- Location
- USA
Thanks for changing from "he did nothing" to "it didn't work".
I think we can all agree on that. We did our best but people outside our control really want a war. Mainly the Emperor.
The Lost Primarch Quest
- Thread starter Daemon Hunter
- Start date
I think we can all agree on that. We did our best but people outside our control really want a war. Mainly the Emperor.
So you do admit he did.
Even thought it ended in failure Kesar's actions saved Vulkan and Salamanders from Malestorm crusade, dissolve the Lord Militant role, put down Eli when the Coup failed, the problems of Imperium would have been postphoned for so long until it was too late if not for his actions, Mortarion and Magnus reconciled, people are more awared of the things and the Gamma Factions instead of organized movements would have been rabid thrashing mobs if he "lacked" actions.
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- Location
- Reno Nv
[X] Write-in: "Perhaps it's best if we also brought our grievances and concerns to my captains? If we are going to secede, we will need the Legion unified in purpose." - Commit to a council of captains to decide on secession or not after getting more context from the heroes of the Eternal Wardens (Oriacarius, Maticus, Doo
Well, it seems that we need to get a plan on lockdown before the Civil War Begins. We may also need to set up some type of fast reaction force for when Xenos or Chaos attacks while we are distracted.
Well, it seems that we need to get a plan on lockdown before the Civil War Begins. We may also need to set up some type of fast reaction force for when Xenos or Chaos attacks while we are distracted.
- Location
- USA
It occurs to me that if we had just waited a little bit on that compliance with the anti demon AI we would be in a position where we could have actually negotiated and perhaps allied with it since we are probably splitting off from the Imperium.
I am actually a little bit upset about that. We took a beating and the AI took off. Even if we split off and wanted to talk peacefully we have no way of contacting the AI. No reason for it to be our really cool forbidden ally like everyone else seems to have with the gods and Eldar and so on.
That would have been really neat...
Is there anything left on the planet it abandoned that could get it a message? Just "hey. Leaving the imperium. The rules are different now. Want to talk?"
I am actually a little bit upset about that. We took a beating and the AI took off. Even if we split off and wanted to talk peacefully we have no way of contacting the AI. No reason for it to be our really cool forbidden ally like everyone else seems to have with the gods and Eldar and so on.
That would have been really neat...
Is there anything left on the planet it abandoned that could get it a message? Just "hey. Leaving the imperium. The rules are different now. Want to talk?"
[X] Write-in: "Perhaps it's best if we also brought our grievances and concerns to my captains? If we are going to secede, we will need the Legion unified in purpose." - Commit to a council of captains to decide on secession or not after getting more context from the heroes of the Eternal Wardens (Oriacarius, Maticus, Doom Slayer, Bader, Orion, etc)
Orion's Black Covenant Conceptualization (Part 2)
Orion's Black Covenant Conceptualization (Part 2)
Alright, it's time to return to this for a moment. @JAMalam and I have been spitballing ideas on and off for quite a while. Things are still in flux, but progress has been made in understanding the individual members of the BC, its overall aims, and what it seeks to do to stand out as a BC among the many others. The most important elements of this story are, as always, the characters involved in it.
As previously discussed, Orion's BC are akin to D&D monsters, but with that fable/fairy tale design to them. All the stories people have been raised on hearing or seeing are brought to life, intentionally designed to lure Orion, corrupt the youth and land, and kill the main characters in other stories that Orion could have helped. Although, they've since become a bit more nuanced in why they are doing this, albiet for equally greedy reasons associated with the Angel of Humility in general. Chaos daemons are, above all else, just outright bastards in their intentions.
In regards to the primary focus of the BC and how they plan to stop their Daemonsbanes and potentially others, they are going to create a daemonic boot camp or, perhaps more specifically, a monastery/dōjō to train daemons or mortals that wish to become stronger, better warriors, or try and learn how to fight or simply survive an encounter with a Daemonsbane. This is partly due to the Fallen Hero, who, as previously mentioned, is an exceptionally dangerous daemon who has been in hard times since their defeat.
Again, this mirrors how Orion has spent much time training other Astartes and even a few mortals to become heroes. The storybook element at play is starting to lean a bit harder into the notion of the heroic knight that brings out the best in other characters, shifting slightly from a Fairy Tale perspective into something you might find in a C.S. Lewis or Tolkien perspective of storytelling (that being more fantastical elements being a cover for more historical allegories.)
The roster has also been given names, titles, and some descriptors to highlight their motivations and personalities.
Vekheidon: The Balor and Ruin of Paragons
Physical Description: Vekheidon stands at a towering 15 feet with a muscular, imposing frame. His deep crimson skin appears tough and leathery, with cracks that glow from the inner fiery light barely contained within. His demonic visage is adorned with pronounced, bone-like ridges and horns that curve backward from his forehead, each tip glowing with a dim, sinister light. Fierce, malevolent yellow eyes burn with an unforgiving gaze, and his mouth is filled with sharp, fanged teeth that form a perpetual snarl.
Armor/Weapons/Items: Vekheidon wears dark, enchanted armor covering his chest and shoulders. It is adorned with runes and symbols of chaos that absorb light, enhancing his menacing presence and producing a stifling heat that disorients foes. Chains and skulls of fallen enemies hang from his waist and shoulders, trophies of his brutal conquests, but they also contain hidden items for use in combat. Vekheidon wields a massive, double-edged war axe with a constantly ablaze blade inscribed with ancient runes that give it an unnatural edge against psykers and machines.
Abilities: Beyond just being built like an absolute brick shithouse, paragon fighter, and having the strength approaching that of a lesser Ork Warlord, Vekheidon seems to have an unnatural ability to command flames. However, he refuses to call it sorcery of any sort. "The fires simply obey my commands. Nothing more." This still gives him an interesting advantage in turning the battlefield into favor by filling it with flames.
Primary Role: Aggressive DPS/Commander. In the absence of the Fallen Hero, he becomes the primary shot-caller, orchestrating assaults and defenses brutally. While the Fallen Hero trains the Student, Vekheidon trains the other daemons, instilling in them the ferocity and discipline needed to serve in their chaotic ranks. Melee fighter.
Personality: "Oleander. Tishpak. The Maginot Citadels. The Algos Nations. You ever hear of these worlds? Their greatest accomplishments? Deeds that would have been worthy of a ballad toward their species or humanity? No, you wouldn't because of me. They all thought they could withstand ruination. Now, there is nothing left. They only exist now when I speak of them."
Goal: Wants to kill the Angel of Humility and take his weapon for himself.
Scorpyri: The Harpy of the Enraptured Melodies
Physical Description: Scorpyri is lithe and agile, standing at around 7 feet tall. Her slender frame is toned, built for swift movements and dexterity like most Daemonettes. Her skin has a smooth, pale blue hue, with iridescent scales that catch the light and shimmer subtly. These scales provide a delicate but effective natural armor that compliments her face, which is both alluring and unsettling due to her sharp, angular features and piercing violet eyes that seem to draw in those who gaze upon them. Large, feathered wings extend from her back, each feather a deep black with hints of dark purple and blue, and her arms are long and graceful, ending in delicate, clawed fingers. These claws are razor-sharp, capable of delivering swift and deadly strikes. She often decorates her hands with rings and bangles that enhance her mystical appearance.
Armor/Weapons/Items: Scorpyri wears flowing, ethereal garments that flutter with her movements, often in shades of dark blue and purple. She doesn't wear armor because it hides her beauty. She uses a pair of elegantly curved daggers, each imbued with chaotic energy. These daggers are perfect for quick, lethal strikes. She also carries many enchanted tools and poisons for sabotage and assassination.
Abilities: One of her most potent abilities is her voice. Scorpyri can sing melodies that enchant and bewilder her foes, causing confusion and fear or even compelling them to turn against their allies. This ability makes her a significant threat not just in combat but also in manipulating enemy forces. Scorpyri excels in moving unseen and unheard. She can blend into shadows and use her wings to approach silently from above, making her an effective thief and assassin.
Primary Role: Harasser, probably the sort to act more like a rogue/bard to use D&D terms. Imagine they swoop in, sneak attack, then fly around to check out the battlefield and provide assistance. Functionality within the BC is simple: Thief, Assassin, Influencer, and Saboteur. They also have the biggest following of mortals and lesser daemons.
Personality: "A song can change the course of anything. An entire planet, a nation, or even a single person. Such things are used by mortals for various desires. They can serenade a lover, express joy or anger toward something, or even be used as a means to promote an idea. A song can even bypass language barriers. In my experience, a melody is the ultimate tool to entrapping mortals without them even knowing it."
Goal: Kill Estrith Jesk, the wife of the Angel of Humility, due to pettiness.
Alastassa Hexhell: The Witch and Mistress of Glass
Physical Description: Alastassa is tall and willowy, standing around 6 feet. Her build is delicate and almost fragile, with pale and translucent skin that gives her an ethereal, almost ghostly appearance. Her skin seems to shimmer with a faint, iridescent glow like glass catching the light. Her arms are slender and elegant, ending in long, delicate fingers that seem almost too fragile for combat. Her hands, however, are often wreathed in a faint, shimmering aura, indicating her mastery over some element of the warp. Her face is angular and sharp, with high cheekbones and piercing, ice-blue eyes that seem to see through to the soul.
Armor/Weapons/Items: Alastassa wears flowing, translucent robes that seem to be made of spun glass. These robes shift and change with her movements, refracting light and adding to her mesmerizing appearance. She has a series of crystalline shards that hover behind her back, reflecting light and creating a dazzling, almost hypnotic effect. These shards can move and reconfigure themselves, forming protective barriers or offensive projectiles. Regarding weapons, Alastassa wields a staff made of pure, enchanted glass, topped with a crystal that pulses with arcane energy. This staff serves as both her primary weapon and a focus for her spells.
Abilities: Alastassa can manipulate glass in various forms, creating barriers, shards, and intricate constructs. She can summon glass to attack her enemies or defend herself in battle. Her knowledge of curses, seals, and blessings is unparalleled. Alastassa can cast devastating spells that cause extreme damage, though she has little in the way of physical defense. The Mistress is well-versed in the intricacies of human politics, culture, and psychology. This knowledge makes her invaluable for planning sabotage, corruption, and subtle influence over mortal affairs. Finally, she can place powerful enchantments and curses on objects or individuals, manipulating outcomes in her favor or causing havoc among her enemies.
Primary Role: A literal glass cannon. Alastassa is the biggest damage dealer in the BC, capable of unleashing devastating spells with minimal physical resilience. Her potential damage output is extreme, especially when assisted by allies, and her deep understanding of human affairs makes her the go-to daemon for determining possible avenues of sabotage and corruption. She advises the BC on subtle manipulations and strategic planning.
Personality: "Glass...glass is incredible! Do you know that there are dozens of metaphors attached to it? Glass can be both strong and weak, delicate and bold. It can empower others or be used as a weapon against them. We can tell stories through it, see the materium from different perspectives, and even use it to deceive our enemies. Truth and illusion are bound into it. And you even learn or place secrets in it. I know this to be fact."
Goal: Wants the secrets of the White Scars from the Angel of Humility
Khorgamex: The Dragon and Hoarder of Misbegotten Fortunes
Physical Description: Khorgamex is a colossal daemon whose ability to shape change allows him to reconfigure his size and weight to whatever he deems necessary. It has never been confirmed how far he can go in shapeshifting. He is normally 20 feet tall with a build that can only be described as a fortress of muscle and scales; these are thick, overlapping scales of a dark, obsidian hue, each nearly impervious to mundane attacks and glistening like polished stone. Khorgamex's head is as dragon-like as his namesake, with a massive, angular jaw lined with rows of sharp but rusted metallic teeth. While his wings are not functional for flight due to their sheer size and weight, they are immense and heavily armored, adding to his intimidating presence. These wings are often folded protectively around his body, forming an almost impenetrable shield.
Armor/Weapons/Items: Khorgamex wears additional armor plating over his already tough scales, reinforcing his natural defenses. These plates are adorned with the spoils of his hoarded wealth – gold, gems, and enchanted artifacts embedded into the metal. His entire body is a weapon, with his claws, teeth, and immense physical strength serving as his primary means of attack. Khorgamex has access to an immense hoard of wealth. This treasure is used by the BC to bribe and influence both daemons and mortals. His frugality ensures that this wealth is used sparingly but effectively.
Abilities: Khorgamex is incredibly difficult to move or damage. His defenses are nearly impregnable, making him a perfect bunker on the battlefield. He exudes an aura of corruption that slowly taints the battlefield around him. This miasma weakens enemies, corrupts the ground, and saps the strength of those who come into contact with it. Khorgamex can hunker down when necessary, reinforcing his defenses and becoming almost immobile. He is nearly impervious to all forms of attack in this state, turning himself into a living fortress.
Primary Role: Tank and manipulator Khorgamex's immense wealth hoard is a strategic asset used to bribe and manipulate both daemons and mortals. His miserly nature ensures that this wealth is preserved and used to its maximum potential. Due to his lack of mobility, Khorgamex is often deployed strategically where his immovability can be used to the greatest effect. Once entrenched, he becomes a nearly insurmountable obstacle for enemy forces. He tanks enemies and corrupts the battlefield for his allies.
Personality: "Greed is good. Greed is right. Greed works. Greed, in all forms -- greed for life, money, love, and knowledge -- has marked the upward surge of all mortal races. But I like greed, fortunes, and everything for a different reason: I can physically see, touch, and taste it. I like having it all, and I know the mortals want it too. That's why they come to me. They want a piece of the dragon's hoard, my hoard."
Goal: Wants Makima locked away
Agdistis and Cyiele: The Ent and Dryad, Husband and Wife, Caretakers of the Forbidden Garden of Attis
Physical Description: Agdistis towers over most beings (save for Khorgamex) with a thick, sturdy build reminiscent of an ancient tree. His body is composed of gnarled wood, and his powerful limbs resemble massive branches. Cyiele stands around 7 feet tall with a slender and graceful build, more organic and human-like than her husband. Agdistis has a stern, weathered face carved from ancient wood. His eyes glow with a malevolent, green light. Meanwhile, Cyiele's face is often serene, with bright, emerald-green eyes that sparkle with profane sparks of rot and life. Cyiele lives within Agdistis.
Armor/Weapons/Items: Neither carry any weapons, gear, armor, or anything artificially made. That is not to say that they don't use equipment made from whatever is within the Garden of Attis. Cyiele can potions, elixirs, and draughts, while Agdistis produces the warp substance called Nectar.
Abilities: Both Agdistis and Cyiele seem to have powers roughly on par with most greater daemons of Tzeentch or Nurgle. Together, Agdistis and Cyiele function as combat buffers, enhancing the capabilities of their allies. Agdistis defends Cyiele, allowing her to focus on buffing and healing. Agdistis can also emit an aura that enhances the defenses of nearby allies, making them more resilient to attacks. Cyiele excels in bestowing powerful buffs and healing to her allies. Her touch can enhance the strength, speed, and resilience of even Daemons, but never to a degree that could exceed their threshold.
Primary Role: Buffers/Healers Their purpose within the BC is research and development, particularly in producing Nectar and other substances from the Bloodworks facility back on Elegia. Their knowledge and abilities are crucial for creating powerful enhancements and alchemical products. They are primarily the caretakers of the Forbidden Garden of Attis, a pocket dimension used by the two to create strange reagents for their experiments.
Personality: "In the depths of our roots, we find strength. We stand unyielding, not out of malice, but as guardians of the ancient and sacred. With its feigned piety, the Angel of Humility seeks to diminish the wild and untamed beauty we seek to bring into the Materium. Every leaf, every bloom in our garden speaks of freedom and the pure essence of life. With its sanctimonious chains, the Angel of Humility wishes to bind what should remain wild and free. We nurture and protect, not out of hatred, but to preserve the essence of nature's truth against its false modesty. We shall not bow to such hypocrisy."
Goal: Create the Ultimate Nymph
Elid'kharoth of the Sacrificed Oath and the Fallen Hero
Physical Description: Elid'kharoth stands around eight to ten feet tall, able to modify his size to fit any encounter. He has never seen a need to surpass most humanoid sizes and doesn't believe that bigger is better. Elid prefers a "material" physiology as a daemon, claiming that it makes fights more challenging. No one alive has ever seen him in his true form. Hence, he often has a lean yet muscular build that speaks of both agility and strength. This form is imposing to most mortals, exuding a sense of power and command, although that is where most similarities end. His skin is a dark, shadowy gray, almost blending into the darkness. It has a smooth, almost metallic texture, with faint, glowing red veins running across his body, pulsing with latent energy.
One might even consider him handsome because his face has sharp and angular features, high cheekbones, and a stern expression. His long, black hair flows like a dark cascade around his shoulders. His eyes are burning crimson, reflecting his need for battle and immense power. His limbs seem unnatural, more akin to a raptor's claws, or perhaps something far more ancient.
Armor/Weapons/Items: Elid'kharoth wears dark, intricately designed armor that enhances his natural defenses. Adorned with symbols of his fallen oath and the sacrifices he has made, the armor serves as a constant reminder of his past disgrace. He refuses to explain its origins, the maker, or the materials, but only an Exalted daemon could truly discern its history. He wields a pair of formidable weapons befitting a Fallen Knight: The Requiescat Blade and the Ruby Scutum. The blade is forged from the prayers of a dying godseed and its followers, while the Scutum contains the last lights of a constellation of stars.
Abilities: His skill in combat is unparalleled, allowing him to face multiple opponents easily. He combines strength, speed, and strategy to dominate the battlefield. The Fallen Hero has also proven himself beyond the reach of most threats. His resilience and combat prowess make him almost invincible against conventional foes. He has fought and endured much over the eons. However, Elid'kharoth was maimed during his duel against a champion of the Aeldari Dominion at its height and has not yet returned to his prime.
Primary Role: Commander/DPS, Elid'kharoth is the second-in-command of the Black Covenant and helps lead it with a combination of fear and respect. His strategic mind and combat prowess make him an effective leader who keeps all the daemons of the BC in line and focused. Elid'kharoth is focused on training mortals and daemons alike, but his true focus is training Thymor'ix.
Personality: "I've been given many titles in the past, all meaningless to me. The Warp now calls me 'The Fallen Hero,' a moniker not of my choosing. The gods and their champions will never address me by that name without ridicule and derision, and I care little for what lesser creatures think of it. Yet that title rankles me like nothing else. I sacrificed my oath, failed to kill my foe, and am left with only ghosts to remind me that I have, indeed, lived up to that wretched title."
Goal: Kill the Angel of Humility
Thymor'ix: The Youthful and Student of the Fallen Hero
Physical Description: Thymor'ix stands around 8 feet tall and has a lithe and agile build. His skin has a deep, shadowy blackness and a faint, ethereal glow, giving him an otherworldly appearance. The daemon lives up to his title, as he has sharp, youthful features with piercing, bright blue eyes that radiate a sense of purpose and ambition, which gives him the aura of a young king or emperor. He takes on a humanoid appearance similar to Elid'kharoth. Undoubtedly, he would be considered handsome by many, wild and untamed, in the prime of his "life."
Armor/Weapons/Items: Thymor'ix wears sleek, blackened armor that was commissioned by Elid'kharoth and U'mas. It seems almost like a suit of techno-organic armor akin to something the Temple Assassins would wear, but it's actually more akin to a daemonic nano-suit. He wields a weapon that was "born" alongside him, the Heavensbane Lance. A lance forged from the essence of fallen stars and imbued with dark magic designed to counteract even divine energies, although he's not master of it yet. He has a secondary weapon, the Eldmourn Revolver, which fires a type of bullet unseen by most Daemons save for those of the Forge of Souls or Vashtorr.
Abilities: Thymor'ix is an up-and-coming master of both melee and ranged combat, utilizing his agility and speed to outmaneuver opponents. His training under the Fallen Hero continues. He makes up for what he lacks in skill and experience in ambition, power, and bullheadedness. Thymor'ix often uses his raw talent in fights, often to his own detriment, but as they say, the youthful are often quick to bounce back. It is difficult to outlast him in a battle and he is a quick learner. He is also growing into becoming an exceptional leader and could someday become a very famous and powerful daemon.
Primary Role: Commander/DPS. Thymor'ix leads the Black Covenant with a blend of charisma and raw power. His destined role as the opponent of the Angel of Humility gives him a unique placement among his daemonic peers and underlings. Under the mentorship of the Fallen Hero Elid'kharoth, Thymor'ix is being groomed to reach his full potential. This relationship reflects the classic mentor-hero dynamic, twisted even further by his role as the inverted Hero. Thymor'ix embodies the darker aspects of the heroic narrative. He is driven by ambition, a desire for power, and a ruthless determination to achieve his goals. He was created specifically to combat the Angel of Humility; Thymor'ix's abilities and existence are slowly being tailored to this ultimate confrontation.
Personality: "I don't know who or what I am. Only that I am bound by a great destiny, I am the shadow that shall rise against the light that seeks to consume us all in its flood. But I am the one that shall be. The Angel of Humility will learn that even the brightest stars can be consumed by shadow. This is my story, not his, and under my mentor's guidance, I shall become the harbinger of our triumph. I will struggle. Onto victory or defeat."
Goal: Destroy the Angel of Humility and ensure no other shall ever rise again
---
@Daemon Hunter Alright, I wanted to get an omake out since I've been slacking off due to other distractions.
Alright, it's time to return to this for a moment. @JAMalam and I have been spitballing ideas on and off for quite a while. Things are still in flux, but progress has been made in understanding the individual members of the BC, its overall aims, and what it seeks to do to stand out as a BC among the many others. The most important elements of this story are, as always, the characters involved in it.
As previously discussed, Orion's BC are akin to D&D monsters, but with that fable/fairy tale design to them. All the stories people have been raised on hearing or seeing are brought to life, intentionally designed to lure Orion, corrupt the youth and land, and kill the main characters in other stories that Orion could have helped. Although, they've since become a bit more nuanced in why they are doing this, albiet for equally greedy reasons associated with the Angel of Humility in general. Chaos daemons are, above all else, just outright bastards in their intentions.
