Altered
Duality | Redeemed
- Location
- Terra
The Lost Primarch Quest
- Thread starter Daemon Hunter
- Start date
- Location
- Elsewhere
35 Nurgle Worlds. Reasons for which will be explained once the ritual begins.
I think this means we should prioritize Morty as he'll help us handle this and we'll need all the help we can get.
Dauan Tienar
To the endless horizon
- Location
- Victoria
[X] Plan M
-[X] Magnus
-[X] Mortarion
-[X] Magnus
-[X] Mortarion
- Location
- Anchorage, Alaska
Rune of Gold...the rune itself makes Gold 1.5x harder then adamantium, which case with gold being so damn abundant in the imperium...and the emperors palace being plated with the stuff...it might ened up being THE building material for the imperial palace...and terra in general.
- Pronouns
- The path chosen
[X] Plan M
-[X] Magnus
-[X] Mortarion
35 out of 50 of the optimal objective is very high and consider that right know every chaos god hate him for being the strongest or just his nature .
I say he should be first our target for the crusade target him first and foremost so they don't unite us to fight us until late game.
korne is busy tzeench wants to weaken him same as sleensh ,right know nirgle is the pomps asshole of the group because he is 15% over power
-[X] Magnus
-[X] Mortarion
35 out of 50 of the optimal objective is very high and consider that right know every chaos god hate him for being the strongest or just his nature .
I say he should be first our target for the crusade target him first and foremost so they don't unite us to fight us until late game.
korne is busy tzeench wants to weaken him same as sleensh ,right know nirgle is the pomps asshole of the group because he is 15% over power
Art Part One
- Pronouns
- Human/Form/Keyblade
art: part one
Blaze Sands was investigating the famous explosives brigade. Looking for the supposed famous artist who was the leader of the brigade. (causally ignoring the looks of disbelief given to him by the Astartes of the other legions and at that strange ultramarine who fainted when I mention it).
As one of the emperor children, son of the great primarch Fulgrim, he was always seeking to expand his artistic horizons to approach eternal perfection and had heard that this Solarus was a famous artist among the Eternal wardens legion (while casually ignoring how some of the Astartes shuddered scared at the mention of his name from the brigade chief).
He would have to go see Captain Solarus and see if they could schedule a meeting perhaps this week and perhaps discuss the methods, techniques, and materials they used for art.
He knew they were having a meeting for newcomers to the brigade, apparently an 'explosives introductory course' for the new members who would join the explosives brigade.
He doubted Captain Solarus had anything new or interesting to add to his artistic abilities, but one never knew, and apparently, Lord Kesar's home planet was undergoing an artistic renaissance so there might be something to see.
Perhaps he could make a new painting if he found something interesting.
Having arrived where the blast brigade of eternal wardens normally had their strategic meetings, he walked in to be greeted with the sight of the Astartes sitting at desks in a semicircle all were practically jumping into place as they took notes and sipped hot chocolate while excitedly looking at The two Astartes in the center of the semicircle one was presumably Captain Solarus and the other should be his assistant Zacharias that he heard about (while casually ignoring rumors that Zacharias was as insane as Solarus).
Then his attention was focused on the two of them as a word came out of the mouth of what was presumably Captain Solarus: art.
"Art is a transitory thing fading after a moment ... in short art is an EXPLOSION" Blaze's brow furrowed (while casually ignoring the explosion that occurred behind Solarus when he said that and the cheers from the Astartes at the desks ).
His mind only focused on this… this affront to art.
"You don't get it." His calm voice echoed through the room causing all the Astartes to suddenly freeze before turning towards him and Zacharias raised his head from his datapad to see him with a single raised eyebrow.
As soon as Solarus saw him he said "and who would you be"
"I am Blaze Sands of the Emperor's children and you... don't get it" he approached the center of the semicircle (while casually ignoring the incredulous faces of all the Astartes in the room)"art is a moment of beauty captured and preserved for eternity. art is eternal "
And so began the weirdest friendship between different legions of all time.
Blaze Sands was investigating the famous explosives brigade. Looking for the supposed famous artist who was the leader of the brigade. (causally ignoring the looks of disbelief given to him by the Astartes of the other legions and at that strange ultramarine who fainted when I mention it).
As one of the emperor children, son of the great primarch Fulgrim, he was always seeking to expand his artistic horizons to approach eternal perfection and had heard that this Solarus was a famous artist among the Eternal wardens legion (while casually ignoring how some of the Astartes shuddered scared at the mention of his name from the brigade chief).
He would have to go see Captain Solarus and see if they could schedule a meeting perhaps this week and perhaps discuss the methods, techniques, and materials they used for art.
He knew they were having a meeting for newcomers to the brigade, apparently an 'explosives introductory course' for the new members who would join the explosives brigade.
He doubted Captain Solarus had anything new or interesting to add to his artistic abilities, but one never knew, and apparently, Lord Kesar's home planet was undergoing an artistic renaissance so there might be something to see.
Perhaps he could make a new painting if he found something interesting.
Having arrived where the blast brigade of eternal wardens normally had their strategic meetings, he walked in to be greeted with the sight of the Astartes sitting at desks in a semicircle all were practically jumping into place as they took notes and sipped hot chocolate while excitedly looking at The two Astartes in the center of the semicircle one was presumably Captain Solarus and the other should be his assistant Zacharias that he heard about (while casually ignoring rumors that Zacharias was as insane as Solarus).
Then his attention was focused on the two of them as a word came out of the mouth of what was presumably Captain Solarus: art.
"Art is a transitory thing fading after a moment ... in short art is an EXPLOSION" Blaze's brow furrowed (while casually ignoring the explosion that occurred behind Solarus when he said that and the cheers from the Astartes at the desks ).
His mind only focused on this… this affront to art.
"You don't get it." His calm voice echoed through the room causing all the Astartes to suddenly freeze before turning towards him and Zacharias raised his head from his datapad to see him with a single raised eyebrow.
As soon as Solarus saw him he said "and who would you be"
"I am Blaze Sands of the Emperor's children and you... don't get it" he approached the center of the semicircle (while casually ignoring the incredulous faces of all the Astartes in the room)"art is a moment of beauty captured and preserved for eternity. art is eternal "
And so began the weirdest friendship between different legions of all time.
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Heal Thyself with Fluff and Hilarity (Partially Canon)
Dauan Tienar
To the endless horizon
- Location
- Victoria
Heal Thyself with Fluff and Hilarity
Shana was a serf. She was a very, very good serf. She was very good at cleaning. So good, she ended up assigned to the Astartes Apothecarion a long time ago.
She padded down the hallways leading to the Apothecarion with her newly refilled wagon of cleaning solutions. Her feet landing with soft thumps of her footwear against stone.
Oh dear, it seems the hallway is bustling with Neophytes. It seems that one of them fucked up, again. Not too surprising, they are just a bunch of giant transhuman babies of Lord Dorlin.
Shana smiles, looks like she has more things to clean. Perhaps she will do well enough to get a chocolate square from Rikard again. The flavorful burst of sweetness is another thing she has to look forward to getting from doing a good job for the Warden Apothecaries.
" 'Scuse me! Coming through!" She calls out toward the neophytes hovering about. They started and scattered like a herd of Damocles Elgans Deer Fawns from Vahalla.
As Shana reached the door a voice called out to her.
"Wait! Can you tell us if our brother is alright in there?"
She turned to look at the speaker. A stocky youth with tawny eyes, his face held in an expression of unabashed worry. Also, there was a little smudge of dirt on his cheek. 'No Shana. Bad Shana. Don't go up to random people and wipe their dirty faces. It's impolite'
"I've heard that our Apothecary Brothers are a little -" "Eccentric? Aren't all of you the same?"
The neophyte gaped like a dead fish over her sheer invisible adamantium balls. The smug feeling curled in her breast and purred. Looks like she was using Chief's advice of getting mini-transhumans off her back quickly, correctly.
Shana twisted on her heels and entered through the foreboding door of the apothecarion, humming peppy tunes as she bounced inside with her cleaning cart.
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"Oh, don't worry. We won't be sawing your leg off to fix this break." The neophyte went pallid at the comment from the Chief Apothecary Rikard.
"Haryld here is going to reset your leg. Hopefully, he doesn't nick an artery in the process of pushing it back in line~." Rikard chirped as he slapped his newest apothecary on the back. Said newbie apothecary squeaked upon impact.
"Please don't nick my arteries." "I'll try not to."
"So here we go, this was covered in the introductory course and I expect this kind of basic bitch stuff to be relatively easy," Rikard stated jovially. "Oh, don't forget to strap him down." "What?!"
"Honestly, our brothers should stop running away when everything hasn't healed yet." Rikard laughed.
The poor injured neophyte held an air of desperation as he valiantly tried to scoot away from the terrifying Apothecary. Haryld's face bore an expression of aphonic apologies as he did what his Chief said and started pulling his board of tools closer to him with a mechadendrite to get started.
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"Ori~!" The door was kicked open with a crack and a bang as it hit the wall.
"Oh no." Oriacarius sighed. His head was held up by a single hand on his paperwork and dataslate filled desk. "It's you again."
"Me again!" The smile on Rikard's face is like a weaponized beam of solar plasma. It annihilated all resistance in his now futile attempts to get back to work. "But with some Grox Pie, your fav~."
"Oh!" A light flush covered his cheeks. Oriacarius peered up at his macabre ball of sunshine of a brother. "You remembered?"
"Of course I would! We are the last of our batch ya know." Rikard's smile softened like melted chocolate. He gently shuffled a pile of dataslates over and set down the plate of Grox Pie with a clink before looking up.
"You're drooling a bit here, Ori." Rikard teased. His hand tapping the side of his cheek while wearing a fond smile.
Oriacarius' face bloomed into a vivid butterfly rash blush as he hurriedly wiped the corner of his mouth.
The Chief Apothecary leaned forward toward The Blessed, his fond smile turning into a mischievous smirk "Oh don't worry, it's cute."
Cute. The word rang around the insides of his head like one of the cathedral bells on Valhalla. His face blew up into an atomic blush that would put Lord Magnus' skin to shame. A whistling whine not unlike a tea kettle arose from his throat as his mind scrambled for social contingencies against the one person with the experience and familiarity to side-step them.
"I-. You-." He stuttered. His prodigious mind failed to find and execute a way out of being a puddle of embarrassment.
The sensation of cool ceramite against his cheeks and faint laughter snapped him out of his spiralling reverie. "Are you done flailing from my teasing yet Ori~?"
"Did you have to do that?!" He growls back. Cheeks still burning in an incandescent blush but otherwise still allowing his brother's hands to cup his face.
Rikard gently presses his thumbs in between his cheekbones and upper jaw near Oriacarius' nose and rubs circles in the area. Slowly but surely, the First Captain relaxed under the humming and ministrations of his medically inclined brother and the crimson splashing his cheeks receded.
"How are you with what happened in The Reef?"
"I'm hoping the information gained was worth it" Oriacarius presses his face further into the warmth of his brother's hands and gives a shuddering breath. "I hope it was worth all the death, Rikky. Not as many as Gehenna but still, there were so many."
"It will be. The Lord of Iron will thoroughly appreciate this vital information you gained from this opportunity. And~ he's totally going to grind their skulls into fine paste!" Rikard gave him a reassuring and terribly fond smile, one of his hands combing through his hair."It's going to be great!"
"Always the optimist, huh" He gave Rikard a tiny smile and in return, Rikard gave him a terawatt grin. "Someone has got to be one after you rain on their parade~."
"Our parades come with waterproofing." Oriacarius deadpanned. His eyes twinkling with a spark of mischief.
Rikard groaned "Why, Why are you like this?" He shot a mildly pleading look to his paranoiac brother.
The Blessed pulled away from his brother's hands, leaned back into his chair and threaded his fingers together. His stoic expression clearly denoted amusement to any who knew him well. "Someone has got to be the realist to pull your head out of stardust clouds."
Rikard returned the retort with a flat stare for a minute before snatching up his brother's hot chocolate mug. "This is mine now." He declares as the liquid nearly sloshes out of the full cup from the speed he was moving at.
Oriacarius smiles indulgently. "Yes, you can have another one of my dozens of cups, Rikky."
"One day, Ori, one day." Rikard dramatically points his finger at Oriacarius' face. "You are going to run out of cups and it will be hilarious."
The Apothecary held this pose while Oriacarius stared back for a moment before they both burst into a fit of chortles.
"Hahaaa...Thank you...I needed that." Oriacarius' smile dripped with gratitude like a waterfall.
"Not a problem. I'd do anything for you." Rikard smiles back. "Now as much as it pains me to say this, I need to get back to the lab. I've heard back from the scouts that the vast majority of the worlds we are going to encounter are The Green Trash Bag's. Need to write up quarantine procedures and finish up my catalogue of all the Fat Bastard's diseases found so far with the cures we've made."
"I understand." Oriacarius nodded. "I'd like your quarantine procedures as soon as possible to write up contingencies for the Legions."
Rikard double finger guns him while walking backward through the door. "Aye, aye First Captain."
His only answer was an indignant squawk and a thrown paperweight.
Kamangr
Stella!!
I don't know why, I have this image the woman banishing Nurglites with cleansing stuff the moment I read this part.
- Location
- United States
See, now I'm just imagining her squirting a water bottle at some Nurglings and banishing them back to the Warp.
Or, come to think of it, taking a washcloth to an area of high corruption and just...wiping it away.
- Location
- Anchorage, Alaska
might actually happen if our CR gets high enough...that it..."Bleeds" into the serfs. At least untill they get a natural CR of 100, and if we find enough runes...well...the chaos attempts of getting our people would be at -100 in the materium being utterly hilarious as long as they are within our domain/legion/wihtin kesar's presence.
Dauan Tienar
To the endless horizon
- Location
- Victoria
Imagine this:
Shana hands shook as pointed her promethium cleansing spray toward the bulbous cancerous mass. It laughed at her. Disgusting dark green spittle flying with every shake. It believed that all her efforts were futile. It thought that it could coerce and smear her with corruption. No more. Her fingers pulled the trigger on her spray. "Begone, Thot."
- Location
- colombia
nurgle deadliest foe still sealed to this day and no one should release him under any scenario
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We're gonna go Mr. Clean on those motherfuckers!
- Location
- United States
Considering that the Witch Hunters have something like 120 CR I can see it. Plus, our average troops have +20 Anti-Daemons, which is presumably where we pull most of our troops from.
Add in things like the Chaplain program, the slow march of Purity Water, and perhaps boosting up Witch Hunter patrols, and I can absolutely see our Serfs managing to out-fight the lower Daemons.
"Begone Thought!"
*Plunges a Daemon made from the cumulative fear of the sniffles into the Warp.*
- Location
- Elsewhere
The update today is going to be delayed till 1/2. The schedule should still hold, but it'll be shifted up.
Kesar Concern Meme | Bonds Across Space
Dauan Tienar
To the endless horizon
- Location
- Victoria
Right so, while I was doing the picture of Kesar potentially getting his potential psyker ability of connections while streaming it on discord, we joked about the Concern Meme. So here you have both photos courtesy of yours truly.
Broken Barbs. (Must Read)
TinyGladiator
Just another SVer
- Location
- I move alot.
Hiya! Decided to make an omake on a Nurglite world that was rolled for and we'll face, one with a rather interesting history and concept that I had to build on and make an omake about. Anyways, hope it's good and doesn't have too many mistakes! 0u0
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Broken Barbs.
Within the galaxy there was a world known as Geoden, discovered during the golden age of humanity and colonised by them rather quickly.
Then the great disasters that brought humanity as a whole to its knees and the world fell from its heights. The history kept by the people of the world didn't say what happened to Geoden specifically, only that they had lost quite a lot of knowledge and technology, but other things were recalled. Worlds falling to too many disasters, stations breaking and ships burning. Technology failing in the most terrible ways, machine horrors manifesting. It was remembered that screams were heard from places all around the galaxy.
And then there was silence. Lonely, terrifying silence as the voices of other worlds were cut off. That was said to be the worst thing, worse than even the idea of never being able to reach the stars again.
The people of Geoden weren't even sure if humanity was alive on anywhere other than their world. For all they knew, all that existed beyond them were corpses in empty ruins, many monsters that would kill them, all shrouded in the darkness of space.
But those that lived on that world found a way to move past that. They didn't forget, but it didn't drag them down into despair. Even if the worst had truly happened and they were alone against death and the dead, then they would do their best to rise back up.
Humanity had risen up from nothing before, it could do it again. They had a chance.
Geoden was a a place much like Earth in so many respects. It had lush green forests, beautiful blue oceans and it even had a moon that went around the planet every night. It's people had weathered the storm and they were managing to rebuild, maybe being able to defend themselves and fight back against whatever nightmares were out there.
It could have been the perfect place for humanity to begin again, slowly but surely as its wonders were brought back one by one.
Instead it was a perfect target.
The Kabal of the Barbed Delight dove unto the world immediately the moment they had realised what they had found. The Kabal had gone through difficult times of their own, they had been pushed aside and beaten back heavily by others of Commorragh that were stronger than them. A shell of its former self, insignificant and derided by other groups that were stronger and more influential.
A world of easy prey that couldn't fight back was just what they needed to relieve them of their frustrations while being able to turn quite the profit. But they didn't want to rush things with this new prize. They decided to truly relish this world when they came for it.
What they wanted was to make a show of it, something to be remembered and savoured. Back when they were at their height, the Kabal prided itself in how it acted towards its prey. They did not kill immediately, they bled their victims and let them struggle first. To start things slow and keep making it get worse.
It had been much too long since they had the opportunity to freely enjoy themselves like this, after all.
The night that the Barbed Delight had come a town at the edge of a city suddenly became empty, aside from a few signs small signs of conflict it looked as though everyone had just vanished. People all around the world became worried and confused. The next night a fire raged over and burnt down another town, there weren't any signs of any people again or even burnt remains.
The third town was when they started to find bodies, tiny pieces of them scattered over the area. The fourth night was when Geoden noticed the ships that had revealed themselves and were just lazily hanging in orbit until they suddenly descended over another town and messily butchered one half of the people there and took the other.
