The Lost Primarch Quest

[TinyGladiator]

Hiya! Decided to make a 'Limbo of the Lost' reference- uh, I mean an omake about Kesar Dorlin having dreams with Runes (or rather their concepts) inspiring/speaking to him again. This one is a bit weird but I hope ya enjoy it!
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The [Destiny] and [Fate] of Kesar Dorlin.

It starts in a deep dream, as it always does. A feeling of sinking down into somewhere else. Entering a place that was not a place.

This was deeper than anywhere else. Brighter, darker, full of shapes of endless simplicity and complexity. The waves were tranquil around an inner sea, pressure that would destroy anything unable to find the true path, an abstraction beyond easy definition.

There are fleeting images that you will never fully remember, sights your mind could not comprehend, the shadows of things being cast into your perception. In the distance there were the sounds of planets crashing against planets, the birth and death of stars, acts that have sent ripples across reality and beyond.

The light grows brighter, brighter and brighter. Your eyes feel as though they are burning as they witness something. It is too much to bear, even for something like you, vision fades into a quiet haze of darkness as you shut your eyes and keep them open at once.

Then there is a feeling of rushing air, flowing water, starlight cascading across the heavens and it all twists into a new shape.

You open your eyes and you were within a room without windows and doors. Neither small nor large, neither tall nor short, neither filled or barren. It was just a room, and it defied further description until that too had changed.

In your mind your thoughts described a space that was as golden as the Imperial Palace, as familiar as the Vigilance that voyaged across the stars, as cold as the first ice and snow of Valhalla. A moment of stability, of safety, in a realm that did not normally confine to reason and reality. A dream-bubble within the very depths in the Warp. So it was.

You were on a throne that was made out of silver, obsidian and ancient ivory. The familiar colours brings a sense of comfort. It was a reflection of yourself and your standing here, granted a cordial symbol of respect. In front of you was-

-the light still burned in your eyes, your retinas imprinted by the scalding mark of absolute radiance, crawling in sharp patterns that cut through everything without resistance, the flame that was within the foundational engine, the heat behind the universe's first and last breath, the brilliance that mortals and gods coveted since the primal dawn, burning into your mind, rising in the tides and waves as what brought the tides and waves, the shadows it formed where everywhere around you, in the throne, in your hands, in your-

-it was…

You blink and then you see a mirror. It was as black as the night that came before any light, as formless as nothingness, as great and large as a mountain. It went beyond the room, seeming to be as a shadow that was cast from elsewhere into the secluded space. Disembodied light shined upon the mirror and you saw yourself, on another throne, but it was not you.

He was old and radiated history, experience and the scars of long battles. A sword that resembled Epitaph rested by the side of his throne, glimmering with motes of light that radiated here, the edge sharpened to a point that you could see the air blur around its edge as it was cut. The armour was carved with a script so small, fine and densely interwoven that it could not be read, whether they were names or Runes.

Their face was weathered by time, their hair seemed to be flecked with shades of grey, their eyes were wells that reflected the radiant light you had initially seen. It was the you of the future, a distant time of tomorrow. Not something unclear or alien. This avatar was clearer than anything you had seen.

This was no ordinary dream.

With a wave of the apparition's [Hand], something else had appeared. Between the two of you was now a simple table, a grey hexagon made out of smooth stone, long and raised to be within your reach. There is the feeling of anticipation that surges across the object, the air you breathe, the aura of the figure before you.

'Hello, Kesar Dorlin.' the doppelganger greeted, a deeper voice that was like your own, smiling as one who had never smiled before. 'Care to play a game?'

You know better than to agree to something like that. Previous dreams had ended up without issue or influence, merely inspiration for your work in conceptually channelling, but even while in a psychic dream were you not going to let your guard down.

"Who are you?" you ask, peering into the dark mirror and studying all that you could make out from within.

'That will be part of the game, but I'm sure you'll figure it out quickly. Will you play?'

You consider the creature, the table, the room, the dream and the offer. This was more than inspiration. This was presented as a test.

This was either an attack or an opportunity, and you weren't sure which it was. You were leaning towards the latter, as these dreams hadn't been a problem before, but the former was kept well in mind. Anything could happen in a mind, in a soul, and this felt more real and powerful than anything else.

You could refuse, reject this entirely and find a way back to your waking self, but you'd sooner bring down your mental fortress than freely leave any influence to possibly remain somewhere within you.

"Know that no matter what you truly are, or what this place might really be, I will not hesitate to kill you if this is a trick against me."

'You can defeat me, but you cannot kill me.' the mirror declared simply, not a boast but as simple description that was the only answer. 'Not even gods or higher beings can bring my end, and many have tried. I ask again, shall we play our game?'

You choose to neither fully accept nor deny. You lean forward, hands clutching the sword that was always by your side, and you look straight into the eyes of your doppelganger.

"Show me this game."

The figure smiled, the action more natural and unnatural than last time, and clapped their [Hands] together. The mirror cracked and broke instantly.

An infinite amount of black fragments, midnight gemstones falling across the room and outside it, the shadows flickering with light unyielding that flared across the table. On the other side was now the other throne and your mimic in true, 'physically' manifested instead of just a reflection.

They stretched out one [Hand] to catch the falling fragments, the falling stars, and carried the weight of that which shaped worlds and stars and all that existed within the galaxy. As a titan of old myth did they carry a flame within their fingers, burning and moulding the glass into a new form. As a god did they call forth a new law, a new being, a new way as they casted the reformed pieces onto the table.

As a challenger did they match your piercing gaze as they gestured to the table.

You slowly look down and see that the stone hexagon had changed. The once smooth surface had been carved into a grid of repeating hexagons within the wider surface, akin to the hives of the extinct bees that once swarmed upon ancient Terra. The object had seemed relatively small before, just an ordinary table in size, yet now it seemed to stretch beyond all limits of perception as you tried to follow the lines and spaces to an edge.

Directly in front of you were several miniature depictions of warriors in power armour, the black stone tinted in parts with white and silver. Despite being made from glass, or something that first appeared and acted as glass, no light at all passed through these figurines.

The one closest to you was the clearest to be seen. Standing at a height that was double that than the others, with a familiar sword unsheathed and pointed out to the distance, was yourself. Decorated in a perfect miniature of your armour, to the point that you could make out individual names as you focused your gaze upon Memoria's plate, the Runes you wore gleaming with motes of energy. Your face showed determination, strength and the will to see the greatest of Chaos fall.

Surrounding you were the Heroes of your Legion, your most cherished sons. Oriacarius within a command centre, blade and pistol at the ready. Maticus wielding the Sword of the Lost in two hands, charging forward to an unseen combatant. Doom Slayer with a panoply of weaponry, the patterns of black and white given a murky quality as though stained by blood, like a spectre of death and slaughter. Solarus holding a device that you hoped wouldn't actually detonate, tools and materials lining their armour. Crescum Auro withing a ritual circle that you did not recognise the purpose of. Durante standing beside a smaller, paler figure as he rushed forward. Baldur simply standing at the ready.

In front of all those pieces were amalgamate figures that were towers of armoured limbs, helmets, blades, bolters, volkites, plasma guns, Terminator gear, what seemed to be Dreadnought components, banners that displayed different Runes upon them that you both recognised and did not. You belatedly realise that you should not have been able to have seen such fine detail, such dense information, from such tiny figurines of carved and coloured glass.

Even as a Primarch, attuned to psychic power, so much you saw shouldn't have been noticeable or discernible. Dreams reflected logic and physical space, just like a mirror, but were as disconnected from reality's rigid laws as the depths of the Warp were. You could almost make out faces within the towers, faces that you could almost make out, under a dense sea of etched names on conjoined plates.

"Where is Orion?" you ask as you restrain yourself from picking up any of the pieces to get a closer look. As someone who carved complex psycho equations, and was the brother to Perturabo and Vulkan, you had to admire the craftsmanship of the figurines. If that was even the right term for these objects.

'Not on this board right now.' the dream-self replied, waving towards the far side of the endless grid. 'They're in the distance.'

You examine the pieces before you, the grid and what this game likely was. There was no possible way that what happened here influenced what actually happened in the galaxy or your sons, vivid dream or not. A Rune was trying to reach you, or rather the concept behind it was, and aside from something directly related to Chaos you knew that few things would be foolish enough to try going against you like this.

If it did have the power to influence what was really reflected on this board, with or without you carving the Rune, then rejecting this game would just put your sons at risk.

"How do I play?" you ask.

'In this game, the only piece you truly control is that one.' the old version of yourself points to your own piece. 'The rest you can guide, setting up their initial arrangement and combinations. For your first time playing, I will allow you to move them as you see fit.'

"Where are the pieces going? What are they up against?"

[EVERYWHERE/EVERYTHING].

The word strike the world like a hammer.

There is light. There is darkness. There is the board. There is… you?

You open your eyes and witness a giant expanse of grey worlds that stretch off into the distance. Your limbs cannot move. Your face cannot shift its frozen expression. You cannot blink your unwavering eyes. You cannot breathe. You cannot do anything except stand and watch and think. Surrounded by your sons, the towers formed of your sons, in an expanse that is without definition.

You are on the board. You are the piece. You are a part of the greater game.

You blink and you see the grid-board as it stretches across the horizon, limitless in scope, each space was a reflection of the galaxy and its worlds and moon and stars and ships and stations and asteroid fields and more. Warp rifts howled across or within the hexagonal planes, trying to swallow everything into their endless hunger, spilling forth poison that weakened the veil of reality. Fleets that burn planets or do stranger things. Stiff and motionless, yet full of life and action.

Beyond the board yet within it at the same time were other tables that were stacked above and below, outside the normal boundaries that governed everything. A realm of twisted flame and arcane screams, a garden full of diseased life and foul decay, a fortress of brass and the skulls from countless warriors, a palace where every desire is taken to complete excess. The Warp, the Realms of the Archdaemons, your ultimate target.

You blink and you are back on the throne, able to breathe again in your lucid existence, your eyes narrowing as you gazed upon your impassive doppelganger.

'Does that explain things sufficiently to you?' the mirrored being asked. 'If not, then look to your [Hand].'

You feel the weight of the world within your right hand, clenched in a fist you did not remember making. You open it up to reveal a collection of gemstones, cut from the same broken glass, perfect little pyramids, cubes, octahedrons and other geometric shapes unveiled. Each facet displayed a different symbol which you knew had to be numbers after a quick comparison. It was all dice.

"You're not going to roll?" you asked, somewhat surprised by this turn of events.

'It wouldn't be fair, not until you have rolled first.'

You look down to the board and your pieces. You moved your hand to reach your own piece, to put it ahead of all the others on your side, but it would not budge. A ring of gold had surrounded your figurine, as a shackle to keep it in place. You understood what that meant, and focused on the upcoming battle for your sons.

You carefully consider the 'towers' that were on the board, each representing a significant chunk of your Legion's forces. You know in your heart how many each piece represented, the factors and variables all considered even when that shouldn't have been known, and you feel the rules and purpose of the game flow through your fingertips as you reach out for the pieces. How far one could move. What it could accomplish. What it might end up against.

You looked ahead and saw a vast array of different fragments, some misshapen and hidden while others were clear and carefully cut to be seen. There were human or at least humanoid warriors, some with starships or crackled with psychic powers. There were daemons of each god, and things you assumed were daemons but weren't entirely sure the allegiance and nature of them. Things that were either xenos or mutants, and fouler or more abstract monsters that defied easy categorisation.

The ones in the distance, except for those of the four other tables, were typically murkier or stranger than you could easily understand. The closest ones were more visible. A group of worlds with corrupted xenos, a planet with a mechanical overlord, a fleet that displayed a symbol that represented 'Astartes', a world run by Squats and Aeldari, a world shrouded in shadow, a great ship that was twisted by Tzeentchian logic, and several other horrors from the Maelstrom.

"How are my sons?" you inquire, out of genuine curiosity and to test this entity. "My true sons, not these figurines."

There is a moment where the doppelganger seemed to hesitate, features shifting slightly in thought, eyes glancing elsewhere before they focus back to you. 'Only time will tell what will happen.'

You carefully consider the board. Minutes begin to pass in the silent moment of contemplation, as your mind races with what you knew and what you didn't. With such an abstraction, a different and simplified lens to everything, you couldn't make all the decisions that you would have wanted to do. To be confined to the rules, the roll of dice, the unseen and the distant authority you had over the course of events.

Eventually, for the purposes of the game, you continue. You arrange the positions of your forces, you make them move to their proper places in battle, following the rules of the game in the best way to ensure victory and the survival of your sons.

You had faith in their capabilities, their power and their will, even within the putrid depths of a once colossal rift. Even the gods would falter in trying to defeat your champions, your wonderful warriors against the monsters in the Warp. You trusted them.

You trust had been a bit too much here.

The dice fall for each element of your side, except for your own piece that was so close yet so distant from your Eternal Wardens, and you see the results. Hope dies as you see the results shift in the tumbling of the dark glass, the radiant numerals, the finality behind their motion.

Most of the towers, significant chunks of your army, crumble and fall to dust that is brushed aside by an unseen breeze. Scratches cleave deeply into the figurines of your heroes, leading deep marks that made you consider what would result in such wounds in truth, with some of them also falling or retreating. There was victory here, dominance over the darkness, but it was far smaller than expected.

You see the opponents hurt, unharmed, slain and victorious over what you have done. New ones had appeared mid-fight, groups of daemons that had descended where they had found weakness, Undivided unity against your Daemonsbanes. Your Legion had ended up decimated, losing so many lives and pillars that had helped push your forces into the deep nest of madness that was the Maelstrom.

As the dice finished their turns and tumbles, no more numbers able to be rolled, you look down at the largest piece on your side. How you wished that you could have been there with them, in the game and in reality. How you wished you could have been there by their side, fighting with them, leading from the front, slaying daemons instead of resting back on Terra and dealing with political strife and potential civil war.

How you wished you could…

'If only you could have been there, if things had been different, if this piece went that way or done this instead. What could have been?'

The voice of the avatar shakes you from your contemplation, your sorrow. You look up with anger, a silent challenge to this game.

Without another word, the old doppelganger manifests their own dice in their [Hand]. The dark glass glows as it is remoulded by the fingers of an expert, by the power that was great enough to shift the results and faces of such artefacts. You blink and then you are the one holding the dice, the weight neatly fitting in your clenched fist.

They were the same geometric shape, identical to everything you had thrown to the table just previously, but there were differences you immediately noticed. Some of the numbers were repeated, lower and higher, and some sides were heavier or lighter than the others. Loaded dice.

With a wave of the avatar's [Hand], the grey board had shifted to the recent past. All the pieces on both sides had been restored back to how they were just before you had cast even a single one of these objects. You nearly reached forward to change your previous decision, to move your figurines closer together or away from certain threats, but something in your hearts told you that it couldn't be done.

You briefly look back up to the gaze of the spirit, the living inspiration that has challenged you with this sight. You are ready to match the challenge you have been given. You had begun this game, you would see this through to its end.

You now knew what you were facing.

The dice were rolled, the fate of what had happened was shifted. Certain battles had dramatically changed, little details and moments adding up to radically different results. Victory was greater for both sides, as was failure and loss.

The mechanical overlord was beaten back more, explosions rippling across the stretch of space, while more was lost. The corrupted xenos were butchered until there was one world left, where a grand battle had occurred between your forces and the daemons. The twisted ship was dealt with far easier, over a longer back and forth. The shadow world writhed as the dice seemed to shake as you rolled them, stranger than it had gone before.

Death and destruction, glory and greatness, extremes magnified but mostly to utterly extreme lengths. Things were more focused, pushed ahead or pulled back, harnessed to a specific degree. The board itself had seemed narrower than before, no longer just a wide open space of endless possibility.

'It makes for a better story, yes?' the old version of yourself, the thing wearing that image, spoke with a voice of satisfaction. Not the mad glee that you witnessed in the daemons and corrupted of Chaos, but the quiet enjoyment of a craftsman whom had shown some of their work.

The dice fall from the doppelganger's [Hands], from your hands, and then they go further. Physically moving some of the pieces around from both sides, without rolling for them at all, changing actions around in small and big ways. They smile as the game is over.

'This is my offer to you, Kesar Dorlin. It's not as much as you might believe. A little push here and there, a little pull to keep things going as they should. A light shifting of the dice for most, and something greater at those special times that you keep finding yourself at. A fitting tool for you, wouldn't you agree?'

"I know who you are," you speak, the words bringing a stillness towards the realm. "As well as what you are."

'Indeed?' the question lingering in the air with anticipation.

"I first thought that you might have been 'Chance' or 'Fortune', but the way you framed this game makes me think otherwise. If you had appeared more close to how I am now, I would have guessed 'Mimic' or even my own self, but you are too old and too different. You hold power and relevance to wider things, showing omens on this board, and with the focus on me…"

There can be only one answer, one name plucked amidst other possibilities, and you know it to be true.

"…you are Destiny."

The figure simply nods at your answer, a human gesture for such an inhuman thing. Another gesture is casually made, wiping the board clean.

'Call me the [Guiding Hand], for I am that which shifts and turns the individual within the wider game. I am the shadow that is cast by all you have done, all you will do, all that you are doing. I am the motion of your gears, the pull of the lever, the beating of your hearts and breath in your lungs. I am every choice and reaction you have done and has been done to you. I am what you call [Destiny].'

The Guiding Hand leans forward, the throne so close to yours now when it had been so distant before, and in the palm of their hand is the loaded dice. The ability to shift your own destiny, to change what would have happened, to focus yourself with the power of narrative assistance.

'Take it and it will be yours, whenever you wish it to be so. You need only make one of your [Runes] to call upon me, to carve my shape through your mind and soul and into your reality. Then the power that is [Myself] will be with you, for good and ill. This is not freedom from fortune, nor a shackle to determined results. This is merely a path for you to take, overcome, follow, conquer, eat, destroy. To do with it what you wish and will, for this is [Yourself].'

You carefully consider the offer, staring into the loaded dice as you thought about the two games you had played and the results that had occurred from your choices and the apparent whims of random chance.

No matter what you did, no matter how much you prepared and how strong or skilled or capable or resourceful you would become, there was always the chance that things could go wrong. A little note of discord in an ordered melody, an unseen thorn from a sculpted wooden statue, a beginning of an avalanche from one wayward snowflake falling from the skies at the worst moment. This wouldn't prevent that, not for most such events at least, but it would shift such thing away from just sudden destruction into something else.

More than just chance, it would change things in a stronger way. A random enemy sniper having their gun misfire, slightly miss their target, give a non-fatal wound when death should have been the result because that was against the story. Or they had been caught or were too slow. Anything would become a new opportunity for the story.

