The Lost Primarch Quest

[TinyGladiator]

Hiya! Decided to make an omake on the Alkazoth again, that race of aliens I omaked (twice) that got the attention of both Slaanesh and Tzeentch, because a certain Exalted Eldar of Cegorach has decided to really mess these guys up with an Ork Waaagh as Slaanesh is really obsessed with these guys for resisting their take over for a while. Anyways, hope it's good and doesn't have too many mistakes! 0u0
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Orks of the Alkazoth.

On the corrupted world of Akara, home of a race that fell to the will of Slaanesh after those that fell to them triumphed the ones that Tzeentch had took, there was bafflement among the Alkazoth.

A race of strange alien beings invaded their world, that they later learned to be called 'Orks' after managing to translate some of their guttural language and receive some knowledge that the daemons of their god gave freely to them as they tried their best to stop their master's latest obsession from dying.

The Alkazoth, even in their twisted state, believed deeply in the worth of knowledge and understandings. It was woven deeply into their culture, into their minds, in the belief of the pattern. There was a pattern to all life, to follow and understand it was to survive and triumph and show worth. There were pattern of behaviour, life, science, tactics, mindsets, factions and everything else. They even believed this on a metaphysical level, that the body and soul were merely different parts of the pattern of the self.

A woven existence and connection, the philosophy dominating the Alkazoth since before they made their civilizations. And it gave them a desperate drive to expand themselves in whatever way they could against their competitors and all else the Alkazoth faced. That which was unknown was the enemy, it was a failure to have something not understood. It was a failure to perfect knowledge and skill, and death would follow those that were too weak and ignorant to reach higher than anyone else.

To live was to be superior, to be without regrets. Complexity required focus and understanding, and above all else break the limits and never let life be wasted.

And that philosophy, that belief of life, was proven beyond their wildest beliefs when the Alkazoth were blessed by the direct attention of not one but two gods of the Warp, a god of knowledge and a god of perfection.

The battle between the two forces they blessed was grand, sharpening them with divine assistance and ascending the race into heights they could scarcely believe even if some initially tried to reject what they saw as corruption and subjugation.

Patterns of life, the Warp and existence were vastly more understood. Ways to manipulate the Immaterium, spells and rituals and the assistance of daemons, and the wonders it brought were a gift beyond compare. Knowledge and perfection itself fighting with the Alkazoth as its champions, the prestige and glory of such a thing was not unnoticed.

Eventually Slaanesh had triumphed over the forces of Tzeentch and killed them all, as many of the Alkazoth had found to be a most fitting end. After all, while the direct pursuit of knowledge was a grand thing and possesses vast amounts of it a brilliant advantage it would always be second to a being of more skill.

The power of the mind would forever second to the ability to actually use it to use it, and all other talents, in their best ways. That and it was also second to those that managed to steal said knowledge from those who possessed it, or take it as a trophy after killing them.

Now, however, that belief was being challenged by the race known as the Orks. Trying to understand them seemed to be an exercise in insanity. Trying to comprehend how they fought was like deciphering genuine tactical gibberish. Trying to truly figure out almost anything about them seemed futile, as if madness and inanity dominated the race completely.

They weren't totally unfathomable, and indeed there were some aspects of the madness that at least almost made sense, such as parts of the general biology and the ways that Orks established their hierarchy, but the invading race was bewilderment personified to the Alkazoth. It was horrifying to some as they tried and failed to understand what they faced.

It was also horrifying in how inexplicably effective they were at warfare and slaughter.

The initial attack was devastating. The roaring army came on a ramshackle yet large fleet of ships, a transmission sent to the Alkazoth that was both a declaration of war and casually insulting dismissal as the Orks hoped to face those that followed a different god.

Akara had few ships and fewer orbital stations for defence, with many of the ships focused on sleeker and smaller designs with focus on stealth and manoeuvrability rather than raw power and size.

Despite the potential and dangerous implications of space travel, of either encountering other life or the idea of a rival finding a world with a lot of resources, there was still more of a focus on dealing with one another than reaching outwards. Space ships weren't exactly dismissed, there were a few decent and effective designs that were made in preparation for whatever might be faced in the outer reaches, but a lot of other avenues of were favoured more heavily. Especially when the civil war between those of Tzeentch and Slaanesh occured.

The Orks seemed to focus on the exact opposite for their ships than the Alkazoth, and had much greater numbers. When they appeared there was little preparation or means of countering them from descending and firing on the cities, in that order, while those on Akara scrambled from their haze of celebrations and revelry from their divine victory to try fighting back.

The crude yet effective weaponry and the brutish yet fierce strength of the Orks devastated the refined armaments and honed skills of the Alkazoth fighters. Towers that were built against espionage were toppled over, cities built for containing unwilling test subject prisoners were broken into then razed and shrines dedicated to Slaanesh were shattered by stray explosives.

At first it was believed by the Alkazoth that they were fighting a totally disorganised mess without reason or strategy. That was somehow a more logical assumption than when they realised that there actually was some coordination.

The attacks at first appeared to be enacted on random positions of the planet but were noticed to follow a pattern that was difficult to counter. The more corrupted places were targeted by the ships initially, while the less corrupted areas around them were conquered by the the deployed armies as they pushed inwards and looted whatever they could find and then the forces started to press on to the larger settlements they surrounded.

Striking weaker areas first wasn't absurd in and of itself, it was to be expected, but levels of actual strategic importance between what the Orks targeted went from 'vital' to 'useless', well defended bases and research laboratories facing as many forces as a large museum or prestigious gallery of art. It didn't look like a deliberate attack on Akara's culture, they were destroyed or turned into bases just because they were big places to attack.

In the battles the Ork fought they used an array of simple strategies and crude methods that was built on parody of logic for its foundations that was working infuriatingly well for the Orks. They were starting to take over areas and build fortresses over them, erecting workshops to create a number of large and absurd warmachines on the spot.

And then it was realised Orks actually possessed those that were adept at stealth and assassination. Forces on Akara reported ambushes that enacted heavy losses while they were distracted by another threat, done by beings wearing the most plain and haphazard camouflage that was ever seen. The idea of them being capable of this was discarded after witnessing the race's intelligence, and it wasn't even a mistaken assessment.

The shame of being outwitted by the Orks, the indignation of suffering the 'Kommandos' that were faced was unparalleled. At least they didn't find too much success, with the race having had its whole existence and culture to prepare for attacks of stealth of all sorts even if those of the Orks were harder to predict than usual.

Analysing the capabilities and tactical prowess of these beings was a task that was met with great difficulty, not helped by the fact that the greatest and thus most arrogant of the Alkazoth rarely worked together without insult, sabotage or theft.

There was hardly anything useful that could be salvaged from the Orks aside from their bodies and spores, which had surprisingly complicated biology that stupefied researchers in a different way. Weaponry was either crude, such as powered axes and swords using actual Ork teeth to rip into opponents, or too esoteric to replicate, such as the energy weapons that a 'Mek' would wield.

Typically most of the more complicated technology was a bizarre mix of crude and esoteric at the same time, samples taken to the Alkazoth labs suddenly blowing up almost as much as it did to the Orks that wielded them. Even the landed ships that were managed to be taken by overcoming the Orks inside didn't reveal much, due to the fact that most of the initial 'ships' were little more than hollowed out asteroids with guns and engines attached to them.

A few daemons were called forth by the Alkazoth to bring answers to the questions before the, the race desperate to figure out what secrets the Orks held that allowed them to be so strong. The fact that even the creations of Slaanesh were baffled by much of the Orks was almost as maddening as the revelations that an uncountable amount of Orks and empires of them existed in the galaxy, that they all possessed an undeserved strangely connected psychic power and even had two gods of their own. Gods of war that did nothing but brawl at each other, and recently a another.

It was a massacre of lives and logic against the Alkazoth, desperately trying to fight back and understand the strange patterns of their foe. But hope was not lost to the rulers of Akara, and with the help of many sacrifices and the obsession of Slaanesh did they manage to fight back against the Orks with divine assistance.

Greater daemons of Slaanesh, led by those more favoured among them, charged into the attacking Orks had had driven the attackers back from constantly invading and overtaking Akara. The battle was a glorious sight of salvation and of the power that the god of perfection wielded, even if they couldn't completely slaughter the Orks that came.

But the reprieve they had given was more than welcome, and so the Alkazoth race had ceased both the lax debauchery it had after celebrating Slaanesh's blessings and the confused panic as they faced the power of the Orks and were heavily decimated under them. The destruction that had been wrought was catastrophic, humiliating and a fevered nightmare come to life.

So the Alkazoth sweared to the watchful Slaanesh as the god focused heavily on the world, not wanting to lose their hard earned prize, that they would triumph. That all those that died were those too weak to live, and that the rest would prove their worth and power as they triumphed over the Orks they faced.

There was a pattern to all things and the Alkazoth would understand and surpass them all, and no matter how inane and parallel to sense this strangely potent one was. This time they would prepare, learn from the critical mistakes that occured and not underestimate the Orks again.

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Murzod, Warboss of the Waaagh that was fighting the Alkazoth, sighed. They had overestimated the things they were fighting.

They weren't total pushovers, and they did have some interesting poisons and well fortified places on their world, but it was disappointingly easy for a race that followed one of the other four gods that the Weirdboyz talked about and use the powers of the Warp. From what the Orks felt since the call of the Blood and Thunder War, Warp and 'Chaos' stuff was supposed to be a lot more vicious and tough. Something that could wage war against Gork and Mork.

Instead it had been a pretty easy slaughter met with minimal resistence. It was a downright let down.

The bug things were weaker than Orks, less numerous than them and they didn't have as much powerful or big weapons than them. Murzod's ships and roks dwarfed the 'fleet' of small ships the Waaagh faced, then proving that even if something moved really quickly and easily it didn't matter much against a hail of fire that made dodging impossible. Even the planet itself was on the small side.

It was certainly fun to kill so many of them, there was no doubt about that, but there was no big challenge to it. The Waaagh had come to this world because the Weirdboyz sensed from far away that there was a big presence of the Warp, to the point that when they got close that the average Orks could easily feel it, so it was assumed that because of that much presence there would be something properly tough as the reason for it. Maybe even a rift into the Warp, or at least something that'd make for brilliant practice for the great war ahead.

At least the loot was nice. Aside from the more immediately valuable things, such as the guns and scrap, there was a surprising resource that Murzod wouldn't have initially thought to be so worthwhile. The paints, pigments and dyes.

Murzod hadn't paid too much attention to markings before, barely even having battle trophies on their body, preferring a rather plain look compared to most other Warbosses as they considered their might and skill itself to be a good enough display of their position.

But some places on the world they raided were filled with intricate drawings, statues, twisted bodies and a few ritualistic markings. And in those places, and occasionally in others, there were loads of containers full of the specially perfected and beautiful paints for the artistic side of the race the Orks were facing.

The paints and dyes were so vibrant, more so than any the Orks had ever saw before. Reds so bright that they popped into view were seared into the eyes of the viewer. Yellows so rich that they almost seemed to glow. Blues clearer than the most beautiful waters. And so many shades and variations for all the colours.

They saw the vidid colours worn by the bug things before, or on their buildings or their flowers, but it was assumed to be some sort of effect from the Warp. And while that was the case at times, it seemed most of them actually had a natural origin that either wasn't corrupted or only slightly touched by the Warp.

Murzod was a simple commander of simple tastes, being experienced enough in managing their Orks and fighting enemies to lead a powerful Waaagh to defeat whatever it faced, but the sight of the looted colourants and the desire to really rise up as they fought by the side of Gork and Mork sparked an idea in their mind. And they might as well have as much fun as they could for the battle, and let it be something that they could use to help in managing and commanding their Waaagh.

The Warboss decided to turn the paints and dyes into a mark of status and strength for the best Orks under them, turning them into a reward for the best that they had. The Warboss and his mightiest Nobs were coated with splashes and markings of the greatest greens. The fastest and most deadly Speed Freeks had their bodies and, most importantly, their vehicles adorned with the fastest reds. The wealthiest and the explosives experts had the brightest yellows. The luckiest and smartest took to the blues. And the Kommandos were drawn to the deep purples that were available.

It was an enjoyable new craze that took to the Orks, the Meks getting requests for having a favourite weapon receive some expensive new coat of paint. It managed to establish the hierarchy of who was the best better than before, and it galvanised the Orks to attack harder to get more colourants.

And Murzod the Warboss had become Murzod Da Green, now they and their Nobs were truly ready to be seen by the Twin Gods with their shiny new look. Murzod Da Green was a true champion, they were greener than any other Ork and meaner than them too.

Aside from the paints, there were a few other interesting things that were taken from the world too even if most of them weren't to the taste of the Warboss with their lack of raw power. Like the animals that were literally tasty to eat, aside from some that were extremely poisonous. Some of the other Orks found more excitement in what was found, though.

The Painboys and Mekboys were really happy to take some of the equipment looted from the laboratories that the bug things had, along with all the interesting poisons and toxins that were taken from the world too. And the Kommandos had practically begged the Mekboys to take a look at the various stealth tech that were taken too, especially from the stuff found plundered from the relatively less damaged wrecks of the sneaky little ships.

They even managed to find some shrines, even a couple of temples, that were dedicated to the weird god that the bug things were following. The feel of the Warp was very strong there, to the point that Murzod had hoped that they could use these to help open a big rift to head for the true war. But trying to get any Weirdboys to do that just caused them to scream, explode or spontaneously combust with pink and purple fire.

And just as Murzod Da Green was ready to finish off the world those Warp-y thing came, what the Weirdboyz of the Waaagh called 'daemons', and suddenly things became a lot more exciting. There weren't many of them, but those that were there put up a fight that was more the likes of what Murzod had been expecting. It had gotten the Warboss and all their Orks excited and riled up as they fought the proper battle they were looking for.

The daemons were certainly tough, their pincer claws and swords able to pierce and slice through flesh and armour almost like it didn't matter. They charged into battle without much of a care, laughing and roaring as the monsters they were. It was a wonderful change of pace, even if Murzod was annoyed at how their forces were being pushed back.

Considering how whole, colossal armies full of daemons were supposed to be faced it was obvious that they needed to command their army better before they embarrassed the Warboss as a bunch of useless grots in front of Gork and Mork and any other champion of the twin gods that was there.

They Slaanesh daemons were certainly not invincible, Murzod had proved that when they managed to crush one of them with his Power Klaw after swatting aside its smaller claws. The Warboss had declared that any Ork that managed to kill one of them would get the best green paint and be recognised as a truly hard and proper fighter, an elite that would fight by the side of Murzod and get the best stuff.

Already a few of their best Nobs had managed to achieve such a thing, already marked with the special green paint, as they took down another of the powerful daemons that had driven the Orks back. The sight of two Warp creatures falling, and the desire to prove their strength and rise up higher, caused all those in the Waaagh to rally under their Warboss's command as they vied to take down a daemon. Orks were made for winning, and they were going to win against the daemons on this little war along with those that were in the great war all of them were called to.

