The Lost Primarch Quest
- Thread starter Daemon Hunter
- Start date
- Pronouns
- Human/Form/Keyblade
Easy the father god of the god Kesar.
Like Zeus who is the father of Athena and Hermes. no great logic is needed to see it.
Like Zeus who is the father of Athena and Hermes. no great logic is needed to see it.
- Location
- London
While the custodies would be archangels and the space marines would be regular angels?
Basically the below, Big E is big daddy chief god to say the least.
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Neither, this is a world that took its mythos and lore from Ancient Scandinavia and the Rajput take on Hindu faiths respectively, so Custodies would be empowered guardians/warriors or just the Emperor's host as i think that they are from his genes a closely guarded secret.
For the Space Marines you got your demi-gods as they are blood of their god but not nearly the full power.
Are the Custodes using gene seed? I thought they were sort of like higher tier thunder warriors, but custom jobs instead of mass production models. I thought the grey knights were using gene seed.
While we're clarifying things: Are the witch hunters only from valhalla or do they recruit from other worlds in Kesar's domain/the imperium at large? As much as Valhalla is the logical HQ, they're an incredibly useful organization that should probably be cultivated to cover the entire imperium. Certainly our brothers would benefit from having their expertise on hand.
While we're clarifying things: Are the witch hunters only from valhalla or do they recruit from other worlds in Kesar's domain/the imperium at large? As much as Valhalla is the logical HQ, they're an incredibly useful organization that should probably be cultivated to cover the entire imperium. Certainly our brothers would benefit from having their expertise on hand.
- Location
- United States
Technically we've taught several non-Psykers all the steps to make Runes, but you need Psykic energies to empower the Runes so that they actually have an effect. But....yeah, other than that? This planet might be a great recruitment ground for the Rune Planet. Or at the very least the anti-Daemon/Psyker guards on the planet I...haven't convinced anyone are actually necessary.
- Location
- United States
The Custodes do not use Geneseed, Emps creates all of them individually, and is mentioned to often customize what all he puts into them in order to stuff absolutely all the upgrades he can into them. Though, it is mentioned once or twice that he injects his blood into them for at least one stage.
And the Witch Hunters seem to be operating out of forty worlds at the moment, and recruiting from every one. So it seems that they're recriting from all forty worlds, but they don't really have the numbers to cover worlds not absolutely vital for them to cover. This is made even worse by the fact that they're sending a lot of their numer (20 million or so) to fight and die in the Ritual with us.
- Pronouns
- Psychic energy
My eldest daughter had an interesting thought. What would the Vigilance as an azur lane Kanmasu be like. What she would look like and her voice lines.
- Pronouns
- Human/Form/Keyblade
Actually in discord we have a photo of what the Machine Spirit from the Vigilance would look like.
- Pronouns
- Psychic energy
She's beautiful but that looks more like what could be her mental model from arpeggio of blue steel(with some more black) than a azur lane kanmasu.Actually in discord we have a photo of what the Machine Spirit from the Vigilance would look like.
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- Pronouns
- Psychic energy
I know she would have a sort of motherly type of personality. She does call the marines her little ones. So that narrows it down a little I think.
The Sons of The Kesar: The Sacred Swords (non canon)
- Location
- United States
The Sons of The Kesar: The Sacred Swords
The Sacred Swords: Descendants of the Eternal Warden's third company, the Sacred Swords are the natural evolution to the Witch Hunter's doctrine. Founded to deal with any and all rogue Psykers, and Psykic threats within the Imperium, the Sacred Swords serve as the Ordo Hereticus' primary taskforce against rogue Psykers or "witches" as they call them. Due to these close ties to the Inquisition, the Chapter enjoys an immense amount of specialized or rare wargear. Including Terminator Armors,, Dreadnaughts, Artificer Armors, Psyk-Out grenades, and Null weaponry.In Battle, this Chapter favors a slow but unrelenting press to assure the total destruction of their foes, and often uses specialist wargear to assure this inevitability. Duelists without peer, the Chapter equips many of their marines with Combat Shields, or Storm Shields in order to whether enemy assault, and is often known to use their Bolters or Psycannons almost exclusively for cover fire. By doing this, the Marines of the Chapter can maximize the use of their Null Weaponry.
Helping further, each member of the Chapter is trained and drilled again and again on how to capitalize on the momentary distractions a Psyker must undergo to utilize their powers.
And, should all of that fail to be enough, the Chapter's First Company, their veterans and foremost elite, are equipped with the Chapter's unique "Ashen Relics", giving them a resistance to Psykic attacks similar to that of a Blank.
Based in Segmentum Solar, on the planet of Nullum, the Sacred Swords enjoy a planet of plenty. A Hive World, the planet's massive population provides these sons of Kesar with a more than enough recruits. Records show, however, that the planet was chosen for its secondary purpose: That of its unusually high Blank Population. To this end, every registered newborn on the planet is, despite the Chapter's general disdain for interfering in the planet's affairs, tested for both geneseed compatibility and the Pariah gene, and those that are found are recruited into the Chapter, either as Initiates, or a specialized Blank taskforce that works alongside the Chapter.
Using this taskforce, the Sacred Swords assure their main systems are all operational, no matter the Psykic assault.
Special:
The Sacred Swords, like most Codex-Compliant Chapters, has few but notable oddities. First and foremost, the Chapter is well-known to deploy two full Terminator Conpanies, perhaps due to its immense wargear. Additionally, the First Company is outfitted with the Chapter's signature "ashen" relics.
The second of the Chaoter's notable oddities is the lack of a Librarium. Indeed, the Chapter is noted to trade away any and all of its members that develop Psykic gifts to their Brother Chapters, often in return for artifacts, rare wargear, or immense amounts of Runes.
Though the exact reason for this tradition is unknown, as the lack of a Librarium leaves few recordkeepers within the Chapter, the general consensus is that this Ritual started shortly after the event known as the Howling. During this event, it is suspected the Chapter's nascent Librarium was burned out, either as a result of the battle or from the Psykic scream itself.
Though other, darker rumors claim that the Chapter's Librarius were changed by the scream, becoming walking abominations, becoming naught but full for the Psykic scream that had to be cut down by their Brothers.
The Sword of the Lost. The Sword of the Lost is a sacred sword said to have been wielded by Primarch Kesar Dorlin during the dawning days of the Great Crusade. Across its surface are engraved hundreds of thousands of names: Each a warden that has been Lost to the archenemy. Legend tells of how the great Kesar retreated into his room for fifty days and fifty nights, emerging only when he had carved the names of every Lost son into his blade, and every fallen son unto his armor.
While Lost Wardens are exceedingly rare these days, Warden Successor Chapters are careful to send the names of each and every one to the Sacred Swords. Eleven Techmarines are required to attend the blade at any and all times.