From a sudden end to the flow of narrative to becoming part of it, to continue it than stop or turn against it. An ambush happening at just the right moment, an army rushing at just the right time, a fighter reaching their enemy when they would have escaped.

This would not be a total removal of choice or chance, this was a shifting of odds and reinforcement of narrative weight and the power that sprang from such a resource. By using it correctly, you could accomplish things that you would never dream of even attempting let alone succeeding at. Setting up conflicts that resonated with you and against an enemy, destroying them as things kept turning to the orbit of the tale of your life, to use the edge of a story as your blade.

A battle against a foe that the Warp churned against, granting you the same protection and advantage it typically gave for only the monsters you swore to destroy. Things coming in alignment for a perfect moment, a series of events that twist and turn to the heartbeat that defined libraries and ancient mythologies, to build a path to your ultimate desire.

You imagined the sight of you and your sons, after a grand and impossible war within the very depths of Chaos, standing over the ruins of a vast nightmare realm as you took a head from one of the Four Archdaemons that ruled the putrid depths of the Warp. The struggle and effort rewarded in a way it never had been before.

This could bring you victory, the winds freely flowing in your sails, or at least be of significant help. It could save you, your sons, everything you have fought for and continued to fight for.

At the same time, you knew that it could be your downfall. 'Doom' was another word to describe Destiny, the ill omen of a future full of strife and struggle against countless obstacles. Tragedy and drama were interwoven with stories, to dismiss such elements would bring your downfall if you tried to make the Rune of Destiny.

Enemies that you would have felled normally could become stronger if they didn't end up weaker, turning easy victories into something far more difficult and pyrrhic if not turn it into a defeat in a worse-case scenario. You would be empowered, that much you were certain of, but that same power would influence everything you every fought for good or ill.

None were better suited to the power and weight of narratives as daemons. For as Heroes rose for their deeds, as you had researched and written about before even coming back to the Imperium, so too were there Villains. The champions of Chaos would likely be granted a tremendous boon, if perhaps not one that saved them from death. Ensuring that any fight against them would last longer or require more effort, wounds dealt to you diving deeper, that there was a true battle than an quick execution.

Yet that could also have been further reason to reach for this. It would help ensure that such things would die, even if the two of you struggled far more to reach such a point. To prevent them from escaping, to grant you more strength from the ordeal's triumph, to give you what you needed to reach your goal even as the path fought your steps.

One of the Archdaemons, and almost everything that stemmed from that infernal source, was heavily interwoven. The Architect of Fate already twisted chance and determined results, the future and even the past being manipulated by its power. Already against such a thing, would it be a mistake to wield it yourself to fight on what could be more even terms?

With enough effort, even if the flow of the river was pushing against you, it would be possible to do anything. If it was pushing with you, then you could achieve what truly should not have been possible. Could you go against Destiny while wielding it? From its words…

Your mind drifted to countless stories of those who went up against their destiny, and the results of such struggles. You couldn't recall most of them ending well.

Was it truly worth it?

"Now I shall ask something of you before we continue."

'Ask!' the Guiding Hand of Destiny happily allowed, pulling away their dice for a moment. 'But know that I can only answer a fair question. Understanding is the crux of your position.'

"What have I done to earn this game?" asking the question that was at the forefront of your mind now. "To have you come to me, something so powerful that I now know even gods have failed to truly thwart, to allow me to know your design to bring it forth?

The avatar silently regarded you, their body still and motionless for a while as though it forgot to move or express it at all. Contemplating you with a blank detachment that no living thing could truly express. Despite how they talked and how you had seen them before, you didn't fully understand the thoughts and awareness that concepts possessed.

'You wish to know more first?' the Guiding Hand suddenly asked, its strange smile returned. 'Understandable, you have only begun to tap into concepts beyond the normal flow of what you know as the [Warp]. Shall we see your prior games to find an answer?'

The hexagonal board was filled again with figurines, arranged in different patterns, fewer Heroes of the Eternal Wardens than you had seen before but far more dense overall. Surrounding them were Iron Warriors and Perturabo, White Scars with Jaghatai Khan, Ultramarines with Roboute Guilliman and in a far side was the Emperor of Mankind with Malcador the Sigillite and the Custodes.

The initial war within the Maelstrom, its last moments as a colossal rift than as a faint scar, played out before you. The table itself seemed to shift for all the pieces and the worlds, even the spaces surrounding your father, moving in roiling waves and turbulent tides while remaining as still and motionless as endlessly repeating stone. Dice tumbled from the mirror-fragments once more, this time just falling unseen from above as the results played out as you remembered.

'There's so much to pick from. Why can you call upon me? Because I allow it, because I decide it, because I find you interesting and worthy of such a thing. If we need a true reason or origin, then we can pick one here and have it decide how things go in the future. You may have earned me by this war or another conflict.'

Time passes in reverse, in memories reflected by the abstract medium of this game. Dice falls, daemons emerge, figurines shift and change. Just as space seemed to be distorted, infinite yet condensed within this stone table, so too did temporal perception. You felt like you witnessed every detail be dragged out in full, a complete show over the Maelstrom war, the Battle of Three Stars, the Cadian Crucible, the Gehenna Massacre and so many other conflicts great and small.

Eternity passed by in a few fleeting seconds, the vivid memories pouring through your fingers like sand, it was just a game here. Until the board was empty again, the brief show wiped away as you looked up to the doppelganger once more.

'Or maybe we can do away with such a ritual, an abstraction for your needed understanding, and know that you are simply a man to which [Destiny] is strongly expressed and bound to every single thing you do.'

The [Hand] is stretched out once more. Nothing was inside, no geometric shapes again, but the power behind it was still there. Hanging in the air with anticipation. The way to shift the course of events. It burned in your mind as you really considered what you could accept or turn away.

You consider the offer once until you recall what was happening recently to you, the piece so far away from those that fought for it, what you were doing on Terra while your sons were fighting in the broken maw of hell. What was at risk and what you tried to prevent.

"If I do call upon you," stressing the 'if' as much as you could. "I doubt that you would direct me towards peace."

Instead of another blank expression of contemplation, inhuman reactions within an imitation of your own form, the Guiding Hand shifted towards a recognisable look of bafflement and amusement.

'I ask you, do you really think peace is still truly possible to reach? Between you and your creator, your brothers and their beliefs, between mankind and your galaxy? Are you willing to turn me away in the name of peace, of calm, of the chance you believe exists that war will not reign supreme as it has always done?'

"It's worth fighting for."

'Then do so!' the avatar exclaims. 'This is my challenge, and you will take it whether you accept my offer or not. Chase peace, chase war, it matters not. All that I wish is to see the game being played. How it is played is irrelevant, whether I am more involved or continue to remain distant. Indeed, I shall aid you or even go against you when it is appropriate. But no matter how much I push with you or pull against you, shielding you from meaningless events and attacks, this is your path to take and it will go to wherever you wish to go until you reach the end.'

In the grasp of the being's hand was the figurine that depicted yourself. It seemed to shift and glow in its grasp, being slowly remoulded again, the dark glass of the mirror melting and becoming something else while the craftsman matched your gaze as it worked.

'I ask you, since when have you not struggled against such things in your life? You've done the impossible since the moment of your creation, till the moment where you bring death to immortals and the champions of the Dark Gods. I am here now because you know you stand at the crossroads, you have called upon me with your desire to find your path. Here it is.'

There you are on the throne, on the board, in the hand. Surrounded by orbiting shapes that twist and turn with endless numbers, in infinite combinations, an array of possibilities laid out before you and your will and the flow of Destiny. It shifts by your perception, quantum existence captured and corralled towards desired results and narrative weight, the gravity of a story governing these motions than physical law.

The design flashed in your mind as you saw it all, saw yourself within everything, the beginning of a new path which could take you beyond the stars. In the orbit of the shapes, of the numbers, of your own mind as it pulsed with thought. It could lead all the way to the four realms that you wished to destroy. It could lead you towards your wildest dreams. It would lead you to a final fate that you did not know what it would become.

It wouldn't completely prevent a sudden death, an ending that brought you down despite Destiny's guidance, but it would be something that would help you greatly against such a thing. That thought alone lingered in your mind, of all the sons you could save and the ones that you wouldn't be able to if you took up this design.

You didn't have to take it now, at such a precarious time where the faint light of peace was so close and so tragically far, but should you reject it wholesale? Was there no means where you could wield Destiny, or have it wield you as well, to bring the fall of Chaos? Even if it lead you to your death, would it be one so insignificant compared to a final deed that could change the galaxy for the better?

You-

-the realm, the dream, the board began to shake-

-the Guiding Hand looked briefly surprised, annoyed, resigned-

-you felt your bones shake, your nerves twist and recoil, your soul flicker like a torch against a sun-

-the throne seemed to shift into another throne, another throne, another throne-

-a thousand-thousand-thousand fragments rose up into new shapes-

-there was another idea, another choice, another game-

-the other hand came and tossed away the dice, the figurines, the thrones-

-it came through the cracks that were within the fading dream-

-when there was a grand choice to shape the course of events, it was always there-

-beyond individual destiny-

-a formless thing seemed to spill forth from nowhere and everywhere. It came as something that you saw as different from the radiant light before, the shadow that was cast from somewhere outside the dream and normal dimension. It was an omnipresent thing that had manifested in front of you, beside you and within your own being. It could not be described by what few words you could find to define it. This was beyond you.

You try to turn away from its terrible wonder, but could feel it coil around the smallest and largest aspects of all that was here. The Guiding Hand itself seemed to be enveloped by this new concept, its avatar shifting against the presence of this grand power. Wings, branches, limbs, wheels, flame, water, metal, flesh, wood. Countless entities, events, symbols and other things were reflected by this spectre.

There was something that could be described as sound and as silence. A way of communication that came before words, before language, before any living being had ever developed the ability to convey information to another. There were feelings that were imprinted onto your mind, discordant and disjointed as you tried to decipher what you were witnessing.

This was a primordial being.

'Enough!' the voice of Destiny spoke. 'It took effort to translate [Myself] for this meeting, and only by my [Connection] to individual elements can this form be taken. [YOU] are too much, too vast, too bright for even this soul to dream of you.'

The sound and silence did not stop. Your mind seemed to burn as you witnessed past events remerge, memories shifting in amorphous ways, distorted reflections of what you had done. A twisted figure of a warrior briefly appears in your mind, almost unrecognisable until you briefly heard their muffled voice, the deformed sight of Scafrir vanishing and replaced by a two-headed Lord of Change.

You knew that this wasn't mockery or a rise, the feelings that were being emanated to you were tasted too different for that to be true. Amazement was the only thing fully understood, expressed strongest and clearest of all, an attempt at an explanation while your thoughts were tangled by something that should not be physically seen or be in the direst presence of. The sight of the daemon still brought up rage in your hearts, an anchor to your wild emotions.

'If you so insist on interrupting, then I will translate for now.'

With a wave of a thousand hands at once, the world becomes a mirror. A vast geometric shape like a dice with endless sides confines the room into a safe boundary for understanding, the facets are clear and reflective as mirrors once more. Starlight bounces around in waves of visiblity.

You see infinite variations of yourself and the avatar, ones with different faces, different throne, different colours and aesthetic to the armour. You had a sword, a hammer, a spear, a fist and a gun. With more Runes, with less or with none.

Everything you could have been.

The presence is not gone, it was still here but intangible and invisible once more. Only small portions of it could be seen in the edges where facets met, the border of mirrors, where reflection to the inside and the window to the outside began and ended.

"What?" you whisper still shocked by what you had seen. "What was that?"

'My older brother,' the Guiding Hand explained. 'Think of [IT] like that.'

You still for a moment as your mind recovers enough from the initial reaction to comprehend what you just heard. The weight of what was happening presses down on you far more than it had done before. Older and greater than most concepts you could ever think of reaching were plainly here before you.

There was only thing that could be beyond Destiny while being its 'brother'.

You had just been greeted by something that defined, guided and shaped life and existence across the Materium and Immaterium. The universe going along its path from the moment it burst into being, the galaxy and its worlds turning to the formless will that governed everything, to the individual players on the grand stage of life.

This was Fate.

"Destiny and Fate?" you muse, looking around the endless mirrors as you tried to keep your calm. "I've ended up in an even deeper dream than I thought."

'I've waited a long time to set this up,' the avatar speaks, their voice echoing across the countless different selves being reflected around you. 'As you do more monumental acts and open yourself more to the [Sea of Souls]. Your actions have offered you some special attention. It is only right that you are granted audience and ceremony before you carve what would change everything for you. My older brother agrees.'

You take a deep breath as you think back to what you just witnessed. What was explained and shown to you before with this game was a useful analogy, a simple comparison and display of what would happen. This was something more raw, too primal to be properly reduced by metaphor.

You looked down to the board, then above and around you to all other mirrored stone tables you had seen. It had shifted in shape without you having realised it. From a hexagon to a square, from a grid of spaces to two lines that crossed together. It didn't alter the dice or the figurines, it changed the game itself.

[X]

The sheer power and strangeness of Fate was beyond your ability to fully understand. You struggled to imagine what this would be be like, how you could use it in a way that you could understand, how this 'game' could be played with such a thing.

"So is your 'brother' here for the same reasons you are?" you ask the Guiding Hand. "Offering me a deal, a Rune, just out of… enjoyment over what I've done?"

'No, [THEY] are less prone to whims and enjoyment of individual pieces as [I/DESTINY] am. You earned this offer when you did the impossible. What countless mortals and gods have tried to do since the beginning, what they thought they were doing while they played their roles, is what you succeeded in truth. You defied and altered [FATE].'

That wasn't something you expected to hear. You knew you had done things that would have normally been impossible, especially when you had become an Anathema, but to hear it on this scale had brought your mind up short.

"How?" you question, baffled to hear this. "When?"

The board shifts by the Will of Fate, unseen hands moulding the dark glass of this realm into pieces, revealing a scene that you would remember till the very end. Cadia.

There you faced the Exalted Oracle of Tzeentch, Kairos Fateweaver, the two-headed daemon that had brought your cherished son's end. You were too late to save him, too late to bring your vengeance, left to face the grief of such a loss that would hang deeply over all the Eternal Wardens.

Then Scafrir the Defiant fought past death itself, rising up as a ghost, dragged the monster out from the Warp into your clutches. Nine dice rise up by the Will of Fate and fall down, nine more are thrown by the Guiding Hand, one loss being enough to stop you.

The results are nine victories for you and nine failures for the daemon.

Yet even after all that had happened, everything you and your dead son had done, this should not have brought this nightmare's final end. It was too powerful, too strong in spirit and standing, a being that was simply not meant to truly die here.

But your will and your own story had shifted what should have happened, bringing triumph that made the Chaos Gods scream, manifesting your blood-drenched wish into reality.

Fate itself reaches out with a single hand, an appendage your eyes strain to witness with a silhouette of overlapping shapes and forms, and it picks up the figurine of Kairos Fateweaver and then slowly crushes it to dust. It had accepted your impossibility and allowed it, thus allowing you to call upon its nature and power.

The board itself begins to crack, hairline fractures worming across the mirror-border and the thrones, spilling out the blinding light of this primal realm.

'So the dream ends.' the avatar spoke, dual voices shaking between human words and noises outside physical possibility. 'This may be the final time we meet, if you do not accept either of our offers either now or in your future. On behalf of the both of us, the [Guiding Hand of Destiny] and the [WILL OF FATE], it was nice to meet such an interesting soul.'

Your eyes close, your mind fading away, waking darkness billowing forth.

'Goodbye, Kesar Dorlin. Let [us] see what you do next.'

 

[Ruirk]

Red Trinity: The Stratios Expanse Nations (Part Three)

History does more than narrate the past; it molds the present and casts shadows on the future. A people, entrapped by the weight of their legacy, often find themselves grappling with the remnants of former glory. Many civilizations, once flourishing, linger in the echoes of their bygone eminence, desperately clutching at the fragments of greatness or nurturing a deluded hope of reclaiming what's irretrievably lost. The Aeldari serve as a poignant example, as do the humans in this current era.

Yet, a darker facet of legacy exists—one that ensnares a people in a web of lies or malevolence, justifying such actions as a necessary sacrifice for the chance to rebuild. The belief that a legacy is worth dying for, worth killing for, is a perilous sentiment for any species.

In this regard, the current state of the Vagyr civilization stands as a tragic illustration. Once, the Vagyr was a splendid and enchanting race—a harmonious collective of builders, priests, artificers, and jewel-crafters who harnessed the warp to create, not destroy. A society that sought to do better and a species that could have been poised for eternal greatness. Instead, they created a path that would make their species grotesque and ugly.

But first, we should examine what made them great in the first place. The Vagyr long after the Old Ones passed into myth and legend when the galaxy was still recovering from the greatest war it had ever seen. And within a star system that could birth new life did the Vagyr emerge.

A tall and slender bipedal race with small horns and fluorescent skin adorned on their heads, the Vagyr grew their civilization under the aegis of priests, shepherds, farmers, and masons. Their homeworld of Arigur was a truly marvelous world of red and blue, where the skies were said to be a beautiful orange each night and morning and whose seas teemed with life amid an endless blue. Cities of crystal and ruby-stone, whose heights rose as tall as Hives and yet lived in harmony with their nature.

Their people went from an agrarian society to space flight in only 100,000 years, give or take a century or two. Their understanding of the warp, though, had been known since the moment their species first gained sentience. It was easy enough, then, to master the use of warp travel for their ships.

At their height, what was once known as the Vagyr Illuminacy controlled a thousand worlds; each one was a carefully crafted, constructed, and organized nation in its own right and held wonders that were only eclipsed by the more technologies advanced or most capable warp-users in the known galaxy during a time long forgotten.

Their physical stature, akin to that of humans or Aeldari with diverse characteristics, reflected the beauty and serenity that characterized Vagyr society. However, these are merely superficial traits. Deeper still, the Vagyr shared a profound connection to the immaterium akin to the Aeldari, as natural warp-users endowed with a unique feature in the galaxy—their shared psychic gestalt.

It's important to emphasize that this shared psychic gestalt wasn't akin to the conventional "hive-mind" concept familiar to humans. Instead, it manifested as an open link, enabling individuals to come together, forging a unified consensus but still allowing one to leave. This distinctive aspect led the Vagyr to be remarkably "open" during group activities, becoming deeply ingrained in their societal fabric.

While the prospect of an entirely individualistic Vagyr existed, the entrenched practice of "group consensus" over millions of years made sustained misanthropy as challenging as asking a human or an Aeldari to cease speaking or an Ork to refrain from shooting or stabbing their enemies. It was simply too much trouble for any individual and even more so for the Vagyr, where breaking away from their society was deemed the highest shame and punishment.

