You are the Clone of a Primarch, an imcomplete copy of the Emperor of Mankind's greatest work made by the traitor Space Marine, Fabius Bile. Burdened with your original's memories but not quite reaching the peaks of their strength. Your creator sold you to a Xenos collector when he found you had grown too much for him to control, reducing you to nothing more than display piece in some horrid gallery, doomed to spend the rest of enterity locked in stasis. But something has occured, your prison has broken and you have a chance to escape, to return the galaxy and large and perhaps the Imperium you remember forging, for better or worse.
Of Stolen Valor and Copied Flesh (A Clone Primarch 40k Quest)
- Thread starter Teen Spirit
- Start date
- Created
- Status
- Ongoing
- Watchers
- 375
- Recent readers
- 171
- Threadmarks
- 10
-
Statistics (3 threadmarks, 9.6k words)
User Total Teen Spirit 3 Threadmarks Reader mode -
Loading…
-
Loading…
The Clone
- Pronouns
- He/Him
You are a Primarch, gene forged by the Emperor of Mankind himself to be one of the greatest warriors and generals to ever live. Towering over the rest of humanity in both terms of skill and physical size. You and your brothers were built and breed to reunite the scattered remnants of human civilization and guide them out of Old Night. But you were scattered to the Warp, thrown to distant planets, raised by people who had no understanding of your intended purpose. Only to be eventually rediscovered by the Emperor himself and reunited with your own Gene sons, The Legiones Astartes, men infused with your own geneseed to turn them into peerless warriors. Together you conquered countless worlds, wiped out entire species of Xenos, and beheaded countless tyrants and Sorceror-Kings.
Only, that's not quite true. Your mind is filled with the memories of a Primarch, and you have the skills and strength to nearly match what you remember, almost, but not quite. It wasn't the Emperor who forged you though, it was another man, a less man with greater ambitions, a Space Marine called Fabius Bile.
Though you may want to deny it, even to yourself, you are a copy of the original Primarch, an imitation forged by a rogue Apothecary using genetic material stolen without the original's knowledge and grown in hidden gene labs. You have their memories, their experinces, their mind, their ability to wage war and kill like few others, but you are not them, not quite.
You are a Clone of
[] The Phoenician (Canon)
It is strange, as you grew and learned you had come to call Fabius 'Father', even as you had memories of commanding him as his Primarch and Genesire. The bond between you was strange, at times it seemed like the old days, others he seemed distant as though he barely even tolerated your existance. Your memories came back in waves, at first you remembered the days of the Great Crusade, fighting alongside your brothers, building a new age for humanity. Then the doubts and paranoia returned, the whispers that drove you away from Ferrus, from your dearest brother. And you realized how wrong you had been, you had been weak, too weak to ignore the whispers, too weak to listen to Ferrus, too weak to stop you and your legion from falling into henious corruption. As the last of your memories returned you vowed you would atone for your original self's misdeeds and wipe away your sins. Fabius never gave you the chance to live up to your words.
-Gain Traits: Of Traitor Flesh, Almost Perfection.
[] The Night Haunter
This is wrong, you had died, you had let yourself die to prove a final point to the monster you called a father and the horror that was his Imperium. To prove that your methods were effective, your actions had been justified, that there had been no other path other than the path of bones and blood you had built. And yet you lived again, in a way at least. This second life is strange, you find yourself full of doubts where once there was certainity, the words of your brothers and even your first captain hitting harder then they ever had. Had their been another way? Even your sight seems changed, where once you saw certain death when you looked at someone, now you saw many possible fates. Your time with bile had been so full of distractions and doubts, it was barely a surprise when he was able to get the upper hand on you.
-Gain Traits: Of Traitor Flesh, Prophecy Interrupted
[] The Lord of the Red Sands
It's so quiet now, you can think clearly for the first time in-Actually you can't remember the last time you could think clearly at all. The Nails are gone, the constant unending rage that has marked most of your life is no longer there. You are free at long last. That is not to say you are free of anger, you still feel rage at what happened to your brother and sisters, how the emperor stole you away from your rebellion when you were most needed. But the rage you feel now is but a candle compared to the raging inferno you once experinced constantly. Your heart has room for other emotions now, such as shame. You can't help but look at what, what your original self, did to your legion and feel anything but shame. You had fought so long against the High Riders only to treat you own genesons nearly as terribly. New life did have it's upsides though, you found some old powers returning, you could take other's pain and fear for them. You had used this ability to help one of Bile's other creations after an accident one day. You thought this would improve Fabius's opinion of you and convince him to work with you instead of treating you like some experiment, it did not.
-Gain Traits: Of Traitor Flesh,Reborn Empathy
[] The Urizen
Your memories are intact but you mind has made a jumble of them. You remember the early days of Colchis, you remember worshipping the emperor as the god he truly was, to spreading that truth to both your legion and the greater galaxy. Then you remeber Monarchia, forced to kneel in the ashes of your greatest work for reasons you did not understand. You also remember darker things, your worship changing to other, darker, gods, betray on a scale few could imagine, billions dead, brother turned against Brother, Terra itself put to siege. Finally a sound of ravens, a flash of feathers and steel, followed by defeat and shame. So little made sense to you now, why did you turn your back on the Emperor, and why did he turn his back on you? Fabius had promised he would make sense of things in time. Perhaps that had always been your biggest flaw, that you were so eager to trust.
-Gain Traits: Of Traitor Flesh, Shaken Faith
[] The Warmaster
That clone is long dead, no trace of them remains.
[] The Gorgon
You knew something was wrong from almost the first moments you were awake. Your arms were covered in thick gauntlets, you had never worn such things before, you never had need to, you arms had been forever changed by your earliest days on Medusa. Fabius forced you to keep them on at first but eventually you had enough, you disobeyed Bile's orders and ripped the gauntlets off your arms, revealing pure and untainted flesh. Your memories returned in a rush. You remembered fighting alongside Fulgrim, forging each other's weapons, only for him and his whole legion to betray you. You could even remember Fulgrim's sword as it came down on your neck. You attacked Fabius in a blind fury, it was his genesire, his legion that had betrayed you, murdered you! You nearly killed the thing that had once called itself a man but he protested during your attack, arguing he had not sided with Fulgrim, he had not fallen to the corruption that had consumed the Emperor's Children. And like a fool, you believed him.
-Gain Traits: Reborn Loyalist, Dented Iron
[] The Great Angel
You had fought through the worst of the siege of Terra, fighting to the brink of even your inhuman limits. You had slaughtered foul beings born of nightmares and dread gods, killed countless traitor Astartes, braved a ship consumed by the warp, but it wasn't enough. You had even tried to slay the wretched thing your once proud brother had become, only for your strength to fail you, and for Horus to not only kill you but end your life in a way so horrific and agonizing that even as you lay dying you knew your torment would be forever inflicted on your sons. You had seen all of that coming, and had been powerless to stop it. And yet you lived, curious, and troubling. Even more so the fact your visions seem more limited then they were before, in your original body. The future is far more unclear then it had ever been for you, perhaps that's why you didn't see Bile's betrayal coming.
