Sorry for asking but what even is the effect of Ork corruption.
heighten agression?
The Lost Primarch Quest
- Thread starter Daemon Hunter
- Start date
heighten agression?
- Location
- USA
I think mostly yes, but it has some physical mutagenic properties as well I think.
You mean it can turn people into greenskins
- Location
- United States
Yeah it slowly turns people into Orks. Which, ironically, means that one of the best ways to fight Orks is by letting it effect a large group of civilians and just throwing them in the path of the Orks. Using corruption to fight back corruption similarly to how 40k so often does it.
But, you know, that's kind of monsterous and wholly unwanted by our side.
But, you know, that's kind of monsterous and wholly unwanted by our side.
It's also likely to blew up in the face of whoever did it
Do you have any idea what that would do to our logistics?
- Location
- United States
Less than you'd think, because Orks. The orks want a good fight, and so their corruption basically just makes you give them one. It's likely to blow up, but not in the se way as Chaos Corruption, because the two groups, the orks and the corrupted, would immediately head to fight one another.
And then it'd blow up in your face, because both sides now leave ork spores when they die.
It'd simply things heavily on the direct worlds being attacked, because otherwise we have to deal with our logistics being corrupted. By orks, of all things.
You'd also reeeaaalllyy only want to do it for worlds heavily effected, because, obviously, it takes out the production of an entire world/people to do thus.
It is, sadly, a monstrous but massively helpful strategy that's on of the best ways to attempt to fight such overwhelming foes. Turn their momentum against them.
One Shot, Four Rounds.
TinyGladiator
Just another SVer
- Location
- I move alot.
Hiya! Decided to omake one of our three new Chief Librarians, Nasin of the Thousand Sons, about an issue I realised he'd probably have with his main weapon and how to fix that. Hope it's good! (Thank you @argenten for looking over this to make sure it fit with his stuff.)
-----
One Shot, Four Rounds.
You are Nasin, Astartes of the Thousand Sons Legion, and Adept of the Pyrae Cult. And now also a Chief Librarian of the Eternal Wardens.
Not one for the whole Legion, for you were one of three to represent its newly focused aspects, but you still had achieved a position you would never have imagined you'd gain. Particularly not one outside the Thousand Sons.
You felt excitement, wonder, determination and a bit of fear at the prospect of your new duty. The latter most emotion drilled in as your Primarch telepathically laid out how important your responsibility was when he learnt of it, handing you several grimoires related to teaching psychic arts and what he personally gleamed from Kesar Dorlin's research.
In some ways there were stark similarities to what the Thousand Sons trained with. In others it was like trying to speak a different language without context for many important meanings. There were many meanings that while not directly hidden, were most certainly something more obvious to one that been with the Eternal Wardens.
It was certainly a lot to go through to prepare yourself for this, in theory and in practice. You had some experience in leadership before, guiding new members of a Legion to their potential, but nothing at all on this level. But, no matter what faults might come, you were intent on seeing it through.
The Eternal Wardens were all very close-knit, the signs were obvious even aside from how they dearly cherished their fallen brothers. Truly entering into that community wasn't chilly, certainly not hostile, but it was… well, more time was needed. On that front and in general with your full duties.
But that was all just the brief negative aspects of your role. As leader of its combat related psychic mastery, there were certain perks to your new position.
Being able to access, and partially direct, the psychic knowledge of another Legion focused on matters of the Warp was a dream come true for you. How you wished to spend your days merely going through the records, to hear what all the Warden Librarians said about their art. Such perspective was golden in its worth.
To be able to delve into the intricacies of how their rune-work functioned. Ways to combat the horrific daemonic threat. Even the Gloriana you traversed through felt so… alive! There was such treasures of insight, examples so wonderfully different than you knew!
Another perk was who you could meet and make requests for. Not that you would abuse it and ask for everything you thought of like some haughty prince. You held your responsibility with seriousness, and the trust of two Primarchs on your shoulders.
Nevertheless, you wouldn't deny a chance to satisfy personal interest and your work at the same time. And on that topic, you had arrived at your destination.
The armoury within the Vigilance was a place full of life and construction. The familiar scents of oils, grease, smoke and weapon discharge. The heavy scents were somewhat juxtaposed by a feeling of cleanness that permeated the space, and a semblance of order within the cacophonous expanse of variable projects.
There were a vast amount Techmarines there, more so than you'd have seen on even the Photep. Serfs carrying boxes of munitions, raw material and circuitry back and forth. Consuls dedicated to warfare or weaponry discussing the latest data and performance reports. A few very interesting examples of Cybernetica, some being fitted with new plates of armour.
Your head turned to scan the room until you saw exactly who you were looking for in one corner.
The Master of the Forge was a giant, even by Astartes standards. A Servo-harness worn as he worked, mobile shrine of bionic-mechadendrites to the Omnissiah. He stood over a table that displayed a panoply of well-organised tools. As you walked up to him, you saw that he was tending to a Volkite Serpenta, maintaining its machinery through ritual and engineering combined.
It was always a fascinating thing to witness those of the Mechanicum's teachings in action. Scientific design was the greatest strength that mankind possessed back during the Golden Age and before. Such was still largely the case here, no matter the differences that existed. The heavy use of the Warp was considered to merely be sorcery, but much like the work that surrounded your sphere of influence it was more than simply that.
How would you broach the subject of wanting to discuss such matters with the Astartes here? There was an undoubtable amount of experience that Perhaps a while later, after you had settled in with your role.
Barely a minute had passed before he finished his work, happily wiping his hands of residue before he noticed your presence.
"Ah, Master of Relief Nasin!" Bodin welcomed, pushing up an ocular device attached to his helm. "It is good to finally meet you. I hope I haven't been keeping you waiting, I always tend to focus on my work more than what's around me."
"Far from it, Forge Master!" you greeted in turn. "It is always a delight to see the beauty of such efforts. Might I inquire whom wields this particular piece?"
"None yet, it shall be a gift for the White Scars for their long journey ahead. One of many." he gestured to his side, where you saw two examples of the new Maelstrom-pattern shipping containers.
Both were open so you could see the contents inside neatly arranged, in-addition to data-prints of what was inside and what else was noted to be put in. There were various examples of Bolters, Autocannons, Flamers, Plasma guns, Meltas and other Volkites of varying battlefield roles in one container. Power and Chain weapons in another. A pair of Rapier turrets next to a modified jetbike. Nearly all of it was engraved with runes.
"All this?" you asked, marvelling at the collection.
"Well, I admit that I'd have wanted to get another container in here, but they requested quality over quantity so who am I to refuse? Shouldn't take long before the gifts are ready. But enough about that, I take it you are here for a reason?"
Wordlessly you unsling your weapon, the prized symbol of the Vindicare Clade, and present it to the Master of the Forge. Instantly he understands what he is looking at, and he gracefully takes it from your hands and places it onto the table. Intently examining the sniper rifle as he flips down his ocular device.
"I was hoping to see if it would be possible to somehow modify this for Astartes usage? I understand it's already beyond finely-wrought, I was wondering if anything more could be done. Preferably something light that can be changed back in-case the Vindicare want it again."
The Forge Master is silent for a few moments, the arms of his harness idly grasp for more tools. He turned the Exitus around to look at it from every angle, before slowly lowering it back down.
"I know what artisanal skill goes into the construction of the Exitus weapons," Bodin regretfully says, shaking his head as he examines the gun. "And I am afraid it would take one more adept than me to be able to work better on such a rifle. I doubt I could find a way to modify this without ruining its delicate balance, not unless you're willing to leave it here for a decade. Maintenance is possible, though."
He hands you back the rifle, very delicately. You aren't too disappointed, you knew how complicated Exitus craft was as the assassin explained how important their weaponry was in terms of complexity. It was the most you had ever heard spoken from one of their number.
