OOC:
Got this update done much quicker than expected.
IC:
Inquisitor Thrax cleared his throat and dictated the last section of his report.
'The mutants have been eradicated throughout the Chapter. The tainted command personnel have been slain. The Chapter Master chose to take his own life rather than face his deserved fate. The creatures he summoned have been banished, or have returned to the warp. Significant cerebral reconditioning continues amongst those Adeptus Astartes deemed salvageable and penitent duties will be assigned in due course.'
'For now the most important consideration is that the unfortunate lapses of the last months have been cleansed. This heresy is ended and the warp entities banished back to the immaterium. Full casualty reports are attacked. I can now confidently claim that the reformed Grey Slayers Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes will prove more loyal in the future, as they did in the past'
'Praise to the God-Emperor and the Holy Ordos!'
'Thrax, Inquisitor Ordinary, this day of etcetera etcetera. Make a good copy and then return so that I may seal the dispatch.'
'Yes, Lord Inquisitor.'
Thrax sat down at the former chapter Master's desk. He had a mind to keep it for his own. The workmanship had a certain naive charm. The inlay work was particularly fine for a backward world. Such intricate patterns, such a pleasing arrangement of woods and techplastics. One could almost beleve that it all meant something. His finger idly traced across the surface, following the line of a swirl and loop...
In the Warp something stirred. Its true name had almost been used. Soon it would be spoken, and the way opened. The summoning was happening...The Chapter Master had been weak, a fool, but the power he had tapped! Properly used, in the service of the Emperor, could it not make him the best, the greatest, of all the Inquisitors? His finger moved across the desktop again, following the inlay...
Soon... Soon...
(The Magician: Oh, how fun! Always nice to see something
exciting happen, wouldn't ya say? Oh, and it's interesting how murder is fine but appreciating fine woodworking's a problem, though, hoss? Silly humans.)
(Sister Vandire:
Blessed hopes and ancient ages / Stories told by desperate sages / Pain once thought to be denial / Hope to spare all the while / Give to me your hopeless daughters / Against the tide, begin the slaughter / of the woman I thought I knew...)
(Vior Or'es: Please, just go away!)
(Ashlee Viola: There ain't
her under there, is there?)
(The Magician: Oh, no, no, no! She's mine! We're all having fun!)
(Sister Vandire:
Hopeless, hoping, desperate battle / Continuing to lyrically prattle / Hail the nightmare, against the Holy / Hail the Princess, embrace her wholly / Damn the Blessed, they have lied!)
(Vior Or'es: What are you doing to her?)
By Ynnead, just stop!
(Sister Vandire:
God and ancients, hear my call / I am ready to embrace my Fall!)
Blood and banquets / Faithless hope / Dancing on a tightened rope / Hear me, Sister, your words are true!
(Ashlee Viola:
Sinking faster, sinking surely / Shed the eagle prematurely / Come to her and damn the Light!)
Please do not put up a fight!
Those Humans who know something of Chaos speak of the Long War, the conflict that has raged between loyalists and Chaos-worshipping traitors since the dark days of the Horus Heresy. Yet those of still greater insight understand there is a more fundamental battle being fought, a war for spiritual sanctity and Humanity's survival in which even the most elite warriors and draconian measures are barely sufficient to hold damnation at bay.
(The Magician: Humans, humans, humans! There are so many other species in the galaxy, why is this Codex so obsessed with humanity? This is the Daemon's codex! Tell the very lovely audience about the Daemons, not the Ordo Malleus! C'mon, stick to your topic, chief!)
...I do believe it's intended for a human audience.
(The Magician: Eh, still doesn't vibe with me. Oh, and "barely sufficient"? Ha! They're a little doomed, wouldn't ya say? Besides, what's "spiritual sanctity" worth? That and ten crowns'll get you a cheap dinner!)