Murzod Da Green had overestimated the world they faced, and it still only had a few interesting things to take or tough enough things to fight, but they were going to take over the whole place and keep fighting everything else they found on the way to Gork and Mork's Waaagh.

 

[keykingdom]

Eldrad let out a sigh that contained all his annoyances and frustrations before going into a meditative position his shoulders minimally relaxing the laughter of the god of laughter echoing around him. A playful little smile spread across her face as a scream of frustration echoed around him. Before finally fully relaxing of course a part of himself was still looking to the future but a part of him was always looking to the future.
Then he let his body relax in one of his rare breaks.

He carefully let his mind wander reflecting on the latest events and plans not without first checking his mental defenses of course.
In time his thoughts inevitably turned to the mon '… the humans.

The recent events with the human empire were mostly fortuitous for the Eldar, magnus was sending a regiment of the human imperial army to act as support to the Eldar forces in the recently taken demon world, they would help a diversion allowing a specialized team retrieves a fragment of khaine there. The preparations were already underway and the following year the operation would begin then the fragment would be sent to prospero.

Humans regardless of the outcome would reduce the number of Eldar casualties which was always fortuitous and would be the way Magnus would start sending more of the Imperial army to assist Eldar targets with some more Eldar friendly humans being promoted to higher ranks to be able to coordinate their forces better.

Morianne also had gone with Magnus to prospero to try to heal her spirit and he knew the odds of it were much better with her there in the wild with a friend of hers to help her recover. Being there would also strengthen the human primarch's ties to her which would be beneficial to the Eldar, morrianne, and her prophecy.

yes, morriane would definitely come back with a strengthened spirit and mind ready to do his part.

Although he would have to keep an eye on Landesh the master of the 'angel' was very much against Magnus even if he wasn't doing anything. He didn't see a reason to intervene for now but he would if landesh tried something.

Now Magnus would have to deal with the most corrupt form of his people. He had seen him fighting with the cabal of commorahg a typical example of his kind mocking the primarch describing the horrible things he had done to his people and that he planned to do the torture and the pain he would inflict on humans while they fought.

he had seen how that would harm the relations of the human primarch with his own and with him the relations with the human empire, the prophecy of morrianne and would also increase the deaths of the Eldar in the future.

So he went personally and told Magnus about his vision and the dark Eldar.

He then had a series of improvised classes with the primarch explaining in detail the state of the Eldar empire at the end of his life. With how the crafthworlds had fled seeing the empire like a sinking ship. How some took his already horrific and extreme practices even further and how some abandoned their technology deciding to live without it, and how others decided to cling to the Eldar gods very forgotten back then.

Then I tell him about the dark Eldar and how they were literally the embodiment taken to the extreme of all that was wrong with the Eldar empire, he told him how they had twisted their own souls to the point that there was no way they could even stop if they wanted.

he told him how the harlequins had their souls tied to Cegorach and therefore were the only real way for the dark Eldar to stop.

He then covered the nature of the dark eldar with the desire for pleasure and pain before moving to Commorragh and the Khaine Gate where he described in detail the dark city and all the horrors that occurred there along with the gate in the center of the city, as he watched as Magnus's face paled with each word.

Magnus had been… unhappy to find out we were recruiting dark Eldar. Which was understandable, Eldrad hid little from the primarch of the subject, being closed or keeping secrets from him like that for little reason would only lead to unnecessary conflict with the primarch of the thousands sons, especially now and with these circumstances and Eldrad would rather spare himself that kind of drama … He preferred to see that from the outside, thank you very much.

Then came the inevitable question of why they don't invade? why they don't destroy it if it's such a horrible place?

He described the reasons why Commorragh would be such a nightmare to invade and even more with current events and told him how even if they invaded now and everything went well they would still be risking the khaine gate.

And one must always remember no matter how horrible the dark Eldar are they were infinitely preferable to what would happen if Khaine's gate fell and the horrors beyond it spread throughout the galaxy….

He left Magnus there with the information and a pale face filled with horror at what he had heard.

It had been necessary and it would lead Magnus to be more careful, attentive,
and let the primarch underestimate the creature of the warp less.

As for Magnus himself, the primarch was learning slowly and painfully but surely WHY the warp and its inhabitants were dangerous. which was good as it would deprive the enemy of a powerful weapon and help the Eldar as a whole… and he would have his fun driving the human primarch almost mad and making him thank him for it.

A small smile crept across his face at the thought. Then he had a vision of one of the primarchs the Blood Angel Sanguinius and a dark Eldar dressed as a clown deceiving him and making life more difficult for the Eldar: a false harlequin hmm? " A slight frown spread across his face before he stood up having already seen the most likely and beneficial path for the Eldar.

"Well," he said softly, "let's see how the great angel treats the real deal."
________________________________

He had barely reached above the planet when one of his sons approached him looking uncomfortable "father the Eldar wish to speak to you".

Sanguinius raised an eyebrow "is that so" the legion of blood angels had been passing through this part of his domain for the new fulfillment when they received word from a Xeno presence at the edges of the great Angel's domain.

so he had personally come to the planet Lugh # 6 as he was on his way to his fulfillment and help was requested from the Astartes and the reason for the call for help was that he had come personally.

When the Eldar Xenos had appeared in the world surprisingly they had not attacked but had helped the world by taking down corrupt nobles and dismantling large criminal networks that spread throughout at least the entire world and had ties to several other worlds.

The reason for their call was because of the great skill displayed by the Eldar despite their small numbers, the speed with which they moved, and the fact that they were part of the group of Eldar who had assisted the empire on at least one occasion. the planetary defense forces could not take them and the imperial army could not catch up with them so they call the Astartes.

his son continued to look hesitant "they want to meet on the planet or let one of their own get on our ship while the rest remain guarded by our forces and say they are willing to leave the world without a fight if one of their leaders is here to… speak with you ".

His mind raced trying to see some hidden meaning, was this some kind of trap? he used his divination to see the future and he was puzzled he was there on a pole of the planet a female Eldar also was there she was talking to him wait what were the icetittles?

He spent some time guessing the future trying to see a trick or trap but he did not see one.

"And his forces?" I finally ask his son.

"They have gathered at one of the poles of the planet and according to our reports, at their full strength or almost there is at least 200 the Eldars said" a little disbelief in his voice slipped as he said, "that they would be willing to be put under our vigilance as long as none of them are harmed and allowed to leave the planet after the talks are over".

Frowning thinking of what to do. On the one hand, he could send his sons and eliminate them, we had the numerical advantage, it was only a small force of Eldar and with him on the battlefield, the fight was anything but determined. On the other hand, this particular group of Eldar had proven to be friendly to the empire before, and being hostile for no reasonable reason could make the rest of this Eldar decide to be hostile to the rest of the empire and they had shown great skill.

This could of course be a trap.

Thought for a moment your mind doing hundreds of scenarios on how this could go before making a decision turning to Raldoron "I will go to parley with this Eldars at that pole you must be alert to any traps or tricks that they may try to do and if they do destroy them but otherwise do not harm them".
___________________________________
Sanguinius sighed inwardly wishing he had simply killed the annoying Eldar for the twelfth time… 'This may have been a mistake'.

he really should have known this was a mistake when the second thing she said was "ice to meet you"

Everything had seemed to go well at first the Eldar had stayed in place while the blood angels watched over them and they had sent their leader to him, he had made his sons check for any kind of cheating and he personally used his divination to try to find any trick, but there seemed to be none.

So he had met with her expecting some sort of negotiation or deal. As well as finding out the reasons for the Eldar presence on the planet.

Instead, he had put up with the antics of this Xeno her constant puns and jokes about his person and giggles about one thing or another for five hours, fifty-five minutes and five seconds, and now she was making jokes at his expense again something about his height he did not know why she thought it would be bigger or why did she laugh after saying it.

His nerves were unhappy especially after that cake she threw at one of her sons.

he had almost killed her at that time. But this Xeno had the infernal ability to know when to press and when not to achieve maximum irritation.

so here he was suppressing her urge to kill the annoying Eldar that now seemed to have started reciting poems while she made crazy poses.

"O captain my captain," said the Eldar named Daensis putting simulating fainting and falling towards Raldoron who refused to do anything. The Eldar fell to the ground before standing up, a pout on her face.

Daensis as she had introduced herself had a kind of jumpsuit with red and black parts with a longcoat, pointed shoes, and a mask that looked like a jester's hat with bells on the ends, she had locks of hair of white color like the snow that came out from under her jester-like mask and when they had found her she had had a pink and white Warhammer as big as she…

The first thing she had done when she saw them was smell the air, lick her lip and say "hmm man feathers"

Things hadn't progressed much from there.

Finally deciding that it was enough he spoke with an authoritative voice while making sure as respectful as his temperament allowed him "Miss Daensis could we please go to the reason for this meeting".

Perhaps he was not as eloquent as he usually was but his genius was at the limit. For some reason, the way her Daensis look him made him nervous it was as if she was looking at a piece of meat.

She made another pout with her face "come on Sangui" he frowned at the nickname "I was just ... breaking the ice"

Drums sounded out of nowhere causing him and Raldoron to look sideways. When he turned again.

Daensis was taking a data-pad from his back before turning on his feet, as he lifted one leg and leaned back to look at his face as he held it out, she winked at him and whispered "I like my men like I like my data: robust, insightful, reliable "

With a forced polite smile that he concealed how uncomfortable he felt as he accepted the datapad, he inwardly happy to finally be making headway for this Eldar to leave and then put as much distance from this irritating woman as possible.

He took the data-pad before reading its contents in seconds and what he read left him surprised. Before tensing and looking back at Daensis, his hands moving to his sword while his first captain did the same.

It was information about the movements of the last fulfillment of him apparently they were not pirates as had been suspected but a divided faction of Eldar that apparently… were at war with themselves? And they were blaming the slave raids on some minor pirates.

There was information on their movements and locations from their patrols. And there was also information on a particular Eldar that was pretending to be one of this group of these eldar…. Harlequins and their plans to contact him and trick him into taking his rivals out of the photo.

"How can I know this is true," he said darkly a hand on his sword as his first captain did the same.

Not seeming to be able to read the room the Eldar said happily "Come on Sangui I know if you look deeply into your heart, the one on your left side, by the way, I know you will see the truth."

His right eyebrow twitched and he almost drew his sword at that moment, but then a sound came from the eldar's throat, and then he had to stare at Daensis's face for a moment with her big blue eyes staring at him and her lip trembling.

They stared at each other for a while before he drew his hand from his sword with his wings and shoulders drooping wearily as Daensis raised her hands in celebration and confetti suddenly began to fall around her.

He let out a sigh and used his divination to verify it. It was so much easier now that he knew what to look for.

And he saw the eldar, the deceptions, the one who wanted to deceive him even the pirates who were being blamed. And he couldn't find any deception, everything fit the information given by Daensis but still.

"How can I know that you are not the Eldar who wants me to kill his competition"?
________________________________

Five hours later Sanguinius came out to his sons with his shoulders hunched with fatigue and feeling himself the most idiotic primarch in the galaxy he was also sure that if he were a mere mortal he would have a murderous headache right now.

All of his sons looked as tired as him. apparently, the harlequins had convinced them to play a card game, they had lost at a children's card game and forced a few of them to undress at one point among other things.

The only thing they would say was that it was the reason their armor was now technicolor with feathers, animal ears, and various things.

I watch as the Eldar began to leave the world and how daensis shouted at him when she left "we will see you soon my feather pillow of love".

he shuddered in horror before the thought.

And he could honestly say that he wasn't sure if he had been worth it.

The reason why they took out the criminal organization in this world to contact him instead of contacting him by other means was that apparently Daensis had 'go for a walk' at night and dropped the original plan of the Eldar to contact him.

He called on the fleet to monitor whether the Eldar had really left. This planet would be closely watched by the empire's intelligence services for a time in the future to monitor for any Eldar traps and learn more about the crime network that had clients in various other sectors.

It didn't feel like a victory, but now at least he knew… almost certainly Daensis and his group weren't part of these… dark eldar….

He would still strengthen the security of his ship and inform the raven guard to be vigilant though.

 

[Altered]

Chronicles of Baldur: A Spark To Pierce The Dark

Baldur sighed for the umpteenth time, it wasn't often an Astartes felt the confliction of mortality - now, he did. Ever since that meeting with Kesar he'd been plagued with what most would politely describe as issues.

The entire Maelstorm Ritual was perhaps the most dangerous task undertaken, far more than Gehenna Station let alone Aleph. Sure the last one represented the hell the Wardens were delving into on a planetary scale, but it didn't cover how huge - it didn't encompass the scale of what they were gladly running into.

Three Primarchs, three legions, trillions upon trillions of Imperial Army members each tossing themselves right into a meat-grinder that would leave nothing but corpses and broken souls. If there was less than one-thirds total casualties among purely the three Legions involved in direct combat… well he'd celebrate.

Overall the casualty projections for just the Iron Warriors, White Scars, and Eternal Wardens were enough to be felt for a decade. Three legions with losses felt for a decade was perhaps one of the more conservative estimates put forth too.

His head shook as he processed the information yet again - ever since that meeting with Kesar this information had come to dominate his thoughts. Countless replays, thousands of simulations - all of it playing out again and again in his mind. All of it sponsored by one fact: that he'd argued in favor of not being there.

Even now, after all of it, after every single replay Baldur had found that he stood strongly by his point. None of it had come to change his mind.

All of the projections highlighted the ultimate cause of why he should remain behind. The Imperium lacked effective diplomats and most Primarchs weren't as effective within the field as they should have been. Even Kesar, one who pushed for diplomacy had fallen far in terms of skills.

The Great Crusade was ultimately its own enemy in terms of forcing mankind into such paths. The constant expansion, the inability to consolidate all of it brought about more flaws and highlighted more cracks in the system. It pushed the Primarchs further into the field of battle, away from politics. More threats appeared that monopolized their time, their attention.

In doing so their skills in the realm of diplomacy faltered and rusted, giving way to the constant combat. The mortal diplomats were just that. Normal humans.

They were skilled, talented - some even better the Primarchs, albeit those distracted and not in the mental place to effectively hone such skills. But they were normal and mortal - thus ultimately far more fragile, unable to grasp a thousand different revealing secrets the transhuman body granted by the Primarch's geneseed and Emperor's work laid bare to them.

His skill was majorly born of such abilities, something each of his brothers could just as easily utilize if properly trained. And yet, none had been. His own failure as well as the Primarchs and even the Emperor's.

So now it guaranteed that post-Ritual should the scale of expected casualties truly occur, then the Imperium would be more stressed than ever. The Legions would underperform, unable to split as they once had - forcing more and more onto the already fracturing Imperial Army who this ritual and the current expansion tested far more harshly than before.

