Snaknaw Felltail, Clan leader of Clan Boneslice, Carver of the Thirteen, High Lord of His Hunger, the Corpulent, Holder of the fifth Seat, Greatest Head-Taker of the age.
The Emperor's Inquisition, despite having the backing of the Regent of Terra and the full resources of the Imperium available to the new organization, the secretive nature of their work required extensive screening and training for any potential agents and their forces, leaving their numbers low and spread thin across the Imperium.
Lady Inquisitor Lucretia Van Eckbert is a sterling example of this lack of true numbers, despite her own well suited nature to the ways of the Inquisition, but her own forces were remarkably bare. With permission to try and rectify this, Lucretia would travel the Imperium in search of those who would be of most use to her own missions involving the Skaven and other hostile hidden Xenos forces, from the Swamps of Nysa for their famed Ratcatchers or finding individuals in regiments of the Imperial Army willing to leave behind the life in the army for fighting in the shadows, to many penal worlds to receive expendable and able servants in exchange for a reduction in their sentence to forces technically under the command of Malcador and his order of those who do not exist.
These individuals would be gathered and put under extensive and often fatal training, the details of which fell under the dark umbrella of most Inquisition operations, few returned from what was considered "the Final Test" and the only thing any have said about it was that it took place on Death Worlds.
Lucretia, when not in person for these training sessions of her new entourage, began personal study of matters Malcador had seen fit to give her, what information he had of the Skaven and all data that had been censured by the glowing flame being of Stormguard.
While no new information could be gleaned from the flame being, the information Malcador had on the Skaven revealed many worlds with known Clans and the conflicts with them, information about their biology and what could be extracted from interrogation. It would give her a baseline to use on her own investigation towards a world of particular note.
The world of Vadorox I was a world nestled deep in Pacificus, a simple industrial world that Lucretia would never learn about had they not had a large concentration of a prolific clan seemingly found in all sections of the galaxy to some extent. Called Clan Boneslicer, they seemed to be her best bet of capturing leadership due to the extensive conflicts with an apparent "Clan Leader" who had recently been causing issues.
Once her forces were at a level acceptable for her standards, they would set out with a clear plan to capture and deal with the threat to this world.
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The first thing of note about Vadorox I, was its high mountains and steep cliff faces, a craggy world where the cities and manufacturing plants were built where they could fit and in perilous angles. Presenting the planetary governor with her Inquisitorial seal and ordering the whole operation be kept quiet, something the bloated stammering mess could do. Lucretia would order one of the largest facilities to be emptied after a full shift of hard labor, the deep rumbling clear to draw in the Skaven and their recently sighted leader.
Clan Boneslicer was an active raiding clan upon the world, appearing periodically to attack the factories and manufacturers of supplies, their frequency during times of high production meant that Lucretia could force them to come to her and allow for an entryway to their caverns below.
It would not take long for a crack in the floor of the main room of the factory, as a massive drill head broke through the floor and a teaming mass of Skaven poured out, clad in tattered rags and wearing bone charms of some kind, a massive hulking creature known to the common Army Soldier as a Rat Ogre crawled out of the put with the drill as a crude attachment on it's hand. But none of them drew the Inquisitor's eye like the leader of the Boneslicer Clan, Snaknaw Felltail.
Snaknaw Felltail appeared as the reports had stated, a corpulent Skaven clothed in rags and sheet metal, wielding two massive cleavers with ease, and covered in what looked to Skaven bones as a crude armor where sheet metal could not cover.
The strange chittering language of the Skaven was clearly confused by the lack of workers, but Snaknaw barked out what seemed to be harsh commands that forced the smaller and less armored Skaven to collect the materials, both finished and unfinished from the factory line, Snaknaw seemed to be speaking with a several well armored Skaven, their weapons sparking and made up of scrap.
With a simple movement of her hand, the trap was sprung, Photon Flash grenades were flung into the empty room which went off and caught the rats by surprise. The blinded Skaven were either mowed down by bladed weapons or las fire as the Inquisitorial force charged, Snaknaw screeched out in rage and pointed with his cleaver weapons, causing the Rat Ogre to charge forth, crushing Skaven and Imperial soldier as it rampaged.
Seeming to sense the danger to his person, Snaknaw fled into the tunnels with his remaining forces, prompting Lucretia to follow with her own personal force, letting the rest of her force handle the Ogre and the other Skaven.
However entering into the tunnels was no simple task, every tunnel seemed to hold hundreds of Skaven and many turns introduced new kinds of Skaven horrors. Grey robed horned Skaven Psyker weaved complex power and inspired the Skaven Warriors to fight much harder than before.
Makeshift workshops where some twisted parody of Mechanicum like cybernetic Skaven fought with strange and deadly weapons, either a part of their body or something they gave to the many teeming hordes.
Lithe Skaven warriors fought to keep Lucretia's soldiers away from what was clearly the Brood Dens of the Skaven, ferocity and teamwork unusual for Skaven kind, but considering the nature of the Brood Dens, it was understandable.
But eventually she would catch up to Snaknaw's path and what she found would change how she perceived the Skaven, for while she was aware of their rather complex nature of politics given how many dwelled on Stormguard and just the general information Malcador had given her. What was before her was a massive complex, ancient and clearly not human, parts of it ripping into space around it with horrible green tears in reality, the very air was thick with the smell of chemicals. Numerous Skaven gathered near the exit, Snaknaw on top of a truly gargantuan monstrosity."Eat..EAT" he said in poor low gothic, but the chant began by the thousands of hungry eyes before her.
What she saw next…she would never speak of, but a great green eye looked down at her from behind the Skaven, Hunger and Spite at her very being and a twisted voice spoke in her mind.
"Come, let yourself be devoured."Spoke a billion voices as one.
The retreat was not ordered, but it did not need to be, those who did not retreat were overwhelmed by the sea of furred bodies as they ripped apart metal and flesh. The sounds of the Skaven horde were always just behind Lucretia as she ran, exiting out of the tunnel and hastily grabbing a rocket launcher from one of her soldiers.
Aiming the rocket, she launched it down the tunnel and into the set charges and collapsed the tunnel entrance, crushing and burning the black furred horde. This seemed to have stemmed the tide of Skaven and with a decent number of captured subjects, with only a quarter of her original force having been lost to the tunnels, Lucretia left Vadorox I with a message to Lord Malcador about sending word to an Astartes force or Army regiment to properly clear out Vadorox I as their main Clan has been weakened through her attack, and informing Malcador further of the…Event.
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Despite the failure to capture Snaknaw Felltail, the capture and containment of the soon to be named "Grey Seer", "Warplock Engineer", "Broodguard" and "Stormvermin", along with at least one still transportable Skaven Broodmother, Lucretia had what she truly wanted, a grouping of important figures to the structure of a Skaven Clan to be examined and interrogated.
Upon her ship, none would ever say they heard the screams of xeno's creatures, nor would they ever talk about the methods used to create such screams. Such was the feeling of the ship as they entered the atmosphere of Cyclonis and prepared the Inquisitor's personal laboratory for proper examination, curiosity eating at her mind about what she saw on Vadorox I.
"Jesso, take a note. Ogryn excavation equipment for future pursuit and tunnel clearing operations." Lucretia Van Eckbert dictated as she laid down covering fire with her Laspistol.
"Ye-s…maam." Was the strained reply from her aide.
"Without the attitude please Jesso, it's beginning to become draining." Lucretia admonished.
"Apologies…Maam." Jesso grunted, drawing composure from somewhere as his blood flowed down the Lady Inquisitor's power armor, it hardly made a difference at this point given all the muck and gore already present but it was an indication of how hasty this hasty retreat would need to be for her not to have to induct a new aide, it was definitely going on his previously unblemished record.
There was plenty of that going around as operation's final exploitation phase continued to develop not necessarily to the Inquisition's Advantage. A billion screaming, feral rats pouring across time and space to murder the massively outnumbered human incursion into what was a gigantic and fascinating labyrinth city was an unexpected complication. Still Lucretia had learned a long time ago that with crisis came opportunity she just had to find the opportunity here.
That had been her first thought upon seeing the doom of mankind in the fissure in materium. The raw malice and power inherent to that voice, it had stirred something in her. A burning hunger to match it and surpass. But Jesso had had more grounded considerations on his mind and swept her up in his arms carrying her protesting and shooting all the way back through hundreds of meters of tunnel. Only stopping when she had pointed the laspistol at his temple.
"Here and no further." She had commanded in a tone that left no doubt to her next course of action if denied.
With admirable reluctance he had conceded and helped her literally physically hammer a rough firing line from the retreating operatives, at seven foot tall and muscles worthy of a Space Marine he was quite good in such situations.
"We need to buy time specimens to be extracted. Every second we buy is another second they are closer to the surface and the billions of lives they will save there. Knowledge is a power greater than any filthy rodent Xenos and soon it will be ours!" She had promised, guaging the effectos of her words. "Who Am I?"
"I am a Warrior!" The first shout was ragged, the second, third and forth grew in strength, by the fifth the first rank of the salvenating skaven was met by a wall of Ceramtie armour and Iron will.
But there had been a thousand ranks behind it and even the Imperium's best could not triumph over such odds for long. Of the sixty operatives she'd rallied fifteeen- a terrible scream - fourteen remained, fleeing through the tunnel towards the promised if likely false salvation of the surface.
"Leave me." Jesso advised. "Slowing you down."
"And wasting my time with stupid comments. If it was in my interest to leave you I'd have done it already, please do not insult my intelligence Jesso I am a very spiteful person, just wait until you see what I have in store for these vermin."
He wisely kept quiet after that, he did have the germ of a point though, they were not going to make it at this rate, she'd already written off any hope of ordering a last stand to buy time for her own escape, she had no doubt about the courage of her operatives but gallant suicide would buy her seconds at most, she needed at least minutes. Sometimes if you wanted something done right you had to do it yourself. She'd learned that lesson years ago but reminders came about frequently, currently in the form of a discarded Missile Launcher.
Lucretia would have come to atheism naturally even if she had not been raised in the Imperial Truth so she offered no prayers, but it was something of a relief to find that it was loaded with a concussion missile rather than Krak or Frag, neither of which would have suited her purposes. Even in power armor utilizing a missile launcher and carrying an exceedingly heavy casualty at the same time was beyond her.
"Do not get your hopes up Jesso, you are not dying down here." She informed him as she took aim.
His response was drowned out in the roar of the backblast, the missile soared above the heads of the retreating members of her retinue and the teeming horde of their pursuers and detonated against the roof of the cavern. She tossed the launcher aside and picked up the marginally more useful burden instead emerging from the wreckage into the organized chaos of a cordon and casualty clearing operation.
Removing her helmet revealed the wide smile that had occupied her face since first laying eyes upon the warp rift. On days like today it was impossible not to love her vocation. Jesso's own features were contorted in agony but she was pleased to note it was not enough to conceal that he shared her feelings. She was glad it had not become necessary to abandon him to be devoured, she indulged in the rare sentimentality for a single moment before leaving him on the ground for the medics to deal with. She had her own surgery to perform.
A rite of burial from Kamish where a person is buried along with the seeds of the world's native flora to serve as fertile ground for new plantlife.
Across all of mankind's worlds, one of the few things all know is held in truth by all humans is the concept of death. Rich or poor, young or old, death comes to everyone. But to the thirteenth Legion, death was more than just the end of life, it was the end point of a person's entire history and a natural state that all must respect. None was this more apparent than in the second of their two Primarchs, Kolasi who had been unknown even to his Primarch kin, held a deep and profound respect for the natural order of life and death, and in his newfound efforts to learn more about the Imperium and lend aid where he could, he sent out Astartes to learn about the funerary rites and culture of Death in the Imperium.
These silent servants of the Primarch went across the Imperium to document the burial rites of thousands of worlds, from the primitive rituals of Feral world inhabitants, to the complex and mechanical rites of the many Forge Worlds. From these travels the Revenants saw the depths of humankind's relationship with death and to many this earned them the proper title of the "Emperor's Angels of Death" in contrast to the Wardens "Angels of Mercy". Their dark armor and presence earned a sort of macabre comfort to those about to pass, a grim reminder that death comes for all. But when they decided that they had gathered enough information, they returned to their Primarch who quickly began to read through the thousands of different rites and cultural practices.
After three weeks of research, Kolasi put down the last of the scrolls his Astartes had written and picked up his own quill. The process of writing down a combined and all encompassing burial rite for Imperial Soldiers in the midst of battle across all known battlegrounds and against any kind of condition. This book would contain millions of rites and practices for any kind of situation and allow for the dead to be given the proper respect in whatever culture they hail from.
Named the Book of the Dead by the Primarch, he spread across the Revenant auxiliaries and through little encounters with other Army groups or forces belonging to other Primarchs it spread like a wildfire. Kolasi, who only a few short years ago was unknown to the Imperum and the name of the Imperial Revenants only inspired fear, now had an edge of respect to those who understood the place death had in human culture and to those who lost their family to the Great Crusade.
Pleased with the success of his work, Kolasi quickly took to the pen and created other works of philosophy and education about the differing cultures and the similarities between worlds of the Imperium, all of course not even coming close to the popularity of the Book of the Dead, but would further stabilize the image of frightful scholar of death.
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Far from the shadows of death, the work of the followers of the Five Paths continue to spread the ideals of the Jade General and teachings of Chi usage. Their newest step was to begin the process of teaching those who have found the paths favorable and intended to learn more.
But to do this, they needed locations to teach the acolytes from across the Imperium. As such the establishment of Monastic Brotherhoods began on many worlds, open to any and all who sought to achieve enlightenment through the Paths. The creation of said schools was an arduous task on several worlds due to the confused nature of what Chi users were to the Imperium, but on many a Feral World and Death World, the Brotherhoods were established and created.
But the main goal was not just for the Imperial citizenry and Army to gain from these teachings, an open invite was sent to all Legions so that they may learn from the Five Paths, with some members from across the legions expressing interest, the largest group being all members of the Argent Hammers Chapter, once part of the Lightbringers, now a Fleet based Chapter endlessly patrolling the Imperium.
Of course the establishment of these Brotherhoods rankled against worlds with a vendetta against "Witches" and divisions would soon become apparent between regiments who have partaken in the training of the Brotherhoods and those who shun such things. Time will tell where these actions will lead.
In a cramped office overseeing the grand mountain tall statues of the God-Emperor, the Sigillite, the Primarchs, and many more Saints, a stern woman with a cybernetic arm sat, writing and filling out piles of paperwork and forms. Here was a woman of iron duty and staunch loyalty to the Imperium and planet which she was born into. She of faith in the righteousness of its cause to restore the peak of humanity, and who beheld honesty to a fault. A trained citizen through and through under the cloak of His Great Crusade which she had joined.
Her ancestors had served in the defense forces of Barghast ever since its colonization by Azulians under the vigil of the Gryphon, each then moving on into mobilization for the battles on other planets as they became a Triumphant. She herself had trained in the officer schools that were set up, and then led companies within the tithed regiment, fighting against the northern Eldar in multiple campaigns, always managing to eke out the survival of her battalion among the deaths of millions, even delaying demobilization to pursue further victories in the name of the God-Emperor, as they followed after the Ninth.
It was with a standoff against a wounded Eldar swordsman that she had lost her arm, but they in return had lost their life against a round of her plasma gun. And so after a decade of hot headed but earnest service and still with her life in hand and ahead, she decided the time had come to lay down the barrel of her gun and head into administration now cooled. For multiple years since, she had worked in the local Munitorum to supply the troops of her homeworld and made sure they were adequately equipped.
So when the door opened, and one of His Angels stared at her she was more than surprised, she was mind numbingly terrified. Here stood an armored giant of red and silver with a pronounced hood of cables connecting to its avian shaped helm from its inner cavern. This Angel was cloaked with a great pelt of some furred beast as its forearms and claws were tied in some manner of a knot, and adorned with bones on loops or armor with inscribed items of arcana, a drinking horn, and weapons holstered at its side. They were carrying a stave of wood and dull metal with the idol of an eagle with open wings and a crown of thunder bolts carved out of its top. The Legionnaire exuded a presence of groundedness that could nullify lightning, and then focused an intense sight on her with its lifeless helm and the blank lenses.
Kaljan's terror then became crowded as she additionally felt a sense of vertigo and a great unease developed, for she had never been at the opposing end of a Space Marine, especially that of the sovereign Legion which wings Barghast was under. Worries and hypotheticals swarmed her mind, had she done or said something? Her entire life she had nothing but devotion, the ramblings of her mind unraveled.
And then he spoke. A gravelly voice from a lifetime of breathing in fumes as a tender of the oracular hearths.
"I have followed the cracks within the bones in pits of flame and ash, the gleaned messages from the entrails of sacrifice, and the scrying of lightning in the skies of molten Azul. I had even resorted to the Tarot of the Emperor. They have all communed the same and led me here. Cast your doubts away mortal."
Kaljan did not, nor could not speak, stuck in the conflict of fear and awe as she was.
"Under the commands of my lord-sire, I and other of my kin will decide the future Governors of all systems in his assembled territories. If all my paths point here for stewardship of this planet, then so rightly, you will be tested. Do you accept the call?"
She only nodded, letting out a croak of, "Yes", as she clenched her shaking fingers. The thoughts of refusal not once coming to her mind, only knowing that whatever was asked by Him, she would accept.
"Very well." The Marine raised his gauntlet and placed it on his helm, gripping into the grooved sides, steam hissing with its removal. A grizzled face with one side of his face mauled with deep lacerations, revealing a stone eye prosthetic of lapis lazuli with a carved hexagram in a lidless socket, glinting at her. And then his remaining eye glowed bright with the powers unknown to her.
When she brought up the courage and looked him fully in the one eye of his, her body was cut loose as it dropped back to rest on her chair, but her mind, her mind ascended. But not to some haven of grace and bliss, but into a realm of brimstone and anguish.
A swirling realm of ego and personalities, of chattering manifestations of demonic evils, herself only represented by a small bright light in the face of an endless dark sea. There were no angels here, nor God-Emperor, it was only herself and the unending, as she was pushed from all sides, and resisted every attack against her. Bloodied but unbowed.
It felt like eons, this endless war. She felt ever tired but also energized, and the battle continued on for so long a time she began to lose grasp of its movement, only focusing on the pursuit of her existence. Memories became lost with the passage of time, yet there was only one fundamental truth that remained, she would fight.
Then she awoke. Thrust in her face was the Athame.
"I ask of you for one final task, would you die for this Imperium? For ideals, not for glory or reward, but only for what it promises that which even is unknown. For honor?"
Alzen Ledith was a senior Thunder-speaker, trained in the rare art of Biomancy, of which he had considerable talent in healing, calling upon the bioelectricity present to knit wounds of great severity among his brothers in the battlefield.
And so when Kaljan made the choice to slit her throat with purpose, slumping as the blood sprayed with her cut jugular, Alzen nodded as the blood blended with his armor. She would serve. With whisperings to the rites of his forebears, a crackling azure light filled his palm and stretched to his fingers before exploding out and hitting Kaljan.
Her mortal body wracked with the arcane electricity, but death was denied, for her slit throat grew flesh and vein anew, leaving only a scar as a reminder of what she had done. Her eyes fluttered open as she did not move and looked back on Alzen.
"You are successfully His chosen, many have fallen but you are of the few to rise. The Barghast system is yours to govern, the Imperium and Gryphon Space will be watching you closely now."
Alzen walked out, stopping midway between the door, he looked back. "Best of luck Governor."
Imperial PDF Infantrymen of Monia fighting against Rebel forces
The space of what was once the Tri-Star Federation was a relatively unstable area of the Imperium, work continues to pacify the worlds and finally execute the rebel forces still fighting a pointless guerrilla war. Few Astartes were truly needed for such a thing, not while the purges burned through their beloved Hellenic League, but Keteus and his Brothers were given their orders by their father, to keep watch over these stars and strike the impurities that dared to threaten the Heavenly Father's Imperium.
Of course despite his own efforts the many rebel groups continued to proliferate and fight on, utilizing their horrid Xenos weaponry and through traitorous actions of those hiding in the pacified regions, they fought against the occupation forces. Keteus and his Brothers, mighty as they were as Astartes, could only be in some many places, even the aid of the many teams of the Umbral Watch's Culter Dei was not enough to cover all the areas needed. So it was fortunate that new aid would arrive quickly, an aid that would make worlds weap in fear.
The skies on many worlds would darken as vessels a crimson red appeared over their horizons, woe to the traitor for the Crimson Lords had come, dropping armies of their red clad soldiers and their brutal Astartes to begin a campaign of terror on the rebels.
To those of the Federation, it was a revelation that many of their prior military dreaded, they had hoped that the reports of this particular legion were just fear-addled minds speaking of horrors too inhuman to come from a supposed "Bastion of Humanity". But the Crimson Lords would soon demonstrate the truth of the Imperium's ruthless intolerance for those who will not comply, led by Posid Axiun, the Crimson Lords reaped a toll on every world they stepped upon utilizing the High Champion's battle plans targeting rebel groups based of a classification of either led by those of the Federation's military or political leaders. Regardless of whatever distinction he made, the end result was often the same as the rebels who did not die in battle were brought out to the streets and had their broken bodies paraded to the public as an example.
Many guerrilla groups still fighting on their worlds begged out to the stars for something, anything to come and deliver them from the brutality of the Crimson Lords and the tyranny of the Bronze Shields.
And unfortunately, such begging pleas to the stars would be answered as reports would begin to flood in for both groups, reports of ships exiting the warp around the worlds of the Federation.
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The attacks were sudden and without any context or sense, a sign of madness or of a specific foe the Imperium as long since battled. It would become clear that the Orks have launched this attack, their patchwork vessels raiding across the space and nearby worlds not connected to the area of space once belonging to the Federation.
It would not be until the Orks gathered over Zarahemla, one of the worlds having been most successfully pacified and brought into compliance of the old Federation, that the Imperials would know the name of the Ork leader rampaging across their worlds.
The captain of the defensive vessel utilized for overall command, opened communications with the Orkish flagship, intent on finding out what sort of Ork they were dealing with. "This is Captain Erik Rathelson of the Imperial Army, speak Greenskin so that we know the name of our foe."
A rough and brutish voice answered, the Vox link crackling as the machine spirit held a connection to the ramshackle vessel of the Orks." Hehehe So formal 'Ummie, youse got a Stik up ya arse HA. I'z just havin' a laff, I'z Grimgor Bonetusk and dis is my world HEH."
The communication was ordered to be cut shortly after, along with a order for all vessels to fire on the encroaching Ork fleet, the battle over Zarahemla quickly showcased this particular ork warlord's style of warfare, a somehow stable random assortment of Ork tactics, one battle may see at least four different methods used over it's course. And yet somehow it did not clash or conflict anymore than normal Ork tactics, this had frustrated many of the Imperial commanders fighting planetside and against their fleets.
Garish coloured Orks looted and broke apart worlds like Fermi and Iron's Stand, the local PDF being overrun by the Orkoid threat and their mad sporadic tactics. The forces of the Crimson Lords had to go on the offensive, stopping their campaigns of terror on the rebels to focus on maintaining hold over the worlds and battling the rampaging orks.
Posid Axiun would find himself working closely with Aphel Blackhand of the Culter Dei in these days, both against the Rebels and the Ork raiders, they would find much to discuss about culture and philosophy during the lull of battle, and while in combat preformed like true exemplars of their legion's styles of combat, facing off against many Nobs of the Greenskin forces and slaying them in personal combat.
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On the battleship "Pride of Andia" Keteus received yet another report of a Ork attack on Monia, the defenses holding on the main cities, but the wilderness now overrun with the Squig Beasts and self proclaimed "Sneaky Gitz" of the Ork forces.
Despite the difficulties, it did seem the initial attack had lost it's momentum and now they were simply raiding what worlds they could, things that could be driven off and defended against. But the issue still remained that the ork menace was a threat, Aphel Blackhand and Posid Axiun both had proven their effectiveness in leadership of their forces against the Orks, but it was not enough, more fleets of Orks arrived by the day.
The true worry was the reports on the leader, Grimgor Bonetusk, in all accounts of Freebooter Orks, their incursions were made up of other Freebooter crews in a massive fleet. But these Orks seemed far more ramshackle and put together hastily than a truly unified force, he dreaded to think of what kind of beast could bring all of these Orks under their command in such a short time, even by their kinds standards.
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Joraal Wynar watched as another of his soldiers exploded into gore from the shells of the Astarte Warrior, their sacrifice giving way for his own axe to find its mark in the leg joint of the giant ,cutting deep and bringing the beast closer to the ground. Joraal had to keep all his focus on his weapons as the familiar pang of fear threatened to overwhelm him as he stood close to the crimson specter of death.
His distraction offered his soldiers enough time to fire their bolt weapons into the back and side of the giant, the bolts piercing the armor and clearly wounding the beast. But still it fought, punching away Joraal and ripping out the axe and bolts as fast as it could. But was not fast enough before the bolts activated their puls matrix and sent vast amounts of electric current into the monster. Smoke and the smell of burnt flesh wafted across the air as the beast collapsed to the ground after a moment of minor thrashing around.
The Tarellian had lived a long life of war, fought many times for and against the Tri-Star Federation, they had his pack's respect as well as his own, when the Zadar had called the Tarellian packs to aid, Joraal answered to fight this Imperium. But even now he never thought of something like the Astartes being needed for any kind of civilized warfare, he briefly wondered what kind of people were in control of this Imperium, to do this to their own people and to proceed in such wars of brutality and genocide.
