The Blood Pact (Non Canon)
- Location
- United States
Please note that this Omake is not canon. I cannot stress this enough. Nothing about this should be, or is canon. I'm watching you Daemon! I've made too many funny haha Omakes that have become Canon now! You know the ones I'm talking about!
Also note that this Omake is very dumb, and the call-outs are not meant to be harmful. I just generally mention some of the weird Lore people might want to change. I am aware it has never been seen as anything other than a personal attack, but I genuinely do not mean them like that.
Heh, exactly 7777 words.
Also note that this Omake is very dumb, and the call-outs are not meant to be harmful. I just generally mention some of the weird Lore people might want to change. I am aware it has never been seen as anything other than a personal attack, but I genuinely do not mean them like that.
[NOTE: Read in your most pompous, silliest voice.]
It all started one evening, when Joaquin Abdul, posing for a Remembrancer to commemorate his victory over some half forgotten world, heard that most pristine artist comment on how unadorned his armor was. How blasie. How common.
Long had Abdul, raised as a noble on most holy Terra, known this, but twas hearing a mortal comment on how a cape would pull his look together that that most noble son of Kesar knew he simply must take action.
For propaganda reasons, rest assured, and not because he felt self-conscious about his mundane armor when standing next to more adorned heroes. I mean, Auro had a sword made from time and Chaos itself! And Maticus an Iron Halo and the blade of a Primarch!
No, no, it totally wasn't that he was self conscious because his only fun adornment was a power sword unfit for an Astartes, and not having a gun. Totally not.
That night, Abdul thought long and hard about what to do. Until he saw a warrior of the Emperor's Children proudly showing off his newest Purity Seal as a badge of honor.
Abdul had always liked the idea of the Purity Seals. A method crafted, pruned, and perfected by nineteen Primarchs (mostly Fulgrim) over a century of the Crusade to improve oneself and one's Legion without the need of horrendous casualties. The rest of his Legion thought it was stupid AF (after fighting), but long had he endeavored to change their minds on the matter.
And in that moment, watching his Brothers awed by such a thing, Abdul realized how to kill two Daemons with one shot! Which was a play on words about the bird expression!
So that night Abdul, who needed not sleep so long as he reaped enough lives, used the lifespan he took from twenty thousand men to stay up past his bedtime because, honestly, his Psykic skills are actually pretty meh for an Astartes and he didn't what to look tired when he showed off how cool he was.
When next his Brothers saw him, Abdul had made a finely crafted Heuke (Or cape that goes over one shoulder.) out of the hundreds of Purity Seals he had earned throughout his, like, six years of actual military service. Like conquering a planet without ever getting hit, or fighting a war front without using even a single gun. Or killing a billion men in a single siege without drawing one's blade. That last one was the hardest, of course, it took him nearly an entire day to earn.
As he preened before their eyes, doubtless in the fine fashion statement he was sure would mark a change within his Legion, he glowed with unbearable smugness. Literally. He developed bioluminescence.
But, as with all fashion-forward free thinkers ahead of their time (Or so Abdul would tell himself afterward), he was greeted not with shock and awe but jeers and mockery! As one by one the Imperial Army generals, and his own Brothers lined up to jest at his expense!
All except for this one fat general in the back wearing all red who thought it was really cool actually, that Abdul was honoring his heritage with a traditional cloak after Kesar's blood literally whitewashed him, but didn't speak up, so Abdul thought his cloak was universally despised.
Abdul was destroyed! Distraught and vexed by his Brothers' mockery! Forced back to his room in shame, and tears Abdul would argue were manly but they-they weren't, Abdul looked once more to his drawing board. He wondered if a Ceramite or Adamantium bird would make him look cool this time. A lot of Legions did that. Or maybe putting an entire book on one pauldron, like the Thousand Sons really liked doing.
But no, no, for one reason or another he just couldn't find anything that fit perfectly.
His features, supernaturally changed to be a shrunken, mirror image of his Primarch's were just too good! Worse yet, he couldn't simply copy his illustrious Father's style! At this rate, people would mock him for having bullet-sized holes in his pauldrons, and where was he supposed to get an Iron Halo that big!
Well from Oricarious right before he was put in charge of the Chromes front, he knew, but then he wouldn't earn the rank of Captain after surviving Lahrens. Which was entirely unfair!
But, uhh-where was I? Ohh yes!
Twas not until, sad and depressed, Abdul went to refuel his nutrient paste and saw adorning the halls of his prestigious vessel a street butcher, and the eight human skulls, bleached white, he wore in a sash as deterrence to would-be thieves that Abdul was struck with inspiration!
And thus was born The Blood Pact. Which was totally not a warning sign. Don't look it up on the Wiki.
Abdul would have his cape. But this time, it would take a little more than a few strips of paper.
---
It began with Gananon, widely considered the second best Techmarine of the Legion, barely holding back tears. He was a simple, cowardly soul you see. A child soldier who never really let go of the 'child' part and so still wanted both to live and also to craft wondrous weapons of mass destruction and unmatched artifice.
But ohhh, the humanity!
For with the Imperium's descent into...Well, debt-even the Legions could not afford to craft the Relics Gananon so desired! Why, since the outbreak of the Maelstrom Crusade he had been ohh-so horribly relegated to working from the safety of Valhalla itself doing largely administration and repair work, interrupted only by ample sleep, hot cocoa breaks, and the luxury meals the grateful Legion Serfs brought him. For he had made a deal with the devil that was Baldur to guarantee his maximum effectiveness and also absolute safety in exchange for doing work he found boring!
Ohhh the humanity!
How many factories had he been forced to make now? Just to outfit a few billion soldiers each! How many mundane Baneblades, Volkite Chargers, or Psicannons had he been forced to repair now? How many sets of Mark 3 Power Armor had he crafted, just so that all of his Brothers had armor?
His only solace was that he was, at least officially, in charge of repair and maintenance of all of the Legion's relics. But even that was a task he was so often forced to share with the other Techmarines, like the Master of The Forge, who themselves mirrored Gananon's immense sadness.
And also sometimes his Brothers would come to him for his Relic Bolts which were able to defy the laws of physics by creating explosions of negative energy that left areas in temperatures below absolute zero, or the ones that would explode into Melta shots like those of Custodes, or his recyclable Power variant which could cut through Terminator Armor like butter. And also sometimes he kind of helped First Captain Oricarious redesign his arm at least twice a year, which he actually did find really fun.
But he had to do so much more mundane work that tore upon his very soul! Worse yet? It was mundane work that he agreed needed to be done!
Ohh! The humanity!
So there he sat, nearly weeping, when suddenly there came a tapping. Tapping upon the chamber floor. Off he looked from plasma core, and saw Abdul therefore. To which Gananon could only steel his core, for with Abdul there was never a bore.
"Ohh!" Gananon cried, "Finally here to upgrade that Power Sword of yours?" he asked, happy someone would actually call him for his specialty this time.
But Abdul faked recoiling, lifting the blade up and holding his arms around its scabbard protectively, as his face smushed against the hilt.
"Never!" Abdul scoffed, "This blade was a gift from my father!"
Gananon blinked. "Lord Kesar got you that?" he asked, looking at the elaborate, fancy Power Rapier. Truly, an exceptional, artisan piece. For a mortal. But as it was, ill-fit in the hands of an Astartes.
"No, no." Abdul chuckled, "My mortal father. It was his gift for passing all the trials necessary to become a Space Marine." The Noble Born Abdul bragged.
Well, then he clearly didn't pay much attention. Gananon thought, If he didn't even know to get you a Force Sword. He didn't say that outloud though. Assuming Abdul knew that, and knowing it would be rude.
"Then," Gananon asked instead, "What can I do for you today?"
"Well Brother," the veteran Librarian sighed, "I need thee some more."
"Ohh?" Asked Gananon, "What for?"
"I am in need of a great Relic." Abdul explained, sliding to Gananon what to an Astartes was a rough design Gananon could not ignore.
For inside he found the strangest icon of gore. A collar made of Psi-Convectors, tightly wound, which would channel and magnify his Brother's powers profound. There, reinforced by Abdul's monstrous Psykic power, it would guard the neck better than fifteen times its thickness of pure Adamantium, and feed both food and water into its gory payload. Which, of course, was a cape of everflowing, still-living blood.
"Ohh?" Gananon repeated, his interest peaked, "What for?"
"Well," Abdul answered, rubbing the back of his head with one gauntlet, "Several reasons. For one, I can use blood and other biological material to heal myself. Potentially, turning a single pint of blood enough a full brain."
Gananon resisted the urge to joke about how that would be twice what Abdul had. Or that low hanging joke about how it would let Abdul finally fix whatever was wrong with his head.
"But a cape made out of blood?" Gananon asked, though even just saying it got him excited at the idea, "Why not just use bottles of blood?"
In truth, Abdul hadn't even thought of that. But imagining himself wearing a few small bottles of blood on a belt, or having to add a few water tanks filled with blood within his armor made him feel supremely uncool. Abdul remembered stories of how awe inspiring Rene' looked sweeping through hordes of Nurglings with a tidal wave of human blood, and found himself envious of how the other Wardens talked about him.