-Gain Traits: Reborn Loyalist, Faded Light
Gender
[] Man
You look as you did before, more or less, though younger than you remember Your visage resembling how you looked in your early days, before the Emperor found you, before you knew anything of the Imperium or why you were made. Should you encounter any of your legion, they will know you immediately, they may have a few questions but they probably can be easily explained. Many in the Imperium as well ill recognize you, for better or worse.
[] Woman
You have changed, even Fabius was not sure why, dismissing it as the one minor flaw in an otherwise perfect cloning effort. It has changed nothing of your prowess and you still resemble your old self, just a female verison of it. Your legion will still know you on sight should you see them, no doubt they will have questions that may not be so easily explained without telling the truth. The imperium as a whole will know you as more than human, few could doubt that, but many would not be inclined to believe you are a primarch, even if you told them. Which could both help or hinder you depending on the situation.
As you regrew and slowly began to remember who you had been, or rather what your original self had been, you studied under Fabius for a time, part student, part lab rat. You did not know the full extent of his plans or even where his loyalties lay, sometimes you even wondered if he knew, but you were naive in your second childhood, and trusting. Surely the man who made you had some sort of plan in mind, something suited to your vast skills and strength. He would not waste so many resources to make something like you only to throw you away, no sane man would dare such an act of madness.
Whatever his plans were, if they ever existed, it would not matter in the end. Fabius Bile betrayed you. Perhaps you had damaged a creation that he considered more important, perhaps you had grown too willful, remembered too much, or perhaps he was just scared of what you were becoming. Whatever his reasons, he would sell you, to a xenos construct that glowed with baleful energies. Not be studied, to be used as a slave or a soldier, not even to be picked apart and used to build a profane army using your geneseed, but simply to be put on display, an artifact for an Alien's abhorrent collection.
It was a humilation beyond measure, you weren't quite real enough to even be given a true death, instead bound in stasis, forever trapped in the moment Bile betrayed you.
And yet, it did not hold . Something has gone wrong, you awaken to find the gallery that was at once your prison and tomb to be engulfed in chaos. Astartes wearing sigils your copied memories had no knowledge of waged faternal wars against each other. An Ork that somehow stood head and shoulders above you, and wore armor more advanced then anything you had ever seen, fought Aeldari and other Xenos you had never seen before. Humans in all manner of uniforms, wielding everything from swords to Volkite cannons, fought aliens and their fellow man, while machines of every make wage war all around you. All the while, foul machines similar to your captor struggle to try and contain the madness.
Your prison has broken, what shackles held you in place were no longer functioning. Even your highly advanced mind could barely make sense of what you were seeing as a thousand conflicts played out at once. You knew not how long you were in stasis, perhaps a few months, perhaps centuries, but Bile was gone, any thoughts of revenge of would have to be put on hold, right now you had to escape.
Escape to where? you had no idea. What you would do once you were free, 'reunite' with your legion, build a new one, track down Bile, find your original self, too many possibilities to count. Before you could even begin to come up with a long term plan, you needed to get out of this Xenos prison and the riot that was currently consuming it.
QM's Note: So this is an idea I've had bouncing around my head on and off for probably years now. For those of you who don't know. The Second Fabius Bile Novel, Clonelord, is in large part about Fabius discovering that one of his clone Primarch projects, specifically Fulgrim, was successful. While Fabius does raise the clone Primarch for a while he eventually turns on him and basically sells him Trayzn the Infinite, my favorite Necron, dooming the clone to spend forever as part as Museum display. Now it's highly unlikely this clone will ever get out of those galleries, but to me that's boring, there is so much one could do with a copy of a Primarch in Warhammer 40k. So I hope you enjoy this little side project of mine.
For those wondering why Dorn isn't on the list despite being allegedly dead like Ferrus and Sanguinius. A: I don't believe he's dead B: I know myself well enough to know I would be unable to avoid turning him into Text-to-Speech device Rogal, which really would not fit the tone I want for this quest.
Only, that's not quite true. Your mind is filled with the memories of a Primarch, and you have the skills and strength to nearly match what you remember, almost, but not quite. It wasn't the Emperor who forged you though, it was another man, a less man with greater ambitions, a Space Marine called Fabius Bile.
Though you may want to deny it, even to yourself, you are a copy of the original Primarch, an imitation forged by a rogue Apothecary using genetic material stolen without the original's knowledge and grown in hidden gene labs. You have their memories, their experinces, their mind, their ability to wage war and kill like few others, but you are not them, not quite.
You are a Clone of
[] The Phoenician (Canon)
It is strange, as you grew and learned you had come to call Fabius 'Father', even as you had memories of commanding him as his Primarch and Genesire. The bond between you was strange, at times it seemed like the old days, others he seemed distant as though he barely even tolerated your existance. Your memories came back in waves, at first you remembered the days of the Great Crusade, fighting alongside your brothers, building a new age for humanity. Then the doubts and paranoia returned, the whispers that drove you away from Ferrus, from your dearest brother. And you realized how wrong you had been, you had been weak, too weak to ignore the whispers, too weak to listen to Ferrus, too weak to stop you and your legion from falling into henious corruption. As the last of your memories returned you vowed you would atone for your original self's misdeeds and wipe away your sins. Fabius never gave you the chance to live up to your words.
-Gain Traits: Of Traitor Flesh, Almost Perfection.
[] The Night Haunter
This is wrong, you had died, you had let yourself die to prove a final point to the monster you called a father and the horror that was his Imperium. To prove that your methods were effective, your actions had been justified, that there had been no other path other than the path of bones and blood you had built. And yet you lived again, in a way at least. This second life is strange, you find yourself full of doubts where once there was certainity, the words of your brothers and even your first captain hitting harder then they ever had. Had their been another way? Even your sight seems changed, where once you saw certain death when you looked at someone, now you saw many possible fates. Your time with bile had been so full of distractions and doubts, it was barely a surprise when he was able to get the upper hand on you.
-Gain Traits: Of Traitor Flesh, Prophecy Interrupted
[] The Lord of the Red Sands
It's so quiet now, you can think clearly for the first time in-Actually you can't remember the last time you could think clearly at all. The Nails are gone, the constant unending rage that has marked most of your life is no longer there. You are free at long last. That is not to say you are free of anger, you still feel rage at what happened to your brother and sisters, how the emperor stole you away from your rebellion when you were most needed. But the rage you feel now is but a candle compared to the raging inferno you once experinced constantly. Your heart has room for other emotions now, such as shame. You can't help but look at what, what your original self, did to your legion and feel anything but shame. You had fought so long against the High Riders only to treat you own genesons nearly as terribly. New life did have it's upsides though, you found some old powers returning, you could take other's pain and fear for them. You had used this ability to help one of Bile's other creations after an accident one day. You thought this would improve Fabius's opinion of you and convince him to work with you instead of treating you like some experiment, it did not.