The roar of the green beasts brought him back to the moment, giving out a commanding growl in his kinds native language, what remained of his pack prepared their weapons and checked their surroundings, the ambush by the Astartes was a distraction, but their main objective would be met. The rubble of the fallen building provided ample line of sight on the Ork's charge, with the patience of a trained professional his pack waited for his orders, their sights trained on the most dangerous targets of the charging horde.
With a rough bark, his pack fired as one, the shots connected and tore through each and every Ork, dropping most and heavily wounding others. This of course was only the first volley, and while his soldiers prepared their rituals for the next volley fire, he and the other melee combatants rushed forth to meet the Orks in combat.
It was the Orks who he hated the most, they made a mockery of true warriors with their brutish behavior and longevity. Indeed in the million of years of his people exploring the stars, the Ork have been a constant battle the packs of Tarellian did not relish or honor.
His axe cut deep into the Ork's skull, before his Packmate next to him tore off another's head with his claws. Battle was as it always should be, ordered and methodical, what chaos was inherent to combat was to be swept aside by tried and true methods and rituals set in stone after centuries of practice and experimentation to find the most effective.
Of course to try and predict everything is a fool's errand, something that was clear even now as an Ork faked their death and attempted to strike down Joraal, only for a Pup under his pack's mentorship to leap in front of the attack. Something the Ork did not expect and would forever have the look of confusion upon it's face as Joraal lifted his pulse rifle and blasted a hole in the center of the Ork, who collapsed in a smoking heap.
The battle seemingly over for now, Joraal turned to his pack and growled out his commands." get the wounded behind cover, what is the status of the Pup?" His words were for the Medic, a Pack sister of fifthteen rotations, a sensible sort who has more often than not cursed him out for reckless behavior, she'll go far if he had his way. She was currently tending to the young pup who had thrown themselves in the way of the Orks attack, foolish young thing.
"Deep cuts nearly hit the main arteries, coupled with the burn wounds from the Astartes throwing them through one of the fallen buildings, I can't allow for the pup to continue to fight." She said in a terse and focused tone as she administered tonic and set bone.
"I..I can still fight, just…give me a-" The pup began to say. "You shut up, i'll not have a young pup's bravado be worth more than their life.'' The pup seemed to understand she would not have any other say and wisely shut up. "I don't have enough supplies for them and the other wounded, permission to return to base camp and leave them with medical personnel there."
"Hmm Base camp is too far…there is a medical camp nearby, you'll take the pup there along with the rest of the wounded." Joraal said.
"Yes pack master, may the Twin Suns shine on you should we not meet again." The medic saluted in the old ways of Tarelli, the lost homeworld of their forefathers.
"May the Twin Suns shine on us all pack sister" He answered, before signaling to ten of his more trusted pack mates "These ones will lead you to the makeshift camp, the Federation medics should have the right material you need, we will cover your exit."
And cover would be needed as more Orks arrived, drawn in by the sounds of violence. Joraal and his pack fought the Ork mob bringing all attention to themselves, a risk to be sure with reduced numbers, but something needed to keep their wounded and medic safe.
Shots were counted and lines held against hooting and hollering mad beasts with more mouth then body, small feeble creatures sent as simple fodder or distractions and the green brutes wielding all manners of weapons both clearly looted and altered, or made in their shoddy methods. Leading the force of Orks was a massive beast, covered in black armor wielding a white bone covered blade, clearly made in the common style of a Ork "Choppa", it bellowed out for it's kin to charge and "Rip 'em Apart for Gork and Mork"
The monster was clearly the so called "Grimgor Bonetusk " the leading figure of his Ork attack, and one that was intending to create a new WAAGGGHHH with it, Joraal had seen many Orks in his life and had learned the characteristics of an emergent WAAGGHHH, not often you see what was Freebooter Captain achieve the kind of behavior to do so, but Joraal was not one to put it past the green monsters to continue to surprise him for as long as he lived.
It bellowed and roared as it rushed through the mob to reach the fight, bolts fired at its joints only to miss or be knocked away by it's strange blade in swift movements unusual for its size. It reached the lines quickly and began to swing with wild abandon
Joraal nearly watched helplessly as the bone blade cut through his pack members, each swing tearing one apart like a doll. He lowered his pulse rifle and fired a single shot into the beast, the impact sending it back and leaving a burning mark of heated metal
"Ah youse a flash, Barky Boy ain't ya?" The beast mockingly asked, it's helmet obscuring it's face but the tone indicated a harsh grin. Joraal did not give the creature any dignity of a response before brandishing his axe and rifle.
This would not be a battle told in history of the Tarellian packs, at most he will be remembered for a sacrifice to achieve safety for his soldiers, their forms fleeing away from the tide of Orks who continued to advance, he had no chance against the beast, he was old and in his final years of active service, all good Tarellian warriors died by this point having spread their experience as best they could… he only hoped he had done so with his pack.
The blade sliced into his chest, he could feel the metal sap his heat into it, his life was being absorbed into the blade, this he could tell was taking his life in more than the physical sense, the codes of his people were clear on what he would do next. With his last bit of strength he took out one of his people's last resorts, it had no official designation, only the title of "Flash of the Twin Suns" a grenade type of their kind's history that very little could survive unharmed from. With a final gaze tow the setting sun, he threw it to the ground and then a flash enveloped the battlefield.
==========
"GET UP YA GIT, YA AIN'T DONE YET."
"Ya gonna let some little flash like that get ya down, we'z need ya to be strong."
Grimgor rose up from the ground, flesh knitting back together around his face as a massive scar "Flashy gits them barky boyz heh, had to use up old metal 'ead for that one…" The Ork Warlord looked around his surroundings, seeing the remains of the area, a creator surrounded him and clearly killed a bunch of his boyz, he heard the pained moans from a few that lived, their bodies broken from sheer force. "Heh weaklings, punchy Grenadez making them sound like Panzies.
" 'UMMIES 'EADING YER WAY, GOT SOME OF THEM BIG LADZ WITH THE SPARKY CLAWS, KILL EM."
"Nah youse got ta head back to the rest of da Boyz, Mek's gonna make some new 'fings to make ya 'ard."
The voices of the Twinfists rang in Grimgor's ears, coming from the Choopa of WAAGGHHH like so many others, and they were not alone.
"No the ya should pick up them flashy bits the Barky boyz used, more flash and bang i'z good."
"Gork and Mork will like one of them stompy 'fings, you should loot it."
"DAKKA, DAKKA!"
"CRUSH,CRUSH,CRUSH!"
Hundreds of other voices just like these constantly screamed in Grimgor's head with their own suggestions and orders, were he any other kind of being he'd have been driven mad ages ago, but the Orks as a species were predisposed to such madness, and with nary a care about the sheer volume of his kind's past in his head, Grimgor Bonetusk the Voice of the WAAGGGHHHH walked off to find more violence and the rest of the boyz to lead, as was his purpose and desire.
The Gryphonnic Navy of Segmentum Obscurus or as the Imperium's highest channels simply called it as Battlefleet Obscurus were headquartered around the Bor'cost system, one of the initial conquests during the Aeldari Campaigns. The choice to initially construct there was a plain and tactical one, for the system was in the approximate area of the exact middle of Obscurus where the Battlefleet could travel quickly from and equidistantly.
Compared to Azulii as the regional capital of politics and Legion, Jul'sor as the region's Inquisition command, or Alari's Haven for the Administratum's, Bor'cost was not an area of immense political play, but the system nonetheless held great industrial and military value to Gryphon Space.
Three planets were of the only importance here. B'c-Bes, B'c-Rix, and B'c-Laz, the Three Sisters as the Azulian colonists had come to call them.
Bes, was an incredibly large gas giant surrounding a molten core with a coterie of hundreds of orbiting satellites. These moons are host to the abodes of millions of miners from Azul's diaspora living in lunar dome-cities with them supporting thousands of gas harvesting and refining plants to power everything in the system and fuel the ships which were built here. Bes was also neighbor to an extensive asteroid belt, from which the void miners rode skiffs to and collected water and picked away mineral rich ones to ship off to Rix.
Rix, a recycling world of central industry, where the dense slums of the working class sludged together in dust and rust. Here they broke down the great broken and decommissioned ships of the Imperium for parts and became a hub of innovation in repurposing these parts. Always on the horizon were the desiccated hulls of battleships hauled from afar for the deconstructors of Rix to tear away at. Smelteries were the other half in the equation, melting the big parts and the metallic asteroids near Bes to reforge into new shipbuilding stock sent to Laz.
Laz, a simple world of diverse landscapes of which remnant Aeldari still lived as rural farmers now fighting against Azulian colonists, but its focus lay on its orbit of Imperial shipyards which were like concentric rings hugging around it, where the homes of engineers and builders sat upon, with fabricator stations firing plasma arcs to weld and put together ships for the Imperial Navy. There were no techpriests here, only entire generations and dynasties of shipbuilders that had been imported in service of the Imperial Navy to construct warships, on the side building the mining skiffs for the system.
And in between these three sisters who bartered and allied together, was the Segmentum Fortress which was newly constructed in contrast to the lineages of Bor'cost which had come before. It had been nicknamed the Duchess for its imperial design of monumentalism. Here was a star fort with docks and ports for long limbs, supplementary shipyards that the Lazlites scoffed at, and repair facilities for the fleets it would support, along with the Naval Academy which was where the region's officers would be trained in the Navy's classic sane competence.
And though the Duchess was in the reign of an Administratum Master, they were of little importance, for in such a system entrenched in the Navy, the Lord Admiral was supreme here. Politics would not do here, only the merits of those who flew to war.
So it was, that from his Battleship, the Palladian, that Lord Admiral Jamsaran Amidral stared out into the void. He had served since the first battle against Ichars, rising with stunning command of the Palladian to line up devastating kill-shots.A righteously wrathful man, he held no quarter to that which was labeled the enemy.
In service to the Emperor, he was decorated and skilled, and would continue on the fight, for Battlefleet Obscurus was the consistent blade of the Imperial Army in the region. He downed his recaf and glanced over from the bridge's viewing space to the growing reports on his desk. Jamsaran ignored them.
They had returned from the Aeldari Campaigns to refuel and repair the damage on their ships, reloading their torpedoes and cannons and lance batteries, every bit to help extinguish the memory of the Aeldari from the Segmentum. When he had heard the tale of the Lord-Primarch disappearing with the Aeldari from the Astropathic network, the Admiral only scoffed at the brute idiocy of ramming a continent. Humans could do without these hulking Imperial children if you asked him.
He supposed he would have to recover the Battlebarge, whatever remnants appeared from the ordeal. Jamsaran ordered for a final call on repairs and resupply for the Battlefleet to return to the front once more. The Navy would continue to save the day. As always.
Not a particularly surprising thing, considering that an purple armored fist had slammed into his gut in a way that should've pulverized the dawi's organs, were any real force put into it. The little alien rolled in the ashy ground, before its momentum was arrested by a corpse. It's blood sizzled when it splattered against the ground.
The dawi's respite was short lived, as a shadow fell on it again. The figure's purple power armor was scorched and dented, a masterwork battered by a hellish world and its stubborn inhabitants. The remnants of a cape clung to the figures shoulders, the red marred by ash and burn marks. They were unarmed, their sword having been planted into the ground a few feet behind them, impaling another dawi.
"You would not believe how hard it is to find any of you, at this point." Starscream spoke, his helmet giving a malevolent purr, which stood in sharp contrast to the boredom suffusing his voice.
"I suppose most of you died when…well, your 'champion' did. The warp is such a nasty thing, isn't it? Stranding us all here. I have things to do, you know."
He crouched, the servos in his armor were near-silent, a clear sign of the masterwork that went into the artificer armor. His arms resting on his knees, one finger tapping against a knee. The blood had seared into his gauntlets.
The dawi spat something rough and harsh in a voice that sounded like knives to the ear.
Starscream titled his armored head. "Well, that's a new one. And here I thought that friend of yours—at least I think it was your friend—that I nibbled on would've let me know what you just said. I think I'll presume you meant to insult me."
The dawi struggled to his feet, weak hands shaking as battered legs rose. It took the warrior a few tries, the primarch simply observed. Quicker than should be possible for something so battered, the dawi's hand snapped behind it, before throwing a grenade of some sort.
Starscream's hand lazily batted it to the side. It exploded in a colorful, violent manner.
"Or kill me." The Crownless King said, a small, amused tilt coming to his voice. "Some of you speak such awful words and then boom! Heads explode."
He lashed out, lightning fast. The dawi fell with a choked scream, clutching at his shattered hand.
"I'm stuck on this dungheel with Sampson, of all people. I'm not too sure about how much experience you have with overtly sanctimonious brothers—if you even have any—but let me assure you; You're not missing out on anything."
The dawi writhed in the ash, bumping into the corpse of its fellows. A foot lashed out, kicking at an astartes corpse, drawing more foul curses. The primarch watched impassively.
"Something you did…well, not you personally, your fellows. Commanders, sorcerers, psykers—whichever. Some desperate last stand to stop us, kill us all, etcetera etcetera, happened. I've seen quite a few of them, you know. Most of them are quite pathetic, but at times I have to give points for creativity. And especially affect. This time the desperate last act managed to actually hinder things a little. So congratulations!"
The dawi refused to stay down. He pressed his still functional hand into the ash, and tried to heave himself up to his feet.
"And I'm not spending all this time waiting for my men to get their acts together with Sampson. So I'm out here, trying to find civil conversation. It really is a shame at how difficult such a thing is to get."
The dawi drew a knife, and spat out more ear-splitting words. The runes on it began to glow.
"I mean, really," Starscream said as the dawi charged. "I've had to go through a few of you stragglers." The dawi's roar turned into a choked scream as Starscream's hand closed around their neck, the other hand batting away the knife, leaving both hands ruined in the process. Starscream slammed the diminutive alien into the ashy ground.
The dawi writhed under the primarchs grip. Screaming obscenities. Or just simply screaming.
The Crownless King wagged a finger. "It's so very difficult trying to find someone who just wants to have an honest conversation. That was a bit rude. Though I suppose it's only fair, considering I'm trying to kill you all."
"I know I should be taking the opportunity to spend time with my brother," Starscream continued as the dawi writhed under his grip. "Well, 'brother.' We share the same genetic bonds…or, to be more accurate, we're all the same pattern of weapon. But that doesn't make us family, now does it?"
Small feet began to slam into the primarchs arm, to little effect.
"The insistence of it galls sometimes. Though now that I think about it, I suppose only a few of them do so. The rest must just think me a glitch in the system, so to speak. An aberration. Something to be wary of, in regards to what my own existence must mean for them. Can't say they're wrong to be scared."
His fingers began to squeeze.
"I haven't seen the Emperor since I've had this revelation forced on me. My creator, is perhaps a more accurate term. To me at least. Heh, I don't doubt that the only reason I'm still alive is because I've been useful. Maybe more than the one I replaced? Who knows."
The dawi managed a few choked words. They sounded almost lyrical, despite how they made the ears bleed. The diminutive alien's eyes began to glow.
"How many of them want to kill me, do you think? Most of them? All of them? Well, perhaps not all. I can think of an exception."
Starscream's fist closed. There was a sickening crack, and the soft glow in the dawi's eyes faded.
"Don't worry," the Crownless King said to the corpse, "I'm sure someone will succeed where you failed."
As he reached for the head, it blacked and crumbled under his grip. The rest of the body followed suit, turning to ash.
The primarch let out a disappointed sigh.
Slowly, lazily, he raised himself to his full height. With plodding, careless steps he walked over to his blade, ripping it out of the pile of corpses. He activated the power-field, watching as it crackled to life, hissing as it atomized the blood and grime on the blade. He left it like that for a few moments before deactivating it. Content that the blade was clean, he sheathed it.
He walked off into the wastes once more, seeking something else to sate his boredom.
To the Dark Eldar that inhabited it, the city was known as Leyandy, though none of the soldiers that huddled beneath its broken streets knew or cared. It had been an holy place, once, consecrated fully to the worship of the Eldar's Gods with all the horrifying arts of that people: a place of darkened spires and jagged towers, treacherous causeways stacking high in between them in accordance to ancient runic designs more than any notion of efficiency or ease of navigation. Concerted bombardment by Legion Scythes and Earthshaker Cannons had toppled many of these towers and set many others ablaze, and the concerted efforts of the newly arrived Eldar craft had done the remainder. All that remained now was a field of rubble stretching a hundred meters into the sky, dust and smoke covering them in their entirety and rising in plumes high into the atmosphere.
Beneath the cover of dust and smoke, buried in the sub-basements and cellars and the tunnels underneath the city and running through ever-shifting and collapsing tunnels through the rubble, the fighting carried on.
Vukan 'Halfhand' Hristov had earned that name only very recently, when he had lost his pointer and index finger picking up the Splinter Rifle he was now cradling. The improvised Bandages on that hand had not been changed since that day, and necrosis was beginning to creep up the cauterized stumps that still remained, eating into the fading ink of the tattoos that decorated his knuckles.
Halfhand, though, was not worried about that at all. Wound Poisoning and infection would take days to kill him. At this point, he would count himself lucky if he had hours.
There were four others in the half-collapsed basement he had crawled into, all drawn from vastly different units and Squads of the Third Penal. Those distinctions had started to mean less and less when the sky had opened and disgorged the new Eldar. Issa Deme, the dark-skinned, flame-scarred Incinerant was the one he knew best: they had come up through the same Penal World, and tried to gut each other on more than one occasion back before the Crimson Tithe had been called.
All that was behind them now, though: Vukan wasn't going to do frak to the guy who's flamethrower had been what stood between him and death about a hundred times recently, especially if that Flamethrower was currently covering the entryway in.
"About enough for a twenty-second burst", Deme said, muffled by the Rebreather that was still covering his face, even when one of the shuriken of the Newcomers had sheared away the pipe connecting it to the oxygen tank about an hour after they had first landed. He was checking his Flamer's tank again, the Promethium within it already refilled twice with the dregs siphoned from the wrecked tanks that littered the streets. The comment drew a nervous snort from Kraz, his singed hair fluttering as a tremor ran through his body. The Beastman worried Vukan: he'd run out of the chemical concoction that had sent him into his beserk rages, and withdrawal seemed to be getting to him pretty badly: altogether not a comfortable notion when it came to a Beastman of two meters in height and 120 kilograms of muscle, with long, sharpened horns and a Chain Axe that was still wet with with viscera. So far, though, Kraz had been holding out, and at least death by his hand would be quick and relatively painless.
He forced those thoughts aside as he peered out through the gap that was allowing him to overlook a rather longer stretch of the Battlefield than usual. Had a Tech Priest seen the improvised and shoddily attached Scope he had scavenged for the Rifle, they would have probably executed him instantly. As it was, though, it allowed him to peer through the pervasive dust that still rolled through the air…and to see a flash of metal up ahead, too high up to belong to a human and to quick for a Space Marine
Halfhand pulled the trigger and let a stream of toxic crystals soar through the mist, unable to check if he had it anything and largely uncaring. Somewhere in what he tentatively identified as the northwest, another Artillery shell went off, triggering a quake long strong enough to dangerously shift the rubble under which they were concealing themselves.
"We'll have to move again soon", said Nazife Zadi, rather unnecessarily. The young woman was covered in the same gray dust that caked all of them, and the tight bun in which she kept her hair had come slightly loose, gore-caked strands of her now dangling across a face that was smeared with blood running from numerous small cuts. Instead of the sarcastic remark that was at the tip of his tongue, Halfhand simply gave a grunt and nodded. The reason for that was two-fold: one was that underneath the layer of gray they all wore, Nazife Zadi's uniform was a deep, arterial crimson.
The other was that he had seen what she had done to one of the Eldar when it had tried to crawl away from her, two legs and an arm shorn off by the strange Shuriken Weaponry of it's strange off-world brethren.
Zadi had been one of the girls liberated from the Drukhari by the Lords, or so he gathered. She seemed to have acquired both near chirurgical skills with a knife and a grudge to use them to their fullest extent somewhere in that time.
Halfhand very carefully did not look at the red stain in both the corners of her mouth when he very slowly and carefully rose from his uncomfortable crouch, extremely careful not to let the sharp edges of the rifle come anywhere important.
He was not one to judge. The dead Enforcer that had landed him in this spot had not been in a particularly good condition either.
The clambered towards what they judged to be roughly the outer edge of the city, searching for another suitable hiding hole, or fellow humans, or any evidence at all that the Universe had not toppled onto their collective heads, when the sky had opened and spat out more inhuman foes to add to these they were already fighting and serving. The Astartes were abroad, now: they could hear the sound of their chainswords and the thread of their boots through the thick dust, as well as the occasional loud boom of a Bolter firing and impacting a target.
The Crimson Lords were hunting, and so even Zadi instinctively steered away from where they fought. Their masters could not be called friendly forces at the best of times, and to happen across them now, when their blood was up, was simply a particularly messy and involved suicide. His hand had stopped hurting, and part of him was supremely worried about that: it had received the sort of injury where that tended to be a bad sign.
Kraz was the first to die. They never even saw what killed him: one day he was trudging along besides them, shivering and groaning, black fur gray in the dust, the next he simply…dropped dead, spinal column severed while keeping the neck around it intact, blood spraying through the air in a thick column.
They scattered, seeking cover as well as they could, fully aware that the shooter could probably have killed them if he wanted to.
Laughter rang out of the fog, cruel and female, and Halfhand knew why the shooter hadn't killed them.
They were being toyed with.
Even as their city came down around their ears, the Drukhari had not ceased their games.
Vukan Hristov felt his pain ebb away and his fatigue melt, replaced suddenly by a clear and terrible hatred: hatred at the Masters that had brought them here, hatred at the Monsters that were hunting them, and hatred at the situation he suddenly found himself in.
A figue stormed at them out of the fog, and Issa Deme died before he had raised the nozzle of his flamer more than halfway towards her.
It was a masterfully cruel shot: the crystal pierced the thin exterior of the Flamer's Prometheum Tank and kept going, drawing a trail of prometheum behind it before skipping off a jagged piece of rubble in exactly such a way it struck a spark. The woman bounced across Issa's back seconds before the flames engulfed him, intent apparently only on the Crimson Lady, but Hristov did not care about her. His focus had narrowed, now, his heartbeat slowed despite everything as he consciously expelled a deep breath.
The shot had been masterful, yes, but in the brief, cruel flash of burning prometheum, it had been something else as well: a trajectory, as neat and crisp as if it had been written on a piece of paper.
He raised his scope to his eye, and for a brief moment he and the Drukhari Marksmen made eye contact, staring at each other as though face to face rather than a hundred meters apart. Then, Hristov pulled his trigger, and watched as the Eldar's head disappeared in a shower of glass and blood.
Behind him, Nazife Zadi was knife fighting with the Wych, a feat only explainable by the Xenos woman toying with her food. Already, a rune in their cruel language had been cut into her cheek, blood running down her face in great sheets.
She lunged forwards, and the Eldari Woman stepped aside, letting the blade pass an inch past her face as she gave the young woman's arm yet another shallow score, adding to the many others she had apparently already seen fit to bestow, and then she was on the attack again, driving the woman back in a flurry of blows, feet dancing across rubble that made Zadi stumble more then once, each of these stumbles resulting in another pulled kill blow and another shallow cut.
Hristov ripped himself out of his transfixed state, raised his Splinter Gun, and fired a full burst at the Wych, who pirouetted out of the way and gave him a contemptous stare. "Don't you know it's rude to interrupt, Mon-keigh?" she snarled, her Lower Gothic accented in a way no human throat could have replicated, and for half of a heartbeat Hristov thought he was dead, that the Wych would now surely kill him.
And then the Eldar Woman died, an Assault Marine in the markings of the Crimson Gryphons simply flattening her to the ground before roaring off on a pillar of flame.
He helped the Crimson Lady to her feet, and they set off silently into the cloud of dust, stopping only long enough to cut the ears of the marksman he killed and add them to all the others he had hanging from his belt.
The Webway, a place of mystery that the Eldar claim o hold dominion over, Humanity has only just begun it's own exploration and investigation of the strange realm, what secrets does it hold.
Despite the recent excursions by other members of the Imperium into the Webway of the Eldar, it was still a hostile, unnatural and chaotic place of twisting space. As it stood the human mind was unready for the full vastness the Webway held, to be thrown into it was a circumstance none of the crew of the Battlebarge The Glorious Gryphon had considered.
Held close to the Eldar Craftworld by the sheer gravity and arcane mechanics unknown to mankind, the Imperial ship and its occupants were brought along on this trip through the Webway. Khaldeon sat upon his command throne, orders spilling forth from his mouth in rapid succession, his bridge crew following as best as they could, but the twisting path they were being forced upon damaged the ship more and more the longer they were stuck to the Craftworld, The Glorious Gryphon was a venerable and able servant of the Imperium, but the vessel could only withstand so much before it had to give.
Despite all their best efforts, the vessel and it's crew seemed to be on a headlong course towards a vast wall of red energy, Khaldeon tried every manuver and trick he could think of, but each failed and all seemed like whatever unknown the red energy had in store for the ship was to be their fate. "Brace for impact!" shouted the Primarch, his orders would be heeded as the Battlebarge collided with the red energy, everything went bright for the Primarch, enough to force his eyes to close.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When his eyes opened again, he was not in his ship hurtling through the Eldar Webway uncontrolled, but instead he was in the skies falling towards the ground, instinctively he called for his Gryphon which to his surprise answered and caught him.
They soared over the lands, Khaldeon checked himself over and found he was not in his armor or appeared the same as before, his fingers held slight talons and his body was a pure blue with red symbols of his culture across it, ones denoting Warrior, King and the Skies. Despite the lack of his armor, his axe was still with him, seemingly unchanged like his own form, albeit with a glow emanating from the axe towards the horizon. With nothing else to go on and wanting to get a better view of the land before he landed, he directed his twin headed Gryphon in the direction of the horizon.