Lastly, and most strangely of all is the Rite of Ashes. During this strange ritual, the Battle Brothers of the Second Company seek to befriend an ally Blank, and receive through arcane means permission to claim the Blank's body once the Blank dies. This, it seems, is done because the Chapter believes strongly that the souls of the dead are still attached to their corpses, and permission, as well as knowledge on what they should do, magnifies the effects of the body.
Once the Blank has died, the Chapter takes, and then cremates the body. There, techmarines mixes a strange concoction of iron, and the Blank's ashes, and smelts them into the Marine's equipment. This, it seems, is done to give the Battle Brother a Blank's resistance to Psykic attacks and shields, without the need for frequent repairs, nor notably decreasing their defenses against other foes.
Finally, the Marine receives his armor and blade, and retreats into solidarity. There, hidden from all prying eyes, the Marine carves the Blank's name in the armor, hidden away inside the internal plates and mechanisms. This way, the Marine may never forget the sacrifice of his dear friend, and forever carries them into battle.
This equipment is not without its downsides, however, as wearing "Ashen" armor is said to impart upon its wielder a deep sense of melancholy upon its wielder.
Geneseed: Like most sons of the Kesar, the Sacred Swords have no notable Geneseed flaw. Though it is rumored that their flaw is, in fact, a deep and overwhelming sense of melancholy or depression some of the Chapter seem to exhibit on the field.
Starting Transmission
A hundred years ago, a child was born to the mining planet of Iddanion. The child was a mutant, ugly beyond compare. With a cleft lip, a clubbed foot, hands that were mutated and tangled. But he was a child of the Imperium, and he would be loved without question. Served until his dying day. He would work harshly, he'd likely be unable to find love. But, at the end of the day, his work would help humanity. He would pull his weight. His parents, being Astropaths within the Goverern's Choir, would likely assure his most base comforts.The churgeon smiled brightly, giving the baby over to his mother. The mother, though tired and concerned, looked at her child with love.
And then everything exploded.
A Psykic threat, an Alpha-ranked Psyker with near unmatched power that eradicated all Planetary Defense Forces sent to investigate. Guardsmen were sent, millions and millions of lives in the now-dead zone. Another failure of the standardized proportional response protocols.
Eventually, after tens of millions had already been lost, it was noted that the dead-zone was not expanding, and thus it was left primarily alone for a number of years. Resources were reallocated to other fronts, and running the planet as efficiently as possible.
Which just gave the Psyker inside time to master his abilities, and begin his attack.
Suddenly, the full might of the Psyker began pushing outwards on the world, enslaving the minds of thousands every push, arming them, and using them in perfectly coordinated attacks in the next. Regiments were sent again, but the Psyker was powerful beyond reason, all the generals of the Guard had managed to do thus far was feed him bodies, equipment, and information.
It wasn't their fault though. It's mine. The Chapter's.
They should have been better informed of the insidious nature of Psykers. Of their powers, dangers, and uses. The Planetary Defense Forces sent should have been taught not to blindly attack, but to plan and forgive. The Generals should have been taught to leave the Psyker alone, and to call the likes of us, or the Sisters of Battle, or the Culexus.
We should have informed them. We have been tasked with this duty for ten thousand years. We should have spread this information by now. We've had the time.
Regardless. Due to the invention of the Guard, the problem had spiraled out of control, and not even the Culexus could stop it, and the Sisters would be mowed down long before they made it through the wall of guns.
And so we were called. We of the Sacred Swords. We who protect the most sacred of relics. We who are the Witch Hunters.
I looked around me, staring at my charge, a Sister of Silence, and then my Brothers. But again we showed our failings. For we were a mixed squad, a member of each remaining Company of our Chapter. Myself, from the survivors of the First Chapter, a mighty Ashen Terminator from our second, Brother Adar from our third, and Brother Brieu from our forth. The impromptu Scout Company after all our battles against the Enslaver Invasion.
The four of us looked at each other, thankful to have allies after our devastating losses, yet shamed. Shamed beyond shame for the indignities we cast unto the Imperium. To lose so many that we had to resort to this. That we couldn't send even a single squad from the veteran or Terminator companies.
It was a shame.
I bit my lip, wishing nothing less than five hundred lashes unto myself, as I turned back to my charge. "Sister Sephera?" I ask, "We are approaching planet-side, what are your orders?"
The sister cracked her eyes, seeming a bit surprised as I handed command to her.
But she never got the opportunity to sign. An explosion shook the room, a twinge passed through my brain, as gravity shifted, and we began hurling towards the planet. Unconnected, we began floating up, falling faster and faster. My eyes go wide, and briefly I consider whether I should rush to the door or to my charge, before catching Brother Bieu's eye.
I turn, however minutely, and gesture to our Sister, and without a word he dives towards her, allowing me to run towards the exit, and open up Vox.
"What's happening?" I demand.
A second later-A second! Despite the dozens that should have been working right now, and hundreds more scattered throughout the ship!-one of the Blanks reaches his Vox. "Sir!" he reported, "I don't know what happened. The captain and all support staff fell over!"
In an instant, a thousand possibilities run through my head, before I realize just what happened. "Try to right the ship." I command as certainly as I can, and then, switching over to general broadcasting, "All units! Brace for impact!"
Yet, I couldn't risk it. I charged forwards, sprinting through halls filled with dead flesh. Dodging thick walls, and running straight through thin ones. I curse, for I know I can't make it in time, but I sprint anyway. Forward, forward, pushing myself further and further in hopes that I can at least start righting the ship by the time we hit dirt.
But the Blank from before proved his worth again, managing to grab onto the controls when I hadn't even passed a quarter of the ship. He pulled up, righting the vehicle, and proving himself invaluable. More useful than I, by any means.
I let out a sigh of relief, halting my sprint, and feeling a brief pang of regret for not trusting my allies, before barking orders. We were lucky. Whatever this mad Psyker was thinking, he kept the ordinance off of us, as either his interest in us or his own sense of superiority let us touch down safely.
Still, I wanted to be on the safe side. So the moment I knew the Pariah had stopped us from crashing, I ordered my Brothers to take the sister to the hanger, and the Blanks to hide in the crew's quarters.
Again, I stare down at Sister Sephera, worried if she'll survive the thousands, if not millions, of shots. She looks up to me, her eyes burning into my own, and nods resolutely.
"Brothers!" I order. "The Ashen shall go first. Brother Bieu, Brother Aldar, you stay behind and protect Sister Sephera. We shall clear the area as best we can, but it is up to you to make it to the gates." The four of them nodded, Sister Sephera following the command unquestioningly. It is for the best, I supposed, for she likely does not wish to be in command either.
