- Location
- USA
We can always just use Primarch command codes to tell them to back off once we get a Vox.
The Lost Primarch Quest
- Thread starter Daemon Hunter
- Start date
- Location
- Elsewhere
He hasn't truly seen it so no. He's seen the metaphysical imprint of it on the warp and scant details in addition.
That's about accurate.
You could do that if you wished. Do keep in mind though that the IA in the area likely wouldn't be happy about just letting a daemonworld remain in a critical sector unmolested. And are rather likely to try and do so via surprise rather than a full attack for the initial response.
I'm going to assume that this is the local IA commanders saying this, as most of the IA rank-and-file are probably thinking "Oh thank fuck, we don't have to fight there."
- Location
- USA
Also everyone has seen our Declaration for succession by this point so we can just say that the daemonworld ran away with us on its back so to speak and we are finishing the job.
That is a funny mental image
Magnus and the imperial army are just minding their own business going about their days
when suddenly reality tears open as A FREAKING DEMON WORLD comes into real space like a whale jumping out the ocean with KESAR on its back rope in his mouth stabbing it repeatedly laughing maniacally while saying through the rope
Kesar : " oh don't mind me guys just got a runner give me just 5 minutes
and I'll have them taking care of in no time "
It be like that one scene in that ice age dinosaur movie with that one-eyed weasel and that white dinosaur named Rudy
Could he ask Cegorach about it?
Actually now that I think about it . . . Is it possible for Kesar to contact Cegorach right now?
Maybe ask him for assistance?
And is it possible to create some kind of decoy signal or something to throw off be'lakor from our trail?
Last edited:
Everything Daemon has said about each world option:
Halo Stars-
-Many Slaaneshi Warbands would flee
-Potential dangers from enemies here
-Slows down Be'lakor the most along with Prospero
Prospero-
-Very likely to get a response from Magnus and the Imperium.
-May draw attention from Tzeentch.
-Slows down Be'lakor the most along with Halo Stars
-Non-existent odds of Be'lakor focusing on us if we go here
-Less likely for Tier 10 due to Imperial Army interference
-Imperial Army may try a surprise attack even with Primarch codes
Edge of Sanguinius' Domain-
-Very unlikely to draw Imperial Rsponse
-Does little to slow down Slaaneshi Warbands
-1-5% odds of being focused on by Be'lakor if we go here
A Fringe Star Cluster-
-Would slow down Slaaneshi warbands due to having to track it down
-Something here that is of interest to "the shadows." Note, we learned this due to the Runes of Chaos and Anathema rather than just being a random cluster.
-Be'lakor could locate and travel here if in 1-3 months if he focuses on it
-Highest chance for Be'lakor to focus on us if we go here (less than 50%)
-There could be anything here
Note that the highest odds of Be'lakor focusing us is less than 50% even for the most notable location to Be'lakor.
Hopefully this helps with clearing up any misconceptions as a lot of this info is spread across multiple pages
Halo Stars-
-Many Slaaneshi Warbands would flee
-Potential dangers from enemies here
-Slows down Be'lakor the most along with Prospero
Prospero-
-Very likely to get a response from Magnus and the Imperium.
-May draw attention from Tzeentch.
-Slows down Be'lakor the most along with Halo Stars
-Non-existent odds of Be'lakor focusing on us if we go here
-Less likely for Tier 10 due to Imperial Army interference
-Imperial Army may try a surprise attack even with Primarch codes
Edge of Sanguinius' Domain-
-Very unlikely to draw Imperial Rsponse
-Does little to slow down Slaaneshi Warbands
-1-5% odds of being focused on by Be'lakor if we go here
A Fringe Star Cluster-
-Would slow down Slaaneshi warbands due to having to track it down
-Something here that is of interest to "the shadows." Note, we learned this due to the Runes of Chaos and Anathema rather than just being a random cluster.
-Be'lakor could locate and travel here if in 1-3 months if he focuses on it
-Highest chance for Be'lakor to focus on us if we go here (less than 50%)
-There could be anything here
Note that the highest odds of Be'lakor focusing us is less than 50% even for the most notable location to Be'lakor.
Hopefully this helps with clearing up any misconceptions as a lot of this info is spread across multiple pages
A Howling Interrogation
New
Alright, semi-quick interaction between Corvus and Leman
---
A Howling Interrogation
When Corvus first met Leman, he, like many others, assumed the Wolf-King was more beast than man. Far be it for Corvus to admit that he was wrong, but Leman had a bad habit regarding his first impressions. Brash and loud, Leman seemed the type to spend his days sleeping off a drunken bender before seeking glory on the battlefield.
Yet beneath the bluster and ego, Leman was a man of honor who could inspire even the most cowardly mortals to fight with courage befitting a world of eld. He carried himself with a camaraderie that invited others to listen to his stories and ask their questions.
Corvus, ever the keen observer, took it upon himself to do just that—asking Leman to teach him Fenrisian and to explain the finer points of his Legion's doctrine. Their philosophies of war could not have been more different. The XIXth favored cunning and shadowed strikes, while the VIth embraced overwhelming force and the raw fury of battle.
Despite their differences, mutual respect had formed. They were never truly close, but not for lack of goodwill—rather, because they rarely crossed paths during the Great Crusade. Each had their own wars to fight, their own burdens to bear. And Leman, Corvus knew, had borne more than most.
Much had changed since those days. Corvus had drawn the Emperor's ire, and many now whispered of his Legion's role in the Siege of Terra and their supposed aid to the arch-traitor Orban. For all his wildness, Leman was unwavering in his loyalty to their Father—almost to a fault.
Yet he was no fool, nor was he blind to reason. Leman might have enjoyed the thrill of battle, but he wasn't the type to condemn a brother without cause. So Corvus knew what it meant when an emissary from the Wolf-King arrived, carrying Leman's response to the invitation to his and Sachmis's wedding.
His brother would want answers. Such was the price of keeping family while walking the razor's edge of treason.