As you sling the weapon over your back again, you reach for a compartment in your armour and take out four large bullets. Each looking similar in form, but radically different in function.
"While the rifle itself is out of the question, I confess that I was more wondering if it would be at all possible for you to be able to recreate what the weapon fires."
"Ah, the ammunition?" the Master of the Forge nodded as you placed the four projectiles on his table. Already intently focusing on them before you finish putting them down. "Yes, that would be a great concern. You've brought examples of it?"
"Actually, these are the only four rounds I have."
At that Bodin stops, mechadendrites freezing mid-motion. He slowly looked up to face you. You were not a member of the Athaneans, but you didn't need to read his mind to know he was wondering if this was some sort of joke.
"I think the assassin that gave this to me trusted either my psychic powers or expected I use a side-arm for the most part." you guessed, also having tried to discern the logic of this before. "Or perhaps forgot to consider I would need more ammo, I'd imagine it rarely happens for them."
"Just four shots? And the previous owner gave no means to make or acquire more?"
"Sadly not."
Bodin sighed. "At times I truly wonder what it is some think about basic function. You should have come here to fix that issue when you got the rifle, I can't imagine how the Vindicare thought this was a good idea."
"My apologies." you sheepishly said, having not wanted to distract the leading Techmarine from the celebrations and important work he undoubtedly had until you got your surprising promotion. "But, uh, do you think it'd be possible?"
"Hmm," he began, picking up the ammo in his normal hands and grasping servo-arms. Looking between all four at once. "Micro-cogitators for targeting, self-destruct features and very carefully shaped to suit the weapon's design. The needles in these two rounds are of fine mono-edged quality, along with some sort of acidic mixture on this. Oh, very potent incendiary blend here. And is that a psychic matrix implanted in this round? What is the- ah, I see. Very clever."
Two minutes pass as he performs a preliminary analysis, an almost juggling routine as he shifts attention between one round and the next in a matter of seconds. He changes the settings of whatever sensors exist in his viewing device, different analyses tools picked up for momentary use than placed back as easy as one might breathe.
"I am afraid that this work is also beyond me," the Master of the Forge answers again, putting down the ammunition. "At least for the time being. I suspect it would take me years before I could recreate the sophistication and be able to properly craft more of these rounds. And if these alloys are what I think they are, the expenses of getting the materials required would severely limit what could be made."
"Ah, yes, I figured as much. Just wanted to make sure. However, I assume that it might be possible to, say, work out an alternative ammunition than this?"
"Now that I can certainly figure out!" Bodin happily exclaimed. "I already have some ideas after looking at these. First I'll have to take some measurements, give this weapon a few test-fires, but then I think I start to work on something soon enough. Are you free for the next hour or so?"
"Free?" you ask, then belatedly realise what he's referring to. "Wait, you want to do this for me right now? Aren't you busy at the moment with other artifice?"
"Bah, I can get these gifts done soon enough. And you're one of our Chief Librarians, it's my responsibility to ensure your weaponry doesn't stop working after a few shots."
This wasn't what you expected at all. Even disregarding the complexity of this issue, you still had thought that it would be a side-project to be considered after they were done with more critical issues. It wasn't as if you could just get a different sniper rifle, focus on your powers or something else to manage this.
With those thoughts in mind, as the Forge Master tried to hand you back the Exitus ammunition, you pushed them back in his hands. "Keep them, they're better in your hands."
"You're leaving them with me?" he asks in shock. "I'm not sure you realise what worth they'd have when you'd really need them, or just possess them."
"I do, actually." you admit. "Aside from flame, the Pyrae cult heavily focuses on the arts of mechanical work and construction. I can assure you I do not leave these to you out of ignorance."
"They do?" Bodin questioned. "Fascinating, I did not know about that."
"Well, I wasn't taught the ways of the Mechanicum like you." you said, hoping that wouldn't cause any issues. "But the flame of the forge, and the animated spirits within what is made, shows there is more than just destruction to fire. "
"Well spoken! But with that said, I cannot just take such a thing like this from you."
"They left it for me to decide what to do with it. With how few there are, and with the powers I already have, I believe you would benefit with having this more than me. Consider it a curiosity, maybe a source for inspiration. You can hold onto them for me until I actually need one. And it is just four shots, as you said."
The Master of the Forge slowly stored away the rounds within a compartment in his harness, hearty laughter emerging from his frame. "Then it's time we get this rifle issue sorted for you, and to teach its spirit what it's like to be used more than once a year!"
He practically rushed out of his station, calling to a few assistants what he was doing and that he'd soon return. As you followed him out, you considered that maybe it would be easier to become a part of the Eternal Wardens than you thought.
-----
One Shot, Four Rounds.
You are Nasin, Astartes of the Thousand Sons Legion, and Adept of the Pyrae Cult. And now also a Chief Librarian of the Eternal Wardens.
Not one for the whole Legion, for you were one of three to represent its newly focused aspects, but you still had achieved a position you would never have imagined you'd gain. Particularly not one outside the Thousand Sons.
You felt excitement, wonder, determination and a bit of fear at the prospect of your new duty. The latter most emotion drilled in as your Primarch telepathically laid out how important your responsibility was when he learnt of it, handing you several grimoires related to teaching psychic arts and what he personally gleamed from Kesar Dorlin's research.
In some ways there were stark similarities to what the Thousand Sons trained with. In others it was like trying to speak a different language without context for many important meanings. There were many meanings that while not directly hidden, were most certainly something more obvious to one that been with the Eternal Wardens.
It was certainly a lot to go through to prepare yourself for this, in theory and in practice. You had some experience in leadership before, guiding new members of a Legion to their potential, but nothing at all on this level. But, no matter what faults might come, you were intent on seeing it through.
The Eternal Wardens were all very close-knit, the signs were obvious even aside from how they dearly cherished their fallen brothers. Truly entering into that community wasn't chilly, certainly not hostile, but it was… well, more time was needed. On that front and in general with your full duties.
But that was all just the brief negative aspects of your role. As leader of its combat related psychic mastery, there were certain perks to your new position.
Being able to access, and partially direct, the psychic knowledge of another Legion focused on matters of the Warp was a dream come true for you. How you wished to spend your days merely going through the records, to hear what all the Warden Librarians said about their art. Such perspective was golden in its worth.
To be able to delve into the intricacies of how their rune-work functioned. Ways to combat the horrific daemonic threat. Even the Gloriana you traversed through felt so… alive! There was such treasures of insight, examples so wonderfully different than you knew!
Another perk was who you could meet and make requests for. Not that you would abuse it and ask for everything you thought of like some haughty prince. You held your responsibility with seriousness, and the trust of two Primarchs on your shoulders.
Nevertheless, you wouldn't deny a chance to satisfy personal interest and your work at the same time. And on that topic, you had arrived at your destination.
The armoury within the Vigilance was a place full of life and construction. The familiar scents of oils, grease, smoke and weapon discharge. The heavy scents were somewhat juxtaposed by a feeling of cleanness that permeated the space, and a semblance of order within the cacophonous expanse of variable projects.
There were a vast amount Techmarines there, more so than you'd have seen on even the Photep. Serfs carrying boxes of munitions, raw material and circuitry back and forth. Consuls dedicated to warfare or weaponry discussing the latest data and performance reports. A few very interesting examples of Cybernetica, some being fitted with new plates of armour.
Your head turned to scan the room until you saw exactly who you were looking for in one corner.
The Master of the Forge was a giant, even by Astartes standards. A Servo-harness worn as he worked, mobile shrine of bionic-mechadendrites to the Omnissiah. He stood over a table that displayed a panoply of well-organised tools. As you walked up to him, you saw that he was tending to a Volkite Serpenta, maintaining its machinery through ritual and engineering combined.