Stalwart, the other Terminator and I grabbed our provided Storm Shields, and dutifully marched out of the hanger. It seemed, that we were outside the enemy's line of fire. Well, not truly, for even now I could count the soldiers on the tower's walls, but human hands shook, and in truth any shot fired now was a waste on their lasgun's power packs.
Good, for it would mean Sister Sephera would be properly protected by the time we were in lasgun range, and myself and my fellow Terminator would be drawing fire even then. The other Terminator seemed to think the same thing, nodding and giving one last, concerned gaze towards our Brothers who were only using Boarding Shields.
"On the mission." I boom, raising my shield in front of me, and leaning forwards. Not much, but just enough to get gravity on my side. My Brothers grunt, and with timing a mortal human could spend a lifetime training and still fail to approach, we run.
The first shots are hectic. Though we Astartes are faster than the human eye can really track, even Terminators. Though we were still miles out, though they couldn't aim due to poor vision and equipment. Yet, their sheer quantity meant that even if only one in every thousand hit, even one in ten thousand, we were battered with countless shots.
In moments, my vision was clouded with bursts of light. In seconds, the plasteel of my Storm Shield began to creak and rip, and ceramite plates were torn away. Yet through it all we ran. Faster than a normal man could ever dream we closed the distance between us and the tower, drawing fire so that Sister Sephera could approach. Blast after blast we weathered, pushing onwards even as they grew more and more frequent. Even as our shields tore away, and our armor began taking the brunt of the blasts.
And, eventually, we tore through.
We hit their walls like cyclone torpedoes, drawing our Ashen Blades and sprinting straight through their ferrocrete walls and straight into their shooting line. Surrounded, we ducked low, and struck out in wide, sweeping patterns, cutting a bloody swath around the tower's base.
It was a dark, evil tactic. For these men and women were loyal guardsmen-Soldiers we failed. That I failed! But it worked. So focused on us were they that they forgot all about Sister Saphera, and the Brothers we left behind. By the sacrifice of these Guardsmen Sister Saphera's safety was guaranteed, and the Imperium's victory was assured.
Still, I tried to minimize this casualty. Wherever I could-wherever I knew I could-I struck a disabling blow instead of a killing on. Left a man to bleed out in hours rather than seconds, or cut off the arms instead of the head. Yet it was a drop of blood to the gallons I'd spilled this day. It was a shame. A shame that these loyal men and women weren't informed. A shame that so many had to die.
A shame that I failed them.
By the time Sister Saphera reaches the door, I'd already killed over five thousand myself, and set up a rudimentary kill zone at the doors to keep anyone else from coming in and flooding us in bodies. I turn to her, nodding once even as my Brothers and I instinctively look for any threats.
I see a woman I'd left alive regenerating, being healed by the Psyker that called this place home, as Sister Saphera nods and I cannot help but watch as Brother Bieu puts her down. I cannot help but wonder what would have happened if she'd only been born a Blank. If only we had been more successful, if only we'd been here when we were first needed.
I look to Brother Aldar, and to the other Terminator as he inspected the half-melted remains of our Storm Shields. They'd need to be repaired, to be sure, and if we ran into serious fire from here on they might be lost forever. That'd be a hit to the Chapter, to be sure. Nothing compared to the hundreds of Ashen Relics lost not a century ago, but still it would be devastating.
Saphera nods, ready to go on, but I shake my head. Her face is slightly strained, her breathing still not returned to normal, it was clear she'd pushed herself on the run towards the walls, and now that we had a moment of relative peace I thought it was best to give her a break.
To that end, I broke the silence that had fallen upon us, "Report." I order.
Brother Aldar nods, "Brother Bieu and I stayed behind to protect Sister Saphera. Though we took some shots, our Boarding Shields were more than enough to block all attacks." he booms, running a quick check on his equipment, "Ready."
Brother Bieu nodded. "Ready."
The Terminator examined his shield once more, examining as part of its outermost layer popped and bubbled. "My shield has been compromised Brother." he reported plainly, "It is in dire need of repairs."
"Your faith is your shield Brother." I call back, briefly considering whether it would be better to cast our shields away. But the protection of Sister Saphera came first. Besides, I dare not think of what would happen if the enemy looted our shields and used them against the Imperium.
Sister Saphera is silent, of course, but gestures forward impatiently in her order's signature Battlemark.
And, of course, I had formally given command over to her.
I nod, turning towards the door, and then charging through it like a powersword through Xenos flesh. We are met with Lasfire, dozens of shots fill the air, blocked or dodged, or shielded in the moments it took their mortal hands to tire. And then we begin again, a dance of blood, and death. Brother Bieu seems distracted throughout it, twitching invisibly, and struggling against some invisible hold, even as he stayed close to Sister Saphera.
It was concerning, to say the least. But we had a job to do, and if the Psyker was strong enough to make us struggle so, it only meant that we needed to hurry all the more. Before he or she found a way to kill us properly.
And so we cut, and sliced, and drove through an army of Guardsmen and PDF, killing tens of thousands as we made our way up the tower.
Until we weren't.
One moment, we were surrounded on all sides by once-loyal Guardsmen. One moment, we are blocking a dozen shots with our shields, and a hundred more with our armors to protect Sister Saphera. One moment, we face an army.
And the next, reality ripples and tears.
A large, spectral hand claws its way through the other side of reality, like some feral animal forcing itself through a too-tight hole. Reactively, my visors dim, and my armor seizes as some Psykic attack batters against the Ashen Armor. Brother Aldar and Brother Bieu were not so lucky, however, being thrown back and embedded into the stone wall on the other side of the room.
Worse yet were the Guardsmen, who's eyes popped and fizzled, as their skin boiled and wept bloody tears all across their armor. They seized, a blank Psykic attack sweeping through the room and twisting their bodies, mulching bones and flesh in a whirlwind of carnage.
And, across the vox, I hear a crack.
I charge forward, knowing the Psyker had made a grave mistake, but the winds slow me, and that is enough for the monster to struggle, to get a foothold into this world. My blade bites down, cutting deep, and dispersing a white mist where the monster is but should not be. It flails wildly, impossibly fast, slamming into my armor and though it is unmade by it, the force sends my careening.
Sister Saphera charges unmaking the rest of the beast just as it gets its disgusting head through, but that opens up our rear, from which countless tentacles begin to spew for miniscule cracks. Brother Bieu's blade slashes out, cutting through dozens even as the walls begin to line with suspiciously familiar shapes.
The Guardsmen! I realize, even as they begin to take aim once more, I recognize this trick! And, indeed I did. These things were nothing but the Psyker's paranoia made manifest. His memories, fears, desires, ripped out and given their own sickening mockery of life in a manner not dissimilar to Daemons.
