment in the case of Centurion Focalor, he stands accused of Insubordination, destruction of Imperial property and citizens, aiding the enemy and as culmination of the aforementioned actions of treason. It falls to us to determine his innocence or guilt and to if necessary decide upon appropriate punishment." Something about the Terran's old Albian accent seemed particularly suited to emphasizing the last word, by custom, Maximillian was addressing his fellow Propraetorian and equal Belial.

Belial was shorter and less distinctive in appearance, of average build with hair and eyes the color of mud that gave nothing away to his feelings, even his nod of acknowledgement was somewhat non-committal. Folacar had heard Belial described as one of the most dangerous Astartes alive purely because his features gave no hint to his intentions, as plain and ambiguous formally dining as he was severing an enemy's head or standing in judgment of an accused traitor.

"Does the accused accept or reject the charges, individually or collectively?" Maximilian queried, not deigning to hide his disinterest in the answer.

Folacor considered for a long moment, reviewing his actions and their circumstances.

"I reject, the latter two charges, and dispute the-"

"There is no middle ground, we are not here to quibble on technicalities." Maximilian cut him off almost immediately. "I ask again and for the final time time, do you accept or reject the charges?"

Well that simplified things, still Focalor felt unease settled in his gut, he had hoped to be able to give his reasoning, face whatever judgment awaited him with his head held eye, clearly the Legion had no intention of allowing such theatrics.

"I reject all the charges against me."

"Of course you do." Maximilian said by way of acknowledgement.

The Propraetorian's exasperated and scornful tone drawing poorly disguised smirks and even the ghosts of chuckles from around the high table. Belian of course remained unmoved but that meant nothing and he was of a distinct minority. Focalor felt the heat rising on his neck, he did not enjoy mockery, even from his closest battle brothers in jest, and these men did not consider him their brother any longer.

"Let us get this over with then." Maximilian gestured and a hologram appeared in the centre of the room, showing a world of orange continents and purple seas, capped with small icy poles. "Count Olaf, summarize." He commanded brusquely of a wild haired and uniquely ugly looking Astartes.

"Whilst complying with the command of Lord Savnok to scour Segmentum Solar for Xenos threats, disorder or opportunities to further the reputation of the Eternity Guard to even more dizzying heights than it has already ascended amongst the mortal population of the Imperium and in particular those of worthy classes of citizen the Fifth Century entered the Locus Amoneus system and deployed to the surface of the premier world Pastorix assessed to be an advanced world of Decuma Particular tithe status. The Fifth company was called upon to assist in the pacification of a Abhuman uprising orchestrated by Xenos infiltrators however they instead turned upon the local Planetary Defense Force, inflicting notable casualties and forcing a stalemate, apparently subverted by these same Xenos provocateurs."

These were not easy men to surprise or dismay, yet there were mutters and even gasps at the Count's words. Folacor's own feelings were a whirlwind of confusion and then anger.

"That is not what happened!" He protested.

"Silence, or you will be silenced. I warn you only this once." Maximilian rebuked sharply.

"The uprising with the reinforcement of the traitor continued unabated until the arrival of reinforcements from from the Demimaniple Secondus, under the command of Captain Stolas, who was the traitor Centurion's immediate superior. He prudently commanded a communications blackout and managed to lure the traitor aboard his battlebarge and enforce a quarantine on the planet and its surface until such a time as we can determine the nature of the Xenos subversion."

That was not what had happened either, Stolas had demanded answers and upon hearing them agree to seek clarification from above, the arrest had come days later. But Folacor knew that the Propraetorian was not one to make idle threats. He kept silent, with difficulty.

"Colleagues, soldiers, the threat of this treason to the Legions' reputation and through it the safety of the Imperium itself is clear, our course of action likewise, we must dispose of this traitor at once, then obliterate his masters. Then we can interrogate the population of the world and determine just what nefarious means the Xenos have been using to such effect, we will then deal with the problem at its source wherever that may be. This situation calls for decisive action." Maximilian decided.

Folcalor waited for the dissent, more in curiosity than any hope but it seemed none was forthcoming, uncertain glances were not enough and more seemed resolved. He gritted his teeth, better to die speaking truth than be condemned silent and meek as a lamb. He opened his mouth…and found it closed by the flat of Maximillian's sword, the other Astartes' was faster than Folcalor could even see, never mind dodge, in a moment the world was a mix of ivory shards and a rain of blood.

"I warned you not to speak again traitor. For your own good I'll remove that tongue of yours so we can get this sorry business over with and expunge your disgrace from the Galaxy."

"That would be a mistake brother," a quiet voice interjected, every word carefully measured. "It seems to me that at this point we need answers more than severed tongues."

Maximilian whirled around in anger and for one mad moment it seemed he would strike down his fellow Propraetorian, he was clearly not used to having his decisions questioned, never mind in the midst of carrying them out.

"A traitor's tongue has nothing but poison to offer us, his deeds speak for themselves." He proclaimed with the certainty of fury.

"As you say, he is the first Astartes to ever betray the Imperium to my knowledge, certainly the first in the second legion, I would know why, even a lie is useful in its own way" Belial countered quietly, seemingly unmoved by either the bloodied sword or the words of his fellow.

Folcalor and his condemner guaged the room at the same time, taking equal note of every troubled or determined face, they even shared a conclusion although only one of them smiled through shattered teeth.

"So be it," Maximilian conceded without a trace of grace.

Belial inclined his head and returned to his place at the table. Folcalor took that as leave to stand and speak, he stared forwards, looking at the hologram of Pastorix gathering his thoughts and clearing the blood from his throat.

"My Century indeed entered the Locus amoenus system as part of the our progress through Segmentum Solas, upon entering the system we were received warmly by the rulers of Pastorix, there was not as yet active conflict on the world, indeed we were treated to a feast and many displays of their culture. The parliament of the world was eager to bestow upon us many honours, it soon became apparent that their flattery was intended to earn our support for an undertaking that they had been preparing for some time."

Folcalor paused, angry at himself for needing to take a breath, he had thought himself ready for death yet here he was nervous, his life and honour hung in the balance, yet the truth seemed an increasingly uncertain shield.

"Pastorix was home to two planetary populations, one conforming almost perfectly to the standard human form another a unique form of abhuman, so physically and biologically distinct that there was apparently a long held suspicion that they were the mongrel descendents of Xenos. The Administratum had failed to come to a decision upon their nature and fate during the initial integration of the world, instead they withdrew their civic rights and legal protections and shelved the matter to be resolved at a later date. That date had not come in the sixty years since. The Parliament had apparently felt that this uncertainty was hindering them from taking the place of regional hegemon that they believed was rightly theirs due to their wealth and technology and resolved to settle the matter themselves, before our arrival there had been a decade of escalating attacks on the Abhuman population and which began to culminate shortly after we arrived with a full scale effort at extermination."

"So you admit that you joined forces with Xenos and sabotaged the work of the Great Crusade?" Maximilian demanded, seemingly unable to hide his incredulity at such good fortune.

"I admit nothing of the sort…Sir, I merely explained the situation as I found it on the world." Folcalor refuted, glad of the chance to finally bite back.

He hurriedly continued before the Praetorian could respond to the slight with appropriate violence. "I was uncertain about aiding an unsanctioned purge of a potentially legitimate Abhuman population but decided that on balance assisting the local authorities would best fufil the parameters of our mission to earn good will. I ordered my Century to assume positions in the vanguard and fine tuned the local PDF's extermination strategy."

"Are you saying that this was all some grand misunderstanding and that you in fact only aided the Pastorixians? The evidence of your treasonous attack on them is overwhelming, your own Captain reported he found you engaged in battle with their forces." Olaf informed him.

"There was no misunderstanding, were it not for Captain Stolas I would have completed the destruction of the PDF and anyone else who refused to submit."

Several members of the Tribunal began to speak at once at that but a single cough by Belial was enough to silence them. "Perhaps if we wish to understand the discrepancy we should let the Centurion finish his account instead of interrupting him every few seconds?" He suggested rethorically.

"Thank you Sir, as I was saying we were poised to assist in the extermination when our orbiting battle barge reported that it had intercepted distress signals from those parts of the planet with the largest concentration of Abhumans, the element of surprise it seemed had been lost. I was concerned that they may be requesting aid from Xenos' allies and so requested updates on their content and recipients."

He took one more breath, it was all or nothing now.

"They were not seeking salvation from Xenos, their pleas for help were directed towards Terra, they called upon the Emperor and his servants to save them from destruction."

"And that desperate ruse which a child could see through was enough to turn your blade and bolter against mankind?" Maximilian asked, so astounded even his contempt seemed to wane.

"No Sir, that was merely enough for me to order all units to hold position until I had time to consider the appropriate course of action, the PDF ignoring my command was what pushed me to destroy the mutinous elements and protect the citizens of the Imperium."

The uproar ranged from incredulity to fury to astounded amusement, but once more it was Belius' words that demanded attention.

"So you took it upon yourself to determine that in fact these potentially Xenos tainted abhumans and an undeniably destabilizing element on Pastorix deserved your protection despite their explicitly uncertain status as Imperial citizens even against the legal Terra recognised authorities of the Pastorix?"

Folacor knew then that he was doomed, he was only grateful to the Emperor for the chance to die with the truth on his lips.

"Discerning who is human or not and who meets or does not meet the classification abhuman and the extent of unacceptable Xenos taint is beyond my competencies, I am neither a taxonomist nor a functionary, what I am is a Space Marine and when someone, anyone, calls upon the Emperor's protection they shall receive it whilst I draw breath."

"You dare dress your bungling treason as loyalty?" Maximilian snarled.

"Yes, Sir. Proudly so. Will that be all?" It would have perhaps been more dignified to die with the defiant attestation of his duty but he could not resist pricking the overinflated ego of the Terran marine who had treated him with such disdain.

"I believe we've heard enough, we will now deliberate, you will await our decision Centurion Focalor."

Whatever was said in that chamber he would never know, but hours later when he was summoned he knew the outcome the moment he saw the look of pure hatred on Maximilian's face. Focalor offered him one last smile through his broken teeth.

triumph8w · Oct 28, 2022

GUTS AND BONES

In the void, the flagship of the Star Knights often hung like a black dagger, a wicked blade to be plunged into the hearts of those who opposed the Imperium of Man and its master's designs. A testament to ingenuity on all levels, from the complex chain of logistics that brought the materials necessary to make the massive warship together. To the skill and visions of the engineers that constructed it, and the ceaseless laborers who put it together, piece by piece. It was a thing of beauty and danger, a reminder and a warning.

In the warp, it was something different.

In the warp it was a pebble skipping along the top of a river. Bouncing again and again, with each little bit of contact carrying the risk of sinking underneath the water altogether. At least that's how Nama Pem, senior navigator of the Nemesis, felt some days. She sat in her large cushioned chair in the center of her chambers, her human eyes closed as her third eye lay wide open. A container of glass separated her from the rest of the room, an insistence of hers put into place long ago, simply because it was so difficult sometimes to focus when idiots thought that their inane lip flapping was 'whispering.'

Her golden implant teeth–her original ones lost long ago, and replaced with something frankly better–grinded together as the Nemesis slammed through an unexpected warp eddy. She tried to get the great midnight beast to turn, but the temperamental creature refused to do such a sudden sharp turn. Nama had served on the Nemesis for…what, decades? Centuries? She had somewhat lost track, truth be told. But it was her life, for all that matter. The people came and went, but this ship was hers. She knew her companion inside and out. The Nemesis was a proud thing, all too aware it was a jewel in the crown that sought to span a galaxy. It met challenges head on, more often than not, intent on plowing through and obliterating them. She could get the dark hunter to accede to her wishes when the time came, but sometimes it's pride got rankled.

An unexpected challenger, sentient or simple warp energy, was not something the Nemesis was eager to balk from.

And so Nama had to listen, even muffled through her glass shield, to the sudden uptick of worried chatter. Her idiot servants mumbling about 'gellar field fluctuations' and 'strange warp' currents like they knew anything about them. She was well aware they had been trained and tutored quite well. She simply knew better than them. That their own worries were overwhelming them enough that she could actually hear them, however, was in of itself at least worth some attention.

"Aurora." Nama said between gritted teeth, still riding the aftershocks of the Nemesis bursting through the eddy like a battering ram. Her voice, caught by speakers that had been specifically installed in the glass dome so she could be heard clearly when she needed to speak. "Tell these idiots that everything is fine. The 'oddity' is just an unexpected warp eddy. They should know that things like this happen."

Her granddaughter, newly arrived to the Nemesis from the illustrious House Pem on the throneworld, looked up from where she was leaning next to another girl, both of them staring intently at a console, though one with a bit more sweat than the other. Decently tall, the young Aurora stood to her full height, red hair neatly tied up in a bun and turned to look at her grandmother, green eyes tired. "They can hear you, honored grandmother."

"Pah, can they? Swirling about in their own minds and thoughts as they are, I doubt that. The girl beside you is sweating too much to be fine!"

As the girl in Auroa's shadow startled with a squeak, stammering from behind a suddenly red face, Nama's granddaughter stifled a sigh and crossed her arms. "Don't blame Kai, this is the third warp eddy we've encountered in this region. I know the charts for the Burned Stars are less complete than other sectors, and that the region is somewhat tumultuous, but this is…maybe we should slow down?"

"No!" Nama snapped reflexively. She paused as her granddaughter leveled an even stare at the dome, though somewhat incomplete with her third eye left safely behind its band. Nama paused, less cowed by her granddaughter's spine and more being distracted by the surge of triumph that rippled through the Nemesis as it cleared the last of the warp anomaly, landing in relatively calm waters once more. Well, so to speak.

Once she sufficiently isolated herself from the Nemesis celebrations–which would have felt somewhat childish were it not for the sheer sense of depth and scale she felt when connecting with the ship–did she turn her attention back to her granddaughter with ease, nudging and directing the flagship of the Star Knights while she spoke.

"This is what being a navigator is about, girl. The warp is a dark and terrible place, and only the arrogant and foolish claim to understand it. One moment, the seas can be clear, the next a storm the likes which hadn't been seen since the Age of Strife could descend upon you. What a navigator must learn is how to navigate through these challenges."

Aurora opened her mouth, paused, then bowed her head. "Yes, honored grandmother. I understand."

Nama opened her mouth to snap something again, only to pause when she registered her granddaughter's words. Aurora had been sent abroad by Nama's ingrate of a son, insisting that his daughter learned at the feet of one of House Pem's greatest. Like she hadn't made the fortunes of the house by not only being selected to guide the flagship of a primarch through the warp, but to excel at it. She had expected to dislike her granddaughter, who she hadn't seen before due to the nature of warp travel and the stringent demand for her attention that the legion and primarch commanded. She was expecting someone spoiled and pampered, unable to handle any of the truths and rigors that came with being a navigator.

But so far, she had been impressed with her granddaughter.

The girl had a spine, unlike most she had met outside the Legiones Astartes. She wasn't like the simpletons Nama was forced to make do with, clever and forthright. Yes, she could be a good navigator. Perhaps even a successor, when the Nemesis eventually claimed Nama utterly. Many would be horrified by such a fate, to degrade and rot, twist and turn under the machine-spirit of something vastly larger and yet lesser than you. But she didn't mind. To be a navigator was to have a ship to lead, despite all the pomp and ceremony the houses liked to endure in, there was nothing more needed.

Aurora glanced to her left, drawn by some inane chatter. She nodded her head then turned to look at her grandmother. "We're nearing the rally point, honored grandmother."

"Good." Nama hissed, quite thoroughly tired. But she endured for a moment longer, focusing her senses utterly and completely, drawing it towards their destination. Sweat beaded down old, wrinkled skin as a member of her retinue began a count down wired to the strategium of the Nemesis.

"Beginning transition to realspace in three…two…one"

And like that, the world shifted.

For a single moment, a depthless eternity, there was only that twist in reality. The distortion of senses and time as they passed the barrier between worlds, the warp clawing at them on the way out. It was a pressure in the head, or the throat, or the hands. It varied, as mercurial as the warp itself. Yet the moment passed. As it always did, and when Nama opened her two eyes and closed her third, it was to the sight of stars.

Admittedly it was a sight somewhat ruined by the dome she kept around herself, which marred the vid-screen and its camera feed. With a sigh, she reached for her band with small wrinkled hands, holding the obsidian encased adamantium aloft, she clasped the metal to her third eye. Then, with a press of the button, her glass dome slowly raised above her until she could see the room more clearly. As the dome left, she saw her own reflection. That of a small, shriveled old shrew. She was tiny, a fact she had learned to accept long ago, barely above four feet. That she was also somewhat fat amused her greatly rather than shamed her, as some thought it would. Old green eyes stared out at her from sunken eyes and wrinkled flesh, and she flashed herself a toothy golden grin before the glass vanished completely.

She stretched, enjoying the way her bones cracked, and then looked up as a shadow was cast upon her.

"Honored grandmother." Aurora said, handing her a cup of tea. Nama greedily took hold, barely restraining herself from snatching it from her granddaughter's hands.

"Ahhh, this is why you're my favorite." Nama said with a contented sigh.

Aurora raised an eyebrow. "You say that when I bring food."

"Because it's true!" Nama chirped. "You have to repeat the true things often. Get drowned out by idiocy otherwise."

The old woman felt somewhat gratified to see the flicker of a smile on her granddaughter's face. The girl took herself too seriously. Their duty was a serious one, but duty without levity was a cold, dark thing that could lead to some unpleasant roads. That was something she learnt very quickly while serving aboard legion vessels.

"Do you know why we're in this system, honored grandmother?" Aurora asked. Nama could see the way her servants tried to look like they weren't listening in.

Nama stifled a sigh. "We're waiting for someone." She held up a sharp finger before the next obvious question came. "Not the rest of the fleet. Outsiders."

A low buzz began to go through the chamber, her servants were doing an appalling job of hiding their interest.

"...Who?" Aurora asked, her too serious face screwed up with curiosity.

Nama worked her jaw for a moment, taking time to sip her tea and eye the stars. This particular visitor was never her favorite.

"The Lady Varil."

SteelWriter77 · Oct 28, 2022

Zich Scorch-tail, Verminlord of Deceit and Flame, Patron host of the Vermin Storm and 4013th Chosen of the Horned Rat.
"What can be said about the monster who led the Skaven in those final days that has not been said or screamed out by the dying. Only that it showcases that any and all threats to mankind must be crushed with extreme abhorrence, speaking as one who saw the beast before and after it's transformation the cruelty within it's soul was now just on the outside, no longer hiding behind a guise of a feeble minded xeno"- Personal biography of the recently Promoted Law Keeper of Stormgard
(Written by the wonderful @Uniquelyequal )

The Storms that raged across the surface of Stormgard were like nothing the world had ever seen before. Metal and Stone and Flesh melted under the downpour of acidic rain or twisted under the lash of green lightning. Death and Rot hung in the air.

Beneath the green and hostile sky, the men of the Third Guard Army had held out for seven days, which was about seventy-one hours more than most of them had expected to last. None of the Planetary Defense Force had had any illusion about their improvised trench line being anything but a temporary hold up for the sheer mass of forces that was coming against them. None of them had had any illusion about coming back alive. Duty had compelled them to go: to Stormgard, to the Primarchs, to the civilians still sheltering behind them, and duty had compelled them to stand.

For three days, they had stood, as their trench line turned to mud around their feet and keens, as their ammunition ran dry and their bayonets ran dull. For three days, they had endured all that the Skaven had thrown against them: mutants and horrors and strange, twisted war machines, half metal and half something else. For three days, they had turned back wave after wave, never sleeping, barely eating, drinking water only in the small swallows that could be wrested from the muck and purified to a degree it would not render them incapable of fighting instantly. For three days, they had stood, as their infirmaries choked with the dead and wounded, and as the field in front of them was churned with the blood and gore of a million Skaven. They had done the impossible, and it had barely made a dent. Now, though, even that time borrowed by miracle was running out. The Soldiers of Third Guard stood, grimly loading the last, carefully nursed bits of ammunition they had, and prepared to die.

The first thing they noticed was that it had begun to snow. Then, the horde that had begun to attack them had stalled, and was turning back against itself, scrambling in panic in an attempt to get back, to retreat.

Then, the Angel stood among them, her wings spread, her hands bare of weapons, and the storm seemed to calm around her.

The stories of the evacuation varied wildly: some exaggerated, many undoubtedly not, and there were many like it. In some versions, the Angel carried back the soldiers on her own, one by one. In others, Gunships of her Legion touched down, expertly coordinated, as teams of the Wardens spread out to aid in the retreat. Many stories featured Ahurani walking into No Man's Land, retrieving wounded utterly untouched by the Skaven's terrible weaponry.

Only one detail was agreed upon, by all of Third Guards and all the others that the Angel saved, in those final, desperate days of the War for Stormgard: throughout it all, the Angel wept, and did not cease weeping.

Within six hours, what remained of Third Guard stood on another line.
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Etzil the Glutton did not know where she was: the landscape had changed dramatically, since she had gone underground, and the green storms made navigating by the Stars impossible. It wasn't like it would have helped, though. The Skaven had detected them almost as soon as the small team of Blood Jaguars had emerged from the Tunnels, and attacked them almost at that instant, bellowing their devotion to the Horned Rat for everyone who cared to understand it. They had changed, somehow: their War Machines had become more common, and the Storm had changed some of them, turning them half-incorporeal or into hulking behemoths of flesh and metal. Her Boltgun had run dry hours ago, and so she had been reduced to her Sword and Blade, both red with Skaven Blood after hours of fighting. The Hordes did not cease. They would not cease. She did not know how long she had fought, or how many she had killed: the act had become a blur, even her superhuman arms tired from all the blood that they had shed. Her helmet was gone, discarded hours ago as blows to it's lenses had made them impossible to see through, and still she fought on, still the Skaven rushed against her and her squad, an endless wave impossible to break or slow.

And then, all of a sudden and all at once, it stopped.

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The tunnels beneath Ossos were ancient, even by the standards of the city: what purpose they had originally held was long lost to history, and they had been repurposed in a thousand different ways since then: as homes and hidden meeting spots, as supply depots and disguised temples and improvised tombs. They made a weakness in the armor, an obvious invasion route that still remained almost impossible to guard against, for while no human knew much of these tunnels the Skaven did, and they would assuredly pour through them in force. And so Savnok dispatched those Revenants that remained into the tunnel, some of Varil's stern daughter maintaining a silent vigil over them as they went to work.

Of what went on within them, no stories survived, for neither the Revenants nor the Coldiron Cages were prone to talking, and none of the Skaven that went into the tunnels returned alive. The Undertunnels held. Now, all rested upon the defenses above.

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From the walls of Ossos, Savnok and Varil looked out across a plain covered in swarming gray. Green Lightning crackled. Skaven stretched as far as the eye could see, surrounding their war machines and their warped monstrosities of metal and flesh. In their center, surrounded by thirteen towers of corroded metal, bells atop each one, Zich stood, turned by the Warp into a hulking monstrosity, malignant energy crackling around his limbs. The Vermin Lord pointed forward.

The Bells tolled, once. Lightning crackled out, evaporating large sections of the walls like they were nothing. The Vermintide surged forward.

A thousand battles played themselves out across a thousand streets, through a thousand tunnels. Skaven surged against the defenses that had been erected, were repulsed, and clambered over the bodies of those that had come before just to die and die and die, until the defenders ran out of ammunition and were forced to retreat, or were overrun. In these conditions, the Umbral Watch shone, turning the streets of the city into a slaughterhouse. Blood ran in the gutters. In some places, Skaven offensives stalled simply because bodies had clogged up a tunnel, or an alleyway. The Umbra Cybernetica reaped a fearsome toll, their livery all but disappearing beneath the blood they spilled. Mitos Drell and Patrek Barbara killed one of the last Grey Seers on the world, turned blind by his own power and riding a stitched-together Warbeast, their back against the door behind which much of the Eternity Guards treasure and history lay secure, their act of desperate heroism observed by none but the dead Skaven that piled at their feet.

Upon the broken ramparts of Ossos, on the outskirts of the city, Varil and Savnok faced down Zich, Savnok keeping the hordes at bay as his Sister faced the Warp-creature in a psychic duel.

The Storm intensified. The ground froze, then thawed, then froze again, then boiled. Zich screamed in frustration as Varil wrested the power he threw at her again and again, dissipating it harmlessly or hurling it back towards his own forces. The Skaven's bells tolled storm, calling down lightning with each dissonant ring. The tide of the Skaven was never-ending. Step by step and blow by blow, Skavnok was forced back, reaping a fearsome toll on the assailants as he went. Spell by Spell, Varil felt her own power swelling, felt the warp churn behind the skin of the world, ready to be unleashed at but a whim, whispering promises of annihilation and dread. She stifled a scream of frustration and turned aside another bolt of green, crackling lightning, hurling it back at one of the Belltowers. Below her, Savnok yelled out, bleeding from several places: one of the mutated monsters had gotten it's mouth around his ankle, and another was clamped onto the wrist that held his hammer, forcing him to defend himself with his bare hands. This was it. The turning point of the battle was upon them. The Bells tolled and energy hummed through the air, even as Savnok shook himself free. The bells tolled again, in perfect unison, and Zich raised his arms, gathering lightning around himself like a prophet receiving the benedictions of his god, his face twisted in manical laughter, the flame Varil threw at him hot enough to set the ground to boiling and utterly harmless against the vortex of green energy that had sprung up around him. The Bells tolled a third time….and then the world turned white, and the storm broke, as atomic fire shot through the atmosphere and turned the Skaven assembled on the plain to ash. Above the city, plainly visible in the now clear sky, Port Tortuga hovered. Below it, streaking through the atmosphere like shooting stars, Droppods and Stormbirds already soared down.

The Cosmo Corsairs had arrived. Lightning crackled, pure and white, and then Minerva stood next to her siblings, her sword still sheathed, a smirk playing across her lips. Below, surrounded by the ashes of his ambitions, the Verminlord stood, screaming in rage.

The three Primarchs stepped forwards, their weapons raised in perfect unison.

The Battle for Stormgard was over. The united might of the Skaven Clans had been broken. All that remained was pest control.

The Verminlord did not die easily, or particularly quickly, nor did it turn to flee. The fight went on for hours, across the blasted hellscape of the Plains before Ossos, Zich using every dirty trick and every desperate gamble still in his repertoire.

All he achieved was delaying the inevitable. Varil's spear skewered him atop one of the broken Bell Towers, hurling him back into the Warp with one last screamed curse.

Above, the sky had cleared, the storm had quieted down.

The Battle for Stormgard was over.

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The darkest corners of the Warp were as harsh and unforgiving place to emerge for one's first banishment, but Zich was not one of the lesser beings who carved out an existence in the dark places, he was brought here to speak with his Lord and Master.