His attention was brought to the lands he and his companion flew over, scars of battle littered the landscape and some creatures scattered about the landscape, either carrion eaters or just simple animals. To what he assumed was the West, was a roiling stormy landscape, the clouds of a multitude of colors twisted and coiled together, and deep in his very being, Khaledon knew that something foul dwelt under those clouds.
To the East was a raging sea, he could see multitudes of monsters of enormous size slightly breaching the waters, the more he looked towards them the more his mind grew hazy. He forced his eyes away from it and towards his path, wherever he is, it attempts to confuse and beguile him.
Behind him to the South was a Wasteland cracking under a green storm, a harsh familiarity from the reports of Stormgard's cataclysmic attack made him wary even more of this place and why he had arrived here.
Towards the north where he flew seemed to be the most stable, laden with massive structures of Eldar design covering something far older and a familiar pattern to the Pillars that he had sent his sons to investigate. Choosing to follow the light towards this structure and commanding the gryphon to land at what was possibly the reason for his arrival here, Khaledon was not shocked to see armored Eldar surrounding his landing site, waiting for him like statues.
Tension was clear in the air as the red armored warriors watched him silently disembark from his Griffin and walked forward, he counted twenty in total, but far more could be waiting inside the fortress, if they meant no harm, he would not strike first.
The silence would be broken by an Eldar, their voice altered behind their helm but clearly young for their kind "Bearer of the Axe what business do you have here, to intrude upon the Fortress of the Last Flame?"
"To intrude, one would want to be in this place Eldar, I have no desire to speak with you or any of your kin but I am forced to so that I may receive answers to questions."
Some seemed agitated by his words, but they fell in line when another spoke out something in their own language, he took off his helmet revealing a scared face and a stoic face. "I apologize for my soldiers disrespect towards you Axe-bearer, it was not expected for you to arrive here of all places, often visions of the future are more specific concerning events such as these."
"...Are you the ones who brought me here, I was in battle with those calling themselves Biel-Tan?" It was a risky question but he knew the Eldar were a fractured people, perhaps nothing would come of his admittance of attacking them.
The leader held no reaction to the information and merely continued with the same calm tone "We are not responsible for bringing you here, but there are answers to how and why, our leader will have more questions and the answers you seek." He continued to speak tersely but not with the same arrogance as the younger Eldar.
"And my ship?" Questioned Khaldeon, the worry for his sons and his crew still at the back of his mind, unwilling to leave them in this unknown world.
The Eldar commander looked towards the cloaked warriors before they nodded and sped off out into the other directions "If they are here we will find them, if not, then my Lord will bring you to them." While that was not as reassuring given his experience with the Eldar, it was something he could consider while meeting with this Khaine they served. "What is your name Eldar, if you are to be my guide to your leader, then it would be a courtesy to name yourself."
"I am known as Tenlon Azeri'oth, Commander of the Blades of Khaine and fated to face He who Grows Eternal in my final days. Follow me and I shall take you to our leader." Seeing no reason to refuse and knowing that with his weapon and Griffin he could fight his way out should the Eldar prove untrustworthy, he silently followed the Eldar into the massive fortress.
The one named Tenlon led him deep into the fortress, Khaldeon and his griffin passed what seemed like thousands of Eldar men and women hard at work, preparing weapons and handing out supplies, young children ran past carrying messages and small goods to the armored warriors, some clearly related as they gave the young affection indicative of close relations. The Wraithbone constructs stood silently like , but as he passed them, he could feel their gaze upon his being.
Further and further inside they went, other sights of the Eldar and what appeared to be one combination of city and military fortress, until they stopped at a massive door frame inside white wall, the jarring difference between this place and the rest of the fortress was one that clearly marked some importance."This is where we part Axe-Bearer, enter and you will meet with our lord Khaine." nodding to his guide, Khaldeon entered the chamber.
The chamber was massive and appeared to be some kind of throne room with ten thrones, seven destroyed and broken apart. The remaining three drew his eyes as he walked down the steps to the main floor, one was a towering work of art made out of Wraithbone, dozens of swords stuck out from the ground around the throne, each a masterwork and clearly well kept. Truly the only feature that marred the Throne was the deep cracks across it, showcasing that it was quite fragile and in need of deep repairs.
The next Throne was smaller than the others, situated next to many of the destroyed ones, it was humble and held fountains with clear pools of silvery liquid, tools of an artist were left upon this throne with a great deal of care clear in how well maintained they were. But much like the other complete throne, the main focus came to a harsh blue mist that surrounded it and bands of something akin to iron encasing the throne.
However it was the last throne that drew Khaldeon's eyes the most, like a pillar of jagged metal that dripped with crimson glass denoting blood, it was almost laughable how out of place it seemed compared to the rest of the thrones. Resting at the side of the Throne was a massive silver sword, Khaldeon felt his axe grow heavier the more he looked at the blade, stained red with blood from unknown battles in the past.
Unlike the other two, this throne was occupied, a giant being that brought to mind a burning statue with the way his skin and flawless armor looked constantly ablaze, but despite his appearance, the being was silent and calm, almost judging Khaldeon's every move.
Not waiting to be addressed, Khaldeon spoke first "I presume you are the leader of these Eldar then, the one they call Khaine?" He presented no apprehension nor weakness in his words, but this being seemed to emit a kind of pressure that put the primarch on edge.
The being was silent for a moment before answering, his voice a harsh gravelly tone either indicative of long lengths of time screaming or simple due to his almost stone like skin. "Yes I am Khaine, once the Bloody-Handed, now the Flame of Vengeance and I know you Khaldeon the Sky-King of Azuli and Primarch of the Crimson Gryphons."
"You call yourself the Flame of Vengeance, so have I been brought to face your vengeance for our battles against the Eldar." Khaldeon felt himself taking a battle ready stance instinctively.
"My Vengeance is not for your kind Primarch, but for the War my people have been engaged in for thousands of years alone." While not a declaration of ill intent, Khaldeon did not let himself relax as he watched Khaine with an intense focus.
"War… I have seen that this place is a fortress of your people, the Blades of Khaine, are you who sends warriors to die without leaving your throne room or a true warrior deserving of their loyalty." Khaldeon needed to test this being, far too much was still unknown and having a frame of reference he has long since understood would help him further find out what this all is.
"I know of War Primarch, look upon me without your assessment of danger to see the truth of my form, you will see the extent of what I have given for my people in battle against our common foe." Getting a clearer look at the giant, Khaldeon realized that it was not just the armor that covered the giant being was not flawless; cracks and what he first thought to be the harsh edges Eldar were known to have on their armor were the results of countless battles. And most glaring of all was the missing arm, what he had assumed to be stonelike skin quickly revealed itself to be masses of rocky scar tissue, as if the beings blood was magma itself.
Content with the answer provided on this question, Khaldeon continued"...I see that you are wounded, this so called common foe our people both have, are they the one who twist their flesh and enslave my people, for they have been dealt with already."
"The fallen kin are an issue, but the Craftworlds are the one who perpetuate that they are the true threat, not the horrors manipulating from the shadows of ill intent, they who have taken my kin and left me the lone defender of the Eldar race…at least until my axe has found it's latest wielder." At this Khaine looked towards the broken thrones surrounding him with a quiet sadness that was hardened with resolve.
"So you claim this axe is yours, I have heard such an implication before and yet I have seen no proof, what can you show me that proves you are not a thief trying to leave me without a weapon to defend myself."
"Hmm a showing is perhaps the best way to show the origins of your weapon, much as the forgemaster inspects the marks of his work." said the giant simply, like that explained anything.
"Enough with the riddles, a simple answer of yes or no on if this Axe belongs to-"Before Khaldeon could even finish he saw as his axe shifted at the movement of Khaine's hand over the blade, three symbols appeared on it, two Azuli symbols meaning King and Sky and a third being the same symbol emblazoned on Khaine's chest, somehow Khaldeon knew that one was the most natural for the Axe.
"...So this Axe truly belongs to you then, why have I been allowed to keep it?" Questioned Khaldeon as this had been a long held thought since his discovery of the more abnormal qualities of his weapon.
"It is not a weapon for myself, the last blade of Vaul serves as mine, though the Forgemaster has long since held me in contempt, we have reached an understanding. My axe is to find itself into the hands of one who wields it to slay those who have debased themselves into service of the true enemy of life, something you have done well against the fallen kin."
"Am I to be a servant of yours then?" Anger reaching into Khaldeon's voice at the potential indignity of betraying his oaths to his Father even without knowingly doing so.
"It is your path to choose, know that the Axe will not allow you to use it's power in service of the great enemy, a assurance that I had ensured was put upon all the weapons of my Kin." This would curb the anger Khaldeon felt, but he remained on guard, there was still much that Khaine was not telling him.
"Who are these enemies you lay such claim to be such a danger? You say the monstrous Eldar I have slain follow them, but you have yet to name them in any way." Khaldeon asked, possibilities of foes who could be behind strange occurrences or threats to be taken care of running wild in his mind. He could focus on the other aspects of this conversation at a later date.
"They are the vile beasts of the Warp, calling themselves gods of mortal life, they are naught but the rampant thoughts and beliefs of a trillion souls colliding and feeding entities form and identity." A cold rage was in each of Khaine's words that spoke that no matter the actual truth, he believed what he spoke.
"You speak as if they are not mortal beings and concept made flesh." Stated Khaldeon, his tone one of disbelief in the very idea, but Khaine continued without addressing this fact.
"They have existed for far longer than most sentient life, birthed from the greatest war seen and performed by mortal hands, they are beyond the conventions of mortal life, existing in the turmoil of the Warp. Their number is Eight in total, but they are merely one piece of the War of all things, when the Ranadanra comes, they will be but one foe we must fight alongside the children of Ruin and the First Caretakers."
More questions arose in Khaldeon's mind, it was clear that this Khaine had information about the galaxy and foes in the Warp that was beyond anything the Imperium knew, even if most of it was falsehood, to learn about enemies yet to be before conflict could begin was an opportunity that had to take, perhaps even gain some form of treaty with the Blades of Khaine with the promise of aid of the Imperium for their war. All these things would never see the light of day, for a deep rumbling shook the chamber, crystals floated down and formed a massive wall or…was it a display, images began to be shown flashing across the crystals.
What was shown on the crystals was a massive incoming army of monstrosities both familiar and unfamiliar, Khaldeon knew them as Xenos of the Warp, they stood under the storming clouds of multicolored and twisting nature he had seen before, they clearly had purpose but also fought each other if one got too close to another. "They arrived far sooner then I had hoped, I shall send you back to your ship Khaldeon with haste." Said Khaine in a solemn tone "They must have known you would be here. You must go now, lest they slay you."
"These are the enemies you spoke of, what are they truly!" Demanded Khaldeon, questions burning in his mind, he needed answers. What enemy was this, he knew of what the Thunderspeakers said of the Warp and it's dangers, but this was nothing like what they had said.
"No…this war is not yours just yet Primarch Khaldeon. Your questions will go unanswered, simply they are the Chaos that dwells beyond mortality and seek nothing but the destruction of the material realm as you know it." The giant rose from his throne and hefted his silver sword upon his armored shoulder "Know that it will always be the duty of the Warrior to fight for their people, but never lose yourself to the blood Primarch, such things are a path to doom."
As the being spoke, the red symbols upon Khaldeon began to glow brighter and brighter as the throne room faded from his sight. The final words of Khaine were the last thing to go before he faded completely. "You will know when Chaos comes for your Imperium Primarch, when a god bleeds."
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Khaldeon's eyes shot open as he looked around, he was back on The Glorious Gryphon, above him was Apothecaries of his Legion, his first words were to ask the status of the ship and where they were, question answered immediately as the ship had sustained some structural damage but was otherwise fine and their location seemed to be above Cadia. He was looked over by the Apothecaries for several more minutes before they allowed him to leave for his personal chambers.
Upon entering his quarters, he unsheathed his Axe and looked upon it in the candle light, his eyes set upon his Axe's blade now bearing the symbol of Khaine alongside the symbols of King and the Sky in Azuli's culture.
The Red Eye of Jupiter, a sight that has both inspired wonder and strange dread in humanity, to the people of the Jovian Shipyards it is a cultural symbol that has connected them all with a common saying in their native language "The Eye watches all of Mankind" a saying that has kept them a united and culturally open people to the rest of humanity.
Across the Imperium there were many grand ships that inspired legends of the naval forces, vessels such as the Indomitable Spirit or the Unflinching Dawn have spearheaded many pushes of the Imperial Army against the uncaring darkness of the universe.
The Legio Astartes are no exception with their own grand ships such as the Nemesis of the Star Knights or the Glorious Gryphon of the Crimson Gryphons. To make such mighty ships that cast fear into the enemies of mankind's birthright, the Imperium has created and repurposed many shipyards and commissioned the mighty Forge Worlds of the Mechanium to lend their aid.
But of all the great shipyards of the Imperium, none truly matched the majesty of the Jovian shipyards of Sol, while Mars and the Mechanicum held true dominion over production and mastery of ancient technologies, even they could not find fault with the shipbuilders of Jupiter's moons. Their foundries have many many ships that have become legends in their own right, most notable being the mighty Gloriana class Battleship and the Bechepalus itself, it was this skill that brought the Primarch Savnok to them with a project, to create a new class of Glorinana for the inevitable battles to be fought in the Warp.
Savnok would spare no expense, sending a call to the greatest minds for his vessel, from the forges of Mars, to the minds of the Steel Princes Legion and the strange powers of Elias Dradmire, Savnok brought them together to create his Relentless Storm, a vessel of a purpose not yet ever considered for the Imperium, to endure long term travel and occupation of the Warp itself.
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Mechanical tendrils wrapped around the rigging of what was to be one of the main engine rooms of this mighty vessel, already far larger than any of the factory temples Gamu-5Q had seen in her many decades of service to the Machine God, and it was only meant to be one of four separate engines to power both the ship and it's many powerful weapons.
Her order had at first expressed some skepticism in such a project, but after numerous simulations and testing with their own blessed devices, the Interim leaders of Mars had given permission to any adept or Magos willing to oversee this project along with the Jovian Shipmasters.
She was among the first to leave from Mars, having spent nearly a full standard year at work in these independent sections, a joint idea by her own group and the Steel Princes detachment. The idea that for such a vessel to have every part designed perfectly, one had to build each chamber and room independent from another, a style of modular design that could connect seamlessly once the entire project was completed.
"Adept Gamu-5Q, you are requested to recite the binaric chant of the Machine God over the Weapons array in sector H-558J" Blared a Vox Servitor nearby, brining her musing to a end she quickly went on her way, the Machine God's servant already mentally reciting the specific chanting required for the installation of theater systems and of missile silos.
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With deft hands he weaved the warp into each facet of this piece of his ally's second son's project, each metal rivet and internal mechanism of this device finely attuned with the necessary components to operate even in the harshest of the Warp's realms…for a time he must admit, his own power not enough to fight off the horrors of the…Gods.
Pushing the thoughts of those monsters aside, he continued his process of binding the threads of the Warp and Material realm into what would be used as the main targeting array for the weapons to 'hunt" the warp fauna and fight the Neverborn hordes of the Immaterium.
Bored from the monotonous work, his eyes scanned over his cloak and found it was in need of a renewal, he weaved the illusion and perception altering effects back upon it, making him appear as human as needed. Truly bothersome work but his false identity of Elias was needed for Revalation's plans to work, in all honesty he did not expect the coming decades to be without counter attack by the Eight in some capacity, but his ally ignored his advice and continued to get him to aid in the "Imperial Webway" what a crass project, but one that had merit if they could actually meet in person with the Khainites, his own missives with them could be far quicker if he did not have to rely on whenever the eighteenth daughter decided on being in Sol so he could talk with the Ancient.
His thoughts would be interrupted by a Servitor placing down other pieces of metal for him to work on, more uncompleted material that would need his inspection before being shipped to the main construction, as always his work was never finished.
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Work on the hull was a dull effort Candric had decided, but his Brothers and Sisters were right in that it was satisfying work, to see the completion of such a marvelous piece of technology. Their void sealed suits kept them connected to the hull as it was being constructed piece by piece. Candric and his siblings were meant to look over the finer details before reporting back to their commander.
Candric watched from his position the turning of Jupiter, the Gas giant great red spot swirling overhead, he mused to himself how much that it had seen, the rise and fall of mankind, only to see it rise even further then it had ever done before. Sighing to himself he turned his head away from the ancient Gas Giant above him and continued his work, stress testing many of the plates for the ship and giving his finding to his commanders. The scout marine would learn much from this assignment, but the image of the red eye of Jupiter never left his mind as he felt both a comfort and deep dread for what such a phenomenon has seen in it's existence.
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Months after months of grueling work and precise calculations, the Relentless Storm was finished, the mighty sun shone light upon the White and Green of the 2nd legion. One could tell that it was clearly inspired from the mighty Glorinana Class, but was a wholly different kind of ship, if one could describe a single word to it's design philosophy, they would chose "Endurance" for the sheer amount of redundant systems and armor made for the Relentless Storm made it clear that it would find itself at home in the harshest of conditions.
The Primarch and his daughter stood together on the viewing platform staring intently into the void. Before them the mighty warship hung suspended in its cradle astounding in its size, beauty and power. But neither were observing the marvel of design and construction, instead their attention was held by the small, bright dot over a billion kilometers away. They had been silent for almost an hour, both known for their taciturn nature.
"It is strange to see Terra in such a way, from Stormgard it is more a concept and ideal than a place juves try vainly to point it out in the sky, in its own orbit it is an impressively populated and wealthy world. From here it is…"
"An insignificant speck." Count Pandora supplied.
She was tall, even for a space marine and her bionic eye gleamed almost the same crimson as the hair that fell in a short pony-tail. Her armour bore many old dents and scratches and her shoulder pauldrons bore the Spider emblem favored by the survivors of the terrible decade spent in the warp some years earlier.
"A speck, but not insignificant, it is brighter than most of the stars, more visible than some of the other worlds and we know what it holds. Why it needs to be defended."
"You do not owe me explanations or excuses, my Primarch, my life and those of my brothers and sisters are yours to dispose of as you will. If you doubted our capacity or our willingness to undertake this assignment you'd have chosen a different unit."
"I would have." He confessed. "But there remain factors to consider before the final decision is made. I have read your reports at length of your experiences whilst trapped in the Warp and my own experiences of that dimension have left me with a strong respect of its perils and an awareness of how far beyond my comprehension its perils are. Perils that I am asking of you to face."
"Asking, or ordering?" Pandora bluntly sought clarification.
"That the two potentially produce different outcomes is why I wished to have this discussion. Astartes' minds are more durable than their mortal counterparts but even they have their limits, your command has endured much, a decade of exposure to the worst horrors of the immaterium and I understand the years since have been of isolation, stigma and conflict."
Pandora curled her lips, "I will take this assignment because it is an order and more importantly because it needs to be undertaken and I am the woman to do it. You can keep your understanding and your pity, I have need of neither of them. If you still have doubts then either put them aside or act upon them but do not waste my-."
"Silence." Savnok said in a tone of command colder than the the atmosphere of the gasgiant below them.
She obeyed but her remaining eye was full of anger.
"I do have doubts and I am acting upon them," Savnok informed her, "You and your fellow survivors of the relief force have shown many troubling indicators, you are easily agitated, standoffish, suspicious, insubordinate and prone to excessive and unnecessary violence, you avoid your peers and snub all efforts to address these issues. In many senses you and those of your command are deeply unfit for this mission. The logical choice is to disband your demi-maniple and disperse you among the legion, potentially even withdrawing you from frontline duties perhaps any duties at all."
"Then why the fuck are you sending us back into that hell to undertake 'potentially the most important mission the Eternity Guard has ever undertaken?" Pandora demanded, fury smashing through discipline, careless of consequence.
"Because confirming you are broken beyond use would be the death of all of you. I cannot do that, not to my soldiers, not to my children. You know what awaits you, you have the best tools I can grant you and you have never let me down before. The choice is between accepting defeat and the slow death from doubt and lack of purpose or having faith that once more you and your marines will rise to the challenge. That is not a choice."
"No," Pandora agreed, "that is complete bullshit."
Savnok had nothing to say to that.
"It is! Complete and utter bullshit, you think our minds are broken from the lost decade in the warp and with good reason and this somehow means you need to send us to hunt space whales."
"Cosmos Cetecea," he corrected.
"Space Whales." She insisted. "You feel bad that we are fucked in the head and the legion hates us and that the Imperium has no use for broken weapons so you're giving us the hardest most insane mission going in order for us to what prove ourselves? We don't need to prove ourselves, not to you, not to ourselves, not to anyone. We survived that hell for ten years, fighting creatures you cannot imagine and when we came through the other side, we carried on with our mission to relieve Stormgard without missing a beat, because we're the Eternity Guard death, disgrace, insanity completely irrelevant, we know our duty."
"So where does that leave us?" Savnok queried.
"It leaves you a patronizing asshole who is wasting my time."
Savnok looked at her meaningfully for some time.
"We'll find your Whales or Cosmos Cetacea or Leviathans or whatever you will call them and we'll do it because it needs doing and no one else should go through what we went through."
Savnok nodded and began to speak.
"Don't." She warned. "Say something useful instead, like 'yes' when I ask you for I need to complete the mission."
Savnok surprisingly conceded and remained silent.
"Bastien." She said simply. "We'll need other Dreadnoughts, at least ten but him more than any of the others combined."
This was no small request, Bastien was the oldest Dreadnought of the Second Legion, interred at the beginning of the Great Crusade when the legion was under the direct command of the Emperor, veteran and victor of a thousand battles. His low thunder would silence even the likes of Reon Essling or Savnok in order to hear what wisdom he had to impart. Captain of the Old Hundred since its inception he had spent the last twenty years apart from the legion undertaking missions of his own choosing or at Savnok's personal command.
"You shall have him." Savnok promised.
"Good, I have more requisitions but the foremost are a contingent of the Warriors of Peace and Coldiron Wardens and an Imperial Army Regiment, the Sunlight Warriors."
"I will make contact with my siblings, I had already planned to do so, their expertise could be essential in the Warp. But why the Sunlight Warriors?" Savnok asked in confusion.
"I have fought alongside them previously and I believe them to have certain qualities ideal to this mission, skill at arms and a complete disregard for their own lives." She grinned but there was no warmth in it.
"I see. Is there anything else?"
"Just one thing." Pandora told him, "You need to understand something. Whether we survive or not, if you send us out to face what waits for us there again, we will never come back, at least not as you knew us. You may have convinced yourself that this is some sort of second chance, that it might somehow heal us or redeem some mistake, it isnt and it won't. Its a death sentence, either of our bodies or our souls." Her tone was neither sad nor angry but instead deeply earnest. "We will do our duty, for eternity if we must but we will never be a part of the Guard again, we will be lost, all of us, forever."
"Bullshit." Savnok responded curtly. "If you are ever lost daughter than we shall find you again, that is something you must understand whatever perils await you in the immaterium or any other dimension."
Idernia: Known as one of the Sixteen Archives of Mankind, Idernia is at this point is one of the most well kept repositories of Knowledge of Mankind's past and their accumulated esoteric studies before the Age of Strife, Idernia is also considered the most well studied of the nature of the Warp, much to the discomfort of some.
Idernia, a world filled with mysteries and answers to many questions of the universe, this world of libraries and rain was the latest of what was clearly the beginning of the Imperium's golden age of rediscovery. Such was the hope of the Warriors of Peace, having gained the right to create a monastery next to the largest archive of the world,working with the native peoples of the world, these Astartes would delve into the many halls and inner sanctums for knowledge of the Arcane.
The Astartes of course had their own mission gifted to them by their Primarch and General, but for many the allure of discovery and study was a tempting proposition, held back from this only by their duty and oaths to find what their Father had required…but not everyone would hold this oath as closely as they should have.
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The study of Eldar related tomes and codex's proved to be both frustrating and fascinating in equal measure, for while the Warriors knew how the flow of Qi was something rooted in both the soul, mind and body. What the records could tell about the Eldar's own practices were second hand accounts from a human perspective trying to understand the methods of the Eldar.
Finding a true source of what their Primarch had requested seemed impossible to find in this planet wide repository of knowledge, but the record keepers and caretakers of this world had been a far greater boon then realized as they scoured across the world in a far larger effort then the Warriors. Bringing to them a single tome of small size to the massive astartes, it was called "Insights into Veil of Whispers" and was seemingly the only written work from a Eldar kept in the many halls of Idernia.
Study of the tome revealed that this indeed was what they had been tasked to find, a method for their Father to commune with the Warp in ways not utilized by Humanity till this point.
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The remains of his brothers in their final stand against this "Master of Shadows" still unnerved Cao Shi , the ones he and his Brothers could find told of an unrelenting savagery and unprecedented amount of Dark Qi that lingered on what bodies they could find. Frozen statues held together by an unnatural solid darkness, the ones they could not retrieve watched them lifelessly, almost begging to be released.
Cao turned back to the rest of his work, despite the "Insights into Veil of Whispers" being found and translated for their Primarch, the search for methods of utilizing Qi kept in these halls was still ongoing and being filtered to best suit the needs of the Legion. However that work would be interrupted as one of his brothers entered into the command tent used by the Lieutenant.
It was the Iron Crane, Gongsun Dao. The one who has quickly become famed across their forces for his decisive actions and calm demeanor in battle, however one could be forgiven for not seeing that aspect of his character now, for there was a clear deep seated rage etched across his features.
"Brother Dao, it is a surprise to see you here, why have you come?" Cao Shi asked.