Of course, no sane Psyker would ever purposefully attempt such a thing, and fewer still had the power to make them manifest. But when they did, these monsters were relentless, and completely unkillable. Not because you couldn't hurt them, but because the Psyker's mere existence would keep bringing them back, over and over again. Like Daemons, but without the Purity Rune.
But it was also tactical suicide for the Psyker. For these monsters of Psykic power could not hurt Sister Saphera. And we were sons of the Kesar. Sons of the Daemonsbane, sons of the Warpslayer.
Wordlessly, I turn my eyes towards Sister Sephera, Brother Bieu, and Brother Aldar's corpse, and nod.
Again we leap into action. Again we cut through foes in the Emperor's name. Again we wreck a bloody toll upon the enemy. And again, I have failed to save a Brother.
On and on we fight, cleaving through wings and fins and necks, cutting through tens of thousands of foes in a slow slog of enemies that can no longer truly hurt us. But the bodies slow us down, even as they are unmade by Sister Sephera's mere presence, they slow us down more than the Guardsmen ever did, And perhaps that is why the Psyker keeps trying it.
Or perhaps we cut through so many loyal Guardsmen he no longer has any to call on.
By the time we reached his grand hall, even my terminator armor had been shredded, cut down to the special, ashen plates that made up its innermost protections. The other Terminator was the same, his shield sparking, and broken now completely and in truth. Brother Bieu was worse still, having been forced to remain directly within Sister Saphera's presence, his armor was still cut and jaded in countless places, and his blade had long-since grown dull. But Sister Saphera was still unharmed, if exhausted, and so we continued.
We burst through the large, ornate door without a thought, already cutting through his host of shameless Witches when we see him. He is an ugly thing. Deformed, malnourished, a clubbed foot, a hand twice as large as the other. His body is lopsided, clear evidence of Biomancy being used to heal without proper knowledge or skill.
He's glowing. Singing a song whose notes were old when the universe was young, gathering power enough to do anything. Power enough to destroy a planet. He's glowing, impossibly brightly, and hot enough to melt ceramite. Hot enough that even if I were to cut him down, the power would overwhelm my armor, and take half the planet with it.
So I leave him to Sister Saphera.
Instead, I dive into his cohort of Witches. His coven of Psykic evil which even now debase themselves, either sitting on their knees with arms raised, or looking to him for guidance. My blade cuts through them all, slicing heads from shoulders with speed that gives them no time to react.
And again, I am tasked to slay the men and women I should have saved. Would have, if only I'd been here sooner. If only I'd been what the Imperium needed me to be.
As I clean them up, I saw Sister Saphera march forward. Brother Bieu is by her side, his ruined shield hovering over her to protect her from harm. I see the hatred in her eyes, as she glares at the monstrous mutant. Her Evicerator revs as I cut through those closest to the Psyker, and then turn my eyes on the Guard he's forcing to pour into the room.
She lifts her blade up high, as I claim a portion of the room to purge, the other Terminator does the same, and Brother Bieu prepares to take fire. The guardsmen left raise their weapons, as Sister Saphera clenches her teeth.
And ends it.
The guardsmen shake free, their minds their own once more, as I reel back to keep myself from striking yet another fatal blow on loyal Guardsmen. Some look around experimentally, their gaze yet avoiding Sister Saphera-as true a sign of their returned mind as any. The rest, too broken by the invasive Psyker's whims, fell to the ground and began to weep.
I smile, feeling terrible, but needing to put on a brave face for these Guardsmen. We're.. I think, Going to need a lot of Cocoa, aren't we?[/I][/I]
Unknown Battle Brother of the Sacred Swords
Why was the Chapter founded: This Chapter was Founded to counter any and all Witches in the Imperium.
When was the Chapter founded: This Chapter was founded during the 3rd Founding.
Who was the Chapter's Progenitor: The Eternal Wardens
Chapter Demeanor: Leave no enemy alive!
Geneseed: Like most successors of the Eternal Wardens, the Sacred Swords have no major Geneseed flaws.
Chapter's Legend: Despite much of the Chapter's history has been lost throughout the ages, none could forget their original Chapter Master: Marius Venomeds, who fought gloriously as the Third Company's leader in the Great Crusade, and brought many worlds into the Imperial fold.
Homeworld: Hive World Nullum.
Homeworld Terrain: A scorched hellscape, not much life can grow upon this world's surface. Despite that, the surface is littered with rare materials and alloys, making it quite profitable.
Rule of Homeworld: Distant Rule. This Chapter prefers not to interfere with the lives of the imperial citizens under its command unless absolutely necessary.
Organization: Codex-Compliant.
Tactics: Close Combat specialists.
Special Equipment:
Null Weaponry, "Ashen" wargear.
Chapter Beliefs: The Emperor Above All. As a Chapter that serves the Inquisition in the Emperor's name, this Chapter has never been allowed to stray from the fact that, first and foremost, the Astartes exist to serve the Emperor.
Chapter Strength: Under Strength. Due to powerful foes and recent Crusades, this Chapter is understrength. Despite this, it appears they intend to field all Companies for the the 13th Black Crusade.
Chapter Allies:
The Ordo Hereticus
The Sisters of Silence
The Black Templars
Chapter Enemies:
The Necrons Dynasty of Hekenamun
The forces of Tzeentch
When was the Chapter founded: This Chapter was founded during the 3rd Founding.
Who was the Chapter's Progenitor: The Eternal Wardens
Chapter Demeanor: Leave no enemy alive!
Geneseed: Like most successors of the Eternal Wardens, the Sacred Swords have no major Geneseed flaws.
Chapter's Legend: Despite much of the Chapter's history has been lost throughout the ages, none could forget their original Chapter Master: Marius Venomeds, who fought gloriously as the Third Company's leader in the Great Crusade, and brought many worlds into the Imperial fold.
Homeworld: Hive World Nullum.
Homeworld Terrain: A scorched hellscape, not much life can grow upon this world's surface. Despite that, the surface is littered with rare materials and alloys, making it quite profitable.
Rule of Homeworld: Distant Rule. This Chapter prefers not to interfere with the lives of the imperial citizens under its command unless absolutely necessary.
Organization: Codex-Compliant.
Tactics: Close Combat specialists.
Special Equipment:
Null Weaponry, "Ashen" wargear.
Chapter Beliefs: The Emperor Above All. As a Chapter that serves the Inquisition in the Emperor's name, this Chapter has never been allowed to stray from the fact that, first and foremost, the Astartes exist to serve the Emperor.
Chapter Strength: Under Strength. Due to powerful foes and recent Crusades, this Chapter is understrength. Despite this, it appears they intend to field all Companies for the the 13th Black Crusade.