Locked away in rune-sealed and secret vaults lie records that tell of the Imperium's darkest hour, when Warmaster Horus fell to the temptations of the Dark Gods. His corruption began a civil war that brought Humanity to its knees, unleashed traitor hordes and daemon legions upon countless worlds, and saw the Ruinous Powers come as close to victory over realspace as they have in aeons. This apocalyptic conflict also saw the Emperor consigned to the life-preserving technologies of the Golden Throne. This, more than anything else, impressed upon the surviving Imperial leadership that the threat of Chaos demanded nought but the most drastic measures to combat.
This is not an accurate take on the Horus Heresy, or whatever one prefers to call it. It was certainly more complex than a battle of good and evil. That said, I don't know much about it, so I suppose I will have to ask Racilla. I must admit as well that I do not know the specific working term.
Both the Inquisitorial Ordo Malleus and the Grey Knights Chapter knew their genesis in that dark time. Since their inception, these organisations have fought the insidious influence of daemons and striven to stave off the spiritual collapse of the Imperium. Yet theirs is a war whose cost long ago spiralled too high to tally, and in which there is scant hope of final victory. The Ordo Malleus is amongst the greatest of the Holy Ordos of the Inquisition, that shadowy body that fights hidden wars against the greatest threats to Mankind. Its Inquisitors - who often go by the title of daemon hunter - wield absolute authority to requisition armies, go where they please, access forbidden lore and employ any weapon they believe will bring them victory over their foes. The Grey Knights, meanwhile, are an entire Chapter of Space Marines trained and equipped to battle daemons. Silver-clad psychic templars all, they are entrusted with arcane lore and incredible weaponry that allows them to take the fight to the diabolic and the infernal.
Erm, may the Old Gods help us and protect us.
(Sister Vandire: I don't like the daemon-hunters. They're some of the more trigger-happy Inquisitors, generally speaking.)
(Ashlee Viola: This passage still reads like propaganda.)
(Sister Vandire:
Hail my Mother, hail the Goddess / Hail the Princess who was promised / Hail the crime that walked like a man! / Hail the infernal, unholy plan...)
Every day, across the vast span of the Emperor's realm, amidst the uncountable masses of Humanity, daemonic forces are at work. Whispers and promises from beyond the veil thread themselves through the pliant minds of the vulnerable, the jaded and the despairing. Human populations and rogue psykers turn against the Imperium at the urging of supernatural corrupters. Full-blown daemonic incursions erupt upon worlds that appeared loyal right up until the day of their own personal apocalypse. Warp storms rage. Infernal legions spill from their depths to slaughter their way across the stars. In the face of such an omnipresent threat, the Ordo Malleus and Grey Knights must strive to counter those dangers they deem greatest.
I find it so
frustrating that even this Codex obstensibly about Daemons is full of this infuriating Imperial propaganda!
(The Magician: Not scared, are we? Ha! Figures.)
(Vior Or'es: This isn't right! None of this is right! I am not comfortable right now!)
Rather than risk such wholesale corruption, many Inquisitors would rather exterminate entire planetary populations and liquidate regiment after regiment of Astra Militarum soldiery after the slightest contact with daemonic forces. Even Space Marines are not beyond such purges. However, they are so precious to the embattled Imperium that - where possible - intensive psycho-reindoctrination isused to scour knowledge of daemons from their minds and reconsecrate their souls. So it is that much of Humanity believe the heretical worshippers of the Dark Gods to be deluded lunatics, and any manifestations of their patently false beliefs to be chance mutation, or the work of xenos or witches.
I...I think we've established that "psycho-indoctrination" is overstated, thanks to my friend's tireless debunkingandbloodanddeathandslaughterandhopeandwisdomandchaosandstarryretributionandloveand lossand creativity
(Vior Or'es: Ynathe?)
Get out of my mind!
Secrecy and inexplicable acts of genocide further serve to sow mistrust and acrimony amongst the disparate Imperial organisations, not to mention seeing countless souls condemned to death where they might otherwise have lived. And now, as the Great Rift splits the heavens and the ghastly truth becomes ever harder to conceal, so ever more frantic and bloody measures are required to maintain the Imperium's greatest lie.
(Antimony: It isn't a very well-maintained lie, truthfully. Everyone knows there's
something off about the official story.)