It was always a fascinating thing to witness those of the Mechanicum's teachings in action. Scientific design was the greatest strength that mankind possessed back during the Golden Age and before. Such was still largely the case here, no matter the differences that existed. The heavy use of the Warp was considered to merely be sorcery, but much like the work that surrounded your sphere of influence it was more than simply that.
How would you broach the subject of wanting to discuss such matters with the Astartes here? There was an undoubtable amount of experience that Perhaps a while later, after you had settled in with your role.
Barely a minute had passed before he finished his work, happily wiping his hands of residue before he noticed your presence.
"Ah, Master of Relief Nasin!" Bodin welcomed, pushing up an ocular device attached to his helm. "It is good to finally meet you. I hope I haven't been keeping you waiting, I always tend to focus on my work more than what's around me."
"Far from it, Forge Master!" you greeted in turn. "It is always a delight to see the beauty of such efforts. Might I inquire whom wields this particular piece?"
"None yet, it shall be a gift for the White Scars for their long journey ahead. One of many." he gestured to his side, where you saw two examples of the new Maelstrom-pattern shipping containers.
Both were open so you could see the contents inside neatly arranged, in-addition to data-prints of what was inside and what else was noted to be put in. There were various examples of Bolters, Autocannons, Flamers, Plasma guns, Meltas and other Volkites of varying battlefield roles in one container. Power and Chain weapons in another. A pair of Rapier turrets next to a modified jetbike. Nearly all of it was engraved with runes.
"All this?" you asked, marvelling at the collection.
"Well, I admit that I'd have wanted to get another container in here, but they requested quality over quantity so who am I to refuse? Shouldn't take long before the gifts are ready. But enough about that, I take it you are here for a reason?"
Wordlessly you unsling your weapon, the prized symbol of the Vindicare Clade, and present it to the Master of the Forge. Instantly he understands what he is looking at, and he gracefully takes it from your hands and places it onto the table. Intently examining the sniper rifle as he flips down his ocular device.
"I was hoping to see if it would be possible to somehow modify this for Astartes usage? I understand it's already beyond finely-wrought, I was wondering if anything more could be done. Preferably something light that can be changed back in-case the Vindicare want it again."
The Forge Master is silent for a few moments, the arms of his harness idly grasp for more tools. He turned the Exitus around to look at it from every angle, before slowly lowering it back down.
"I know what artisanal skill goes into the construction of the Exitus weapons," Bodin regretfully says, shaking his head as he examines the gun. "And I am afraid it would take one more adept than me to be able to work better on such a rifle. I doubt I could find a way to modify this without ruining its delicate balance, not unless you're willing to leave it here for a decade. Maintenance is possible, though."
He hands you back the rifle, very delicately. You aren't too disappointed, you knew how complicated Exitus craft was as the assassin explained how important their weaponry was in terms of complexity. It was the most you had ever heard spoken from one of their number.
As you sling the weapon over your back again, you reach for a compartment in your armour and take out four large bullets. Each looking similar in form, but radically different in function.
"While the rifle itself is out of the question, I confess that I was more wondering if it would be at all possible for you to be able to recreate what the weapon fires."
"Ah, the ammunition?" the Master of the Forge nodded as you placed the four projectiles on his table. Already intently focusing on them before you finish putting them down. "Yes, that would be a great concern. You've brought examples of it?"
"Actually, these are the only four rounds I have."
At that Bodin stops, mechadendrites freezing mid-motion. He slowly looked up to face you. You were not a member of the Athaneans, but you didn't need to read his mind to know he was wondering if this was some sort of joke.
"I think the assassin that gave this to me trusted either my psychic powers or expected I use a side-arm for the most part." you guessed, also having tried to discern the logic of this before. "Or perhaps forgot to consider I would need more ammo, I'd imagine it rarely happens for them."
"Just four shots? And the previous owner gave no means to make or acquire more?"
"Sadly not."
Bodin sighed. "At times I truly wonder what it is some think about basic function. You should have come here to fix that issue when you got the rifle, I can't imagine how the Vindicare thought this was a good idea."
"My apologies." you sheepishly said, having not wanted to distract the leading Techmarine from the celebrations and important work he undoubtedly had until you got your surprising promotion. "But, uh, do you think it'd be possible?"
"Hmm," he began, picking up the ammo in his normal hands and grasping servo-arms. Looking between all four at once. "Micro-cogitators for targeting, self-destruct features and very carefully shaped to suit the weapon's design. The needles in these two rounds are of fine mono-edged quality, along with some sort of acidic mixture on this. Oh, very potent incendiary blend here. And is that a psychic matrix implanted in this round? What is the- ah, I see. Very clever."
Two minutes pass as he performs a preliminary analysis, an almost juggling routine as he shifts attention between one round and the next in a matter of seconds. He changes the settings of whatever sensors exist in his viewing device, different analyses tools picked up for momentary use than placed back as easy as one might breathe.
"I am afraid that this work is also beyond me," the Master of the Forge answers again, putting down the ammunition. "At least for the time being. I suspect it would take me years before I could recreate the sophistication and be able to properly craft more of these rounds. And if these alloys are what I think they are, the expenses of getting the materials required would severely limit what could be made."
"Ah, yes, I figured as much. Just wanted to make sure. However, I assume that it might be possible to, say, work out an alternative ammunition than this?"
"Now that I can certainly figure out!" Bodin happily exclaimed. "I already have some ideas after looking at these. First I'll have to take some measurements, give this weapon a few test-fires, but then I think I start to work on something soon enough. Are you free for the next hour or so?"
"Free?" you ask, then belatedly realise what he's referring to. "Wait, you want to do this for me right now? Aren't you busy at the moment with other artifice?"
"Bah, I can get these gifts done soon enough. And you're one of our Chief Librarians, it's my responsibility to ensure your weaponry doesn't stop working after a few shots."
This wasn't what you expected at all. Even disregarding the complexity of this issue, you still had thought that it would be a side-project to be considered after they were done with more critical issues. It wasn't as if you could just get a different sniper rifle, focus on your powers or something else to manage this.
With those thoughts in mind, as the Forge Master tried to hand you back the Exitus ammunition, you pushed them back in his hands. "Keep them, they're better in your hands."
"You're leaving them with me?" he asks in shock. "I'm not sure you realise what worth they'd have when you'd really need them, or just possess them."
"I do, actually." you admit. "Aside from flame, the Pyrae cult heavily focuses on the arts of mechanical work and construction. I can assure you I do not leave these to you out of ignorance."
"They do?" Bodin questioned. "Fascinating, I did not know about that."
"Well, I wasn't taught the ways of the Mechanicum like you." you said, hoping that wouldn't cause any issues. "But the flame of the forge, and the animated spirits within what is made, shows there is more than just destruction to fire. "
"Well spoken! But with that said, I cannot just take such a thing like this from you."
"They left it for me to decide what to do with it. With how few there are, and with the powers I already have, I believe you would benefit with having this more than me. Consider it a curiosity, maybe a source for inspiration. You can hold onto them for me until I actually need one. And it is just four shots, as you said."
The Master of the Forge slowly stored away the rounds within a compartment in his harness, hearty laughter emerging from his frame. "Then it's time we get this rifle issue sorted for you, and to teach its spirit what it's like to be used more than once a year!"
He practically rushed out of his station, calling to a few assistants what he was doing and that he'd soon return. As you followed him out, you considered that maybe it would be easier to become a part of the Eternal Wardens than you thought.