Nevertheless, Corvus agreed to meet. A location was chosen. Weeks later, the Shadow arrived in the uncharted system designated 86A-Opin, where the warships of the VIth loomed in the void. At their center, waiting for him, was the Hfarnakel.
As was customary when one Primarch visited another, the host Legion ensured a proper display of pageantry. The Wolves, likely unaware of the true purpose behind this meeting, followed tradition to the letter. A small army of the VIth stood assembled to greet the Lord of Ravens and his entourage—not as captors, nor as executioners, but as warriors honoring a guest of station.
Leman, too, played his part. He met Corvus with all the warmth and zeal of a Fenrisian host, maintaining the necessary appearances to avoid stirring unwanted attention or hostilities among their sons.
After the necessary speeches, a grand feast would be held in Corvus's honor—a night of roaring fires, overflowing Mjød, and enough food to feed an army. The air was thick with the scent of spiced and seared game, the clamor of tankards striking wood, and the laughter of warriors indulging in revelry.
The festivities would carry on for hours, with the Wolves boasting, drinking, and celebrating as if their guest were a long-lost brother rather than a Primarch under suspicion. To the surprise of many, Corvus partook in a drinking contest against the other members of the Vlka Fenryka and exceeded expectations.
It wasn't that they expected Corvus to lose—the constitution of a Primarch was beyond even the Astartes—but rather that the normally reserved Lord of Ravens seemed to be enjoying himself. More than that, he had even requested stronger spirits to "spice things up," a suggestion that earned him no shortage of amused and perhaps incredulous glances from the warriors of the VIth.
By the time he was finished, most of his challengers lay sprawled across the feast hall in a drunken stupor while Leman roared with laughter at their folly in underestimating his brother. It was a rare sight—one that would be remembered by both Legions for years to come.
The revelry lasted for more than ten hours. The human attendants had long since departed while the staggering remnants of the feast gathered their unconscious kin. They exchanged slurred farewells and laughter as they stumbled toward their quarters to sleep off the effects of the Mjød.
Only when the hall had emptied—leaving behind smoldering embers, overturned tankards, and the lingering scent of mead-soaked tables—did the two Primarchs finally speak.
Leman leaned back, grinning. "Quite the show you put on," he remarked, raising his tankard. "Not many can handle the kind of Mjød you were downing." He took a hearty swig, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "But since when did you start indulging in such loosened behavior?"
Corvus took up his own half-empty tankard, turning it idly in his hand. "I've acquired a few tastes since we last met." He knew well enough that the true conversation—his brother's inevitable interrogation—was about to begin.
Leman smirked. "Does that include a taste for women as well? I always figured you too reserved, too focused, to be interested in such things—let alone taking one to wife." He lifted his drink for another swig.
"And I would have agreed with you," Corvus replied, his tone dry. "But there's something to be said about drinking and fucking going hand in hand."
Leman nearly choked on his ale before bursting into uproarious laughter.
It took a full minute for Leman to stop laughing, shaking his head in disbelief. "Who would've thought—of all our brothers, you'd be the one to develop a taste for the finer things in life." He leaned forward, still grinning. "Tell me, then—have you started enjoying the thrill of battle too?"
"No," Corvus replied evenly, swirling the last of his drink before setting the tankard down. "I still prefer my glories to be subtle." A pause. "Though I've come to appreciate sharing them with others. What little my vanity allows, anyway."
Leman arched a brow. "Vanity?" He sounded genuinely surprised. "Are you comparing yourself to Fulgrim now?"
Corvus gave a short, dry chuckle. "No. Just that I've noticed an uncomfortable pattern—many of my choices may have been shaped by the image I wanted others to perceive rather than who I truly am." His tone turned somber. "A mistake I'll likely repeat endlessly."
Leman said nothing to that, but Corvus knew what he was thinking.
"Some would say you've already made a few mistakes," the Wolf-King finally muttered.
"Yes. Like planning to marry an alien," Corvus answered bluntly.
The shift in the room was immediate. The warmth of the feast faded, and the great hall suddenly colder, dimmer. The ease between them vanished, replaced by something heavier—inevitable.
"That's why you wanted to talk," Corvus continued. "I made no effort to hide it. I certainly didn't want you arriving at some alien structure to watch me take the hand of a xeno as my wife."
Leman exhaled sharply, then gave a dark chuckle, though there was little humor in it. "I do appreciate that you didn't try to hide it." His piercing gaze locked onto his brother. "Which means you should already know what I have to ask." His voice dropped, edged with something grim. "What in the fekke are you thinking, Corvus? Do you have any idea what you're bringing down upon yourself? Upon your sons?"
Corvus met his gaze without flinching. "I will likely be accused of treason." There was no hesitation in his voice, only the certainty of someone who had already thought through every outcome. "When I swore my oath to the Emperor, I vowed not to consort with alien powers, among many other things." He let the words settle before continuing. "I broke that oath. But I did so for reasons I still believe to be warranted."
"Damn your reasoning!" Leman snarled, slamming his fist into the table hard enough to rattle the empty tankards. "How can you even think of dishonoring yourself like this? Is this not against everything you stood for?"
By all rights, it was.
"It wasn't easy," Corvus admitted, his voice steady despite Leman being partly right, "I've had to compromise. And I don't doubt I'll have to answer for it when it comes. All of it. And that, unfortunately, won't be good enough for those already calling for my head." He met his brother's glare without flinching. "But as I said—I did what I believed was right."
Leman shook his head in disbelief. "All for some woman?"
A bitter scoff left his lips. "Corvus, I'm not without understanding in this matter, but you brazenly admitted to helping the Aeldari regain access to an installation that—by your own words—could allow them to reclaim even a fraction of their former power. And you know as well as I do that, eventually, inevitably, our species will be forced to decide who will be the true masters of this galaxy."