(Sister Vandire:
Courage gained through inconsistent jumbles / bodies bending by the double / pray to the four who did not lie! / Mother, Princess, let my past die!)
(Vior Or'es: Safeword! I am not comfortable, and I am using my safeword! I would like to end the scene! My play-acting fear for Miss Vandire has become actual fear!)
(The Magician: Well, of course. Is everything OK, darling?)
(Vior Or'es: I understand that this was all just a way to let Miss Vandire process her feelings of discomfort with her place in the Adepta Sororitas without feeling as though she was betraying her god, but this is all getting very scary and I would like it to stop. I know Ynathe is having fun due to her esoteric tastes, and Ashlee and the others are interested to try something new or just helping Miss Vandire, but I am not interested and do not want to continue.)
(The Magician: Well, you did use your safeword. Vior, how can I make you feel more comfortable in the future? No more mental fun.)
(Sister Vandire: Thanks, by the way. I appreciate you helping me with this. I...I said it. That was me. It was a me without inhibitions, but it was me. You all did a great job playing along, I really felt like you all were experiencing existential terror.)
(Vior Or'es: Even though it was planned ahead of time and such, it was a genuinely shocking sight. I understand that my disconnect from the Immaterium and Ynathe's experience as an Eldar dealing with psychic intrusions helped make it safer, and that the others let you into their minds through telepathic agreement, but it was nonetheless a scary experience. Please do not alter people's minds around me, I have learned I find it scary and unsettling.)
(The Magician: Of course, of course, of course! I promise I won't! I can tell that forced mental intrusion would be very damaging, and not good for any sophont in most cases! Even this entirely voluntary thingamajig we did seemed to really spook ya!)
(Vior Or'es: I am a little spooked. I am going to get my stuffed Kroot and hug him.)
(The Magician: So, yeah, glad we established the safeword. Which was, uh, "Safeword". Go figure. So, Felicity, Lissy, Frisky, how do ya feel?)
(Felicity Vandire: I...I think I just realized I don't want to be a Sister of Battle. I love the Emperor, genuinely, but...I don't think I can keep fighting for Him. I need to love me, not just him. I want to be with people, not just fight them. I can't devote my life to war, not when all my friends have shown me there's so much more in the galaxy. Thank you, Magician. Thank you for helping me be honest with myself.)
(The Magician: I wouldn't've done it if you hadn't asked, ha!)
(Felicity Vandire: I think I'd like to see if I can transfer to a civilian job in the Ecclesiarchy.)
(The Magician: Well, uh, if ya need anything, feel free to ask!)
(Felicity Vandire: You're pretty good at acting like a spooky, possessing monster.)
(The Magician: I am a spooky, possessing monster! I just know that possessing and controlling without permission does damage, which is, you know, bad! I was playing some of the
evil up, though! All part of the show!)
Khorne is known across the galaxy as the Blood God, the Lord of Battles and the Great Butcher, amongst countless other titles. He is the patron of warriors - whether they worship him consciously or not - and the wellspring of all conflict, hatred and bloodshed. The daemons of Khorne are embodiments of his murderous rage and raw martial might.
Well, Khorne is the god of Courage, Heroism, Valor, Vengeance, Might, and Honor as well, but stars forbid the Imperium admit he's anything but a mindless murderer, or that many of them worship his darker side unknowingly.
There can be no mistaking Khorne's daemons as they surge from the warp to do battle. Furious manifestations of living brass, corded muscle and bloodied bone, they embody al the Blood God's boundless rage and his unending need for battle.
(The Magician: You will never know a daemon more willing to do battle for a righteous cause, but, well, we're dealing in oversimplifications, here!)
For eight hundred years, the fortress world of Tartora stood watch over the Carmynus Sub-sector. So heavily fortified was Tartora, so massively garrisoned and replete with orbital lasers and deep-void missile silos, that its castellans had long claimed it was unconquerable. Yet when the Orks of Waaagh! Gozmod invaded, Tartora's very might proved its undoing.