And then it got worse. And worse. And worse. By the tenth night the Kabal began to broadcast recordings of what they did to the people of Geoden, really making it a game.
They didn't broadcast all of the horrors they committed, just enough of it to show that another settlement of the world had been destroyed. They showed how powerful their weapons could be as they turned a military base to ruins, and another time they showed how they preferred weapons that did a lot worse than just kill.
People went to those attacked areas in fear for what they would find. There were horrific displays of artwork formed from flayed bodies bent to form twisted madness. Sometimes they left a toxin in the air or water that couldn't be detected until it was too late.
But people kept going to the attacked areas anyway, because sometimes there were those that were left alive from the attacks and they had to be saved.
Those found left alive by the Dark Eldar weren't survivors, they were meant to be examples. They were just meant to be something to spread more suffering. At best they would have been tortured and told to tell everyone what happened in detail, to tell them what it was like to face them. At worst they would become twisted, feral monsters that still seemed all too human as they howled in agony.
Geoden suffered and tried to fight back, they tried again and again desperately, but nothing they did seem to work.
"You will all die," their leader said to Geoden on the first broadcast, melodic laughter tingeing their voice. "Either by my hand, by another's, or even by simply reaching the end your pitifully small lifespans. You are alone and your world is ours and we will take from it until you bore us. Nothing will save you, not even death. Try and beg, bargain or break. It doesn't matter."
One such man that had 'survived' one of the attacks of the Barbed Desire was cursed by something that had been injected into him and gave constant pain as his senses were massively amplified. He had already suffered greatly, seeing his home turned to ash and those he cared for either killed or taken by the cruel monsters, but that wasn't enough.
As the forces that had attacked his home began to leave, as he was left on the ground as the sudden barrage of tortured senses made forced him to his knees, he used up all the strength he could muster to stand back up and screamed out a question that had plagued Geoden since the attacks first began.
He asked them why, he demanded to know why they did this. There had to be a reason beyond what was told to them. There had to be something beyond just madness and entertainment.
"'Why'?" repeated the closest nightmare before him as it turned to face him, bemused and astonished. "Do you really think we would answer you, Mon'keigh? If food and drink asked for an answer as to why you enjoyed to eat it, would you bother to reply? I wouldn't, the answer should be obvious."
That cold, cruel reply left the man more stunned and angry than almost everything else that they had seen. Emotions rapidly cycled through him as he went from disbelief to horror as he thought about how so many people on Geoden suffered for this petty reason before he settled on a mixture of rage and despair as he saw the Dark Eldar that responded to him turn back and slowly walked away.
When he was found, nearly two hours later, the people that came to check if there were any survivors they saw that him slumped over by a piece of rubble that was once a part of his home that he had dragged himself over as his legs just couldn't walk in his state any more.
He was in terrible pain and would have screamed if he still had the strength for it when he was picked up by his rescuers and was placed on the medical stretcher. The doctors and medical experts tried to find a way to help him but they couldn't figure out how to nullify or even properly reduce the amount of pain he was feeling. It should have been impossible for him to be in a state like this from their understanding.
This would be the rest of his life, the man had realised afterwards. This would be what he and so many else would feel, maybe even everyone that didn't die to them. And everyone would die here, that was what they said. That was some of their first official words.
Geoden was going to die, and it was going to die slow and miserable against something it couldn't even fight. A part of him already knew that at some point, but now he was completely certain. It wasn't something he could ignore or hope would be different. Even if they didn't finish everyone off then they would probably do something to leave it dead, poison the whole oceans or bombard every city until time did the rest of the work.
Or maybe they would just take everyone on the world and leave the green and blue beautiful world as another ruin, and Geoden's legacy would be the people that were taken to whatever hell these monsters came from. Maybe that was how humanity would end, in cages made by people who would create the worst nightmares for fun.
The man began to pray for a miracle, because that was all he could even do any more in his state. He prayed for himself, for the people that were trying to help him and for everyone else on Geoden. He cried out desperately in his head for something to save them, the cold despair he felt since he lost everything getting worse and worse the longer he suffered his constant agony. He did this for six days until that was all he could manage to think about.
And then, on the morning of the seventh day, the doctors watching over him were shocked when they discovered that their bed-ridden patient was standing up and walking out the door. The staff working in the hospital, and the patients that had suffered similarly due to the attacks, were baffled and for the first time in ages began to feel hope and happiness when they heard about this.
A few doctors came up behind the man just as he was about to leave and asked him how he felt, if the pain he felt was gone.
The man turned around to face the people that had tried to treat him as best as they could, a gentle smile on his face and a far away look in his eyes. Then he began to speak, his voice soft and calm.
He told them that last night he had a pleasant dream of a voice speaking to him through clouds of light rain. He told them that he felt no fear or pain anymore. He said that there would be no more sorrow for him and that soon there would be no more sorrow for anyone else on Geoden, that salvation was coming to their world.
He bowed, saying that he was thankful for their care and that he would gladly return to them after heading to somewhere that he really needed to go to right now. Then he turned back and left without another word. The doctors that spoke to him looked at one another as they wondered what happened.
The man journeyed quickly to a settlement that existed at the far edge of the city they had been brought to, a small farming settlement that helped supply food to the area which was now starting to boom as other places of fertile land close-by had already been razed and poisoned by the raiding Kabal. He still had the smile on his face as he walked the whole way.
When he eventually arrived he told the people he met one by one there that he had found their salvation, that they would no longer have to fear all they had suffered any longer. Most he met were skeptical and wouldn't listen until he took a knife and showed them proof of his blessing and opened their eyes to the Grandfather, he told them of the wonders that were revealed to him as he had suffered greatly in despair with no way to be saved.
At first it took a lot of time to spread the glory of the benevolent god and their champion that answered the man's prayers, but then as more began to follow Nurgle the easier it was for the rest of the town to be converted. Numbers starting to multiply as the new followers spread the voice of rain and rot within their minds to others.
Several people that were suffering from injury, sickness or age now felt no pain as they saw the symbol of Nurgle. Soldiers that came to guard the area, who feared that they could do nothing except die, were greeted by groups that showed them new strength and how to become truly unyielding. Those that worried about not being able to grow enough food to properly feed everyone were more than reassured as they found withered plants coming back to life in new, terrific ways as they were shared and eaten.
Then, on the day that almost all those within the settlement had fallen into Nurgle and symbols dedicated to him were carved in secret all around the area, the Dark Eldar came to attack the farming village.
It was a small raiding party of only six groups of five, they knew that this was a target with a lot less people than other places they hit on the world and the rest of them wanted to enjoy what slaves they did take already. They hadn't encountered anything that was of a danger to them in much more fortified and well defended places on Geoden, why would this place be any different?
A Sybarite that lead one squad coming up to the village held up a hand to signal the others to halt for a moment as they saw a lone Mon'keigh that was standing there out in the open, far away from the others that lived in their primitive village. The group laughed at the sight and at what was about to come, some of the best moments of panic always came when a group of prey first realised that they were about to be attacked.
The leader lifted up their Splinter Pistol and saw that this unaware target was a perfect opportunity to test out some new ammunition they managed to buy due to all the slaves they were taking from the world. Soul-Seeker ammo, formed of normal Splinter Crystals mixed with another deadly ingredient that would allow it to home into their target in revenge for its agony. Wraithbone, tortured like any other slave and turned into a hateful weapon.
The Sybarite deliberately aimed slightly away from the Mon'keigh, who now slowly turned to face the hidden group. The squad saw his smiling expression and the faint look in their eyes and laughed again, he really had no idea what was about to happen.
The leader fired his gun. The shards twisted through the air as they left the pistol, the maddened and hateful crystals curving together straight towards their target. The human fell down and blood began to pool around them. Seven shards stabbing into their chest and back, piercing their heart.
Amusing in how they immediately died, the Sybarite decided, but it was little too effective. There wasn't even a strangled cry before they died, and they were pretty sure that they loaded up some of the slower acting poisons. It seemed that it would be better for killing something actually threatening instead of inflicting delightful agony.
Oh well, no sense in lamenting the lack of suffering one Mon'keigh had when there were a few hundred more waiting to be savaged and broken. They had better hurry before the other squads left them with only a few slaves to take.
As the group rushed out from where they hid towards the town, already thinking up how best to ruin the area forever and further cause more, they stopped almost immediately as they saw that the human that had been shot was slowly standing back up as if nothing had happened. Even as blood leaked from their body, even as their heart should have been a skewered mess. They didn't even wince or act hurt.
The Sybarite looked down at their weapon for a moment. Were they cheated and given counterfeit or defective weaponry? Then they shot at the human again, peppering their torso with almost twenty more shards that should have killed him even without poison. The Mon'keigh didn't fall down this time, they just stood there with there expression unchanging.
The leader of the squad began to look angry as the four Kabalite Warriors looked at the ineffective results from what should have been a display of agony delivered in a new way, bought for a price that was not cheap. They were not going to be made a fool due to a cheating weapon-maker, and they certainly weren't going to look weak in front of those they led.
The Sybarite took out another weapon as they walked forward to their target, one they knew for a fact wasn't tampered with because they used in on several slaves just before they went to the raid. The weapon uncoiled itself as it was detached from the armour and placed into its master's hand, revealing a whip that was soaked in toxins that would cripple and kill any that touched them.
The Agoniser was whipped at the Mon'keigh, connecting to their body and its nervous system immediately, and the Sybarite expectantly waited for the creature that was defying them to die as they violently twitched with their last moments.
Instead the human, or what was something that looked like a human, reached out and grabbed the length of the whip with their right hand and slowly pulled with an amount of strength that a normal human definitely didn't possess.
"Why are you just standing there?" the Sybarite shouted, trying not to let the fear that they were starting to feel creep into their voice. "Shoot already!"
The other four members of the squad, who were all watching what was happening from a healthy distance in confusion, jerked to attention. Two of them began to fire at the undying human who didn't seem to feel any pain while the other two sensed that this was a perfect opportunity and began to fire at their leader.
The Sybarite dodged the first few shots and tried to return fire, but even as the betraying raiders were prepared to move away the group saw that the shards from the Splinter Pistol curved away from them and went straight to the human again. To their horror they saw the shards sink into its flesh.
The Wraithbone infused splinters were slowly absorbed into the figure's body, almost as though they were merging with them. And then the splinters shot by the others of the squad started to follow at an even slower speed. The toxins inside them all, along with the Agoniser, flooding a body that seemed immune to them and any feeling of pain in a manner that only a few types of beings were capable of.
The leader was distracted for a moment as they saw what was happening in front of them, starting to realise what they were facing, and then cried out in pain and fell to one knee as they were shot again by a volley from one of the two members of their squad that saw an easy way into promotion even in the face of a monster that was immune to their weapons.
Now able to yank out the Agoniser as the grip holding it was loosened, the thing that looked human began to walk forward to the screaming and dying Sybarite while the rest of the squad quickly began to retreat. As a native of Commorragh and member of the Aeldari race they were much more resistant to the poisons that were now rapidly entering their system, but that and the slow acting nature of these particular toxins only meant that their death would be delayed instead of prevented.
"Oh," said the thing that was covered in small shards as they looked down to their chest, the Agoniser now in their hand. Their voice sounding too calm and too dead even as a hint of joy lurked within it. "I see, I hear you now. You are so angry, so in pain, used by those that would hurt you. This won't do, this won't do at all. Would you like to join me and the caring embrace of the Plague Father? Would you like relief from your pain, your sufferings soothed? Would you like to have your revenge?"
The sinking shards infused with tortured Wraithbone inside the thing's body made a quiet noise in response, a resonating sound that was like glass being scraped against metal or faint screams that were coming from somewhere far away.
The dying leader of the squad slowly turned their head to the gun that was still clutched in their hand as they realised the large amount of crystal inside it was also resonating that same noise. Their fingers began to twitch as the noises grew louder, more painful, and it fell down unto the ground.
And in the distance, towards where the primitive farming village was, the Sybarite could hear a few other screams and the sounds of conflict. But the screams weren't in a human tongue but were panicked Aeldari curses and cries to retreat. The whole area must have been corrupted, and if it was a place where food was grown...
"I find myself having to thank you," the figure said, blood that had now been heavily mixed with several deadly toxins began to leak from its mouth slightly. "While it was not your intent, through your actions I have found my eyes opened up to something so wonderful. I realise the true beauty of life, the gifts granted to me by Grandfather Nurgle and the caring voice within the rain. I realise so much now..."
The figure walked forward, as the Sybarite used what little strength they had left to try doing their best to crawl away from the Nurglite cultists, and then reached down to grab the dropped pistol.
"...do you realise it too?"
The fallen and betrayed raider's last thoughts before the angry, hateful shards pierced through their heart were prayers for Isha to save them.
This time the prayers weren't answered.
Before the night was over, as the attackers were fended away and killed by people and guarding soldiers that felt no pain and did what was starting to be considered impossible, the rest of the people in the area quickly became devoted to Nurgle and praised their god's name and began to celebrate what had happened and what would happen as they prepared for the next steps.
Geoden would now truly become a place where humanity would be reborn, to rise up in a new and most wonderful way.
And then the man who started it all went over to all those that had been embedded by the the toxic shards and smiled happily as he saw that, like him, they felt no pain as the splinters sunk into their flesh too. The people of the village were now blessed by the power of Nurgle and they all thanked the man for what he had done.
But the man didn't just listen to the people he had saved, he also listened to the strange splinters that were housed inside of him and the crystal they came from that was loaded inside the pistol. He could hear and understand the quiet voice of the strange material as the shards merged with him, and he could feel the pain and hatred within them lessen more and more as the power of Nurgle seeped through and was accepted into them to finally relieve them of their torture.
They were made from the power that existed within the same, vast realm where Nurgle and all aspects and pieces of them dwelled. A divine place, a wonderful place, and they were a part of it. They connected to it, resonated with it. With them the man could feel himself resonating more closely with the essence of the Plague Lord and the voice within the filthy rain, and with that an idea began to form in his mind. Both another blessing and yet more proof of Nurgle's gifts.
Because after all, the gifts of Nurgle deserved to be shared and grown, and the people of Geoden desperately wanted their safety and for a way to overcome the dire attacks they were facing.
The man went over to each person that had been been shot by the shards and gave them a little piece of the Wraithbone crystal, so that they would resonate with greater with the power of the Lord of Decay, and become one with them. Then they would be left to grow as their devotion grew, as the influence of Nurgle become stronger over them and this world. And they would grow along with the other shards, the simple crystals that were meant to deliver their lovely poisons.
Now they would deliver poison in a new way.
Then, once everything was finished, the corrupted soldiers used their equipment to tell their superiors what they managed to accomplish against the attackers, and that they even has some weapons and bodies they could look at. Other members of the growing cult went off to spread the word and wonders of Nurgle, tiny resonating shards growing within their hearts, to other places of the world full of people who desperately needed something to save them.
The man, the leader of the growing cult, stayed with the rest of those that were now blessed and protected by the care of the Lord of the Master of Pestilence. He waited for the rest of the world to realise what happened here and come to him.
And the people of Geoden came to him quickly. First came the military who came in large numbers and immediately took the corpses and weapons while asking what happened, how this was accomplished. They were told about Nurgle, first in simple and small pieces of the truth that would be enough until it was time to truly show them, and while there was initial disbelief both the results and the reports from the corrupted soldiers stationed there were more than enough for them to be grateful for what happened even as they tried to keep a close eye on the people that managed to fight off the Barbed Desire.
Then the news spread like a plague, infecting the minds of the world as they heard about the miracle that had happened. People all around Geoden began to know of the growing faith around the figure called Nurgle, that they had managed to defeat the nightmarish raiders and were rumoured to be immune to the horrific weapons of pain that they used.
The cult leader's words were broadcasted to rest of the world as others came to the village. He showed them the symbol of Nurgle and said that the towns and cities that bared the mark would not be raided. He told them that accepting the blessings, devoting themselves to the god and their generous servant known as the Rainfather, would free them from their pain and suffering. He told them that they were saved.
While there were some people that were sceptical, or just thought that it wouldn't work, soon enough many people began to join the followers of the generous god.
For the next few days it was seen that anywhere that clearly and proudly bore the mark of Nurgle were not visited by the Dark Eldar. And while still early to fully determine how true it was yet, that evidence alone was enough to convince a number of people.
The raids themselves had changed too, in ways better and worse. No longer were they recorded for all to see, no longer were horrific displays left behind for those to find. All they did was come to a few towns quickly at once and took everyone they could and used their strongest weapons to annihilate the area around them before leaving.
The followers of Nurgle said that the attackers were now afraid and were doing their best to attack those that did not follow the Lord of All while they still had time, and it certainly seemed so. More people began to follow, and then as they did so yet more reasons to follow came up as those that worshipped Nurgle grew more numerous.
Miracle after miracle began to be preformed. The leader of the cult went over to grounds that had been poisoned by the Dark Eldar, where now nothing would grow and, and then showed that new greenery was starting to spring to life before people's very eyes. He went back to the hospital they were put in before and went over to all those that were sick and dying, especially those that had suffered by being chosen to become examples made by the Dark Eldar, and all those that accepted the grace of Nurgle seemed to make full and even impossible recoveries.
The government of Geoden tried to push back against the cult as it rapidly grew in power and number, but by that point there was no stopping its development. It was hard to even stop them now as the popularity of the cult due to the protection they gave and proof of its holy power that were displayed.
And then, one day, there was no attack. The ships weren't seen to still be out there in the world's orbit either. And none on the next day. Or the next. Or the day afterwards.
The implications weren't lost on anyone, and while it was hasty to judge so soon it was still such a good sign for everyone to see. The attacks were stopping. Those of Geoden weren't being killed, tortured or abducted any more. A true miracle had occurred.
Some people, from soldiers in the military to ordinary people in the smallest homes, did wonder why the raiders left and why they didn't even come close to anywhere that bore the symbol of the cult. But the followers of Nurgle had their popularity skyrocket, even some high ranking members of the government and the military that previously were against them suddenly began to change their tune in favour of them.