His presence would alleviate that, earn more worlds - save more lives, cost less material goods. Allowing for appropriate reassignments. Continue the various programs, more effectively corral and uplift the diplomatic program that served Kesar.

Five billion Imperial Army members lived with each world he brought in, worlds that would have wasted lives and cost too much time were effectively brought in. And that's just now

Giving him leave from this ritual would allow him to proceed with his program, save the Primarch Vulkan lives in terms of Astartes, Naval crew, and Army regiments. Each would compound an incredibly small incremental percentage upon each other. But it was something many of his brothers failed to recognize.

To effectively empower and improve themselves, let alone any institution you needed daily continuous improvement. While small on the scale of which the Imperium operated, these lives saved - especially in terms of Astartes would compound quickly. And that was just during the ritual.

When Kesar marched the shattered remnants back into the materium, free of the Maelstorm - it would be him there shepherding them to safely as he prevented lives from being spent needlessly. Each life loss would have been one lost on a necessary world as opposed to one that hadn't needed to claim any Astartes lives.

Yet again materials would flourish as they were able to relocate to a needed sector or even be kept in the miniscule surplus that various areas might operate at given the Lord Primarch and his actions in terms of serving to uplift Svarga.

His biggest regret was the lack of thought put into disseminating his knowledge to ensure his teachings impacted the Legion, to ensure someone might have risen as a successor. Instead he'd accidentally monopolized this - until either he died and cost the legion much or he abandoned brothers so that he might save their state.

As things stood now, the data showed a conclusive point. This brotherly alliance walked into hell and he was best served not joining them.

Of course… that didn't stop him from doing something now.

Sacrificing some time right now to think up something - anything to aid his brothers, to aid the Primarchs was an easy thing to do. The small projects could be put on hold for now until this one was finished - it was an easy one whose main time consumption came from dreaming it up and application.

From the data shown, the plans drawn out - Baldur knew what they faced. Predictions showed a rather large showing from those who worshiped the plaguebearer - the fat pustulent blob who they called Grandfather. Each past showing from such creatures, such cultists and daemons identified these as slow moving hard to put down forces.

The White Scars were a great opponent to strike hard against these things while the Iron-Warriors and Eternal Wardens tied them down, but ultimately it wasn't the best solution. Honestly he wasn't certain there was a best solution but he did have one in mind.

A rapid response force, supported by jump-packs to allow for enhanced mobility while they carried flamers in hand as they faced the enemy.

Symbolically fire held the identity of pain and purity, it was cleansing - its heat an aid in purging the body of evils, of darkness - of sickness. The burning aspect often cleansed the land of sickness, of plague-bearers.

It felt only right to utilize that against such cancerous cretins who sought to corrupt and kill his brethren.

But more importantly, these were beings who dealt darkly in the realm of death - who preached love of sorts, inviting all with open arms into their sick circles. They stood strong in stagnation, something fire countered - how often had people preached of the fire of progress? They held tightly the domain of sickness - which flames purified - the great purify in a body.

Fire alone might not be enough, but it would effectively stand as a symbolic counterpart to these beings so steeped in symbolism as Kesar had educated them on. Something a purity rune applied to the weapon utilizing it would certainly improve worsening the effect.

More than that, these were creatures built to be tanks - fire would burn, serving to melt away any armor they held and encapsulate them with pain - something that would break any concentration and serve to weaken their ability to follow through on plans. Enhancing fire with the purity rune would only make such effects twice if not more effective. On beings of evil like these daemons beings who encapsulated sickness and corruption? It would be like taking a bath in acid.

Tendons would melt with almost unhealing damage, their bodies being damaged further slowing such creatures down - making them easier targets, weaker. And this was a fire that would keep burning, their fatty skin from the sickly mutations induced within them providing a feeding ground for this firestorm that would envelop them.

Of course, such damage might be simply warped away if it wasn't for one thing. These would be men charging proudly into their deaths. There would be no coming back unless they managed to survive everything tossed their way. Each and every member of this force was one that would be walking out into a Heroic last stand something even the warp would recognize serving to break whatever spell these daemons held over it that offered them limited immortality.

After all, what is a Hero but one who charges bravely onwards having conquered their fear ready to give up their lives not for tens, not for hundreds, but for quadrillions of beings - of humans. That was who would be traveling the battlefield. Men unable to shy away from death, willing to look it in the eye and make it move.

They wouldn't flinch, but these daemons of pestilence and death would.

Daemons would flinch away from the burning pain these men brought, the shining light that heralded their arrival, and the ashes of the other daemons this Burning Legion had slain.

Of course… the only way to effectively raise this force was to recruit from a few source points.

The Astartes who carried gene-seed mutations, who were damned and held in quarantine would prove a useful recruitment source. Beyond that there was more, Astartes who while welcomed in other Legions weren't quite as welcomed in the Wardens existed. They might have accidentally purged themselves more times then one, but even now there existed those who once bore the speciality of the Destroyer Squads and even now wished to be useful.

Each was desperate, each wished to be used - and each bore with them something fundamental, the ability to suppress their survival instinct in favor of the desire to be a hero, to serve. And what better way for these men to serve then here.

If they proved true, they could potentially save countless lives. Especially when beings on the level of the Exalted showed up and they sacrificed themself first. When they took plasma grenades covered with purity runes and rammed them inside such daemons bodies.

When they gladly flew right into the beings face and detonated their own armor, engulfing them and the daemon in a blaze of purity induced flame that burnt them from existence while scarring and weakening these daemons with such heroic sacrifices.

Playing even was never in the game, cheating - lying, faking. All of it stood above the rest. And symbolism demanded Heroes to ultimately harm these beings? Well each of these men would die a Hero with their actions, they would live the Heroic fate. An eternal battle against darkness, bringing a light that held strong against the divine wind seeking to snuff it out.

And their last act would be much like the stars. A supernova is what they'd imitate, the Hero who sacrificed himself for everyone.

Should he prove wrong, these men would still prove absolutely useful vs the daemons and capable of buying the necessary time. But he was confident these men wouldn't prove him wrong. They were too desperate too.

Desperation can make a person do surprising things and he trusted that these men would surprise all in being Heroes.

 

[Altered]

Chronicles of Baldur: Meeting with Pisces (Crack)

"And that's why it's necessary you join Pisces," Baldur trailed off, finally having come to a close on the small little chat he'd delivered the last of the men he'd been seeking to recruit for his little organization.

"Baldur," the other Astartes stated, looking just as contrived as he'd felt. "You realize you're trying to sell me on being a self-sacrificing, suicidal bastard right?"

He didn't melt, he didn't ooze embarrassment, instead Baldur did something probably unexpected by most. "Yes." His blunt comment echoed out, agreeing utterly with this man's question.

"Good, good…" Pisces shook his head, a simple smile growing on his face. "I'd have hated it if you were trying to make me buy into whatever mumbo-jumbo you just uttered if you didn't recognize that."

"So?" Baldur interjected, not willing to let Pisces' impulsive comments steal away the momentum.

"So… what?" The fish~new Astartes responded.

"Will you join?"

Pisces hemmed and hawed, humming as he rolled his eyes about loosely shaking his body. Each specific action designed to further upset any interrogator and just throw off anyone expecting some sort of cynical stoicism from these transhuman supersoldiers.

"Pisces…" Baldur growled out letting the man know he needed an answer.

"Sorry buddy," Pisces shook his head sadly. "Not really feeling up to the task. You know how it is. I'm not so great at cooking."

Baldur nodded his head, he understood - he'd face plenty of rejections over the course of this entire affair. What was one more in the ocean of rejections he'd face over the course of his lifetime.

"I understand," he really did, that's why he was about to say what he was. "It's fine, Leo actually volunteered - uh, didn't want to just not follow up with you though. But your decision makes my life easier. I can summon Leo to my office and finally~"

"H-h-hold up, hold up…" Pisces interrupted, his stutter quickly cutting Baldur's words off. "Now you wait just a second here. Leo?"

"Yeah," Baldur's head bounced up and down, nodding along to that affirmative. "He volunteered the second he had heard I was interested in folks. One of the very first. I hadn't said yes yet because I needed to reach out to you."

"Well," the Space Marine clicked his tongue. "I'm in."

"What?" Baldur asked, taken aback. "But you just said you weren't available."

"Things change," he shrugged as if that explained everything. "My schedule is clear and I'm ready to learn how to charbroil some nasty mushrooms."

"Pisces," Baldur tossed his hands right in the other's face. "How do you equate daemons of sickness, stagnation, general death to mushrooms?"

"How do you not?"

"..." Silence was all Baldur could answer with. Yet again this one had stumped him.

"Anyhow," his target stretched the word out. "When's this camp on how to flambe start?

It was a great question. Baldur couldn't deny it. "When we make it back to the Cherished Son."

"Ah, good ole Chronicle of Ashes." Pisces reminisced somehow. "The food onboard doesn't taste like it though, right?"

"No… the food onboard does not taste of ashes," he managed to sigh out the entire answer. "And before you ask, it doesn't turn you into a brain-dead masochist with a hankering for fucking over your father. Nor does it make you incompetent when facing Orks."

Pisces mouth closed. Thank god, Baldur thought privately.

"So," Pisces kinda bobbed in place. "I get to fly right?"

"Yeah," he quirked his eyebrow at that question. "Why else would we be arming you with jump-packs?"

"Cool, cool…" He laughed a little. "Just wanted to make sure I was still going to be the flying fish. You know how it is. Gotta swim through the air like I do the water."

Internally Baldur sighed, he could feel the headache coming on and he was ninety percent certain Astartes only got those from head trauma.

"I~"

"No," Pisces got cut off by Baldur's valiant cry. "Stop. That last one wasn't even funny. Why?"

"I'm not going to lie," Baldur's eyes narrowed as Pisces said that, "but honestly, it's because I found it fun."

"I hate you more with every passing second."

Pisces smiled brightly. "Really feeling the love!"

"Shut up and get on the stormhawk so we can head on over to the Cherished Son."

"Aye, aye Captain!" Pisces barked out in a sing-song voice before parade style marching towards the hanger.

 

[Leon12431]

Crescum Auro was currently irritated with the current mission. A massive squig that was currently being pinned down by three warhound titans and orbital fire, was the focus of the conflict. But was not the extent of it by any measure.

Flicking his eye to the right five millimeters, an ork about to gut a soldier found itself on fire as its flamer exploded in its hand. A finger curled slightly and ten orks fell to the ground as their own muscles tore their bones apart. Auro took a step on the mushy ground as he continued his march with unfailing precision.

Each subtle movement of his body, spelling the end of orks by the dozens as reality turned against them. Fire burned hotter, ice was colder, wind faster, force stronger all within the bounds of reality, yet more than what should be. Time itself turned against the orks as seconds stretched longer and shorter for all near to Crescum Auro upon the field.

"Youz fink dat ya can jus' go 'round an' krump me boyz?! No-one zoggin' krumps 'em but me!" A larger than normal ork, roared from the army as the underboss of this battle made his first appearance. Covered in thick metal armor and armed with two brutish weapons, the creature was terrifying to a normal human and perhaps even a normal space marine.

To Crescum Auro, it was simply another irritant in a day full of them. By his count he had been off by a three point one four and some change millimeters on one of his casts. Another movement only triggered a five hundred and thirty percent increase in temperature, instead of the one thousand percent he had wanted. Yet, another only saw him gain one twentieth of a second instead of a tenth. If he was anyone else he would be grinding his teeth in frustration, but he was who he was and all he felt was irritation.

With a negligent flick of a finger, the WAAGH field that had been focused upon the Underboss, simply imploded. Bands of sickly green lightning dancing across the battle field as ork after ork exploded in messy explosions of gore. The once crowed field was now silent except for the marching of boots as Crescum Auro continued to march forward.

As he walked fire began to gather around him, remnants of flamers and other fire weapons still burning slowly gathered around his moving form. He could feel the hunger of the flame to consume him and everything around, yet with impeccable control the air surrounding him simply joined the flame, even as the fire began to feast upon the warp for power. From red, to gold, to green, to blue, to white the flames grew in power as they were fed.

Five minutes to the millisecond after the start of the project the flames were unleashed. Plasma the temperature of a stellar core washed across the battlefield cooking everything in its path. All of the ground was simply melted into glass that quickly cooled as the heat from within was torn away to fuel the raging inferno. Yet, as with all things the inferno began to die as the heat and energy dissipated, until it was nothing more than a wisp that quickly vanished.

Through it all Crescum Auro had never stopped moving once, letting his fingers control the flames with precision beyond most others. Each flick increasing the temperature, each swipe shaping its form. As he walked gravity itself began to shift as his mass lightened yet the gravity in front increased, soon his form began to blur as he ran faster than the others could match.

Eventually the sound of battle caught his ear and he turned towards the sound, a large army of orks was fighting a group of Imperial Army soldiers separated from the main armies upon the world. Earning a raised eyebrow was a perfect vantage point for his work to be done from, a cliff overlooking the fight and with rocks positioned just right to present cover from below.

'Known - Ork forces outnumber IA forces, Ork forces must be eliminated, Position provides cover and vantage point, army scale conflict, WAAGH energy too diffuse to ground.

Solution - gravity and force manipulation. Subtract the gravity of the nearby terrain to focus it in the ork ranks, then amplify the force of explosions that will occur after the orks are brought low.' Thought Crescum Auro as he reached the overlook point and began to cast his work.

Flicks of fingers and eyes were the only sign that something was happening if one were to see the looming figure, yet other than that there was nothing to show. Yet, sensors told a very different story as the gravity of the world began shifting as a large chunk near his position simply moved.

Down in the valley the orks were having a great time chopping and shooting humans, until they were all forced to the ground as if something had sat on them. For a good number this would be the last time they would live as they were crushed beneath vehicles or other orks. But for the greater whole it was a small number in the horde.

The most cunning of the horde managed to discover the cause of the attack as they saw the glint of light off metal in the rocks above, yet before they could do more than shout they were promptly encased in ice as all of their heat was ripped away to incinerate other nearby orks.

Upon the ridge Crescum Auro frowned as he considered a new motion, a simple two movement combo had proven effective against the army below. Perhaps to the point where it would be worth making it a single motion. Deciding to test the hypothetical, he bound the idea of the attack to a motion. The last thing the orks would have seen if they could see him would have been his left eye blinking twice. Yet, none would see it for the moment the motion completed half of the orks in the valley below were turned into ice even as their body heat burned alive the others.

AN: a short omake on how Crescum Auro fights and tends to discover new methods of fighting.

 

[Ruirk]

Curb Your Enthusiasm

"The optimist proclaims that we live in the best of all possible worlds; the pessimist fears this is true."
- James Branch Cabell, The Silver Stallion.

"Why the fuck would anything nice ever happen?!"
- Comedian Louis C.K.