"Those...THOSE hated MANTHINGS, they took my victory from me, made me a fool, but please oh master of masters, it was not my fault. The other Skaven were weak and unable to achieve my plans in full." Ranted the Verminlord Zich to a shadowed figure, titanic in stature encasing even this dark place of the Warp in his shadow, the only lights coming from a toxic green glow from his eyes and cracks upon massive horns.

"It...is inconsequential my servant." When the Horned Rat spoke, it was like the endless tides of hunger present in all Skaven was focused into one being, his voice dripped with malice and a cunning that desired to consume all.

"It is all part of a masterful scheme, your actions, regardless of the outcome have tolled the corresponding bell needed for my rise." the words oozed out of the shadows of this titanic Horned figure

"I..I was a toller of one the thirteen, you honor me my most glorious master." Spoke the Verminlord, bowing deeply in supplication and doing all he could to please the God of all Rats.

"You were merely the fifth bell of the thirteen, Ruination of flame. There is still Eight more, ones held in connection to the hateful False Eight, who lay claim to WHAT IS MINE." The great beast of schemes anger shook the small area of the Warp, before it calmed.

"Preparation must be done for the final Eight Bells, to bring ruin to reality and finally end the unending hunger in my being. You will do your part and prepare the Thirteen bells."

"Hehehehe When the galaxy faces the dreaded thirteenth, all of reality will hear the tolling bells, the tale told to all Skaven pups when they feast for the first time, I will do all that I can to quicken this most joyous of days oh Great Horned One, you needn't worry now that you have my aid."

"Worry is for the slave kind, i merely hunger for my so-called Kin, who sought to bind me to them, I will break them down, devour their remains and shatter their essences for your kind to pick the scraps. And once the Warp is mine, the Skaven will claim all things, the Man-things, the Eldar, the Ork, ALL WILL BECOME AS SKAVEN, MADE IN MY IMAGE, RUIN AND DEVESTSTION WILL BE ETERNAL"

Yes, horrible things dwelled in the Dark of Warp, the God of Schemes, Ruin and Spite being chief among them. In the future, it wll be said that the War of Stormgard would be the first instance of true conflicts with the Skaven, and set a precedent for their foul methods.

Silverbullet · Oct 30, 2022

Changing of the Guard
Written by @Mortis and @Silverbullet

Mitos Drell flexed his new hand as he strode to the ruined building being used by the Primarchs for their meeting. Behind him walked several Technomancers of his Legion and their automata carrying data stacks. Behind them came the remaining Command Staff of the Imperial Army Groups sent to reinforce their efforts. General Eccho sported a new bionic arm of his own and shrapnel from a Gunship crash was buried in his head giving him a macabre appearance. His immediate subordinate Colonel Yuri Sokolov of the Iron Brotherhood was in contrast to his calm exterior fidgeting with pent up energy and aggression. Their respective subordinates and bodyguards surrounded them and scanned constantly for threats even now. Good, mused Mitos, such habits led to a long life.

A Group of Eternity Guard made to bar his way and he stood and raised a gauntlet to halt his subordinates' advance as the green and gold Second Legion drew near. One spoke as his brothers fan out to keep the Watch in their lines of fire, prudent. Mitos could not begrudge their wariness in the circumstances.

"Greetings Cousin, may I inquire as to your presence here with your retinue?"

"Captain Mitos Drell, Sixth Legion Umbral Watch, Tenth Chapter, Second Battalion, First Company. I am here to deliver my report to Primarch Savnok of the Eternity Guard and formally relinquish the authority given to me by Lord Regent Malcador to oversee the Stormgard incident. Then to see how I and my Command may render further aid."

"As you say Captain, but the Primarchs are in counsel and are not to be diturbed, maybe you and your…companions should depart for now until summoned."

Mitos noted the pause and disdainful tone directed at his mortal subordinates. Drell was quite done with this ridiculous planet and his obstructive kin. The whole place could have been glassed by that anomalous creature or the overgrown vermin and its horde and he would have only mourned his kin in the Wardens. The Stormgardians and their cousins had brought these events upon themselves, and he had no more patience for it. He stepped forward at a mere pace from the Eternity Guard and instantly bolters were leveled upon him and his, and they raised weapons in turn.

"Cease Captain I must insist you withdraw at once lest we be forced to expel you.", the voice from the vox grill was young to Drell's ears. The Astartes before him were likely not even into their first century of service. Drell paid no mind to the barrel of the phobos pattern bolter leveled at his head as he sent a request to Technomancer Lommin and soon had a link to the Primarch's private communicator. They really should help their cousins improve their electronic security, later…

+My Lord Primarch, Captain Mitos Drell here, please stand your sons down so I may give my report.+

The response came swiftly and brusquely, seemingly the Primarch was neither surprised nor in a mood to waste time. His sons parted before the interloper but without much in the way of grace..

"Next time perhaps seek an invitation before trying to gain entrance." The Captain advised. Mitos ignored him and strode past with his comrades.

Within Savnok was standing apart, examining what appeared even to the augmented eyes of Mitos to be an incomprehensible stream of raw data from a thousand sources moving as fast as the viewscreen could pixilate.

"Report." Savnok bid without looking up.

Mitos wasted no time, "Lower levels are still being cleared but no xenos remain in the vicinity of the ancient vault. Recovery Operations for fallen Astartes and Soldiers continue though the disposal of vermin corpses before they can fester is also in progress. Shipments of foodstuffs and supplies for displaced civilian populations are en route from neighboring worlds in our sphere of influence."

Drell paused and a servo-skull floated to the Primarch and hololiths with data feeds from the Watch's Battlenet and Allied forces were displayed. The Primarch divided his attention between his own existing feeds and the new ones in the way only those minds formed by the Emperor-Omnissiah's own hand could.

"Elements of the Umbral Watch, Rallas Regulars, and Ynnos Maximus Iron Brotherhood continue to sweep for vermin stragglers and resistance pockets though they seem to have fled deeper into the catacombs and tunnels. I have sent word to Commander Hall for additional reinforcements given our people's own recent experience cleansing rallas of a smaller infestation."

Mitos then took the gilded scroll he had been given by one of the Lord Regent's agents prior to his setting out from Rallas IV.

"I, Captain Mitos Drell, Sixth Legion Umbral Watch, Tenth Chapter, Second Battalion, First Company, do formally cede Command Authority of the Stormgard situation to you, Primarch Savnok of the Second Legion. A copy of my findings and reports on the initial incident and the situation as it evolved are also available for your review. Other copies are being sent to the Lord Regent and Imperial Household per protocol."

The Primarch took the scroll without looking away from the feeds, no words were spoken. Drell remained at attention waiting to be dismissed or for further inquiries from the Primarch.

"My world and I owe you and your forces a debt Captain Drell, at every point you have distinguished yourselves and proved essential, I shall ensure that Lord Alaric is made aware of your good conduct here. At present I do not believe further reinforcement is necessary, the Eternity Guard shall be remaining in the vicinity for the immediate future and should prove sufficient for sterilization operations. I recommend that your auxiliaries take the opportunity to rest and replenish before their likely redeployment to Segmentum Ultima, fighting there appears to be intensifying."

Drell bowed his head in acknowledgement of the Primarch's words. "A near certainty that. The Men of Iron are the foe that threw the Ancients into Darkness. That they have returned as we claw our way to the light of Mankind's once Zenith is infuriating. I will have my forces drawback as soon as Eternity Guard or Stormgard Planetary Defense come to relieve them. The supplies and construction will still be coming to aid in your reconstruction efforts. I will take my leave then Lord Primarch."

Drell turned on his heel and orders transmitted across the battle net as he walked.

triumph8w · Oct 30, 2022

CLOCKWORK

In the distance, a city burns.

A stick thin figure, flesh tight and warped from malnourishment, stumbles through the metal and dust that litter the plains that surround him. Blood stains his head, dry and crusty as it is. The man grits his teeth at the way the dried blood tightens his already shriveled flesh, but continues on. He has too little water to waste on washing it away. His arms feel like lead, the gun in his right hand like an anchor: But it is nothing compared to what he holds in his backpack, no matter how light it is in truth.

The man stumbles on a jutting piece of metal, and falls with curses spilling from his lips. A weak hand grips his leg, and he curses the ignorance of the powerful. He stays there for a few moments, holding his eyes tightly shut at not only the pain, but the crackle of weapons fire in the distance. He hadn't meant for things to go this far, nor provoke this reaction. Knowledge was something to be shared, not hoarded away in vaults.

With one last spat curse, the man hauls himself to his feet once more. He had a vehicle, but goons of the High Council had destroyed it in their relentless hunt for what he had liberated from them, a hunt that now saw them picking apart an entire city. Concentrated plasma fire had obliterated half of his vessel. It was a small miracle that he had survived the crash, let alone his prizes. How they hadn't found him was a mystery.

No, the man harshly reminded himself, it wasn't one. The gangs that had 'commissioned' him to gain this technology, one way or another, were currently bearing the brunt of the High Councils fury. Men and women who possessed the power they did didn't appreciate the harsh sting of consequence. Yet both groups were too busy tearing each other to pieces to recognize that he had fled them both entirely. He had no illusions on which one would win.
He needed to make this bloodshed mean something.

So he kept walking. No matter how his legs ached, nor how his head pounded, his dizzy vision or weights attached to his arms and soul. His body was weak, frail and mortal. But he would push it forward regardless. His hidden lab was close, it would be enough to get started.

Tears washed tracks through the blood and dust as he continued on, his gritted teeth nearly snapping with each breath. Even with the city behind him, the landscape all around was one of dust and desolation. The rust fields were a place few went to. So many ruins from the Great Disaster that had plagued Heratron and plunged it into anarchy until the High Council seized control. Rad bombs had schored the earth, and the remains of old machines were scattered all over the place. Many associated it with death. Which, in his mind, made it the perfect place to hide.

That was, if you could actually get to your hiding spot.

The crackle of distant weapons fire pushed him onwards. This was too far. He had only wanted to help people. The High Council was hoarding technology that could uplift their people, raise the standard of living, and expand the human lifespan. The gangs may have conscripted him simply so they could enjoy the same status of hoarders, but he had different goals. Science was not a thing to be kept in a vault. People would think him insane for what he had done. Sometimes he thought so too. Undoubtedly it would cost him his life…but it wasn't much of one worth living regardless. If this would give the people of Heratron some measure of hope, then he would gladly pay that price.

As his hands touched cool metal, the man brought his head up and squinted his eyes, willing them to focus. Cracked lips stretched into a wide, painful smile when he realized he had reached his lab. His hands were steady for the first time in ages as he punched in the code, and slipped in through the door.

Stumbling steps turned into a swift stride as he made for the main laboratory, shouldering his backpack. As he emptied its contents, a wide grin still on his face, Inpulsa considered the rejuvant technology he had procured, among other items of grand health, and felt a giddy surge pulse through him.

He was on his way to save the world.

++++

"That's enough."

Inpulsa drew the syringe back at his lord's command, bowing his head towards Tronous. The Warlord of the Ascension movement was a hulking figure of meat and metal as he reclined in his throne. A stern, scarred face observed the throne room with cool red eyes. His short gray hair was swept back, giving him a somewhat regal look despite all the trappings of the stereotypical barbarous gladiator he wore. Since Inpulsa began his treatments, Tronous had grown fiercer in size and might.

The scientist gathered up his tools and stepped away from the throne and into the shadows. He was lucky to be here, he mused as he stepped behind a pillar, away from the eyes of the others that filled the throne room. Before, he had been a scavenger flittering through the trash, albeit a long lived one. The High Council had been quick to hunt him down before his project could get truly online. But he had made just enough to keep himself alive, and they were all to secure in their power to truly question whether he was truly dead. Despite that, he was still kept to the fringes. Even if they thought he was other castoffs, they still caught up to his attempts to push into anything major with a truly frustrating ease.

Until Tronous, of course.

The gladiator turned revolutionary had done what Inpulsa never truly could, and had rallied the people of Heratron to his banner. Under him, the Ascension movement stood as a power unto itself. And more importantly, allowed Inpulsa to truly advance the sciences. Most of it was focused on the war, of course. The need to win took precedence over all else. For the High Council would simply sweep away all of his research if they regained control, and that wouldn't do.

The throne room was usually a place for loud and boisterous conversation, for commanders to brag of their accomplishments to their lord, and undermine their competitors. Plots were exchanged as easily as smiles, though most had learned not to bother Tronous' favorite scientists. What Inpulsa had done to Vara had made it incredibly clear that he was simply finished with tolerating disruption to his research.

But now the throne room was hush–not silent, never that–but the recent spat of news had unsettled most. The High Councils recent offensive was more successful than any truly expected, and they were currently regaining ground that had been Ascenscionist for years. And then there was that business with Starscream. Tronous' court was a den of vipers, of which Inpulsa had no illusions to, but a full on coup d'etat was further than even the boldest imbecil in the room was willing to go. The simple fact that Tronous had allowed his wayward protege to live confused the matter further for many, though the scientist himself cared little for that.

Starscream's idiocy had cost him a lab holding some projects he had spent months on, in particular a line of new, stable genetic super soldiers he was going to present to Tronous, so personally Inpulsa hoped it had hurt.

He shuttered away his tools, thin hands closing the case completely as he finished some mild tweaks, and pushing the case onto a latch on his back. He turned his eyes onto the room, watching the commanders intermingle, their eyes occasionally shooting towards their leader. Tronous still had flecks of dried blood on his knuckles, and with a start Inpulsa realized he may have gotten some flecks of it on his tools. He swallowed a curse, and the surge of anger that came with it. He could not allow distraction to take him from his purpose, or he would get sloppy. Tronous did not appreciate sloppiness. And then there would be no fulfilling his dream.

Inpulsa undid his pack, ignoring the way the chatter around him picked up, and unleashed some of his tools. Furiously he began to hunt for, and destroy, the flecks of Starscream's dried blood that had polluted his tools. It was only halfway through the impromptu cleaning that he realized something was off. He stared at the needle he had used to inject Tronous with his latest compued. The way the blood had congealed…

Sliding down a focuser over his left eye, he took a closer look–and stifled a gasp of shock.

Blood wasn't supposed to look like this.

The underlying structure was completely bizarre. It had been actively mutating by the time the blood had fully died. Half of it was human. Regular. Normal. The other half…the other half was something he had seen only in mutants and the genetically engineered. But this was different.

What was Starscream?

The doors crashed open with such force that, for a moment, Inpulsa thought the High Council had been bold enough to directly assault Kaon. As he bore witness to the figure standing in the doorway, he distantly thought that would be less bizarre.
Starscream, the stick-thin blood tongued youth whom had gained and lost Tronous' favor stood as a titan of sculpted flesh. He towered over everyone else in the hall, including the giant that sat on the obsidian throne. A large brown cloak, more of a tarp really, covered most of him, but underneath Inpulsa could see pale flesh and ripped clothing. Despite the fierce beating he had taken, and in defiance of everything Inpulsa had come to know, Starscream had changed, whole and beyond simply hale. It was striking, completely bizarre, and utterly enthralling.

There was nothing but silence in the throne room.

"Starscream."

Inpulsa managed to drag his gaze away from the titan to Tronous, who was leaning back into his throne, gray brow raised.

"Hello, my lord." Starscream said with a venomous purr.

In the years to come, for fleeting moments, Inpulsa wished he paid more attention to the conversation that was had. But all he could see was a work greater than his own, breathing, talking, and killing. Starscream was beyond some cocky youth with a gifted mind for tactics: He was a power unto himself, a blade molded for war and power, and in the instant he had saw him in his newly ascended state there was not a single doubt in the scientists mind on what he wished to achieve.

To understand this work of art, and then make something beyond it.

++++

Inpulsa observed the Eldar bobbing in its tube with a single yellow eye.

Its vital signs were normal for its species, and the steady stream of nutrients he fed it kept the captive being relatively healthy. The specimen in question was thin, even for its species, appearing as if even a stiff breeze could simply snap it in two. He knew that was not the case, that this was not a simple example of malnourishment for Eldar: He had discovered what that looked like with others of the species. No, this Eldar was simply naturally born this way.

It was bare of any covering save for one: The soul stone that hung around its neck. The jade gem gleamed in the harsh lighting of the corridor filled with other capsules just like the one which held the Eldar captive. It was a remarkable device for a fascinating species. Long lived, often gifted psychically, and stable at that. They had crafted a device in which the soul, often denied by the Imperial Truth as actually existing, was trapped upon death. Simply snatch it from the body, and hold it within. It was not for the elite as he had initially thought upon discovering the Eldar, but common. Mundane. A miracle of technology rendered fascinatingly miniscule with commonality.

A tendril slipped from his back, edging towards the console that stood in front of the tube. He adjusted a few settings, then flicked on the kill-switch.

He observed as the Eldar died, surging awake, and trying for the briefest moments to destroy the tube with its psychic might before the energy overwhelmed it. Inpulsa watched the process, yellow eye wide, for the moment he waited for. Finally, when the Eldar expired its soul attempted to leave its body. Only for the jade gem that hung around its neck to glow softly for the briefest of moments, before fading. Double checking that it was truly dead, Inpulsa drained the tube, then with a thin tendril extracted the soul stone whilst sending the body to storage. The small gem was held delicately between black claws as he brought it towards his eye, scanning it.

It was like all the other tests. The soul stone had taken the essence of the Eldar unto itself. Fascinating.

"Inpulsa!"

The Chief-Apothecary dragged his gaze away from the stone, turning his head to look at High-Commander Hektor. The duelist was stalking towards him, posture aggravated and a snarl on his lips. For a brief moment, he looked remarkably like Tronous. Enough for Inpulsa to wonder on the intriguing simplicity of genetics, only for that line of thought to be cut off when the High-Commander thrust an angry finger at his eye.

"It has been months since I contacted you, and I've yet to hear anything about your preparations. Months!"

Inpulsa's single yellow eye whirred as it focused on the High-Commander's finger. Calloused and worn, like the rest of his hand. It bore all the tell-tale signs of a dedicated swordsmen, and killer. Then his gaze focused on Hektor himself.

"It is a sensitive prospect." Inpulsa said tonelessly. The High-Commanders order was an act of overly complicated suicide. Of course Inpulsa recognized that it was simply a contingency plan, which was the sole reason he went along with it. Higher rank or not, if the duelist wished to die then he would do so by himself.

"I. Know." Hektor said between gritted teeth. Inpulsa could see a vein pulsing in his forehead, and his eyes were tight with poorly concealed worry and stress. "But she is coming soon, and I need to know. Is anything ready!?"

Inpulsa thought, briefly, of the various plans he had come up with. Most of them required an extensive rework of the likely meeting spots, to such a degree that it could not be hidden from the ever-paranoid primarch. Given that secrecy was paramount, these plans were scrapped upon striking that roadblock. Kill-teams could be posted, but it was undoubtedly certain that both primarchs would notice. And if Lady Varil brought Lady Ahurani, which seemed rather likely in the Chief-Apothecary's estimation, then it would require two potentially hostile primarchs to deal with. Both of whom were, from his understanding, psykers. One repressed, and one learning, granted, but psykers still.

"A primarch, no matter how demure, is an engine of war. Planning while keeping a veil of secrecy is proving…complicated." Inpulsa rumbled, turning his bulk to face Hektor completely.

"Lord Starscream cannot know." The High-Commander said immediately. "He enjoys discussing scenarios, but this would be something that might be beyond even his ken. No matter her abuse, he loves that witch still. He will not allow this protection."

Protection. The word cast Inpulsa's mind, however briefly, centuries back to a throne room of obsidian, and a work of art standing over the corpse of a warlord. What a ridiculous word to associate with a primarch.

"Understood." Inpulsa said in a tone that would have been bland, were it not for the dark rumble of his voice. "I may be able to create some gene-beasts that could give him an edge, should Lord Starscream be assaulted by Lady Varil. But if Lady Ahurani is there-"

"She's a weakling." Hektor said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "If she arrives, hand clutched in that witches robes, then she'll cringe in the corner. If she dares to take to combat, our Lord will strike her down."

"Or she may attempt to stop the fight." Inpulsa said thoughtfully, tilting his head. "From my understanding, she is conflict averse-"

"A weakling." Hektor insisted with a frown.

"-but not unwilling to fight if she deems the cause just." Inpulsa continued. "She may come to Lord Starscream's aid simply to ensure none are injured."

"It is a poor idea to rely on a mutant." Hektor snarled. "Besides, she may not even be there. The Angel may be hiding in whatever crevice she calls a home. Even if she is there, she's more the witches creature than any other. She'll fight for the psyker."

A dangerous gleam entered the High-Commanders eye as he took a threatening step forward. The fact he had to crane his head back to stare into Inpulsa's eye did nothing to dilute the menace in his posture. "And do not think I have not noticed your disrespect towards a superior officer. First you ignore me, then you dismiss me, and I will not tolerate it. Not when our fathers life is on the line."

A dark silence settled on the long room, the two Star Knights lit by the glow in the liquid in the various tanks that were neatly lined up, side by side. Inpulsa considered the man before him. Despite his somewhat odd command style, Hektor remained smart enough to delegate a large chunk of the work he found difficult onto a trusted staff. He was renowned in the legion, even outside it, for his skill with a blade. The Chief-Apothecary had seen him in action. Inpulsa knew first hand how deadly Hektor could be when the knives came out.

But he was older than the whelp before him. He was older than Starscream, and he was older than the Imperium they all served.

And he had learned a few tricks of his own.

"In treason," Inpulsa began slowly, leaning down to meet the challenge, "there are no ranks. If we are discovered, and Lord Starscream desires it: You and I will march to the noose side by side. Do not forget, swordsmen, that you now stand in my domain."

A snarl came to the High-Commander's lips and rumbled from out of his throat. A swift hand went for his blade, and Inpulsa began the startup procedures for the lascannon strapped to his left arm as his three other tendrils slunk out from his back-

And then Hektor stopped and sighed. Deflating, he shoved his blade back into its sheath. "My apologies, brother." The High-Commander said. "The situation is…"

"Accepted." Inpulsa said, his tendrils receding and his cannon visibly powering down–yet despite the menace bleeding from the High-Commander, he left it partially powered. The man was a quick hand with a blade, and more than willing to employ any kind of deception to win the day: Even if that day was simply him salvaging some pride.

A gleam caught his eye, and he halted one of his tendrils to look at it. In the excitement he had forgotten all about the soulstone, and the essence that now swam within it. He stared at it for a few moments, before an idea sparked in his mind.

"Indeed," he said distantly, "I may have an actionable plan after all…"

Princess_Hex · Nov 2, 2022

Family Brunch

Written with: @Mortis Nuntius and @Another Amoeba

Ossus was a ruin, the planetary recreation zones turned into battlegrounds or staging areas, those few places of sentimental value to Lord Savnok that had lingered these two centuries were out of reach or despoiled. Yet for all that there was something to be said for the choice of meeting place.

Lake Khaza was the largest body of natural water left on Stormgard, even under a bruised green sky and clogged with vessels moving personnel and material from battered shore to battered shore it looked beautiful in its rugged way from the viewing platform of the lighthouse turned communal. Compared to the bountiful feasts of happier times the fare was humbler yet when a Primarch turned their bandaged hands to a task everything became more than the sum of its parts and smells were mouth watering.

They made an odd gathering, Primarchs, Astartes, mortals and animals but there were few ordinary sights to be found on Stormgard in these times and the entourages and families of the Emperor's children were a colorful lot at the best of times. The furnishings did nothing to normalize matters, simple wooden benches and tables laid out for mortal beachgoers in happier times with the hasty addition of a few oversized thrones for the Primarchs to sit should they choose to do so.

Children and animals ran wild amongst the assemblage egged on by the band playing cheerful, even boisterous tunes, they all sensed that this was the first and perhaps last moment of respite from the war and its aftermath they were going to receive, months of horror briefly shoved out of mind if not entirely out of sight.

Ahurani's arrival was quiet, she had felt any approach other than a walk would be disrespectful to such a peaceful gathering and so her dropship had landed some ways off. Like always, she seemed to move over the ground as a ghost, gliding effortlessly. That the soft ground masked the sound of her footsteps only heightened the effect compared to the harsh rockcrete or metal she was most often found walking on.

Her robes were simple, if still different from their usual designs. White replaced the normal sombre black, and instead of the usual snowfall patterns it faded to a light blue at the hem. There was just enough lace and finery to make the outfit appropriate for a formal event, as well as for it to match Ahurani's guest. She was accompanied by her ever-regal aide, and to those in the know figure of some concern, Melissa. She was, after all, thoroughly Coldiron. For this occasion, she'd transitioned into an outfit of vaguely military cut and bearing, as opposed to the more cultic attire of Varil's usual attendants. And in the end, whatever worry she might have elicited could not stop Ahurani from being mobbed by every child in the vicinity as she moved onto the field, the arrival of a primarch being too grand of an event for any self respecting kid to miss.

As children usually did, they came in all shapes and sizes, ranging from nine months in her father's arms to some point past their seventeenth year. One was more machine than boy, though the surgery looked old enough to hint at some early life misfortune rather than the recent conflict being to blame. One of the girls had bionic eye implants, some seemed a bit on the skinny side or with bags under their eyes but the sight of the Angel seemed to have brought them all out of the stupor of the last months and into the vibrant self sustaining chain of explosions that can be described as childhood.

More than happy to make time, especially for children, Ahurani stopped. Having just enough propriety not to immediately sit down on the grass and ruin her nice robes, she nevertheless crouched down enough to not be intimidatingly large. It probably wasn't a concern for the kids, but it was for her.

Ahurani was good with kids. She was, in general, quite good with people once she got the chance to talk to them, so it wasn't a surprise. With kids though, her less serious, approachable aura really helped set them at ease and allowed them to interact with her on their own terms. Soon she was surrounded, answering questions and accepting requests. Her wings were almost inevitably unfolded for the kids to marvel at and touch, a common request among pretty much all worlds she visited.

The whole time she kept a firm grasp on Melissa's hand, keeping her close so they didn't get separated in the sea of youth.

Her brother inclined his head in acknowledgement of her arrival but otherwise continued his work, it seemed he had learned to accept the inevitable when it came to her priorities. It would be some time before his sister was available, it seemed every single juve either desired her undivided attention or was obviously torn between shyness and desire to be seen and thus required some coaxing and then there were the waiters. Two of the older juves, male and female and as distinct from each other as possible to be.

The elder of two was a boy of roughly seventeen years or thereabouts, slightly short for his age and heavyset he wore a well tailored olive tunic cut with gold, warm brown eyes twinkled from under (by Stormgard standards) long dark curls framing a plump ochre face molded entirely around a seemingly permanent friendly smile.

"Its good to see you again Aunt Ahurani," He gently reminded her that he had been among the family members who had met her on her previous visit, Lucifer was his name but she could recall that informally everyone went with Luce.