Chapter Allies:
The Ordo Hereticus
The Sisters of Silence
The Black Templars
Chapter Enemies:
The Necrons Dynasty of Hekenamun
The forces of Tzeentch
---
Ohh finally done! Got sick halfway through that and wasn't able to finish for a while. Ohh, and if the transmission bit sounds too Noblebright, please keep in mind that there was originally an alternate version where everyone died in an explosion anyway. Speaking of:
Nearly a century ago, a child was born upon the Mining World of Iddanion Three. For a moment, all was well. The churgeon smiled brightly, tired but finished with the arduous task of bringing life into the world. The mother lay, exhausted, but attended to by the finest technologies in the Imperium. Outside, the father, an Imperial Astropath stood waiting, his blind eyes gazing worriedly towards the newborn babe.
And then everything exploded.
Thirty thousand lives were snuffed out in a blink, as the air itself was caught aflame. The ground tore open, as it was pulled both to and away from the Warp. Metal groaned, and turned against itself, a death sentence for much of the Mining World, and lightning crackled as the earth and sky were reduced to plasma.
And through it all the cause of this; the baby remained unharmed. A thin shield wrapped around him, as reality itself bent to supply him oxygen. I was sentient, you see. From the very first moment of my conception. Something-something about the Warp.
The Imperium's forces came after that. Planetary Defense Forces and Guardsmen alike. All armed with ancient weapons, for the Imperium didn't care to send them new ones. Poorly trained, for the nobles cared not for quality, but flooding their enemies with an endless tide of bodies. They descended upon me, agressive for their poor quality of life...and they tried to kill me.
Me!
Even back then I was a monster-three-and with a thought dozens would fall to my will. With a flick of my hand, hundreds would die. With a word, and the veil would tear, sucking thousands into the Immaterium, and opening countless paths before me. No Guard could hurt me. From the moment I knew pain, that ability had been stolen away from them!
Yet the Imperium kept sending more. More and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more.
But I won every time! ME! I WON!
It was cruel of them, you see. Cruel of them to send me to kill so many. Cruel of them to waste so many lives. Cruel of them to do this to me. ME!
The voices kept me company, kept me sane ironically enough. But my heart was...so merciful. It bled for these poor, poor souls that the voices kept munching on. It bled for them, you see. So, at some point, I decided to spare their lives: Despite how they planned to claim mine!
But the Guardsman, simple humans in shoddy equipment and a 'standard Terran' year or so of training, would not be persuaded. I read their minds, their lives like an open book beneath my all-powerful grasp. They knew me a monster, and even when I had shown them time and time again how hopeless it was to challenge me...they would not stop.
Even as I twisted them apart, one by one.
And so I reached in a bit deeber, and made them my faithful servants. My playthings. My puppets. My me. ME!
When next they sought to purge me, to kill ME in that by-gone Emperor who didn't see it fit to have mercy's name...I took control of them by the hundreds and killed the rest. They were weak, pitiful beings. But it was not hard to corral them. Not hard to make them do what I wanted. Not hard to turn them against their fellows.
Ohh! I also learned what those disgusting revolting, despicable voices were! In reading the minds of their Psykers, in puppeting the bodies of their Commissars, in years of weeping nights as I learned the true injustices of the world I learned of the voices. Of the beings they call Daemons. Those disgusting, revolting, evil things that dared to lie to me! To trick me! ME! I'LL KILL THEM ALL!
I take a breath. How long had it been since I'd done that? My body seemed to be shivering, the weirdly purple, and my lungs burned.
I breathed again, and fix the rest with a thought, restoring me to my usual, handsome face.
Where was I? Something-something-something! KILL THE IMPERIUM! That's right! I-I-slobber a bit more, fighting the urge to break my nose in manic twitching again.
I got better after that. At the whole Psyker thing, I mean. Got able to control more, invaded the nearby areas, found some really weak guys that wouldn't explode when they got near me, and really practiced my singing.
That hated EMPEROR OF MANKIND guy keeps sending more though. More more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more men after me. I haven't even done anything! I don't think I've moved!
All I've done is defend myself! And build this really cool tower! And free the people from the oppressions of tyranny! And practice my singing!
So when my coolio-space-pirate-captain-who-goes-around-on-cool-space-adventures (Name pending) spots a strange ship one of my countless minds recognizes as a Gladius Frigate under the control of the "Emperor's Angels of Death" I simply reach up, and kill all those on board.
My body slackens, as I, I, and I feel the strange presences inside. The 'Astartes' my countless minds tell me: Some mocking, others revenant, and some spitting the name in my face: Defiant even now. Even though I'd showed them my kindness! Why, I let them eat twice as much as they ate under the Imperium! I COULD DO TRIPLE IF YOU STOPPED SHOOTING ME!
Countless eyes begin watched as the strange ship began to fall. And fall, and fall, and then catch on fire.
I laughed, crying laughing, as idly I ripped apart a particularly cheery voice that had entered my wonderful homei-womi. And I laugh, and laugh, and laugh, as my countless other minds cry out, oddly sad that they wouldn't be dying today.
Curse them! Curse them all! Never giving me the praise I deserve!
I choke back tears, and watch as the strange ship slowly falls. A part of me feel sad. A part of me feels glad. A part of me might be a little bit mad.
Eventually that gets boring, and so I turn to my companions. Those faithful fellows of mine that don't explode in my presence. Aren't they cute? That one looks like my mom! That one has no arm! That one's scared!
Idly, I begin to talk to them, not with my mouth of course-That one's still singing-but I talk anyway. Nothing like physical limitations of the human body is gonna keep me down! We talk, little while, as countless bodies return to their little posts all around my super-coolio tower of awesomeness, about upgrading my super-cool tower of awesomeness. Did that make sense?
Time is so weird. Never quite straight, but only stagnate half the time.
And then my eyes see the ship recovering, turning up at near the last moment to right itself, and I realize that I didn't kill those "Astartes" people. Who's minds and bodies seemed reinforced to inhuman levels. Who's souls shone almost as brightly as my dear, dear companions here!
Only….the Astartes were still in the back of the ship, making their way to the front.
I pause turning my head to the side and accidentally popping poor, poor Niclass, who joined the Guard a year and a half early so that he could go out and be a hero. A shame.
Yet, interested as I was in this strange vessel, which flew without a captain, I didn't bother to strike them down. Instead, I watched, with a thousand eyes in both the present and future, as the ship righted itself, and landed just out of range of my puppets.
And out stepped more than just the Astartes I saw. For a massive armored figure appeared, a whole upon the other side, which sucked away the light. In his arm, he carried a large shield, and a blade, both brimming with a strange energy several of my minds told me were energy weapons.