-Gain Traits: Of Traitor Flesh,Reborn Empathy
[] The Urizen
Your memories are intact but you mind has made a jumble of them. You remember the early days of Colchis, you remember worshipping the emperor as the god he truly was, to spreading that truth to both your legion and the greater galaxy. Then you remeber Monarchia, forced to kneel in the ashes of your greatest work for reasons you did not understand. You also remember darker things, your worship changing to other, darker, gods, betray on a scale few could imagine, billions dead, brother turned against Brother, Terra itself put to siege. Finally a sound of ravens, a flash of feathers and steel, followed by defeat and shame. So little made sense to you now, why did you turn your back on the Emperor, and why did he turn his back on you? Fabius had promised he would make sense of things in time. Perhaps that had always been your biggest flaw, that you were so eager to trust.
-Gain Traits: Of Traitor Flesh, Shaken Faith
That clone is long dead, no trace of them remains.
[] The Gorgon
You knew something was wrong from almost the first moments you were awake. Your arms were covered in thick gauntlets, you had never worn such things before, you never had need to, you arms had been forever changed by your earliest days on Medusa. Fabius forced you to keep them on at first but eventually you had enough, you disobeyed Bile's orders and ripped the gauntlets off your arms, revealing pure and untainted flesh. Your memories returned in a rush. You remembered fighting alongside Fulgrim, forging each other's weapons, only for him and his whole legion to betray you. You could even remember Fulgrim's sword as it came down on your neck. You attacked Fabius in a blind fury, it was his genesire, his legion that had betrayed you, murdered you! You nearly killed the thing that had once called itself a man but he protested during your attack, arguing he had not sided with Fulgrim, he had not fallen to the corruption that had consumed the Emperor's Children. And like a fool, you believed him.
-Gain Traits: Reborn Loyalist, Dented Iron
[] The Great Angel
You had fought through the worst of the siege of Terra, fighting to the brink of even your inhuman limits. You had slaughtered foul beings born of nightmares and dread gods, killed countless traitor Astartes, braved a ship consumed by the warp, but it wasn't enough. You had even tried to slay the wretched thing your once proud brother had become, only for your strength to fail you, and for Horus to not only kill you but end your life in a way so horrific and agonizing that even as you lay dying you knew your torment would be forever inflicted on your sons. You had seen all of that coming, and had been powerless to stop it. And yet you lived, curious, and troubling. Even more so the fact your visions seem more limited then they were before, in your original body. The future is far more unclear then it had ever been for you, perhaps that's why you didn't see Bile's betrayal coming.
-Gain Traits: Reborn Loyalist, Faded Light
Gender
[] Man
You look as you did before, more or less, though younger than you remember Your visage resembling how you looked in your early days, before the Emperor found you, before you knew anything of the Imperium or why you were made. Should you encounter any of your legion, they will know you immediately, they may have a few questions but they probably can be easily explained. Many in the Imperium as well ill recognize you, for better or worse.
[] Woman
You have changed, even Fabius was not sure why, dismissing it as the one minor flaw in an otherwise perfect cloning effort. It has changed nothing of your prowess and you still resemble your old self, just a female verison of it. Your legion will still know you on sight should you see them, no doubt they will have questions that may not be so easily explained without telling the truth. The imperium as a whole will know you as more than human, few could doubt that, but many would not be inclined to believe you are a primarch, even if you told them. Which could both help or hinder you depending on the situation.
As you regrew and slowly began to remember who you had been, or rather what your original self had been, you studied under Fabius for a time, part student, part lab rat. You did not know the full extent of his plans or even where his loyalties lay, sometimes you even wondered if he knew, but you were naive in your second childhood, and trusting. Surely the man who made you had some sort of plan in mind, something suited to your vast skills and strength. He would not waste so many resources to make something like you only to throw you away, no sane man would dare such an act of madness.
Whatever his plans were, if they ever existed, it would not matter in the end. Fabius Bile betrayed you. Perhaps you had damaged a creation that he considered more important, perhaps you had grown too willful, remembered too much, or perhaps he was just scared of what you were becoming. Whatever his reasons, he would sell you, to a xenos construct that glowed with baleful energies. Not be studied, to be used as a slave or a soldier, not even to be picked apart and used to build a profane army using your geneseed, but simply to be put on display, an artifact for an Alien's abhorrent collection.
It was a humilation beyond measure, you weren't quite real enough to even be given a true death, instead bound in stasis, forever trapped in the moment Bile betrayed you.
And yet, it did not hold . Something has gone wrong, you awaken to find the gallery that was at once your prison and tomb to be engulfed in chaos. Astartes wearing sigils your copied memories had no knowledge of waged faternal wars against each other. An Ork that somehow stood head and shoulders above you, and wore armor more advanced then anything you had ever seen, fought Aeldari and other Xenos you had never seen before. Humans in all manner of uniforms, wielding everything from swords to Volkite cannons, fought aliens and their fellow man, while machines of every make wage war all around you. All the while, foul machines similar to your captor struggle to try and contain the madness.
Your prison has broken, what shackles held you in place were no longer functioning. Even your highly advanced mind could barely make sense of what you were seeing as a thousand conflicts played out at once. You knew not how long you were in stasis, perhaps a few months, perhaps centuries, but Bile was gone, any thoughts of revenge of would have to be put on hold, right now you had to escape.
Escape to where? you had no idea. What you would do once you were free, 'reunite' with your legion, build a new one, track down Bile, find your original self, too many possibilities to count. Before you could even begin to come up with a long term plan, you needed to get out of this Xenos prison and the riot that was currently consuming it.
QM's Note: So this is an idea I've had bouncing around my head on and off for probably years now. For those of you who don't know. The Second Fabius Bile Novel, Clonelord, is in large part about Fabius discovering that one of his clone Primarch projects, specifically Fulgrim, was successful. While Fabius does raise the clone Primarch for a while he eventually turns on him and basically sells him Trayzn the Infinite, my favorite Necron, dooming the clone to spend forever as part as Museum display. Now it's highly unlikely this clone will ever get out of those galleries, but to me that's boring, there is so much one could do with a copy of a Primarch in Warhammer 40k. So I hope you enjoy this little side project of mine.
For those wondering why Dorn isn't on the list despite being allegedly dead like Ferrus and Sanguinius. A: I don't believe he's dead B: I know myself well enough to know I would be unable to avoid turning him into Text-to-Speech device Rogal, which really would not fit the tone I want for this quest.
Last edited:
Character Sheet
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Name: Konrad Curze, More or Less.
Titles: The Night Haunter
Stats: We'll worry about those Later
Equipment:
-Some Clothes
-A Power Sword
Subordinates: None at the moment
Forces: None at the moment
Allies: None
Enemies: Many
Last edited:
Mechanics and Other Things
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Reserved for later
Which Primarch is Which
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I have realized that by going by Titles instead of names I may have made things more confusing then need be, my apologies. Let me Fix that
The Phoenician
Fulgrim, Primarch of the Emperor's Children. Original Self is a Daemon Primarch of Slaanesh.