The Vagyr attributed their greatness to the collective, yet never to the extent that it undermined individual needs, wants, accomplishments, or legacy. These aspects were considered vital to the well-being of their civilization and played a crucial role in their survival as they ventured into the stars. Their history mirrored other species: progression, setbacks, triumphs, defeats—the traits that shaped a species' identity. By the time the Vagyr set sail into the sea of stars, they had unified under the supreme leadership of the Kitoshon Templari, the Enlightened Judicators.

Under the Templari, the Vagyr directed their collective efforts toward improving their society and delving into the "higher" orders of the warp, aiming to create what could be considered a utopia utilizing the immaterium. While the Vagyr believed that the universe belonged to no singular species, they knew others might not share this sentiment.

Recognizing the need for balance in the face of powerful galactic nations, the Vagyrs decided to align themselves with the most potent force in the galaxy. The Vagyr were lucky, as they soon made first contact with the Aeldari Empire when the Vagyr empire, though smaller, was a formidable empire in its own right. Wisely avoiding unnecessary risks, they became cooperative vessels of the Aeldari Empire, a status that lasted for a millennium. Eventually, the Vagyr secured their independence and allied with the mighty empire.

In a diplomatic exchange, the Vagyr gifted the Phoenix Emperor one hundred million Vigiliants, mechanical constructs housing the psychic imprint of a Vagyr templar-saint. This contribution led to the termination of their vassal status. However, some Aeldari argued that the emancipation was driven more by political necessity than by the Vagyr providing something genuinely valuable. Nevertheless, the plan worked.

Under what the Aeldari called the Everlasting Age, the Vagyr became part of a nascent galactic community and found readily available allies and friends. The Vagyr built wonders for all to partake in and were often commissioned by other races to create similar works of art whenever the Aeldari refused to participate in galactic events, as they usually did.

The Vagyr were granted autonomy over 500 worlds, a vast canvas to shape, tame, and mold to their vision. This ambitious endeavor was facilitated by the partnership with the Co-Dominion—Zorastin Infernus and Dhanirian Lifebinders. In exchange for the expertise of Vagyr jewel-crafters and builders, the Co-Dominion contributed to the transformation of these worlds, marking the inception of the Grand Alliance.

The catalyst for its establishment unfolded when the Savian Hierarchy and Xani Freeholds teetered on the brink of war over long-standing border disputes. Historically harboring animosity, the two races had engaged in verbal sparring without escalating to direct conflict. However, the emergence of new and destructive weapon systems heightened the tension, pushing them perilously close to a full-scale war.

Recognizing the impending threat, the Vagyr was pivotal in persuading the Co-Dominion to present their concerns to the Aeldari. The Aeldari, cognizant of the potential devastation near their outer colonies, deemed it imperative to intervene and prevent the outbreak of hostilities. Facilitating a resolution to the Savian and Xani tensions was remarkably simple: providing technological advancements that spurred industrial growth and alleviated their grievances.

After this intervention, the Aeldari recognized the need for a more enduring platform for lesser powers to convene. Eager to foster this alliance, the Vagyr took the initiative, and the Aeldari eventually consented. As a gesture of goodwill, the Aeldari imparted minor technologies to each Grand Alliance member, understanding that these advancements would help maintain control over potentially disruptive elements. Additionally, the Aeldari ceded parts of the galactic "wilds" to the alliance members, offering an opportunity for collective action on numerous worlds.

The Vagyr hailed this moment as a triumph for the galaxy and their own species, viewing it as a convincing demonstration of their influence over the mighty Aeldari in the pursuit of the greater good. A seemingly benevolent decision, according to Vagyr records. For them, the creation of the Grand Alliance marked a positive trajectory for the galaxy, an enduring force that would span millions of years. Yet, curiously, the memory of this significant event has faded into obscurity, lost to the annals of time, perhaps for reasons best left unexplored.

---

Galactic politics, a chaotic and perilous arena, showcased the inevitable demise of the Grand Alliance, leaving the Vagyr to confront the aftermath. The collapse was not triggered by a single cataclysmic event but rather the culmination of innumerable minor issues converging into an unavoidable confrontation.

The central query that hastened the alliance's downfall revolved around the warp: "What could bring about galactic peace?" This question lingered in the minds of every alliance member. While the Aeldari Empire had long been perceived as the guardians of peace, their withdrawal from galactic affairs left the Grand Alliance to shoulder this responsibility.

Over the ages, the alliance faced wars, xenocides, and the implementation of quarantines against insurmountable threats. Continuous conflict eroded the stability and determination of each member, with the Dhanirians and Savians experiencing a notable decline in sanity.

In a bid to address the escalating issues, the compassionate and ever-cooperative Vagyr endeavored to establish a unified order, the Anquon Dae'Uhl or the Watchful Stewards. This illustrious initiative aimed to salvage the alliance by empowering exceptional members to act as primary guardians, mediators, and investigators.

However, a pattern emerged — the Stewards functioned until they didn't. Their downfall aligned with a breakdown in cooperation and unity, exacerbated by the excessive power, authority, and discretion granted to them. While it might seem an oversimplification, their demise mirrored a broader decline in alliance cohesion.

The unsurprising truth lay in the corrupting influence of absolute power. Advanced and cultured as they were, the species comprising the alliance were mortals driven by selfish desires and allegiances. The situation worsened as the Aeldari exploited the Stewards for their gains, employing them as proxies in internal conflicts or as tools for specific objectives, further fueling the alliance's unraveling.

When the illicit activities of the Stewards were exposed, excluding those linked to the Aeldari, it marked the end for the Grand Alliance—a monumental epoch that spanned eons and whose collapse heralded the Age of Burning. Comparable to humanity's Age of Strife, this era was somewhat more contained and manageable due to the influence of the Aeldari.

The demise of this glorious period of galactic peace set the stage for tumultuous events. The Dhanirian and Zorastin plunged into war over ideological differences, resulting in mutual destruction. Though their conflict erupted after the Grand Alliance collapsed, the Savian and Xani engaged in a clash of identity and culture. The irony was that the two species were trying to preserve their own ideology of unification.

Amidst the chaos, the Vagyr attempted to mend wounds and quell the flames of hatred, but their efforts proved futile. They harbored a belief that they were responsible for the alliance's collapse due to their proposal of the Stewards and their influence in granting substantial power. However, this self-condemnation was an unfair assessment driven by empathetic introspection.

A closer examination of the core reasons behind the alliance's unraveling reveals that the Vagyr could not have foreseen or prevented the issues that led to its collapse. Unanticipated events, such as the Dhanirian's foray into forbidden sciences, Savian's attempt to awaken dormant gods, and subversive actions by elements within the Aeldari security branches, ultimately undermined the Grand Alliance.

While acknowledging my lack of complete objectivity, it is evident that the Vagyr endeavored to make the alliance work, surpassing expectations. However, the galaxy served as a harsh reminder that no good deed goes unpunished, and even an entire species cannot alter the inherent nature of individuals. Yet, ever diligent, the Vagyr attempted to rectify what they perceived as their mistake. They pleaded their case to the Aeldari, urging them to intervene again to prevent the ancient allies from destroying one another. However, the Phoenix Emperor and his lords and generals remained silent.

There would be no salvation for what was once the Grand Alliance of old. Its fate was sealed, subjected to the most egregious of fates: forgotten by all, except for the Vagyr, who would be burdened with the weight of their failure until the end of their days. Tragically, that end was now not far off.

---

It took only a millennia to undo the work of eons. The Savian, Xani, Dhanirian, and Zorastin destroyed each other with terrible woes and purpose. Had the Aeldari stepped in, perhaps through force or diplomacy, the galaxy might have taken a different path. Instead, the slaughter went unimpeded, and the Age of Burning concluded, leaving the Vagyr to sift through the ashes and realize that the species they once considered friends and allies had perished, while they could only watch in horror as it happened.

The Vagyr were unique in their time, and perhaps in many others, in that their empathy and compassion toward others brought so much misery and regret. The Kitoshon Templari declared this the Era of Grief but reminded their people that there was still much work and a galaxy that needed guidance.

However, grief is a toxic thing. Grief can turn to anger, and the Vagyr felt it against none other than the masters of the galaxy. The Vagyr had told themselves there were reasons why the Aeldari refused to lift a finger, to help the alliance in their greatest time of need. Yet they did nothing all the same.

For the first time in eons, the Vagyr felt the sting of disappointment, resentment, and dismay toward the rulers of the known galaxy, especially as the Aeldari continued on as if nothing had been lost. However, the Vagyr also came to a stark realization—they had been fools and arrogant to believe they could have saved their allies or advised the Aeldari.

All their efforts, eons of work and progress, had evaporated before their eyes. Their ancestors would have felt only shame, and future generations would, too. Many Vagyr, independent of the usual group consensuses or their civilization's gestalt, became increasingly disillusioned with their nation's principles of empathy, compassion, and cooperation, particularly toward the Aeldari.

These radicals rejected the idea that they had failed the Grand Alliance or the galaxy. Their self-reflection led them to conclude that their weakness lay in not being strong enough, lacking discipline, and the resolve to do what was necessary to safeguard the future of their species. A new ideology was born in secret, one that sought to rectify the sins of hubris of the Vagyr.

Upon witnessing what they perceived as "minor" threats from the Aeldari Empire going unchecked across the galaxy, these Vagyr took it upon themselves to address the issue. They assembled an army, adopted the name Rautha-Ko, or the Redeemed Ones, and called upon a "march against the darkness" from any who heard their calls.

What was once the Era of Grief would slowly turn into the Era of Fire. This would set in motion a rather unfortunate series of events.

---

The Vagyr understood the nature of war well. Compassion and empathy didn't render them pacifists but rather served to temper their conquest ambitions. While they had moved beyond viewing others solely as threats, there were times when the Vagyr had to resort to destruction to preserve their own existence.

As the Rautha-Ko marched across the galaxy's outer reaches, determined to eliminate perceived threats, they unleashed a ferocity not seen in the Vagyr since the collapse of the Grand Alliance, and the Era of Fire lived it up to its name. Unfortunately, this aggression often manifested in increasingly destructive ways.

The Vagyr possessed a unique affinity for two things: Constructs and Animancy, the warp science of souls. Centuries of trade, research, and experimentation allowed them to reach new heights in preserving the strengths and memories of their people across generations. This mastery over souls meant that the experience of warriors, champions, and scholars could be harnessed in Dragoons, Vigiliants, and Animats. Death was a mere hindrance to Vagyr armies.

While their power over souls granted them the ability to destroy them, the Vagyr abhorred such practices due to their psychic gestalt. Life was sacred, and the destruction of a soul could traumatize thousands across multiple group consciousnesses. Even during the darkest moments of the Age of Burning, the Vagyr hadn't considered such extreme measures.

The Rautha-Ko, however, operated differently. On top of the conventional directive power they had at their disposal, these fanatics utilized soul destruction to intimidate and subdue their opponents, tormenting oathbreakers, tyrants, and traitors. Over time, their targets expanded to include cowards, heretics, and anyone deemed an "enemy" of the peace they sought to establish. Entire worlds were erased from existence for perceived crimes, a campaign that spanned a hundred worlds and eventually drew the attention of the Aeldari.

The Aeldari, more curious than concerned, viewed the Rautha-Ko as wayward Vagyr in most cases, while some were simply amused at how they acted. Wars were also entertaining to them, after all. The general consensus among the Aeldari was relatively "unhappy" due to the impact on the local warp. Emissaries from the Phoenix Emperor demanded the Judicators resolve the issue and punish the Rautha-Ko. However, the task proved challenging, as the Rautha-Ko operated in the farthest reaches of the galaxy.

In response, the Vagyr Illuminacy declared a state of emergency. Unless the Rautha-Ko submitted themselves before the Kitoshon Templari, every member would be "blinded" to the psychic gestalt of the Illuminacy. This severe punishment would cut them off from their kin, leaving them at the mercy of the warp. Despite its severity, it was an extraordinarily unpopular decision, especially among those who sympathized with the Rautha-Ko. Many questioned why they were being punished for doing what they believed had to be done, especially considering the actions of the Aeldari.

These questions caught the attention of Aeldari operatives monitoring the situation, signaling a potential shift in the Vagyr's political stance toward the Aeldari Dominion. Curiosity soon evolved into concerns that grew among the court of the Phoenix Emperor, fearing potential embarrassment to his reign. Certain assurances were then put in place.

When the time came for the Rautha-Ko to present themselves, they chose their most distinguished champion and hero, Kelonan of the Red Flame, to lead their delegation to Arigur. The Kitoshon Templari demanded a formal surrender, refusing to hear Kelonan and the Rautha-Ko's reasoning for "cleansing" the outer wilds of the galaxy.

To the surprise of the Judicators, elements of the Vagyr military and a growing portion of the population on Arigur declared in favor of the Rautha-Ko. Seizing the moment, the Kitoshon Templari were arrested, granting Kelonan the opportunity to address the people.

"I have witnessed what the Aeldari fear! The Rautha-Ko have seen it!" Kelonan declared. "I have uncovered the secrets they keep within the warp. For eons, the Aeldari have sought to keep us in the dark, control us, and fortify their empire. The Grand Alliance perished to protect their interests, and those who sought to appease them were fools. No more! The tides of an unwinnable war are upon us, but the Rautha-Ko know what must be done for the final victory. We must purge the weakness within ourselves and others."

In hindsight, this declaration proved to be foolish. The Rautha-Ko sought to break free from Aeldari's influence and delved into forbidden subjects. Their time in the outer wilds had yielded significant revelations. The Aeldari, having activated their assurances, responded decisively, marking the beginning of the end for the Vagyr civilization.

---

The Aeldari decided this revolution had gone on too far, and the Vagyr had lost control of themselves. A general purge was in order, as the Aeldari often want to do to wayward or problematic vessels.

Being the masters of esoteric weaponry, the Aeldari operatives employed a memetic weapon called the Word of Q'raji to quell the Vagyr situation. Not originally developed by the Aeldari, this memetic weapon was created by a species of warp entities encountered after War in Heaven concluded. Unfortunately for its creators, they did not survive the first contact with the Aeldari, a testament to the lethal power of the Word of Q'raji.

Despite memetic weapons' inherent chaos and unpredictability, the Aeldari deployed the Word of Q'raji merely an hour after Kelonan's speech. It swiftly spread through the Vagyr psychic gestalt within seconds, exploiting the effectiveness of Vagyr group consensus or the weapon itself.

Rather than immediate chaos or destruction, the Word of Q'raji instilled a growing sense of uncertainty in the minds of the Vagyr. It possessed an "incubation" period, allowing it to proliferate within a population and activate only after reaching a specific psychic threshold. This meant unsuspecting Vagyr carried the weapon in their minds and souls, unknowingly transporting it to other worlds.

Even the advanced Animancy of the Vagyr proved incapable of detecting this insidious creation. The Aeldari believed they had created a weapon impervious to mortal warp science, unaware that the Vagyr would eventually discover a way to neutralize the Word of Q'raji. Unfortunately, this revelation came too late, and the near extinction of the Vagyr became an irreversible tragedy.

The tragedy unfolded rapidly, with the Word of Q'raji spreading across over 3,000 planets, colonies, and stations within a year before activating in instances, leading to the gradual demise of an entire species. The Word of Q'raji didn't just kill; it transformed individuals into something worse.

Despite the devastation, there was a faint glimmer of hope. Animancers managed to identify and disable the Word of Q'raji in some of the most distant colonies. The survivors hoped that the Aeldari, unaware of the weapon's release, would aid them. Unbeknownst to them, Ork raiders, likely directed by the Aeldari, intercepted these hopeful remnants, exacerbating their plight.

However, salvation arrived in the form of the Rautha-Ko, who had been largely spared by the Word of Q'raji. They mounted a formidable resistance against the Orks, allowing the remaining Vagyr to regroup. As they learned that the Aeldari were actively eliminating anything left on their worlds, the survivors realized their former allies were not coming to their aid.

Faced with this stark reality, the Rautha-Ko declared that their only option was to go into hiding, allowing their wounds to heal and contemplating their next move. The survivors followed this directive, venturing into the outer wilds of the galaxy and settling in a region of space that would eventually be known as the Stratios Expanse.

---

In the aftermath of their devastating fall, the survivors of the Vagyr Illuminacy and the Rautha-Ko found themselves in the unknown reaches of the galaxy. Faced with despair, internal conflicts, and self-inflicted deaths, the leaders of both factions realized the need for stability and unity. Despite their differences, the Illuminacy and Rautha-Ko elements reluctantly joined forces for the collective well-being of their shattered people.

As they journeyed through what would later be known as the Expanse, the Vagyr took precautions to put considerable distance between themselves and potential pursuers, particularly the Aeldari and other species nursing grudges against them due to the Rautha-Ko's actions.

Questions of existential angst haunted the Vagyr: "Did our attempts to do good lead to this? Is this the punishment for our hubris? Are we the sole bearers of this sin?" A once-benevolent species now faced the prospect of being forgotten, their legacy in ruins.

Amid this nadir, the Rautha-Ko took steps to buoy the spirits of their people. Despite their flaws, they refused to succumb to hopelessness. However, looking back, it might have been better if they had spared the suffering that awaited them in the distant future.

The Vagyr eventually regrouped within a star system harboring a marginally habitable world, which they dubbed Antu'Ehlna or Frigid Haven. They hid their ships in the planet's asteroid ring while shuttling down explorers. Here, in secrecy and not immediately, the Vagyr began the slow process of rebuilding their civilization, opting for stasis hibernation to await potential threats, be it the Aeldari or other entities tracking them.

It had to be done. The practical constraints of Antu'Ehlna, capable of supporting only a few million souls even with the aid of constructs, prompted a difficult decision. With nearly a billion surviving Vagyr in orbit and supplies dwindling, the use of soul stasis, a proven medical practice, became a necessity. However, this method demanded constant vigilance beyond the minds housed within the constructs, necessitating someone to remain behind.

The Rautha-Ko volunteered for this duty, which was controversial, particularly as the Illuminacy viewed it with suspicion. An arrangement was forged with volunteers from the Illuminacy Animancers, who also chose to stay behind. These individuals—workers, scientists, and guardians—would labor to transform Antu'Ehlna into the foundation of a new Vagyr nation. When spoken, it seemed like the right course of action.

In reality, it wasn't.

The survivors entered stasis, leaving those designated caretakers behind to forge a new psychic gestalt and group consciousness, maintaining a stable population. While a Vagyr could, on average, live for over 5,000 years with access to necessary medical facilities and warp training, such resources were initially lacking on Antu'Ehlna. This undertaking was taxing, especially as the Rautha-Ko, with their growing martial traditions, influenced the emerging psychic gestalt of the caretakers.

