The Lost Primarch Quest
- Thread starter Daemon Hunter
- Start date
- Location
- Elsewhere
You are actually making progress overall, it's just that the Imperium is a bit of a mess in quite a few regards, making some sort of internal conflict almost inevitable. And navigating through this conflict can make the Imperium notably stronger via forcing it to grow in ways it hadn't intended to.
Likely not with the imperium as it stands. Even with these reforms the simple fact is that nobody actually knows what the plan is aside from Emps and/or Malcador, and even they don't seem to be talking about it much to each other, much less anyone else. We have a partial list of things we're told are important, and a lot of power and influence to throw at these issues, but not a lot of info as to why these things are important, not info that jives with what we see in the wider imperium anyway.
If the imperium is meant to last much longer it needs serious overhauls at several structural levels.
TinyGladiator
Just another SVer
- Location
- I move alot.
Let's look at the forces that were sent to the three compliances we'll be voting for.
The enemy: A group of 200 million Tzeentchian cultists (that might mostly be chicken people but please ignore that) in a giant Chaos twisted ship, with at least semi-functional defences, that are focused on having 'normal' plans but having hundreds of them at once to be easily switched to depending on whatever happens. Well experienced with battle against stronger opponents due to facing powerful Khornate forces until just recently.
First Captain Oriacarius is a genius at warfare, command, strategies and especially contingencies for any possible event. These cultists think they're good at planning for a lot of things at once to absurd levels, they have no idea what that they're really saying. The enemy has the advantage of a well fortified giant ship and Chaos power, but they can't out-plan Oriacarius.
The thing about the spires is that, on paper, it's dangerous because it's hundreds of deployments that then have to be further spread out into a fuckton of squads of under 10 Astartes against 200 million cultists due to the (relatively, for the most part) enclosed space of the spires. On the flipside, that's squads of heavily augmented supersoldiers in power armour against similarly small forces. Even discounting the element of surprise, which is massive against Tzeentchians, that would be far more of a bloodbath on the enemy's side than ours.
For other assets, Oriacarius himself is a supremely deadly fighter against Chaos. The Khalsa are Kesar's honour guard, sent away from him for obvious reasons, and are all powerful psykers. That's a nasty combo for anything facing him. Hektor is a Dreadnought and... yeah, that in an of itself is a mighty thing as it's rampaging against everything close by.
The assassin execution force, made up of at least a Culexus (extremely powerful blank), a Eversor (a berserker monster, especially in close quarters), a Callidus (extremely skilled shapeshifter and infiltrator), a Vindicare (super skilled sniper that could shoot through walls to hit specific targets) and it seems a Vanus (hacker, information specialist) and a Venenum (poison expert). Not sure on the last two, but even just the first four would be a brutal force that would decimate anything that got to them.
The assassins' main weakness would be heavy ordnance and other firepower that would be pointed at them that they couldn't dodge, i.e. killing fields. Surprise is their element and they are perfect to leverage it to lethal success.
This is a (sorta?) uncorrupted artificial intelligence that is a veteran of the Cybernetic Revolt, having actually fought for humanity than against it, and an extremely advanced researcher of the Immaterium who was just secluded and content to be by itself until Slaanesh came into being. They're fucking trying to time travel back to the past, initially with the help of the Maelstrom (which is why it's here) until that sorta stopped being a thing (oops), to retcon-murder the fourth Chaos God. Isn't that a relatable goal for the Eleventh, honestly?
Losing Solarus is just a terrible idea. A Hero of the Legion and thus a Daemonsbane, a master of explosives that is near unparalleled for humanity and is absolutely so for Astartes. We can't risk losing him. Meanwhile, his bombs could definitely help destroy the orbital stations and keep them from being a problem in the near future. Explosives combined with teleportation could do some nasty stuff while inside these things.
The Cherished Son being lost hurts a lot, for it is a symbol of victory against the Word Bearers and a mark of what was lost (both on their part and the Eternal Wardens) to let it be taken, but in the end it is just a ship. One of the best and strongest, far more than just a useful asset, but it is just a ship. Kesar could more easily lose the Cherished Son than lose a cherished son.
While this won't impact the industry of this thing much, definitely not on the ground but a little for space stuff, this will make it vulnerable for a short while and sorta slow its growth as it focuses on building these things back. Industry and time are its main strengths, but we can't really risk trying to attack it directly without a force at least three times as large as we actually sent.
These four rifts are a problem. There's two on each polar cap, basically, and two on the site where the former capital of this planet had been. Daemons keep coming out of them, as you'd expect, yet strangely there's no real amount of corrupted people or mutants around these rifts. Whether they're just being eaten or something else isn't known, but what is known is that killing daemons is what Wardens do.
While they can ramp up in some way, I'd say it's best to take these on one at a time. Unity is one of the greatest strengths of the Eleventh and unless things ramp up way too far I'd say it's best to keep with this strategy. For removing even one rift would be enough of an advantage, as the overall strength and influence of the surrounding Warp is weakened and there's one less giant hole in reality where the enemy can emerge from.
Aengus is a prodigy who has not had their moment to shine. The Triquetra, our three Chief Librarians, shall also give their moment to shine. Whether any of them actually shine or falter is unknown, but I think they can do it. Let's show the people of this world what saviours against hell look like.
With this in mind, I say the Radiation Spires are the best target.
The enemy: A group of 200 million Tzeentchian cultists (that might mostly be chicken people but please ignore that) in a giant Chaos twisted ship, with at least semi-functional defences, that are focused on having 'normal' plans but having hundreds of them at once to be easily switched to depending on whatever happens. Well experienced with battle against stronger opponents due to facing powerful Khornate forces until just recently.
First Captain Oriacarius is a genius at warfare, command, strategies and especially contingencies for any possible event. These cultists think they're good at planning for a lot of things at once to absurd levels, they have no idea what that they're really saying. The enemy has the advantage of a well fortified giant ship and Chaos power, but they can't out-plan Oriacarius.
The thing about the spires is that, on paper, it's dangerous because it's hundreds of deployments that then have to be further spread out into a fuckton of squads of under 10 Astartes against 200 million cultists due to the (relatively, for the most part) enclosed space of the spires. On the flipside, that's squads of heavily augmented supersoldiers in power armour against similarly small forces. Even discounting the element of surprise, which is massive against Tzeentchians, that would be far more of a bloodbath on the enemy's side than ours.
For other assets, Oriacarius himself is a supremely deadly fighter against Chaos. The Khalsa are Kesar's honour guard, sent away from him for obvious reasons, and are all powerful psykers. That's a nasty combo for anything facing him. Hektor is a Dreadnought and... yeah, that in an of itself is a mighty thing as it's rampaging against everything close by.
The assassin execution force, made up of at least a Culexus (extremely powerful blank), a Eversor (a berserker monster, especially in close quarters), a Callidus (extremely skilled shapeshifter and infiltrator), a Vindicare (super skilled sniper that could shoot through walls to hit specific targets) and it seems a Vanus (hacker, information specialist) and a Venenum (poison expert). Not sure on the last two, but even just the first four would be a brutal force that would decimate anything that got to them.
The assassins' main weakness would be heavy ordnance and other firepower that would be pointed at them that they couldn't dodge, i.e. killing fields. Surprise is their element and they are perfect to leverage it to lethal success.
With this in mind, and this is a bad but sadly 'needed to be dealt with' situation, The Larger Stations seem like the best target to face.
This is a (sorta?) uncorrupted artificial intelligence that is a veteran of the Cybernetic Revolt, having actually fought for humanity than against it, and an extremely advanced researcher of the Immaterium who was just secluded and content to be by itself until Slaanesh came into being. They're fucking trying to time travel back to the past, initially with the help of the Maelstrom (which is why it's here) until that sorta stopped being a thing (oops), to retcon-murder the fourth Chaos God. Isn't that a relatable goal for the Eleventh, honestly?
Losing Solarus is just a terrible idea. A Hero of the Legion and thus a Daemonsbane, a master of explosives that is near unparalleled for humanity and is absolutely so for Astartes. We can't risk losing him. Meanwhile, his bombs could definitely help destroy the orbital stations and keep them from being a problem in the near future. Explosives combined with teleportation could do some nasty stuff while inside these things.
The Cherished Son being lost hurts a lot, for it is a symbol of victory against the Word Bearers and a mark of what was lost (both on their part and the Eternal Wardens) to let it be taken, but in the end it is just a ship. One of the best and strongest, far more than just a useful asset, but it is just a ship. Kesar could more easily lose the Cherished Son than lose a cherished son.
While this won't impact the industry of this thing much, definitely not on the ground but a little for space stuff, this will make it vulnerable for a short while and sorta slow its growth as it focuses on building these things back. Industry and time are its main strengths, but we can't really risk trying to attack it directly without a force at least three times as large as we actually sent.
With this in mind, Sequential Assaults is what I suggest here.
These four rifts are a problem. There's two on each polar cap, basically, and two on the site where the former capital of this planet had been. Daemons keep coming out of them, as you'd expect, yet strangely there's no real amount of corrupted people or mutants around these rifts. Whether they're just being eaten or something else isn't known, but what is known is that killing daemons is what Wardens do.
While they can ramp up in some way, I'd say it's best to take these on one at a time. Unity is one of the greatest strengths of the Eleventh and unless things ramp up way too far I'd say it's best to keep with this strategy. For removing even one rift would be enough of an advantage, as the overall strength and influence of the surrounding Warp is weakened and there's one less giant hole in reality where the enemy can emerge from.
Aengus is a prodigy who has not had their moment to shine. The Triquetra, our three Chief Librarians, shall also give their moment to shine. Whether any of them actually shine or falter is unknown, but I think they can do it. Let's show the people of this world what saviours against hell look like.
MrRobot
In doubt there's always the Sun!
Valador: Our king will never stands for such a farce!
Emperor: *Get back and terra, see shit on fire, get Valadors rant, kesarWTF.pmg, call shithead number 11, get an more clinical answer with a "ps: In attachment there's a plan that i think works for this, please send me to my sons faar away from here, i hate here", proceeds to send Kesar on a "penitent crusade", Proceeds with basically kesar's plan.*
Valador: *becomes a very salty banana*
Emperor: *Get back and terra, see shit on fire, get Valadors rant, kesarWTF.pmg, call shithead number 11, get an more clinical answer with a "ps: In attachment there's a plan that i think works for this, please send me to my sons faar away from here, i hate here", proceeds to send Kesar on a "penitent crusade", Proceeds with basically kesar's plan.*
Valador: *becomes a very salty banana*
Last edited:
TinyGladiator
Just another SVer
- Location
- I move alot.
[X] Plan Surprise, Shipless, Sequence
-[X] Radiation Spires
-[X] The Larger Stations
-[X] Sequential Assaults
-[X] Radiation Spires
-[X] The Larger Stations
-[X] Sequential Assaults
- Pronouns
- Human/Form/Keyblade
[X] Plan Surprise, Shipless, Sequence
- Location
- Bronx new york
[X] Plan Surprise, Shipless, Sequence
Nicholas Brooks
Redeemer and Destroyer
- Location
- United States
The Imperium can already do that. It's how any of the Primarchs have Gloriana-Class Battleships to begin with.
[X] Plan Surprise, Shipless, Sequence
I meant our domain.
Edit: I saw on our Infrastructure list that Asgard can produce Gloriana battleships. We should probably lean on them eventually to build a new one.
Last edited:
Nicholas Brooks
Redeemer and Destroyer
- Location
- United States
Ah. Well the Asgard Sector seems capable of it already, but the resource drain would be astronomical, making it quite impractical for the foreseeable future.
[X] Plan Surprise, Shipless, Sequence
- Location
- Elsewhere
You already can, it's just that right now you have a shortage of smaller ships, so said shipyards are better used producing non-Glorianas
Yeah that was the reason behind Corvus/Roboute making the Crow-class vessels. The Imperium has, ironically enough, made too many big ass ships when they need many more smaller ones to do the grunt work.
[X] Plan Surprise, Shipless, Sequence
Lots of complicated stuff happening in regards to the imperium.
It's a lot of long term problems that will be mess to sort out for a while.
At least we can focus on what we do best for now, killing daemons (and an abominable intelligence that is on an Arch Daemons side).
Lots of complicated stuff happening in regards to the imperium.
It's a lot of long term problems that will be mess to sort out for a while.
At least we can focus on what we do best for now, killing daemons (and an abominable intelligence that is on an Arch Daemons side).
- Location
- The internet
[X] Plan Surprise, Shipless, Sequence
Well, it could be worse. At least we're still only dealing with individual hard points and the occasional subsector rather than serious multi sector polities.
Well, it could be worse. At least we're still only dealing with individual hard points and the occasional subsector rather than serious multi sector polities.
Flashpoints: Compliance IV (Must Read)
Alright, the compliances in question for this
Flashpoints: Compliance IV
To: Lord Corax
From: Director Lockcraft
Subject: Phylstria Sancta
Esteemed Lord Corax,
Per your directives and the implemented security protocols, I transmit this missive employing the recently devised cipher system orchestrated by our associates within Polaris. Their advances in covert communications promise to revolutionize secure correspondences among Aeldari/Ravenloft-affiliated factions.
Intriguingly, a report of significant import has recently come to my attention. An operative embedded within the 456th Expeditionary Fleet—aligned with your esteemed domain—has uncovered what initially seemed to be a conventional temple dedicated to a Hellenic deity. While we initially presumed it to be a standard place of worship with potential records beneficial to our cause, our operative has unveiled several startling incidents demanding Ravenloft's immediate attention.
The celestial body under scrutiny is identified as Phylstria Sancta. Though outwardly unremarkable, it presents an opportunity for colonization and assimilation into the Imperium. Historical archives indicate that Phylstria Sancta was a colonial holding during the Old Federation, forged at the onset of the Age of Strife. Surviving the tumultuous era, it wasn't left untouched, suffering a brief occupation by the Abalathia Realm—a former political entity.
What adds a captivating layer to this narrative, interweaving seamlessly with the existence of the monastery, the Sanctum of Tranquility, is an event known as The Rage End. Phylstria Sancta disavows any association with this fervent episode, attributing its salvation to the benevolence of the Goddess of Peace, who died to stop the Abalathia Realm. This intriguing history forms the backdrop against which the Liturgy of the Tree operates.
Situated in the remote reaches of Phylstria Sancta, the Sanctum of Tranquility hosts the Liturgy of the Tree, an order of monks. Upon investigation by our operative and Imperial psykers, they have been identified as Blanks, exhibiting Chi and Psi levels beyond conventional thresholds. The sheer number of these Blanks is unprecedented.
Despite our efforts to glean information from the locals, they either refused to disclose or were genuinely ignorant about the Liturgy's uncanny ability to identify new Blanks on Phylstria Sancta. Governments, too, seem either uninformed or indifferent to this mysterious occurrence, and due to the current political climate on Phylstria Sancta, it is difficult to get a straight answer from anyone. This situation gets all the stranger when one steps within 20 kilometers of the Sanctum of Tranquility, as it produces a warp bubble of "tranquility" upon all who enter it.
Our operative's description aligns with the physical and psychic effects observed within the tranquility bubble. Biometric and Etheric scans indicate a gradual build of peace of mind, spiritual calm, and physical relaxation upon entry. Every individual within the bubble experiences an extraordinary sense of ease. Psykers, in particular, note a substantial reduction in the constant psychic turbulence of the ambient warp, a phenomenon that has persisted as a consistent feature over the past four millennia.
Ambassadors from the fleet expressed discomfort at this discovery, suspecting a potential psychic or warp intrusion. However, it has been clarified that this bubble of calm and peace has existed on Phylstria Sancta for over four thousand years, precluding any recent intrusion. The locals attribute this tranquility to the Sanctum of Tranquility's presence and perceived divinity.
Concerns arose upon discovering "imprints" left on individuals who step inside the bubble. These ephemeral markings, believed to be tangible manifestations of residual psychic energies, align with our operative's theory regarding a potential source of divinity. The markings, though faint, bear scrutiny, and their nature remains a topic of ongoing investigation.
In a bold move, our operative successfully convinced a local mayor from a nearby town to facilitate a journey to the Sanctum. Physical conditioning and training for Ravenloft operatives proved effective, as the trek took the better two days. The operative aimed to make direct contact with the Liturgy of the Tree, the order of monks residing within the Sanctum, to gain deeper insights into the nature of the tranquility and its divinity.
This endeavor unfolded amidst the Imperium's simultaneous attempts to persuade leaders of the nine political entities to join forces and establish direct contact with the monks. First contact was relatively easy, but the Liturgy did not seem interested in speaking with us beyond casual conversation. It took the better part of three weeks before our operative could talk directly with someone known as the Storyteller, who appears to be a quasi-leader of the Liturgy.
Once our operative explained the purpose of Ravenloft, the Storyteller reportedly sounded both intrigued and concerned regarding the supposed return of the gods. The Storyteller said that this Sanctum was to honor the final sacrifice of the Goddess of Peace, Eirini, who is part of the Helenic pantheon. All of this plays back into the war fought on this planet and the subsequent end.
According to the Storyteller, the Abalathia Realm was led by a dangerously formidable warrior-king, driven by rage and loathing in response to the perceived cruelties of the galaxy during the Age of Strife. Eirini, the Goddess of Peace from the Helenic pantheon, played a pivotal role in the planet's history. The Storyteller asserted that Eirini sacrificed herself to cast a potent curse upon the people of the Abalathia Realm. This curse stripped them of the collective spiritual capacity to wage war, an act designed to bring tranquility to the strife-ridden region.
While it might sound fantastical, even by the standards of our encounters with various mythical or apocalyptic tales, the Liturgy provided substantial evidence supporting their claims. Our operative gained access to the Tree of Tranquility, the apparent source of the warp bubble, and identified what the Liturgy considers the "remains" of the goddess Eirini.
As the name seemingly implies, the Tree of Tranquility is exactly that. Towering at 23 meters in height and with a diameter of 31, the tree exists in a peculiar state of suspended animation. The operative described it as having gnarled branches adorned with silvery leaves that appear frozen mid-fall yet seemingly caught in some eternal breeze.
Furthermore, the tree is or was producing what appeared to be ripe olives that remain steadfast in their place, seemingly a testament to the tree's otherworldly stillness. Attempts to touch or gather these olives are met with a described ethereal resistance, almost as if the very essence of the tree rejects any disturbance to its tranquil equilibrium. It also is in a perpetual blooming state. A fragrance of blossoms permeates the air, creating an atmosphere of perpetual spring within the confines of the bubble. Each petal and leaf caught in suspended animation apparently contributes to the tree's allure.