"The best-laid schemes o' Mice an' Men
Gang aft agley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain!"
- Robert Burns, To a Mouse.
​

There was a celebration across Terra, across Sol, across the entire Imperium of Man. The Emperor announced that humanity's forces succeeded in a series of massive campaigns. Vulkan's Drake Crusade saw the liberation of almost 5,000 worlds, the Ritual War, the destruction of the entire Maelstrom, with Kesar and his brothers exceeding beyond their wildest expectations, and finally ending the liberation of Isha from the Garden of Nurgle (although this was kept secret from many.)

A host of resources, STCs, and new planets were added into the Imperium. Chaos's forces suffered crippling blows, while the Dark Eldar and a hundred other threats were crushed under the titan that was humanity. Even the Eldar seemed convinced that the galaxy had shifted towards a better future now.

The Emperor could recall an old saying about this: everything was coming up Aces. He couldn't help but smile at how everything was going. Even his sons had stopped bickering with him and each other. His Imperium was entering into the start of a golden age, even if there were plenty of wrinkles. Even Maclador seemed to have a sunnier disposition, especially after he could finish most of his paperwork for the year.

It allowed the two to enjoy a small and private celebration over a bottle of actual Italian wine, preserved for almost 25,000 via stasis tech. All things considered, even their rather shaky friendship seemed to be returning to normal. How could either of them not find themselves enjoying this great set of victories?

Malcador, however, thought that something was a little off.

"Doesn't it seem a bit strange?" He asked the Emperor as he took a sip from his wine, "I mean, this string of victories. It's almost...unbelievable."

The Emperor raised one of his immaculately beautiful eyebrows at his friend, "YOU THINK IT PART OF SOME PLOT BY THE FOUR?"

"Well, no. And that's what gets me." The Sigillite set his wine glass down, "Think about it...when was the last time either of us got such a massive victory against not just one of our foes, but most of them? Chaos was dealt a crippling blow. Kesar permanently killed all the Exalted sent his way along with trillions of daemons." Malcador almost looked bemused as he kept speaking, "And Perturabo...he took an additional 20 worlds!"

"AND I AM VERY PROUD OF THEM!" The Emperor remarked with some excitement, "I'M EVEN HAPPY TO SEE VULKAN AND KONRAD DO SO WELL, AND SEE ALL MY SONS WORKING TOGETHER. EVEN ANGRON HELPED BY ATTACKING AND DESTROYING THOSE DARK ELDAR KABALS."

"Yeah...which he somehow just stumbled upon." Malcador muttered to himself before pouring a bit more wine, "I'm happy and proud of them all, especially hearing that Magnus and Alpharius did so much to get the Eldar on our side. The fact that this Isha is back, who seems to be a powerful force for good, should help us quite a bit...but again, this feels strange."

There was a brief pause before the Emperor slowly nodded, "I'LL ADMIT, THIS CHAIN OF EVENTS IS PERPLEXING...BUT SHOULDN'T WE FOCUS ON CAPITALIZING ON IT THEN?" He took a sip from his Emperor sized wine-glass, "SURELY WE CAN'T EXPECT EVERY MAJOR VICTORY TO BE SOME PLOT AGAINST US. EVEN THAT STRANGE NECRON WAS CONFUSED, AS WAS CEGORACH AND ELDRAD, BUT NONE OF THEM SEEMED DISAPPOINTED THAT IT HAPPENED ALL THE SAME."

The Lord of Terra shrugged, "SOMETIMES GOOD THINGS HAPPEN?"

His compatriot and fellow perpetual couldn't really argue with that point, "I...guess that is true." Taking another sip of his wine, he started to consider it a lot more in his head, "I suppose we were due for some victories."

"AGREED."

"But we still need to follow up on that situation with the Orks." The Sigillite took another sip of the rather tasty and strong wine, "And the Dark Eldar as well. And whatever the hell is going on with these Chaos Eldar."

The Emperor nodded, "OF COURSE. I WILL EVE HAVE HAVE HORUS, AND THE OTHERS LOOK INTO THINGS. WE ARE GOING TO TAKE THESE THINGS SERIOUSLY, AND TAKE STEPS ACCORDINGLY BECAUSE WE HAVEN'T THIS WAR JUST YET."

"Right."

"EVEN THOUGH IT LOOKS LIKE WE DID." Pouring some more wine into his wine-goblet, the Master of Mankind held it up to a toast, "FEAR NOT OLD FRIEND, WE'LL WILL NOT LET THE SPECTER OF PESSISM STOP US FROM ENJOYING THESE VICTORIES. A GREAT TIME AWAITS."

Malcador nodded and help up his wine glass, "You know what, you're right! We've come this far now, and we aren't going to stop. Whatever comes next, it's going to be great."

"IT'S GOING TO BE GREAT!"

The Emperor and Sigillite toasted, positive of the great things to come to their Imperium and the galaxy as a whole.

---

A thousand years later...

Things weren't great in the galaxy.

What followed the end of the Ritual War was a century of progressive, albeit one that still saw the Imperium at war with many threats. The forces of Chaos, crippled and battered, returned into the hellish realm that was the Eye of Terror, their attention now split between fighting each other and the Orks that were invading their realm.

It was a time of progress and revitalization as the Emperor laid the foundations for the Imperial Webway and the Eldar-Human Alliance, ensuring that the forces of Order and Sanity were now unified in stopping all threats to the survival of their species. Humanity aided the Eldar in fighting the Chaos Eldar and Dark Eldar, but it was during this time that the soon to be nightmarish Blood and Thunder War began to bleed into the realms of reality.

The start of the Third Century of the 30th Millenium ushered in the beginning of what Imperial Scholars would call the Thousand-Year Crisis.

Eldrad feared that the Blood and Thunder War would result in perhaps one or two Ork Warbosses becoming Overlords, but he never expected a dozen to reenter into the galaxy. Each one is an amalgamation of war and carnage and distinctly different and daemonic. They took to calling their new "empires" War-Realms, shedding all previous titles and names and calling themselves under a new language and ideology.

There was no Ullanor, no Unbound Empire, no Black Orks, or anything that could be spoken by Human or Eldar tongues. There was now only the War-Realms. The Green Tide descended upon the galaxy, bringing about war and death that stunned most of the galactic powers.

It came as no surprise when the Emperor ordered his sons and the Imperium's armies and fleets to push back this nightmare.

No, what surprised many was when the Imperium was pushed back. All 18 of his sons, tens of thousands of ships, millions of Astartes, and hundreds of trillions of mortal humans...and they were only able to hold the line. Worse yet, some of the Primarchs had died. Angron the Red Angel, Dorn the Praetorian of Terra, and the Gorgon Ferrus Manus died within the first decade, their Legions almost perishing with them.

Realizing how dire the situation had become, the Emperor reached out to the Eldar, who had finally begun to recover under the guidance of their returned/revived gods. However, they also became besieged by other enemies next to the War-Realms. The Dark Eldar, having been driven to the point of madness, turned the Dark City into a charnel house of strife and chaos. But now, they rallied behind a new leader, calling themselves the Lord of All Shadows. It was too late to realize that it was the Chaos Eldar that finally brought down their dark kin and turned Commoragh into a great and dreadful ritual place to summon forth a corrupted Avatar of Khaine.

And just like with the rebirth of Lilith and the creation of Ynnead, the Ulwarth lead Chaos Eldar now had their own God to call upon in the coming wars. More than that, the Chaos Eldar began to attack the Human-Eldar Alliance where it hurt the most; the webway. They unleashed upon it a weapon, the Breakdown. A warp-virus that directly attacked the foundations of the webway. It was becoming increasingly difficult within a century to counter it, and even more so to traverse the once expedite halls.

Where the Emperor sought to end humanity's reliance on warp travel, he was now forced to return to it to ensure his Imperium's survival.

Meanwhile, Chaos's forces were seemingly now victims of both The Ulwarth and War-Realms. Their realms had been shattered, even looted by the Greenskins. Hundreds of daemons became Exalted over the course of this century-long war and promptly died in the slaughter that followed. The enhanced Greenskins even devoured the daemons or used them to fuel their daemonic waaggghhh-engines.

So disastrous was this to the Warp that it caused warp-storms, but more importantly, a new phenomenon entering into the Materium. The Realm of Souls became unbalanced, resulting in children's births across the galaxy to become "void" of emotions, driven only by material perceptions of reality and cold hard logic. They showed no love, no desire, no hope, no pity, no capability towards empathy towards another. And while they did not seek out the destruction or death of others (most of the time), they became devoid of aspirations or desires, or ambitions save for one thing.

They were people born with no humanity. But what made this tragedy all the more evident was that humanity had gotten lucky, as dozens of other resources experiencing the "Void Out" had increasingly deranged or psychopathic offspring. Entire generations died within only a few years, and some civilizations followed their deceased progeny soon after.

For the Eldar, they were lucky thanks to Life and Death's connections via Isha and Ynnead, but even they felt that new Eldar souls would soon be in danger. Three centuries after this discovery, it was determined that mixing human and Eldar genes could have a greater chance of reducing a Void Born. What should've been a moment of unity between the two caused only a further divide due to the rampant xenophobia in both nations.

By the start of the Fourth Century, the Imperium was still only holding the line. They had stalled out completely. Imperial expeditions were heading into the unknown reaches of space, those unclaimed by the Ulwarth Eldar or the War-Realms. However, after the Green Star Campaigns' failure by the Alliance, it became increasingly clear that humanity had been stopped in its tracks.

The Great Crusade, which had not made progress in almost a hundred and fifty years, was declared over.

---

It remains to be said, but the past successes and subsequent four centuries of failures had not helped the Imperium's internal struggles. Vulkan reforms had not stopped, even after humanity had been locked in a two-century and half-century-long struggle against their new foes. He and Konrad were tired of waiting.

In their defense, promises had been made by the Emperor after the success of the Drake Crusade. Vulkan and Konrad worked hard to bring nearly 5,000 worlds into compliance in the shortest time possible. It was beyond successful; it was monumentally in his favor. But even during the century of peace, things hadn't gotten better for the average citizen, and slavery still existed. The death of Angron only spurred the anti-slavery sentiments and caused the World Eaters to take up the mantles of emancipators and liberators.

Vulkan had waited long enough. He demanded that his reforms be allowed, even going so far as to gather the support of a few other Primarchs. If need be, Vulkan would personally take control of a crusade force to buy the Imperium time to get this ball rolling so the Imperium could survive against the Green Hordes.

Before the Emperor could even attempt to interject, the Mechanicum responded by cutting off the flow of equipment towards the Drake Lord and his allies. The now ancient Kelbor-Hal had finally had enough of this. He knew that Vulkan wouldn't be able to stop him. Even the Emperor had lost too much power within the Machine Cult now.

As Fabricator-General of Mars, Kelbor-Hal had amassed so much power during the short level Age of Progress, turning each Forge-World into monuments of industry and worship to the Machine God. It was only through the Mechanicums might that the galaxy hadn't fallen to the War Realms. And now Vulkan want to bring up the same tired argument as the end of all life bore down upon them?

No. He was done. If the Emperor refused to punish his son for this foolishness, then he would do it for him.

However, Kelbor-Hal miscalculated the response from this action. Unaware of the looming internal stresses within his cult and that of the Imperium as a whole, the system began to break and set off a chain of events that rocked the Imperium. Once word had reached most segmentums that the Machine Cult had denied the reforms to take place, a large scale protest in favor of the Salamander Lord begun.

Progressive and moderate elements within the Mechancium also voiced their displeasure towards Mar's decision, citing that the reforms had been in the process for decades before the crisis. To turn back now would make individual Fabricator-Generals look untrustworthy and cause major civil unrest.

Tech-Bastion Shor, now one of the most vocal figures in the Machine Cult, voiced that the Fabricator-General was not only failing to keep up with the war demand, but they were also intentionally sabotaging all things related to Vulkan before the cut-off. He demanded a full investigation, not by the Lords Dragon, but by the Sigillites into the matter.

The final nail in this particular coffin came during an investigation into several recovered STCs, or what the Machine Cult believed to be STCs. However, it became increasingly clear that they were close to discovering the Second Generation-STC's planted by Majestic, who only increased this activity in the face of the growing threat.

Kleber-Hal had his silver bullet now, the one that would unite the Mechanicum behind him entirely. If he uncovered a vast conspiracy to undermine their monopoly and power, it would swing the moderates towards his side. He was prepared to offer a chance to prevent this from going any further.

He attempted to reach out to the Emperor and Malcador...attempted, but failed.

Majestic responded in the only way possible; by killing the Fabricator-General and those who knew and destroying the findings' evidence. The effects were catastrophic, as such a turbulent period finally brought the house of cards tumbling down. A power vacuum unfolded, especially as it was discovered that an additional 84 members of the Martian hierarchy were found killed.

The Mechancium went on a witch-hunt to find those within their own ranks to see who committed such a previous sin. The resulting 'purges' prompted radical elements to react. Tech-Bastion Shor declared an emergency before being arrested by the Lord's Dragon on suspected tech-heresy and murder charges, along with thousands of others. Moderate and progressive elements quickly declared the action illegal.

It's easy to see what happened next, and the Emperor and Malcador were already moving troops into position by the time the first shots of the Mechanicum Civil War broke out. Once again proving that sometimes humanity was their own greatest enemy even during the coming apocalypse.

When Malcador confronted Godfather for this action, the AI only responded by saying that it was necessary and ultimately to humanity's benefit. The Mechancium's grip over the Imperium would be shattered, allowing for better leadership to take its place and ultimately allow Majestic to gain considerable power. There was no point in hiding their research and development for too much longer.

The Sigillite became keenly aware that the AI and its organization had made their move. While it would benefit the Imperium in the long run, it would put considerable power within their grasp. Somehow Malcador was too tired to care anymore.

---

For the Space Marines, the Crisis had been a bloodbath. In the first two centuries of battling the War-Realms and the Ulwarth, casualties had been steadily increasing. Legions like the Death Guard, Space Wolves, Luna Wolves, White Scars, Iron Warriors, Eternal Wardens, and Dark Angels suffered the heaviest.

Around the start of the Fifth Century, Mortarian would be listed as "MIA" following the Third Iron Bastion's success. Leman Russ would be grievously wounded some six decades later while leading a force against one of the Ork leaders, who can only be identified as calling himself The War-King. Leman would have to entombed in a dreadnought after that.

Six and a half centuries of blood, suffering, and pain. The Imperial Fists' survivors became utterly convinced that their Legion was destined to die in battle, hoping to join their Dead Father in what they were called The Last Fortress. The World Eaters, driven now only by the last words of their Primarch, begun to attack Imperial worlds suspected of holding slaves. The Iron Hands and Death Guard joined their Legions together, hoping to create a new breed of Astarte to fight in the worst possible conditions the universe could throw at them.