Tensions escalated as the Rautha-Ko spoke of the knowledge gained during the Age of Fire—of creatures and the true masters within the warp and the damnation awaiting those unwilling to purify themselves. The discord reached a breaking point, resulting in a brief civil war that nearly ended the entire endeavor. Fortunately, calmer heads prevailed. Recognizing the futility of internal strife, faction leaders agreed to share the acquired knowledge in a controlled environment reserved for those with the right discipline.

Oddly enough, the environment on Antu'Ehlna proved conducive to meditation, self-discipline, and spiritualism. The endeavor persisted. An eon passed as the survivors of the "Old Ways" slept while the Vagyr caretakers bred more offspring, training and guiding them in an attempt to build a better civilization on this challenging planet. The ultimate goal was to prepare a new generation before allowing their minds and souls to merge with constructs. In death, the Vagyr kept each other company.

---

Time marched on for the Vagyr once more. The caretakers successfully built a civilization that could be deemed worthy of being called as such. Antu'Ehlna now sheltered almost ten million Post-Collapse Vagyr. A staggering number, given the environment. The previous generations were either truly gone or still in stasis. The politics of this new society differed significantly from the old ways. These Vagyr, born into a legacy only told through the spirits of the constructs and storied histories, were not interested in recreating the past. Instead, they focused on surpassing their forebearers and safeguarding their home from the threats of the galaxy and the warp.

They often echoed the teachings of the Rautha-Ko, declaring, "So sayeth the teachings of the Rautha-Ko." Ultimately, it seemed that the Illuminacy had failed to ensure its legacy would reign supreme. A tragic development but one that was overlooked in the grand scheme of things.

Around this period, the Aeldari Empire was in a state of severe decline, with decadence and depravity reaching an irredeemable point. Unaware of this, the awakening Vagyr believed they had escaped the fate that befell their civilization during the collapse. However, their joyous reunion with their caretakers turned into horror and disgust upon discovering the drastic measures taken in their absence.

During their time building and monitoring the stars for potential threats, the teachings of the Rautha-Ko evolved into a form of martial spiritualism. This involved "strengthening" the inner soul of a Vagyr through a process that isolated, disconnected, and then reconnected their psychic link to the warp. This method utilized a heavily modified version of the Word of Q'raji, now known as the New Word.

To explain the process in relatable terms, envision making your body immune to a deadly and mutative virus. In this analogy, a cure eliminates the virus entirely, while a vaccine uses a "dead" version of the virus for your body to adapt to. In the Vagyr's case, the caretakers used the teachings of the Rautha-Ko to call upon "lobotomized" warp-creatures to "reconnect" their souls to their bodies, providing a substantial increase in psychic power and discipline.

Despite the alteration of their souls and deviation from the fundamental principles of their species, the process had an impressive survival rate among the Vagyr. The Rautha-Ko justified the sacrifice, stating, "A small price to pay because we are now capable of withstanding the storm that is to come."

It's worth noting that the Vagyr were traditionally less inclined toward divination, focusing more on introspection. However, the Rautha-Ko, foreseeing something terrible growing within the warp during the Era of Fire, made preparations. Upon the awakening of the "old" Vagyr, the caretakers gave them an ultimatum: "Embrace the New Word or perish." There would be no compromise on this matter.

Resistance against such a demand might have been more substantial in a different era. However, only a token resistance emerged, with a few hundred thousand Vagyrs attempting to fight back. Deprived of weapons, their constructs and with no alternative but the vast unknown, most perished. A few thousand managed to escape, their ultimate fate shrouded in uncertainty.

Apathy, a potent and debilitating emotion for a people devoid of hope, played a crucial role. Faced with the promise of something more, most Vagyr chose to see an opportunity for salvation and purpose in the teachings of these "children" of Antu'Ehlna. Despite the heavy hearts with which they embraced the New Word, they convinced themselves that this was a path to redemption.

They envisioned a future where they would return to greatness, rectify past mistakes, and become stewards, caretakers, and guides to a race deserving of their efforts. In the face of numerous failures, this was seen as an opportunity to make amends. However, it would not unfold as they hoped.

Thus, the final tragedy of the Vagyr people unfolded. They embraced the New Word of the Rautha-Ko and prepared for the imminent storm. Leaving Antu'Ehlna behind, their ancient vessels ventured into the uncharted reaches of this region of space, commencing the process of gathering strength for an uncertain future.

---

As the Fall of the Aeldari unfolded and the galaxy quivered with the emergence of a new Chaos god, the Vagyr experienced a collective shudder amid their gestalt but remained largely unharmed. Their minds and souls weathered the lingering echoes of this tumultuous event.

As the Vagyr embarked on their path of renewal and unity, they faced the grim reality of the sacrifices made during the chaos following the Fall of the Aeldari. The loss of their constructs, the remnants of their ancient legacy, was a painful blow, leaving them vulnerable. While most Vagyr had taken up the sword, their war machines were their frontline. Even after all this time, the Vagyr population was barely in the tens of billions. To rebuild their armies, the Animancers undertook the arduous task of resource acquisition, necessitating the incorporation of more planets into the expanding Vagyr Eclipsar.

Ah yes, the Eclipsar. I should explain that. The term "Eclipsar" was a new word, symbolizing their quest for renewal and unity, capturing the essence of their transformed society. However, this transformation had a darker side. The once compassionate and cooperative Vagyr now bore the marks of fanaticism and a jaded worldview. In their eyes, the Aeldari, the Grand Alliance, and even their ancestral Illuminacy had all failed the galaxy. The Vagyr, standing alone, recognized their limited power within the Stratios Expanse.

Over the next five thousand years, they dedicated themselves to rebuilding their civilization, expanding their population, and training a new generation of Animancers. Yet, the absence of their formidable army of constructs weighed heavily on their military capabilities. The Vagyr had sacrificed so much now, but the scars of their history and the challenges of the Stratios Expanse loomed before them.

As the Vagyr ventured beyond Antu'Ehlna into the vast and perilous Stratios Expanse, they confronted a myriad of threats. The very empires and horrors that the Aeldari and the Grand Alliance had once suppressed now emerged to challenge the Vagyr. In an ironic twist, the Vagyr's relentless efforts to destroy these potential adversaries, even at the cost of significant lives and war material, had inadvertently paved the way for their resurgence.

The situation mirrored the ancient human myth of the Sisyphean struggle—a ceaseless, uphill battle for control of the Stratios Expanse, leading to perpetual war and destruction. The echoes of the Era of Fire or the Burning Age resonated in this seemingly unending conflict. It became a cruel irony that the very success of the Vagyr in eliminating major opposition sowed the seeds for their greatest threats to one day appear in the form of the Lost Tribes and Nekresethni.

Amidst the Ninth Cleansing of the Expanse, the Vagyr, now consumed by a fanatical drive for purification, encountered the Lost Tribes. This encounter transpired on the outer colony world of New Thaddius, catching the Lost Tribes by surprise. The once compassionate and friendly Vagyr had devolved into relentless purifiers, using a religion, the New Word of the Rautha-Ko, that they barely comprehended.

When the Vagyr attacked New Thaddius, the Lost Tribes resisted, but the Templar and Animancer leading the purification fleet sought to test an experimental use of the New Word against these primitives. This involved deploying the same memetic weapon that had nearly destroyed the Vagyr against various species under the guise of testing their resolve and spirits, perhaps hoping to find someone worthy.

The Lost Tribes, unable to thwart the Vagyr onslaught, faced the deployment of the "Bru'Kh," also known as the Summoner. This device unleashed the New Word upon the humans, summoning horrific warp entities onto their minds and souls. While the initial results mirrored past encounters, an extraordinary development occurred. Out of the ten million colonists, a hundred survivors emerged in a manner different from the expected outcome.

Briefly, the Vagyr exhibited a semblance of their past society and displayed mercy towards these human survivors.

Contrary to the humans' fears of enslavement, consumption, or experimentation, the Vagyr treated them as honored guests. This unexpected turn of events marked a positive outcome amid the Vagyr's relentless pursuit of purification. The Blanks returned with their captors to Antu'Ehlna for further examination, unsure of their fate or what had garnered interest from these alien invaders. When it came time for an explanation, the humans were horrified, and many found themselves unable to cope with such terrible knowledge. The few that didn't end their lives remained with the Vagyr, who were intrigued by the Vagyr.

However minor, the nascent alliance between humanity and the Vagyr held the potential for the Vagyr to explore the idea of purifying the Expanse with human assistance. Learning about human psykers sparked concern among the Vagyr, leading them to believe that humanity needed to be "tested" to prevent potential horrors in the Expanse.

The Vagyr dubbed humanity the Vrae'Chei, meaning the Prospective Ones. There was a fleeting moment of hope that, if humanity proved willing to submit to the authority of the Eclipsar, some positive collaboration could emerge for the galaxy's benefit. However, humanity did not align with the Vagyr's expectations. The discovery of the Nekresethni, creations attributed to humans, convinced the Vagyr that humanity still had much to learn and that selective culling would be necessary.

In a strange amalgamation of the ancient Vagyr ideals and perhaps some form of madness born from eons of shame and zealous fervor, a new mission emerged beyond the purification and pacification of the Stratios Expanse. Now, the psykers of the Lost Tribes and their resistant government, along with the abominations of the Nekresethni and their loathsome designs, became the targets of the Vagyr's relentless quest. Only through their destruction could the Vagyr hope to reclaim the legacy lost to them over the ages.

The Eclipsar, driven by a fervent desire for redemption, declared a new war for the Stratios Expanse, naming it the Age of Salvation. In this campaign, the Vagyr sought not only their own salvation but perhaps, in their distorted view, the salvation of humanity as well. The echoes of their past failures and the weight of their shame fueled a crusade that would either bring about a twisted redemption or plunge them further into the abyss of fanaticism.

Spoiler: Animat

Spoiler: Dragoon

Spoiler: Vigiliant

Spoiler: Vagyr Templar

Spoiler: Vagyr Ship

---

@Daemon Hunter Finally done with this shit. It took waaaaay too long to do all of this, but at least I can safely say that I gave Khan plenty of fun threats to square off against.

 

[Daemon Hunter]

The choice has been locked in.

Scheduled vote count started by Daemon Hunter on Nov 14, 2023 at 1:13 AM, finished with 50 posts and 16 votes.

• ---

  11 people have voted

  [X] Plan Piłsudski

  • Lord4StarCommand
  • burningman4
  • Dragonstar719
  • RadicalCali
  • Speed53066
  • rocketroland999
  • Mr. Idiot
  • argenten
  • szymonmolitoris2
  • Unravenan
  • Blazblade

  3 people have voted

  [X] Plan Piłsudski: Find a means to get down to Terra (teleportation, shuttle, whatever) to apprehend Eli and Skullface and get them to air their grievances before the Consilium and get it to work out some arrangement to end this blasted coup while acting as a neutral arbitrator as much as possible.

  • Ruirk
  • RandomDwarf
  • psir11

  1 people have voted

  [x] Plan Done with this shit.
  -[x] Head down to terra find Eli and Skullface, specifically their corpses, and start getting everyone to stand the fuck down and call in the mechanicus to wire the next lord militant into a security bunker designed by Oricarius and Dorn so we don't have this problem again.

  • w34v3r

  1 people have voted

  [X]

  • TinyGladiator

 

[TinyGladiator]

Hiya! Decided to make a research focused omake, specifically on this: 'Gellar Field Stabilization – Master', as there's just so much that further research and work into Gellar fields can do for everyone. It's an interesting topic, especially when you start to really do a deep dive on this subject and read about it. Hope this was enjoyable enough!
-----
A Retrospective For 'Gellar Field Stabilization'.

You are Kesar Dorlin, Primarch of the Imperium and one of mankind's greatest experts for Warp-based technology, and you were ready to delve once more into one of humanity's greatest inventions.

To travel across the spiral arms of the galaxy, to have ships move through celestial distances faster than light could normally go, one had to use the Immaterium to reach such points.

To tear open a Warp rift was an easy matter, all too easy for many unfortunate cases. To make a stable breach across reality into unreality was more difficult, as you well knew after looking up the topic of artificial warp tears with your brother Magnus, but certainly doable with how short it needed to last.

To actually have a ship survive a voyage through the Empyrean, without being completely swallowed by the hellish storms and roiling waves? That required a far more advanced means of protection than simple void shields, reinforced frames and weaponry to fight back against any daemonic entities that would arrive.

Ancient historical records showed that widespread knowledge of the Warp's existence was discovered around M2 for Terra, give or take a few centuries, but it would take at least over fifteen millennia more before it was used to deliver man across the whole galaxy than one small portion of it.

There were other obvious reasons it had taken that long for space travel to advance to the current system of Warp usage. There were material concerns for the ships involved and their specialised mechanisms, industrial changes to suit the increasing size, far greater focus on normal slower-than-light methods due to their more immediate use than the highly dangerous Warp, and the grand effort it took to find practical uses for any aspect of the Immaterium.

Until finally a solution was found, the means to safely traverse the galaxy in what was relatively a blink of an eye, the miraculous Gellar fields. That which was used to make a bubble of realspace around a ship or a space station, strengthening the veil between realms on a comparatively miniscule scale, keeping a ship safe from the Warp's waves. Like a ship in a bottle, in a sense.

There was no underestimating just how much the discovery had changed everything for mankind. The science behind it was so critical to humanity to the point that the Cult Mechanicum had canonised the old inventor as 'Saint Gellar', to whom there were prayers dedicated to them in digital code and mechanical carvings upon Gellar Field Devices.

Navigator Houses might well not have ever come into being without such things, for there were no living thing that could survive on a ship going through the Warp let alone be guided through it to further distances. It was hard to imagine what life would be like in the galaxy without them, without a means to travel across the Immaterium.

So many planets would never be colonised, so many cultures that would never come into being, so many wonderful sights and enemies to be felled. Your homeworld that you knew as a child, Valhalla IV, might well have remained an empty world of ice for possibly a million years if some xenos race hadn't found it.

While there were many ways that a Gellar field generator could be made, such as the semi-common technique some employed to use a comatose psyker's dreams to push away the wider Warp or the strange organic-clockwork machines works of the 'Calibrator' micro-xenos that your brother Magnus recently faced, the designs you were most familiar with were based on relics from the Dark Age of Technology that utilised and manipulated gravity and strange particles to produce and maintain the field.

The designs and the voyagers were never perfect, not even during the Age of Science where artificial intelligence could perform near-impossible precision with absurdly dense calculation. It was all too common for a field to 'flicker' or shut down entirely due to a critical error, causing the ship to become utterly destroyed or suffering a worse fate as the crew faced the horrors that lurked within.

There was also the fundamental problem of the Mandeville Point, the minimal distance where one could have a ship or station transition into the Immaterium or come back out of it when close to a large celestial object. If one did end up being too close, the conflict between gravity fields and the Warp would heavily damage a ship in a best-case scenario. There were ways to shorten the distance, or minimise the damage, or use something like a Warp Gate to bypass the issue for a specific area but it would remain an overall concern.

There was so much that you had learned with how the Gellar fields functioned, diving deeply into the inner workings of the generator mechanisms and researching how the emanated waves worked at all. Discovering that while the fields protected ships from the Warp, they should not have been able to prevent even the weakest daemons from entering at will.

Instead the insides of a ship were saturated by strange high-energy particles that were captured by the gravitational bubble, similar to the particles that void shields used to function, which dispersed when a Gellar generator was shut down.

The gravity manipulation should have prevented Warp engines on ships from functioning, which had puzzled you initially, until you discovered that the Immaterium possessed several dimensional-layers. Engines functioned in one layer while the Gellar field worked in another, allowing both to work without conflict to let faster-than-light be possible.

There was always more to learn about the Immaterium. So many things that would seem fundamental to wider understanding you had to figure out in pieces. Your ignorance always seemed far greater than you assumed, as well as how much was truly lost during the Age of Strife. What a genius the inventor of the first Gellar field generator must have been, a visionary to stand at the apex of mankind.

Yet day by day, breakthrough by breakthrough, you were determined to fill in the great gaps in your knowledge. You would find the solutions to the problems you and countless others faced, support that which was lacking and find the answers to questions you didn't even know you needed to ponder upon.

For now, you were going to find a way to stabilise Gellar fields as they existed now. To refine the design, maintenance and function of the generators you knew to bring safety and stability to the countless ships that voyaged across the galaxy by means of the Immaterium.

To accomplish this goal, to walk through this journey step by step, you looked back to all the available information you had on Gellar fields. You already considered your previous research and what you knew, the notes you had written before and the mathematic models you had made, but now you considered more.

One 'simple' solution to keeping Gellar fields stable was to simply increase the amount of generators that were creating a field. Multiple ships could work together and with care and a lot of calculation for both parties, two close by bubbles could merge together and even allow boarding between one vessel and another.

Battle Barges that were used by the Astartes Legions had a similar method that were used, where they possessed enough power and upgraded machinery for their expanded generators to create two fields at once, inter-connected as they were expressed against the Warp's tides, which greatly increased safety in situations where one field would fail while the other remained operational.

Neither of these were perfect systems, one relying on a large amount of precise calculation for multiple ships and the other being too expensive to maintain, but there was little better at such a scale. A good point of data to study, how the fields interacted with each other, but you would have to find something else to find the solution you needed.

An obvious piece of technology that you had worked on, that functioned similarly enough with your understanding of other Gellar field generators that most of it should translate well, would be the mysterious system you found on Gehenna station.

Far smaller than almost every other generator you had seen, to the point you hadn't recognised what it was at first, it was also far more powerful and stable than anything you had witnessed. Used to augment and protect the incredibly advanced void shield system from corruption that the station possessed. It was a near flawless construction, that you had to create a lot of custom parts to repair, full of implications for other ways to use the research in conjunction with other Warp-base technology.

Replicating that would be of tremendous use and massively increase stability for fields for ships and stations across the Imperium, but the time and materials and effort it would take to mass produce such things would likely not be worth attempting for more than a few ships at most. Perhaps you were wrong, and you hoped you were, but you focused elsewhere.

You mind drifted from human construction back to what you knew of how xenos dealt with Warp travel. Orks only occasionally used Gellar fields, mostly by looting them from human ships or simply using stolen vessels, but largely didn't seem to care as they either used their Waaagh fields for protection or just shrugged off any negative elements. Skaven were mostly an unknown to you, although you did have some reports to know that 'safety' wasn't their highest priority in their designs.