"But that limits maximum supply." Abdul whined instead, "I am hoping for a potentially limitless amount. Also, lacking in aesthetics, it would not be as effective for propaganda." he explained, as if 'effective for propaganda' and 'I wanna look cool' were different metrics. "Besides, being on my back as it would be shall allow for unexpected vectors of both defense and attack."
Gananon stared him in the eyes, finding no deceit in the Black Knight's copy+pasted within it. Because Abdul, while one of the least hypocritical of his Legion, was still brimming with it. Like, he wasn't "skin a soul layer by layer in order to record what happens to the body" levels of hypocritical and outright evil, nor bathing in blood while attempting to carve Purity Runes upon every tooth of his Chainsword. But he was…someone that actively struggled to always tell the truth.
Gananon, for his part, loved the idea. Giving a Biomancer what was essentially a regenerating, thick raiment of Adamantium or high-grade Ceramite that he could move like a cloth seemed like a wonderful Relic. Especially if he had time to make the collar out of Gamma-level Psi-convectors, as that would boost Abdul's prodigious Psykic might. It could be a powerful Relic idea, if he had the time to refine it.
"Truth be told," Gananon sighed, "I'd love to build this. But it would be so expensive and-"
*CHUNK.*
Gananon stared down at the 19.7 trillion Credits Abdul had just plopped down and slid across his desk. Enough money to buy a Baneblade with all the attachments. Or arm an entire Regiment with Olypia Tanks. Or buy 19.7 trillion ration-meals from Ultramar.
Don't do that last one, by the way. They're tasteless, bland, and overall unpleasant. Fit only for Gulliman's lower class to fill their stomachs just enough to not die of starvation. Disgusting things. That's why I always splurge on the Luxury Rations, which gives you a nice variety of foods and actually stops hunger pangs.
Gananon stared down at the Credits for a second.
"How did you get this?" the Techmarine asked.
"I sell twenty five billion Lasguns a year to noble houses." Abdul shrugged.
"But why tho?" Gananon asked.
"I needed to secure funding for the Antigains." Abdul answered, idly, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Fair enough." Gananon agreed, "But it'd still take a lot of my time. How do you plan to requisition that?"
Abdul, ever the noble, and knowing he could not actually requisition any of it, did the next best thing. He leaned upon his innate charisma, four times sabotaged by the Ruinous powers though it may have been.
"Well," Abdul said with a chuckle, "I was hoping you would make it in your Personal Enrichment Time."
"What?" Gananon shuddered, fearing for the loss of his two hours of Pict-cast (Or, television in your barbaric, twenty eight thousand years ago tongue.) time a night. I mean, what would he do without watching Guilliman Girls, or Enemies every night? And rumor was that Monica and Bing were about to find that love could bloom on the battlefield! What would he even do without that time! The rampant debt meant he was already struggling to find excuses to have fun! What, would they accept that was working on a Relic for and. Ex. Kill Team…Captain?
By the Emperor, Gananon realized with a shock, They would, wouldn't they?
And they would. And they did. For Abdul kills nearly a hundred million enemies an hour on an active battlefield, and even a nominal increase in that was worth more than any Baneblade or singular set of armor.
"I know, it is a big ask." Abdul admitted, solemnly, "But I look upon your face and peg you, Brother, as a soul that, above all else, calls for….Well, cowardice."
"Hey!"
"But second to that! It calls for the creation of unmatched artifice!" Abdul calls, raising one hand to gesture vaguely, heroically at the sky, before lowering his hand and leaning in to make his next statement more personal, "Which, I think, is an urge the Legion cannot satiate for you right now. But if I pay for it? Then you have an excuse to indulge it tirelessly."
Dang it! Gananon cursed internally, for he knew he had lost then. For Abdul had pegged him right. And Abdul had pegged him hard. Don't take that out of context.
"Fine!" Gananon gave in with a shout, "But I want some say-so in the design."
Abdul, benefiting from the fact that time didn't exist for him and he could already see the finished product, simply nodded.
"Full creative liberty." the Black Knight promised, as he cut his palm across his blade, and brought forth the blood that the cape required.
"Niiiiiiiccceee."
---
The first step of his grand plan for a sick-nasty cape done, Abdul moved on to the second. A drop of Kesar's Blood.
It's totally not suspicious that he needed that.
And it was way easy. Like not even a problem. Abdul, who had been forced onto Paperwork Duty for nearly fifteen years now, was the Library's paperwork. Not one experiment went on, not one Force Sword ordered, or new desk installed that Abdul did not process. For so efficient was he that he had redefined the Library's experimentation process ten years ago, and begun working on the Forge's.
It was only obvious, therefor, that power had fallen into his lap. So, so much of the Legion's paperwork, administration, and experimentation relied on Abdul, whom his Brother had already addled with fifteen thousand years of Paperwork Duty. It was not key to anything functioning, but Abdul had long since gathered the administrative power to make his unofficial position truly monumental. At the time, so that the Library did not stagnate into ruin.
But now? It was time for him to show the faults. To give proof to his theory that giving Astartes who had trouble with command, were misbehaving, or were suspected of corruption full administrative power to order equipment and process Legion movements was maybe a bad idea!
So, he started early on in his day. At 1:15 AM Standard Terran Time, Abdul began his daily duties of Rune Carving. Therein, in the roughly eight hours a day his Legion required he do that, Abdul carved a near record breaking fifty thousand Runes of Fire, and also filled out a Requisition form for but a single drop of Kesar's blood in triplicate. And also filled out a Requisition form for a small Stasis Field.
Then, later that night, Abdul approved his own requests. He considered sending a report detailing this breech, but resolved to do it after he obtained his prize.
Seven months later, Abdul waited dutifully outside of the Apothecary to receive that most crucial component.
The Apothecary, none the wiser to Abdul's fell plan, handed the small, handheld Stasis Field in which hovered three drops of Kesar's blood. They were beautiful, a perfect red that contrasted well with the snow-white paint of the Stasis Field. An awe inspiring piece of accidental artwork amidst the relatively benign, dirty, and dingy halls.
But it was more than that. For Abdul could see into the Warp. See souls themselves, and all the beauty and horror within both. He could see how, even now, his Father's immense soul clung to these three drops. How his might gave them the ability to produce Astartes. To imbibe some of his unfathomable power, and intellect into the right vessel. How, in the Sea Of Souls, the Anathemic energies these three drops put out were enough to calm the Warp around them, leaving miniscule paths of calm throughout the screaming vortex of the Warp.
He could see, too, how the Daemons within drooled at the tantalizing, frightening power of these three drops of blood. A power they would never have. But also how they dove back around the drop's movements, for even in the Materium those foolish enough to gather too close to the Anathema would be struck by his blood.
Good.
"Careful now." The Apothecary helpfully exclaimed, "That's enough to make thirty Astartes, so take good care of it."
"Really?" Abdul blinked, looking down at the three drops.
"Ohh yes." The Apothecary nodded, closing his eyes and gazing away pointedly. A strange gesture. Abdul figured he had picked it up from his homeworld. "Not many people know just how precise the creation of Geneseed is. How important, but also little blood goes into each Astartes."
Abdul…felt bad. He hadn't meant to cost his Legion so.
So, he turned off the Stasis Field for a moment, retrieving a single drop of Kesar's blood onto his finger before turning the field back on. He stared at it for a moment, more than sure of the theory, but not the practice for what he was intending to do. He took a breath, calming, but quick, and then clenched as his mind recited all that he knew of biology, of his Primarch, and of his Primarch's blood. Most of which, he knew, was outdated, learned all the way back. To when he was still an Initiate within the Apothecary. To when he had still been mortal.
Ohh, what dark and glorious memories.
But he had also researched at least a bit since then, given his new project and all. There wasn't much on it, but there was a suspiciously detailed, borderline deranged thesis one Apothecary had spent nearly his entire life compiling about Kesar's blood that just screamed that this man had been secretly corrupted by Khorne. And, strangely, there were a lot of books from the World Eaters about blood, including their Primarch's.
Abdul put what he learned from them to the test, pouring Biomantic energies and raw materials into his Father's blood. He felt it buckle for a moment, as though the blood had a consciousness of its own, before recognizing him. Or at least that his spell would not hurt it. Having accepted, Abdul could sense the blood. Run his soul across it and feel what made it so.
It's want to grow. It's eagerness to gain power. To slay the denizens of the Warp. To kill and kill, until there were no more tumors on reality left. It was simple, direct, fearless. Bloodthirsty.
Abdul supposed that last part made sense.
He could feel it too. What that blood represented. The iron in his mouth as his Soul touched it, the wellspring of life stored within, the nobility, the innocence and death that permeated its every cell. He fed it. Power from his own soul, and the blood drank deeply.
He didn't get it quite right. He could tell. The blood he had made was but a shallow copy of the original. But he could also see that, like any other cancer, the T Cells within attacked and tore apart his misbegotten attempts to help it. And then, just as strangely, the cells took the mass, the energy, and power within the grow themselves. Like a starfish that could regenerate from nothing.
Come to think of it, he'd heard tale of Fulgrim losing an arm and growing it back. He wondered if that arm grew another Fulgrim. Or, perhaps it could under just the right circumstances?
It mattered not. He'd figure out a way to avoid this misbegotten 'natural' process. While it didn't happen this time, he didn't wish for any chance that the blood might actually mutate, or change.