But it was the Space Wolves and Iron Warriors that started becoming bitter towards their other legions. Where were the Blood Angels, the Ultramarines, the Thousand Sons, Raven Guard, or the Emperor's Children in all of this? Since the start of the Crisis, those Legions were stuck dealing with a host of internal issues or helping Alliance forces across multiple fronts. They had become noticeably absent in the last few centuries, even with the increased attacks by the War-Realms.

Lion El'Johnson ultimately proposed that absent Legions should not be allowed critical resources necessary for the Imperium's continued survival against either the Ulwarth or War-Realms. Following the sixteen-year-long Mechanicum Civil War, this decision became an increasingly unpopular one among certain Legions.

Horus tried to be reasonable, but even he had to agree that you don't need as much assistance if you weren't here on the frontlines. He convinced the Emperor to allow for a massive decrease in resources towards absent Legions. The Primarchs of those Legions weren't happy, especially Vulkan, and Konrad noticed that even after everything...they were still being denied serious aid.

That, in turn, cause Roboute Guilliman to declare that the resources from the Realm of Ultramar would be directed towards the War Front if he decided it was necessary. His fellow "absentee" brothers quickly announced similar measures. However, they did agree to send a joint task force of one million marines to aid in this endeavor, but once again, the Primarchs were dealing with new issues as they cropped up.

Perturabo spoke ill of this development towards Horus, Kesar, and the Khan. "We've become divided. Not that I can blame either side. However, I will not allow us to lose this war after all these years of struggle because Vulkan refuses to see reason. I will not be waiting for someone on Terra to decide whether or not my sons will or will not have enough bolts in their guns before fighting the Greenskins."

The Iron Warriors declared that any freighter carrying goods or troopship believed to necessary for the war effort is to be placed under the Iron Warriors Legion's direct control and subsumed under the Emergency War Act granted by the Lord of Terra, the Emperor.

And that did not go over well.

It especially became apparent when the Iron Warriors "conscripted" a small detachment of Thousand Sons and sixteen regiments of Prospero Guard without consulting Magnus. This was followed up by the Luna Wolves collecting a war tithe from several resource convoys en route from Ultramar towards Deliverance.

What unfolded was the beginning of a low-key civil war between the Astartes Legions, although not by the Primarch themselves.

---

Trazyn the Infinite had an idea. It was a good idea, an amazing one even.

"What if I made my own brand of Orks to fight the War-Realms?" The logic was sound, it was what the Old Ones would've done anyway, and he always wanted to show up those smug toads. The Mad Collector had the means and capabilities to produce life, as strange as that was for a Necron.

More importantly, he had the necessary materials to do so.

Perhaps it was for the best. These recent events were starting to awaken the other Dynasties, and soon he'd have no chance to do anything really, especially once a certain quiet monarch arrived back from dark space.

So, he tried his best to make something to help the forces of Order hopefully. He took a speck of blood from Khorne, a little from Gork and Mork, a bit of geneseed from a certain Red Angel, and added a dash of human DNA. He put inside an extraordinary machine, probably from the War in Heaven. Still, he couldn't really remember and then waited a few decades before planting the spores on a particular planet inside a particular system.

The primitive alien species called it "T'au" or something like that. It didn't matter; they were likely going to end up either dead or slaves for their new masters, but what was the difference at this point? Maybe if his little science experiment learned empathy in time, they would actually survive.

His new creations ready, Trazyn gave them a name in the old tongue, "Uhr-Kai," and left them a nice big monolith with instructions on what to do.

And with the belief that Trazyn had done his good deed for the next hundred eons, he went back to cataloging his findings.

---

The Emperor had considered all things possible in this insane world. Still, upon the start of the fifth century since the start of the Crisis, he hadn't expected the arrival of emissaries from the Chaos Gods to grace his "doorstep." They were part of something called Chaos Unified, an emergency response by the Gods of Chaos.

What they told the Emperor painted a bleak picture of the situation in the Warp, which in another time would have made the Emperor laugh; now it only made it want to laugh and cry at the sheer absurdity of the situation.

Malal blew up the Warp.

Okay, that wasn't a gross simplification of a truly chaotic event in metaphysical history. What happened was that Malal blew up the domains and concepts governed by the Four Gods. He evidently accomplished this event by seeding his very being with both demonic and work souls before intentionally killing himself with Surturn'einn the Divider and giving it his power...to sever the ties of the domains and powers to the other Gods and the Exalted.

Not only had the War-Realms trashed the realms and the Realm of the Souls, Malal intentionally created another god to cause further problems. The Gods of Chaos were now only their last vestigates of power and keeping on the defense. The Emperor knew things were horrible when even Khorne wanted to declare a cease-fire.

Legend has it that the Emperor agreed to personally meet with the Four inside the Warp, along with the Eldar Gods' demands and grievances, and when upon meeting Khorne, the Emperor proceeded to punch him eight times in the face.

"YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! LOOK WHAT YOU HAVE DONE TO US ALL!"

Khorne would only laugh and laugh, even while the other three Gods could stare in agreement. The first true meeting between archnemesis was with bloody laughter. Perhaps there was something poetic about the entire situation?

---

The Sixth Century...was equally bad.

Upon hearing of the new Alliance with the forces of Remenants of Chaos, Kesar personally swore that he would never work alongside such abominations, and he'd sooner trust an Ork than anyone with an Eight Pointed Star. He took command of the Eternal Wardens, gathered up enough resources and marines, bid his brother farewell, and would swiftly disappear into the War-Realms, directly engaging the Daemonic Greenskins in their twisted, nightmare empires.

Eldrad was a lot more understanding, but that said more about the situation than his current thoughts. The sad truth was that this alliance's opening allowed for more and more Eldar souls to return, which in turn prevented more Void Born and Void Outs across the Imperium.

There were now hundreds of millions of Human-Eldar hybrids. Causing further strain upon the future of allowing these hybrids to become Astartes or hold positions of power within either the Imperium or the Eldar Empire. The galaxy laughed at the humans and Eldar, especially when reports of humans openly worshiping the Chaos Gods were reported across dozens of worlds.

What made this worse was that they were still completely loyal to the Imperium of Man, and most were even starting to worship the so-called God-Emperor along with the Four, now taking to call the Five Gods the Fist of Humanity. The Imperial Truth and the Golden Path now had new competition.

Many of the Primarchs publicly declared this development an abomination, a blight upon humanity. How could the Emperor allow for this?!

Perturabo, Khan, and while not in public solidarity with the two, Magnus the Red, declared that they would follow Kesar's example and refuse to work with this filth. However, Horus announced that he would be pursuing means to safely incorporate these new "allies" once their Emperor approved the new doctrine change.

Astartes relations got worse when Horus refused even to consider using Guiliman's Codex Astartes, citing that it was utterly pointless and trivialized in light of these enemies that seemed to shift and change constantly. What was the point of a soon to be an obsolete book?

As the Sixth Century came to a close, the Imperium was mostly unaware of the growing threat now entering this galaxy, and whose scouts and infiltrators had already begun their work for their alien masters.

---

After the "victory" on the world of Tyran in the Eastern Fringes, the Imperium called them Tyranids. The Imperium's rapid colonization efforts into the Eastern Fringes left much of the defenses bare and underdeveloped. No one was ready for the onslaught of Genestealer Cults that infiltrated thousands of worlds, nor could anyone fathom the gargantuan size of the extra-galactic invasion force that made its entrance upon the galaxy during the start of the Seventh Century.

The Ultramarines and Raven Guard Legions ultimately attempted to push back the Hive Fleets. The Emperor declared this another emergency after reports of quadrillions of these bastards were roaming across his Imperium. He called the Salamanders and Blood Angels to assist in keeping these insects contained.

But even after this time, the resource and equipment shortages resulted in the Imperial Response being woefully underequipped for such a force. Even so, the Astartes and Imperial Army fought back for almost thirty years before finally stopping the Xenos from moving any further, but at great cost.

Corvus Corax would ultimately die, leading his Deathwing veterans into the "heart" of Hive Fleet Lucifer, severing the fleets' connection to the Hive Mind. Sanguinius would lose his right arm during a battle against what he believed to be some apex creature while holding the line against Hive Fleet Perun. It defied even the Angels precognition, but only to a point. It still died in the end.

Even so, the First Tyrannic Wars was truly nightmarish. Astartes from Legions fighting against the War-Realms had the decency to respect their cousins' losses and victories against such horrors. Still, perhaps they'll finally get involved in this fight and not cower in the rear lines.

There was now a clear divine among the Legions following the start of the Second and Third Tyrannic Wars...you were either dying to stop the Space Bugs or the Daemon Orks. Somehow no one could agree that both were a threat to their very existence.

---

The galaxy hoped that the seventh century would be a better one. Even the Gods were now privately hoping for a reprieve from this slaughter, save for Khorne, who quietly enjoyed this situation. Sadly, it wasn't meant to be, as this was the start of an old but returned threat to the galaxy.

It had been know for some time that the Necrons were awakening. The only good news was that most of the awakened dynasties were on the other side of the Frontlines against the Orks and Tyranids. The few that did awaken inside Imperial holdings or the very rare new Eldar Empire worlds were swiftly handled.

Eldrad, and now also Tzeetch, were not so convinced that this would be the case for too long. Attempts to reach Trazyn the Infinite failed, the Mad Collector now having gone to ground or the Necron equivalent. But they were aware that something was happening.

They were right to be concerned, for Szarekh, The Last Silent King, had finally returned from the Void of Dark Space. The Hive Fleets' intrusion and arrival suddenly felt that even his forces were quite unaware of such beings. He lost almost his entire void fleet as the seemingly frenzied waves of chitin rushed to the Milky Way galaxy, now aware of the delicious bio-mass and warp energies to devour.

Szarekh, unaware of what had happened in his absence, returned to a galaxy devoid of sanity and reason. It was said that the first words uttered by the supposed Silent King after uncountable eons was only words, drenched in bewildered despair.

"No..."

After that, he swiftly rallied his dynasty before realizing that he was the only one who had gone on a war-footing. He began to confront the Phaerons and Phaerakhs that had awakened but remained idle. Why had they not send out their vast armies or fleets against the Orks or the Tyranids? Against their ancient enemies, the Eldar or their pet humans. For that matter, why were they working with the forces of the Warp?!

But all he heard were excuses and bemoaning, that their strength was gone or that a rival dynasty was preparing to attack them.

Szarekh was beyond furious. Had his people become cravens and fools in his absence? Did the corruption of the C'tan destroy their spirits entirely? He had enough, and Szarekh started culling the weakest among the weaker dynasties before subsuming complete control over them.

He even used C'tan shards against his own people. This wasn't right, but it was necessary. One had only to see all the chaos inflicted by all the living and their disgusting connections to the Warp. The first thirty years of the seventh century saw the Necrons rally, albeit reluctantly in some cases, under the Szarekh Dynasty.

And then they pushed back against the galaxy.

The Necrons fought against everyone; Orks, Eldar, Humans, Tyranids, Ulwarths, and Chaos enclaves. There was no distinction, no attempts of diplomacy, and Szarekh didn't care whenever emissaries from the Galactic Alliance attempted to communicate with them. He ignored their calls and told them that they should make peace with their so-called gods.

Because all Szarekh now saw in the galaxy was its slow death. He could save it, perhaps.

Instead, he only wanted to see it cleansed entirely.

No, there would be no more peace or talks of it even when Trazyn attempted to reason with the Silent King, advising that perhaps it would be best not to make so many enemies when his own Dynasties rankled under his iron-clad rule. Szarekh accused Trazyn of having "sentiments" towards the people that caused all these problems, and if he continues to hold such "sentiments," then not even his power would save him from being executed.

Trazyn, ultimately, spoke no more about this.

And so the Necrons began their onslaught. They destroyed two entire War-Realms, three Hive Fleets, and even a dozen Ulwarth kingdoms...but along with hundreds of thousands of worlds belonging to humanity and the Eldar. Tragically, the Night Lords and Alpha Legion attempted to stem the tide against the Necrons.

Konrad Cruze was one of the casualties, but his death came most peculiarly. He was captured while attempting to assassinate the Silent King. The capture of a Primarch was an interesting development and one that Szarekh decided to make an example out of by holding a trial against the Primarch.

When Trazyn quietly reported the events back to the Galactic Alliance, it was said that the Necrons tortured Konrad for almost twenty years before they got a "confession" out of him, declaring that he was a murder and killer that the Night Haunter and he were the same.

During the trial, Konrad regained some semblance of control before declaring to the Silent King, "You...you have no right to judge me. I've paid for my crimes. I will die a free man and with a clean conscience."

He then promptly tried to kill the Silent King with only his fists but was ultimately killed before reaching the Silent King. Thus did Konrad Curze die as Konrad Curze and not as the Night Haunter.

One would think it a victory for the Necrons or the Silent King.

Yet Szarekh failed to hear the whispers behind his back, to see the Last Silent King needing to torture a primitive to prove a point to his enemies. How the mighty had fallen so low to despair and fear.

---

The eighth-century came, and with it, another threat.

Upon ships that seemed almost too brutal and vicious to properly function, blaring war-chants and battle-songs over the vox. With muddy red skin and ruby-red eyes, screaming and shooting and chopping with solid projectile weapons and exo-armor...did the Uhr-Kai Divine Confederation arrive upon the galactic scene.

Whatever the galactic alliance or the Necrons or the War-Realms thought about such creatures, they did not expect something that looked and acted Ork, yet also decidedly human in nature. They had genders, a written and spoken language, a culture that showcased arts and music, and the concept of theocratic government.

The Uhr-Kai worshipped their own God-Emperor, including a small pantheon of "war-saints" and "warlock scions"; they believed in blood, war, strength, and order. Their confederation was small, barely 25 sectors, but they had exploded upon the scene after conquering and taking control of nearly 32 alien civilizations. They were slavers, a race dedicated towards expansionism, fighting because it was what they believed in and that they were the chosen race to take up the Orks' mantle.

Both the Eldar Seers and Chaos sorcerers were shocked when they discovered that the Uhr-Kai warlocks had the ability to tap into the War-Realms energies and even assume complete control over them. They were like a virus, and they only got stronger whenever they defeated Orks of the War-Realms. Even reports of the Uhr-Kai using a strange process to "evolve" captured Orks into Uhr-Kai's!

They were a counter to the War-Realms, a different breed of creature.

Unfortunately, they seemed convinced that the rest of the galaxy was their's to command. They captured humans and Eldar, treating them as slaves like the other aliens and using them to support their war-economy. There were also uncomfortable reports that they had no qualms to breed with other species. Reports also showed that the Uhr-Kai enjoyed eating daemons, though they couldn't truly kill them that way.

Meanwhile, their God-Emperor remains a mystery even after 200 years since their arrival. All that is known is that he claims to be a New Krork, establishing a strange distinction between the Krorks of the War in Heaven and now these new Uhr-Kai's.