Soon enough the followers of Nurgle became a majority, their influence reaching out to nearly every community, and many praised the generous god for all their blessings and wonder. Then on the day people really began to celebrate the disappearance of the Dark Eldar, the leader moved to the largest city of Geoden and had accepted to appear in an official meeting with other prominent figures of the world that would discuss what had happened and announce how Geoden and its people would move on for the future.
Many watched when it aired, even those that didn't believe in the god that was preached by so many now. And then as the broadcast started people all around the world saw the man who was the first blessed by the Lord of All and who spread their word to the rest of the world, he who was there at the first true victory against the raiders and who made it possible.
After the introductions as everyone greeted each other and all those of Geoden had finished, with much talk of solidarity and everyone being brought together as they would all rise back up, the leader of the cult stepped in to talk immediately before anyone else.
With a great smile on his face he stated to everyone that what happened was a blessing, that they were truly saved and the invaders would never come again. And many smiled with him, some out of politeness and others out of genuine happiness as their world seemed to be saved.
Then he announced that Nurgle, Lord of Decay, would now bless the whole world with his diseased glory and all would join him. And he announced this while he pulled out a needle that suddenly jut out of his chest and then stabbed it into a nearby guard, who fell to the floor screaming in agony as the corrupting poisons flooded their body, while almost all the other guards in the area began to have shards full of toxins extend out of various places in their bodies.
The panic and horror was immediate to those that weren't apart of the cult, especially to those that recognised what those splinters growing out of the bodies looked like. It was almost as instantaneous as the call to action for all those that served the diseased Chaos God, their leader heralding them to infect and truly save their world and all that was on it.
Plants and fungi that were being tended on farmlands that had been contaminated by the toxins of the Dark Eldar and then the pollution of Nurgle began to grow rapidly, showing their true forms as they began to spread around the surrounding areas. Mobs of Nurglite worshippers formed and started to raid the homes of unbelievers to convert them and to infect the ground and sources of water. Secret ritual sites in all settlements with a presence of the cult began to have sacrifices dragged to them, ready to give them up to their god and help spread their influence to an even greater extent.
Many people tried to resist, but from ordinary citizens against organised groups to military personal suddenly facing a massive amount of traitors in their midst it was a hard fight that they were not winning. Those of Nurgle felt no pain or suffering, and they were much harder to kill.
But even aside from the strength, toughness, the amount of time they had to prepare for this or the numbers of those that followed Nurgle they possessed an advantage that those trying to resist them did not and did not even realise yet. The infections and corruptions they could spread and how they could do so, how there were already so many places they were spreading from.
The most powerful of which was the announcement that was still being broadcasted, as all those that still watched the screens could see the leader of the cult and the shard coated soldiers in the area gathered together. Corpses from those that came to the meeting and did not follow the Plague Lord were dragged into the centre of the room, one of which was still convulsing from the envenomed strike from the Agoniser in the leader's left hand, their bodies placed and twisted to form the symbol of Nurgle for all to see.
The leader knelt down and prayed in front of the corpse-drawn mark, joined by the other followers surrounding him as the rest of their bodies that weren't embedded by the splinters began to look more diseased and sickened by the minute.
"Oh Grandfather of life," the head of the cult said. "Oh Master of Pestilence, oh Saviour of Decay... we all greet you now in our deepest of gratitude, we thank you for all that you have done and given us. And we praise your generous champion, Rotigus Rainmaker, for hearing our suffering and granting us salvation. There is nothing we could offer that would repay what you have done, your sweet kindness granted to us. Now we shall give you this world and all those on it to join you, but first..."
The man who was first blessed by the grace of the Nurgle lifted up their right hand and plunged it into their chest. Filthy blood and toxins poured unto the bodies that formed the ritual circle on the ground, causing them to twitch and discolour, as the man took out a small sliver of the corrupted Wraithbone inside of their system. It was a small needle, coated in bits of flesh and bone it had merged with, and it quietly resonated with diseased power.
"Now I offer you this seed of souls, this fragment of the great Warp, so that it might be planted within your wondrous garden. I offer this as a symbol of our devotion to you, I offer this so that this tormented shard might return to where it belongs under your care and I offer it to humbly ask one more favour of you to help us spread your gifts to this world."
The splinter of infected, tortured Wraithbone began to resonate louder in the man's hand as he held it over the symbol of Nurgle, and as many people began to be sacrificed over in other ritual sites over the world. The man took this as a sign of acceptance and continued.
"As this shard is part of a whole and has bonded with me others most devoted to you," the words spoken were now being echoed by the great amount of crystal that laid beside the man's heart, taken and shoved into their body after it was unloaded from the gun it came from, and was heard faintly within the shards that were implanted in others. "I wish that this shard that goes to you will let us hear you, feel you more so than before. For your power to resonate within us and through us towards all around us. So that we would join you in-"
The leader of the cult stopped as they saw the little needle within their hand begin to shake violently. After a few moments it began to rise up on its own over the bodies, which were now rapidly rotting away as a haze of dark green and putrid brown began to emanate from them. Then the haze grew thick as it covered the sliver, the pungent odour of rot filling the room, and then when it passed the splinter of Wraithbone was gone.
The man immediately bowed down and was about to begin profusely thanking the Great Corrupter again for accepting the offering, then they felt the various crystals within their body begin convulsing and moving. Most of the small shards began to push their way out and poke out from all over his body, becoming toxin encrusted spines that covered many parts of his flesh.
The Wraithbone core that was beside his heart began to shift as it slowly moved towards the right side of his torso, and then his whole right arm started to twitch and twist as splinters grew all around the limb. Large shards of Wraithbone broke off from the core and moved through into the arm as the other crystals began to merge with the flesh and bone of the lead cultist's appendage on a level not seen before.
The fingers fused together as the hand closed up, the bones all melding together along with the large mass of shards that were crawling up the limb and combing with it. The arm started to look like it was completely covered in quills, then scales as most of the crystalline mass smoothed itself over and then finally sharpened as the whole end of the cultist's right appendage transformed into a pointed spear.
A great spike formed of bone and crystal, a lance made with the normal splinters along with the Wraithbone shards that moved to the end to form a tip that could pierce anything in its way. A number of toxic barbs twitched around the length of the spear, each point leaked small drips of infections and poisons down unto the floor. The sharpened end of the arm leaked the largest amount, caustic sludge poured out and seeped through the ground.
"Thank you, oh generous Nurgle!" the leader said as they marvelled at their arm with an expression of joy. "I and all others that follow you will carry your will to all. We join you and revel in your glory. No pain, no sorrow and no fear. As these shards deliver afflictions and grow within us, so too will we deliver and grow with them. Our people were shattered against those that invaded us and we are the shards, now their saviours! We are the Barbed Blight, protectors of this world! And now our world shall be Nurgle's!"
Cheers were heard from around the world, voices ranging from normal to rasping or gurgling all praising the Lord of Decay as diseases were spread and shards of crystal grew from their bodies.
After that ritual and transformation the leader of the cult, of the Barbed Blight, finished the broadcast and left along with the soldiers that too were growing shards across their body. Those corrupted by the Plague Lord were galvanised into spreading anything and everything they could to those uninfected.
There were fierce resistances at first, many of those in the military that didn't succumb fought as hard as they could against the new invaders they faced. Some cities and towns with minimal presence from those corrupted managed to stay largely uninfected for a while. A few people even managed to figure out that symbols of Nurgle alone were something that could also infect a person, discovered after having seen others become afflicted by just looking at an image.
But despite their best efforts, the resistence wasn't able to defeat or match the Barbed Blight. Diseases and toxins plagued many areas, including areas that supplied food and water to people. Nurglites slipped past defences, or the bodies of those that were killed weren't disposed of properly. Some gave into despair as they saw either the inevitable end of their world approaching or listened to the words of former friends and family that now had needles jutting out of their flesh.
Eventually the seas and oceans of the world became teeming with plagues, filthy waters stretching out as far as the eye could see. Forests were taken over by tides of fungus and poisonous flora, with even daemonic Feculent Gnarlmaws sprouting from the ruined soil.
Within the cities that were over taken were some of those that were blessed with a sliver of Wraithbone inside them planted themselves into the ground along side others coated in the toxic shards of the Dark Eldar, their bodies merging together to form crystalline trees that focused on nothing more than focusing and spreading Nurgle's gifts and influence across Geoden. Like towers that transmitted disease in a literal manner, resonating whispers of plague.
It got to the point that only a minority of people on the world were still uninfected, still resisting both the cult and its corruption, in a small corner of the world lead by somebody that didn't break or fall when all other like them did.
Bezoa Milreve was the leader of the remnants of the resistance, a woman that survived one of the later raids of the Dark Eldar as an example meant to give the rest of the world more fear and despair. She had been injected with a vial that contained something that glowed and writhed, something that wasn't a chemical or even a liquid.
Something that filled her head full of screaming memories and nightmares, made her remember faces she didn't know and names she never heard that felt like were hers. She faintly recalled the images of spiked cages and an impossible city in a twisted realm that wasn't normal, and very vividly recalled various horrific tortures and extreme cruelties of all sorts with the level of detail that she could almost feel them all as phantom pains.
The raiders, Aeldari, said that she had been given little motes of essence taken from souls that were tortured in life and in death. So that she could tell the others of her world what would happen to those that were captured, to tell everyone both what happened here as everyone she loved and knew here laid dead or in cages and that for those taken to them that not even in death was there mercy.
The slavers told her that they would come back for her one day as they let her go as her mind swirled with thoughts and memories that were not her own. Then they left and never came back, and after seeing where they lived and feeling what they wanted to do to people she decided to fear whatever made monsters like that afraid.
And then, as the cult rose up and there nightmares were revealed, she decided to not feel fear. She decided to fight, and every part of her agreed, so she joined the resistance and rose up from another member all the way to its leader as previous ones died, fell to corruption or both.
The remnants of those on Geoden that still fought were small in number and still dwindling, a scrap of what it used to be like before the two invaders had come to take it over. The situation seemed hopeless, and every day it looked more certain that the world was doomed, but those that were left continued to fight even if victory seemed impossible.
And they fought because it was their home. Or for those they cared for had fallen to one foe or the other. Or perhaps just because that was all that was left to do except give up. Or maybe they did it for what and who they had left now.
Either way, they fought and would not stop until all of them were dead or corrupted as the cult seemed so glad to make happen. And they fought as hard as they could in the face of death and decay.
But victory would not come, not unless another miracle came to their world.
-----
Broken Barbs.
Within the galaxy there was a world known as Geoden, discovered during the golden age of humanity and colonised by them rather quickly.
Then the great disasters that brought humanity as a whole to its knees and the world fell from its heights. The history kept by the people of the world didn't say what happened to Geoden specifically, only that they had lost quite a lot of knowledge and technology, but other things were recalled. Worlds falling to too many disasters, stations breaking and ships burning. Technology failing in the most terrible ways, machine horrors manifesting. It was remembered that screams were heard from places all around the galaxy.
And then there was silence. Lonely, terrifying silence as the voices of other worlds were cut off. That was said to be the worst thing, worse than even the idea of never being able to reach the stars again.
The people of Geoden weren't even sure if humanity was alive on anywhere other than their world. For all they knew, all that existed beyond them were corpses in empty ruins, many monsters that would kill them, all shrouded in the darkness of space.
But those that lived on that world found a way to move past that. They didn't forget, but it didn't drag them down into despair. Even if the worst had truly happened and they were alone against death and the dead, then they would do their best to rise back up.
Humanity had risen up from nothing before, it could do it again. They had a chance.
Geoden was a a place much like Earth in so many respects. It had lush green forests, beautiful blue oceans and it even had a moon that went around the planet every night. It's people had weathered the storm and they were managing to rebuild, maybe being able to defend themselves and fight back against whatever nightmares were out there.
It could have been the perfect place for humanity to begin again, slowly but surely as its wonders were brought back one by one.
Instead it was a perfect target.
The Kabal of the Barbed Delight dove unto the world immediately the moment they had realised what they had found. The Kabal had gone through difficult times of their own, they had been pushed aside and beaten back heavily by others of Commorragh that were stronger than them. A shell of its former self, insignificant and derided by other groups that were stronger and more influential.
A world of easy prey that couldn't fight back was just what they needed to relieve them of their frustrations while being able to turn quite the profit. But they didn't want to rush things with this new prize. They decided to truly relish this world when they came for it.
What they wanted was to make a show of it, something to be remembered and savoured. Back when they were at their height, the Kabal prided itself in how it acted towards its prey. They did not kill immediately, they bled their victims and let them struggle first. To start things slow and keep making it get worse.
It had been much too long since they had the opportunity to freely enjoy themselves like this, after all.
The night that the Barbed Delight had come a town at the edge of a city suddenly became empty, aside from a few signs small signs of conflict it looked as though everyone had just vanished. People all around the world became worried and confused. The next night a fire raged over and burnt down another town, there weren't any signs of any people again or even burnt remains.
The third town was when they started to find bodies, tiny pieces of them scattered over the area. The fourth night was when Geoden noticed the ships that had revealed themselves and were just lazily hanging in orbit until they suddenly descended over another town and messily butchered one half of the people there and took the other.
And then it got worse. And worse. And worse. By the tenth night the Kabal began to broadcast recordings of what they did to the people of Geoden, really making it a game.
They didn't broadcast all of the horrors they committed, just enough of it to show that another settlement of the world had been destroyed. They showed how powerful their weapons could be as they turned a military base to ruins, and another time they showed how they preferred weapons that did a lot worse than just kill.
People went to those attacked areas in fear for what they would find. There were horrific displays of artwork formed from flayed bodies bent to form twisted madness. Sometimes they left a toxin in the air or water that couldn't be detected until it was too late.
But people kept going to the attacked areas anyway, because sometimes there were those that were left alive from the attacks and they had to be saved.
Those found left alive by the Dark Eldar weren't survivors, they were meant to be examples. They were just meant to be something to spread more suffering. At best they would have been tortured and told to tell everyone what happened in detail, to tell them what it was like to face them. At worst they would become twisted, feral monsters that still seemed all too human as they howled in agony.
Geoden suffered and tried to fight back, they tried again and again desperately, but nothing they did seem to work.
"You will all die," their leader said to Geoden on the first broadcast, melodic laughter tingeing their voice. "Either by my hand, by another's, or even by simply reaching the end your pitifully small lifespans. You are alone and your world is ours and we will take from it until you bore us. Nothing will save you, not even death. Try and beg, bargain or break. It doesn't matter."
One such man that had 'survived' one of the attacks of the Barbed Desire was cursed by something that had been injected into him and gave constant pain as his senses were massively amplified. He had already suffered greatly, seeing his home turned to ash and those he cared for either killed or taken by the cruel monsters, but that wasn't enough.
As the forces that had attacked his home began to leave, as he was left on the ground as the sudden barrage of tortured senses made forced him to his knees, he used up all the strength he could muster to stand back up and screamed out a question that had plagued Geoden since the attacks first began.
He asked them why, he demanded to know why they did this. There had to be a reason beyond what was told to them. There had to be something beyond just madness and entertainment.
"'Why'?" repeated the closest nightmare before him as it turned to face him, bemused and astonished. "Do you really think we would answer you, Mon'keigh? If food and drink asked for an answer as to why you enjoyed to eat it, would you bother to reply? I wouldn't, the answer should be obvious."
That cold, cruel reply left the man more stunned and angry than almost everything else that they had seen. Emotions rapidly cycled through him as he went from disbelief to horror as he thought about how so many people on Geoden suffered for this petty reason before he settled on a mixture of rage and despair as he saw the Dark Eldar that responded to him turn back and slowly walked away.
When he was found, nearly two hours later, the people that came to check if there were any survivors they saw that him slumped over by a piece of rubble that was once a part of his home that he had dragged himself over as his legs just couldn't walk in his state any more.
He was in terrible pain and would have screamed if he still had the strength for it when he was picked up by his rescuers and was placed on the medical stretcher. The doctors and medical experts tried to find a way to help him but they couldn't figure out how to nullify or even properly reduce the amount of pain he was feeling. It should have been impossible for him to be in a state like this from their understanding.
This would be the rest of his life, the man had realised afterwards. This would be what he and so many else would feel, maybe even everyone that didn't die to them. And everyone would die here, that was what they said. That was some of their first official words.
Geoden was going to die, and it was going to die slow and miserable against something it couldn't even fight. A part of him already knew that at some point, but now he was completely certain. It wasn't something he could ignore or hope would be different. Even if they didn't finish everyone off then they would probably do something to leave it dead, poison the whole oceans or bombard every city until time did the rest of the work.
Or maybe they would just take everyone on the world and leave the green and blue beautiful world as another ruin, and Geoden's legacy would be the people that were taken to whatever hell these monsters came from. Maybe that was how humanity would end, in cages made by people who would create the worst nightmares for fun.
The man began to pray for a miracle, because that was all he could even do any more in his state. He prayed for himself, for the people that were trying to help him and for everyone else on Geoden. He cried out desperately in his head for something to save them, the cold despair he felt since he lost everything getting worse and worse the longer he suffered his constant agony. He did this for six days until that was all he could manage to think about.
And then, on the morning of the seventh day, the doctors watching over him were shocked when they discovered that their bed-ridden patient was standing up and walking out the door. The staff working in the hospital, and the patients that had suffered similarly due to the attacks, were baffled and for the first time in ages began to feel hope and happiness when they heard about this.
A few doctors came up behind the man just as he was about to leave and asked him how he felt, if the pain he felt was gone.
The man turned around to face the people that had tried to treat him as best as they could, a gentle smile on his face and a far away look in his eyes. Then he began to speak, his voice soft and calm.
He told them that last night he had a pleasant dream of a voice speaking to him through clouds of light rain. He told them that he felt no fear or pain anymore. He said that there would be no more sorrow for him and that soon there would be no more sorrow for anyone else on Geoden, that salvation was coming to their world.
He bowed, saying that he was thankful for their care and that he would gladly return to them after heading to somewhere that he really needed to go to right now. Then he turned back and left without another word. The doctors that spoke to him looked at one another as they wondered what happened.