The Night Haunter
Konrad Cruze, Primarch of the Night Lords, Original Self is quite dead and missing their head.
The Lord of the Red Sands
Angron, Primarch of the World Eaters, Original Self is a Daemon Primarch of Khorne.
The Urizen
Lorgar, Primarch of the Word Bearers, Original Self is hiding away in their temple after getting their ass kicked by a bird.
The Warmaster
Horus, Primarch of the Luna Wolves/Sons of Horus/ Black Legion, as dead as dead can be. Just like his clone.
The Gorgon
Ferrus Manus, Primarch of the Iron Hands (Yes that is redunant), also dead and missing their head.
The Great Angel
Sanguinius, Primarch of the Blood Angels, Murdered by Horus.
The Phoenician
Fulgrim, Primarch of the Emperor's Children. Original Self is a Daemon Primarch of Slaanesh.
The Night Haunter
Konrad Cruze, Primarch of the Night Lords, Original Self is quite dead and missing their head.
The Lord of the Red Sands
Angron, Primarch of the World Eaters, Original Self is a Daemon Primarch of Khorne.
The Urizen
Lorgar, Primarch of the Word Bearers, Original Self is hiding away in their temple after getting their ass kicked by a bird.
Horus, Primarch of the Luna Wolves/Sons of Horus/ Black Legion, as dead as dead can be. Just like his clone.
The Gorgon
Ferrus Manus, Primarch of the Iron Hands (Yes that is redunant), also dead and missing their head.
The Great Angel
Sanguinius, Primarch of the Blood Angels, Murdered by Horus.
Last edited:
Vote Closed
New
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Voting is closed, thank you to the many, many people who voted. Looks like we will be Midnight Clad going forward.
View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xQWCmM1TFlc
View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xQWCmM1TFlc
The Escape
New
- Pronouns
- He/Him
The Escape
Gained Trait: Of Traitor Flesh
You are clone of one of the greatest traitors the Imperium of Mankind has ever known. Your original self turned his back on the Emperor of Mankind and his brothers, and plunged the Imperium into a war that would kill trillions and leave the Emperor as crippled as the empire he sought to build. And is not where your original's treason ends, for ten thousand years his sons, your sons, have waged war against the Imperium, sometimes butchering entire planets of loyal citizens of the imperium. While your original's sons may take you back, the Imperium does not forgive traitors, particular ones whose crimes are as immense as those committed by your first self. Only the most pragmatic, radical, or desperate loyalists will even considering working with you if they know your original indentity. If the Imperium at large learns of your existance, considerable effort will be expended to ensure your second life is brief and filled with violence. The only forces within the Imperium who could or even would consider providing you with any measure of protection are, ironically enough, the brothers your original self once betrayed, only they would have the authority and sheer presence needed to spare you from the Imperium's wrath, if any of them still live that is.
Gained Trait: Prophecy Interrupted
You are broken, and yet you maybe remade. as Konrad Cruze you were burdened with the gift of prophecy, you saw how almost everyone around you would die when you first layed eyes upon them, this gift took a considerable toll on Konrad both mentally and physically. In your second life this gift has become greatly weakened and distorted. Rarely do you see anyone's fate anymore and on the rare times you do it's never one fate but rather a kaleidoscope of possible ends. Where once there was near absolute, maddening, certainity there was now more doubt then you had ever known. Despite that, indeed likely because of that, you have regained a great measure of sanity that your original self had lost in his final days. Though you can't bring yourself to admit it, you are grateful for how weakened your precognitive visions have become, and part of you can't help but fear what would happen to you should they grow stronger once more.
From the first moment Bile took you out of the tank he grew you in, something felt wrong, even when you were berefit of memories or any sense of who you were, to your mind childhood meant living in sunless alleys, feasting on rats and the dead, learning through the stolen memories of the criminals you feasted upon, life in general was near constant struggle against murderers and monsters. The way Bile raised you felt downright alien by comparison. He wasn't a good parent, even by your abysmal standards you could tell that much, you were a particularly interesting lab rat to him at best, but he you had a bed to sleep in and you had little worry of anything attacking you from the shadows. You were at once anxious and comforted by stability Bile's lab brought you.
When you began to remember who you were, or at least who you had been, you found yourself struck by a horrfying revelation, Vindication had been denied to you. Your death was the ultimate justification for your tactics, your proof that what you had done to bring justice was nesscary enough that even your own father had been forced use your own tactics against you. If you survived, even if it was in a new body, your entire point was completely undermined. Denied vindication soon became the least of your troubles as more and more memories returned.
In your original life you had always been convinced that your actions were justified, a nesscary evil for the betterment of mankind, you weren't a sadist or a thug like later generations that corrupted your legion, there was always a far grander reason for the things you did. And yet, as memories of Tsagualsa came flooding back, of the the throne of bones and the carpet of screaming faces, of yourself hiding in the shadows of your own fortress, or shouting orders to Marines who had long since died, you couldn't find any grander reason or justification in what you did beyond your own cruelity and madness. You had begun to rot long before you died, physically and spiritually.
You had made a monument to your own sadism and then waited to die. Your death was not vindication for your actions, or proof that that everything that occured during the Great Crusade and Horus's rebellion had always been part of the Emperor's horrific plans, it was a rabid animal being put down. You wanted to deny it, you tried desperately to deny it to yourself, but you were far too sane in your second life to pretend otherwise. And if you had been wrong about your final days, how many other mistakes had you made during those final years? During your whole life? Had their been others paths you could have taken, should have taken?
"There was no other way," you used those words when your first captain had begun to doubt your actions and choices, but now they just sounded hollow, even inside your own head.
Your doubts taunted you in both your dreams and waking moments, this newfound uncertainty eating at you like some sort parasite living within. Bile was of little use in helping to ease your fears, showing next to no interest in the few things you dared to tell him. You found yourself wondering why he even kept you around in the first place if he was going to show so little interest in you. Why clone you, of all primarchs? Fulgrim was perhaps the only one of your kin who you ever considered a friend in any real sense but you very much doubted Fabius was acting on the orders of his primarch or that the thing that had once been Fulgrim cared one bit for you anymore.
You were too much effort to simply be spare parts for another Primarch he was growing. Perhaps he sought to build his own legion using you, or maybe he sought to control what was left of your legion with you as his proxy. Or perhaps he had always intend to use you like he did in those galleries, as a commodity to be bought and sold.
Fabius Bile's betrayal was quick, just long enough for you to realize what was happening, that the man who had given you a second life was selling you to some Xenos construct.
What Did you Feel?
[] [Emotions] Hurt
-To you surprise, you find yourself upset over Bile's actions. Bile was far removed from a good father but he was the first father you had known in either life. He had given you a place to sleep, provided food, gave your first weeks and months real structure that your first childhood had lacked. He was cold and never truly acted like a father towards you but compared to struggling to survive on the dark streets of Nostramo and how the Emperor treated you, he was practically a saint. You didn't love him, but you had expected more out of him then to just toss you aside so thoughtlessly. Why did he do it? And why do you even care?