Corvus was silent for a long moment. Leman wasn't entirely wrong. The Eldar knew their time as the undisputed rulers of the stars had ended, but that didn't mean they would accept it. Many still clung to the old ways, still dreamed of reforging their shattered dominion.
"Oddly enough," Corvus finally said, his tone measured, "Sachmis isn't part of the Aeldari—at least, not part of their government."
Leman let out a short, mirthless laugh. "And that's supposed to make it better?"
"No—but context does matter," Corvus said, his voice steady but contemplative. He recalled every reason, every calculation—both logical and pragmatic—that had led him to help Sachmis reclaim Port Kalthuanesh. He could list them all and justify every action.
But in the end, what was the real reason?
"A host of justifications could be given," he admitted, exhaling slowly. "But the honest truth? Between you and me?" His eyes darkened, his voice dropping to something raw, something undeniably human.
"When it was all said and done… I was just glad that I killed every last one of those who hurt Sachmis. They were her family, and they used her for all their twisted games and then finally sought to give her over to the same evil that they all willingly embraced. But not my Sachmis."
For a moment, the words hung between them, stark and absolute. Corvus almost seemed to startle himself, as if he couldn't quite believe he had voiced such a thing aloud. His gaze flickered to Leman, a nearly wary look crossing his face—like a man confronting something about himself he hadn't fully understood until now.
"Everything else—the benefits to me, to her, to the Aeldari—it all feels so… impersonal compared to that." He let out a short breath as if finally realizing the weight of his own words.
"If that's not love… I don't know what else to call it. I knew I loved her even before this, but that…we don't get the chance to love someone on that level, but I somehow found it in her. A troublesome, arrogant, and ambitious woman that is going to make my life considerably more complicated than it needs to be."
Seeing the surprised look on Leman's face, Corvus realized he might have strayed from the point. He exhaled, steadying himself.
"I could give you all the rational explanations," he continued, his voice measured. "I could lay out every calculated decision, the way I weighed advantage against cost—how I knew, time and again, that each step forward would place me in an unenviable position like this." He gestured vaguely to the dimly lit hall around them as if it embodied the weight of his choices.
"And yet… I still chose this path."
His gaze hardened, not with defiance, but with certainty.
"Because, for all my mistakes, for all the risks I've taken—I have to believe that what I've done will truly help us."
Leman remained unconvinced, his voice edged with a growl. "Good intentions that lead to damnation aren't as noble as you think, brother." For a brief moment, the dim firelight cast his features into something more feral, a snarling shadow of the Wolf King. "Every choice we've made—all of us—has carried us beyond the point of no return. Each of our brothers has given their reasons, some more righteous than others, yet they all seem to expect that Father's wrath will never come for them."
Corvus did not flinch. "The Emperor has already judged me once," he admitted. "I barely survived the encounter—and that was before this latest development. And yet, despite it all, I have no plans to leave the Imperium."
Leman's sharp gaze fixed on him. "Truly?" There was something in his tone, a challenge wrapped in curiosity. "Even if Father demands your presence on Terra? Even if he—or worse, the Imperium—brands you a traitor? A xeno-loving heretic?"
Corvus met his stare, unshaken. "The words of Terra will mean little to those who still call upon my Legion for aid. Roboute has already taken steps to keep the Imperium's economy afloat, and I, too, have my own plans to safeguard it. Pragmatism will outweigh blind obedience, or so I tell myself."
"But will it keep you and your sons safe?" Leman pressed as if daring Corvus to prove him wrong.
"No," Corvus answered without hesitation. "I heard enough of what happened to Mortarion and his sons. I know I won't be spared from the same dangers. But I have contingencies."
Leman exhaled sharply through his nose, still unsatisfied. "And your sons? The ones who will remain loyal to the Emperor?"
"They will be free to leave," Corvus said, his voice steady though something bitter lurked beneath. "I will grant them full honors for their service to my Legion." His fingers drummed against the table. "I have enough sons who resent me already."
Leman leaned back on his throne, considering his brother's words. "I imagine many will be disappointed in this marriage as well." His tone was almost idle, but there was steel beneath it. "How many comrades have they lost to xeno weapons? How many worlds damned by alien filth? And now, they see their gene-sire bedding one."
If Corvus was insulted by the insinuation, he did not show it. "That is something I will have to address in due time." He exhaled, measured and slow. "Sachmis, however, has provided my Legion with numerous advantages. If nothing else, they can delude themselves into believing I did all of this to secure a valuable asset."
Leman narrowed his eyes. "Is she useful?"
Corvus's lips curled into a smirk. "Are you fishing for intelligence on my fiancée, Leman?"
"Shouldn't I?"
"If you're genuinely interested." Then, sensing an opportunity to steer the conversation elsewhere, Corvus leaned forward. "Because I'm interested in hearing about this Zunia of yours."
For the first time in their exchange, the Wolf King faltered—just slightly. "Nay," he huffed, shifting in his seat. "This isn't a conversation about her, and you wouldn't be interested either way."
Corvus chuckled, shaking his head. "You'd be surprised what sort of topics I've come to appreciate since entering a relationship." His smirk turned knowing. "I doubt you've spoken to anyone else about this."
Leman scoffed, but there was something defensive in the way he folded his arms. "How'd you even know that I fancy her?"
Corvus's expression softened just a fraction. "One fool in love tends to recognize another."
Somewhere, deep in the recesses of his mind, he could swear he heard the distant laughter of two familiar gods.
The tone of their exchange softened, shifting from interrogation to something more conversational. The flickering firelight seemed to brighten in tandem, and the whispered echoes that had gnawed at the edges of Corvus's perception receded once more. Though Leman had initially resisted discussing his relationship with Zunia, it wasn't long before he began to—begrudgingly—speak at length about his most prized administrator.