Cool toys. But they kind of hurt my eyes to look at.
Only then did the Astartes I saw step out, armed in Chain weaponry, and absolutely massive Bolters, and powered armor lined with some sort of half-Warp markings. They were tall, and radiated both an immense sadness, and a charisma that made even me want to lay down my arms to help them.
I want one.
And then came out a disgusting abomination. A woman so absolutely horrendous, so ugly that my very soul cried out for her extinction! That she may never taint my world again with her filth!
At once, I open fire, a half-million puppets, and bellows of fire descending on the group, only for the two big Astartes to step forwards and….block it. They stepped forwards again, and then began to run faster and faster, leaving behind the two 'normal' super charismatic and cool Astartes, until they reached the base of my tower.
And then they began killing. Brutally, mercilessly they threw themselves into a fierce melee, blurring so fast that only my third eye saw them. Some of my guard were lucky, a very, very, very, annoyingly, terribly, disgustingly small few of them survived, managing to get glancing blows, and nonlethal wounds.
Behind them, the cool normal Astartes walked, as well as that disgusting abomination.
In a panic, I lashed out at the group. Again, the veil tore as fire, lightning, and horrors beyond imagination poured from the veil. The tower shook, and trembled, and came apart, and shot through the Materium at impossible speeds. My powers seized every item, room after room, and tore it apart, even as I read the mind of these monsters that had entered into my home.
Yet, try as I might, I could not pierce their defenses. Despite how the effort sent me twitching until my pharynx was torn, despite how such worry and effort sent me frothing at the mouth, and blood poured from my nose and eyes. Despite how I wailed and sang, I could not gleam into their minds.
And the other three! I could barely affect the two even-massiver blurs of blood and death! My powers seemed to drain, or fizzle out whenever I attacked them, and they seemed….disconnected from the Warp. Spotty, so much so that I'd missed them when they first landed, for their souls were so small. And the abomination! THE MONSTER THAT DARED ENTER INTO MY KEEP! I could not sense her soul at all! It was like looking into nothing! It burned, for the lack fed upon my plenty!
My powers fade and fizzled, breaking across the almost-nots and disappearing entirely when they touched upon the abomination, all while my puppets-My dearest and only friends! MY COMPAIONS-died by the hundreds!
It brought me to tears.
By now, the rest of my companions-the Psykic ones that don't explode remember-were starting to feel it to. The oncoming death. The two, the only two that we could sense, striking us down in brutal, nigh unstoppable swings. Their eyes open wide, some already beginning to praise that uncaring Emperor, as others began to tear up, and yet others-My new favorite people-begin to foster a grim determination.
Truly, good friends.
My barrage continues, growing more and more fierce as the veil thins. The big-scary things hold, the outer layers of their armor shattering before my powers lost all effect. The cool Astartes trudged on as well, their minds still terrifyingly strong, even as one of the ghostly apparitions wrapped its hands around one's neck and snapped it. And the monster? Cowering behind her living shields, even as she struggled to keep pace, my powers could not touch her. They broke before even reaching her armor, feet away in some cases.
I raged, as several of my little social circle fell to their knees in ardent praise of the wretched Imperium's Emperor, and several more began to openly weep.
Yet, despite my best efforts, they marched on. Whatever it was around the once-bigger ones, the last few layers of their armor were near indestructible, and no matter how hard I tried I could never pierce through. The abomination was much the same. My Psykic powers-MINE!-fizzled out before they met her, and though it seemed like the las of my dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear friends might do something, the Astaretes and not-really-biggest-anymore were too fast, and I never got off a shot.
On and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on. Floor after floor after floor after floor, until, at last, the weird-ones kicked down the door, and began firing.
Walls of shimmering psychic energy rose between them. Impenetrable by any normal means. Strong enough to weather the full assault of entire Regiments. Strong enough to weather entire silos of Frag and Hellstrike missiles. Trust me, I'd tested. BECAUSE I'M AWESOME!
Yet, their bullets must have been from the same material as their blades and armor, for it tore through impossibly strong barriers as if they weren't even there! The cheaters!
And then-then the abomination walked forth. As my comrades and friends-MY-guys were cut down without mercy, it walked towards me, drawing its gigantic and fun-looking blade.
It looked as if it wanted to say something, I think, before its gigantic Chainsword revved, and cut through me.
And then I died.
And then everything exploded.
Thirty thousand lives were snuffed out in a blink, as the air itself was caught aflame. The ground tore open, as it was pulled both to and away from the Warp. Metal groaned, and turned against itself, a death sentence for much of the Mining World, and lightning crackled as the earth and sky were reduced to plasma.
And through it all the cause of this; the baby remained unharmed. A thin shield wrapped around him, as reality itself bent to supply him oxygen. I was sentient, you see. From the very first moment of my conception. Something-something about the Warp.
The Imperium's forces came after that. Planetary Defense Forces and Guardsmen alike. All armed with ancient weapons, for the Imperium didn't care to send them new ones. Poorly trained, for the nobles cared not for quality, but flooding their enemies with an endless tide of bodies. They descended upon me, agressive for their poor quality of life...and they tried to kill me.
Me!
Even back then I was a monster-three-and with a thought dozens would fall to my will. With a flick of my hand, hundreds would die. With a word, and the veil would tear, sucking thousands into the Immaterium, and opening countless paths before me. No Guard could hurt me. From the moment I knew pain, that ability had been stolen away from them!
Yet the Imperium kept sending more. More and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more.
But I won every time! ME! I WON!
It was cruel of them, you see. Cruel of them to send me to kill so many. Cruel of them to waste so many lives. Cruel of them to do this to me. ME!
The voices kept me company, kept me sane ironically enough. But my heart was...so merciful. It bled for these poor, poor souls that the voices kept munching on. It bled for them, you see. So, at some point, I decided to spare their lives: Despite how they planned to claim mine!
But the Guardsman, simple humans in shoddy equipment and a 'standard Terran' year or so of training, would not be persuaded. I read their minds, their lives like an open book beneath my all-powerful grasp. They knew me a monster, and even when I had shown them time and time again how hopeless it was to challenge me...they would not stop.
Even as I twisted them apart, one by one.
And so I reached in a bit deeber, and made them my faithful servants. My playthings. My puppets. My me. ME!
When next they sought to purge me, to kill ME in that by-gone Emperor who didn't see it fit to have mercy's name...I took control of them by the hundreds and killed the rest. They were weak, pitiful beings. But it was not hard to corral them. Not hard to make them do what I wanted. Not hard to turn them against their fellows.