The man journeyed quickly to a settlement that existed at the far edge of the city they had been brought to, a small farming settlement that helped supply food to the area which was now starting to boom as other places of fertile land close-by had already been razed and poisoned by the raiding Kabal. He still had the smile on his face as he walked the whole way.
When he eventually arrived he told the people he met one by one there that he had found their salvation, that they would no longer have to fear all they had suffered any longer. Most he met were skeptical and wouldn't listen until he took a knife and showed them proof of his blessing and opened their eyes to the Grandfather, he told them of the wonders that were revealed to him as he had suffered greatly in despair with no way to be saved.
At first it took a lot of time to spread the glory of the benevolent god and their champion that answered the man's prayers, but then as more began to follow Nurgle the easier it was for the rest of the town to be converted. Numbers starting to multiply as the new followers spread the voice of rain and rot within their minds to others.
Several people that were suffering from injury, sickness or age now felt no pain as they saw the symbol of Nurgle. Soldiers that came to guard the area, who feared that they could do nothing except die, were greeted by groups that showed them new strength and how to become truly unyielding. Those that worried about not being able to grow enough food to properly feed everyone were more than reassured as they found withered plants coming back to life in new, terrific ways as they were shared and eaten.
Then, on the day that almost all those within the settlement had fallen into Nurgle and symbols dedicated to him were carved in secret all around the area, the Dark Eldar came to attack the farming village.
It was a small raiding party of only six groups of five, they knew that this was a target with a lot less people than other places they hit on the world and the rest of them wanted to enjoy what slaves they did take already. They hadn't encountered anything that was of a danger to them in much more fortified and well defended places on Geoden, why would this place be any different?
A Sybarite that lead one squad coming up to the village held up a hand to signal the others to halt for a moment as they saw a lone Mon'keigh that was standing there out in the open, far away from the others that lived in their primitive village. The group laughed at the sight and at what was about to come, some of the best moments of panic always came when a group of prey first realised that they were about to be attacked.
The leader lifted up their Splinter Pistol and saw that this unaware target was a perfect opportunity to test out some new ammunition they managed to buy due to all the slaves they were taking from the world. Soul-Seeker ammo, formed of normal Splinter Crystals mixed with another deadly ingredient that would allow it to home into their target in revenge for its agony. Wraithbone, tortured like any other slave and turned into a hateful weapon.
The Sybarite deliberately aimed slightly away from the Mon'keigh, who now slowly turned to face the hidden group. The squad saw his smiling expression and the faint look in their eyes and laughed again, he really had no idea what was about to happen.
The leader fired his gun. The shards twisted through the air as they left the pistol, the maddened and hateful crystals curving together straight towards their target. The human fell down and blood began to pool around them. Seven shards stabbing into their chest and back, piercing their heart.
Amusing in how they immediately died, the Sybarite decided, but it was little too effective. There wasn't even a strangled cry before they died, and they were pretty sure that they loaded up some of the slower acting poisons. It seemed that it would be better for killing something actually threatening instead of inflicting delightful agony.
Oh well, no sense in lamenting the lack of suffering one Mon'keigh had when there were a few hundred more waiting to be savaged and broken. They had better hurry before the other squads left them with only a few slaves to take.
As the group rushed out from where they hid towards the town, already thinking up how best to ruin the area forever and further cause more, they stopped almost immediately as they saw that the human that had been shot was slowly standing back up as if nothing had happened. Even as blood leaked from their body, even as their heart should have been a skewered mess. They didn't even wince or act hurt.
The Sybarite looked down at their weapon for a moment. Were they cheated and given counterfeit or defective weaponry? Then they shot at the human again, peppering their torso with almost twenty more shards that should have killed him even without poison. The Mon'keigh didn't fall down this time, they just stood there with there expression unchanging.
The leader of the squad began to look angry as the four Kabalite Warriors looked at the ineffective results from what should have been a display of agony delivered in a new way, bought for a price that was not cheap. They were not going to be made a fool due to a cheating weapon-maker, and they certainly weren't going to look weak in front of those they led.
The Sybarite took out another weapon as they walked forward to their target, one they knew for a fact wasn't tampered with because they used in on several slaves just before they went to the raid. The weapon uncoiled itself as it was detached from the armour and placed into its master's hand, revealing a whip that was soaked in toxins that would cripple and kill any that touched them.
The Agoniser was whipped at the Mon'keigh, connecting to their body and its nervous system immediately, and the Sybarite expectantly waited for the creature that was defying them to die as they violently twitched with their last moments.
Instead the human, or what was something that looked like a human, reached out and grabbed the length of the whip with their right hand and slowly pulled with an amount of strength that a normal human definitely didn't possess.
"Why are you just standing there?" the Sybarite shouted, trying not to let the fear that they were starting to feel creep into their voice. "Shoot already!"
The other four members of the squad, who were all watching what was happening from a healthy distance in confusion, jerked to attention. Two of them began to fire at the undying human who didn't seem to feel any pain while the other two sensed that this was a perfect opportunity and began to fire at their leader.
The Sybarite dodged the first few shots and tried to return fire, but even as the betraying raiders were prepared to move away the group saw that the shards from the Splinter Pistol curved away from them and went straight to the human again. To their horror they saw the shards sink into its flesh.
The Wraithbone infused splinters were slowly absorbed into the figure's body, almost as though they were merging with them. And then the splinters shot by the others of the squad started to follow at an even slower speed. The toxins inside them all, along with the Agoniser, flooding a body that seemed immune to them and any feeling of pain in a manner that only a few types of beings were capable of.
The leader was distracted for a moment as they saw what was happening in front of them, starting to realise what they were facing, and then cried out in pain and fell to one knee as they were shot again by a volley from one of the two members of their squad that saw an easy way into promotion even in the face of a monster that was immune to their weapons.
Now able to yank out the Agoniser as the grip holding it was loosened, the thing that looked human began to walk forward to the screaming and dying Sybarite while the rest of the squad quickly began to retreat. As a native of Commorragh and member of the Aeldari race they were much more resistant to the poisons that were now rapidly entering their system, but that and the slow acting nature of these particular toxins only meant that their death would be delayed instead of prevented.
"Oh," said the thing that was covered in small shards as they looked down to their chest, the Agoniser now in their hand. Their voice sounding too calm and too dead even as a hint of joy lurked within it. "I see, I hear you now. You are so angry, so in pain, used by those that would hurt you. This won't do, this won't do at all. Would you like to join me and the caring embrace of the Plague Father? Would you like relief from your pain, your sufferings soothed? Would you like to have your revenge?"
The sinking shards infused with tortured Wraithbone inside the thing's body made a quiet noise in response, a resonating sound that was like glass being scraped against metal or faint screams that were coming from somewhere far away.
The dying leader of the squad slowly turned their head to the gun that was still clutched in their hand as they realised the large amount of crystal inside it was also resonating that same noise. Their fingers began to twitch as the noises grew louder, more painful, and it fell down unto the ground.
And in the distance, towards where the primitive farming village was, the Sybarite could hear a few other screams and the sounds of conflict. But the screams weren't in a human tongue but were panicked Aeldari curses and cries to retreat. The whole area must have been corrupted, and if it was a place where food was grown...
"I find myself having to thank you," the figure said, blood that had now been heavily mixed with several deadly toxins began to leak from its mouth slightly. "While it was not your intent, through your actions I have found my eyes opened up to something so wonderful. I realise the true beauty of life, the gifts granted to me by Grandfather Nurgle and the caring voice within the rain. I realise so much now..."
The figure walked forward, as the Sybarite used what little strength they had left to try doing their best to crawl away from the Nurglite cultists, and then reached down to grab the dropped pistol.
"...do you realise it too?"
The fallen and betrayed raider's last thoughts before the angry, hateful shards pierced through their heart were prayers for Isha to save them.
This time the prayers weren't answered.
Before the night was over, as the attackers were fended away and killed by people and guarding soldiers that felt no pain and did what was starting to be considered impossible, the rest of the people in the area quickly became devoted to Nurgle and praised their god's name and began to celebrate what had happened and what would happen as they prepared for the next steps.
Geoden would now truly become a place where humanity would be reborn, to rise up in a new and most wonderful way.
And then the man who started it all went over to all those that had been embedded by the the toxic shards and smiled happily as he saw that, like him, they felt no pain as the splinters sunk into their flesh too. The people of the village were now blessed by the power of Nurgle and they all thanked the man for what he had done.
But the man didn't just listen to the people he had saved, he also listened to the strange splinters that were housed inside of him and the crystal they came from that was loaded inside the pistol. He could hear and understand the quiet voice of the strange material as the shards merged with him, and he could feel the pain and hatred within them lessen more and more as the power of Nurgle seeped through and was accepted into them to finally relieve them of their torture.
They were made from the power that existed within the same, vast realm where Nurgle and all aspects and pieces of them dwelled. A divine place, a wonderful place, and they were a part of it. They connected to it, resonated with it. With them the man could feel himself resonating more closely with the essence of the Plague Lord and the voice within the filthy rain, and with that an idea began to form in his mind. Both another blessing and yet more proof of Nurgle's gifts.
Because after all, the gifts of Nurgle deserved to be shared and grown, and the people of Geoden desperately wanted their safety and for a way to overcome the dire attacks they were facing.
The man went over to each person that had been been shot by the shards and gave them a little piece of the Wraithbone crystal, so that they would resonate with greater with the power of the Lord of Decay, and become one with them. Then they would be left to grow as their devotion grew, as the influence of Nurgle become stronger over them and this world. And they would grow along with the other shards, the simple crystals that were meant to deliver their lovely poisons.
Now they would deliver poison in a new way.
Then, once everything was finished, the corrupted soldiers used their equipment to tell their superiors what they managed to accomplish against the attackers, and that they even has some weapons and bodies they could look at. Other members of the growing cult went off to spread the word and wonders of Nurgle, tiny resonating shards growing within their hearts, to other places of the world full of people who desperately needed something to save them.
The man, the leader of the growing cult, stayed with the rest of those that were now blessed and protected by the care of the Lord of the Master of Pestilence. He waited for the rest of the world to realise what happened here and come to him.
And the people of Geoden came to him quickly. First came the military who came in large numbers and immediately took the corpses and weapons while asking what happened, how this was accomplished. They were told about Nurgle, first in simple and small pieces of the truth that would be enough until it was time to truly show them, and while there was initial disbelief both the results and the reports from the corrupted soldiers stationed there were more than enough for them to be grateful for what happened even as they tried to keep a close eye on the people that managed to fight off the Barbed Desire.
Then the news spread like a plague, infecting the minds of the world as they heard about the miracle that had happened. People all around Geoden began to know of the growing faith around the figure called Nurgle, that they had managed to defeat the nightmarish raiders and were rumoured to be immune to the horrific weapons of pain that they used.
The cult leader's words were broadcasted to rest of the world as others came to the village. He showed them the symbol of Nurgle and said that the towns and cities that bared the mark would not be raided. He told them that accepting the blessings, devoting themselves to the god and their generous servant known as the Rainfather, would free them from their pain and suffering. He told them that they were saved.
While there were some people that were sceptical, or just thought that it wouldn't work, soon enough many people began to join the followers of the generous god.
For the next few days it was seen that anywhere that clearly and proudly bore the mark of Nurgle were not visited by the Dark Eldar. And while still early to fully determine how true it was yet, that evidence alone was enough to convince a number of people.
The raids themselves had changed too, in ways better and worse. No longer were they recorded for all to see, no longer were horrific displays left behind for those to find. All they did was come to a few towns quickly at once and took everyone they could and used their strongest weapons to annihilate the area around them before leaving.
The followers of Nurgle said that the attackers were now afraid and were doing their best to attack those that did not follow the Lord of All while they still had time, and it certainly seemed so. More people began to follow, and then as they did so yet more reasons to follow came up as those that worshipped Nurgle grew more numerous.
Miracle after miracle began to be preformed. The leader of the cult went over to grounds that had been poisoned by the Dark Eldar, where now nothing would grow and, and then showed that new greenery was starting to spring to life before people's very eyes. He went back to the hospital they were put in before and went over to all those that were sick and dying, especially those that had suffered by being chosen to become examples made by the Dark Eldar, and all those that accepted the grace of Nurgle seemed to make full and even impossible recoveries.
The government of Geoden tried to push back against the cult as it rapidly grew in power and number, but by that point there was no stopping its development. It was hard to even stop them now as the popularity of the cult due to the protection they gave and proof of its holy power that were displayed.
And then, one day, there was no attack. The ships weren't seen to still be out there in the world's orbit either. And none on the next day. Or the next. Or the day afterwards.
The implications weren't lost on anyone, and while it was hasty to judge so soon it was still such a good sign for everyone to see. The attacks were stopping. Those of Geoden weren't being killed, tortured or abducted any more. A true miracle had occurred.
Some people, from soldiers in the military to ordinary people in the smallest homes, did wonder why the raiders left and why they didn't even come close to anywhere that bore the symbol of the cult. But the followers of Nurgle had their popularity skyrocket, even some high ranking members of the government and the military that previously were against them suddenly began to change their tune in favour of them.
Soon enough the followers of Nurgle became a majority, their influence reaching out to nearly every community, and many praised the generous god for all their blessings and wonder. Then on the day people really began to celebrate the disappearance of the Dark Eldar, the leader moved to the largest city of Geoden and had accepted to appear in an official meeting with other prominent figures of the world that would discuss what had happened and announce how Geoden and its people would move on for the future.
Many watched when it aired, even those that didn't believe in the god that was preached by so many now. And then as the broadcast started people all around the world saw the man who was the first blessed by the Lord of All and who spread their word to the rest of the world, he who was there at the first true victory against the raiders and who made it possible.
After the introductions as everyone greeted each other and all those of Geoden had finished, with much talk of solidarity and everyone being brought together as they would all rise back up, the leader of the cult stepped in to talk immediately before anyone else.
With a great smile on his face he stated to everyone that what happened was a blessing, that they were truly saved and the invaders would never come again. And many smiled with him, some out of politeness and others out of genuine happiness as their world seemed to be saved.
Then he announced that Nurgle, Lord of Decay, would now bless the whole world with his diseased glory and all would join him. And he announced this while he pulled out a needle that suddenly jut out of his chest and then stabbed it into a nearby guard, who fell to the floor screaming in agony as the corrupting poisons flooded their body, while almost all the other guards in the area began to have shards full of toxins extend out of various places in their bodies.
The panic and horror was immediate to those that weren't apart of the cult, especially to those that recognised what those splinters growing out of the bodies looked like. It was almost as instantaneous as the call to action for all those that served the diseased Chaos God, their leader heralding them to infect and truly save their world and all that was on it.
Plants and fungi that were being tended on farmlands that had been contaminated by the toxins of the Dark Eldar and then the pollution of Nurgle began to grow rapidly, showing their true forms as they began to spread around the surrounding areas. Mobs of Nurglite worshippers formed and started to raid the homes of unbelievers to convert them and to infect the ground and sources of water. Secret ritual sites in all settlements with a presence of the cult began to have sacrifices dragged to them, ready to give them up to their god and help spread their influence to an even greater extent.
Many people tried to resist, but from ordinary citizens against organised groups to military personal suddenly facing a massive amount of traitors in their midst it was a hard fight that they were not winning. Those of Nurgle felt no pain or suffering, and they were much harder to kill.
But even aside from the strength, toughness, the amount of time they had to prepare for this or the numbers of those that followed Nurgle they possessed an advantage that those trying to resist them did not and did not even realise yet. The infections and corruptions they could spread and how they could do so, how there were already so many places they were spreading from.
The most powerful of which was the announcement that was still being broadcasted, as all those that still watched the screens could see the leader of the cult and the shard coated soldiers in the area gathered together. Corpses from those that came to the meeting and did not follow the Plague Lord were dragged into the centre of the room, one of which was still convulsing from the envenomed strike from the Agoniser in the leader's left hand, their bodies placed and twisted to form the symbol of Nurgle for all to see.
The leader knelt down and prayed in front of the corpse-drawn mark, joined by the other followers surrounding him as the rest of their bodies that weren't embedded by the splinters began to look more diseased and sickened by the minute.
"Oh Grandfather of life," the head of the cult said. "Oh Master of Pestilence, oh Saviour of Decay... we all greet you now in our deepest of gratitude, we thank you for all that you have done and given us. And we praise your generous champion, Rotigus Rainmaker, for hearing our suffering and granting us salvation. There is nothing we could offer that would repay what you have done, your sweet kindness granted to us. Now we shall give you this world and all those on it to join you, but first..."
The man who was first blessed by the grace of the Nurgle lifted up their right hand and plunged it into their chest. Filthy blood and toxins poured unto the bodies that formed the ritual circle on the ground, causing them to twitch and discolour, as the man took out a small sliver of the corrupted Wraithbone inside of their system. It was a small needle, coated in bits of flesh and bone it had merged with, and it quietly resonated with diseased power.
"Now I offer you this seed of souls, this fragment of the great Warp, so that it might be planted within your wondrous garden. I offer this as a symbol of our devotion to you, I offer this so that this tormented shard might return to where it belongs under your care and I offer it to humbly ask one more favour of you to help us spread your gifts to this world."
The splinter of infected, tortured Wraithbone began to resonate louder in the man's hand as he held it over the symbol of Nurgle, and as many people began to be sacrificed over in other ritual sites over the world. The man took this as a sign of acceptance and continued.
"As this shard is part of a whole and has bonded with me others most devoted to you," the words spoken were now being echoed by the great amount of crystal that laid beside the man's heart, taken and shoved into their body after it was unloaded from the gun it came from, and was heard faintly within the shards that were implanted in others. "I wish that this shard that goes to you will let us hear you, feel you more so than before. For your power to resonate within us and through us towards all around us. So that we would join you in-"
The leader of the cult stopped as they saw the little needle within their hand begin to shake violently. After a few moments it began to rise up on its own over the bodies, which were now rapidly rotting away as a haze of dark green and putrid brown began to emanate from them. Then the haze grew thick as it covered the sliver, the pungent odour of rot filling the room, and then when it passed the splinter of Wraithbone was gone.