Of course, he still pried into Sachmis, asking pointed questions that Corvus patiently answered. Many of the responses didn't sit well with the Wolf King, but even he could not deny that Corvus had chosen a woman of considerable capability. Once he learned that she had reclaimed Port Kalthuanesh from the Ulwarth—and after Corvus explained in no uncertain terms the depths of their depravity—Leman seemed satisfied, if only because such foul creatures had been eradicated to the last.
As the hours passed, the atmosphere continued to ease. Then, after a brief lull in conversation, Leman exhaled and leaned forward, his expression more thoughtful than before.
"I wasn't sure if I was going to ask you this," he admitted. "I'm still not sure what to make of your decisions, but I need to talk to you about something else. It's not about your marriage—or the Aeldari. It's about the Desolation."
Corvus didn't hesitate. "Do you need assistance? Mine, the Legion's, or both?"
"Potentially both," Leman said, "I already have the Lion and his sons helping, so you might not want to be around him. But Roboute has also dispatched aid, so maybe it won't matter. What I do know is that certain factions out there—what the army's calling the New Deltas—are pissing me off something fierce."
Corvus nodded, but he could tell there was more. "That's not what you really want to ask me, is it?"
Leman hesitated, jaw tightening as he weighed his words. Eventually, he relented. "One of the New Delta factions is a cult. They call themselves the Cult of the Last Mercy—or just the Merciful Ones. I'll give you what intelligence we've gathered, but something's changed. My Rune Priests feel it—something in the very air of the Desolation."
The whispers of the Warp stirred again. Deep inside, the Skeleton Key within his soul resonated in recognition, and an unsettling certainty took hold of him. He already knew what Leman was about to say.
"Does this cult have a god figure in its doctrine?"
Leman scoffed. "Don't they all?" But his smirk faded as he caught the look in Corvus's eyes. He exhaled sharply and nodded. "Yes. Some so-called god they call Ra-La, who is supposedly set to 'ascend' soon enough."
And with that, the last piece clicked into place.
"A godseed has taken root within the Desolation," Corvus said grimly.
Leman narrowed his eyes. "A godseed?" He leaned in, keen interest sharpening his expression. "You know what we're dealing with, then?"
Corvus's gaze didn't waver. "There's much to explain, brother, but you need to understand this—if you aren't fast enough, you won't be fighting a cult. You'll be fighting a newborn god." He let that sink in for a moment before adding, "And there's no simple way to stop it. If you strike too soon, you might feed the godseed's birth through the deathscream of its followers."
Leman was silent for a beat, then huffed a laugh, low and wolfish. "Seems you've learned more than a few things since our last meeting, Lord of Ravens." His smirk returned, albeit laced with something more genuine. "Beyond just drinking, bedding xenos, or fighting in their wars."
Corvus shrugged, "There is a surprising amount of overlap in all three, I've found."
Again, his brother smirked and laughed.
Leman and Corvus spent the next day and a half poring over every fragment of intelligence the Imperium had gathered on the Desolation and the Merciful Ones. It quickly became evident that the Imperium had utterly mismanaged any attempt to bring the region to order. Even with Roboute's meticulous strategies, Corvus doubted there was anything left to salvage.
When he delved into the dogma and practices of the Cult of the Last Mercy, the grim truth became clear—the cult could never be repurposed, not for the Imperium's benefit nor as a weapon against Chaos. Death was its end goal, whether for its own members or others. A rot this deep could only be burned away.
Ravenloft would be needed for this, but all Corvus could do for now was offer Leman the name of an organization capable of handling the cult's eradication—and ensuring that no lingering trace of its beliefs or faith remained in the Desolation. Leman showed interest, but it was clear he thought Corvus was offering him nothing more than a handful of overambitious scholars who would quickly find themselves out of their depth.
Nevertheless, Corvus pledged the support of his Legion, though the extent of their involvement would have to be determined later. Leman seemed relieved at that, but as the time came for Corvus and his sons to leave the system, the King of Wolves sought him out one last time.
"I didn't want you to leave without an answer," Leman said, his voice as rough as ever. "I will attend your wedding."
Corvus arched a brow, waiting for the inevitable but.
"But I will tell the Emperor what has transpired," Leman continued. Then, after a brief pause, he added, "As a favor, I'll do so after the ceremony."
That would have to do. Corvus nodded. "I appreciate the gesture, Leman."
Leman exhaled, eyeing him critically. "I still think you're making several grave mistakes, Corvus," he admitted. "But you must love this woman enough to risk so much. I can't say I'm surprised—you've always been the most reckless and foolhardy of our family."
Corvus smirked. "Are you impressed?"
"A little," Leman admitted, flashing a sharp-toothed grin. "It's brazen. Stupid, even. But there are plenty of skalds on Fenris who'd love to sing of the Lord of Ravens who bedded and married a Star Tyrant."
"Star Tyrant?" Corvus echoed, blinking at the descriptor. "I can't decide whether Sachmis would be offended or delighted by that title."
Let's improve these parts: Leman shakes his head, "Your woman sounds like a real piece of work."
"Unfortunately, I think I love her *because* of that." There was the laughter again, "My head hurts. I think I drank too much. Still better than Drukhari wine, at least."
"What constitutes as swill among their kind anyway?"
"They poison all their drinks and food, for one."
Leman considered the absurdity of that statement, "...I will admit, I am intrigued at the idea of that."
"There will be plenty of wine there, but do me a favor and bring a couple casks of Mjød. Maybe you'll knock some guests out with a stiff drink."
Leman was greatly amused by this idea: "Ha! That is a good idea! Besides, every married man needs a strong tankard of mjød before he takes his new wife to bed!"
With everything now said and done, Leman clasped his hand onto Corvus's shoulder and, with a serious look, spoke once more, "Brother, I wish you happiness. I say that as kin and to one I respect, but always remember my words: someday, you will have to choose where your loyalties lie, not in oaths made to one or another but toward the ties that bind us. And when that day comes, you'll need to decide if the ties of marriage outweigh the bonds of brothers and sons."
"I..." Corvus had trouble finding his words, "I shall keep that in mind, Leman."