In regards to the primary focus of the BC and how they plan to stop their Daemonsbanes and potentially others, they are going to create a daemonic boot camp or, perhaps more specifically, a monastery/dōjō to train daemons or mortals that wish to become stronger, better warriors, or try and learn how to fight or simply survive an encounter with a Daemonsbane. This is partly due to the Fallen Hero, who, as previously mentioned, is an exceptionally dangerous daemon who has been in hard times since their defeat.
Again, this mirrors how Orion has spent much time training other Astartes and even a few mortals to become heroes. The storybook element at play is starting to lean a bit harder into the notion of the heroic knight that brings out the best in other characters, shifting slightly from a Fairy Tale perspective into something you might find in a C.S. Lewis or Tolkien perspective of storytelling (that being more fantastical elements being a cover for more historical allegories.)
The roster has also been given names, titles, and some descriptors to highlight their motivations and personalities.
Vekheidon: The Balor and Ruin of Paragons
Physical Description: Vekheidon stands at a towering 15 feet with a muscular, imposing frame. His deep crimson skin appears tough and leathery, with cracks that glow from the inner fiery light barely contained within. His demonic visage is adorned with pronounced, bone-like ridges and horns that curve backward from his forehead, each tip glowing with a dim, sinister light. Fierce, malevolent yellow eyes burn with an unforgiving gaze, and his mouth is filled with sharp, fanged teeth that form a perpetual snarl.
Armor/Weapons/Items: Vekheidon wears dark, enchanted armor covering his chest and shoulders. It is adorned with runes and symbols of chaos that absorb light, enhancing his menacing presence and producing a stifling heat that disorients foes. Chains and skulls of fallen enemies hang from his waist and shoulders, trophies of his brutal conquests, but they also contain hidden items for use in combat. Vekheidon wields a massive, double-edged war axe with a constantly ablaze blade inscribed with ancient runes that give it an unnatural edge against psykers and machines.
Abilities: Beyond just being built like an absolute brick shithouse, paragon fighter, and having the strength approaching that of a lesser Ork Warlord, Vekheidon seems to have an unnatural ability to command flames. However, he refuses to call it sorcery of any sort. "The fires simply obey my commands. Nothing more." This still gives him an interesting advantage in turning the battlefield into favor by filling it with flames.
Primary Role: Aggressive DPS/Commander. In the absence of the Fallen Hero, he becomes the primary shot-caller, orchestrating assaults and defenses brutally. While the Fallen Hero trains the Student, Vekheidon trains the other daemons, instilling in them the ferocity and discipline needed to serve in their chaotic ranks. Melee fighter.
Personality: "Oleander. Tishpak. The Maginot Citadels. The Algos Nations. You ever hear of these worlds? Their greatest accomplishments? Deeds that would have been worthy of a ballad toward their species or humanity? No, you wouldn't because of me. They all thought they could withstand ruination. Now, there is nothing left. They only exist now when I speak of them."
Goal: Wants to kill the Angel of Humility and take his weapon for himself.
Scorpyri: The Harpy of the Enraptured Melodies
Physical Description: Scorpyri is lithe and agile, standing at around 7 feet tall. Her slender frame is toned, built for swift movements and dexterity like most Daemonettes. Her skin has a smooth, pale blue hue, with iridescent scales that catch the light and shimmer subtly. These scales provide a delicate but effective natural armor that compliments her face, which is both alluring and unsettling due to her sharp, angular features and piercing violet eyes that seem to draw in those who gaze upon them. Large, feathered wings extend from her back, each feather a deep black with hints of dark purple and blue, and her arms are long and graceful, ending in delicate, clawed fingers. These claws are razor-sharp, capable of delivering swift and deadly strikes. She often decorates her hands with rings and bangles that enhance her mystical appearance.
Armor/Weapons/Items: Scorpyri wears flowing, ethereal garments that flutter with her movements, often in shades of dark blue and purple. She doesn't wear armor because it hides her beauty. She uses a pair of elegantly curved daggers, each imbued with chaotic energy. These daggers are perfect for quick, lethal strikes. She also carries many enchanted tools and poisons for sabotage and assassination.
Abilities: One of her most potent abilities is her voice. Scorpyri can sing melodies that enchant and bewilder her foes, causing confusion and fear or even compelling them to turn against their allies. This ability makes her a significant threat not just in combat but also in manipulating enemy forces. Scorpyri excels in moving unseen and unheard. She can blend into shadows and use her wings to approach silently from above, making her an effective thief and assassin.
Primary Role: Harasser, probably the sort to act more like a rogue/bard to use D&D terms. Imagine they swoop in, sneak attack, then fly around to check out the battlefield and provide assistance. Functionality within the BC is simple: Thief, Assassin, Influencer, and Saboteur. They also have the biggest following of mortals and lesser daemons.
Personality: "A song can change the course of anything. An entire planet, a nation, or even a single person. Such things are used by mortals for various desires. They can serenade a lover, express joy or anger toward something, or even be used as a means to promote an idea. A song can even bypass language barriers. In my experience, a melody is the ultimate tool to entrapping mortals without them even knowing it."
Goal: Kill Estrith Jesk, the wife of the Angel of Humility, due to pettiness.
Alastassa Hexhell: The Witch and Mistress of Glass
Physical Description: Alastassa is tall and willowy, standing around 6 feet. Her build is delicate and almost fragile, with pale and translucent skin that gives her an ethereal, almost ghostly appearance. Her skin seems to shimmer with a faint, iridescent glow like glass catching the light. Her arms are slender and elegant, ending in long, delicate fingers that seem almost too fragile for combat. Her hands, however, are often wreathed in a faint, shimmering aura, indicating her mastery over some element of the warp. Her face is angular and sharp, with high cheekbones and piercing, ice-blue eyes that seem to see through to the soul.
Armor/Weapons/Items: Alastassa wears flowing, translucent robes that seem to be made of spun glass. These robes shift and change with her movements, refracting light and adding to her mesmerizing appearance. She has a series of crystalline shards that hover behind her back, reflecting light and creating a dazzling, almost hypnotic effect. These shards can move and reconfigure themselves, forming protective barriers or offensive projectiles. Regarding weapons, Alastassa wields a staff made of pure, enchanted glass, topped with a crystal that pulses with arcane energy. This staff serves as both her primary weapon and a focus for her spells.
Abilities: Alastassa can manipulate glass in various forms, creating barriers, shards, and intricate constructs. She can summon glass to attack her enemies or defend herself in battle. Her knowledge of curses, seals, and blessings is unparalleled. Alastassa can cast devastating spells that cause extreme damage, though she has little in the way of physical defense. The Mistress is well-versed in the intricacies of human politics, culture, and psychology. This knowledge makes her invaluable for planning sabotage, corruption, and subtle influence over mortal affairs. Finally, she can place powerful enchantments and curses on objects or individuals, manipulating outcomes in her favor or causing havoc among her enemies.
Primary Role: A literal glass cannon. Alastassa is the biggest damage dealer in the BC, capable of unleashing devastating spells with minimal physical resilience. Her potential damage output is extreme, especially when assisted by allies, and her deep understanding of human affairs makes her the go-to daemon for determining possible avenues of sabotage and corruption. She advises the BC on subtle manipulations and strategic planning.
Personality: "Glass...glass is incredible! Do you know that there are dozens of metaphors attached to it? Glass can be both strong and weak, delicate and bold. It can empower others or be used as a weapon against them. We can tell stories through it, see the materium from different perspectives, and even use it to deceive our enemies. Truth and illusion are bound into it. And you even learn or place secrets in it. I know this to be fact."
Goal: Wants the secrets of the White Scars from the Angel of Humility
Khorgamex: The Dragon and Hoarder of Misbegotten Fortunes
Physical Description: Khorgamex is a colossal daemon whose ability to shape change allows him to reconfigure his size and weight to whatever he deems necessary. It has never been confirmed how far he can go in shapeshifting. He is normally 20 feet tall with a build that can only be described as a fortress of muscle and scales; these are thick, overlapping scales of a dark, obsidian hue, each nearly impervious to mundane attacks and glistening like polished stone. Khorgamex's head is as dragon-like as his namesake, with a massive, angular jaw lined with rows of sharp but rusted metallic teeth. While his wings are not functional for flight due to their sheer size and weight, they are immense and heavily armored, adding to his intimidating presence. These wings are often folded protectively around his body, forming an almost impenetrable shield.
Armor/Weapons/Items: Khorgamex wears additional armor plating over his already tough scales, reinforcing his natural defenses. These plates are adorned with the spoils of his hoarded wealth – gold, gems, and enchanted artifacts embedded into the metal. His entire body is a weapon, with his claws, teeth, and immense physical strength serving as his primary means of attack. Khorgamex has access to an immense hoard of wealth. This treasure is used by the BC to bribe and influence both daemons and mortals. His frugality ensures that this wealth is used sparingly but effectively.
Abilities: Khorgamex is incredibly difficult to move or damage. His defenses are nearly impregnable, making him a perfect bunker on the battlefield. He exudes an aura of corruption that slowly taints the battlefield around him. This miasma weakens enemies, corrupts the ground, and saps the strength of those who come into contact with it. Khorgamex can hunker down when necessary, reinforcing his defenses and becoming almost immobile. He is nearly impervious to all forms of attack in this state, turning himself into a living fortress.
Primary Role: Tank and manipulator Khorgamex's immense wealth hoard is a strategic asset used to bribe and manipulate both daemons and mortals. His miserly nature ensures that this wealth is preserved and used to its maximum potential. Due to his lack of mobility, Khorgamex is often deployed strategically where his immovability can be used to the greatest effect. Once entrenched, he becomes a nearly insurmountable obstacle for enemy forces. He tanks enemies and corrupts the battlefield for his allies.
Personality: "Greed is good. Greed is right. Greed works. Greed, in all forms -- greed for life, money, love, and knowledge -- has marked the upward surge of all mortal races. But I like greed, fortunes, and everything for a different reason: I can physically see, touch, and taste it. I like having it all, and I know the mortals want it too. That's why they come to me. They want a piece of the dragon's hoard, my hoard."
Goal: Wants Makima locked away
Agdistis and Cyiele: The Ent and Dryad, Husband and Wife, Caretakers of the Forbidden Garden of Attis
Physical Description: Agdistis towers over most beings (save for Khorgamex) with a thick, sturdy build reminiscent of an ancient tree. His body is composed of gnarled wood, and his powerful limbs resemble massive branches. Cyiele stands around 7 feet tall with a slender and graceful build, more organic and human-like than her husband. Agdistis has a stern, weathered face carved from ancient wood. His eyes glow with a malevolent, green light. Meanwhile, Cyiele's face is often serene, with bright, emerald-green eyes that sparkle with profane sparks of rot and life. Cyiele lives within Agdistis.
Armor/Weapons/Items: Neither carry any weapons, gear, armor, or anything artificially made. That is not to say that they don't use equipment made from whatever is within the Garden of Attis. Cyiele can potions, elixirs, and draughts, while Agdistis produces the warp substance called Nectar.
Abilities: Both Agdistis and Cyiele seem to have powers roughly on par with most greater daemons of Tzeentch or Nurgle. Together, Agdistis and Cyiele function as combat buffers, enhancing the capabilities of their allies. Agdistis defends Cyiele, allowing her to focus on buffing and healing. Agdistis can also emit an aura that enhances the defenses of nearby allies, making them more resilient to attacks. Cyiele excels in bestowing powerful buffs and healing to her allies. Her touch can enhance the strength, speed, and resilience of even Daemons, but never to a degree that could exceed their threshold.
Primary Role: Buffers/Healers Their purpose within the BC is research and development, particularly in producing Nectar and other substances from the Bloodworks facility back on Elegia. Their knowledge and abilities are crucial for creating powerful enhancements and alchemical products. They are primarily the caretakers of the Forbidden Garden of Attis, a pocket dimension used by the two to create strange reagents for their experiments.
Personality: "In the depths of our roots, we find strength. We stand unyielding, not out of malice, but as guardians of the ancient and sacred. With its feigned piety, the Angel of Humility seeks to diminish the wild and untamed beauty we seek to bring into the Materium. Every leaf, every bloom in our garden speaks of freedom and the pure essence of life. With its sanctimonious chains, the Angel of Humility wishes to bind what should remain wild and free. We nurture and protect, not out of hatred, but to preserve the essence of nature's truth against its false modesty. We shall not bow to such hypocrisy."
Goal: Create the Ultimate Nymph
Elid'kharoth of the Sacrificed Oath and the Fallen Hero
Physical Description: Elid'kharoth stands around eight to ten feet tall, able to modify his size to fit any encounter. He has never seen a need to surpass most humanoid sizes and doesn't believe that bigger is better. Elid prefers a "material" physiology as a daemon, claiming that it makes fights more challenging. No one alive has ever seen him in his true form. Hence, he often has a lean yet muscular build that speaks of both agility and strength. This form is imposing to most mortals, exuding a sense of power and command, although that is where most similarities end. His skin is a dark, shadowy gray, almost blending into the darkness. It has a smooth, almost metallic texture, with faint, glowing red veins running across his body, pulsing with latent energy.
One might even consider him handsome because his face has sharp and angular features, high cheekbones, and a stern expression. His long, black hair flows like a dark cascade around his shoulders. His eyes are burning crimson, reflecting his need for battle and immense power. His limbs seem unnatural, more akin to a raptor's claws, or perhaps something far more ancient.
Armor/Weapons/Items: Elid'kharoth wears dark, intricately designed armor that enhances his natural defenses. Adorned with symbols of his fallen oath and the sacrifices he has made, the armor serves as a constant reminder of his past disgrace. He refuses to explain its origins, the maker, or the materials, but only an Exalted daemon could truly discern its history. He wields a pair of formidable weapons befitting a Fallen Knight: The Requiescat Blade and the Ruby Scutum. The blade is forged from the prayers of a dying godseed and its followers, while the Scutum contains the last lights of a constellation of stars.
Abilities: His skill in combat is unparalleled, allowing him to face multiple opponents easily. He combines strength, speed, and strategy to dominate the battlefield. The Fallen Hero has also proven himself beyond the reach of most threats. His resilience and combat prowess make him almost invincible against conventional foes. He has fought and endured much over the eons. However, Elid'kharoth was maimed during his duel against a champion of the Aeldari Dominion at its height and has not yet returned to his prime.
Primary Role: Commander/DPS, Elid'kharoth is the second-in-command of the Black Covenant and helps lead it with a combination of fear and respect. His strategic mind and combat prowess make him an effective leader who keeps all the daemons of the BC in line and focused. Elid'kharoth is focused on training mortals and daemons alike, but his true focus is training Thymor'ix.
Personality: "I've been given many titles in the past, all meaningless to me. The Warp now calls me 'The Fallen Hero,' a moniker not of my choosing. The gods and their champions will never address me by that name without ridicule and derision, and I care little for what lesser creatures think of it. Yet that title rankles me like nothing else. I sacrificed my oath, failed to kill my foe, and am left with only ghosts to remind me that I have, indeed, lived up to that wretched title."
Goal: Kill the Angel of Humility
Thymor'ix: The Youthful and Student of the Fallen Hero
Physical Description: Thymor'ix stands around 8 feet tall and has a lithe and agile build. His skin has a deep, shadowy blackness and a faint, ethereal glow, giving him an otherworldly appearance. The daemon lives up to his title, as he has sharp, youthful features with piercing, bright blue eyes that radiate a sense of purpose and ambition, which gives him the aura of a young king or emperor. He takes on a humanoid appearance similar to Elid'kharoth. Undoubtedly, he would be considered handsome by many, wild and untamed, in the prime of his "life."
Armor/Weapons/Items: Thymor'ix wears sleek, blackened armor that was commissioned by Elid'kharoth and U'mas. It seems almost like a suit of techno-organic armor akin to something the Temple Assassins would wear, but it's actually more akin to a daemonic nano-suit. He wields a weapon that was "born" alongside him, the Heavensbane Lance. A lance forged from the essence of fallen stars and imbued with dark magic designed to counteract even divine energies, although he's not master of it yet. He has a secondary weapon, the Eldmourn Revolver, which fires a type of bullet unseen by most Daemons save for those of the Forge of Souls or Vashtorr.
Abilities: Thymor'ix is an up-and-coming master of both melee and ranged combat, utilizing his agility and speed to outmaneuver opponents. His training under the Fallen Hero continues. He makes up for what he lacks in skill and experience in ambition, power, and bullheadedness. Thymor'ix often uses his raw talent in fights, often to his own detriment, but as they say, the youthful are often quick to bounce back. It is difficult to outlast him in a battle and he is a quick learner. He is also growing into becoming an exceptional leader and could someday become a very famous and powerful daemon.
Primary Role: Commander/DPS. Thymor'ix leads the Black Covenant with a blend of charisma and raw power. His destined role as the opponent of the Angel of Humility gives him a unique placement among his daemonic peers and underlings. Under the mentorship of the Fallen Hero Elid'kharoth, Thymor'ix is being groomed to reach his full potential. This relationship reflects the classic mentor-hero dynamic, twisted even further by his role as the inverted Hero. Thymor'ix embodies the darker aspects of the heroic narrative. He is driven by ambition, a desire for power, and a ruthless determination to achieve his goals. He was created specifically to combat the Angel of Humility; Thymor'ix's abilities and existence are slowly being tailored to this ultimate confrontation.
Personality: "I don't know who or what I am. Only that I am bound by a great destiny, I am the shadow that shall rise against the light that seeks to consume us all in its flood. But I am the one that shall be. The Angel of Humility will learn that even the brightest stars can be consumed by shadow. This is my story, not his, and under my mentor's guidance, I shall become the harbinger of our triumph. I will struggle. Onto victory or defeat."
Goal: Destroy the Angel of Humility and ensure no other shall ever rise again
---
@Daemon Hunter Alright, I wanted to get an omake out since I've been slacking off due to other distractions.
- Location
- United States
[X] Write-in: "Perhaps it's best if we also brought our grievances and concerns to my captains? If we are going to secede, we will need the Legion unified in purpose." - Commit to a council of captains to decide on secession or not after getting more context from the heroes of the Eternal Wardens (Oriacarius, Maticus, Doom Slayer, Bader, Orion, etc)
We have to do this. Kesar has always been upfront with his boys and done what he can for them. Anything less would be out of character I feel.
And I think everyone is ignoring a very important bit. One that I cannot believe people are not talking about.
After seeing this, I see ignoring Ori as the height of stupidity. Straight up was going to tell the Death Guard to their face, how they fucked up, and how to improve, and even has a presentation for it. The only way it could have been better was if he did it in front of Mortarion. Granted would probably die once it was over, but still.
If anybody is going to be able to help us out and get a better understanding its him. And do you want him to roast his father?
We have to do this. Kesar has always been upfront with his boys and done what he can for them. Anything less would be out of character I feel.
And I think everyone is ignoring a very important bit. One that I cannot believe people are not talking about.
After seeing this, I see ignoring Ori as the height of stupidity. Straight up was going to tell the Death Guard to their face, how they fucked up, and how to improve, and even has a presentation for it. The only way it could have been better was if he did it in front of Mortarion. Granted would probably die once it was over, but still.
If anybody is going to be able to help us out and get a better understanding its him. And do you want him to roast his father?
At least we aren't starting anything too crazy yet. Or the disappointment Kesar would be getting from Oriacarius would be legendary. I am sure Kesar would really want to avoid it. That aside, Oriacarius can't talk to Sanguinius?
- Location
- Elsewhere
Alright, time for me to close the vote. It's rather one sided so that's how it is.
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Transmissions
Transmissions
On the Macragge's Honour…
Private Chambers of Roboute Guilliman…
The hour of war was approaching, though still months away. However, that did not mean there wasn't work to be done. Roboute was buried in preparation and planning, even with his brothers and allied generals sharing the workload. The Primarch could handle it all as long as he rested.
Yvraine ensured he did. But even she brought him new problems. "You should know something has happened on Tixburi that requires your attention." The couple had just finished dinner, and it was unusual for her to bring up work-related topics at such a time.
He was surprised by the announcement. "Very well. Why not mention it during the last command briefing?"
"I only received the information a few hours ago. I wanted to review some finer details before presenting them to the others," Yvraine said pensively. "Some details are concerning, but one in particular will anger you."
More complications, then. "None of this sounds good. Is it that bad?"
Yvraine nodded. "It is. However, there might be a silver lining."
Pulling out a small Aeldari data chit, Yvraine inserted it into Roboute's personal command console. "The Consolidation seems to know they are about to be attacked, but we don't think they know when or to what extent. They are, however, getting their population worked up. One of the Eldar ships monitoring Tixburi has just sent back a series of burst transmissions broadcast across the planet: news reports and propaganda. But there are elements of truth that the Farseer could glean."
"I'm surprised Alcar was willing to sit through many news media reports for us."
She gave him a placid smile, "Yes, about that, he told me to tell you that you now owe him a personal favor for having to sit through 'three hours of drivel' and that humanity has no concept of delivering the news without some sort of inane showmanship."
"Of course…"
A brief storm of static plays out before it suddenly cuts to a montage of images: Tixburi landscapes, soldiers marching, citizens cheering, and impressive military hardware on display, all while a powerful orchestral score with pounding drums and heroic trumpets sets the stage for a seemingly triumphant message.
"Welcome to the Tixburi Action News Network!" A deep, booming voice, sounding almost like an augmented human, fills the air with enthusiasm as the Tixburi Action News Network broadcast begins, "Your beacon of truth, justice, and the indomitable spirit of the Consolidation! I am the Voice of Information."
The camera zooms into a sleek, futuristic newsroom with high-tech holographic displays, where a stern-looking male anchor takes center stage, who appears to be hooked up to an apparatus. "Now, then, let's get started. Our first story today is on the recent quota achievement at two of our top production facilities, which have seen an almost 4.6% increase in production!"