Traces of blood and ancient bones were identified upon closer inspection of the roots, likely part of the mythos involving the final conflict against the Abalathia Realm. The operative conveyed that the branches silhouette against the darkening sky as daylight fades, casting intricate patterns of shadow and light that seem to form a series of patterns and symbols within the Sanctum's soil, air, and walls. A rather fanciful descriptor, but with the divine, it seems quite appropriate in these instances.
Regardless, we'd need a dedicated team to examine further and research this location, which I have already despatched given the nature of this development. I am, however, concerned over certain details the Storyteller provided regarding the fate of this world and the goddess, Eirini.
The Imperial delegation plans to send their expedition to the Sanctum, and I am concerned about this information spreading to the greater Imperium. I would thus humble request that you find some means to either stall or deny this plan by the ambassadors until we can determine exactly what to do. Additionally, the population of Phylstria Sancta is predominantly a combination of Deorums, Hebrites, and Buddislamics who hold the Sanctum of Tranquility in high regard as it has allowed their groups to resolve religious tensions alongside more secular ones whenever it calls for it. I fear that if the people of this world learn that the Imperium will "quarantine" the Sanctum, it will cause unrest and violence.
Secondly, the information involving Eirini and the Abalathia Realm points to an inconclusive end to the realm, suggesting that while the realm "lost" the war, their people are still out there, perhaps making them a target for the forces of Chaos. The Storyteller provided a lead on their whereabouts through a star chart. I've ordered a general investigation into pinning the Realms location, to which we can then ascertain whether these people are a threat.
I have a feeling that we will be enlightened soon enough. The gods have this rather nasty habit of leaving a trail for anyone brave or foolish enough to investigate their origins and downfalls. As always, I will keep you appraised of these developments.
MEMORANDUM FOR: The Tetrach Council and Authorized Senior Commanders
PREPARED BY: Captain Kasbil, 7th Chapter, Invictarii
REPORT DATE: 948.M30
COMPLIANCE: ALPHA-RHO-00185
DESIGNATION: "The Abalathia Commonwealth"
PRIORITY: Extreme
OVERVIEW:
A recent compliance operation has unveiled a potentially high-level "Esoteric Event/Incident" (EEI) within the Nidhelm Worlds, a region of space currently undergoing assimilation into the Imperium. Of particular concern is the emergence of a distinct political entity, the "Abalathia Commonwealth," demanding the immediate attention of the Tetrach Council and senior commanders.
POLITY OVERVIEW:
The Abalathia Commonwealth asserts dominance over a substantial expanse within the Nidhelm Worlds, comprising federated worlds and stations. The ruling structure, seemingly a blend of elected dictatorship and council governance, is centered in their capital world, Neulóngstadt Prime. The political apparatus comprises mayors, governors, and minor lords, presenting an outward façade of a relatively democratic society.
This dominion spans a few worlds, classified as "Mid-level" in technology, industry, and regional influence, encompassing several star systems and peripheral strongholds. The population, numbering approximately 200 billion, is predominantly human, but a noteworthy surge in mutants, potentially linked to recent warp-related events, has surfaced in the past two centuries. The Commonwealth's key exports encompass foodstuffs, minerals, goods, labor, and, notably, weapons—a facet requiring meticulous examination in subsequent sections.
Despite a notable mercantile and transport fleet, the Commonwealth relies on hired mercenaries for security duties, maintaining a meager standing military force. The absence of a dedicated military raises strategic concerns, especially given the peculiar nature of their relationship with neighboring polities in the Nidhelm Worlds.
A noteworthy anomaly is the surrounding nations' aversion to the Commonwealth. A generational fear, passed down through the years has led neighboring entities to maintain a seemingly cautious "blockade." However, this fear is not founded on aggressive overtures from the Commonwealth but appears rooted in historical events. The blockade, though symbolic, consists of listening posts and occasional patrols. When questioned about the nature of this blockade, most leaders or commanders had no real answer or reasoning, chalking it up to cultural and military inertia.
While this raised some initial concerns, the Imperial ambassadors saw no issues upon being greeted by Commonwealth leadership, who quickly fell into compliance with the Imperium of Man after three months of legislation, examination, and decision-making. Imperial agents only reported a lingering affinity toward paragon worship, which could be akin to the Golden Path but more geared toward self-discipline and pacifism. A rather peculiar pair of faiths, and one that caught the attention of Ravenloft detachment, "Andvari."
Detachment Andvari spent three months investigating claims that the blockade around the Commonwealth was due to a series of legacy orders against the "Demon Souls" of Abalathia, who were said to be incredibly brutal, vicious, and capable fighters and had begun a conquest of three entire sectors almost four and a half millennia ago during the very beginnings of the Age of Strife. A few written records and testimonies claim that the Abalathia people were ultimately subdued by a goddess in a distant world, but this is all hearsay and conjecture.
There is, however, evidence that this might not be, in fact, the truth. Upon accessing the Commonwealth homeworld, our Ravenloft detachment began an investigation using a few psykers and discovered something that prompted my outreach to the council. See the recording titled "Abalathia Curse" for further details.
RAVENLOFT INVESTIGATION RESULTS: "Abalathia Curse"
PREPARED BY: Gothi Haldor
STATEMENT:
Let me start by trying to explain our process for discovery. Our first objective was to narrow down the true history of the Abalathia people, which required our detachment to identify the earliest recorded histories of the Abalathia homeworld of Neulóngstadt Prime and piece everything together.
We scoured the planet for eight weeks for historical records and signs of divinity. We wanted to be thorough before deploying psyker assets. Our detachment got lucky after being directed to a village in the Redeye Mountains, home to a supposed ancient historical site, via a series of documents found within a run-down but operational scholastic facility that kept records of previous events.
It should be noted that the Abalathia Commonwealth had exceedingly limited knowledge of their past before a thousand years ago. The average citizen doesn't even know how their stellar neighbors view them or whatever blood-soaked history their ancestors brought upon others.
Our arrival at the Redeye Mountains was easily accomplished, but it was what we found that confused our operatives. Deep within these mountains are roads, mag-rails, and what appeared to be fortifications for military facilities. At first, our detachment feared that we stumbled upon one of the Commonwealth Self-Defenses fortresses. However, upon closer expectation, these facilities were completely abandoned…but still maintained and operational.
I give the order to investigate further, breaching the insides and entering these facilities. Our operatives determined that no one had stepped inside this fortress in at least a century, but everything had been carefully preserved. Almost as if someone would one day need to make use of them. A seemingly endless series of warehouses, armories, and storage bays contained weapons, armor, ammo, vehicles, etc. Everything necessary to wage a war.
We did not stay for long, merely gathering up some information left behind in several on-site archives and reports, denoting the last major "call-to-arms" during something called the Herot Skirmish. There was a repeating phrase amidst the reports of the Abalathians "embracing the Fury once more," the first real hint of something more involving these people.
Unfortunately, attempts to locate information on this "Fury" were fruitless. Yet information on the Herot Skirmish denotes that the Commonwealth was attacked by Aeldari slavers 159 years ago and repulsed the attack, quite violently, on a world known as Herot. The Abalathians suffered grievous losses but reported killing and destroying the xeno invaders to the last before reinforcements arrived. The few bits of information we obtained paint a gruesome picture of the Abalathians, matching the ferocity and aggression of the Xeno invaders, which contradicts the idyllic and peaceful nature of these people.
A team was dispatched to Herot, including seven psykers. Some of our detachment considered deploying seven psykers, all diviners, to be extreme, especially as Ravenloft has recently recruited "unsanctioned" ones. Each member has been thoroughly vetted and monitored by their handlers, so please keep that in mind.
Our psykers could identify what appeared to be "roots" on Herot, each described as being vast and connected to the individuals on the planet and beyond. The psykers heard whispers of anger and doubt, rage and regret, sorrow and pain, extracted from the humans and given over to the "roots," the battle on Herot merely created another "root."
We took a more aggressive approach to this situation and found a few Abalathians that could be examined more thoroughly and were mostly those that were considered terminally ill. These individuals agreed to our experiments and secrecy in exchange for medicine that would cure or extend their remaining time. Upon examination via psychic and bio-etheric means and a few shamans trying to "hear" the roots, we discovered something extraordinary.
The Abalathians are cursed. Although, this "curse" is akin to a chain of "pacification" upon their souls. To put this into perspective, these roots act as interceptors for the emotional spectrum that constitutes aggression and violence in human spirits and then send them back toward what we can only assume to be some sort of purifier, or at least that is the hope.
None of the Abalathians seemed to understand what we meant by a curse, although the oldest one in the testing group, a 96-year-old woman named Xiù Rivers, remembered an ancient legend her grandmother told her of the King of Fury and Lord of the Ruby Sceptor, Chang Buergle. Xiù explained that he led a military campaign called the Eisen Drachen. It was a war that King Buergle waged to spite the cruelties and horrors of the galaxy, seemingly unaware that he and his people were only contributing to the bloodshed.
This story fits into the timeline presented by those surrounding the Commonwealth, but Mrs. Rivers explained that it was only when King Buergle slew a goddess that he realized he had led his people astray. Grief and rage had overcome their ability to feel compassion and empathy; thus, the idea of peace became their antithesis. This goddess seemed to have "cursed" the people and all those that would hail from their worlds never to feel anger or rage except to defend themselves. Yet this hasn't stopped them from building weapons and, somehow, honing their bodies and minds for war.
We believe there is a subconscious effort or desire at play here. This curse placed upon their souls isn't so much stopping their martial affinity as it is redirecting it. Stranger still is that this curse is seemingly carried by citizens of the Commonwealth regardless of location. Of the sixteen participants we had for experimentation, only nine were from Herot. The others immigrated from other worlds within the Commonwealth to this planet and still carried the curse.
Noteworthy is the subconscious nature of their rearming efforts, fueled by a redirected martial affinity. This curse, seemingly omnipresent among citizens, raises concerns about the long-term stability of this region. The roots, conduits for their emotions, demand further investigation to unveil the destination of these emotions and assess the potential awakening of their suppressed martial prowess.
An old saying applies to these people: They are a ticking time bomb.
From the Third Book of Thiel
Dated: 2.967.948.M30
Compliance: 72-96-21
One of the many truths in this galaxy was the universal disdain toward machine intelligences. It was as common as the air we breathe. I dare say you'd find most humans don't care for such things. This sentiment wasn't merely an echo of Mechanicum doctrine; it ran through the veins of humanity, an ancestral narrative that shaped the collective consciousness. Even those who had never laid eyes on a machine intelligence could recount stories passed down through generations via tales of distrust and fear.
I would sooner forge an alliance with an alien species than trust the cold calculations of artificial intelligence. I know enough now that some, not many, but some, possessed the ability to grasp the intricate tapestry of organic needs, even if their empathy fell short. On the other hand, machines were bound by a logic that often dismissed the nuances of organic existence as "illogical" or "inefficient."
Humanity can't trust the machine. They fail to understand concepts like honor, mercy, or the ethereal realms of compassion and love. Such things could not exist in the cold, logical void that was their minds. Only a living being, of flesh and blood, could grasp such concepts. All they could understand, at best, was death. The finality of everything, the end of all things, was universally understood.
Yet this most recent compliance makes me question this line of thinking. Death no longer seems to be the final state of existence but rather an "interlude" state. That is to say, an existence no longer defined by the lack of "living." I should have known better now, especially after Tumultus and Kallisto. Perhaps I don't wish to accept it. The prospect of death no longer seems like a finality.
These thoughts hound me as the Vanguard prepares for another mission, seemingly against the forces of the dead once more, albeit seemingly under the thrall of machines. A frightening prospect but one that might have weight on World 72-96-21, known as Mordask by the local humans. I can only imagine how the 687th Expedition must have thought upon seeing it for the first time, expecting perhaps an easy compliance. But as always, the gods and fates laugh in the face of men.
Much to their horror, scouts from the expedition found an abominable intelligence that controlled this world. The orbital scans must have missed the gargantuan AI central command hub and processing center. Poor bastards might not have been sent to their deaths otherwise. The scouts had been ambushed by Titans, of all things. The true threat unveiled itself soon enough.
Initial scans reported as many as 300 Titans, varied in make and design, accompanied by a swarm of millions of smaller combat units. A formidable opposition, even to an entire Legion with Mechanicum support. Someone within the 687th must have realized how dire this situation was. This region was critical, as it had a cluster of Agri-Worlds vital to sustaining the nearby Durand Sector, and if this AI had access to warp drives, it was only a few jumps from ravaging these planets and cosigning billions to starvation.
Lord-General Morgana Cometin, the Lord-General for the Durand Sector, already ordered the gathering and establishment of the Durand 1st Taskforce; although it would be another three years before this force even began to rally toward Mordask, it seemed like a good chance for many to gain prestige at defeating such an enemy. Naturally, everyone waited for Astarte's support. They were lucky; the Vanguard answered the call swiftly.
Granted, this might have been a bit more difficult than anything my brothers and I have faced these days. The prospect of engaging in a conflict against a formidable force comprised of 300 Titans, millions of war constructs, and the guiding intelligence behind them was undeniably daunting to us all…but we are Space Marines, and we know no fear. But I had no interest in winning this war by ourselves. I told myself the Vanguard would soften the opposition and leave the rest to the Army and Mechanicum. They wanted all this glory; they could have it after I ensured victory for them.
But things couldn't be simple now, could it? Our mission parameters shifted dramatically when high-altitude recon flights detected the presence of a fledging human civilization within the inner sanctum of the machine empire. Spread across sprawling grasslands and dense forests, we identified a series of human tribes that seemed to exist and even thrive beneath the all-encompassing shadow of the synthetic intelligence.
How or why these people were still alive was a mystery. Perhaps they were being used as slaves or fodder, yet the tribals didn't seem to bother the great machines and the same was said of the machine's leaving them alone. A new argument grew: should we not save these people before the fires of war ravage the planet? I argued against it, for I assumed that the best course of action to keep these people safe was to maintain our plans to kneecap or decapitate the machine's fighting capabilities. This way, we could limit the amount of collateral damage to the tribes.
It was only a few million souls. Not nearly important enough to shift our strategy. I told myself it wasn't worth all the trouble, for I had my brother's lives to consider and those of the hundreds of billions fighting on Mordask. Sacrifices had to be made.
Naturally, the galaxy decided to test me and the Vanguard once more. As our forces prepared for the initial invasion, we started receiving a strange coded signal from the surface of Mordask. At first, it was believed to be some sort of cyber-intrusion, especially after the tech-priests reported just how strong the signal was, but after isolating it to a secured cogitator, we could safely decipher its transmission.
Imagine our astonishment when a mysterious voice, identifying itself as Neva and purporting to be the "pilot" of the Safeguard, contacted us via vox. According to Neva, the AI governing Mordask had descended into madness, and the "souls of the dead" were now in outright rebellion. Neva asserted that a new pilot, one possessing something called the terminal access gene among the living inhabitants of Mordask, was urgently required.
Providing precise coordinates and instructions, Neva pointed us toward an individual possessing the coveted gene and how to reach them. It claimed that the Imperium's best interests lay in promptly locating and securing this individual. Sounds like a trap, right? And what about this "souls of the dead" bit?
Normally, I'd err on the side of caution, but a familiar feeling in my hearts told me that I had to take a leap of faith, something I abhorred doing now. Still, if this wasn't a trap but an opportunity, I had to take it. There was a rumbling back "home" of something big taking place, and I wasn't about to spend the next decade stuck on some siege like one of Dorn's or Perturbo's sons.
Thankfully, Neva's information proved real. I took a team on one of the Blackhawks on loan from the Raven Guard, and my squad and I made it through whatever constituted as an auspex-net the Safeguard was using. We found a small village near what looked to be a large but uninhabited rail terminal. I later learned that the people were using the damn thing to head into one of the forge-factories, to work in them before returning.
Neva contacted us again on my squad vox-caster, which annoyed Brother Hastic since he secured it before setting foot on Mordask. Neva explained that the new pilot would be found in a home near a "forked river with trees of red leaves." I hate poetic descriptors. We found it anyway, but to my dismay, the situation only got more complicated.
There were two people at this home. A young woman, barely in her twenties, and a little girl, probably aged nine or ten. Was one of these supposed to be a pilot? I already knew the answer, though. The gods weren't going to make this easy. First contact with the two started poorly, not that I could blame them. A group of heavily armed strangers and men appearing at your doorstep, wielding technology that was probably for only gods, would have terrified even the average Imperial.
I am not proud to admit that I ordered Brother Jones and Teffin to apprehend the two. I wasn't interested in trying to play nice, especially with all the questions I had. We learned that these two were sisters; the oldest was Jen and the youngest was Lina, and they seemed very confused when we asked about their connections to Neva, Safeguard, and the pilot gene. I was starting to think I was given a wild grox chase.
However, we got some information about the "souls of the dead" comment. Once we "bought" their cooperation with a few minor trinkets and some food, Jen explained that the "Lords of the Fallen" were the walking safeguards for the dead, both those that had come before, now, and ever after. Each Titan was a "village" in itself of fallen spirits. Before this, they were controlled and directed by the Great Spirit-King of Mordask, who called forth champions from the villages of the living to act as the "anchors" for the Lords of the Fallen. Each new guide would then call upon the previous one for guidance on how to commune with the Lords and carry out the will of the Great Spirit-King against something called the Angels.
The more Jen explained, the clearer it became that the dead and living somehow intermingled within this culture. The Great Spirit-King, the Lords of the Fallen, their eternal war against these Angels, and the spirits of past pilots acted as guides for the living. At first, I thought it was just more poetic or religious zeal, but when Neva contacted us again (which convinced me that it was listening), it explained that this information wasn't wholly inaccurate.
Neva revealed that the Safeguard, far from being merely an AI, had died long ago but persisted through belief. Once an ancient protector and guide, it had been worshipped by generations. These people, fearing the Angels' return or their own survival, sought to revive the Safeguard through faith and ritual. Their success, achieved through the right components or sheer faith, reactivated the factories and temples dedicated to its greatness. The Safeguard wasn't just a machine; it was a relic animated by the collective belief and determination of the people of Mordask.
But the Lords of the Fallen were in a different situation. The being known as Safeguard wanted an army to defend this world against the return of the Angels, which were described not as daemons but more like tech-abominations. Creatures of data and matter formed into cohesive beings of thought and design. Worse yet, they were likely born of the datalinks within Safeguard's systems but kept at bay using the Lords of the Fallen.
By this point, I realized Neva was likely part of Safeguard. It had too much information about the inner workings of this world. When I tried to coax more information from Neva, it didn't take, and instead, I was instructed that we were to take Lina and bring her to the central hub of Safeguard, where she would bring order to this world.