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The Send-Off
The Send-Off
Today was a bittersweet one. For Kesar Dorlin, Primarch of the Eternal Wardens and one of the architects of the victory in the Maelstrom prepared to send one of his newest champions off. Naturally, this decision came only due to outside factors contributing to the haste of making it. And like so many times before, the source of such apprehensions was from within his family. Such as it were during a meeting with Perturabo and Jaghatai. Typically such gatherings tended to focus on the mundane or perhaps something a bit more dreadful, like causality reports. Yet this time, the topic for this particular meeting had been over the exchange program, or more explicitly fulfilling a request involving its use.
It started when a message arrived from the Dark Angels. Rare was it for Lion to send out personal requests, but the contents were plain to read. First, he congratulated them on their successful endeavor in the Maelstrom, particularly Perturabo, for handling the entire campaign. Next was a concise but strong affirmation towards the three of them that they need only ask if they required the Sons of Caliban's aid. Yet it was this mention that caused a snort of amusement from Jaghatai.
"For all his cunning and ferocious guile, Lion has a habit of starting his requests with such assertions of brotherhood and cooperation. Let it not be said that such claims aren't true, but one of us should really enlighten him on how to word such messages to be more amicable." There was some truth to that statement as what followed caused a brief stir among Jaghatai, Perturabo, and Kesar.
While the framing of the request was open to the three of them, it was clearly directed towards Kesar. The contents of the request were, to put it bluntly, asking for several specific Wardens to return to the Dark Angels under the terms of the exchange program. However, Kesar quickly noticed one name that was critical in this proposition.
Orion Jesk.
"Hmm, I was wondering when Lion would hear about his exploits." Kesar remarked to his brothers, "No doubt he's feeling a small sliver of pride. Oriacarius mentioned that the 1st Legion had put Orion through his paces, almost reshaping him from the ground-up."
The Lord of Iron grimaced, "Rare is it for Lion to ever show praise to anyone."
"The letter directly praised you." Jaghatai countered with a raised eyebrow, "Lion might have a stern and harsh personality, but he's not above showing some positive emotions to those that are worthy of it."
"Or simply useful to him." Kesar knew that Perturabo greatly respected Lion, yet the Lord of Iron also had certain misgivings due to Lion's absolute secrecy towards particular projects. "In any case, I suppose our brother wishes to see in person the fruit born of this 'Lord Cyphers' project. That being your son." He finished that sentence by looking at Kesar.
The Daemonsbande nodded, "Undoubtedly, Lion wishes to see if he can somehow apply the lessons learned from individuals like Orion to his own forces." It was sound logic after all, "I don't see the harm in it."
"Aye," Jaghatai spoke up, and Kesar heard a rather strange tone in his voice, "There is no harm in it, I suppose. Although, I can think of a better use for a marine like Captain Jesk."
"As can I." Perturabo interrupted, and that seemed to surprise Jaghatai for some reason, "I suppose now is a good time to bring this up; it was going to be one of many topics, but since we are discussing it...I'd like to make a request for Captain Jesk to stay within the Maelstrom, Kesar."
Kesar wasn't expecting that, "Truly?"
"Truly." Perturabo repeated, "Mind, this is but a simple request and not an order from me as the War Marshal. It is merely a proposal. I find that it might do us all some good here in the Maelstrom if Captain Jesk remained to oversee the colony development that he started on RP-28. Additionally, he could lead strike units against the daemonic holdouts or lead counter-offensives whenever they attempt to hit our outposts. That being said, I imagine you will agree with me in that this would be good training for the captain, both as a leader and administrator."
Ever the pragmatist, Perturabo had a gift when it came to recognizing how to best make use of individuals to fit an overly lengthy and complex plan within his own head. Even so, Kesar saw the benefits of his proposal. RP-28 was the only other world aside from Purgatorio that actually had a colony and industry on it. One that had been painstakingly championed by Orion. His captain would also be on the frontlines of the war against the Archdaemons, gaining valuable experience and skills in just about everything one would need to lead and fight against such a foe.
"If I may interject?" Jaghatai suddenly interrupted, "And forgive me if this will cause complications, Kesar, but your Captain Jesk was going to be part of a topic that I was also planning on bringing up in another meeting." He frowned and crossed his arms, "However, it looks like I will be bringing this up now. I was hoping to request a group of officers to come to my Legions aid. As you are all well aware, my sons have suffered in this victory. No more so than in the death of so many officers and potential heroes. Naturally, to replenish our ranks of such Astartes will take time, patience, and training. To that end, I believe it not only prudent but worthwhile to use this as an opportunity to expand the ties of our collective legions by using the exchange program to help with the training of prospective warriors."
Both Kesar and Perturabo understood the necessity and merit of Jaghatai's idea and where this was going. Jaghatai wanted to recruit Captain Jesk for this specific training program. Oddly enough, Orion could've been considered a shining example of this officer exchange. The Dark Angels enabled Orion to have the confidence needed to unlock his potential, even if he was an outsider to the Sons of Caliban. Orion would be a bit more empathetic and aware of the difficulties that came with training "foreign" Astartes. The irony here would be that he would be doing the training. Kesar also recognized that Orion oddly enough fit into the White Scar battle doctrine paradigm, which would make for an easier time adjusting to Jaghatai's sons' style of war.
More than that, Kesar felt that he owed Jaghatai that much for all his efforts in the war. Far too many of his sons perished in this crusade. Some of whom had been with the Khan since he took control of the White Scars. The least he could do was send over one of his newest champions with additional support. It would also further bind the ties that their two legions now shared with one another after such a brutal war.
"Jaghatai request is certainly with merit as well." Perturabo announced once more, "Although, I suppose we should consider Lion's request for Captain Jesk and the other Wardens."
Jaghatai nodded, "Aye." He looked at Kesar, "Should give Lion's request that much consideration."
Kesar couldn't argue against it either, even if it was just them considering the option. The 1st Legion was often one of the more distant and secretive legions within the Imperium. While the Alpha Legion and Raven Guard certainly fit into their own niches of secrecy, it was the Dark Angels that excelled at preventing any leaks or ensuring no one asked any questions. The favor that Lion held with their Father made the prospect of trying to go behind the 1st Legion back a perilous one. This mentality, however, had made the Dark Angels a rather difficult legion to communicate with, let alone work alongside. That wasn't to say it was impossible, but Kesar was confident that many of his brothers often felt a tiny bit of apprehension or mistrust towards Lion and his sons.
Yet one couldn't deny that the Dark Angels were a fearsome, skilled, and loyal group of Astartes. Lion had never broken his vows or promises either. His word was as good as his skill with a blade. When Kesar sent his sons to the 1st to learn from them, the Dark Angels treated his sons as welcomed guests and sought to instill the same guiding principles in them. Loyalty, Duty, and Discipline in the face of overwhelming odds. Orion embraced those facets of the Dark Angels and brought them back with him to the Eternal Wardens. That training gave him the confidence and skill to succeed in the Maelstrom alongside his brothers and cousins.
It was easy to understand why Orion heading back to the Dark Angels would be preferred and productive to the Knight-Warden. Oriacarius had explained that Orion had only just begun to grasp his full potential while with the Sons of Caliban before he answered the call to return home. Maybe there was something to be said about sending Orion back for a short while. Besides, Lion promised that he'd send a temporary replacement worthy of Orion's place.
However, Kesar felt like he wasn't considering the most vital part of this discussion.
"Mayhaps we are still getting ahead of ourselves," Kesar spoke up to Perturabo and Jaghatai, "For none of us have considered what my son wishes to do if given the option."
Perturabo crossed his arms, a rather impressive and somewhat terrifying feat considering his power armor, "That is true. Your captain will no doubt obey any order you give him, yet I'd rather have a willing field commander than one that was just assigned."
"Especially given the timeframe of each mission." Jaghatai remarked to Kesar, "Your captain and whatever wardens you send with him will be gone for some time."