The transmission switches to a dazzling display of industrial might: massive factory complexes churning weapons and equipment, proud soldiers training in state-of-the-art facilities, and vast fields filled with the latest mechanized and aerial warfare technology for Tixburi.
"Director Jong has proclaimed that the recent introduction of the performance-enhancing drug XP-09, or BlueJoy, is responsible for this remarkable output, and only 25% of workers have reported heart palpitations when using it."
Footage shifts to medical workers handing out the drugs to a line of workers before transitioning to scenes of highly motivated and proud employees in assembly lines, engineers overseeing military hardware construction, and machines loading equipment onto military vehicles. The message is clear: Tixburi's war machine isn't stopping anytime soon, and its people are determined to do their part for the war effort.
"Another success for our scientists and doctors, working just as hard as you and I in keeping the machine running. Remember, every hand that builds, every mind that innovates, and every heart that beats for the Consolidation contributes to our unstoppable progress! Remember, together, we are unstoppable!"
"Bombastic and useless, save for the fact that they seem to have some sort of drug that allows for more productive workers. Nothing new, even for the Imperium. What stood out was how streamlined and advanced everything looked."
"That transmission was beamed toward a local sector, not the planet as a whole, so it wasn't an attempt to sway everyone. We're learning now that the Consolidation doesn't have a centralized public communication network but dozens of them. You can't hijack one node and beam it across the entire planet. At least not unless the government wants to."
The transmission shifts to vibrant visuals with a patriotic undertone: smiling soldiers in crisp uniforms, families enjoying luxurious housing, and young recruits undergoing rigorous yet rewarding training.
"Are you ready to do your part?" a new narrator asks. "To serve your world and species and reap the benefits? The Consolidation honors and cares for its soldiers, but only those committed. Volunteers receive superior welfare packages compared to draftees. This includes premium housing, comprehensive healthcare for the entire family, and substantial financial bonuses."
The screen shows happy families in beautiful homes, enjoying recreational activities, and children attending top-notch schools. The camera then transitions to a bustling military training camp, where recruits are shown receiving top-tier education and skills training.
"Volunteers are also given priority in career advancement and post-service opportunities. With specialized training programs and leadership courses, volunteers can secure high-ranking positions and prestigious assignments, setting them up for success both during and after their service."
The screen displays a series of public celebrations, parades, and ceremonies where volunteers are applauded and awarded for their service, reinforcing the message of honor and prestige.
"Remember, by choosing to volunteer, you are securing a brighter future for yourself and your loved ones and contributing to our great nation's unstoppable progress and invincible spirit. Join the ranks of our proud defenders today!"
The screen fades to the image of the Tixburi flag waving majestically, accompanied by the stirring strains of the orchestral score.
(This message is brought to you by MILITA)
"Again, these appear to be relatively standard recruitment tactics," Roboute remarked as he reviewed the transmissions. "But what stands out is that last point—'Militia.' It sounds like an acronym for something."
"It is," Yvraine confirmed. "Military Intelligence and Logistics for Independent Terrestrial Assignment. Essentially, it's the Consolidation's defense doctrine, similar to what you humans call a 'PDF,' though it seems more focused on bolstering their standing army."
"Why would the Consolidation need something like that?" Roboute wondered aloud. "It's not like they've had issues getting recruits." Then again, if they started losing enough troops en mass, they'd have to find replacements elsewhere. "Hmm, what else did Alcar find?"
The scene opens with a burst of static, then transitions to an underground cavern lit by harsh, artificial lighting. The camera pans across a labyrinth of tunnels and vast chambers filled with massive machines and bustling personnel. The sound of clanking metal and the hum of heavy machinery fills the air, creating a sense of immense activity and industry.
"Welcome back to Tixburi Action News Network!" booms the familiar deep Voice. "Tonight will be a series of special events, so stay tuned to the end. But right now, we will join our intrepid reporter, Lania Korr, as she explores one of the soon-to-be unsealed bunkers of the Therim Enclaves."
The camera cuts to a woman, Lania Korr, a poised and confident reporter dressed in practical, stylish attire. She stands beside a stern-looking military officer; his uniform is unmarked. The cavernous hall behind them stretches into the distance, filled with the silhouettes of colossal machines. Many of them look quite old but are in working condition.
"Thank you, and welcome, viewers," Lania begins, her voice echoing slightly in the vast space, and she seems to be having to yell over the sounds of machines. "I'm here with Colonel Arturus Drakos, who will guide us through this remarkable facility. Colonel, what can you tell us about the incredible machinery housed here?"
Colonel Drakos nods stiffly, looking unhappy about showing off this facility. "This facility is part of the ancient Therim Enclaves, and all the history buffs watching would tell you that the enclaves were sealed under direct orders from the first chairman from before the Great Collapse almost six thousand years ago. For the longest time, only the upper echelons of the military knew what might have been stored inside them. Now we know for certain what lies here."
"And what exactly is that?" Lania asked with intent, "Is it some kind of weapon?"
The Colonel smirked before guiding the crew toward a command center, "See and judge for yourself." The camera shifts to reveal a massive, heavily armored vehicle dominating the cavern's center beyond the command center's windows. It is a towering behemoth with thick armor plating and colossal cannons gleaming under the harsh lights. Engineers and technicians swarm around it like ants over a great carcass.
Lania tried to get a better look at it, "What is it?"
"Records call it the CYCLOPS." Drakos explained, "A Bolo-Class Super-Heavy. The CYCLOPS is a relic from our past, a testament to the engineering prowess of our ancestors. It boasts massive armor and shields, making it nearly impervious to most conventional weapons and even orbital bombardments."
The camera zooms in on the intricate details of the CYCLOPS: its macrocannons and lances positioned along its flanks, bristling with destructive potential. The vehicle exudes an aura of raw power and unyielding strength. "Its primary armament," Drakos says, his voice filled with pride, "is the 200cm Hellbore plasma cannon. Capable of firing up into low orbit, and where the CYCLOPS gets its namesake."
The scene fades to the network's logo, accompanied by the stirring strains of the orchestral score, leaving viewers with a sense of awe and pride in their nation's technological prowess.
"That's it?" Roboute asked, puzzled by the abrupt ending. "Why did it suddenly cut off?"
Yvraine shrugged, her expression inscrutable. "We have no idea. Alcar suspects there's some sort of internal conflict among the Consolidation leadership regarding what should or can be shown to the public due to security concerns."
Roboute considered this, nodding slowly. "Someone must have realized that showing off a super-heavy war machine might be a bad idea. It also suggests that they might suspect someone is listening in. They aren't wrong, which means there's at least one person in the upper echelons of the Consolidation who understands operational security."
His thoughts shifted to the CYCLOPS. "Did Alcar learn anything more about this machine?"
"He did," Yvraine replied, her tone grave. "Don't try to destroy it with anti-orbital fire. It won't work. This war machine can even survive 'exterminatus' munitions."
Roboute was taken aback, his mind racing. "How do you defeat such a thing?" He pondered the challenge, already envisioning a strategy: suppress the CYCLOPS with a massive artillery barrage, use an armored column to enable elite units to close in, and then conduct a boarding operation—a daunting, possibly the only viable, plan.
"I'll need to tell the others about this, probably sooner than the next meeting." He looked expectantly at Yvraine. "This is concerning, alright, but not exactly anger-inducing."
"That's because that isn't the last transmission we received."
The screen flickers with the Tixburi Action News Network emblem before shifting to a grand, imposing courtroom filled with rows of grim-faced officials and spectators. The camera focuses on a grim-faced Astartes. The man has been stripped down to his black carapace and, with a trio of manacles adorned on his wrists, standing defiantly in the defendant's dock. His towering presence and unwavering gaze exude an aura of resolute strength.
The Voice booms excitedly, "Welcome to this special Tixburi Action News Network broadcast, where we bring you the trial of the century! Today, we witness the judgment of one of the captured infiltrators."
A panel of councilors waits in attention while the camera shifts and focuses on a stern-faced judge, who looks down at the marine with disdain and contempt. "Captain Jodan Tavrin of the Ultramarine Legion, you stand accused of crimes against the people of Tixt are nothing short of monstrous. Your very existence, as an Astartes, defies the natural order of humanity. How do you plead?"
Captain Tavrin looks both resigned and at peace with his predicament. A few notice him clenching his fists on and off. The Astartes stands tall, his voice calm and steady as he speaks, "I do not recognize the legitimacy of this court. I've already explained at length that I am human, albeit one that was enhanced, but I know that nothing I say will change the outcome of this farce. My fate is sealed, and your verdict a predetermined absurdity."
He looks at the assembled with a grim smile, "This is a mockery of justice, but I've lived long enough to have seen plenty in my time. You may dress yourself in all the glamor of lords or the officers' uniforms; it matters not to me."
The judge's eyes narrow. "Do you admit your guilt?"
Tavrin's gaze sweeps across the courtroom one more time, meeting the eyes of the officials and spectators. "I am only guilty of serving the Emperor and my Primarch, of fighting to protect humanity. But if you wish to call that a crime, so be it. I regret nothing, and this insult to my honor and those of my brothers and Primarch will be avenged."
The camera zooms in on the judge, who shakes his head. "Let the record show that the accused has confessed to his crimes. Now, Captain Tavrin, do you have any last words before sentencing?"
Tavrin takes a deep breath, his expression unyielding. "People of Tixburi, hear me. You have one last chance to send a surrender to my Primarch and be granted mercy. If you refuse, know that Roboute Guilliman will bring upon your world a fury unlike anything you have witnessed before. You will face the full might of the Ultramarines and the multitudes of those who are allied with us, and there will be no respite, no sanctuary from our wrath. The Lord of Ultramar is a magnanimous and merciful man. Many of those who once called him an enemy now call him a friend and ally. He is not an abomination you believe us to be, nor is he a man with a heart of stone, but an insult of this caliber will not be forgiven."
A murmur ripples through the courtroom as Tavrin's words sink in. The camera captures the officials' reactions, some looking shaken, others furious.
The judge's gavel slams down, silencing the room. "Enough! Your comments will not serve you or frighten us, Tavrin." The judge gives him one last look, "It's clear nothing more needs to be said: Captain Tavrin, you are sentenced to death for your crimes against the Consolidation per the ancient bylaws of humanity. Let your end be a warning to all who would oppose us."
The camera focuses on Tavrin's face one last time, his expression resolute. "Then let it be known that I died warning you of what is to come and that I will not go gently." Tavrin proceeded to spit what appeared to be a corrosive acid upon the manacles binding his wrists.
It all happened so fast that even his guards seemed surprised when the marine broke all three manacles and proceeded to slam his fists into the face of the closest guard, breaking his nose and instantly killing the man before another was stabbed in the jugular by what looked to be a writing tool. Panic erupted in the courtroom as confused guards tried desperately to converge on the marine.
Suddenly, the screen fades to the emblem of the Tixburi Action News Network once more, accompanied by the Voice. "Err, it looks like there was a bit of an issue on the other end. Anyway, a stark reminder of the unwavering resolve of our leaders and the consequences for those who dare to challenge our righteous cause. Stay tuned for further updates on the continuing triumphs of the Consolidation."
Roboute stared at the end of the transmission in silence before speaking, "Captain Tavrin survived?" The Primarch swore, "When was that transmission aired?"
"A month ago," Yvraine admitted with a frown, "I'm sorry, Roboute. He didn't survive that event, though I imagine his intention was never to escape but to die with honor."
"Aye," Roboute nodded, "And once I get him and the other fallen back, I'll see them receive full honors on Macragge." The Primarch fell silent, contemplating what might have transpired during those months in captivity. Jodan and any others captured were undoubtedly tortured.
The thought of his son, an officer and veteran of the legion, paraded before a mockery of a court and labeled a criminal filled Roboute with a cold fury rather than simple anger. Yvraine had expected anger, but this was something deeper.
"Can you ask Alcar to divine as much information as possible on where Captain Tavrin and other Astartes or Imperials might have been taken?" Roboute asked suddenly. "We need to determine just how much information they gleaned on Astartes physiology, weapons, tactics—everything."
Yvraine nodded, "It'll probably cost you another favor with him, but I should be able to convince him to make it a minor one. Anything else?"
"Names," Roboute remarked, his eyes cold, "I need the names of those who personally hurt my sons."
Among this massive coalition were all manner of marines brought in from the exchange program, and as such, you were likely to find a few smaller squads operating under the general command structure of their host legion. It was rare for anyone to be personally summoned to a Primarch's office, let alone someone from the 8th Legion.
Headsman Bazua wondered if he or his Executioners had done something wrong. Perhaps a particularly heinous murder had been committed, and he was being called in to assist...or to take the blame. He was the lead officer of Terror Squad Cobra, a unit with a dark reputation typical of the Night Lords.
All of them were headhunters and torturers, flayers, and mutilators. Within the ranks of the Terror Squads were found both the most coldly dispassionate and darkly imaginative of the Night Lords' brethren. There was truth to these words. Bazua had done terrible things to the enemies of man and the Imperium, but such was their duty.
Still, Bazua answered the summons. One doesn't say 'no' to a Primarch. When he arrived outside Roboute Guilliman's office and saw only the standard honor guard, Bazua figured this was going to be a somewhat productive meeting.
When he stepped inside, the Primarch was sitting at his desk, surrounded by an almost comical number of reports. He glanced up to see Bazua and gave a stiff nod to the Headsman. "Take a seat, sergeant. I'll be with you in a minute."
"Yes, Lord Guilliman." Bazua sat as instructed and looked around at the Lord of Ultramar's pristine, tidy, organized work chambers. A bit too stuffy for his taste, but Bazua grew up in squalor on Nostramo. Lords and counts were often no different from the gangs—one just happened to have a bit more finesse in their ways of murder.
True to his word, the Primarch looked down at Bazua a minute later and said, "I'll get straight to the point: I have a mission for your Terror Squad."
"I see," Bazua remarked quietly. "What can the Cobras do for you, Lord Primarch?"
Guilliman pulled out a data chit and tossed it to the marine, who deftly caught it. "That chit contains a list of names, a location with coordinates, a time and schedule, and information on the security detail of a convoy that I wish for your squad to intercept."
Bazua saw that the chit was quite detailed when he inserted it into his data slate. It was a difficult but straightforward assignment. Hence, he wondered why the Cobras were given it when the Primarch could have called upon his sons.
"Begging pardon, Lord Guilliman," Bazua began quietly, "I am confused as to why you wish for my squad to handle this. I am told that you have your own detachment of covert Ultramarines now, along with the sons of Corax, to call upon for such matters."
Guilliman nodded. "I do, but I'm looking to make a point toward the Consolidation," he said tightly. "The names on that list are for a group of scientists, doctors, and officers involved in the torture of my sons who were captured after the incident that started this whole war. They have details on Astartes, which could be an issue for our forces if disseminated among their military. You are going to ensure that data is retrieved, all physical copies destroyed, and everyone involved either captured or killed."
"Captured?" Bazua was surprised. "That's a tall order."
"I know," Guilliman acknowledged. "That is why I am not making it a requirement for this mission; it is merely an added bonus. You'll be personally rewarded if your forces can bring back anyone from this group. If you bring back the project leader, Doctor Steinoc, I'll gladly gift Konrad and Vulkan something for your efforts."
A potentially great payout was in store. "Still looks risky for retrieval."
"Hence, you have my blessing to..." Guilliman paused, then continued, "Make examples of them."
"You are aware of what that entails?" Bazua warned. "Doing such a thing this early, and against a foe that seems quite confident and motivated to fight, will only galvanize them when they come across the bodies. Our tactics work best against a world without the stomach for this sort of thing."
Guilliman met Bazua's gaze with a cold intensity. "I am aware. But sometimes, a brutal lesson is necessary to instill fear and respect. Ensure they understand the price of trying to humiliate an Astartes under a false pretense of justice."
"As you say." Bazua didn't know what happened exactly, but he was always up to destroy anyone who tried to use justice for their own twisted ends. "It'll be carried out then. Anything else?"
He nodded and then grabbed a small device from his desk. It looked like Archeotech. "Record everything. When you are done, deliver and insert the recording into a network node at this location. It'll be unsecured, but only for a few hours."
"What's that node for?"
"A broadcasting channel used by the Tixburi Action News Network." Bazua blinked at hearing how far the Primarch wanted to take it, but the Headsman nodded. It didn't take much for Bazua to realize the demigod before him was very angry. Angry and vengeful. Some slights were just too much, even for a good man.
---
@Daemon Hunter This omake took way longer than it needed.
On the Macragge's Honour…
Private Chambers of Roboute Guilliman…
The hour of war was approaching, though still months away. However, that did not mean there wasn't work to be done. Roboute was buried in preparation and planning, even with his brothers and allied generals sharing the workload. The Primarch could handle it all as long as he rested.
Yvraine ensured he did. But even she brought him new problems. "You should know something has happened on Tixburi that requires your attention." The couple had just finished dinner, and it was unusual for her to bring up work-related topics at such a time.
He was surprised by the announcement. "Very well. Why not mention it during the last command briefing?"
"I only received the information a few hours ago. I wanted to review some finer details before presenting them to the others," Yvraine said pensively. "Some details are concerning, but one in particular will anger you."
More complications, then. "None of this sounds good. Is it that bad?"
Yvraine nodded. "It is. However, there might be a silver lining."
Pulling out a small Aeldari data chit, Yvraine inserted it into Roboute's personal command console. "The Consolidation seems to know they are about to be attacked, but we don't think they know when or to what extent. They are, however, getting their population worked up. One of the Eldar ships monitoring Tixburi has just sent back a series of burst transmissions broadcast across the planet: news reports and propaganda. But there are elements of truth that the Farseer could glean."
"I'm surprised Alcar was willing to sit through many news media reports for us."
She gave him a placid smile, "Yes, about that, he told me to tell you that you now owe him a personal favor for having to sit through 'three hours of drivel' and that humanity has no concept of delivering the news without some sort of inane showmanship."
"Of course…"
A brief storm of static plays out before it suddenly cuts to a montage of images: Tixburi landscapes, soldiers marching, citizens cheering, and impressive military hardware on display, all while a powerful orchestral score with pounding drums and heroic trumpets sets the stage for a seemingly triumphant message.
"Welcome to the Tixburi Action News Network!" A deep, booming voice, sounding almost like an augmented human, fills the air with enthusiasm as the Tixburi Action News Network broadcast begins, "Your beacon of truth, justice, and the indomitable spirit of the Consolidation! I am the Voice of Information."
The camera zooms into a sleek, futuristic newsroom with high-tech holographic displays, where a stern-looking male anchor takes center stage, who appears to be hooked up to an apparatus. "Now, then, let's get started. Our first story today is on the recent quota achievement at two of our top production facilities, which have seen an almost 4.6% increase in production!"
The transmission switches to a dazzling display of industrial might: massive factory complexes churning weapons and equipment, proud soldiers training in state-of-the-art facilities, and vast fields filled with the latest mechanized and aerial warfare technology for Tixburi.
"Director Jong has proclaimed that the recent introduction of the performance-enhancing drug XP-09, or BlueJoy, is responsible for this remarkable output, and only 25% of workers have reported heart palpitations when using it."
Footage shifts to medical workers handing out the drugs to a line of workers before transitioning to scenes of highly motivated and proud employees in assembly lines, engineers overseeing military hardware construction, and machines loading equipment onto military vehicles. The message is clear: Tixburi's war machine isn't stopping anytime soon, and its people are determined to do their part for the war effort.
"Another success for our scientists and doctors, working just as hard as you and I in keeping the machine running. Remember, every hand that builds, every mind that innovates, and every heart that beats for the Consolidation contributes to our unstoppable progress! Remember, together, we are unstoppable!"
"Bombastic and useless, save for the fact that they seem to have some sort of drug that allows for more productive workers. Nothing new, even for the Imperium. What stood out was how streamlined and advanced everything looked."
"That transmission was beamed toward a local sector, not the planet as a whole, so it wasn't an attempt to sway everyone. We're learning now that the Consolidation doesn't have a centralized public communication network but dozens of them. You can't hijack one node and beam it across the entire planet. At least not unless the government wants to."
The transmission shifts to vibrant visuals with a patriotic undertone: smiling soldiers in crisp uniforms, families enjoying luxurious housing, and young recruits undergoing rigorous yet rewarding training.
"Are you ready to do your part?" a new narrator asks. "To serve your world and species and reap the benefits? The Consolidation honors and cares for its soldiers, but only those committed. Volunteers receive superior welfare packages compared to draftees. This includes premium housing, comprehensive healthcare for the entire family, and substantial financial bonuses."
The screen shows happy families in beautiful homes, enjoying recreational activities, and children attending top-notch schools. The camera then transitions to a bustling military training camp, where recruits are shown receiving top-tier education and skills training.
"Volunteers are also given priority in career advancement and post-service opportunities. With specialized training programs and leadership courses, volunteers can secure high-ranking positions and prestigious assignments, setting them up for success both during and after their service."
The screen displays a series of public celebrations, parades, and ceremonies where volunteers are applauded and awarded for their service, reinforcing the message of honor and prestige.
"Remember, by choosing to volunteer, you are securing a brighter future for yourself and your loved ones and contributing to our great nation's unstoppable progress and invincible spirit. Join the ranks of our proud defenders today!"
The screen fades to the image of the Tixburi flag waving majestically, accompanied by the stirring strains of the orchestral score.
(This message is brought to you by MILITA)
"Again, these appear to be relatively standard recruitment tactics," Roboute remarked as he reviewed the transmissions. "But what stands out is that last point—'Militia.' It sounds like an acronym for something."
"It is," Yvraine confirmed. "Military Intelligence and Logistics for Independent Terrestrial Assignment. Essentially, it's the Consolidation's defense doctrine, similar to what you humans call a 'PDF,' though it seems more focused on bolstering their standing army."
"Why would the Consolidation need something like that?" Roboute wondered aloud. "It's not like they've had issues getting recruits." Then again, if they started losing enough troops en mass, they'd have to find replacements elsewhere. "Hmm, what else did Alcar find?"