As of now, the White Scars and Emperor's Children have been fighting them for some time. They have had only mild success in keeping them contained, especially in light of much bigger threats.

---

And the Ninth Century soon followed in the wake of such chaos.

There were no new enemies introduced, thankfully. There was, however, an endless parade of carnage and war across the galaxy. In the midst of it all, humanity found itself in a quagmire of a predicament. Surrounded by all sides by powerful and malevolent forces. Each year bringing only uncertainty and destruction across a thousand worlds. The hopes of the Great Crusade, the Imperial Webway, and the promise of a New Golden Age faded into myth and legend for most.

When humanity looked around, it found itself in the company of former enemies and new allies. The Eldar Empire and Chaos United to its left and right. Even more so where the arrival of new AI's, the so-called Men of Steel, who had only just arrived within the last century from Terra itself upon the Emperor of Mankind's decree. Even minor alien civilizations now assist the Imperium, for it was better to stand and fight with humanity than die to the War-Realms or whatever threat was closest.

In some aspects, it was good for humanity not to be alone. But even those that made the decisions to allow for such an alliance found themselves wondering if this was the best course of action. One had only need to realize that there were now sanctioned chaos cults on Imperial Worlds, that human-Eldar hybrids were in positions of power, and that AI's had returned to fight the Orks like in ages past.

The Primarchs were divided now, the Mechancium an arm of the Imperial government, and millions of Astartes had now gone off from the Legions in search of new answers alongside other humans and even Eldar, for there were no certainties in this galaxy, no answers to these peculiar questions.

Now it was just endless war. But there was no cruel laughter from thirsting gods, no lack of scientific progress from institutional ignorance, and hope for the future still yet remained.

---

The silence had been the hardest thing to get used to. For so many years, he could recall having to ward off attacks from the Four. Their constant attempts to breach his mind were almost a good practice for the Emperor of Mankind. He imagined, far too many times, how he would destroy each of them, how he'd finally end their reign of terror in the Warp.

Now? Now, he meant with them once a year. He had to sit across from them and plan for the future of their collective survival, for the survival of his own race. Oh, he knew that if things ever returned to normal, they'd be at each other's throats again, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to see it happening. He became empathic towards them.

He almost thanked Tzeentch during their last meeting for his aid in developing a counter-spell to the War-Realm's most recent attempts to corrupt several Forge Worlds. The Eldar Deities refused to sit down with them, which he understands and didn't press. Eldrad reported that they were getting more souls back from Chaos, which was good. There had been a steady increase in Void Born now. Godfather predicted that a third of humanity would be like them in another ten thousand years—cold, logical, and devoid of sympathy to others. Even though a Void Born wasn't incapable of being a productive citizen, they, along with the hybrids, unnerved much of humanity and even the Eldar.

A part of him shuddered as he realized how close they were to what he was at one point. It became increasingly clear what he had turned into after his sons' death and marrying Isha. Sometimes it felt like waking up from a bad dream. Then again, reality felt like another nightmare entirely.

The Emperor realized that only a few familiar faces effectively surrounded him. There was still Malcador and Magnus, but now also Isha, Vandal/Godfather, Tech-Lore Isilon (the apprentice to Tech-Lord Shor), and much lesser extent and barely tolerable extent...Lord Sorcerer Akirak.

'That I have to put up with these creatures.' The Emperor had drawn the line at allowing a daemon anywhere in Sol. The new Eternal Wardens chapters kept watch on all reported and sanctioned cults. Another thing that the Emperor despised having to allow, but their uses were too good to pass up. He was paying for his pragmatism every day. There were already churches in his name, along with the return of the Old Faiths.

And with great irony, he realized that the Imperial Truth had to play nice with all the other faiths. The Gods were real now, they were both evil and good, and they were aiding humanity all the same. What had he done to force the galaxy to play this joke on him? Even the Laughing God couldn't fathom where they had ended up in now.

But he had to wonder...was it all really that bad now?

---

"I just realized..." Malcador spoke up suddenly to his friend, "It's been a thousand years since that day."

The Emperor looked up from his desk from the report he had been reading. He and Sigilite had just finished their meeting with the Eldar representative, who announced a new set of fleets, including a repurposed Craftworld, would be heading towards the Gamma Front. Horus would be most pleased to hear the arriving reinforcements, especially after he complains about roaming daemon companies causing the Imperial Guard (the Army had long since transitioned) morale to wavier along the front.

"What day?" The Emperor spoke, but without the power behind it. Such pretenses had to be dropped now, especially to downplay that damn God narrative. He used his powers to sign a few documents with his quill while he listened. He needed to finish up soon; Isha wanted to go to the palace gardens.

"The celebration following the conclusion of the Ritual War. We were drinking Italian wine together, talking about how proud we were of Kesar, Khan, Vulkan, and the others."

Now he remembered that day, almost a thousand years ago exactly. The Emperor paused and leaned back into his chair, "Was it really that long ago?"

Malcador nodded with a small smile, "We were so confident back then." He chuckled and looked away, "I want to say we were both different men, but I feel like we just got older but not wiser."

They were older now, even during the Unification Wars, even during the worse parts of the Great Crusade...they didn't feel that old back then. Now they realized that half the galaxy was under the control of monsters, and the other half was stuck fighting to keep their own homes from being submerged by the flood of death and destruction that was ever-present.

"You think Kesar is still alive?" Malcador suddenly asked, "He was so disappointed in us both. I can't blame him, especially with how things look now. That we have to play hosts to people that willingly gave up their souls to our...allies." The Emperor didn't need to speak aloud his agreement over such a sentimentality. "I've heard that Alpharius and Perturabo are still looking for him. They claim to hear Warden signals even after all these centuries."

"If there is anyone that can survive in that hell, it would be Kesar and his sons." He missed him, along with those that died. Most of his sons, save for Horus and Magnus, stopped talking to him almost two centuries ago. Some of them never forgave him for what happened to some of their brothers. Roboute missed Corvus, Fulgrim grieved for Ferrus, and Lion still visited Leman whenever possible. At least for Lion and Roboute, they had their wives and children. It seemed likely that some Primarchs were just never found the will to start a family for the others.

Perhaps there was some irony that their father married another Goddess? He tried not to think about it.

"We mocked the universe." The Emperor remarked to Malcador, "Perhaps not intentionally, but we were so sure...so positive that we could tame this galaxy, once and for all. Now, look at us. Scrambling to try and find solutions to threats that are growing daily."

He turned from his desk to look outside towards the Palace as Father Sol rose above, signally a new day upon the Palace. Dorn lived long enough to see its fortifications completed. His body was buried inside a special tomb, constructed personally by Perturabo. It was the last construction project that he would ever do on Terra before fully dedicating himself to the war effort.

'It's good enough,' as Perturabo remarked to the Emperor.

As he started outside, he felt Malcador approach him before he spoke, "Do you know what I saw today while coming into work? It was the strangest thing." The Sigillite was smirking up at his friend, "It was a little moment between a family. An Eldar male with a human female and their hybrid daughter. The mother was Imperial Guard, and I suspect the Eldar was part of the ambassadorial detachment. They were so happy to see each other. I saw them kiss while the daughter made a childish grimace at the display of affection. A few minutes later, I saw a Man of Steel speaking with a member of the Mechanicum; there was no ire or hate in the tech-priests voice as they spoke. In one instance, I saw humanity interacting with two enemies that once sought our destruction, and they were without hate, without contempt, and instead, I saw love and respect."

The Emperor smirked, "Wish I can say the same thing about having those same feelings whenever I see a cultist with that Eight Pointed Star walking the streets of Terra or seeing people calling me a god. Lorgar is likely rolling in his grave, and he has every right too."

Malcador nodded, "Believe me, I don't want this to be happening either, but we've all made sacrifices and compromises. However, when you look at the cities now, the hives and forges...people might not be happy, but they are committed to our victory over these forces of evil. Not just surviving, my friend, they believe in this alliance and that there is a future still, one in which all the struggles of the last 1200 years were not in vain."

"Vulkan was right; the reforms did help in the long run. It gave the people the belief that some good came out of this." It came at such a high cost now. Quadrillions of lives were lost, millions of worlds destroyed, and his sons suffered or died because of it. Humanity and Eldar and even those blights in the warp survived, ready to fight for the next century or next millennia or the next ten thousand years.

People were afraid, uncertain, and even paranoid...but they still hadn't given up.

"It's only going to get worse." The Emperor remarked to Malcador, "You should curb that enthusiasm."

Malcador shrugged, "Just pointing out a silver lining. You and I are still here. Terra is still here, as is the Imperium, as is the Eldar, and so many others. Could we have done things differently? Perhaps. But at the same time, the outcome we have right now is one that isn't exactly the worse possible one."

Things hadn't gotten worse; that was true. The galactic alliance was preparing for another major counter-offensive, and this time...things were going to be quite different. There were many new weapons and technologies, everything from new high-power las-guns to massive dreadnoughts of the Imperial Navy. They had sacrificed much, but they learned and grew as a species and civilization in the process.

Their allies were, for the most part, prepared for their part. He would soon stand besides Warp Gods as allies upon the threshold of a war not seen since the War in Heaven. The Emperor of Mankind was, for the first time, a stranger in a war that wasn't his own. Yet there were now hundreds of trillions that had grown up in its carnage and had found hope in the strangest places and with even stranger people.

'I'm a relic now.' He smirked to himself, 'Or maybe just a product of a different galaxy.'

So while the Crisis continued, the galaxy would soon belong to a very different array of nations and people. He and his sons would find a new place for it, and much as he hated to admit it, godhood seemed like the most likely end to this particular chapter in the galaxy.

For once, the irony of the situation didn't seem so bad this time.

---

@Daemon Hunter Okay, so this started as a joke omake, yet I decided to make it something a bit more serious. For context on what is happening here, imagine if the Imperium rolled Nat 100's for most of the Ritual War and a few decades after it...and then shit went so fucking wrong across the entire galaxy, ending up in this event of truly apocalyptic nature.

 

[Leon12431]

Raziel the Chief Liberian of the Eternal Wardens sighed as he entered the room that would hold the meeting between the prominent members of the Library. He already knew that the meeting was going to turn out interesting, but little more as his inconsistent visions had decided to play up again. The one thing he did know was just how much he loathed his chair or throne that he had to sit on whenever he called these meetings.

The throne style chair was completely covered in gold and embossed with images of all the runes that had been completed or even considered by the wardens. Serving as a living monument to their progress and work for the future, the downside of having to use the chair was the simple fact that it was uncomfortable in the extreme. None of the parts he touched were smooth due to all the carvings of runes or the notes for runes, and on top of that was the fact that the chair was constantly freezing or burning due to someone making working copies of cold and fire runes on the thing.

Groaning as he sat down in the chair, Raziel pushed his mind off the discomfort to peer into the future to see if he could see what would be said. Once more he was irritated that his visions had apparently decided to not show anything for the moment as they were fixated on the ritual war. The only thing he did manage to discover was the order in which others would arrive.

A sun of raging flame crackling with lighting would be the first to arrive, scorching the room with wrath at being called away from training. Impatient and willing to burn him, only held back by chains of duty and honor. With a sigh Raziel made a mental note to try to get Beltran some better therapy books, as his anger issues were seemingly growing.

Next would be the silver knight, wearing armor rusted in parts and adorned with medals yet to be won. Honor and conviction burning brightly within the soul of the knight, yet the wounds weeping trails of spiritual energy. Suppressing a shudder at the sight of the damaged and yet radiant soul Raziel moved onward.

A kaleidoscope of colors tigered with green would follow the silver knight. Massive in scope and size yet gentle in nature, a source of confusion for all. More than willing to aid his brothers if at all possible. Frowning at the strangeness of Rene's warp form Raziel moved onward to further understand the near future as well as he could.

Then came the strangest so far, where Rene was a million colors shifting without order or Beltran was fire and lighting, this one was nothing like any of the others. A solid sphere of countless symbols each flickering into others with monotonous precision, divided into sublayers without count, all of them covered in the same symbols that detailed the thoughts of the one he saw. Letting his mind skim over the rest of the minor vision he saw the final member of the meeting come, one that was not called but came of their own accord.

A burning soul, embraced with red and golden flames, protecting the bearer from the outside dangers. Touched by the living machines yet still more normal than the one that came before him.

Letting go of the future, Raziel turned to the pile of forms that he had brought with him. Hoping, beyond hope that one of his brothers would have a solution to the simple fact that they were much more open to the whispers of chaos. Even now sheltered under the overbearing light that was his Father's soul, Raziel could feel the slimy grip of Chaos just outside of his mind's borders.

To his hidden relief, the doors to the room slammed open as the ambient temperature spiked several degrees. Looking up, he saw Beltran in full armor march into the room and gruffly take a seat at one of the chairs closest to the door, obviously itching to get up and leave. "What is more important than training to fight the spawn of the Archdaemons?" Beltran growled in anger at the outwardly serene Raziel.

Letting out a sigh, as he saw just how explosive this meeting was going to end up being. Raziel had known that Beltran would be displeased with having to leave his training for better control, but not to this extent. Although, a flicker of a smile graced his face as he sensed Abdul coming at full speed, knowing of Beltran's dislike of the eager battle brother it was going to distract Beltran from his displeasure by giving him something else to grumble about.

With a flash of electricity and ozone, Abdul skidded to a stop in the center of the room, before overly quickly taking a seat. "Chief Librarian, why have you called me? I am only-." "You might have less overall power than some, but your impact is why you were called, young Abdul. Although do be careful, overwork can be just as fatal as no work. " Raziel gently cut in before the young man could put himself down any more than he already had.

Heavy footsteps came from the hallway outside of the door as the massive form of Rene entered. Moving slowly for an Astartes if only due to his bulk instead of any weakness, he gently took a seat waiting for the meeting to start with patience. As he sat down Raziel found himself surprised by the waves of calmness radiating from his still form, tempering down the heat of Beltran's anger.

The door opened once more to allow an aged astartes to enter wearing a simple robe, with crystals that those in the room recognized as being from Aegis. Moving with almost robotic efficiency the newest member to join the meeting took his seat. As he sat down and relaxed infinitesimally everyone could feel a sense of almost oppressive order falling upon the room, tampering down the raging aura of Beltran and the soothing waves from Rene. Raziel nodded towards the newest Epistolary of the Library, who bore his personal rune upon a necklace letting its burning light shine freely.

Lifting a finger to still questions, Razial waited for the unexpected arrival to arrive. The door slid open without the faintest hiss as a regal figure walked in wearing robes of eye searing red and gold, bearing the symbol of the Thousand Sons proudly on his chest. Taking the last seat open before nodding respectfully to Raziel.