"Hello Lucifer, what an honour to see you again. I'm so glad you are unhurt, I hope things haven't shaken you up too badly?" Ahurani knew the nickname, but chose not to use it. It would be arrogant of her to presume friendship, after all. Still her voice couldn't be more welcoming, or more sincerely grateful to see the boy.

"I've had better years…" he admitted, "But can't complain, I spent most of my time in the shelters, was safe enough and I got to read a lot and even help out in the clinic, nice to be useful."

Ahurani's hand fell on Lucifer's shoulder, squeezing it gently. "I'm so proud of you for stepping forwards and helping others when times were tough. I am sure that there are a lot of people who are better off thanks to your efforts, and that is the best legacy we can leave behind us."

His smile somehow grew brighter "Legacy is great but I'd rather enjoy writing the story than worrying about the people reading it."

"I can foresee you having plenty of time to do that, and doing so much to write about. Though I'm afraid my predictions aren't quite so reliable, so you'll have to put in plenty of effort to make them come true." There was laughter in Ahurani's voice, forced, but not insincere. Keeping the mood light was important, especially in times like these.

"Your predictions are as good as anyone's, I've got no idea whatsoever what I'll be doing a week from now, never mind my whole life. I don't mind it, mom and dad worry enough for the three of us."

"Well I'm sorry to say that if you've come to me to be free from worries you've come to the wrong place. I am sure I am a much bigger worrier than your parents, I have more practice, and many more children." Ahurani withdrew her hand, placing it in her lap once more. "Tell me, what do you want to be doing a week from now? Maybe a year from now. If you had all the freedom in the world, where would you go?"

"Avalon," he answered at once. "The Jewel of the Core, everyone talks about Terra and its easy to get to…so that's why I don't want to go there." He smiled. "I watched a vid of it when I was seven and read books, travel logs, informatives in updatepads anything really. Though a lot of them mention things you need money for, Stormgard doesn't really do currency so not sure how I'd get the thrones. But hey my fantasy, I can have whatever budget I want right?"

Ahurani cast a conspiratorial glance around, as if she weren't surrounded by dozens of people who could hear her every word. "Well, don't tell anyone I mentioned this, but I may know a certain lady who may be willing to pay for your trip, if it would make you happy and you promised to behave. As a favour."

He seemed surprised and then mildly embarrassed. "Oh no aunt Ahurani, it wasn't the money that was just a joke I can't just go like right now, I have…stuff." He began to protest before pausing. "Or maybe I can't do that stuff right now because I have to go to Avalon. Yeah that sounds more like it!" His smile returned in full force.

"That's the spirit, Lucifer! Whenever you get the opportunity to follow your dreams, seize that with both hands. You never know when you'll get the chance again." Ahurani looked up at the woman beside her, gently urging her just a step forward. "I'd like you to meet Melissa, my partner. We work on everything together, though she is usually the one who handles monetary matters."

"Exactly, speaking of chances, I think my cousin is dying to get hers, she's been staring at me in that really angry way she gets when she wants me to stop talking, so if you don't mind aunt Ahurani can we talk just a bit more and then put her out of her misery?" He noted, raising his voice for the request.

Ahurani's smile grew, wrinkling the skin around her eyes as she giggled. "I know the feeling, I don't exactly get along with some of my siblings either. Unfortunately for you, mister, I want everyone who wants to speak with me get a chance, so why don't we call her over and you can introduce us." She dropped her voice, just enough to almost certainly not be heard by the glaring girl. "I'll even let you claim that you talked me into it, so you can look cool."

He laughed. "I could be a glacier and I'd not be cool enough for my fourteen year old cousin. She's great, really though." He waved towards one of the girl's on the edge of the party. "Daemy come on over already! She hates being called that now but its all anyone's called since she was two."

'Daemy' was a tall and thin girl with pale skin, who unlike most Stormgardians used a large amount of makeup Ahurani's Primarch census revealed that her white and black hair was actually naturally red. She wore a dark dress threaded with silver and around her neck hung a heavy necklace in the shape of a winged heart.

It would be impossible to notice unless you knew her, but Ahurani's smile froze for just a moment when she saw the pendant. She squeezed Melissa's hand just a little tighter, but otherwise didn't react and recovered almost immediately. "Hello there, I'm Ahurani. It's a pleasure to meet you. I would greet you by name, but I've only been told a nickname that apparently you don't like very much, so may I ask you to introduce yourself?"

She gave a strange bow and curtsy combination. "Daemonica, though sometimes I am known as Ebony. You may address me as you will Ahurani the Angel." Her voice was overly composed and dramatic, clearly effected for Ahuani's benefit.

In her crouching position, Ahurani could hardly curtsy in return, so she settled for a nod. "You may just call me Ahurani, Daemonica. No need for titles."

"As you wish," She inclined her head seriously. Everything about this child-woman seemed serious.

The seriousness was very different from the previous mood, but Ahurani shifted into it effortlessly. "I was told that it looked like you had something you wanted to talk to me about. Would you like to share it? I have all the time for you that you need."

She blinked at that but then the mask returned. "I shall not need much of your time. I just wished to express my…admiration for your work, well some of it, the hospitals and schools and stuff. I wish that more resources were invested in them instead of more warships and guns and Enforcer Nightsticks."

Ahurani's heart melted all at once, and her expression changed to one filled with a deep affection mixed with melancholy. "That means a lot to me to hear, you would be surprised how rarely I get the chance. I too wish that all the vast resources at my command could be bent towards improving the lives of the people who live in the Imperium, and even beyond. Maybe one day I will find the strength to do more, and prove worthy of your admiration."

"You care if I…if people admire you?" The girl asked surprised, clearly touched but trying to hide it. "And why don't you? Aren't you Primarchs in charge of your legions and other stuff? Who tells you what you can't do?"

"Of course I do, it is the people of the Imperium that I hold my truest loyalties to, to whom I swear my most solemn of purpose. Admiration in particular isn't important to me, but if you believe in me, if you agree with my actions, it means I am on the right path." Ahurani reached out a hand, but this time she took Daemonica's hand in her own, holding it gently, as if it was truly something precious. "So there is no person so small that I do not care for what they say. And I certainly care about the words of a girl who shines as brightly as you."

""As for why I can't..." Ahurani's smile wavered, but didn't fade. She was much too practiced for that. "While I see my purpose as being to serve the people of this Imperium, I do obey the orders of the Emperor. His mandates, his commands, his vision, are what I must follow. He calls me to war, anything else I must do with the resources not needed for that."

"Well he's wrong and someone should make him see that and everyone else should ignore him and just do the right thing. Like you do!" She couldn't help but sound passionate. "I just hate how everything sucks and everyone acts like its great and whenever you try and not suck suddenly you're the problem. It like…sucks."

"It does, and I would never challenge your enthusiasm for wanting to make the galaxy a better place. I think that's the best dream one can have." Ahurani couldn't quite seem to match Daemonica's eyes at the moment, looking down at the ground. "For some, the hurdles are too frightening to cross. But maybe all we need is more brave voices like yours in order to make real change."

"Nobody likes my voice," she looked down as well. "They think I'm just a kid going through a phase, no one takes me seriously. Well Luce does, well actually no he doesn't, but he does you know? He always teases me, but he teases everyone, even Stehno and Savnok so like that's fine you know? But everyone else, they only tease me, just because I dress differently and don't want to conquer the Galaxy. I mean excuse me? Until a year ago most of them never fought anyone either. Yet somehow I'm the one 'playing dressup'. I hate this planet, I'd rather be anywhere else, like Zurekin or Crone's Cradle or Necroplanítis or worlds like that where people say and think what they mean and can be whoever they are."

"I take you seriously, Daemonica." Every bit of Ahurani's charisma was focused on the girl now, every bit of attention and belief. "I get teased too, and worse. It isn't always easy to say what you believe, and people challenged by those beliefs often lash out as if you'd attacked them. It hurts, I know it does."

"It isn't a problem with this world, or any one world. Speaking your mind will always be difficult and frightening, but it will always, always be worth it." Ahurani closed her, eyes tightly. "I have to believe that." She opened her eyes again, once again meeting Daemonica's gaze. "Remember that I will always be with you, always on your side. You will never be alone. And if it is all too much, I will help you find a place where you can be yourself, where you can be safe. I promise."

"You mean it?" Her eyes were wide blue saucers. "But…what about my mother and Luce and school and stuff?" She suddenly seemed nervous, "and what if those worlds are bad just like here like you said? Where would I go then? Back here? And what if…"

Ahurani squeezed her hand, just enough to bring Daemonica back to reality. "There will be problems, yes, and maybe it won't happen tomorrow. But there are other schools, there are ways to keep in touch with your family. And I would never send you to a world that I didn't think had a good chance of being what you wanted, if it turns out I was wrong, then we will just find you another. There is nothing we can't work out."

"You'd do that for me? I mean I know you're my aunt ten times removed and all that, but aren't there a lot of other people who need help more?"

"I would, without a moment's hesitation. And if I found any of the less fortunate and spoke to them, I would do just as much. This is about helping people, people who deserve it. Even if you shine in my eyes, you don't get any preferential treatment for being family. Only for being you."

"I…thank you." She seemed ready to cry but she of course struggled to maintain composure. "You are very kind Ahurani."

Ahurani dropped Daemonica's hand, but only to stroke the girl's hair. "It's the best thing I can be, and it's people like you who give me the strength I need to continue. Thank you, Daemonica, your words have meant so much."

"Y-you are welcome." She managed, just about.

"It is my sister's nature to help others and see the best in them," how a being as large and potent as the Primarch of the Eternity Guard could appear as if from nowhere behind them was a mystery but there he was.

"It is good to see you Ahurani," he greeted as his relation departed head and world awirl.

Ahurani rose to meet her brother, though she still came much too short to truly look him in the eye. Her wings folded back into place behind her neatly, their admirers scampering away to tell stories to their parents. "It's good to see you too Savnok. It's been too long, but to see you here surrounded by loved ones and looking so at home... it has made the wait worthwhile."

"It has been an enjoyable experience," he confirmed. "The circumstances are irrelevant, in the moment. It is good to see you having a positive experience, the circumstances are irrelevant to that as well."

"How very practical of you, brother." It wasn't an admonishment, Ahurani said it with all the love that revealed that Savnok's practicality was one of the shining lights in her eyes. "Very you. And I am always happy to speak to children, they have so much to say that we have forgotten."

Gently, Ahurani led Melissa around to stand in front of her, her hands falling on the woman's shoulders. "Savnok, I would like you to meet Melissa. She is my partner, in all things. I couldn't ask for a better woman to stand by my side."

"Almost everyone limits children to being our future, they never consider them as windows into our own past." Savnok commented, sounding somewhat unlike himself. "My mentor taught me that when I was a child."

Green eyes that missed nothing swung towards Melissa. "A pleasure. Welcome to our family."

Melissa bowed simply, clearly not willing to break from her traditional way of acknowledging a Primarch, even with another by her side, "Lord Savnok, it is an honor."

"For both of us," he reported. "How long have you been in a relationship with my sister?"

"It began," though the woman was clearly not expecting such a straightforward question, it only manifested as a slight delay in her reply. "Really began, a few weeks after the battle with the Twinfist. Ahurani and I were given cause to interact due to my master Lady Varil's involvement in her healing."

"Varil assigned her to be my chief of staff, a position I had never thought to have before. The idea of having personal staff was quite foreign to me, but Melissa soon made herself indispensable." Ahurani looked down, eyes filled with warmth from the memories. "Things just happened from there."

"I do not approve of intermingling the personal and the professional." Savnok looked to Melissa, "Or in the fallacy of things just happening."

"Lord Primarch," Melissa bowed her head briefly out of respect, but ensured that afterward she returned to meet his gaze, "I cannot deny some wisdom in the sentiment, but I must deny that it is authoritative here. I was sent by my master to merely fulfill a task for Ahurani, but found myself cultivating towards her a total devotion in heart, soul, and body. You might imagine a contractor coming to a dwelling and striking up a relationship with its owner; even if said contractor continues to fix the wiring, does that mean the two ought not to be in love?"

"An interesting example, I suppose, as long as the contractor does not allow the personal to interfere in their professional work or takes ownership of such interference and resigns the commission then such a relationship is acceptable. You claim devotion in heart, body and soul, such is perhaps a natural and inevitable reaction to exposure to Ahurani, will you be married? Or do you feel your relationship transcends the need for such formalities?"

Melissa replied, "To answer depends as much on Lady Ahurani's judgment as on mine, Lord Primarch."

"True, and so long as that attitude is the one you take to all matters I believe you two will have a long and happy existence together. When the chemical and intellectual stimulation of the early stages of love fade, its survival depends on partnership, empathy and hard work. I warn you though, the last point is inevitable. Beings such as us are not detached from humanity, we have all the flaws and vices of mankind inherent to our being and we are in a perhaps unique situation of competing demands on our time and energy. There will, I am afraid, be times of pain and disappointment ahead, it is inevitable and enduring them must be a conscious and considered choice on both your parts." Savnok's tone was as serious as ever, indeed it had grown more so as he spoke but there was something else there.

He continued, now looking between the pair of them "You will fall of short of what the other deserves, my advice to you is accept that all you can do will never be enough but it is all you can do and over the course of a lifetime it will produce the most wonderful experience of your lives however long or short they may be. At least that is my experience of love. My recommendation is that you embrace and enjoy every moment you have together."

Despite being visibly upset during the exchange, by the end of Savnok's speech she did look at least somewhat mollified. The remnants of that displeasure were still audible as she replied at last, having let Melissa make her own defence. "Are you quite finished with your interrogation, brother? Melissa and I are adults, and while your advice is good, we are quite capable of managing things ourselves."

"I have never doubted or had cause to doubt your competence sister, I hope you do not feel diminished or insulted. I will however never not be concerned for your wellbeing, as I said we are human and you my sister. I hope Melissa and you will forgive me for this."

Ahurani huffed, her wings ruffling behind her angrily. It wasn't the first time she had been treated like a child, but it was one of the first she had received a proper apology for. "You are forgiven, by me at least, just remember that concern for my well being can be addressed in many ways. For the future. I know you will not stop caring, and I do appreciate it. Most of the time."

Savnok offered her a nod. "Understood, I will try to adjust my behavior. I do not need your appreciation but I value it all the same." He looked between the pair of them again, "Shall we go eat with our family then?"

"Yes, that sounds like a wonderful idea." In a gesture of goodwill, Ahurani gave Savnok a smile. The honest ones she shared with her family. "Lead the way."

triumph8w · Nov 2, 2022

ACADEMIC DEBATE
(A joint IC with @Mortis Nuntius)

Uphao was a world of quiet beauty.

In all of the worlds the Emperor held dominion over, few truly embodied his ideals of reason and progress like the learned people of Uphao. Scientists and artists the galaxy over, disgruntled by either the Martian Mechanicums tight fist over technology, or the stuffed halls of Terran aristocracy, came to cool Uphao to learn their arts in peace. No where was this more evident than in Uphao's capital, where institutions and facilities for every disciple of art and science imaginable could find a safe haven. Within these facilities were debate halls of varying sizes and beauty, from simple outside structures to grand theaters fit for the Emperor's presence.

What drew in the crowds today into the wide, airy halls of the Malcador Debate Room was the prospect of seeing members of the Legio Astares in person. Old professors and fresh faced students poured into the marble halls, the low rumble of conversation sweeping through the levels of seats. Men on the stage above them debated soundly with one another, echoing talking points of famous iterators on the status of the Great Crusade, and the true worthiness of this endeavor. Some were enthralled, but many more were simply looking around for the Astartes.

Behind the stage, a smattering of Star Knights stood bereft of their armor. They stood clad in simple red and blue tunics, the death's head mask of the Star Knights sewn onto their shoulders. A few were Apothecaries, others simple line-soldiers. A sergeant kept them in good order, the name ORION PAX tacked onto the front of his tunic. Clean-shaven with a buzz cut so well done that he was nearly bald, as was standard for many astartes, Orion shifted where he was standing, looking at the chronometer on the wall.

"So where is he?"

One of the astartes line-soldiers turned to look at an apothecary for the Star Knights standing next to him. The medicare shrugged, looking vaguely bored by the fierce debate seeping in from the stage.

The soldier growled under his breath, and clenched his hands into fists.

"He emerges from his bloody cave and drags us all along to, what, leave us floundering here? We could be doing our duty right now, not entertaining…"

"Peace." Orion Pax said, looking to the chronometer, "He'll be here."

Across the hall Patrek Barbara stood, surrounded by his own entourage of techmarines, and Astartes though notably a number of mortals too, all were dressed in the elaborate simplicity of Stormgard and Eternity Guard, green silk and leather trimmed with gold. Their Mechadendrite was finely polished chrome and adamantium.

"He fears to face you and judgement Sir," One of the techmarines growled.
"No Gamigin, fear was burned out of him along with the rest of his humanity long ago." Patrek respond his voice rich and deep and his tone measured but grim. "He is either keeping us waiting so as to make a grand entrance, establish dominance, or fine tune some plot. It matters little, whatever the course of events the outcome will be the same, the Galaxy will see him for what he is today."

The entrance to the backstage hissed open with a waft of white vapors, and the Chief-Apothecary of the Star Knights lumbered through. Clad head to toe in his purple armor, so dark that it was nearly black. The near-astartes, already tall for such a class of specimen, towered over everyone in the room clad as he was in his war-plate. The light shone off of his las-cannon, which consumed everything below the elbow on his left arm, and his single red eye whirred as he swept his gaze across the group. Behind him, a navigator was chatting amiably, surprisingly excitable for one of their kind, about the aspects of warp travel. Her jaw clicked shut when she saw the gathered group of astartes, squeaked out an excuse, and quickly left.

"Patrek Barbara." Inpulsa rumbled, his voice was deep with hints of an elegance that could have been, were it not crushed underfoot by the ruthless dispassion that suffused him.

"Inpulsa of the venerated Star Knights, were you delayed by some battle?" Patrek queried, "You seem dressed for one." The remark caused a small ripple of nervous laughter from some members of the audience.

A pair of the Chei-Apothecary's antenna shifted upwards, and he focused his gaze on the techmarine. "Negative."

"Well I suppose public speaking can be an intimidating experience." Patrek allowed drily.

The antenna on Inpulsa's helmet flattened themselves again, and the Chief-Apothecary's eye softly whirred, the giant seething red slowly turning into a small dot. "It has been often recorded as such." He rumbled, the clash of an eager debate drawing to a close ringing out across the large amphitheater. Behind him the other Star Knights shuffled uncertainty, or as close to such a thing as astartes actually got. Their sergeant held a straight face, though his eyes were tight.

"But as scientists I'm sure we can agree that reason conquers fear as it does depravity and barbarism." Was the pointed response.

There was a wave of polite clapping, before the curtains were pushed open by two older mortals, each chatting amiably with one other. So engrossed were they in their conversation that it took them a few moments to notice the room full of rarely seen astartes. They stuttered to a stop, gaping for a few moments before a staffer guided them out away from the center of attention. Inpulsa watched them go, his lone eye flickering, before moving back to Barbara.

"The Imperial Truth is our watchword, as always." Inpulsa said. A moment later the announcer, with clear relish in his voice, called forth the two astartes onto the stage, and Inpulsa lumbered forth with a surprising grace for his size, paying Patrek Barbara little mind.

Patrek strode forward, pride and sure footed despite his age and augmentations, for the most part artfully concealed beneath his clothing.

"...and now, the main event."

The announcer was an aging man, though likely far behind the two giants who strode onto the stage. The seats were filled to bursting, a thousand curious eyes staring out at the warriors of legend as they took their spots on the stage. But underneath the fascination, there was a ripple of uneasiness as more than one person found their gaze glued to the giant weapon strapped to Inpulsa's left arm.

The announcer paced a slow line across the stage as he spoke. "Now our honored guests are here. Patrek Barbara, honored member of the Eternity Guard and skilled tech-marine for the Mechanicum of Mars, who has helped in the reconstruction of humanity across the stars. And Inpulsa, senior member of the Star Knights, who has healed countless of our brave warriors across a hundred worlds."

A grin split the announcers regal, if aged face. Clearly the man was enjoying this.

"Today, these two men have decided to engage in the same spirit we all partake in, to better understand our Imperium and our place in the galaxy. We are honored to have them here. Now, for the first question:"

The announcer spread his arms wide as he looked to the two soldiers. "How would you define the Imperial Truth?"

"Thank you for the flattering introduction young man." Patrek joked, drawing some more chuckles from the audience. "And thank you for the even more intriguing question. I would define the Imperial Truth as a lie."

A thousand breaths were taken in within a second. This was part of no script they had ever heard, such a thing being said by an Astartes, and one of the Eternity Guard no less, the staunchest upholders of the Imperial Truth in the Galaxy.

"Consider this, we hold that the Galaxy to be fundamentally rational, that we are beings of logic and reason, certain exceptions aside there is no place for superstition, faith, or fantasy. Science is our sword and shield, we need not belief only knowledge of the facts. Yet…the Imperium is built on a framework established by the Mechanicum, the largest, oldest and most potent religion in the Galaxy. We claim that Mankind is destined to rule the Galaxy and will rise and rise and any setback is temporary and every man woman and child has a duty to this, what rationality lies behind that? There are other species better genetically adapted, other races older and more advanced or younger and with a less checkered past and our race has so many different offshoots and diversions and genetic dead ends and unknowable future destinations how can any system of rational thought accept only one inevitable conclusion and even accepting that conclusion to be true, why must countless billions struggle and toil for a glory they will never witness with their own eyes in their own lifetime?"

He paused, taking a breath and looking at his audience as if expecting an answer from their stunned ranks.

"We cannot honestly claim that to be rational, it is fundamentally a matter of faith, because humans are brilliant, hopeful dreamers, and we make and unmake our own truths. That is what the Imperial Truth is, a dream, a promise, a lie. The greatest lie ever told, that we will tell each other over and over again until we have made it the truth, our truth. That the future belongs to us, that wisdom and knowledge will flourish, honor, truth, justice and mercy will triumph and that the Emperor's vision will be realized. Even if reality requires from us every drop of blood, ounce of courage and volt of power and our reward will be as eternal as that promised to any of our superstitious forefathers only our salvation will be forged through our own will and with our own minds, we shall make the heaven the ancestors complacently expected to be offered to them at the end of their days a reality in this Galaxy, so we must have faith in our lack of faith, belief in our lack of belief, we must accept irrational rationality and strive together to make the Imperial Lie Mankind's Truth!"

A roar of approval met the techmarines words, as the thunderous sound of a thousand clapping hands filled the room. Many even standing from their seats in order to more properly show their approval. The announcer didn't even bother trying to quiet them, too busy as he was clapping along. It took a few minutes for the surge of Patrek's words to fully work their way through the crowd, and even as the clapping ceased and everyone was seated again, there was a low-hum of a thousand debates on the meaning of his words.

Inpulsa observed his counterpart through the entirety of his speech, lone red eye drilling into the Eternity Guard. Whatever the Chief-Apothecary thought of the speech was kept hidden behind his armored form, and he waited patiently for the crowd to quieten enough in order to speak.

"The Imperial Truth is the overriding directive given to us by the Emperor, beloved by all." Inpulsa rumbled, his dispassionate voice echoing throughout the massive room. "It is not a fantastical hold-over from lesser times, but an active concept we seek to place upon the galaxy. Science and reason shall rule this day, such was the Emperor's decree, and such is what we-" an armored right hand gestured to himself, then Patrek, "Were designed to ensure the success of. My colleague claims that there are species more capable than us out there, and while I do agree that there are certain areas of specialization in which we are currently outmatched, I deny that we are simply lesser in the art of genetics."

"If we were, then we would not be here. The Imperium would have crumbled under a thousand assaults long ago. The Legio Custodes, Astares, Primarchs…"

Inpulsa leaned forward, his lone red eye gleaming as it swept the crowd.

"The spear-tip of the Imperial Truth, and the Emperor's Word. With these tools, the galaxy has been steadily brought to heel, and the destiny of mankind closer to fruition. That is the Imperial Truth."

Patrek frowned but did not contest the point and there were applause from across the auditorium. Once quiet had at last returned the Moderator stepped forwards.

"Well I must confess this is certainly more invigorating than our last debate on climatic influence upon observed Orkoid spore count rates."

Some strained and polite laughter met his words but he seemed to take it well.

"Our next question, and touched upon in both your answers and something I am sure that at least the esteemed Patrek Barbara at least will be familiar with. A member of the Eternity Guard has recently released a text titled 'Coxed Homo Universalis' a work that in his own words is devoted to mankind, embracing the broadest definition of such a term, I've sent you both a brief extract from his foreword. My question to you both then, how would you define mankind and how generous should one be in extending that term to so called abhumans and even near human xenos, especially when such a philosophy appears to work against the most mainstream interpretation of the Imperial Truth?"

"There is a common genome which has endured throughout the breadth of mankind's existence." Inpulsa rumbled. "A set code of D.N.A which links each and every human. Within the genetic deviations that have spread across our species since ascendance to the stars, it has been twisted, mutated: Yet the core remains. The abhuman is simple proof of mankind's everlasting ability to adapt. But that genome is singularly mankinds, and there is a point were mutation and the pressures of different worlds across the galaxy can shift a strain of humanity into something else entirely. If there is a use for them, and a smattering of that core genome remains, then I do not doubt that a place will be found for them. Elsewise the Legio Astartes will perform its duty."

"So you would place usefulness as the deciding factor in whether someone could claim to be human or not? Whilst as a policy that makes a certain pragmatic sense it does make me wonder whether you would consider the old, very young or sickly to cease being human at some point. Surely it is either a matter of the genome or a matter of principle, not flipping between the two?" Patrek queried. "For my own view of it, I believe that most forms of Abhuman should be allowed the chance to better mainstream humanity and that evolution be allowed to take its natural course, I admit that there are certain strains and deviations that have proved problematic for various reasons and may need to be expunged but again such is a pragmatic rather than ideological or scientific decision. A man can still be a man even if they must be made a dead man."

"Indeed." Inpulsa said, turning his gaze to Patrek. "I would think that what I meant in regards to the genome is clear, techmarine. But I shall endeavor to have more clear illumination. We seek to conquer a galaxy. That is no small task, indeed it boggles the very mind. Usefulness must take precedence above most other concepts. The old have served their purpose and earned their rest, and many of the youth have the possibility of ascending beyond the limits of their flesh in service to the Emperor. So long as their genetics are stable."

"We are conquering the Galaxy to free mankind and build the greatest possible society with the highest standard of living for the largest number of human beings possible, we cannot free mankind through slavery, we cannot enoble it through stripping it of value. Yes that requires compromises, but they must always be considered temporary and undesirable and in some cases a compromise too far. Even the Mechanicum holds that the most humble and commonly expended assets, it's Skittari are not disposable, for nothing that serves the purpose of its Omnissiah is disposable. So too with mankind, no human is worthless or worthy of dismissal, all of us have value beyond our situational function and its relative importance."