The scene opens with a burst of static, then transitions to an underground cavern lit by harsh, artificial lighting. The camera pans across a labyrinth of tunnels and vast chambers filled with massive machines and bustling personnel. The sound of clanking metal and the hum of heavy machinery fills the air, creating a sense of immense activity and industry.
"Welcome back to Tixburi Action News Network!" booms the familiar deep Voice. "Tonight will be a series of special events, so stay tuned to the end. But right now, we will join our intrepid reporter, Lania Korr, as she explores one of the soon-to-be unsealed bunkers of the Therim Enclaves."
The camera cuts to a woman, Lania Korr, a poised and confident reporter dressed in practical, stylish attire. She stands beside a stern-looking military officer; his uniform is unmarked. The cavernous hall behind them stretches into the distance, filled with the silhouettes of colossal machines. Many of them look quite old but are in working condition.
"Thank you, and welcome, viewers," Lania begins, her voice echoing slightly in the vast space, and she seems to be having to yell over the sounds of machines. "I'm here with Colonel Arturus Drakos, who will guide us through this remarkable facility. Colonel, what can you tell us about the incredible machinery housed here?"
Colonel Drakos nods stiffly, looking unhappy about showing off this facility. "This facility is part of the ancient Therim Enclaves, and all the history buffs watching would tell you that the enclaves were sealed under direct orders from the first chairman from before the Great Collapse almost six thousand years ago. For the longest time, only the upper echelons of the military knew what might have been stored inside them. Now we know for certain what lies here."
"And what exactly is that?" Lania asked with intent, "Is it some kind of weapon?"
The Colonel smirked before guiding the crew toward a command center, "See and judge for yourself." The camera shifts to reveal a massive, heavily armored vehicle dominating the cavern's center beyond the command center's windows. It is a towering behemoth with thick armor plating and colossal cannons gleaming under the harsh lights. Engineers and technicians swarm around it like ants over a great carcass.
Lania tried to get a better look at it, "What is it?"
"Records call it the CYCLOPS." Drakos explained, "A Bolo-Class Super-Heavy. The CYCLOPS is a relic from our past, a testament to the engineering prowess of our ancestors. It boasts massive armor and shields, making it nearly impervious to most conventional weapons and even orbital bombardments."
The camera zooms in on the intricate details of the CYCLOPS: its macrocannons and lances positioned along its flanks, bristling with destructive potential. The vehicle exudes an aura of raw power and unyielding strength. "Its primary armament," Drakos says, his voice filled with pride, "is the 200cm Hellbore plasma cannon. Capable of firing up into low orbit, and where the CYCLOPS gets its namesake."
The scene fades to the network's logo, accompanied by the stirring strains of the orchestral score, leaving viewers with a sense of awe and pride in their nation's technological prowess.
"That's it?" Roboute asked, puzzled by the abrupt ending. "Why did it suddenly cut off?"
Yvraine shrugged, her expression inscrutable. "We have no idea. Alcar suspects there's some sort of internal conflict among the Consolidation leadership regarding what should or can be shown to the public due to security concerns."
Roboute considered this, nodding slowly. "Someone must have realized that showing off a super-heavy war machine might be a bad idea. It also suggests that they might suspect someone is listening in. They aren't wrong, which means there's at least one person in the upper echelons of the Consolidation who understands operational security."
His thoughts shifted to the CYCLOPS. "Did Alcar learn anything more about this machine?"
"He did," Yvraine replied, her tone grave. "Don't try to destroy it with anti-orbital fire. It won't work. This war machine can even survive 'exterminatus' munitions."
Roboute was taken aback, his mind racing. "How do you defeat such a thing?" He pondered the challenge, already envisioning a strategy: suppress the CYCLOPS with a massive artillery barrage, use an armored column to enable elite units to close in, and then conduct a boarding operation—a daunting, possibly the only viable, plan.
"I'll need to tell the others about this, probably sooner than the next meeting." He looked expectantly at Yvraine. "This is concerning, alright, but not exactly anger-inducing."
"That's because that isn't the last transmission we received."
The screen flickers with the Tixburi Action News Network emblem before shifting to a grand, imposing courtroom filled with rows of grim-faced officials and spectators. The camera focuses on a grim-faced Astartes. The man has been stripped down to his black carapace and, with a trio of manacles adorned on his wrists, standing defiantly in the defendant's dock. His towering presence and unwavering gaze exude an aura of resolute strength.
The Voice booms excitedly, "Welcome to this special Tixburi Action News Network broadcast, where we bring you the trial of the century! Today, we witness the judgment of one of the captured infiltrators."
A panel of councilors waits in attention while the camera shifts and focuses on a stern-faced judge, who looks down at the marine with disdain and contempt. "Captain Jodan Tavrin of the Ultramarine Legion, you stand accused of crimes against the people of Tixt are nothing short of monstrous. Your very existence, as an Astartes, defies the natural order of humanity. How do you plead?"
Captain Tavrin looks both resigned and at peace with his predicament. A few notice him clenching his fists on and off. The Astartes stands tall, his voice calm and steady as he speaks, "I do not recognize the legitimacy of this court. I've already explained at length that I am human, albeit one that was enhanced, but I know that nothing I say will change the outcome of this farce. My fate is sealed, and your verdict a predetermined absurdity."
He looks at the assembled with a grim smile, "This is a mockery of justice, but I've lived long enough to have seen plenty in my time. You may dress yourself in all the glamor of lords or the officers' uniforms; it matters not to me."
The judge's eyes narrow. "Do you admit your guilt?"
Tavrin's gaze sweeps across the courtroom one more time, meeting the eyes of the officials and spectators. "I am only guilty of serving the Emperor and my Primarch, of fighting to protect humanity. But if you wish to call that a crime, so be it. I regret nothing, and this insult to my honor and those of my brothers and Primarch will be avenged."
The camera zooms in on the judge, who shakes his head. "Let the record show that the accused has confessed to his crimes. Now, Captain Tavrin, do you have any last words before sentencing?"
Tavrin takes a deep breath, his expression unyielding. "People of Tixburi, hear me. You have one last chance to send a surrender to my Primarch and be granted mercy. If you refuse, know that Roboute Guilliman will bring upon your world a fury unlike anything you have witnessed before. You will face the full might of the Ultramarines and the multitudes of those who are allied with us, and there will be no respite, no sanctuary from our wrath. The Lord of Ultramar is a magnanimous and merciful man. Many of those who once called him an enemy now call him a friend and ally. He is not an abomination you believe us to be, nor is he a man with a heart of stone, but an insult of this caliber will not be forgiven."
A murmur ripples through the courtroom as Tavrin's words sink in. The camera captures the officials' reactions, some looking shaken, others furious.
The judge's gavel slams down, silencing the room. "Enough! Your comments will not serve you or frighten us, Tavrin." The judge gives him one last look, "It's clear nothing more needs to be said: Captain Tavrin, you are sentenced to death for your crimes against the Consolidation per the ancient bylaws of humanity. Let your end be a warning to all who would oppose us."
The camera focuses on Tavrin's face one last time, his expression resolute. "Then let it be known that I died warning you of what is to come and that I will not go gently." Tavrin proceeded to spit what appeared to be a corrosive acid upon the manacles binding his wrists.
It all happened so fast that even his guards seemed surprised when the marine broke all three manacles and proceeded to slam his fists into the face of the closest guard, breaking his nose and instantly killing the man before another was stabbed in the jugular by what looked to be a writing tool. Panic erupted in the courtroom as confused guards tried desperately to converge on the marine.
Suddenly, the screen fades to the emblem of the Tixburi Action News Network once more, accompanied by the Voice. "Err, it looks like there was a bit of an issue on the other end. Anyway, a stark reminder of the unwavering resolve of our leaders and the consequences for those who dare to challenge our righteous cause. Stay tuned for further updates on the continuing triumphs of the Consolidation."
Roboute stared at the end of the transmission in silence before speaking, "Captain Tavrin survived?" The Primarch swore, "When was that transmission aired?"
"A month ago," Yvraine admitted with a frown, "I'm sorry, Roboute. He didn't survive that event, though I imagine his intention was never to escape but to die with honor."
"Aye," Roboute nodded, "And once I get him and the other fallen back, I'll see them receive full honors on Macragge." The Primarch fell silent, contemplating what might have transpired during those months in captivity. Jodan and any others captured were undoubtedly tortured.
The thought of his son, an officer and veteran of the legion, paraded before a mockery of a court and labeled a criminal filled Roboute with a cold fury rather than simple anger. Yvraine had expected anger, but this was something deeper.
"Can you ask Alcar to divine as much information as possible on where Captain Tavrin and other Astartes or Imperials might have been taken?" Roboute asked suddenly. "We need to determine just how much information they gleaned on Astartes physiology, weapons, tactics—everything."
Yvraine nodded, "It'll probably cost you another favor with him, but I should be able to convince him to make it a minor one. Anything else?"
"Names," Roboute remarked, his eyes cold, "I need the names of those who personally hurt my sons."
Among this massive coalition were all manner of marines brought in from the exchange program, and as such, you were likely to find a few smaller squads operating under the general command structure of their host legion. It was rare for anyone to be personally summoned to a Primarch's office, let alone someone from the 8th Legion.
Headsman Bazua wondered if he or his Executioners had done something wrong. Perhaps a particularly heinous murder had been committed, and he was being called in to assist...or to take the blame. He was the lead officer of Terror Squad Cobra, a unit with a dark reputation typical of the Night Lords.
All of them were headhunters and torturers, flayers, and mutilators. Within the ranks of the Terror Squads were found both the most coldly dispassionate and darkly imaginative of the Night Lords' brethren. There was truth to these words. Bazua had done terrible things to the enemies of man and the Imperium, but such was their duty.
Still, Bazua answered the summons. One doesn't say 'no' to a Primarch. When he arrived outside Roboute Guilliman's office and saw only the standard honor guard, Bazua figured this was going to be a somewhat productive meeting.
When he stepped inside, the Primarch was sitting at his desk, surrounded by an almost comical number of reports. He glanced up to see Bazua and gave a stiff nod to the Headsman. "Take a seat, sergeant. I'll be with you in a minute."
"Yes, Lord Guilliman." Bazua sat as instructed and looked around at the Lord of Ultramar's pristine, tidy, organized work chambers. A bit too stuffy for his taste, but Bazua grew up in squalor on Nostramo. Lords and counts were often no different from the gangs—one just happened to have a bit more finesse in their ways of murder.
True to his word, the Primarch looked down at Bazua a minute later and said, "I'll get straight to the point: I have a mission for your Terror Squad."
"I see," Bazua remarked quietly. "What can the Cobras do for you, Lord Primarch?"
Guilliman pulled out a data chit and tossed it to the marine, who deftly caught it. "That chit contains a list of names, a location with coordinates, a time and schedule, and information on the security detail of a convoy that I wish for your squad to intercept."
Bazua saw that the chit was quite detailed when he inserted it into his data slate. It was a difficult but straightforward assignment. Hence, he wondered why the Cobras were given it when the Primarch could have called upon his sons.
"Begging pardon, Lord Guilliman," Bazua began quietly, "I am confused as to why you wish for my squad to handle this. I am told that you have your own detachment of covert Ultramarines now, along with the sons of Corax, to call upon for such matters."
Guilliman nodded. "I do, but I'm looking to make a point toward the Consolidation," he said tightly. "The names on that list are for a group of scientists, doctors, and officers involved in the torture of my sons who were captured after the incident that started this whole war. They have details on Astartes, which could be an issue for our forces if disseminated among their military. You are going to ensure that data is retrieved, all physical copies destroyed, and everyone involved either captured or killed."
"Captured?" Bazua was surprised. "That's a tall order."
"I know," Guilliman acknowledged. "That is why I am not making it a requirement for this mission; it is merely an added bonus. You'll be personally rewarded if your forces can bring back anyone from this group. If you bring back the project leader, Doctor Steinoc, I'll gladly gift Konrad and Vulkan something for your efforts."
A potentially great payout was in store. "Still looks risky for retrieval."
"Hence, you have my blessing to..." Guilliman paused, then continued, "Make examples of them."
"You are aware of what that entails?" Bazua warned. "Doing such a thing this early, and against a foe that seems quite confident and motivated to fight, will only galvanize them when they come across the bodies. Our tactics work best against a world without the stomach for this sort of thing."
Guilliman met Bazua's gaze with a cold intensity. "I am aware. But sometimes, a brutal lesson is necessary to instill fear and respect. Ensure they understand the price of trying to humiliate an Astartes under a false pretense of justice."
"As you say." Bazua didn't know what happened exactly, but he was always up to destroy anyone who tried to use justice for their own twisted ends. "It'll be carried out then. Anything else?"
He nodded and then grabbed a small device from his desk. It looked like Archeotech. "Record everything. When you are done, deliver and insert the recording into a network node at this location. It'll be unsecured, but only for a few hours."
"What's that node for?"
"A broadcasting channel used by the Tixburi Action News Network." Bazua blinked at hearing how far the Primarch wanted to take it, but the Headsman nodded. It didn't take much for Bazua to realize the demigod before him was very angry. Angry and vengeful. Some slights were just too much, even for a good man.
---
@Daemon Hunter This omake took way longer than it needed.
Hey Leman, I am happy to report that Roboute Gulliman has in fact found a way to make a Piss Water you will enjoy. It's called Pure Rage.
- Location
- CABA
He is the AVENGING BEAN-COUNTER, for a reason
Complications
Complications
Waystation Ultra…
Command and Control Deck…
The average soldier often found waiting during the preparation phase of war to be one of the hardest parts. Frustration and laxity could easily arise if they weren't training or keeping themselves occupied.
For the officers, the situation was different. They were responsible for maintaining camp readiness and discipline at peak levels, ensuring everything was in place when deployment orders arrived. This was a stressful task, often making them unpopular among the rank-and-file soldiers.
The real tension lies at the top among the commanders planning the war. Here, egos clashed, plans were reworked, arguments were common, and compromise was a last resort. War on this scale couldn't be planned in a vacuum; it required the collective effort of human officers, alien lords, Astartes captains, Primarchs, and even a pair of gods.
Naturally, this was a time-consuming and herculean effort. "Exhausting" didn't even describe how Roboute felt after these meetings. It wasn't due to incompetence or head-butting but because too many brilliant minds couldn't agree on how to wage this war.
"We don't have the resources for a lengthy siege," Orbán remarked, addressing a dozen officers as he sipped his brandy while studying a simulation of Tixburi's surface. "Half of the primary objectives will be agonizing to take. I know this council wants to avoid orbital bombardment, but might I suggest sacrificing one objective to ease our burden?"
Kelsan looked conflicted. "Every one of these objectives is too vital to simply bomb, but getting bogged down in a siege is unthinkable. Tempo, tempo, tempo, my friends. The first to lose that loses the initiative."
"Unfortunately, that is going to happen," Eidolon remarked bitterly. "This gods-forsaken world might as well have been born from Perturabo's brutalist fortress designs. We'll be fighting for every meter. We should accept that half of our non-Astartes forces will likely die in the first phase."
Alden, looking spent, sat across from the others, resting his head on his hand while his eyes scanned the simulation. "Everything will be decided by boots on the ground and probably above. The Astartes can't be everywhere but must drive the entire campaign." He sighed, nodding. "Tempo, tempo, tempo," he echoed Kelsan's mantra.
"Not unless we can get enough resupply on the ground," Thiel retorted, shaking his head. "It can't work without taking serious casualties. We'll struggle to make any meaningful push if we lose the legion contingents. We can't afford to get bogged down, even if a siege seems the better option."
"Tell that to the average trooper when half his company is dead, and the other half is losing morale," Orbán said, drawing back to his experience in the Maelstrom. "Momentum will be lost. If our goal is to maintain it, an Astartes push is the only viable option."
Gabriel Santar, who had been silent for most of the meeting, finally said, "We need to concentrate our efforts. No spreading ourselves thin. One location must feel the full weight of the invasion."
"We need the Yangzi Facilities taken within a day," Alden remarked, now more attentive. "The Primarch and his task force can handle that. So, where does that leave us?"
"The Musicbox," rumbled Amadeus DuCaine, the Iron Hands Lord Commander. "The damn Eldar is right: we can't be going in blind and deaf."
Orbán shook his head, gesturing towards Spaceport Victor Alpha. "We can't land there. If we'll be stuck fighting down there, we need to take Victor Alpha. It's out of the range of the ICBMs and Thor's Hammer. That's our ticket to landing our armor and super-heavies within the first 48 hours."
Gabriel Santar pointed out, "If you ignore that, it's also next to Megablock 372 and Fortress Foundry Delta, which means hordes of mechanized infantry attacking our landing zones within a few hours. That's assuming we can even take the spaceport in time. Even if we devote enough Astartes to taking the spaceport, it'll still be hours before we can get troops down there."
Keeper Chakrin looked expectantly at Menethanil. "Lord Exarch, how fast could your dragons construct a fortress if pressed for time?" Everyone knew the Dragons could build a small fortress in a few hours, but this would ask them to create a large one in the same timeframe and under enemy attack.
Menethanil didn't seem too concerned. "It will be subpar and lacking our usual quality, but we can have a sufficiently large one summoned within half a day at the spaceport."
"So what?" Alden asked the assembled officers. "Two-thirds of the marines get drop-podded onto the spaceport, and we leave the rest for the other objectives? Not to belittle the capabilities of our Astartes allies, but I haven't seen any indication that the three legions are fast attack or highly reactive beyond what is afforded to them by being Astartes."
"We could support those companies with Valorons and Hanrao," Thiel suggested, but Kelsan looked unhappy.
"My marines are eager to prove themselves working with the spear-tip of this invasion. Besides, we aren't eager to work with alien units." Such a sentiment was shared by many of the assembled.
Kaesoron countered, "We all need to adjust to conditions that aren't ideal, but I have faith your marines can get over working with xenos. Besides, they can take a vital strategic point, which would be an honor and gain substantial glory."
The debate continued, with everyone trying to determine the next course of action or finding ways to soothe remaining egos. Most of the minutiae involving specific regiment placement or officer appointments were handled in the background, with approvals effectively delegated to subcommanders and lieutenants. It was an unequivocal nightmare of backroom dealings, arrangements, and even a few duels and fights.
But that wasn't important for the true masters of this war—at least, not in this instance. The Primarch Triumvirate had merely been watching the proceedings and discussions for today, communicating quietly among themselves about how to conduct this entire blasted war. All the while, the two gods stood by, offering counsel and words of wisdom to the three brothers.
Morningstar and Ferrus Manus discussed the finer points of waging this campaign, while Fulgrim and Venus seemed to be engaged in a protracted debate over one thing or another. This left Roboute to tally everything spoken in his head and fit everything into a timetable of his own planning. Plots within plots, as it were.
So far, everything was going according to plan, and the war council was finalizing the first phase of the invasion. The second and third phases would be easier to arrange, but only after the first phase concluded—surviving and winning were the immediate priorities. They had to just get through toward that end.
As Roboute listened and mentally recorded everything, he almost didn't notice Yvraine's arrival at the command center. She had a pensive look in her eyes and hurriedly strode over to speak with the Lord of Ultramar. Most would have shown more caution or respect approaching not just him but his brothers and two gods, along with the assembled honor guard, but the Emissary had the freedom to pass without having to announce or prostrate herself before them.
However, it caused a bit of a stir when she flagrantly approached the Primarch's throne and gestured for him to lower himself to hear her speak. "There's been a complication," Yvraine started bluntly but quietly. "The Consolidation sent out a fleet within the last two hours. Destination and purpose are unknown."
"Gods have mercy. How did Alcar not know this was happening before it left?" Roboute asked, trying to mask his frustration.
"We aren't sure, but I have a theory," Yvraine answered. "More on that later. One of our vessels, the Shadow of Reckoning, which was monitoring Tixburi, noticed a series of what we assumed to be picket fleets suddenly converge together and form a flotilla before entering the warp."
"And we have no idea where this flotilla is going or what their objective is?" Roboute pressed.
Yvraine shook her head. "Alcar's working on that now, but we have to assume they are moving either to attack the Accord again or those nearby Imperial worlds."
"Or both," Roboute added, already seeing the severity of the situation. "The Consolidation ships might not have navigators and are slow, but they aren't stopped by anything short of a full warp storm."
This knowledge had made Roboute and the others believe they had some time before another offensive by the Consolidation. But it seemed that assumption was a mistake. Now, they had no idea where the blasted ships were heading.
Deciding it was time to inform the rest of the war council, Roboute knew they had to get on top of this. "Are there any Aeldari ships that can move ahead of the attack force and possibly warn any worlds that might be targeted?"
"They can try," Yvraine responded, though she didn't look too sure. "But the problem will be if anyone listens."
Roboute knew that most Imperials wouldn't care to listen to alien "lies" or might fear that doing so would lead to accusations of treason from the Imperium. "Then let's hope that wiser heads prevail."
Two weeks later…
Despite the Eldar's warnings, the attacks by the Consolidation were a foregone conclusion. Nothing could have prevented the devastation that followed. When Alcar determined the targets, the attacks had already begun, four to six hours after the Consolidation fleet splintered into several task forces.
Roboute soon realized that the offensive aimed to disrupt logistical and command lines across the Gaunzi Nebula sectors, and the Consolidation had achieved this objective.
First was the destruction of Draven's Field, an ancient and prosperous agri-world that the Imperium had brought into compliance a decade ago. Its rich soil and seemingly endless rivers and grasslands made it perfect for crop cultivation. Yet now, nothing would grow on its surface for millennia.
The assault on Draven's Field was swift and brutal. The Imperial Armada defense fleet was caught completely off guard and destroyed by the superior range of the Consolidation ships. Massive bombardments from orbit shattered the planet, followed by precision strikes on key agricultural facilities and population centers. Within hours, the agri-world was reduced to a barren wasteland.