After a second, Abdul raised his hand to the Apothecary, his palm filled and overflowing with the lifeblood of his Primarch.
"Here, then." he offered.
"Wha-No!" the Apothecary cried in alarm, "We don't need more! I was just saying!"
Abdul blinked, feeling a mite bit stupid that he jumped, for whatever reason, to thinking that was an issue.
"Ohhhhhhhh." he mumbled, "Got it, got it. My apologies."
Thus saying, Abdul slipped out the door, embarrassed, and slung the handful of blood onto his bare neck, where his Psykic might kept it attached and growing.
"Still warm." he mumbled, comforted. For on one level, it calmed the Warp around him, and protected him from harm. And on another, it was the closest Abdul had ever gotten to any of his parents giving him a hug.
---
Ohh how time flies when you're slaughtering like three civilizations and also do not having a concept of time. Indeed, for Abdul, Gannon's announcement of the Blood Cape's completion seemed like it was only one scene away from when he first got Kesar's blood. And only a day after he filled out the form to obtain it.
But the fact of the matter is that it had been well over a decade since Abdul had commissioned his cape. And to think, all this time he had been running around with only a power sword and a lack of a gun to differentiate him. Like a commoner. Gross.
Luckily, because Abdul had been blessed with luck, the two were even on the same ship when it was done! Much to Gananon's dismay, as ships could blow up. Or be boarded, and his massive +25 to combat, which made him like five times more effective than a normal Space Marine in combat, would then actually be put to good use!
As Abdul stepped into the Forge, once again met with sweltering heat that no mere mortal could survive for long, Gananon met him at the door. The younger Astartes was all but vibrating in excitement, like a child hopped up on caffeine being forced to wait for something.
…
Actually? I suppose that's basically exactly what it was. Child soldier recruited at the ripe old age of eight and all.
"Brother!" Gananon shouted, "Come, come, hither!"
Abdul resisted a chuckle, "Hither?" he asked, as he accompanied his somehow much more excited Brother to his desk, "Are you copying my language now?"
"Bah!" Gananon grumbled, as he pulled out the cape.
Though, it was no cape yet.
Instead, it was a brilliant, golden collar with Psi-convectors so thick they were visible to the naked eye. Few knew that Psi-convectors, those lovely strands which channeled Psykic power, that they were visible to the naked eye. Not many people knew that Psi-convectors, their strange twists and turns, were modeled after human brains and Tracheids, the microscopic 'veins' in trees. It gave a machine a sort of mimicry of its user's brain within the Warp, made all the stronger the more, and longer the wielder uses it. As they, slowly over time, shift and adjust to better mimic the user's brain. But Abdul knew that would be clearly noticeable with these.
It helped that, as one ran Psykic power through them, the Machine Spirit would grow in power. Not to mention that the Warp would confuse the two, the Convector and its user, as one more and more. Until the resistance of channeling through an object was all but null, and the Machine Spirit became attached to your very soul.
But of course, you knew that. We all know the meta-physics for this Quest and how they interact between the two main dimensions it takes part in, right? How Machine Spirits are basically souls for machines, and how that interacts with the sparse knowledge we know from Canon about Force Weapons containing echos of their previous owner's souls? Ahh, what am I saying, of course you do! So back to the story.
These were slightly nonstandard Psi-convectors though. Usually, Psi-convectors were filled with nothing but air. Or masterfully superimposed into each other so that the Warp got confused and operated fine with filled holes that should be empty. Allowing you to multiply the effective of the overall device while conserving space. And, to his credit, Gananon had done a bit of that. But he couldn't layer until there was no gap because it was Psiconvectors all the way down. Not this time.
Because, key to this Relic's function, rather than be filled with air, or more Psi-convectors, or even normal metal to prevent damage, these countless brain-like, adamantine veins were filled with blood. Abdul's own blood, to be specific, which Gananon had cycled, and recycled through a small water pump and blood oxidizer (Which I am being told kept the blood alive? Weird. You'd think there would need to be…like food for the blood or whatever, right? Right?) which hummed below the Relic.
It also functioned as a convenient pedestal to display it. Gananon is fun like that.
It was beautiful. A perfect golden band with those Psiconvectors woven so tightly that it almost looked like golden rope.
It had a very real, though very small, clasp that kept the also very real metal perfectly in place. Complex enough that nothing, realistically, could take it off Abdul's armor in combat. Which felt kind of odd, because Astartes armor can be magnetic, and Abdul doubted it would ever go through his jawbone and skull or armor and spine. But it did mean, at least, that the band could be easily removed out of combat.
"Ohh, yeah." Gananon nodded, when he realized Abdul examining the clasp, "You have no idea how much that bled at first."
Well, that's not deeply creepy.
But it did make sense. Within the Warp all things relating to blood went back to two beings, and though neither of them noticed it both had blessed this collar. For why would they not? A collar was an oath of devotion. A pledge to serve implicit within the design intent. And it was a collar flowing with blood, blood, and metal. And with how one Archdaemon was distracted, and one was dead, neither could spare the time to truly look at what had been made.
Indeed, though even Gananon didn't know it, as it was this cape was an Icon Of Blood. A pledge to serve Khorne flowing with Abdul's own Psykic blood. Indeed, he could feel the pressure of the blood god, and the Eldar god, upon his soul, fighting to make him theirs. It was a very minor inconvenience for a Warden, honestly. But to a mortal? The weight would have been pressing. For, their might flowed into the Relic so much, and so fast, that Abdul could actively watch the currents of their power through the Warp. How those currents coalesced into singular streams, strangely separated, and shoved themselves into the building Psykic pressure within the collar.
Exactly as he intended.
Wait WHAT? Abdul? Abdul!
Ohh wait, I'm the narrator, he can't hear me.
But seriously, what the heck Abdul?
Besides that, Abdul noticed a small, pentagon-shapped insert in the side of the collar. Just large for the absolute smallest Runes Abdul could craft.
"Ohh yeah!" Gananon smiled, happy he finally got to rant about his awesome creation once more, "Since we don't want to cut any of the Psi-convectors, and it would take Auramite to cut this anyway, I added a pentagon-shaped slot for Runes. That way, you can just insert any plate you want and-"
Abdul, who again, could see the future, pulled an adamantium plate he had another Librarian carve on of Father's Purity Runes into a few weeks ago, and pressed it into the insert. The hydraulic presses Gananon was just about sensing the Rune, and pressing into the plate to hold it firmly in place.
Part of the machine now, Abdul saw as the Psi-convectors hooked up to the Rune pumped its power through it from the outside in. Trapping the foul energy of Khorne within before quickly purifying it. Like food coloring added to a bottle, he watched as the red of Khorne's power was painted white by the Purity Rune, as an object not even corrupted was purified. After a few moments, what was once a small, but noticeable wellspring of Corrupting energies was left a purified mass of Psykic power the still-forming Machine Spirit began to tentatively consume. Already it grew in power, even the tendrils of Khorne's own that had been funneling into the device recoiled, as if struck, and disconnected from the device.
Which, Abdul figured, was about what he wanted them to do.
Ohh! Ohhhhhhh, you let a large amount of Chaos' power seep into the Relic to purify it and empower the Machine Spirit within! Weird plan, but I guess it worked. Why…let Chaos in at all, though? Would this stop future attacks? Was it inevitable with any Psykic cape made out of blood? It was probably inevitable with any Psykic cape made out of blood.
"Ahh, I forgot you can see the future." Gananon grumbled, his shoulders falling and his excitement waning as the wind is all but knocked out of his sails.
"Time doesn't exist." Abdul again, could see the future, chuckled cooly. As if he knew something you didn't.
Which, as a side note, is incredibly rude. I mean, being a grammer natzi to someone who's going out of his way to help you trying to sound cool and intelligent is a serious jerk move. Not to mention how the person you're talking to must feel. Look at him! That smug comment all but knocked the wind out of poor Gananon's sails!
At least Abdul seemed to realize his faux pas a second later.
"A thousand pardons, Brother." The Black Knight asked, "I just needed to complete a ritual. But rest assured. But rest assured, my ability to act before learning does not curtail my need for your guidance. I shall listen to your instructions."
Which is nice and all, and it certainly helped Gananon feel better, but I do think it was ruined slightly by Abdul turning off the water pump, and using Biomancy to clear the rest of his blood out of the device. Only to, of course, pull out a shifting vial of Kesar-That second Anathema-'s blood. It was a masterful spell, one that would take a mortal a lifetime to learn…and a simple one for Abdul, who had now thirty years of study and practice with Biomancy as an Astartes who had read almost all of Magnus' books upon the topic.
Slowly, Abdul fed Lifeforce, the energy that he could rip out of his victims, and his own Psykic might to the blood. Instilling it with power, and allowing it, pushing it to carry out primary aspect within the Warp. Life, live, Grow, spread. He felt it again, running his Psykic power along his Father's blood, and feeling its aspects permeate his being until:
Eat. Grow.
With a simple directive the blood began to grow and multiply. Spreading like life as each cell produced another one again, and again, and again.
After a second, having filled the device but not formed a cape, Abdul could sense them. How the cells had run out of resources in their rampant growth. They called for more, and Abdul was more than happy to oblige.
