Road of Redemption

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"I forgive you, and I wait for you."
- Last Words from a father to his fallen son.
Cadia has fallen!

The Avening Son has led a crusade through the Dark Imperium to beat back the darkness with little effect. The Imperium is still besieged, and the Emperor is dying. The Lion has awoken from his long slumber and is ready to return to the fight.

But that might not be enough.

In the Darkness and Hoplessnes of the Dark Imperium, a man who is more than a simple man begins his Road of Redemption.​
Prolog 1

Jax

Location
Kiel; Germany
"I wait for you, and I forgive you," the voice said. It was filled with dread and sadness. The moment you hear it, you realize it is your father's voice. These were the last words he spoke to you before he ended your life with a dagger straight to the heart. You remembered the pain, the feeling of your heart failing, and a short moment of pain before darkness. And then you awoke suddenly, without warning or explanation.

It shouldn't be possible; it's a wonder, and it is without a doubt your father's work.

As you slowly stretch your body, it feels fresh. Distant memories return to you: the first few moments after you left your capsule on Cthonia. Back then, you were just a child; this time, your body was fully grown. As you sit up, you notice you're naked, with no clothes covering your perfectly engineered body. It lacks the scars you've grown familiar with during the long years of the Great Crusade. For some reason, it's this that makes you feel violated and robbed. You earned these scars, and they've vanished. It feels as if a part of you has been taken away.

It takes a moment to realize another change.

Your hand wanders to the top of your head and finds hair there. For the longest time, you didn't have hair or wear it in a tight knot, fitting for a warrior of Cthonia. To feel it loose and so long is another unwelcome surprise. You could change that, but there's time for that later.

For now, other things have more importance.

There's the war-torn cityscape you awoke in, the gunfire and distant screams of fighters. This world you've awoken in is a battlefield—a familiar situation you've often faced in your first life, but never so unprepared as you are currently. Quickly, your senses begin to analyze the information the world gives you. The weapon fire belongs to las weapons, and the guns are projectile-based. These screams belong to humans and something inhuman you can't identify. When you look up, the sky has a dirty brown color that seems to move and shift as you watch it – ships. So many that they cloud the sky, and they're of a kind you haven't seen yet.

The sides are clear: humans against the Xenos enemies. It's simple but straightforward – something you found lacking in the latter years of the Great Crusade. Shortly before... before you had been seduced by the corrupted powers in the warp, those tumors that tried to enslave all life in reality for their dark plans and amusement.

You felt …

[ ] Anger. (Earn Trait: Sworn Enemy of the Four)
[ ] Remorse. (Earn Trait: Penitent to my Failures)

They would feel your vengeance. But that would have to wait. It was clear other dangers were closer and more critical. You needed to find clothes, weapons, and unite with the human defenders of this world. Lending them a helping hand, you'd defeat whatever Xenos attacked them. Then, it would be time to discover where and when this was. Because, for some reason, your gut told you a long period had passed since your death. Most of your knowledge of the galaxy felt dated. This was deeply concerning. You hated not knowing things, especially since your father had found you and brought you to Terra. You could still remember the upper class's sneering when they thought you wouldn't notice, or being called a "rough barbarian" behind your back. When you finally proved them wrong, you enjoyed the surprised faces and their humility as you put them in their place.

A nearby explosion and fast-approaching feet yank you from your thoughts. Quickly, you take cover in the ruins of a burnt-out shop, ignoring the slight pain from shards cutting into your feet. From the shadows, you see two local defenders sprinting down the street where you woke up. Panic is etched on their faces. You watch as they throw themselves behind a burnt-out ground vehicle, pointing their weapons in the direction they came from. Aiming at something you can't yet see, they fire rapidly and undisciplined. Their display of soldiery is poor, showing a lack of training.

The enemy approaches fast. You hear claws screeching on the ground and the shrieks of hunting animals. Then, a group of them quickly overwhelms the two defenders. You witness the brutal display as one insect-like creature falls, but the rest rip the defenders apart with their claws. With a mix of fascination and horror, you observe their lack of coordination or technique. They seem like wild animals, except for a slight synchronization in their movements, hinting at a hive mind controlling them. Interesting.

You watch as the Xenos devour the flesh of the dead humans. A part of you, the human part, feels anger. But the more cynical and analytical side simply observes. They seem less focused on their surroundings while feeding – a potential weakness you could exploit. Soon, a distant explosion followed by more las-fire draws the pack away.

After a moment hidden, you slowly emerge from the shop and approach the mutilated bodies. A quick search yields few valuables: some grenades, a small lasgun that fits well in your hands, and a bayonet. Armed, though not ideally, you feel a sliver of confidence as you survey your surroundings, uncertain of your next move. Guided by the sounds of battle, you head towards the nearby fighting.