A truly catastrophic development. Draven's Field had been the breadbasket for numerous Imperial worlds within the Gaunzi Nebula, and its destruction set off a chain reaction of food shortages and rising unrest.
Next came the conflict on Calvus Prime, a relatively unremarkable hive world. The Consolidation fleet arrived at a random location, a staging ground for the Imperial Army forces being sent toward Roboute's coalition. Perhaps the Consolidation sought to annihilate a large encampment of Imperials, but emboldened by the opportunity, they launched a full-scale assault.
While caught flat-footed, a small cadre of Lord-Generals and Admirals organized the defense, allowing the Imperial Army a chance to fight back. Anti-orbital defenses blazed to life, and entrenched Imperial Army regiments repelled the initial landings with heavy casualties. The Consolidation forces soon found themselves bogged down in a brutal, drawn-out conflict with Repurposed Units.
While the battle on Calvus Prime raged, the Imperial government suffered greatly due to the diversion of defenders and resources. In a daring move, the Consolidation launched a series of coordinated assassination attempts on multiple sector lord governors across the Gaunzi Nebula. These assassins deployed via a series of stealth corvettes, and more damningly, they found assistance from local recidivists and nascent gamma camps.
The assassins struck with precision and deadly efficiency, eliminating no fewer than a dozen sector lords and their replacements, 109 planetary governors and their families, and 975 members of the Adeptus Terra, Administratum, and Telepathica, plunging the affected sectors into chaos. With the power vacuum created, various gamma camps—comprising lower-tier officials, rebel conspirators, and opportunists—rose up, vying for control.
The sudden upheaval destabilized the Imperial command structure, leading to infighting and fragmentation. Civil unrest broke out as different factions sought to consolidate their power, weakening the Gaunzi Nebula's ability to respond to external threats. The Imperium's response was hampered by the need to restore order and re-establish control, diverting vital resources and attention away from the Primarch's coalition.
Finally, a Consolidation task force launched a bold attack on Axilon, a core world of the Ixopon Accord. Their initial assault overwhelmed the outer defenses, allowing ground forces to land and initiate a brutal xenocidal campaign. The Accord's response was swift, but the damage had already been done. Axilon infrastructure was heavily damaged, and key military installations and cities were destroyed.
The attack sent shockwaves through the Accord, highlighting its vulnerability and forcing its member states to scramble to send relief and aid while shoring up their defenses. The Consolidation's audacious move demonstrated their reach and willingness to strike at the heart of their enemies, sowing fear and uncertainty among the Accord's population.
All this was to say that Primarch Guilliman suddenly had his work cut out for him.
Waystation Ultra…
Command and Control Deck…
The command staff felt a sense of controlled pandemonium over this offensive and its implications for the invasion, particularly regarding the cost of resources and soldiers. More importantly, the question of what to do next hung heavily over the assembly.
Everyone was focused on the holo-projector displaying data readings and reports of the situation within the Gaunzi Nebula, and it was looking grim.
"We just lost 20 additional regiments at Calvus Prime," Marius began, "including two armor regiments and one heavy-siege company. The remaining 27 are engaged in heavy fighting across six different hives in open rebellion and filled with Repurposed Units. It will take years to restore order, and in the meantime, a famine will likely start, and a gamma camp will take root."
The Chapter Master switched to a projection of the famine next. "Draven's Field supported about 30% of the food supply for four sectors and about 10% for everything in the Gaunzi Nebula. This might not seem much, but the supply chains, followed by the instability caused by the assassinations, have seen food production drop by almost 50%. If the chaos spreads, that number will shrink further, impacting fuel and medicine distribution. We should be lucky that the Mechanicum was spared from this; otherwise, we'd have seen entire industries grind to a halt."
Next was a projection of the attack on Axilon. "The Accord is panicking. Our representative fears they and their Patlabors will be recalled to defend their homeworlds. In short, we are about to lose our Titan support."
Finally, the projection on the overall stability of the Gaunzi Nebula was made: "As of right now, nine sectors are currently without a centralized leadership. The local Adeptus Terra has formally declared a state of emergency, and the Administraum will likely take a generation to get back on its feet. There are no less than 56 of these Gamma Camps, many of which are made up from across the ideological spectrum. No one knows who is in charge, and once the population of these worlds learns what's happened, there will be more chaos."
The projection faded, leaving a tense silence. Alden looked dismayed at their situation. "I don't wish to sound too glib here, but the Consolidation just struck the first real blow against us, and the war hasn't even officially started yet."
"I thought the Eldar could use their witchcraft to know their strategies?" Eidolon whirled toward Menethanil. "Or did the Farseer simply neglect to tell us?"
The Exarch narrowed his eyes. "Hardly. And I would be careful when making such accusations. Besides, the Emissary advised the Primarch of what she suspects happened."
"She did," Roboute announced from his throne as all eyes turned to him. "The Consolidation leadership must have determined that we are part of an Eldar ploy and subsequently decided to strategize within the confines of Section 8. Morningstar has also confirmed that this was a tactic employed by the Old Federation to counter the Eldar's 'psy-spying,' and orders were likely sent out via a memetic transmitter. No one knows their orders until the last minute. This obfuscates divination attempts because while the future can be glimpsed, it cannot be considered fully realized if all the actors involved aren't given their roles to carry out."
Roboute would have to ask the Laughing God about this later. He had to admit, this was a rather ingenious tactic. "This is to say that we are at risk of losing a major advantage on top of being disadvantaged by everything that has just occurred," the Primarch remarked and shook his head.
"I'm sorry to say we've been too idle," Roboute began. "But the fault lies solely with me. I've been working under the assumption that with all those present helping plot and plan this war, along with the aid of gods and Eldar, we would have the time to create the ideal approach to win. It seems that is no longer the case."
The Lord of Ultramar grimaced. "The timetable has now shifted. We will launch the invasion of Tixburi within the next two months. I expect all of you to present my brothers and me with a finalized strategy within the next week."
It was already an unpopular decision, but unfortunately, it was only the first. "Furthermore, we must handle the developing crisis within the Gaunzi Nebula. Chapter Master Gage and First Captain Kaesoron, I hereby give you the duties of restoring order. Take half the stored rations here at Waystation Ultra, distribute them to help prevent the famine, and use them as bargaining tools for the Gamma Camps to bring them in line. You are free to negotiate as you see fit. Emissary Yvraine will assist in removing the more 'toxic' camps."
This announcement caused a bit of a ripple. "My lord, is that a good idea? That would give credence to any rebel group and make them think they can bargain with the Imperium," Thiel asked concernedly.
"To hell with what these Gammas think," Orbán countered. "Losing half our rations will result in our soldiers having to make do with what they have, which is already going to hurt morale quite a bit." It was true. Roboute couldn't even offer these men a pre-battle feast like he did during the Maelstrom War.
Commander Eidolon didn't look too worried. "We'll be losing a lot of soldiers, which means fewer mouths to feed. Besides, we can give them the order to secure food from our enemies. They'd be doing it anyway. We just need to give permission to do so."
"You mean authorize them to pillage." General Alden sneered at the Astartes. "I understand that the Consolidation isn't going to give us an inch, but if we start stealing food and water from their civilians, they'll likely resent any occupational force. It'll turn into our troops massacring Tixburians."
"Maybe they shouldn't have burned an entire agri-world, then," Kelsan remarked. "They escalated things, so now they get to reap the consequences. We don't have to authorize any massacres, but I agree with Commander Eidolon. We should actively plan to secure all food sources on Tixburi. Besides, we can deny the enemy access to them if necessary."
Just before an argument could break out, Morningstar interjected smoothly. "Might I make a suggestion?" The God of Dawn interjected. "Let the Aeldari handle getting our food resolved. They have the ships, webway, and plenty of worlds to call upon. The Primarch need only entice them with something."
The God of Morning looked over at the Lord of Ultramar. "I will consider it." Roboute made no promises just yet. "I am aware of the issues our armies are now facing, and I will address them in time. You all need to focus on creating a strategy. That said, we must also deal with the situation on Calvus Prime and the Accord."
"I have someone for Calvus Prime," Orbán interjected. "Colonel Helen Mckenzie and her former Black Brigades. She'll need Space Marine support, though."
"Lord Primarchs," Gabriel Santar said, "I volunteer to assist with Calvus Prime. With enough support, I can help with the breakthrough and get what remains of the regiments there back to Tixburi in time."
Ferrus nodded. "Thank you for volunteering, Gabriel. If my brother is fine with it, I shall not object."
"Very well, Captain Santar and Colonel Mckenzie will lead a force to end the war on Calvus Prime," Roboute announced, which now left the issue of the Ixopon Accord. "I will focus on the situation with the Accord, but rest assured we will not be losing our Titan support, so that shall be kept in the plans going forward."
Roboute stood up from his throne. "I advise all of you to get comfortable. I feel it will be a few more sleepless nights before we are all done here." Then he looked at his brother and the gods. "Will the four of you join me for a private discussion?"
A few moments later...
The three demigods and two deities entered a secured chamber, to which the Primarch looked expectantly at them, "We've just been dealt a blow, albeit one that we can come back from. However, it is safe to say that we are one more screw-up from losing the initiative completely. At this juncture, I'm ready to hear recommendations and advisement."
Ferrus spoke first, "We have to invade soon. In fact, I think we should launch our fleet assets now and take orbit over Tixburi while we let our ground forces prepare. There is no stopping them from entrenching below on their planet, but we can stop these attacks and launch preemptive strikes via Astartes forces."
"I disagree, Ferrus." Fulgrim said, "We have a limited idea of what awaits us there, and if we aren't ready to bring the full might of this coalition upon Tixburi, I fear that casualties will be catastrophic. I am sorry, but I will not agree to launch any assault without backup."
Venus nodded, "While I approve of the Gorgon's eagerness, there is something to be said about discretion being the better part of valor. This isn't going to be an easy fight, and I'd rather Ferrus and his sons go in with full support. If another attack occurs, we might just have to grit our teeth and take the hit."
Roboute, however, didn't want to let another attack go unpunished. "We can't just allow the Consolidation to get away with attacking planets, especially when we need to get shipments of food sent across the Nebula. I'm half-tempted to send some fleet assets to keep an eye on things while we finalize phase one preparations."
"I must advise against that." Morningstar interjected, "And I say that with a personal objection in part, but we need to realize that if we are trying to defend everything, we will defend nothing. We've lost time and resources, and losing ships won't help any of us. We need to maintain cohesion. Speaking of which, I would like to volunteer to help reassure the Accord to keep their forces with us by going to their capital worlds and speaking to their leaders and people."
The God of Dawn smirked at the Primarch, "I need only have your permission, Lord Guilliman...and permission to speak with your authority." Venus gave her fellow god a strange look, almost one of disdain.
"Do you even have experience speaking with aliens?" Ferrus inquired, "Just because Roboute negotiated with them doesn't mean they are receptive to foreigners."
But Morningstar's smirk turned into a smile, "Trust me, I have enough experience dealing with different cultures just among humanity and a few memories of dealing with protectorates. I can promise that I will keep the Accord in this fight."
Roboute could already tell that Corvus would have warned against this, but his brother wasn't here, and the Lord of Ultramar was running out of options, "Very well, Morningstar. You shall have my permission and speak with my authority to the Ixopon Accord. Get them to keep their committed forces. Do not fail us."
The God of Dawn gave an exaggerated bow, "The devil shall work his magic."
Venus sighed, "I suppose that means I shall be the one handling the mystery of the Consolidation."
"Nonsense," Morningstar remarked, "I won't be gone for long. If anything, I shall see if I can assist the others with their missions and get them back in time for phase two." The God of Dawn looked at the three Primarchs, "I am an efficient god, after all."
Ferrus rolled his eyes, "Just do as you requested, Morningstar."
"We do wish you luck, though," Fulgrim remarked.
Roboute nodded. "The same can be said for Marius, Santar, Kaesoron, and everyone else now." The complications in this war were starting to mount up, and now wasn't the time to remain idle. "I want everyone ready for war by the end of this month. Increase the number of drills and readiness operations. We will prepare regiment assignments and compare them with the command council's recommendations. If the fates are merciful, there shouldn't be any alignment issues."
The first shots in this war were already fired. Now, it was time for the Imperium to strike back.
---
@Daemon Hunter Just another quick omake
"A good plan violently executed now is better than a perfect plan executed next week." - General George S. Patton, Personal Musings.
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Waystation Ultra…
Command and Control Deck…
The average soldier often found waiting during the preparation phase of war to be one of the hardest parts. Frustration and laxity could easily arise if they weren't training or keeping themselves occupied.
For the officers, the situation was different. They were responsible for maintaining camp readiness and discipline at peak levels, ensuring everything was in place when deployment orders arrived. This was a stressful task, often making them unpopular among the rank-and-file soldiers.
The real tension lies at the top among the commanders planning the war. Here, egos clashed, plans were reworked, arguments were common, and compromise was a last resort. War on this scale couldn't be planned in a vacuum; it required the collective effort of human officers, alien lords, Astartes captains, Primarchs, and even a pair of gods.
Naturally, this was a time-consuming and herculean effort. "Exhausting" didn't even describe how Roboute felt after these meetings. It wasn't due to incompetence or head-butting but because too many brilliant minds couldn't agree on how to wage this war.
"We don't have the resources for a lengthy siege," Orbán remarked, addressing a dozen officers as he sipped his brandy while studying a simulation of Tixburi's surface. "Half of the primary objectives will be agonizing to take. I know this council wants to avoid orbital bombardment, but might I suggest sacrificing one objective to ease our burden?"
Kelsan looked conflicted. "Every one of these objectives is too vital to simply bomb, but getting bogged down in a siege is unthinkable. Tempo, tempo, tempo, my friends. The first to lose that loses the initiative."
"Unfortunately, that is going to happen," Eidolon remarked bitterly. "This gods-forsaken world might as well have been born from Perturabo's brutalist fortress designs. We'll be fighting for every meter. We should accept that half of our non-Astartes forces will likely die in the first phase."
Alden, looking spent, sat across from the others, resting his head on his hand while his eyes scanned the simulation. "Everything will be decided by boots on the ground and probably above. The Astartes can't be everywhere but must drive the entire campaign." He sighed, nodding. "Tempo, tempo, tempo," he echoed Kelsan's mantra.
"Not unless we can get enough resupply on the ground," Thiel retorted, shaking his head. "It can't work without taking serious casualties. We'll struggle to make any meaningful push if we lose the legion contingents. We can't afford to get bogged down, even if a siege seems the better option."
"Tell that to the average trooper when half his company is dead, and the other half is losing morale," Orbán said, drawing back to his experience in the Maelstrom. "Momentum will be lost. If our goal is to maintain it, an Astartes push is the only viable option."
Gabriel Santar, who had been silent for most of the meeting, finally said, "We need to concentrate our efforts. No spreading ourselves thin. One location must feel the full weight of the invasion."
"We need the Yangzi Facilities taken within a day," Alden remarked, now more attentive. "The Primarch and his task force can handle that. So, where does that leave us?"
"The Musicbox," rumbled Amadeus DuCaine, the Iron Hands Lord Commander. "The damn Eldar is right: we can't be going in blind and deaf."
Orbán shook his head, gesturing towards Spaceport Victor Alpha. "We can't land there. If we'll be stuck fighting down there, we need to take Victor Alpha. It's out of the range of the ICBMs and Thor's Hammer. That's our ticket to landing our armor and super-heavies within the first 48 hours."
Gabriel Santar pointed out, "If you ignore that, it's also next to Megablock 372 and Fortress Foundry Delta, which means hordes of mechanized infantry attacking our landing zones within a few hours. That's assuming we can even take the spaceport in time. Even if we devote enough Astartes to taking the spaceport, it'll still be hours before we can get troops down there."
Keeper Chakrin looked expectantly at Menethanil. "Lord Exarch, how fast could your dragons construct a fortress if pressed for time?" Everyone knew the Dragons could build a small fortress in a few hours, but this would ask them to create a large one in the same timeframe and under enemy attack.
Menethanil didn't seem too concerned. "It will be subpar and lacking our usual quality, but we can have a sufficiently large one summoned within half a day at the spaceport."
"So what?" Alden asked the assembled officers. "Two-thirds of the marines get drop-podded onto the spaceport, and we leave the rest for the other objectives? Not to belittle the capabilities of our Astartes allies, but I haven't seen any indication that the three legions are fast attack or highly reactive beyond what is afforded to them by being Astartes."
"We could support those companies with Valorons and Hanrao," Thiel suggested, but Kelsan looked unhappy.
"My marines are eager to prove themselves working with the spear-tip of this invasion. Besides, we aren't eager to work with alien units." Such a sentiment was shared by many of the assembled.
Kaesoron countered, "We all need to adjust to conditions that aren't ideal, but I have faith your marines can get over working with xenos. Besides, they can take a vital strategic point, which would be an honor and gain substantial glory."
The debate continued, with everyone trying to determine the next course of action or finding ways to soothe remaining egos. Most of the minutiae involving specific regiment placement or officer appointments were handled in the background, with approvals effectively delegated to subcommanders and lieutenants. It was an unequivocal nightmare of backroom dealings, arrangements, and even a few duels and fights.
But that wasn't important for the true masters of this war—at least, not in this instance. The Primarch Triumvirate had merely been watching the proceedings and discussions for today, communicating quietly among themselves about how to conduct this entire blasted war. All the while, the two gods stood by, offering counsel and words of wisdom to the three brothers.
Morningstar and Ferrus Manus discussed the finer points of waging this campaign, while Fulgrim and Venus seemed to be engaged in a protracted debate over one thing or another. This left Roboute to tally everything spoken in his head and fit everything into a timetable of his own planning. Plots within plots, as it were.
So far, everything was going according to plan, and the war council was finalizing the first phase of the invasion. The second and third phases would be easier to arrange, but only after the first phase concluded—surviving and winning were the immediate priorities. They had to just get through toward that end.
As Roboute listened and mentally recorded everything, he almost didn't notice Yvraine's arrival at the command center. She had a pensive look in her eyes and hurriedly strode over to speak with the Lord of Ultramar. Most would have shown more caution or respect approaching not just him but his brothers and two gods, along with the assembled honor guard, but the Emissary had the freedom to pass without having to announce or prostrate herself before them.
However, it caused a bit of a stir when she flagrantly approached the Primarch's throne and gestured for him to lower himself to hear her speak. "There's been a complication," Yvraine started bluntly but quietly. "The Consolidation sent out a fleet within the last two hours. Destination and purpose are unknown."
"Gods have mercy. How did Alcar not know this was happening before it left?" Roboute asked, trying to mask his frustration.
"We aren't sure, but I have a theory," Yvraine answered. "More on that later. One of our vessels, the Shadow of Reckoning, which was monitoring Tixburi, noticed a series of what we assumed to be picket fleets suddenly converge together and form a flotilla before entering the warp."
"And we have no idea where this flotilla is going or what their objective is?" Roboute pressed.
Yvraine shook her head. "Alcar's working on that now, but we have to assume they are moving either to attack the Accord again or those nearby Imperial worlds."
"Or both," Roboute added, already seeing the severity of the situation. "The Consolidation ships might not have navigators and are slow, but they aren't stopped by anything short of a full warp storm."
This knowledge had made Roboute and the others believe they had some time before another offensive by the Consolidation. But it seemed that assumption was a mistake. Now, they had no idea where the blasted ships were heading.
Deciding it was time to inform the rest of the war council, Roboute knew they had to get on top of this. "Are there any Aeldari ships that can move ahead of the attack force and possibly warn any worlds that might be targeted?"
"They can try," Yvraine responded, though she didn't look too sure. "But the problem will be if anyone listens."
Roboute knew that most Imperials wouldn't care to listen to alien "lies" or might fear that doing so would lead to accusations of treason from the Imperium. "Then let's hope that wiser heads prevail."
Two weeks later…
Despite the Eldar's warnings, the attacks by the Consolidation were a foregone conclusion. Nothing could have prevented the devastation that followed. When Alcar determined the targets, the attacks had already begun, four to six hours after the Consolidation fleet splintered into several task forces.
Roboute soon realized that the offensive aimed to disrupt logistical and command lines across the Gaunzi Nebula sectors, and the Consolidation had achieved this objective.
First was the destruction of Draven's Field, an ancient and prosperous agri-world that the Imperium had brought into compliance a decade ago. Its rich soil and seemingly endless rivers and grasslands made it perfect for crop cultivation. Yet now, nothing would grow on its surface for millennia.
The assault on Draven's Field was swift and brutal. The Imperial Armada defense fleet was caught completely off guard and destroyed by the superior range of the Consolidation ships. Massive bombardments from orbit shattered the planet, followed by precision strikes on key agricultural facilities and population centers. Within hours, the agri-world was reduced to a barren wasteland.
A truly catastrophic development. Draven's Field had been the breadbasket for numerous Imperial worlds within the Gaunzi Nebula, and its destruction set off a chain reaction of food shortages and rising unrest.
Next came the conflict on Calvus Prime, a relatively unremarkable hive world. The Consolidation fleet arrived at a random location, a staging ground for the Imperial Army forces being sent toward Roboute's coalition. Perhaps the Consolidation sought to annihilate a large encampment of Imperials, but emboldened by the opportunity, they launched a full-scale assault.
While caught flat-footed, a small cadre of Lord-Generals and Admirals organized the defense, allowing the Imperial Army a chance to fight back. Anti-orbital defenses blazed to life, and entrenched Imperial Army regiments repelled the initial landings with heavy casualties. The Consolidation forces soon found themselves bogged down in a brutal, drawn-out conflict with Repurposed Units.
While the battle on Calvus Prime raged, the Imperial government suffered greatly due to the diversion of defenders and resources. In a daring move, the Consolidation launched a series of coordinated assassination attempts on multiple sector lord governors across the Gaunzi Nebula. These assassins deployed via a series of stealth corvettes, and more damningly, they found assistance from local recidivists and nascent gamma camps.