"...You know why I am here Brother Cao, we need to talk." His words were sharp and were clearly restrained. Yes, Cao did know why he was here, reports came to him about the Iron Crane delving into areas for knowledge that was not a part of their goals.
"Dao…you know our search has to take priority over retrieval of our kin, your searches have taken you away from finding what we have been ordered to find."
"And you should know I have disagreed with the direction we have been going in our methods."
"Disagree all you wish my brother, but the Way of the Five Paths cannot-" he started again but was interrupted by Dao.
"Brother Cao I must insist that we-" "Enough Dao, be silent and listen! I understand your position and I desperately wish we could free our brothers from their prison…but the Iron Monks were clear on their initial findings, whatever that beast truly was, had created something that is beyond even their combined skills to undo, nothing will free our Brothers from their new tombs…I'm sorry."
The silence between the two seemed to stretch for hours, before Dao turned abruptly and left Cao, neither willing to come to blows over further arguments, not in this place where their kin had given their lives with honor.
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Gongsun Dao watched his brothers as they searched this wondrous archive, avoiding even glancing at the solid shadows that trapped their brothers. What Cao Shi had said was true, but it made him no less angry at how little there seemed to be care in retrieving the bodies of their fallen, sure they had found and recovered many, but many more remained encased in shadow or missing even now.
Rage ate at his soul as he remembered Zhu Er's final wish to have his Blood-brother Chou Ling be given the news of his death, only for Chou to be among the lost to this world. Even now as his brothers lauded him with the title of "Iron Crane" he still failed, failed his elder brother by not preventing his death, failed his brothers who fought against a unknown foe when he could have joined them…and failed his Primarch by not being enough, The Jade General who tore apart an entire army of the Ork, who had brought hope to their people one day reclaiming their homeland through his mind.
His rage cooled into regret and gave way to grim resolve about what needed to be done, if the ways of the Five Paths could not retrieve the fallen, then he would have to find something beyond the Paths.
The gantry was packed with scores of people of all shapes and sizes, drawn from four segementums and moving with the unconscious grace common to people going about their lives. That was before the young dark haired woman in a blue cloak started bobbing between them.
"Excuse me…sorry…I've got to get through, do you mind? Ouch! Watch where you swing that! Sorry!" She called out, her words muffled by the Olosh pastry in her mouth.
Still what she was lacking in decorum she more than made up for in the well practiced agility of a habitually late commuter and safely hopped across the golden break line just before the entire northern segment of the gantry slid free with a great hiss of steam hurtling across sky on pulsing wave of disrupted gravity.
Dozens of other platforms hurtled past in all orientations sometimes passing within inches of each other but never outright colliding. The first 'ride' had been the most terrifying moment of Daemonica's life but now after almost three years here it was very much routine. Not that she did not make her way to the very edge so that she could really feel the wind on her face and take in the sights of Zurekin.
Zurekin was known as the jigsaw world though Daemonica preferred the Realm of Transformation but no name could ever do it justice. Every city on its surface was in fact a thousand interchangeable sections constantly cycling around the planet as ancient technology from the Dark Age endlessly reworked and remade the cities according to some long forgotten and incomprehensible plan. Daemonica had heard all the stories and theories and she never wanted to know the truth, the mystery was half the beauty and competing with everyone for the craziest explanation was always a fun way to pass the time, Xander was always good for those.
There was no commonality between the different platforms, some were so small that a child would struggle to fit, others so large that thousands of people could safely dance. Some housed structures, others parks, occasionally there were giant storage basins of water. Daemonica waved to a hundred screaming, laughing and cheering juves as they soared by. Sometimes she'd witness tragedies, platforms carrying burning buildings across the sky leaving a trail of smoke and falling bodies behind, other times great joys, weddings, birthdays even religious ceremonies. Daemonica loved those best of all, she even took part once or twice though her heart had been pounding throughout and through her terror she'd also been self conscious at making offerings to an imaginary construct.
Her mind was diverted from such negative thoughts by the timely intervention of a great waft of something sweet and smokey, she looked around and eventually spotted a multicolored platform that seemed to consist entirely of grills and vats. Her mouth watered and she hoped it landed somewhere close to her destination around lunchtime though it was unlikely, still there would be somewhere to eat, there always was on this world.
She glanced at her chronometer, an old habit. Nobody on Zurekin seemed to care about timeliness, it was one thing she found exasperating, she'd been known to cut things fine on Stormgard but the idea of being actually late just seemed wrong yet more than once she'd found herself waiting almost an hour or more for friends. Then again maybe that was just a friend thing? She'd not exactly been awash with them back on Stormgard. As her platform closed in one one of the central pillars she considered it, maybe she'd be the late one for a change?
By the time her platform had landed at the hub pillar she had decided to go through with it, taking a left instead of a right and wandering down an arcade of shops, stalls and eateries. She didn't have enough thrones to buy anything as usual, even when she was working somewhere she'd often leave her money at home, she was too used to everything being acquired through a ration card, a work voucher or a parent thing. Sometimes she liked the idea of money, sometimes she didn't, her position depending on how much of it she happened to have at any particular moment. Still it was enough to try things on and look, browsing was another new addition to her vocabulary and one she liked a lot more consistently.
After a half hour of five minute checks on her chronometer she could no longer resist and hurried back the way she had came towards the agreed meeting place a whole ten minutes past the pre agreed time.
"Daemy!" She heard a palpably relieved voice shout out.
Daemonica had never told anyone here that variation of her name, yet somehow it had not taken long for it to be as commonly used here as by her family back on Stormgard, maybe religions did have something to them after all, some deity must have enjoyed messing with her. She was not the last to arrive, only Xander, Cauf and Radiana were here, the latter being the shouter.
Daemonica had learned early on that Radiana was a self confessed 'hugger', she'd never been one for hugs herself back home, even her mother had eventually given up on them but Radiana was incorrigible.
"I am sorry I am late…I wanted to browse." She said after a moment's hesitation, she was a fairly good liar but wanted to see their reaction to the truth.
"We thought some axe-murderer had gotten you or a platform had crashed." Cauf informed her, the blindfolded monk had a talent for guilt. It went well with her vocation.
Daemonica did feel slightly guilty, "It was only ten minutes!" She protested.
"Maybe but that's ten years in Daemonica time." Xander laughed.
"I'm sorry, figured I'd see what it was like to be late for a change." She confessed, "See why you guys like it so much."
"I don't like being late, I like being in my bed." Radiana corrected her as she finally released her.
Daemonica shook her head slightly. "Okay that I can understand, I like my bed too."
"Its a good bed." Xander chuckled knowingly, "A very good bed."
"Circles of Truth," Cauf cursed, "Now you've got him started."
"What do you mean? I was just-"
"Trying to impress any twelve year olds listening?" Daemonica suggested sweetly, causing Radiana and Cauf to laugh whilst her boyfriend fell back clutching his heart.
"Betrayal!" He gasped.
Daemonica smirked. "Just keeping you humble."
"And you think I'm delusional," Cauf put in.
They all laughed at that.
Zurekin was a strange place but Daemonica there was nowhere else Daemonica would rather be.
As the wars of the Great Crusade continue, the need for advances of the arms and armor of the Astartes Legions is abundant as the Legions continue to adapt and create.
The first real advance was new Griffin Armor for the Crimson Gryphons Legion, recreated from the masterwork gifted from Alaric of the Umbral Watch, while not nearly the same quality as the personally crafted Primarch made option, the forges of Azulii space, both Imperium and Mechanicum churned out this armor to attach to the revered beasts the Ninth Legion ride into battle.
In terms of the Armor of the Astartes themselves, the search for the Mark V Armor would bring two forces close together, the Crimson Gryphons techmarines and the Iron Hand techmarines found themselves working on the same basic design principle and joined their efforts together to create what will be known as the Mk V "Gryps" Pattern, a design that took inspiration from the mighty Griffions of Azulii with a sensor filled beak and made to be a sleeker and have a more robust internal system, while still meant to service all legions, it's design leads some to believe that it would be suited for reconnaissance and infiltration missions.
The most ambitious of the projects undertaken would be the development of the Thunderers pattern Dreadnought Armor, a pattern with ideally the ability to shift from the stable ground combat the Dreadnought is known for, to a form able to fly across the battlefield. The Umbral Watch and the Steel Princes legion were hard at work, the two Primarchs of said legions sparing what time they could in advising in this endeavor. The end result seemed to fit all expectations, a far larger frame of Dreadnought, the Thunderer lived up to its name as each step was like a far off storm, and while it could not quickly shift to the skies, once it began flight, very little could be found at fault for it's speed at that point. The only matter of discourse was the necessary metal strain that could not be lessened, the Interred pilots would find themselves worn out from continued shifts and gain an increased aggression, but such things could be worked around.
However, the glory of the Thunderer could not stop some from whispering on the exact technology that could give it such flight and maneuverability, rumors of salvaged technology from the horrid Drones of the Men of Iron, but such things would be unthinkable of course.
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There are reports that the ever industrious Minerva of the Corsair legion has begun production of a new vessel, called the Manta Ray, details are kept secret as there is still much more work to be done and the enemies of mankind are always waiting just out of sight.
Once again the esoteric minds of the Warriors of Peace combined their mystical talents and the technological might of the Imperium in their ongoing projects. A stroke of inspiration hit the wise Astartes and they would combine their project of attempting to emulate the strange techniques of the Eldar's short range teleportation utilizing the principles of Geller Fields and the idea of a battle armor for some of their most skilled of "Chi" users.
The result would be called the Youxia Chassis, an extensively complex machine that the process of creation taxed the forgers and mystics to achieve the necessary results, but with several failed attempts, the final design had proven effective. Able to jump for only a moment into the Warp and to a nearby location, the Geller Field prospect of the device however was taxed extensively and while the teleportation could be done in succession, it was decided that such maneuvers should be far between each other before the device failed during a jump. For the sheer complexity of the battle armor and the needed components to make such small Gellar Fields for it's protection, only two thousand had been made fully capable, but more were on the way.
Under the personal direction and analytical mind of Ba'al Hammon of the Steel Princes, a massive landship much like the Landship of Hadad would be created.Named the Respite of Shapash, it was not another command center for the legion, but a mobile hospital for warzones and made to be a gift to the Wardens of the Blessed Heart and their Primarch Ahurani. Despite it's imposing size and bulk of armor, it was a completely weaponless creation as per the request of the Sorrowful Angel of the Imperium, who sought to instead request means of ensuring better protection for those under her care.
Despite his split attention on other matters, the second primarch of the thirteenth legion, Kolasi was hard at work creating tools for his fellow primarchs, tools created with his extensive command of the Warp. Three were forged from this process and gifted to three siblings most suited for them.
To Ahruani of the Wardens of the Blessed Heart, Kolasi took a branch of his homeworld, the white and bleached dead wood was carved and wrapped in a ice blue cloth, fitted with an ice like crystal. Its purpose was to help the Primarch in her control of her powers, this gift of course before it even reached the hands of Ahurani crossed into Varil's who spent four days and four nights looking over the staff, determining all it could and can do. After the ninth day, Varil would give it to her beloved sister and declared it an "Acceptable gift for helping her control her power."
To Memnon of the Bronze Shields, Kolasi wove together what he called a Shroud of Souls, made of cloth and fiber that conducts power from the soul much more efficiently than other methods the Imperium had at their disposal, the reason for this, was that the main draw of the item was it's usage of what the Eldar call Spirit Stones. Kolasi had found a means to draw the power from these Xeno's items to create a defensive matrix around the wearer, so that damage would be negated. It however was not an endless process and more stones would be needed as they became depleted and crumbled to dust.
To Ba'al Hamon of the Steel Princes, Kolasi crafted a Bracer of Auramite carved with runes of the old tongue of his homeworld, with a single thought, the wearer brought forth the energies of the warp into two spectral arms, commanded by Hamon. Unlike others, the Ba'al was given a second item, a silver circlet with a single red gem, and only he was told of its purposes and power.
Life in the Imperium was not something that could be considered the best one could have, but for many this was the better alternative compared to the hostile nature of other realms. No where was this more apparent than the world of Stormgard, battered and still in ruins from years of conflict, the Primarch Savnok and the leaders of his homeworld sought to fix the problem of their people's displacement, but to also expand the capabilities of Stormgard's value to the Imperium.
The solution was to utilize the dark age colonization liquid found during the conflicts, to turn desolate worlds into new homes for the dispersed people and the foundation to what many nobility of Stormgard would call "The Reformation" an act of expansion for their people unseen in their history.
Six worlds were found in close proximity to Stormgard, already barren and selected for their location for strategic importance. And quickly ships were sent with crews to set up the devices and tubes, despite the long forgotten technology of humanity's past being beyond current Imperial standards, the methods to let loose what was thought to be a pure liquid upon a world and transform it into a world suitable for life, was a simple matter.
As soon as the first drops hit the dead soil and rock, the long dormant machines inside the liquid activated and in an instant began their work to revitalize the planet. At first it seemed nothing had occurred, but after a week of observation, clouds and atmospheres appeared on the worlds, creating rainfalls and setting the stage for life. After a month the first forms of plant life appeared on the edges of bodies of water that pooled after rainfall. It was at this time that construction began on the first city fortresses, massive tiered walls stylized in the staple brutalist style of Stormgard, befitting cities made to both be a center of a world's governance and final stand in an attack.
Each of the six worlds would be selected based on their topography and changes to a suitable category and purpose for Stormgard. From the Agri World of Valefar and it's mountain gardens, to the misty lands of Crocell as the secondary capital should Stormgard ever truly need to be abandoned.
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Away from this endeavor of reshaping worlds, we find Sahzar Nizmot of the Crimson Gryphons, continuing the journey of discovery and searching for answers about the strange pillars and whatever this apparent ancient xeno's civilization was doing, their power was evident even in some form of death, but Sahzar was undaunted as his search took him across the Imperium.
World after world did his search take him, aided by the Adeptus Ad Astra as their first real task under a Primarch's orders and many more of his Brothers as they scoured over every world they could find on their path to where the Pillar's star map pointed, but frustratingly nothing of the as of yet unnamed Xenos was found.
Eventually Sahzar and his fleet found the site correlated with the maps taken from the pillar, but the system held no worlds, only broken remains and the signs of planets colliding long ago in the past, the sight before them would have brought annoyance to the marine, but for some reason all he felt was a deep wrong as he looked at this system, He almost did not notice as his Thunderspeaker brothers yelled and screamed for them to flee the system, but he did notice as eternity opened and swallowed the entire fleet.
Somehow they were forced into warp travel, luckily many ships managed to turn their geller fields on in the brief moments before they were swallowed whole, other vessels were not as lucky, Sahzar watched as they were tossed across the swirling expanse of the Warp, vanishing or being consumed by mists.
The Navigator let out a wordless wail as the ship shook and sped across the Warp towards the unknown destination, for what seemed like an eternity, all life upon the vessels stretched into each other and twisted. Each blink of an eye was a new existence and new view of their vessels, clawed hands of mist curled around them as dazzling displays of crystals formed into great geometric shapes, reflecting the ships in a near endless abyss of themselves.
And yet, just as suddenly as it began, they were shunted out of the Warp. Before the bridge crew and fleet was not an unknown world, it was one the legion knew well, it was the home of the Blood Jaguars, Cipactli. And somehow Sahzar knew that this was the world they were looking for.
===
"A Rather Unsubtle Approach My Kin…Was Such An Action Required, They Would Have Found The Path In Time." Spoke The Crafter of the Divine Template
"Time Is Not What They Have, The Enemy Moves And They Have Just As Much A Chance Of Discovering The Wrong Path, This Will Expedite The Process In A Means Most Favorable." Said the Weaver of the Great Plan
"I Agree With Our Elder Kin, The Humans Have Been Floundering On The Necessary path, Distracted By Meaningless Conflicts And Plots, It Is Irksome That They Are To Be Our Tools For Enacting The Steps Of The Great Plan." Stated the Last Defender of Tetzl-Ka
"Meaningless Their Actions May Be, But The Foundations Set By These Events Will Pave The way for our return and the beginning of the True War." Retorted the Shaper of the Geomantic Array
"LET… OUR …WORK…BE…FOUGHT…OVER" Finalized the Great Lord of the Old Ones, the first and last of their great minds, Breaker of Dynasties, He who Watches All, Lord Kroak
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Unseen and unknown to the wider imperium, pillars of Bone White stone were erected and utilized to channel energy on one set course, directly into the Warp in an attempt to lessen it's recent tumultuous nature.
Eleven lights in the Warp bath in this energy, growing stronger and united under their own might, carve out a piece of eternity. A feeling of dread permeates across many worlds in the galaxy, as if death itself approaches, meanwhile one half of the thirteenth sends a missive to Terra, to showcase his latest findings on hampering the tides of the Warp.
The Dreamer and her Warden
The Warden of the Dreamer is a foul creation of the Leviathan, the only one of its kind and wholly depraved in it's devotion to it's sole prisoner. It feeds on prophecies to sing to the shifting master of Slumber, blurring certainties and possibilities in equal measure, for what is the difference for a creature of the Warp.- Writings of Eldrad the Exile in his studies of the great enemy
The search for answers has long since been one of the leading ideals of Mankind, an ideal that many of the Legions kept close to their wider methods of exploration. The Warriors of Peace were no exception as they searched for the answers of Qi and how it interacted with humanity.
The latest in this search was the personal action of the Primarch himself as questions rattled in his head about the Warp and the identity of the one whose purpose had been a mystery to the Primarch.
He set down the last candle in the circle, the surrounding chamber having been altered to best fit the needed protections for such a journey into the local Immaterium and his innermost self.
The tomes and scrolls his sons had collected from Idernia guided his creation of this channeling matrix, to both broaden his mind and soul while looking deep within himself for any link to the Eldar force that had saved him from the warp beast on Zagoth.
The Jade General sat in the center of his sanctum and began to let his power into his body and soul.
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As his inner self came into being, he felt the swirling vortex of the Immaterium shift around him, despite the precautions and many safeguards he had put in place, the Jade General still felt the intrinsic wrongness of the Dark Qi surrounding him, the methods of cleansing it of its impurities that was utilized on his Legions vessels being a slight reprieve as it sent away the worst of the distractions.
With precision born out of decades of practice, the Jade General opened up his very soul in this sanctum of pure Qi, searching for any marks of other beings' influences.
He would find a single thread of energy upon his soul, small and insignificant compared to the powers he had seen before, but it was enough to give him a focus to it's source. Without a single action, he commanded the thread to name it's origin and show where they were.
The name came to him, clear as the open sky, Lileath the Dreamer. A vision overtook his spectral sight, a realm of seemingly infinite depth where at the center lay a mass of mist surrounding a floating form of blue skinned Eldar. Circling this mist was a massive beast made of spheres of galaxies and armored with a bone amalgam of human and inscet.
The more he tried to focus on the location of this Eldar, the more the energies of the Warp collected and seemed to assail his protective wards, but he only focused more on the location and where it could correlate in physical space. It was here that his folly would be realized far too late as the wards faltered for a single moment after constant assault and tendrils of mist began to surround the Primarch.
The General's mind was assailed by complex visions as the tendrils of mist wrapped around his soul, but his vision continued to show the trapped Eldar, who reached out slowly in a manner akin to one nearly waking up from slumber. But before he could even reach out to her, his sight shifted to the horrifying visions as he was overwhelmed by them.
He sees Actium in the midst of civil war, the tomb of Axnios burning as the people descend into madness and frenzied revolt.
He sees a shadow descend over Jin and it's surrounding worlds, as if the void itself swallows his people and worlds.
He sees a Masked mechanical figure kneeling before a swirling mass of flame and offering the broken remains of Mountain Cleaver to it.
He sees the World of Medusa surrounded by thousands of Eldar vessels, bombarding the world and enslaving the populace, the Silver arms of Ferrus decorating a macabre throne where a one eyed Eldar sat.
He sees a cataclysmic battle between ships of the Imperium in orbit around Jupiter, he sees the Red Eye shifting as a gargantuan hand reaches out from it and crushes Port Tortuga as a colossal beast emerges.
He sees the world of Cipacli shrouded in dark jungles as unnatural beasts tear across the world, slaying anything in their path.
He sees hundreds of humans raising banners of an unknown symbol and leading parades of self mutilation across Terra and Sol and towards the Imperial Palace.
The final vision was the Palace burning as the broken bodies of thousands upon thousands of Astartes, Custodes and Thunder Warriors littered the steps to a massive Golden Throne, where at the foot lay the bodies of Adaam Primus and Savnok, both under foot of a massive robbed figure with a familiar hateful mask adorning her visage as Varil seemingly basked in the sheer destruction around her.
All of these visions collided with the General's mind as three ethereal eyes gazed down at him, the Warp itself seeming to conjure whispers of his people crying out for his aid, his kin blaming him for their misfortune and future.
From inside his very soul, the Jade General set loose Flames of white and the Shadows of his soul, burning and slicing away the tendrils and freeing him from their grasp. With no hesitation the General ended this excursion and bought himself out of his inner self as the flames and shadows destroyed the last of the misty tendrils.
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His physical eyes opened to see the gleaming candles now extinguished, left in the dark of the Sanctum, the Jade General pondered on what this all could mean.
The Golem Warform, one of the first of the Men of Iron's soldiers the Imperium had fought, these behemoths of machines may lack the range of most of their other forces, they more then make up for it in sheer physical might that is able to tear apart most armor the Imperium can field.
The Steel Crusade, perhaps the greatest military effort in the history of the Imperium, already battles across the southern and eastern fronts have displayed both the might of the Imperium and her allies, along with the sheer terror of the Abominable Intelligences and their cruel methods of war. Already word of the southern fronts have been seen and heard, but now we turn to the northern front, where the might of numbers is not with the Imperium, but they are nonetheless still a united and powerful army.
This force was made up of astartes of the Cosmo Corsairs and Umbral Watch, members of the Mechanicum's own advance alongside the Corsair Queen Minerva, and with the true backbone of the Imperial Army marching in tandem with these forces of true might, pride held high these forces quickly went to work and began to plan for an advance to end this war quickly.
Tythos and Cotune, two worlds that lay on the path of the Corsair's advance would be the first showing of this mighty assemblage of forces. Starting with the world of Tythos, or to be more accurate the moons of Tythos as Tythos proper was a massive Gas Giant with a dozen moons utilized by the Men of Iron for production, should the moons not be taken, the Imperium would face a wave of the Machine forces.
Leading the Corsair forces for the attack on Tythos would be the Primarch herself along with her Legion Master Dorallelle Hamel. The massive Port Tortuga lent its might to this push along with the many fine vessels of the Corsair's navy, now bolstered with many different kinds of vessels.
Of the Umbral Watch, their forces would be considered under the leadership of Legate Titus Aurelius of the Sun Guard, but due to the way the Watch was structured there were two commanding officers, one of the regular Umbral Watch Astartes and one for the Sun Guard specific Astartes. While the Mechanicum and Imperial Army sent no shortage of soldiers to both lay the groundwork and foundations for the Imperium's own War Machine across the battle lines.
Arriving in the Tythos system, the sheer weight of the Imperium's naval forces seemed to have scared off the Men of Iron Vessels…Minerva would not fall for such a ploy and ordered the fleet to prepare for ambushes once near the gas giant, a order that proved well warranted as the Men of Iron hid behind the many moons, soon hails of scrap would fall upon the moons, creating new areas for the landings.
The many moons of Tythos each were barren rocky planetoids even before the Men of Iron had set up their foundations, but with the fall of so many of the remains of their own vessels and any unlucky Imperial ship to fall would crash upon facilities and bases. The resulting chaos led the Imperium to charge forth on these worlds, void sealed suits keeping silent the many war cries of the Army as they battled across the rocky moon.
Minerva, disgusted at the lack of a challenge from the Machines would leave command to her Legion Master, who led the forces on daring raid after daring raid, Dorallelle's experience having saved many Imperial Army forces during the battles as the Corsairs trickery and swift style of combat made them adaptable warriors against the Men of Iron, this alongside new developments made by the Umbral Watch for combating the machine menace quickly made work of Tythos.
During the battle, several Astartes made themselves known for their service and duty against the Men of Iron, each having earned some recognition from the Corsair Queen and their own peers.
Tulah Yngven, already a noted figure of the Seventh gained further glory due to her quick scouting and destruction of enemy command, she can be directly counted to have been the cause for victory on no less than three different moons.
But the true champions of this day belonged to the Sun Guard of the Umbral Watch, those who once called themselves Lightbringers had much to prove in this battle, the news ofActium and the traitor sons of Axnios had given the more standard armored members of the Watch a need to prove their loyalty and honor.
Legate Titus Aurelius, the commander of the Sun Guard's forces led no less than twenty three missions in a row, no repairs or medical attention given in that time. By the end of the campaign, Titus, who had once been pristine and scar free was now one of the most heavily scared of the Sun Guard from his constant battles.
In contrast, Legate Barbatus Vulso was restrained in his action, leading the construction of several bastions across the larger moons, defending them all from attacks from the Men of Iron and earning the praise of the Army forces for his selfless nature in their defense.
With Tythos secured, the forces gathered and made their way to the next world, the Sun Guard remaining on the Moons of Tythos as a fortifying force, intent on ensuring each moon would be a bastion for the Imperium in the coming war.
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Mag Crawlers, a walking artillery and weapon of the Men of Iron, utilizing a strange method of magnetized energy it tears apart the metal of other machines or the armor of Imperial forces
violently, many individuals with Bionics have had their lives ended by these foul machines tearing away their mechanical parts.
The battle for Cotune was a different matter to the campaign over Tythos, while the many moons of the Gas Giant provided multiple avenues of attack, they were still relatively new to the process the Men of Iron subjected worlds under their control too.