After all, there was nearly a liter and a half of blood right there.
"I take this ritual isn't over, yet?" Gananon sighed.
It was a simple process for Abdul, who had converted his blood to a thousand different Ceramites, Adamantium alloys, and created so many gallons out of nothing but Warp energy itself. For a man that knew his body down to every individual cell, who had created, or recreated almost all of it, it was a simple matter to suck life out of that blood, to transfer it into raw resources for growth.
Though there was something disconcerting about the way Kesar's blood crashed upon his like a tidal wave, bubbling and gurgling as it ate his.
"It…almost is." Abdul said with a smile, "I could, theoretically, slap one of the Emperor Aquilla Safety Pins we give to the initiates and complete it."
Gananon sighed, and began reaching for his tools.
"I'll make you one that interfaces with the Psi-convectors." he sighed, already planning on how he was going to hook it up to the latch so that the wings of the Aquilla flapped. For style points, "But in exchange you're going to have explain this Psykic mumbo-jumbo ritual to me!"
"Of course." the Pride Of The Library nodded.
"And you're going to listen to the full, un-summarized version of my speech! And the design choices! And the change log!" Gananon shouted as he fired up his forge and, with a smile, began gather the adamantium scraps from around his desk into the melting cup.
"Of course." Abdul agreed, though inwardly he cringed at having to listen to technical reports for the next eight hours.
Well, it is fine. Abdul figured, as he clasped the Psykic cape around his neck. It was nice. The blood's viscosity made it easy for him to keep it flowing as once piece, and the fact that it was proofed to Bolt Pistol made it by far the most effective conventional armor he was wearing. Not to mention-Abdul waved his hand, and with a Psykic command Kesar's blood condensed and churned into a thick mat skin Abdul knew was almost stronger than Auramite and proofed against Lascannons and heavy bolter fire. He turned it back a second later, because while the blood really tied his look together, the pale white of skin just looked like he was trying to wear a nice hide but all the fur had been burned off. And it was much harder to keep alive.
But more important than the physical protection was it was doing in the Warp.
Abdul's blood running through the device had purged it. Empowered it, and shaped the device to mimic him all the faster as his power and life pumped through it. In a strange way, it had been the perfect Warp mimicry to trick the Warp into thinking this device was like his brain. After all, his Psykic power and blood ran through Psi-convectors modeled after his own brain. It had adapted this collar to his power perfectly.
But with the blood of an Anathema? Just one would purify the Warp around it, leave trails in the Maelstrom of calm and purity where it was taken through in real space. But a cape? A cape of that blood running through a Psykic amplifier?
As it wrapped around his shoulders, Abdul was struck with a calmness he had not experienced since before his Psykic awakening. As the blood calmed the Warp around him, and left a cape-sized path of complete calm through the Warp that he found himself in the epicenter of. For once, his constant vigil into the Warp, with eyes he could not close was…pleasant.
For Kesar's power calmed the Warp, silenced the screaming vortex, and enforced a purity around it that harkened back to before Slaanesh's birth.
And more than any of that. More than the physical protection, more than the logical boost to his skills, or calmness of the Warp, Abdul was calmed because the blood was still warm. And he could feel that his father loved him.
He could feel it.
So he didn't mind sitting another eight hours, explaining how the collar is a symbol of dedication within the Warp, and that Khorne's power naturally flowed into it, thinking the blood dedicated the Relic to him. Or how Abdul could not stop that, so he instead used it, letting the power flow into the device until it threatened to corrupt the Machine Spirit within before purifying it with the Rune. Which would hopefully cut off Khorne's interest in usurping the collar, steal as much of his power as possible, and strengthen its dedication to another power. He didn't mind explain explaining how he couldn't tell Gananon about that part because as a Psykic device with blood running through it him actually worrying it might be dedicated to Khorne, or knowing it technically was until the Purity Rune was added, would almost certainly have corrupted the machine spirit.
Because the blood was warm. And it felt like how Abdul imagined a hug felt.
Nor how, when the Adamantine Aquilla was made, and as he put it on the Collar and felt the blood of an Anathema made through its powerful but comparatively crude Psykic circuitry, I mean Psi-convectors, the Dedication was complete and the power of two Anathema met within the collar, flowing freely as it was dedicated to The Emperor. Or how the Warp shuddered, and Chaos receded, just a bit more, from how the collar gathered the Emperor's light into itself.
He also didn't mind the eight hour explanation on every possible decision and revision during the design process of the collar, but I, the noble narrator, will cut that out because it's boring. And, seriously, do you really need to know such minute details like…. Ohh the Psi-convectors are so big in order to allow Abdul to allow Abdul to force his full power through the device. Or how it has an on-off switch that only activates through a specific series of actions like all those fun features your car probably has you never use?
Bah! We went over all the important stuff above. So moving on.
---
Years later, though again to Abdul it really only felt like a scene change. Time was weird like that, when most of your consciousness was within the Warp. Even when covered in your Father's blood.
Actually? I suppose that made it weirder in the more mundane universe. Well, anyway.
We rejoin our glorious Proto Hero on the day when he was going to turn in his report on how to increase security on Kesar's bodily fluids, because that's what sons talk about in reference to their Father I guess, and also when Oricarious would probably tell Abdul he can't just go around wearing a cape made out of Kesar's blood. Not because Oricarious found that weird, mind you, it is suprisingly normal to wear or hold body parts of other humans in 30k. Down to Ceramite structures that had to hold out of human ashes, and decorating them in skulls.
No, no, Oricarious didn't like it because of the obvious security risk about what would happen if a Daemon got his hands on some of Kesar's blood.
Abdul planned on arguing he was more than enough to protect it, and that the benefits outweighed the risk, but he figured his pleas would fall on deaf ears and he'd at least be talked down to using his own blood, or making the cape out of skin and bones.
Which is reasonable, but I have to admit the bright red of the blood behind the black of the Wardens armor looks pretty cool. And it feels fitting for someone who goes into combat with the names of a hundred thousand of his dead Brothers' names listed upon his armor.
But as Abdul stepped forth unto the Vigilence, wherein his two meetings today would lie, the Machine Spirit of the Vigilence stirred, and his mind was assaulted by strange visions.
For a moment, Abdul resisted, repelling the vast might of the Gloriana, before his Witch Sight, ever opened, recognized the Vigilence as the one to cast this spell. And, by all accounts, struggled to, as the slow and sleepy behemoth of a Machine Spirit forced itself to stir.
Abdul did not know why his Matriarch had done this, but it mattered not. He let the visions through and saw:
The Vigilence's starboard, with almost picture-perfect realism, as every cannon and weapon stood at the ready. Inside, Abdul could recognize the thousands of Mechanicum workers, Tech Marines, and Astartes ready to get to work.
A pict downloaded to the Vigilence's databanks, shared with him Psykically of the Vigilence's stern, glorious and undaunted. Lit from below by the thousands of Lasgun shots and light fixtures from an ongoing battlefield.
A vision of the Vigilence's main cannon, standing strong and proud in the void of space.
A slightly blurry vision of the Vigilence's engine room, strangely bare of any workers.
And then, like a short animation, Abdul saw a blurry host of what seemed to be a daemonette of Slaanesh for a moment, before it was blown apart by one of the Vigilence's many macrocannons. Its pieces went everywhere, as its gross approximation of a soul was shattered. And then a stationary picture of the word "Tonight?" in High Gothic.
Abdul did not understand.
"Uhhh, Matriarch?" he asked aloud, earning some strange looks as he did so.
Instantly he could feel the Vigilence's shock. Embarrassment. Shock again, and worry.
He received another vision from the ship, more quickly this time. Of the hypo-indoctrination chamber and him strapped into it.
"Forget that?" Abdul asked.
A static picture of the word for yes with every letter capitalized. Then, it shifted to what looked like a hand drawn image of Abdul and Kesar, and a small envelope sealed with what looked to be a heart shaped sticker. Abdul saw the letter be given to him, and then, after a moment, switched to Kesar.
"That…" Abdul pursed his lips in thought, "Was meant for Father?"
Agreement. Embarrassment. Desire to hide. Abdul could see the Machine Spirit rage in defiance of something, like it was screaming at some giant embarrassment.
"Very well, Matriarch." Abdul agreed, confused, "I shall…wipe these images from my memory."
Agreement. A dawning horror. Still shock.
Abdul nodded, blinking a few times as he began stepping further into the ship. Wondering why the Vigilence would show him such things. Was something wrong with the Vigilence's main battle cannon? And why did the Engine Room have no people in it? Even if it was, technically, more hygienic that definitely can't be good, right?
The Vigilence recoiled again, the horror and embarrassment mixing into a strange, bright pink within the Warp that painted the Vigilence's walls.
And Abdul felt, pressed into his mind, a picture of him on a security camera. And then as the Vigilence's systems identified the cape itself.
"The Cape?" Abdul asked.
Agreement. Desperate need to get Abdul's mind off of what just happened. Embarrassment. A fake interest in the awesome cape.
Huh, Abdul thought, Machine Spirits can lie. Not to mention wish to change the subject.
"Yes." Abdul smiled, walking towards the hypo-indoctrination chamber, "Yes. It's a cape made out of Father's blood. It echoes his Psykic presence. So I suppose it made sense you thought I was him."