The assassins struck with precision and deadly efficiency, eliminating no fewer than a dozen sector lords and their replacements, 109 planetary governors and their families, and 975 members of the Adeptus Terra, Administratum, and Telepathica, plunging the affected sectors into chaos. With the power vacuum created, various gamma camps—comprising lower-tier officials, rebel conspirators, and opportunists—rose up, vying for control.
The sudden upheaval destabilized the Imperial command structure, leading to infighting and fragmentation. Civil unrest broke out as different factions sought to consolidate their power, weakening the Gaunzi Nebula's ability to respond to external threats. The Imperium's response was hampered by the need to restore order and re-establish control, diverting vital resources and attention away from the Primarch's coalition.
Finally, a Consolidation task force launched a bold attack on Axilon, a core world of the Ixopon Accord. Their initial assault overwhelmed the outer defenses, allowing ground forces to land and initiate a brutal xenocidal campaign. The Accord's response was swift, but the damage had already been done. Axilon infrastructure was heavily damaged, and key military installations and cities were destroyed.
The attack sent shockwaves through the Accord, highlighting its vulnerability and forcing its member states to scramble to send relief and aid while shoring up their defenses. The Consolidation's audacious move demonstrated their reach and willingness to strike at the heart of their enemies, sowing fear and uncertainty among the Accord's population.
All this was to say that Primarch Guilliman suddenly had his work cut out for him.
Waystation Ultra…
Command and Control Deck…
The command staff felt a sense of controlled pandemonium over this offensive and its implications for the invasion, particularly regarding the cost of resources and soldiers. More importantly, the question of what to do next hung heavily over the assembly.
Everyone was focused on the holo-projector displaying data readings and reports of the situation within the Gaunzi Nebula, and it was looking grim.
"We just lost 20 additional regiments at Calvus Prime," Marius began, "including two armor regiments and one heavy-siege company. The remaining 27 are engaged in heavy fighting across six different hives in open rebellion and filled with Repurposed Units. It will take years to restore order, and in the meantime, a famine will likely start, and a gamma camp will take root."
The Chapter Master switched to a projection of the famine next. "Draven's Field supported about 30% of the food supply for four sectors and about 10% for everything in the Gaunzi Nebula. This might not seem much, but the supply chains, followed by the instability caused by the assassinations, have seen food production drop by almost 50%. If the chaos spreads, that number will shrink further, impacting fuel and medicine distribution. We should be lucky that the Mechanicum was spared from this; otherwise, we'd have seen entire industries grind to a halt."
Next was a projection of the attack on Axilon. "The Accord is panicking. Our representative fears they and their Patlabors will be recalled to defend their homeworlds. In short, we are about to lose our Titan support."
Finally, the projection on the overall stability of the Gaunzi Nebula was made: "As of right now, nine sectors are currently without a centralized leadership. The local Adeptus Terra has formally declared a state of emergency, and the Administraum will likely take a generation to get back on its feet. There are no less than 56 of these Gamma Camps, many of which are made up from across the ideological spectrum. No one knows who is in charge, and once the population of these worlds learns what's happened, there will be more chaos."
The projection faded, leaving a tense silence. Alden looked dismayed at their situation. "I don't wish to sound too glib here, but the Consolidation just struck the first real blow against us, and the war hasn't even officially started yet."
"I thought the Eldar could use their witchcraft to know their strategies?" Eidolon whirled toward Menethanil. "Or did the Farseer simply neglect to tell us?"
The Exarch narrowed his eyes. "Hardly. And I would be careful when making such accusations. Besides, the Emissary advised the Primarch of what she suspects happened."
"She did," Roboute announced from his throne as all eyes turned to him. "The Consolidation leadership must have determined that we are part of an Eldar ploy and subsequently decided to strategize within the confines of Section 8. Morningstar has also confirmed that this was a tactic employed by the Old Federation to counter the Eldar's 'psy-spying,' and orders were likely sent out via a memetic transmitter. No one knows their orders until the last minute. This obfuscates divination attempts because while the future can be glimpsed, it cannot be considered fully realized if all the actors involved aren't given their roles to carry out."
Roboute would have to ask the Laughing God about this later. He had to admit, this was a rather ingenious tactic. "This is to say that we are at risk of losing a major advantage on top of being disadvantaged by everything that has just occurred," the Primarch remarked and shook his head.
"I'm sorry to say we've been too idle," Roboute began. "But the fault lies solely with me. I've been working under the assumption that with all those present helping plot and plan this war, along with the aid of gods and Eldar, we would have the time to create the ideal approach to win. It seems that is no longer the case."
The Lord of Ultramar grimaced. "The timetable has now shifted. We will launch the invasion of Tixburi within the next two months. I expect all of you to present my brothers and me with a finalized strategy within the next week."
It was already an unpopular decision, but unfortunately, it was only the first. "Furthermore, we must handle the developing crisis within the Gaunzi Nebula. Chapter Master Gage and First Captain Kaesoron, I hereby give you the duties of restoring order. Take half the stored rations here at Waystation Ultra, distribute them to help prevent the famine, and use them as bargaining tools for the Gamma Camps to bring them in line. You are free to negotiate as you see fit. Emissary Yvraine will assist in removing the more 'toxic' camps."
This announcement caused a bit of a ripple. "My lord, is that a good idea? That would give credence to any rebel group and make them think they can bargain with the Imperium," Thiel asked concernedly.
"To hell with what these Gammas think," Orbán countered. "Losing half our rations will result in our soldiers having to make do with what they have, which is already going to hurt morale quite a bit." It was true. Roboute couldn't even offer these men a pre-battle feast like he did during the Maelstrom War.
Commander Eidolon didn't look too worried. "We'll be losing a lot of soldiers, which means fewer mouths to feed. Besides, we can give them the order to secure food from our enemies. They'd be doing it anyway. We just need to give permission to do so."
"You mean authorize them to pillage." General Alden sneered at the Astartes. "I understand that the Consolidation isn't going to give us an inch, but if we start stealing food and water from their civilians, they'll likely resent any occupational force. It'll turn into our troops massacring Tixburians."
"Maybe they shouldn't have burned an entire agri-world, then," Kelsan remarked. "They escalated things, so now they get to reap the consequences. We don't have to authorize any massacres, but I agree with Commander Eidolon. We should actively plan to secure all food sources on Tixburi. Besides, we can deny the enemy access to them if necessary."
Just before an argument could break out, Morningstar interjected smoothly. "Might I make a suggestion?" The God of Dawn interjected. "Let the Aeldari handle getting our food resolved. They have the ships, webway, and plenty of worlds to call upon. The Primarch need only entice them with something."
The God of Morning looked over at the Lord of Ultramar. "I will consider it." Roboute made no promises just yet. "I am aware of the issues our armies are now facing, and I will address them in time. You all need to focus on creating a strategy. That said, we must also deal with the situation on Calvus Prime and the Accord."
"I have someone for Calvus Prime," Orbán interjected. "Colonel Helen Mckenzie and her former Black Brigades. She'll need Space Marine support, though."
"Lord Primarchs," Gabriel Santar said, "I volunteer to assist with Calvus Prime. With enough support, I can help with the breakthrough and get what remains of the regiments there back to Tixburi in time."
Ferrus nodded. "Thank you for volunteering, Gabriel. If my brother is fine with it, I shall not object."
"Very well, Captain Santar and Colonel Mckenzie will lead a force to end the war on Calvus Prime," Roboute announced, which now left the issue of the Ixopon Accord. "I will focus on the situation with the Accord, but rest assured we will not be losing our Titan support, so that shall be kept in the plans going forward."
Roboute stood up from his throne. "I advise all of you to get comfortable. I feel it will be a few more sleepless nights before we are all done here." Then he looked at his brother and the gods. "Will the four of you join me for a private discussion?"
A few moments later...
The three demigods and two deities entered a secured chamber, to which the Primarch looked expectantly at them, "We've just been dealt a blow, albeit one that we can come back from. However, it is safe to say that we are one more screw-up from losing the initiative completely. At this juncture, I'm ready to hear recommendations and advisement."
Ferrus spoke first, "We have to invade soon. In fact, I think we should launch our fleet assets now and take orbit over Tixburi while we let our ground forces prepare. There is no stopping them from entrenching below on their planet, but we can stop these attacks and launch preemptive strikes via Astartes forces."
"I disagree, Ferrus." Fulgrim said, "We have a limited idea of what awaits us there, and if we aren't ready to bring the full might of this coalition upon Tixburi, I fear that casualties will be catastrophic. I am sorry, but I will not agree to launch any assault without backup."
Venus nodded, "While I approve of the Gorgon's eagerness, there is something to be said about discretion being the better part of valor. This isn't going to be an easy fight, and I'd rather Ferrus and his sons go in with full support. If another attack occurs, we might just have to grit our teeth and take the hit."
Roboute, however, didn't want to let another attack go unpunished. "We can't just allow the Consolidation to get away with attacking planets, especially when we need to get shipments of food sent across the Nebula. I'm half-tempted to send some fleet assets to keep an eye on things while we finalize phase one preparations."
"I must advise against that." Morningstar interjected, "And I say that with a personal objection in part, but we need to realize that if we are trying to defend everything, we will defend nothing. We've lost time and resources, and losing ships won't help any of us. We need to maintain cohesion. Speaking of which, I would like to volunteer to help reassure the Accord to keep their forces with us by going to their capital worlds and speaking to their leaders and people."
The God of Dawn smirked at the Primarch, "I need only have your permission, Lord Guilliman...and permission to speak with your authority." Venus gave her fellow god a strange look, almost one of disdain.
"Do you even have experience speaking with aliens?" Ferrus inquired, "Just because Roboute negotiated with them doesn't mean they are receptive to foreigners."
But Morningstar's smirk turned into a smile, "Trust me, I have enough experience dealing with different cultures just among humanity and a few memories of dealing with protectorates. I can promise that I will keep the Accord in this fight."
Roboute could already tell that Corvus would have warned against this, but his brother wasn't here, and the Lord of Ultramar was running out of options, "Very well, Morningstar. You shall have my permission and speak with my authority to the Ixopon Accord. Get them to keep their committed forces. Do not fail us."
The God of Dawn gave an exaggerated bow, "The devil shall work his magic."
Venus sighed, "I suppose that means I shall be the one handling the mystery of the Consolidation."
"Nonsense," Morningstar remarked, "I won't be gone for long. If anything, I shall see if I can assist the others with their missions and get them back in time for phase two." The God of Dawn looked at the three Primarchs, "I am an efficient god, after all."
Ferrus rolled his eyes, "Just do as you requested, Morningstar."
"We do wish you luck, though," Fulgrim remarked.
Roboute nodded. "The same can be said for Marius, Santar, Kaesoron, and everyone else now." The complications in this war were starting to mount up, and now wasn't the time to remain idle. "I want everyone ready for war by the end of this month. Increase the number of drills and readiness operations. We will prepare regiment assignments and compare them with the command council's recommendations. If the fates are merciful, there shouldn't be any alignment issues."
The first shots in this war were already fired. Now, it was time for the Imperium to strike back.
---
@Daemon Hunter Just another quick omake
Let see if we can enacted the Empire Strike back on this one. Night Lords and Raven guards are more important than ever with this operation. Though I don't want to repeat Epsilon, we need to respond. The pain of having little information.
Eternal Devotion (Must Read)
Another quick omake
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Eternal Devotion
Life has many pleasures. Most are often mundane or unextraordinary, enjoyed mainly by the masses. Drinking, food, drugs, violence, and, of course, sex. These are things that Astartes refuse to debase themselves with by wanting. Could they partake and appreciate? Of course. But none sought them out.
Good food was plentiful, spirits and drugs had no effect on them, and the violence Astartes engaged in was more of a professional art form. But then there was the issue of sex—a physical need in humanity, the urge to procreate, to enjoy the intimate touch of another, or to indulge in the most sensual pleasure of the flesh.
An Astartes understood the concept of sex, but most within the legion were recruited as young boys. Their bodies and minds were enhanced and trained to ignore the demands of the flesh in all facets. That was the glory of being Astartes: they were beyond human limitations.
Lucius of the Emperor's Children certainly considered himself above most of humanity. He had felt that way even before becoming an Astartes. He had fought seemingly forever back on Chemos, shining like a jewel in the dirt on that miserable world. He possessed an immense reservoir of talent that he could pour into any pursuit that caught his fancy, and his boyish handsomeness remained unblemished even by the harsh air of his home planet. When he finally dedicated himself to the arts of war, he found his true calling.
All he wanted was to duel. During his studies, his rapier claimed the lives of dozens of champions, would-be pretenders, and those calling themselves beggars and brigands, pupils and students alike. He was the greatest swordsman there was.
Unfortunately, because of this fame, Lucius was often lonely. Many sought his favor only to bring him down to their level. Yet that didn't mean he didn't have a few close associates. One of them was a woman, Lady Beatrice.
Lady Beatrice was ten years his senior and a patron via her family, the Uleta Conglomerate, often using Lucius to kill those seeking her hand in formal duels. A lesser man might have resented her for this, but Lucius appreciated her for sending more and more champions his way to challenge.
They made a good team. Beatrice was smart, cunning, and determined to take control of the entire Uleta Conglomerate. She had a dream and a passion, and like Lucius, she was ready to do whatever it took to achieve it. A small seed of affection grew in his heart beyond just respect or platonic admiration.
Lucius couldn't allow such feelings to cloud his pursuit of greatness. When it came time to leave her services and seek out champions elsewhere, he told Beatrice that their relationship would end there. To her credit, she didn't beg or threaten him to stay. Instead, she asked him to consider what he was losing by cutting her off.
He had no answer. Even after all these decades, the question still nags at him: what did Lucius seek to gain versus what he lost? He could have stayed with Lady Beatrice and seen where their alliance led, but he might not have been at that fateful tournament where he impressed Sergeant Braxton. By following his passions, Lucius strode among the stars alongside beings like his Primarch.
Lucius didn't know what might have happened if he had stayed with Beatrice. Would they have found happiness together? Or would resentment have grown, leading to poisoned words and knives in the dark? Yet, they would have made an excellent team and perhaps even found joy together.
But what's done was done. Lucius would always follow his passions. He had to. To do otherwise meant death and regret. He would never allow such thoughts to cloud his judgment. Always forward, never back, and forever eager to prove himself. To live and die by the sword. Love had no place on the battlefield or in his heart, whatever form it might have taken.
If he were ever to love anyone, it would have to be himself. Lucius knew he had an immense ego; how could he not? He was the best, which meant he had to defend that title and prove it time and time again. Killing people was just a necessary compulsion on his part. Some would call him mad for thinking that way, but madness and genius often went hand-in-hand.
Passions ran hot, after all. Besides, Lucius was self-aware enough to recognize that the Legiones Astartes lacked a lover's touch and words. He wasn't uniquely tragic in that regard, nor did he want his legacy to be seen as a sad figure.
Rejecting love was simply an expectation of an Astartes. That was all there was to it.
But fate was strange, and once more, Lucius found himself unexpectedly at a crossroads during a tournament. This time, it was hosted by the Great Gorgon at the behest of Guilliman. Lord Fulgrim, ever the showman, made sure to exalt the virtues and skills of all those who were to fight in it.
Lucius fought with skill, grace, and talent against fellow Astartes and even a xeno. At Fulgrim's behest, he ensured not to maim or scar his opponents. He adopted a theatrical approach to his duels, expecting to eventually fight for the title of champion and win.
Everything changed in the final duel of the tournament. Lucius was paired against the mysterious "Iron Maiden," who had handily beaten her challengers with cestus alone and proved to be a marvelously graceful and skilled opponent.
He anticipated an interesting but uneventful fight, yet the Iron Maiden threw herself at him with such ferocity and skill that Lucius was almost caught off-guard when the round commenced. Quickly rebounding, he took the fight seriously, as did the Iron Maiden.
As the two clashed, something extraordinary happened. It was subtle initially, but Lucius felt a shift within himself like an ember growing hot. A strange peace washed over him as if he had transcended his material desires.
The outside world disappeared. The crowd's noise, the presence of his brothers, and even the watchful eyes of the Primarchs all faded away. It was as though the coliseum itself no longer existed, and only he and the Iron Maiden remained, locked in a dance of steel.
It was beyond a fighter's high—this was battle meditation. Lucius achieved a fighter's nirvana, an almost out-of-body experience where every move felt preordained, every strike and parry an expression of pure, unadulterated skill. For the first time in decades, his opponent fought him with hearts and souls aligned. Mutual respect and understanding were communicated through the language of combat. There were no words or need for them; they both knew that the only fitting conclusion was a fight for life and death.
Lucius wanted to kill the Iron Maiden. Not out of hatred, pettiness, or even a desire to be the best, but because it was the only way this duel could end in true victory. To die at the hands of such an opponent was beautiful. This was no mere duel, a symphony of passion and precision, life and death. They began to push themselves to their absolute limits, scoring wounds that allowed blood to flow but did not impede their vicious dance.
At that moment, Lucius felt a deeper connection than he had ever known. They moved as one, their actions perfectly synchronized as if choreographed by the fates themselves. Everything was right in the universe. This was a good end to his story if he failed and a bittersweet one if he succeeded.
Time lost meaning. The intensity of their battle meant that seconds became like hours of brutal joy. The dance became more like a ballet between stars, a sublime blend of skill, ferocity, and a profound understanding of each other's capabilities, equal parts metaphysical clash, and connection, intertwined in the heat of their combat.
Lucius no longer fought just for victory but for the sheer beauty of the contest, for the honor of measuring their prowess against a worthy opponent. He fought because a feeling of love bloomed in his chest. And as they wordlessly agreed to fight to the death, Lucius knew that this was the most passionate, perfect way to honor their connection.
For once in his life, it wasn't about winning or losing or proving himself. Lucius just wanted to fight. To die at her hands or to end this beautiful soul at his hands, for none else were worthy of such a feat but Lucius of the Emperor's Children.
But before either could deliver the killing blow, reality came crashing back when they heard the authority-laden words of Ferrus Manus. "ENOUGH!" The Primarch's shout was so ferocious that it shattered the link, forcing Lucius to return to reality.
He heard the crowd cheering with such ferocity and zeal that it almost made him think the Emperor himself had appeared. As his eyes blinked and he saw the Iron Maiden bleeding a glowing amber liquid in place of blood and his own body adorned with blood and bruises, Lucius realized he had lost himself in the heat of it all.
Ferrus Manus had ordered Lucius and the Iron Maiden to stop when it became clear they were trying to kill each other. By breaking this cardinal rule, they were both disqualified. Lucius had lost because he had been unable to control himself.
Yet, for some reason, he didn't care. Lucius only wanted to understand what he had just experienced and how to repeat it. Looking back toward the Iron Maiden, escorted by a pair of robed women, Lucius didn't wait to hear the Primarch announce the tournament's winner. He almost barreled through several of his brothers who were about to ask what had happened or if he needed an apothecary, but all Lucius focused on was finding the source of his confusion.
Nothing was going to stop him on this quest. Thankfully, he didn't have to go far to find the Iron Maiden and her entourage. "Wait!" Lucius called as he practically strode toward her. "I command you to wait!"
The Iron Maiden, who had been silent throughout their fight, spoke with a voice that reminded Lucius of a songbird: "So demanding." Her voice sounded sultry even though her body was covered in amber blood. "You should be a little nicer with your requests."
Lucius wasn't about to play games. "What happened out there?" He approached with a smoldering gaze. "We both tried to kill each other, and I lost control of myself. That's never happened before."
Something about his words caused the three women to stare before giggling, which only annoyed Lucius more. This prompted the Iron Maiden to speak in a language that sounded vaguely Terran, dismissing the robed women.
"Hmm..." The Iron Maiden sounded amused. "Plenty of men have said such words before, but they were often more related to bedroom activities."
Lucius didn't know what to make of that comment. "Come again?"
Again, something he said caused her to laugh, which annoyed Lucius because of how lovely it sounded. After a moment to compose herself, the Iron Maiden reached behind her mask and removed it. Lucius saw perhaps one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, with lightly tanned skin, dark hair, and jade-colored eyes. What surprised Lucius the most were her ears, which appeared almost pointed.
Her smile was equally stunning. "Sorry, just another turn of phrase that I found amusing."
Lucius wasn't exactly sure what joke he was missing here, so he tried to focus on his first question. "Just... tell me what happened out there."
The Iron Maiden seemed a bit confused by the question. "Isn't it obvious? You found joy. Better yet, if only for the briefest moments, you found love." She reached out to gently touch his face. "It felt good, didn't it?"
Her hand felt warm—soothing and electric even. But Lucius wasn't having it and brushed her hand away. "I don't understand. Joy in battle, I can understand, but love? One can't find love in battle."
"But you and I did," the Iron Maiden smirked. "You embraced your passions at the right moment, gave everything you had in your strikes, and danced alongside me to a tune that only you and I could hear with our souls."
Lucius wasn't getting this. "You are speaking in riddles."
The Iron Maiden paused for a moment before trying a different approach. "Lucius, what do you feel right now?"
"Confused," Lucius admitted. "Anxious but also excited. Like a battle-high that isn't going away. Is this your doing?"
"In part," the Iron Maiden admitted, "but you are also to blame. You are excited from the fight, just like I am right now." She gave him a devilish smirk. "Aroused, you could say."
Such a comment caused him to narrow his eyes. "I am not aroused from that fight." Granted, his body did feel a strange tightness in his chest. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the Iron Maiden either. "Besides, Astartes do not get aroused."
She didn't look too impressed with his answer but gave him a keen look. "Lucius, what do you want to do with me?" Slowly, she presented herself in a way that looked almost inviting.
"What?" Lucius wasn't sure what she was doing now, although he had a good idea.
"Don't 'what' at me," the Iron Maiden commented. "Tell me, what do you want to do with me?" She pointedly looked at him. "Do you want to finish our duel? See if we can kill each other?"
He really didn't know what to make of that question. "I just want answers, damn it."