Nothing more needed to be said now, and perhaps it was for the best. Leman Russ had given his warning to Corvus.
---
@Daemon Hunter
---
A Howling Interrogation
When Corvus first met Leman, he, like many others, assumed the Wolf-King was more beast than man. Far be it for Corvus to admit that he was wrong, but Leman had a bad habit regarding his first impressions. Brash and loud, Leman seemed the type to spend his days sleeping off a drunken bender before seeking glory on the battlefield.
Yet beneath the bluster and ego, Leman was a man of honor who could inspire even the most cowardly mortals to fight with courage befitting a world of eld. He carried himself with a camaraderie that invited others to listen to his stories and ask their questions.
Corvus, ever the keen observer, took it upon himself to do just that—asking Leman to teach him Fenrisian and to explain the finer points of his Legion's doctrine. Their philosophies of war could not have been more different. The XIXth favored cunning and shadowed strikes, while the VIth embraced overwhelming force and the raw fury of battle.
Despite their differences, mutual respect had formed. They were never truly close, but not for lack of goodwill—rather, because they rarely crossed paths during the Great Crusade. Each had their own wars to fight, their own burdens to bear. And Leman, Corvus knew, had borne more than most.
Much had changed since those days. Corvus had drawn the Emperor's ire, and many now whispered of his Legion's role in the Siege of Terra and their supposed aid to the arch-traitor Orban. For all his wildness, Leman was unwavering in his loyalty to their Father—almost to a fault.
Yet he was no fool, nor was he blind to reason. Leman might have enjoyed the thrill of battle, but he wasn't the type to condemn a brother without cause. So Corvus knew what it meant when an emissary from the Wolf-King arrived, carrying Leman's response to the invitation to his and Sachmis's wedding.
His brother would want answers. Such was the price of keeping family while walking the razor's edge of treason.
Nevertheless, Corvus agreed to meet. A location was chosen. Weeks later, the Shadow arrived in the uncharted system designated 86A-Opin, where the warships of the VIth loomed in the void. At their center, waiting for him, was the Hfarnakel.
As was customary when one Primarch visited another, the host Legion ensured a proper display of pageantry. The Wolves, likely unaware of the true purpose behind this meeting, followed tradition to the letter. A small army of the VIth stood assembled to greet the Lord of Ravens and his entourage—not as captors, nor as executioners, but as warriors honoring a guest of station.
Leman, too, played his part. He met Corvus with all the warmth and zeal of a Fenrisian host, maintaining the necessary appearances to avoid stirring unwanted attention or hostilities among their sons.
After the necessary speeches, a grand feast would be held in Corvus's honor—a night of roaring fires, overflowing Mjød, and enough food to feed an army. The air was thick with the scent of spiced and seared game, the clamor of tankards striking wood, and the laughter of warriors indulging in revelry.
The festivities would carry on for hours, with the Wolves boasting, drinking, and celebrating as if their guest were a long-lost brother rather than a Primarch under suspicion. To the surprise of many, Corvus partook in a drinking contest against the other members of the Vlka Fenryka and exceeded expectations.
It wasn't that they expected Corvus to lose—the constitution of a Primarch was beyond even the Astartes—but rather that the normally reserved Lord of Ravens seemed to be enjoying himself. More than that, he had even requested stronger spirits to "spice things up," a suggestion that earned him no shortage of amused and perhaps incredulous glances from the warriors of the VIth.
By the time he was finished, most of his challengers lay sprawled across the feast hall in a drunken stupor while Leman roared with laughter at their folly in underestimating his brother. It was a rare sight—one that would be remembered by both Legions for years to come.
The revelry lasted for more than ten hours. The human attendants had long since departed while the staggering remnants of the feast gathered their unconscious kin. They exchanged slurred farewells and laughter as they stumbled toward their quarters to sleep off the effects of the Mjød.
Only when the hall had emptied—leaving behind smoldering embers, overturned tankards, and the lingering scent of mead-soaked tables—did the two Primarchs finally speak.
Leman leaned back, grinning. "Quite the show you put on," he remarked, raising his tankard. "Not many can handle the kind of Mjød you were downing." He took a hearty swig, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "But since when did you start indulging in such loosened behavior?"
Corvus took up his own half-empty tankard, turning it idly in his hand. "I've acquired a few tastes since we last met." He knew well enough that the true conversation—his brother's inevitable interrogation—was about to begin.
Leman smirked. "Does that include a taste for women as well? I always figured you too reserved, too focused, to be interested in such things—let alone taking one to wife." He lifted his drink for another swig.
"And I would have agreed with you," Corvus replied, his tone dry. "But there's something to be said about drinking and fucking going hand in hand."
Leman nearly choked on his ale before bursting into uproarious laughter.
It took a full minute for Leman to stop laughing, shaking his head in disbelief. "Who would've thought—of all our brothers, you'd be the one to develop a taste for the finer things in life." He leaned forward, still grinning. "Tell me, then—have you started enjoying the thrill of battle too?"
"No," Corvus replied evenly, swirling the last of his drink before setting the tankard down. "I still prefer my glories to be subtle." A pause. "Though I've come to appreciate sharing them with others. What little my vanity allows, anyway."
Leman arched a brow. "Vanity?" He sounded genuinely surprised. "Are you comparing yourself to Fulgrim now?"
Corvus gave a short, dry chuckle. "No. Just that I've noticed an uncomfortable pattern—many of my choices may have been shaped by the image I wanted others to perceive rather than who I truly am." His tone turned somber. "A mistake I'll likely repeat endlessly."
Leman said nothing to that, but Corvus knew what he was thinking.
"Some would say you've already made a few mistakes," the Wolf-King finally muttered.
"Yes. Like planning to marry an alien," Corvus answered bluntly.
The shift in the room was immediate. The warmth of the feast faded, and the great hall suddenly colder, dimmer. The ease between them vanished, replaced by something heavier—inevitable.