Where do you go?
[ ] To the North, where there is only silence.
[ ] To the East, to the las-fire and cries of mortals.
[ ] To the West, to the mighty sound of Bolters.
[ ] To the South, to the sound of flammers and preying women.
 
Faction Name: Persephone Suvivers

Leader Name: Horus Lupercal (The Reborn, Lupercal, The Favoured Son, Warmaster)

Faction Stats
Diplomacy: 32
Martial: 42
Stewardship: 44
Intrigue: 11
Learning: 12

Horus Traits:
  • Penitent to my Failures: +10 Diplomacy with the Imperium
  • Echoes of Family: +10 Diplomacy with other Primarchs
Faction Traits:
  • None

Hero Units:
  • None



Last Edited: 22.08.24
 
Last edited:
[ ] Anger. (Earn Trait: Sworn Enemy of the Four)
[ ] Remorse. (Earn Trait: Penitent to my Failures)
This is actually a tough one... On the one hand, Horus did a lot of fucked up shit while under the control of the Ruinous Powers, and a good chunk of it didn't come from them, but rather from the dark recesses of his own godly mind. On the other hand, the Chaos Gods deserve every last drop of loathing they get and then some, and in fact it serves as a powerful defense against them.
[ ] To the North, where there is only silence.
[ ] To the East, to the las-fire and cries of mortals.
[ ] To the West, to the mighty sound of Bolters.
[ ] To the South, to the sound of flammers and preying women.
Well shit, I like all of these... But for now... Well I'm of two minds on this so I'll make two plans.

[X] Plan Punitive Crusade
-[X] Anger. (Earn Trait: Sworn Enemy of the Four)
-[X] To the West, to the mighty sound of Bolters.

[X] Plan Age of Reconstruction
-[X] Remorse. (Earn Trait: Penitent to my Failures)
-[X] To the East, to the las-fire and cries of mortals.
 
[X] Plan Age of Reconstruction

[X] Nova Crusade
-[x] Remorse. (Earn Trait: Penitent to my Failures)
-[x] To the West, to the mighty sound of Bolters.

[X] Punitive Uriel
-[x] Remorse. (Earn Trait: Penitent to my Failures)
-[x] To the South, to the sound of flammers and preying women.


The first choice was easy for me, There is more then enough anger in Warhammer.
The second is where I hit the wall, except for the silent option that one for some reason set of alarm bells in my head.
 

Scheduled vote count started by Jax on Jul 9, 2024 at 5:35 AM, finished with 10 posts and 10 votes.

  • [X] Plan Age of Reconstruction
    -[X] Remorse. (Earn Trait: Penitent to my Failures)
    -[X] To the East, to the las-fire and cries of mortals.
    [X] Plan Punitive Crusade
    -[X] Anger. (Earn Trait: Sworn Enemy of the Four)
    -[X] To the West, to the mighty sound of Bolters.
    [X] Nova Crusade
    -[X] Remorse. (Earn Trait: Penitent to my Failures)
    -[X] To the West, to the mighty sound of Bolters.
    [X] Punitive Uriel
    -[X] Remorse. (Earn Trait: Penitent to my Failures)
    -[x] To the South, to the sound of flammers and preying women.
 
Prolog 2
Winning Vote​

[ ] Plan Age of Reconstruction
-[ ] Remorse. (Earn Trait: Penitent to my Failures)
-[ ] To the East, to the las-fire and cries of mortals.



Luther​

The hordes of the Tyranids were pressing towards him.

Luther felt tears run down his filth-covered checks as he fired his auto gun as quickly and accurately as he could. He was ignoring the pain in his shoulder, ignoring the fact that he had soiled himself. Ignoring that, his teachers and his upper-class mates all had died two minutes ago. Ignoring that, he was just a fourteen-year-old boy, an orphan, and a cadet of the Schola Progenium.

He shouldn't be here, but at this moment, Luther and the rest of his class were the only ones left between the cathedral of the Blessed Ferrus Manus and all the civilians in it.

They were the last line, and they soon would die.

"Persephone!"

The cry cut over the chittering of the swarm, and for a short moment, Luther saw Drill-Abbot Dickings rise out of the heavy bolter position he had manned until the end. The Drill-Abbot had only one leg left; he held a belt of grenades in his hands. For a short moment, their eyes met, and Dickings sent Luther one last, wide grin until the granats exploded. A ball of flames and shrapnel grew from the position of the Drill-Abbot and consumed a large part of the swarm. Cutting a hole into it allowed the Cadets to kill the last swarming Hormagants quickly.