"There are many ways to get answers," the Iron Maiden explained. "And there are many ways to continue that duel less violently. You need only embrace a certain side of you that has taken root."
Her hands reached out and gently touched his face again, causing Lucius to almost pull away. Instead, the Astartes could only awkwardly look away. "You have such a magnificent face," she commented. "And your soul is so bright and pure."
The woman looked intently at him. "I want to finish our duel," she admitted. "But not through violence. We've both had enough of that today. So, I propose a better way to relieve this tension... but you must first decide what that is, to do what your instincts tell you."
"You don't want to know what Astartes instincts are like," Lucius warned her, but the Iron Maiden kept smiling, almost happy to hear such a response.
"No, I want to see and feel those instincts for another time." She blushed a little, and Lucius could see the desire in her eyes. "A Space Marine is still a man, is he not? Then, you should know what your soul is telling you to do. You need only listen to it, Lucius."
Red lips. Jade eyes. A body that spoke of beauty and strength, blood and steel, femininity and...
Lucius almost didn't realize he had moved forward and grabbed the Iron Maiden with such emphasis that had it been any other mortal, he might have accidentally killed them. Instead, he brought her thankfully slender but tall body up and pressed his lips to her own.
He tasted blood and berries, wine as sweet as those from Chemos but with a taste that made him think of drinks before a great battle or sex, maybe even both. The taste of this kiss was beyond exquisite. There was a fire that grew in his body.
The Iron Maiden held the kiss before she pulled away and looked eagerly at him. "See? The instincts of man still exist. Now, let's go and explore this further." She pushed away from him so suddenly that Lucius almost grabbed her again.
But the Iron Maiden gestured for him to follow. "Why don't we take this somewhere more private and comfortable? I'm sure you are... eager for answers now."
"Among other things..." Lucius didn't know what to do next, although he realized how tight and hot his power armor felt now. "I need to remove my armor."
"I will assist you," she remarked. "But first, let's find us a room. Also, you can call me by my true name."
Gesturing for him to follow, Lucius hesitantly obeyed. "And what is that exactly?"
"Venus." The smile on her face seemed almost ethereal for a moment. Almost unnatural, even.
He couldn't help but ask another question. "Who are you? Who are you really?"
"A bon vivant of all things love and war." The Iron Maiden, Venus, explained with a knowing, otherworldly tone, "And I just hit the jackpot with you."
Half a day later…
To Lucius, sex had always been a mere biological function, a necessity for the continuation of species. It served a purpose, but he never needed to explore its pleasures or attempt it himself. Even self-pleasure seemed utterly pointless—a waste of time, really.
But after spending a night with Venus, Lucius had to begrudgingly admit that the act of copulation was... enjoyable with the right person. "The right fit," as Venus had remarked with a bawdy turn of phrase.
Even so, Lucius felt conflicted the next morning. Neither of them had slept, remaining awake the entire time, yet their conversation had been sparse, limited to a few passionate exchanges. About halfway through, Lucius began to suspect that Venus was not a mortal woman. How else could a human keep up with an Astartes in such a stamina-intense "duel" like sex?
Then Venus revealed the truth: she was a goddess of Love and War, a merging of a human deity with a shard of an Eldar war god, among other absurdities. Lucius initially laughed at her claims until she spoke of bizarre and outrageous things that he couldn't tell if she was joking.
Venus spoke of the warp, of souls, and the passions she felt from those within the fleet. She described their desires and expectations and how they feared and yearned for the coming war equally. Her familiarity with the Primarchs was also surprising, as she listed facts about them that only a member of their legion could have known.
Yet, she made it sound like she was discussing everyday topics. Venus seemed more interested in asking Lucius about his upbringing on Chemos, his victories within the Legion, and how he liked to fight. Somehow, such questions would inevitably lead to more sex. It was very confusing to Lucius.
Finally, as dawn approached, Lucius was granted a moment to reflect on everything that had been said. While Venus was off brushing her hair, leaving the Astartes to sit on their shared bed, Lucius asked the first thing that came to mind, "Why do you claim to be a goddess?"
The question amused her. "Because I am one, Lucius," she replied with a playful smile.
"I met a psyker once who claimed to be a god," he remarked. "He lost his head for that arrogance."
Lucius saw her smirk in the mirror's reflection before something extraordinary happened. Venus's entire complexion, hair, and eyes shifted in hue and tone. Where there had been a woman with tanned skin, jade eyes, and black hair, a woman with lively olive-colored skin, ruby eyes, and light blond hair now stood.
Rather than be impressed, Lucius grimaced. "Hmph, sorcery."
"I suppose to a man, a woman putting on makeup and looking different is sorcery in a sense," Venus giggled, but this response annoyed the Astartes.
"You know what I mean," Lucius retorted. "Just because you can manipulate the warp-"
But Venus shook her head. "I'm not a psyker. Though I can manipulate the warp, that doesn't make me a psychic creature. I am, after all, a manifestation of divinity. We have different rules for such things."
She spoke with such certainty that even Lucius had trouble convincing himself that Venus was lying. "This is...absurd," he muttered, looking bewildered. "You claim to be a goddess in passing and then perform such trickery as if that is evidence."
"Such is the mind of a skeptic," Venus replied, not sounding too offended. "You've seen quite a lot in your time, but you are also experiencing new things. Today, you learned that the gods are still around and that all your 'plumbing' still works. Just imagine what you'll learn tomorrow."
He assumed the 'plumbing' comment was concerning his genitals. "You've done nothing to prove you're a god. You are powerful, dangerous, unbelievably beautiful, and clearly use a form of witchcraft, but such traits can easily be replicated across the galaxy."
Venus stopped brushing her hair and smiled before sauntering over to the Astartes. For a brief moment, Lucius wondered if he had angered her, but Venus wasn't angry when she slowly and sensually crawled on top of him, causing the normally bullish Astartes to pause.
"You want to see true divinity?" she asked her face only a few centimeters from his, a playful look in her eyes. "Worship me. Proclaim yourself, my follower, and I will grant you a blessing."
"Eh?" Lucius wasn't sure what to make of that. "Such an insane thing to ask. I won't kneel or bow to a woman I just met."
"Nonsense. That's half the fun of meeting someone," Venus said, one hand slowly reaching up his bare chest. "But you don't have to kneel or bow. We've already completed the rituals of love and war. We have a link, but it can only be solidified if you agree to become my follower."
"Which I don't want to do, even if you were a god," Lucius frowned, though the warmth of her body was causing his own to react. "Besides, asking me in such a compromising position..."
"Hmm..." Venus slowly hummed, resting her head on his chest. "You're right. It wouldn't speak well of your character, Lucius."
"Then why ask?"
"Because it's fun, and I had to try," Venus muttered, almost sleepily. "Because I like you."
Lucius rolled his eyes. "Do you say that to all your lovers?"
"Just the ones that excite me," she replied, looking back at him. "What do you want in life, Lucius?"
What did he want? Lucius thought he had answered that question ages ago. "To be the greatest. To be the perfect swordsman. To live for eternity."
"Ah, a big dreamer," Venus said with amusement. "How do you plan on achieving all that?"
"By winning against all my foes," Lucius said with pride, that glorious arrogance driving him to be the best at any cost. "Never suffering defeat."
"Tch," she dismissed. "What is there to learn then?"
Lucius was confused by the response, "What is there to learn from defeat?"
"Plenty." Venus's expression softened as she looked into Lucius's eyes. "There is no shame in it, Lucius."
Lucius's pride flared. "It does to me. Defeat means death for an Astartes. Defeat is…the ruination of everything one strides to accomplish. Victory is all that matters. It's the only way to ensure my legacy, to prove my worth as I stand aside legends of our time. You need to be the best to be recognized, and I am the best at what I do."
"Is that all you desire, Lucius? To be the best?" Venus sighed before gently tracing a finger along his jawline. "What does that mean to you? Is it simply defeating your foes, or is there more to it?"
Lucius frowned, confusion creeping into his voice. "What more is there?"
"Being the best can be a lonely pursuit," Venus said softly. "What happens when you have no more worthy opponents left to challenge you? What happens when the thrill of victory fades, and all that's left is an empty sense of superiority?"
He didn't believe that would be possible. There was always going to be another challenger, another enemy to face. But the reality was that those challengers were often far and in between, leaving much to be desired in some instances. The thought unsettled him.
"True greatness isn't just about defeating others, Lucius. It's about understanding yourself, embracing your flaws and strengths, and finding passion in the journey, not whatever destination you think awaits you." Venus continued. "You have an extraordinary gift, a brilliant mind, and the pride to keep pushing yourself, but you are without anyone to explore your potential. No one is by your side, and you are left to experience nothing glorious in life. A man cannot be without his bonds and connections."
Lucius's eyes narrowed. "Connections? Bonds? Those are…liabilities. People will eventually envy my prowess and strength or resent me for it. No one can stand to be around greatness without jealousy. It's inviting weakness."
"Aren't you the lone wolf," Venus joked. "Imagine achieving greatness not just for yourself but for something more or perhaps even another. You have all the characteristics of a champion of eld that could leave behind a legacy of wisdom, courage, and inspiration. To die in combat, in that final fateful duel, and to know that what you left behind was secured and passed down through hundreds of generations. How sweet that death would be and how glorious the end would feel."
The idea was…enticing to him. Almost provocative even. His ego certainly enjoyed the idea that the spirit of his work would outlast all his enemies, though skepticism lingered. "And you think following you would lead to this...end? That I can achieve the enlightenment of what I felt in our duel?"
Venus smiled, her eyes gleaming with sincerity. "No, Lucius. Following me won't grant you either, but I can help you. I can set you on a path beyond being considered the best or greatest and see you become something more. To embrace your potential, passionate heart, and love of battle. To see your name etched into eternity. I want to see you transcend your limitations without sacrificing a part of yourself."
Her words dripped not with promise but with eagerness. She wanted Lucius to agree. It was naked ambition on her part and a longing to see him agree. Lucius's mind raced with conflicting thoughts. "And if I refuse?"
"Then you continue your path, as you always have," Venus said gently. "You will achieve greatness without my help, but for whatever comes after, I cannot tell if the outcome will be what you desire or need. All I can offer now is to be a mentor, a friend, and the occasional lover."
"So long as I worship you," Lucius reminded himself of the core stipulation. "I have obligations and loyalties to my Primarch and Legion. What you ask of me feels not only reckless but treasonous."
Venus smiled at him and leaned forward to give him a small kiss. "I won't ask you to do so if you feel that this is some sort of betrayal, but I promise you, upon my adoration and divinity, that I won't ask you to do anything you would feel could harm your legion, Primarch, or comrades."
Lucius felt he could probably stomach making a few minor acts of treason if this was legitimate. Still, his loyalty to the Primarch made him non-committal to this.
"All this to say that you still haven't proven you are actually a god," Lucius pointed out. "Which is to say that this is all some sort of ruse."
Again, Venus didn't look offended at the skepticism. "Talk to your Primarch about me. Ask him point-blank. I am being truthful here. Likewise, when I say that I want your faith in me, Lucius."
"Faith in what exactly?" Lucius asked once more. "What do you stand for? What do you hope to gain? Why me?"
Venus paused, considering her words carefully. "Faith in the potential for something greater than mere existence. I want to see what you become and benefit from it. I see a darkness in your soul and want to ensure it doesn't grow to corrupt your passions. I hope to gain allies willing to see beyond what is before them and embrace the sound and fury of war and the gentleness of love and courage. I want romance and war and for you to enjoy it."
She leaned closer, her eyes locking with his. "As for why you? I've given enough reasons already. Besides, it helps that I like a pretty face and the swagger to go with it. But you really want to know why? I can show…but only if you swear devotion to me."
Lucius's mind raced with the possibilities and questions. On the one hand, she wasn't entirely forthright with her intentions, and what she meant by a darkness in his heart? Such questions had to be asked later, he supposed. On the other hand, the allure of seeing where this goes, coupled with his innate drive for greatness, made him consider her offer more seriously.
"I will speak to my Primarch," he finally said. "And I will see if your words hold any truth."
Venus smiled warmly. "That's all I ask, Lucius." The so-called goddess then had a familiar gleam in her eyes. "Now, enough talk. It's morning, and we should probably finish our little tryst."
As Lucius felt her familiar hands and legs moving, he murmured, "Again? We've been… at this all night." Maybe she really was a goddess. It would explain the stamina and commitment to this "love" business.
"Don't tell me you are tired," Venus challenged him. "My Lucius should try to be the best in all things, not just swords and war. If you become my follower, I expect you to be more passionate about this sort of thing."
His argument died on his lips when Lucius felt hers on his. Any other arguments or inquiries he had about her offer faded away. This was a better way to end their night than debating his destiny under her guidance. What happened after was still on his mind when she inevitably left (but not before giving one last kiss goodbye) and whether it was wise to follow through with her idea.
Lucius inherently opposed the idea of worshipping a god. As an Astartes, he was a near-god himself, walking among most of humanity. The Emperor had declared there were no gods, and who was he to counter the teachings of the greatest mind of their species?
Then again, Venus was offering something personal to him. It wasn't a demand but an opportunity for more in life. Did Lucius want or need that? Maybe he did. Besides, what was the harm in it? Countless people in their time had worshiped one thing or another. It certainly couldn't be worse than what the Mechanicum got away with.
Additionally, how many could claim to have slept with a goddess? Lucius couldn't help but smirk as he returned to his room to clean himself up. He wanted to look presentable before speaking with the Primarch. He certainly had a lot of questions.
---
@Daemon Hunter One more for the pile
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Eternal Devotion
Life has many pleasures. Most are often mundane or unextraordinary, enjoyed mainly by the masses. Drinking, food, drugs, violence, and, of course, sex. These are things that Astartes refuse to debase themselves with by wanting. Could they partake and appreciate? Of course. But none sought them out.
Good food was plentiful, spirits and drugs had no effect on them, and the violence Astartes engaged in was more of a professional art form. But then there was the issue of sex—a physical need in humanity, the urge to procreate, to enjoy the intimate touch of another, or to indulge in the most sensual pleasure of the flesh.
An Astartes understood the concept of sex, but most within the legion were recruited as young boys. Their bodies and minds were enhanced and trained to ignore the demands of the flesh in all facets. That was the glory of being Astartes: they were beyond human limitations.
Lucius of the Emperor's Children certainly considered himself above most of humanity. He had felt that way even before becoming an Astartes. He had fought seemingly forever back on Chemos, shining like a jewel in the dirt on that miserable world. He possessed an immense reservoir of talent that he could pour into any pursuit that caught his fancy, and his boyish handsomeness remained unblemished even by the harsh air of his home planet. When he finally dedicated himself to the arts of war, he found his true calling.
All he wanted was to duel. During his studies, his rapier claimed the lives of dozens of champions, would-be pretenders, and those calling themselves beggars and brigands, pupils and students alike. He was the greatest swordsman there was.
Unfortunately, because of this fame, Lucius was often lonely. Many sought his favor only to bring him down to their level. Yet that didn't mean he didn't have a few close associates. One of them was a woman, Lady Beatrice.
Lady Beatrice was ten years his senior and a patron via her family, the Uleta Conglomerate, often using Lucius to kill those seeking her hand in formal duels. A lesser man might have resented her for this, but Lucius appreciated her for sending more and more champions his way to challenge.
They made a good team. Beatrice was smart, cunning, and determined to take control of the entire Uleta Conglomerate. She had a dream and a passion, and like Lucius, she was ready to do whatever it took to achieve it. A small seed of affection grew in his heart beyond just respect or platonic admiration.
Lucius couldn't allow such feelings to cloud his pursuit of greatness. When it came time to leave her services and seek out champions elsewhere, he told Beatrice that their relationship would end there. To her credit, she didn't beg or threaten him to stay. Instead, she asked him to consider what he was losing by cutting her off.
He had no answer. Even after all these decades, the question still nags at him: what did Lucius seek to gain versus what he lost? He could have stayed with Lady Beatrice and seen where their alliance led, but he might not have been at that fateful tournament where he impressed Sergeant Braxton. By following his passions, Lucius strode among the stars alongside beings like his Primarch.
Lucius didn't know what might have happened if he had stayed with Beatrice. Would they have found happiness together? Or would resentment have grown, leading to poisoned words and knives in the dark? Yet, they would have made an excellent team and perhaps even found joy together.
But what's done was done. Lucius would always follow his passions. He had to. To do otherwise meant death and regret. He would never allow such thoughts to cloud his judgment. Always forward, never back, and forever eager to prove himself. To live and die by the sword. Love had no place on the battlefield or in his heart, whatever form it might have taken.
If he were ever to love anyone, it would have to be himself. Lucius knew he had an immense ego; how could he not? He was the best, which meant he had to defend that title and prove it time and time again. Killing people was just a necessary compulsion on his part. Some would call him mad for thinking that way, but madness and genius often went hand-in-hand.
Passions ran hot, after all. Besides, Lucius was self-aware enough to recognize that the Legiones Astartes lacked a lover's touch and words. He wasn't uniquely tragic in that regard, nor did he want his legacy to be seen as a sad figure.
Rejecting love was simply an expectation of an Astartes. That was all there was to it.
But fate was strange, and once more, Lucius found himself unexpectedly at a crossroads during a tournament. This time, it was hosted by the Great Gorgon at the behest of Guilliman. Lord Fulgrim, ever the showman, made sure to exalt the virtues and skills of all those who were to fight in it.
Lucius fought with skill, grace, and talent against fellow Astartes and even a xeno. At Fulgrim's behest, he ensured not to maim or scar his opponents. He adopted a theatrical approach to his duels, expecting to eventually fight for the title of champion and win.
Everything changed in the final duel of the tournament. Lucius was paired against the mysterious "Iron Maiden," who had handily beaten her challengers with cestus alone and proved to be a marvelously graceful and skilled opponent.
He anticipated an interesting but uneventful fight, yet the Iron Maiden threw herself at him with such ferocity and skill that Lucius was almost caught off-guard when the round commenced. Quickly rebounding, he took the fight seriously, as did the Iron Maiden.
As the two clashed, something extraordinary happened. It was subtle initially, but Lucius felt a shift within himself like an ember growing hot. A strange peace washed over him as if he had transcended his material desires.
The outside world disappeared. The crowd's noise, the presence of his brothers, and even the watchful eyes of the Primarchs all faded away. It was as though the coliseum itself no longer existed, and only he and the Iron Maiden remained, locked in a dance of steel.
It was beyond a fighter's high—this was battle meditation. Lucius achieved a fighter's nirvana, an almost out-of-body experience where every move felt preordained, every strike and parry an expression of pure, unadulterated skill. For the first time in decades, his opponent fought him with hearts and souls aligned. Mutual respect and understanding were communicated through the language of combat. There were no words or need for them; they both knew that the only fitting conclusion was a fight for life and death.
Lucius wanted to kill the Iron Maiden. Not out of hatred, pettiness, or even a desire to be the best, but because it was the only way this duel could end in true victory. To die at the hands of such an opponent was beautiful. This was no mere duel, a symphony of passion and precision, life and death. They began to push themselves to their absolute limits, scoring wounds that allowed blood to flow but did not impede their vicious dance.
At that moment, Lucius felt a deeper connection than he had ever known. They moved as one, their actions perfectly synchronized as if choreographed by the fates themselves. Everything was right in the universe. This was a good end to his story if he failed and a bittersweet one if he succeeded.
Time lost meaning. The intensity of their battle meant that seconds became like hours of brutal joy. The dance became more like a ballet between stars, a sublime blend of skill, ferocity, and a profound understanding of each other's capabilities, equal parts metaphysical clash, and connection, intertwined in the heat of their combat.
Lucius no longer fought just for victory but for the sheer beauty of the contest, for the honor of measuring their prowess against a worthy opponent. He fought because a feeling of love bloomed in his chest. And as they wordlessly agreed to fight to the death, Lucius knew that this was the most passionate, perfect way to honor their connection.
For once in his life, it wasn't about winning or losing or proving himself. Lucius just wanted to fight. To die at her hands or to end this beautiful soul at his hands, for none else were worthy of such a feat but Lucius of the Emperor's Children.
But before either could deliver the killing blow, reality came crashing back when they heard the authority-laden words of Ferrus Manus. "ENOUGH!" The Primarch's shout was so ferocious that it shattered the link, forcing Lucius to return to reality.
He heard the crowd cheering with such ferocity and zeal that it almost made him think the Emperor himself had appeared. As his eyes blinked and he saw the Iron Maiden bleeding a glowing amber liquid in place of blood and his own body adorned with blood and bruises, Lucius realized he had lost himself in the heat of it all.
Ferrus Manus had ordered Lucius and the Iron Maiden to stop when it became clear they were trying to kill each other. By breaking this cardinal rule, they were both disqualified. Lucius had lost because he had been unable to control himself.
Yet, for some reason, he didn't care. Lucius only wanted to understand what he had just experienced and how to repeat it. Looking back toward the Iron Maiden, escorted by a pair of robed women, Lucius didn't wait to hear the Primarch announce the tournament's winner. He almost barreled through several of his brothers who were about to ask what had happened or if he needed an apothecary, but all Lucius focused on was finding the source of his confusion.
Nothing was going to stop him on this quest. Thankfully, he didn't have to go far to find the Iron Maiden and her entourage. "Wait!" Lucius called as he practically strode toward her. "I command you to wait!"
The Iron Maiden, who had been silent throughout their fight, spoke with a voice that reminded Lucius of a songbird: "So demanding." Her voice sounded sultry even though her body was covered in amber blood. "You should be a little nicer with your requests."
Lucius wasn't about to play games. "What happened out there?" He approached with a smoldering gaze. "We both tried to kill each other, and I lost control of myself. That's never happened before."
Something about his words caused the three women to stare before giggling, which only annoyed Lucius more. This prompted the Iron Maiden to speak in a language that sounded vaguely Terran, dismissing the robed women.
"Hmm..." The Iron Maiden sounded amused. "Plenty of men have said such words before, but they were often more related to bedroom activities."