You didn't know what the Eldar used for their ships, likely some complex technology involving psychic power and however the 'Webway' seemed to function. Nor the Osirian Psybrids that were hunted down by the Emperor of Mankind himself. The designs of the Shinselket xenos you had within your domain were interesting, but hadn't yet come close to finding a proper system utilising Gellar fields.

Two you did know of were the Mitu Conglomerate that your Eternal Wardens ended, with the help of many others, and the Calibrators that the Thousand Sons had dealt with. The former had one of their vessels captured by the late Otto Fritzkin, who was still sorely missed, and the Xenologists of the Mechanicum were glad to share what little they learned to you. A fine addition to the wider puzzle.

The Reef that your First Captain Oriacarius dealt with was a nightmarish marvel, residing in a dark sub-dimension between the Materiun and Immaterium, although you suspected it functioned by biomechanical designs from harvested psykers. Not something you were willing to ever use, yet to study the broader principles of how it worked could have borne some fruit. The similarities with the 'psychic dream' design were too obvious to simply ignore.

For another aspect heavily pertaining to Gellar fields, there was what could be called an entirely different branch of its research. Instead of using it to form a bubble around a travelling ship, it could be used to form a tunnel that linked two different points in physical space. Teleportation relied on using Gellar fields, and you and your sons had been hard at work to refine the capabilities until all that was really left was safety.

The way it was used was different, between a constantly maintained bubble made by a large generator versus a briefly manifested tunnel from a divergent type of machine, but the underlying principles were similar. Thus you considered that aspect while going forward, for perhaps investigation into this would kill two birds with one stone. Or finally figure out how Sagita worked.

While not the exact same as how Gellar fields worked, there were alternate things you could study based on repelling the Immaterium. Blanks were an obvious point of interest, for your sons regularly worked with the Sisters of Silence. How they precisely manifested their abilities was a mystery, as well as their precise nature but it was one you minorly examined with Magnus. The 'Grey Soul' theory was too complex for you to fully understand even with your brother's explanations and models, but you kept it in mind as you considered the interaction between a Blank's aura with the Warp.

In a somewhat similar vein, there were the Null Rods that you had learned to create. The obsidian rods that both pushed back the Warp while also slowly draining it of energy, kept within a containment unit inside that had to be emptied or else cause a horrific overload that could open a rift. A means to recycle the harvested Warp energy was an interesting concept, although far too complex and dangerous to apply on such a level as a ship for now.

Then there was the most personal data-point that you had, which was yourself. Your very presence had deterred daemons since you had risen up as a Daemonsbane. The Warp itself began to calm and stabilise when you had become an Anathema. Your psychic powers were directed by the way of cutting the Warp, to put a dam on the roiling waves, to push back the Immaterium itself for a time.

While you had no means to replicate your power by means of technology, you had made a Primal Rune of Anathema that reflected in some way your nature. You weren't sure how it would express itself in the Warp, especially without your presence being needed to even use it, but you had seen how well your new capability could work with Gellar fields. Teleporting safely into Fortress Westplatte with your brother Konrad Curze, an almost fully intact Dark Age of Technology facility taken with almost no loss at all. That was prime material for data collection.

Then there was the greatest source of Warp knowledge that you now possessed, the full notes that the Emperor of Mankind had given you after the Maelstrom war. So densely packed with research, important anecdotes, diagrams, equations, information, sources and more for almost everything that your father had shared with you.

While it would take a lot of time to fully go through just the Gellar field sections with how much was written in, and more time to understand and translate everything, you knew you would find at least some of the answers and solutions you sought. If not all of them. You could spend years if not decades just by going through this wondrous boon.

Finally there was the most recent point of interest, a technological discovery from the Maelstrom. A series of almost entirely mechanical ships, with no electronic or digital components, that were heavily resistant to the Warp's influence because of their design. They possessed fully functional void shields, Warp drives and Gellar field generators despite being essentially without complex electronics you naturally assumed were required.

You had no idea how these things functioned, or who even possessed the idea to try and actually create such things, yet you suspected that there might be some overlap in designs with the bio-clockwork of the Calibrator xenos. You would have to talk more with Magnus in the future about that, you knew that he had to have done his best to preserve samples and study them himself.

Regardless of where exactly you would find the answers, you knew that they were somewhere within grasp. One day in the future, in better times where you could dedicate more of your time and attention, you would find a way to bring safety and stability within the Warp.

That was what it meant to be an Eternal Warden.

 

[TinyGladiator]

Hiya! Decided to make another omake on the Brighella that the Harlequins have, the daemons that are bound to Cegorach, because they have been expanded and I've been wanting to write more about them for a while now. This one is focused on their latest daemon as of the time I'm posting this. Ended up being more serious than I initially assumed. Hope ya like it!
-----
The Brighella, Act 2.

You are Vekhan the Honest, Lord of Change that was of Tzeentch's Scintillating Legions, and you were doing your best to enjoy yourself despite your current situation.

That was mostly a lie.

You were a Greater Daemon that once led warriors, scholars, cultists, heralds, spells, daemons and more for the impossible will behind the Changer of Ways. To speak or think of such things in the 'past-tense' would be more accurate than otherwise. It was a dead truth you bore, a surprisingly heavy weight.

Your name was not Vekhan, it was neither a name used in the open nor a true name that defined the core of your being. That part was a lie you mantled, an easy thing to take part in, but it was not your lie.

You were not really enjoying yourself. It was quite difficult to do so when one was utterly constrained and bound without a hope for escape. You don't think you've ever suffered more than you did right now. This was a humiliation that you rarely saw done to one of your kind, and it just had to be you that was ensnared.

The 'Honest' was also lie. You loved to weave falsehoods wherever you could, as was typically among your kin. Your epithet was also not a lie, which was a curious thing what you delighted in.

One day, and that was a lie because there was no day or night where you had been, you faced a mortal who challenged you to a game which lead to your current circumstances. You should have refused, and you cursed yourself for not doing so, but the offer was too tempting to ignore. But you loved to play games and you proudly displayed that facet of your being.

That was why you were known as the 'Honest', for it was an obvious truth of yourself that was indeed completely true. You had a fascination and desire for such machinations, a weakness and strength at once, and it was you. That was why you were the Honest, for you bore the truth for others and yourself.

But what was the concept truth to you, to the Court of Change, to Chaos?

Everything was 'truth' in the timeless existence that stretched across infinity. Everything had happened somewhere across the Formless Wastes. Everything that one pondered, dreamt, described, babbled, hallucinated, preached, idly made up or simply lied about was true here.

There was nowhere else within the Warp, that any daemon could freely wander within or rule, than the Crystal Labyrinth of Tzeentch. Here there was a design that reflected the truth of the Warp, the truth of the mortal minds that helped define the Great Ocean, where everything that ever was though up flowed into the Forbidden Fortress towards the Hidden Library. Some called this madness. Others called it enlightenment. Those that knew enough secrets called this the 'Truth'.

Deception was just a quirk of perception. Under a limited scope of finite minds, near blind and deaf to what was really around them and their brief lives and their nature and beliefs, almost everything you knew to be 'truth' was a lie. That did not mean it was 'truly' a lie. There were so many restrictions in the mortal realm.

Chaos itself was the Primordial Truth. It was wondrous and complete, always shifting and growing, a grand nexus of life and potential that burned brighter than every single star that had burst into being by every universe that existed in the Materium. It was freedom made manifest, the power of the mind and soul without confines, to bring a golden age to all who were bestowed its grace.

That was, of course, just a lie. You revelled in the nightmares you have given, knowing very well exactly what you were doing and the pain and loss inflicted. Fear and hope were more intertwined than most consciously believed them to be, especially in the presence of monsters playing their cruel games.

Yes, you enjoyed games more than anything else. This was something that you would never, ever 'lie' about. The thrill of chance and the gamble, the myriad ways to cheat or achieve true victory, the countless results that would bring forth wondrous possibilities. You took on games, wagers, challengers, contenders, schemes, chance and players of fate whenever you could.

There was a primal resonance to the act of playing a game. There was a power to it that was unmatched to any enjoyment you could attain. There was a ritual component to it that few other types of things could match. Competition was the greatest arbiter of strength within the Warp, and all manners of games were its medium. That was why the conflict between the Four Ruinous Powers and their servants was the 'Great Game' that was waged since the beginning of time and would last beyond its end.

Mortals believed that one could challenge death itself with a game, to find victory to cling to extended impermanence. You had performed such a role several times to cults that had formed that were dedicated to the Architect of Fate, those that worshipped your greater master as a god, whether they knew of you or not. Complex puzzles, riddles, mazes, schemes and all other things.

You had never been beaten by an ephemeral being. Some surprisingly cunning mortals had come close, and others had patrons that did their best, but while against the Court of Change any and all results could occur, you never lost to mortals. That was a small point of pride, because it was natural for your kind to hold dominance over

That is why you were the 'Honest', because you revelled in the primal conceit that all daemons silently adhered to. It was your reason for existence and it was a very fun one.

Yet even when you had faced a challenger that you would have killed a thousand worlds to go against, to play a game with stakes that you were exhilarated to bet with, you had hesitated. Even among the greatest champions for the Architect of Fate, those who were the masters of the Hidden Library and its endless secrets, the followers of the Laughing God were never to be underestimated.

Aside from the impossible work of the Alpha Legion and the baffling strength that existed with the Eternal Wardens, the Harlequins of the Black Library were infamous for their acts that both assisted and went against the Great Game. Of all the divine beings that existed, there were few else that could routinely go against Tzeentch than Cegorach. The Great Harlequin's collection of secret knowledge rivalled that which your master possessed in terms of power, although not in scope.

But when you saw the strange Aeldari that had all but summoned forth your presence, a Harlequin like nothing you had ever seen before, your curiosity and ambition had surged forth as you met their challenge. A game had been called and you had to answer. Your true name, your essence, was put on the line in-exchange for the power of the Laughing God, access to the Black Library.

It was a simple game, one that was familiar to all among the Court of Change, a thing that had begun with mortals and daemons since the beginning. The sorcerer's duel.

The rules were simple. One displayed their might with arcane arts upon their opponent and then their opponent did the same, the two taking turns that cycled with each cast. The loser was the one who could not create a greater, stronger, stranger or otherwise more magnificent display than the other. Or simply died.

You had accepted, an expert of that particular game, and your mind burning with a thousand plans and means to cheat. Your hunger for power writhed as you considered obtaining secrets that even Tzeentch did not know. The true names of others being possible. A Harlequin of your own, to be your vessel and champion.

You did not anticipate the results of that game. The bitter failure you had faced. The rather painful surprise that was something you had not predicted at all.

A full day and night had passed, which was a lie for there was no day and night, and you had engaged in the most challenging fight with a mortal you had ever experienced. You were first to play, the position happily offered by your enemy, and you steadily rose up from a simple bolt of mutative force to complex hurricanes of psychic madness.

The follower of the First Fool had matched everything you had done and responded in turn with displays of trickery that you found amusing, amusements that had tricked even your senses and powerful acts that you perfectly countered each time. It was a dance more than a duel, a thing of display of one's glory and power, but you did enjoy the game as you came close to the grand finale.

Then just as you were ready to call upon your grand design, bring the fury of the heavens upon this lowly insect by recalling every previous arcane art all at once, the Harlequin had used a simple power for what had been their final turn and the end of the game. A summoning spell.

A summoning spell that brought forth a very angry Bloodthirster.

It was draped in a shell made from song, the glimmering Wraithbone that had been gifted to the Aeldari from the War in Heaven that had helped bring forth Chaos, coloured crimson and brass. A towering giant that loomed with a spiked hammer and a whip of burning fury. A face that was a mask locked in a rictus roar of anger, more akin to the depictions of Kaela Mensha Khaine than of Khorne, with a plate of armour that was carved with scenes of battle in the glyphs from the Black Library.

Your sorcery had been heavily muted by the mere presence of this enhanced warrior, this Harlequin-blessed daemon of Khorne, and the counterspells and hexes previously performed by your challenger. They came so suddenly and so surprisingly that you did not have the time to escape as the lash wrapped around your neck and brought you down as it scalded your flesh. You were roughly pulled towards the berserker who then brought the hammer down upon your head with a force that would shake a mountain.

Then you were hurled away by a kick and then pulled back and struck by the blunt crusher again. You tried your best to escape, to bring forth , but there was nothing that you could have done in that moment. You were trapped. Cheated upon before you could have cheated in turn.

On the brink of banishment, your essence already torn from the onslaught, your challenger had ordered their beast back a moment before the killing blow struck. Filled with fury at this denial of bloodshed, the spiked hammer ready to turn your current body to quivering remains, the Bloodthirster nevertheless was forced to move back by the will of the Harlequin.

They announced the end of their turn. Either you had to concede defeat, to forfeit this game and give up your true name, or you could play the next turn and fail which would mean giving up your true name.

You were forced to lose this game, with no means to escape at all, but you claimed that you would end the game with your next turn which was allowed. For this sorcerer's duel you had abandoned your previous plan and instead used the most powerful arcane thing you possessed, yourself. Your true name whispered into the ear of your opponent, sealing your fate, granting you a victory that could not be matched.

It was a lie, a pathetic one given the circumstances of your loss, but you would take what ever opportunity you found. On reflection, to 'gain Cegorach's power' and 'access to the Black Library' was already a loaded deal to begin with, but you hadn't cared so much to the details of the wager as much as playing the game. Such was your way as the 'Honest'.

-----

Your opponent- no, your master and your master's master, had bound you within a slender frame of Wraithbone.

Power crackled across your form in shifting sigils that were overlaid the core of your being, stretched out and condensed to fit the body that you were granted, your old staff replaced by a thin rod that grounded your power and focused in in ways that you knew were more aligned to the will of the god you now served than yourself.

You did not have your wings here. There were depictions of birds in flight across your shell, stories relating to mythology towards the deceased Aeldari pantheon and their tales, but no actual wings were present upon your frame. That was an aggravating point that you thought about whenever you considered the Bloodthirster here, who did in fact possess their wings and could fly with them.

You didn't need your wings to fly. Your mastery over arcane arts was more than enough to hover, glide, fly, teleport and shift across the meagre amount of physical dimensions that mortals were bound to the lower limits of. It was still an important part of what you were. What you had been.

The idea was omnipresent yet still strange to consider and accept. You weren't a Lord of Change anymore, not truly. It would be a lie to say you still were. In many ways you were indeed a daemon of Tzeentch, but in the ways it truly mattered…

You couldn't remember your true name anymore. Or to be more precise, it felt like you did not have one at all. A hole within your being that was filled by an alien divine presence. Ripped apart and stitched into a new being. Was this what mortals felt when they were corrupted by Chaos, blessed with a higher power that now governed their existence?

While there were a few mortal half-spirits that were also bound here by your master, which was insulting to be in the same group as you, there were other Greater Daemons here. Two Keepers of Secrets, a Great Unclean One and of course that awful Bloodthirster that you had been well acquainted with.

Did any of them really think about your shared circumstances here? To be so hollowed out on such a deep level and filled with a foreign influence on your essence? To begin to question if your awareness, your thoughts, your actions were wholly your own? Did they truly not consider such things, which was understandable as you were smarter and more knowledgeable than them, or did they just not want to think about such a terrible fate as this? You certainly didn't like thinking about this.

This is what it meant to be hopeless.

Zannis the Harlequin, the Daemon-Binder, was a figure that commanded you and you learned to hate them in ways that you never quite hated something before. You were sure it was a false name, the designation to a being that was merely a mask, but you didn't care to learn what they truly called themself. It was a meaningless thing to consider. A tool did not need to know their wielder's secrets if there was no means to use them.

There was nothing that you could do. Hopeless to escape or return to how you were. Nothing except have what fun and enjoyment and games that you could.

You had woven a tale about Asurmen the Phoenix Lord, the Hand of Asuryan, who was within the Crystal Labyrinth of your former master, the name and epithets now unspeakable and unthinkable without permission. It was a truth, for indeed the hero was there, but you framed it in the worst way possible and did your best to give as much misinformation of whatever else was asked of you about the realm you once called home.

It probably didn't work, you were an excellent weaver of lies but you doubted your plans would work against one that could thwart your former god, but you would take your victories where you could.

"I will find a way to have your limbs twisted across a thousand paces," you suddenly speak, voicing your feelings in a healthy manner. "Stretched to the point where you cannot even scream, and then tear out your bones one-by-one as I recite the rituals needed to ensure you will not die."

Zannis happily ignored everything you said while the rest of your audience hadn't reacted better.

"Is that the best you can come up with?" one Keeper of Secrets laughs, while the other scoffs at your words. "That's a mercy compared to the ideas I have."

You smiled as you considered how to kill everyone here, bring sufficient retribution for what you had suffered, while thinking about better torments than the one you had uttered. Even while trapped here, you wouldn't deny a game.

"As I was saying," Zannis continued. "We must continue to practise and coordinate our dances, our plays and our presentation so that if and when we meet our special guest then it will be done with our best!"

You silently delivered your contempt to the Harlequin. The second worst part about your current state, with the first being that you were existentially trapped and changed in an unthinkable way, was the boredom. Linear time that mortals adhered to was bad enough, but it was always filled with so much waiting and preparation that rapidly became dull and nothing really happening.

How did mortals survive by spending hours accomplishing nothing? Life evolving over millions of years to continue to do little else than just… let moments fade away. It was insanity. Casual nihilism ingrained into every aspect. Who would read a book within the Hidden Library if almost every page was written about seconds, minutes, hours and days where the same simple things happened in a routine. It would be a better defence against a Lord of Change trying to read it than an Exalted's curse.

"You prattle on and on about making us perform these stupid rituals," the Bloodthirster growled out, their voice a cold hiss that flowed from their mask, openly speaking for the bound daemons that suffered this passage of time. "Enough of your games, at least tell who this guest is. An Imp of Vashtorr?"

"Oh, well, it's not guaranteed or anything. The Laughing God just wants us ready to meet with Primarch Kesar Dorlin."

What?

Your mind was a complex thing even by the standards of the Neverborn. A mind that belonged to a conflux of timeless thoughts, arcane spells woven with living perception, the capability to discern the patterns of fate and ripples of cause and effect through paradox space.

Yet as your infinite comprehension faltered out of pure fear, your mind going blank as you tried to flee while your body remained stubbornly in place, out of the idea of facing the Second Anathema.

"Oh generous and merciful master," you start out, knowing that Zannis found this form of address funny and thus more likely to answer, as the other daemons all begin to yell in a near wordless commission at this declaration. "Why this course of action, pray tell?"

"We're thinking of buying some more daemons from him."

What?!

 

[w34v3r]

... I thought we sold political favors? Do we have deamons in stock?