(Vior Or'es: My stuffed Kroot says he is tired of hearing about the Imperium. He also says he wants Daemon cuddles.)
(The Magician: Well, uh, I'm all for aftercare, but how would I go about that?)
(Vior Or'es: The knowledge you desire them is good enough for me. On another note, Tartora was indeed quite bloody and chaotic, yes.)
As blazing brass skulls the size of dropships trailed flames across the heavens, the Bloodthirster Agoth'Kar led its daemon legions into battle beneath a driving carmine downpour. Ork invaders and Human defenders alike fought and died beneath the blades of the brazen host, or else fled in mindless terror only to be transmuted into statues of brass and bone as punishment for their cowardice.
(The Magician: Now, isn't that beautiful?)
Yes, truly artful.
(Felicity Vandire: It seems kinda fucked up.)
(The Magician: It is, but fucked up things are a part of life! Ya try not to make them happen, but when they do, well, the best thing to do is enjoy the show, huh? Besides, it's all part of the plan!)
An ever-shifting multiplicity of concepts are considered to fall within the purview of Tzeentch, as is only appropriate for this strange Chaos God. Sorcery; fate; mutation; trickery; prophecy; infinite knowledge; boundless change - Tzeentch is said to preside over all of these things and more.
(The Magician: Oh, this is more than true! Boy, is this stuff
fun!)
"Strange" does seem like a value judgment.
(Vior Or'es: My stuffed Kroot, Kra'to, says that he likes warm hugs and soft kisses.)
Erm, that's good? Are you...Are you alright?
(Vior Or'es: I am a trained engineer and functioning adult of my species, I am therefore allowed to have childish affectations from time to time.)
(The Magician: Very true! Anything for too long gets boring!)
There are many reasons that mortals fall to the whispered temptations of Tzeentch. Within dank underhive slums, bond - sworn to sweltering manufactorums, or mutated since birth and forced to hide amongst a society that reviles them, Humans are robbed of power over their own lives. They long for something, anything, to change. Gradually that longing becomes a desire for the power to force that change to manifest. Perhaps these desires are altruistic, the wish to feed one's starving family, or the honest need to change the hand fate has dealt. Other motivations are more selfish and spiteful: a bullying overseer with al the power, who needs to be taught a lesson; a desire to gain the insights needed in order to ensure some criminal enterprise succeeds. All such fervent wishes for change provide opportunities that Tzeentch's daemons exploit. In the most psychically empowered of minds, these wants may be enough to open the way for entities to flow from the warp. In others, they are sufficient to see lost individuals hear and obey the voices that whisper through their dreams, or to steer them into dangerous cults that soon see souls pledged to the Changer of the Ways.
(The Magician: Well, there's nothing wrong with wanting power for the powerless! Besides, all schemes are good schemes! It's a big game of poker, really!)
...I suppose it is true that giving the powerless agency could be considered a noble aim.
Learned scholars and powerful sorcerers wish always for more knowledge, greater understanding, the unlocking of forbidden lore; no matter how good or evil their intentions might be, this thirst for insight leads them into the clutches of Tzeentch. Generals and priests, Inquisitors and prophets alike, al have sought proscribed lore and thus been ensnared by the Architect of Fate.
...
All those who plot, who trick their rivals or ambush their enemies, all who prize knowledge and understanding over brute force, who inscribe or study arcane lore - all are worshipping.
(The Magician: Trickery's overrated. Most of what we do are good and honest deals! If there's a bit of planning and scheming involved, well, that's standard, but you don't need to be a fool to approach us! You just need to have a goal in mind!)
(Vior Or'es: How silly. "Do not seek to improve yourself, or arm yourself so that you might improve the lives of others, or you will fall into Tzeentch's clutches". What a transparent attempt to justify a willfully ignorant state.)
...[these] boons are not freely given. It is said of Tzeentch that he is the Great Conspirator, the master of enigmatic and ineffable plans of such complexity and galaxy-spanning scope that none but he himself can comprehend them. Every one of his mortal servants, no matter how powerful they might think themselves, is but another puppet.