I ignored its demands; instead, I made my own. Too many questions, especially at the prospect of something worse hiding amid these creatures. Neva kept dodging the questions, citing that if I wanted answers, I'd have to get it directly from Safeguard. When I spoke to Jen about this, she got exceedingly upset because there was no way that Lina would survive the "joining" with the Great Spirit-King.
Evidently, it takes decades of physical and mental preparation. The girl would have also needed the experience and "patronage" of a Lord of the Fallen. I hate the intricacies of these sorts of things. Why can't we just go back to shooting and killing the enemies of man? Such lamentations aside, I did see the opportunity available. If nothing else, I could use the girl to enter the central AI hub and deliver a payload to destroy Safeguard in one fell swoop.
However, I've learned more than enough now to recognize that the most destructive path was often the worst. Besides, Jen was young but knew quite a bit about the guides and all that nonsense, which gave me options. I also had time, especially as I needed to figure out what was happening here. I would take Jen and her sister back to the fleet. Neva wasn't happy about this, but I convinced it by saying that if it wanted its precious pilot to survive the joining with Safeguard, then perhaps a bit of preparation was in order.
And, if nothing else, I had a decent enough hostage. Neva warned me, though, that this insult would not go unnoticed by Safeguard, and even Jen agreed that the Great Spirit-King would not take this lightly. The humans of this world were protected. Instead, I asked Lina what she wanted to do. If either Jen or Neva wanted to argue about it, they could try to convince the little girl. Lina agreed to come with my squad. I will admit I manipulated her into coming with the promise of taking care of her sister in case anything happened. Lina had a good soul, so I would hate to see her suffer a horrible fate.
I was getting soft, but I knew worse things could be said about me. I was taking a gamble, especially with the rallying of the Imperial forces en route to this world. I had a few years, at best, to figure out something. I had to learn more about this world, these people, and these entities. If the gods were trying to screw me over with this, then I'll find a way to screw them back.
Had I known what awaited us all, I might have thought to be a bit more mindful about trying to screw them over, but hubris was a cowardly word. The Vanguard would never back down, no matter the odds.
- Excerpt completed.
---
@Daemon Hunter Okay, another omake for the pile.
Flashpoints: Compliance IV
To: Lord Corax
From: Director Lockcraft
Subject: Phylstria Sancta
Esteemed Lord Corax,
Per your directives and the implemented security protocols, I transmit this missive employing the recently devised cipher system orchestrated by our associates within Polaris. Their advances in covert communications promise to revolutionize secure correspondences among Aeldari/Ravenloft-affiliated factions.
Intriguingly, a report of significant import has recently come to my attention. An operative embedded within the 456th Expeditionary Fleet—aligned with your esteemed domain—has uncovered what initially seemed to be a conventional temple dedicated to a Hellenic deity. While we initially presumed it to be a standard place of worship with potential records beneficial to our cause, our operative has unveiled several startling incidents demanding Ravenloft's immediate attention.
The celestial body under scrutiny is identified as Phylstria Sancta. Though outwardly unremarkable, it presents an opportunity for colonization and assimilation into the Imperium. Historical archives indicate that Phylstria Sancta was a colonial holding during the Old Federation, forged at the onset of the Age of Strife. Surviving the tumultuous era, it wasn't left untouched, suffering a brief occupation by the Abalathia Realm—a former political entity.
What adds a captivating layer to this narrative, interweaving seamlessly with the existence of the monastery, the Sanctum of Tranquility, is an event known as The Rage End. Phylstria Sancta disavows any association with this fervent episode, attributing its salvation to the benevolence of the Goddess of Peace, who died to stop the Abalathia Realm. This intriguing history forms the backdrop against which the Liturgy of the Tree operates.
Situated in the remote reaches of Phylstria Sancta, the Sanctum of Tranquility hosts the Liturgy of the Tree, an order of monks. Upon investigation by our operative and Imperial psykers, they have been identified as Blanks, exhibiting Chi and Psi levels beyond conventional thresholds. The sheer number of these Blanks is unprecedented.
Despite our efforts to glean information from the locals, they either refused to disclose or were genuinely ignorant about the Liturgy's uncanny ability to identify new Blanks on Phylstria Sancta. Governments, too, seem either uninformed or indifferent to this mysterious occurrence, and due to the current political climate on Phylstria Sancta, it is difficult to get a straight answer from anyone. This situation gets all the stranger when one steps within 20 kilometers of the Sanctum of Tranquility, as it produces a warp bubble of "tranquility" upon all who enter it.
Our operative's description aligns with the physical and psychic effects observed within the tranquility bubble. Biometric and Etheric scans indicate a gradual build of peace of mind, spiritual calm, and physical relaxation upon entry. Every individual within the bubble experiences an extraordinary sense of ease. Psykers, in particular, note a substantial reduction in the constant psychic turbulence of the ambient warp, a phenomenon that has persisted as a consistent feature over the past four millennia.
Ambassadors from the fleet expressed discomfort at this discovery, suspecting a potential psychic or warp intrusion. However, it has been clarified that this bubble of calm and peace has existed on Phylstria Sancta for over four thousand years, precluding any recent intrusion. The locals attribute this tranquility to the Sanctum of Tranquility's presence and perceived divinity.
Concerns arose upon discovering "imprints" left on individuals who step inside the bubble. These ephemeral markings, believed to be tangible manifestations of residual psychic energies, align with our operative's theory regarding a potential source of divinity. The markings, though faint, bear scrutiny, and their nature remains a topic of ongoing investigation.
In a bold move, our operative successfully convinced a local mayor from a nearby town to facilitate a journey to the Sanctum. Physical conditioning and training for Ravenloft operatives proved effective, as the trek took the better two days. The operative aimed to make direct contact with the Liturgy of the Tree, the order of monks residing within the Sanctum, to gain deeper insights into the nature of the tranquility and its divinity.
This endeavor unfolded amidst the Imperium's simultaneous attempts to persuade leaders of the nine political entities to join forces and establish direct contact with the monks. First contact was relatively easy, but the Liturgy did not seem interested in speaking with us beyond casual conversation. It took the better part of three weeks before our operative could talk directly with someone known as the Storyteller, who appears to be a quasi-leader of the Liturgy.
Once our operative explained the purpose of Ravenloft, the Storyteller reportedly sounded both intrigued and concerned regarding the supposed return of the gods. The Storyteller said that this Sanctum was to honor the final sacrifice of the Goddess of Peace, Eirini, who is part of the Helenic pantheon. All of this plays back into the war fought on this planet and the subsequent end.
According to the Storyteller, the Abalathia Realm was led by a dangerously formidable warrior-king, driven by rage and loathing in response to the perceived cruelties of the galaxy during the Age of Strife. Eirini, the Goddess of Peace from the Helenic pantheon, played a pivotal role in the planet's history. The Storyteller asserted that Eirini sacrificed herself to cast a potent curse upon the people of the Abalathia Realm. This curse stripped them of the collective spiritual capacity to wage war, an act designed to bring tranquility to the strife-ridden region.
While it might sound fantastical, even by the standards of our encounters with various mythical or apocalyptic tales, the Liturgy provided substantial evidence supporting their claims. Our operative gained access to the Tree of Tranquility, the apparent source of the warp bubble, and identified what the Liturgy considers the "remains" of the goddess Eirini.
As the name seemingly implies, the Tree of Tranquility is exactly that. Towering at 23 meters in height and with a diameter of 31, the tree exists in a peculiar state of suspended animation. The operative described it as having gnarled branches adorned with silvery leaves that appear frozen mid-fall yet seemingly caught in some eternal breeze.
Furthermore, the tree is or was producing what appeared to be ripe olives that remain steadfast in their place, seemingly a testament to the tree's otherworldly stillness. Attempts to touch or gather these olives are met with a described ethereal resistance, almost as if the very essence of the tree rejects any disturbance to its tranquil equilibrium. It also is in a perpetual blooming state. A fragrance of blossoms permeates the air, creating an atmosphere of perpetual spring within the confines of the bubble. Each petal and leaf caught in suspended animation apparently contributes to the tree's allure.
Traces of blood and ancient bones were identified upon closer inspection of the roots, likely part of the mythos involving the final conflict against the Abalathia Realm. The operative conveyed that the branches silhouette against the darkening sky as daylight fades, casting intricate patterns of shadow and light that seem to form a series of patterns and symbols within the Sanctum's soil, air, and walls. A rather fanciful descriptor, but with the divine, it seems quite appropriate in these instances.
Regardless, we'd need a dedicated team to examine further and research this location, which I have already despatched given the nature of this development. I am, however, concerned over certain details the Storyteller provided regarding the fate of this world and the goddess, Eirini.
The Imperial delegation plans to send their expedition to the Sanctum, and I am concerned about this information spreading to the greater Imperium. I would thus humble request that you find some means to either stall or deny this plan by the ambassadors until we can determine exactly what to do. Additionally, the population of Phylstria Sancta is predominantly a combination of Deorums, Hebrites, and Buddislamics who hold the Sanctum of Tranquility in high regard as it has allowed their groups to resolve religious tensions alongside more secular ones whenever it calls for it. I fear that if the people of this world learn that the Imperium will "quarantine" the Sanctum, it will cause unrest and violence.
Secondly, the information involving Eirini and the Abalathia Realm points to an inconclusive end to the realm, suggesting that while the realm "lost" the war, their people are still out there, perhaps making them a target for the forces of Chaos. The Storyteller provided a lead on their whereabouts through a star chart. I've ordered a general investigation into pinning the Realms location, to which we can then ascertain whether these people are a threat.
I have a feeling that we will be enlightened soon enough. The gods have this rather nasty habit of leaving a trail for anyone brave or foolish enough to investigate their origins and downfalls. As always, I will keep you appraised of these developments.
- Director Lockcraft
MEMORANDUM FOR: The Tetrach Council and Authorized Senior Commanders
PREPARED BY: Captain Kasbil, 7th Chapter, Invictarii
REPORT DATE: 948.M30
COMPLIANCE: ALPHA-RHO-00185
DESIGNATION: "The Abalathia Commonwealth"
PRIORITY: Extreme
OVERVIEW:
A recent compliance operation has unveiled a potentially high-level "Esoteric Event/Incident" (EEI) within the Nidhelm Worlds, a region of space currently undergoing assimilation into the Imperium. Of particular concern is the emergence of a distinct political entity, the "Abalathia Commonwealth," demanding the immediate attention of the Tetrach Council and senior commanders.
POLITY OVERVIEW:
The Abalathia Commonwealth asserts dominance over a substantial expanse within the Nidhelm Worlds, comprising federated worlds and stations. The ruling structure, seemingly a blend of elected dictatorship and council governance, is centered in their capital world, Neulóngstadt Prime. The political apparatus comprises mayors, governors, and minor lords, presenting an outward façade of a relatively democratic society.
This dominion spans a few worlds, classified as "Mid-level" in technology, industry, and regional influence, encompassing several star systems and peripheral strongholds. The population, numbering approximately 200 billion, is predominantly human, but a noteworthy surge in mutants, potentially linked to recent warp-related events, has surfaced in the past two centuries. The Commonwealth's key exports encompass foodstuffs, minerals, goods, labor, and, notably, weapons—a facet requiring meticulous examination in subsequent sections.
Despite a notable mercantile and transport fleet, the Commonwealth relies on hired mercenaries for security duties, maintaining a meager standing military force. The absence of a dedicated military raises strategic concerns, especially given the peculiar nature of their relationship with neighboring polities in the Nidhelm Worlds.
A noteworthy anomaly is the surrounding nations' aversion to the Commonwealth. A generational fear, passed down through the years has led neighboring entities to maintain a seemingly cautious "blockade." However, this fear is not founded on aggressive overtures from the Commonwealth but appears rooted in historical events. The blockade, though symbolic, consists of listening posts and occasional patrols. When questioned about the nature of this blockade, most leaders or commanders had no real answer or reasoning, chalking it up to cultural and military inertia.
While this raised some initial concerns, the Imperial ambassadors saw no issues upon being greeted by Commonwealth leadership, who quickly fell into compliance with the Imperium of Man after three months of legislation, examination, and decision-making. Imperial agents only reported a lingering affinity toward paragon worship, which could be akin to the Golden Path but more geared toward self-discipline and pacifism. A rather peculiar pair of faiths, and one that caught the attention of Ravenloft detachment, "Andvari."
Detachment Andvari spent three months investigating claims that the blockade around the Commonwealth was due to a series of legacy orders against the "Demon Souls" of Abalathia, who were said to be incredibly brutal, vicious, and capable fighters and had begun a conquest of three entire sectors almost four and a half millennia ago during the very beginnings of the Age of Strife. A few written records and testimonies claim that the Abalathia people were ultimately subdued by a goddess in a distant world, but this is all hearsay and conjecture.
There is, however, evidence that this might not be, in fact, the truth. Upon accessing the Commonwealth homeworld, our Ravenloft detachment began an investigation using a few psykers and discovered something that prompted my outreach to the council. See the recording titled "Abalathia Curse" for further details.
RAVENLOFT INVESTIGATION RESULTS: "Abalathia Curse"
PREPARED BY: Gothi Haldor
STATEMENT:
Let me start by trying to explain our process for discovery. Our first objective was to narrow down the true history of the Abalathia people, which required our detachment to identify the earliest recorded histories of the Abalathia homeworld of Neulóngstadt Prime and piece everything together.
We scoured the planet for eight weeks for historical records and signs of divinity. We wanted to be thorough before deploying psyker assets. Our detachment got lucky after being directed to a village in the Redeye Mountains, home to a supposed ancient historical site, via a series of documents found within a run-down but operational scholastic facility that kept records of previous events.
It should be noted that the Abalathia Commonwealth had exceedingly limited knowledge of their past before a thousand years ago. The average citizen doesn't even know how their stellar neighbors view them or whatever blood-soaked history their ancestors brought upon others.
Our arrival at the Redeye Mountains was easily accomplished, but it was what we found that confused our operatives. Deep within these mountains are roads, mag-rails, and what appeared to be fortifications for military facilities. At first, our detachment feared that we stumbled upon one of the Commonwealth Self-Defenses fortresses. However, upon closer expectation, these facilities were completely abandoned…but still maintained and operational.
I give the order to investigate further, breaching the insides and entering these facilities. Our operatives determined that no one had stepped inside this fortress in at least a century, but everything had been carefully preserved. Almost as if someone would one day need to make use of them. A seemingly endless series of warehouses, armories, and storage bays contained weapons, armor, ammo, vehicles, etc. Everything necessary to wage a war.
We did not stay for long, merely gathering up some information left behind in several on-site archives and reports, denoting the last major "call-to-arms" during something called the Herot Skirmish. There was a repeating phrase amidst the reports of the Abalathians "embracing the Fury once more," the first real hint of something more involving these people.
Unfortunately, attempts to locate information on this "Fury" were fruitless. Yet information on the Herot Skirmish denotes that the Commonwealth was attacked by Aeldari slavers 159 years ago and repulsed the attack, quite violently, on a world known as Herot. The Abalathians suffered grievous losses but reported killing and destroying the xeno invaders to the last before reinforcements arrived. The few bits of information we obtained paint a gruesome picture of the Abalathians, matching the ferocity and aggression of the Xeno invaders, which contradicts the idyllic and peaceful nature of these people.
A team was dispatched to Herot, including seven psykers. Some of our detachment considered deploying seven psykers, all diviners, to be extreme, especially as Ravenloft has recently recruited "unsanctioned" ones. Each member has been thoroughly vetted and monitored by their handlers, so please keep that in mind.
Our psykers could identify what appeared to be "roots" on Herot, each described as being vast and connected to the individuals on the planet and beyond. The psykers heard whispers of anger and doubt, rage and regret, sorrow and pain, extracted from the humans and given over to the "roots," the battle on Herot merely created another "root."
We took a more aggressive approach to this situation and found a few Abalathians that could be examined more thoroughly and were mostly those that were considered terminally ill. These individuals agreed to our experiments and secrecy in exchange for medicine that would cure or extend their remaining time. Upon examination via psychic and bio-etheric means and a few shamans trying to "hear" the roots, we discovered something extraordinary.
The Abalathians are cursed. Although, this "curse" is akin to a chain of "pacification" upon their souls. To put this into perspective, these roots act as interceptors for the emotional spectrum that constitutes aggression and violence in human spirits and then send them back toward what we can only assume to be some sort of purifier, or at least that is the hope.
None of the Abalathians seemed to understand what we meant by a curse, although the oldest one in the testing group, a 96-year-old woman named Xiù Rivers, remembered an ancient legend her grandmother told her of the King of Fury and Lord of the Ruby Sceptor, Chang Buergle. Xiù explained that he led a military campaign called the Eisen Drachen. It was a war that King Buergle waged to spite the cruelties and horrors of the galaxy, seemingly unaware that he and his people were only contributing to the bloodshed.
This story fits into the timeline presented by those surrounding the Commonwealth, but Mrs. Rivers explained that it was only when King Buergle slew a goddess that he realized he had led his people astray. Grief and rage had overcome their ability to feel compassion and empathy; thus, the idea of peace became their antithesis. This goddess seemed to have "cursed" the people and all those that would hail from their worlds never to feel anger or rage except to defend themselves. Yet this hasn't stopped them from building weapons and, somehow, honing their bodies and minds for war.
We believe there is a subconscious effort or desire at play here. This curse placed upon their souls isn't so much stopping their martial affinity as it is redirecting it. Stranger still is that this curse is seemingly carried by citizens of the Commonwealth regardless of location. Of the sixteen participants we had for experimentation, only nine were from Herot. The others immigrated from other worlds within the Commonwealth to this planet and still carried the curse.
Noteworthy is the subconscious nature of their rearming efforts, fueled by a redirected martial affinity. This curse, seemingly omnipresent among citizens, raises concerns about the long-term stability of this region. The roots, conduits for their emotions, demand further investigation to unveil the destination of these emotions and assess the potential awakening of their suppressed martial prowess.
An old saying applies to these people: They are a ticking time bomb.
From the Third Book of Thiel
Dated: 2.967.948.M30
Compliance: 72-96-21
One of the many truths in this galaxy was the universal disdain toward machine intelligences. It was as common as the air we breathe. I dare say you'd find most humans don't care for such things. This sentiment wasn't merely an echo of Mechanicum doctrine; it ran through the veins of humanity, an ancestral narrative that shaped the collective consciousness. Even those who had never laid eyes on a machine intelligence could recount stories passed down through generations via tales of distrust and fear.