Confirmation of its visual appeal. Something about the Vigilence being proud of him. The horror, shock, and embarrassment not forgotten, but slightly fading.
And, now, I know it is not my place to say as an impartial narrator. But that's weird, right? Like, is Kesar doing strange things to his ships? Because that sounded like...well, like something Slaaneshi.
It all started one evening, when Joaquin Abdul, posing for a Remembrancer to commemorate his victory over some half forgotten world, heard that most pristine artist comment on how unadorned his armor was. How blasie. How common.
Long had Abdul, raised as a noble on most holy Terra, known this, but twas hearing a mortal comment on how a cape would pull his look together that that most noble son of Kesar knew he simply must take action.
For propaganda reasons, rest assured, and not because he felt self-conscious about his mundane armor when standing next to more adorned heroes. I mean, Auro had a sword made from time and Chaos itself! And Maticus an Iron Halo and the blade of a Primarch!
No, no, it totally wasn't that he was self conscious because his only fun adornment was a power sword unfit for an Astartes, and not having a gun. Totally not.
That night, Abdul thought long and hard about what to do. Until he saw a warrior of the Emperor's Children proudly showing off his newest Purity Seal as a badge of honor.
Abdul had always liked the idea of the Purity Seals. A method crafted, pruned, and perfected by nineteen Primarchs (mostly Fulgrim) over a century of the Crusade to improve oneself and one's Legion without the need of horrendous casualties. The rest of his Legion thought it was stupid AF (after fighting), but long had he endeavored to change their minds on the matter.
And in that moment, watching his Brothers awed by such a thing, Abdul realized how to kill two Daemons with one shot! Which was a play on words about the bird expression!
So that night Abdul, who needed not sleep so long as he reaped enough lives, used the lifespan he took from twenty thousand men to stay up past his bedtime because, honestly, his Psykic skills are actually pretty meh for an Astartes and he didn't what to look tired when he showed off how cool he was.
When next his Brothers saw him, Abdul had made a finely crafted Heuke (Or cape that goes over one shoulder.) out of the hundreds of Purity Seals he had earned throughout his, like, six years of actual military service. Like conquering a planet without ever getting hit, or fighting a war front without using even a single gun. Or killing a billion men in a single siege without drawing one's blade. That last one was the hardest, of course, it took him nearly an entire day to earn.
As he preened before their eyes, doubtless in the fine fashion statement he was sure would mark a change within his Legion, he glowed with unbearable smugness. Literally. He developed bioluminescence.
But, as with all fashion-forward free thinkers ahead of their time (Or so Abdul would tell himself afterward), he was greeted not with shock and awe but jeers and mockery! As one by one the Imperial Army generals, and his own Brothers lined up to jest at his expense!
All except for this one fat general in the back wearing all red who thought it was really cool actually, that Abdul was honoring his heritage with a traditional cloak after Kesar's blood literally whitewashed him, but didn't speak up, so Abdul thought his cloak was universally despised.
Abdul was destroyed! Distraught and vexed by his Brothers' mockery! Forced back to his room in shame, and tears Abdul would argue were manly but they-they weren't, Abdul looked once more to his drawing board. He wondered if a Ceramite or Adamantium bird would make him look cool this time. A lot of Legions did that. Or maybe putting an entire book on one pauldron, like the Thousand Sons really liked doing.
But no, no, for one reason or another he just couldn't find anything that fit perfectly.
His features, supernaturally changed to be a shrunken, mirror image of his Primarch's were just too good! Worse yet, he couldn't simply copy his illustrious Father's style! At this rate, people would mock him for having bullet-sized holes in his pauldrons, and where was he supposed to get an Iron Halo that big!
Well from Oricarious right before he was put in charge of the Chromes front, he knew, but then he wouldn't earn the rank of Captain after surviving Lahrens. Which was entirely unfair!
But, uhh-where was I? Ohh yes!
Twas not until, sad and depressed, Abdul went to refuel his nutrient paste and saw adorning the halls of his prestigious vessel a street butcher, and the eight human skulls, bleached white, he wore in a sash as deterrence to would-be thieves that Abdul was struck with inspiration!
And thus was born The Blood Pact. Which was totally not a warning sign. Don't look it up on the Wiki.
Abdul would have his cape. But this time, it would take a little more than a few strips of paper.
---
It began with Gananon, widely considered the second best Techmarine of the Legion, barely holding back tears. He was a simple, cowardly soul you see. A child soldier who never really let go of the 'child' part and so still wanted both to live and also to craft wondrous weapons of mass destruction and unmatched artifice.
But ohhh, the humanity!
For with the Imperium's descent into...Well, debt-even the Legions could not afford to craft the Relics Gananon so desired! Why, since the outbreak of the Maelstrom Crusade he had been ohh-so horribly relegated to working from the safety of Valhalla itself doing largely administration and repair work, interrupted only by ample sleep, hot cocoa breaks, and the luxury meals the grateful Legion Serfs brought him. For he had made a deal with the devil that was Baldur to guarantee his maximum effectiveness and also absolute safety in exchange for doing work he found boring!
Ohhh the humanity!
How many factories had he been forced to make now? Just to outfit a few billion soldiers each! How many mundane Baneblades, Volkite Chargers, or Psicannons had he been forced to repair now? How many sets of Mark 3 Power Armor had he crafted, just so that all of his Brothers had armor?
His only solace was that he was, at least officially, in charge of repair and maintenance of all of the Legion's relics. But even that was a task he was so often forced to share with the other Techmarines, like the Master of The Forge, who themselves mirrored Gananon's immense sadness.
And also sometimes his Brothers would come to him for his Relic Bolts which were able to defy the laws of physics by creating explosions of negative energy that left areas in temperatures below absolute zero, or the ones that would explode into Melta shots like those of Custodes, or his recyclable Power variant which could cut through Terminator Armor like butter. And also sometimes he kind of helped First Captain Oricarious redesign his arm at least twice a year, which he actually did find really fun.
But he had to do so much more mundane work that tore upon his very soul! Worse yet? It was mundane work that he agreed needed to be done!
Ohh! The humanity!
So there he sat, nearly weeping, when suddenly there came a tapping. Tapping upon the chamber floor. Off he looked from plasma core, and saw Abdul therefore. To which Gananon could only steel his core, for with Abdul there was never a bore.
"Ohh!" Gananon cried, "Finally here to upgrade that Power Sword of yours?" he asked, happy someone would actually call him for his specialty this time.
But Abdul faked recoiling, lifting the blade up and holding his arms around its scabbard protectively, as his face smushed against the hilt.
"Never!" Abdul scoffed, "This blade was a gift from my father!"
Gananon blinked. "Lord Kesar got you that?" he asked, looking at the elaborate, fancy Power Rapier. Truly, an exceptional, artisan piece. For a mortal. But as it was, ill-fit in the hands of an Astartes.
"No, no." Abdul chuckled, "My mortal father. It was his gift for passing all the trials necessary to become a Space Marine." The Noble Born Abdul bragged.
Well, then he clearly didn't pay much attention. Gananon thought, If he didn't even know to get you a Force Sword. He didn't say that outloud though. Assuming Abdul knew that, and knowing it would be rude.
"Then," Gananon asked instead, "What can I do for you today?"
"Well Brother," the veteran Librarian sighed, "I need thee some more."
"Ohh?" Asked Gananon, "What for?"
"I am in need of a great Relic." Abdul explained, sliding to Gananon what to an Astartes was a rough design Gananon could not ignore.
For inside he found the strangest icon of gore. A collar made of Psi-Convectors, tightly wound, which would channel and magnify his Brother's powers profound. There, reinforced by Abdul's monstrous Psykic power, it would guard the neck better than fifteen times its thickness of pure Adamantium, and feed both food and water into its gory payload. Which, of course, was a cape of everflowing, still-living blood.
"Ohh?" Gananon repeated, his interest peaked, "What for?"
"Well," Abdul answered, rubbing the back of his head with one gauntlet, "Several reasons. For one, I can use blood and other biological material to heal myself. Potentially, turning a single pint of blood enough a full brain."
Gananon resisted the urge to joke about how that would be twice what Abdul had. Or that low hanging joke about how it would let Abdul finally fix whatever was wrong with his head.
"But a cape made out of blood?" Gananon asked, though even just saying it got him excited at the idea, "Why not just use bottles of blood?"
In truth, Abdul hadn't even thought of that. But imagining himself wearing a few small bottles of blood on a belt, or having to add a few water tanks filled with blood within his armor made him feel supremely uncool. Abdul remembered stories of how awe inspiring Rene' looked sweeping through hordes of Nurglings with a tidal wave of human blood, and found himself envious of how the other Wardens talked about him.
"But that limits maximum supply." Abdul whined instead, "I am hoping for a potentially limitless amount. Also, lacking in aesthetics, it would not be as effective for propaganda." he explained, as if 'effective for propaganda' and 'I wanna look cool' were different metrics. "Besides, being on my back as it would be shall allow for unexpected vectors of both defense and attack."