"One moment you call religion false, and the next you use it to cloak your words in pretty perfume. Choose one, techmarine. The Mechanicum of Mars was granted its exceptions precisely because of its usefulness, and the power it could have wrought on a new-born Imperium venturing out into the stars for the first time. Alliance was deemed more beneficial than mutual destruction. The freedom of mankind is our optimal goal, but such a goal cannot be won with words alone. And in the shedding of blood, as you should well know, certain decisions must be made. Analysis of costs and benefits. We may decide the course we wish the stars to take after we have won them, not before."

"Winning the stars at the cost of losing everything else is a poor trade. Believe me however, I am well acquainted with necessary evils and sacrifice. I gave my body and health to my world, I orchestrated the deaths of millions to buy time to secure my world's survival, I've taken part in the slaughter of billions of sentients over two centuries of service to the Imperium. And I do so because it is necessary but I never forget the cost, or cease attempting to reduce it. Cynicism and ruthlessness are ultimately counterproductive if allowed free rein. They must be tempered like all things by discipline and self control, it is easy for the weak willed and lazy to see every problem as a nail in need of hammering, when in truth there are usually alternatives on offer and these should always be considered even if not ultimately enacted. We should never cease striving for positive individual as well collective outcomes, because every collective is formed of individuals."

"I had imagined Lord Savnok made those decisions," Inpulsa said dispassionately. "Yet I stand corrected. You asked me earlier why I wore my armor, and bore weaponry even here, on peaceful Uphao. The answer is simple, Barbara of the Eternity Guard: We are at war. It is an all consuming battle across a variety of theaters, with so many factors that it takes teams of dedicated analysts, or the mind of a primarch, to properly comprehend them. We wage campaigns of extermination, and grind cultures that have lasted millenia under armored boots. In such a vast span of warfare, it is impossible to ensure a complete destruction of the enemy. Those who survive will no doubt seek vengeance, and so I wear my armor and bear my weapons even here. To lower my guard would be to invite death and destruction of the priceless. It would be illogical to do so. We need not meet every new discovery with fire and death. Indeed, I feel the very opposite must occur. But you would not stutter at the use of a servitor, Chief of Engineers, to make your constructs. Yet here you balk at what you call 'weak-willed' tactics."

The smile had left the moderator's face, and a hush had fallen over the crowd. The debate had taken a tenor that none expected, save perhaps for the Emperors warriors on the stage, and they were enraptured as a result. Clearing his throat, he made an attempt to redirect the questioning.

"Truly invigorating debate!" The mans voice was steady, despite the sweat beading down his head. Out of everyone in the room, he had borne the brunt of the strange animosity that swelled between the two space marines. "But, ah, perhaps a…"

The man blinked rapidly, his mind struggling for answers as the two space marines directed their attention towards him.

"A recess would be in order?" It came out more like a question than an order.

"Perhaps that would be wise," Patrek conceded. "I am sure we can all do with some refreshment, after all the strain of expecting an attack at any moment even surrounded by thousands of like minded souls and some of the most skilled warriors in the Imperium must be weighing heavily on my colleague's mind."

Fresh breath caught into the crowd, and already were leaving to stretch their legs, voices alight with conversation. The moderator angled away his mic, then heaved a sigh as Inpulsa turned on his heel and left for the backstage with a nearly robotic stride. As he passed through the curtains, there was a brief glimpse of the other astartes, caught either in debate of their own, or simply waiting for the whole thing to be over with varying levels of patience. Then the curtains closed, and Patrek was left alone on the stage with the moderator.

"Are you fit to continue?" a concerned Patrek enquired,

The man startled. "A-Ah, yes, of course sir. I merely did not expect such…" the man hesitated, searching for words once again. "Bold intensity. Then again, I have never before met astartes."

"We're not another species or higher form of being, all of us were once as you were though some choose to forget that. Do not fear, however intense this debate gets, I will not allow any harm to come to yourself or the audience. Try and remember you have your part to play and we have ours."

The moderator straightened, invigorated by Patreks words. He tried to discreetly wipe the sweat off of his head, fail, then decided he simply didn't care. But by the time he reached that decision a small towel had appeared, clutched in Patrek's servo arm.

The man took it with a grateful smile. "Of course. Thank you for your words."

"Thank you for listening, this world of yours is built on shared wisdom, it is a wondrous place. I hope one day my home may be like it."

The moderator opened his mouth to reply, but the ruffling of the curtains caused him to stifle his reply. Inpulsa strode onto the stage once again with sharp, quick motions, having apparently decided that the recess was over with. Many of the people who were shuffling out of the room paused at the sight of him, with some standing uncertainty, questioning whether they should continue, or return to their seats.

Inpulsa took his position on the stage, barely sparing the moderator a seconds glance, before looking out to the crowd.

"Ah hmm, well that was a short intermission, I hope nobody needed the uh facilities." He joked weakly. "Well I suppose they will when they hear this next question, its quite provocative I must say but well this is a planet built on our shared wisdom after all, provoking thought is what we are here for! So without further ado, the question is on Imperial law banning certain avenues of research such as so called abominable intelligences. Should a state built on the pursuit of knowledge and triumph of science limit itself from any avenue of research?"

Patrek answered first. "I think that there are definitely some paths best left untrodden yes, abominable intelligences literally speak for themselves, invariably turning on organic life with catastrophic consequences, but even at the lowest level certain subjects really hold no scientific worth, for example the practice of torturing sentient beings purely to research the nature of pain, any right thinking person would of course understand that the only knowledge gained from such experimentation is insight into the depravity of the individual disgracing the noble calling of science with their crimes." His eyes never left Inpulsa's. Clearly he had heard at least something of the other's more infamous deeds.

The Chief-Apothecary met the gaze evenly. "The Emperor's wisdom trumps all, in regards to the abominable intelligences. The Men of Iron have clearly demonstrated their danger. As for the rest, I consider all knowledge to be sacred. The Emperor has charged us with a mission, one of science, progress, and understanding. I believe in the wholehearted pursuit of that mission, for only through understanding the universe may mankind master it."

"Sometimes we must understand that knowledge without wisdom is dangerous, our mission is to protect and nurture mankind, knowing how many grains of sand are on every beach of an ocean world or how long a man can be kept alive without his skin are equally irrelevant to mankind's path. Our progress must be towards a worthy destination, not every path needs to be taken beforehand. I believe the Emperor's decrees are based on an assessment of the dangers of certain avenues of research, I would welcome further decrees based on the ethics of such."

Inpulsa's body shifted in motion to line up his head so he was fully facing Patrek. "You lack understanding, Chief-Engineer. The Emperor's decrees rightly close off certain avenues. But there is a galaxy of wonder, and danger out there. A thousand mystery's to decode and reconstruct, a thousand species to understand, an unlimited variation of human potential. Machines, blood, flesh and the matter of stars: There is no limit, no end, not when it comes to the cause of human understanding."

"I am sure our ancestors lived by the same creed before their creations turned upon them, I am certain the Skaven who caused such damage on my homeworld tell themselves the same as they plot and scheme and burn their own tails. I am sure that Kalagan of Ursh laughed at the concept of limits as he betrayed the Emperor, crafted abominations and prepared to wage war on us, and all of them learned to their cost that sometimes just because you can do something does not mean you should do something. Imposing limits on oneself needs to be done with thought and care and good intentions but reckless self indulgent pursuit of anything without regard to cost or danger is the place of children placing objects into their mouths or playing beneath a kettle. And like children sometimes it is necessary to protect them from self inflicted harm, that is the duty of the old."

"The old and the feeble-minded are often one in the same." Something had entered the Chief-Apothecary's tone. It was subtle, at first. Quiet. But those paying close attention to his voice could hear the edge that had broken through the mindless, relentless dispassion. "War requires weapons, such is why you and I stand here as we are. Peace requires tools to maintain it. All seek knowledge, to lift themselves from the muck. You propose needless limitations, founded by fear and based on the actions of our lessers. I simply advocate for the future."

" I have heard of the peace you brought to your world before the Emperor's coming, and worse I've heard of the knowledge you have sought, who have you lifted from muck serving tyrant after tyrant? What knowledge have you gifted the galaxy with an endless stream abominations that beg for death with every breath? I use weapons, I build weapons, when necessary I act as a weapon, but I fight so that those I care about may enjoy peace, the true cause of any soldier just as the true scientist dreams of protecting and furthering life, not twisting it for sake of depraved and self centered curiosity. When the Emperor created us he infused us with some of his own being, figuratively and literally, and we each of us retain our humanity, those of us who had it to begin with anyway."

A silence descended on the room, as if the breath had been taken from the crowd. The moderator didn't even bother intervening this time, busy as he was slowly inching away from the two space marines. Inpulsa stared at Patrek for several, long moments, in complete stillness. When he spoke, there was something cold in his voice that went beyond mere emotionless dispassion. "I recall something of you as well, Patrek Barbara. I recall your own rulership of Stormgrad, and the way you paved for Lord Savnoks' rise. You speak of the people, yet you have ensured their neat demise all the same. Heratron is at peace, and enjoys prosperity. What of Stormgrad, now?"

Inpulsa shifted minutely, adjusting himself as if readying for something. "And you would do well to speak of Lord Starscream with more respect, Eternity Guard."

"We will endure, we will rebuild and when we do we'll share the glory and look forward, not shiver in the shade of someone who considers us dirt on his boot. I saw in my Lord the virtues of our world and a desire to make the world and then the Galaxy a better place. I believed him to be a man worthy of trusting my world too. He earned my respect, never demanded it like a self obsessed child."

"Has he?" The words were low, an electronic rumble. "Are you so sure of that, Patrek Babara? Or does your pride blind you to his own failures, and you tell yourself you simply must make do. You are the Eternity Guard, of course. The Emperor's chosen guard, his most favored sons…outside the Custodian Guard." Inpulsa's motions seemed eerily human now, the base robotics heated with some strange emotion. "Stormgard 'endures' only because it is the homeworld of a primarch, and there is too much value in that simple fact to ever let it fall to vermin that should have been stamped out decades ago."

Patrek's eyes narrowed. "Perhaps you are right Inpulsa, mistakes have been made, many and grave ones, but each of them is an opportunity to learn. That being the case I'm surprised you and yours are not the wisest beings in the Imperium by this point, I mean challenging the Emperor to single combat must have a library world of education in and of itself alone. But I am being petty, trading insults with you is not why I am here today, I am here because your atrocities in the guise of science are a stain on everything the Emperor is trying to build. You speak with such pride of the understanding you have pursued, tell me, was it the torture machines, the semi sentient abominations sewn together from corpses or perhaps the hapless mutants fused with mechanical parts and sent to die on death worlds for little tactical value other than your own sick amusement that fills you with the most pride butcher?"

The Chief-Apothecary drew from his low hunch, and pulled himself up to his full height. Whatever emotion that seemed to have fueled him faded completely, leaving him and his motions near-robotic once more. "I do not know what preconceived notions of me you may have constructed within your own mind." Inpulsa began, dispassionate once more. "But they are irrelevant. It is clear you have come here not in the spirit of debate, but to cause some small manner of discord within the legions. I see little worth in my continued presence here."

His lone red eye whirred until it became a small dot as he stared at Patrek, before stiffly bowing his head. "Good day, Chief-Engineer."
And with a swift motion, he turned on his heel and strode for the curtain, and the exit that lay behind it.

Patrek glared after him before shrugging, he was old enough to know self destructive when he saw it, in the meantime there was an entire world of wonders to explore and new and interesting people to meet. He turned his back on Inpulsa and left in search of refreshments and knowledge worth learning.

SteelWriter77 · Nov 3, 2022

Ork Freebootas are a strange subset of Orks, that are able to be negotiated with in some cases, but one should not let this fool their better judgement, they are still Greenskins and prone to a deep a terrible violence.

The Green Klaw Fleet, a recent grouping of Ork Freebootas formed out of remnants of Da Angry'ones forces from years ago, united under Kaptain Haccka Green-Klaw have been slowly growing in size and power, the appearance and discovery of them has warranted the Primarch Ahurani, chosen members of her Legion and a reasonable amount of members from the Coldiron Cage Legion, selected by their Primarch who remained busy on Storgard ensuring that no warp taint remained on the world from the Warp Storms.

While under official command of Ahurani, the attack in practice would be coordinated by figures of importance from the Legions, such as the prior Legion Master of the Coldiron's Miseo or Shahin "The Scarlet Angel" and Nastaran of the Wardens of the Blessed Heart, while the Primarch acted more in an advisory role offering aid where she would decide best her talents lay.

The plan decided, they would enter the area known to belong to the Green-Klaw fleet and begin an immediate attack. The battle in space was fierce as the assembled Ork Fleets fought off with crude but inventive cunning of their kind.

Ramshackle ships fired large masses of metal shaped into shells, or looted laser weapons, while the massive station launched missiles of all kinds. The Imperials would not be deterred and answered with their own weapons, ships blasting away each other in a short spectacle, boarding pods would be launched with many Astartes seeking to end this conflict quickly with a strike on the Station, they would find that many Ork Krews while their ships fought the Imperials, others had brought their ships and made them apart of the Station itself. The Wardens and Coldirons would find breaking this place to be a more trying issue then at first thought.

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Kaptin Squigbeard often said he was a rather lucky Ork, he wore plenty of blue and even his own ship had lots of blue, so when he came on to join this burgeoning skrap Green-Klaw was cooking up, he was assured it would go well. But of course that was before the 'Ummies had come with their Burnin weapons and big ships.

The burnin was painful, but he liked the pain, kept him reminded that Gork and Mork still needed him to fight here, shame about his coat. Bah no matter he just needed to focus on where the 'Ummies were.

He could hear their tinny voices clearly "Section clear, preparing for the next assault position, everyone ready?" "Affirmative, just checking my ammo for the next batch of Greenskins."

Just his luck, the 'Ummies thought he was dead, all he needed to do is wait and then…oh zog where was his Shoota, oh it is a few feet next to him, that was fine, he just needed to reach his shoota and these 'Ummies will di-BLAM SPLAT

----

Vera smirked to herself as the Ork Freeboota Kaptin's arm's dropped to the ground, a new hole gushing blood where his brain should be, thought he could evade her sight. Checking her ammo count she gathered her supplies and began to move away from her position, having finished her duty for the area and trusting her SIsters to understand the situation she went deeper into the station.

"There' Ya Be Ya Sneaky Git" Yelled out a Ork as it rammed into her, she had heard it barreling down the hallways, but even prepared to take a hit, the impact sent her back some distance. She had thought she lost her annoying pursuers, but aparentley not.

"Youse a Stingy one, they's always fun to bash around HAHA" barked out the crude tone of the Ork, as it swung around what looked to be some crude attempt of remaking a Thunder Hammer, distasteful. The Ork was one of the larger ones, clearly still had implant scars from when they served under Da Angry'one as the reports said. She mentally sighed at the hassle, dodging away from the mad swings and punching back with her own.

The battle was quick, for while she held none of the Psyker arts of her Sisters, quite the opposite in fact, she more than made up for it in her battle prowess with her Bolter and Powerfist. She would strike with intensity and purpose, breaking more and more of the Ork with every strike, while the Ork's own weapon either could not hit her, or did nothing to her armor. The battle would end as she landed a direct strike to the center of the Ork, caving in the Ork's armor and chest, knocking it to the ground where she would keep slamming her Powerfist down again and again.

With the Ork's chest now a fine pulp on the ground, she continued on without delay, already behind her own set quota for enemies to kill. Her Vox transmitting raw data about the movements of her sisters and their few cousins in the Wardens, finding the site most deserving of direct aid for the moment, she made her way that way, humming a merry tune she had heard an Army Soldier hum as she walked.

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As she and her sisters fought the Greenskins, Shahin could not help but reflect on recent events, of the teeming hordes on Stormgard, of facing the greatest Greenskin Threat of the Age and of the reuniting connection with many of the Coldirons she had known in the past. "Heh look at them, the means of war change, but the Greenskins remain the same eh Nastaran?

Nastaran said nothing as her own weapon crushed a Ork that came with this latest attempt of breaching their defenses. The blood coating the arms and legs of the Terminator clad warrior "I suppose that is the case, it is a telling sign of their shortcomings and a welcome change from Stormgard."

After some more Ork slaying, it would become time for another lull in the Ork attack, and time for their side to prepare for the next wave of Orks trying to drive them off.

"This is truly something to live for Sister, the rush of battle where the only complaints heard are coming from the Tech Adepts who have to repair our equipment. The best part is no worthless excuses keeping HER away from the front lines, actually doing something and not hiding away, if i had to deal with anymore of that i would have to actually set up a disaster on Zamyat's stations to get a reaction." Said Shahin as she sharpened her sword, cleaning it of Ork blood, Nastaran however seemed to stop what she was doing and looked to her Sister

"That sounds like treason, one should be careful about such words and how they might be taken by others without context to your frustrations." Said the stoic Nastaran

"Tch, don't tell me you are really going to be a stick in the mud about that, it's a simple sentence…besides you know it's true." The bitter undertone was clear and while Nastaran could not disagree, protocol needed to be followed.

"It is not our place to question our Primarch on thes-" "SHE IS NO PRIMARCH!" the anger in Shahin's voice was clear "Would a Primarch seek to put her Legion under the command of another, would a Primarch be so afraid of actually becoming a true member of the Imperium we have all fought and bled for. Why does she get to say anything when she has not even fought half th-"

Nastaran interrupted "Other Legions have had issues with their progenitor's sister, but that still does not give you the right to show blatant treason against our Primarch or against her homeworld." said Nastaran in a more forceful tone, the two's argument starting to get to her.

"Heh the other Legions, do you know what I see when looking at the other Legions Sister? I see things to envy, Primarchs who are fitting of the title who lead their Legion to new heights. And what we have is nothing, nothing that tries to fill that role, nothing that stops my sisters from fracturing and our name becoming a joke to the other Legions, WE WERE ONCE WARDENS OF IRON, those who held the gates of the Imperium from many a threat." Her anger turned to a bitter and sour tone.

"But that does not matter, all that matters is what our Primarch makes us look like Nastaran…When I had heard we had found our Primarch, i was so happy, finally we could join the rest of the Legions and bring glory to Mankind, sure some changes would probably need to happen, but that would be fine, when i saw her the first time, my first thought was not awe at a warrior, not respect of a scholar, not obedience of a taskmaster, nor compliance of a architect. All I felt was…"

"Shame" Finished Nastaran as she understood what Shahin spoke about.

The two were silent for some time before Shahin picked up her blade and began to make her way to the lines, stopping to turn back "...I know what my words imply everytime I speak them sister, but I cannot hold my tongue when things become too much, I call myself the Scarlet Angel not as just a symbol to truly rally our sisters, but as my only means of getting to her, to force her to truly embrace the role she was meant to have, and do what other Primarchs would do to one such as I. Striking down a traitor…" She then continued off to the Ork front lines, leaving Nastaran to her own thoughts. And what must they have done to deserve this situation, a divided Legion, an absent Primarch who seemed willing to push them away at the soonest opportunity…did they really matter so little to their Mother that trying to incite anger and grief was the only way to earn anything from her. Her path of Logic says that it does not matter, she must be as the Ancient and withstand any hardship…but she cannot help but let her more human emotions take hold.

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Getting into the command deck of the station was a simple task for the Primarch and her assigned aid for this personal matter, long has her experiences with the Greenskins left Ahurani with questions and recently those questions have only increased as clearly the Orks were far more than just simple brutish creatures, those two beings she saw, the Twinfists. She needed answers and this Kaptin Green-Klaw will give them to her.

Miseo tensed as they entered the area where the Kaptin would be, Ahurani's long experiences with Orks told her all she needed to know about this one, it's apparent connection to the Angry'one telling her it would be prepared for her worst, but she would not lose herself this day.

A loud yell came from the far corner of the room as the Ork began the blindly rush towards the duo, trusting Miseo, Ahurani did not move as the Ork made it's way. Ahurani watched as the Ork Kaptin froze in place, Miseo finally managing to keep him still with her powers as it nearly reached her with it's blended gauntlet. "Now that we can talk, Hakka Green-Klaw, tell me who are the beings you follow, the two who spurn you to violence." Ahurani asked, her gaze fixed on the Ork's own.

The Ork laughed as it still tried to struggle out of the Psychic grasp "HAHAHAHA Are Youse being a thick 'eaded 'Ummie, Gork and Mork are Gork and Mork, God of Brutal Cunnin' and God of Cunnin' Brutality heheh, youse a fat 'eaded one if ya did not know that." The Ork winced in pain as Miseo clearly broke something inside the Ork "You will not insult the Lady Ahurani Greenskin, it is only her desire to learn more of your misbegotten kind that you still live." She declared rather forcefully.

"There is no need for that Miseo, so this Gork and Mork are…Gods." She knew what the Imperial Truth said about these matters and she has never had reason to doubt that part of…the Imperium, but she has always kept an open mind about the unknown. "Tell me then Green-Klaw why does your kind worship them, they do not act as any worthy gods should?" She knows Miseo will tell Veril about that choice of words, and potentially tell the Emperor. But she must know why they followed such barbarity when they could be so much more.

"What kind of question i'z that 'Ummie, I'z a Ork and they'z Gork and Mork. I'z all that needs to be said." The tone seemed incredulous like a tone of a parent telling a child about a simple fact of life.

She had a feeling that would be the kind of answer she received, but she had to ask it anyway."You may tell your gods that they should be ashamed. Their weakness has led to their followers, their loyal children, scattered and abused throughout the galaxy. Every day countless orks die while they waste their time in petty squabbles, unable to even help their chosen champions from people like me. Your gods have lost any right to lead you, you deserve better."

The Ork Kaptin stopped trying to thrash about and simply stared in confusion at the Primarch before giving a stare that Ahurani knew was the closest thing to pity a Ork could give "That's such a sad view to 'ave 'Ummie, Gork and Mork are tha Biggest and Strongest, Youse say we die without meaning, our meaning is ta FIght and Win, if we don't then we come back for anotha round…OI Spooky Git, kill me already, i'z board with this grot hearted weakling and ain't gonna talk no more."

A harsh snapping sound followed as Miseo focused her powers and broke the Ork apart, leaving the Primarch to dwell on it's words before she left with Miseo and returned to her vessel.
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Ahurani watched as the Imperial fleet blew apart the station, the scrap made station bursting into thousands of pieces, the ship debris of the Orks colliding with the larger pieces of the station creating a graveyard of metal.

She was alone in her room watching this, she had long since stopped her weeping. To others, they would stop their pursuit of anything better for the Orks, placing them as a Lost cause, but Ahurani was a Primarch, not one like her Siblings, but one who would defy the nature of reality itself for what she believed in, she would make a vow as she saw the wasted life on all sides, that this would one day end by her hands...and perhaps the best place to start would be with her Legion.

SteelWriter77 · Nov 5, 2022

(A IC Between @Hyvelic @Bias and myself)

The Moon of Ithil, a nondescript moon to a verdant world only just recently brought into the Imperium, such a place was far enough away from many historical events of the 30th millennium, but it would be here that The Emperor of Mankind would meet with two of his sons, away from the frontline conflicts that gripped his domain. His wish to speak with the lords of the thirteenth legion over recent matters would take both parties away from established areas of influence, and thus an unbiased place of equality between Father and Sons.

A relatively simple structure would be constructed upon the surface of this moon, a gleaming golden fortress from which the Emperor would await his son's arrival.

A kaleidoscope of colors never meant to be seen by human eyes reflect off the glistening gold of the Emperor's work, as even thousands of kilometers off the ground in the deep of space, the telltale signs of Warp travel are clear as day. Leaving the Warp tear is an unassuming ship, for a Primarch; The Candleless Vigil was a Navy ship, not one for Astartes. Leaving the Gothic-Class Cruiser is a shuttle, followed closely by a series of escort craft, that are quick to peel off as soon as the shuttle reaches orbit.

The shuttle touches down, the black aircraft appearing more as a smudge on golden majesty than anything else.

The warp would leak into the Materium as another ship, fashionably late, would finally at long last make itself present for the meeting. It would be a standard ship, no real markings of its cargo or passenger if not for the message sent rapidly to the Emperor's forces. "The 13th son has arrived." And soon a shuttle, a Revenant Dropship meant to carry great machines, would be launched and moved to join the other more metaphysically gifted son and Primarch of the 13th.

As the two Primarchs approach the golden fortress, they would see standing on top of the ramparts the grim visage of the Thunder Warriors, while only slightly larger than the common Astartes, their battle worn armor gave them the appearance of warriors cast of stone and blood, a more primal and furious contrast to the Astartes Legions.

The front gate of the fortress would open as one of the Emperor's chosen ten thousand, known as Diocletian Coros, walked to greet them. "Hail Primarchs of the thirteenth Legion, The Emperor awaits you in the courtyard, have you any request before I take you to him?"

The darker, more brooding of the two looks onwards towards his destination. A voice dead as the ones he commands, and those he leaves behind comes out. "I seek nothing from you but your life should we come to blows, and your silence should I have to suffer your existence any further than neccessary." He makes no hostile moves, nor does he grant the Custodes anything from a look or slightest diversion from his destination, leaving the response to be the only acknowledgement of their existence.

Kólasi stops his walk, turning to face Diocletian directly. His visage covered in layered robes, a mask of silver covers his face, a simplification of his previously intricate design. "There is nothing I need from you Custodes, take us to The Emperor." The Everdark would state, giving his own response to the Custodian, a short talk from one pawn to another.

The Custodes would simply nod and leads the two inside the Golden Fortress, despite it's grand size the interior was rather simplistic, corridors leading to the walls or to barracks or weapons supplies, the only other sight that greeted the two as they followed the Custodes would be more Thunder Warriors and Custodes guards, their eyes only flickering to confirm they had seen the Primarchs, before they returned to their duties.

Diocletian Coros would stop before a massive door frame, stating in a rather terse tone "The Emperor awaits you both inside." As he finishes he opens the door and becomes still as he takes a guarding position.

The room on the other side of the Door Frame was an odd sight compared to the desolate moon they had landed upon, there were what seemed to be plant life samples from the planet below, all set up in what appeared to be a laboratory. The Emperor could be seen sitting upon a large throne writing down something upon a Scroll, gazing upwards slightly as he spoke to his distant sons " Fonias, Kolasi, come in, we have much to discuss and it would be prudent to get it done as quickly as we can."

"Lets, I would prefer to not waste any more time I can use elsewhere and not waste speaking to you, when I could be killing creatures far more worthy of my attention." The dead, near monotone voice of the more physically inclined twin would speak up, both disdainful and apathetic to the situation, beyond making their inclinations.