[] [Emotions] Indifferent
-Your first father was a monster and tyrant, so why would you second one be any different? Part of you was surprised Fabius Bile even rebelled against the Emperor in the first place considering how alike they were. You owed Bile nothing, he was not of the VIIIth Legion and being revived was hardly something you desired. And while it was hardly desirable to end up stasis-locked in some Xenos Museum, to be stared at like some kind of trinket, at least it has freed you from Bile's control and whatever nonsense he had planned for you.
[] [Emotions] Vengeful
-How dare he?! How dare Bile do this to you, first burdening you with a second, false, life, then treating you like some kind of lab rat for his deranged experiments, only to throw you away like you were a toy he had become bored with. He couldn't even give you some tiny measure of peace by killing you, instead he allowed some Alien machine to keep you in dreamless stasis, had it not been for chance you would have remained as such until the stars grew cold. Fabius Bile would pay for his betrayal, all of the Emperor's Children would pay along with their primarch. It will take time, of that you are certain, but the III legion would pay for their crimes against the Night Haunter.
[] [Emotions] Write-in (Subject to QM approval)
Your feelings had to be put aside for the moment. Bile's betrayal and your own doubts mattered little if you didn't survive the next few moments.
An alien sky greeted your eyes along with a sea of carnage. The pillars that held each this prison-museum's exhbits we're failing in a cascade, one after the other. Orks, Aeldari, Astartes, soldiers, and beasts of almost every variety soon found themselves awake for the first time in who knew how many years. As was the nature of men and monsters, violence erupted almost immediately. Orks battled against Aeldari while humans struggles against corrupted beasts, Astartes warred against each other and all battled against your jailers. They were foul things, constructs of dark metal that glowed a baleful, sickening, green. The machines were made of the same material as the pedastal you stood on and the glowed with the same horrific energy, yet in some of them you could swear there was a hateful spark of life within.
You quickly jumped off the pedestal that had been your prison for who knows how long and grabbed a power sword from a fallen Ultramarine, it was no relic but compared to the crude daggers you had forged on Fabius' ship it at least gave you a chance at survival.
There was no sign of Fabius nor any of the Emperor's Children that had been with him, no doubt they had been gone for years, perhaps even centuries or more. You saw no means of escape from here, which left you with no options besides pushing further into the galleries.
You were alone, unarmored, barely armed, and surrounded by Xenos and killers. There were few shadows nearby and they all contained more of those alien constructs. You had not yet regrown to your original height and you were not as strong as you had been in your first life. Despite all that, you were still a primarch.
Your sword activated, the blade glowing faintly as your grip tightened on the hilt, and then the slaughter began. Any who rose to challenge you was cut down before they could even realize you had raised your sword. The Astartes froze as you approached, some muttering in disbelief as you passed. Their very genetic code screaming to them that you were something familar even if their minds didn't understand. Even as a clone, even if they weren't your legion, part of them could still sense what you were, what you had been at least.
You cut a bloody path through those that stand in your way as you look everywhere for some sort of exit. Great beams of sickly green light arc over your head, you turn to see some of the machines starring soulless at you as they aimed their weapons. It seemed the alien behind this place was trying to restore control over their collection without too much damage.
Though you were far from their biggest pirority as an Ork that would put the Overfiend of Ullanor to shame barreled it's way through the displays, tossing aside machines and relics with casual disdain, a wave of orks following after him, the air filled with their savage roars. A touch of fustration surged through your body, the original you had been able to bring entire planets into compliance just with his presence alone, such was the aura of terror and fear he had created. Now the best you could manage was inspiring confusion in a few passing Astartes while an Ork of all things left you accutely aware of how truly vulnerable you were in this moment.
You avoided the massive Ork and instead pushed straight forward, eventually coming across a far larger portion of the galleries. Here entire regiments of the Imperial army were doing battle with various Xenos and each other, more importantly you spotted not one but two methods of escaping this wretched prison.
The first was an Aeldari Webway portal, one large enough for a baneblade to pass through with room to spare. Your first self had battled and tortured enough Aeldari to understand the basics of such a thing. The portal would lead to an extra-dimensional space the xenos used to transport themselves across the galaxy without using the Warp, with many planets, even those conquered by the Imperium having hidden portals. IF you could reach this one, you might be able to escape to any number of planets. You would have to brave the Webway itself of course and whatever dangers lurked within, and there was the risk of your jailers following you unless you managed to find some way to destory this portal after you left.
The Second was a ship. A vessel of unknown but clearly human make, maybe the size of a Corvette, which while small but Naval standards still meant the thing dominated much of the surrounding landscape. While numerous gunships and other craft were fighting their way up and out of this place, you doubted any of them had a warp drive, making their efforts doomed. This ship looked easily big enough to have a Warp Drive. It's smaller guns were currently blasting any of the constructs it could while the whole ship was powering up.
If you could get aboard the ship you would be out of here with few ways for your captors to track you. But you had no idea who controlled this ship or where they were going. Maybe you could assert control of the vessel one way or another but that was a big maybe.
How Will You Escape?
[] [Escape] The Portal
[] [Escape] The Ship
You realized there were plenty of humans and post-humans before you. Soldiers and Astartes doing battle against seemingly countless foes. Some belong to your fellow traitors like Lorgar or Angron and were clearly too corrupted to be of any use but thankfully they were few in numbers.
Part of you was tempted to ignore everyibe, only stopping to steal some of the various relics and arms you saw mounted on various displays or scattered across the dark floor before making your escape. A few would have the sense to follow you and perhaps they could prove useful to you.
Another part of you realized that however you escaped, you would be in a galaxy that was likely foreign and hostile to you. And while you maybe a clone of a traitor, you were still a Primarch, it would be easy to rally many of these people to your side in only a few moments. Keeping them by your side once you escaped could be a challenge, particularly those fools who had decided to side with the Tyrant Emperor, but that was a problem for later.
To your surprise, you found yourself considering another option. While many of the Xenos within this prison were effectively mindless, such as the Orks or the massive chitinous beasts that were currently trying to slice apart or devour anything in their path, there were others such as the Aeldari, more rational beings, who were also imprisoned here. Your instinct was to kill any who tried to follow you but you found yourself hesistating. While having Xenos along would increase tensions greatly with any humans or Astartes you rallied to your side, it would give you an even larger force at your side, one that might have unique insights into various problems you may encounter. It felt strange to even be considering such a thing but these were strange and desperate times.
Do You Rally Others to Your Side?
[] [Rally] Ignore them, steal what you can and leave.
-You will acquire better gear but start with reduced options for starting forces.
[] [Rally] Gather Humans and Astartes to your side.
-Start with a decent size pool of forces.
[] [Rally] Gather Everyone you can to your side
-Start with a larger pool of forces, unlocks Xenos options.