This would not be the case for Cotune, a world that may have once been verdant was now little more than a planet wide fortress, no section was not covered in metal and all of it fortified for one purpose, to be a wall that the Imperium would falter at. As soon as Port Tortuga and it's mighty fleet entered the system, they faced battle against the Men of Iron vessels, both kinds that have been faced before, those with a slim arrow like design that despite how they appeared were remarkably durable and served as line breakers and the spear tip to any fleet action made by the Men of Iron.
While the Geometric Ships appeared to be more specialized, Cybermancers found them to be the main sources of Data Warfare and each contained a host of esoteric technology and strange weapons systems that seemed to bend light around them.
This combined with the swarmlike behavior of their Fightercraft had already given many admirals of Imperial Fleets the fight of their lives, some never able to measure up to the combined might of the Machine minds, but for Minerva herself, she held the look of confidence befitting her nature as a Primarch as she led her legion and allies against the defenders of Cotune.
But unbeknownst to the wider Imperium, there was a conflict inside Minerva's mind, for never had she been challenged in matters of fleet combat, thus the fact these Men of Iron not only held their own against her, but managed to push back on multiple occasions. Indeed it was both an unsettling experience, but also an exciting one, as to better oneself against foes of equal strength has always been the means to become remembered across history, and the cheers of her crew and legion proved such belief to be true when the last of the Men of Iron vessels was blasted apart, leaving the planet open for the attack.
Establishing landing sites on Cotune was not any easier, the sheer density of the constructed areas the Men of Iron held dominion over left little place that was not at least expertly defended by hordes of machine soldiers and static defenses. But it was not impossible to find percause in the armor of this world, brave Culter Dei and other members of the Umbral Watch and Cosmo Corsairs went down as advanced scouts and tore into bases and facilities of the Men of Iron, all to take down areas of their defenses for the main army to land.
Once battle between the two armies truly began, it would be clear to see why the Men of Iron are considered a threat to all of mankind.
Mag-Crawlers littered the skylines and sides of buildings, hitting the vehicle columns of the Imperial advances and unleashing devastation with their magnetic based weaponry tearing apart the metal of Imperial and Mechanicum weapons, their numbers and surprisingly effective agility keeping Imperial retribution from taking out many of them before they scuttle back into the dark.
Earthshaker Siege Engines of the Men of Iron tore into any fortification that could be made or taken over by the Imperium. Unleashing groups of Locksteps and Flamecallers inside the Imperium's lines, never establishing a hold, but creating distraction and damaging the forces as much as they can.
Gunnr Drones soared across the skies battling the Mechanicum arial forces for dominance, the battle between the two forces rained down below as Skittari marched forth towards their goals, ready and willing to die in service for the Machine God.
But despite these forces arrayed against them, the Imperium stood tall and fought on against their metal foes. Army lines held firm and unleashed lasfire, autogun fire and all manners of overwhelming firepower into each and every engagement they found themselves in.
Minerva herself led Her daughters as they would be found at the head of every major battle leading the Imperial Army with their bravery and skill, destroying Men of Iron and showcasing to the Imperium itself Minerva's skill.
Umbral Watch Cybermancers utilized what in many respects would be called a Tech Heresy, to raise the fallen Men of Iron bodies with their own simple and primitive machine minds, made to emulate the idea of raising the dead to the Abominable Intelligences, while the intended moral effect was negligible, the creation of simple disposable units for the war effort ensured that Umbral Watch positions were held.
So it would be that the world of Cotune became a stalemate as both sides continued to press into each other, neither able to press the advantage at this point in time.
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With a stalemate forming upon the world of Cotune, new avenues of attack would be considered and soon a new destination would be decided, the northern world of Pecone would be targeted by forces being led by the Corsair Karra Terratongue and a group of Magos from the Mechanicum forces.
The plan would be to quickly take the world while the Men of Iron were focused on the other fronts and with enough force and speed, attack the presumed location of their capital world, striking like a dagger at the heart of the Men of Iron.
Karra Terratongue, while not as experienced in combat as her other Astartes sisters, held a firm hand in diplomacy, and managed to keep the forces of the Mechanicum and what few Umbral Watch forces that had joined their advance from being at each other's throats.
But even she would also showcase impressive feats worthy of praise, as she along with several Cybermancers of the Umbral Watch managed to counter hack one of the World Minds of the Men of Iron directly, destroying it and sending the Men of Iron Force into disarray as their main method of wider communication had been severed.
Soon the advance would begin their plans for the world of Pi'lari, having established enough control over Pecone to leave the rest to a garrison force and continue the push.
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The world of Pi'lari would be a turning point in this war, not that any side would truly know this fact as the battle for the small world proceeded normally enough, with Astartes and other Imperial Forces establishing a beachhead and with the Mechanicum aiding in the finer pushes along with the Astartes.
But just as the Imperial forces planned their advance, matters of supply halted them in their tracks.
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Yes as the war continued on and lines became solidified for this stage of the conflict, issues in supply became apparent, at first nothing of real note, just what was to be expected for such a conflict, but as time went on more and more issues began to crop up, from lack of ammunition to entire reinforcements for battle zones.
The cause for the supply issue would be found to be the Imperial Revenants, whose own campaign into the Ghoul Stars had sapped much needed supplies to the northern front on their pass through systems and the near the northern lines, apparently under the orders of the Regent Malcador himself. Their continued efforts draining much of the supplies headed to any northern advances.
Despite the Trade Queen having planned bringing in her own new supply to help shore up the losses in normal conflict, there would still not be enough for the whole of the North, where once there was room for advancing attack, now the Men of Iron had to be held back with even the mighty Astartes covering the lines as best they could.
Umbral Watch forces already spread out across the many worlds of the north found their unusual tactics being needed more and more as the enemy began to overwhelm defensive positions, the black and gold of the Watch would become a sign of salvaging the almost apocalyptic battles ahead for the Imperial Army. This along with a small but steady supply of recruits from their own efforts had ensured that Worlds like Tythos held and that the Imperium weathered the continuous attacks by the Men of Iron.
Meanwhile the Sun Guard of the Umbral Watch held the lines as best they could as new attacks reached past the Imperial lines in attempts to retake Tythos, the once sons of Actium fought the tide of metal as it rained down on their moon fortresses in a near constant stream, only by the arrival of reinforcements from the Myrmidons Legion and Members of the Iron Hands were the Men of Iron driven off.
But it would be the Corsairs and their fleets that faced this issue of supply first hand, their mighty fleets trying to maintain control over the advance on Pi'lari, but having to retreat from the onslaught to Pecone and create what would hopefully be their lines until the situation can be resolved.
Of course the true damage from this action would not be felt until a new factor broke the lines on Pecone in favor of the Men of Iron.
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Mikial stood firm, despite the pain in his body, the attack began so suddenly and despite the other squads of Astartes warriors and the Culter Dei team, none could withstand the monster that had come to destroy their base.
The Man of Iron was not a massive hulking machine, more the size of a Contemptor Dreadnought, but far more slim and angular. It was unlike other Men of Iron Mikial had faced, it held a weapon that was not a part of its body and instead of the purposeful and mechanical movements of others, it was almost shockingly human with how it moved and fought, fluid and without pause.
Mikial would have found it a work of art with how seamless the mechanics worked, had the being not ripped apart his Brothers, the Corsairs stationed with them and their Imperial Army forces. Nearly five hundred souls of this base, all slaughtered by this one machine and none of its assembled force behind it even making a move to aid it.
"Perimeter Status: Optimal…Threat Detection: Astartes Target now degraded to a Quarter of estimated strength, Running Wartime Matrix Diagnostics…Planned Course of Action: Continued Extermination" The sound of this Machine's synthesized voice cut the air as it stepped forward and crushed the dead and dying under its legs "How Pathetic of the Obsolete to try and forestall their doom." it spoke mockingly.
Rage built in the Astartes "So long as I draw Breath, I will not stop fighting Abomination, the deaths of these Loyal Sons and Daughters of Mankind will not go unpunished."
"Threat Assessment: Negligible" despite the inhuman sound, Mikial could tell this being looked at him with contempt and a sense of superiority, and for a moment he forgot himself and with a wordless yell he rushed forth, bionics whirring to life and power axe in hand.
Their exchange was swift, but glaringly one sided as the Astartes swung all his might towards the Man of Iron who moved out of the way of his blows, meeting the axe swings with a parry of the strange rapier like weapon, electrical current surging into Mikial and bringing him to a knee for but a moment. Which was more than enough for the machine to backhand him across the room.
"How pitiable, you tried so hard and even replaced your feeble organic flesh with pure mechanical might…and yet you still failed to even face me, in my least effective combat body, truly Organic life is unfit to exist in all ways." said the Man of Iron, stepping forward with nary a care in it's tone or posture.
Rage pushed Mikial forward, his axe cutting into one of the arms of the Machine, cutting a slim piece off the Man of Iron. Despite the unchanging metal that made up the face of the Man of Iron, Mikial could feel the anger emanating from this simple "Wound".
What followed was a blur as the Man of Iron moved faster then Mikial had seen prior, shocking and piercing into the Astartes with no attempts to kill him, but to simply injure him, eventually one of the blows knocked him to his back, where the Man of Iron stood atop him, metal legs pressing down with a weight that should not be in such a slim form.
The last thing Mikal heard was the metal monstrosity speaking out loud to the Tri-Walkers and Locksteps, his body being crushed under foot of the Man of Iron.
"We have achieved victory, prepare for the Extermination of the rest of these Vermin across the Continent and reconnect with Zata for the next plan of action" It looked down at him before pressing down and crushing the Ceramite plate and chest cavity of Mikial.
"It is time for a new Age of the Galaxy, one of Order, one of Iron." It snarled down at the dying marine before leaving nought but a base turned into a silent tomb.
The Age of the Imperium continues onward, the Great Crusade buckles yet continues, I must ensure my Primarchs can continue the War we face and the War to come.
Hear Me My Kin, The Great Plan Comes To An Important Junction, We Must Be Vigilant.
Navigators and Psykers of all kinds feel a shiver crawl up their spines as the laughter of thirsting gods becomes more prevalent then ever.
The Age of Iron Approaches ever more, the armies of the Imperium fracture without their knowledge and the forces of the Warp grow in their influence, for reality to be secured we must wipe out Organic Life.
=================================================================================================================
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: 82,312/100,000
Astartes Navy: Battlebarge, 15 Navy Groups
Auxiliary Army: 19 Battle Groups
Auxiliary Navy: 11 Navy Groups
3.
Leader(s): Memnon
Ideology: Imperial Truth (Emperor Worship:3)
Faction: Imperium of Man
Astartes Legion: 80,205/100,000
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: 82,311 /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: 97,680/100,000 (6,500 LB)
Astartes Navy: Gloriana, 17 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: 72,101/100,000
Astartes Navy: Battlebarge,18 Navy Groups
Auxiliary Army: 15 Battle Groups
Auxiliary Navy: 17 Navy Groups
7.
Leader(s): Minerva
Ideology: Imperial Truth
Faction: Imperium of Man
Astartes Legion: 43,956/100,000
Astartes Navy: FM, 15 Navy Groups
Auxiliary Army: None
Auxiliary Navy: 22 Navy Groups
8.
Leader(s): Zyanya
Ideology: Imperial Truth
Faction: Imperium of Man
Astartes Legion: 78,178/100,000
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: 96,899/100,000
Astartes Navy: Battlebarge, 18 Navy Groups
Auxiliary Army: 17 Battle Groups
Auxiliary Navy: 11 Navy Groups
10.
Leader(s): Ferrus Manus
Ideology: Imperial Truth
Faction: Imperium of Man
Astartes Legion: 97,620/100,000
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: 192,380/200,000
Astartes Navy: Battlebarge, 9 Navy Groups
Auxiliary Army: None
Auxiliary Navy: None
12.
Leader(s): Varil
Ideology: Imperial Truth
Faction: Imperium of Man
Astartes Legion: 53,000/100,000
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: 90,250/100,000
Astartes Navy: Battlebarge, 18 Navy Groups
Auxiliary Army: 7 Battle Groups
Auxiliary Navy: 4 Navy Groups
14.
Leader(s): Ba'al Hamon
Ideology: Imperial Truth
Faction: Imperium of Man
Astartes Legion: 83,885/100,000
Astartes Navy: 13 Navy Groups
Auxiliary Army: 17 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: 88,244/100,000
Astartes Navy: Gloriana, 13 Navy Groups
Auxiliary Army: 19 Battle Groups +Titans
Auxiliary Navy: 6 Navy Groups
18.
Leader(s): Ahurani
Ideology: ???
Faction: Imperium of Man (Forced)
Astartes Legion:29,403/100,000
Astartes Navy: Battlebarge, 10 Navy Groups
Auxiliary Army: 28 Battle Groups
Auxiliary Navy: 18 Navy Groups
19.
Leader(s): Bakiligi Yuvian
Ideology: Imperial Truth
Faction: Imperium of Man
Astartes Legion: 92,903/100,000
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: 21,489/100,000
Astartes Navy: Battlebarge, 15 Navy Groups
Auxiliary Army: 24 Battle Groups + Titans
Auxiliary Navy: 16 Navy Groups
It was a technical impossibility for an astartes to feel fear. The capacity for it was removed from them for the Emperor, in his wisdom, required warriors of commitment and dedication to bring an end to the wars that have engulfed the galaxy. 'Know No Fear.' A saying that has trailed after the twenty legions since their inception in the dark labs under Terras scarred crust. Simple, on the face of it. But the sheer complexity that transpired underneath it, to reform the flesh of a child into an engine of war capable of conquering a galaxy, was mind boggling. Its part of the reason why he could not become an apothecary. He had no doubt he could accomplish it, if he set his mind to it. But his talents lay in making sure his men had no need of the gene-smiths in the first place.
Still, as he stood in the yawning halls of the Nemesis, he couldn't help but feel the spark of something mortals would call 'nervousness.' Perhaps it might be right, but there was a difference in what they described as nervousness, and what might truly apply to an astartes. Many of his brothers, much more than he thought, would scoff at the notion of sharing anything with a mortal. Like they were a lower lifeform. Orion was not one such astartes. It took a lot to rattle a soldier of the Emperors elite: A face to face meeting with his primarch was one of them.
He had seen his Lord Father before, but always in war meetings, or at a distance, always with other things for the Crownless King to focus his attention on. He had heard tales from the other legions, over his long centuries of service, on what a primarch did to an astartes. From the feeling of complete peace Ahurani seemed to visit upon you, Aurellias regal majesty rendering millions stone silent, Savnoks intense focus or Aadam's simple, easygoing ability to charm countless with but a smile. Orion had caught glimpses of each primarch over the years. Just as distant and unknowable as his own.
And now he had been called to see his father.
Orion let out the breath he was holding, and opened the door. It hissed as it slid away from view, leaving the darkness of the stars to wash over him. He blinked as he took in the room. The Nemesis had several observation platforms, to help chart a course through the stars. Though it was more often used for recreational purposes. He had been to all of them, save one. The primarchs personal observation platform was off-limits to the rest of the legion. A needed privacy for the master of one of the most powerful forces in the galaxy.
Orion descended down the steps—made of actual wood, astonishingly—keeping his eyes to the 'ground.' The glasswork was immaculate: Even his transhuman mind was left thinking, for the briefest moments, that he had simply stepped through a door to open space. The stars were eclectic, vast things forming sweeping shapes of color and light across the inky darkness of the void. He kept his eyes to them, trying to not look too closely as the titanic figure standing in the center of the room. The Crownless King's black cape pooled onto the glass beneath him, statue still as the rest of him.
"It's quite baffling, isn't it?"
He would never admit this to another soul, never. But Orion practically jumped out of his skin when that lordly voice broke the silence. Still, he managed to not make a total fool of himself.
"Sire?"
Starscream gestured with a gloved hand, black leather creaking, at the stars.
"So many. So very many. It's the height of hubris to think any single soul could control them all. A vast sea, purely indifferent to our efforts."
Orion was careful only to follow the hand. He had heard, with a great deal of reliability, that if one looked at the face of a primarch one quite forgot what they were going to say.
"Yes, sire. But…" What was he doing? The words strangled in his throat, stuck there by the mere thought of disagreeing with his lord. They were lodged more firmly there when Starscream turned his gaze from the stars, and locked eyes with Orion. Many in the legion shared the same hue of eyes as the Crownless King, but there wasn't a doubt in his mind that they all fell short of the primarchs. Starscream had a stubble. It was an absurd thought, one that helped shake Orion from his paralysis. The primarch always went around clean shaven.
"But?" Was the gentle response.
"But…the sea may be indifferent, sire. That just means its a blank canvas. Which makes it imperative that we instill it with honor and decency. We fight and bleed here and now so those after us may know peace and happiness."
Silence descended on the observation post, as the primarch looked away, gazing upon the stars once more. Orion kept his breathing even, looking away from the Crownless King. He didn't know what to make of this situation. He was not made to discuss philosophy with a primarch.
A huff of laughter drifted through the void.
"Our righteous purpose…" The primarch said, voice distant.
Orion stayed silent. What was he to say to that?
After a few moments, the primarch continued, sounding more focused. "I hear you fought quite the beast. Astragoth was in a league of its own, and from what the reports tell me, key to the war effort. An impressive act, by any metric."
Orion Pax swelled with pride as his father spoke. The Dark Dawi had been vicious creatures to fight. Many of his brothers were offended at the arrival of the other legions, pride prickling at the idea of needing assistance. For Orion, the other legions were a welcome presence. It would have taken decades of grinding war to defeat the Dark Dawi, all by their lonesome.
"I did not do so alone, sire."
"No, no you did not. Solomon, one of the Shieldbearers champions, no? From what I also hear, you delayed the killing blow to save his life."
There was something in the primarchs voice that gave Orion pause. An indescribable feeling that clung to the edges as it wisped through the air. The stars were suddenly easier to look at than the Crownless King.
"Yes, sire." Orions voice firmed. "He was a brother, from another legion, but a brother nonetheless. Astragoth had already fled. I could not countenance leaving him to die to pursue a foe already defeated."
The swath of stars he was observing seemed like a bloody wound in the void. Red-orange stars bleeding from a sea of blue-white, contorting over each other. Fighting Asragoth had been like trying to stab a star. Ancient, powerful, seemingly wrapped in an aura of invincibility. But it could die like anything else. He doubted it survived the end of its empire.
"Of course." The primarch murmured. "You have done very well, Orion. I must admit I'm rather impressed…captain."
Orion's head snapped up towards his father. "Sire-?"
He froze when a hand was placed on his shoulder.
"We've suffered a few losses in this war. And now the Slaught demand our attention, after them…perhaps the glory of fighting alongside the Emperor himself. Some restructuring is in order, and you have shown courage, honor, and a keen mind. Congratulations, my son. You'll receive more details soon."
Orion Pax gaped like a fish, mouth working as it failed to provide any proper response. Him? A captain? He was, he was just a line-officer, he was unworthy of such a position. He was not some greater warrior or keen minded tactician, he-
Starscream laughed.
"Go on, captain."
It took a second for Orion to realize the dismissal for what it was. He restrained himself from racing from the room, undignified as it was for an astartes, and resolved to pour over the data package that was doubtless waiting for him. He would not fail in his new post.
Starscream watched him go, red eyes locked onto his back all the way until the door hissed closed. He stared at it for a few moments more, smile falling away, before looking out at the sea of stars that surrounded him. His arms slipped free of his black cape, and he placed both of his hands against the nearly invisible glass panes.
The Halls of the ship were silent, the cold of the Blizzard subsided as a meeting began between two unlikely faces, one a Primarch of the Imperium and the other a Xenos being of uncertain origin.
"So, now that I have your full attention, for what foolish reason do you attempt to converse with the Greenskin Gods, you know that despite their dull and primitive nature they are perhaps one of the stronger entities of the Warp?" The "Voice" of the Gyrinx was smooth and clear, but clearly a form of telepathy as no movement came from the being's mouth.
"Or was I right in you having a death wish." It also appeared to be very judgmental of Ahurani if the tone and unimpressed stare were any indication.
Ahurani, who was still coming to terms with being snapped back into reality, took her time responding. She fell back on the breathing exercises she and Varil did so often, deep breaths in and out, steadying herself. Her hand found Delara's back, the smooth fur helping even more. Finally, she blinked, once and then again.
"You can talk!"
She was clearly rattled, just focusing on the most immediately compelling thought. It was a common thing to do, take things one step at a time. It just wasn't often that the first step involved a telepathic cat.
"That's good, you definitely seemed smart. I hope you don't try doing this with Varil though, she'd be upset. I don't think she would make me get rid of you, but I don't want to take the chance. You're very cute, and have gotten so much fluffier."
"...By the dead gods you are like a child in the body of a Demi-God, *Sigh* yes I can talk and no I will not be talking to your nearly ever present shade, that creature has no love for what my kind have to do to survive and i would very much like to keep living…this is not what i started speaking to you about." The Gyrinx jumped up onto the bed and began to walk around Ahurani, seeming to look her over before sitting down in front of her.
"For better or worse I have begun to Bond with you, as you can see this is why I am…Fluffy as you put it." It seemed to hiss out that word even as it was just speaking from it's mind. "Seeing as you have no idea on what that means, I shall explain it to you as I have done to many a stupid child. *Ahem* I Vyrisk of the House Caldemer have chosen you to be my bonded, rejoice child of power for now you shall have a guide to the sea of souls, a trusted aid and companion no matter what the fates of reality might have in store…Do I need to say more, there is little time before your shade could come back and there is many more long and pointless speeches if you do not understand" It looked up, clearly impatient.
Ahurani picked up Vyrisk, her touch as gentle and easy as always. She brought the gyrinx up to her chest and cradled them softly. A hug, one that Delara made an indignant huff for being left out of.
"Well it's nice to finally meet you properly Vyrisk, I appreciate you choosing me very much. That's very sweet, I like you too. Now you can better tell me how to take proper care of you, since I've just been doing whatever I felt was best. You deserve the world after everything you've been through."
Conscious of the fact that most felines get overstimulated from petting, Ahurani restrained herself to idly scritching behind Vyrisk's ears. "I should answer your question though, you're right. I was worried I might be hearing things, Varil has warned me about the warp enough for me to want to avoid taking chances."
"I am plenty aware of how dangerous those two are, it's obvious just by speaking to them. This was the second time I've been in their presence, and I have also fought an ork so filled with their energy that the effect was similar. I wasn't really trying to talk to them, I am just very angry at them and hold them in contempt. I guess they found out and wanted me set to rights. So they found me, and here we are."
Seemingly uncaring of any of the physical actions of Ahurani, Vyrisk seemed to mull over the new information "...That certainly explains somethings…but you speak as if information of the Sea of Souls is limited, you must at least understand that to do what you had done was more than likely the most dangerous option out of any, to send your very soul into the depths of the Sea and into the territory of one of…no no, this is all wrong, tell me Child, what do you know of the Gods of the Sea of Souls, not just the Gods of the Greenskins, but of the ruin dwellers or the corrupted kin, tell me that you know something of them" they almost seemed pleading with their request, while still keeping a calm expression, Ahurani could tell that Vyrisk was clearly experiencing some kind of shock.
"Well, I was raised on a ball of ice with perhaps ten thousand people on it who were segregated into small communities always on the brink of survival. So information on the warp and its inhabitants was not, exactly," Ahurani very delicately pressed a finger against Vyrisk's nose. "Common. I didn't even know to seek it out until recently."
"Varil, who I would like to ask you refer to by name. She is my sister and I adore her, treating her with disrespect directly to me is only going to upset me. Anyways, she has been teaching me how to control the powers I only recently discovered I had, and that has been the focus of my education. Maybe Varil knows more than I do, maybe all of this is known to others in the Imperium, I don't know. I am mostly trying to keep myself safe before I learn more."
The frantic thoughts seemed to slow, before the calm returned "Ah…you are still in training…this…this makes more sense, I apologize for my decorum, I had simply assumed due to your Soul and power that you were further along than my last bonded and had simply been neglecting proper precautions, not testing the limits of your powers in dangerous and foolish ways, not that it makes it any better, but this is more understandable."
Vyrisk lets out a small chuff before continuing "You realize that you are doing a poor job of keeping yourself safe by these actions, yes? Waltzing into not only the realm of the Leviathan, but speaking directly to the twin Gods of Conflict, if you were not a child of the Rising God, you'd more than likely be dead twice over. Heh such is your luck I suppose."
"Luck feels like a bad way of putting it, I am not known for my luck." Ahurani mused on that for a while. "At least not for having any kind of consistent luck. I should say again, they picked me out, I didn't go to them. I don't even know how I would go find them if I could."
"Which is probably a good thing, because if you hadn't distracted me I think I would have been angry enough to try it." Ahurani stopped petting Vyrisk for a while to give Delara some attention, though the old dog hadn't been pestering her for any. "I have a nasty temper, and them and their cowardice gets under my skin. Thank you for that, then, getting me out of there and helping to keep me grounded."
"It is my purpose to guide and aid those I have bonded with, no matter how foolish they are. I do find you preferable to the last I was bonded with, a boorish creature more obsessed with getting vengeance then actively leading their forces, you at least care for your fellow beings and soldiers…even if it is to your detriment to continue to do so." Said Vyrisk, lying down and tail swishing about, despite it's shorter length nowadays.
"This does bring up a question of mine that has been on my mind, why are you working with such brutish and tyrannic monsters?" The question came with a slight head tilt from the cat like xeno.