I would sooner forge an alliance with an alien species than trust the cold calculations of artificial intelligence. I know enough now that some, not many, but some, possessed the ability to grasp the intricate tapestry of organic needs, even if their empathy fell short. On the other hand, machines were bound by a logic that often dismissed the nuances of organic existence as "illogical" or "inefficient."
Humanity can't trust the machine. They fail to understand concepts like honor, mercy, or the ethereal realms of compassion and love. Such things could not exist in the cold, logical void that was their minds. Only a living being, of flesh and blood, could grasp such concepts. All they could understand, at best, was death. The finality of everything, the end of all things, was universally understood.
Yet this most recent compliance makes me question this line of thinking. Death no longer seems to be the final state of existence but rather an "interlude" state. That is to say, an existence no longer defined by the lack of "living." I should have known better now, especially after Tumultus and Kallisto. Perhaps I don't wish to accept it. The prospect of death no longer seems like a finality.
These thoughts hound me as the Vanguard prepares for another mission, seemingly against the forces of the dead once more, albeit seemingly under the thrall of machines. A frightening prospect but one that might have weight on World 72-96-21, known as Mordask by the local humans. I can only imagine how the 687th Expedition must have thought upon seeing it for the first time, expecting perhaps an easy compliance. But as always, the gods and fates laugh in the face of men.
Much to their horror, scouts from the expedition found an abominable intelligence that controlled this world. The orbital scans must have missed the gargantuan AI central command hub and processing center. Poor bastards might not have been sent to their deaths otherwise. The scouts had been ambushed by Titans, of all things. The true threat unveiled itself soon enough.
Initial scans reported as many as 300 Titans, varied in make and design, accompanied by a swarm of millions of smaller combat units. A formidable opposition, even to an entire Legion with Mechanicum support. Someone within the 687th must have realized how dire this situation was. This region was critical, as it had a cluster of Agri-Worlds vital to sustaining the nearby Durand Sector, and if this AI had access to warp drives, it was only a few jumps from ravaging these planets and cosigning billions to starvation.
Lord-General Morgana Cometin, the Lord-General for the Durand Sector, already ordered the gathering and establishment of the Durand 1st Taskforce; although it would be another three years before this force even began to rally toward Mordask, it seemed like a good chance for many to gain prestige at defeating such an enemy. Naturally, everyone waited for Astarte's support. They were lucky; the Vanguard answered the call swiftly.
Granted, this might have been a bit more difficult than anything my brothers and I have faced these days. The prospect of engaging in a conflict against a formidable force comprised of 300 Titans, millions of war constructs, and the guiding intelligence behind them was undeniably daunting to us all…but we are Space Marines, and we know no fear. But I had no interest in winning this war by ourselves. I told myself the Vanguard would soften the opposition and leave the rest to the Army and Mechanicum. They wanted all this glory; they could have it after I ensured victory for them.
But things couldn't be simple now, could it? Our mission parameters shifted dramatically when high-altitude recon flights detected the presence of a fledging human civilization within the inner sanctum of the machine empire. Spread across sprawling grasslands and dense forests, we identified a series of human tribes that seemed to exist and even thrive beneath the all-encompassing shadow of the synthetic intelligence.
How or why these people were still alive was a mystery. Perhaps they were being used as slaves or fodder, yet the tribals didn't seem to bother the great machines and the same was said of the machine's leaving them alone. A new argument grew: should we not save these people before the fires of war ravage the planet? I argued against it, for I assumed that the best course of action to keep these people safe was to maintain our plans to kneecap or decapitate the machine's fighting capabilities. This way, we could limit the amount of collateral damage to the tribes.
It was only a few million souls. Not nearly important enough to shift our strategy. I told myself it wasn't worth all the trouble, for I had my brother's lives to consider and those of the hundreds of billions fighting on Mordask. Sacrifices had to be made.
Naturally, the galaxy decided to test me and the Vanguard once more. As our forces prepared for the initial invasion, we started receiving a strange coded signal from the surface of Mordask. At first, it was believed to be some sort of cyber-intrusion, especially after the tech-priests reported just how strong the signal was, but after isolating it to a secured cogitator, we could safely decipher its transmission.
Imagine our astonishment when a mysterious voice, identifying itself as Neva and purporting to be the "pilot" of the Safeguard, contacted us via vox. According to Neva, the AI governing Mordask had descended into madness, and the "souls of the dead" were now in outright rebellion. Neva asserted that a new pilot, one possessing something called the terminal access gene among the living inhabitants of Mordask, was urgently required.
Providing precise coordinates and instructions, Neva pointed us toward an individual possessing the coveted gene and how to reach them. It claimed that the Imperium's best interests lay in promptly locating and securing this individual. Sounds like a trap, right? And what about this "souls of the dead" bit?
Normally, I'd err on the side of caution, but a familiar feeling in my hearts told me that I had to take a leap of faith, something I abhorred doing now. Still, if this wasn't a trap but an opportunity, I had to take it. There was a rumbling back "home" of something big taking place, and I wasn't about to spend the next decade stuck on some siege like one of Dorn's or Perturbo's sons.
Thankfully, Neva's information proved real. I took a team on one of the Blackhawks on loan from the Raven Guard, and my squad and I made it through whatever constituted as an auspex-net the Safeguard was using. We found a small village near what looked to be a large but uninhabited rail terminal. I later learned that the people were using the damn thing to head into one of the forge-factories, to work in them before returning.
Neva contacted us again on my squad vox-caster, which annoyed Brother Hastic since he secured it before setting foot on Mordask. Neva explained that the new pilot would be found in a home near a "forked river with trees of red leaves." I hate poetic descriptors. We found it anyway, but to my dismay, the situation only got more complicated.
There were two people at this home. A young woman, barely in her twenties, and a little girl, probably aged nine or ten. Was one of these supposed to be a pilot? I already knew the answer, though. The gods weren't going to make this easy. First contact with the two started poorly, not that I could blame them. A group of heavily armed strangers and men appearing at your doorstep, wielding technology that was probably for only gods, would have terrified even the average Imperial.
I am not proud to admit that I ordered Brother Jones and Teffin to apprehend the two. I wasn't interested in trying to play nice, especially with all the questions I had. We learned that these two were sisters; the oldest was Jen and the youngest was Lina, and they seemed very confused when we asked about their connections to Neva, Safeguard, and the pilot gene. I was starting to think I was given a wild grox chase.
However, we got some information about the "souls of the dead" comment. Once we "bought" their cooperation with a few minor trinkets and some food, Jen explained that the "Lords of the Fallen" were the walking safeguards for the dead, both those that had come before, now, and ever after. Each Titan was a "village" in itself of fallen spirits. Before this, they were controlled and directed by the Great Spirit-King of Mordask, who called forth champions from the villages of the living to act as the "anchors" for the Lords of the Fallen. Each new guide would then call upon the previous one for guidance on how to commune with the Lords and carry out the will of the Great Spirit-King against something called the Angels.
The more Jen explained, the clearer it became that the dead and living somehow intermingled within this culture. The Great Spirit-King, the Lords of the Fallen, their eternal war against these Angels, and the spirits of past pilots acted as guides for the living. At first, I thought it was just more poetic or religious zeal, but when Neva contacted us again (which convinced me that it was listening), it explained that this information wasn't wholly inaccurate.
Neva revealed that the Safeguard, far from being merely an AI, had died long ago but persisted through belief. Once an ancient protector and guide, it had been worshipped by generations. These people, fearing the Angels' return or their own survival, sought to revive the Safeguard through faith and ritual. Their success, achieved through the right components or sheer faith, reactivated the factories and temples dedicated to its greatness. The Safeguard wasn't just a machine; it was a relic animated by the collective belief and determination of the people of Mordask.
But the Lords of the Fallen were in a different situation. The being known as Safeguard wanted an army to defend this world against the return of the Angels, which were described not as daemons but more like tech-abominations. Creatures of data and matter formed into cohesive beings of thought and design. Worse yet, they were likely born of the datalinks within Safeguard's systems but kept at bay using the Lords of the Fallen.
By this point, I realized Neva was likely part of Safeguard. It had too much information about the inner workings of this world. When I tried to coax more information from Neva, it didn't take, and instead, I was instructed that we were to take Lina and bring her to the central hub of Safeguard, where she would bring order to this world.
I ignored its demands; instead, I made my own. Too many questions, especially at the prospect of something worse hiding amid these creatures. Neva kept dodging the questions, citing that if I wanted answers, I'd have to get it directly from Safeguard. When I spoke to Jen about this, she got exceedingly upset because there was no way that Lina would survive the "joining" with the Great Spirit-King.
Evidently, it takes decades of physical and mental preparation. The girl would have also needed the experience and "patronage" of a Lord of the Fallen. I hate the intricacies of these sorts of things. Why can't we just go back to shooting and killing the enemies of man? Such lamentations aside, I did see the opportunity available. If nothing else, I could use the girl to enter the central AI hub and deliver a payload to destroy Safeguard in one fell swoop.
However, I've learned more than enough now to recognize that the most destructive path was often the worst. Besides, Jen was young but knew quite a bit about the guides and all that nonsense, which gave me options. I also had time, especially as I needed to figure out what was happening here. I would take Jen and her sister back to the fleet. Neva wasn't happy about this, but I convinced it by saying that if it wanted its precious pilot to survive the joining with Safeguard, then perhaps a bit of preparation was in order.
And, if nothing else, I had a decent enough hostage. Neva warned me, though, that this insult would not go unnoticed by Safeguard, and even Jen agreed that the Great Spirit-King would not take this lightly. The humans of this world were protected. Instead, I asked Lina what she wanted to do. If either Jen or Neva wanted to argue about it, they could try to convince the little girl. Lina agreed to come with my squad. I will admit I manipulated her into coming with the promise of taking care of her sister in case anything happened. Lina had a good soul, so I would hate to see her suffer a horrible fate.
I was getting soft, but I knew worse things could be said about me. I was taking a gamble, especially with the rallying of the Imperial forces en route to this world. I had a few years, at best, to figure out something. I had to learn more about this world, these people, and these entities. If the gods were trying to screw me over with this, then I'll find a way to screw them back.
Had I known what awaited us all, I might have thought to be a bit more mindful about trying to screw them over, but hubris was a cowardly word. The Vanguard would never back down, no matter the odds.
- Excerpt completed.
---
@Daemon Hunter Okay, another omake for the pile.
Prodigy of the Wardens
Prodigy of the Wardens
Aengus waited patiently yet anxiously outside the door to Oriacarius' office as he carefully examined his blade. The Rune of Purity encrusted on the blade glowed faintly with silver light, its soft glow bringing the smallest of comforts to the anxious Warden.
Its keen silvery edge had served him well on many battlefields and through many duels, and yet Aengus still felt the smallest amount of dread as he waited outside the door of the First Captain of the Wardens.
From the moment he had been recruited, Aengus had always been told his skill with a sword was prodigious. His ability to learn from and build upon the lessons of others was one he had always been lauded for and one he would forever take great pride in.
The look of shock on the scout sergeant's face as the newest recruit in the company managed to disarm and strike him was well worth the increased drills and training he had been forced to endure for the months after.
That day had made him remarkably arrogant, he now reminisced. Other scouts would whisper of his skill when they thought he could not hear, excitedly telling of how he may one day reach the level of the First Captain, or even the vaunted Black Prince in a duel. Aengus would always publicly scoff or laugh off such effusive praise, yet those whispers affected him, making him truly believe that he was destined for greatness.
A destiny he was nowhere near achieving he would come to discover. The great Warden Tournament caused a great stir amongst his brothers. The duels trainees and warriors would dream about amongst the legion's legends and the chance to face those legends themselves as an opportunity that may never be repeated.
It had taken quite a few duels to prove his own skill, and no small amount of debate with other Wardens that it was he who was most deserving of the last position in the Warden Tournament but in the end, when compared to the rest of the legion, it was Aengus who was given the chance to test his mettle with the entire legion as his witness.
The silver of the blade caught the light above with a soft gleam as he remembered the awe of the Warden tournament. The watchful eyes of the heroes of the legion and even his father were upon him, and for but a few moments, he should have been the most important Warden in the legion.
If only his first duel had not been against the greatest warrior the Wardens had ever created, Maticus Ventamedes.
Even the vaunted and highly veteran astartes of the third company altogether struggled to last longer than a minute against Maticus whose raw speed and power were enough to bully even groups of experienced Wardens into submission with ease.
For Aengus, a mere initiate with no real extensive combat experience, facing such a mighty warrior alone was the ultimate test. If he succeeded, he would be renowned as a hero of the legion forever.
Unfortunately, for all the prodigious skill he possessed with a blade, Maticus was himself a better prodigy, a true Hero of the Wardens, whose skill alone far surpassed his before even accounting for his speed and strength with decades of experience that easily matched his.
Even still, Aengus could proudly say he had performed well, breaking the Warden record for lasting in a duel with Maticus. The greatest achievement in his life had been staving off certain defeat for all of 92 seconds.
For a single moment, Aengus almost imagined himself in Maticus' position. A truly vaunted swordsman whose skill and abilities were those celebrated in song and dance as he inspired generations of Wardens to match his skill with a blade. He did not realize the true gaping chasm that existed between himself and the Black Prince until he saw the duel between the Doom Slayer and Maticus.
The Doom Slayer moved with such ferocity and aggression, his chain sword Eviscerator roared as it bit into the Sword of the Lost, each clash between the two blades sending shockwaves across the arena and vibrating with such force Aengus could feel it even through his armor as he watched with awe.
Doom Slayer's form flickered with each movement, a display of power and speed that would have made even Greater Daemons pause in awe. But for all the speed and aggression the Doom Slayer had, it could not compare to the skill and relentless will of the Black Prince.
Time was on Maticus' side as his careful strikes and tight defense proved an immovable wall. The unrelenting will of the Black Prince stood tall even as the Doom Slayer recklessly charged forward. In a battle worthy of exaltation, Maticus proved himself as the Champion of the Wardens with a blade to the neck of the Silent Warden.
There was no doubt after their duel. Maticus Ventamedes would be remembered as a legend amongst the Wardens for the rest of time.
Aengus' proud showing against the greatest duelist the legion might ever produce was one he would remember forever, but the idea of him catching up to the greatness of Maticus or even surpassing him? It was a laughable idea, one that had been beaten out of him a long time ago.
A click alerted Aengus to the open door and the Warden turned. A member of the Khalsa stepped out and spoke to him. "The First Captain will see you now Legionary." Aengus let out a breath as he sheathed his blade and stepped into the office of Oriacarius. The door closed behind him as Aengus took in the room for the first time in his life.
Altogether, the office of the First Captain was nowhere near as ostentatious as some of his brothers had joked it to be. The only true decoration Aengus could see was the presence of the Legion's banners lining the wall and a portrait of the Primarch. Aengus had long known that the First Captain was far more concerned with running the legion than making his office gleam like the Emperor's Children would have.
Even with this cursory inspection, Aengus already knew this was perhaps one of the most well-defended rooms on the Vigilance. Adamantite reinforced walls strong enough to deflect or soften the blows of the main canons of small cruisers, an unmarked cabinet Aengus had once been told had enough food and water sustain a group of one hundred for an entire year, and even a line of turrets and weapons with enough ammo to fend off any breachers for entire days.
In his youngest days, he might have scoffed and mocked the First Captain for being overly paranoid and afraid of shadows and assassins that did not exist, but after having been witness to the horrors of the Maelstrom first-hand and even hearing about the recent attempt on the First Captain's life, he almost began to worry that it was not enough.
Almost.
Aengus started the long march towards the First Captain. For an office that needed perhaps to only be half its size to fit all the occupants and items it contained, it was still a bit absurd that it took him, an Astartes, almost thirty seconds at a brisk walking pace to reach the desk Oriacarius was seated in.
Perhaps Oriacarius had intentionally designed the walkway to be so long as to discourage any paper pushers in the Administratum from bothering him by making the walk so unbearable, or perhaps he simply wanted to protect himself from any sudden intruders by giving himself enough time to react by increasing his distance to the door to maximize his chances of survival.
Knowing the First Captain, even as indirectly as he did, it was almost certainly the latter case.
By the time he had reached the Oriacarius' desk, a minor sweat had broken across his brow. Although perhaps it was anxiety from walking past the watchful and cold gazes of the psychic guardians lining the route to the First Captain.
Oriacarius, First Captain of the Eternal Wardens, Daemonsbane, and perhaps the most legendary Space Marine in the entire galaxy looked up from the bevy of paperwork arrayed across his desk to behold the legionary.
"Legionary Aengus, you may sit." The First Captain spoke, and Aengus obeyed. Aengus sat down, lifting the scabbard of his sword a bit to make himself more comfortable as Oriacarius' helmet stared at him, void of emotion or judgment.
"Lord Oriacarius, I am here to answer your summons," Aengus said. To be completely honest, Aengus was not entirely sure why he was there. He had been in the middle of a practice duel with Sergeant Lares, one of the more prestigiously skilled Wardens in the legion and the one with the great honor of being personally tutored by Maticus himself.
Being interrupted in the middle of a duel with one of the best Wardens in the legion had not been a great annoyance, but there was none amongst the Wardens who would disobey a direct summons from the First Captain himself.
Oriacarius gently laid down his pen on the table, its soft tap causing Aengus to swallow back his nervousness as the First Captain plucked a document from one of the
many neat piles arrayed across his desk. "You have been summoned here to receive your orders for the latest compliance." He slid the paper to Aengus, who picked it up and began to read.
"Yes sir." Something was important about this compliance. Under normal circumstances, it should be the other captains of the Wardens, or perhaps even the sergeants who delivered this information. It was far from standard procedure for the First Captain to personally deliver information on a Warden's next mission, especially to one who was not even considered a Hero of the Legion.
The last time he had been personally called in by the highest-ranking leader of the legion to discuss a future compliance had been before the Maelstrom...
Aengus carefully read over the information presented. If Oriacarius was willing to take time out of his extremely busy schedule, then the world he was headed to must be of vital importance in some way. Either that or it was incredibly dangerous. He could only hope it was not both.
As Aengus read through the description of the world codenamed 'The Cemetery' the stone in Aengus' stomach began to grow heavy.
A world with four open and highly active Warp Rifts, with four separate daemonic legions surging forth every day by the millions. At least one greater daemon was assured to be present, and perhaps multiple as the sheer level of Chaotic power concentrated signified at least once such presence. Over 90 percent of the world's surface had been corrupted by Chaotic energies or utterly leveled in the wars that had been waged since the rifts first opened. Aengus truly doubted there would be much of any worth left after all the corruption had been dealt with.