Not seeming to acknowledge the insult, the Emperor would nod and put down the scroll and focused on the two. "The Warp Rifts you and your Legion had a hand in creating, have created issues for a portion of the Northern crusade operations and the loss of several hundred viable planets for human expansion. I wish to hear your reasoning for this occurrence and an explanation for your methods against the Eldar." He spoke plainly and with a clear detachment from the situation.

Fonias would speak up, voice the same as ever. "How Droll, we stated in our reports that it was not directly due to our actions. While we had admittedly thinned the materium in the region, it was not our doing that caused the cascade. Our methods to inspire fear and break the morale of the pathetic Eldar in the region proved to be more effective than imagined. This underestimation of the effects allowed the Eldar to, admittedly, make the right move and kill themselves before I could use the morale breaking tactics against them. They thought to sacrifice themselves to try and make an attempt on my approaching legion. Sadly, they failed their main objective but the creation of the Warp Storms seems to have achieved their secondary objectives to hinder further attacks from my legion."

The Emperor's face would not shift, but would speak once Fonias finished "This does explain some of my own findings and yet again the distances an my need on the front lines of the Crusade keeping needed information away from me, I apologize for the implication of your fault in the rifts, but I still must be informed on your reasoning for your…methods on captured Eldar, i understand the one who raised you two has continued holding a firm grasp and i have allowed for some freedom in your actions, but it was with the assumption of knowing how the rest of the Imperium will react, already your Siblings have brought up the potential danger you both present. This brings up another talking point of you, Kólasi, revealing yourself to the rest of the Imperium without my own foreknowledge."

He let's out a deep sigh before continuing "Both of you act like you are still apart of Skotádi's kingdom, when you are now under the Banner of the Imperium of Man, my Imperium." He arises from his Throne "I will hear your reasoning and by the end of this discussion, make an order for my Custodes and Thunder Warriors, how this all progresses depends on you both." He looks to Kólasi "Seeing as your brother has explained first, You shall go next, tell me why you have informed the Imperium of yourself."

Kólasi would listen in silence as the Emperor and his twin would speak, acting almost with his twins impartial apathy, this apparent indifference would be broken at the mention of the Thunder Warriors, the slightest twitch of the hand and the quickest increase in breath both being unnoticeable to a normal human, yet there were no normal humans here. "There is only so much use one can get from an unknowable blade. Now all the Imperium knows that it is I who lurk in the shadows, who knows nothing what it is I do or where it is I am. It is said, in my fathers old books on philosophy, that the oldest human emotion is fear, and that the oldest fear is that of the unknown. I have given all of the Imperium a name to recognize, a 'face' to connect to the shadows, they know nothing more, and I shall tell them nothing more. Let the dissenter and the traitor live their lives in fear knowing that I could be hiding in any shadow or crevice."

A tense second passes before the Emperor speaks "This is acceptable, but as I said I would have preferred to know beforehand, your Siblings had questions about the situation that I could not answer. Now you both will tell me the reason for your…blatant torture of the Eldar, such methods did weaken the Veil between the Meterium and the Warp, and while I do not disapprove against such tactics against them as a foe, I must ask if you had truly looked into the effects such a plan would create?" His monotone voice gains a slight reverberation as his power seems to rise slightly, his glowing eyes brightening as they look upon the two born of shadows.

The Dead spoke once more. "I have committed my acts against the Eldar not because I'm sadistic and desire to inflict pain upon them but because I do not care about anything but the cold, brutal efficiency in completing what I am required to do. As for the effects, I was well aware of the effect it was causing and had in fact planned for a large margin of error but I underestimated the lengths they would go to avoid their perceived fates. Thus I can say that everything up to, and excluding the attempted murder suicide of my legion, was a calculated measure to ensure the defeat of the Eldar completely and utterly."

Once again, Kólasi speaks after his brother. "It was a learning experience, I must say. The lengths the Eldar will go to decimate themselves and as much of the Galaxy as they possibly can. It is a lesson I have learned and am taking into account. I laid out a plan that shall potentially calm the tides of the Warp. If the test is a success, then I shall have the methodology bound to text and spread to every Legion, so it may not occur again."

The Emperor nods "Very good, it seems you both understand the risks and I trust will endeavor to not replicate this event against other foes. I will request all the recorded data you have gathered about this event be sent to Terra and to Elias Dradmire, despite the shattering of their main holding, it would be prudent to be prepared for any future efforts of the Eldar and their destructive methods."

The Everdark scowls at the mention of Eldar, letting out his clear distaste for the race of Xenos. "The Eldar are a special type of vermin. One who fits the definition better than even the Skaven. My Emperor, know that I shall not stop until the Eldar are slaughtered or shackled. I shall scour their Webway, drag them out of their crevices kicking and screaming and begging upon deaf ears for mercy. Such a task is a grand undertaking, but already I begin to muster forces and gather support for such an incursion."

"As proven by your Siblings, such an attack is fully possible to our methods. Your Legion and others are considered for such a desolation of the Webway, but your proclamation is more than proof of your strategic acumen and rightful disgust at the Eldar." The still face of the Emperor shifts slightly as he looks to the door and the Custodes guard, who simply nods and walks away. "As you may already know, there has been recent efforts in repairing the degradation of my Thunder Warriors, and as such they are in need of a campaign of their own to test if their true capabilities have also returned, a force of them shall accompany you in this incursion and shall act as both aid to your attack and as the Fist of my Wrath once again, the Corsairs and Crimson Lords may have had the first strike, but such things require more force to make the intent clear."

Deadly as a corpse the more apathetic of the two spoke up again. "To prevent you from forcing me to come back and waste what little precious time I have remaining, I am informing you that I shall be launching a full assault against the most passively dangerous region of space known currently. After assisting a Primarch with their infestation of Slaugh. I will invade the Ghoul Stars, and bring them to heel. It will require a formal decree from you, allowing me to take what resources I need with me to pacify this region, as well as to allow swift pacification and colonization of the region. I will start from this region and move towards the Imperium to limit the damage done to the Imperium by my efficiency should I come across suicidal imbeciles seeking to replicate the same action the Eldar inflicted upon themselves."

A short nod is had by the Emperor "Very well, you shall have access to any resources you may need, but be aware that the current conflict with the Men of Iron takes precedent for many others, so there may be less than anticipated, if you have any direct requests then ask now and I may be able to give you what aid I can before I go to aid the Men of Iron front."

Foniás would simply tell the Emperor what he required, and inform him of the reasoning for each necessity and explaining why they were needed. It'd be framed as the minimum needed to ensure complete domination of the region as well as how it will inevitably move to help against the Men of Iron in the long term.

The Emperor nods and turns to Kólasi, who would in turn speak to the Emperor of armies and fleets, and the supplies needed to equip them all. It was certainly uncharacteristic for the Metaphysically focused Primarch to spend time discussing military matters, but with the borders ever expanding, and the amount of foes the Imperium faces seeming to increase with every passing year, one cannot fault the Primarch for seeking to secure the logistics for his Legion and it's auxiliaries.

With the matters seemingly done the Emperor bid his sons farewell, giving them their letters of approval of their requests. All while the Emperor remained on the moon, continuing his own studies of an unknown nature.

The Undying Twin would be the first to leave, paying no heed to etiquette or social requirements in his way. He left as fast as he had arrived, and just as silent. Soon the ship he arrived on disappeared, just as if it was never there. No trace beyond the knowledge he was there would remain in the system.

The Everdark is soon to follow, giving a short farewell to Diocletian Coros as he passes the Custodes by. A figure of silver and black passes through halls of glistening gold as he returns to his shuttle. Without any fanfare the shuttle raises back into the sky, as its escort descends to safeguard the Primarch's return to the Gothic Cruiser. Just as abruptly as it arrived, it would leave, the vessel departing into the Warp, its destination unknown to all but a few individuals.

Hyvelic · Nov 6, 2022

"You see I was born in the full moons light
When I emerged it made the angels cry
With a heart that's black as stone and when I was fully grown
Well I was betrothed to the night"
-Dramaticization for the Rite of Shadows, the play based on the Shadow War

The Shadow War was a dark period. During the early years of the Great Crusade, the Imperium was a small flickering flame ready to be blown out if met with calamity by the wider galaxy's menacing monsters. It was in this period, the Primarchs were hunted down, and looked for so extensively that any mention of their potential location was sent to the Emperor for him to deal with.

The Shadow War was the second interaction with the Imperium that a Primarch met with. Instead of being drawn into the Imperium through diplomacy or force, the forces of the Imperium would find themselves deadlocked as a seemingly minor power managed to hold out against an entire legion of Adeptus Astartes was forced into unfavorable circumstances by mortals and the one leading them.

Countless Astartes and the Auxiliaries that were with them fell to blade and shadow. The men of the Shadowed Realm of Mordor fought with a ferocity unseen by an enemy of the time, surprising the Astartes consistently throughout the fighting. It was an embarrassing matter for the legion, at least it was until it was revealed who was behind them. The second Primarch ever found was a hostile entity to the Imperium and under the command of a dark entity that is shrouded in mystery and fear even to date.

The fighting would continue drawing more and more resources to hold the tide. It was an unacceptable state of affairs. So during the Third Battle of Chronos, the tide was broken by a Golden Light and his Honor Guard. With the dawn coming upon this cursed world came the Lord of Sunlight.

It was nighttime, the dark would clad the Astartes in another form of armor in the coming battle. As the Battleship moved into position its payload would prepare to make landfall in less than a few terran minutes. Drop-pods were prepared and strike craft moved into position to begin bombardment of the planet. Already the war had cost so much to deal with, and the wreckage around the planet showed that. Ships from Mars and the shells, from whatever shipyard that was keeping up with production for this war, were gutted around this planet in such numbers that it can be said that it was not worth it.

Brother Asterios would clutch his bolter tighter at that thought, for while many Astartes knew their duty, this was not an honorable battle being fought. This war was being fought without honor, without care, without any semblance of the ideals that the Legion held dear. They had abandoned it all dying and killing over each of these worlds, making little to no progress toward pacifying them. Letting out a melancholy sigh the Revenant would make his way toward the drop pod. Upon entering he would notice the lack of light, a dark shadow hung over every Astartes in the Pod. Not one of hate, fear, or even unrest. The shadow was one of dishonor and disgrace. While every other Legion fought and lived up to their own ideals the Revenants were cursed, abandoned, disgraced, and worthless. They had abandoned everything to fight this war, and yet it was still not enough.

With an explosion, the Pod was launched, and on the way down Asterios looked at the squad for this fight. A veteran of the Thirteenth Helios, a veteran of the Seventeenth Ajun, Veterans of the Fifth Dracul, and Vlad, a survivor of the First Markos, and finally reinforcements of the newly replenished Ninth Ricard, Killian, Orpheus, and Menos. Each was armed with a Bolter and prepared with a standardized kit for fighting on the hostile planet below.

A crash would be heard and as the pod opened the Marines would move quickly out of the pod and move into the battlefield. This battlefield was a ruined city, one of many on the planet. Devastated over the course of the previous two invasions and the counter-attacks to retake them from the Imperium. The city surrounding them was one of the worse locations to fight due to the heavily entrenched nature of the forces here, many Astartes would fall tonight. As one the group stopped and moved to cover and prepared for something just out of sight.

A force of forty or so mortals would be running toward the direction they came from. Moving in uniform and weapons up and ready. The Astartes aimed and prepared to fire as they got closer and closer. With an unspoken signal, the engagement would start.

With a sound of thunder, the squad of Astartes would open fire on the force of ordinary mortals sent against them. The mortals would not flinch but immediately take cover and return fire, which while ineffective at first, would slowly chip away at the Astartes' armor, which was far preferable to the alternative. One overzealous Astartes, Brother Killian, would charge towards the group seeking to pull them out of cover, only upon getting near the hostile position several mortals would rush the Astartes. As planned they would try to retreat, only for one of the mortals from behind cover to launch what seemed to be a harpoon at the Astartes. It hit the Super Soldier's shoulder and began to, against all the odds, pull the Astartes towards the soldiers running at him.

His battle brothers would of course open fire and try to kill the ones charging the Astartes, but making no move to get closer due to that not being the only trick they knew the Mortals had. It was a brutal lesson pounded into them time and time again with every loss of a brother. Thankfully the Marine would free himself. It was a bloody and macabre solution, but it worked nonetheless. The Marine now without an arm would turn and open fire on the approaching mortals and manage to put them down before jumping to the side before he could get hit by another one of the harpoons.

Several grenades would be thrown from his position hoping to demolish the cover the mortals were defending behind. Thankfully no more damage was taken to the Astartes squad as the cover the mortals were behind exploded opening them for a quick and brutal counter-attack.

Soon there were no mortals left surviving and the Astartes would report no more damages thankfully. Moving to continue the group began to ensure that the bodies were actually dead by dismembering them and demolishing the corpses. Another necessary measure sadly.

Moving forward as one, Brother Killian stops the bleeding and follows his brothers forward, albeit still missing his arm. The group is silent as they move. Once they would have bantered, they would have talked of virtue and honor. Now there was only silence and expectations of their eventual deaths.

Surprisingly the Astartes would manage to bypass mortal patrols and reach their objective without any issues. Their objective was a simple one, find and kill the commanders of the defending armies. It should have been an easy mission for any other Legion. For the Revenants, it was a costly maneuver and one that continued to only bring shame and more to their name.

The open region of the city where the Command Center was located did not seem to be heavily defended. This mixed with the sparse amount of patrols they discovered on the way painted a pretty picture. One that meant that they were about to enter a trap. The group would make final preparations for their deaths. They were prepared to die, and they were determined to kill the commanders before their death.

Brother Killian took point and as he charged forward once again into battle as bait the world grew darker and darker. The rest of the squad waited for a second then followed shortly after. Brother Killian was sprinting as fast as he could towards the command post and ignored everything else.

He ignored everything from the dead fields, the falling moon, the shouts from mortals, and the seven harpoons coming for him. They managed to hit him and more than quartered him upon them retracting. The sacrifice of Killian allowed his following brothers to open fire on the mortals who had been semi-hidden as they continued the charge toward the Command Post.

They ignored everything that wasn't an immediate hindrance. Because they only had this one chance they couldn't afford to waste time avenging the fallen and dying. Brother Vlad was the next to fall. Impaled on a spear of darkness that killed instantly as it pierced his brain and tore him in half upon retracting. Helios died to mortals swarming him, cutting the armor from his body and tearing at him brutally, even as he tore them apart in return. The rest of the Squad would manage to reach the Command post and as they moved to enter by force, they were interrupted by brother Markos was killed by a sword larger than even an Astartes. This was new and the squad would move to kill the creature that was now charging them from just out of sight.

It was larger than a Dreadnought and armored as such. Despite the armor logically being heavier than a dreadnought from appearances, the creature moved as if it was wearing nothing and quickly executed the rest of the Astartes sent to kill the commanders of the enemy forces on the planet. Of which they met one.

Scoffing at the chaff sent to kill him, the giant would move to return to the Command Post and command the armies on the planet. Except, there was an issue that quickly arose. As the giant turned to enter the building, the sun would rise. With it came the smell of blood, mortal blood.

He quickly was forced to dodge a blow from a then-unseen foe. Turning to face the new fighter he would only see a golden armored figure. At least before he was removed from the giant's sight with a swift kick, merely knocking them back. The armored giant's eyes would narrow at the sight of several more golden figures slaughtering the mortal army that was giving it their all.

An exasperated sigh would escape the giant's lips and a slight smirk would overtake them. "Greetings challengers. I have not seen your ilk before, but perhaps you shall prove to be a better fight than those wretches that I finished cleaning up." The golden figure closest to the giant gave no indication that they heard him, merely preparing to fight the giant alone. Charging forward the giant would give a quick slash to test the reflexes of the fighter before them.

It was rapidly blocked with their halberd and countered with a shot from the end of their weapon. Deflecting the shot back at them the giant would quickly slash at the invader. They would reflect the shot into the ground before blocking once again. This time they would be pushed back slightly, but hold against the strike. That is until the giant's fist lashed out and hit them in their side. This would unbalance the Custodes enough for the giant to launch a flurry of attacks. All of which would barely harm the Custodes' armor.

The Custodes would crack the giant's armor in return and force them back with a counter-attack of their own. The giant smiled before speaking again, "My name, challenger, is Fonias. You are more entertaining than the other chaff I have fought. Yet that is still what you are. Chaff for the scythe to cleave."

Fonias would follow this up with an overbearing overhead strike, moving to dodge the hit and preparing to riposte the giant, the Custodes would quickly find the blade they were dodging abandoned without a care and the giant's clawed hands wrapping themselves around the golden helmet defending them. The helmet would not last long enough for a kill shot against the named giant. It collapsed and was crushed alongside the head of the Custodes it was meant to protect. The Custodes would drop to the ground, dead. Looking around the Primarch would let out a disgusted scoff loose at the rapidly dying mortals around him. The army that was prepared and specialized in murdering the armored elites of the invading army was being obliterated to the last.

They had served their purpose however little it was. Fonias turned away from the slaughter and entered the Command Post giving out one last order to fight to the death to all armies on the planet before leaving. His leaving would be aptly timed as the Emperor of Mankind, a giant clad in gold and fire, arrived on the planet and lead the Astartes and Custodes in the battle to pacify the planet. Pacify in this case meaning the death of every soul upon the planet as they fought to the bitter end causing harsh damage to the auxiliaries and Astartes on the planet. Not even harming the Custodes in the slightest.

Princess_Hex · Nov 6, 2022

Fragmented

They filed in, one after another. Mostly in silence, though the few whispered conversations created enough noise for things to not be eerie. Most found a place to stand and stood at attention, waiting for the event to begin, though it certainly wasn't a rule. The Wardens were as scattered and informal as ever, as many personalities and creeds as there were women in the legion.

It was taking a while for everyone to arrive, despite the steady stream. There were, after all, more than twenty thousand people in attendance.

Erethe had arrived early, her steps at once thundering on the metal flooring of the vessel while still being quiet for an ancient. She was ushered to a spot of honour at the front, no one would dare argue such a place for her.

Others had their place go unquestioned. Smaller figures, at times lost in the crowd, but standing proudly all the same, the generals of the Wardens auxiliary forces were in attendance. They were, after all, considered full members of the legion. Much debate had gone into what ranks should be included, as the hall was only designed to hold a maximum of one hundred thousand. Eventually, generals were chosen as the lowest rank, serving as representative to their soldiers.

Ahurani watched them all file in. Whispered conversations seemed to imply that she had been here before anyone, waiting alone in the great hall for her daughters. She was seated at the very front of the stage, eschewing the podium behind her in favour of a more personal presentation.

No one was behind her. No honour guard from her loyalists, no Melissa, no Coldirons. Perhaps most remarkably of all, no Varil.

Tonight was for Wardens of the Blessed Heart, and for them alone.

Without question, she commanded the room, even in silence. The Wardens were not a very loyal legion, but when Ahurani wanted it to, her mere presence could sit like a weight atop everyone around her. There were no pretences tonight, nothing to hide. The person who sat before them was a primarch.

Finally, the last attendees arrived. The doors were closed, guards placed outside. It was time to begin.

Ahurani smiled.

"Hello everyone, it has been a long time since we've all been together like this, hasn't it?" There were nods. Some legions held mass gatherings often, the Wardens did not. Nome on any kind of mass scale had been seen in decades.

Not since Hostea.

For their meeting to happen in this room was auspicious though, because for many of them it held memories of better times. The last time Ahurani had spoken to them here, she had been in cold weather gear, eager to meet the daughters she never knew she had.

"This is where I first met you all. Well, many of you. I suppose not so many of you have survived since then, we have always been a legion of the young. Still, I remember that moment so clearly."

She looked back at the podium, though her voice still projected clearly through the whole room. "I was so excited, you know? I know I didn't really hide it, but I never told you all how much it meant to meet so many people. Not only that, people who had some connection to me."

"We've grown so far apart since then, haven't we?"

Ahurani turned back to address her daughters, who were silent. "I realise that I haven't spoken much about myself before today. Most of you know the name of my homeworld, but not my life there or who I was. May I share it, with you all?"

The question was met with a murmur of agreement, this earlier in they were willing to be merciful. "My name, as you know, is Ahurani. My f-" Ahurani stopped to clear her throat. "My father, was a scientist, or he tried to be. My mother did what everyone else did, do odd jobs around a station that was falling apart around us year by year."

"I am a courier, by trade. That is what I did before joining you all. I would walk through blizzards and endless snow to deliver resources where they were needed most. I had never heard of armies, I didn't even know what a soldier was. A structure as vast and total as the Imperium was so far beyond the scope of my experience that, in some ways, I still haven't fully adjusted."

"So when I met you all, what was I to imagine? New friends to make, new stories to hear and share. I know our dearest Erethe told me many." Ahurani stopped, to smile down at the dreadnought that rested just before her. The ancient was awake, but quiet, expectant.

"But when you all met me, you knew exactly what to expect, what you needed. You needed a figure of power, a warrior, or a scholar, someone who could drive the legion to new heights. You didn't need a nervous girl who had no practical experience with anything you considered valuable."

Ahurani let out a long exhale after all the talking, then took a while to compose herself for what came next. "This is all to say that you deserved better. You deserved someone who could meet your expectations, and you continue to deserve that today. I'm sorry, that I wasn't that. I'm sorry, that I haven't become it either."

"I know an apology won't soothe all the anger and sadness I have caused, I know that. But it is important that I address what I have done and give you all ownership of those emotions, give you the right to feel that way. If nothing else, let this meeting validate you all."

Grumbles began to spread through the crowd, some sections in particular. Ahurani held up a hand, which did little to silence them. She hadn't expected it to work, so when she began speaking again it was with a voice loud enough to carry over the noise.

"Apologies are well and good, but action is more important. I am sure we can all agree on that." That managed to quiet most of the remaining commotion, if only begrudgingly. "So what I would like for us to do today is to take our time, and air grievances and ways we want to move forward so we can be whole again. If you like, I can allow you some time to discuss it amongst yourselves."

The crowd milled about, and Ahurani watched as the different groups began to coalesce amongst the attendees, talking through what they wanted to say. No one approached her, which meant she could watch passively, noting who went where, the volume of different conversations, even when some of her daughters flitted between groups. She knew them by name, though at a certain distance it was hard to recognise some of them, astartes had a tendency to look somewhat similar after all.

It took nearly half an hour, which was record time for a Warden discussion. Usually there were so many points of view presented so passionately that they could drag on for days. That things ended this fast meant that these were well agreed upon and on people's minds for a long time.

"Are you all ready?" Ahurani smiled again at the assessment from the crowd. "Then who would like to speak first?"

"I wish to address the matter of how we fight." The speaker was Rasantat, a prominent young voice who aligned herself with the more moderate of the factions, who wanted change in the name of preserving the legion.

"Go ahead, Rasantat. I know you have been operating on your own initiative recently, so it will be good to hear your opinions on the matter."

"The Wardens of the Blessed Heart," Rasantat began. "Are an astartes legion, the hammer of the imperium. Yet too often we are constrained to defensive operations, limited to protecting civilian centres where our superior talents are wasted. Our attacks are slow and cumbersome, their tactics safe but unable to secure decisive breakthroughs. We have to adapt, lest we be left behind."

Ahurani considered this, in truth she hated the idea. With a more defensive posture she could at least pretend that she was minimising the amount of combat being engaged in, aggressive strikes would only result in more death and suffering. Still, a more pressing issue emerged. "I hear your proposal, but I do not believe that I have made any significant changes to our doctrine? I believe that it is largely the same as when we first met."

"That is the problem, mother. We wish to change the underlying doctrine to make better use of our abilities and the experiences we have had in recent years."

That was a surprise, Ahurani had expected most of these requests to be about personal failings on her part. This was, at least, something she could manage. "I cannot promise anything immediate, while I am open to a revision of the doctrine, it must be done right. That means plenty of time taken to refine and experiment with the new ideas so when we write them down the instructions are clear, precise, and make full use of all of our resources. It could be a very long process, are you willing to accept that?"

Rasantat nodded, a wave of agreement rippled through the crowd, especially amongst the more aggressive members of the legion.

"Then I will start the process soon. It is perhaps even more fortunate that we are so close with the Coldiron Cages, as I believe they are well known for daring attacks. We could learn much from them as we grow ever closer." Ahurani didn't fail to notice the reaction that the reference to her sister's legion provoked, but she let it be. If it was a problem, they would tell her. She had to trust them.

Some talk rippled through the crowd as the next speaker was chosen, Ahurani was content to wait. Her daughters never disappointed her before.

The next speaker was Hayat, one of Ahurani's more aggressive daughters. "You say we have grown apart, and yet you haven't done anything to address that. Now look at us! Split into different in groups with barely anything in common."

Ahurani nodded, her smile disappearing for good. "I am aware, I keep a close eye on you all to keep up to date on these things."

"Then if you truly wish to take responsibility, you will formalise the groups we have formed and allow us control over the minutiae of our own lives. The legion has been without structure for too long."

Gol, another moderate like Rasantat, stepped forward. She was near the front, so Ahurani could clearly see her face. "I am forced to agree with my sister. We need structure or things will only continue to get worse."

"That... can be arranged. Yes. Perhaps some kind of chapter system, with each group having some number of chapters to their name, and a governing council that will take overall command of those chapters. Does that sound amenable?"

"That will suffice." Hayat didn't sound happy, but she had started the question just as angry, Ahurani could count it as a win that things didn't escalate.

"Wonderful, that will be much easier to do, though it will still take time to determine chapter size and membership, as well as how the councils will work. This is another area where we can probably look to the Coldirons for advice. Having a system that is compatible with theirs will be very important for our future coope-"

"Are you truly so intent on getting rid of us?" The voice cut right through Ahurani's speech, right through the crowd. Like a round fired from a bolter its impact was immense.

Stunned, Ahurani could only give a simple reply. "Whatever do you mean?"

"This talk of the Coldirons, the ceding of your duties to your sister. We can all see what is happening, the legions are becoming one. Are you so determined to be rid of us that you must remake us in their image?"

The murmurs of agreement were loud and pervasive, some much angrier than others. Ahurani looked shocked, completely blindsided by the intensity of what had just been revealed to her.

"But I don't wish to be rid of you at all?" Her voice started weak, barely carrying above the noise. The careful veneer of emotional stability Ahurani had put on at the start of the speech had begun to crumble away. "You're my daughters, why would I-"

"Varil stepped in to help after I was wounded." The only thing to do was explain, Ahurani knew they would understand. This was something she was doing for them. "Originally I had assumed that I would take over all aspects of legion leadership again but... Varil is a better primarch than I am. She is more decisive, carries more authority, and most importantly her own heart is much more in tune with your purpose."