QM's Note: Apologies for how long this took, various things delayed me. So these first few updates are basically prologue, defining our starting situation for the bulk of the quest. So don't worry about mechanics for now they will be explained in time.
Last edited:
Voting closed
New
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Voting is closed
The Ship
New
- Pronouns
- He/Him
The Ship
You found the biggest beast you could find, a wretched four armed thing of chitin and blades, and leapt onto it's back dramatically. Quickly cutting it's head off, the strange xenos collapsed to the ground as you stood astride it's back. That got the attention of multiple nearby figures.
"Just because we are can move again does not mean we are free!" Your voice was cutting through the din of guns and steel clashing. "If you wish to die here or remain trapped, then by all means, stay and keep fighting your pointless battles."
You point the tip of your sword towards the vessel.
"If you want to live, follow me to that ship!" you called out.
You were hardly the most charismatic of Primarchs, but even Angron still had his moments and this was the kind of moment where even you could excel.
You saw hundreds of pairs of eyes starring at you for a moment before turning towards the ship and it's open ramps.
What followed next was nothing short of pure madness, as thousands scrambled towards the ship in a mad rush. Many tried to maintain discipline and order. Many did not. Scores of people were trampled or gunned down as they rushed towards perhaps their only chance to get out of this prison.
Some went towards the portal in the distance as well. If nothing else, that would divide the Xenos attention and give you a better chance at leaving.
More and more of those Xenos machines appeared, some teleporting in before your eyes. The monster did not want to give his prizes it seemed. You ran fast, cutting down any monster or madman that stood in your way before making your way to the ship's brightly lit cargo bay. This began a franatic brawl for survival as you turned your blade against machines, Orks, and savage examples of your brother's sons. You sliced a machine from head to torso in a powerful downward cut, only for the the machine to vanish around your blade, jusz for an Ork to take a stab at you less than a moment later. You fought for what felt like hours, but must have only been a few seconds before the ramps closed. Many were able to make it in, yet many did not. The faint but presistant sound of pounding against the ramps could be heard even over the gunfire.
The fighting lasted for a while longer within the cargo hold, slowly beginning to wind down as the worst were slaughtered. After punching the head off a particularly daring man with an axe, you looked around. You saw Humans, Mechanicus, Astartes, Aeldari, and a number of other xenos you had never seen before. None of them looked mad or steeped in the corruption that Lorgar had been so keen to spread. Normally you would be content to remove the Xenos as well, and you knew many of the humans felt similarly, but right now, you needed more weapons on your side and enough hands to hold them.
"Halt!" you commanded. "More of those machines could teleport in here. They are the only enemy any of you should be worried about right now."
You, the old you at least, would have never done something like this, never show such mercy to Xenos, but this was a truly exceptional situation. The more pragmatic of your brothers would have done the same and the more stubborn would have probably just gotten themselves killed fighting that massive Ork.
Everyone stared at you for a moment before slowly but surely lowering their weapons and turning to attend to their wounded. This truce wouldn't hold forever, though it would do for the moment.
The ship rumbled beneath you as it was beginning to take off and your mind turned to new priorities. You needed control of this ship. At the very least you needed to make contact with whoever was charge. Surviving the next few minutes was your biggest concern right now, but you also wanted to make sure this thing was not headed towards Imperial space. You had no intention of allowing the Emperor to kill you a second time.
As you looked around, you saw numerous lifts for cargo and passengers. If needs must you could climb your way through one and hunt down the captain's quarters, though that would take time.
Whoever was in charge must have been a rather soft-hearted person, you realized, to let in so many strangers willingly. Or perhaps simply pragmatic enough to realize having more armed people within the ship might provide some protection. Either way, they must have had eyes and ears on this storage bay. There was no one here who looked as though they belonged on this vessel. No one alive at least, as you noted several piles of ash on the ground next to some rather advanced looking weapons.
You reached one of the lifts. None of the buttons did anything, so you began to pry apart the doors with your bare hands. Alarm bells began to ring out.
"Please don't do that," a male voice in strangely accented low gothic called out over a hidden voxcaster. "That is causing the machines up here to make some very angry noises."
"I demand to speak with the captain of this vessel. Now!" you growled.
"Ahh, hi, hello, this is the bridge. We read you loud and clear," the man replied, though in truth their voice almost made them sound like a nervous child. "The captain's dead unforunately. Just please step back from the doors."
This raised several new and very pressing concerns. Did any of the crew survive? Did this ship even have a Navigator? If it didn't, your escape was doomed or at best you were looking at years traveling through real space. An experience you had no desire to repeat.
"Take me to the bridge. I need to speak with whoever is in charge. Immediately," you demanded harshly.
"Can it wait?" the voice on the other end replied. "We're busy trying not to die here!"
"Immediately," you repeated.
"Okay then!" the voice said quickly, followed by a long, pregnant, pause. "Uhh... Actually, there's a problem here. I don't know how."
"What do you mean you don't know how?!" you snarled in frustration and rage. "This is your ship!"
You were considering ripping off one of the doors and climbing your way towards the bridge, if only to end this conversation.
The ship shook around you, causing a few of the survivors to let out startled cries.
"No it's not," the young man on the other side protested. "Almost everyone on this spaceship is dead. We were just the first people they let onboard. I'm barely to compherend what I'm looking at here, but I can tell if I let you step onto any of the elevators, the automatic defenses will open fire. Captain had the defenses set so that unless you're on the bridge or the cargo bay, anything moving that's not in the ship's system is considered hostile."
"I do not see a way of freeing the elevators without deactiving the internal defenses, and if we do that, the machines will probably return and kill us all," the voice continued. "Just wait until the ship's uh...the ship's clear of this nightmare and we'll turn off the defenses and allow everyone into the rest of the ship."
"Do it now," you urged, more desperate this time. "We need someone to pilot this vessel."
Whoever was on the bridge clearly was not some feral worlder. They understood enough to know the basics of what they were looking at, but the nervous tick in their voice left you with a distinct sense of unease.
"Look. The captain put this thing into auto-pilot before he died," the voice explained. "It's heading towards a place called New Meridian. Don't ask me where that is. I have no idea. Near as we can tell, everything is working here. This vessel is our escape from hell and I beg you not to screw that up."
You could just barge your way up. You climbed hive spires with worse equipment and part of you wanted to gut the young man for daring to refuse you, but you couldn't deny that this ship was your one chance of escaping from this prison, and wherever this New Meridian was, you very much doubted it could be Terra. And for the moment, that would be enough.
"VOID ABACUS ACTIVATED" an artificial, monotonous voice announced. "GELLAR FIELD POWERING ON."
Shutters suddenly appeared out of the walls, covering the Cargo bay ramps in multiple layers of armor.
"Ship did that by itself," the voice on the vox declared. "Just to be clear."
"Deactivate the defenses when the ship enters the Warp and yield control of this ship to me," you commanded. "Do you understand?"