The only silver lining on this world was that the presence of uncorrupted humans had been confirmed on the planet. A few dim beacons of light amidst a corrupted landscape were all that remained. Their skill was undoubtedly on par with the Imperial Army's at the very least to have survived so long as a defender against unending waves of daemons, but it was impossible to know how effective they would be at assaulting the Warp rift, let alone whether they would even be trusting enough of the Wardens to join them in battle.
The threat level of this world was notably lessened compared to the world he faced in the Maelstrom, but it was not a far-off comparison either. The more Aengus began to think about this world, the more he began to worry, only for his dread to magnify as he noted the remarkably short list of assets being deployed to the Cemetery.
Notable Assets
Legionary Aengus
The Triquetra
6500 Eternal Wardens
5 billion Imperial Army soldiers and their equipment
Aengus blinked as he read the assets list twice, three times, five times, and the numbers refused to change.
Barely half the number of Imperial Army soldiers he would have liked, and not even half the Wardens they would have needed. Against even two Warp rifts, this task force would have struggled, but against four? It would only take a few small mistakes for their entire force to be nothing more than a distant memory.
It was almost suicidal, for the Wardens would be stretched thin dealing with the forces of four entirely separate Daemonic armies and the craftier daemons would no doubt find themselves gleeful at the prospect of small and isolated groups of Wardens actively invading a tear in the Materium.
Aengus quickly went through several different scenarios for how the Wardens could try and minimize their chances of defeat, but even without any great command experience, he could still tell just how difficult their task would be under the best-case scenario.
Aengus' mouth dried as he spoke up. "First Captain, I do not doubt you or all that you have done to achieve your worthy status as leader and command of the Eternal Wardens, and yet I feel that I must ask you this, are you certain of this deployment pattern?"
"I am."
A long silence passed.
"I know it is not my place to question your orders, but these numbers worry me," Aengus said.
Oriacarius hummed but said nothing more and so Aengus continued.
"I do not doubt the skills of my brothers or those of the Chief Librarians, but this world draws some worrying parallels to the difficulties of the Maelstrom Reclamation in my mind. And we have neither the numbers we possessed then as well as the skills of the Assassin Temples to achieve true local superiority against our enemies."
"There is indeed a lack of raw firepower available to us at this time, but you are forgetting that the Warp Rifts belong to separate daemonic forces. These are not the overwhelming highly coordinated forces of the Maelstrom, this is a group of enemies that can be isolated and defeated at will," Oriacarius said. "And even still, you have failed to take into account the locals present whose skill and numbers will do well to compensate for the shortcomings in the task force present. Their ability to survive such horrors uncorrupted speaks volumes to what they can do."
"I... I will admit I did not account for the locals," Aengus confessed, "Yet even still, I worry that the daemons will be able to put aside their differences and fight against us as an existential threat. Even with the help of the locals, I am still not certain we will be able to take on four active Warp rifts at once. And even if we did, the cost would be horrendous."
"I understand your worries Aengus, for they are ones I share," Oriacarius said. "I am not demanding total victory at any cost of you here if the risks are too high, but you may one day be expected to lead in such a scenario anyway. You must be ready to make those sacrifices if it is necessary."
Aengus was silent for a long while. Visions of the Maelstrom flew through his head as he remembered the death he and so many others had oh so narrowly escaped.
Jubal Khan bit back a groan of pain as he barked out orders for retreat. With his only remaining hand, he struck with his sword as a Great Unclean One tried to spew acid and narrowly deflected the deadly blow to its hide.
Aengus marched forward with his shield, barely buying Jubal a moment to breathe as a horde of plaguebearers bore down on him. His sword blazed with purifying light as a Beast of Nurgle turned to ash with a single slash, only to revive moments later with not a scratch remaining.
The Imperial Army laid down thunderous covering fire even as the bravest and most skilled soldiers keeping watch over the dueling White Scar collapsed from the rot of the world invading their lungs and bones.
The roar of artillery struck the Greater Daemons and Aengus just barely pulled back in time to reach the Stormbird as Jubal Khan and the rest of the kill team dragged themselves aboard.
Hours later, Aengus finally breathed in clean air as he asked the Hero of the White Scars why they had not stayed and fought to the bitter end. Jubal laughed even as his stump of an arm whined in pain.
"Were I a Hero of the Iron Warriors, I might have stayed. Were I one of them, I might have died. Or perhaps, I might have lived and branded myself a true Hero of the Imperium at the cost of everyone who surrounded me. But as a White Scar the Imperium will decry me as a coward, a traitor, perhaps both, but even still I know better than them that not all sacrifices are necessary."
Jubal looked Aengus in the eyes as he spoke. "Remember this Warden, the galaxy will demand everything you have ever been given, and even once it has been returned it will still demand more. Do not allow it to bend you, even if it threatens to destroy you, or it will take everything you have. Steady your blade and prepare for the worst. Know that the galaxy can never change who you are, Warden, even if it casts you out for rejecting it."
Aengus finally found the courage to speak as his memory faded. "First Captain, are you certain there is no other way than to fight with the forces present?"
"I am certain Aengus. There are simply too many pressing matters for the legion to spare any more strength here. And to simply pass over this world will lead to too many problems for us later," Oriacarius stated. "If it is necessary legionary, you and the Triquetra are permitted to not face all the rifts together during these five years should you deem it necessary."
Aengus felt true fear at that moment. There was no chance of any further aid coming, even if the First Captain was willing to allow minor gains towards strategic victory instead of a total one, it would not change the fact that the odds were not entirely in their favor. Should the daemons prove to be more well-coordinated than expected, or the local populations more corrupted than the reports showed, it would force him into that same terrible position Jubal had found himself.
Only, he did not have the raw weight of numbers the White Scar had, nor the focused discipline of an Iron Warrior, and not even the sheer legend and skills of a true hero of the Imperium. He had only his own skill and that of the Triquetra to count on for victory.
There was no safety net for him anymore, he would have to prove himself as a Warden worthy of being called Hero, or the lives of billions would lie at his feet.
Aengus stood from his chair and kneeled before the First Captain of the Wardens.
"I have no complaints then First Captain, I accept this mission you have given me. The Cemetery shall enter the Imperium of Man, on my life, if necessary." His fist clenched as he stood up at the First Captain's signal and began to march down the hallway of the room.
As the legionary exited the room and the door clicked shut, he missed the quiet comment Oriacarius made. "I only hope that is not necessary."
Aengus stood in front of the training dummy, sword and shield held loosely in his hands as he stared at the marks his blade had made. A sense of dread pervaded his form as he began to feel how weak he truly was.
A true hero of the legion would not have required more than one strike to cut down the metal stand in half.
A true hero of the legion would not feel doubt in his own prowess.
A true hero of the Wardens would be strong.
A true hero of the Wardens would be fearless.
A true hero of the Wardens would make the enemy fear him, not the other way around.
Aengus was not a true hero of the Wardens.
He was just someone who showed promise of later greatness.
A later greatness that would not save the soldiers and brothers who needed him to be a hero now.
Aengus' head dropped as he felt the weight of the galaxy resting upon his shoulders. A galaxy that demanded him to be a hero now, not later.
"Ah! Aengus!" The legionary snapped out of his reverie as a familiar voice called out to him. "I was hoping you would be finished with your lecture from the First Captain right about now."
Lares, sergeant of the Third Company of the Eternal Wardens walked across the training hall helmetless and with a small detachment of astartes from the Third Company with a smile on his face. "Are you ready to finish our duel now?"
Aengus barely shifted at Lare's words, and the smile of the Third Company sergeant faltered as a look of worry flashed across his face. "Is everything alright Aengus?"
"I..." Aengus paused briefly before he shook his head. "Everything is fine, sergeant. You said you want to finish our duel?"
"Indeed Aengus," Lares hesitated a brief moment before he raised his helmet to his head, latching it into place with practiced ease. Lares picked up a training spear and twirled it around to test its weight. Finding its construction satisfactory, Lares nodded and turned to face Aengus.
All across the training hall, a great number of Wardens halted their practice and began to form a wide circle around the pair, a few cheers being tossed at each of the duelists as they began making bets over who would be the victor.
Aengus raised his sword and shield, a slight tremor in his hand that did not go unnoticed by Lares.
"Alright then Aengus, show me what a prodigy can do!" Lares charged with a grin on his face and Aengus charged back.
The duel started very well for Aengus. Lares' spear danced around Aengus' shield, poking and prodding around his shield for the slightest weakness in his defenses. It was a cautious offense, one Aengus could very well see having been born of Maticus' own teachings, and Aengus matched with a cautious defense of his own.
Each time Lares withdrew his spear to strike, Aengus watched carefully, waiting for a crease in Lares' advance.
He found his opportunity as Aengus angled his shield slightly, throwing off Lares' attack by mere centimeters and his sword instantly lashed out. Lares smirked and sidestepped the hasty attack. Lares then pivoted, swinging the back end of his spear towards Aengus' helmed face.
With practiced ease, Aengus sidestepped the blow, cursing the missed opportunity as the two Wardens returned to neutral dueling positions.
The prodigy of the Wardens stared at the sergeant, watching his form for even the slightest hint of weakness.
He found none.
"Well done, Aengus!" Lares chuckled. "You're no longer the inexperienced boy I remember watching decades ago." Lares lowered his spear and spoke genuinely to him. "Your time in the Maelstrom has forged you into a fine warrior."
Aengus froze. Memories of pestilence and despair came swirling in his mind. Imperial Army soldiers screaming for mercy and death beckoned in his mind and the hand of a Warden reaching out to him fell lifeless as a rot fly consumed his brother's corpse.
Aengus shook off the dark memory with a shudder and charged forward once more.
This time, he aimed to overpower the sergeant and he abandoned his cautious defense, striking with both shield and sword as he tried to force the sergeant to his knees. Lares' eyes widened beneath his helm as he backpedaled and thrust forward, utilizing the full length of his spear to keep Aengus out of range for a decisive blow.
Aengus' careful and precise strikes slowly spun out of control as the round continued. His power and speed nearly doubled as he fought with reckless power, but the skill and grace with which Lares had come to associate Aengus slowly fell away for a style more akin to Doom Slayers than what he previously used.
Aengus bashed his shield into Lares' spear. A quick backstep pulled him out of range and a well-timed block caught Aengus' follow-up sword strike. If Aengus noticed the inefficiency of his forward offense, he barely acknowledged it as he pressed on with his shield forward.
Lares' eye twitched as he began to notice holes in Aengus' defense, holes that even an Astartes initiate could have noticed. The sergeant heard a few nearby Wardens begin to whisper in worry as they too noticed the lack of fluidity in Aengus' form.
Lares felt worry begin to stir inside him for his opponent but pushed it aside to focus on the duel. After a few more exchanges, Lares noticed a small gap as Aengus' shield dropped for but a brief moment with a sword swing that had far too much power in it.
With a quick thrust, Lares' spear threaded the gap and struck Aengus in the chest causing him to gasp and fall to the ground at the force.
Aengus coughed as he cursed himself internally. Going with such a reckless style was bound to result in his defeat. The Third Company sergeant was one of the most skilled space marines in the legion. Abandoning his well-trained style for a careless offense was a surefire path toward having his defeat handed to him on a silver platter.
Lares offered a hand to the fallen Astartes, and after a quick breather, Aengus grabbed on and was lifted up to his feet.
"That was not a terrible idea in principle Aengus. You certainly caught me off guard there, I was expecting you to favor a more defensive style like Captain Maticus, but your aggression did catch me off guard." Lares smiled, before remembering his helmet was still on and continuing to speak. "In the future, you would do well to train offensively using your shield, the principle behind your offense was sound but you lacked the experience to pull it off as well as the appropriate follow-up actions after each strike to make it work."
Doom Slayer might have some ideas on how to train Aengus to attack aggressively with a defensive weapon, Lares mused. But that would require Aengus to approach him, and he doubted that legionary would even think of it given his clouded state of mind. Still, though, something to bring up in the future as a training opportunity.
Aengus barely heard Lares' advice as he internally chastised himself. With a deep, meditative breath, Aengus nodded to the sergeant to signal his acknowledgment. Lares paused for a moment, worry evident as he scanned Aengus for any sign of injury before he stepped back and stepped into a combat stance.
Lares' ears peaked as the Wardens whispered of someone walking into the training hall. The sergeant was tempted to wave at the figure who leaned against the entrance to the hall but fought it back with a shake of his head.
The prodigy looked at Lares blankly as he reached into his memories for any ideas on how to fight an opponent with superior skill and power. His normal style of cautious defense would lead him nowhere, ceding the power of initiative to the much more skilled sergeant of the third Company, and reckless aggression would simply lead to Lares poking gaping holes into his lessened defense.
An idea formed in his head as he recalled his past battles, remembering how the great heroes he had fought alongside would try and fight. He remembered the aggression of Doom Slayer, the confident and dauntless defense of Maticus, the everchanging and adaptable style of Oriacarius, the speed and ferocity of Jubal Kh_
The world blurred around him as Aengus' heart began to flood with dread. The cheering Wardens disappeared, replaced with a rotting, desolate hellscape. The weapons and dummies littered across the arena began to release a thick odorous scent that infested the world around him.
The Wardens standing around and cheering him on disappeared, replaced by decaying corpses slowly consumed by rot flies. The body of Jubal Khan lay at his feet, empty eyes staring up at him as Aengus held back the bile threatening to violently eject from his body. And across from him, Aengus nearly dropped his shield as he saw the place where Lares once stood.
A Great Unclean One, with a smile far too wide for its own face, grinned at him as it began to speak.
"Eternal Warden, this is not where you die, but my Grandfather will welcome you should you accept him." The Daemon of Nurgle lifted a rotting spear and pointed it aat the shivering Warden as he laughed in glee at the coming battle.
Aengus began to shake as the Great Unclean One's laughter echoed across the arena. He tried to open his mouth, only to cough as tiny fleas began to fly out of his mouth. The Warden just barely held back his instinctual urge to throw up as the Great Unclean One charged forward.
Aengus' body was rattled from the sheer force of the Greater Daemon's strike. His body gave out and his feet slipped from the sheer force of the unexpected blow and Aengus stumbled back.
The Great Unclean One howled in joy as it raced forward, swinging the spear in a wide arc towards Aengus' face. The Warden just barely lifted his shield in time. Even with his shield softening the blow, the sheer force of the spear knocked the shield from his grip as Aengus fell back into a two-handed stance with his remaining sword.
Aengus barely lasted a minute as he desperately parried the Great Unclean One's ferocious strikes. After parrying another monstrously powerful blow, Aengus' foot slipped out from under him, and the Greater Daemon pounced. A fist struck Aengus in the face and his balance fell completely as the legionary fell to the ground with his sword clattering to the ground next to him.
He screwed his eyes shut in anticipation of a final blow that would never come. After several seconds of hard breath and complete stillness, Aengus looked up, seeing the helmetless, and very worried face of the sergeant of the Third Company.
Aengus quickly glanced around, catching the worried eyes of his brothers as they looked down at him. He looked down from his brothers, staring at his hands. His shaking hands.
Aengus stood up and walked over to his fallen sword and shield. Without a second thought, he picked them up and walked out of the training hall.
He barely even noticed as the man standing at the door reached out to him before stepping aside to let him pass.
The Eternal Wardens who watched his duel in that room may very well be the brothers who looked up to him, who depended on him, and who trusted him to lead the charge at the Cemetery. Those same brothers now looked at him with apprehension and doubt.
A true Hero of the Wardens would not drag his brothers down with his doubts and fears.
Aengus was not a Hero of the Wardens.
Maticus Ventamedes, Daemonsbane, Champion of the Wardens, and Proud Son of Kesar Dorlin looked on in worry as he watched Lares duel Aengus.
He had been watching Aengus' progress carefully ever since their duel during the Warden tournament. His growth and ability to learn from increasingly difficult circumstances was noteworthy enough that even Ori had been keeping a close eye on him, not that either of them would admit it to not inflate the ego of a Warden already labeled the legion's prodigy.
From what he had seen of Aengus during the duel in the Warden Tournament over a decade ago, and the reports of his prowess laid out in Jubal's own records, Aengus was a rapidly growing star in the legion. And yet, as Lares slowed his pace to match the all-but paralyzed pace Aengus was setting, Maticus began to study the duel much more closely.
The quick and studious learner Maticus had seen as Aengus adapted his own insufficient style at the Tournament had all but been completely abandoned as Aengus did not even bother making any attacks of his own.
Maticus knew the skills and abilities of his sergeant very well, and as he watched Lares strike with a relatively weak and undecisive blow, Aengus all but collapsed as he tripped on his own feet, sending his sword flying across the room.
Maticus saw Lares freeze, and the whispers of the hall turn dead silent as Aengus audibly gasped for breath through his helmet for nearly a minute.
Lares kneeled to Aengus' level; a careful hand placed on his shoulder as he began to speak softly to the grounded Warden. Aengus' head suddenly jerked up, forcing Lares back as Aengus looked out at the Wardens who were watching with concern evident in their postures.
Maticus could see the panic settling in under Aengus' helm before his body suddenly stopped moving. With stiff and jerky motions, Aengus rose to his feet, shrugging off Lares as he marched over to his fallen shield and sword. Shaky hands placed the sword back into its sheath. The sound of metal sliding into place echoed across the silent room.
The Wardens parted as Aengus marched out of the room, head held low before he slowed to a stop in front of Maticus.
"Aengus..." Maticus reached out to him, trying to offer comfort of some kind only to be greeted with nothing. After a brief moment, Maticus stepped to the side, allowing Aengus to shuffle past.
With Aengus gone, an uncomfortable silence fell over the room.
"Well? Get back to training brothers! The forces of Chaos wait for no one!" Lares shouted and the Wardens flinched at the volume of his voice before racing back to their training dummies and practice partners.
Once the room fell back into a comfortable rhythm, Lares released a sigh as he walked over to his Captain.
"Maticus..." Lares began, uncertain of what to say. "How much did you see?"
"Only the final round brother. Do you have any idea what could have prompted such a reaction from Aengus." Maticus asked.
"Maybe," Lares sighed as he tapped his s[ear against the ground. "He was fine during the first round; it was only during the second that he began to fall apart. I wonder if it was something I might have said."
"Do you have any ideas in that regard? It must have touched on something very traumatic for him to have such a bad reaction." Maticus stroked his chin in thought.
Lares thought for a few moments before speaking. "Well, I did compliment him after his exceptional performance in the first round and... ah... I did bring up the Maelstrom." Lares frowned. "Do you think he might have some repressed nightmares or bad memories of that time?"