 

[Ruirk]

Pyrrhic

Command Base Apollyon
Terra, Imperial Palace
Day 8, 0630 Hours

A week had elapsed since Orbán initiated the coup, and he had barely allowed himself more than a few hours of sleep each day. The demands of war were relentless and waited for no man, including him. Orbán understood the consequences of a lapse in attention during such critical moments. The legendary stamina of the Primarchs and their Astartes fueled some modicum of envy in Orbán, marveling at their ability to endure without the necessities of food, water, or sleep while maintaining peak efficiency.

Despite the challenges, Orbán did find brief moments for rest, although it wasn't always in the form of sleep. His body ached, and the magnitude of the undertaking weighed heavily on his mind, compelling him to seek solace in moments of silence. The constant threat of assassination also contributed to his vigilance, a lesson learned from the daemonic attempt during the Ritual War.

Putting these concerns aside, Orbán remained focused and prepared, returning to the command center for the coup. His forces now occupied the primary command node of the entire palace, which had been abandoned by most defenders on the second day of the coup. Reflecting on the staggering success achieved thus far, Orbán marveled at the fact that, a week later, his forces controlled almost 95% of the Imperial Palace.

The scale of Orbán's accomplishment was staggering, yet upon closer scrutiny, he realized that much of the Imperial Palace wasn't designed as a true military bastion. This made sense to Orbán, as any external force attempting to destroy it would have to face the full might of the Imperium. However, the coup enjoyed the backing of multiple Imperial parties, with the Emperor and the Sigillite absent.

Orbán's success was attributed to cunning tactics and a network of allies. A third of the garrison sided with him, and another significant portion remained neutral. Eli left with a skeletal force and struggled to counter Orbán's advances. The Custodes, numbering only a thousand, and the Sisters of Silence were caught off guard. However, despite these triumphs, Orbán faced challenges.

Efforts to capture Eli proved fruitless, with stiff resistance bolstered by the formidable GIs, making it challenging to breach his lab. The inner sections of the Imperial Palace posed dangers, as sections with warning signs were avoided, adding complexity to the logistical line for the siege of the lab. Reports suggested that Constantin Valdor's Custodes were attempting to reach the lab, possibly to secure and extract Eli.

In a last-ditch effort, Helen was tasked with leading an offensive toward the lab before the Custodes arrived. The plan included holding Eli hostage or resorting to his elimination if necessary. The initial reports indicated a grim situation, with Sentinel companies facing challenges against the lab's static defense turrets. As the Custodes closed in, Orbán's frustration grew.

With the Custodes nearing the lab, Orbán reorganized his forces. Two fast-mover companies were directed to reinforce the siege line, and Orbán explored the Custodes' potential exfiltration point through the Tertiary Alpine Lane toward the Kathmandu Hive's starport. Despite options to level the hive and force a last stand, Orbán avoided unnecessary civilian casualties. He wasn't about to kill 30 million people and lose any possible support just to turn this into a last stand, which his forces had no guarantee of winning.

Controlling the palace pict-recorders, Orbán sought to spot Eli for the fast-movers. If they were going to die charging a bunch of Custodes, Orbán would make damn sure they at least had eyes on their target. However, extensive security measures hindered their efforts. Eyewitnesses reported Grav-Rhinos with the extraction force, indicating Eli might be in one of those vehicles. Yet, attacking Custodes vehicles posed considerable risks, given their intimidating weapons, speed, and heavy armor.

Nevertheless, both companies were ready to try. What followed would be considered a courageous and skilled skirmish across the Custodes lines, even as the fast-movers suffered extensive casualties. To their credit, they took out multiple vehicles, including several Coronus and Caladius tanks. An impressive feat for men and women using bikes, Sentinels, and Tauros.

Tragically, it wasn't enough. Both companies were unable to confirm the death of Eli, and judging by how the convoy continued their extraction toward the Tertiary Alpine Lane, Orbán had to conclude the worst. Even if he could find the air units to harass the convoy or another fast attacker company, such a force would be hard-pressed to achieve any meaningful victory.

When Helen and her forces started checking the wreckages and bodies near the lab, they reported back they found a body that was wearing the uniform of the Lord-Militant, but Helen, who was familiar enough with Eli, confirmed that it was likely just another body double. This, unfortunately, confirmed Orbán's worst fears.

Eli had escaped.

---

Command Base Apollyon
Terra, Imperial Palace
Day 9, 1930 Hours

The coup was over in more ways than one. Valdor and Eli, along with all the Custodes, had succeeded in their tactical withdrawal from Terra and were now on Luna, licking their wounds and planning their next step. Meanwhile, Orbán was now Terra's most powerful man, which wasn't hyperbole.

One significant victory came with the defeat of the Sisters of Silence. Trapped in the guest quarters of the palace, they succumbed to a forceful assault that utilized heavy armor and super-heavies. Despite their valiant efforts, the Sisters stood no chance against the relentless barrage of Baneblades. The outcome was grim, with no survivors reported.

The remaining palace sections had fallen under Orbán's control, except for a few isolated pockets of resistance. These dwindling forces faced inevitable defeat as they would run out of essential supplies in weeks. The coup had reached its logical conclusion, with Orbán asserting dominance over the Imperial Palace.

Orbán's unprecedented achievement would likely be scrutinized by future historians, who might highlight several key factors contributing to this triumph by skill or valor of the coup forces, but rather him hitting the palace during the best possible time. Not that it mattered now. Orbán might have done the impossible, but he had ultimately failed now.

With Eli alive and off Terra, there wasn't much reason to continue the coup, as their primary target was out of reach. Orbán wasn't about to order his forces to prepare for a siege either or return to their ships to try their luck attacking Luna. What good did that do anyone? Orbán accepted that he won the battle but lost the war.

However, Orbán clung to a potential trump card. Having captured most of the Consilium, only four members remained unaccounted for: Euten, Erevan, Valdor, and Eli. Of these, Orbán only had a vested interest in finding Euten. Fortunately, a report from one of her agents indicated that she was alive and on Terra, biding her time until it was safe to return to the palace.

While Orbán knew this plan might not work, he saw it as his last hope. Gathering the Consilium, he aimed to force a series of votes that could reverse Eli's decisions and introduce new policies. At the very least, he hoped this effort would make the Imperium acknowledge the weight of its choices and recognize that all consequences rested on the government's shoulders.

It was a long shot, but it had to be done. To let all of this destruction and death go without something meaningful felt like an abhorrent conclusion to Orbán. His fate was sealed, that much was certain, but there was still a chance to salvage something here.

His death was coming, although Orbán wondered what was taking it so long. Perhaps his opposition wanted to capture him? A good public execution seemed in order. Maybe Orbán could request that his soul be destroyed in the process.

---

Later that night…

Acknowledging the impossibility of victory, Orbán faced the daunting task of discussing the future with his inner circle and remaining coup leaders. Recognizing the inevitable consequences of their actions, Orbán gave them a choice: stand by him until the bitter end or seize the opportunity to flee. It was an unenviable decision, as the Imperium would undoubtedly seek names, making it impossible to escape scrutiny or feign ignorance about their involvement in the coup. Given this predicament, most understandably opted to run.

Orbán's pragmatic approach harbored no resentment toward those choosing survival over unwavering loyalty. He understood the practicality of their decisions and recognized the misplaced romanticism surrounding the notion that a command staff should steadfastly stand by their leader. Loyalty of such magnitude, he believed, had to be earned and wasn't a blanket expectation. The lofty ideals of commanders often clashed with the harsh reality of individual choices.

Complicating matters were those who wished to stay but needed to leave, exemplified by Colonel Mckenzie. Determined to ensure Orbán's safety until the Consilium vote, McKenzie's commitment posed a challenge. However, Orbán, with a broader perspective, intended to facilitate Helen's escape with the remnants of the Lost 88th and any Brigaders willing to join her. In his eyes, facing a failed coup and death on Terra wasn't a fitting end for them.

On the other hand, Lord-General Samuel Braggs was ready to stay behind to command the rest of the garrison. He had experience commanding multiple regiments, and considering much of the command staff would be escaping, Orbán was grateful for him staying behind even though he would most assuredly be arrested and charged with treason. Samuel, however, knew that his chances of escaping were slim.

All of this was done to ensure that there would be sufficient distance from those who participated in the coup but had no idea of its intentions or plans so they could be spared from any reprisal because if there was one thing that Orbán knew, the Imperium wasn't about to try and change their stance on saying "soldiers should obey their orders without question," due to the amount of chaos that could bring.

The decision to create distance between those who participated in the coup without knowing its true intentions aimed to spare them from potential reprisals. Orbán recognized that the Imperium was unlikely to alter its stance on the expectation that soldiers should obey orders without question. Tens of billions had fulfilled their duty because it was demanded, not asked or expected of them. Orbán acknowledged the role of his "propaganda" in persuading them to join the cause, especially in confronting Custodes and the garrison. Yet, in the eyes of most, every soldier who fought and died had done so because the Lord-Commander had ordered it. For Orbán, that was sufficient.

Now, Orbán's focus shifted to securing a pardon for these troops and the remaining officers from a member of the Consilium. If successful, it would save the lives of everyone else involved beyond the inner circle. A fitting conclusion to this whole coup business and one that Orbán could easily stomach. Left with nothing else to gain, the most logical step was to simply stop any more carnage.

Thankfully, much of the civilian population and their support infrastructure had been spared. As far as everyone was concerned, by this time next week, the coup would be regarded as a minor blip in their lives. A memory that would be "discouraged" from talking openly about once the status quo returned. But Orbán knew that the people in the palace would always wonder what caused the coup, a dangerous question lingering in the back of their minds.

Not that such things now mattered to Orbán. His fate was sealed, and the considerations of what might have been or would be were ultimately idle thoughts. Instead, Orbán's thoughts drifted to the notion that his defeat here was not a great victory for the loyalists. They would inevitably win any drawn-out conflict, but their subsequent withdrawal would no doubt sting many egos.

By all accounts, the capital of the Imperium of Man had fallen under the watch of those who were supposed to protect it. Had Orbán had ill intentions, he could have done something incredibly drastic. The recovered economic files, troop deployment, and a few secret agreements that could brought to light could unleash a micro-economic crisis that could take a decade to recover but also hasten the inevitable collapse that awaited the Imperium under Eli's reforms, and that was just one option.

Thankfully for them, Orbán still had no intention of doing anything like that unless his hands were forced into doing so. Perhaps they might have expected the infamous Skullface to do such a thing, and he would, but Orbán liked to think that fear would have kept his opposition from doing anything at the moment. A mild case of mutual assured destruction for all parties involved.

Orbán never thought he'd be in such a position one day. These were the aspirations and designs of madmen and tyrants. Opportunists who sought to use the insanity and chaos to their own ends often appeared during such absurd times and were often the reason men like Eli were allowed to take over positions of power.

War and peace made no difference to the aspirations of such individuals. They lacked humility, which Captain Jesk would have undoubtedly advised if he had been here. Orbán reminded himself that he needed to write a letter for him in hopes of explaining his actions.

"Sir?" Orbán's musings were interrupted by one of his aides, who looked quite pensive, "There has been a development. One of the Primarchs has been identified on approach to the palace; it seems to be Kesar Dorlin. Should we attempt to intercept him?"

Orbán scoffed at the notion, "What good will that do? Leave him be for now. I'll make a general announcement in the meantime. Keep an eye on him and any guests coming with him." With a nod, his aide left Orbán to contemplate his next step, which seemed to be quite limited.

He'd wait for Kesar to arrive, but Orbán figured it would soon be time to set the stage for the conclusion of the coup, for surely it was now at its end.

---

@Daemon Hunter Alright, another coup omake.

 

[Daedwartin]

Orbán's unprecedented achievement would likely be scrutinized by future historians, who might highlight several key factors contributing to this triumph by skill or valor of the coup forces, but rather him hitting the palace during the best possible time. Not that it mattered now. Orbán might have done the impossible, but he had ultimately failed now.

Click to shrink...

One of the really interesting things thats going be discussed however is that he did this while Kesar stood watching on the sideline in spite of the fact that one of the first things that happened was that the building he was in getting shelled by the Coup. To an historian, that is going to look oftly like Kesar tactically not opposing the coup or even supporting it. Which uh...we kinda are and we kinda arent.

The problem being that Emps and Malc are both going to be also notice this rather noteworthy lack of action.

 

[psir11]

Malcador is going to pissed at us and while he might know that Roboute and Corvus are involved. He might not have enough proof ro really convict them. Kesar did move up and technically end the hostility so it is a matter of controlling the narrative I guess

 

[w34v3r]

Kesar: Malcador, at this point I don't actually care who the lord militant is as long as they're not gonna dip out on me every fucking time I turn around. I'm fully willing to submit expense reports to a potted plant.

 

[Daedwartin]

Kesar: Malcador, at this point I don't actually care who the lord militant is as long as they're not gonna dip out on me every fucking time I turn around. I'm fully willing to submit expense reports to a potted plant.

Click to shrink...

Malc: Be careful what you ask for, I might make YOU Lord Militant. See how YOU like dealing with the mess.

The terrifying thing is theres a non-zero chance of Malc doing that. Even if that chance is like....1%

 

[w34v3r]

Kesar:.... Deal! No take backsies!

 

[srg]

I rarely wish for a "dislike" option.

Killing the Sisters is definitely a reason to hit the dislike button, if it existed. Also, to drop the story, this is a deal breaker for me.

 

[TinyGladiator]

... I thought we sold political favors? Do we have deamons in stock?

Click to shrink...

(Sorry for late reply) while normally the Eternal Wardens do not have any daemons in stock, killing them either by banishment or true destruction, since Kesar Dorlin has been sent to stay on Terra for their psychic awakening there is now a lack of capability to kill the strongest daemons that are 'taken prisoner' i.e. those bound within relics and are unable to free themselves.

Most such relics are destroyed, typically be being delivered to a nearby star to be burnt when it's strong enough for concern, but those that are possessed by an Honoured-tier daemon are too strong and dangerous to risk even this. Thus all Honoured-tier daemons are kept in storage, as prisoners for the Eternal Wardens, until they can find a means to destroy them (likely by just waiting for Kesar Dorlin to come back).

There are 6 'normal' Honoured daemons we have, as well as 4 more that are 'merged' relics where multiple different types of daemons were forced together into a single relic which artificially increased their power while being absolute torture for them. Totalling 10 Honoured-tier daemons.

I actually made an omake of them here, to see more fluff on all the ones we currently have as of me writing this.

Aside from killing them with Kesar Dorlin, or any other means we could potentially find, we can do something else with these guys. Sell them to the Harlequins, who would be very interested in taking them off our hands! They're willing to offer either:

1. A full favour that we could spend for basically whatever (as long as it isn't against the Aeldari too much, or is impossible).
   
   
2. An STC pattern that either they already have or one they could try to search for and give to us, assuming a copy exists and isn't somewhere utterly horrifically deadly to go to.
   
   
3. A lot of money. Significant enough to help out with the domain stuff, although I'm not sure/can't remember how much this would be.
   
   
4. A Black Library account that would open up a full 5% of their books to Kesar Dorlin, which is a fucking colossal amount of Warp, Psyker, Chaos or other such information that even the Emperor might not have. A great start to things.
   
   
5. Ask Cegorach to help Kesar help the Eldar by massively screwing over their most hated Chaos God, by making a Primal Rune of Slaanesh and give that for even more rewards. Doing this would create a really powerful link to Slaanesh, to the point it can actually fulfil the 'survive a Chaos God's direct attention' requirement for some of our Heroes' Daemonsbane tiers, which would allow Cegorach to do a lot of stuff against Slaanesh. (For reference, Kesar Dorlin over a long period of time could use this Rune to make a full on Anti-Slaanesh psychic discipline. Imagine what Cegorach, with their Black Library, could do.)
   
   
6. Other stuff we could think of! Honoured daemons are worth a pretty penny!

 

[w34v3r]

Would that five percent of the black library include how to make starship sized warp gates that aren't even worse than normal warp travel, and aren't more expensive than the rune planet? We need better FTL infrastructure bad.

 

[JAMalam]

Would that five percent of the black library include how to make starship sized warp gates that aren't even worse than normal warp travel, and aren't more expensive than the rune planet? We need better FTL infrastructure bad.

Click to shrink...

Likely not. The Eldar won't give us things that cam be used against them. They'll probably give us either Anti-Daemon books or psychic training stuff to read.

 

[TinyGladiator]

Hiya! Decided to make a research focused omake, specifically on this: 'Theoretical Object Concept Bonding – Grandmaster' due to how incredible the whole Concept Bonding research is. Do you want to find the way to enchant any concept we've researched onto an object, which can also work with Runes engraved on the object? It's like putting Runes on stuff, without putting a Rune on it (and thus not counting towards any limit for amount!).
-----
The Enchanting Possibilities Of 'Theoretical Object Concept Bonding'.

You are Kesar Dorlin, Primarch of the Eternal Wardens and Runelord of the Imperium, and you delve into the realm of pure concepts.

You had already been delving into the field of conceptual resonance, manipulation and usage before. Since the start of your journey as one who researched Runic designs, the ability to create a language of pure meaning and power behind what each symbol was meant to represent, you have found a way to call upon one of the most fundamental powers within the Sea of Souls.

To call upon the concept of fire or ice or silver or plasma or restoration or purity through your glyphs, a simple matter due to the widespread understanding and perception of flame that existed across essentially all sapient life, something that was being taught to others based on the foundation you were establishing. Even those outside the Eternal Wardens for the simpler designs.

The language you were creating was one of utility, arcane power, half-equation and half-artwork, to use expression itself to weaponise its potential or use it through other means. There was no end to the potential that the Runes possessed, with ways to improve capability or new aspects to their design or different means ot making them entirely were repeatedly found.

To cross or link two different Runes together to form a combined expression, to three-dimensionally build a Rune with Volumetric channelling, to overload the energy that a physical Rune could contain to create an explosive of the energy in a surrounding area.

Then upon your ascension as the Second Anathema of Mankind, crowned as such by deed of might and skill and purity as the apex from the war within the Maelstrom that brought its end, you had gone to what might be one of the pinnacles of what could be done.

A Primal Rune that reflected your nature as an Anathema, a timeless and layered depiction of your life as a one who was so opposed to your Archenemy.

The energy behind such a design was beyond anything you thought was possible, a work that defied limitation as you understood it, a pure gateway into such a deep well of profound energy.

But here you were now considering something that was, in a way, beyond your Runes. To use them as a medium to channel conceptual power was still going to persist no matter what the fruits that your new research would bear, for the glyphs were a necessity for any degree of 'mass-production' or replication that could exist for those lesser than the Primal Runes. Indeed it was likely possible to combine the two together.