"Aim and shoot! Preserve ammunition! Each shoot to kill a Xenos!"

Chaiphas, the last of the Commissar Cadets, shouted as he passed behind the line of the firiering Cadets. Not older than Luther, he didn't look better than himself. The battle had cost Chaiphas an arm, and he looked pale, but his shots of encouragement were still loud enough to cut through the fighting noise.

At least Chaiphas hadn't shit himself, Luther thought grimly as the Commissar Cadet put three magazines down next to Luther. Somehow, he couldn't help but chuckle at that. What a pitiful way to day, his pants shit and pissed - not the end he had always imagined he would get. It was a last stand, but he hadn't expected to feel like this. There was no heroism, no great deeds, only death and the knowledge that when they inevitably failed, the civilians would all be killed.

"Just hold," Chaiphas shouted over the noise of the weapons and screeching of the Xenos again. "Soon, the Space Marines will be here. The Abbot promised they would be coming, so they will!"

The Abbot is dead, Luther thought darkly as he reloaded his auto-gun. And he always said the thing that would kill him wasn't borne yet. Didn't think about grenades, did you, Dickings?

Retaking aim, Luther fired his auto-gun. His shoot hit a Hormagant, not killing it but wounding it. Four more shots were needed before the disgusting creatures finally fell. It was quickly trampled by another Xenos, uncaring for the death of its comrade.

This wasn't a new scene.

Luther had seen it often play out. Nevertheless, it took away from the small pile of hope he still carried around with him. If these things were so uncaring for their kin, how could one defeat them in the first place?

All his classmates and himself were doomed to die here.

The Space Marines wouldn't come.

There were no heroes left.

The Cathedral of the Blessed Farrus Manus was doomed to be stormed.

The civilians in it were marked for slaughter.

Persephone was on its last leg.

The end was nigh.

Somehow, Luther felt numb to all of this as he continued to shoot his weapon. He was only going through the motions of what was expected of him. Nothing more, nothing less. Until it was time for him to die, a detached part of his mind noted the distance the Xenos were now. Going by this, he had three more minutes than his time was up.

The fourteen-year-old boy snorted.

"Can't shit my pants anymore," he mumbled as he fired another burst.

That thought gave him some peace.



Horus​

As you approach the sound of las-guns, get replaced by the sound of auto-guns fired in semi-automatic, frantic fire. As you jolted through ruins of houses and debris that littered the street, you noticed that most of the Xenos you saw were of some worker type. They ignored you when approached or scattered into the shadows. It seemed that the hive mind that controlled had sent its warriors elsewhere. And it wasn't hard for you to find the reason for it as you pressed your back against a wall next to a burned-out window. Glancing outside, you saw a large temple of some sort.

The temple was covered in statues of space marines, humans, and imperial symbols. But over the large entrance, a single head with closed eyes looked down at anyone entering.

It was a crude imitation but meant to be your brother, Ferrus Manus.

You started at the crude stone head of your beloved brother with his closed eyes.

It looked peaceful.

And it reminded you of the crimes you had committed and the fact that you had your brother killed. You felt disgusted and at the same time, distraught, it was so removed from what you remember having felt. It made you feel weak and dirty. Where would be a time when it wouldn't be like this?

Somehow, you doubted it.

You were forcing your thoughts back to the here and now, your eyes narrow as you look at the temple defense. The massive body of the temple dedicated to your brother served as the backbone of the defense. It had thick walls and small windows that could be ideal to be used to fire outside, and yet no fire emerged from these. The few defenders left had taken shelter behind sandbanks before the massive gates leading into the temple.

Considering they were all juveniles, they did a good job. They often hit their targets and kept strict fire discipline. And yet you wonder where the adults are.

Are they hiding behind them in the temple?

A thought but one you couldn't push away. How often had you watched your sons slaughter defenders like these children as the older priests preyed in temples?

You growl in disgust. The future the Four had shown you had come true. But how much of it was yours to blame, and how much blame could be placed on your father? A terrible realization formed in your mind that there was a good chance that humanity had turned back to brainless religious beliefs because of the Rebellion you had led.

Clearly, the juveniles wouldn't hold out much longer without support and strong leadership. All of which you could quickly provide. But it wouldn't end the attack. That would only happen if you find the creature coordinating these Xenos. But doing so would risk the youngsters being overrun as they were a distraction.

Because the moment you took to the fight, the Xenos would register your existence and react accordingly. You now had the advantage that they hadn't registered you as a threat. The moment the Xenos realized that a being like a Primarch had come to bolster the defense, it would change the whole battle.

[ ] Save the juveniles!

[ ] Seek out the controlling Xenos!
 
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