Gananon stared him in the eyes, finding no deceit in the Black Knight's copy+pasted within it. Because Abdul, while one of the least hypocritical of his Legion, was still brimming with it. Like, he wasn't "skin a soul layer by layer in order to record what happens to the body" levels of hypocritical and outright evil, nor bathing in blood while attempting to carve Purity Runes upon every tooth of his Chainsword. But he was…someone that actively struggled to always tell the truth.
Gananon, for his part, loved the idea. Giving a Biomancer what was essentially a regenerating, thick raiment of Adamantium or high-grade Ceramite that he could move like a cloth seemed like a wonderful Relic. Especially if he had time to make the collar out of Gamma-level Psi-convectors, as that would boost Abdul's prodigious Psykic might. It could be a powerful Relic idea, if he had the time to refine it.
"Truth be told," Gananon sighed, "I'd love to build this. But it would be so expensive and-"
*CHUNK.*
Gananon stared down at the 19.7 trillion Credits Abdul had just plopped down and slid across his desk. Enough money to buy a Baneblade with all the attachments. Or arm an entire Regiment with Olypia Tanks. Or buy 19.7 trillion ration-meals from Ultramar.
Don't do that last one, by the way. They're tasteless, bland, and overall unpleasant. Fit only for Gulliman's lower class to fill their stomachs just enough to not die of starvation. Disgusting things. That's why I always splurge on the Luxury Rations, which gives you a nice variety of foods and actually stops hunger pangs.
Gananon stared down at the Credits for a second.
"How did you get this?" the Techmarine asked.
"I sell twenty five billion Lasguns a year to noble houses." Abdul shrugged.
"But why tho?" Gananon asked.
"I needed to secure funding for the Antigains." Abdul answered, idly, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Fair enough." Gananon agreed, "But it'd still take a lot of my time. How do you plan to requisition that?"
Abdul, ever the noble, and knowing he could not actually requisition any of it, did the next best thing. He leaned upon his innate charisma, four times sabotaged by the Ruinous powers though it may have been.
"Well," Abdul said with a chuckle, "I was hoping you would make it in your Personal Enrichment Time."
"What?" Gananon shuddered, fearing for the loss of his two hours of Pict-cast (Or, television in your barbaric, twenty eight thousand years ago tongue.) time a night. I mean, what would he do without watching Guilliman Girls, or Enemies every night? And rumor was that Monica and Bing were about to find that love could bloom on the battlefield! What would he even do without that time! The rampant debt meant he was already struggling to find excuses to have fun! What, would they accept that was working on a Relic for and. Ex. Kill Team…Captain?
By the Emperor, Gananon realized with a shock, They would, wouldn't they?
And they would. And they did. For Abdul kills nearly a hundred million enemies an hour on an active battlefield, and even a nominal increase in that was worth more than any Baneblade or singular set of armor.
"I know, it is a big ask." Abdul admitted, solemnly, "But I look upon your face and peg you, Brother, as a soul that, above all else, calls for….Well, cowardice."
"Hey!"
"But second to that! It calls for the creation of unmatched artifice!" Abdul calls, raising one hand to gesture vaguely, heroically at the sky, before lowering his hand and leaning in to make his next statement more personal, "Which, I think, is an urge the Legion cannot satiate for you right now. But if I pay for it? Then you have an excuse to indulge it tirelessly."
Dang it! Gananon cursed internally, for he knew he had lost then. For Abdul had pegged him right. And Abdul had pegged him hard. Don't take that out of context.
"Fine!" Gananon gave in with a shout, "But I want some say-so in the design."
Abdul, benefiting from the fact that time didn't exist for him and he could already see the finished product, simply nodded.
"Full creative liberty." the Black Knight promised, as he cut his palm across his blade, and brought forth the blood that the cape required.
"Niiiiiiiccceee."
---
The first step of his grand plan for a sick-nasty cape done, Abdul moved on to the second. A drop of Kesar's Blood.
It's totally not suspicious that he needed that.
And it was way easy. Like not even a problem. Abdul, who had been forced onto Paperwork Duty for nearly fifteen years now, was the Library's paperwork. Not one experiment went on, not one Force Sword ordered, or new desk installed that Abdul did not process. For so efficient was he that he had redefined the Library's experimentation process ten years ago, and begun working on the Forge's.
It was only obvious, therefor, that power had fallen into his lap. So, so much of the Legion's paperwork, administration, and experimentation relied on Abdul, whom his Brother had already addled with fifteen thousand years of Paperwork Duty. It was not key to anything functioning, but Abdul had long since gathered the administrative power to make his unofficial position truly monumental. At the time, so that the Library did not stagnate into ruin.
But now? It was time for him to show the faults. To give proof to his theory that giving Astartes who had trouble with command, were misbehaving, or were suspected of corruption full administrative power to order equipment and process Legion movements was maybe a bad idea!
So, he started early on in his day. At 1:15 AM Standard Terran Time, Abdul began his daily duties of Rune Carving. Therein, in the roughly eight hours a day his Legion required he do that, Abdul carved a near record breaking fifty thousand Runes of Fire, and also filled out a Requisition form for but a single drop of Kesar's blood in triplicate. And also filled out a Requisition form for a small Stasis Field.
Then, later that night, Abdul approved his own requests. He considered sending a report detailing this breech, but resolved to do it after he obtained his prize.
Seven months later, Abdul waited dutifully outside of the Apothecary to receive that most crucial component.
The Apothecary, none the wiser to Abdul's fell plan, handed the small, handheld Stasis Field in which hovered three drops of Kesar's blood. They were beautiful, a perfect red that contrasted well with the snow-white paint of the Stasis Field. An awe inspiring piece of accidental artwork amidst the relatively benign, dirty, and dingy halls.
But it was more than that. For Abdul could see into the Warp. See souls themselves, and all the beauty and horror within both. He could see how, even now, his Father's immense soul clung to these three drops. How his might gave them the ability to produce Astartes. To imbibe some of his unfathomable power, and intellect into the right vessel. How, in the Sea Of Souls, the Anathemic energies these three drops put out were enough to calm the Warp around them, leaving miniscule paths of calm throughout the screaming vortex of the Warp.
He could see, too, how the Daemons within drooled at the tantalizing, frightening power of these three drops of blood. A power they would never have. But also how they dove back around the drop's movements, for even in the Materium those foolish enough to gather too close to the Anathema would be struck by his blood.
Good.
"Careful now." The Apothecary helpfully exclaimed, "That's enough to make thirty Astartes, so take good care of it."
"Really?" Abdul blinked, looking down at the three drops.
"Ohh yes." The Apothecary nodded, closing his eyes and gazing away pointedly. A strange gesture. Abdul figured he had picked it up from his homeworld. "Not many people know just how precise the creation of Geneseed is. How important, but also little blood goes into each Astartes."
Abdul…felt bad. He hadn't meant to cost his Legion so.
So, he turned off the Stasis Field for a moment, retrieving a single drop of Kesar's blood onto his finger before turning the field back on. He stared at it for a moment, more than sure of the theory, but not the practice for what he was intending to do. He took a breath, calming, but quick, and then clenched as his mind recited all that he knew of biology, of his Primarch, and of his Primarch's blood. Most of which, he knew, was outdated, learned all the way back. To when he was still an Initiate within the Apothecary. To when he had still been mortal.
Ohh, what dark and glorious memories.
But he had also researched at least a bit since then, given his new project and all. There wasn't much on it, but there was a suspiciously detailed, borderline deranged thesis one Apothecary had spent nearly his entire life compiling about Kesar's blood that just screamed that this man had been secretly corrupted by Khorne. And, strangely, there were a lot of books from the World Eaters about blood, including their Primarch's.
Abdul put what he learned from them to the test, pouring Biomantic energies and raw materials into his Father's blood. He felt it buckle for a moment, as though the blood had a consciousness of its own, before recognizing him. Or at least that his spell would not hurt it. Having accepted, Abdul could sense the blood. Run his soul across it and feel what made it so.
It's want to grow. It's eagerness to gain power. To slay the denizens of the Warp. To kill and kill, until there were no more tumors on reality left. It was simple, direct, fearless. Bloodthirsty.
Abdul supposed that last part made sense.
He could feel it too. What that blood represented. The iron in his mouth as his Soul touched it, the wellspring of life stored within, the nobility, the innocence and death that permeated its every cell. He fed it. Power from his own soul, and the blood drank deeply.
He didn't get it quite right. He could tell. The blood he had made was but a shallow copy of the original. But he could also see that, like any other cancer, the T Cells within attacked and tore apart his misbegotten attempts to help it. And then, just as strangely, the cells took the mass, the energy, and power within the grow themselves. Like a starfish that could regenerate from nothing.
Come to think of it, he'd heard tale of Fulgrim losing an arm and growing it back. He wondered if that arm grew another Fulgrim. Or, perhaps it could under just the right circumstances?
It mattered not. He'd figure out a way to avoid this misbegotten 'natural' process. While it didn't happen this time, he didn't wish for any chance that the blood might actually mutate, or change.
After a second, Abdul raised his hand to the Apothecary, his palm filled and overflowing with the lifeblood of his Primarch.
"Here, then." he offered.
"Wha-No!" the Apothecary cried in alarm, "We don't need more! I was just saying!"
Abdul blinked, feeling a mite bit stupid that he jumped, for whatever reason, to thinking that was an issue.