"That's why you wanted to talk," Corvus continued. "I made no effort to hide it. I certainly didn't want you arriving at some alien structure to watch me take the hand of a xeno as my wife."
Leman exhaled sharply, then gave a dark chuckle, though there was little humor in it. "I do appreciate that you didn't try to hide it." His piercing gaze locked onto his brother. "Which means you should already know what I have to ask." His voice dropped, edged with something grim. "What in the fekke are you thinking, Corvus? Do you have any idea what you're bringing down upon yourself? Upon your sons?"
Corvus met his gaze without flinching. "I will likely be accused of treason." There was no hesitation in his voice, only the certainty of someone who had already thought through every outcome. "When I swore my oath to the Emperor, I vowed not to consort with alien powers, among many other things." He let the words settle before continuing. "I broke that oath. But I did so for reasons I still believe to be warranted."
"Damn your reasoning!" Leman snarled, slamming his fist into the table hard enough to rattle the empty tankards. "How can you even think of dishonoring yourself like this? Is this not against everything you stood for?"
By all rights, it was.
"It wasn't easy," Corvus admitted, his voice steady despite Leman being partly right, "I've had to compromise. And I don't doubt I'll have to answer for it when it comes. All of it. And that, unfortunately, won't be good enough for those already calling for my head." He met his brother's glare without flinching. "But as I said—I did what I believed was right."
Leman shook his head in disbelief. "All for some woman?"
A bitter scoff left his lips. "Corvus, I'm not without understanding in this matter, but you brazenly admitted to helping the Aeldari regain access to an installation that—by your own words—could allow them to reclaim even a fraction of their former power. And you know as well as I do that, eventually, inevitably, our species will be forced to decide who will be the true masters of this galaxy."
Corvus was silent for a long moment. Leman wasn't entirely wrong. The Eldar knew their time as the undisputed rulers of the stars had ended, but that didn't mean they would accept it. Many still clung to the old ways, still dreamed of reforging their shattered dominion.
"Oddly enough," Corvus finally said, his tone measured, "Sachmis isn't part of the Aeldari—at least, not part of their government."
Leman let out a short, mirthless laugh. "And that's supposed to make it better?"
"No—but context does matter," Corvus said, his voice steady but contemplative. He recalled every reason, every calculation—both logical and pragmatic—that had led him to help Sachmis reclaim Port Kalthuanesh. He could list them all and justify every action.
But in the end, what was the real reason?
"A host of justifications could be given," he admitted, exhaling slowly. "But the honest truth? Between you and me?" His eyes darkened, his voice dropping to something raw, something undeniably human.
"When it was all said and done… I was just glad that I killed every last one of those who hurt Sachmis. They were her family, and they used her for all their twisted games and then finally sought to give her over to the same evil that they all willingly embraced. But not my Sachmis."
For a moment, the words hung between them, stark and absolute. Corvus almost seemed to startle himself, as if he couldn't quite believe he had voiced such a thing aloud. His gaze flickered to Leman, a nearly wary look crossing his face—like a man confronting something about himself he hadn't fully understood until now.
"Everything else—the benefits to me, to her, to the Aeldari—it all feels so… impersonal compared to that." He let out a short breath as if finally realizing the weight of his own words.
"If that's not love… I don't know what else to call it. I knew I loved her even before this, but that…we don't get the chance to love someone on that level, but I somehow found it in her. A troublesome, arrogant, and ambitious woman that is going to make my life considerably more complicated than it needs to be."
Seeing the surprised look on Leman's face, Corvus realized he might have strayed from the point. He exhaled, steadying himself.
"I could give you all the rational explanations," he continued, his voice measured. "I could lay out every calculated decision, the way I weighed advantage against cost—how I knew, time and again, that each step forward would place me in an unenviable position like this." He gestured vaguely to the dimly lit hall around them as if it embodied the weight of his choices.
"And yet… I still chose this path."
His gaze hardened, not with defiance, but with certainty.
"Because, for all my mistakes, for all the risks I've taken—I have to believe that what I've done will truly help us."
Leman remained unconvinced, his voice edged with a growl. "Good intentions that lead to damnation aren't as noble as you think, brother." For a brief moment, the dim firelight cast his features into something more feral, a snarling shadow of the Wolf King. "Every choice we've made—all of us—has carried us beyond the point of no return. Each of our brothers has given their reasons, some more righteous than others, yet they all seem to expect that Father's wrath will never come for them."
Corvus did not flinch. "The Emperor has already judged me once," he admitted. "I barely survived the encounter—and that was before this latest development. And yet, despite it all, I have no plans to leave the Imperium."
Leman's sharp gaze fixed on him. "Truly?" There was something in his tone, a challenge wrapped in curiosity. "Even if Father demands your presence on Terra? Even if he—or worse, the Imperium—brands you a traitor? A xeno-loving heretic?"
Corvus met his stare, unshaken. "The words of Terra will mean little to those who still call upon my Legion for aid. Roboute has already taken steps to keep the Imperium's economy afloat, and I, too, have my own plans to safeguard it. Pragmatism will outweigh blind obedience, or so I tell myself."
"But will it keep you and your sons safe?" Leman pressed as if daring Corvus to prove him wrong.
"No," Corvus answered without hesitation. "I heard enough of what happened to Mortarion and his sons. I know I won't be spared from the same dangers. But I have contingencies."
Leman exhaled sharply through his nose, still unsatisfied. "And your sons? The ones who will remain loyal to the Emperor?"
"They will be free to leave," Corvus said, his voice steady though something bitter lurked beneath. "I will grant them full honors for their service to my Legion." His fingers drummed against the table. "I have enough sons who resent me already."
Leman leaned back on his throne, considering his brother's words. "I imagine many will be disappointed in this marriage as well." His tone was almost idle, but there was steel beneath it. "How many comrades have they lost to xeno weapons? How many worlds damned by alien filth? And now, they see their gene-sire bedding one."