Ohh! I also learned what those disgusting revolting, despicable voices were! In reading the minds of their Psykers, in puppeting the bodies of their Commissars, in years of weeping nights as I learned the true injustices of the world I learned of the voices. Of the beings they call Daemons. Those disgusting, revolting, evil things that dared to lie to me! To trick me! ME! I'LL KILL THEM ALL!
I take a breath. How long had it been since I'd done that? My body seemed to be shivering, the weirdly purple, and my lungs burned.
I breathed again, and fix the rest with a thought, restoring me to my usual, handsome face.
Where was I? Something-something-something! KILL THE IMPERIUM! That's right! I-I-slobber a bit more, fighting the urge to break my nose in manic twitching again.
I got better after that. At the whole Psyker thing, I mean. Got able to control more, invaded the nearby areas, found some really weak guys that wouldn't explode when they got near me, and really practiced my singing.
That hated EMPEROR OF MANKIND guy keeps sending more though. More more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more men after me. I haven't even done anything! I don't think I've moved!
All I've done is defend myself! And build this really cool tower! And free the people from the oppressions of tyranny! And practice my singing!
So when my coolio-space-pirate-captain-who-goes-around-on-cool-space-adventures (Name pending) spots a strange ship one of my countless minds recognizes as a Gladius Frigate under the control of the "Emperor's Angels of Death" I simply reach up, and kill all those on board.
My body slackens, as I, I, and I feel the strange presences inside. The 'Astartes' my countless minds tell me: Some mocking, others revenant, and some spitting the name in my face: Defiant even now. Even though I'd showed them my kindness! Why, I let them eat twice as much as they ate under the Imperium! I COULD DO TRIPLE IF YOU STOPPED SHOOTING ME!
Countless eyes begin watched as the strange ship began to fall. And fall, and fall, and then catch on fire.
I laughed, crying laughing, as idly I ripped apart a particularly cheery voice that had entered my wonderful homei-womi. And I laugh, and laugh, and laugh, as my countless other minds cry out, oddly sad that they wouldn't be dying today.
Curse them! Curse them all! Never giving me the praise I deserve!
I choke back tears, and watch as the strange ship slowly falls. A part of me feel sad. A part of me feels glad. A part of me might be a little bit mad.
Eventually that gets boring, and so I turn to my companions. Those faithful fellows of mine that don't explode in my presence. Aren't they cute? That one looks like my mom! That one has no arm! That one's scared!
Idly, I begin to talk to them, not with my mouth of course-That one's still singing-but I talk anyway. Nothing like physical limitations of the human body is gonna keep me down! We talk, little while, as countless bodies return to their little posts all around my super-coolio tower of awesomeness, about upgrading my super-cool tower of awesomeness. Did that make sense?
Time is so weird. Never quite straight, but only stagnate half the time.
And then my eyes see the ship recovering, turning up at near the last moment to right itself, and I realize that I didn't kill those "Astartes" people. Who's minds and bodies seemed reinforced to inhuman levels. Who's souls shone almost as brightly as my dear, dear companions here!
Only….the Astartes were still in the back of the ship, making their way to the front.
I pause turning my head to the side and accidentally popping poor, poor Niclass, who joined the Guard a year and a half early so that he could go out and be a hero. A shame.
Yet, interested as I was in this strange vessel, which flew without a captain, I didn't bother to strike them down. Instead, I watched, with a thousand eyes in both the present and future, as the ship righted itself, and landed just out of range of my puppets.
And out stepped more than just the Astartes I saw. For a massive armored figure appeared, a whole upon the other side, which sucked away the light. In his arm, he carried a large shield, and a blade, both brimming with a strange energy several of my minds told me were energy weapons.
Cool toys. But they kind of hurt my eyes to look at.
Only then did the Astartes I saw step out, armed in Chain weaponry, and absolutely massive Bolters, and powered armor lined with some sort of half-Warp markings. They were tall, and radiated both an immense sadness, and a charisma that made even me want to lay down my arms to help them.
I want one.
And then came out a disgusting abomination. A woman so absolutely horrendous, so ugly that my very soul cried out for her extinction! That she may never taint my world again with her filth!
At once, I open fire, a half-million puppets, and bellows of fire descending on the group, only for the two big Astartes to step forwards and….block it. They stepped forwards again, and then began to run faster and faster, leaving behind the two 'normal' super charismatic and cool Astartes, until they reached the base of my tower.
And then they began killing. Brutally, mercilessly they threw themselves into a fierce melee, blurring so fast that only my third eye saw them. Some of my guard were lucky, a very, very, very, annoyingly, terribly, disgustingly small few of them survived, managing to get glancing blows, and nonlethal wounds.
Behind them, the cool normal Astartes walked, as well as that disgusting abomination.
In a panic, I lashed out at the group. Again, the veil tore as fire, lightning, and horrors beyond imagination poured from the veil. The tower shook, and trembled, and came apart, and shot through the Materium at impossible speeds. My powers seized every item, room after room, and tore it apart, even as I read the mind of these monsters that had entered into my home.
Yet, try as I might, I could not pierce their defenses. Despite how the effort sent me twitching until my pharynx was torn, despite how such worry and effort sent me frothing at the mouth, and blood poured from my nose and eyes. Despite how I wailed and sang, I could not gleam into their minds.
And the other three! I could barely affect the two even-massiver blurs of blood and death! My powers seemed to drain, or fizzle out whenever I attacked them, and they seemed….disconnected from the Warp. Spotty, so much so that I'd missed them when they first landed, for their souls were so small. And the abomination! THE MONSTER THAT DARED ENTER INTO MY KEEP! I could not sense her soul at all! It was like looking into nothing! It burned, for the lack fed upon my plenty!
My powers fade and fizzled, breaking across the almost-nots and disappearing entirely when they touched upon the abomination, all while my puppets-My dearest and only friends! MY COMPAIONS-died by the hundreds!
It brought me to tears.
By now, the rest of my companions-the Psykic ones that don't explode remember-were starting to feel it to. The oncoming death. The two, the only two that we could sense, striking us down in brutal, nigh unstoppable swings. Their eyes open wide, some already beginning to praise that uncaring Emperor, as others began to tear up, and yet others-My new favorite people-begin to foster a grim determination.
Truly, good friends.
My barrage continues, growing more and more fierce as the veil thins. The big-scary things hold, the outer layers of their armor shattering before my powers lost all effect. The cool Astartes trudged on as well, their minds still terrifyingly strong, even as one of the ghostly apparitions wrapped its hands around one's neck and snapped it. And the monster? Cowering behind her living shields, even as she struggled to keep pace, my powers could not touch her. They broke before even reaching her armor, feet away in some cases.
I raged, as several of my little social circle fell to their knees in ardent praise of the wretched Imperium's Emperor, and several more began to openly weep.