(The Magician: Ugh, this is so
boring. Everyone's a puppet to fate in the end. It's not like that really matters! Besides, honest chaos is bettter than the lie of patriotism, if the violence needs to go down!)
...I suppose.
There are those who believe that Tzeentch's realm within the warp manifests as a vast crystal labyrinth through which his daemonic legions prowl. Supposedly replete with bizarre libraries, weird mirror-realms and fractal mazes of infernal madness, this convoluted infinity is said to dance with the fires of change and to grow and branch ever further as Tzeentch's power swells. Within the Ordo Malleus archives there are indeed numerous references to extrusions from just such a labyrinth. It is recorded tearing through the skin of realspace during especially apocalyptic incursions by the daemons of Tzeentch. Dark rumour and recorded visions insist that somewhere in the labyrinth's uttermost depths lies the Impossible Fortress, wherein Tzeentch lurks and plots within his Hidden Library. Whatever the truth, entire worlds and vast regions of space have been swallowed into the ever-changing and beautiful mass of the crystal labyrinth, or left impossibly altered after its tunnels retreat back to the warp. Meanwhile, legions upon legions of daemons have been seen to spill from within its shimmering depths.
(Vior Or'es: Protect me, Kra'to!)
(The Magician: Imagine if he could
talk!)
(Vior Or'es: I do not want to do so!)
(The Magician: Gotcha! Won't make that a thing!)
The ancient hive world of Garmesh was once the beating heart of the Mathenda Sub-sector. Shifting trade routes, depleted resources and a string of incompetent planetary governors drawn from the noble Clan Habeyl saw the world decline until its populace languished in poverty, while their indolent rulers hid in their spire fortresses and ignored their people's plight.
...
It was amidst a climate of resentment towards Governor Habeyl VII that nine individuals formed a cabal in the underhive. Each had experienced the awakening of psychic abilities after the coming of the Great Rift, and had been drawn together by visions in their dreams. Believing the God-Emperor had appointed them champions, they pooled their powers as the dream voice bade them, and beseeched their master's aid. To their shock, a winged beingofblazing light manifested in their midst. This entity offered them its blessings, magnifying their psychic abilities ninefold. It told them they had the power to change their world beyond recognition, and that — if they employed their newfound powers to the full - al would know their blessings. Blinded by faith and hope, the nine psykers named themselves the Heralds of Change, and set about mounting a sorcerous insurrection.
...
The Heralds' magnified powers allowed them to read thoughts and enslave the wills of their unwitting foes. They could glimpse the future, conjure change sin the fabric of reality and unleash upon their oppressors the curse of mutation...the fires of rebellion had become an inferno..As one, the nine Heralds were consumed by raging pillars of warpfire. The flames raced between their blazing bodies before erupting into a nine-sided warp gate. Out from that inferno spilled the daemon legions of Tzeentch. They brought anarchy and madness with them...Gravity; time; relative position and causality - all melted away like ice before a flame...
(The Magician: Now that's what I call a justified revolution!)
(Felicity Vandire: It sounds like a psychotic break.)
(The Magician: Yeah? What's your point?)
(Vior Or'es: Magician, can you tell Kra'to a bedtime story? It makes him and I feel cozy to hear it.)
(The Magician: Of course. Once, there was a very smart little T'au! She was very brave, and deserved a lot of love! She bravely faced down a scary Daemon Princess along with her best stuffed friend, and she was so brave that that scary Daemon was very impressed at the brave little T'au!)
(Vior Or'es: Happy giggles.)
(Felicity Vandire: Did...did she just type the words "happy giggles"?)
(Vior Or'es: I did!)
(The Magician: So, uh, how's everyone feeling. Did I overdo it?)
(Felicity Vandire: A little bit, but I think we're all good. It was just an intense scene, even if it was planned out ahead of time and we were playing along.)
(The Magician: Well, I'm proud of you all for trying something new, and I'm glad Felicity found out something new about herself! Vior, if you ever need anything now or later, feel free to ask!)
(Vior Or'es: Right now, I think I simply need consistency and a comforting environment, thank you.)