"Perhaps sending him off would be unwise as well." He looked at his brothers, "I'm not saying no to either of your proposals just yet, but I'm sure you'd understand that sending off one of my more recent star Astartes could be considered somewhat of a detriment." Kesar was aware that while the Wardens hadn't suffered as much as the White Scars had in the Maelstrom, they were still processing everything that happened. And right now, it was better to be together as one family than spread out if possible. There was, of course, the issue that his presence would also bolster Warden compliances quite a bit. Kesar knew that Orion would easily find purpose across multiple battlefields alongside his brothers. Moreso as Orion would perhaps enjoy working alongside the Slayer, Maticus, or Oriacarius.
Nevertheless, perhaps Kesar was being a bit too sentimental. Plenty of his sons had gone above and beyond working away from the legion at length. Baldur had proven that time and time again. Sometimes you had to let individual Astartes go out and spread their wings on their own.
The Daemonsbane shook his head, "If it is alright with you two, I shall ask Orion what he wants to do and decide from there. He will obey whatever order I give him, but I shall see if my captain can come to a decision that does away with my concerns. In any case, you shall hear the decision soon enough."
---
Two weeks later, on board the Vigilance...
Kesar found it took a surprising bit of time to arrange a face-to-face with Orion. The Primarch had a mountain of paperwork to fill and meet with many officers and commanders. Thus his schedule tended to be packed. Meanwhile, Orion was busy taking care of his own issues on RP-28, which meant his time was somewhat limited. Unless the Primarch made it a direct order for him to come, his Captain needed to handle his own affairs first. It surprised Kesar to learn that he was running into so many problems with his colony, yet Orion learned to overcome the obstacles. Even so, his plans for the first mining venture of a daemonworld were looking to be a pipe dream.
Perturabo, however, still wanted the colonial venture to continue. He saw the merit in the program. Kesar agreed. He especially enjoyed the prospect of forging a human colony on one of the daemon's worlds. That such a thing was possible helped give the Primarch an idea that humanity could take such planets back if the Archdaemons and their ilk were destroyed one day. Besides, with the Maelstrom cleared, they had to learn how to settle on its worlds.
As Kesar mused on such a future, the doors to his office opened, and the serf announced that Captain Orion Jesk arrived as instructed. The Primarch had to only wait the briefest moment before the subject of his attention graced his presence.
Captain Orion Jesk walked in wearing the standard robes of the Eternal Legion, but Kesar noted that he was also carrying that sword of his as well. Humility. Kesar had already read the reports and spoken to Perturabo briefly about the weapon. The Lord of Iron had gifted the Manifold Device to Solomon in exchange for field testing. Kesar needed to remind Perturabo to not use his sons as test subjects for his experimental weapons. Even so, he owed Perturabo for effectively gifting the Wardens with such a fine weapon.
Orion carried himself and the blade with caution and discipline. For all the power he had in his hands, Orion knew that this weapon of his could quickly kill him. To read about the machine spirits' temper was one thing, but Kesar had yet to see it in action. Regardless, his son also radiated confidence and purpose. A stark contrast to what Kesar remembered of Orion.
Kesar wasn't unfamiliar with the man from before the Maelstrom War. Instead, Kesar had briefly met him during the send-off for the exchange program. He had been a quiet sergeant back then and instead unnoteworthy as far as a service record. A less than flattering observation, but Kesar wasn't going to mince his words. It wasn't that he considered any of his sons to lack commitment or skill, but some stood out, and those that didn't, and that was all he would ever say on the matter.
Orion had been precisely that, although Oriacarius still believed something special about him. Once again, Kesar was reminded why the First Captains of a Legion were so critical. That Oriacarius was perhaps one of the few that actually recognized the spark for greatness in individuals proved that Oriacarius was the heart of the Eternal Wardens. He saw the potential in people, even if he rarely vocalized such praise.
"Lord Primarch," Orion spoke with a small amount of restraint standing before the Daemonsbane, "I have answered your summons."
Kesar stood up from his desk and approached Orion with a small smile, "It's good to finally meet you one on one. The last time we even spoke was years ago."
"Yes," Orion nodded, "You shook all our hands and had a proud smile on your face the entire time." He was right to think that. Though Orion might have been considered an unnoteworthy Astartes, he was still an Eternal Warden. He was ready to fight the denizens of hell, to die for humanity, and the chances of it happening far away from his brothers was unsettling to any with the legion. Even so, all of those volunteers vowed to aid their cousins and allies against whatever foes awaited them among distant worlds.
"That I did." Kesar smiled at Orion, "I can safely say that after everything you've gone through, that feeling of pride is with me once more."
Orion closed his eyes and bowed his head, "You honor me with such praise, my lord."
He clapped the Astartes shoulder with his right hand, "Then I shall honor you with even more." He smirked before gesturing to Orion to take a seat, "You've gained the attention of three other Primarchs with your success in the war and with the colonial venture on RP-28." Kesar started before taking a seat behind his desk. "It's because of this attention that I called you here."
"I see..." Orion simply remarked from his seat. He didn't look worried or surprised. If anything, he looked confused. "I'm assuming the three are Lords El'Johnson, Jaghatai, and Perturabo."
"You would be correct in that assessment."
Orion nodded once more, "I take it they have explained to you in some capacity why I am in their sights?"
Kesar smirked once more before he started to explain the situation to Orion.
---
It took Kesar about twenty minutes to explain everything to him regarding the possible assignments. He even took the time to go over a few basic details, such as possible resources afforded to him and the timeframe of each exchange. Orion sat and quietly listened the entire time, asking only a few questions. Kesar wondered what was going through his mind. Naturally, the opportunity to head back to the Dark Angels likely excited him compared to the other prospects.
Once he finished, Kesar decided to softball this whole situation to him. "I want to leave the decision up to you of where you will go." He started gently, "I can make this an order for you as well if you'd like, but I want to give my field officers a bit more leeway in such matters. You can take the rest of the day to think and-"
Orion held up his hand, "No need." He interrupted, "I've already decided this based on what you have told me. And I wish to aid the White Scars."
Kesar hadn't expected such a quick answer or that Orion wasn't choosing the Dark Angels, "Your reasoning?"
"First, it is as you said; the White Scars have suffered and need to rebuild. We should repay the efforts and further bind our ties with them. I also have the most experience among our officers in understanding the problems and limitations of the exchange program regarding training new officers. To that end, I can empathize more with the White Scars. Additionally, I fit into their style of combat and probably would mesh well with my cousins."
The Primarch idly tapped his finger on his desk as he heard this, "I want you to keep in mind, Khan is about to go on a lengthy expedition. The chances of your return being swift are not a guarantee."
"I don't expect guarantees towards most things these days, my Primarch." Orion didn't seem too perturbed at this situation. He was prepared to go to the White Scars purely because he could do the most good for them and the Wardens. He was doing this because it was the most practical and worthwhile in his mind.
"So the prospect of going back to the Dark Angels doesn't interest you?"
Orion swiftly shook his head, "Far from it...I wish to go and see the Sons of Caliban once more. I know they still have much to teach me. However, I believe the White Scars can teach me as well. They understand the ways of the soul and discipline that can't be taught among the silent and hallowed halls of Caliban. My time spent in the Maelstrom has shown me many ways to expand one's mind and perspective on things like battle and leadership. And I believe the White Scars can help me with something else." He turned his head to look at Humility, "The Stormseers were said to have tamed great beasts in their time...I wish to see if such knowledge can be used to help me with this infernal sword."
Kesar had a few questions about that last part, but he needed to focus on Orion's decision. The captain was clearly prepared to undertake this endeavor, even if he still wanted to return to the Sons of Caliban for further training and refinement. Yet he was putting the good of both the White Scars and Eternal Wardens first before all else.
So be it.