The man immediately bowed down and was about to begin profusely thanking the Great Corrupter again for accepting the offering, then they felt the various crystals within their body begin convulsing and moving. Most of the small shards began to push their way out and poke out from all over his body, becoming toxin encrusted spines that covered many parts of his flesh.
The Wraithbone core that was beside his heart began to shift as it slowly moved towards the right side of his torso, and then his whole right arm started to twitch and twist as splinters grew all around the limb. Large shards of Wraithbone broke off from the core and moved through into the arm as the other crystals began to merge with the flesh and bone of the lead cultist's appendage on a level not seen before.
The fingers fused together as the hand closed up, the bones all melding together along with the large mass of shards that were crawling up the limb and combing with it. The arm started to look like it was completely covered in quills, then scales as most of the crystalline mass smoothed itself over and then finally sharpened as the whole end of the cultist's right appendage transformed into a pointed spear.
A great spike formed of bone and crystal, a lance made with the normal splinters along with the Wraithbone shards that moved to the end to form a tip that could pierce anything in its way. A number of toxic barbs twitched around the length of the spear, each point leaked small drips of infections and poisons down unto the floor. The sharpened end of the arm leaked the largest amount, caustic sludge poured out and seeped through the ground.
"Thank you, oh generous Nurgle!" the leader said as they marvelled at their arm with an expression of joy. "I and all others that follow you will carry your will to all. We join you and revel in your glory. No pain, no sorrow and no fear. As these shards deliver afflictions and grow within us, so too will we deliver and grow with them. Our people were shattered against those that invaded us and we are the shards, now their saviours! We are the Barbed Blight, protectors of this world! And now our world shall be Nurgle's!"
Cheers were heard from around the world, voices ranging from normal to rasping or gurgling all praising the Lord of Decay as diseases were spread and shards of crystal grew from their bodies.
After that ritual and transformation the leader of the cult, of the Barbed Blight, finished the broadcast and left along with the soldiers that too were growing shards across their body. Those corrupted by the Plague Lord were galvanised into spreading anything and everything they could to those uninfected.
There were fierce resistances at first, many of those in the military that didn't succumb fought as hard as they could against the new invaders they faced. Some cities and towns with minimal presence from those corrupted managed to stay largely uninfected for a while. A few people even managed to figure out that symbols of Nurgle alone were something that could also infect a person, discovered after having seen others become afflicted by just looking at an image.
But despite their best efforts, the resistence wasn't able to defeat or match the Barbed Blight. Diseases and toxins plagued many areas, including areas that supplied food and water to people. Nurglites slipped past defences, or the bodies of those that were killed weren't disposed of properly. Some gave into despair as they saw either the inevitable end of their world approaching or listened to the words of former friends and family that now had needles jutting out of their flesh.
Eventually the seas and oceans of the world became teeming with plagues, filthy waters stretching out as far as the eye could see. Forests were taken over by tides of fungus and poisonous flora, with even daemonic Feculent Gnarlmaws sprouting from the ruined soil.
Within the cities that were over taken were some of those that were blessed with a sliver of Wraithbone inside them planted themselves into the ground along side others coated in the toxic shards of the Dark Eldar, their bodies merging together to form crystalline trees that focused on nothing more than focusing and spreading Nurgle's gifts and influence across Geoden. Like towers that transmitted disease in a literal manner, resonating whispers of plague.
It got to the point that only a minority of people on the world were still uninfected, still resisting both the cult and its corruption, in a small corner of the world lead by somebody that didn't break or fall when all other like them did.
Bezoa Milreve was the leader of the remnants of the resistance, a woman that survived one of the later raids of the Dark Eldar as an example meant to give the rest of the world more fear and despair. She had been injected with a vial that contained something that glowed and writhed, something that wasn't a chemical or even a liquid.
Something that filled her head full of screaming memories and nightmares, made her remember faces she didn't know and names she never heard that felt like were hers. She faintly recalled the images of spiked cages and an impossible city in a twisted realm that wasn't normal, and very vividly recalled various horrific tortures and extreme cruelties of all sorts with the level of detail that she could almost feel them all as phantom pains.
The raiders, Aeldari, said that she had been given little motes of essence taken from souls that were tortured in life and in death. So that she could tell the others of her world what would happen to those that were captured, to tell everyone both what happened here as everyone she loved and knew here laid dead or in cages and that for those taken to them that not even in death was there mercy.
The slavers told her that they would come back for her one day as they let her go as her mind swirled with thoughts and memories that were not her own. Then they left and never came back, and after seeing where they lived and feeling what they wanted to do to people she decided to fear whatever made monsters like that afraid.
And then, as the cult rose up and there nightmares were revealed, she decided to not feel fear. She decided to fight, and every part of her agreed, so she joined the resistance and rose up from another member all the way to its leader as previous ones died, fell to corruption or both.
The remnants of those on Geoden that still fought were small in number and still dwindling, a scrap of what it used to be like before the two invaders had come to take it over. The situation seemed hopeless, and every day it looked more certain that the world was doomed, but those that were left continued to fight even if victory seemed impossible.
And they fought because it was their home. Or for those they cared for had fallen to one foe or the other. Or perhaps just because that was all that was left to do except give up. Or maybe they did it for what and who they had left now.
Either way, they fought and would not stop until all of them were dead or corrupted as the cult seemed so glad to make happen. And they fought as hard as they could in the face of death and decay.
But victory would not come, not unless another miracle came to their world.
LurkHurrDurr
The Guy who lurks all the time
- Location
- Somewhere in Asia
[X] Plan Warpfire
And They Shall Fight In The Shade (Must Read)
And They Shall Fight In The Shade
Great is the mountain that casts a long shadow
The origin of the systems of the Fractured Conclave were not as one would expect. Originally settled in a trend of what was known at the time as "The Revivalist Waves." due to the fact that many leaving core system worlds were those enamored of a particular culture and history of a segment of old earth's plethora of tales. Some would seek to create feudal worlds for those that wished to indulge in the lifestyle of knight and maiden before retiring to their habitats orbiting the planet after their romp, while others would sincerely scuttle their ships and start afresh, sure that they would be able to create a society that was 'meant to be' before the vagaries of human nature and chance had foiled its progression.
The fate of these other systems is not the focus however, but instead of what would settle what would be known in time as the Hurar Empire. Borne of two particular bands of revivalists meeting by chance after a warp current pushed them together in their exit point, the leaders of the Scandian Coalition and the Rajput Recreators agreed that the cultures they sought to bring back to the galaxy had enough in common to not only work together but could even help create something new. They did not seek to turn back time as much as start afresh from what they each saw as a solid grounding to create the foundation from, and so looked for nearby worlds to settle.
As if granted as a gift by the gods of the ancestors they sought to emulate, they discovered a trinary star system with a host of garden or terraformable worlds, and quickly settled on two of the most promising, the first being named "Ranloth" after the figure of Scandinavian mythe, and "Ransan" after Rana Sanga a man of dubious verification that nevertheless was considered the ideal of a Rajput philosopher king. Due to the unique nature of the system they had settled, the seasons took on a much different nature than on many worlds orbiting one or two stars, with three long spring and summer seasons when more near one of the three stars they orbited bracketted by three shorter autumn and winter times as the planets entered the 'gaps' , allowing for plentiful food and growth on the newly colonized worlds. This suited both colonies well and allowed them to not only prosper, but keep the colony ships in orbit instead of cannibalizing them to make the first cities as many others have done, to allow the other habitable worlds in the system to be accessed all the quicker.
When all was said and done, a grand total of five proper worlds were settled by the ships with little issue with two more moons around one gas giant proving terraformable and requiring the colony ships to be disassembled for the needed equipment to change the moons to a habitable state, one of ice and high mountains with deep veins of many ores, and the other of fire and constant volcanoes that brought great ores to the surface. By this point the original homeworlds had elected to create a joint government of the system in token of the mutual friendship and respect that had grown between the descendants of the original settlers.
This government was the constitutional monarchy of the Hurar Empire, and was sealed with the union of the respective 'kingdoms' of each homeworld by the heirs at the time. This was the golden age of the system, as eventual expansion was possible as shipyards and mining of both asteroid, gas, and dead world were performed to feed the industry of the new empire, creating new colony ships from the template that had been saved. Eventually the number of the planets that were part of the empire numbered thirteen, seen as an auspicious number as the number of months in the 'old calender'. Three planets were in nearby systems to the galactic east, and one each to the north, south, and west but due to the overall dirth of worlds beyond that, the Empire was not able to expand by war or peace without risk of overextension.
This did not appeal to the developing culture of the Empire, which saw a martial if meritocratic bent grow as their shared appreciation for the history of their warrior ancestors lent itself to an impetus to serve a term in the Imperial Navy and Army before either remaining or going on to another profession such as trade, engineering of all kinda, art, and more. There were contests and tournaments, and a unique arts style that saw elements of Scandinavian tapestry art and Rajasthani painting was soon seen in all the art galleries with frames of carven scrollwork. Or, at least that is what is claimed in what few records remain after the purges and revisionist efforts from the Fractured Conclave, the number growing fewer as the chronicles grew closer to what is commonly known as The Age of Strife.
For a time it had been a golden age for the sector, and their neighbors while far were pleasant enough that trade was possible through the Warp with representatives sent to the distant hub of the Federation that interfered little in their affairs. But theirs had been a late blooming of the waves of colonization in the Federation and so it was not long before rumors started to spread about trouble on the frontiers, and of fleets being lost or destroyed by rogue AI. Relic recordings from ancient ships can still be found in museums that tell of battles by the Imperial Navy against orks and other invaders, beaten back but not without cost and what aide they'd received from the Federation had dried up all too soon as times grew worse and worse...and it was not long after that the warp storms started to form closer to the Hurar Empire and cut it off from the greater Federation, their representatives having carried tales of dissolution and disorder at best, and warnings of mass AI treachery or corruption of data at worst and warp disruptions causing further strife when some were able to return.
The Empire did not take up the mantel of restoring the Federation and merely focused on keeping its people safe in the face of the troubles, which initially proved easy even if four of the outer colonies were cut off by persistent warp storms. Any attempts to reach them were doomed to failure and lost without a trace, so the core system of Viksra waited out its isolation only for a new trouble to begin to crop up: Psykers. Initially seen as a benefit and another chance to return to the old ways of magic that their stories held in much wonder, it was quickly proven however that those same stories that warned of the dangers of magic without wisdom were all too true as many of the psykers or Seidr as one tale described them, would often lose control of their powers to disastrous effect or be overtaken by the beings that dwelt in the warp. The Fractured Conclave has left nothing of that time that they did not dictate well after the fact, so any chronicles that did tell of that time were hunted down and gathered to be destroyed.
This has lead to a lack of knowledge as to when the 'lost colonies' were rediscovered, and how exactly the Fractured Conclave truly rose to power at the behest of the man known only as "The Fallen One.". The official histories of the Fractured Conclave depict him as a great tyrant who abused his powers to conquer and destroy the Hurar Empire, replacing it with his 'Fractured Conclave' that was little more than a council of puppets for him to play with as he did the system as a whole. Settled in the Western colony who's name has been lost and purged from the histories, The Fallen One dominated the sub-sector for an indeterminable amount of time before "The Shattering." an event that was as mysterious as it was cataclysmic, resulting in the solar system his capital had been in being exposed to a warp rift that emanated from the shattered remains of his former homeworld.
The Fractured Conclave has set down the following events in great detail although their veracity is suspect at best, as the 'official truth' would have any who read it believe that they had been merely the long abused victims of the Fallen Ones, helpless to resist his power and threats that had them acting as his servants and enforcers...but there is little doubt that they were in the best place to take over before what royalist remnants had survived were able to organize a restoration, and created a brutal regime founded upon keeping the "unclean" from 'polluting their worlds'. Any psykers found were executed without mercy, and their families subject to strict exile and ostracized at best, or purged and made examples of at worst.
Rumors soon began to spread of terrible experiments being conducted in orbital blacksites or in hidden laboratories, although there was little evidence that could escape the Conclave. But even with their rule of fear and the scapegoat of psykers, there had been enough that had remembered stories of the Hurar Empire and sought its return, and had things turned out differently, their hold might have indeed fractured in truth...but those same rumored experiments would be proven in the eyes of those that suspected them, or at least explain the rapid response to Ashani's appearnce.
When the young Ashani came into her powers, it was with great death and devastation to the city around her, an explosion of reality shifting power that left none alive to be harmed by the nuclear strikes the Conclave bombarded her location with until, too exhausted by her efforts to survive and heal, she was captured and contained in behind the "Black Towers" that were rapidly put up...and filled with any psykers that were captured thereafter...It was a dark time, of blood, fear, death, and misery in the environs of the Fractured Conclave. For Ashani made a very effective threat to ensure compliance where their own methods and forces were scarce, and soon, Ashani grew to become an evil goddess that had to be contained by needed sacrifice, by the offering of all psykers to the towers to 'serve a grander purpose.', by the constant submission to the will of the Conclave.
The legacy of the Hurar Empire remained but it was chained and with each generation that passed away from its fall the memories and cultural touchstones slipped further away as art was dismissed in favor of pieces meant to placate the ruling junta of the Conclave or depict psykers as inhuman monsters. Songs were replaced with hymns of placation to Ashani and her servants. Trade was stifled as all goods that were not needed for survival were seen as wasteful, all resources being used to maintain the armies, fleets and black towers of the Fractured Conclave. The Conclave's ruling Juntas did everything they could to try to replace what had come before, and destroyed what could not be twisted or rewritten to their own ends...but despite their best efforts the Fractured Conclave was not able to remake the culture they had overtaken and at most were merely able to bend what elites remained after the subsequent purges to their ideals, with many that did not going underground to be hunted for various crimes real and imagined.
And though they didn't know it, this also drew the attention of a Keeper of Secrets, one of the favored of Slaanesh. A daemon that delighted in the toying and disruption of 'petty empires' it had been enticed by not only the suffering of Ashani herself but also the Black Towers and those that the torture sites were in theory meant to protect. It began to seed its influence through the cracks in the protection provided by the Black Towers, a process it knew would take centuries, slowly influencing the dreams and minds of the psykers it could access to cause trouble and turmoil, to play the strife like a mortal would play a musical instrument. It paved the way for its eventual consumption of the system with visions of an eventual savior, one that would show them a better way to a brighter future. 'Rune clad and fell of might' were the whispers in the minds of those that would hear it, and an undercurrent was formed in the deep pressure of the Fractured Conclave's dominance. And so it continued for over a millennia, the Fractured Conclave struggling to keep its hold over a population that simmered with resentment, hatred, and loss under its control as a Daemon played with all for its amusement...then came ships from beyond the stars, the first visitors in years that were not orkish invasion or possessed ships from the warp...
The worlds that had once been the systems of the Hurar Empire had watched with baited breath as fleets of ships from far out of system arrived, although little was shared initially than that they were outsiders who's diplomats, called Intenerators, claimed to come from fabled Terra and demanded the subservience of all humanity's far flung systems. What transpired in these meetings was not dispersed to the wider population but rumors mentioned that the Conclave was willing to submit in return for aide in keeping Ashani, and by extension everyone else in the system, contained...but as negotiations dragged on, new ships arrived, including one massive battleship clad in black and white, a ship that carried a being clad in runes that shone even in the Warp and fell in his might enough to drive away the Keeper of Secrets who had been toying with the minds and souls of many...the same souls and minds that felt it run and more importantly who had made it run...Kesar Dorlin
Bright is the light that casts the deepest shadow
It was not long after Kesar met with the Conclave that his troops, known as Eternal Warden Space Marines of the eleventh legion, and he struck against the Black Towers where Ashani was contained. The members of the Conclave that dealt with the public had little time to spin the assault before the unthinkable happened...despite her escape from her prison and subsequent annihilation of the population of the planet she was on...Kesar Dorlin, along with women known only as 'Sisters of Silence' slew Ashani. The Primarch as some of the Imperials had called him had tracked down the freed 'goddess' of the Fractured conclave and slew her for good, her spirit and power no longer able to keep her form and will together as it had done through all the tortures and depravations that had been visited upon her.
It didn't seem real, after over a thousand years of the Fractured Conclave's attempts at indoctrination, it seemed impossible to believe that Ashani would be gone, when everything else had failed...But She was dead, they were free...and yet near moments after Her defeat the Conclave released hurried bulletins and announcements decrying Kesar Dorlin as a God of Evil come to supplant Ashani and the Eternal Wardens his demons of choice. Many believed them and fell into despairing panic, doomsday preachers crying wildly in the cities of planets where the Fractured Conclave had the most sway. Those that believed in the coming of an even greater god of evil prepared for a war to the knife rather than submit to one that the Conclave declared in a panic to be worse what they had endured before.
But even there, and much more elsewhere that the Fractured Conclave held less sway, there were those that took the message of the Conclave and asked a single question, "Is he truly an evil god?" as images and captures of Kesar that did not come from the Conclave did not portray a cold and vicious killer, but a tired and determined being of great power weighed by the choices he had made. In the sheer euphoria that the freedom from Ashani's presence, many not only questioned whether Kesar was evil but why the Conclave deemed him so after the liberation. This was soon followed by recounting of the rumors of human experimentation that had preceded Ashani's coming, how even then the Conclave had preached hatred of psykers and all touched by them, how Ashani had been a proverbial gods send to them and their dominance of what had once been a great empire. Others spoke of how quickly the black towers had been raised and prepared, even with the censorship at the time it had only been the sheer 'need' for them to keep Ashani contained that had prevented more public outcry lest those who did be taken in for 'followers of the goddess'.
Questions turned to accusations as these same pointed out that for all the sacrifices they had made, that little had been accomplished if this new god could so easily smash them aside. Even if they were to believe he was an evil god, was not his swift defeat of not only the goddess herself but the defenses that so many had bled and suffered for a sign that resistance was futile? Did the Conclave really expect them all to die the sake of those that failed to even keep Ashani contained?
Kesar Dorlin had not stayed in system either once he had defeated Ashani, instead leaving the system for reasons unknown. The Conclave claimed it was to summon more deamons to his side but too many saw how shrill or desperate these claims were, how much they were mixed in with urging of every man, woman, and child to take up arms in defense of the Conclave and 'its' people...too many saw another way that the Fractured Conclave seemed zealous to bury.