You could tolerate a brief inconvenience, but this ship was yours now. You had allowed Fabius Bile to run things before and all that got you was imprisonment. You would not tolerate that again. Wherever New Merdian was, you would arrive there in charge of your own destiny.
You could hear mutterings and faint debate over the vox before the man returned.
"Yeah, I'm not one to refuse eight foot tall women who are covered in blood," the man's casual attitude set your teeth on edge. "The ship is yours, captain, just please be patient."
You very much doubted it would be that simple. You were simply too suspicious to accept that anyone would cede power to a stranger so willingly. Though you could deal with that later. If they refused you, you could also just skin this man. Flaying tended to make people much more agreeable.
The shaking stopped, the ship no longer feeling like it was being battered on all sides by incoming fire. A few moments passed and the shaking did not return. You seemed to be free of the prison's defenses.
You were free.
Trapped in the cargo hold of a vessel that currently no one was in control of, surrounded by people of unknown loyalties, but free never the less.
You turned back towards those who had followed you into this ship. The hold was massive but between the living and the dead, it had become rather crowded. The floor was slick with blood in many places.
There were plenty of wounded as well. Many would not survive the next few minutes, let alone the next hour. Luckily, many more were uninjured or at least standing.
You saw thousands of faces starring back at you as you assessed the survivors. Most seemed to be Imperial Army soldiers or something at least akin to that, armed with everything from crude autoguns to advanced arms and armor that would put the Solar Auxilia to shame. Uniforms of every color and cut imaginable, and the hold was filled with the shouts of dozens of languages, some of which you had never heard before.
You had maybe a regiment's worth of regular soldiers here, along with a few hundred aliens of varying species who seemed to be of similar training and skill. At the moment, this was little more than a disorganized mob that was only barely kept from eating itself alive, but you could feel the plans beginning to form within your mind. A few thousand in the hands of a primarch could become a powerful thing indeed.
While most seemed to be common soldiers of some stripe, a few noteworthy examples of human, post-human, and even Xenos had followed you as well. Gems hidden in the chaff you now found yourself with.
Units (Pick 4)
[] Three Squads of Night Lords
-Second, Fourth and Fifth Claw from the 43th Talon. Your sons in midnight clad. Murderers, thieves and rapists, all of them. They were all tactical squads, armed with standard Astartes equipment. From what you remembered, there was nothing special about any of these squads. You had far worse sons but you had better ones as well, and they had all disappeared during your war against the Lion, presumed dead until now. You would not be able to hide who you are or were from them, but you had little doubt they would be loyal
[] Two Squads of Blackshields and a Land Raider
- These Astartes were orphans, having been abandoned or willingly left their original legion to go rogue when Horus rebelled. Some had been refusing to side with either the Warmaster or the Emperor, instead having chosen their own selfish path. Their equipment was a mismatch and their Land Raider showed some rather creative modifications. You knew you could not assume loyalty from these renegades, but you also knew they would not turn on you for being a traitor primarch. They were ultimately mercenary in their loyalties.
[] Two Squads of Dusk Raiders
-Now this was interesting. These Astartes were of the XIV Legion, but the red on their armor made it clear they dated back to the days before they had been united with Mortarian. Both squads were heavily armed and clad in heavy Mark III armor, but one was carrying the distinct phosphex and rad weapons of a destroyer squad. Among the most dangerous weapons the Legions wielded, shunned by most of your brothers. These marines were captured long before you were found. You had no doubt they were likely loyal to the Emperor, but perhaps that could change once they learned what became of their primarch.
[] Two Squads of Astartes bearing the Sigil of Malcador
- This was confusing. The Marines you saw had the heraldry of several different legions. Ultramarines, Iron Hands, and others you had never seen before. But they were all clad in black armor, with one arm covered in sliver, barring the mark of the Sigilite. You did not know why some many different legions would have a joint unit under that man. You could tell they were all veterans by the way they held themselves. Experienced astartes, some showing the marks of centuries of service, and their equipment was impressive as well. Shame they were all clearly loyal to the Emperor. They had not attacked you though, so that was something.
[] A Squad of Thunder Warriors
- So these xenos had been to Terra. Amusing and vaguely disturbing as well. You had never seen a living Thunder Warrior, but you had seen enough images to know them for what they were. These were the warriors the Emperor had unified Terra with. They were powerful. While their equipment was cruder than most Astartes equipment, they were stronger and tougher than any Space Marine. They were also unstable though. Unstable and vicious. Winning their loyalty would be one thing, though keeping control of them would be another
[] Four Squads of Nostraman Damnatii and Two Leman Russ Vanquishers
-Night Lords were not the only warriors that Nostramo gave you. The planet had raised several Solar Auxilia regiments as well. The Damnatii, clad in similar colors to your legion. These men and women were among the best human warriors the Imperium had produced. Since these squads bore Night Lords style skull masks and several other honors, they had clearly served with distinction alongside your legion. Though if that spoke to their skill or condemn them as yet more murderers and rapists you could not say. Their looks of awe as they stared at you made it clear you could not hide your indentity from these warriors.
[] Three Squads of Sparatoi Vindicta and Two Malcador Heavy Tanks
- You had heard of these Solar Auxilia before. Well respected tankers. Annoyingly they had always fought besides the Alpha Legion, and that alone made figuring out where their loyalties lay a dubious prospect. Perhaps they were simply pawns of Alpharius, disposable assets, or perhaps they were trusted agents of your last brother. It was impossible right now to be certain either way. Normally this is when you would start flaying people, but their tanks made them too useful to do that.
[] Eight Squads of Light Infantry and Scouts
- Empathy was not a strong suit for you, but as you looked as they lost looking soldiers, many covered in blue tattoos, you felt a very brief moment of pity. From their shared mutterings you got the sense these soldiers had been dealing with some sort of invasion of their homeworld when they had been stolen, taken away from their duty when they were most needed. They were just infantry and scouts, but their uniforms and the way they held themselves at the very least suggested they were good scouts. The Aquilias on some of their equipment suggested they could be loyalists, which may prove a problem.
[] Two Squads of Blue Xenos and a Hovering Tank
-Well, this was novel. You had never seen these Xenos before and your cloned memories held no reference for these things. They seemed advanced enough, numerous drones floated around them and their tank was clearly using some sort of Anti-grav technology. They could prove useful, but trusting in something completely unknown to you would be quite the leap.
[] Three Squads of Kindred and Two Bikes
- Squats were an interesting group. While they had come from human stock, from what little you knew of the clone species, they tended to treat humanity as a separate species. Their equipment was of similar make to that of the Imperium's, but had diverged in numerous ways. You lacked much in the way of knowledge about these abhumans, though they seemed more advanced and heavily armed than you had expected. All of them were clad in power armor similar to Astartes. They had no loyalty to you or the Imperium and while they weren't human, they were nearly so.
[] Two Squads of Aeldari on Jetbikes
- Trusting an alien was normally nothing short of madness, even for you, but these were unusual times and these Aeldari seemed desperate. You knew enough about the Aeldari to know these jetbikers were fast and powerful, useful as both scouts and as a rapid strike force in combat. You could never trust them, but as long as their interests aligned with yours they could prove most useful.