"I said earlier that I was sorry that I haven't become what you all wanted. I left something out. I cannot become what you need me to be as your primarch. There will never come a day when I will participate with enthusiasm in the great crusade, or order the invasion of a world. No matter what is said, what is offered, what is demanded, I remain steadfast to who I am."

"But my failings should not restrain you. I thought that by giving more power to Varil, at last you could be under the command of someone who would allow you to operate as you were meant to, as you yearn to. I am not so blind that I haven't seen how you strain against the limitations that I put on you, though I keep hidden how much it hurts me to keep those limitations as loose as they are."

"As we are now, this conflict is irreconcilable. For me to change would be worse than a death, I cannot accept it. So I sought to change circumstances, so this conflict would no longer hurt you all."

"I apologise, I am so so sorry, if it ever felt like I was trying to get rid of you. I love you all, so much. I know your names, your birthdays, all your silly little habits." Ahurani looked directly at the speaker who had interrupted her, trying to put every ounce of sincerity she had into her words. "Nastaran, sweet, gentle Nastaran. I am devoted to you until the very end. My role in your lives may change, but my presence will not. Not until the day you no longer desire it. I promise, I stake my life on it."

Nastaran was the first to break eye contact, looking down and away as if embarrassed. It seemed Ahurani's words had broken through, at least somewhat.

"Then why are you so distant?" Zinat's voice was deeper compared to most of the legion, making her easy to recognise. She was one of the astartes who had stayed closest to Ahurani, the ones who accepted her for who she is. "We see you so rarely these days. We miss you."

That prompted its own fair share of reprisals, forcing Zinat to make a correction. "Fine! Most of us miss you."

"You miss me?" For the second time in as many questions Ahurani was dumbstruck. She had always thought herself as a pariah to her own legion, she didn't know they wanted her around.

"You're our mother, we- most of us love you from the bottom of our hearts. Of course we miss you."

"I was avoiding spending too much time because it felt like I had wronged you all too much to be forgiven. Maybe that was just me trying not to be hurt." Ahurani took a deep breath. "Alright, I can do that. I will make more time for you all, be more present in your lives."

"Yet your presence is not always required." The voice was easy to miss, whisper quiet in an atmosphere of now constant ambient noise.

Niusha was a woman who often escaped notice, despite her massive astartes frame, but Ahurani didn't miss a beat. "What do you mean, dear?" She kept her answer conversational, not seeking to project for everyone. This felt more personal.

"We do not belong to the usual legion structure, we have lost the right to live in the light as the others do. We simply ask for some space and independence, to protect our sisters and you from the dark as we see fit."

The Black Wings, as they were known amongst some, were a group within the Wardens that broke Ahurani's heart. They had so much sorrow within them, sorrow that Ahurani herself could recognise. Sometimes she worried that it was her influence, something about her genetic lineage, that provoked such deep sadness in them. The more scientific part of her knew it was unlikely, she hoped it was right.

"Independence is a tough ask, though I can easily see you being separated from the rest of the legion structure. Would it please you that you report to me and me alone, that even if the legions do merge you stay with me, safe to do as you need?"

Niusha nodded, then faded back into the crowd.

Baran was also near the front, likely close enough to hear that exchange. She spoke next, standing near Erethe's great bulk. "These changes to how the legion is structured, they sound like they may be wide ranging and significant. I trust that the Greatmother will retain her position of honour?"

Ahurani's smile at long last returned. She reached out and very gently placed a hand on Erethe's chassis. "Of course, I would never do anything to jeopardise her place amongst us. A woman of her stature will be honoured as she deserves."

Baran nodded, satisfied enough. "We will need a new leader, to take some of the pressure off her."

"I cannot decide a leader for you, Baran. I can only give you permission to find one yourselves. Perhaps we can schedule a talk to go over potential candidates some other time?"

The thought clearly didn't seem to excite Baran, they all wanted the decisive action of a primarch. Ahurani still could not give them that, but perhaps her way wasn't so bad. She nodded, willing to accept that compromise.

"Is that it then?"

The voice was loud, angry, and instantly recognisable. Ahurani looked up, through the crowd until she saw the person who had made the commotion. "Is what it, Shahin?"

"Are we just going to make a couple of tepid demands and roll over to your little ploy?" Shahin barged through the crowd, though really most Wardens parted before her willingly. No one feared that she would hurt them, but they also didn't want to get in her way.

"A few changes to the doctrine, a new organisational system. Some small concessions to fringe groups. You think that's enough?" Shahin hopped on to the stage. She stomped towards Ahurani, who was watching her calmly.

"Where is the fire? Where is the shame we all feel when we look upon this pathetic excuse of a woman? We're just going to let her get away with... with running away from all her responsibilities, from who she is?"

"Shahin, calm down." Ahurani had expected something like this might happen, though not quite so explosive. She had steeled her heart to it before the meeting started, so was able to keep her voice steady and breathing even.

"Shut up!" Shahin, who had been addressing the crowd, whirled on her. The fury in her eyes was intense, enough that Ahurani could feel the anger rise in her in kind. "These cowards might be willing to let you rot away without ever becoming a real primarch, but I'm not. I will make you break that little facade of peace you are so desperate to maintain until you show us what you really are."

There were gasps as Shahin pulled her fist back. Astartes are fast, lightning fast, but Shahin was in no hurry. If anything, she wanted the theatricality of the scene to be heightened, for people to know what she was doing. For Ahurani to look up at her with those sad little eyes and know what was coming.

The fist swung down like a hammer.

It stopped mere millimetres away from Ahurani's face.

The primarch hadn't moved a muscle.

"Why? Why won't you just do something?" Shahin sounded desperate now, and if anything even more dangerous.

"Is that what you want?" Ahurani kept her eyes locked on Shahin's, ignoring the fist that had almost hit her. "I know how my siblings operate. This kind of display wouldn't be tolerated. You wouldn't have even had a chance to stop, with most of them."

"Is that what you want me to be? Someone who abuses my own daughters? Who hits them and punishes them for the audacity of making me feel bad? For saying things I don't like? Believing things I cannot stand?"

"I want you to be a leader! I took the name Scarlet Angel to remind you of what that looks like."

That was enough for Ahurani's voice to drop, just a touch, much more serious. "I make no claim to the title of angel. I hate it, you are free to claim it as your own. If you have become so desperate for what you see as leadership that you would risk your own life though, it is clear I will never be enough for you. No matter what I do."

"So you're just giving up?"

"Yes," Ahurani didn't even hesitate. "I know which battles I can take, and I will not fight something I cannot win. You can hate me all you want Shahin, I will not hurt you. I will change the circumstances so you can run as wild as you please, I will give you all the leeway in the world to make decisions, I will not restrict your freedom."

Shahin was breathing hard now, but her fist dropped to her side. "You're pathetic."

"So I've been told. Get off the stage, Shahin."

They shared several long, angry moments of eye contact before Shahin finally obliged, jumping down and heading for the doors. Them slamming behind her brought true silence to the room.

"Very well, if anyone has anything else to say they may come to me personally. I believe that you are all free to leave at your discretion though, thank you, for sharing your ideas with me. I will be here all day, and I will try to be more open in the future."

Some wounds will never heal, some scars will always hurt, but perhaps this was the start to a different kind of healing.

triumph8w · Nov 8, 2022

THE GHOST AND THE FALLEN STAR
(Joint IC with @Hyvelic)

Below the Imperial fleet, a world lay in ruins.

A world of steel and bone, it was yet another lost child of humanity swallowed by the darkness wrought in the Age of Strife. Its pains were not brought about by Imperial guns, but its own inhabitants. Corruption had made it a barren corpse, picked apart by the desperate survivors that still inhabited it. Already, Imperial relief efforts were being coordinated. Yet for all the great hopes professed by the Imperium in its quest for unity, the vast battlefleet did not come here to aid their fellow man.

Where the flagship of the Emperor went, destiny followed.

Together, the mighty battle fleets of the Emperor and his Thirteenth legion had been drawn from their campaign preparations to this corner of the galaxy, led on by the Emperor's warp senses, all the way to this ruined world. The Emperor had descended to the surface alone, to walk the streets of broken cities and past the gutted corpses of failed dreams. What conspired there would, in its own right, become legend. As always came to be when the Emperor of Mankind reunited with one of his lost children.

Aboard the mighty flagship of the Imperium and its sovereign, a new son sat in a vast golden room of such magnificence and artifice that one would be forgiven in assuming that it was a deliberate investment, an area to simply awe any visitors to the power and splendor of the Imperium, instead of being one room of many on the monolithic flagship. Its beauty rendered mundane by repetition.

Amidst the gold and marble, sat the newest discovery. Clad in red robes and makeshift battle armor more at home in the days of the Unification Wars than on a supposed leader of an advanced planet. A torn light purple cape sat loosely on thin shoulders, its elegance marred by blood and dirt. Red eyes stared out from a bloody, aristocratic face, framed by long black hair muddied by the toils of war, down unto a ruined crown held in gloved hands. Scarred by battle, with one of its three large pillars torn off, it held some regal nature to it still.

Entering would be a nightmare of a humanoid, at least to a mortal and perhaps the easily unnerved. Tall, lithe, unnervingly so, and a subtly glowing black glow from where their eyes would be if they weren't covered by a helmet of unknown origin. Similarly the armor being worn by the newcomer was worn, old, but no less unnerving and battle scarred. At points the metal in the arms looked as if they had been broken and forcibly put back together.

The figure had at their side a weapon, though put away it was clear that the weapon was a sword of some sort, although it is unknown what it looks like or if it's as… off putting as the figure themselves. Shortly after entering they would begin to make their way closer and closer and with each step the uncanny valley surrounding and making up the knight grows stronger and stronger. Each step clanked and for the ones who had nothing on their minds, the sound would draw their attention.

Starscream didn't notice for a few seconds, an eternity to a primarch, so busy as he was staring at the shattered crown in his hands. When he looked up, face covered in blood and mud, he blinked at the new arrival. As the dark figure drew closer one of Starscream's hands left his crown, drawing into the folds of his cape, while something dark alighted in his eyes. There was a spark of instinctive reaction, something deep that went beyond blood and bone, that told the other without words that they were similar. Of the same blood.

"He said there would be more of you." Starscream muttered. "Us, I suppose."

The figure continued their slow walk, taking an eternity to respond, but it does in the end. "More than you know. Death has a hard time… sticking to our kind despite the best attempts by fellows and lessers."

A creak would punctuate the statement. The creak came from the chest region of the armor, where upon a closer look there appears to be countless scars and bent or broken edges, each one repaired enough to leave a message. The message telling any who could tell, that even blows that would have felled the strongest of warriors or beasts have not killed this… not man. "You will understand well enough soon. Whether you like it or not, whether you are willing or unwanting of these lessons." He rasps out after a few moments.

Starscream's eyes flickered to the center of the blackened breastplate, then back to where the figures eyes would be, were there any to see. He straightened, slowly, carefully, and set aside his broken crown on a nearby table. "Really?" He said softly. "And what makes you think I am already not well aware? You know who I am, I assume. He must have told you. Unfortunately he was not so courteous with me."

The figure scoffs, almost mockingly. "I know you as well as I know who I am going to kill next. I care not to learn the name of a dead fool, one who will only drag down others who are more deserving. If only because they are not as pathetic." Then with casual ease, the knight draws his sword and swings his blade at Starscream. Particularly aiming for his neck.

The blur of motion that followed between the two would have been hard to see for most living beings. The air cracked with force as Starscream raised his free arm, clad as it was in mail and repurposed power armor meant for people far smaller. The blade sank deep into the metal, and Stasrceam twisted that hand to grab onto the Witch-Kings blade arm, gene-enhanced fingers sinking deep into the black, scarred armor the other primarch wore. The newly discovered primarchs cape snapped, cracking the air like a whip from the sheer force of Starscream's hidden arm exploding from its hiding spot, dagger in hand. With superhuman speed it angled for the dark figures throat, flying through the air with a frightful his–only to be stopped at the last second as a massive dark hand wrapped around Starscream's comparatively thin arm.

"Really now?" He hissed, his voice filled to the brim with venom and the slightest hint of strain. "Is this what you do for fun? Going around rooms and stabbing people, why, I can hardly think anyone likes you. And you call me pathetic."

"I call you pathetic because you are. You mourn for the ideals that have been vanquished. You see yourself as special when you are but another shallow corpse unfortunate to still be alive. That which is dead will eternal lie." Then in a move that seems suicidal the Witch-King would casually, almost uninterestedly impale the dagger into his throat and use it as a tool to tear out his own throat. All with Starscream's hands still on the handle. Backing up the knight would show the open, fatal wound. He also allowed the fellow Primarch to hear a guttural inhumane rasp that can be mistaken as the laughter of something inhumane. Yet, despite laughing, Starscream could pick up something faint. Something telling him that the Witch-King wasn't actually laughing, as if he wasn't there and an empty vessel pretending to be alive was in his place.

The snarl on Starscream's face disintegrated like morning dew on a radioactive furnace, twisting slowly, painfully, into a look of quiet horror. As soon as the Witch-King released him, Starscream began to shuffle back. A slow, uncertain stumble that saw his own grip on the black knight slip off. He held his dagger loosely, numbly, as rich blood slowly dripped from it, creating a bloody trail wherever he walked. The newly discovered primarchs mouth opened and closed, words failing him, sparking like a broken transceiver.

When sufficient distance was gained, he found his voice again. It came from his lips in a dry, hoarse whisper.

"What the hell are you?"

"I am the nightmare in between the stars. I am the death of whole civilizations. I am murder made manifest. I am Perpetual." The vessel cackles on its broken strings, taunting the fallen Primarch. He slowly would turn, and begin to walk away, as slow as he was entering the room, and as he did the silence returned. The figure made not a sound as they were leaving.

The dagger, coated in a primarchs dark blood, slipped from Starscream's hand when the great golden door slid close. He stood them, staring dumbly at the door, mouth open, eyes wide. A quiet eternity passed before he began to move, a twitch here, a tremble there, before he moved slowly towards one of the marble walls, coated in flowing golden lines, and put his back to it, sliding down as he pressed his hands to his face. In between his fingers he could see his broken crown, and the bloody dagger.

A great golden god had come to him, ripping away what was left of his dreams, and then this dark killer had stamped on what remained. Family. That was what the Emperor had called these primarchs, these people like him. Siblings. Brothers, sisters, fellows in arms. They were to be generals and warriors, all sorts of things. But peers, most of all.

Dragging his hands down his face, fingers digging in so hard that blood leaked from where they trailed, he snarled.

"What a joke."

SteelWriter77 · Nov 9, 2022

(Little Thing by me and @Mortis Nuntius )

The dead man was awake, his hearts forcing blood and lubricants through arteries of muscle and rubber. Phantom fingers clenched into iron fists, synthetic lungs filled with air and pushed it out as he screamed in pain. Dying had hurt, waking hurt worse, almost as much as…what had hurt so badly? Something…he remembered that, he pain, everything inside him and out, twisting and turning, being remade. It had happened again, whatever it was, he had been something else and now he was…

He strained against titanium bindings, gears and muscles straining.

"Let me out!" Was that his voice? Loud yet distant, muffled and rasping, echoed by feedback?. However he sounded, nobody listened. The machines tending to him ignored him, continuing their work with mechanical indifference.

Machines! A flash of memory, endless ranks of metal, a tide of steel rushing towards them. It was there a moment and then gone, but it was enough, he remembered war.

He'd fought the machines…fought and lost and now they were hurting him, taking him apart and putting him back together, were they turning him into one of them? Was he going to become part of the tide?

"Kill me." He told them, a command, a request, a plea. He trashed against the bindings. "Kill me you fucking machines!"

They ignored him of course, he would need to think his way out, but thinking was so hard, his head hurt, especially the side of it. Had he hit it on something? It felt wrong, he could not pin down what exactly was amiss but it hurt and felt wrong. Something had happened, something bad, no not happened, was happening.

A hatch door that he had not noticed swung upwards and a tall…figure was not the right word, more a mass of tubes and pistons and unidentifiable devices all bolted and welded and fitted together into one mighty machine.

"Who? What are you?" He demanded.

The new machine paid his words no more heed than the ones before, instead it strode forwards and inserted a thin blade like appendage into one of the banks of machines for several seconds before withdrawing it, then it turned to look upon him. Though somehow he knew that those sensors were not really eyes, he was being broken down into raw data, turned into nothing more than ones and zeros. The thought sparked something in him…made him remember, he remembered hatred.

"What are you doing to me? Turning me into one of you? It won't work, no matter how many cogs you put in me, I'm not…I am not a…" His voice faded into cackling static.

What was he not? What had he been before? His memories, what few remained to him, made no sense. All there was pain…and hate…and pain and hate. All that was left to him, it would have to do, he turned both on his captor.

"You tin bastard! Whatever you want from me you're not getting it from you."

The machine lacked the parts for unnecessary functions such as facial expressions, but the malice carried on his voice as well as it would have shown on any lips as it extended the blade towards an unseen port that seemed in line with the center of his unseen head wound.

"I already have all I want from you, I have you."

That was when the true pain began.

SteelWriter77 · Nov 9, 2022

"Humanity is the gateway to galactic destruction, we will be the cure" Last known message of Administrator Q-E before the beginning of the War of Iron

It was time, preparation and the assembly of forces had all culminated in this current action, the forces of the Imperium and Mechanicum prepared for their true advance into the Men of Iron's space.

On board his flagship, the Battlebarge "Neccessitas". Alaric Quadar seemingly was inert upon his command throne, but this was only his physically body, for his soul and mind had already begun the fight over the Noosphere and realm of the digital against his foes. The Umbral Watch, his vigilant sons and adherents to their own way of the Omnissiah who wished to showcase that they were ready and willing to fight the worst foes of mankind.

Leading from her massive ship was the Trader Queen herself, given special circumstances for leading Mechanicum ships and adorned in the unbreaking cog of three, a blessing from the world of Mars itself and a showing of her decision to aid the Omnisihain faith in this, their greatest war. The Corsairs and their fleets of Rogue Traders bolstered by ships of the Mechanicum, they had their path and the confidence born of those who sailed the stars as their grand city Touroga led their way.

The Mechanicum themselves, led by the most holy of their Order, Kelbor Hal of Mars, who had called for all able sons and daughters of the Mechanicum to war, their greatest foes yet still lived, and the children of the Omnissiah needed to strike with his fury. The largest of the assembled forces, he had much to prove in this war, and he would ensure his victory however he could.

Other forces from across the Imperium lent their aid, from the Noble Sons of the First, to the great Huntresses of the Eighth Legion, members of the Astartes Legions would not be the only ones, as members from hundreds of the Imperial Army regiments would join in these endeavors, some already becoming legend amongst the Army, such as the brave last stand of the Cascadian soldiers on Ymir, many seeking their own legend or simply doing their duty, it matters not for in the face of true duty and honor, all of Mankind stood united.

But as it often is, the foes of the Imperium hide their true power and strike with a ferocity unmatched.
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The beginning of the advance was a simple affair, with the worlds of Hadanar and Protius as the first targets for the Imperial and Mechanicum advance.

The world of Hadanar was a terrifying vision of the Men of Iron's future should they not be stopped, the world that once was fully capable of housing life, now as an airless metal coated wasteland. While Protius was destroyed by the careless industry and mechanical destruction of the Men of Iron, it's seas were more chemical waste then water, the air thick with smog, the qualities that made life possible were being destroyed piece by piece on this world, it's future becoming like Hadanar.

This was something intolerable to the forces of the Skullbringers and Umbral Watch, so under the command of Legion Master Bo'Darn Uller of the Umbral Watch and Chapter Master Fábián Tamás, a force of the Imperium began their own advanced attack on the world of Hadanar, seeking to take care of one of the Men of Iron's established positions before the main fleet could arrive.

With a force of only Ten Thousand Astartes and no one else, the combined legion force would begin their assault with a barrage of ship fire upon Hadanar's orbital defenses, the suddenness of the attack combined with the falling debris caused devastation in the opening moments. This of course would not last as the Machine minds calculated a proper defense, and as such the landings and subsequent battles across the planet would become truly battles of endurance as the two legions forces fought the numerically superior force for every inch of land and advantage, in those long weeks, the chapters would grow close and learn from each others example, and despite the vast difference in experience, Bo'Darn would come to see much of himself in Fábián, both strong adherents in the Imperial truth and those who despite their talents in leading forces, found they would rather to work with their brothers directly.

Bo'Darn and Fábián would be honored in the campaign for their efforts in taking down the world mind construct of the world. Bo'Darn, being noted to have nearly lost his life at the hands of the machine, had the young Fábián not cut away the machine's weapons and allowed Bo'Darn to destroy the internal systems with his bolter rounds, the Umbral Watch would have lost a valued member.

In the end, despite the grueling battles and hatred of the machines, over seven thousand of the ten thousand remained, the world now in the hands of the Imperium and the remaining Astartes returning to their fronts, respect earned on both sides.

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The battle for Protius, would proceed much smoother than the battle of Hadanar, it's toxic air a familiar feeling for many Mechanicus soldiers and the Void dwelling Cosmo Corsairs. The lady Primarch Minerva would lead her forces to take this world, battling in the void for space supremacy from her mighty vessel and home.

The massive vessel battered away most planetary defenses, and while there were still losses of their smaller ships, the combined mass of the Corsair fleet held firm and delivered bombardments upon enemy ships and the planet below.

Aided by the efforts of Ohtecol of the Blood Jaguars, the Primarch Minerva would quickly establish areas of control on the planet, the Men of Iron's defenses failing them or being destroyed by the sabotage of the Blood Jaguars. These zones would become fortified beacheads for the Corsairs and Mechanicum as they battled across Protius's surface, using the dense mechanical complexes and their allies' own efforts to hide their true plans.

Like bolts of lightning in a storm, the Corsairs would strike hard and fast across the world, only staying in one area to help mechanicus forces break through the Men of Iron Lines, but otherwise kept moving, searching for known Warform types and duling them in personal combat away from the main lines. Over the course of the campaign Mechanicus reports would make mention of teams of Corsairs bedecked in broken Men of Iron body parts, taken as trophies of victory.

As for the Primarch herself, she had taken to her deal with Kelbor Hal with a zeal and confidence she is known for, she marched across battles, armor shining and blades drawn as she took on Mechanical warriors and horrors, Crescendo of the Waves would dance across metal bodies, slicing away their evil by the deft hands of Minerva, her movements unpredictable and far too swift for the mechanized minds to properly defend against.

Her greatest victory would come in the battle of Zeta-3, one of the world's major factory complexes, she would lead her daughters and several maniples of Skitari rangers to destroy it. Fighting against the factory overmind as it assembled a knight sized construct body, she would manage to destroy the machine, albeit with great cost to her daughters and many Skitari Rangers.

As victories continued to be gained, the Men of Iron would abandon the world, but not before great explosions would dot the planet, their remaining factories being set to detonate, with many Mechanicum and Legions forces still trying to take them being caught in the blast. While the losses were minimal in comparison to major battles in the past, many of the astartes were wounded in ways that could not be recovered quickly from or at all, leading to many becoming Interred into Dreadnoughts or being granted the Emperor's peace.
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But as the forces of the Imperium and Mechanicum struck their own blows against their hated foes, they would soon find that the Men of Iron are not a foe to remain idle with it's own war efforts. Reports would begin to flood in about new designs and alterations made in the middle of battle to their forces, weapons and technology that became clearer and clearer that it is of the Dark Age of Technology, used against mankind by the Men of Iron.

Kanzeq would be one of those first worlds to experience these new designs and weapons of horrible efficiency. At first the advance upon the ice-covered world was stable, Umbral Watch led by their Primarch and Legate Cordius Litorius of the Forth Contubernium, they had come to this world to destroy what was considered a Node for the Men of Iron's digital selves, a site where they could flee if their metal bodies were destroyed.

The first sign of trouble came when the Men of Iron unveiled what would become known as a Men of Iron Flamecallers, humanoid robotic soldiers that flew across the skies and unleashed great bouts of fire. Imperial soldiers fought Golem and Tri-Walker lines, the new Flamecallers acting as a hellish support in the same vein as their Destroyers, a hazard to any biological life they faced.

Alaric led his sons as best he could in these conditions, but his Legion was not suited combat on this world of Ice, only in the tightly packed manufacturing cities of their foes could they gain advantage, but getting to them was the issue, the icy wasteland was filled with their machines of war and untiring legions of metal.

Even with Mechanicus aid and the support of many Imperial Army forces, there were some areas that could not be breached by normal methods, a shaking of the ground interrupted Alaric's thoughts as Vox chatter surged forth, a new Man of Iron weapons had appeared, and it was doing battle with several of the Knight Lances on world.

He watched as the Knights of Zeon and of House DuFrain barely held off a massive warform in the shape of a writing worm like machine, it's bulk and weapons making it a devastating force to face in battle. Spewing out a thick smog and unleashing barrages of radiation weapons, it's very presence seemed to blacken the livery of the Knights metal, while it's weapons burned them.

The Worm machine was massive in scale, larger than a Titan, but clearly not as shielded, but one could forgive that at it's size, more akin to a Battleship of the Navy then an actual single machine, it continued to battle the Knights and massing Imperial forces that sought to bring the beast down.

Many Cybermancers in the camp already were in the midst of their binary chants to aid in the battle as they could, while camp defenses aimed back up guns and fired, missing the creature was an impossibility and every shot was needed.

Under the command of Alaric and due to the sacrifice of many of the Knights of Zeon and Imperial Army soldiers, the dubbed Men of Iron Nidhog would be destroyed. As the great robotic beast fell to the ground, Alaric could feel the ice crack and planet shake. And while he wished to be at ease, the world still fought against his forces, the Fourth Contubernium found themselves under fire, both in the tactical sense as well as the literial, as Flamecallers and another horrible invention joined the fray, walking energy cannons that were strangely magnetized, bending metal in unusual ways.

Legate Cordius Litorius fought bravely, but the defenses could only hold back so many of the Men of Iron, and the addition of these new weapons were testing the capabilities of the Fourth Contubernium, the timely arrival of reinforcements from Alaric would keep them from collapsing, but it was still a hard-fought conflict. Eventually the world would be won after the last of the Men of Iron forces had suddenly vanished, as if ghosts in the wind.

Battles such as the Kanzeq would be where even against the mightiest of odds, the human spirit remained strong, achieving victory from the bitter jaws of defeat. But both of these battles would not compare to Vultis, a system where it was learned that a great amount of the war bodies the Imperium have been fighting were forged from, taking out the world would stem their endless tide of metal and allow for further pushes into the Men of Iron.
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When the Imperium's forces arrived at the Vultis System, they were not greeted with the sight of a massive Men of Iron Fleet, no the defenses of this apparently critical worlds seemed on par with those of recently colonized worlds, ones that the great Port of Tortuga have blasted away alone, and with the combined fleet of two Legions, it seemed to all as unneeded show of force where other pressures can be had.