"I think it's fair to say all of us do brother." Maticus would always remember the awful stench that pervaded his senses for that long five-year period. "Yet still, even if Aengus had some bad memories, I do recall Bader assuring me that he would be fine. This... collapse in his abilities cannot be entirely due to what you said."
"Something must have changed then between the Maelstrom and now to trigger such a response," Lares sighed. "I'll contact Bader then; he might be able to figure out what's going on with Aengus."
Ah, Maticus thought. He had an idea of what this could be. There was something that had changed between the Maelstrom and now that might cause his malaise. A recent conversation and debate with Ori came to mind.
Oriacarius had been in favor of an extremely risky plan. It would spread the Wardens thin, but he felt that the Wardens needed to address as many of the threats as possible. He meant well, but Maticus argued that being so badly stretched without their Father would simply be too dangerous, too uncertain as the Heroes of the legion became isolated and separated from each other.
One hushed discussion later, and Maticus would no longer be deploying alone, rather, he would be deploying with Doom Slayer to the Maykr Worlds, both to help take down the Daemon Prince present, as well as guarantee this Black Covenant who had recently ambushed the Doom Slayer would not find an opportunity to assassinate him. In addition, the ten thousand Astartes initially deployed with Maticus would be dispersed among the most dangerous compliances, boosting the odds of success or at least minimizing losses for the entire legion as a whole.
Even still, it was far too risky for his liking, and the deployment patterns at the Thestrals and Cemetery had been a particularly sore sticking point between the two.
There was no doubt in his mind as to the cause of the legionary's recent malaise. Aengus had recently met with Oriacarius and was now distracted with memories of his failed battle in the Maelstrom. A failure that had nothing to do with Aengus' abilities. A failure that was far beyond what even Jubal was able to do.
A picture started to form in his head, and Maticus felt pangs of sympathy for the young prodigy. As Lares stepped aside to send a message to Bader, Maticus raised a hand.
"No need Lares, I think I understand now."
"I see then, do you know what the problem might be?" Lares turned at Maticus' words, a look of curiosity on his face.
"I cannot say I know for certain, but I have a pretty good idea." Maticus hummed in thought for a moment. "I can take care of this Lares, don't worry about it."
"Oh? Very well then Captain, by your orders." Lares saluted and Maticus chuckled. "Will you be needing any assistance in this matter?"
"I might need your help, but I'll send a message if I do. Until then, stay here and keep our brothers in line for me," Maticus said.
Lares nodded and said farewell before he marched off to berate a scout swinging his sword around carelessly.
As Maticus stepped outside the room, his thoughts turned to a time so long ago when he had once been so afraid of failure. It was difficult to say if he had ever faced odds as bad as what Aengus very well might be faced with, but even still he could see why Aengus would lose faith in his own abilities.
Without his Father's love and care, he might just have fallen apart when the horrors of the Maelstrom finally clashed with the Imperium of Man.
Maticus would not let that fate that almost happened to him befall Aengus.
He promised it.
Aengus found himself staring out a window, taking in the void of space beyond the safety of the Vigilance's windows, gazing upon the cruel and uncaring galaxy that had damned him to fight without the strength he needed.
Across the stars, uncounted trillions faced the exact odds he was facing now, and they did not crumble under the weight as he had. Entire regiments of soldiers looked on to their near-guaranteed death and faced the galaxy without so much as flinching. And when that same threat of absolute destruction came to him, he all but broke down in a highly public and visible space.
It was unacceptable.
Those brothers needed him, they needed him to be better.
They needed him to be twice the hero he had been promised he would become.
And they needed him to be a hero now.
Aengus' fist clenched as he saw the Cemetery, a war for mankind that had been waged for decades. He saw the hope in their eyes as the Wardens descended like blackened angels of death. He saw the unity and hope they inspired in others for their eternal war against Chaos.
But above all else, he saw a pile of corpses as his brothers died, one by one until there was no one left. The Triquetra slowly corrupted or overwhelmed by the viciousness of the Warp as the ritual circle they had formed was desecrated and turned to a weapon of summoning instead of banishment.
He held the lifeless hand of an Eternal Warden he had known and fought alongside for decades, and as Aengus sat motionless in the dirt, the city burned around him, and the long sword of a Great Unclean One fell, decapitating the last Warden.
It would be his failure.
His inability to face the horrors of the galaxy would doom them all as they overestimated his capabilities.
It would be his fault.
"Aengus, I'm glad I was able to catch up to you."
Aengus jerked away from the window in surprise at the sudden voice. He spun around to look at the intruder.
Maticus Ventamedes stood in front of him, a hand on his hip and a soft smile on his face. The Sword of the Lost, a blade Aengus one day dreamed of wielding, rested on Maticus' back as he looked at Aengus. Maticus' caring eyes almost made his breath hitched as Aengus dropped down to one knee.
"Captain Maticus! I apologize for any disturbance I caused you!" His heart pounded as Maticus let out a soft laugh.
"Please brother, no need to call me Captain." Maticus kneeled until his eyes were at the same level as Aengus'. Aengus looked down as the Daemonsbane placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Just call me Maticus. Though I must say, kneeling in such a despondent manner does not fit you."
"I apologize, Captain, uh, I mean Maticus."
"After your performance in the Tournament and the Maelstrom, I doubt any of our brothers will be upset if you call me by name. Although if anyone does, please refer them to me so I can explain my perspective on the matter." The Black Prince lifted him to his feet with a chuckle.
Aengus flinched at the mention of the Maelstorm but did not comment on the matter.
"Maticus, I am sorry, did you see the duel with Lares earlier," Aengus asked.
"I did." Maticus nodded, his eyes began to search Aengus for something, and the prodigy had to hold back his nervousness at the inquisitiveness in his eyes. "I must confess, your skill with a blade is not in doubt, but the last round was far from the best I've seen from you."
"I have been training much more intensely recently, and I believe I may have exhausted myself before the battle with Lares," Aengus attempted to explain. "I had been... distracted as well if that explains any part of my poor showing." Aengus winced as he realized how untrue that sounded even to his ears.
"I understand," Maticus said without any judgment. "I too have often been forced to take breaks before dueling with others to ensure my form and technique is always at its pinnacle. It is good for you to learn that lesson now instead of later."
"I will take that advice to heart Captain," Aengus said.
"Please Aengus, just Maticus I beg of you," Maticus laughed, the gentle sound uplifting Aengus' mood if only slightly. "Anyway, I was considering starting my own drills in preparation for the latest compliance, and as I have happened upon you, would you be willing to join me?"
Aengus froze at the request for a moment. But only for a moment. A chance to personally train with the greatest swordsman in the legion was a chance that could not be passed on.
"Of course, Maticus!" Aengus loudly exclaimed., a bit too loudly.
"Then come along brother, my training room is a bit away from here." Maticus smiled at his shout and gestured for Aengus to follow along as the two fell into a comfortable walk.
Across the Vigilance, Maticus called out to several other members aboard the crew. Wardens, Imperial Army soldiers, serfs, and even a few wandering tech-priests turned in acknowledgment of the Black Prince and his quick encouragement.
The halls of the Vigilance bustled with a life Aengus had never known the ship to possess before as Maticus called out the names of brothers he had fought alongside. Even a handful of human officers and their subordinates proudly saluted the Black Prince as they walked.
Aengus stared in awe at the Hero of the Wardens beside him.
Maticus had a charisma about him, a gentle warmth and fire that stirred the hearts of everyone who so much as glimpsed him. A tinge of sadness around his eyes remained, and yet Aengus saw the hearts of the downtrodden and exhausted soar as Maticus spoke to them, promising future victory and affirming bonds of brotherhood, even for those who could not call themselves Wardens.
Although Oriacarius was the First Captain of the Legion, he was often cold and distant, with only a few trusted brothers having been known to regularly meet with him at all, let alone for non–mission–related reasons. Rather, it was Maticus who was looked upon as a true Son of Kesar. The one who truly embodied Kesar's endless empathy and his ability to fight the greatest champions of Chaos and send them fleeing in fear.
If only he possessed as much as a fraction of that effortless ease with which he inspired others. If only he could smile so brightly and so softly, to inspire even the weakest and most hopeless of the Army into acts of bravery and valor. If only he could duel heroes of great strength and win effortlessly as Maticus did.
How many would live through the coming battles if he could even do a fraction of what the Champion of the Wardens was capable of?
When they arrived at the training hall, a pair of Third Company Wardens stood guard. They saluted Maticus as he stepped towards the door.
"At ease brothers," Maticus said. The Wardens stepped aside in sync and Maticus opened the door, waving Aengus inside.
Upon stepping inside, Aengus was almost underwhelmed.
Few distinguishing factors separated this private training room from the communal hall used by the majority of the Wardens aboard the Vigilance. The training weapons were of notably high quality, unblemished, and unscratched due to only being used by a single space marine as opposed to hundreds at a time.
"Truthfully Aengus, I greatly prefer training in the shared hall," Maticus admitted. "Unfortunately, some recent events have convinced my brother that the added security is necessary, although I doubt anything would happen on our flagship."
"I see," Aengus said. "Is there something in particular you would like to do right now brother?"
"There is indeed brother, though it is not related to our drills right now," Maticus said to Aengus' confusion. "Rather, I wanted to ask you a personal question if you did not mind."
Aengus nodded hesitantly to the unspoken permission to ask, dreading the conversation that was about to take place. His hand unconsciously fell to his scabbard, its familiar touch doing little to steady his nerves.
"Some of our brothers have noticed that you have been distracted as of late, is everything alright for you?" Maticus asked.
"I..." Aengus began to say he was fine before he saw the genuine concern in Maticus' eyes. His resolve melted under the Black Prince's gaze and Aengus began to speak truthfully, the lie he had been about to speak dying on his lips.
"I have some doubts about my role in the upcoming compliance," Aengus said. "From what I can tell, the First Captain seems to be placing a great deal of trust in my ability to handle this upcoming battle, and I am not certain his confidence is well-placed."
"I understand why you feel doubts, but you do not have to fight this battle alone. The Triquetra will also be present in addition to six thousand of your own brothers. This is not a world you have to conquer alone," Maticus said.
"I know, but the Triquetra will be occupied with sealing the Warp rifts, and in the meantime, it will be up to me to coordinate the defense efforts of the locals, the Imperial army, and the Wardens in a way I have not done before," Aengus sighed. "My ability to lead and fight may very well be the deciding factor in the war that will soon take place."
"I see," Maticus hummed. "It is not that you are afraid the others will not be strong enough to fight and win the war for the Cemetery, rather it is that you doubt you are strong enough to protect your brothers should the worst come to pass."
"I... yes," Aengus sighed as Maticus cut directly to the core of the problem. "I have learned so much in the time I've been here, I've learned to trust my brothers, I've learned to wield a sword and shield to a level where my company largely defers to me on matters of dueling expertise, and I've even earned the respect of my doubters, or so I've been told, but..." Aengus lacked the strength to finish his sentence.
"But you don't think it's enough." Maticus finished it for him.
"Yes." Aengus' head dropped and he stared at the ground. "I don't have what the Heroes of the Wardens have. I don't have your strength, I don't have Doom Slayer's power, I don't have Oriacarius' endless ability to adapt, I don't even have Orion's ability to train and lead others."
Maticus stood silently as Aengus ranted.
"And here I am now. With a world that demands I prove myself as a Hero, and yet I find my strength lacking." Maticus frowned when Aengus said that, but he allowed him to continue. "When the armies of Chaos march forward, it will be my blade that decides the battle, it will be my leadership that inspires the world to fight on, it will be I who must lead the charge, or else we face certain death."
Maticus frowned as Aengus contemplated the possibility of his death.
"I just don't have what it takes. This burden that has been laid at my feet will destroy my brothers, it would have been better if I had never been here at all, so that my brothers would not_"
Maticus cut his brother off by pulling him into a hug. His warm arms embraced Aengus as he comforted a brother in desperate need of assurance.
"Don't say that brother, you are much stronger than you think," Maticus said. "Every day, I have been watching your progress and you've grown so much stronger than you were when we dueled at the tournament. You're faster, stronger, more experienced, and more skilled than you've ever been."
"Even if I were as strong as you said, it won't be enough," Aengus lamented. "The Wardens do not need a prodigy brother, they need a Hero, that's something I may never become."
"That's where you're wrong Aengus, the Eternal Wardens do not need a Hero," Maticus pulled back from his embrace to look Aengus in the eyes with full seriousness. "They need a brother, someone who they can rely on, and you still sell yourself short in that regard."
"I..." Aengus sighed. "I don't know Maticus. I don't know if I can be the one others count on, I've never won any great battles alone the way you have."
Maticus laughed. "Alone? I have never fought alone Aengus." Maticus stepped back as he spoke.
"When I fight, my brothers fight with me. When I laugh, my brothers laugh with me. And when the day comes that we face a challenge we know we may not walk away from, we charge together, because we are brothers in arms, and we refuse to let each other down," Maticus said proudly. "There is no room for doubt, no room for contemplation because we know that come what may, our Father will always be proud of us fighting for humanity's future."
"Every time I go into battle, I do so knowing that I can trust the ones who fight beside me to give their all, just as they trust me to do the same. I offer my life to them, and they offer theirs to me, and together, we know there is nothing that can stop us," Maticus continued on. "We always know that any battle can be our last and that the brothers we have known for so long may one day part with us, but we still charge into battle anyway, with smiles on our faces, knowing that the ones we Cherish will always smile down on us, even from beyond."
Maticus looked down at his armor, Scafrir's armor, and traced a name with his finger, a name Aengus was familiar with. The name of a warrior who was once seen as the next great Warden. A Warden who was supposed to become the greatest Hero of all and carve his legend into the story of the galaxy.
Inzhun.
"There are many brothers I wish desperately could be brought back to us, so many memories we never got to make, so many stories we never got to share." A pensive look crossed Maticus' face as he remembered the fallen. "But even though I know I could have done better, that I should have done better, that I should have been stronger or faster; I refuse to let their memory hold me back. Because I know that is not what they would have wanted, and as you stand before me, uncertain of the path you are about to walk, remember this brother."
"You are not alone, Aengus, for any man who fights for his brothers fights with a legion."
Aengus couldn't recall when the tears started falling down his face, and he raced to wipe them off as a Hero of the Wardens bore his soul to him.
Maticus chuckled, "You stand with some of the greatest warriors in the galaxy brother, you fight with the finest generals of the Imperial Army, the finest psykers of our Librarius, and the walking legends who resisted daemonic incursion in the darkest realm of the galaxy for thousands of years, even if your strength is not enough, you will never fight alone."
"I... Maticus..." Aengus choked back sobs he had been holding back as Maticus smiled at him. "I... I will try to do as you say brother, I just don't know if I have the strength you say I do."
"Do you trust me?" Maticus asked.
Aengus nodded shakily.
"Then let me show you how strong you and your brothers truly are." A hand reached back, and a weapon of legends was drawn.
The Sword of the Lost gleamed brilliantly and the history of not one, but two galactic heroes struck Aengus with awe as the personal blade of his Father was wielded in the hands of his greatest son. The names of the Wardens inscribed on the blade reflected the light of the room as the tip of the blade leveled at the Prodigy of the Wardens.
"Aengus, the last time we dueled, you set a new record and lasted 92 seconds without being struck. Would you like to see if that record can be broken?" Maticus smirked confidently.
For a long moment, Aengus froze. The doubts and worries that had plagued him fell away into the winds at Maticus' proclamation of his strength, and so without even consciously thinking about it, his hands fell to the shield on his back and the sword at his side.
His weapons were not the past gift of a Primarch, nor was his armor bearing the heraldry of a legend who held back an Exalted of Tzeentch, but the shield in his arm and the sword in his hand never felt stronger.
"Let me show you the power you've yet to see, brother."
Maticus pointed the Sword of the Lost at his brother and smiled. Aengus took a deep breath. With a short, whispered breath to his father, Aengus charged the Black Prince.
Aengus knew he could never get through Maticus' defenses. The Doom Slayer's hyper-aggressive and speedy strikes had barely even registered to Maticus and so for Aengus to try was futile. He would have had better luck trying to punch a hole in battleship-grade adamantine than trying to sneak an attack past the Sword of the Lost.
Even still, Aengus had seen just how skilled Maticus was. To let him control the flow of the duel would all but hand him victory. And so, the Prodigy raced forward at his full speed, swinging his sword with all his might.
Maticus waited until the last moment, and as Aengus entered his range, his sword blurred into position, deflecting Aengus' attack with ease. Aengus stumbled for a moment as his momentum threatened to send him tumbling over. He gritted his teeth as his feet scraped the ground to bring himself to a stop.
Maticus gave Aengus no breathing room to recover as he brought back the Sword of the Lost and aimed the edge of his blade for Aengus' throat. Aengus just barely ducked his head behind his shield as the Sword of the Lost smashed into it. Maticus pushed with his blade into the shield and threw Aengus back.
Aengus lurched back and braced his shield against the ground to keep himself stable. Aengus had barely a moment to think as Maticus advanced with blinding speed.
Maticus sped forward and Aengus moved to counter with his sword, only for the Black Prince to flick his sword to the side and again deflect his blade completely off-course. Aengus internally cursed as Maticus effortlessly deflected his attacks with blinding skill and had no choice but to keep retreating.
This pattern continued for a few more minutes with Aengus just barely holding off Maticus' relentless assault. Aengus was one of the most skilled Wardens in the legion, but Maticus had long proven himself to be the legion's champion and one of the few space marines capable of beating a Primarch.
Aengus finally slipped when he noticed a microscopic opening in Maticus' unbreakable defense. The moment Aengus raised his sword to strike, however, the gap closed, and the Sword of the Lost split the minuscule gap in Aengus' own defenses.
In less than a blink of an eye, the flat of the blade lightly tapped Aengus' neck and he let out a sigh of frustration. Aengus took deep calming breaths as Maticus stepped back and spoke.
"A good first round Aengus, but I know you can do better." The Sword of the Lost gleamed as Maticus rested it on his shoulder. "I know you can find a way through my defensive abilities. Don't let yourself be intimidated into playing defense or you won't be able to win."
Aengus breathed in slowly as he listened to Maticus' advice. With a nod, he fell back into a combat stance and the Black Prince did the same.
Aengus knew he was outmatched. He did not have the skill necessary to force Maticus on the defensive. Even if Maticus himself said he could, it was still he who needed to find a way to break through.
The only Warden who had even come close was Doom Slayer himself, and even he failed to leave as much as a scratch on the Champion. But even still, Aengus refused to stand down and give up now.
With a shout, Aengus charged in and bashed Maticus with his shield. With a fury even Doom Slayer might have noticed, Aengus charged in and began to use brute force against the Black Prince. As the prodigy charged, however, Maticus simply raised his blade and blocked Aengus' shield, a deadly look of calm in his eyes.