"Ohhhhhhhh." he mumbled, "Got it, got it. My apologies."
Thus saying, Abdul slipped out the door, embarrassed, and slung the handful of blood onto his bare neck, where his Psykic might kept it attached and growing.
"Still warm." he mumbled, comforted. For on one level, it calmed the Warp around him, and protected him from harm. And on another, it was the closest Abdul had ever gotten to any of his parents giving him a hug.
---
Ohh how time flies when you're slaughtering like three civilizations and also do not having a concept of time. Indeed, for Abdul, Gannon's announcement of the Blood Cape's completion seemed like it was only one scene away from when he first got Kesar's blood. And only a day after he filled out the form to obtain it.
But the fact of the matter is that it had been well over a decade since Abdul had commissioned his cape. And to think, all this time he had been running around with only a power sword and a lack of a gun to differentiate him. Like a commoner. Gross.
Luckily, because Abdul had been blessed with luck, the two were even on the same ship when it was done! Much to Gananon's dismay, as ships could blow up. Or be boarded, and his massive +25 to combat, which made him like five times more effective than a normal Space Marine in combat, would then actually be put to good use!
As Abdul stepped into the Forge, once again met with sweltering heat that no mere mortal could survive for long, Gananon met him at the door. The younger Astartes was all but vibrating in excitement, like a child hopped up on caffeine being forced to wait for something.
…
Actually? I suppose that's basically exactly what it was. Child soldier recruited at the ripe old age of eight and all.
"Brother!" Gananon shouted, "Come, come, hither!"
Abdul resisted a chuckle, "Hither?" he asked, as he accompanied his somehow much more excited Brother to his desk, "Are you copying my language now?"
"Bah!" Gananon grumbled, as he pulled out the cape.
Though, it was no cape yet.
Instead, it was a brilliant, golden collar with Psi-convectors so thick they were visible to the naked eye. Few knew that Psi-convectors, those lovely strands which channeled Psykic power, that they were visible to the naked eye. Not many people knew that Psi-convectors, their strange twists and turns, were modeled after human brains and Tracheids, the microscopic 'veins' in trees. It gave a machine a sort of mimicry of its user's brain within the Warp, made all the stronger the more, and longer the wielder uses it. As they, slowly over time, shift and adjust to better mimic the user's brain. But Abdul knew that would be clearly noticeable with these.
It helped that, as one ran Psykic power through them, the Machine Spirit would grow in power. Not to mention that the Warp would confuse the two, the Convector and its user, as one more and more. Until the resistance of channeling through an object was all but null, and the Machine Spirit became attached to your very soul.
But of course, you knew that. We all know the meta-physics for this Quest and how they interact between the two main dimensions it takes part in, right? How Machine Spirits are basically souls for machines, and how that interacts with the sparse knowledge we know from Canon about Force Weapons containing echos of their previous owner's souls? Ahh, what am I saying, of course you do! So back to the story.
These were slightly nonstandard Psi-convectors though. Usually, Psi-convectors were filled with nothing but air. Or masterfully superimposed into each other so that the Warp got confused and operated fine with filled holes that should be empty. Allowing you to multiply the effective of the overall device while conserving space. And, to his credit, Gananon had done a bit of that. But he couldn't layer until there was no gap because it was Psiconvectors all the way down. Not this time.
Because, key to this Relic's function, rather than be filled with air, or more Psi-convectors, or even normal metal to prevent damage, these countless brain-like, adamantine veins were filled with blood. Abdul's own blood, to be specific, which Gananon had cycled, and recycled through a small water pump and blood oxidizer (Which I am being told kept the blood alive? Weird. You'd think there would need to be…like food for the blood or whatever, right? Right?) which hummed below the Relic.
It also functioned as a convenient pedestal to display it. Gananon is fun like that.
It was beautiful. A perfect golden band with those Psiconvectors woven so tightly that it almost looked like golden rope.
It had a very real, though very small, clasp that kept the also very real metal perfectly in place. Complex enough that nothing, realistically, could take it off Abdul's armor in combat. Which felt kind of odd, because Astartes armor can be magnetic, and Abdul doubted it would ever go through his jawbone and skull or armor and spine. But it did mean, at least, that the band could be easily removed out of combat.
"Ohh, yeah." Gananon nodded, when he realized Abdul examining the clasp, "You have no idea how much that bled at first."
Well, that's not deeply creepy.
But it did make sense. Within the Warp all things relating to blood went back to two beings, and though neither of them noticed it both had blessed this collar. For why would they not? A collar was an oath of devotion. A pledge to serve implicit within the design intent. And it was a collar flowing with blood, blood, and metal. And with how one Archdaemon was distracted, and one was dead, neither could spare the time to truly look at what had been made.
Indeed, though even Gananon didn't know it, as it was this cape was an Icon Of Blood. A pledge to serve Khorne flowing with Abdul's own Psykic blood. Indeed, he could feel the pressure of the blood god, and the Eldar god, upon his soul, fighting to make him theirs. It was a very minor inconvenience for a Warden, honestly. But to a mortal? The weight would have been pressing. For, their might flowed into the Relic so much, and so fast, that Abdul could actively watch the currents of their power through the Warp. How those currents coalesced into singular streams, strangely separated, and shoved themselves into the building Psykic pressure within the collar.
Exactly as he intended.
Wait WHAT? Abdul? Abdul!
Ohh wait, I'm the narrator, he can't hear me.
But seriously, what the heck Abdul?
Besides that, Abdul noticed a small, pentagon-shapped insert in the side of the collar. Just large for the absolute smallest Runes Abdul could craft.
"Ohh yeah!" Gananon smiled, happy he finally got to rant about his awesome creation once more, "Since we don't want to cut any of the Psi-convectors, and it would take Auramite to cut this anyway, I added a pentagon-shaped slot for Runes. That way, you can just insert any plate you want and-"
Abdul, who again, could see the future, pulled an adamantium plate he had another Librarian carve on of Father's Purity Runes into a few weeks ago, and pressed it into the insert. The hydraulic presses Gananon was just about sensing the Rune, and pressing into the plate to hold it firmly in place.
Part of the machine now, Abdul saw as the Psi-convectors hooked up to the Rune pumped its power through it from the outside in. Trapping the foul energy of Khorne within before quickly purifying it. Like food coloring added to a bottle, he watched as the red of Khorne's power was painted white by the Purity Rune, as an object not even corrupted was purified. After a few moments, what was once a small, but noticeable wellspring of Corrupting energies was left a purified mass of Psykic power the still-forming Machine Spirit began to tentatively consume. Already it grew in power, even the tendrils of Khorne's own that had been funneling into the device recoiled, as if struck, and disconnected from the device.
Which, Abdul figured, was about what he wanted them to do.
Ohh! Ohhhhhhh, you let a large amount of Chaos' power seep into the Relic to purify it and empower the Machine Spirit within! Weird plan, but I guess it worked. Why…let Chaos in at all, though? Would this stop future attacks? Was it inevitable with any Psykic cape made out of blood? It was probably inevitable with any Psykic cape made out of blood.
"Ahh, I forgot you can see the future." Gananon grumbled, his shoulders falling and his excitement waning as the wind is all but knocked out of his sails.
"Time doesn't exist." Abdul again, could see the future, chuckled cooly. As if he knew something you didn't.
Which, as a side note, is incredibly rude. I mean, being a grammer natzi to someone who's going out of his way to help you trying to sound cool and intelligent is a serious jerk move. Not to mention how the person you're talking to must feel. Look at him! That smug comment all but knocked the wind out of poor Gananon's sails!
At least Abdul seemed to realize his faux pas a second later.
"A thousand pardons, Brother." The Black Knight asked, "I just needed to complete a ritual. But rest assured. But rest assured, my ability to act before learning does not curtail my need for your guidance. I shall listen to your instructions."
Which is nice and all, and it certainly helped Gananon feel better, but I do think it was ruined slightly by Abdul turning off the water pump, and using Biomancy to clear the rest of his blood out of the device. Only to, of course, pull out a shifting vial of Kesar-That second Anathema-'s blood. It was a masterful spell, one that would take a mortal a lifetime to learn…and a simple one for Abdul, who had now thirty years of study and practice with Biomancy as an Astartes who had read almost all of Magnus' books upon the topic.
Slowly, Abdul fed Lifeforce, the energy that he could rip out of his victims, and his own Psykic might to the blood. Instilling it with power, and allowing it, pushing it to carry out primary aspect within the Warp. Life, live, Grow, spread. He felt it again, running his Psykic power along his Father's blood, and feeling its aspects permeate his being until:
Eat. Grow.
With a simple directive the blood began to grow and multiply. Spreading like life as each cell produced another one again, and again, and again.
After a second, having filled the device but not formed a cape, Abdul could sense them. How the cells had run out of resources in their rampant growth. They called for more, and Abdul was more than happy to oblige.
After all, there was nearly a liter and a half of blood right there.
"I take this ritual isn't over, yet?" Gananon sighed.
It was a simple process for Abdul, who had converted his blood to a thousand different Ceramites, Adamantium alloys, and created so many gallons out of nothing but Warp energy itself. For a man that knew his body down to every individual cell, who had created, or recreated almost all of it, it was a simple matter to suck life out of that blood, to transfer it into raw resources for growth.