Yet, despite my best efforts, they marched on. Whatever it was around the once-bigger ones, the last few layers of their armor were near indestructible, and no matter how hard I tried I could never pierce through. The abomination was much the same. My Psykic powers-MINE!-fizzled out before they met her, and though it seemed like the las of my dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear friends might do something, the Astaretes and not-really-biggest-anymore were too fast, and I never got off a shot.
On and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on. Floor after floor after floor after floor, until, at last, the weird-ones kicked down the door, and began firing.
Walls of shimmering psychic energy rose between them. Impenetrable by any normal means. Strong enough to weather the full assault of entire Regiments. Strong enough to weather entire silos of Frag and Hellstrike missiles. Trust me, I'd tested. BECAUSE I'M AWESOME!
Yet, their bullets must have been from the same material as their blades and armor, for it tore through impossibly strong barriers as if they weren't even there! The cheaters!
And then-then the abomination walked forth. As my comrades and friends-MY-guys were cut down without mercy, it walked towards me, drawing its gigantic and fun-looking blade.
It looked as if it wanted to say something, I think, before its gigantic Chainsword revved, and cut through me.
And then I died.
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- Location
- Elsewhere
Alright, so I really don't like doing this, but I'm going to have to delay the update again. I just moved into a new apartment after taking over someone else's lease. The problem is that they left the place an absolute mess, and I've spent hours cleaning it up in order to make it livable. I'm exhausted, and I've still got so much more to do. Therefore the update is going to be delayed to Sunday or Monday.
Kamangr
Stella!!
Reading it again, I have a question. Did Roboute gain additional stats for direct combat roll from the spar with Ferrus?
Edit:
Err... I read back to the related part, and it was not that case. When Lion'el came to Lorgar's region after his Excommunicate Traitoris, the governer appointed by him was sacked by local populations to express their unwavering loyalty toward the Emperor. So, you can say Lorgar's treason was well known except the part about the Chaos.
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Not sure, that might be a possible reward for the omake. Daemon did roll it up, it was ultimately a fairly decent spar between the two of them. Guiliman didn't actually suck.
Altered
Duality | Redeemed
- Location
- Terra
And on Discord Daemon has explicitly stated Lorgar as far as most of the Imperium who matters is aware specifically knows that Kor Phaeron and Erebus rebelled subverting some of his legion against which Lorgar died. Those who truly matter... they know the truth.
@Daemon Hunter said:
Crake
I AM THE STORM THAT IS APPROACHING
- Location
- USA
At this point, not every Primarch got the "oh yeah, Arch-Daemons are a thing, and if you see any weirdness with W, X, Y or Z characteristics, immediately report it to this shady informant suspiciously well-prepared to receive your briefing, as they belong to either Malcador or the Twins" treatment, right? Or did all of them get that?
I got the impression actually that only even some of them got that much (specifically, Horus, Lion, Roboutte, Leman and Sanguinius) as off the top of my head those are the guys that Emps has a habit of specifically turning to and going "I need you to take care of this thing for me", besides Kesar who pretty much knows everything to a degree more advanced and desperate than any Primarch does, aside from the Twins and I guess Konrad.
I forgot how general that briefing was, basically, before I digress any further. I imagine, knowing the Emperor, he would not bother to brief anyone who "didn't need to know about it", but that he would brief the ones who had already encountered it.
Which is even more ironic, because the Iron Warriors and Perturabo were never meant to become experienced at dealing with it, yet achieved the posting they were specifically denied due to being "an inferior choice".
And Khan was just plainly ignored but is more well briefed on the matter than some of the "reliable" Primarchs.
And over here is Kesar, waging a one man war on HELL ITSELF. Who has been basically given unilateral leave and control over anti-daemonic and by practical purposes and extension anti-Chaotic operations, because he is LITERALLY THAT GOOD AT IT.
... you know, if you just reflect for one moment the insanity of the above statement, given Big E and Malcador's institutional paranoia regarding the matter, and the fact that we persuaded the former into assaulting Hell's Taint, head-on, on a scale five times greater than conservatively estimated, because, and while you aren't completely positive here, you think he might be onto something...
Either you have taken Dark Age crazy pills, or his proposal basically outlined how you actually had more resources to throw at this problem than you realized, and you never would have realized it because you are completely blind to the capabilities of your son and WOW.
@Daemon Hunter did we humble the Emperor by illustrating his complete lack of interpersonal awareness of his gene-forged sons? Again? Imagine that.
I got the impression actually that only even some of them got that much (specifically, Horus, Lion, Roboutte, Leman and Sanguinius) as off the top of my head those are the guys that Emps has a habit of specifically turning to and going "I need you to take care of this thing for me", besides Kesar who pretty much knows everything to a degree more advanced and desperate than any Primarch does, aside from the Twins and I guess Konrad.
I forgot how general that briefing was, basically, before I digress any further. I imagine, knowing the Emperor, he would not bother to brief anyone who "didn't need to know about it", but that he would brief the ones who had already encountered it.
Which is even more ironic, because the Iron Warriors and Perturabo were never meant to become experienced at dealing with it, yet achieved the posting they were specifically denied due to being "an inferior choice".
And Khan was just plainly ignored but is more well briefed on the matter than some of the "reliable" Primarchs.
And over here is Kesar, waging a one man war on HELL ITSELF. Who has been basically given unilateral leave and control over anti-daemonic and by practical purposes and extension anti-Chaotic operations, because he is LITERALLY THAT GOOD AT IT.
... you know, if you just reflect for one moment the insanity of the above statement, given Big E and Malcador's institutional paranoia regarding the matter, and the fact that we persuaded the former into assaulting Hell's Taint, head-on, on a scale five times greater than conservatively estimated, because, and while you aren't completely positive here, you think he might be onto something...
Either you have taken Dark Age crazy pills, or his proposal basically outlined how you actually had more resources to throw at this problem than you realized, and you never would have realized it because you are completely blind to the capabilities of your son and WOW.
@Daemon Hunter did we humble the Emperor by illustrating his complete lack of interpersonal awareness of his gene-forged sons? Again? Imagine that.
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That may have been bad writing on my part. What Altered said is right, the average person thinks that Erebus and Kor Phaeron betryaed the Imperium and Lorgar, and in the ensuining battle, the Primarch died ensuring that none of his traitorous Legion could harm anyone else. Interesting enough, there's still some Word Bearer geneseed within the Imperium although Emps hasn't made any steps to reinstate their production.
@Daemon Hunter did we humble the Emperor by illustrating his complete lack of interpersonal awareness of his most gene-forged sons? Again? Imagine that.
I can confirm you did have a fairly large effect on him due to the options you chose for the ritual. He's going to be a bit more active socially for the Primarchs he thinks of as useful.