For in the absence of those that had heard or could sense the Keeper of Secrets, who's leaving had been noticed and why...inspired by the Conclave's attempts to spin the narrative of Ashani's defeat, a new story was spreading, one the Conclave tried harder and harsher methods to stamp out that only fueled the fervency of those that began to believe. Everything the Conclave tried began to fail and they could only watch as protests began to form with a very different message indeed...
==================================
When the Shadows of War form
(set before Oricarius left the system for The Reef)
Oricarius, First Captain of the Eternal Wardens, was thinking. He did that a lot, some accused him of potentially overthinking things. He had contingencies in place in case those were attempts to get him to let his guard down.
What he was thinking of right now was how to handle the planets of the erstwhile Fractured Conclave, now shattered beyond recovery. All of their planets were in the grips of not only war against the invaders but against their own people as the pressure cooker their civilization had collapsed without Ashani to keep it pressed together. So far it had been merely massed protests and riots with some of their military joining in, but even that could be useful in an invasion if the Imperium played its cards right.
"Captain, you might want to listen to this..."
The first captain of the Eternal Wardens turned to a warden that was scanning the frequencies of the planet below, as Ori preferred Wardens get at least some experience with vox warfare and information gathering after some of the previous campaigns had shown how dependent the eleventh was to other legions for similar methods.
"What is it Warden?"
"You remember that cult we heard rumors about...the one centered around father?" the helmeted Space marine asked in an awkward voice, something Oricarius could empathize with. Followers of the Golden Path or believers in the Divine truth, all Eternal Wardens felt rather...confused and awkward at the idea of their father being a god, let alone for killing a psyker that had terrorized a sector.
"I do, what about them?"
The warden merely flicked a switch and the holo projector on the bridge displayed a woman of mixed Ind and Scand descent, standing before a group of others holding guns, some las rifles, and a few melee weapons that seemed positively ancient if well cared for. Others held the flag of the Fractured Conclave and were burning it while others held up flags that seemed to bear an ancient sigil that the First captain didn't recognize.
The mob of protestors were gathered outside a Fractured Conclave government guard station with said guards arrayed in full gear in front of it, and even with the low quality of the holo Oricarius could tell that many either did not want to be there or wanted to fire already, an interesting development for a nation that would claim total control as they did.
The woman was giving a speech with the fervent energy of the converted in her every movement and word, her proclamations a wild exultation that fanned and fed the riotous emotions of those listening to her. Oricarious turned on the volume blinked as the piercing cries echoed and rebounded on the bridge,
"The Conclave LIED to us! They told us it was needed, that we wouldn't survive if we didn't obey, submit. We lost who we were, why our ancestors came here when the void opened and the goddess came to torture us all. BUT THEN HE CAME! THE PROMISED ONE! A king, a GOD, who looked upon the Conclave's work and found it **wanting** and so he struck them down and when Ashani broke free despite their 'flawless' cage, he struck her down. HE FREED US! THE CONCLAVE PUT US IN CHAINS AND SHACKLED OUR MINDS TO APPEASE HER AND HE ***FREED*** US! HAIL KESAR! HAIL THE WARDEN OF THE DEAD!!!"
Oricarious turned off the holoprojector as the speech went on and...thought
This development, it bore potential, but it would require a step his father might not appreciate.
"Warden."
The same Warden who'd spoken to him earlier perked up.
"Yes Captain?"
"Release the logs and recordings of our father's meetings with the Conclave across all bands, bandwidths, and frequencies of the worlds of the former Fractured Conclave."
"......Are you sure Captain?"
Oricarious could see both baseline human and Eternal Warden look at him askance, but the second in command of the eleventh primarch stood by his decision, even if these cultists did not last or fell to chaos, they would make a convenient tool to distract the Conclave's forces for the imminent invasion, and that is all Oricarious needed.
"Yes."
"As you command."
And as the evidence of their father's efforts to prove to the conclave that their methods were flawed and doing more harm than good were relased, Oricarius thought of these new developments and how they would affect his contingencies.
====================
(Private Meeting room of the Fractured Conclave, aboard their blacksite station)
Bjairon Ammitsson, a venomous whip of a man and current Supreme of the Conclave, lowered the plasma pistol that he'd just shot the messenger with, his body shaking with the fear and fury that were so close to overwhelming them, before he turned to the members of the Conclave that had been able to make it to the meeting, "So...the daemon's scions spread the word of its meetings to the system...WHY WAS THIS ALLOWED TO HAPPEN?!"
The Councilor of True Information, Daljar Emmetsson turned to Barun Jodadottir who was Councilor of Public Order who glared daggers at him before taking a deep breath as she answered, "Despite the best efforts of Daljar and myself...Ashani's death was impossible to cover up and the Demon's technology has ensured that anything we do to try to remove the recordings of it from public view are doomed to failure. Even if we pull hard wipes and shut downs, we will find anything with a remote connection slaved to their systems on consistent playback until they are sure that sufficient private viewings have been taken or that the public has seen it directly...to put it simply even if we go full dark they can ensure that their recordings get out...and it has been a literal hell to cope with as every rebel, revolutionary, and random elder off the street with a grudge has been rallying around the fact that the daemon was able to claim that we were wrong and 'wasteful'. It has brought all the rumors we have yet to quash about the work we've done on the tainted ones to the surface and created a rallying cry. We need to roll out the army and roll it out now."
Bjairon was sorely tempted to shoot them both but knew the moment he did his own corpse would be falling to the ground soon after and merely sat down with ill-grace and temper, "So be it, we cannot prevent the people from seeing the recordings, can we spin it?" the shake of Daljar's head was all the answer the Supreme needed but nevertheless the Councilor of True information continued,
"No. Even if we could have gotten a hold on the broadcasts, too much of the information has spread for us to contain it and adjust it for official approval. And what's more, the our decision to declare him another evil god on par with Ashani's strength has backfired as well. I have warned you all that there was something in the warp that was...influencing our people while we were focused on keeping Her contained. For whatever reason it fled when the Demon appeared and those that were its followers even in ignorance have turned to this Kesar as their savior. At this point by our own decisions and outside events, this has become a religious schism and as such, we will need to put an end to it before we can hope to...tweak things to our use."
"That's not going to be possible, haven't you been reading ANYTHING I've sent you imbeciles?" bellowed the Councilor of War, Jaya Gretasdottir, her scarred face red with barely secured fury, "Our armies are on the brink of mutiny after the ever so effective division of Public Order decided that shoot on sight was the go to for protests. Not all of them, curse Her name in death, but enough that we can't just throw the army at these cultists if we hope to keep control over the cities and production centers while we prepare for war. WE DON'T HAVE THE BODIES TO BE EVERYWHERE AT ONCE!"
"Enough!" Bjairon's voice cut through the incipient shouting match, "If we don't get this under control, we are doomed. Use whatever means we have, however we can, and get me my empire back."
The Conclave nodded to their leader and began hatching desperate plans to delay the inevitable, as while they plotted, others were busy processing those very same recordings...
=====================================
(In a small home on the outskirts of Ransan's capital)
Madsten starred at the holo-player, the recording of the Conclave ambassadors meeting with the stranger, no, the being that had killed Ashani playing over and over...They'd known, they'd always *known* what was in those terrible towers, and what they were containing...but the stranger, the one clad in the colors of the night sky, the star studded figure that had looked so tired and yet so resolute, he'd defied them.
Not by bluster or fury, no. By calm and sincere determination, with evidence and proof of numbers and results, this Kesar had striven to reach out to the Fractured Conclave to help them...but his efforts had only resulted in the Conclave spitting in his face and declaring that they would not give in an inch, something that Kesar evidently would not accept while being prepared for such an answer.
This 'Kesar' had defied not only the Fractured Conclave but had defied the goddess Ashani when he had launched an invasion of the planet that had all too long been known only as "The Prison.", and the recordings the invaders, the Eternal Wardens, were sharing had included vid captures of what they had seen in the towers...what the Conclave had been using to pen Ashani and other psykers like monsters... From the window Madsten could hear Public information and the Conclave trying to paint him as another god of evil that had merely sought to supplant Ashani's place in rule, but Madsten Bosson, once General Manu, knew differently. He'd been hearing whispers for years that there was a better way, that there was one that could save them...and he had arrived.
Madsten didn't notice how he'd stood when the revelation hit, the holo-displayer falling with a sharp 'crack' as the screen broke, all that was on his mind was the thunderous epiphany that had burst into his mind like a fusion bomb: The god of death had come. For years the people had prayed as the Conclave had told them to, sacrificed as they had been ordered to...and it had...done...NOTHING!
It hadn't stopped Madsten's daughter from being taken to the towers, it hadn't stopped Ashani's power from seeping through the cracks, it hadn't stopped the monsters from the Warp from preying on their people. Everything the Conclave had done had either strengthened their enemies...or weakened those they claimed to protect.
'Noooo, they had not protected us.' Madsten thought as he paced back and force, his emaciated form filled with feverish energy like he'd had when he'd fought to protect his daughter, who'd been so weak in the powers of the beyond that the most she'd done was make her toys dance.
"This Kesar, this WARDEN protected us, those that were dying in the shade of the conclave, of the goddess Ashani. He risked his own sons to free us ..." For many times had Kesar called the Eternal Wardens his sons, or gene sons in the recordings as the attack went on. Not only that but those 'Sisters of Silence' whom even Ashani had not been able to touch, something the Conclave had declared impossible!
'And he brought his angels, those that were unaffected by the powers of the warp, proof that there are those that can resist it, that the powers can be contained and trained by those that won't be affected, that even if they cannot, he proved that it is better to grant them peace. That we have been destroying ourselves for the sake of a fear that we created!" Manu stood still, the shock of his own rant pulling him out of his revere.
They needed to serve him, show the Warden of the Afterlife that they were not all slaves of the Conclave...but with the worlds falling apart, they couldn't get uniforms, the conclave would seize any production...Manu's eyes turned to the urn of his daughter's ashes that the Conclave had 'generously' provided him after she'd burned up in the towers...yesss, that would do it.
He gently picked up the urn and took it to the kitchen where he filled a large mixing bowl with other ingredients...and then poured his daughter's ashes in, turning it to a white mixture.
Manu took off his shirt and began to paint his body with the white markings he'd seen on the armor of the God of death. By ash and death would the faithful know each other, by colors of the End of Fear would the faithful see their own.
Let the Conclave shiver in terror, for the Shades of the Warden would follow their god into hell...for the daemons in it fled from him and his gift of oblivion!
===================================
(In the center of Ranloth's capital city, in the grand square in front of a Conclave government building a month later)
Ragnar Jaisson stood on the impromptu stage that he and his fellow Shades had set up, with an immense crowd gathered around them. It hadn't been easy to keep the Grey Boots busy, but PubOr's goons had been lead a merry chase through some congnitator cracking and servitor hotwiring that lead to all the nearby guards having to 'restore order' a few blocks away. Not long enough for the concerts he used to do in abandoned warehouses and the like, but for this one song, for this declaration of defiance for the Conclave, the white and black painted members of the new cult had enough time.
He had been receiving inspiration for years, his voice full of passion each time he sang the verses that came to him in his dreams...but ever since the End of Fear had come, it had been like a haze had been lifted from his soul and like many that had lived in the shade of the Black Towers and the Western Rift...he could guess what it had been, what he had been saved from. Soon after one of his later performances, still as firey and passionate as before but more true at the same time, he had been approached by a mixed group bearing white and black paint on their faces reminiscent of the ancient scand goddess Hel the half fair.
Although he'd initially thought they were a new batch of groupies, he'd seen weirder outfits after all, it had turned out they were from a new group calling themselves 'the Shades of the Warden', a group that claimed that the Conclave was both right and wrong, that Kesar was a god but unlike what the Fractured Conclave and its minions were crying to any who would listen, Kesar was not evil. Instead, he was their savior and protector against the warp and those that would misuse it. That his precepts were that with training and control, the legends of what the old Hurar Empire had sought could be realized, that psykers and others that touched the Seidr arts could live and live well.
As they continued their talk Ragnar had found himself agreeing with them more and more, even if Kesar wasn't a god, he was still a being of fell might and power that had saved their people without asking anything of it, had offered his help freely to the Conclave only to be rejected out of spite and power lust. Jaisson agreed to join their cause and lent his voice and songsmithing to it as well, his concerts becoming focused around references to the old ways, the old empire as much as they were about Kesar. For there was much resentment among the people of the Fractured Conclave and without Ashani to keep the people in line...there was fertile ground for songs of rebellion in the name of the one that had become synonymous with 'protector'.
Pulling himself out of his recollection, Ragnar finished tuning up his guitar that he'd been tweaking with subconsciously. He didn't have much longer and he needed to get this song out, for this would be the rallying cry of the Shades and the free peoples Hurar system.
"Welcome to our show! As you know, the Grey Boots are busy chasing their tails right now!" he shouted into the vox caster, and the crowd laughed at the dig for the Conclave Guards, "So we aren't going to waste any time before they figure out how to use their brains. Who's ready for some singing?!"
Ragnar gave a big grin as the ensuing cheer actually blew his hair back a bit, then he strummed his instrument to get the rest of the band started. The drums began to beat out a quick staccato beat that had blood pumping and when the initial solo was over he sang, letting every moment of anger he'd felt at the Conclave, each iota of forced helplessness, all the disgust at the abuses and rumors and blatant shows of corrupted power out into his voice and into the ears and minds of his enraptured audience.
He came from the starfilled sky
Whose bounds no one knows
For nine whole days he stood there blocked
By Conclave, in spite
Swimming in bile he peered into the depths
And cried out in agony
Reaching out he grasped his runes
Before striding forth to the abyss
He stood against Ashani's wrath
In a world of shearing pain
So that we all may live our lives
In the freedom that he gave
You doubted him, and spread your lies
Across the worlds, with sword in hand
You raped our souls, and stole our right
All for the words of unworthy men
You listened to a toxic creed
And put your faith in deceitful words
Your power trip was paid by blood
In 'kindness' name you spilled our blood
I refuse to submit
To the law you say is kind
I know what's right, and it is time
It's time to fight, and free our minds
Let me die without fear
As I would live without it
So shut your mouth and spare my ears
I'm fed up with all your bullshit
After a thousand years of oppression
Let the Hurar rise again
Let the world hear these words once more
"Save us, oh lords, from the wrath of the Northmen"
Our sprits were forged in ancient times
To bend like steel forged over fire
We were not made to bend like reed
Or turn the other cheek
He grasped the runes, they're ours to use
Whose bounds no one knows
For nine whole days he stood there blocked
By Conclave, in spite
Swimming in bile he peered into the depths
And cried out in agony
Reaching out he grasped his runes
Before striding forth to the abyss
He stood against Ashani's wrath
In a world of shearing pain
So that we all may live our lives
In the freedom that he gave
You doubted him, and spread your lies
Across the worlds, with sword in hand
You raped our souls, and stole our right
All for the words of unworthy men
You listened to a toxic creed
And put your faith in deceitful words
Your power trip was paid by blood
In 'kindness' name you spilled our blood
I refuse to submit
To the law you say is kind
I know what's right, and it is time
It's time to fight, and free our minds
Let me die without fear
As I would live without it
So shut your mouth and spare my ears
I'm fed up with all your bullshit
After a thousand years of oppression
Let the Hurar rise again
Let the world hear these words once more
"Save us, oh lords, from the wrath of the Northmen"
Our sprits were forged in ancient times
To bend like steel forged over fire
We were not made to bend like reed
Or turn the other cheek
He grasped the runes, they're ours to use
As Ragnar's voice boomed from vox speakers amidst the music, he could see the Guards storming into the square. His grin became one filled with savage anticipation as he pointed to the encroaching enforcers, "Look there! Grey boots come to do the Conclave's dirty work. Shall we let them? Shall we submit to them again now that the goddess they used to dominate us is gone?! For too long have they tortured our people, tried to rewrite our history, crush our souls. I say NO MORE! WHO IS WITH ME!?" In unison, the crowd roared our their support and many pulled out either stolen weaponry in the form of las weapons or auto-stubbers, or more basic weapons in the form of sledge hammers and the like. They turned to see the Grey Boots having unslung their weapons, primed to fire.
Ragnar pulled out a las pistol from the small of his back and aimed it at the Grey Boot commander even as the first lasbolts were shot into the crowd, his own shot managing to score on the bastard's helmet. He fired again and again as the crowd instead of breaking, returned fire when able to cover for those that couldn't, who were even then charging forward with battlecries erupting from their throats
"The Warp can bleed! The Warp can die!" he shouted with them threw the vox caster, the battlecry that the other Shades had told him they had decided. The mob joined in even as they closed to the Grey Boots and what had been an orderly line of riot shields and reflective turned into a vicious scrum as the governmental goon squad tried to survive, "THE WARP CAN BLEED! THE WARP CAN DIE!"
As riot turned battle raged on, Ragnar could only hope that things were going well for the rest of their band, that they could prove themselves to Him. For what He has freed them from, what he had inspired them to fight against...what he protected them from demanded no less. They owed him that much.
====================
(Private Meeting room of the Fractured Conclave, aboard their blacksite station)
"What do you mean you let Madsten get away?!" Bjairon whispered to the 'security detail' that had been placed to keep watch over the disgraced former general, his face in a rictus of a false smile as the unfortunate woman swallowed heavily, "We...when the order came to remove Madsten Supreme Councilor, we moved in as per your order but he fought us, and others came in as well, stranger clad in white and black. It...we couldn't get to him, not with the numbers we had."
"And you thought it better to give up? To let him get away? YOU HAD AN ENTIRE REGIMENT OF THE GUARD WITH YOU! HOW COULD YOU NOT HAVE ENOUGH?!" boomed Councilor Jaya from her seat to Bjairon's side, "Exactly how many of Madsten's little friends did it take to get him away from you?!"