"I called this meeting for what Epistolary Auro predicted and brought to share. As we are moving into the ritual war, it is important that we harden our minds and souls against chaos as much as possible. To that end I convened this meeting to share personal works or achievements with others to potentially help our brothers from not becoming Lost." Raziel spoke in a near whisper that still carried in the still room, even as he glanced at Auro who hadn't shifted at all.

"I brought folders with insight into my mind and its workings. Furthermore, I invented a rune that forces light within 20 meters to follow the rules of physics even in a warpstorm." Auro spoke in his normal emotionless voice, each word perfectly enunciated yet missing some element that turned the words from a joy to listen too, to a horror. Unaware of uncaring of the others' response to his words, Auro simply withdrew a thick folder almost a book in thickness along with a rune. Both of which he placed on the table in front of him.

WIth a grunt the rune floated over to Raziel who quickly began poking it with his mind and fingers, while the thick folder drifted over to Beltran. "You actually finished it? I am still stuck on the purity rune and you are making your own ones. You should have told me, Brother. I could have gotten us something to celebrate with." The chippery voice of Abdul speaking a mile a minute invaded the room as he stared at the rune floating in front of Raziel with undisguised awe.

"There is nothing to celebrate. It was a task that had to be done so that I could further the usage of my powers. There are some niche uses of the rune, but in the majority it would have been a waste of time for anyone not myself." The chillingly empty tones of Auro's voice wrenched warmth from the air as he spoke with a stilted cadence.

"Anyway, Beltran what does that thick tome say?" Abdul was the only one not so affected by Auro's words, which had by this point impacted Rene to such an extent that this aura of calm was flickering, and as it faltered the room began to grow hotter once more.

Everyone could see Beltran's hands grip the folder tightly, But before he could speak Raziel spoke, Raziel spoke, "The folder contains both the method behind this rune and Auro's particular mindset. Abdul, could you explain what you have been doing recently?" Smoothly directing the conversation to better ground and avoiding a rant at the moment.

"Ah, oh I have been doing some training recently, trying to improve the kill teams where possible. Nothing major." Abdul stammered out as Raziel just peered at him over the still floating rune. However, as Raziel gazed at him, lowering the Rune ever so slightly, the younger Astartes gave a pointed cough, "And...working on my abilities. Joined a group of Fulimancers trying to recreate the Hammerhand ability with bio-lightning. Modeling it after the energy fields of Power weapons"

Akil's eyes lit up at the thought, "Aaah interesting!" the Thousand Sons spoke, his voice melodious and regal, "That...could work! If you harmonize the energies of the Warp correctly you could rip apart all you touch without harming your body."

"Seconded." Auro interjected, further agitating Rene and Abdul, "I have had interest in powerfields for a while, but a method by which to craft them has been out of my reach."

"I have little to offer I believe due to my differing geneseed, and the fact that I have specialized in arts that tend towards the esoteric." Akil said, turning to face Rene and Auro before continuing,"That said, Auro I do believe that if you wish I could teach you how to communicate with machines via touch and Rene you could possibly learn how to heal them from a distance. Beyond the minor training that I can offer, I have nothing that is really applicable in terms of mental fortitude." Akil cut in to distract the meeting from the highly agitated Abdul. At his words, Rene leaned forward a slight bit to show his interest in learning a new form of healing, while Auro only raised an eyebrow slightly.

Rene nodded towards Akil, before signing with his hands, "I would appreciate another field of healing to study." As Akil mentally translated the signs into words a small smile grew on his face as he had found a person that was interested in learning some of his arts. "I would enjoy lessons on such an esoteric art myself." Interjected Raziel from his throne looking towards Akil.

"I apologize, Akil but I have no interest in learning how to perform technomancy. It cleaves too closely to telepathy to be usable except in passing. Rene, I do have some notes on the function of astartes bodies relating to the force projection vectors that we perform in daily movements, I would offer you a copy if you desire." The room flinched as Auro spoke with a modicum of emotion, somehow making his voice even harsher to listen to than his normal tone. With a shaky nod, Akil accepted his rebuttal although internally he promised to leave a folder of notes at his desk.

Beltran growled again, entering the conversation for the first time in truth "Impossible. There is no way to achieve such a state." the ancient Astartes rumbled, putting the folder down and sliding it back over to Auro, "Even if it does somehow reduce corruption, it is too divergent to be usable." he explained, unconsciously heating the room.

Only for Auro's oppressive weight of order to clamp down over it, "I admit my mindset is not for everyone, but the costs and benefits are well seen in me." Auro explained, his cold voice for once filled with passion, "I hear the whispers of Chaos less than any other of my ranking, and at the cost of only some of my power." Auro spoke, looking around the room to see each Brother, and cousin, in turn. "The primary theorem is over above all. I have turned my power upon itself in pursuit of that goal, and if any wish to learn more I am more than willing to give you aid."

"Auro, I would like to see a copy of the folder on my desk by tomorrow at the latest." The serene voice of Raziel interrupted.

"Brother," the gruff voice of Beltran interjected, "The tenants espoused here are antithetical to our standard mental trainings. It suggests turning our power against itself, rather than build walls around our souls."

Raziel took a deep breath, allowing himself a moment to gather his thoughts, "Regardless, Auro has more than proven that it does work. Better than anything we currently have, it seems. If it could be learned by others then the loss of power is an acceptable loss for the resistance it provides." Raziel explained, "And I have made my decision on this matter clear." Raziel commanded, his voice subtly echoing with dozens of voices drawn from times yet to come.

Fuming, Beltran returns to his seat, almost sulking from being so decisively denied his preferred course.

"I would appreciate a copy of your notes, Auro as I find myself intrigued by the possibilities. Perhaps with study they can be codified in a less restrictive manner." Akil spoke with a regal tone as he glanced over towards Auro, who favoured him with a twitch of the lips and a slight nod.

Abdul and Rene glanced at each other, a silent conversation passing between their eyes before at last Abdul broke away. "I can help distribute the information across the Library, maybe get some volunteers to try it. Though I'm not sure it'd work for me too well." Abdul shrugged, before a sly smile passed across his lips, "I tend to Push my limits a bit too much." he joked, suddenly energetic despite the heavy bags under his eyes.

Raziel, with grace and skill only the oldest Astartes in the Legion could muster, gently put his hand to his face.

Rene shook his head, before 'speaking' his part. "I like it." the giant signed, "What I've seen so far, at least. But I am unsure of its implementation before the Ritual Crusade." Rene continued, his fingers slowly combining into each sign in turn, "I am not as strong as you, and I'm afraid I might need every bit of strength I can muster."

"You should have your requested copies within the day. I predict within the next five hours as the scribes are not busy today." Auro spoke calmly facing Akil and Raziel when he did so, while picking up the master copy of his work.

"Would you mind if I transmit this information to my Legion?" Akil asked, not wanting to upset his distant cousin.
"Why would I care?" Auro asked, seeming, for a moment, honestly confused before continuing, "The more people that know the greater the chance is that it saves a Psyker that is in risk. I am not so prideful as to restrict those that can know it."

Beltran took a breath, attempting once more to calm the fires that raged within his soul, speaking only when he was absolutely sure he wouldn't lash out, "I am afraid," the old Captain admitted, "That I don't have much to offer here. I've spent most my time gathering and training my team." he admitted, pointedly ignoring how the temperature in the room flared up, however minutely, when he spoke, "And I'm afraid most of my techniques are simplistic, hardly worthy of being called techniques at all." he grumbled, "But: as for my mental shieldings, I will say I simply..." Beltran gestured vaguely in front of him, "burn it all away."

Raziel nodded, seeming to remember an old joke at that, "Ahh yes, I remember that. He sort of...inverts the walls around the soul principle too, venting his soul so as to burn away corruption, yes?"

Beltran nodded again, doing his best to ignore Akil as the Thousand Son bent down and began taking notes, or the wide-eyed awe of Rene, "The best defense" Beltran grumbled, levying a pointed glare at Auro, as if daring him to say something, "Is a good offense, after all."

A silence hung in the air at that, neither Gamma saying a word, and no one willing to earn their ire.

Rene cleared his throat, directing all attention to him, before signing his words, "Brother Auro," he started, "I'd be more than interested in getting your notes on the Astartes body." he signed, giving his older Brothers a wide grin, "And Cousin Akil, I do apologize, but I must decline. I'm afraid I'm intending on learning Pyromancy next."

"I would appreciate it." Auro nodded towards the gentle giant that was his brother, and pointedly ignoring the manipulation, "As well as any help you are willing to give."

Raziel, already seeing the end of the meeting coming, stood up from his throne, "Brothers!" he announced, "and cousin." he gestured lamely to Akil, who rolled his eyes at the joke, "I thank you for spending the time to discuss today's topics. Even if you felt them to be less important than your current activities.'' The Chief Librarian gave a pointed glare at Beltran, "Auro," he gestured to the Astartes in question, "your notes will be studied by several groups to see if they are applicable at a larger scare. Akil," again the chief Librarian gestured at his cousin, "any knowledge of Technomancy you are willing to share will aid us greatly in our reconstruction from Tvatar's Fall-" he boomed, ignoring as Abdul whispered something about a 'second Psyker rebellion' under his breath, "required many of our records to be expunged. Abdul." the young LIbrarian shot up into attention, "Like Auro I expect you to write a report on that Biomantic technique when you have made progress."

Thus said, Raziel again read the ebb and flow of fate and, seeing no more destruction than before, made his exit.

"Ohh! Does that mean the meeting is over?" Akil asked.

AN: A collaborative omake by me and Xemness about our Liberians and Akil having a meeting around this time to discuss stuff for the war to come

 

[Leon12431]

Duncan fumed as he slammed the door closed behind him. "Stupidly single minded idiot. Why the hell is he one of my brothers? He is so very ordered that anything outside of idiotically small tolerances is unacceptable." He ranted as he slammed open and close doors in his march to escape the room in which he had just met his leader for the upcoming ritual war.

It was disastrous, his leader was in his opinion a stupid micromanaging moron that couldn't accept anything less than perfection. On top of that, was the fact that he kept pushing and pushing him and Ahearn to adopt his mindset. Apparently not realizing that not everyone had the power to actually make it work.

To further compound everything was that he was not breaking any legion rule or even regulation. If anything he was actually the perfect astartes from the rule book perspective, further infuriating him and his librarian brother as they had worked hard to be chosen for a kill team, but gotten slated for the worst one.

Duncan could not envision a less qualified leader of a kill team if he tried, and was almost fully convinced that Auro had gotten the job only due to Perturabo liking him. "You are off by two point three four degrees of elevation with your bolter, you are wasting thirty three point five percents of a percent of energy with wasted motion, you are moving five point two percent slower than maximum." Duncan ranted as he repeated what Auro had told him in the latest session with meeting his commander, who had apparently taken the time since the last one to review all of the combat footage he could find of his kill team.

Normally, he would be overjoyed that his commander had seen fit to study his combat performance, but Auro managed to turn something that should be a compliment into a complete and total punishment. Nothing was good enough for the bastard, he never gave praise only commands for how to do better. Another part that drove Duncan to madness regarding Auro was the fact that he couldn't even declare him a hypocrite, if anyone gave him a flaw or other imperfection in his actions the man would spend hours ironing it out.

Which ended up preventing anyone from getting him written up for being unfair to the lower ranks, or abuse of power as he expected the same from himself as from others. Slamming open the door, to his room Duncan fell to the floor trying to expunge the memories of the last meeting which had covered psychic matters in particular, along with a side helping of other disappointing facts.

'Why is he so hard to get praise from? I do everything I can but he never even so much as offers me a nod. What do I have to do to get him to like me?' Such thoughts swirled in his mind as he rested on the floor, trying to figure out if there was any way to get praise from his commander. Every time he was called he hoped that he would get some measure of praise or approval from Auro, but it was always a clinical explanation of he was doing everything wrong.

Just today he had to endure several hours of excruciating analysis being devoted to illuminating how he was failing in countless ways in all manner of areas. From walking to running to actual combat everything had been dissected. Including an overly detailed analysis on how he was failing when it came to creating fire with his psychic powers. Apparently, it was unacceptable for a pryromancer to not understand how atoms functioned or how heat affected them, or the physics of plasma at high temperatures and once Auro realized that he knew nothing about any of that. He shivered as his mind turned to the lecture he had to endure as Auro had grabbed several tech priests and marines to slam into his mind every last ounce of information regarding fire he could find.

Compounding the humiliation was the fact that Auro, not even a pyromancer knew more than half the teachers he found, and when they ran out of stuff to teach. Auro had sealed the room and launched into a five hour long lecture that covered everything from the quantum effects of heat on metal to macro effects, by the end of which even the most fanatical of tech marines and priests were praying for escape. So he had ended up sitting through a twelve hour long lecture on principles that he didn't need, but Auro wouldn't take that as true and simply ignored him.

The door opened as another individual stepped through, "Duncan must you do this every time? Everyone knows that you dislike Auro, but this is beyond reason." Shuddering on the ground Duncan shook his head slightly as he looked up at the smiling face of his Brother Alistair. "You are lucky as you use a completely warp art. You have no idea how painful it is to listen to scientific lectures for hours on end." Moaned Duncan as his friend or perhaps betrayer walked into the room, closing the door behind him.

With a heave, Alistair picked him off the floor and threw him onto the cot that served as his bed. "Honesty, Auro isn't that bad. Sure he could do with a book of interpersonal communications thrown at him, but he could be worst. Its not like he steals your chocolate from you." At the word chocolate Duncan twisted to see Alistair grin down at him as he eagerly slurped up one of his rare chocolate smoothies.

"I hate you so very much." Was all he could muster from the state of total exhaustion he was suffering.

"See you are already feeling better. Isn't it nice to not have the worst person as your commander, brother?" Alistair prattled on as he slurped up the chocolate smoothie, as he watched his brother twice over just fume on his bed.

"Fine, fine you win brother. Auro isn't the worst you are." Glaring at his brother that would never just leave him alone.

"And don't you forget that." Smirked Alistair as he bopped Duncan on the nose with a chocolate covered spoon.

"Give me that spoon." Duncan commanded, even though he knew that his brother wouldn't listen to him. Smiling his brother simply started to slurp up more of the chocolate smoothie with the spoon. "That is enough of you stealing my chocolate, brother." Roared Duncan as he launched himself off of the cot and into his brother's form stealing the precious case of chocolate away and back into the secret ice box.

"Feel better now?" Alistair asked from underneath Duncan's form. "Yes, I do." Muttered Duncan as he stood up and shook himself off. "Mother would never let me hear the end of it if she heard that I didn't cheer you up." Alistair said as he began to tickle his younger brother as both had done prior to being chosen as space marines.

"So, just what did Auro do to get you into such a funk? As much as you don't like him, you usually don't act like you did when Mr. Blue got roasted. At least you didn't start crying that would have made my relation with you unbearable." His older brother prodded as he tickled him.