"Very well," Kesar nodded once more, "If this is your decision...I cannot find fault in your reasons. Your aid towards the Khan and his sons will be greatly appreciated in more ways than you can imagine." Jaghatai would be interested upon hearing Orion's strange desire to see the Stormseers. "I will admit, Orion, that I expected you to jump at the opportunity to go to the Dark Angels."
"I haven't exactly been subtle of that desire, have I?" Orion shrugged but smiled all the same, "I just feel like I owe them. They...showed me a path that allowed me to become something more. I dare say they stopped me from remaining an inconsequential marine."
Kesar shook his head now, "You were never considered inconsequential, not be me, or the First Captain, or the rest of your brothers."
"Sadly, I wish I could say I understand or agree with that assessment." He broke his gaze from the Primarch, "I'm not sure what it will take for me to not feel like a stranger among my own brothers. Yet I have hope such feelings will change in time." Orion looked back at the Primarch now, "Such things aside, I take it this decision is approved then?"
Much as the Primarch wanted to continue this topic, he had too many other matters to attend to, "Yes...if nothing else, I can put in the exchange request today."
"The sooner, the better, as Skullface would tell me." Orion stood up, tall and proud before him, "Anything else then?"
"No." Kesar shook his head, "You are free to go. Thank you for your swift decision on the matter, Orion." Something about how this meeting ended left a slightly sour taste in his mouth. As Orion prepared to leave, Kesar decided to speak up one more time.
"Orion," The captain turned around once more, "You'll always have a home and family among us. I know we tell each other such things, but we mean it. Even so, I hope you find whatever answers or truths you seek among these misbegotten stars. And may they help bring you back to those who cherish you."
His words seemed to cause Orion to pause before he slowly nodded, "Yes...I hope so too." He said nothing else before leaving the office. Left with his thoughts now, Kesar had to hope for the best that Orion found whatever he was looking for now. If nothing else, Jaghatai would at least be paying attention to Orion's efforts. If there was anyone else in this galaxy that understood the soul of a warrior, it was the Khan.
Yes, thinking about it now, this was the right decision for all of them. Now they just had to hope that it ended in ways that would see Orion come home without feeling like a stranger.
---
@Daemon Hunter Okay, omake completed. Time to get back to the other one and hope I get that one finished at some point.
Today was a bittersweet one. For Kesar Dorlin, Primarch of the Eternal Wardens and one of the architects of the victory in the Maelstrom prepared to send one of his newest champions off. Naturally, this decision came only due to outside factors contributing to the haste of making it. And like so many times before, the source of such apprehensions was from within his family. Such as it were during a meeting with Perturabo and Jaghatai. Typically such gatherings tended to focus on the mundane or perhaps something a bit more dreadful, like causality reports. Yet this time, the topic for this particular meeting had been over the exchange program, or more explicitly fulfilling a request involving its use.
It started when a message arrived from the Dark Angels. Rare was it for Lion to send out personal requests, but the contents were plain to read. First, he congratulated them on their successful endeavor in the Maelstrom, particularly Perturabo, for handling the entire campaign. Next was a concise but strong affirmation towards the three of them that they need only ask if they required the Sons of Caliban's aid. Yet it was this mention that caused a snort of amusement from Jaghatai.
"For all his cunning and ferocious guile, Lion has a habit of starting his requests with such assertions of brotherhood and cooperation. Let it not be said that such claims aren't true, but one of us should really enlighten him on how to word such messages to be more amicable." There was some truth to that statement as what followed caused a brief stir among Jaghatai, Perturabo, and Kesar.
While the framing of the request was open to the three of them, it was clearly directed towards Kesar. The contents of the request were, to put it bluntly, asking for several specific Wardens to return to the Dark Angels under the terms of the exchange program. However, Kesar quickly noticed one name that was critical in this proposition.
Orion Jesk.
"Hmm, I was wondering when Lion would hear about his exploits." Kesar remarked to his brothers, "No doubt he's feeling a small sliver of pride. Oriacarius mentioned that the 1st Legion had put Orion through his paces, almost reshaping him from the ground-up."
The Lord of Iron grimaced, "Rare is it for Lion to ever show praise to anyone."
"The letter directly praised you." Jaghatai countered with a raised eyebrow, "Lion might have a stern and harsh personality, but he's not above showing some positive emotions to those that are worthy of it."
"Or simply useful to him." Kesar knew that Perturabo greatly respected Lion, yet the Lord of Iron also had certain misgivings due to Lion's absolute secrecy towards particular projects. "In any case, I suppose our brother wishes to see in person the fruit born of this 'Lord Cyphers' project. That being your son." He finished that sentence by looking at Kesar.
The Daemonsbande nodded, "Undoubtedly, Lion wishes to see if he can somehow apply the lessons learned from individuals like Orion to his own forces." It was sound logic after all, "I don't see the harm in it."
"Aye," Jaghatai spoke up, and Kesar heard a rather strange tone in his voice, "There is no harm in it, I suppose. Although, I can think of a better use for a marine like Captain Jesk."
"As can I." Perturabo interrupted, and that seemed to surprise Jaghatai for some reason, "I suppose now is a good time to bring this up; it was going to be one of many topics, but since we are discussing it...I'd like to make a request for Captain Jesk to stay within the Maelstrom, Kesar."
Kesar wasn't expecting that, "Truly?"
"Truly." Perturabo repeated, "Mind, this is but a simple request and not an order from me as the War Marshal. It is merely a proposal. I find that it might do us all some good here in the Maelstrom if Captain Jesk remained to oversee the colony development that he started on RP-28. Additionally, he could lead strike units against the daemonic holdouts or lead counter-offensives whenever they attempt to hit our outposts. That being said, I imagine you will agree with me in that this would be good training for the captain, both as a leader and administrator."
Ever the pragmatist, Perturabo had a gift when it came to recognizing how to best make use of individuals to fit an overly lengthy and complex plan within his own head. Even so, Kesar saw the benefits of his proposal. RP-28 was the only other world aside from Purgatorio that actually had a colony and industry on it. One that had been painstakingly championed by Orion. His captain would also be on the frontlines of the war against the Archdaemons, gaining valuable experience and skills in just about everything one would need to lead and fight against such a foe.
"If I may interject?" Jaghatai suddenly interrupted, "And forgive me if this will cause complications, Kesar, but your Captain Jesk was going to be part of a topic that I was also planning on bringing up in another meeting." He frowned and crossed his arms, "However, it looks like I will be bringing this up now. I was hoping to request a group of officers to come to my Legions aid. As you are all well aware, my sons have suffered in this victory. No more so than in the death of so many officers and potential heroes. Naturally, to replenish our ranks of such Astartes will take time, patience, and training. To that end, I believe it not only prudent but worthwhile to use this as an opportunity to expand the ties of our collective legions by using the exchange program to help with the training of prospective warriors."
Both Kesar and Perturabo understood the necessity and merit of Jaghatai's idea and where this was going. Jaghatai wanted to recruit Captain Jesk for this specific training program. Oddly enough, Orion could've been considered a shining example of this officer exchange. The Dark Angels enabled Orion to have the confidence needed to unlock his potential, even if he was an outsider to the Sons of Caliban. Orion would be a bit more empathetic and aware of the difficulties that came with training "foreign" Astartes. The irony here would be that he would be doing the training. Kesar also recognized that Orion oddly enough fit into the White Scar battle doctrine paradigm, which would make for an easier time adjusting to Jaghatai's sons' style of war.
More than that, Kesar felt that he owed Jaghatai that much for all his efforts in the war. Far too many of his sons perished in this crusade. Some of whom had been with the Khan since he took control of the White Scars. The least he could do was send over one of his newest champions with additional support. It would also further bind the ties that their two legions now shared with one another after such a brutal war.