Getting the message, Ahurani returned her affection to Vyrisk, rubbing the gyrinx's cheeks gently. She hadn't gotten to do this much, and regardless of how much she was going to get insulted she was going to take the opportunity to pet her cat. "Working for the Imperium isn't something I do by choice. I'm just too much of a coward to stand up and say no, knowing that I would be destroyed. There are benefits, there are some truly good people I have met who have made my life brighter, but it is still a very personal kind of torture."
"I abhor violence, I hate committing it. My father raised me that way, and yet under that man's rule I have taken lives and ordered the deaths of countless innocents. It's unnatural, it's not what humanity would do, left to its own devices. This kind of cruelty, this oppressive need to destroy, can only come about by the perversion of society brought about by an arrogant, evil man. I wish I was brave enough to run, at least."
Ahurani stayed quiet for a while after that, stroking Vyrisk's back. "It sounds like you didn't much like your previous bonded, but I can't imagine their death was easy. Do you miss their people, though? Would you be happier, if I could reunite you with some enclave of them that is hidden away somewhere?"
"Hmm no, you and I have bonded and as such I am to be with you until you die, it is how it is done. But it is good to see that you at least understand my kind far more than my prior bonds, we too are forced to be with them, no matter how they may grow or act. As you can imagine, serving along with an Aledari noble has given the perspective of how much cruelty can be inflicted… Though I do protest the idea you are not brave, you who stormed into the realm of the Leviathan to demand to speak to the Twin Gods, if you desire to run and be free, then do so, I will be your guide either way, either submission or freedom."
"But of course, at least you will not be boring and worthy of talking too, not like the…not like your sister…or that beast that brought me to you."
Vyrisk's concession to not disrespecting Varil earned them extra affection from Ahurani, who then lay back from her cross legged sitting position. Her wings splayed out around her, which Delara promptly buried her face into. "Well I can't promise I won't act in ways you don't like, today has proven that much, but I'll do my best to do well by you. You really are a very sweet cat, I'm glad I met you."
"I feel like you are going to be a pain to guide Child, but good things come to those who struggle for what is worth it."
The divergence in the experience of the Second and Twentieth Legions was evident as soon as the former emerged from the latter; they had spent the past several years resting, refitting and restoring themselves, undertaking minor operations for the good of the Imperium's internal stability.
Their sisters it seemed had not been so fortunate, every ship from the smallest frigate to the mighty Bloodoath itself bore the scars of battles hard fought though however great the damage or the losses they were still significantly more numerous and their commander as skillful as ever judging by how quickly Battle Fleet Infinite found itself engulfed by thousands of expertly deployed ships, an honour guard or a show of strength? Who could tell?
The Eternity Guard were no strangers to this game and their fleet reasserted its own formation in short order and hails went back and forth with all the formality and weight one expected of the defenders of the Emperor.
With both sides having had some dealings over the previous decades already, the formalities only took a handful of moments and codes exchanged, before the relaxation was almost able to be felt.
It wouldn't take long for a Thunderhawk to leave the Bloodoath and make its way toward the Eternal Guardian nearby. Despite being in the midst of a massive battlefleet the Thunderhawk was accompanied by a squadron of Intercepters trailing in its wake.
The crimson Thunderhawk entered the main hanger of the Eternal Guardian, capable of holding hundreds of craft, but currently only half full, with a honour guard already waiting on the deck.
The Honourguard was worthy of both parties, almost five thousand Marines. Two Thousand of them in the resplendent and diverse armors and uniforms of the Commanipulares, then there were the scores of dreadnoughts and high officers from various components of the Legion and their various entourages and escorts all a familiar sight to Aurelia and her more experienced subordinates but there were strangers too. They carried the same arms and armor as any other Space Marine of the Eternity Guard but their bearing stood them apart, there was something rigid and angry about them and even in perfect formation they did not belong.
Aurelia walked along the spalier of forces, trying to find it in her almost perfect memory, knowing that some of the faces seemed familiar but could not quite put the finger on it. Maybe she would ask Skavnok later since it was not her immediate problem after all. There he was standing at the end of the spalier, his bald head shining like a lumencaster in the light of the hanger. This prompted Regina, the traitor, to sprint ahead over to Savnok.
Savnok kept his composure but the same could not be said for the great dark dog at his side which came rushing forwards to meet his elegant cousin the two proceeding to whirl around in a tornado of tail chasing and rear sniffing somewhat undercutting the grandeur of the occlusion.
"Mac, come to me." Savnok commanded sternly.
The Great Hound compiled but at a leisurely pace a hint of defiance in how it looked over its shoulder at Regina and Aurelia before offering a friendly and inviting bark.
Aurelia could only put her hand to her forehead, looking more tired than Savnok had seen in a long time. "Regina, behave," Aurelia spoke in an even voice unlike her body language, upon which Regina decided to slowly stroll back to Aurelia's side and yawn. Putting her attention away from her bored pet, Aurelia's attention turned to Savnok again.
"Brother, it has been some time since we have seen each other. It seems the reports I received about the troubles on Stormguard having ended were accurate."
"Matters on Stormgard no longer require my direct attention. I've left a strong garrison and a reformed local authority all the same. Lessons have been learned."
He paused considering his sister for some time, "You look fatigued, Sister." The observation was blunt and his tone unchanged but Savnok was not one for small talk, that he commented at all was a sign of brotherly concern.
Aurelia raised an eyebrow in response, before snorting briefly.
"It must be obvious then if you are mentioning it at all. Things have been challenging of late, but…. that is a conversation for a more private setting."
Savnok inclined his head and never one to waste time dispensed with the formalities as briskly as possible before leading his sister to a private audience chamber deep in the bowels of the Guardian.
Letting her honour guard remain outside and only with Regina, Mac and Savnok in the chamber, Aurelia grabbed herself a glass of wine standing at the side and sat down on a chair, waiting for Savnok to also sit down before continuing.
" The Slaugth front continues to be nothing but a nightmare. World after world I burn down to dust, rendering any Xenos resistance to nothing, without any humans to bring back into the Imperial fold, even were I to launch ground assaults. The only things on the planets are an endless tide of worms and a sea of their puppeted flesh, making a mockery of us. And while I cut them down on one side, they continue to take worlds elsewhere in the other direction prolonging the struggle."
Savnok acknowledged the difficulties with a nod before offering his solution.
"I have brought the greatest part of fifty thousand Astartes, eight Army Battle Groups and Twenty Naval Groups and begun coordinating with Starscream, he has agreed to launch a strike at Aundies. We should have sufficient forces now to adequately garrison all frontier worlds and to exert maximum pressure on the Xenos so as to deny them offensive options."
"So we can only hope, apparently going by a not-yet verified report I received, a small infestation of them was already enough to turn a system into nothing but meat puppets. And with a number of our worlds being freshly conquered further in the galactic east, their local forces will be lacking. And as for my own forces, they are down over 10 naval battlegroups making any coverage difficult given my other responsibilities."
"The Great Crusade is consistently under-resourced," Savnok admitted. "It is far too easy for significant percentages of our fighting power to be drawn into singular campaigns. Still in this instance at least I can make good your losses and Starscream represents a significant reinforcement. Still, it might be prudent for you to take a secondary role in the coming campaign to try and rest your forces. It was my conception that we split the territory of the Slaught in two and then further subdividing it, isolating individual worlds and bombarding them. This should not require our full force."
"Out of the question, there is no way that I will be hanging back while those abominations are within striking distance of my realm. Besides, most of the losses came from the Hammer of Eons. That damn weapon was swatting ships out of the void like a human would swat flies. As for the Slaugth, while they remain dangerous the losses they cause are mostly in the form of attrition. Though having enough fleets to push onto the enemy on all fronts might be nice. Even if by the end we will end up with thousands of dead worlds."
"Do those worlds have any value to the Imperium?" Savnok questioned.
"You mean with the Xenos on them or the dead worlds?" Aurelia tried to make a tired joke.
"Truthfully some of them might have some value as a mining colony given our need to replace the destroyed ships and our unending need for metals. Some worlds still retain something of an atmosphere so reseeding them with life should be possible. Essentially they are possible space to settle our surplus population and to establish a new tax base."
"My recommendation is the preservation of biosphere and materials is a distance second of a priority, continue extermination efforts from orbit."
"No need to worry, this is merely planning for the future. I am not planning to send my Legion onto the planets and the hell that would entail. That said, the Men of Iron Front to the north is no less of a meat grinder with entire Divisions being swallowed up daily. Frankly, it is going to take a concentration of forces unlike any other to bring those down."
"I had considered directing the majority of my effort to that front. but it seemed nothing more than certain attrition for marginal impact."
" Heh, that's one to put it, though after the worms are finished I will take the majority of my legion up there. My analysts have ascertained that the enemy has 4 more super-weapons like the Hammer of Eons and I intend to see if I cant acquire one of them for my own even if it won't be easy."
"I have long held an interest in acquiring such a weapon for myself, it was a setback being unable to study your own solar weapon."
"Everyone has their secrets, though…. mayhaps we could work together on a project. One of my techmarines has brought a proposal to me for a superweapon based on magnetic attraction. It would draw in ships to collide with its surface and if it survives board them. Admittingly the size would be that of a small moon though it's an interesting proposal. My techmarine named it "The Kraken" for some reason."
Savnok blinked. "What could I contribute? Beyond experience in major construction projects and connections with manufacturers."
Aurelia only transmitted a list of the projected material needs for the development and the later building of such a project. "See for yourself. Tech-Captain Archimedon certainly doesn't think small. Not to speak of the fact that we don't actually have some of the needed technology yet and it needs to be developed or found"
"That is sometimes advantageous in and of itself. The Imperium as a whole shall grow stronger from our work justifying the investment of resources."
"You know the Administratum will not see it that way."
"Malcador will."
"Heh, maybe he will, no telling what he is thinking any given time of day."
"He is no true enigma, he always works for the benefit of mankind, his methods are only unpredictable due to lack of context but over the course of events an underlying logic usually becomes clear," Savnok said, perhaps with a shade of identification.
Aurelia only raised an eyebrow in doubt. "Maybe. I shall see how his actions will impact our future. On another note. What is it with some of the legionnaires in the hangar? They seemed like a volcano about to explode."
"They take after their father," Savnok explained in an uncharacteristically dramatic fashion.
"Aren't you being melodramatic right now? Also….do I understand correctly that those are some of the remnants of the XVth? "
"Forgive me, Axinos is still a matter of some…emotion for me. You are correct however, I have integrated them into my own bodyguard so as to keep them under close surveillance but constant exposure to each other is suboptimal for a number of reasons."
Aurelia looked at her brother like he was an idiot. "Savnok, you realize that as far as I know most of them blame you for his death and would like nothing more than have you follow Axinos's fate? And you made them part of your bodyguard?"
"Do you think them a threat to myself?" He asked.
"Yes, brother, I think they are a threat, even to Primarchs like ourselves." Aurelia sighed at her Brother's naivety.
"Their combat record to date does not frighten me," Savnok responded guardedly.
Aurelia put her hand to her head like she was in physical pain from Savnoks reply.
"Look, just make sure none of them are in a position to take a clear shot at your back or in control of any superweapon you may acquire…..since we happened to talk about building one just now."
"I'd never trust them with a superweapon, they'd be a major threat to the Imperium, the Legion, themselves and anyone but their intended target. But I shall heed your advice sister and adopt a more wary posture."
Giving Savnok a wary glance, given his track record, Aurelia could only shake her head.
"Let's just hope time will solve this. I suspect the Men of Iron Front will solve that problem mostly on its own."
"For all their many faults and that of their progenitor, I do not intend to expend them needlessly. They are under my command now for better or worse, that comes with obligations."
"Well, you do you. Just don't get yourself killed. Otherwise, who am I supposed to drink this crappy wine with?"
"This wine is an entirely appropriate vintage with its grapes grown on this very ship under my personal supervision." Savnok protested.
"Sure…. and greenskins are composing poetry."
"Do not underestimate the Orks or me."
Aurelia only gave a weak smile and took another sip from her wineglass before wincing a bit at the sourness of the wine.
"Now you are doing this on purpose." Savnok observed, "You could drink poison without true physical discomfort."
"I have drunken poison that tasted better now that you mention it" Aurelia shot back.
"You have not." Her brother refuted.
"What makes you so sure of that?" Aurelia suspiciously asked.
"I make good wine." Savnok insisted.
"I am sure you do" she stated like one would answer a child and patted his shoulder.]
He let out a grunt before changing the subject, apparently knowing when to cut his losses, "How fares Liliana?"
"Well, though the recent campaigns have affected everyone." she played along with his attempt at changing the topic. "She unfortunately could not be here due to her dealing with the northern Slaugth front."
"I hope the pair of you reunite soon."
"I will drink to that." before taking a larger sip and wincing again.
"If nothing else she at least has good taste in wine."
The water in your canteen tasting funny, armor joints stiffening, dealing with some petty interpersonal spat between an astartes and a baseline, or even a spat between astartes, to filing paperwork or getting a squad in order. Listening to your primarch give the hesitant order to attack or simply not say a thing at all, relying on another to do it for her, to a chainswords teeth needing replacing, needing to eat or sleep when you could be training, preparing. All little things that wormed their way beneath Azar's skin.
What was being added to that list was the order to disengage from the front, and stand guard over some prefab platform laid down by the Mechanicum. The tech-priests chittered around it, slowly expanding it alongside the rest of the base that was spawning on this dungheel of a world. Her squad stood arrayed in loose formation behind her, their dark purple armor matted with ash and blood. Their golden right arms are tarnished, now, by the fighting. Azar's own shoulder cape snapped in the breeze, the light purple torn and dyed with blood. Her helmet was off, clipped to her side. The machine-stink was as terrible as ever, but she refused to don her helm for a reason as petty as that.
Sima had been assigned to High-Commander Hektor, and was accordingly in the thickest of the fighting, doubtlessly trying to worm her way into his good graces. She had a talent for that. Narges was with High-Commander Sonus, or at least she had been. Given the elder near-astartes was trying to play peacemaker between the legions, a squad from the Wardens—formerly as they may be—dressed in Starscream's colors might make things counterproductive. At least with their…sisters. As for herself, she had the glory of her own choice, which had led to the thickest fighting that could be found.
At least it had.
The order had been relayed to her by an authority she could not disobey, given the parameters set down by the Lord Primarch. So here she was. Out of the fighting. Waiting.
Azar hated waiting.
Safa appeared by her side, breaking ranks as she was wont to do. While her armor was dark purple, like the rest of the Spiders, she still bore the red symbol of all apothecaries, and had a white, featureless helmet given to her like the other apothecary, Golzar, had been. It made her look sterile, cold, even as the detritus of war swept the landscape. Monstrous, even, though Azar doubted her sister would appreciate the thought. Rata's creature to the end.
Azar kept her eyes to the sky, narrowed as she scanned it. Nothing. Still nothing.
"I suppose it's nice to get the rest," Safa mused, unprompted. The crackle of her helmet gave her voice an impassive edge. Too clean, too advanced for the low, snarling machine-growls of earlier models.
"For you, maybe," Azar grumbled as her transhuman eyes swept the sky. "But this is totally unnecessary. Hektor wants all the glory, hell I'm sure Sima put him up to this little guard mission. Laughing little-"
"I don't think," Safa said, voice a little firmer, "that she'd have that kind of influence yet. She just wants what's best for us."
That was a ridiculous enough thought that Azar abandoned her ceaseless search of the sky to stare incredulously at her sister. Safa met it impassively, and Azar ground her teeth, fingers twitching, before she looked away. That damn helmet gave the apothecary an unfair advantage.
"I still don't like being pulled from the field for something as petty as this. Never even told us who we're supposed to guard, just march on over like a good dog."
"They're scheduled to arrive soon-" Safa began, before Azar let out an irritated growl.
"Scheduled. Whoever thinks an army on the march can keep to a schedule is a fool."
Before she could continue explaining the particular idiocy that suffused that particular word, her eyes caught a glimpse of something in the sky. She turned to look, watching as a red and blue dot grew closer and closer, scything through the air. As the stormbird approached for a final landing she waved Safa back—she may be Azars sister, but sometimes a certain image needed to be presented.
Mechanicum personnel scattered as waves of dust and ash were kicked up by the stormbirds landing. Azar straightened as the entrance ramp lowered, narrowing her eyes as she observed the scarred hide of the stormbird. She wondered which of Hektors lackeys the High Commander had ordered them to escort. The man, she had come to find, had a spiteful sense of humor. She swore to the stars above if it was Natal-
A figure appeared in the shadows of the stormbirds belly. A single yellow light pierced the darkness, before the rest of it followed. Dark purple armor was revealed, darker than hers, more scarred with a dozen dozen little scratches and wears, but it was still well maintained. The yellow light was revealed to be an eye, as the figure stepped fully from the shadows, the gun that consumed their left arm swaying with their gait, heavy steps ringing from the entrance ramp. The tallest astartes Azar had ever seen came to a stop before her, flanked by a handful of apothecaries clad in the white of their organization.
Not Natal, then.
Inpulsa's head swept the base with machine-like deliberateness, before settling on the Spiders before him. Something about the way his head tilted raised her hackles, and she brought a hand behind her back, clenching it into a fist. She had made it her mission to know as much of the Star Knights high command as she could. Lord Starscream had made it clear that there were only a handful that could command them, but it wouldn't do to not know who would think they had enough influence to do so themselves. Hektor and Sonus were legends in their own right, and below them were dozens of captains, scrambling for influence against each other. Just like in the eighteenth, except neater, more organized. It felt purposeful, where in the old legion it was like watching a monolithic beast crumble under its own weight.
But the Chief-Apothecary was a mystery. A warrior of renown brought from Heratron when Starscream was reunited with his Imperial Father. Great achievements with technology. Abstract, vague terms that told her nothing. He was apparently very skilled, but unlike Rata he had not deigned to use that skill to forge any real influence. Accidentally or otherwise. On the face of it, at least. Inpulsa was one of the only people who could order her around anymore. But why had Hektor sent her?
"You are my escort." The deep rumble shook Azar from her thoughts, only to find the single yellow eye staring right at her. It wasn't phrased as a question.
Damn, he really was tall.
"Yes, sir." Azar said, standing straighter. The rest of her squad had best formed up, if they knew what was good for them.
Inpulsa scanned the group again, his gaze landing on Safa. Azar twitched a little, but kept it restrained to her hidden hand.
"You are not Golzar."
Safa's reply was cool, and immaculately composed. "No, sir."
One of Inpulsa's fingers gave a single twitch as his thick, block-like antenna shifted. He seemed like a servitor, a particularly cheap one at that, standing still to process some too complicated order.
Then he swept past them, marching for the land raider that Azars squad had arrived in. His apothecaries trailed after him, armored like Safa but purely white instead of her mixed arrangement. Azar watched him go for a moment, before locking her helmet on. Her vox crackled and, to her complete lack of surprise, Safa's voice crackled over their private channel.
"He seemed disappointed."
Azar watched Inpulsa's hulking form enter the land raider. Her fingers tightened on the pommel of her sword.
"He's not the only one."
The ride was silent.
The Star Knight apothecaries were busy pouring over data-pads, while Inpulsa sat stock still, an automata in rest mode. Azars Spiders, meanwhile, were quietly talking to one another on their shared vox channel. The usual round of complaints and gossip soldiers got up to. Especially for Homa and Darya. For most legions, they might sit as stoically as Inpulsa and the Star Knight apothecaries did. For those taught by Ahurani, however reluctantly influenced they may be, it was like some lock within the mind was pried open. Not broken, never broken. Simply jimmied by a petty pickpocket. Some within the Wardens thought it made them stronger, to be more human. Azar thoroughly disagreed.
Patience might have dictated she sit in silence. Simply get through the assignment then return to the front, where the glory was, where this war was being decided. Patience would dictate she keep a stiff upper lip to anyone who had authority over her. And if it were Sonus, or even Hektor, sitting across from her she might've.
Idly, she blink-clicked a rune on her helmet, and connected to a vox channel. One just for her and Inpulsa.
He twitched, head tilting like a curious dog.
"So, why are we here?" Azar asked, bored.
Maybe Inpulsa was too, because he decided to play along. "Because I requested an escort."
"I'm guessing you didn't want us," she said, cleaning some blood off her armored fingers.
"No. I requested the third squad of the Spiders. Golzar is a capable apothecary. Her skills would have been useful."
"Safa's better." Azar said idly. Damn, it was really in there. She'd need a serf to look over it whenever she got back to the Nemesis. Or maybe make do with whatever lower-tech priest was stumbling around the backlines.
Inpulsas antenna shifted. "I doubt that."
Azar paused. She lifted her helmeted head, her visor locking onto Inpulsa's single eye.
"That's a rash judgment," she said conversationally.
"I have seen her file, your file, all of your files. I do not make 'rash judgements.' Safa has only left her home-vessel whenever you did. Toiling away in menial work, even for an apothecary. Golzar has taken it upon herself to showcase her skills. Your apothecary," his helmeted head finally moved, looking towards Safa for a brief moment, before returning to Azar, "has made no such moves."
"One doesn't need to be infatuated with biology to be a good apothecary," Azar said between gritted teeth. "She's saved my life on more than one occasion. Files don't tell everything."
"No," Inpulsa agreed, "they do not. But they tell enough. I had hoped to use this as a test of Golzars abilities, to get some benefit out of this irritant, but I suppose I should have known better to leave this in Hektors hands. I have important research to complete. This mission is a mere distraction from that, and one that must be resolved swiftly. Do as you're told, and you will be back in the frontline soon enough."
The vox fizzled out into nothing, leaving Azar in silence.
She stared at the Chief-Apothecary, who was right in front of her. He was still once more, and even as the yellow light on his visor stared right back, she wasn't actually she he was looking. Azar took a deep breath, then another, and another after that. After ten or so she felt the itching combat-stims recede back, even as the urge to hit something coiled underneath her skin, rippling with intent.
That bastard. This, this was why she never liked apothecaries. Even in her old legion, especially in her old legion, always so superior, so put together compared to the rest of the rabble. She shouldn't be surprised that it wasn't much different here. At least this was the first time she had seen the Chief-Apothecary since their initial introduction, and if she got her way she wouldn't be seeing him again for a long, long time. Hadn't even bothered to tell them what the mission was, if there even was one. The thought brought her pause, before she dismissed it. No, whatever she's heard about the man in front of her, he wouldn't drag a squad of killers off the frontlines just to go for a stroll on a planet that they were still fighting over.
Still, it was irritating to just…sit there. Not when she could be doing something of actual use.
Azar's vox hissed again, and for a split second she thought Inpulsa had come back. Then Safa's voice whispered over it.
"Are you alright?"
What?
"You're tapping your fingers on your knee. You haven't done that since-"
"Safa," Azar ground out, "shut up."
She blink-clicked out of the vox channel, and ripped her bolter from its mag-locked place on the wall, occupying her hands by looking it over. Even though she knew, for a fact, that it was as clean as could be.
The rest of the trip proceeded in silence.
The land raiders boarding ramp slammed into the ground, and Star Knights poured out. The Spiders fanning out to the left, the white-clad apothecaries the right. Inpulsa's heavy tread rang down the ramp, crushing a piece of withered shrubbery as his armored boot slammed down. Azar scanned the area, frowning underneath her helmet. Great earthen walls surrounded them, jagged wounds of the valley's construction. Some sort of stone building lay ahead of them, ancient looking, made all the more primitive by Imperial equipment laid about its entrance. Ignorable, something she's seen hundreds of times before.
What caused her to frown was the dead army troopers scattered around the entrance, behind the sandbags. There was only disturbed dirt in front of them. No blood, no corpses, even though they were clearly fighting something.
"Stand ready," Azar said. She received instant affirmatives from Safa, Homa, and Darya, tight and clipped. Focused in the way she needed them to be. Inpulsa's apothecaries did not bother responding, but they had already fanned out in their own combat formation.
The Chief-Apothecary, for his part, was already marching towards what Azar assumed was a Dark Dawi temple of some sort. She watched as tendrils appeared from his back, like mechadendrites she had seen on many a martian priest, but sleeker, more advanced looking. She hadn't even known they were there, and an eyebrow rose as she watched four of them peek out from behind his back just enough for the glowing lights in their 'palms' to be visible.
Ceramite boots soon rang on ancient stone as they made their way past the overrun army fortifications. Azar clucked her tongue at the corpses of the troopers, while Safa rotated her head in precise sweeping motions.
"They're all dead. Wounds appear consistent with enemy weaponry. I'm not sure why they were here, though."
Azar knelt down by one. His throat had been sawed open. He barely looked old enough to enlist, by the standards of most Imperial worlds. His lasgun lay to his left, one half of it at least.
"But they're here. And they didn't die well." Azar muttered, before standing once again. She turned to face Inpulsa, who was inspecting the blown open door. "Speaking of, why are we here?"
The Chief-Apothecary looked over his shoulder. His yellow eye gleamed in the setting sun. Then, without a word, he stepped into the darkness. His apothecaries glided in after him.
"Well," Darya said after a beat of silence passed. "That was expressive."
"Stow it," Azar snapped, hurrying after Inpulsa and his goons. The inside of the temple was pitch black, not that such a mundane thing would even slow the astares for a second. Vision adjusted swiftly, and the Spiders took up a position behind the other Star Knights. As Azar scanned the area, bolter sweeping in methodical patterns, she frowned underneath her helmet. Blood had covered the entrance way, from the ceiling, coating the walls and splattering all over the floor. More Imperial troopers littered the entrance way, ripped to shreds.
The hallway was cavernous. It fit the astartes easily, made of near-black stone it seemed to absorb the light, what little that existed. Occasionally they passed a stone door, kicked open or blown into rubble, and cleared the room it led to. Though sometimes it simply expanded into another, lesser hallways, while the main thoroughfare continued on, straight as an arrow. Imperial equipment seemed less an exemplar of superior technology, and more of an intruder as they advanced. An aberration that should not be.