Lucius didn't know what to make of that comment. "Come again?"
Again, something he said caused her to laugh, which annoyed Lucius because of how lovely it sounded. After a moment to compose herself, the Iron Maiden reached behind her mask and removed it. Lucius saw perhaps one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, with lightly tanned skin, dark hair, and jade-colored eyes. What surprised Lucius the most were her ears, which appeared almost pointed.
Her smile was equally stunning. "Sorry, just another turn of phrase that I found amusing."
Lucius wasn't exactly sure what joke he was missing here, so he tried to focus on his first question. "Just... tell me what happened out there."
The Iron Maiden seemed a bit confused by the question. "Isn't it obvious? You found joy. Better yet, if only for the briefest moments, you found love." She reached out to gently touch his face. "It felt good, didn't it?"
Her hand felt warm—soothing and electric even. But Lucius wasn't having it and brushed her hand away. "I don't understand. Joy in battle, I can understand, but love? One can't find love in battle."
"But you and I did," the Iron Maiden smirked. "You embraced your passions at the right moment, gave everything you had in your strikes, and danced alongside me to a tune that only you and I could hear with our souls."
Lucius wasn't getting this. "You are speaking in riddles."
The Iron Maiden paused for a moment before trying a different approach. "Lucius, what do you feel right now?"
"Confused," Lucius admitted. "Anxious but also excited. Like a battle-high that isn't going away. Is this your doing?"
"In part," the Iron Maiden admitted, "but you are also to blame. You are excited from the fight, just like I am right now." She gave him a devilish smirk. "Aroused, you could say."
Such a comment caused him to narrow his eyes. "I am not aroused from that fight." Granted, his body did feel a strange tightness in his chest. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the Iron Maiden either. "Besides, Astartes do not get aroused."
She didn't look too impressed with his answer but gave him a keen look. "Lucius, what do you want to do with me?" Slowly, she presented herself in a way that looked almost inviting.
"What?" Lucius wasn't sure what she was doing now, although he had a good idea.
"Don't 'what' at me," the Iron Maiden commented. "Tell me, what do you want to do with me?" She pointedly looked at him. "Do you want to finish our duel? See if we can kill each other?"
He really didn't know what to make of that question. "I just want answers, damn it."
"There are many ways to get answers," the Iron Maiden explained. "And there are many ways to continue that duel less violently. You need only embrace a certain side of you that has taken root."
Her hands reached out and gently touched his face again, causing Lucius to almost pull away. Instead, the Astartes could only awkwardly look away. "You have such a magnificent face," she commented. "And your soul is so bright and pure."
The woman looked intently at him. "I want to finish our duel," she admitted. "But not through violence. We've both had enough of that today. So, I propose a better way to relieve this tension... but you must first decide what that is, to do what your instincts tell you."
"You don't want to know what Astartes instincts are like," Lucius warned her, but the Iron Maiden kept smiling, almost happy to hear such a response.
"No, I want to see and feel those instincts for another time." She blushed a little, and Lucius could see the desire in her eyes. "A Space Marine is still a man, is he not? Then, you should know what your soul is telling you to do. You need only listen to it, Lucius."
Red lips. Jade eyes. A body that spoke of beauty and strength, blood and steel, femininity and...
Lucius almost didn't realize he had moved forward and grabbed the Iron Maiden with such emphasis that had it been any other mortal, he might have accidentally killed them. Instead, he brought her thankfully slender but tall body up and pressed his lips to her own.
He tasted blood and berries, wine as sweet as those from Chemos but with a taste that made him think of drinks before a great battle or sex, maybe even both. The taste of this kiss was beyond exquisite. There was a fire that grew in his body.
The Iron Maiden held the kiss before she pulled away and looked eagerly at him. "See? The instincts of man still exist. Now, let's go and explore this further." She pushed away from him so suddenly that Lucius almost grabbed her again.
But the Iron Maiden gestured for him to follow. "Why don't we take this somewhere more private and comfortable? I'm sure you are... eager for answers now."
"Among other things..." Lucius didn't know what to do next, although he realized how tight and hot his power armor felt now. "I need to remove my armor."
"I will assist you," she remarked. "But first, let's find us a room. Also, you can call me by my true name."
Gesturing for him to follow, Lucius hesitantly obeyed. "And what is that exactly?"
"Venus." The smile on her face seemed almost ethereal for a moment. Almost unnatural, even.
He couldn't help but ask another question. "Who are you? Who are you really?"
"A bon vivant of all things love and war." The Iron Maiden, Venus, explained with a knowing, otherworldly tone, "And I just hit the jackpot with you."
Half a day later…
To Lucius, sex had always been a mere biological function, a necessity for the continuation of species. It served a purpose, but he never needed to explore its pleasures or attempt it himself. Even self-pleasure seemed utterly pointless—a waste of time, really.
But after spending a night with Venus, Lucius had to begrudgingly admit that the act of copulation was... enjoyable with the right person. "The right fit," as Venus had remarked with a bawdy turn of phrase.
Even so, Lucius felt conflicted the next morning. Neither of them had slept, remaining awake the entire time, yet their conversation had been sparse, limited to a few passionate exchanges. About halfway through, Lucius began to suspect that Venus was not a mortal woman. How else could a human keep up with an Astartes in such a stamina-intense "duel" like sex?
Then Venus revealed the truth: she was a goddess of Love and War, a merging of a human deity with a shard of an Eldar war god, among other absurdities. Lucius initially laughed at her claims until she spoke of bizarre and outrageous things that he couldn't tell if she was joking.
Venus spoke of the warp, of souls, and the passions she felt from those within the fleet. She described their desires and expectations and how they feared and yearned for the coming war equally. Her familiarity with the Primarchs was also surprising, as she listed facts about them that only a member of their legion could have known.
Yet, she made it sound like she was discussing everyday topics. Venus seemed more interested in asking Lucius about his upbringing on Chemos, his victories within the Legion, and how he liked to fight. Somehow, such questions would inevitably lead to more sex. It was very confusing to Lucius.
Finally, as dawn approached, Lucius was granted a moment to reflect on everything that had been said. While Venus was off brushing her hair, leaving the Astartes to sit on their shared bed, Lucius asked the first thing that came to mind, "Why do you claim to be a goddess?"
The question amused her. "Because I am one, Lucius," she replied with a playful smile.
"I met a psyker once who claimed to be a god," he remarked. "He lost his head for that arrogance."
Lucius saw her smirk in the mirror's reflection before something extraordinary happened. Venus's entire complexion, hair, and eyes shifted in hue and tone. Where there had been a woman with tanned skin, jade eyes, and black hair, a woman with lively olive-colored skin, ruby eyes, and light blond hair now stood.
Rather than be impressed, Lucius grimaced. "Hmph, sorcery."
"I suppose to a man, a woman putting on makeup and looking different is sorcery in a sense," Venus giggled, but this response annoyed the Astartes.
"You know what I mean," Lucius retorted. "Just because you can manipulate the warp-"
But Venus shook her head. "I'm not a psyker. Though I can manipulate the warp, that doesn't make me a psychic creature. I am, after all, a manifestation of divinity. We have different rules for such things."
She spoke with such certainty that even Lucius had trouble convincing himself that Venus was lying. "This is...absurd," he muttered, looking bewildered. "You claim to be a goddess in passing and then perform such trickery as if that is evidence."
"Such is the mind of a skeptic," Venus replied, not sounding too offended. "You've seen quite a lot in your time, but you are also experiencing new things. Today, you learned that the gods are still around and that all your 'plumbing' still works. Just imagine what you'll learn tomorrow."
He assumed the 'plumbing' comment was concerning his genitals. "You've done nothing to prove you're a god. You are powerful, dangerous, unbelievably beautiful, and clearly use a form of witchcraft, but such traits can easily be replicated across the galaxy."
Venus stopped brushing her hair and smiled before sauntering over to the Astartes. For a brief moment, Lucius wondered if he had angered her, but Venus wasn't angry when she slowly and sensually crawled on top of him, causing the normally bullish Astartes to pause.
"You want to see true divinity?" she asked her face only a few centimeters from his, a playful look in her eyes. "Worship me. Proclaim yourself, my follower, and I will grant you a blessing."
"Eh?" Lucius wasn't sure what to make of that. "Such an insane thing to ask. I won't kneel or bow to a woman I just met."
"Nonsense. That's half the fun of meeting someone," Venus said, one hand slowly reaching up his bare chest. "But you don't have to kneel or bow. We've already completed the rituals of love and war. We have a link, but it can only be solidified if you agree to become my follower."
"Which I don't want to do, even if you were a god," Lucius frowned, though the warmth of her body was causing his own to react. "Besides, asking me in such a compromising position..."
"Hmm..." Venus slowly hummed, resting her head on his chest. "You're right. It wouldn't speak well of your character, Lucius."
"Then why ask?"
"Because it's fun, and I had to try," Venus muttered, almost sleepily. "Because I like you."
Lucius rolled his eyes. "Do you say that to all your lovers?"
"Just the ones that excite me," she replied, looking back at him. "What do you want in life, Lucius?"
What did he want? Lucius thought he had answered that question ages ago. "To be the greatest. To be the perfect swordsman. To live for eternity."
"Ah, a big dreamer," Venus said with amusement. "How do you plan on achieving all that?"
"By winning against all my foes," Lucius said with pride, that glorious arrogance driving him to be the best at any cost. "Never suffering defeat."
"Tch," she dismissed. "What is there to learn then?"
Lucius was confused by the response, "What is there to learn from defeat?"
"Plenty." Venus's expression softened as she looked into Lucius's eyes. "There is no shame in it, Lucius."
Lucius's pride flared. "It does to me. Defeat means death for an Astartes. Defeat is…the ruination of everything one strides to accomplish. Victory is all that matters. It's the only way to ensure my legacy, to prove my worth as I stand aside legends of our time. You need to be the best to be recognized, and I am the best at what I do."
"Is that all you desire, Lucius? To be the best?" Venus sighed before gently tracing a finger along his jawline. "What does that mean to you? Is it simply defeating your foes, or is there more to it?"
Lucius frowned, confusion creeping into his voice. "What more is there?"
"Being the best can be a lonely pursuit," Venus said softly. "What happens when you have no more worthy opponents left to challenge you? What happens when the thrill of victory fades, and all that's left is an empty sense of superiority?"
He didn't believe that would be possible. There was always going to be another challenger, another enemy to face. But the reality was that those challengers were often far and in between, leaving much to be desired in some instances. The thought unsettled him.
"True greatness isn't just about defeating others, Lucius. It's about understanding yourself, embracing your flaws and strengths, and finding passion in the journey, not whatever destination you think awaits you." Venus continued. "You have an extraordinary gift, a brilliant mind, and the pride to keep pushing yourself, but you are without anyone to explore your potential. No one is by your side, and you are left to experience nothing glorious in life. A man cannot be without his bonds and connections."
Lucius's eyes narrowed. "Connections? Bonds? Those are…liabilities. People will eventually envy my prowess and strength or resent me for it. No one can stand to be around greatness without jealousy. It's inviting weakness."
"Aren't you the lone wolf," Venus joked. "Imagine achieving greatness not just for yourself but for something more or perhaps even another. You have all the characteristics of a champion of eld that could leave behind a legacy of wisdom, courage, and inspiration. To die in combat, in that final fateful duel, and to know that what you left behind was secured and passed down through hundreds of generations. How sweet that death would be and how glorious the end would feel."
The idea was…enticing to him. Almost provocative even. His ego certainly enjoyed the idea that the spirit of his work would outlast all his enemies, though skepticism lingered. "And you think following you would lead to this...end? That I can achieve the enlightenment of what I felt in our duel?"
Venus smiled, her eyes gleaming with sincerity. "No, Lucius. Following me won't grant you either, but I can help you. I can set you on a path beyond being considered the best or greatest and see you become something more. To embrace your potential, passionate heart, and love of battle. To see your name etched into eternity. I want to see you transcend your limitations without sacrificing a part of yourself."
Her words dripped not with promise but with eagerness. She wanted Lucius to agree. It was naked ambition on her part and a longing to see him agree. Lucius's mind raced with conflicting thoughts. "And if I refuse?"
"Then you continue your path, as you always have," Venus said gently. "You will achieve greatness without my help, but for whatever comes after, I cannot tell if the outcome will be what you desire or need. All I can offer now is to be a mentor, a friend, and the occasional lover."
"So long as I worship you," Lucius reminded himself of the core stipulation. "I have obligations and loyalties to my Primarch and Legion. What you ask of me feels not only reckless but treasonous."
Venus smiled at him and leaned forward to give him a small kiss. "I won't ask you to do so if you feel that this is some sort of betrayal, but I promise you, upon my adoration and divinity, that I won't ask you to do anything you would feel could harm your legion, Primarch, or comrades."
Lucius felt he could probably stomach making a few minor acts of treason if this was legitimate. Still, his loyalty to the Primarch made him non-committal to this.
"All this to say that you still haven't proven you are actually a god," Lucius pointed out. "Which is to say that this is all some sort of ruse."
Again, Venus didn't look offended at the skepticism. "Talk to your Primarch about me. Ask him point-blank. I am being truthful here. Likewise, when I say that I want your faith in me, Lucius."
"Faith in what exactly?" Lucius asked once more. "What do you stand for? What do you hope to gain? Why me?"
Venus paused, considering her words carefully. "Faith in the potential for something greater than mere existence. I want to see what you become and benefit from it. I see a darkness in your soul and want to ensure it doesn't grow to corrupt your passions. I hope to gain allies willing to see beyond what is before them and embrace the sound and fury of war and the gentleness of love and courage. I want romance and war and for you to enjoy it."
She leaned closer, her eyes locking with his. "As for why you? I've given enough reasons already. Besides, it helps that I like a pretty face and the swagger to go with it. But you really want to know why? I can show…but only if you swear devotion to me."
Lucius's mind raced with the possibilities and questions. On the one hand, she wasn't entirely forthright with her intentions, and what she meant by a darkness in his heart? Such questions had to be asked later, he supposed. On the other hand, the allure of seeing where this goes, coupled with his innate drive for greatness, made him consider her offer more seriously.
"I will speak to my Primarch," he finally said. "And I will see if your words hold any truth."
Venus smiled warmly. "That's all I ask, Lucius." The so-called goddess then had a familiar gleam in her eyes. "Now, enough talk. It's morning, and we should probably finish our little tryst."
As Lucius felt her familiar hands and legs moving, he murmured, "Again? We've been… at this all night." Maybe she really was a goddess. It would explain the stamina and commitment to this "love" business.
"Don't tell me you are tired," Venus challenged him. "My Lucius should try to be the best in all things, not just swords and war. If you become my follower, I expect you to be more passionate about this sort of thing."
His argument died on his lips when Lucius felt hers on his. Any other arguments or inquiries he had about her offer faded away. This was a better way to end their night than debating his destiny under her guidance. What happened after was still on his mind when she inevitably left (but not before giving one last kiss goodbye) and whether it was wise to follow through with her idea.
Lucius inherently opposed the idea of worshipping a god. As an Astartes, he was a near-god himself, walking among most of humanity. The Emperor had declared there were no gods, and who was he to counter the teachings of the greatest mind of their species?
Then again, Venus was offering something personal to him. It wasn't a demand but an opportunity for more in life. Did Lucius want or need that? Maybe he did. Besides, what was the harm in it? Countless people in their time had worshiped one thing or another. It certainly couldn't be worse than what the Mechanicum got away with.
Additionally, how many could claim to have slept with a goddess? Lucius couldn't help but smirk as he returned to his room to clean himself up. He wanted to look presentable before speaking with the Primarch. He certainly had a lot of questions.
---
@Daemon Hunter One more for the pile
- Location
- CABA
So, im a bit, somewhat, lost.
I know whats happening, who is doing what, for the most part. And i think i get the whys. But i would really appreciate a recap and an explanation of the sides and motivations on this.
I know whats happening, who is doing what, for the most part. And i think i get the whys. But i would really appreciate a recap and an explanation of the sides and motivations on this.
In regards to a specific event, our legion/Primarch, or the quest as a whole?
- Location
- CABA
Mostly the civil war, who is in which side and why. It seems that its mostly the canon sides but with Vulkan and Corvus tagging for lorkar and angron who are out of the picture, because they want a less grimmdark imperium. I have no idea what the twins are up to, but thats business as usuall. And the Avenging Bean counter who im not sure.
With our boy Kesar, basically showing were his possible future sons the Lamenters got their "why is everyone so mean, i just wanted to help" gene came from, now (finally) joining the Rebel side since literally doing everything he could to smother this Horuesy on the cradle didnt work.
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- Location
- Elsewhere
For the civil war, I figured that due to it being asked, I'd briefly cover the various stances taken by the Primarchs:
Lion - Loyalty and duty above all else, he's with the Emperor regardless of what happens. While he does think the Emperor is making mistakes and there are better ways, he's keeping his mouth shut
Fulgrim - Disconnected from the state of the Imperium and believes that living conditions are much higher than they are, he wishes to keep the Imperium together due to the belief it is better than disparate states and can improve conditions further
Perturabo - Logical and rational, he sees the Imperium as being a net negative for humanity. And expects his friends to be rebels. As such, he'll be one as well.
Khan - A man who has a rather unique perspective on freedom and the ability to choose one's fate, he'll be joining a rebellion provided it's not too morally compromised
Dorn - Duty and loyalty above all else, he's with the Emperor regardless of what happens. His friend Lion is there.
Konrad - The necessary evil within the rebel group, he's focused the Night Lords on deserving targets which has led to some internal strife. He's with Vulkan on this.
Sanguinius - Wishing to avoid a destructive civil war whilst keeping humanity centralized. He believes that the Emperor shouldn't be in charge but thinks a civil war would be disastrous if the rebels win.
Ferrus - A loyalist whose loyalty is wavering, he believed that people could improve their social status through hard work and labor. He's been realizing that's not the case.
Angron - He hates the Emperor.
Guilliman - Understanding the need to keep a functional economy, he's managed to prop it up but has been losing the will to keep trying. He's aiming to remain neutral to prevent a total civilizational collapse.
Mortarion - He hates the Emperor and wants a massive war. He's starting one.
Magnus - Disliking the Emperor but trying to avoid a war. He's very interested in research and knowledge which the Eldar have provided. He'll keep working with them as he's developed a liking to it.
Horus - A man who has realized the Imperium is fundamentally flawed, he regrets a lot of his decisions and thinks that the Emperor must be removed.
Vulkan - A man who sees the Imperium as fundamentally flawed and wishes for a significant overhaul, he's realized that the Emperor will call him a traitor before allowing his reforms to go through.
Corvus - A man who wants a functioning government at all costs and paid the price for it, he's been isolated by the Emperor but won't be stopping anytime soon.
Alpharius - ??? Doesn't complain about the Imperium. Against the Imperium.
Omegon - ??? Complains about the Imperium. Supportive of the Imperium.
Lion - Loyalty and duty above all else, he's with the Emperor regardless of what happens. While he does think the Emperor is making mistakes and there are better ways, he's keeping his mouth shut
Fulgrim - Disconnected from the state of the Imperium and believes that living conditions are much higher than they are, he wishes to keep the Imperium together due to the belief it is better than disparate states and can improve conditions further
Perturabo - Logical and rational, he sees the Imperium as being a net negative for humanity. And expects his friends to be rebels. As such, he'll be one as well.
Khan - A man who has a rather unique perspective on freedom and the ability to choose one's fate, he'll be joining a rebellion provided it's not too morally compromised
Dorn - Duty and loyalty above all else, he's with the Emperor regardless of what happens. His friend Lion is there.
Konrad - The necessary evil within the rebel group, he's focused the Night Lords on deserving targets which has led to some internal strife. He's with Vulkan on this.
Sanguinius - Wishing to avoid a destructive civil war whilst keeping humanity centralized. He believes that the Emperor shouldn't be in charge but thinks a civil war would be disastrous if the rebels win.
Ferrus - A loyalist whose loyalty is wavering, he believed that people could improve their social status through hard work and labor. He's been realizing that's not the case.
Angron - He hates the Emperor.
Guilliman - Understanding the need to keep a functional economy, he's managed to prop it up but has been losing the will to keep trying. He's aiming to remain neutral to prevent a total civilizational collapse.
Mortarion - He hates the Emperor and wants a massive war. He's starting one.
Magnus - Disliking the Emperor but trying to avoid a war. He's very interested in research and knowledge which the Eldar have provided. He'll keep working with them as he's developed a liking to it.
Horus - A man who has realized the Imperium is fundamentally flawed, he regrets a lot of his decisions and thinks that the Emperor must be removed.
Vulkan - A man who sees the Imperium as fundamentally flawed and wishes for a significant overhaul, he's realized that the Emperor will call him a traitor before allowing his reforms to go through.
Corvus - A man who wants a functioning government at all costs and paid the price for it, he's been isolated by the Emperor but won't be stopping anytime soon.
Alpharius - ??? Doesn't complain about the Imperium. Against the Imperium.
Omegon - ??? Complains about the Imperium. Supportive of the Imperium.
Lorgar Aurelion: "LET ME OUT OF THE DEEP WARP" Chaos: :"No, Shut Up. You are staying Dead."
- Location
- USA
So only two that are with the Emperor no matter what.
That's honestly better than I thought it was.
Have any actions we've done or anything caused some of the others to have doubts or question their support for the imperium and such? Or is it just events unrelated to us causing it?
That's honestly better than I thought it was.
Have any actions we've done or anything caused some of the others to have doubts or question their support for the imperium and such? Or is it just events unrelated to us causing it?
Sanguineous is likely in my mind to end up rebelling if we tell him about the Emperor's plan. He hides it well, but he is still the Primarch of a legion with a major flaw he wants to keep hidden that he canonically was afraid would get his legion purged. We know that his fear is not only 100% justified, but its even worse than that. The Emperor will use it as the excuse to purge his legion because he plans to purge the legions anyways. His best chance for personal survival is with us.