"No, no, no, don't bring up Mr. Blue I was only five when that happened. I don't cry, no stop, tickling me." Laughed Duncan as his older brother abused his knowledge of all his weak points mercilessly. "I was there and it was hilarious. You didn't even cry correctly, just shook on the floor for hours, until I started to tickle you. So what did Auro do beyond the lecture?" Alistair laughed as he continued to abuse his knowledge of his brother's weak points to the fullest.

"I can't please him. All I want is some praise from him." Blubbered Duncan as the tickling got to him fully, causing him to shake and convulse on the floor under his older brother.

"Silly, silly. You misunderstand Auro. He doesn't do praise, or anything normal. When he gives you a new estimate of a flaw that is praise for him. You just need to understand how he thinks. He doesn't get emotions, to him being given a better numerical report is the highest form of praise." Consoled Alistair as he reduced his tickling so that his brother could think beyond the laughter.

"What? You mean that he does give praise every time I see him? That can't be correct, he hates me." Duncan spoke completely flummoxed at the very concept of Auro not hating him completely or doing everything he did to make him feel bad.

"Brother, brother if you were having issues you could have told me a while ago. To answer your question I have seen the meeting transcripts and I feel that its safe to say that on the whole Auro approves of you as much as he can. He only has a few issues with us. He even went so far as to note on your transcript a recent duel you had with a member of 3rd company." Alistair retreated to let his brother recover a bit from the recent tickle frenzy that he had been subjected to and to process the new information.

"If, if Auro does give praise in the form of smaller flawed numbers, then he has given me praise every time we meet. But its so hard to understand that, why can't he just say good job or you did well?" Duncan asked as he pulled himself back onto the cot as he looked at his hands.

"It is part of his mindset, he doesn't let himself feel emotions by and large. He has them but chained down and restricted, compounding this is how he has turned his power upon itself enforcing order on chaos. This in turn has bled over to his mind which has become as ordered as his soul, or perhaps its a self sustaining cycle from mind to soul to mind. Either way, he is nearly completely incapable of understating normal conversations and actions." Alistair patiently explained as he sat on the other cot in the room, looking at his brother with intense eyes, pleading with him to understand that as much as he couldn't understand Auro. Auro had the same amount of trouble understanding him and everyone else.

"Good, seems that Duncan won't be a problem in the coming war. Alistair, Auro has requested you to meet with him in the next hour, to go over your powers and general skills once more. Duncan you are not requested for another meeting until two days from now." The door opened as the large figure of Feargus entered the room, with a sheet of paper in hand.

With a respectful nod, Alistair left the room to head over to Auro, knowing that it was going to be an interesting meeting as they always were. While his brother remained behind with Feargus. "I hope that you understand what Auro is now, Duncan. We can't afford to have our team riven by dislike or hatred." Feargus spoke in a calm yet strident tone as he stared down at Duncan, almost ordering him to respond.

With a shaky nod, Duncan nodded his understanding. Upon seeing the nod Feargus spun on his foot and left the room slamming the door behind him. Alone once more Duncan pulled out a binder that contained notes he and his brother had made over the years regarding their powers. He had always been drawn to the art of the flame, while his brother had sought ways to harm the creatures from without even in the very beginning. Duncan could recall the first time that his brother had rejected a daemon from entering the mortal world. They were only eight and nine respectively and the daemon was incredibly weak only barely above a fury in strength, but it gave Alistair a point to focus his efforts on and since then he had become quite proficient at disrupting rituals and banishing daemons.

With a sigh, he returned the journal to its place and fell back onto the cot quickly falling asleep, hoping that his brother was correct about Auro.

AN: an omake about Auro's kill team and the three main people, two Zetas that were brothers even before becoming wardens and Feargus the leader of 12 non psychic astartes

 

[Leon12431]

A young child carefully pushed open the wooden door to their home, stepping in from the darkness of oblivion outside of the lantern lit home. Within the single room house stood the child's mother with an expression of fear on her face.

Grabbing the child by the ear, the mother drags the child over to the fireplace where seven logs are alight with flames, where upon she presses the scared child's palm into the burning wood deaf to the cries of pain coming from her own child. Only relenting when the flesh burned black and pain stopped did she remove the hand from the burning wood to treat it with the remedy of herbs.

As the child whimpered in pain from the test of flame, the mother glared as she had to have harmed her own child. Yet, such was needed to ensure that the Encompassing Darkness did not slip on in through the child's entry into the home.

With the child tested, the mother placed her own hand upon the wood and tested herself the same as with the child to ensure that all was true within the house this night. As her flesh blackened and burned a whisper from without sough entry to her mind. The pain and fear armored her mind against the creeping touch of darkness denying it what it so hungered for.

Yet, even as one family lived to see another day even with the child's folly another would not be so lucky, as across town another child one that had played with the first only moments ago, entered their home. Finding their father standing before the door, and were sent to bed without the test of flame preformed.

That night as the first suffered in pain, their minds were hardened against the creeping darkness, the second family unburdened by pain and flame suffered instead. Darkness swirled and became another, a dark mirror of the child arose and slew the father with a single strike before the child met the same fate.

A tyrant across the world suffered the same as he dared the darkness without light or flame and brought forth the Scrounge of Darkness upon his lands, as the creatures of Shadow arose and fell upon his kingdom that lived in fear of him, with a dark mirror of their tyrant leading the shadows that slaughtered them all.

No hero would arise this night, for in the night the darkness reigned supreme and all beacons of light quenched by its touch, upon the dawn all saw the horror that had befallen those that had dared the darkness without flame or light, they had met themselves and had been found wanting.

Yet, the pact still held and so day belonged to the people of the world, while the night belonged to the Darkness. To walk in the darkness without flame or light is to bring the darkness in with you, and none except the wisest of all could walk with such freedom, only they could walk the forever shadowed pathways. - translated myth of dead human world

Rubbing his eyes Raynor Zerek, frowned at the translated myth that his team had dug up. It bore some elements that resembled what he had been told to look for in such works, but at the same time it didn't have all of them. However, the explicit mention of the Encompassing Darkness did move it upward on the probability spectrum.

Deciding that in this case, since his life was on the line if he messed up that it was prudent to put it in the box and see what the higher ups thought. Putting the translation into the box earmarked for express travel to the higher ups, he mostly forgot about the myth for a while.

A few days later he was back in the same dig, translating some more of the same myth or a companion myth of it, detailing little more but giving more credence to the idea that it was something urgent.

The box in which the myths sat along with a few artifacts were soon moved out to other sites where other archeologists added more items to the sealed container formed out of lead and adamantium, all in preparation for transit to Terra where a much more prepare group would go over the findings and see if anything was in them to be concerned about.

The lonely box made its slow way from the planet all the way to terra where it was finally opened and researched extensively.

Robert Finze was the one on duty when the box arrived. Slightly irritated at the lack of a do nothing night as usual in this job he slowly opened the box and began to lift items from the box. Carefully extracting the papers and restored items from the box, the moment he saw the items, panic seared through his body as he raced across the room to slam the alarm button down.

As the blaring alarms triggered he hurriedly began to shift through the artifacts he had in front of him. The physical ones were quickly placed in a tray to go undergo more intensive scanning, but the written records were the real prize here.

As he slowly read over the translated records, his heart beat with ever more terror as he realized just how much a nightmare had been unearthed. Grabbing a pen he began to write the report that would see this moved up several levels of importance.

Report on archeology dig
Importance level: Alpha Priority
Subversive elements of unnatural origin discovered, possibly tier 1 threat ranking for subversive element.
Keywords: Darkness, Mirror, Inversion, Flame

As the door slammed open for the security troops, Robert only hoped that he would see another day as the box and all of its items were moved out of the room and into another.

Months later a report slide across Malcador's desk, marked with the golden border the represented Chaos threats.

Report on Gaun'adym the Imitator
Type: Tzeentch
Rank: Exalted

The daemon that has been discovered to go by the name of either the Imitator or Gaun'adym is an exalted daemon of Tzeentch. Unlike most other daemons of Tzeentch, this daemon doesn't use sorcery or mutation, but instead utilizes the alternative potential pathways for time to have unfolded.

It generally takes the form of the closet such possible to an Inversion of the champion that it is facing on the battle field. Along with it taking the form of a champion or commander, it also splits into an army that is anywhere from one thousand to one billion strong with each individual fighter form increasing in strength based on the number that are extant at the time.

It is estimated that at around five thousand the individual fighting forms are equal to Astartes, they seem to never reach much beyond that point however which is lucky for us.

As for killing the daemon, its main form is near untouchable until it has lost a majority of its army or the champion copy is disrupted several times in quick succession.

AN: a short report on a possible Exalted Daemon of Tzeentch I thought of

 

[Leon12431]

In the common room of the Library of the Eternal Wardens, there was a recent addition to the already cluttered filled room. On a brand new table, sat a tome that was one of the thickest in the room at almost five thousand pages written in such a fine print that even for astartes it was difficult to follow the writings. Embossed on the cover in burnished silver were the words: Crescum Auro' Guide to The Materium Discipline: A full guide.

Next to the much larger tome, sat a smaller yet still imposing book with another similar title embossed on its surface. This one proclaimed itself as: Crescum Auro' Guide to The Materium Discipline: A summary. On the table sat a card that bore the name of Raziel who ordered the books to remain in the room and were open to any that sought to learn from them.

Most of those that past the room, payed little attention to the books for they currently were pressed for time with the coming war. Yet, every so often one would open the smaller of the two and look through the table of contents before flipping through the pages to find what they sought.

Across the room, Duncan stared at the books, pondering whether to peer into the mind of the most confusing of his Brothers, or if his sanity was better served else where. With a faint smile his brother Alistair poked him in the side and nodded over towards the books on the table.

With an aggravated sigh, Duncan stood up and slouched on over to the books, where he slowly opened the smaller of the two and found himself confronted with a thick table of contents, covering an impossible range of topics. From mental organization, to power control, to physical science such as armor designs and more. Running his finger down the list, around three quarters of the way through he came across the section simply titled Techniques.

Flipping through the thousand page tome, to the chapter that he sought was interesting for his eidetic memory saw and recorded pages describing celestial phenomena that he had never heard of before, such as the Higgs boson field, the curvature of space around gravity, the bending of light and more all in small pages that were just minute parts of larger chapters all dedicated to informing the reader of what Auro knew and how he applied it.

When he reached the chapter he sought, the first thing he noticed was that it was by far the smallest of all the chapters, with only ten pages to its name in total, instead of the one hundred of the next smallest. Further confusing Duncan was the remarkable lack of techniques listed in the summary of the page, with only four being listed as true techniques and the rest being lesser than those four.

The first he found was one simply labeled Plasma Storm, with the text following describing how it was formed, its usages and more importantly that it was the first ability that gained the description of technique.

Plasma Storm
Type: Technique
Effect: Area of Effect
Usage type: Army elimination, Fortress Assault, Ork Spore Purging
Time Length: With fire to use thirty point one five seconds, without fire minimum of ten minutes and heat source
Notes: Potent, wasteful, clumsy, uncontrollable, High damage
Description: Utilizing existing fire, draw atomic energy from surrounding area to increase the temperature of corralled fire. Once fire reaches chosen temperature release at target.

See chapter Fire/Plasma/Stars for more information on this technique

Beyond the simple description of the technique there was almost nothing to work with on the page and with a sinking heart, Duncan flipped the book over to the listed chapter section and promptly flipped back. He had no interest in reading something that looked like it would give tech priests a head ache to understand.

The next technique was little better with somehow even less information presented in the chapter that was meant to list such things.

Lighting Bolt
Type: Technique
Effect: Branching/straight/single
Usage type: Precision target, commander elimination, machinery elimination
Time Length: point three four seconds
Notes: Potent, precise, controllable, Moderate Damage (Scale), Heavy Damage (micro)
Description: Standard attack technique, underused due to illumination and sonic issues presented in use of technique. Separation of charges for cast.

See chapter Fire/Plasma/Lighting and Atoms/Nucleus/Electrons/Charges for more information regarding technique.

Shivering in fright at what he would find if he dared to look at the second section Duncan quickly flipped the page to move onto the next technique. Which was a bit more interesting that the previous as it had more information, although the majority of it seemed to be criticism of the technique in question.

Stellar Flare
Type: Technique
Effect: Area of Effect
Usage Type: Nuclear Option, Last Stand
Time Length: Life/Death situation: one second with warp, one hour without warp
Notes: Uncontrollable, Extreme Damage, High Risk of Death to Self, Draws upon the warp
Description: Combines the power of Plasma Storm and Lighting Bolt into a single technique. Results in the creation of an emulation of a Coronal Mass Ejection. Properly executed, reaches temperatures of 30 million degrees, emits an EMP pulse powerful enough to kill astartes level power armor.
Secondary notes: Inefficient, extremely unrefined, almost certain to kill user. Useless

See chapters Fire/Plasma/Star. Atoms/Nucleus/Electrons/Charges and Magnetism

Raziel Notes: By order of Chief Librarian Raziel this technique is hereby banned to anyone that is not a master of Pyromancy or has explicit permission from the Chief Librarian.

Blanching Duncan flipped the page to get away from the simply terrifying technique that implied stuff that he didn't want to think about. Flipping forward a few pages to get out of the ramblings of just how useless Stellar Flare was and how it should be forgotten as a waste of time. He eventually came across another technique, this one seemly two in one combination similar to Stellar Flare but distinct.

Flash Freeze/Heatrip
Type: Combination Technique
Effect: Precision Area of Effect
Usage type: Army elimination, commander elimination, high damage
Time: zero point nine five seconds to start chain, zero point thirty four to maintain chain
Notes: Controlled, effective, universal, refined
Description: Transporting the atomic energy of another into the atoms of another. Resulting in the flash freezing of the first target, followed by combustion of second target. Highly precise, preferred technique.

See chapters Energy/thermodynamics and Atoms/Nucleus/Temperature for more information

Duncan shivered as he just considered how deadly his commander actually was if this was the preferred technique that he used, although the more he read the more concerned he became about what else Auro had in the book. As he turned the last page of the chapter he saw to his surprise no technique only something that was called a flexible technique.

Shift
Type: Flexible
Effect: Variable
Usage type: Variable
Time: thought
Notes: Can shift energy states between locations, up to 85 percent of energy can be transversed, all forms of energy can be shifted. Effects nearly unlimited, origin of all techniques. Loss of flexibility for improved power source of techniques.

See chapters Energy, Atoms, Reality, Mindset for more information

The moment he read the last word, he simply closed the book and walked back to his brother who was laughing at him silently. Shaking his head wondering just what kind of insane person Auro really was, for no one sane could have derived a truly unbounded technique from simple study. Shuddering he quickly took the chocolate that his brother offered in an attempt to sooth his mind, silently promising himself that he would never open the books again.

AN: not my best work, but this is a short omake on the tome that Auro made for Raziel that included everything he could think of and one of his kill team's men reading some of it.