"Jaghatai request is certainly with merit as well." Perturabo announced once more, "Although, I suppose we should consider Lion's request for Captain Jesk and the other Wardens."
Jaghatai nodded, "Aye." He looked at Kesar, "Should give Lion's request that much consideration."
Kesar couldn't argue against it either, even if it was just them considering the option. The 1st Legion was often one of the more distant and secretive legions within the Imperium. While the Alpha Legion and Raven Guard certainly fit into their own niches of secrecy, it was the Dark Angels that excelled at preventing any leaks or ensuring no one asked any questions. The favor that Lion held with their Father made the prospect of trying to go behind the 1st Legion back a perilous one. This mentality, however, had made the Dark Angels a rather difficult legion to communicate with, let alone work alongside. That wasn't to say it was impossible, but Kesar was confident that many of his brothers often felt a tiny bit of apprehension or mistrust towards Lion and his sons.
Yet one couldn't deny that the Dark Angels were a fearsome, skilled, and loyal group of Astartes. Lion had never broken his vows or promises either. His word was as good as his skill with a blade. When Kesar sent his sons to the 1st to learn from them, the Dark Angels treated his sons as welcomed guests and sought to instill the same guiding principles in them. Loyalty, Duty, and Discipline in the face of overwhelming odds. Orion embraced those facets of the Dark Angels and brought them back with him to the Eternal Wardens. That training gave him the confidence and skill to succeed in the Maelstrom alongside his brothers and cousins.
It was easy to understand why Orion heading back to the Dark Angels would be preferred and productive to the Knight-Warden. Oriacarius had explained that Orion had only just begun to grasp his full potential while with the Sons of Caliban before he answered the call to return home. Maybe there was something to be said about sending Orion back for a short while. Besides, Lion promised that he'd send a temporary replacement worthy of Orion's place.
However, Kesar felt like he wasn't considering the most vital part of this discussion.
"Mayhaps we are still getting ahead of ourselves," Kesar spoke up to Perturabo and Jaghatai, "For none of us have considered what my son wishes to do if given the option."
Perturabo crossed his arms, a rather impressive and somewhat terrifying feat considering his power armor, "That is true. Your captain will no doubt obey any order you give him, yet I'd rather have a willing field commander than one that was just assigned."
"Especially given the timeframe of each mission." Jaghatai remarked to Kesar, "Your captain and whatever wardens you send with him will be gone for some time."
"Perhaps sending him off would be unwise as well." He looked at his brothers, "I'm not saying no to either of your proposals just yet, but I'm sure you'd understand that sending off one of my more recent star Astartes could be considered somewhat of a detriment." Kesar was aware that while the Wardens hadn't suffered as much as the White Scars had in the Maelstrom, they were still processing everything that happened. And right now, it was better to be together as one family than spread out if possible. There was, of course, the issue that his presence would also bolster Warden compliances quite a bit. Kesar knew that Orion would easily find purpose across multiple battlefields alongside his brothers. Moreso as Orion would perhaps enjoy working alongside the Slayer, Maticus, or Oriacarius.
Nevertheless, perhaps Kesar was being a bit too sentimental. Plenty of his sons had gone above and beyond working away from the legion at length. Baldur had proven that time and time again. Sometimes you had to let individual Astartes go out and spread their wings on their own.
The Daemonsbane shook his head, "If it is alright with you two, I shall ask Orion what he wants to do and decide from there. He will obey whatever order I give him, but I shall see if my captain can come to a decision that does away with my concerns. In any case, you shall hear the decision soon enough."
---
Two weeks later, on board the Vigilance...
Kesar found it took a surprising bit of time to arrange a face-to-face with Orion. The Primarch had a mountain of paperwork to fill and meet with many officers and commanders. Thus his schedule tended to be packed. Meanwhile, Orion was busy taking care of his own issues on RP-28, which meant his time was somewhat limited. Unless the Primarch made it a direct order for him to come, his Captain needed to handle his own affairs first. It surprised Kesar to learn that he was running into so many problems with his colony, yet Orion learned to overcome the obstacles. Even so, his plans for the first mining venture of a daemonworld were looking to be a pipe dream.
Perturabo, however, still wanted the colonial venture to continue. He saw the merit in the program. Kesar agreed. He especially enjoyed the prospect of forging a human colony on one of the daemon's worlds. That such a thing was possible helped give the Primarch an idea that humanity could take such planets back if the Archdaemons and their ilk were destroyed one day. Besides, with the Maelstrom cleared, they had to learn how to settle on its worlds.
As Kesar mused on such a future, the doors to his office opened, and the serf announced that Captain Orion Jesk arrived as instructed. The Primarch had to only wait the briefest moment before the subject of his attention graced his presence.
Captain Orion Jesk walked in wearing the standard robes of the Eternal Legion, but Kesar noted that he was also carrying that sword of his as well. Humility. Kesar had already read the reports and spoken to Perturabo briefly about the weapon. The Lord of Iron had gifted the Manifold Device to Solomon in exchange for field testing. Kesar needed to remind Perturabo to not use his sons as test subjects for his experimental weapons. Even so, he owed Perturabo for effectively gifting the Wardens with such a fine weapon.
Orion carried himself and the blade with caution and discipline. For all the power he had in his hands, Orion knew that this weapon of his could quickly kill him. To read about the machine spirits' temper was one thing, but Kesar had yet to see it in action. Regardless, his son also radiated confidence and purpose. A stark contrast to what Kesar remembered of Orion.
Kesar wasn't unfamiliar with the man from before the Maelstrom War. Instead, Kesar had briefly met him during the send-off for the exchange program. He had been a quiet sergeant back then and instead unnoteworthy as far as a service record. A less than flattering observation, but Kesar wasn't going to mince his words. It wasn't that he considered any of his sons to lack commitment or skill, but some stood out, and those that didn't, and that was all he would ever say on the matter.
Orion had been precisely that, although Oriacarius still believed something special about him. Once again, Kesar was reminded why the First Captains of a Legion were so critical. That Oriacarius was perhaps one of the few that actually recognized the spark for greatness in individuals proved that Oriacarius was the heart of the Eternal Wardens. He saw the potential in people, even if he rarely vocalized such praise.
"Lord Primarch," Orion spoke with a small amount of restraint standing before the Daemonsbane, "I have answered your summons."
Kesar stood up from his desk and approached Orion with a small smile, "It's good to finally meet you one on one. The last time we even spoke was years ago."
"Yes," Orion nodded, "You shook all our hands and had a proud smile on your face the entire time." He was right to think that. Though Orion might have been considered an unnoteworthy Astartes, he was still an Eternal Warden. He was ready to fight the denizens of hell, to die for humanity, and the chances of it happening far away from his brothers was unsettling to any with the legion. Even so, all of those volunteers vowed to aid their cousins and allies against whatever foes awaited them among distant worlds.
"That I did." Kesar smiled at Orion, "I can safely say that after everything you've gone through, that feeling of pride is with me once more."
Orion closed his eyes and bowed his head, "You honor me with such praise, my lord."
He clapped the Astartes shoulder with his right hand, "Then I shall honor you with even more." He smirked before gesturing to Orion to take a seat, "You've gained the attention of three other Primarchs with your success in the war and with the colonial venture on RP-28." Kesar started before taking a seat behind his desk. "It's because of this attention that I called you here."
"I see..." Orion simply remarked from his seat. He didn't look worried or surprised. If anything, he looked confused. "I'm assuming the three are Lords El'Johnson, Jaghatai, and Perturabo."
"You would be correct in that assessment."
Orion nodded once more, "I take it they have explained to you in some capacity why I am in their sights?"
Kesar smirked once more before he started to explain the situation to Orion.