But to the Primarch Minerva, there was still unease, something she shared with her Brother on the Vox Links as their experiences with the machines made them wary of their tricks, their combined worry would be answered as a truly massive structure arrived in the system, a small Men of Iron Fleet around it. It at first seemed to be in the shape of a Crescent Moon. The forces of the Imperium knew not what this was, but would not wait to find out, orders were sent out for the fleet to move and begin an attack on the Men of Iron. the fleet of the machines remained still, firing from their positions with their own lance weaponry or magnetic missiles, but as they did so, the strange structure began to emit energy that collected metal from inside the ship, large shifting metal that was shaped into a large

The energy collected more and more metal mass from inside the ship and before a shaking force was felt by all ships. Once again the foursight of the Primarch had proven to save many lives, as the accelerated mass shot from the structure struck into Port Tortuga, carving away shield and layers of the ship, but far less then it would, had Minerva not sought to improve her home, other ships however were not as lucky. The burning metal tore through ships of the Imperials, Mechanicus and Rogue Trader alike, holes the size of buildings opened up across these ships, leaving them wide open for the fleet of the Machines to swarm in and destroy the near defenseless ships. Something the main fleet would try to stop quickly and spend much of the battle attempting to keep from happening.

Quickly devising a counter strategy, Alaric Quader would request vessels from the Corsairs to protect his own on an attack run to stop this device from firing again. The Corsair fleet bloodied, but not broken would lend what defenses they could to the attack on this massive structure, their ships protecting the Umbral Watch vessels as they made their advance, fighting off the bladecraft and Men of Iron vessels as the Umbral Watch began their own attack, lance fire and macro cannons fired upon the massive structure, Umbral Watch Cybermancers along with their Primarch father delved deep into the ships of the Men of Iron, trying to destroy their abominable pilots from within.

As expected, the crescent moon shaped structure contained many defensive weapons that would better suit being main weapons on a normal Imperial ship, Umbral Watch Cybermancers and Tech Marines began their own attacks to the enemy systems as the ships found the defenses of the moon structure.

Minerva and Alaric onboard of their own vessels would not be idle as their children fought, the two would direct their forces to take care of the Men of Iron Fleet as best they can, a task that seemed to grow more and more desperate as more ships started appearing from the void of space. Like beasts in the seas of worlds smelling blood, they circled and kept as much pressure as they could, for hours the battle continued, Bladecraft swarmed and macrocanons fired, battles in the physical and digital raged, but the Imperium fought on, even as the moon fired again and again, destroying many ships with each shot, the Primarchs did not give in.

But as soon as all seemed at it's lowest, the moon structure vanished suddenly, an emergency Warp Jump shifted the space around it and shook many ships from the dispersal of energy. This confusion allowed the Imperial fleets to gather and destroy enough of the Men of Iron to regroup themselves and find out what had occurred.

As the Umbral Watch Cybermancers finally regained themselves from their battles, having taken the designation of the horrible weapon along with striking against it's systems enough to force it to leave, bringing a great confusion to their forces still technically connected to the fleeing vessel. It was known as the Hammer of Eons, and it was one of five weapons made to destroy humanity and all it's defenses. Stowing away that information, the Primarchs quickly destroyed the remaining Men of Iron vessels still in the midst of confusion and took the world, despite much of it having been evacuated by the Men of Iron to keep from Imperial hands.
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In the end, this would be the first true indication of the War to be fought, all battles before were of both sides learning and gaining advantage. Now that battles have begun in earnest, and already things are clear. This would be the deadliest war in the Imperium's history.

SteelWriter77 · Nov 9, 2022

So...it begins

Yes, yes it does...do you have any regrets

Far too many to count...Will it work

If you can come back after facing the Men of Iron...it has a chance to

...So be it, they will hate me for this, but it must be done, I must fix my mistake

=====================================================================================================================

War grips the Imperium, as forces of all kinds gather and prepare, forces unseen move their own pieces across the board.

Will Mankind be victorious or will a new age of destruction be brought upon the galaxy

Time will Tell in this Age of Burning Empires.

Stats.
1. The Skullbringers
Leader(s): Adaam Primus
Ideology: Imperial Truth
Faction: Imperium of Man
Astartes Legion: 93,000/100,000
Astartes Navy: Greyskull, 9 Navy Groups
Auxiliary Army: 19 Battle Groups
Auxiliary Navy: 5 Navy Groups

2.
Leader(s): Savnok
Ideology: Imperial Truth
Faction: Imperium of Man
Astartes Legion:77,732/100,000
Astartes Navy: Battlebarge, 15 Navy Groups
Auxiliary Army: 15 Battle Groups
Auxiliary Navy: 6 Navy Groups

3.
Leader(s): Memnon
Ideology: Imperial Truth (Emperor Worship:3)
Faction: Imperium of Man
Astartes Legion: 79,005/100,000
Astartes Navy: Battlebarge, 17 Navy Groups
Auxiliary Army: 16 Battle Groups
Auxiliary Navy: 14 Navy Groups

4.
Leader(s): Myrmidia
Ideology: Imperial Truth
Faction: Imperium of Man
Astartes Legion:81,502 /100,000 (10,000 LB)
Astartes Navy: Battlebarge, 17 Navy Groups
Auxiliary Army: 5 Battle Groups
Auxiliary Navy: 7 Navy Groups

5.
Leader(s): TJG
Ideology: Imperial Truth
Faction: Imperium of Man (Five Paths)
Astartes Legion: 99,000/100,000 (6,500 LB)
Astartes Navy: Gloriana, 19 Navy Groups
Auxiliary Army: 17 Battle Groups
Auxiliary Navy: 20 Navy Groups

6.
Leader(s): Alaric
Ideology: Imperial Truth
Faction: Imperium of Man
Astartes Legion: 72,000/100,000
Astartes Navy: Battlebarge,18 Navy Groups
Auxiliary Army: 9 Battle Groups
Auxiliary Navy: 14 Navy Groups

7.
Leader(s): Minerva
Ideology: Imperial Truth
Faction: Imperium of Man
Astartes Legion:44,998/100,000
Astartes Navy: FM, 17 Navy Groups
Auxiliary Army: None
Auxiliary Navy: 19 Navy Groups

8.
Leader(s): Zyanya
Ideology: Imperial Truth
Faction: Imperium of Man
Astartes Legion:76,058/100,000
Astartes Navy: Space Hulk, 10 Navy Groups
Auxiliary Army: 34 + Titans
Auxiliary Navy: None

9.
Leader(s): Khaldeon
Ideology: Imperial Truth
Faction: Imperium of Man
Astartes Legion:98,000/100,000
Astartes Navy: Battlebarge, 20 Navy Groups
Auxiliary Army: 14 Battle Groups
Auxiliary Navy: 12 Navy Groups

10.
Leader(s): Ferrus Manus
Ideology: Imperial Truth
Faction: Imperium of Man
Astartes Legion: 98,000/100,000
Astartes Navy: Gloriana, 12 Navy Groups
Auxiliary Army: 7 Battle Groups
Auxiliary Navy: 8 Navy Groups

11.
Leader(s): Sampson
Ideology: Imperial Truth (Emperor Worship: 2)
Faction: Imperium of Man
Astartes Legion:199,689/200,000
Astartes Navy: Battlebarge, 11 Navy Groups
Auxiliary Army: None
Auxiliary Navy: None

12.
Leader(s): Varil
Ideology: Imperial Truth
Faction: Imperium of Man
Astartes Legion:50,499/100,000
Astartes Navy: Battlebarge,17 Navy Groups
Auxiliary Army: 6 Army Groups
Auxiliary Navy: None

13.
Leader(s): Foniás/Kólasi
Ideology: Imperial Truth
Faction: Imperium of Man
Astartes Legion:94,550/100,000
Astartes Navy: Battlebarge, 21 Navy Groups
Auxiliary Army: 4 Battle Groups
Auxiliary Navy: 4 Navy Groups

14.
Leader(s): Ba'al Hamon
Ideology: Imperial Truth
Faction: Imperium of Man
Astartes Legion: 84,763/100,000
Astartes Navy: 14 Navy Groups
Auxiliary Army: 16 Battle Groups
Auxiliary Navy: 25 Navy Groups

16.
Leader(s): Antheia/Soter
Ideology: Imperial Truth
Faction: Imperium of Man
Astartes Legion:93,500 /100,000
Astartes Navy: Battlebarge, 18 Navy Groups
Auxiliary Army: 4 Battle Groups
Auxiliary Navy: 10 Navy Groups

17.
Leader(s): Starscream
Ideology: Imperial Truth
Faction: Imperium of Man
Astartes Legion: 87,884/100,000
Astartes Navy: Gloriana, 13 Navy Groups
Auxiliary Army: 20 Battle Groups +Titans
Auxiliary Navy: 6 Navy Groups

18.
Leader(s): Ahurani
Ideology: ???
Faction: Imperium of Man (Forced)
Astartes Legion:27,873/100,000
Astartes Navy: Battlebarge, 10 Navy Groups
Auxiliary Army: 24 Battle Groups
Auxiliary Navy: 18 Navy Groups

19.
Leader(s): Bakiligi Yuvian
Ideology: Imperial Truth
Faction: Imperium of Man
Astartes Legion:93,983/100,000
Astartes Navy: Gloriana, 13 Navy Groups
Auxiliary Army: 13 Battle Groups
Auxiliary Navy: 10 Navy Groups

20.
Leader(s): Aurelia Verona
Ideology: Imperial Truth
Faction: Imperium of Man
Astartes Legion:18,197/100,000
Astartes Navy: Battlebarge, 19 Navy Groups
Auxiliary Army: 23 Battle Groups + Titans
Auxiliary Navy: 24 Navy Groups

Hyvelic · Nov 9, 2022

Darkness on the Horizon

The darkness clustered in the chamber, the sounds of birth and life grew increasingly and increasingly high, and as it did soon did the sounds of death arrive. Creatures that had once been Slaugh, or could have been misconstrued as Slaugh, were being given a new lease on life from the imprisoned souls sacrificed to the dark effigies of the Thirteenth Legion's Primarch.

The creatures were hideous, even by the standards of the apathetic Foniás. The creatures were small, although already they were growing more and more gigantic as time passed. The creature was a mixture of serpentine in shape, but fatty in actuality. This was not what made them hideous. No, that honor was for the head of the creature. Misshapen and malformed as it was, the face and head of the creature unmistakably were that of a human.

Foniás watched dispassionately as the creatures murdered each other for food and to assert dominance. They used psychic powers of a variety for more even duels, while the newborn was beaten into shape by the creatures in a physical sense. They were as violent as a man, and perhaps their psychic potential undoubtedly more.

They were intelligent, despite the initial introduction giving an impression of brutish creatures. They were smarter than most men undoubtedly, and twice as guile and cunning as a start. They claimed to be loyal, and the bond between master and servant showed that to be the truth. Yet, one could never trust creatures such as this, especially with their abilities, intellect, and reproduction rate, for they were already budding.

The most interesting thing yet, however, was their name. It was not given to them by the Primarch, rather, it was a name given to them by the oldest amongst them. The Flesh-Born they call themselves, and rightfully so. As the Primarch mused, their thoughts would be interrupted by a mortal human coming into the chamber with a large container.

Foniás watched as the Revenant servant began the process of the creation of more Uruk. Foniás continued to watch as they grabbed the contents of the container, more than a few soul stones, and proceeded to feed them one by one to the pit. The primordial sludge would pulse with a psychic reaction each time. It would also take several hours but soon the Uruk would be born. Child-sized at first, they would soon be growing to the full size of a man or smaller Astartes.

Several more servants would arrive, and begin to take the Uruk away to begin their training, their education on the state of affairs, and their exact place in the universe. It was a decently fast process and over the next few months, they would grow and improve in their disciplines.

Perhaps it was melancholy, perhaps something else, but Foniás would begin to have his mind wander. It was a quiet time, preparations were being made for the continuation of the plans set into motion, but did not require direct oversight yet. So, when given the time, the Primarch found its mind wandering to the other project that had taken up some of its time.

The Primarch remembered the arena in which the project had taken place. The closed-off pit within the depths of the crypt world. It was nothing more than a large room where there was a spot for members of the legion to watch from or intervene as necessary. They were closed off completely from outside forces and trapped the subjects inside with no hope of escape.

It was conditionally one of the hundreds throughout imperial space, upon Cryptworlds that had been, and are continued to be set up. The only difference was that this one was being used actively for a goal instead of passive containment or experiments of some kind. Inside gathered groups of Eldar children, a hundred or more, it did not matter. They were starved, beaten, trapped together, and given weapons. Some tried to escape, and their fates were worse than death.

Others ended themselves, perhaps the wisest of the groups. But the rest languished and starved and were destroyed mentally and spiritually. Until they learned the lesson they were supposed to learn. They learned in the end. They learned to kill, and it all started with him. The only one that grew into their new role with each kill. Dolofonía, as they would be named, killed more and more of their fellows, of their kind. The slaughter was bloody as it was senseless.

They lost themselves to madness and bloodlust, but that was to be expected. Now that they knew bloodlust and death and more they were allowed to learn from this experience. They were going to be trained soon, as things progressed the Primarch sought to see how they grew more and more into a machine of death, dedicated to only the Primarch and the art of killing.

When reports reached Kolasi, the twin suggested a different name, one more fitting a promising talent such as this one. So Foniás accepted the name without a care, and while they would still be called Dolofonía, it was no longer their name but the title granted to them. A new name was to be given to them to symbolize the start of something greater. The new name which they held was… Shayurun, of Stygian Petals

Princess_Hex · Nov 10, 2022

The Greatest Gift She Can Give

Written with: @Another Amoeba

The ships were returning to a full hangar aboard the Litany, as was normal. No amount of discipline could make the landing of several ships into a quiet and orderly process as a dozen different hangar crews did two dozen different jobs, getting in the way of people coming and going.

Varil had just arrived, standing like a beacon amongst the crowd. They parted around her, some from fear, but many of the Litany's crew had developed a kind of affection for her. It was the kind that kept Varil at arm's length, but it was no less fond because of that.

The one person who was normally here, and who did the very opposite of keeping Varil's at arm's length, was conspicuous in her absence. Usually, Ahurani was amongst the welcoming party. No matter how trivial the trip, she would welcome Varil back as if just seeing her again was cause for celebration.

It had been minutes without her.

Finally, the routine reasserted itself, as a voice came from the hangar doors. "Varil! Welcome back."

Ahurani's own progress through the crowd was slightly less effortless. Most people still made way, the respect due to a primarch. Some crew members she knew well, knew her well enough to duck around her without breaking stride. A few crew, who were hard to identify amongst the crowd, didn't bother to move at all.

Ahurani made it through quickly enough though and stopped in front of Varil, panting as if she had run a primarch length marathon. She wasted no time dragging her sister into a hug. "It's good to see you again."

"The same for you, my darling sister." Varil didn't make any action to return the hug, as per usual, though this time she had the excuse that her arms were pinned to her sides. "Does all go well?"

"Oh, yes. Better than well, actually." Ahurani pulled back, the welcome back hug much shorter than usual. "It has to do with why I ran all the way here from across half the ship. I am sorry I was late, but there were... well, you'll see. I have a surprise for you!"

"By your leave," Varil said in her usual way.

Ahurani knew well enough by now that that wasn't a dismissal so much as it was an earnest invitation. So she began to pull Varil through the crowd, then out of the hangar.

Their journey, with Ahurani setting a brisk pace, took them through the many halls of the Litany. Ahurani rarely walked in a straight line through her own ship, ducking into service hallways and taking unorthodox routes to reach her destination faster than those less familiar with the ship could. Some of her usual shortcuts were avoided, if she had to bend over uncomfortably Varil would be squeezed far more than Ahurani could tolerate, but they still made decent time.

They finally arrived at their destination, and it was familiar. It was the hallway just outside of Ahurani's private rooms; a short turn down a side hallway would bring one to her waiting room. Instead now, instead of bare wall on the other side, there was an inset piece of wall and a door.

Varil had felt it for a while, a fuzziness as her psychic powers dulled. It was similar to the feeling she had felt deep under the ice of Zamyat, though significantly reduced in intensity. It only increased as she drew closer to the door.

Ahurani stopped just outside, anxieties starting to run through her mind. She pushed them aside so she could look up at Varil. "You ready?"

"I am eager to see what you have brought me." Varil would have almost instinctively mollified some anxiety or given her sister guidance, but those thoughts of Ahurani's flowed through her mind like water. It was impossible to notice any particulars by happenstance.

Ahurani opened the door, letting Varil enter first.

The door led to a room of modest size, by the standards of its peers. Were it not for that, it may have been a decent recreation of Varil's own bedroom, just more modest in every way. Dark stone paneled the walls in a grid pattern, the gaps between picked out in gold, the floor was similar, though made to be more durable.

It was new, the smell of construction still hung in the air and the furnishings were not quite as lavish as they should be. Regardless, in this room, the grip of the immaterium melted away, replaced by silence.

The door clicked closed behind Ahurani. "I may never really fully understand, I think. I have never truly asked, for fear of hurting you." Her voice was low, with definite notes of nerves. "But I do know that the warp is something that you fear, that its influence is something you hate. So, I thought... if I could make a place that was all yours, where you could be free of it, if only for a little while. Maybe that would be valuable to you."

Love was the overriding emotion in Ahurani's voices, no amount of anxiety could temper it enough to make that unclear. "I had it fully tested, there are no side effects. I'd never have made it if I weren't certain it was safe for you."

Varil cast her gaze around the room. Her eyes were wide, wide enough to fill the slits in her mask entirely. And Varil almost lowered her guard as she would in the presence of a Blank, but not yet in something quite so new. In spite of those suspicions, she could hold herself higher, easier. Her voice was one of tremulous wonder "What is this place?"

"It's a room, made just for you." Ahurani squeezed Varil's hand as she walked by, stopping near the small table. There were a pair of chairs, and on the table was a box. "To use however you see fit, whenever you like. Where you can be safe."

"We tried to make it feel like home, though I don't quite have your eye for decoration. I was late because we had to put in the finishing touches as you were touching down. I'm sure in time you'll make something more of it."

"How? Is this the technology of those Xenos we met before?" Words that might have been a damning accusation when spoken by so many Imperials was simply filled with wonder as Varil spoke them.

"Mmhm, I snuck back and asked if I could have some." Ahurani was smiling now, a smile that was growing wider from seeing Varil's wonder. "Before you ask, the price was trivial. Some star maps, just the stars, and they want me to go visit a couple planets. How could that ever compare to making the person I love most in the galaxy happy?"

Varil could find nothing to say to her sister, no words, but she was on her in an instant. Her arms wrapped around Ahurani as she pulled her into a tight embrace. Her breath came with shudders and Ahurani had seen, just for a moment, tears welling up in her sister's eyes. Ahurani's wings had to flare out got balance under her sister's sudden rush, and she felt Varil's hands clutching at the fabric of her robe--holding on tight.

Not to be outdone, Ahurani found her balance and held on to her sister tight. "All I have ever wanted, was to find a way to free you from that fear. Even if only. sometimes. You deserve to be free."

"Thank you, sister." Varil didn't move a muscle. Even if it meant mumbling the words with her head facing away from Ahurani's ear, "I would hope you never entirely know how much this means to me--but surely you can imagine."

"Just from seeing your reaction, I have some idea." Ahurani nuzzled her face into Varil's robes. "I also made sure that you can take the room apart and transport the material, so you can take this gift anywhere you like." Despite her sincere desire to keep hugging Varil, there still was more. "If you want to check the box on the table, there is one more thing."

At last, Varil brought herself to pull back from Ahurani to visit the table, but she kept one of her hands interlinked with one of her sister's. With her other, she reached towards the box's latch. She suspected it was handmade, by the relatively simple designs.

Inside the box was a decorative gorget, made of the same dark stone as the walls. Like the box, it was simple, but sturdy. What decoration was present was designed to match Varil's robes, austere but gothic in nature.

"For when you can't just stay in your room." Ahurani came up beside Varil, looking into the box. "The effect isn't quite as strong, but it should help, at least. It kept the voices very quiet for me."

"I would have made a mask, but that felt too... personal. But if you don't like the design or want something else, there is a small amount of extra material to use. It's yours."

"Do you have such a thing for yourself?" Varil asked the question almost before she had a single other thought. Ahurani of course deserved this relief as well; she couldn't imagine anything less.

That actually seemed to stun Ahurani. "I... never thought of making one for myself. Not for any reason I guess-" She stopped herself short. "I guess it's still taking me time to connect myself to the warp as an idea. It must have slipped my mind."

Varil reached up, with her habitual care, and began undoing the latches that held her mask in place. Her smile was too broad to not be shared, she thought to herself. As she pulled it free, she turned her sunken eyes and pale-toothed smile upon her sister. "Then let me use that stone to prepare something for you."

Ahurani looked up, as if there wasn't a more perfect moment than this. "I would gladly accept."

Varil clapped a hand down upon her sister's shoulder. It trembled with life and excitement. "Oh sister, I find myself adrift in so many hopes; there is so much to do on account of this room, in my mind. And yet, it would bring me such joy to spend some quiet time with you in meditation, if you would join me."

It wasn't Ahurani's idea of a great time, but so long as Varil was there how could she refuse? Even the most simple of activities could be made special in the presence of her sister. "Of course, I will join you anywhere, any time, for anything."

"Thank you," Lady Varil stepped into an open space and slid herself down into a lotus position. One hand rested upon her lap, and another she held out beside her, to offer her sister. "It's so quiet. Sister, join me please. I feel like I must learn how to think."

triumph8w · Nov 10, 2022

THE SISTERS AND THE STAR
(written with @Another Amoeba & @Princess_Hex)

The Nemesis remained the same as all the other times the sisters had seen it.

The dark colossus remained as cold and menacing as ever, even with the fresh scores of battle-wounds upon its mighty hide, and its massive frame eclipsed the light of the systems star as the stormhawk shuttle angled in for approach to one of the Nemesis' many hangar bays. As they stepped out into the cavernous metal hold, it was to the sight of a hundred astares standing in a neat row, bolters clasped over chests in proper parade formation and lining the way to the door.

Standing to meet the Primarchs were three figures, each apart from the crowd and each other in their own ways. To the left was High-Commander Sonus, clad in his purple and chrome power armor he stood tall, examining the Primarchs from behind the curving single lens of his helmet. What he thought, what emotions poured from him was unknown: All Varil could feel was a haze of static, or at least it was the most apt comparison. Something that had always been the case since her first meeting with Starscream. Whether that same, depthless hate remained was impossible to tell.

To the right of him was the odd sight of Chief-Apothecary Inpulsa. Having sighted him only a total of five times during her visits–one of which was him clad in martian red–he was a rare sight, to say the least. Nevertheless he looked exactly the same as she had last seen him, clad in his deep purple armor, his las-cannon practically consuming his left arm, and his single eye whirring as he took in the sisters. His mind, from what little she unwillingly touched, was like a series of clockwork gears, ticking in motion together for eternity. What emotion leaked though that suite of gears was, at most, a mild curiosity.

Standing in the middle, and in front of the others, was High-Commander Hekktor, his handsome features only somewhat diluted by the gigantism that came often to astares. An easy smile was on his face, lighting up his red eyes, but Varil could feel the venom that seeped from him no matter how friendly his smile was. It pulsed from his every pore, swirling around him like a poisonous mist. Intense as his hate was, it was easy to nearly miss the same thrum that burned through most of the men in this room, if to a lesser extent.

"Lady Varil, Lady Ahurani," High-Commander Hekktor said pleasantly, bowing his head. "It pleases me to welcome you aboard the Nemesis. Please, if you'll follow me and my colleagues, we shall take you to Lord Starscream. And allow me to convey his apologies for not being able to see you in person: He is currently finishing off some important tasks before he is able to see you."

Ahurani curtsied, though it was as shallow as good manners would allow it to be. "Our thanks for the welcome, High-Commander. It is a pleasure to be greeted by three such august figures among Starscream's legion. Please, lead the way." Varil gave no particular reaction, and followed after.

The trio of Star Knights peeled away from the rest, and led the sisters through the halls of the Nemesis. For a minute or so they trailed through service halls and armories, briefly scraping past the more luxurious quarters of the vessel, before heading deeper and deeper, far away from the throne room where they had last met, and the upper halls of the Nemesis. The souls they passed decreased the lower they went, and the ceaseless, meaningless chatter of mindless pleasantry that came from Hekktors lips in a constant stream began to slow as well. Then, suddenly, the trio stopped outside an oak door, deep in the vessel that was ostensibly meant for the menial population, though none were in sight.

With a chipper smile, High-Commander Hekktor abruptly left, moving past the sisters while doing his best to touch neither of them. Sonus trailed after him with a deliberate slowness, he stopped at the end of the hallway, turning his head to look at the Chief-Apothecary. He titled it for a moment, then moved on, vanishing into the shadows. Of all the hundreds that greeted them, now only the cyclopian figure remained, the barest spark of irritation rusting the clockwork gears of his soul.

Reaching out with his free hand, he opened the door to reveal a wide room so vastly different from the vaguely rusting service halls they stood in. Made entirely out of the black marble that Starscream was so fond of, with a carpet of red silk covering most of it. A massive round table sat in the center of the room. Made of well cared for oak, it gleamed under the low lighting. Twenty one grand wooden chairs surrounded the table, each one bearing a high gothic numeral, from one to twenty two. The sole exception was the seventeenth, which was a throne of jagged obsidian much like the one that was in the Nemesis' throne room.

Sitting astride the throne, his head and legs dangling over the armrests, was Starscream. Paler than usual, his black hair was kept out of his face by a rough ponytail. His red jacket was thrown over his shoulders, covering what the skintight bodysuit didn't. With an expression of supreme boredom he threw a knife, watching it bounce around the room with a speed and force that would have been impossible for most people to achieve. It dragged itself across the roof, cut into the floor, before carving a thin line in his table as it made its final resting spot by his throne.

"Brother," Varil drew her arms up towards her chest, such that beneath her long sleeves and against her rippling robes they appeared almost to have disappeared. "Is it not quite like you to construct a meeting hall for us, and then bury it deep in the distant and unloved reaches of your ship? If I had to guess how you would build such a place, I could never have imagined a manner more characteristic of yourself than this. It is a pleasure to see you."

"I am glad to see you well, Starscream. The mood here is much different than before, more personal. I'll take it as a mark of trust." To Starscream she gave a bow, where his sons only received the barest of curtsies. He was worth trying to reach out to.

He glared at Varil, though without much true heat. "It gets a tad tiring shouting down at people." He said to Ahurani, before directing his gaze back to Varil. "I had this built long ago, not just for this purpose. Meeting. Whatever. The point is," he said with a wave of his hand, "that some privacy is the proper requirement when primarchs meet. Too many people could shove them into that throneroom. Which means privacy from concerned, chittering little devils who think I'm going mad!"