If Corvus was insulted by the insinuation, he did not show it. "That is something I will have to address in due time." He exhaled, measured and slow. "Sachmis, however, has provided my Legion with numerous advantages. If nothing else, they can delude themselves into believing I did all of this to secure a valuable asset."
Leman narrowed his eyes. "Is she useful?"
Corvus's lips curled into a smirk. "Are you fishing for intelligence on my fiancée, Leman?"
"Shouldn't I?"
"If you're genuinely interested." Then, sensing an opportunity to steer the conversation elsewhere, Corvus leaned forward. "Because I'm interested in hearing about this Zunia of yours."
For the first time in their exchange, the Wolf King faltered—just slightly. "Nay," he huffed, shifting in his seat. "This isn't a conversation about her, and you wouldn't be interested either way."
Corvus chuckled, shaking his head. "You'd be surprised what sort of topics I've come to appreciate since entering a relationship." His smirk turned knowing. "I doubt you've spoken to anyone else about this."
Leman scoffed, but there was something defensive in the way he folded his arms. "How'd you even know that I fancy her?"
Corvus's expression softened just a fraction. "One fool in love tends to recognize another."
Somewhere, deep in the recesses of his mind, he could swear he heard the distant laughter of two familiar gods.
The tone of their exchange softened, shifting from interrogation to something more conversational. The flickering firelight seemed to brighten in tandem, and the whispered echoes that had gnawed at the edges of Corvus's perception receded once more. Though Leman had initially resisted discussing his relationship with Zunia, it wasn't long before he began to—begrudgingly—speak at length about his most prized administrator.
Of course, he still pried into Sachmis, asking pointed questions that Corvus patiently answered. Many of the responses didn't sit well with the Wolf King, but even he could not deny that Corvus had chosen a woman of considerable capability. Once he learned that she had reclaimed Port Kalthuanesh from the Ulwarth—and after Corvus explained in no uncertain terms the depths of their depravity—Leman seemed satisfied, if only because such foul creatures had been eradicated to the last.
As the hours passed, the atmosphere continued to ease. Then, after a brief lull in conversation, Leman exhaled and leaned forward, his expression more thoughtful than before.
"I wasn't sure if I was going to ask you this," he admitted. "I'm still not sure what to make of your decisions, but I need to talk to you about something else. It's not about your marriage—or the Aeldari. It's about the Desolation."
Corvus didn't hesitate. "Do you need assistance? Mine, the Legion's, or both?"
"Potentially both," Leman said, "I already have the Lion and his sons helping, so you might not want to be around him. But Roboute has also dispatched aid, so maybe it won't matter. What I do know is that certain factions out there—what the army's calling the New Deltas—are pissing me off something fierce."
Corvus nodded, but he could tell there was more. "That's not what you really want to ask me, is it?"
Leman hesitated, jaw tightening as he weighed his words. Eventually, he relented. "One of the New Delta factions is a cult. They call themselves the Cult of the Last Mercy—or just the Merciful Ones. I'll give you what intelligence we've gathered, but something's changed. My Rune Priests feel it—something in the very air of the Desolation."
The whispers of the Warp stirred again. Deep inside, the Skeleton Key within his soul resonated in recognition, and an unsettling certainty took hold of him. He already knew what Leman was about to say.
"Does this cult have a god figure in its doctrine?"
Leman scoffed. "Don't they all?" But his smirk faded as he caught the look in Corvus's eyes. He exhaled sharply and nodded. "Yes. Some so-called god they call Ra-La, who is supposedly set to 'ascend' soon enough."
And with that, the last piece clicked into place.
"A godseed has taken root within the Desolation," Corvus said grimly.
Leman narrowed his eyes. "A godseed?" He leaned in, keen interest sharpening his expression. "You know what we're dealing with, then?"
Corvus's gaze didn't waver. "There's much to explain, brother, but you need to understand this—if you aren't fast enough, you won't be fighting a cult. You'll be fighting a newborn god." He let that sink in for a moment before adding, "And there's no simple way to stop it. If you strike too soon, you might feed the godseed's birth through the deathscream of its followers."
Leman was silent for a beat, then huffed a laugh, low and wolfish. "Seems you've learned more than a few things since our last meeting, Lord of Ravens." His smirk returned, albeit laced with something more genuine. "Beyond just drinking, bedding xenos, or fighting in their wars."
Corvus shrugged, "There is a surprising amount of overlap in all three, I've found."
Again, his brother smirked and laughed.
Leman and Corvus spent the next day and a half poring over every fragment of intelligence the Imperium had gathered on the Desolation and the Merciful Ones. It quickly became evident that the Imperium had utterly mismanaged any attempt to bring the region to order. Even with Roboute's meticulous strategies, Corvus doubted there was anything left to salvage.
When he delved into the dogma and practices of the Cult of the Last Mercy, the grim truth became clear—the cult could never be repurposed, not for the Imperium's benefit nor as a weapon against Chaos. Death was its end goal, whether for its own members or others. A rot this deep could only be burned away.
Ravenloft would be needed for this, but all Corvus could do for now was offer Leman the name of an organization capable of handling the cult's eradication—and ensuring that no lingering trace of its beliefs or faith remained in the Desolation. Leman showed interest, but it was clear he thought Corvus was offering him nothing more than a handful of overambitious scholars who would quickly find themselves out of their depth.
Nevertheless, Corvus pledged the support of his Legion, though the extent of their involvement would have to be determined later. Leman seemed relieved at that, but as the time came for Corvus and his sons to leave the system, the King of Wolves sought him out one last time.
"I didn't want you to leave without an answer," Leman said, his voice as rough as ever. "I will attend your wedding."
Corvus arched a brow, waiting for the inevitable but.
"But I will tell the Emperor what has transpired," Leman continued. Then, after a brief pause, he added, "As a favor, I'll do so after the ceremony."