Among the vast numbers starring back at you, several figures began to approach, some clearly looking for orders, others who saw you as the leader of this ad-hoc army and felt self-important enough to demand your attentions, and few who either recognized you or at least had some sense of what you were. None of the people approaching you were common people or xenos, all were clearly much important and much more useful then that.
Figures of Note (Pick 3)
[] Techmarine Krem Varth
- One of your sons. A thief and a murderer even before joining the legion, but by Night Lords standards that was downright banal. He had been a powerful techmarine within the 22nd Company, second only to the Company's Master of Forge. The Servo-arm jutting out of his back and mechanical limbs made him look like an Iron Warrior more than one of your legion. You remembered vaguely that he had been unusually emotional for a marine who had joined the Mechanicus, being rather snarky and yet introspective. He had been a firm believer in Malcharion's bizarre efforts to 'refine' your combat doctrine. He had been there on Tsagualsa the night you died. He was as rotten and corrupt as the rest of your legion, but he was undeniably loyal, and if nothing else help you understand this ship better and maybe create some new armor for you. Even through his helmet you could tell he knew it was you.
[] Captain Jexad Fel
- Not all who came from your sunless homeworld were murders and rapists. Not all had poisoned your legion. When the Emperor first found you the, first recruits from Nostramo your legion took in where proud sons of nobles and others who had grown up under your peaceful and enlightened rule. Of course, the Great Crusade being what it was meant most of those first recruits died long ago, replaced by the filth that had so infested your legion by the end. Fel was one of these first, Captain of the 11th Company. He had been lost with most of his company during the Rangdan Xenocides and you couldn't help but feel more than a bit outraged that this xeno thief had stolen some of your legion out from under your nose. Fel had been a decent leader, a firm believer in your vision for the imperium and someone who understood your tactics far better than those that came after. As he stood there, clad in terminator armor, starring at you in disbelief, you wondered what he would think of what had become of both the Legion and the Imperium.
[] An Aeldari Warlock
- A xenos and a witch, two things you were not inclined to trust on the best of days. But you had seen this woman slaughter dozens of Orks during your escape. She was clearly a military leader and one pragmatic enough to follow you instead of daring for the Webway portal. Perhaps she knew something you didn't and that's why she followed you. If nothing else, it would be interesting to learn why she had chosen a human ship over her own portal.
[] A Custodes
- Well this was a shock. One of the Emperor's very own bodyguards had been stolen by this thief. A Shadowkeeper at that. You were starting to wonder how Horus lost if one of the keepers of the dark cells beneath the Imperial Palace could be stolen. This black armored woman presented something of a quandary for you. That she was not trying to kill you at this very moment meant she either didn't realize what you were or had been taken before you turned your back on the tyrant she served. That meant she could prove useful as a diplomat and general both. But she would expect, nay demand, you and your forces be loyal to the Emperor, and you knew that mind was too much clockwork and steel for you to have any chance of changing it. And if she turned on you, this Custodes was the same height as you and had better arms and armor. It would be quite the battle if nothing else.
[] A Woman wearing Malcador's Sigil
- You found yourself confused by the sight of this stern faced woman with red hair. She was clearly important, the power armor bearing Malcador's symbol made that clear, but you could not figure out what she actually was. Her attire was distinctly non-military and while she was clearly of the Imperium, the xenos blade in her hand crackling with psionic energy raised a great number of questions in your mind. You had never known Malcador to have agents like this. She was studying you intensely as she approached. Whoever or whatever she was, she certainly at least appeared as if she could be useful.
[] A Preacher
- Normally you would dismiss a figure like this, some pretty faced boy spreading the word of their farcical god, but you had seen this boy who barely qualified as a man bring dozen soldiers who had been on the edge of madness back from the brink with only a few simple words. And his rugged attire and flamethrower made it clear this was no fat preacher who never left his temple, rather someone who traveled the frontiers, spreading their faith. If nothing else this boy could be useful in keeping morale up among the common soldiers and acting as a diplomat in your stead. Curiously, he seemed to be wearing an Imperial Aquilia around his neck, but that didn't make any sense. Why would a preacher carry the symbol of a regime that condemned all faiths as nonsense and lies? Very curious indeed.
[] A Magos
- The White Robed figured before you had more flesh then you expected for one of the Mechanicus, even if their back was a veritable viper's nest of mechadendrites. His large, clearly artificial muscles and various medical equipment made it clear this figure was a Magos Biologis. One who specialized in biological sciences. You could think of a vast number of uses for such a Magos, but the man's face was utterly unreadable. It was difficult to tell if he knew you were the Night Haunter or not, or where his loyalties lay.
[] A General
- The woman before you was clearly a general of the Imperial army, though the amount of augments she made her look like a tech-priest in an fancy uniform. You could see several dozen soldiers nod to her in respect as she passed. When she noticed you, she stared at you in skeptical confusion. She was clearly loyal to the Imperium but she also wasn't reaching for her bolt pistol. For now she could definitely prove useful
As they approached, you thought of how you would introduce yourself. The xenos would not care, but those who knew who you would demand an explanation for your changes and possibly survival, and those who didn't would want a name and explanation for who and what you are. This you had to be careful about. The wrong word, and you could find yourself fighting for your life. You couldn't tell anyone that you had been cloned by Bile, even those who knew you. A clone they might accept, but saying the Fulgrim's chief medicae did it would mark you out as puppet, even if you weren't.
How do you introduce yourself to those who know you (If any)
[] Tell them most of the truth. You are clone of Konrad Curze with all of his memories.
[] Tell them what you believe is the truth.
-[] You are Konrad Curze, your soul has been restored to life in cloned flesh
-[] You are clone of Curze containing at least part of his soul and all of his mind
[] Lie. Tell them you have been restored to life in full, your body altered by unknown means.
[] Write-in (Subject to QM Approval)
How do you introduce yourself to those who don't
[] Introduce yourself as Konrad Curze (This will have Consequences)
[] Tell them a version of the truth. Introduce yourself as a general that fought in the Great Crusade
[] Lie
-[] Pretend to be a Rogue Trader Militant
-[] Pretend to be a warlord of some distant star, only vaguely familiar with the Imperium
[] Write-in (Subject to QM Approval)
Please Vote By Plan
6 Hour Moratorium on voting
QM's Note: You're not getting Creed, that was never going to be an option. I did have several different options for other primarchs (And I will admit, Curze was among the harder options to brainstorm troops and leaders for) and going through the Webway, but Creed was never an option for various reasons. I will get into what Units and Figures of Notes actually do mechanically once prologue ends but you should be able to get the general vibes already.
Voting Opening
New
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Yeah I'm opening voting a bit early. You may now vote.
Vote Closed
New
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Apologies for leaving the vote open so long. I'll admit recent events personal and otherwise have kind of sucked away the energy I had for this quest but I'll try to get you guys a new update in a week or two.