Aengus gritted his teeth and dug in his heels to brace himself against Maticus' raw power. As he pushed, Aengus noticed the strength in Maticus' sword slacken and Aengus used all of his strength on one strong push, intent on forcing the Black Prince off balance.
Maticus didn't even blink as he stepped to the side, and Aengus once again found himself off-balance. With a roar of frustration, Aengus contorted his body to twist his blade arm around and strike Maticus.
Maticus merely swiped his blade and Aengus' blade was sent careening off course. Before Aengus had time to recover, Maticus redirected his blade and the Sword of the Lost tapped Aengus' helmet once again.
With the round over, Aengus felt his blood begin to boil in frustration. None of his tactics were even remotely effective. Maticus was simply far too experienced for Aengus' best attack strategies, and even then, he lacked the speed and strength to pull it off.
Maticus stepped back once more, this time without a single word spoken as he allowed the prodigy to recover. Maticus' pristine armor gleamed in the sharp light from above as Aengus collected himself.
One chance now.
One chance to prove he was half the warrior Maticus said he was.
Aengus slowly ran through a thousand different tactics and strategies he had been taught, from the lessons of his sergeants to even the tips and tricks passed around by his cousins. None of them would work, he doubted Maticus had not already learned them and then iterated upon a dozen different defenses to each of his ideas.
As Aengus wracked his brain for ideas, Maticus silently sent out a message to the Third Company Sergeant, and Lares quietly stepped inside the training hall without being noticed by the prodigy.
Aengus readied himself, and Maticus took that as the cue for the third round to start.
As opposed to his earlier aggression, Aengus remained slow and careful. He carefully circled Maticus, looking for a hole in his defenses as he lightly prodded Maticus with a few stabs and slashes. Reckless aggression had failed him twice now, once against Lares and again now versus Maticus. So now he opted for the opposite approach, mirroring the careful defense of Maticus as he carefully held his shield out in front of himself.
Maticus took this change of pace comfortably, exchanging Aengus' probing attacks with a few slashes of his own. Aengus did not leave himself blindly open, but neither was he able to create an opening in the Black Prince's defenses. And as time proved, Aengus could never match the Champion of the Wardens in a battle of attrition.
Once or twice, Aengus could almost have sworn he saw an opening between Maticus' attacks, but Aengus refused to let himself be tricked twice, so he waited for a better opening. An opening that he knew might never come.
His intuition proved him right a moment later as Aengus' shield dropped barely a millimeter, and Maticus jumped at the opportunity.
Aengus did not even have time to react as his sword, just slightly extended past his shield went flying out of his hands. Swordless, Aengus began to cower behind his shield, desperately trying to hold off the Black Prince for even a few moments longer as his mind raced for an opportunity to retrieve his sword.
Ultimately, it was for naught, as Maticus easily outmaneuvered Aengus, and neatly sidestepped around Aengus' defenses with a blade to the prodigy's heart.
The moment the Sword of the Lost tapped his armor, a sense of deep dread filled his stomach. Even though their duel had lasted only a few minutes, Aengus found himself tired and weary as he fell to his knees, utterly dismayed to see himself completely outmatched once again.
"You're holding yourself back Aengus," Maticus said, and a serious look crossed his face. "Your skill is superb, far surpassing all but the most veteran of our space marines, and yet you limit yourself to simple tactics reminiscent of myself and the heroes of the legion, unable to truly adapt or seize the moment of victory until the moment has already passed."
Aengus' head dropped as Maticus' admonished him. He had failed, and it had not even been a close fight. The Warden Maticus thought he saw had been nothing but a myth.
Maticus' brow scrunched in thought before a look of understanding crossed his face. "Ah, you've been trying to follow our example, haven't you."
"What do you mean brother?"
"At first you tried to attack boldly and with purpose, trying to create an opening where you could easily get a strike through my defense. Yet when that doesn't work, you begin to lose your nerve, looking more to the combat styles of myself and the other Heroes of the legion, whether it be Doom Slayer's reckless aggression or my careful defense." Maticus hummed as he mulled the idea over in his head. "Your initial attempts at combatting myself and Lares were the most successful, did you not realize that?"
"I..." Aengus paused for a long moment. "Whatever skills I have, they're nothing compared to what the Heroes of this legion already have, why should I not try to learn what I can?"
"There is a difference between learning the skills of others and uprooting the skills you've already learned to learn somebody else's," Maticus said. "You are already one of our most skilled brothers, don't waste your time trying to force yourself to fight the way somebody else does, especially not out of some misplaced sense of weakness."
"It's not enough to just be skilled Maticus, if I want to save my brothers, I have to be better." Aengus' head remained low, and Maticus sighed with a tinge of frustration as he felt the self-loathing Aengus was inflicting upon himself.
"Come now brother, hold your head up high!" A cheerful voice called out from across the room. Aengus' head whirled around, and he saw the Third Company Sergeant pick up his fallen blade. "It's a bit unfair to compare yourself to the Champion of the Wardens, you know. Even Father lost to him once."
"Only with the help of a good friend might I add Lares," Maticus chuckled and planted the Sword of the Lost in the ground and leaned against it.
"Exactly, so it's a bit unfair to force little Aengus here to fight you without a helping hand, isn't it?" Lares tossed the blade to Aengus, and on pure instinct, his hadn reached out and caught it.
"Stand up now Aengus, you're a son of Kesar Dorlin, and we don't ever give up until victory is ours, you understand me?" Lares invoked the name of their father, and a sense of shame enveloped Aengus. To have fallen so despondent after a handful of losses, what would Father think of him if he saw him now?
The uncertainty clouding his mind fell away just a tad as Lares pulled him back to his feet. "I am... sorry brother. I won't back down again."
"Of course you won't brother, no son of Kesar ever would," Lares stated with a smirk. "Now then, why don't you show me that bold purpose this here brother was talking about and be the hammer to my anvil why don't you?"
With a twirl of his spear, Lares readied himself for combat, and Aengus followed his lead.
Maticus smiled as Lares encouraged his brother, easily inspiring him to return to his feet. With practiced grace, the Sword of the Lost flowed back into his hands as he stared down the Warden duo.
"I finally got someone who can hold his own against me in the same room as you Maticus, we'll be taking the title of champion from you now," Lares said.
"Then come take it," Maticus answered with a soft smile.
Lares charged forward with his wide grin just barely contained by his helmet. Aengus stayed behind the Third Company Sergeant, ready to strike at Maticus the moment he saw a sign of weakness.
Maticus faced down the two advancing Wardens with ease, parrying Lares' attacks with ease and keeping Aengus at bay with quick defensive footwork.
Each time Lares raced in to strike, Maticus deflected his spear and forced his guard down for an easy strike, only for Aengus to immediately intersect with his own and blade.
Each attempted deflection rattled Aengus from the sheer strength behind the Sword of the Lost and Lares immediately pounced on Maticus' momentary distractions only to retreat as Maticus deflected his blade off of Aengus' and nearly sliced Lares' head off.
Aengus also jumped backwards as Maticus redirected his momentum towards him and Aengus grimaced as the Sword of the Lost bit into his sword. Aengus' wrist burned as the repeated clashing with Maticus' blade took its toll, and Aengus felt his guard fall.
Maticus nearly ended the round then, only for Lares to leap back into the fray and Maticus was forced to retreat to a neutral position.
Lares and Aengus quickly caught their breath as Maticus stood back and watched the pair.
Just as Aengus and Lares prepared to charge, Maticus timed their steps and leaped forward.
Maticus crashed his blade straight into Aengus' shield and Aengus grunted as his arms felt ready to give out. With a grunt and a roar, Aengus forced the Sword of the Lost off its intended course and his blade began hurtling towards Maticus.
Maticus parried his blade with ease and reared back to deliver a thunderous kick to Aengus' midsection. A gasp ripped through his throat, and he was sent crashing to the ground from an unstoppable force.
Lares quickly raced forward and intersected his spear with the Sword of the Lost, leaving Aengus just millimeters from having his head touched by the blade. Lares whirled his spear around and Maticus backstepped, remaining just outside of Lares' reach.
Aengus quickly got back to his feet and stopped himself from charging back into the fight. His mind raced as he watched the duel. Lares' defense broke down slowly as Maticus' raw speed and power forced Lares back.
At the last possible moment, when Lares's defense finally gave out and Maticus reared back for one decisive blow, Aengus noticed the tiniest of weaknesses in Maticus' defenses as Aengus fell right into his blind spot.
Aengus blitzed forward, pushing all of his remaining strength into one last telling blow. But the moment his feet left the ground, the metal floor groaned and snapped under his feet, its discordant shriek alerting Maticus at the last possible moment.
Maticus' head turned, and Aengus swung his sword with all his might. Maticus lifted the hilt of the Sword of the Lost and barely deflected Aengus' sword. Undeterred, Aengus pivoted and slammed his shield into Maticus' side.
Maticus grunted but softened the blow as he moved along with it and Lares' spear thrust forward to claim their victory.
But the Black Prince never yields, and as Lares stepped in to deal the telling blow, Maticus pushed, and Aengus stumbled backward. Left completely open, Lares could do nothing to stop the Sword of the Lost from tapping against his armor where one of his hearts rested.
Aengus sighed in frustration.
His best attempt to open up Maticus' impervious defenses had ended in utter failure and had cost them a point.
"Ah don't worry about it Aengus," Lares laughed. "You had a good idea there, let's see if we can get a repeat, this time with more success."
Lares' optimism lightened the frustration Aengus felt just a bit, and he shook his head as the duo prepared to charge Maticus once again.
Try as they might, however, they were no match for the Champion of the Wardens. After his failure to capitalize on the opening Lares created, Aengus fell back into a more defensive posture and focused on intercepting blows meant for Lares to try and extend the length of the duel.
For all the aggression and careful defense, the two Wardens were capable of, they were no match for the untiring Champion. Every moment the duel dragged on, the two Wardens grew more and more tired, but Maticus only ever seemed to grow faster and stronger.
In the second round, Lares fell back to avoid a vicious hit from Maticus, and as Aengus stepped in to time his attack with an unlikely opening, Maticus redirected his blade and hit the prodigy with ease.
The third round progressed no better. Lares immediately charged Maticus at the start of the round, and Aengus quickly followed suit. But Maticus had spent a lifetime fighting ferocious champions, and he easily picked apart the two warriors.
With a quick parry and riposte, Lares' spear was ripped to the side and the blade at his throat signaled the end of the duel.
Aengus fell to his knees as the adrenaline wore off and exhaustion finally overtook him. He had tried, he really had, but it had not been enough. All his training and best efforts had not even come close to harming the Black Prince, only serving to make himself more of a fool as Maticus easily and handily dealt with both him and Lares.
A thud colliding with his shoulder jerked Aengus out of his self-deprecation. Lares laughed uproariously as he brought Aengus back to his feet.
"Damn you Maticus! Just when I thought I had the upper hand you go and pull a stunt like this." Lares slid his helmet off and gave a look of mock anger as he pointed at the Black Prince. "Three rounds of combat, and not even a single win with the two of us combining our forces."
"Well brother, I am the Champion of the Wardens, you should have known this was going to happen from the moment you walked into the room," Maticus said with just a touch of humor and sarcasm.
"Bah!" Lares scoffed. "It's just a matter of time now, with the way Aengus held himself at the beginning there, it's only a matter of time before he wipes that smug smirk you're hiding under that helmet." Lares boasted proudly.
Aengus felt like shrinking to the floor as Lares continued to boast and embellish his skills. He could have sworn that Maticus saw the red spreading across his face as he stayed quiet and let Lares shout his praise.
"Perhaps brother, perhaps." Maticus waved a hand in playful dismissal. "But either way, I do believe we saw the bones of Aengus' legendary combat style there."
Aengus froze when Maticus said that.
"Exactly so brother!" Lares agreed immediately. "You saw it too, right? How Aengus was able to strike hard and fast when you had barely even the slightest hint of a weakness?"
Maticus nodded. "Indeed, Aengus' endless ability to adapt and identify my weaknesses caught me off guard a few times there. Had I been less prepared, he might just have scored a point in that first round."
"You speak far too kindly of me brothers, the outcome was never in doubt," Aengus said with a shake of his head.
"The outcome may have been unchangeable, but you two only lasted as long as you did due to your skill and your uncanny ability to perfectly time the weaknesses in my offense." Maticus sheathed the Blade of the Lost as he spoke. "You two almost had me cornered, and had you focused on utilizing your style of decisive aggression, instead of trying to mimic myself or the other champions of the Wardens, you would have certainly gotten at least one point."
Aengus' shoulders sunk as he interpreted Maticus' critique as negative, and Lares stepped forward, resting a hand on Aengus' shoulder. "It's alright to not be perfect you know, nobody here is," Lares said.
"I know, but what I can do still is not enough," Aengus said dejectedly.
"You're so much stronger than you know Aengus, you're the tough bastard who almost took down a Legion Champions, don't drag yourself down with impossible standards," Lares said with a smile on his lips. "Mark my words Aengus, you're going to kick the asses of whoever tries to beat you up on the Cemetery, and one day, you're going to be our greatest hero."
Aengus smiled as Lare's infectious optimism made him feel warm. A comfortable silence fell over the trio as Aengus pondered Lares' estimations.
"Well, I hope I can live up to your expectations then Third Sergeant," Aengus smiled. "Somebody has to, or else we'll never show Maticus who's the real Champion of the Wardens.
"Now that's the kind of confidence I expect from our little prodigy," Lares grinned maniacally.
Maticus watched the two interact, a peaceful smile on his face as he watched Lares effortlessly pull Aengus out of his mental malaise.
"By the way, before you go, we never got to finish that duel now did we?" Lares said.
"Ah, we did not," Aengus said. "Should we call it a draw then in honor of our efforts against the Warden's champion here?"
"A draw? Never!" Lares leaned back in shock at Aengus' suggestion. "Now that I know you weren't fighting at your best, we must continue our duel until true victory has been achieved."
Aengus started to laugh, only to cough as his lungs made their exhaustion known.
"Although, perhaps tomorrow then, seeing as how you've run yourself ragged from multiple duels in one day?" Lares asked.
"Indeed, it wouldn't be proper to use exhaustion as an excuse for your victory, wouldn't it?" Aengus agreed with a nod.
"Right you are brother, when I beat you, I want the whole legion to know I beat you at your absolute best." Lares' predatory grin widened as he sized up Aengus.
"If, brother, not when," Aengus replied calmly as he turned to exit the room.
Aengus and Lares continued their light-hearted banter as Maticus remained behind, content to watch from the background as his brothers left the room, Aengus' head held higher than when he first walked in.
A worried grimace crossed his face as Maticus recalled the Imperial Army's reports of the Cemetery. For all of Aengus' skill and his showings of potential, there was still so much left for him to do before he could truly call himself a Hero of the Legion.
But no matter his worries, Maticus knew that the moment Aengus stepped on the battlefield, his brothers would place their trust in him, and should his bladework prove true, he would emerge as not just a veteran of the Maelstrom War, but a true warrior worthy of praise.
And regardless of the result, Kesar Dorlin loved them all, and that was enough for him.
The next day, Aengus swung his blade, a renewed vigor coursing through his veins as he effortlessly tossed aside his opponent's guard and bashed him to the ground with his shield. The Warden across from him raised a hand in surrender and the duel quickly ended.
About a dozen Wardens watched the duel, cheering and clapping as they congratulated Aengus on his victory. All signs of worry or concern over his previous bout with Lares had been dispelled as they saw Aengus easily defeat his brother. Aengus held out a hand to his brother on the floor to which the Warden looked up; exhaustion visible in his slumped posture and took Aengus' hand.
"Well fought brother, I did not realize a shield could be used so aggressively," The Warden said as he was pulled to his feet. He stretched out his bruised arm as Aengus nodded.
"I learned that idea from watching Maticus' careful aggression, I recommend you watch a few of his duels and learn what ideas can be translated into your own preferred style," Aengus said. Maticus' ability to relentlessly push forward while still defending himself was something Aengus could easily feel in his own combat tendencies.
The shield on his left arm certainly gave him more room to breathe even in close quarters. Even if shield-bearing Wardens had become a more popular idea across the legion, it was still relatively rare to see outside of battle lines and in a duel.
Just as Aengus prepared to give some advice to his brother on countering aggressive shield-bearers, some loud shouting drew the duo's attention. The nearly one hundred Wardens practicing across the arena paused in their training to take note of the one who had just walked through the door.
"And there he is! The Prodigy of the Wardens!" The circle of Wardens around the two duelists parted and Lares stepped in with a big grin on his face, a few Wardens of the Third Company following closely behind. "You finally ready to eat the deck for real this time?"
Aengus laughed at Lares' provocations. "Only if I can wipe that smug grin off your face at least once."
The Wardens circling them let out a loud cheer, and Astartes across the training hall took notice of the brewing duel. In mere moments, nearly a hundred Space Marines of the Eternal Wardens had joined the circle and would watch as spectators to this duel, and the results would surely be shared across the Vigilance before the day had finished.
The thunderous roars of the audience barely even fazed Lares as he readied his spear. As the Third Company Sergeant slid his helmet back onto his head, Aengus took a deep breath in, mentally preparing himself for the war he was about to fight.
Aengus lifted his shield into a defensive position, and the duel was on. The two duelists circled each other as they sized one another up. Aengus and to be careful, for even though his mind was fully focused on the duel, Lares was still his superior in every way that mattered. He was faster, stronger, and had far more experience fighting on the front lines against the champions of Chaos.
Lares seemed content to continue their face-off as he looked for even the slightest hint of weakness or indecision. Aengus kept a close eye on how Lares walked, examining each step for the slightest indication that he was prepared to charge.
Just as Aengus was about to act, Lares dashed forward. Aengus froze for a moment, but quickly recovered, moving his shield just in time to block a thrust to his shoulder as he countered with a slash. Lares backed off momentarily and then rushed back in, forcing Aengus to fight defensively.
Aengus gritted his teeth as Lares' spear moved quickly and efficiently, cutting off his attempts to retreat and forcing him to stay within striking range of his spear yet out of range with his sword. It was a frustrating dance for the Prodigy as he was forced into a constant defensive pattern, only occasionally breaking from his rhythm of parrying or deflecting to throw the occasional easily blocked attack.
The result was inevitable, and as Aengus slipped one too many times, Lares pounced, snaking the head of his spear around Aengus' shield and thrusting the point right up to Aengus' neck.