That would have to do. Corvus nodded. "I appreciate the gesture, Leman."
Leman exhaled, eyeing him critically. "I still think you're making several grave mistakes, Corvus," he admitted. "But you must love this woman enough to risk so much. I can't say I'm surprised—you've always been the most reckless and foolhardy of our family."
Corvus smirked. "Are you impressed?"
"A little," Leman admitted, flashing a sharp-toothed grin. "It's brazen. Stupid, even. But there are plenty of skalds on Fenris who'd love to sing of the Lord of Ravens who bedded and married a Star Tyrant."
"Star Tyrant?" Corvus echoed, blinking at the descriptor. "I can't decide whether Sachmis would be offended or delighted by that title."
Let's improve these parts: Leman shakes his head, "Your woman sounds like a real piece of work."
"Unfortunately, I think I love her *because* of that." There was the laughter again, "My head hurts. I think I drank too much. Still better than Drukhari wine, at least."
"What constitutes as swill among their kind anyway?"
"They poison all their drinks and food, for one."
Leman considered the absurdity of that statement, "...I will admit, I am intrigued at the idea of that."
"There will be plenty of wine there, but do me a favor and bring a couple casks of Mjød. Maybe you'll knock some guests out with a stiff drink."
Leman was greatly amused by this idea: "Ha! That is a good idea! Besides, every married man needs a strong tankard of mjød before he takes his new wife to bed!"
With everything now said and done, Leman clasped his hand onto Corvus's shoulder and, with a serious look, spoke once more, "Brother, I wish you happiness. I say that as kin and to one I respect, but always remember my words: someday, you will have to choose where your loyalties lie, not in oaths made to one or another but toward the ties that bind us. And when that day comes, you'll need to decide if the ties of marriage outweigh the bonds of brothers and sons."
"I..." Corvus had trouble finding his words, "I shall keep that in mind, Leman."
Nothing more needed to be said now, and perhaps it was for the best. Leman Russ had given his warning to Corvus.
---
@Daemon Hunter
TinyGladiator
Just another SVer
- Location
- I move alot.
Just to ask, but for the goal of 'having enough time to conquer an entire daemon world + new daemon warbands coming' (i.e. within a year or perhaps more than one, if Kesar unmasks himself and spends all his time in carnage) what's the plan for after next update for winning if we go for the Star Cluster/Mystery Box plans?
I know that's hard to answer, as we don't know what's even at this Star Cluster, but whatever it is, Be'lakor is apparently close enough that if they wanted to, they could rush here extremely quickly (and with a startlingly high chance of wanting to, compared to the other options). Whether whatever we find here gives a big delay to Be'lakor or a little one, assuming it's not neutral or detrimental to Kesar, is that... actually enough time?
If we want to be quick, Kesar would have to shed his disguise as a Chaos Lord (and thus alert Be'lakor to who he is). Or we play it nice and slow, thus let Be'lakor reach us? I just don't see the long-term means for victory here, where we can go next.
Do we really want to risk everything on something that, well, sounds more like a warning than a 'go here'?
I know that's hard to answer, as we don't know what's even at this Star Cluster, but whatever it is, Be'lakor is apparently close enough that if they wanted to, they could rush here extremely quickly (and with a startlingly high chance of wanting to, compared to the other options). Whether whatever we find here gives a big delay to Be'lakor or a little one, assuming it's not neutral or detrimental to Kesar, is that... actually enough time?
If we want to be quick, Kesar would have to shed his disguise as a Chaos Lord (and thus alert Be'lakor to who he is). Or we play it nice and slow, thus let Be'lakor reach us? I just don't see the long-term means for victory here, where we can go next.
Do we really want to risk everything on something that, well, sounds more like a warning than a 'go here'?
We did this disguise, the civil war vs Slaanesh declaration and moving this world in the first place to not have Be'lakor reach us quickly. The Star Cluster seems anathema to that, ya know?
- Location
- Elsewhere
You can ask Cegorach in the future. Sadly you don't have contact with Cegorach atm.
As for a decoy signal, not in the time you have. Kesar isn't sure if that's possible although it might be with the Rune of Anathema.
TinyGladiator
Just another SVer
- Location
- I move alot.
@Daemon Hunter
Does Kesar Dorlin feel like the Rune of Anathema and Rune of Chaos telling him that the Star Cluster has something of 'interest to the shadows' a nudge to go there, or a warning about what's there?
Does Kesar Dorlin feel like the Rune of Anathema and Rune of Chaos telling him that the Star Cluster has something of 'interest to the shadows' a nudge to go there, or a warning about what's there?
- Location
- Elsewhere
The former. Both are saying there's something of interest in the area that is wanted.
[X] Plan Open The Box Of Mystery
[X] Plan Open The Box With Superweapon
[X] Plan Open The Box With Superweapon
Interesting does Kesar think Cegorach would have a good chance of actually being able to help him find it?
Darn oh well but Why would the Rune of anathema help in making a decoy signal? It's whole thing is being anti chaos isn't it?
[X] Plan Open The Box Of Mystery
[X] Plan Open The Box With Superweapon
Hey Ranald: Catch the wheel
[X] Plan Open The Box With Superweapon
Hey Ranald: Catch the wheel
- Location
- Bronx new york
[X] Plan Survive with Brotherhood and Production
- Location
- Elsewhere
1. Kesar doesn't know enough to say
2. That's effefctively why it'd help. IN that it's an anti-chaos signal similar to parts of what Kesar gives out.
[X] Plan Survive with Brotherhood and Poison
Last edited:
Who's Ronald ?
That makes sense I guess though I do find it confusing why Kesar might choose to make a anti chaos decoy when he is disguised as a chaos Lord ?
Anyway assuming the star cluster option wins
and assuming the coin flip lands in our favor causing
be'lakor to not hyper fixate on finding and getting to us as soon as possible
would Be'lakor need time to find out where the hell we went like the warbands would ?
Causing him to slow down?