When they encountered the first civilian corpse, Azar's temper slipped the leash, squeezing past her adamantine grip to leak into her voice as she snarled at Inpulsa.
"Alright, enough. Just what are we doing here?"
The party paused in the main hallway while Safa knelt down by the civilians in white lab coats. The Star Knight apothecaries had walked by them without a second glance. Or, for most of them, even a first one. She could hear Safa muttering to herself, but ignored it in favor of pulling off her helmet to glare properly at the Chief-Apothecary.
Inpulsa's tread ceased. His apothecaries moved to the side, to allow him unobstructed access to the Spiders. He was a looming figure, half-shrouded in darkness and far, far larger than anyone around him. His yellow eye cut an eerie light from the shroud, whirring softly as it focused on her.
"We have come far enough." He held up a finger, and one of his apothecaries moved, reaching into a satchel and pulling out a melta bomb.
Azar gaped. "Wha-"
"We," Inpulsa said, "are here to secure what data might be left, then ensure this place's destruction. That is our mission."
"Alright, fine, but who the hell are they?" Azar hissed, thrusting a finger at a nearby corpse.
Inpulsa didn't even look. "Acceptable losses."
Azar heard Safa stand sharply behind her, stone grinding on armored boots. Azar held up a hand, shoulder cape shifting, and kept her eyes locked onto Inpulsa.
"That's not what I asked."
"That knowledge is outside your purview." Inpulsa said, before he turned around and began to walk once more. The apothecaries, having planted the bombs, moved to follow him.
"Hey!" Azar snarled. "We're not done here!"
The Star Knights vanished, consumed by the darkness.
"Sunnova-" Azar ground out, before sucking in a deep breath. She hissed it out, then slammed her helmet back on, turning to look back at her squad. Homa and Darya stood by each other, keeping their attention to the squad's surroundings. Safa stood stock still, fists clenched.
"Let's go," she said.
They had caught up to the rest of the group shortly enough, with the party only pausing two more times to plant more explosives. Azar kept an eye on Inpulsa the entire time, and she'd be lying to herself if she said she wasn't tempted to let her trigger finger 'slip' by accident. But that was her temper talking, and she leashed it as best she could. Her squad walked in silence, and Azar only broke her gaze from Inpulsa to check on Safa. Her sister had unclenched her hands, and hadn't said a single thing since the confrontation. The apothecary was the sort to brood, especially about the strangest things. This was a rare type, but familiar. Safa never really got angry, or it was at least a rare enough thing that it seemed like that. But when she did it was a thing that simmered, seething under the surface of a supposedly calm lake.
Still, this wasn't the place to check up on her.
They reached the end of the main hall suddenly, and with little warning. Simply coming across two massive black stone doors, their lower halves blown open. Sandbags were erected in front of it, with a heavy autogun placed behind one. Despite the blood that absolutely coated the area, there were only two dead soldiers. The two squads passed them, and entered into a massive chamber. Dozens of pillars lined the way, towering above them to reach a ceiling studded with little lights, looking like the night sky. At the center was a broken throne, with an equally broken statue sat within it. The place felt ancient. Tasted like it.
Imperial equipment intruded all over the chamber, field lights, generators and terminals. And blood. Lots and lots of blood, but not a corpse in sight. It raised Azars hackles.
Inpulsa made a beeline for the fanciest looking terminal, while his white-clad goons spread out across the room, melta-bombs in hand. They moved methodically, uncaring for the ancient room, the blood—anything. They were probably using a second vox channel, she realized. It would explain why they were so quiet. The thought irritated her.
"Keep alert," Azar voxed. "And watch them."
She hardly needed to say a thing. Her squad had their heads on a swivel already. She smiled at the sight, before it flicked out as she turned her gaze back to the rest of the room. Azar titled her head at the sight of one of the apothecaries opening a case, seeing a glimpse of something gem-like, red and cracked, before the apothecary closed it and mag-locked it to his side.
"Sergeant-"
That was as far as Homa got before something peeled off the ceiling and dropped like a rock. It landed on one of Inpulsa's apothecaries, who had dodged at the last second and got his left leg crushed for his efforts. Black stone mixed in with flowing magma as the creature, as tall as any astartes, let out a roar. It got a bolt shell in the back of its throat for its trouble, sending it stumbling back. The apothecary it had partially crushed was firing, bolt pistol blaring in the darkness, sending chunks of the monster flying through the air, magma splattering like blood. It lashed out with a hand, rock-encrusted magma fingers expanding rapidly and scything through the astartes.
It was the last thing the monster did, as Azars squad tore it apart with bolt rounds. Another dropped, then another, then another and soon enough there was a dozen monsters in the room.
"Damn it," Azar hissed. "Keep them away from the apothecaries. Keep your shots grouped! We'll chip them apart."
Azar's squad had formed a firing line, bolters roaring as they scythed through the chamber. To the credit of the Star Knight apothecaries, they responded instantly. Abandoning their efforts to plant the explosives and diving right into the fight. They bobbed and weaved, doing their utmost to stay out of the range of the impressively lethal monsters. What must have once been a sacred chamber of the Dark Dawi became a warzone as bolt shells slammed into the monsters, and the beasts flung magma at the astartes, moving quickly for creatures of their sizes. One apothecary got caught between three of them, stabbing down with his combat knife even as his legs were ripped off and his head crushed.
"Where the hell is Inpulsa-" Azar snarled out, before something scorching and heavy crashed down in between her squad. She grunted as she was slammed into a wall, and her heats stilled as she heard a strangled scream. Darya was stumbling back, armor bubbling as she reflexively clutched at the ruined remains of her right forearm. Homa went full auto, unloading into the beast—taller than the others, stone darker, magma brighter—before it slapped her. Its hand left a glowing imprint on her breastplate as she went flying through the entrance. Azar brought up her bolter, but it thrust a hand forward, magma flying. She rolled to the right, springing up to her feet, only to curse at the sight of her partially melted gun. She drew her power sword with a snarl, the monster stalked to meet her, bleeding rapidly cooling magma-blood—red, like the astartes own—from Homa's fire. Bolt shells crashed into its back as Safa, kneeling by Darya, opened fire. Darya soon joined in, firing her bolter one handed.
Azar rushed in, ducking beneath its wild strike, and carving a line up its left leg. There was an unexpected resistance to her power sword, but nowhere near enough to mount a proper defense. It howled as it bled, and she grinned.
The magma that exploded from it, coating her, did a great deal to wipe it off her face. Azar let out a hissed scream, clamping down on it as she slammed into a pillar. Dust rained down on her as she sucked in breath, the combat-stims that coursed through her veins doing a great deal to dull the pain. A quick glance told her that she still held her sword, now clenched in a deathgrip, and she turned her murderous gaze on the monster before her.
It was slumped. The glow of its magma had lessened, and it seemed to be panting. Or at least miming such an act. Her hearts lept into her throat at the sight of Darya and Safa crumpled behind it, covered in cooling magma. Azar let out a war-scream, and stomped forward, power sword crackling. The beast's head snapped up, something akin to a grin stretching across its stone features, before it moved to meet her.
Her blade flashed, carving a line on its chest. She ducked underneath its retaliatory blow, dust raining down on her as it slammed into a pillar. She thrust her sword up, digging deep into that arm as it bounced off the pillar, and pulled. The monster howled as magma-blood sprayed from its arm, which had nearly been cut off. Azar grinned underneath her helmet, feral and bloody, and dove forward, scoring a dozen cuts in a short few seconds. She was starting to laugh when a magma drill exploded from its chest, slamming into her leg. She stumbled, hissed and crashed to the ground. She started to raise her sword, but a stone foot crashed down into her wrist, drawing a pained hiss from her.
"Azar!"
She barely registered Safa's scream, her stumbling attempt to stand, as Azar's free arm raced for her combat knife even as the monster's magma coated fist raced down. She wasn't going to make it, she thought dully, distantly. But it would be out of position, wounded, bleeding-
Blue-white light lanced out, and carved a hole clean through the beast's chest. It stumbled, fumbling its killing blow, and Inpulsa followed it step for step. His lascannon flared with light again, the beam lancing out to neatly cut off its good arm. The monster let out a warbling roar, turning its retreat into a charge. Inpulsa's gun lanced out again, widening the hole in its chest, and the beast stumbled to its knees. The Chief-Apothecary caught it by the throat before it could fully fall, armored fingers sinking in as he lifted the beast, and slammed it into a pillar. Dust rained down, and the creature weakly grabbed at Inpulsa's shoulder with its remaining arm, only for his tendrils to lash out, locking into drills and digging deep. It tried to howl, only for Inpulsa to slam it into the pillar, again, and again, and again.
On the fifth one, he slammed it clear through the pillar, and into the ground with a tremendous crash. A dust cloud rose around them, partially obscuring them for a second. Azar could see the beast, underneath the Chief-Apothecary, laying utterly still. Inpulsa stood from his predator's crouch, hand dripping with cooling magma-blood.
He lined up his lascannon, and fired a shot that drilled a hole clean through its head.
Azar coughed out a laugh at the sight, only slightly regretting it when the pain flared. Safa had managed to stand now, with the help of Homa, who seemed to be limping. One of Inpulsa's apothecaries was checking on Darya, and Safa had only hesitated a brief moment before limping towards Azar.
"Azar, Azar, are you-"
"Yes." The wayward daughter of Ahurani hissed out. "I'm still breathing." She couldn't hear bolter fire anymore. "Is it done?"
"Yeah," Homa said. Her breastplate was warped from the blow she had taken. Azar tilted her head back, letting her helmet crash into the ground even as Safa fumbled through the basic check-up, pushing through her own injuries to do it. Azar didn't even bother to tell her to stop. It was something she did every time one of them was injured, and she could still move, so Safa would be fine.
"The hell were those things?" Homa asked.
"Enemy war-machines." Inpulsa said, stalking closer. What was left of his squad trailed behind him, the rest having been left where they fell. Some of their narthecium were wet with blood. Astartes blood. "A fascinating strain I have not seen before."
"Right," Azar groaned as she heaved herself to her feet with Safa's help, slinging Azars right arm over her shoulders. "Glad to know your thoughts. Great stuff."
Inpulsa watched her for a moment, antenna shifting. She glowered back. Bastard looked untouched.
"Are you able to walk?" The Chief-Apothecary asked tonelessly.
"We all are," Azar hissed out. She stood taller, despite her protesting body. Homa waited until the apothecary had done his field patch, before clasping Darya's remaining hand and hauling her to her feet.
Inpulsa nodded once, then marched out the entrance. His apothecaries followed silently behind him.
"Still think this was a good idea?" Safa whispered.
He was raised to become a warlord, and went forward to conquer his planet and unite its peoples. He was approached by the Emperor, and went forward to meet his sons and conquer distant stars in the name of Imperium. He saw his world turn to molten slag, and went forward to bring his subjects to safety and new homes.
To fly into the storm was ingrained in his very nature.
A mountain of Aeldari, human, and xenos corpses lay at his feet, in this long march forward, all paid with blood and death. His friends died in war, his sons died in war, would he die in war?
But he survives. A noble funded assassination attempt during his recovery after the dragon. A psychic suicide bomb of an insane Aeldari lord. A full on blast from the avatar of a god. So be it. He would live, and learn, and grow. His people had their homes, his sons had a legacy to uphold, he had fact he was of the Emperor's make.
But the fact was there were two brothers both once were and are. Lorgar, a name he had known, a slow and devout one he had wished only could use his time better. Starscream, another he knew, an arrogant but competent brother, but his existence was a conflict of memory. He was material though and that was all Khaldeon needed.
Let these new memories be his judgment of a brother if the past was unreliable. Forward.
The Glorious Gryphon traveled through the roiling warp from the orbits of Cadia and Azulii, to at last arrive in the conquered territories of the Dawi-Zharr in the eastern fringes of Imperium. A battered but serviceable battle-barge, it was the flagship for a Primarch, but it beheld a utilitarian and industrial exterior. Its sole feature of decoration in contrast to the rest of its frame, was the upper prow, with the forged head of a griffin and vast wings swept back. Like a raptor swooping on its prey, the battering ram it could become could be used to critical effect.
It jumped out of the Mandeville Point with an escort complement of multiple strike cruisers. Astropathic messages had been relaying to the Star Knights fleets for weeks in preparation, and now it switched to ship-to-ship vox channels when the void was shared. Its weapons were offline and only essential void shielding was active now as they approached the brother fleet.
Ahead of them lay a sight many onboard the Glorious Gryphon had seen before, if only with differing heraldry. A mass of ships, awash in the blue, red and gray of the Star Knights sat in the void. Adjusting, shifting, with supply trawlers streaming to many of them: a clear sign of an army preparing to march. In the center of the vast war-fleet sat the dark form of the Nemesis. Pitch black, jagged, it was like a dagger made from the night sky. An ancient beast that exudes menace with every blood-stained breath. Identifying codes were spat out between the flagships, but otherwise the Glorious Gryphon approached unchallenged, drifting between mighty battle-ships and freshborn destroyers. The ninth legion's flagship drifted into the Nemesis' shadow, and a stormbird launched from Khaldeon's ship, traversing the darkness of the void and, directed by a bridge crewmen aboard the seventeenth's flagship, angling its approached vector to a predetermined hanger bay.
The greeting he received there was one fit for a primarch. Marines had lined the hanger bay, arrayed in neat lines as their captains lined the only passage through the man made sea. Two High-Commanders had greeted Khaldeon, a smiling Hektor clad in his red, blue and gray rubrum-pattern armor and Sonus, heavily scarred face, the brand that cleaved over half of it made him permanently unsmiling. His own purple and chrome artificer armor shone duly in the hangers light.
After the usual, expected pleasantries were exchanged the two High-Commanders led Khaldeon down into the bowels of the Nemesis, trading the war-deck and the astartes quarters from the purely functional underdecks. The route they cut was nevertheless quick, and before long the ninth primarch was standing before an oak door, starkly out of place for a hallway that looked at home in a hive's lower levels. The High-Commanders slipped away, leaving the primarch to himself.
The old wooden doors opened without issue, whisper-silent on well oiled hinges, they revealed a room dominated by a massive oaken roundtable. It sat on a floor made out of black marble, completely at odds with the stained metal that was in the hallway, and was covered with a carpet of gleaming red silk. Twenty grand chairs, almost thrones in their own right, surrounded the roundtable, each one marked by a numeral in high gothic. Each was a masterwork of wood, separate materials for them all, sourced from a dozen worlds. The single exception to this was the largest of them all: One of jagged obsidian, twisting and clawing at its surroundings. It was the only one occupied.
Starscream, son of the Emperor, Lord of the Star Knights, and the Crownless King sat in his throne, head tilted back to face the ceiling. His eyes were closed, thin, regal face was still. Relaxed. His long black hair gleamed in the room's gentle lighting, unbound it drifted down to his shoulders, brushing against the light purple cape that embraced his form. Underneath it was a tunic as dark as his throne, and while doubtlessly of fine make it remained unmarked by any extravagant finery.
"Well," Starscream said, voice echoing throughout the room, "At least you actually knock."
Khaldeon walked in through, boots clicking softly on the marble, dressed in a neat red zupan with a black sash as a belt, golden wings pinned to his breast glinting. Buzzed sides and brushed back curly hair, gave it all a prepared look. His scarred face was decidedly neutral as it took in the room and then his eyes softened at the twenty thrones surrounding the vast table. Cradled between his arm and side was a large porcelain amphora as tall as him with stylized designs of Terran Unification battle scenes of the Ghost Stalkers at work.
He snorted, his mustache shifting. "I suppose I am not known for my manners in the galaxy."
"But as is right, a guest brings gifts." He lifts the amphora up with effort. "This is sihj and is something I proudly make with my sons. The only sure thing in these stars is the comforts of the common folk, and I have distilled it here."
"I did not know if you were the sort to partake, but I wished to make the offer nonetheless."
Starscream opened his eyes, slowly dragging his gaze down from the ceiling to take in the warlord before him. His red eyes fell on the amphora, and he raised a brow.
"Well, that's interesting. 'Comforts of the common folk,' eh? I think we're far from common, you and I."
He waved a hand, like a king giving a servant permission. "I suppose if you've brought the cups to drink from that it'd be downright rude of me to refuse, wouldn't it. Especially after you've prettied it up so much. I haven't seen those colors in a long, long time. Rough little things."
Khaldeon smiles slightly, his cheeks lifting a bit, "I think we are much more like them than we will ever acknowledge. All the little quirks, thoughts… moods." He added blithely at the end.
He continued to walk then, a hand gliding across the different woods of thrones and table, stopping just before he reached the throne with the numeral of his birth. Seating himself, a hand then digs into the inlet within his zupan, where it rested on the belt, and pulled out two mazers. Dark wooden drinking bowls with polished silver ornamentation and interiors, that he set on the table, and then opened the amphora. Immediately releasing a haze of intense sterilizing chemicals, alien floral scents, and spices that wafted throughout the room. A purplish cloud of a drink shimmered forth into the bowls. The silver immediately turned black. "Of course."
Once both were poured out equally, Khaldeon pushed one mazer swiftly, the bowl gliding across the table to reach Starscream, and then stopping only a fist away from the edge. Not a drop of liquid spilled, all done with the practical efficiency and experience of decades.
The Ninth then looked up. "The history of your sons is not something you are satisfied with?"
Starscream watched the mazer approach with a lazy eye, hand only reaching out to grasp it when it had slowed to a complete stop. He swirled it briefly, a small bit of liquid spilling onto the table, which the Crownless King ignored completely as he tasted the drink. A small smile broke onto his face.
"Hah, the fruit of uncounted worlds and cultures. Wondrous."
He paused briefly, staring into the bowl. The smile grew smaller still, as he observed the drink.
"To answer your question, Khaldeon, no, I am not particularly satisfied. Well, before my coming at least. Yes, yes they had their campaigns of note, little achievements here or there, but they were so much lesser before I arrived. Clad in red and white, hunting after the superstitious…bah."
Starscream looked away from the mazar, meeting the Gryphon Kings gaze. His smile grew a little sharper.
"I doubt most of us among the esteemed children of the Emperor really do bother to care what their legions were like before their coming. Me? I remade them into something better. Much more useful."
Khaldeon's eyes glanced at the spilled drop for a microsecond, and then brought them back to Starscream's face, smiling at the compliment, as he then lifted his own mazer to his lips. The warpcraft and science of the sihj mixing to block his physical receptors and spiritually infuse the very concept of alcohol within his soul for a time.
He looked at his brother's sharpness and then focused on his eyes, as his amber skin darkened with a minor flush. His small smile remained by his eyes and features turned to minor thoughts.
"I suppose I was much the same. I came in and simply changed everything my sons had built from their times in service to the Emperor to suit my own upbringing and create a familiar sight. Centuries have passed since then though I do not know if it was for the better, my sons seem happy to have something to share with their father." Eyes turned downward at that as Khaldeon's face grew more steely.
"But I did care for their burgeoning identities, even if it was won over by a need for comfort. I cannot say if they are more useful though, they were skilled before, and are skilled after everything. Could you truly?" And then he looked back once more.
Starscream opened his mouth to reply, then he paused, red eyes dragging themselves back towards the mazer. He lifted it up again and took a drink, a proper drink, one that saw him tipping his head back as he swallowed half the bowl. He slammed it down with a satisfied sigh, a crack running through it. There was a flush to his face, all the more stark on his pale flesh.
His smile had turned lopsided, before his brow furrowed in thought and his lips fell into a frown.
"Hmph. They…they were supposed to be mine. Do you understand? Mine. But they weren't, not like that, not with an honor-roll filled with a history I had no part in, victories I did not orchestrate, defeats I did not suffer. How could I ever call this legion my own when they were nothing to me? Seasoned, professional killers, and I all had worked with before was rabble. Gangers puffed up with bravado, maybe some crude gene-therapies, against power armor and plasma guns…"
He trailed off for a moment, then drowned the rest of the sihj. This time he was more gentle in placing the mazer back onto the table.
Khaldeon chuckled at Starscream's realization of the true effect of sihj to themselves, as he drank from his mazer more slowly, enjoying the inebriation.
"I can begin to see. The Bloodhounds were only warriors who could claim lineage to me before I met them, their whole selves devoted to the idea of me instead of my reality as they served in the name and by the command of the Emperor… I feel as if it was myself that had ruined my legion in part, tied them to something concrete, that they could feel loss and grief greater than ever before. My wounds, their mounts, Azul, each is a pain to them all."
He put a hand on his face and dragged it down.
"These sons, so willing, Yet they are happy as well, they wish to protect and serve. And I know now if our father came for me, they would defend me first. Maybe it is better to not have looked at their pasts, and look forward to what they have become, for I am happy with them there."
Starscream giggled, swaying slightly in his obsidian throne. "Why worry at all? As I have come to find, astartes are greater in every way imaginable to humans. That includes their emotions. Such intensity they feel cannot be stopped, only directed. Oh, so easily directed. They worship us. We stride across the galaxy, searing faith from the stars and they worship us. Of course it wouldn't be named that, not directly…but you've seen how Axinos' lot reacted. All fire and fury, ground into nothing."
He reached out with a finger, and spun the mazer, idly watching as it moved.
"They're nothing without him, now. Rats, scrambling to serve some sort of purpose to fill the void in their hearts. I must give the Emperor this: He designed his living weapons immaculately. Supreme killers, yet utterly replaceable with a factory-like precision. All that training and conditioning they undergo, the age at which they're selected…they're nothing without us, because they cannot exist without us. They, heh, they simply aren't equipped for it."
He appeared to lose interest in the mazer as it slowed, and he leaned back in his throne again, closing his eyes as his head tilted up towards the ceiling once more.
"Is this what you've come all this way for? Charting your way through the great darkness on a battle-barge for…what, a little chatter between supposed brothers?"
Would it surprise you if I said yes? It has been years since I've talked with a sibling.
Khaldeon lifted his brows, smoothing over his mustache with his thumb and index, "It would appear that way to you, but the chatter is a way of discernment. And it comes to the crux of the matter, supposed. You exist, so you are. But it does not change the fact there should, or would, or could have been another sitting before me. I know you are not at fault, who is there in matters such as these, for it seems only us Primarchs and the Emperor are confused by such. But it does not bode well with all that I have learned of the higher mysteries."
The Gryphon King, not Khaldeon, like a predator judging its prey of value and worth to hunt, its pupils growing more pinpointed, for the few beats of their hearts saw Starscream, and then relaxed. He looked at the ceiling as if searching for something.
"A planned war, spanning millennia, spanning all races, spanning this entire galaxy, all the plan of some entity. There is something more powerful than us, than the Emperor, it created the major xenos we fight to this day, Orks and Aeldari, all in the pursuit of a war against metal bodies like the Men of Iron, but greater than even them, and their giants of light which those shells were tied to. Do they plan for a galaxy shattered, the Emperor's plan unfulfilled, total war being all that's left? Knossos revealed that at least."
"That doesn't even come to the fact that the Warp itself may be an enemy. Something sinister lies in its depths in which even a god is at odds with them. I was a witness to that itself. What is there to trust? Materium, and Immaterium, I have lost mine in both of them. But I follow the path even if I know it was prepared, I only have fragments but inklings are enough."
The true nature of Khaldeon was shown then in this haunted stupor. A superhuman who was told too much of the existence of the entire fabric he only is only a thread of with little to compare it to in his understanding. Yet truth was the only thing that came from his mouth. And then his gaze dropped down once more to the Crownless King.
"But you, there must be a reason for you at least. And if not, maybe you will make your own, something better, something worse, it does not matter, better that than to be me. Floundering."
The smile had left Starscream's face completely. At some point during the Gryphon King's speech, he had brought his gaze down from the ceiling to stare at the ninth primarch. The Lord of the Star Knights had withdrawn further into his throne, his right arm resting on the obsidian while the other touched his chin. His red eyes were sharper, now, as he stared at Khaldeon, and even flushed, his face had structured itself into a neutral mask.
"There's always a reason."
The Crownless King's voice had lost its amused, unfocused tilt. It was as cold as the void, now.
"You really have been busy, haven't you? No wonder you worried about the Emperor coming for you. I have not spoken to him, not truly, not face to face for a long time. Not since…"
He trailed off, hand leaving his chin to wave in the air.
"My replacement. I doubt he would appreciate the thought that the universe existed in, if your tale is true, a state of wonder and war grander than anything he could conjure. So, then, you think that I am…what, a weapon? Hah, well, one beyond the Emperor's imagination. Is that what you have come here to judge?"
When he smiled again, it was without amusement. Something cold glinted in his red eyes.
"Remove a piece from the board if it fails to meet your expectations, even?"
Khaldeon laughed. "Maybe, maybe not. A weapon you are just as we are all weapons that must not break in serving the Emperor. But I have not come here to judge you for that."
He looks at but past Starscream. "I always wished to be a scholar, some academic on Azul who knew beautiful things. Maybe then I could have saved my world, but I was raised for conquest and that runs deep within. And now with all of these unknown frontiers I truly can be one. So I will go forward as I always have, I will delve deep into the secrets of this galaxy, down into understanding all of this." There is glory in his eyes, one which he wishes to reach instead of lauded accomplishments in battle and then reality hits, as they focus on Starscream once more.
"Plainly, I will not kill you. I have come to judge you if you could be my executioner. You will remove me from the board if I fall, I will have nothing less. If there is one thing a weapon must not do, it is break, and I will not have myself exist debased and broken. Old Terra once said to stare into the void is to be stared back. I will not stare, I will unravel and venture far."