Bjairon's eyes narrowed as he watched the woman's eyes shift back and forth at the rest of the Conclave, "There, it was a borderline army. Hundreds of people all dressed in black and white like I said, like the old stories about the gods of the dead half fair half blackened...Madsten had set off a flair when our troops broke in the door and retreated to a panic room that we weren't told was there." Jaya snorted loud enough to put a bull to shame and growled over the guard's continued excuses
"I knew it, those faking cultists of the Demon's, they're getting larger with every day, and if they're not working in mobs themselves, they're stirring up riots like the one in Ranloth. We're having to stage the entire first and second armies there just to keep order and even then it's barely working." Councilor Jaya's own rant was cut off by Barun who was considerably more high-strung, "Which is why I wanted to deal with them right away, why I insisted we shoot to kill, but now it's too late. We need-"
Bjairon ignored the squabbling that started up as the Conclave scrambled at this latest debacle, Madsten was only the latest in a series of gaffes and failures that had been plaguing the Conclave since the death of Ashani...as much as any of the Fractured Conclave had hated her, feared her with all their hearts...her death had kicked over the hive an all the foulness that Ashani had been the cap of came flowing out. But the Supreme Councilor had some more tricks up his sleeve, if he coul-"What did you say?" He snapped to the Guard commander that had given the report.
"T-the third army has been rather...well they weren't willing to do policing duty in the capital, I sent my report about it last month." Bjairon clenched his teeth in an open snarl as a chop of hand cut her off. He turned his head to look to Jaya and Barun who looked as pleased as he was by this...and as ignorant, "We have leaks, I thought you dealt with the third army."
The bescarred Councilor of War shook her head, "No, I said we had them contained, not dealt with. That was before She was killed too. The mutinous bastards in the third army have been killing off anyone we send to replace their cadre and it was by that washup's own word that they didn't rise up. We planned on using the next batch of recruits to finish them off alongside the fifth and sixth armies, call them followers of Hers. Well, looks like we get to dust off that with a minor variation if Madsten gets to them." Jaya's expression grew anticipatory.
"Do what you need to, but keep...them...contained. We cannot afford a civil war, not when the Demon's Imperium is readying to strike." her leader ordered, with all nodding in acceptance, before the most powerful person in the sub-sector turned to the woman that had failed him, "Now what to do with you..."
The guardswoman began to shake in terror, but before she could utter a syllable, Bjairon raised a finger and once of the Conclave's Bastion, their elite forces and bodyguards, put three lasbolts in her back. The body hit the floor with a trio of tightly packed wounds emitting smoke in its back, and another Bastion came up with a flamer and burned it away, leaving not even a pile of ash, just a soot mark to show where once a human being had stood...
=================================
(Ransan third army military base)
Madsten stepped out of the transport, his painted form less emaciated since his revelation and the renewed purpose it had given him, and looked before his former army all of whom had gathered as he'd send word for them to do. They had always been loyal, even when the Conclave had used the 'discovery' that his daughter was a psyker and used it to strip him of rank and prestige. They had offered to rise up, help him resist, but he had already lost his daughter, and could not bear to see more members of his 'family' fall, not when he had already used every means he had short of said rebellion to keep her safe. The Conclave had been too strong then, Ashani's freedom too great a threat to all in the system, for even their army to win against at the time...but it was different now.
Now, now it was time, but as the approaching armies that were nearing his own attested, he was not the only one thinking such thoughts.
Commanded by Girish Svanisson and Herjun Narsson respectively, the fifth and sixth armies of the Fractured conclave had some of the greatest experience outside of Madsten's own third army when it came to facing Orks and...other threats. Both were seen as consummate military men, focused on fighting for the Conclave and its people first, politics second. It was that reputation for reliability that had them leading the newly formed twelfth army along with half of theirs to the command center of the third army, and that knowledge is what made Madsten give a thin little smile as his erstwhile enemies stepped out of their own transports ahead of their armies.
"Girish, Herjun...it has been too long." He said as he held his arms open for a hug that was returned by a positive bear of a man and a handshake after with a significantly less hirsute individual. The former let out a rumbling laugh, "Indeed, your exile has made things most awkward with our plans. I'm afraid we lost the seventh and eighth armies to Jaya's thugs, turns out you were not the only one with 'cursed blood' but you were the one without less loyal armies."
Herjun nodded mournfully, "And while we still have Halkan's support, sadly he wasn't able to keep his officers from being replaced, too many were placed in Grey Boot custody in a string of trials more forced than an Acolyte's prayers to Her. The eleventh is effectively neutered outside of their first battalion."
Madsten gave a grimace of regret, "Pity, is there any hope of getting him out?" Only for said grimace to strengthen as Herjun shook his head.
"He warned us that he would go down fighting, but that it was unlikely with how close to the Bastions were at the time. Jaya's performing a purge as you can guess."
"Yes, unsurprising. And your own forces? Were you able to gather them?" Girish grunted
"Enough, and those that aren't, are set up in the Svaltjeesh mountain fortress. But even with that, even if we deal with the new blood here...we don't have enough, not for the message you gave us." Girish stared at him for a moment before continuing, "What is your plan? How do we survive the Conclave's retaliation?"
"And what is with this...new look of yours? Have you painted yourself with ash?" Herjun asked incredulously, only for Madsten to give them both a beatific smile
"The answer to both questions is the same...we shall fight in the Shade of the Wardens...and we shall be free."
The other men gave each other a hesitant look but dipped their heads, "As you say old friend, we will listen."
"Good! Then, I suppose we've kept the latest in the Conclave's recruiting efforts waiting long enough. Shall we show them where we stand?"
=================================
(HIdden lab on Hrolman moon)
*KRAKOOM!*
"Find the records now! Before they have a chance to purge them!" several heavily armed figured burst through the recently created hole in one of the Conclave's hidden labs on the ice moon of Hrolman, exchanging fire with the lab's Bastion defenders. The Conclave soldiers gave as good as they got, and more than a few bodies of the attackers fell before they could get into cover but for each one that fell, another came to take their place, and the survivors merely shouted one battlecry all the louder, "The Warp can bleed! The Warp can die!"
"Miserable traitors! What do you thi-aaugh!" a man in the maroon robes of a member of the lab's staff shouted in pain as his question was interrupted by a lasrifle bolt to the leg, and could still see residual heat coming off the barrel as it was moved to align with his head, "The records of your experiments, where are they?"
"I will tell you cultists nothing! You think you are safe now? Because you've sold your souls to that which killed Her? You are nothing! Nothing but fodder, fools being used like the cattle you are! The Conclave knows what needs to be done, what has to be done to keep our people safe!" The bio-logis was frothing at the mouth by the end of his rant, although his interrogators imagined at least some of that was the pain he was in, doubly so when they shot him in his other leg at the knee, the las shot blowing it off completely, "GAAAAAAH! May She take you! I-i will tell you no-"
"Found them! They were wiping them but we managed to get to them in time to save something." a vox call came from the central figure, who removed their mask to show a the face of a young man in white and black paint, something that made the Conclave loyalist's lips twist in a pain filled sneer as they spoke into the raised device in their hand, "How much?"
The vox crackled with static for a moment before the voice spoke again, "If we were planning to go to court, not enough, not without followup...but enough to show people what they have been doing? Enough for the implications for all the children that have been taken and never seen again? Oh there's enough...Madsten was right, and may The Warden have mercy on their souls, because I shall not." The unmasked man nodded to the others and they split up to continue the running fight in the rest of the lab. Their leader knelt down and used the barrel of his rifle to lift his prisoner's chin so they could make eye contacts. And said prisoner, one Ratan Vilarsson by name, felt like he was staring into the eyes of death itself.
"You won't get away with this, didn't you hear me? The Conclave will stop you and your band of rebels. They know who you are. They are coming for you and those that they don't purge like an underhiver gang...they will help the system with our work here." Ratan's voice cracked with the agony his wounds put him in and the cracking rose to a shriek as the 'shade' as they called themselves apparently, pressed the barrel into the amputated leg, "You might have purged the records, but we know what happened here...human experimentation, torture, child mutilation in the name of 'progress'... You and your precious Conclave have become greater monsters than She ever was, in fact there's rumors that you *made* her with your psyker purges. You have bled this system and its people in Her name and yours for generations but a single individual was able to bring that all down with one sword stroke."
"He is no man! He is an evil god, as bad as the one he killed! You think that thing that has been whispering from beyond is your friend, that this 'savior' it promised you is something to be worshipped? It will betray you when you need it most and I will laugh when it does." Ratan tried to spit at his captor but his mouth was dry, so dry, why couldn't he moisten it? His mind focused enough to realize that the Shade had stood up, "It may be that is true, that we are fools eating a poisoned apple...but you, I'm afraid, will have nothing to laugh about. May the Warden watch over your soul, it is better than you deserve."
Ratan Villarsson, head of Psyker Cleansing Research, could only hack a laugh before his life was ended by a lasbolt to the chest.
His executioner raised their vox once more, "Get everything we can, pictures, recordings, what data wasn't purged from the cogitators. We strip this place dry and then show it to the system. Let's see the Conclave recover from this."
=============================
(Aboard the heavy cruiser, The Conclave's Fist, briefing room)
"So you finally manage to get me the names of the Shades's leadership, where they are located...but because you all let them raid our labs, infest our soldiers and instigate riots in our cities, you say we cannot go after them?!" Bjairon asked in a glacial tone, looking up from the corpse of the Councilor of Intelligence, his plasma pistol still in hand, "Yes. The riots in the hives and outer cities have gotten bad enough that even with the knowledge that we've managed to gain on the rebel groups, we cannot act on them. Not without leaving ourselves exposed to not only unrest that will destroy our control over several planets outright, but with the sixth and fifth armies defecting we have lost our chance to eliminate Madsten and his forces outside of Sangavinki. The tenth army suffered...unbelievable losses in their attempt, and I do have to say attempt because Halkan was able not only fight the tenth off but use the attack as a rallying cry for the fence sitters we hadn't been able to convince or replace...we are facing at least a fourth to a third of our forces having turned at the worst possible time."
Bjairon's finger actually put pressure on his plasma pistol's trigger for a moment as Barun recited just how much worse things had gotten. No matter how much Ashani damned bodies they threw at the problems that kept cropping up, no matter how much they tried to get the people to see it had been necessary to keep their planets cleansed of the psyker threat, the ungrateful mobs just kept rising up and causing trouble, to the point where entire armies weren't enough.
It had been a stroke of pure luck that Intelligence had been able to get a read on the overall Shade hierarchy, a loose coalition of 'regional commands' based on planetary and hive locations constantly separated to ensure that if the Conclave got one they couldn't get them all. They coordinated via messengers and vox recordings, all of which the agents had been able to pick up for the Bastion supported army raids...but the Ashani blighted riots! No matter how many Guard regiments they drummed up, no matter the curfews or the regiments the brought in, the Conclave's forces were simply overwhelmed but Bjairon would not give up, not yet.
"Cede the hives where we have the weakest control, it is one thing to stir up riots when we have forces in place, if they want a civil war they will get one. We concentrate our resources to take out each one of their commands one at a time, no survivors. We show these Ashani loving fools what it means to cross us, to cross me." Jaya, Barun, and Daljar all just looked at each other, none of them liking the unhinged light in their leader's eye but all of them were far too deep to back out, they had been for decades.
"As you wish, it will take time to pull our forces out, time the Shades might use to their advantage." Jaya said as she pulled out a dataslate to begin compiling orders, "Doesn't matter, we still outnumber them. It may be bloody but better that than to let them live. As for the riots...Use the gasses, if these mobs think they can fight us, let them fight us at our worst. They will submit or they will die."
Barun nodded, "As you command, I will have the Guard begin gas attacks on the hives with the greatest riot numbers. We won't be able to penetrate the lower hives but w-" Bjairon cut her off with a glare.
"Use enough that it reaches the underhives. We will purge the traitors and cleanse our worlds. Do you understand?"
As the leader of a failing government met with his trusted allies to try to secure his rule, another meeting was taking place.
================================
(Secure base in the Lothminari mountain range)
Commander Allar of the Night Watch stood before a rounded table full of people, all of them wearing different variations of two distinct colors: Black and White. He'd heard that Lord Kesar had made an impression on the locals but this was something else,
"How did you find us, how'd you manage to contact enough of us to get this meeting?" Growled an older man with a missing eye, looking more like a raider that come out of retirement than a general. "Your security was breached, massively General Halkan. They know who you are, all of you. And we were able to find you and reach out for this meeting through the information on you that they had."
Allar waited for the murmurs and grumbles to die down before taking out several data slates and missives that he placed on the table and passed around to the various occupants before continuing, "Fortunately for you, if you hadn't noticed it already, you have the conclave so busy chasing their tails that they can't do anything about it...yet. We don't know if they have plans to change that but we'd rather not let them succeed even if they do." Several of the 'Shades of the Warden' were more focused on what they'd do in order to clean house but enough were listening that it didn't take long for him to get a response
A woman, young and bearing the hair and garb of a born underhiver, spat off to the side to the disgust of many of her compatriots, "Ye, and what's the plan? Have us be the first wave while you clean up? We might follow the Warden but we aren't going to waste our lives for some flatfoot looking to impress his bosses." more murmurs, this time of agreement, rounded the table as Allar took a deep breath and then removed some maps his pocket and laid them out on the table.
"The First Captain of the Eternal Wardens, Captain Oricarius, has authorized myself and the Nightwatch to not only coordinate with you for our strikes but that of the Imperial army as well. It won't be easy to organize but we fully intend to take the fight to the Fractured Conclave before they have a chance to recover. Our group, the Night Watch, will begin the campaign with a series of raids to ensure that the assaults and sieges the Conclave armies have planned won't happen. Blown bridges, commanding officers assassinated, clogged logistical trains, whatever it takes. We will ensure that the breathing room that the riots have given you is extended and their focus on us...and when they turn to strike-
"We cut their flanks, open the way for Lord Kesar's sons to invade?" said a middle aged man with a rather eye watering coat of black and white, his expression a pastiche of fervent eagerness to serve, "Yes and no, the Eternal Wardens were called away to deal with a greater threat. After Lord Kesar slew...'Ashani' along with the Sisters of Battle, the chaos that resulted and that you yourselves created have made it possible for us, and the Imperial army to deal with."
"As he commands, I have heard his voice when I pray and I shall continue to obey his commands!" shouted the same man who then fell into fervent prayer muttering in his seat. There was some nodding, although Allar noticed more than a few uneasy glances towards the Coat man from his compatriots, and the Night Watch Commander made a mental note to let Captain Oricarius know they might need to send some Witch Hunters to make sure the Shades weren't infiltrated. The man opposite Allar, a thin, with hints of a previously emaciated figure stll lingering, leaned forward and asked, "While my...colleague may have put it more passionately than expected, he shares our sentiments. If this is what the Warden of the Dead requires, we will do it. The Fractured Conclave has done enough to weaken our people and leave them vulnerable to the likes of what dwells in the Warp and their crimes against our people must stop. Lord Kesar spoke of different options for those amongst us who are touched by the Warp, the Seidr or psykers as you call them, what...what can be done instead of the monstrous acts the Conclave would bleed us dry to contine
Allar could feel the stares of everyone in the room on him and once again marveled at how the Eternal Wardens' First captain saw this coming, "Yes, amongst the Imperium of Man there are at least... four other legions like his own that can and do make use of the...'Seidr' as well as there being several schools of training for lack of a better term, so even if they are not selected as worthy of being taking as an Aspirant the-" The Night Watch Commander was cut off by a boy that if he hadn't briefed wouldn't believe was able to command one of the largest underhiver gangs in Ransan,
"'Assperant' wassat?"
"A Space Marine Aspirant is someone who is tested and found to be compatible with the gene seed of the Legion's Primarch, thus allowing them to become one of, for example, Lord Kesar's genesons..." Allar trailed off as the sheer pressure of the focused stares every Shade was giving him hit at the same time. I really hope they can handle this next bit well or I'm a dead man he thought to himself before he continued, "...However, there are certain, limits, shall we say. Due details of the process I cannot share for security reasons...also I have no idea what they are to be frank as they are a closely guarded secret, the aspirants must be male and on the cusp of becoming a man to get the best results. Elder men than that may try but I am told to inform you that the risk to success ratio is prohibitively skewed."
Coat man once more rose, the light of unvarnished fanaticism al-no, he was actually starting to glow pink from his eyes, "Yes, YES! We shall join of his flesh and ascend to a greater state, the-his ecs-stoic..my brothers, my sister...I am not, I can't." Clutching his head, Coatman seemed to be fighting with himself as others of the Shades either drew weapons or made a sign that was like one of the major runes the Eternal Wardens most often used, "Fight it Raman, be as your name and protect yourself form their touch!"
The now named Raman seemed to take comfort from the man who spoke, General Madsten if the bio was correct, and straightened himself but the pink glow seemed to fluctuate even as he made the sign over and over with increasingly shaking fingers, "I...i will not yield. They shall not take m-me for I fight in his Shade. WhIIle I breath I fi-fi-fal-FIGHT! For the Warp can bleed. The Warp can die!"
"The Warp can bleed! The Warp can die!" Echoed the other Shades who still kept their weapons drawn and when Raman's body began to contort and twist against his will with the sounds of flesh tearing and bones cracking, fired into the increasingly mutating body of their former companion, who merely stuttered out the battlecry through split and bloodied lips. General Madsten, knelt down and took the Raman's one unchanged hand in his own, an expression of sorrow but...pride on his face for Allar to see, "You did well brother. Go now, be at peace under His Aegis, and know you will be remembered as a Shade of the Warden, a fighter to the end."
Raman's malformed features split into a weeping smile of gratitude as Madsten took a plasma pistol from one of the other shades and shot as Raman's body tried to heal itself, a corrupted limb trying to block the plasma and failing. Another Shade came up and used a hand flamer to burn the corpse, while Allar kept his own las pistol out and pointing at the others, "What the fuck was that?!"