What you were searching for was the ability to channel concepts into an object without the use of a Rune. To bind concepts directly into something, anything, and have it be imbued by the power and energy of said concept. An abstract idea interwoven with a tool, a piece of armour, a fortress, a ship.

While there were forms of existing psychic items that followed this idea, this was more than just how relatively ordinary things such as psychic focuses worked, bound to a wielder and designed to channel energy from the Warp. While you could design such things for an object intended to be imbued, and it was likely that anything built or modified to channel psychic energy would take to conceptual empowerment better, it would not be required to imbue a concept onto it.

To put it simply, this was enchantment. The arcane art of instilling psychic power into anything. To manifest and bind the Warp in such a direct way, without the need or exclusivity of a Rune.

'Conceptual Bonding' was your new field of research, to allow yourself and others to better master the Immaterium. An entire new frame towards understanding and using psychic powers, to temper them into the physical realm, to achieve countless possibilities.

Runes were the obvious candidate to begin delving into conceptual study, as you had previously considered, with all that you already knew and theorised about their potential. Yet there was another aspect that you had only recently come to know, after dealing with a scar you carried with you before you were returned to the Imperium

To put a Rune on yourself, carving it onto one's own essence. Not on another object but on flesh, which would also be carved on an even deeper level with the soul. You did not yet know what the full effects would be, for you knew before that only death would have been the result, but you knew that there was now a way. A certainty that was defined by your spiritual experience, the way that your power manifested as that corrupted seal was finally wiped away.

Concepts required one's full understanding, their own perception and mentality, to safely harness their power. To have the design of one individual be used by another was a simple matter, or else your entire glyph system would have been far more restricted than it already was, but to force it onto another? That was impossible to survive.

There was only one power you knew that could accomplish the act of forcing a Rune on another, without death and withering destruction, and you would sooner cut your head off than even think about accepting Chaos like that.

Individual souls interwoven with concepts, or at least be directly linked and empowered by a medium that expressed a concept to be more precise. But aside from taking inspiration from Chaos, which was an idea that heavily soured your research, it wasn't the only time you had seen direct proof of its possibility. Aside from the dreaded fiends that lurked in the Warp, there were your dear brothers Alpharius and Omegon whom were both examples of living proof. In fact, they went beyond what even your understanding of Soul Runes in terms of conceptual bonding.

By their own words, they had found away to ascend into divinity. Espionage and Traps, the two concepts stolen by the Archdaemon of Change and Sorcery. The precise details of their accomplishment and how it was even done eluded you, although one day you hoped to hear the tale, but you did not doubt it nor what it implied. Gods beyond Chaos were real, even if the domains were once in the tainted clutches of daemons, and thus concepts imbued into living beings being possible.

You weren't going to test that yet, you could imagine the catastrophic results that could occur. For all you knew, it was only possible or at least feasible due to how you Primarchs had been created. Using the shard of an Eldar god as a base, along with a lot more pieces from human gods to form you all. More divine than mortal, in many ways. It explained a lot, but delving further into that would be needed for another time.

The point was that aside from Runes, it was absolutely possible for something physical to be directly linked with a concept. To do so on a object would thus be possible as well, as you well knew that they took to 'bonding' with Runes easily despite also possessing life with machine spirits. It might be more complicated, but this line of psychic capability would be well worth the study.

For other elements that you could use as data points, there was yourself. Your existence as an Anathema, the inspiring dreams you had for your Runes, the powers that you possessed as a psyker. Your knowledge and experience against Chaos, from the four grand nightmares that ruled its countless armies to the conceptual power each aspect possessed. Everything you already researched or was looking into for the Warp, including your recent discussions with your brother Magnus which helped further enlighten the importance of all this research.

Your sword, Epitaph, was also an interesting element to consider. How it resonated with you and with the Immaterium, drenched in the blood of daemons banished and truly destroyed, a conduit for your soul to express itself as you both cut the Warp itself with your power and your blade's focus. Perhaps in a sense this was a proto-example of conceptual binding.

For other points of research, there was your father's notes that he had given you. The bounty of Warp knowledge was a cornucopia of information, so much to go through with so little time. While you had not yet found much that was focused on conceptual energy, and what little you did needed more time to fully decipher it for practical understanding, you knew it would grant you much.

Then as a massive point of data there was the work that was recently shared to you, rather than something you had done or been involved with yourself. Crescum Auro, Librarian of the Eternal Wardens, had collaborated with Magnus the Red to create what was dubbed the 'Nechronal Engine'. A device that was built to channel the concepts of Time and Death to be used to bind or otherwise use them upon objects in various ways.

The schematics were complex yet simple for what it was meant to do, the accompanying notes detailed and provided you everything you needed to understand how it worked and what to expect. To create psychically resonant materials by using these concepts to channel Warp energy into whatever was placed within, or to directly channel either Time or Death or both into something.

What wonders your sons managed to do, here reaching beyond what you had gone and achieving a fantastic result. Carefully constructed and tested to remove as much fault and risk as possible, you would happily build one yourself when you had the time to spare. While you could think that you could also find the means to build your own 'Conceptual Engines', and you wanted to find a more direct means as well to enchant something, it was a beautiful construction as well as further proof that your idea was possible.

Perhaps in the future you could have vast amounts of such machines dedicated to various concepts. Enchanting great loads of metal, plasteel, ceramite and other resources. Imbuing objects with the power to do great things, especially in the hands of a psyker. Arcane mass-manufacturing, conceptual power brought to a large scale, your sons armed with weapons and shielded by plate that was interwoven with divine power.

It was only theoretically for what you wanted to do, even without such a machine as a Conceptual Engine, but you knew that it was possible and you knew that you would find a way to achieve it.

 

[Nicholas Brooks]

Alpha Legion Threat Assessment Report: The Cult of the Verdant Dragon​

Authorization Code: Cartago Secundus - Spear Four-B Astra
Transmission Certification: Varangon
Approved.
Welcome, Glykon

---

Overview:

The Cult of the Verdant Dragon is a coven of Tzeentchian sorcerers and worshipers located in the Arel Subsector of the Esphel Sector of the Warpal Reefs. Its organizational structure is expectedly labyrinthine, with different levels of open and secret knowledge on their activities being available based upon one's position within the group. By all the data that I have been able to gather, the Cult, by Tzeentchian standards, openly controls three planets in a single star system hidden behind an artificial Warp Storm, with their populations all having been corrupted to varying degrees by the Changer of Ways. In addition, I have discovered that an additional six planets across four star systems are controlled in secret by high-ranking members of the Cult, whose true identities and loyalties are hidden from their subjects. I have attached more detailed profiles on these members at the end of my report.

My given identity as a Space Wolf dedicated to Tzeentch, although sufficient to gain membership, did not allow me to integrate myself beyond the outer levels of the organization. Further research led me to the conclusion that the Cult of the Verdant Dragon's leader, known primarily as "Alaric the Enlightened," has personally barred me from providing services beyond the menial and the violent to him. I suspect that either previous Chaos Space Marine activities have led this Alaric individual to doubt the competency of transhumans such as myself or that he is aware of Alpha Legion infiltration strategies and seeks to avoid any risk of major sabotage.

The primary purpose of the Cult is the pursuit of the Magnum Opus, with the Daemonological reasoning being that Tzeentch holds dominion over the power to transmute any matter or energy one desires, and that the reward for those who are able to unlock the secrets to creating such a tool would be exalted by their patron. Currently, it is believed that Alaric is the only one in the history of the organization to have been able to produce the desired artifact, though its exact properties and whether or not he still possesses it, if he ever did, are unknown at this time.

Military Analysis - Outer Systems:

The six planets that are unwittingly controlled by the Cult of the Verdant Dragon are not in any official sense unified and have in the past had multiple intraplanetary and interplanetary wars, even whilst subverted by the sorcerers. However, their general relations have never been overly strained, and mutual aid is a typical response to external threats. These six planets vary in both climate and culture but have been quietly uplifted over centuries of Tzeentchian control to a level of technological sophistication that surpasses most Imperial worlds.

In the Korux system, there is the Ice Fortress World of Mardach, whose three moons have been heavily fortified and settled by the Mardachi people even before the arrival of the Cult of the Verdant Dragon. Its technology is comparable to that of a typical Imperial Civilized World, but it is known to possess an incredibly robust infrastructural base, such that every city of over one hundred thousand residents possesses no less than three redundant power, food, and water sources. This practice, alongside a constant expansion of void defenses is what has allowed Mardach to repulse a recorded two hundred and forty three separate invasion attempts in its history since the end of the Dark Age of Technology. The general population, although not hostile to their political class, are known to be apathetic to their goings-on outside of times of war, wherein they are called to duty alongside the rest of the able-bodied citizenry. As such, it is my opinion that Mardach, once the Cult has been rooted out, will ultimately be incorporable. Estimated population: 58 billion.

The Arvel-Traast system possesses 2 major independent planets: Chunal and Pralaka. Chunal is an Ocean Mining and Agri-World, known for having a massive network of undersea Hives and a series of mutations among its populace that grant them tough, gray-ish skin, notably greater lung capacity, and eyes which are better adapted to low-light conditions similar to those of the native people of Nostramo. Their planetary governor is selected via votes from each individual Hive's ruler and primarily serves as the planet's leading diplomatic and military official. I estimate that fifteen of the planet's forty Hives are ruled by a member of the Cult, and the Planetary Governor has only not been a Cult member for fifty-seven of the previous one thousand years. Unlike on Mardach, each Hive's population tends to be loyal to their respective ruler, making incorporation a more problematic venture. Estimated population: 14 billion. Pralaka is an Industrial Desert Death World which orbits a gas giant and has a large voidborn population which tentatively rules over it. Earthquakes, sandstorms, and subterranean monsters are a constant danger for those who live away from its most heavily reinforced settlements, though there remains a significant population of nomads who move from water source to water source and do battle with these creatures, often looking far and wide for remnants of the age before the Long Night. They are generally a practical and mercantile people, known for being incredibly perceptive, and not prone to rash action. Incorporation is expected to not be difficult if evidence of the Cult's control over the planet's ruling elite is able to be produced, but such a thing must be done with great care, as the voidborn are loyal to the Master-Admiral above the planetside population and may take drastic action if allowed to do so. I would, in this case, recommend conquest first before such attempts at diplomacy. Estimated population: 5.1 billion planetside, 0.7 billion voidborn.

In the Xang system, there is a Civilized Mountain World called Sendu. It is a hereditary monarchy led by an emperor, with only a moderately powerful aristocratic class serving as primary backers and checks on said emperor's power. This is, however, only a theoretical status, as, expectedly, the emperor and the most powerful of the noble clans are high-ranking and middle-ranking members of the Cult of the Verdant Dragon. The populace is indoctrinated to believe that the emperor has been chosen by the hand of fate to rule over all others, and that it is their duty to serve and obey their leader. As a result, it is to be expected that this planet will only be brought to compliance with the wholesale eradication of the presently existing political class and a long follow-up campaign of social engineering and occupation. Their strength lies primarily in guerrilla warfare and in-depth knowledge on utilizing terrain to their advantage. My research has uncovered that the planet's crust is abnormally durable, and the mountains seem to share this resiliency, making orbital bombardment unlikely to yield significant results without reaching levels of force that would, in practice, result in the Exterminatus of Sendu. Beyond their irregulars, Sendu boasts a powerful aerospace force, favoring a large amount of vessels of small to moderate size, with massive quantities of fighters and bombers that are capable of both in-atmosphere and out-of-atmosphere operation. Estimated population: 70 billion

The final system is Geron, and it contains the planets Lyor and Sarak. Lyor is a Civilized Desert World known for producing a large amount of psykers. It is ruled over by the powerful sorcerer Telo, who has been the military, administrative, and religious leader of Lyor for eight hundred and forty years, claiming to be the chosen one of the local sun god. Lyor's primary military strength comes from its psykers, who are trained from a very young age to be the religion's enforcers, though only rarely is one allowed to know the truth behind the organization. Lyor's conventional military is comparable to the Imperial Army's regulars, and there is a limited amount of void infrastructure present. The populace is heavily devoted to their faith and their leader, though it could be possible to break their spirits if Telo were publicly defeated and his true allegiance revealed. In either case, extensive purges will be needed to ensure no traces of Tzeentch worship manage to slip through the cracks. Estimated population: 12 billion. Sarak is an Industrial and Mining Lava World which is the only planet I have listed to be blessed with an environment that naturally produces Adamantium. As a result, Sarak is the world which has been most frequently invaded by the other neighboring 5, leading to a general distaste for foreigners, held back from outright scorn primarily by the fact that Sarak is the most powerful commercial world in the subsector and receives a large amount of its goods via trade. As a consequence of this, Sarak possesses the most advanced void infrastructure and the largest fleet of the six, though Mardach boasts significantly more static defenses. Its population is known to be very strict regarding its customs, largely based around familial relations among fellow Sarakans and civil conduct when dealing with outsiders. Their "Duke-General" is unique in that the Cult of the Verdant Dragon does not have an entrenched hold over the office, instead brainwashing, corrupting, or tempting into the Cult whoever is chosen to serve by a majority vote of the Elector-Ministers and the Elector-Civics. Incorporation will be a long process but likely not painful once the Cult has been dealt with. Estimated population: 6.2 billion.

Military Analysis - Core System:

The core system which contains the 3 most vital of the Cult of the Verdant Dragon's controlled planets is, as expected, lacking an available true name, though for the purposes of this report I will henceforth refer to it by its most common name: Lyra. Information on Lyra is limited, as I was only granted access to it temporarily so that I may receive orders from Alaric and his inner circle, and I was always under both intense and subtle observation. As such, I am unable to provide maps or a precise military profile. However, I was able to uncover key facts about their capabilities in a general sense.

The most heavily defended and technologically advanced world is most commonly known as Ryvin, and it is believed that this is the homeworld of Alaric himself. At the spaceport leading to the capital city, Andana, I observed a variety of stationary defense batteries, some of which upon later analysis I can say with confidence are a type of large Conversion Beam weapon. These exotic weapons are not the only ones of course, but aside from some form of torpedo-launching platform, I was unable to make note of any other void armaments. Whilst on the planet itself, I observed ordinary civilians and even pets possessing sleek and sophisticated bionic limbs, on par with those used by the lower ranks of the Martian Priesthood. My assigned guide and temporary handler, Mira, informed me that Alaric had taken an interest in prosthetics ever since he was a child, where an accident resulted in the loss of two of his limbs and he required replacements, though they were of course far less advanced than the ones presently available. Whether or not this is true cannot be verified at this time, but the fact that such a statement was made does indicate heavy investment into the field. As such, expect to encounter heavily augmented soldiers, of whom some are likely to possess daemonically enhanced cybernetics. Plasma and even Volkite weaponry cannot be ruled out as part of their arsenals. Ryvin's environment is similar to that of ancient Terra in that it possesses a variety of environments, with desert, grassland, forest, and mountain being confirmed, and I suspect that tundra is present as well. Estimated population: 12 billion to 20 billion.

The smallest of the core planets is Tircus, a barren Mining World closest to the system's asteroid belt. If the rumors are to be believed, it was once a lush Feudal World, but the Cult of the Verdant Dragon found it to have some sort of special numerological significance and so conducted a ritual that covered a third of the planet in a Warp Storm. Expectedly, the majority of the population died as a result, but their sorcery did ultimately yield the desired effect: the entirety of the planet's salt was infused with the Warp, transforming it into an anomalous compound that would produce a variety of unnatural reactions when exposed to given forces or elements, which they in turn would use for their experiments. This material, which they call Azite, is very precious to them, and as such Tircus is protected by a vast array of void stations, whose armaments I lack knowledge of. I would not recommend orbital bombardment, as such a vast quantity of Warp-touched matter could have effects reaching even past its orbit. On the planet itself, a vast army of slaves work to extract this Azite, and prolonged exposure to this material, especially inhalation of its powdered form, is known to commonly result in mutations. Mira showed me a vid-recording of a common pastime among the planet's slavemasters: mutant gladiatorial games, where these unfortunate souls would be made to do battle against one another for the amusement of the sorcerers. She informed me that these games are not mere sport however, but controlled experiments, as the Tircusian overlords often study and seek to control or improve these mutations, and combat is known to reveal a great deal about the subject that more conventional analysis would be unable to. I would not be surprised if an entire army of these mutants are just waiting to be unleashed by their masters upon any who would seek to put an end to their work. Estimated population: 2 billion to 4 billion

The final planet is the Industrial Death World of Lantrec, and it serves as the Cult's primary manufacturing center, providing finished goods in the largest quantities of all three core worlds. Lantrecian sorcerers, quietly looked down upon by their Ryvinian and Tircusian counterparts, are known for being the most practical-minded and combative of the lot, often maintaining their status in the face of rivals via direct challenges of arcane ability, to be demonstrated in battle. Their castle-cities churn out vast quantities of mundane but crucially important products for the continued operation of the Cult of the Verdant Dragon, but outside of them lay vast forests brimming with Warp-touched plants and animals whose pathways are seemingly only navigable by the sorcerers themselves, with the exception of a small desert, which was formed by a battle between an Ryvinian pyro-alchemist and a Lantrecian geo-mage and remains the site of all major honor duels to this day. As such, an overland conquest is inadvisable. Estimated population: 7 billion to 10 billion.

Key Figure - "Alaric The Enlightened":

I believe that this individual warrants his own section, separate from the rest of the profiles I have attached. He is the leader of the Cult of the Verdant Dragon and a powerful sorcerer and duelist whose right arm is cybernetic. That, unfortunately, is all that I am able to confirm. This is the result, not of secrecy, but of an abundance of information that I have no means of verifying. This individual has written an autobiography which was originally published nearly one thousand years ago and, as far as I am able to tell, has not had the slightest change in its contents ever since that time. Analysis for hidden messages yielded nothing. No Daemonic presence was detected. Not even the barest hint of arcane influence was noted by all the means I had available. By all accounts, the text is entirely mundane, though, given the subject matter, I am loathe to trust this source at its word. On the other hand, it is the only account I have access to, and so I am dutybound to share it nonetheless. A full copy will be included in the data packet, but I shall summarize and note anything which I believe merits a closer examination.