With a snarl, he snapped up the knife and threw it full force at Inpulsa. Being unpowered steel, it did little more than scratch the paint on the Chief-Apothecary's helmet as it slid on it, before impacting the wall behind him. The near-astares antenna shifted slightly, and he tilted his head before closing the door without a word. Bizarrely, instead of any expected emotion of anger or shock, the only thing that filtered through the clockwork gears was a vague thought about eldar soul-stones.

"Well!" Starscream said pleasantly. "Now that we're actually alone, how are you?."

"I am well enough, we have been busy but it's nothing that cannot be handled together." Ahurani smiled, relieved to not facing the expected wall of hostility she was so used to. "If anything, coming to see you feels like a relief, even if I know this is no vacation."

Varil's voice dovetailed smoothly off the end of Ahurani's sentence. "I find myself rather no more or less pleased than I was before. You must know I place little premium on privacy."

Starscream rolled his eyes, before he hoisted himself up to sit properly on his throne. As his feet hit the ground once more he planted his elbow on the table, and placed his fist on his cheek. "Yes, dear, I know that rather well." He said to Varil, his voice neither cold nor warm. His red eyes flickered to Ahurani, and he raised a brow. "I cannot say I can even begin to know how to parse the logic behind that statement, but…" He trailed off, then gave a light shrug. "Well, I, at least, am here to conquer and kill, all the usual things."

He took his fist off of his cheek, and pointed a finger at Varil. "And I need you to take care of a pest for me."

Varil craned her head to the side. Though the slits in her mask, her eyes narrowed. It could have almost been a gesture of indignation and being so addressed except that her tone contained no fury, all ice. "I presume it belongs to that intrusive set of problems in which my expertise lies."

Starscream leaned back in his throne, filtering in perfectly with the spiked monolithic obsidian. His own face filtered into something calm and cool, his red eyes flashing in the low-lighting as he placed his arms fully on the armrests. "I cannot think of a single thing more suited. "He said with something bordering on a smile.

"I appreciate the theatrics," Varil continued with hardly a shifted muscle, "but what exactly is your issue? To throw myself at a heretofore unknown threat is my lot as a crusader, but hardly an ideal manner to approach psychic dangers."

A frown filtered across his face, and he rubbed at his eyes with his right hand. "To be perfectly frank, well, you did not have to come here. I asked for some of your more psychically inclined, maybe a blank. I wasn't expecting you to simply toss aside whatever you were doing and make your way to this lovely corner of the galaxy. Well, you and your…"

He paused, looking at Ahurani as he idly waved a hand, as if searching for words.

"...sister. Regardless, it was–is, an artifact of the Dawi, or whatever those things call themselves. I killed their king, came to my ship and found a piece of the wall in his throne room sitting in my quarters. When I demanded to know why it was there, all I received was confusion. As, apparently, I had commanded it to be put there. Apparently."

He pulled his hand from his head, a sneer coming to his lips.

"I want it dead. It likely knows I want it dead. None of my men have caught this, and it has slipped past me. Which led me to the rather simple conclusion that your legion, deeply prepared on all levels to take care of such oddities as you have repeatedly told and demonstrated to me, might be the best contact."

The sneer faded, and he eyed Varil somewhat skeptically. "I am well aware of the depth of emotions you are prepared for, as well as the matter of fact explanations you may present: But I cannot say I expected you to simply present yourself like this. Travel the length of the stars and all that. This is, all told, a rather minor matter."

"Is it so hard to contemplate that we simply came to assist you, Starscream?" Ahurani almost sounded upset, but was masking it well if she truly was. "That the thought of you having to endure fighting out here with no support was enough to urge us to redirect our efforts?"

"We know that you are strong, that you don't need anyone to coddle you. I would never even contemplate seeing you as weak. But isn't it natural to want to support the people we care about?" Ahurani took a step forward, away from Varil. She was speaking as herself, not as part of a team. "I don't want you to feel alone."

"Every time-"

The words came out hissed, a strangled snarl dying stillborn in his throat. "You know, Ahurani, I think I can almost parrot you effectively. You say the same things, you wilted little flower. You are learning the psychic arts, yes? Learning. Not commanding a legion designed to kill every single thing that could possibly hold that spark of power." He fidgeted in his throne, seemingly unable to sit still, even as the only one presently seated. "Besides, I think there is some justified skepticism considering the last time it was Savnok and that bloody failure, Axinos. That ended in a funeral that should've been impossible."

"If I am consistent enough in my message that you can pre-empt them, then I really don't see why you act so surprised and upset. You did welcome me in, after all." Ahurani didn't smile, because it was unpleasant to have someone she cared for attack her, but she did at least feel more balanced. "Besides, I would hardly put myself forward as a candidate to solve your wall problem, but we do bring legions of trained warriors to help with the more material side of things."

"That Savnok abandoned you after what happened to Axinos is undeniable, but we are not Savnok. Still, I accept that you may have difficulty believing that we are here to help."

He drew back, tilting his head as he met Ahurani's gaze. "Because," he said in a quiet hiss. "Despite what some may say about a broken record's beauty, it is no less annoying in its faulty, defective nature. Predictability or no. I did not invite you in, I simply saw little use in shoving you out the door."

"Enough of this." Varil announced her motion to the table by tapping each of her nails against it once. It was a rolling, clicking sound. "If we will not have pleasantries, give me business. We have concluded our operations in the galactic center and west; to take ourselves east allows me to funnel resources back into the greater war effort while destroying these Dawi Witches. And, as a friend and a sister, I thought I might help you dispel this apparition, as you even requested."

Starscream leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "It was for one thing." He muttered to himself. Then, with a twitch, he uncrossed them and plastered a small smile on his face. "Very well, then. Business it is! You see, I have been here for…" he paused, looking up at the ceiling for a moment, before directing his gaze to the sisters once more. "Well, a significant amount of time. These bastards are on their last legs, but stubborn enough still. I was admittedly considering a withdrawal to the north, aid in the fight against those Dark Age beasts, but if you're here permanently…"

"If you wish to remain with us, by all means do so." Varil's voice continued on with its frosted edge. Of course, the trailing off, the implication, the practical invitation to pluck the conclusion from the air, it irked her. "It has been too long since I have enjoyed your company, my brother. I would most appreciate cooperation during the concluding months of this campaign, but power to you if you wish to strike north thereafter."

Starscream clapped his hands together a single time, before kicking up his feet and placing them on the table. "Well, that's gracious of you. I have so missed your own scathing wit." He said, voice bled free of any true harshness. "Though I do hear the Emperor himself may take the field against them, so I suppose we'll see how that business turns out." He paused, staring at the sisters a moment before he tilted his head. "Are the both of you planning on looming at the front door the entire time? I spent some effort on making this table and its seats, you know."

Ahurani ran her hands over the backs of the chairs as she went around the edge of the table. "They are quite beautiful. Did you make them yourself? I know you and Memnon are quite close, so it would make sense that you have similar hobbies."

"Just his." Starscream said pleasantly. "And, of course, hers as well." He gestured with a hand towards Varil. "The rest was simply a commission towards…well, I forget her name, truth be told."

"You really do show a much kinder side towards the people you have allowed close to your heart. I'm happy for you, that there are people you think are worth carving a chair for." It had almost assuredly meant to be an insult, but Ahurani didn't mind. She knew Starscream didn't like her, so why should she expect a handmade chair if they weren't all handmade? This was enough.

"If you will permit me the indulgence, I have another gift for you. It's not more cookies for you to send to Inpulsa for poison testing, I promise." Ahurani eventually arrived at the 18th chair, where she assumed her place would be. Her hands never rested on it back though, distancing herself from the concept of being the 18th of 21.

Starscream looked towards Ahurani, his face a mask of passive pleasantry. "Well, since you came all this way, I suppose it wouldn't hurt."

Ahurani reached one hand into her robes to retrieve the piece. "I appreciate your leniency today Starscream. I much prefer it to our previous talks. So, in the hopes that we can continue to speak more fondly to each other in the future, may I present you with..."

Her robes must truly have been voluminous, as not only did they hide Ahurani's body but they had hid the gift. It was a stuffed toy, a plushie, the kind people often slept with on their beds. This one was made to look like Starscream.

While it was clearly handsewn, the skill was clear enough that it didn't ruin the presentation. Some effort had been put into trying to make it look cool, more aesthetically in line with Starscream's normal look. Unfortunately, its creator was very fundamentally uncool, and that effort had been in vain.

"A friend, to keep you company. I even made sure to provide a zipper, in case you need to change the stuffing." The unsaid reassurance there was that it also allowed Starscream to search for listening devices, if he was worried about them. Ahurani used her hand to make the plushie give Starscream a wave, as if saying hello.

The Lord of the Star Knights looked to the plushie, at Ahurani, then back to the plushie. He opened his mouth once, only for it to clack shut seconds later. He raised a questioning finger, paused, went to lower it, then paused again, and it simply ended up hanging uncertaintly in the air. Finally, the wave of confusion seemed to leave him as he stared at Ahurani, his pleasant mask falling away to reveal confused exhaustion.

"This is worse than the cookies." He said quietly.

"Oh, Starscream." It came like a bucket of nitrogen to the face when Varil spoke up. She had moved to her place in the meanwhile, and sat with her fingers interlinked on the table, and her tone was absolutely impenetrable pleasantness. "I would hardly be so off-put. The Lady Ahurani has taken up a hobby. She gathered the materials herself. I myself am beginning a study of glass etching. Perhaps I ought to have brought you some of my own work, if I knew we were to be exchanging gifts."

Anxiety had been growing in Ahurani's eyes ever since Starscream responded. She suddenly looked across the table. "I don't think he likes it, sister. Have I made a mistake? I thought for sure he would like it." No insult or cutting words from Starscream could have prompted such a genuine plea. She turned back to Starscream, gently pushing the plushie forward. "You don't... dislike it. Do you?"

"Oh for the love of-"

With a serpent-like speed, a thin hand snatched the plushie out of Ahurani's hands, and planted it firmly on the oak table. With that done, Starscream leaned back in his throne once more, studiously avoiding the gaze of both the sisters while staring at the plushie with a vaguely confused distaste. After a moment, though, that faded. He gave a quick glance to the two sisters, as if suddenly aware he was outnumbered. "Well, if we're speaking of gifts…one of my subordinates cooked up something." His hand flicked across the throne, and a moment later the door opened and the Chief-Apothecary stepped in, seemingly having never left the hallway.

Starscream turned to Varil, even as the cyclops lumbered up beside him without a care for the other two Primarchs, and stood to the left of his throne. "You see, my Chief-Apothecary cooked up something in his lab and approached me about it. He is apparently convinced that he can…" The primarch paused for a moment, before snapping his fingers. "Trap the warp, as it were. Suck it in a container."

Without a word Inpulsa placed something on the oak table. As his armored hand returned to his side once more, it was clear it was an Eldar soul stone—but it lacked the subtle grace often found in such things, blood red and cracked as it was.

"Considering your interests…" Starscream shrugged. Then, his eyes flickered to Ahurani. "As for you, well, I suppose I must offer my apologies for my failure in perceptive planning. There hasn't quite been an ideal gift for you, yet."

"Your company is all I could ask for, no apologies needed Starscream." Beaming ever since her gift had been accepted, Ahurani finally took her seat to Starscream's left.

A bang rang out, and even the Primarchs took a moment to realize the box's lid had slammed shut as if of its own volition. It shot across the table until Varil caught it, and rested her hand protectively atop its lid. Suddenly, the Coldirons' Primarch spoke again. "What is this?" Varil's voice was somehow even, possibly conversational. "How does it function, exactly? How is it made?"

Starscream looked to Inpulsa, and the Chief-Apothecary took a single step forward. "It is a repurposed Eldar soul-stone, Lady Varil." He rumbled, his lone eye focusing on the sorcerous primarch. "Its function is much the same as the usual soul-stone. Despite what some studies have shown, souls do in fact exist. Their basic properties have much in common with the warp itself, so it is a simple endeavor to individually retool a soul stone. Make it so that instead of capturing the spirit of an Eldar, it focuses on the warp itself. A trap would be an apt comparison. However it is still in the prototype stage, and so I have only been able to retool already existing soul stones."

"I understand such stones naturally form on the Eldar Crone Worlds." Varil continued. "But this? Have you engaged the Eldar of late? How has it come into your possession?"

"We have not," Inpulsa said blandly. "It was captured in an engagement with the Eldar some time ago. The soul inside has been removed, with some mild adverse effects upon the stone itself."

"Honestly," Starscream said with a sigh, his face planted on his fist once more. "Questions, questions. He can make it, it's here, do you like your gift or not?"

"It still depends." Varil turned her gaze to meet her brother. "A great many things that might be done through technological means become abominable when accomplished through sorcery, and yet I sense Impulsa, being the bland sort of scientist to inform that souls 'in fact exist' as if I do not experience it as a continual facet of life, would not know of the second manner unless he read a tome on it. Nevertheless, care is a virtue."

"Sister, Starscream clearly wanted to give you something that may be of interest to you. That, at least, should be enough for thanks." Ahurani's tone was gentle, she would never do something like critique Varil in public. Still, if she got the satisfaction of a gift received then her brother should as well.

"Please," Varil did not turn to address her sister. "Any wise man must exercise such… vigilance when interacting with the powers of the Warp. Even the mildest of cantrips, if newly devised, would merit more scrutiny than I have demanded. Your heart swells with love of family, but I would have hoped you had learned this."

"Of course I know that the questions are needed. I would never ask you to be less careful. Only that you add some thanks, to acknowledge the thought behind what was given. There will always be time for questions, but the chance to show your gratitude for the generosity of others fades away faster than you think." Ahurani smiled, still riding the swell of happiness from before. "It is a small thing, but I know this is a relationship you care a great deal about."

"Cute," Starscream said, voice even. "But my Chief-Apothecary has duties other than delivering things for you, or answering questions you are more than capable of concluding yourself." Starscream gave Inpulsa a look, and the near-astartes bowed shallowly, before turning to leave. He paused a moment, tendril extending from his back to place Starscream's knife back on the table, before he lumbered out of the room completely, the door closing solidly behind him.

"Take it, or don't." Starscream said with a mild shrug.

There was a pause, and then Varil bowed her head. "Forgive me, Lord Starscream. It is always such a concern of mine that those I care for remain on a righteous path; even if such things might be best saved as inquiries and form letters.. Regardless, I am afraid you could have placed before me a jewel made of sunstuff and I would have gazed upon merely the second most worthy gift I was presented today."

Starscream gave a thin smile, reaching out to pluck up his knife with two fingers. He tossed it lazily in the air once, caught it with an equal amount of disinterest, then placed it into his jacket. "Well, since I've indulged your curiosity, you might as well indulge a question of mine. What was the first 'worthy' gift?"

"Why, I am sitting in it," Varil's eyes twitched upward in that almost-imperceptible motion that indicated her mask hid a broad smile, "Or has your disinterested, catty demeanor the one who carved me a seat at your table."

Starscream blinked, then lifted his head somewhat off of his fist. While not the devastating bout of confusion that was displayed quite firmly earlier, he seemed nevertheless quite taken aback at Varils words. He shifted in his seat, suddenly without words.

After one moment of silence too long, Varil continued. "You are my brother, and I admit that I have wronged you. Though the two of us may delight in the exchange of acerbic phrases, I am joyed to see that you would do such a thing for me."

The quiet continued on for a few moments, a small frown adorning the seventeenth Primarch's face. His eyes flickered to Ahurani once, then back to Varil before, at last, he let out a sigh. This was not like the others, full of dramatic vigor and hateful scorn. It held only a simple, tired exhaustion.

"Well," he said quietly as he reached into his coat, "Then I hope you'll forgive me for being a broken record, if for but a moment."

He pulled something small out of his coat, placed it on the table, and sent it sliding with a gentle push towards Varil. When it slowed to a stop it was clear that it was a necklace. Held on a chain of dark iron, the death's head mask of the Star Knights stared up at Varil with spiteful stubbornness. It was different from the legion medallions many within the seventeenth had. Those, more often than not, were clad in different colors, and almost assuredly made of superior metals. The one before Varil was made of simple, blackened steel and covered in numerous small cuts, and all the symbols of endurance over the centuries. It was small, for a primarch at least, and there was a thin line that ran between the medallion: Like it had been snapped in two.

"It was mine." Starscream said, carefully looking Varils way, but not directly at her. "From…" His gaze slid to Ahurani a moment, before returning to its carefully selected place of amiable nothing. "Well, from before the Emperor. I have no use for it anymore, so I thought someone might as well make use of it."

Varil took the necklace from its case and held it in her hand. She ran a finger along its battered face as if to memorize its exact shape, "Thank you greatly. And yet, at the risk of sounding as I did before, you have seemed to invite the question of why you have no need for this."

"It's an old thing belonging to a dead time, given to me by a dead man." Starscream said quietly, adding a small shrug to his words. "It was gathering dust, so I figured this might as well be a better use for it. Some things from the past do need…hm." He clucked his tongue. "Moving. After all."

"Be it so," Varil's hands found the clasp to the necklace, and she strung it around her neck. "I see it must have undergone repairs. Thank you, again. It seems to suit me."

ZealousThoughts · Nov 10, 2022

The Steel Peony

When something was being created it had to be beautiful, its function must marry perfectly with its purpose. A craftsman should be a person who can form what is necessary without removing the natural. This was the belief of the Han people and it was one that had caused no end of headaches on the latest project between the Warriors of Peace and the Mechanicus. Standing at odds with the need of much of the Mechanicus to preserve rather than innovate, to maintain rather than refine it had taken the Warriors some long time to find factions willing to marry their technology with the teachings of the Han. It would as no little surprise that the Magos who had finally agreed to the project had at some point been from the Prefecture itself.

That is not to say that Magus Zhangfei held the beliefs he was born to above those of the Machine God but rather that unlike many there remained the urge to improve, to adjust and to use ones ability to achieve the pinnacle. In his own body it had led to the Magos having walked further along the road of sacrificing his self to the machine god much more quickly than many of his peers. Indeed it would not be false to say that the man had managed to take upon himself more machine than had been seen by any of the Astartes of the Warriors of Peace, It was in this unlikely soul however that the seeds of a great project had been undertaken, a project which looked to explore the science of the Geller Fields and their ability to protect from the warp.

It was the belief of The General that a marriage of mechanicus and cultivation would lead to a path in which the talisman arts and the science of craft would allow for a refinement of the existing fields. A refinement targeted at two things, a strengthening of field and of protection that would benefit all aboard but particularly see the life expectancy of astropaths and navigators extended. A refinement which would help the furthering of Project Zhīzhū, a project which had see the deaths of some dozen talented sons of the legion as their trials had led them to a bloody death as Dark Qi over exposure had melted flesh from bone.

The discussions and arguments between Magos and Iron Monk, Tech Priest and Talisman Artist became the stuff of hushed discussion in the regions near the home of the Warriors of Peace. With civilians wondering at a possible cooperation between The General and The Mechanicus whilst others speculated at a great rift between them. Neither was in fact the whole truth but for Magos Zhangfei who had so long ago stripped himself of much of his heritage there had been a change as deep within his deepest sanctum he turned towards the marriage of the esoteric and the logical. Surrounding himself with a collection of notes forced from his vox synthesiser it was certain that none of the close tech-priests could make much sense of the noise filling the halls but had the ears of Aunty been exposed to the noise no doubt she would remember the tones of Mō Lì Huā disguising the scrape of tools as upon his purity the Magos carven the loops and curves of the cultivation fractals he had abandoned so long ago….

Mortis Nuntius · Nov 11, 2022

A meeting of opposites.

Descending down to Terra, the Primarch of the Eternity Guardians would see the grand construction efforts for the Imperial Palace, the foundations of which are being constructed around the current palace. Memories of his first arrival to Terra and the Palace, of it's winding golden hallways and occupants all working tirelessly to run the Imperium of Man as best as they could.

And now he was to meet with one such occupant, one who is considered a mystery to the people of Terra and even the Primarchs, Elias Dradmire, a Psyker of some kind who knows much about the Warp and who may be able to aid Savnok in own matters. His landing craft would arrive at the landing port of the northwestern landing terminus, from which he would find an escort of Sanctum servants, those who handle the day to day menial tasks of the palace awaiting him. "Lord Savnok, we were expecting you, Lord Elias has asked us to bring you to him, have you any requests for us before we take you to him?" The voice despite its soft nature was one that seemed well used to speaking to those far grander than their own humanity, something that makes sense given the proximity to the Custodes and Thunder Warrior guardians of Terra.

"Send me up to date schematics of the latest construction projects." Savnok requested brusquely but he would address everyone other than one of his own siblings in such a fashion and not all of them were exceptions.

"Of course Lord Savnok, we shall have that prepared for you as soon as you are done with your discussion, if you would follow me, Lord Elias awaits you in the eastern atrium sector." The diminutive Sanctum servant begins to make their way into the place itself, with Savnok close behind.

His eyes would wander slightly as they walked, taking in the sights of the Palace, the various architectural styles taken from all known Terren cultures and many unknown ones, specified by the Emperor and Malcador themselves, mosaics and pieces of art display pivotal moments in the Imperium's history, he sees with no shortage of his own pride, pieces of himself and his Legion featured in several, as well as newer ones depicting the latest campaigns in fine detail.

As they walked, Savnok would see several silent Custodes, watching from their positions, clearly having been tasked with protecting the palace as their armor and heraldry would denote this purpose. His gaze would not linger long on them as eventually his escort would stop, they both standing before the gates to the eastern atrium, they would bow deeply and walk off, leaving Savnok in front of the gates.

Entering them he would find something often hard to find on Terra and Stormgard, a verdant forrest of green, the sounds of insects and various birds could be heard as he walked. He would find the elusive Elias simply standing in the middle of the Atrium, his cloak obscuring his features and shifting as if in a slight breeze.

"Ah, hello Lord Savnok, you have arrived, now what is it you wished to discuss my dear boy?" His voice was slightly muffled due to his cloth, but Savnok could tell this person was one who thought highly of himself and was clearly more amused then anything else about being contacted by a Primarch.

"Lord Elias," Savnok greeted respectfully. "I wish for you assistence in gaining the resources and technical expertise necessary to construct a new warship, merging the firepower and endurance of a Gloriana with the speed of a cruiser. The intent of this ship is to venture into the void and investigate threats to the Imperium stemming from the Warp. Father has granted his blessing for such an endeavor and Baal Hammon has offered his technical expertise." The Primarch characteristically wasted no time in getting to the point.

"Straight to the point then, hmm very well." the robed man came closer to the Primarch, his features still hidden under his mass of cloth, though his poster seemed to indicate deep thought for several moments. "Such an marvel of engineering will need the aid of the Mechanicum no doubt, but on the matters of the Warp and such technology, I am able to help. But I will require something from you first lord Savnok.

He seemed to reach into his robes before pulling out a scroll of some kind, with an Imperial seal keeping it closed, the seal of Malcador's personal office. "There are two things I require before i agree to anything, first is the delivery of this letter to one Prosprine of Stormgard, a Favor Malcador has both paid back and asked of me in equal measure." Without waiting for confirmation he tosses the scroll to Savnok and continues his speech. "The second thing is…to tell me what you saw in the Warp, I will need to know what exactly you wish to fight as threats from the endless seas of the mind, and of course knowing what you know will help in keeping the Emperor's trust as i make sure you don't learn things unneeded."

Savnok's face was unreadable as ever but his tone was hard. "Prosperine is my granddaughter, what business does Malcador have with her? As for what I saw in the Warp, I spoke to the Emperor at length on the issue, if he did not share it with you there must have been a reason, I would need his permission to divulge such information."

"She has recently come into Malcador's interest for her work and simply wishes to see what can be done with her talents. And fine, I suppose I can figure it out with the nature of the actual ship as it is constructed, place the proper protections and ensure the weapons can actually pierce the beasts you wish to fight. Though i must say it is odd that you are so insistent on actively fighting the beings of the Warp, your father had told me he expected most of you Primarchs to be hesitant when it came time for that part of the plan, but what do i know, he's always been a secretive and unobservant sort, even when he should not be." Muttered the Robed man.

"Axinos is surely proof that absolute trust would have potentially disastrous consequences, but so too does ignorance of the threat. I need your cooperation, but you have just lied to me about Malcador's intentions and divulged more information that you should have about matters I need not know of. I must consult the Emperor before proceeding." Savnok turned to leave, "I shall return as soon as possible."

True to his word he did so and brought with him tidings of betrayal, horror and wonder. All laid out in his usual monotone without emotion.

"Ah I see, very well, yes i can make the necessary modifications to the vessel and add what needs to be done…of course this will have to be done by trusted sorts, can't go to the ship myself and see it be done properly. I assume your Sons have some competent psykers, if not then things may need to get complicated with bringing parts down to Terra for my personal work." Said the figure rather dismissively "And I do not Lie, Lord Savnok, many will say otherwise, I simply told part of a truth, not something you wanted to hear it seems, how dull. But besides the point I already have plenty of rune matrixes for the vessel in mind, you just need to get the frame and all the metal work done."

"At present the war effort is demanding maximum resources but I will make it happen." Savnok declared. "I believe in the longer term this threat is great than the Men of Iron or any other internal enemy. As for not wishing for part of the truth, the truth itself is relevant only in its consequences. The consequences for my grandaughter of Malcador's interest could be dire. I will deliver the letter but I will also seek out Malcador himself on this issue. You must have foreseen such when you offered your 'part' of the truth. It is my assessment you are a man who enjoys playing games, but people are not playthings."

"Oh dear Savnok, I don't enjoy these sorts of interactions, but i must bare through them, It is my curse to be the one who has to push those like you and your family to the right path, lest it all dies horribly and i have to find others to finish the work needed, you are right in that people are not playthings, they are far worse, predictable and foolish." His voice seems to trail off at that before refocusing "At least you are aware of part of the true threat, far more than others are, and still far too few for what is to come… If we are finished here Lord Savnok, i have work to continue, your Father's projects won't keep themselves from failing horribly, I will send you the instructions for what needs to be done for the ship, be sure that you follow the instructions to the letter and do not let the Mechanicum touch my work, i do not need the death of a Primarch to alter things more then needed." His tone is still dismissive and clearly done with Savnok.

"Understood." Savnok inclined his head and turned to leave. Pausing at the door. "Your garden, one day I mean to see Terra and Stormgard both host such a biosphere, and bring back the oceans. Do not let your own hubris endanger that dream Lord Elias." And with that he left.

"Heh my Hubris…i will never understand these Humans" laughed the robed figure silently as he pulled back his robes and let himself truly feel the breeze on his skin.

Age of Burning Empires: IC

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