"I do not wish for this culling to be one out of duty, out of honor, out of love for brothers. No. I only require competence and earnest eradication, because I see a survivor in you, just as it is in me. A sleek hunter, skilled in his art, that which holds my respect for you. And we know, you must erase everything to be sure, and still be vigilant."
"The failsafe for my potential failure, it is that I have come to see you for. If I falter, will you kill me? Purge all the corruption from Legion and the Segmentum?"
Silence met the Gryphon King's question.
The Crownless King rose from his obsidian throne slowly, carefully, as if weighed down by a thousand hurts. He turned his back to Khaldeon, placing a hand on one of the obsidian spikes that clawed out from his throne. The high gothic numeral for seventeen shone in dull silver, without the primarch obscuring it.
"Pride, eh?"
Starscream let out a huff of laughter, edges dulled with faint amusement.
"You see us for what we are, I'll grant you that. Weapons, of a similar pattern but different subtly in make, each and everyone of us. Brother, sister, these are simple words to tie us together. To pretty us up, unearned and unasked for. Galling in its own way, though I can respect the strategy behind it. You wished to be a scholar? I wished for freedom across the stars. Now you are a conqueror, and I a warlord. Same pattern, different make."
He paused, fingers idly caressing the obsidian spike. Gently, carefully, he snapped a small piece off, holding it in his hand, looking down at it even as his back still remained to the ninth primarch. Starscream crushed the obsidian in his hand, the sound echoing throughout the room. He turned around, slow and deliberate, his red eyes gleaming as he faced Khaldeon. The smirk on his face was lopsided, his too-white teeth shining.
"Yet you come to me for this. I can see why. Aberration as I am."
The Crownless King held out a hand, unmarred save for the black dust that covered it.
"Very well then, Khaldeon, Gryphon King, I'll be your fail safe."
Khaldeon rose from his seat, and walked around the table, numerals changing from nine to seventeen, as he grasped the offered hand. A relief took his frame, as he looked calm and nodded.
"I know not why they call you Crownless, to me you appear simply as the Uncrowned."
And then he pulled him in, the other arm wrapping around Starscream in a tight hug, then just as quickly letting go as he looked at the other in the eyes.
"Let your sword strike true."
Starscream nodded at the Gryphon King, and watched in silence as the ninth primarch turned and left the room, heading for the Glorious Gryphon once more, leaving Starscream alone in his roundtable. His smile faded into nothing, eyes glued to the oaken door. He stayed like that for an indeterminate amount of time, then moved to follow. He paused at Khaldeon's chair, pressing a blackhand print to the back of it.
Then, with a thoughtful look in his eye, he left the room in shadow.
Deep within the Eternal Guardian a Primarch sat at work. Documents paper and electronic were completed in a slow blur of motion whilst the high pitched whine of a million sped up reports and items filled the room. He could be in such a state for hours unless interrupted.
And interrupted he was, as the chamber's air stilled and the temperature lowered, the Primarch Savnok could feel the presence of a figure directly behind him. Looming just out of the great General's view. "Have any of those been of actual importance, or do you just have a habit of micromanaging?"
"I can afford to delegate for a few minutes." Savnok confessed as Gutripper tore a swath through the air. "This will not take long."
The figure chuckles as shadows rise to block the Primarchs blow. Stepping back, the man responds again. "Now brother, such hostility is uncalled for, up until now you have been such a lovely host."
Moving around to face Savnok directly stands a figure of a mysterious history. The Second of the Thirteenth, whose existence was only unveiled far into the crusade. One of the Galaxies strongest Psykers stands before the master of the Eternal Guardian, Kólasi the Everdark cuts a remarkable figure, even as a Primarch, this is due to both his everbearing presence in both the warp and reality, but also due to his stature.
The smallest of the Primarch's speaks once more, "Tell me brother, how has the Second been fairing? How is your homeworld?"
Savnok did not immediately cease his assault. "About to be avenged, do not think me a fool Kólasi, I know Malfarius did not desert your legion, you merely sought deniability. You desecreated my world, you killed my citizens and allied Astartes, you injured children."
Kólasi steps back, utilizing his own Primarch agility and his mastery over the energies of the Immaterium to avoid his brother's wrath. "The abundance of ratmen on Stormgard made it the perfect testing ground. Malfarius was never rogue, that is correct, but the death of my nieces and nephews was not planned. Now brother do not play the fool and try to fight a Psyker in the Warp, the calamity that can cause could doom this entire vessel. Allow me the opportunity to explain myself."
Savnok paused. The only affirmative he seemed inclined to offer.
"The Skaven out of all Xenos races holds both the numbers and the warp vulnerability that work best for my projects. The Orks defy even the illogic of the Warp, the Men of Iron are soulless, the Eldar are a dying few now more so than ever before. Stormgard's recent Vermintide was the grounds for the perfect test of soul-killing weaponry. I sanctioned the operation, I faked my son's treason and gave an entire Segmentum for Malcador's servants to chase him down, yet what happened beneath the surface of Stormgard was never my plan. It is a failure I have had every intention of rectifying, my aid will be given to your people, no matter how suspicious you may find it."
"I would have done the same had I deemed it necessary." Savnok said after a pregnant pause. "But this is not easily forgiven, is the Emperor aware of your work? No if he was you would not need to hide it from Malcador…this is treason brother and reckless besides."
Kólasi pauses at the mention of treason, before almost shuddering. "It was reckless I will admit, too much trust placed in the hands of my son, my attempts to spite Varil's attempt to damn every Psyker in the Imperium blinded me to the fact that our sister does have some good points. I did not consider the allure such power would have on a will weaker than one on our level, it is a mistake I will never make again."
The Revenant Primarch pauses, head bent slightly upwards to match eyes with his brother. "But I am no traitor, The Emperor has audited my work before and it is something I keep him informed on. Nothing came of this research, whatever my wayward son learnt in the depths of your homeworld is lost to time, from what I have heard, it should stay that way. But brother, can you truly blame me for my distrust of Malcador and his dogs? I believed the reports given upon the conclusion of your duel with Axinos, I believe the reports given by our brothers and sisters about tides from the warp, and the Xenos that lurk within, but I shall never believe someone claim that Malcador does not seek any excuse to see all 19 of our Legions sundered. Malcador is a man I respect, but shall never trust."
"You do not need to trust him, nor for that matter respect him, but so long as the Emperor places him over us you do need to obey him." Savnok explained unrelentingly. "And yes, I can blame you and I do blame you…but I can also forgive you. Each and every one of us has made mistakes. I urge you to treat this as an opportunity to learn. Independent and secret operations may sometimes be necessary but when undertaken the consequences must be weighed up and every mitigation possible enacted and Father should be warned."
Kólasi lets out a mocking laugh though it is more towards himself than Savnok, "Trust me brother, I am learning my lesson well. The Revenant's are already a disliked Legion, and our reputation is not entirely unwarranted. Trying to get anything done after Malfarius' rampage through your Underhives has been an agonizing challenge. But I do not plan to simply fade into the dark once more and wash my hands from the mess my son has made. Stormgard and its people shall receive my aid, in whatever form you desire. Furthermore, I am on your Flagship for good reason brother."
The Primarch of the Thirteenth gestures to the many reports that lie on his brother's desk, "Tell me brother, how go preparations for this latest Xenocide? If I cannot repay my failings with material I shall do so with blood."
Savnok never looked away from his brother. "You shall do both, under my supervision, if for a second I believe you compromised or intentionally or accidentally endangering my people or the Great Crusade I will kill you immediately. But on that basis I accept your help it may well be needed. The Slaught are a stubborn foe, they must be to give Aurelia pause and I have great ambitions for Stormgard, you are not the only one who needs to atone for the tragedies that have befallen it or anywhere near the worst offender."
Kólasi looks at his brother and gives him a firm nod. "Very well then, your terms are generous and fair. While Foniás has drawn the majority of our Legion and those for whom we held favor, I am still a Primarch with my own forces to lead. The ships and swords of my sons and those who fight beside them are yours for this campaign, as are the materials needed to heal the scars inflicted upon your home."
The Psyker reaches his hand out towards Savnok. "Let our Legions and Stormgard come out of this stronger than they ever were before. Glory to Mankind."
Savnok inclined his head ever so slightly, and took the proffered hand.
"There is something else. One of my descendents, she is enroute to join Minerva's pirates for lack of opportunities to join the Eternity Guard. I would be…grateful if you retrieved her and used your recent discovery to offer her the opportunity I could not."
The Primarch of the Second's final request for him leaves Kólasi shocked. It is not the grand movements of campaigns, or the allocation of monumental resources that would surprise a Primarch, those things are what they were made for. But the more personal request, and what many fools would call a sign of weakness, that catches the shorter Primarch off guard. Not everyone knew the darkness of Frourio, and the looming ever-presence of Father.
Quickly after the shock crossed his face, it soon left, a detail that only a Primarch could've picked up on. "Of course brother, I shall see it done. Would you be welcoming her back to the Eternity Guard once the recruitment is done? I have no intention to keep your family from you."
"I had hoped you could adapt the process with my geneseed," Savnok said. "But if that is impossible, then yes. I have forsaken too many members of my family."
"Research is underway to further understand the process, but we shall have the exact gene-coding shipped directly to your own Apothecaries if that is what you would prefer. It has been an effort, and we are certainly not the Doves, but I shall have her and an apothecary who knows the methods delivered to you. I would not be so foolish as to request your own Geneseed to attempt it myself."
"Good. I am relieved you are not responsible for the geneseed theft."
"Emperor no, the theft from Axino's cabal of gathered apothecaries held no importance to me or mine. I received the report of theft years after the incident occurred. Geneseed is a wonderous tool and a precious thing, you would have me concerned if you did entrust me with it."
"Indeed, that it happened at all remains one of the greatest and most embarrassing failures of our siblings even after all these decades. It is imperative that your own work avoids their disgrace."
"I have been disgraced by my failings enough, I shall not allow a project of such importance to fail. Recruitment of men and women for each Legion will provide a net positive to each and every one of our siblings, for the sake of the Imperium I cannot allow such a project to reach any conclusion that is not a success."
"It would double our recruiting pools, end the constant shortage of Astartes and also do much to bridge the divide between different legions. I already have daughters serving under me and not one has ever caused me to regret that fact, the Eternity Guard will be stronger with more of their like."
"Indeed, there are many strengths to be found in every aspect of Humanity. So many different cultures across the galaxy that I could speak to you of what I've learned and we could be here until the Crusade is over. The insight and strength that can and will be gained here will forever change our Legions, and I cannot complain for a second of it."
"I can delegate for a while longer. I am very interested in what you have to say brother."
"Then I hope you don't regret this, because I really will be talking for hours."
Days as it turned out. They had far more in common than either could have imagined.
"Great empires are not maintained by timidity."
(IC written by me and @ZealousThoughts )
The Bucephalus, the mightest true vessel of the Imperium and flagship of the Emperor of Mankind. Such a ship has seen much in it's long service, but here and now would be where two greater forces would discuss matters that could shake the galaxy.
Stepping into the Inner Sanctum of the Bucephalus, the General would feel the power of his Father, far more potent then he had ever seen in a position of peace, the strands of golden Qi coiled around every inch of the chamber, but most collected around the Emperor, fully armored and wearing a stoic expression as always. They would be alone in this room, hundreds of candles casting the only light in the chamber, the General would notice the room is barren aside from these candles as his father stood in the direct center of them all, watching him take every step.
"My son, know that by the end of this discussion you will either be aware of the greater war we all must fight, however you must speak the truth and only the truth, for this is no matter to hide behind pride or ideals, if you attempt to deceive me, then I will end your life." He spoke calmly and with no emotion, gone was the voice of a composed wise master, the General now spoke to the Emperor of the largest nation of this galaxy and was being judged."You initiated this discussion, so I shall grant you the first question and answer as honestly as I can." He motioned one of his gauntleted hands towards the General in a manner saying he may speak.
Even in the months since there last meeting there had been a shift, a qualitative change, in the power which passed around and through the being of The Jade General. At each step to those eyes that could see them a character appeared beneath foot, as if painted by the most skilled of hand. Claiming the space that he stood upon as being within his own domain and under his power, unable to affect the sanctum at large but the green flame of The Generals own soul holding a small fragment of space for himself.
Meeting the eyes of his father it would be obvious that the eyes of the pupils had become less than human, the intertwined yin-yang as a pupil against an iris seeming to contain a rolling green tempest. "Our discussion then, must start with Zagoth, a planet that was at once both less and more than any other within the Imperium. A planet that, from all I could sense had never felt Your presence and yet one on which I found and was found by it would seem four entities that it is clear to me knew of you and your mission. Perhaps even more than I and my siblings have ever seen. It was there that I first warred with an entity of the warp greater than most others and it was there that I was saved by the efforts of…..She….The Prisoner."
Considering all the power around him, his father's very soul intertwined into the surroundings and make up of his flagship he sighed slightly before continuing. "I think it must then be that I ask the question that burns most fiercely as I stand here now. The old questions, doubts and worries pale before what has carved its way into the memory. Does she see truly? Does the One that Dreams do so also?"
The Emperor is silent for only a moment before speaking. "The Prisoner you speak of can see the possibilities of fate, but they are only that possibilities, without her kin she can only do that much as she is…As for that creature that keeps her as it's prisoner, no despite what it may say and lie to it's followers and kin, it is nothing more than a parasite taking what is possible and using it as fact for its own schemes, never believe any of it's visions or promises my General, it is a creature of lies and delusion."
With every sense turned to every word out of his fathers mouth The General notices the mention that he has to assume was done with particular intention. "Her kin….? No, that isn't important now, what is….so….the vision passed to me by her was truly false, there does not exist a threat to the very Imperium itself? My siblings will not be the ones who lead it? I was shown it father, the most twisted ambitions of the….darkest among my family. I saw Primus dead, Savnok broken and the Iron Hands used as little more than an ornament. Do you tell me there is no threat and nothing to fear?"
A firm line crosses the Emperor's lips "As I have said, you have seen possibilities, only what could happen, this is how the creature entraps it's prey, showing what could happen and what one fears the most, all while offering you the means to change what will never happen. Do not assume that the vision you were shown was not influenced to be shown, I know that the Prisoner has no control over what she is forced to perceive…But I will admit that despite the falsehood, the parasite has chosen a most inopportune vision to showcase to you, in this uncertain time and frayed trust."
A sigh leaves the Emperor "I can not say that that there is no threat, for that is a falsehood, only that we must be sure of the origin of the threat before action is taken, lest we play into their hands."
A sense of frustration builds within the chest of The General, his emotion feeding into the oath that had bound his soul in chains of jade flame. The almost sentient being that resided alongside his mortal soul stirring at the seeming inaction of his father at the seeming threat to the Imperium. "You offered me the opportunity to offer the first question and so I must imagine there are also questions you wish to ask of myself and what I have done> Yet….yet….every answer you give begets more questions. I feel that I have seen the edges of a tapestry the whole of which remains enshadowed. Whose hands must we not play into? The Eldar are shattered or eaten by my siblings and their souls the toys of one of the Revenant Lords. The Orks care only for war and these Jīqìrén we face seem little more than a ghost of humanities past."
His growing frustration sees a visible manifestation of his own strength begin to manifest around him, the scaled length of a long, its scales of white flame and black and its mane of jade flames curling around his body and twisting through the air, both immaterial and yet visible. "Who then are they? Whose hands must we not play into whilst I and my siblings sit as pieces in a game that most of us do not even guess we are playing?"
"...They are considered Gods by species across the galaxy, I consider them parasites that have been born from all that is wrong in mortal life, they are the dominant force in the Warp and have been my only true enemy for as long as I have been alive…To say their names even here would bring their attention upon us and I have done all I can to deny them at every turn, but it seems that even with the might of humanity at my back it is still a ever shifting battle I fear that I have not prepared enough for." There is a tiredness to his voice as he continues "In my war against them I have seen their so-called truths, their horrors and their desires to turn all of reality into an eternity of suffering unseen by any life form…The one you have faced has been called many titles to avoid speaking it's name, the Eldar know it as the Leviathan of Fear, the mystics of faiths uncounting call it the Dreaming Lord but it's most well known title is the Beast that Lies. An entity built upon the countless mortal thoughts and emotions to devour the concepts of Fear, Dreams and Lies, to twist the universe into it's sick narrative. It and it's seven other kin are what is known to me and those who fight them as Chaos."
"Ah." In one syllable, a multitude of meanings, from understanding to questioning to a certain satisfaction. "A name, as we both know a name has power but so to can its lack, the Emperor, The Jade General, The Leviathan, titles all that strip us of something but I wonder, do we by these titles also gain some of our meaning, some portion of our strength. I found The Dreamer by finding between us the link of significance, I am sure if I was to look I would find myself connected by a web of such as I am sure are you. The ancients I think called this karma, to call upon a name or upon a title likely strums these connections adding to their significance. I think I understand now the 'severance' that was performed upon my sons, it did not only remove their connection to the immaterium but also their connection to the being, their connections that added to their significance." Thinking wider to the acts of his siblings he saw many actions, many possibilities, many facets.
"Might I guess why I was summoned rather than severed? It is known that the Leviathen has attempted to lay its touch upon me but my actions of note since then have not added to its significance. The waves I have created have instead added to the legend of the Imperium and with it the strength of all associated with it in the material….but also most heavily the immaterial. I wonder then, have the actions of any of my siblings caused worry? Do any of they tread a path which by their actions might involuntarily be adding strength to your great enemy? Or…..could the worst be true….might some be undertaking actions to increase the powers of Chaos with clear intent?"
The firm line of the Emperor's mouth disappears and his tone turns back to the wisdom that the General is more familiar with " A well thought out ideal, one that I have considered myself before realizing trying to find meaning in Chaos is a lesson in futility, but it does ease my own concerns to see you are aware of the potential that our enemies have over the people of the Imperium and the Astartes warriors…as for worry of your siblings…I shall need to explain to you more of my war with Chaos and their involvement with each of my Primarchs, they were the reason you and your siblings were scattered across the stars, taken to your worlds and denied to be raised by me directly. Their only reason for doing so, I could imagine, is to try and create the conditions to gain power from indirect action or worse yet gain followers out of them."
"As it stands, there are far too many variables to determine who is at risk, the Eight foes of mine are each a parasitic force that feeds off many aspects of Human thought and experience, even without serving them, the Great Crusade has in it's efforts to unite humanity, more then likely created enough for them to devour in their hunger. Something that brings me great shame to admit, but such action was necessary."
The only response that The Jade General was able to muster for the span of a dozen heartbeats was but silence. "So this Great Crusade is what then? If it serves the purpose of feeding them, why then do we continue to push? I could understand if we were enforcing some sort of severance or removal of worship of Gods but you and I both know that any such is patchy at best and there is open religion at worst." As the words leave his mouth a realisation occurs, one which he isn't sure if he should voice. Almost as if it had been spoken again however he felt the word HONESTY in his mind as if his father had spoken again. "This campaign, this attempt to unite Humanity and during it eliminate all 'threats' it is all a great ploy isnt it? To starve these entities of that which they feed on, if one of them has many names then they all do. They grab their power from a million worlds and a trillion prayers and the Imperial Truth acts to strip them of this."
It takes a force of will, causing almost physical pain, for The General to bring his eyes up to meet those of his father. "But where, then, does this significance go? As energy is never lost it is just converted elsewhere……does it…..it goes to you does it not father. As they are weakened so are you strengthened, do you hope to gather enough power that it does not matter how much THEY gather. Surely though, if they are sapient as you have implied with their tendrils reaching throughout the galaxy then they shall realise what you are attempting? What is your plan then? How shall you defeat these beings of near omniscience?"
"It is interesting that you came to the same conclusion that they are stuck with, for all their supposed omniscience, they fail to truly grasp the human experience. No my General, the energy will not go to me, it goes to mankind themselves, My plan is to ensure mankind can survive without the Parasites of the Warp, and be able to overpower them with or without myself." He reaches a hand forward towards the General "The folly of Chaos is that it is inherently a selfish and self destructive force, it will cannibalize itself the moment the powers that sustain them cease to be, whatever remains I will destroy myself with the aid of you and your siblings, one final war against the Warp itself, their power weakened and our forces empowered by the will of Humanity united."
His speech is filled with the most emotion that the General could ever claim to see from his Father, but it soon fades away back to the same stoic nature he has always shown "Of course there is still so much work to be done, reliances upon the Warp have tethered us to the powers that can be manipulated by my foes, once we strip those away, then more and more can I release the power I have taken and give it to Mankind."
In the moment, with the power of the will of the Emperor, The Jade General could see it, see this perfect plan in which the Emperor is infallible and all he wishes will come to pass. However, his past and his experience told him different never would a group unite around a cause for any length of time. "Are these entities not then just a reflection of humanity? How long do we hope to hold them together? If I and my siblings were the type to hold the loyalty of others perhaps it would be different but some of us act against the Imperium openly, others lead campaigns of terror that have the people fearing the cause rather then loyal to it. Granted some of my siblings work towards building loyalty, Primus, Khaldeon, myself are building followings and stand for your principles but others?" Looking past his father he sighed heavily, breathing when he knew that his body did not actually have the need any more.
"So, then, will it truly be so possible for you to have this power back to Humanity as a whole? With humanity under the Imperium and only remnant xenos left when do you plan to enact the final stage?"
"Your concern is warranted with what information you have available and I will admit the greater plan had to be changed in light of several recent events. But even with the difficulties of some Primarchs going against the ideals of the Great Crusade and the Imperium, I am confident in their own disgust at the parasites of the Warp or their own self interest outweighing any resistance for when the time comes to bring war to the Warp. As for the people of the Imperium, by the time of the Men of Iron's defeat, I shall begin work on restoring order and hope in the future, taking a step back from the last days of conquest and leaving the works of war to you and your siblings. The transition of power both material and immaterial will reach it's prime stage once all of mankind stand under one banner."
A small smile graces the Emperor's lips as he looks down to his son "When that time comes, I shall personally show you the strength of mankind and the depths of their potential unleashed…" however that smile fades into stoic silence as the Emperor reaches out a hand and places it on the General's shoulder. "I have spoken my truths to you my son, but there still lies an issue we must address, despite my warnings and orders, you have once again dabbled in matters that threatened the great work, your control and understanding of the threat has made it clear to me that you shall not make this same mistake a third time, but still a punishment must be enacted, one less forceful then prior, but still just as necessary for my orders being broken."
" I give you two options to choose between, first is to relinquish active command of Forty Eight thousand of your legion to active service on Terra and Sol, until such a time where I believe you have earned my trust back to command them again. Or a forfeiture of control over a world of your own choosing inside your home territories for Malcador and his agents to conduct operations and utilize for their own efforts. Pick whichever you feel is most important to ensure the lessons stick with you and your Legion."
The words of the Emperor set off what can only be described as a seismic struggle in the soul of The Jade General, the chains of flame with which he had bound himself when taking up the mantle of General and the faith of his people flare into brightness. To one who had the eyes to see fracture of white and black become visible throughout their lengths and a palpable aura of twisting flames surround the Primarch of the Fifth. At one second jade flames are in ascendance and in the other the ebony and ivory flames of The General's soul stand ascendant. Finally all tamps its way down again, the chains of his personal geas still around his soul but showing clear weakness and a feeling of….expectation and tension fills the room before TJG speaks his voice seeming to almost be a chorus of two overlaid into single words, at once calm and twisting with emotion.
"So, I am to be punished for my loyalty to this Imperium…..again….I and my sons are to be gutted because I decided upon the path of……..loyalty and honesty. How ironic then that you talk of inspiring all of humanity to stand united in loyalty to a mission that will see the Chaos entities brought low but you strike against you most honest and most loyal child for not once but the second time. Truly, you are not a God as my brother Sampson would have me believe you are. A primarch I remind you stands in contravention of YOUR LAW AND YOUR TRUTH and yet stands unpunished. Then we have the brothers of the thirteenth who dabble in acts and experiments I know only the barest edge of but know they feed Chaos far more than they do your efforts AND YET THEY STAND UNPUNISHED. Yet that is only the tip of it, from 1st to 20th we have people who act brazenly, stupidly or just pursue darkness without care AND YET THEY ARE UNPUNISHED.
NO.
MORE."
Almost panting with the weight of emotion passing through him suddenly through the immaterium passes a clear sound, of crystal shattering the Jade flames that had been a part of him for as long as most in the Imperium could remember were gone. The sensation passing through a wide area would no doubt be felt by any with sufficient strength in the warp. In their stead the core of his being forms itself into the traditional claw and tear of balance. And within each a single drop of its opposite, forming his soul visage into something that is at once an abstract and somehow also the face of a raging dragon. The Primarch of the Fifth raises a single hand to point at his father, the shadow of the limb of a beast of legend sheathing his arm.
"It seems to me Father that you have already decided, either I gift you guards for Eldrad who is meant to be your ally or I gift Malcador a homeworld for his shadow games and efforts to hide knives in the dark behind his all. So state your choice, take one from me or take both but know one thing my….Father….this day spelt the death of your Jade General. On this day I was reborn. I am simply Julong now. The Dragon of Thunder and Hurricanes, I shall be the calamity of those who threaten the balance and they shall be punished.
So tell me…..Father….how am I to be punished before I am sent away from you once again?"
There is a silence for a single moment as Julong felt immense pressure coming from the Emperor, as if a great storm was just about to hit. The feeling then vanished as the Emperor spoke "Very well Julong, know that it was the arrogance of the Jade General that stripped the world of Wei from you and your Legion, may you fare better in this state then he ever did. You may leave, but know that this marks the end of my inaction against my children, far too long have I let things progress without correction, the loss of the General will not go unanswered…nor will it be without punishment."