Though there was something disconcerting about the way Kesar's blood crashed upon his like a tidal wave, bubbling and gurgling as it ate his.
"It…almost is." Abdul said with a smile, "I could, theoretically, slap one of the Emperor Aquilla Safety Pins we give to the initiates and complete it."
Gananon sighed, and began reaching for his tools.
"I'll make you one that interfaces with the Psi-convectors." he sighed, already planning on how he was going to hook it up to the latch so that the wings of the Aquilla flapped. For style points, "But in exchange you're going to have explain this Psykic mumbo-jumbo ritual to me!"
"Of course." the Pride Of The Library nodded.
"And you're going to listen to the full, un-summarized version of my speech! And the design choices! And the change log!" Gananon shouted as he fired up his forge and, with a smile, began gather the adamantium scraps from around his desk into the melting cup.
"Of course." Abdul agreed, though inwardly he cringed at having to listen to technical reports for the next eight hours.
Well, it is fine. Abdul figured, as he clasped the Psykic cape around his neck. It was nice. The blood's viscosity made it easy for him to keep it flowing as once piece, and the fact that it was proofed to Bolt Pistol made it by far the most effective conventional armor he was wearing. Not to mention-Abdul waved his hand, and with a Psykic command Kesar's blood condensed and churned into a thick mat skin Abdul knew was almost stronger than Auramite and proofed against Lascannons and heavy bolter fire. He turned it back a second later, because while the blood really tied his look together, the pale white of skin just looked like he was trying to wear a nice hide but all the fur had been burned off. And it was much harder to keep alive.
But more important than the physical protection was it was doing in the Warp.
Abdul's blood running through the device had purged it. Empowered it, and shaped the device to mimic him all the faster as his power and life pumped through it. In a strange way, it had been the perfect Warp mimicry to trick the Warp into thinking this device was like his brain. After all, his Psykic power and blood ran through Psi-convectors modeled after his own brain. It had adapted this collar to his power perfectly.
But with the blood of an Anathema? Just one would purify the Warp around it, leave trails in the Maelstrom of calm and purity where it was taken through in real space. But a cape? A cape of that blood running through a Psykic amplifier?
As it wrapped around his shoulders, Abdul was struck with a calmness he had not experienced since before his Psykic awakening. As the blood calmed the Warp around him, and left a cape-sized path of complete calm through the Warp that he found himself in the epicenter of. For once, his constant vigil into the Warp, with eyes he could not close was…pleasant.
For Kesar's power calmed the Warp, silenced the screaming vortex, and enforced a purity around it that harkened back to before Slaanesh's birth.
And more than any of that. More than the physical protection, more than the logical boost to his skills, or calmness of the Warp, Abdul was calmed because the blood was still warm. And he could feel that his father loved him.
He could feel it.
So he didn't mind sitting another eight hours, explaining how the collar is a symbol of dedication within the Warp, and that Khorne's power naturally flowed into it, thinking the blood dedicated the Relic to him. Or how Abdul could not stop that, so he instead used it, letting the power flow into the device until it threatened to corrupt the Machine Spirit within before purifying it with the Rune. Which would hopefully cut off Khorne's interest in usurping the collar, steal as much of his power as possible, and strengthen its dedication to another power. He didn't mind explain explaining how he couldn't tell Gananon about that part because as a Psykic device with blood running through it him actually worrying it might be dedicated to Khorne, or knowing it technically was until the Purity Rune was added, would almost certainly have corrupted the machine spirit.
Because the blood was warm. And it felt like how Abdul imagined a hug felt.
Nor how, when the Adamantine Aquilla was made, and as he put it on the Collar and felt the blood of an Anathema made through its powerful but comparatively crude Psykic circuitry, I mean Psi-convectors, the Dedication was complete and the power of two Anathema met within the collar, flowing freely as it was dedicated to The Emperor. Or how the Warp shuddered, and Chaos receded, just a bit more, from how the collar gathered the Emperor's light into itself.
He also didn't mind the eight hour explanation on every possible decision and revision during the design process of the collar, but I, the noble narrator, will cut that out because it's boring. And, seriously, do you really need to know such minute details like…. Ohh the Psi-convectors are so big in order to allow Abdul to allow Abdul to force his full power through the device. Or how it has an on-off switch that only activates through a specific series of actions like all those fun features your car probably has you never use?
Bah! We went over all the important stuff above. So moving on.
---
Years later, though again to Abdul it really only felt like a scene change. Time was weird like that, when most of your consciousness was within the Warp. Even when covered in your Father's blood.
Actually? I suppose that made it weirder in the more mundane universe. Well, anyway.
We rejoin our glorious Proto Hero on the day when he was going to turn in his report on how to increase security on Kesar's bodily fluids, because that's what sons talk about in reference to their Father I guess, and also when Oricarious would probably tell Abdul he can't just go around wearing a cape made out of Kesar's blood. Not because Oricarious found that weird, mind you, it is suprisingly normal to wear or hold body parts of other humans in 30k. Down to Ceramite structures that had to hold out of human ashes, and decorating them in skulls.
No, no, Oricarious didn't like it because of the obvious security risk about what would happen if a Daemon got his hands on some of Kesar's blood.
Abdul planned on arguing he was more than enough to protect it, and that the benefits outweighed the risk, but he figured his pleas would fall on deaf ears and he'd at least be talked down to using his own blood, or making the cape out of skin and bones.
Which is reasonable, but I have to admit the bright red of the blood behind the black of the Wardens armor looks pretty cool. And it feels fitting for someone who goes into combat with the names of a hundred thousand of his dead Brothers' names listed upon his armor.
But as Abdul stepped forth unto the Vigilence, wherein his two meetings today would lie, the Machine Spirit of the Vigilence stirred, and his mind was assaulted by strange visions.
For a moment, Abdul resisted, repelling the vast might of the Gloriana, before his Witch Sight, ever opened, recognized the Vigilence as the one to cast this spell. And, by all accounts, struggled to, as the slow and sleepy behemoth of a Machine Spirit forced itself to stir.
Abdul did not know why his Matriarch had done this, but it mattered not. He let the visions through and saw:
The Vigilence's starboard, with almost picture-perfect realism, as every cannon and weapon stood at the ready. Inside, Abdul could recognize the thousands of Mechanicum workers, Tech Marines, and Astartes ready to get to work.
A pict downloaded to the Vigilence's databanks, shared with him Psykically of the Vigilence's stern, glorious and undaunted. Lit from below by the thousands of Lasgun shots and light fixtures from an ongoing battlefield.
A vision of the Vigilence's main cannon, standing strong and proud in the void of space.
A slightly blurry vision of the Vigilence's engine room, strangely bare of any workers.
And then, like a short animation, Abdul saw a blurry host of what seemed to be a daemonette of Slaanesh for a moment, before it was blown apart by one of the Vigilence's many macrocannons. Its pieces went everywhere, as its gross approximation of a soul was shattered. And then a stationary picture of the word "Tonight?" in High Gothic.
Abdul did not understand.
"Uhhh, Matriarch?" he asked aloud, earning some strange looks as he did so.
Instantly he could feel the Vigilence's shock. Embarrassment. Shock again, and worry.
He received another vision from the ship, more quickly this time. Of the hypo-indoctrination chamber and him strapped into it.
"Forget that?" Abdul asked.
A static picture of the word for yes with every letter capitalized. Then, it shifted to what looked like a hand drawn image of Abdul and Kesar, and a small envelope sealed with what looked to be a heart shaped sticker. Abdul saw the letter be given to him, and then, after a moment, switched to Kesar.
"That…" Abdul pursed his lips in thought, "Was meant for Father?"
Agreement. Embarrassment. Desire to hide. Abdul could see the Machine Spirit rage in defiance of something, like it was screaming at some giant embarrassment.
"Very well, Matriarch." Abdul agreed, confused, "I shall…wipe these images from my memory."
Agreement. A dawning horror. Still shock.
Abdul nodded, blinking a few times as he began stepping further into the ship. Wondering why the Vigilence would show him such things. Was something wrong with the Vigilence's main battle cannon? And why did the Engine Room have no people in it? Even if it was, technically, more hygienic that definitely can't be good, right?
The Vigilence recoiled again, the horror and embarrassment mixing into a strange, bright pink within the Warp that painted the Vigilence's walls.
And Abdul felt, pressed into his mind, a picture of him on a security camera. And then as the Vigilence's systems identified the cape itself.
"The Cape?" Abdul asked.
Agreement. Desperate need to get Abdul's mind off of what just happened. Embarrassment. A fake interest in the awesome cape.
Huh, Abdul thought, Machine Spirits can lie. Not to mention wish to change the subject.
"Yes." Abdul smiled, walking towards the hypo-indoctrination chamber, "Yes. It's a cape made out of Father's blood. It echoes his Psykic presence. So I suppose it made sense you thought I was him."
Confirmation of its visual appeal. Something about the Vigilence being proud of him. The horror, shock, and embarrassment not forgotten, but slightly fading.
And, now, I know it is not my place to say as an impartial narrator. But that's weird, right? Like, is Kesar doing strange things to his ships? Because that sounded like...well, like something Slaaneshi.
Heh, exactly 7777 words.
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