Aengus sighed in frustration as the two returned to a neutral stance. As the second round was about to begin, Aengus looked back to Lares, confidently standing there with his spear held in a steady guard.
For a moment, Aengus thought back to what Lares and Maticus said in their duel, a style focused on adaptability and observation. As the two Wardens circled each other again, Aengus focused his senses, tuning out the noise of the crowd and the cheers of his brothers.
Aengus focused in, listening to the soft heartbeat of the Third Sergeant, the quiet clatter of metal in his armored joints and the low exhalations of his breath. He watched each slow deliberate step, each careful and deliberate movement of his spear, and the careful guard Lares was using.
There.
Aengus found a shift in his posture.
The most minute of details, the silent whir of metallic servos as Lares shifted his weight on his feet to charge. Aengus had heard it before, but he had not focused on it, or understood what it meant, but as Lares dashed forward, Aengus was ready.
Lares had charged forward, ready to end this round of the duel with one single strike and claim his second point of the duel, and as Aengus' shield dropped for the slightest moment in surprise, Lares smiled as he knew he had won.
And yet, just as Lares reared his spear back to strike, Aengus ducked. Lares' spear went sailing over Aengus' head and before Lares could recover or redirect his attack, Aengus rose and charged forward.
Aengus' shield struck Lares in the chest with thunderous fury, Lares stumbled back with. His lungs burned as he struggled to catch his breath. Aengus gave chase, forcing Lares to stay off balance and continuously move backward at a quick pace.
Aengus' sword moved like lightning, jabbing forwards and back in a blur and Lares' quick head movement just barely prevented his defeat. Aengus never relented, however, again slamming his shield forward into Lares' spear, and causing Lares to drop his spear.
In a flash, the round finished, and Aengus' blade tapped Lares' chest piece.
The Wardens around cheered as the two combatants returned to their neutral positions on an even scorecard. A few Wardens started making bets as they realized the duel was becoming very interesting.
The third round began, and as Lares was prepared to sit back and analyze the duel, Aengus unexpectedly charged forward. Lares lurched back in surprise at Aengus' uncharacteristic aggression and met Aengus partway through with his spear.
Aengus' aggression overpowered Lares' defense and once again Lares was put on the back foot. Where before Lares had a perfect measure of Aengus' abilities and was able to easily advance on the initiate without reprisal, it was now the Sergeant who was being forced to fight defensively.
Aengus delivered a savage series of strikes. Lares' bones began to rattle from the sheer force as Aengus' strength seemed to multiply as his confidence grew.
The crowd began to split in two, with half the Wardens cheering on the Sergeant to turn the fight around and beat the initiate, with the other half cheering on the underdog and encouraging him to let the Sergeant have a taste of his own medicine. The Third Company Wardens merely chuckled at the antics of their brother as they watched their leader struggle under the Prodigy's assault.
In a desperate bid to turn the fight around, Lares halted his advance, pushing in with his spear into a suboptimal range to try and grab a hold of Aengus' deadly sword.
With a prescience bordering on the supernatural, Aengus effortlessly ducked aside and slammed his shield into Lares sending the Sergeant sailing by and with his back to the Prodigy.
With a simple slash to Lares' back, the third round was Aengus' with only one point left standing between him and victory. The betting Wardens began to dissect the duel fiercely before the beginning of the fourth round. A few debated that the Prodigy had truly gotten Lares' measure and his victory was inevitable, while others stated that the Sergeant would find a way to turn the battle around, citing his endless experiences training under the Black Prince.
Before the two could break off and return to their sides of the arena, Lares made to speak to Aengus.
"You've put on quite a show brother, you've put to heart what I said about your fighting abilities, haven't you?" Lares asked with a smile. "I don't think I've ever been so thoroughly bamboozled by a single Astartes in a single duel since I became a sergeant."
"Really now sergeant? Perhaps you're growing a bit old and predictable after all your time in the training room," Aengus said with the barest bit of smug confidence.
"Oh ho! This old man still has a few tricks to show you," Lares laughed.
The two then stepped back into their corners as the cheering from the Wardens reached a fever pitch. Aengus readied his blade and shield, anticipating that Lares would put everything he had left into this last round to make the score even again and threaten an overturning of the Prodigy's winning streak.
Aengus made to move into a defensive stance, but upon examining the way Lares held himself, Aengus paused before giving a slight shrug. As one, the two Wardens charged each other, meeting each other in the middle with sword and spear clashing as all semblance of careful defense fled the duel with the two Wardens aiming for a decisive victory.
Lares whirled his spear around, thrusting in and out of Aengus' guard with deadly precision. Each strike would have banished a lesser daemon or seriously wounded a Warden, and Aengus responded in kind with swift blade work and clever use of his shield.
Aengus forced his way through Lares' guard at several points with his shield, trying to get in under Lares' reach advantage and force the Sergeant into a suboptimal fight.
But Lares was trained by the Champion of the Wardens, and his skill was made fully apparent as he sidestepped each advance by Aengus.
Lares would then try to get an assault of his own started, using his raw power and reach advantage to try and force Aengus to disengage and regather his posture. But
Aengus had learned well by now to never cede his ground to the Sergeant, a warrior all too experienced in putting his enemies on the back foot and keeping them there.
Aengus met each spear thrust with careful deliberation, deflecting attacks to the side with his shield, parrying others to prepare a vicious counterstroke, and always preparing himself to step into the first gap Lares made.
Aengus nearly fell for a trap as Lares faltered for a moment, but as Aengus examined Lares' stance, he noticed that Lares was merely redirecting his missed attack to set up an undodgeable blow. Aengus steeled his nerves as he maintained his careful assault, and Lares sighed as he met the Prodigy blow-for-blow.
After the thirtieth minute of the round, the cheering from the crowd reached new heights, attracting Wardens from outside the training hall to step inside and watch the duel which had surpassed anyone's expectations. Aengus, nominally the underdog, slowly pushed back the experienced Third Company Sergeant and a few Wardens began to chant his name.
Aengus unconsciously smiled, the rush of adrenaline and the cheering of his brothers spurring on his efforts and reinvigorating his efforts as the length of the duel began to take its toll. Aengus smashed his shield into Lares' spear, knocking it off course and finally forcing a change in the brutal pacing of their duel as Lares was forced to step back.
Lares had to hold back from laughing uncontrollably. All signs of Aengus' early uncertainty and fear were gone. With his brothers cheering him on and his inability to ever be caught off guard by his opponents working in tandem to bolster his strength, Aengus' skill was all but unsurpassable. Even Maticus' unbreakable defense might have faltered when faced with such an unstoppable force.
With one last flurry of blows, Aengus twisted his blade around Lares' spear, pushing it out of Lares' grip and flinging the spear across the floor.
The crowd went silent as Aengus whirled his blade back around and swung his blade, just barely stopping at the Sergeant's neck. For a long moment, the two remained there, heavy breathing audible through their power armor as the adrenaline flowing through them peaked.
One of the brothers began to clap slowly, and then another, and then another, and one by one, the Wardens across the arena began to applaud and cheer on Aengus, Prodigy of the Wardens and underdog in his duel against Lares.
Aengus dropped his blade arm to his side, turning and looking at his brothers around him, each one cheering for him and proclaiming him a mighty warrior of the Wardens. Aengus was stunned into silence and all but motionless as he felt waves of adoration and praise which he had never quite seen before.
It was a stunning sight, one that distracted him enough to not notice the silent Warden taking a video of the whole duel and its outcome with strict orders to bring it to both the First Captain and the Black Prince, nor the Warden smugly demanding his share of the chocolate stash and the grumblings of the Wardens who had lost their bet.
As Aengus was lost in the praise and support he received, Lares clapped his hand down on Aengus' shoulder.
"Do you see now Aengus?" he asked.
Aengus was speechless, and Lares continued.
"These brothers, the ones who are cheering you on now, they already see you as a hero," he said.
"But you know I'm not," Aengus said quietly.
"You don't need to be," Lares said. "Did you not see it, just now? How your strength was growing, and your speed increasing, your brothers' cheers of strength spurred you on to victory?"
"I..." Aengus started as he contemplated his earlier perspective. "I thought I would have to face the Cemetery with my own strength, alone and without help."
"I know Aengus, it's a problem we all face, even our own father," Lares said with a sad smile before his shoulders straightened and he stood up to his full height. "But remember, when you fight for our father, you never fight alone. And with the strength our father has given us, you can't ever lose, not truly, for he will always love us."
Aengus listened to what Lares said. He had felt the weight of the legion on himself when Oriacarius had given him his assignment. He had thought it an impossible task, one which demanded him to go above and beyond for even the barest chance of victory, but that had never been the case, had it?
For with him stood 5000 Eternal Wardens, the Chief Librarians of the Warden legion, and 10 billion of the bravest soldiers of the Imperial Army the galaxy had ever seen.
"You're going to win, and you're going to win with a legion of warriors at your back, aren't you?" Lares said more than asked.
Aengus sighed, the weight of the legion lifted off his back as he saw an entire world of warriors standing behind him, supporting him, and being supported in turn.
"Yeah, we can't lose," Aengus smiled, proud of the brothers he knew he would fight alongside. "Not anymore."
Aengus stood at the helm of the ship, observing the battleships of the Imperial Armada as they began their descent to the Cemetery.
They had done all the preparation they could, the Triquetra had assured him of their ability to close the Warp rifts, all that remained was to link up with the locals and prepare for an invasion to take each of the rifts.
The 5000 Wardens present were not enough to take each of the rifts with good odds of success, and although the Triquetra had warned him that taking each rift sequentially would give the daemonic forces present time to consolidate their strength and counterattack, Aengus was certain that keeping their already small numbers unified would provide their best chances of success.
Being given the role of leadership so suddenly and without much preparation had been stressful, but with the advice of Maticus, Lares, and the Triquetra, Aengus knew that the battle would come down to his ability to place his trust in his brothers in the legion and comrades in the army to carry the day.
That, as well as his own ability to fight whatever champions might make themself known.
"Commander, nothing to report on the deployment sir, all is progressing as planned," a Warden stated.
Being called commander was a new experience for him, but Aengus quickly recovered and turned to his brother.
"Good, any reports on the rumors of Imperial Army discontent?" Aengus asked. Maintaining the morale of the Wardens was not necessary at this time, but the Imperial Army had grown increasingly agitated for reasons Aengus was not entirely aware of.
"Nothing but the usual at the moment sir, just some grumblings at the moment," the Warden said.
"Good," Aengus hummed. "Let's keep an eye on them as we descend and notify me of any anomalies in their behavior as per the usual."
"Yes sir." The Warden marched off the bridge.
Aengus turned back to the Cemetery and noticed drop ships beginning to descend upon the world, carrying off millions of Imperial Army soldiers and the vanguard of the Eternal Warden strike force.
Soon, it would be his turn to descend, and Aengus knew he would be ready.
The Cemetery would be a hard-fought battle for all involved, but it would be the enemy's graves, not the Wardens.
For those he Cherished, he would claim victory over this war-torn world.
December 30th, 2023 Omake Rewards
- Location
- Elsewhere
Alright, omakes. Up first we have an omake that's ironically late in the threadmarks. It's what happens when the omake writers are more productive than I am
. Overall this is a great introduction to Orus and the Arx Conventus, the citadel Perturabo made to hold the meeting. As for your reward:[] +10 to a roll of the GM's choice
[] +10 to Perturabo's rolls for the turn
[] Arx Conventus becomes slightly more defensible
Next up we have Morianne meeting WerBell, and getting and introduction to the League of Zanzibar. Overall this omake does an excellent job of introducing a new player to the galaxy, and one that while of secondary importance, does still have far reaching affects across the Imperium. As for your reward, that was already given:
[X] Reduced chance WerBell accepts anti-Imperium contracts
And here we have Lion finding a romantic message to himself. I do love that touch which includes his handwriting as well, it's a very fitting touch to turn this into far more interesting lore than I had initially intended. As such, it'll help out in a variety of future plot threads. As for your reward:
[] +10 to a roll of the GM's choice
[] +10 to Morianne's rolls for the turn
[] Lion has an increased chance to be willing to discuss matters with Eldar in the future (this does not affect the chance he lets them go, just the chance he talks first)
Next up we have a past compliance of Magnus', and this omake did inspire some new aspects that the Thousand Sons gained from the compliance. I do like how this omake rather dramatically expands on the two sentences of lore I added to it, and overall it was very well done. As for your reward, that was already given:
[X] Thousand Sons gain a new research option from this compliance
Up next we have the leadup to the Grand Nadaam, with the various characters being introduced, along with the various teams involved. Overall this is a very nice expansion of the White Scar proto hero lineup, something I myself tend to not fluff out. As it is, it's a great introduction, and your reward was already given:
[X] Increased trait gain during the Grand Nadaam
And here we have a further expansion on the events going on in Skysoph, with Horus calling over Meros. Overall it's a good way to introduce Meros into the mix, and I do like how he's introduced here. As for your reward, that was already given:
[X] Reduced collateral damage during the compliance of Skysoph
And here we have a fun omake covering Heart Day, and the relationship that can have with Gods and rituals. I will say that Ravenloft did learn a good bit from this whole study, and ironically a lot more once Venus was reborn. As it is, they can confirm religious dates do have a notable effect on divine rituals and such. As for your reward, that was already given:
[X] Increased odds of success for the heist on Venus
Next up we have the Black Fleet, a force of Skaven that Sevatar ends up being deployed to deal with. Overall it's a great way to fluff out this thread, and as always the Skaven are great. As it is, Sevatar did appreciate the increased trait gain
[X] Increased trait gain for heroes in this compliance
Up next we have Thiel slowly building up the initial stages of the Vanguard. I do like how the Raven Guard were shown in this omake. It's a great look at their skill level, and helps show that Thiel does have quite the experience base to build off of. As for your reward:
[] +10 to a roll of the GM's choice
[] +10 to Vanguard rolls for the turn
[] Increased trait gain for Thiel for the turn
Ah yes, I remember this omake, and how hilarious the entire thing was. To think that a dogecoin STC would save the Imperium. Ah this omake covers that idea well, and the title alone deserved a reward all for itself. As for your reward:
[] +15 to a roll of the GM's choice
[] +10 to a select few Harlequin rolls for the turn
[] Ask the GM a question and they shall answer
And here we have a fantastic omake covering Kesar's dream of the rune of subtlety, and the attempts of the concept in helping Kesar create it. Overall it's a fantastic look into the mechanics of Kesar's dreams, and it's beautifully written. As for your reward, that has already been given:
[X] -1 year to the rune of subtlety
Following this, we have a fantastic omake of Corvus and Sachmis going on a date. It's incredibly well done, and it perfectly shows some of the sturggles of their relationship, as well as how it's been working so far. I did love how neither of their points were skipped over, despite how monstrous some of Sachmis' could be. As for your reward:
[] +15 to a roll of the GM's choice
[] +10 to Raven Guard rolls for the turn
[] +10 to Sachmis' rolls for the turn
And here we have Khan loving his time on Catachan, and single handidly pissing off a planet enough that it made everyone else's lives harder. Well, it fits what Khan can do, and I did enjoy seeing Khan have fun. As for your reward, that was already given:
[X] Increased trait gain for Khan during the Expedition
And here we have a set of three excellent compliances, each of which are artfully done. Nagatami has been a fun addition to Ferrus' Legion, the Wights are a concept I just find fascinating, and Thiel continues to have crazy adventures. Each of these compliances were covered well, and for your reward:
[] +10 to Nagatami's rolls for the turn (includes trait gain)
[] +10 to Thiel's rolls for the turn (includes trait gain)
[] +10 to Dantioch's rolls for the turn (includes trait gain)
And here we have the Vinren Gun-Masons, the unit that winds up running into the AI known as JAY, and getting quite the buff to their capabilities. Since then the unit and JAY have gone to Magnus' domain thanks to his new ship, which is slowly coming online once more. Overall this omake introduces them well, and I do like the perspective of the ritual war as well. As for your reward:
[] +10 to a roll of the GM's choice
[] +10 to JAY's rolls to introduce himself to the Thousand Sons
[] The Vinren Gun-Masons learn more than expected from JAY
And here we have the start of the Grand Nadaam, I do like how well this omakes built it up in hindsight, each of them were linked to the past ones, and they all served to provide new and interesting perspectives. As for your reward:
[] +15 to a roll of the GM's choice
[] Increased chance of heroing for the White Scars during the Expedition
[] Reduced odds of death for White Scar proto heroes during the Expedition
Next up is an introduction of a new Thousand Son, Throth, the man that taught Auro. Overall this omake does a decent job at intertwining a variety of plot threads which I do like, as well as fleshing out more background characters. As for your reward, that was already given:
[X] Auro gains more access to Thousand Son materials and expertise
Next up we have Gelidanima, a world that the Wardens and Auro could learn quite a bit from. I will say that while this world will most definitely be dangerous, you can also get a good bit out of it. As such, for your reward:
[] +10 to a roll of the GM's choice
[] Auro will get a trait if sent to this world when it shows up
[] +10 to compliance rolls for Gelidanima when it shows up
And here we have another set of three great omakes, each of which provide some great context to the variety of events going on in the galaxy. From Corvus getting a Xenos assassin, Konrad seeing some of humanity's good side, and Fabius getting access to the Anath, there is always something of interest going on in the Imperium. As for your reward:
[] +10 to a roll of the GM's choice
[] +10 to Konrad's rolls for the turn
[] Fabius learns slightly more from his study of Lilith
And lastly we have Kesar looking through the many, many notes made by Auro on his work. Overall it's rather well written, and does show off some of what Auro has been working on in the background. As for your reward:
[] +10 to a roll of the GM's choice
[] Increased trait gain for Auro for the turn
[] Kesar learns a bit more from Auro's notes
Last edited:
[] Arx Conventus becomes slightly more defensible
[] Increased trait gain for Thiel for the turn
[] Fabius learns slightly more from his study of Lilith
[] Lion has an increased chance to be willing to discuss matters with Eldar in the future (this does not affect the chance he lets them go, just the chance he talks first)
[] Reduced odds of death for White Scar proto heroes during the Expedition
[] +10 to Thiel's rolls for the turn (includes trait gain)
[] +10 to Sachmis' rolls for the turn
@Daemon Hunter
[] Increased trait gain for Thiel for the turn
[] Fabius learns slightly more from his study of Lilith
[] Lion has an increased chance to be willing to discuss matters with Eldar in the future (this does not affect the chance he lets them go, just the chance he talks first)
[] Reduced odds of death for White Scar proto heroes during the Expedition
[] +10 to Thiel's rolls for the turn (includes trait gain)
[] +10 to Sachmis' rolls for the turn
@Daemon Hunter