Alaric was born on Ryvin in the spring of the Tzeentchian holy year of 999 in his then-nation's calendar. His mother (unnamed) was a nurse and his father (unnamed) was a foreign scientist who moved to Andana some years prior to their first meeting. Unbeknownst to all, however, Alaric's father was the original founder and leader of the Cult of the Verdant Dragon. In Alaric's youth, his father would abandon his family, though he would keep his reasoning a secret, and shortly after, Alaric's mother fell ill and died, the result of a plague unleashed upon the countryside by a Cult of Nurgle. After these events, Alaric, who had already begun secretly learning to use his psychic powers, devoted himself to understanding and mastering the arcane texts that his father had left behind, intending to use the man's own arts to exact his revenge, unaware of the truth. Some years later, Alaric, now a fully fledged sorcerer and alchemist, would indeed find the man who sired him, and he would work his way through the Cult's ranks under a false identity in order to reach the inner circle and confront his father.

Their meeting would end in patricide, as Alaric had intended, though he would come to realize from the dead man's journals that the enemies of the Cult of the Verdant Dragon were pursuing him and posed a danger to his wife and son. His departure was done with the intention of eliminating them whilst protecting his family in the meantime. At the same time however, the reason Alaric was even born to begin with was to fulfill a prophecy that would see the Cult of the Verdant Dragon become the dominant force on Ryvin and beyond, under Alaric's leadership. Seeing this as his destiny and life's purpose, Alaric would indeed take command of the cult and purge the entire planet of the influence of the "lower" Chaos Gods over the course of decades, all the while growing in power publicly as a military officer and politician. Within a century, the entire world was unknowingly controlled by the Cult of the Verdant Dragon, and in time the knowledge of planet's true ruling order would trickle down to the common people and become an accepted fact of life, allowing the Cult's operations to massively expand.

If this is true, and it may be at least in part, this Alaric may possess some manner of power or mutation that has not been made public knowledge. My current theories are as follows. The first is that Alaric is his father, having transferred his mind and soul into his son's body and therefore being the "prophesied" child without requiring any personal sacrifice beyond time and the pain of the soul transplant procedure, as I find it highly unlikely that the leader of a major Tzeentchian cult would willingly set his own death into motion without a grander plan behind it. If this is true, it is possible that Alaric may be able to continue his work even after the destruction of his body if not subjected to careful examination. The second is that Alaric is an artificial human, created with the specific intention of being the ideal leader of the Cult of the Verdant Dragon, as the sorceries employed by the organization, even in the supposed year of Alaric's birth, would have allowed for the methodical creation of a human being who would be guaranteed to carry certain desirable traits rather than leaving the matter to conventional procreation. The third and perhaps most worrying theory is that Alaric is not a human at all, but rather a Tzeentchian Daemonhost who has been able to prepare some grander scheme for its master over the course of centuries. The fact that the six outer planets and the three core planets add up to nine in total certainly suggests that there are more terrible forces at work than merely a Chaos Lord slowly forging an empire for himself. In any case, I would rank Alaric as the highest priority target when assaulting the Lyra system.

Conclusions:

The Cult of the Verdant Dragon is a contained but heavily entrenched and growing threat. Its reach was limited primarily by the Maelstrom's overwhelming and constant Warp Storm activity, but with the clearing of the area, interstellar travel is now practically uninhibited. In the coming decades I suspect Tzeentchian infiltrators will make their way all across the sector and beyond. Their modus operandi indicates that these Cultists will always aim for leading positions in governmental, military, and scientific fields rather than spreading across the lower classes, which would, if successful, make future compliance operations by the Eternal Wardens significantly more difficult and more likely to require military force. The Cult itself is far more organized and stable than is typical for Tzeentchians, though they also do not possess the typical focus on divination that most of the servants of the Changer of Ways fall into, perhaps intentionally. Their military is more than a match for an equivalent Imperial Army tonnage and has access to highly esoteric weapons, both of a psychic and a technological nature. My recommendation is as follows: deploy the Eternal Wardens Legion with Kesar Dorlin leading them and eliminate the Cult's leadership as soon as possible. In addition, be ever vigilant for sorcerous rituals prepared on any of the planets under Alaric's control, as centuries of uninterrupted time allow for a great many possible threats to be set up in advance.

 

[w34v3r]

Oooohhhh this is gonna be nasty, almost competent deamon diddlers with prep-time.

 

[Nicholas Brooks]

Oooohhhh this is gonna be nasty, almost competent deamon diddlers with prep-time.

Click to shrink...

I mean, when you want to give the main characters magic lore you've got to give a solid reasoning for its existence and a major challenge to get to it.

 

[Daemon Hunter]

GM Note: Special thanks to Argenten and Ruirk for providing fun snippets for the update.

Spoiler: Winning Vote

[X] Plan Piłsudski: Find a means to get down to Terra (teleportation, shuttle, whatever) to apprehend Eli and Skullface and get them to air their grievances before the Consilium and get it to work out some arrangement to end this blasted coup while acting as a neutral arbitrator as much as possible.

Kesar expected there to be signs of battle when he landed, for there to be pockmarks from bullets around every corner and holes within walls. Instead, his arrival in the Imperial Palace surprised him, for while he did see signs of battle in a handful of locations, the vast majority of the palace was taken without a fight.

"Lord Primarch," began Lord-General Samuel Braggs, one of Skullface's closest aides, and the soldier who had volunteered to meet and escort Kesar. "Would you care to inspect the palace for damages first, or would you prefer to meet directly with Lord-Commander Orban?"

The Second Anathema made a show of thinking it over, in truth, he was surprised at just how quickly Skullface and Eli agreed to the arbitration. Yet now that he had a better look at the situation and more of the details were revealed, it was the expected outcome. Skullface's coup had failed in its main goal, with a combination of Project GI prototypes and Chief Custodian Valdor allowing Eli to escape. Yet Skullface was not without his consolation prize, having captured the Imperial Palace and the majority of the Consilium. "A tour would be best," the Primarch began, "but perhaps we could review the state of the prisoners first?"

Kesar glanced at the twin squads of Sisters that flanked him, all ten of the blanks subtly communicating that they wished to check on the status of their fellow blanks.

"As you wish," Lord-General Braggs glanced at the Sisters of Silence before wincing, "you will unfortunately not find the Sisters of Silence among the prisoners, they fought with honor and dignity to the end."

One of the Sisters signed at the Second Anathema, who conveyed the message without hesitation. "I expect their bodies, armor, and weapons to be sent to their fortress on Luna immediately."

The Lord-General agreed immediately, and so Kesar's tour of the Imperial Palace began. This time in rather different circumstances than normal.

---

"Do you know what happened?" Kesar asked a serf cleaning the street outside the palace.

"Iunno, I just clean." Said the awed cleaner. "Can ya tell me? I can sell that for good money."

---

"Do you know what happened?" Kesar asked a woman handing out loaves of bread to some other serfs.

"No, my lord." She tried not to stare at him, "My family and I spent a few days stuck inside our home, but the soldiers told us after three days that we were free to leave."

"I see."

"Would you...like some bread, my lord?" She didn't seem sure how to end this conversation.

"No, thank you."

---

"Quite the battle took place here." The Primarch observed the utterly ruined guest quarters with grim thoughts plaguing his mind.

"Ay," said the guardsmen whose hands were stained with the blood of dead Sisters. "The mutes were stubborn as a grox."

Kesar felt more than heard the angry bristling of the Sisters behind him.

---

"How did your lab survive this intact?" Kesar questioned as he began to analyze his nephew's work.

"Project GI was more effective than initially expected," Fabius responded in a voice that conveyed clear pride in his work. "Skullface's forces found themselves outmatched."

Kesar took in the information, unsure if he should be happy the Imperium will have a new asset, or unhappy that Fabius' work was one of the main reasons the coup failed. "When will they be ready for use?"

"40 years, 20 with your expertise. 10 if we cut corners."

"I will want an analysis on the results of cutting corners with Project GI when I meet you for the vivisection."

The Emperor's Children veteran seemed to almost vibrate with contained but unhidden glee, "I am so happy that you accepted, and I shall be as thorough as you would expect of me."

Kesar did not see why the others were so concerned. Fabius was merely as dedicated to his craft as any of Kesar's sons were to theirs, like Solarus.

---

"Why the hell is he still alive?" The guardsmen captured by coup forces snarled, staring directly at Lord-General Braggs.

"I wish to avoid further loss of life," Kesar calmly replied. "Resuming hostilities would kill millions and result in classified information being leaked."

"So now we're forgiving humans for treason as well? Well, at least it's not just Primarchs anymore."

---

At long last, Kesar found himself face to face with the mastermind behind the coup. Lord Commander Vilmo, a man who now held more power than any on Terra since the Emperor looked like a man who was seeing his life's work crumble away in front of him. And to an extent, it was accurate. "Leave us," Kesar ordered everyone within the room.

Just after everyone trailed out of the room, Skullface broke the silence. "Well, things could have gone better." Looking up at Kesar, the coup leader sighed, "The main goals failed, but all the secondary and tertiary goals succeeded beyond my wildest dreams."

"There's also 50 dead Sisters," Kesar scowled at the thought, a churning sense of guilt remaining in his stomach. "If I hadn't shared what I knew about them, would they still live?"

Skullface hesitated for a second, "I would have sent substantially fewer forces without that information. It's likely I would have been the one to die in that case."

The Second Anathema took a seat, letting his head hang low. "Damn, this wasn't how I hoped things would go." Kesar sighed deeply, letting his thoughts clear, "right, what are your next steps?"

"Next steps? There is only one step now entirely. Although, perhaps two. I will have the Consilium make a vote to remove Eli. After that, I will surrender."

That hardly sounded like any good plan, "You have that much hope that they will remove Eli from power?"

"No." Skullface answered honestly, "I don't."

"Then why bother?"

"Because I want them to look each other in the eyes and recognize that when the Imperium begins burning, they will know who allowed it to happen," Skullface answered bluntly. "That's all I can do now to make all of...this misery worthwhile."

Skullface pulled out a lho-cigar and lit it, "After that, you'll be free to do as you please with the Princeps."

"I don't really have any plans for them other than ensuring their safety." Kesar wanted this whole coup business resolved and fast.

Taking a puff of his cigar, Skullface chuckled, "I'm sure you can find something to bring up for them to vote on. If nothing else, I would appreciate your support in getting my troops pardoned by influencing one member to vote on that."

An odd but not out-of-place request, "No promises on that, but I will consider it." Kesar figured enough people had died already. Besides, why waste good soldiers?

---

As the Consilium waited, Kesar was faced with quite a complex problem, and one that he was fairly sure wouldn't be solvable in full. He'd have to compromise in some aspect if he wished to keep the discussions peaceful.

The Primarch paused, deliberately considering matters. "Do you think the Consilium will have mankind's best interests at heart?" He asked aloud, momentarily confusing the Sisters with him, who glanced around at each other. Chuckling despite the situation, Kesar clarified their unasked question, "Yes, I was asking you that question."

A flurry of signing was exchanged between the group of Sisters, as they debated the topic themselves, providing Kesar with some insight into what appeared to be rather heated discussions on mainline Imperial policy. Based on the admittedly small sample size, 1 in 10 approved of the Consilium, 4 in 10 thought it was too early to make a decision, and 3 in 10 disapproved. However, that left 20% of the Sisters unaccounted for, and their opinions were more … problematic. For the Imperium, not Kesar.

Of the rest of the Sisters, 2 in 10 thought that the Consilium wasn't the problem, but rather that they had been set up to fail in the first place. Kesar noticed that this was not a well-received stance by the other Sisters, with several unique signs being used both by and against the Sisters in question. Signs the Primarchs suspected were rather acerbic and profane in nature. In regards to their stance on the Consilium itself, they preferred tearing it down entirely and replacing it with an interim government with little connection to the prior Imperial government. A government that Kesar suspected would be heavily influenced by the Sisters of Silence themselves.

Nonetheless, if he did need to apply force, he may not be forced to do it alone. But if he did use force, he rather doubted he could rely on the Sisters if he also relied on Skullface. It would be like working with a man who killed Kesar's sons. Painful beyond belief. Perhaps with the right incentives, he would do so. But right now, he wasn't sure if the Sisters had those incentives themselves.

---

Kesar saw there being a total of five topics he could push, and he began to plan out what those would be.

Order these topics in decreasing order of focus. The higher Kesar focuses on it, the better the chance it is agreed to. (If you don't include an option, Kesar will not push for it)

[] Public votes - By default the Consilium will vote using a secret ballot. While this prevents them from bowing to public pressure, in this case, that is exactly what is needed.
[] Removing Eli from power - While Kesar likes the man, it is clear that he cannot be allowed to remain in power. Guilliman tacitly supported a coup, and Corvus outright sent Astartes to support it. Leaning on the Consilium to remove him is a necessity.
[] Pardon the rank and file of the coup - If the coup forces feel as if they have nothing to lose, then they may try and burn down the palace. Skullface clearly hopes this will occur, and with Kesar pushing for it, it may even happen.
[] Avoid executing Skullface's inner circle - A difficult proposition, and one likely to be shot down immediately, Skullface's inner circle has proven to be exceptionally competent. If Kesar spends time campaigning for it, it may be possible to recruit them for the Wardens in a specialized penal unit.
[] Preventing Eli from voting - Having Eli vote for his own removal is clearly a conflict of interest. Surely the Consilium understands this and will prevent him from doing so? Nonetheless, it may be worth ensuring this occurs.
[] Write-in

Additionally, Kesar has some options to sway the vote. Choose one of the following:

[] Nothing but words - Following the laws and regulations of the Imperium is critical in tumultuous times. While it will bind him quite a bit, and risk an outcome he doesn't like, Kesar isn't so distrusting of the Imperium. Yet.
[] Favors and deals - While it will be expensive, Kesar could trade a variety of personal favors and make a variety of deals with some of the members present. However, this would make his stance clear, and nothing at this level will be cheap. Even by his standards, it will be costly.
[] Hold the vote on Terra - Right now the Consilium plans to hold the vote on Luna rather than Terra due to the security issues present. But Kesar could allow Skullface to hold onto the members of the Consilium for a while longer. While this would make any vote occur under the sword of damocles, helping push matters toward Kesar's intended state, it would also make him quite unpopular with the Consilium.
[] Unleash the Sisters - While Skullface's coup failed, that doesn't prevent another coup from succeeding. There are 900 Sisters of Silence present, the palace guards are locked up, and Krole seemingly has influence over the Custodes. Perhaps there is an opportunity here?
[] Write-in

 

[argenten]

So right off the bat I'd like to establish the key things we need to happen.

We need Eli out of power, period. His methods would see the economy crash and burn, billions die from the entire Imperium going though a Desolation and while it can ride it out...it's so needlessly wasteful that it offends me on moral, ethical, and utilitarian levels.

We will need Eli to not be able to vote for himself because, well, we want him out and if he can vote he might be the deciding one.

We don't want a public ballot because the IA loves Eli right now and the civvies reallly don't get it as Skullface did too good a job keeping them safe for political purposes and holy shit that sentence.

Pardoning the rank and file is a good move and will hopefully establish a prisoner taking culture in any future Imperial civil strife, the officers are often the ones causing the trouble so best to not punish the troops for trusting said officers.

I think we also will want to push for analysis of Eli's plan and look for ways to get what he is trying to accomplish (project GI and other reforms) without essentially having to pull a slash and burn economy.

For how we try to sway, the best options I can see are...none that really don't have their downsides. If we want to maintain deniability, we will have to have a light hand, or frame our removal of Eli on basically kesar 'discovering' just how high the cost for Eli's plan would be and thus seeing Eli as a functional enemy of the state for 'wasteful and needless mass loss of imperial lives and materials'.

 

[JAMalam]

Additionally, Kesar has some options to sway the vote. Choose one of the following:

Click to shrink...

[jk] Write-in: The Imperium of Man has clearly failed at its objective of creating a stable government for mankind. There is no other option than to start blasting Saggitta at anything that moves and destroy the Terran government once and for all. The Emperor will understand us turning his homeworld into a barren wasteland and Malcador will highly appreciate us ruining the government he spent so much time trying to create. Definitely.



Well, here we are in the land of politics. There's no clear good decision and someone is going to get offended at us no matter what we do, even if we do nothing. Let's just hope we take the best possible route.

 

[Unravenan]

[1] Preventing Eli from voting - Having Eli vote for his own removal is clearly a conflict of interest. Surely the Consilium understands this and will prevent him from doing so? Nonetheless, it may be worth ensuring this occurs.
[2] Removing Eli from power - While Kesar likes the man, it is clear that he cannot be allowed to remain in power. Guilliman tacitly supported a coup, and Corvus outright sent Astartes to support it. Leaning on the Consilium to remove him is a necessity.
[3] Public votes - By default the Consilium will vote using a secret ballot. While this prevents them from bowing to public pressure, in this case, that is exactly what is needed.
[4] Pardon the rank and file of the coup - If the coup forces feel as if they have nothing to lose, then they may try and burn down the palace. Skullface clearly hopes this will occur, and with Kesar pushing for it, it may even happen.
[5] Avoid executing Skullface's inner circle - A difficult proposition, and one likely to be shot down immediately, Skullface's inner circle has proven to be exceptionally competent. If Kesar spends time campaigning for it, it may be possible to recruit them for the Wardens in a specialized penal unit.


[X] Unleash the Sisters - While Skullface's coup failed, that doesn't prevent another coup from succeeding. There are 900 Sisters of Silence present, the palace guards are locked up, and Krole seemingly has influence over the Custodes. Perhaps there is an opportunity here?

I am thinking we have to do these actions to manage the fallout as best we can. The Order of which I think brings us the best chance of success. Thoughts everyone?

 

[burningman4]

[1] Preventing Eli from voting - Having Eli vote for his own removal is clearly a conflict of interest. Surely the Consilium understands this and will prevent him from doing so? Nonetheless, it may be worth ensuring this occurs.
[2] Removing Eli from power - While Kesar likes the man, it is clear that he cannot be allowed to remain in power. Guilliman tacitly supported a coup, and Corvus outright sent Astartes to support it. Leaning on the Consilium to remove him is a necessity.
[3] Pardon the rank and file of the coup - If the coup forces feel as if they have nothing to lose, then they may try and burn down the palace. Skullface clearly hopes this will occur, and with Kesar pushing for it, it may even happen.
[4] Avoid executing Skullface's inner circle - A difficult proposition, and one likely to be shot down immediately, Skullface's inner circle has proven to be exceptionally competent. If Kesar spends time campaigning for it, it may be possible to recruit them for the Wardens in a specialized penal unit.
[5] Public votes - By default the Consilium will vote using a secret ballot. While this prevents them from bowing to public pressure, in this case, that is exactly what is needed.

[X] An offer you cant refuse - Keep them On Terra while trying to make deals with them the silent threat of possible death should make them more "reasonable" with any deal we make with them and if any asks why we didnt take it to Luna tell them its to keep rogue imperial Army personal looking into the emperors personal and private quarters