General Madsten stood up from where he had been crouched down, his expression mournful but resolute as he met the gaze of the Night Watch officer, "Our people have been exposed to more than just the cruelty and horror of the Fractured Conclave and Ashani's wrath. We...we know that there are things beyond our realm that seek to consume us, to play with us, they were in part what the Conclave claimed were protecting us from...but as you can see, they failed. We seek to follow the example of the God, Kesar Dorlin, in fighting the forces of the Beyond with all our strength but our flesh and minds have limits as we are merely mortal. It is our hope that as we get closer to Him, understand Him better, that we might be able to keep ourselves from them, or if they seek us out still, that we might fight them with all our means until our last breath takes us. He showed us that which would claim itself eternal and indefatigable may be felled, that-"
"The Warp can bleed." Allar finished, holstering his las pistol slowly, while General Madsten nodded earnestly, "The Warp can die! Exactly! He showed us the way, that there is still hope if we continue to fight, that nothing is inevitable as long as we who would be free of their influence have the will to deny them! Even to the gates of Hel if need be we will battle to prove ourselves worthy of HIM!!"
The other Shades burst into raucous cheering even as Allar nodded thoughtfully as yet another contingency that Captain Oricarius had told him to keep in mind came to the fore, "In that case, you may rest assured that the Priamrch has prepared for such eventualities of your situation, as Lord Kesar's homeworld, my homeworld was struck by such forces for millennia. We have developed methods for seeking out those who have given in to the influence of the Warp and those that have succumbed against their will. There are those that seek out the Lost and the twisted and ensure that they cannot do harm to others, willing or no. They are called the Valhallan Witch Hunters, and once we have defeated the Fractured Conclave, we can have many come here to train others of your group to ensure that the folly of the Conclave does not doom your people against their will."
General Madsten and others nodded in relief that Allar could not begin to decipher while they sat down, Allar finally doing so himself as he prepared to get their take on the budding offensive. It wouldn't be easy to go between this lot and the Imperial army but that was what the Night Watch were for...be nice to not fight in a flammable hive in his opinion. The Shades were...odd to say the least to a Valhallan of the Golden Path, but considering what they'd gone through and been subject to, Allar was willing to give them a chance. The Sovereign's Son would offer them that much he thought...
===================================
(Battlefield on Ranloth, some time later)
Ragnar laughed as he fired a las canon at the attacking Conclave soldiers, giving a shout when he managed to burn off the head of a Bastion commander. It was day three of the fighting and that was only this recent attack as well.
For the last several months, the Shades of the Warden and the Night Watch had slowly but surely coordinated a series of attacks, ambushes, encirclements, and flankings that kept the forces of the Fractured Conclave either in disarray or in retreat. At the same time, other members of the respective forces had done their best to take as much artillery and defensive materials as possible for the Shades to use as they gathered in the planets where they held sway or to make bastions where they were not, and dug in with all the tenacity of an Ambul on a mission. By the time the Conclave was done reeling from the latest series of ambuscades by the Night Watch, the Shades had set up fortifications that ensured that any battle to take them would be a grotesque and fruitless endeavor.
Fortunately in Ragnar's mind, the Conclave had not gotten the memmo and rumors of the leading Council of the Conclave being pruned by an increasingly insane Bjairon Ammitsson in his fits were confirmed as every soldier that the Conclave could conscript with a broomstick was launched at the blatant challenge the Shade bastions represented. Like the one he was now repelling, "COME ON YOU CHILD CUTTERS! Come meet your bane! Even in death we fight, even as Shades we serve!" He exhorted, as las shots and stubber rounds fired back and forth across the barb wire speckled no-mans-land, the Conclave fighters pushing on with the zeal of the fanatic or the desperation of those that knew not fighting was worse.
By contrast the Shades fought with the fury of the wronged and the joy of the freed, their warcy of "The Warp can bleed! The Warp can die!" echoed over dozen of miles of the battle line to counter the Conclave's own "In Her name you shall tremble!" and "Honor the Conclave!"
Ragnar's expression soured as he could see some tanks approaching the line, looked like the Bastion were serious this time. "Fjadha, how many AT rounds we have left?" and the sour look only deepened as the woman in charge of the heavy munitions shook her head,
"We used those up stopping the APCs yesterday. They got the numbers and they're using them good Ragnar." The skjald turned warrior nodded resolutely before a cough from Fjadha turned his gaze back to her, "Do you think the Imperials are coming? I know we swore to follow the Warden but they aren't him...what if they leave us to die?"
Ragnar clasped a hand to her shoulder and gave a comforting squeeze, "Then we see Him all the sooner and speak of how we stood till the last as he would have us do. Besides-" Ragnar's face split with a massive grin as aircraft bearing a certain two-headed bird began flying over the Conclave lines and dropping bombs that had bodies flying in chunks and tanks turned to smoke spewing wrecks. Following them was a line of tanks that made the Bastion helmed division resemble more a field trip of younglings than a military formation, so great was their number that the ground itself began to rumble with the weight of their treads.
Grabbing his trusty vox caster, Ragnar clicked the power button and began to speak, "Look there my brothers and sisters! The Imperium keeps its word, and we will soon be free of the shackles of the Conclave forever more!" Cheers ranging from relieved to blood hungry surrounded the swarthy man as he continued,
"But shall we sit back and let them finish the job? I SAY NO! NOW WE TAKE BACK OUR HOMES, OUR LIVES AND OUR HERITAGE!!! IN KESAR'S NAME CHARGE!!!" So they did, thousands of men and women threw themselves from their defensible positions into the teeth of the Conclave's guns and artillery not heeding any wound short of fatal injuries. The armies of the Conclave, already shaken by being flanked by a massive force fresh and ruthless, soon broke under the berserk countercharge of the Shades.
Once more laughing with the joy of battle, Ragnar felt a rush of inspiration and without missing a beat burst into song as he fired into the fleeing enemy
All across the Hurar worlds, grim Chaos reigns supreme
Shackled by the mind control of the Conclave's Dark Council
Yet still there lies the chance of hope now Kesar has come forth
The sigil of the Warden in the sky tonight will burn
Fight for the King, For the Warden and your shield
Fight for the ancient stories
With all our might, We must fight for life
For the Hurar and the glory
Fight 'til we die, In a battle in the sky
Fight all the foes before thee
With all our might, We must fight for life
For the Hurar and the glory
Shadeborne arise
Shadeborne!
We are the Shadeborne!
Forces of resistance, it is time to make a stand
No longer will Lord Ammitsson enslave our ancient lands
By the Lord Kesar Dorlin, unleash your ancient strength
The battlefield of Ranloth's plains is where we'll set our course
In bloody ways, in endless days
We bled and wailed, called and prayed
But now the time, has come to rise
Ascend into the skies
SHADE BORNE
Fight for the King, For the Warden and your shield
Fight for the ancient stories
With all our might, We must fight for life
For the Hurar and the glory
Fight 'til we die, In a battle in the sky
Fight all the foes before thee
With all our might, We must fight for life
For the Hurar and the glory
Shadeborne arise
Shackled by the mind control of the Conclave's Dark Council
Yet still there lies the chance of hope now Kesar has come forth
The sigil of the Warden in the sky tonight will burn
Fight for the King, For the Warden and your shield
Fight for the ancient stories
With all our might, We must fight for life
For the Hurar and the glory
Fight 'til we die, In a battle in the sky
Fight all the foes before thee
With all our might, We must fight for life
For the Hurar and the glory
Shadeborne arise
Shadeborne!
We are the Shadeborne!
Forces of resistance, it is time to make a stand
No longer will Lord Ammitsson enslave our ancient lands
By the Lord Kesar Dorlin, unleash your ancient strength
The battlefield of Ranloth's plains is where we'll set our course
In bloody ways, in endless days
We bled and wailed, called and prayed
But now the time, has come to rise
Ascend into the skies
SHADE BORNE
Fight for the King, For the Warden and your shield
Fight for the ancient stories
With all our might, We must fight for life
For the Hurar and the glory
Fight 'til we die, In a battle in the sky
Fight all the foes before thee
With all our might, We must fight for life
For the Hurar and the glory
Shadeborne arise
Ragnar kept singing throughout the battle, as each time he did so he could see his cohorts renewed and reinvigorated while the Conclave's troops seemed to quail before a song that was not full of despair and fear, so lost were they to the very idea of hope.
But hope there was, because with the coming of the Imperial Army, the last gasp of the Fractured Conclave was soon uttered.
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(On the plans of Ransan post compliance)
The leaders of the Shades of the Warden met with the Night Watch after the last holdouts of the Conclave combatants were defeated, although at this point the number of those killed to those that had surrendered had been massively skewed to the latter when the Imperial army came in force. Yes the die-hards had to be dealt with but despite the fervent efforts of the Conclave's social programming, the numbers of such true believers had never been high, so the loss of life had not been as extreme as it could have been.
General Madsten smiled warmly at Commander Allar and gave a bow from the waist, "In the name of the Shades of the Warden and the people of the reborn Hurar Empire, I humbly offer our thanks for your aid in our liberation against the Fractured Conclave and willingly offer our merger with the Imperium of Man." Commander Allar returned a smile of his own, having gotten to know the Huraran general over the course of the campaign. He was a fervent adherent to the growing faith in the eleventh primarch and often would go into impromptu sermons on the matter if the inspiration struck him, but nevertheless displayed a keen military mind that no doubt had been the cause of the Conclave's attempt to isolate and demoralize.
"On behalf of the Imperium of Man I graciously welcome you back into the arms of humanity and offer its support in helping you rebuild. Lord Kesar Dorlin has long since put in place many policies that will ensure that your worlds and people will not only be healed, but any worlds that are lacking in industry or support will be uplifted to higher standards." Allar winced internally as he saw the Huraran general turn to his fellow leaders and raise his hands, "Even now His wisdom shines as the clearest stars, for he does not merely protect our souls but seeks to ensure that all the needs of his people are met! Glory to the Warden of the Dead! Glory to Kesar!"
Allar coughed before Madsten could go into another impassioned ran-speech and the general turned back with a faint blush, "Before I leave you to the Administratum clerks and the like for the aid you will need in reforming your government and repairing the damages of the war, I have something for your organization in particular....in private." he added when Allar saw that Madsten was not going to move on his own from the collective gathering.
With a look of dawning comprehension, Madsten waved ahead the others, "Go without me, you all can speak of what our people need better than an old exile like me, I will see what the matter is." The rest of the Shades were hesitant to leave him but the elderly officer merely chided them until they left. As they did Allar gestured for Madsten to follow and they went to an adjoining room where an abnormally normal man was seated. The man looked up with perfectly ordinary eyes and gave a flawlessly average smile,
"Welcome General Madsten, have a seat. You may call me Null." Allar and Madsten sat down in the chairs in front of 'Null' with the Huraran General entwining his fingers in his lap, "Greetings Mr. Null, I would ask how you knew my name but imagine there's a perfectly reasonable explanation or three waiting in the wings."
Another effortlessly common smile spread across the face of 'Null', "Indeed, I was hoping to ask you some questions while your compatriots dealt with the bureaucrats. I apologize for the deception with Commander Allar but this matter is of the highest discretion." A knowing look spread across Madsten's face.
"I see, in that case ask away." 'Null' shuffled some papers before pulling one out in particular, "Very well, let's begin. First off, I am told that you and your Shades do not wish to rule the system?"
"Indeed, the Shades of the Warden are believers in His Truth, that we are meant to fight Chaos and its perils with all we have, and as such should not be directly involved in rule lest we become merely another Fractured Conclave and stain His honor with our misdeeds." 'Null' made some noncommittal hums as he marked off something on his list, "I see I see, then you will be following through on rebuilding the 'Hurar' Empire as previously stated in communicates between our...associates?"
Madsten nodded with a small smile, "Quite right, the Fractured Conclave may have done their best to alter or wipe the histories but we remember enough in song, poem and hidden lore that the Hurar Empire can live again in spirit if not the literal renewal that we'd longed to have before His coming. We may only have stories but if the ancient parables are to be believed it wouldn't be the first time my people have created something new on the foundation of stories from before." 'Null' checked off another couple of marks
"Mmm hmm, mm hmm, naturally of course it would need to comply with Administratum regulations and terminology, you would be ruled by a Sector Governor as your direct head of state with the Emperor of Mankind as your only Emperor of course." Madsten tilted his head in acceptance, a wry smile on his lips, "I understand, no need to confuse the chain of command."
"Precisely! Oh I do enjoy dealing with sensible people for a change." 'Null' said with the epitome of a diplomatic hand clap and smile, "However, that does bring up the matter of your. *ahem* organization. While you do not plan to act as a governing body, I am still required to inform you that said 'Shades of the Warden' are in violation of the Imperial Truth and that you may be visited by others in an effort to bring your...beliefs more in line with Imperial Law."
Commander Allar gave Madsten a sidelong glance, this was something that everyone on the Imperial side had been concerned about. Lord Kesar had *not* cleared the cult to worship him nor would he want it, but to say the Shades were fervent in their desire to honor and follow the Lord of the eleventh legion was like saying the Iron Warriors had a reputation for being slightly grumpy. Technically true but missing the point by a sector mile.
But General Madsten merely inhaled and closed his eyes for a moment before opening them to match 'Null's own, "I understand that that is the official stance of the Imperium of Man, but while you said we are in violation of the law, I have been informed of a faith or philosophy if you prefer, called the 'Golden Path' that developed on the world of the God Kesar's own origin?" Allar resisted the urge to wince, as the Golden Path was *very* different from the growing tenants of the Shadeborne.
'Null' himself merely raised his eyebrow a precise fraction of an inch up as he met Madsten's stare, "The beliefs of the Golden Path are precisely in line with the Imperial Truth as a matter of philosophy as opposed to religion as you observed. What you practice, is something the Emperor of Mankind has expressly forbid without either heavy censure or strong...'reeducation' efforts being made. However, if you are implying that you would seek aide from the Primarch's homeworld on how to make your own faith align more to the Golden Path's methods to allow for acceptance of the Imperium of Man, that is possible." The Huraran General gave a satisfied smile and sat back,
"That would be acceptable, as long as those of us who still keep as we have these past years are allowed to serve Him." 'Null's hands picked up a piece of paper and handed it to Madsten without a word, the general's own brow rising significantly higher as he read, "This is a large if not total amount of our current forces as well any we might recruit in the next two years. I assume there is good reason for this?"
"There is, for you see, Lord Kesar is planning a grand campaign and can use all those who would fight the Warp and its myriad threats in its battles. If you truly seek to aide the Lord Kesar in his battles and struggles, then you will find no better way than now. In a sense, your compliance came at a *very* fortuitous time my friend." General Madsten took a deep breath as he continued to look at the paper, "How many of us will make it back from this?"
"Few, if any. What Lord Kesar faces will bleed his sons heavily on their own, let alone members of the Imperial army or your own organization. But make no mistake, this is a sincere offer to let you fight at the behest and aide of the one you wish to honor. I will also confirm that your planets will be receiving heavy Witch Hunter support to ensure that your people are able to remain pure in your service and...devotion. Any tithes of troops you gather will serve the eleventh legion and if your sector's genetics prove compatible...you will be designated as recruiting worlds for the Eternal Wardens." 'Null' said flatly, his voice like one listing off groceries rather than various honors and services that would be being granted to the system.
General Madsten gave a sidelong glance to Commander Allar, who ever so slightly, nodded his head. It was a good deal, and maybe with time the Golden path could illuminate a way for the Shades to keep a variation of their faith that didn't have them worshipping the Soveriegn's son as a god...although based on what Commander Allar had seen in his time here that would not be easy.
The Huraran general placed the paper on the table a moment later, "Our people will fight in the Shade of the Warden."
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IT...IS...DONE! And would you believe it all started with me hearing the Amon amarth song and feeling like that would fit a cult that worships kesar for all he did in the system of the Fractured conclave? Of course, it grew from there with me having to come up with its history, why it'd have a blended culture of Viking and Rajput, how that progressed to the Fractured Conclave, and then write out the actual stuff happening during the campaign and beyond...it grew a bit beyond me but I am really proud of this one.
Everyone, meet the Shades of the Warden, a group that took the message from the Fractured Conclave that Kesar was a god of evil stronger than Ashani and asked "What if he isn't evil? What if he helped us?" And then add in the fact that a Keeper of Secrets was messing with people, slowly creating the ground for chaos cultists...but then ran away like a bitch and left all those people who are sensitive to the warp to feel why it did and who did it...well, you have some very grateful people. They seek above all things to honor what they've seen of Kesar and his word, that is is possible to resist the warp and integrate psykers as long as control and precautions are met, that the Warp's corruption is not inevitable nor are daemons unbeatable. They believe him at this time to be a god of battle and the dead, one protects the souls of the dead and fights those that would steal them when they pass or corrupt them when they are living.
If you are a Shade you believe the highest calling is to fight against the forces of Chaos and it is better to die fighting said forces than to surrender to their blandishments. But thanks to the Fractured Council's attempts to be Dark Eldar lite, they also see the perils of letting fear and hate rule them, and prefer to honor the warrior heritages that created their region's old empire while using the stoic balance of the Eternal Wardens to prevent themselves from going too far.
TLDR: The warrior creed counterpart to the Golden Path if they get inched away from worshipping Kesar...or at least being a stable "Fight chaos, follow the example and honor the deeds of our god" if Kesar does end up in godmode.
@Daemon Hunter here ya go.
Ok, this is far more manageable than I'm used to seeing in relation to warhammer cults. I feel the need to apologize for overreacting. Sorry about that.
That said there's definitely going to need to be some work done, even if most of the die hards manage to buy themselves a ticket to OG valhalla the ones inspired by them will probably need to get some major adjustments. The golden path will be earning their keep with this one.
Eventually however this world might be ideal for recruiting not just new wardens, but witch hunters as well, based that one guy's ability to slow the corruption's emergence.
On top of that if psykers are common enough here, they might be a solid source of Runesmiths. IIRC so far Kesar has only been able to teach psykers to craft runes.
That said there's definitely going to need to be some work done, even if most of the die hards manage to buy themselves a ticket to OG valhalla the ones inspired by them will probably need to get some major adjustments. The golden path will be earning their keep with this one.
Eventually however this world might be ideal for recruiting not just new wardens, but witch hunters as well, based that one guy's ability to slow the corruption's emergence.
On top of that if psykers are common enough here, they might be a solid source of Runesmiths. IIRC so far Kesar has only been able to teach psykers to craft runes.
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