---
It took Kesar about twenty minutes to explain everything to him regarding the possible assignments. He even took the time to go over a few basic details, such as possible resources afforded to him and the timeframe of each exchange. Orion sat and quietly listened the entire time, asking only a few questions. Kesar wondered what was going through his mind. Naturally, the opportunity to head back to the Dark Angels likely excited him compared to the other prospects.
Once he finished, Kesar decided to softball this whole situation to him. "I want to leave the decision up to you of where you will go." He started gently, "I can make this an order for you as well if you'd like, but I want to give my field officers a bit more leeway in such matters. You can take the rest of the day to think and-"
Orion held up his hand, "No need." He interrupted, "I've already decided this based on what you have told me. And I wish to aid the White Scars."
Kesar hadn't expected such a quick answer or that Orion wasn't choosing the Dark Angels, "Your reasoning?"
"First, it is as you said; the White Scars have suffered and need to rebuild. We should repay the efforts and further bind our ties with them. I also have the most experience among our officers in understanding the problems and limitations of the exchange program regarding training new officers. To that end, I can empathize more with the White Scars. Additionally, I fit into their style of combat and probably would mesh well with my cousins."
The Primarch idly tapped his finger on his desk as he heard this, "I want you to keep in mind, Khan is about to go on a lengthy expedition. The chances of your return being swift are not a guarantee."
"I don't expect guarantees towards most things these days, my Primarch." Orion didn't seem too perturbed at this situation. He was prepared to go to the White Scars purely because he could do the most good for them and the Wardens. He was doing this because it was the most practical and worthwhile in his mind.
"So the prospect of going back to the Dark Angels doesn't interest you?"
Orion swiftly shook his head, "Far from it...I wish to go and see the Sons of Caliban once more. I know they still have much to teach me. However, I believe the White Scars can teach me as well. They understand the ways of the soul and discipline that can't be taught among the silent and hallowed halls of Caliban. My time spent in the Maelstrom has shown me many ways to expand one's mind and perspective on things like battle and leadership. And I believe the White Scars can help me with something else." He turned his head to look at Humility, "The Stormseers were said to have tamed great beasts in their time...I wish to see if such knowledge can be used to help me with this infernal sword."
Kesar had a few questions about that last part, but he needed to focus on Orion's decision. The captain was clearly prepared to undertake this endeavor, even if he still wanted to return to the Sons of Caliban for further training and refinement. Yet he was putting the good of both the White Scars and Eternal Wardens first before all else.
So be it.
"Very well," Kesar nodded once more, "If this is your decision...I cannot find fault in your reasons. Your aid towards the Khan and his sons will be greatly appreciated in more ways than you can imagine." Jaghatai would be interested upon hearing Orion's strange desire to see the Stormseers. "I will admit, Orion, that I expected you to jump at the opportunity to go to the Dark Angels."
"I haven't exactly been subtle of that desire, have I?" Orion shrugged but smiled all the same, "I just feel like I owe them. They...showed me a path that allowed me to become something more. I dare say they stopped me from remaining an inconsequential marine."
Kesar shook his head now, "You were never considered inconsequential, not be me, or the First Captain, or the rest of your brothers."
"Sadly, I wish I could say I understand or agree with that assessment." He broke his gaze from the Primarch, "I'm not sure what it will take for me to not feel like a stranger among my own brothers. Yet I have hope such feelings will change in time." Orion looked back at the Primarch now, "Such things aside, I take it this decision is approved then?"
Much as the Primarch wanted to continue this topic, he had too many other matters to attend to, "Yes...if nothing else, I can put in the exchange request today."
"The sooner, the better, as Skullface would tell me." Orion stood up, tall and proud before him, "Anything else then?"
"No." Kesar shook his head, "You are free to go. Thank you for your swift decision on the matter, Orion." Something about how this meeting ended left a slightly sour taste in his mouth. As Orion prepared to leave, Kesar decided to speak up one more time.
"Orion," The captain turned around once more, "You'll always have a home and family among us. I know we tell each other such things, but we mean it. Even so, I hope you find whatever answers or truths you seek among these misbegotten stars. And may they help bring you back to those who cherish you."
His words seemed to cause Orion to pause before he slowly nodded, "Yes...I hope so too." He said nothing else before leaving the office. Left with his thoughts now, Kesar had to hope for the best that Orion found whatever he was looking for now. If nothing else, Jaghatai would at least be paying attention to Orion's efforts. If there was anyone else in this galaxy that understood the soul of a warrior, it was the Khan.
Yes, thinking about it now, this was the right decision for all of them. Now they just had to hope that it ended in ways that would see Orion come home without feeling like a stranger.
---
@Daemon Hunter Okay, omake completed. Time to get back to the other one and hope I get that one finished at some point.
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Our Savior
Our Savior
"Rackin what the hell are you doing!?"The discipline master of his regiment was unbearable, Private Johan Rackin had discovered. 10 years ago, he had thought he had his life figured out, in the Imperial Army he had found a new band of brothers and sisters. One he could live for and die for. He began to raise his weapon to a daemon in his line of sight but felt he couldn't pull the trigger. What was the point? Even if he didn't shoot someone else would.
"Aim your weapon for the love of the Primarchs!"
Why was even listening to this uptight guy anymore? How many of his own brothers and sisters had been sent to their death by this idiot for nothing? How many lives would they give for these arrogant Space Marines?
"Rackin fire your goddamn weapon right now!" Now that he thought about it, there didn't seem to be as many lasers striking the approaching foes as there should have been. But that didn't really matter to him when the discipline master was now right in his face, shouting at him. He could feel the spit from his disgusting mouth land right on his ear and yet he couldn't muster the strength to even wipe it off.
He was growing desperate, Rackin could feel it now. Just a few hours ago they had been told to stay calm and listen to orders but now the discipline master was panicking and shouting about such unimportant things as firing a weapon. Heh serves him right. How easy would it be to just turn his weapon a few centimeters and fire at this selfish asshole? Ah, the discipline master turned away from him, had he finally found something better to do? He turned away from the self-righteous fool standing before him to look at Illana, the last and closest friend he had left. For some reason, the normally stoic features of her face looked completely pale, but why?
After all, they didn't matter, the Eternal Wardens would crush the daemons beneath them with a single contemptuous glance as they used the bodies of his friends and family as a paper shield to protect themselves from a single scratch and the Iron Warriors used the remains of their bodies t_
"Johan. Look." Illana. Why had she bothered with looking at their foes, no matter what they did the number of enemies they had never changed. What would looking at those parasites and not his rapidly depleting lasgun ammunition do?
Illana's face almost looked alien to him. When was the last time he had seen her crack? If he had any sense of feeling left in him, he would have felt a level of sympathy he supposed, but also jealousy. That she would have been able to express anything other than absolute apathy at the hell he had been forced into for the las_
"Johan!" Something on Illana's face broke through his apathy. Something was wrong. He could no longer hear the crackle of lasgun fire from the nearby soldiers. Johan looked around in bewilderment as the pressure in his head began to build. The last rational part of his mind which he had thought died long ago blared at him telling him, pleading him, to not follow their eyes, but he couldn't resist the knowledge of knowing what could finally inspire a change of pace in this grueling life.
Johan turned his head to face their foes and for the first time in years he truly saw them.
A wall of flesh. Higher than the dream house of even his wildest dreams. A nightmarish clashing of faces and limbs that seemed to stretch out in every direction. He saw their faces, too humanoid to disassociate from a normal human face yet too alien to actually look like one. A murderer's smile on each and a thousand blisters and cuts to accompany each grin. And oh god the smell! His stomach began to churn and boil as his throat instantly dried with a single whiff of that pungent odor.
Every wall he had erected, every mental technique his mother had taught him so long to help calm himself down, every word of inspiration the remembrancer had claimed came from Lord Perturabo vanished in that moment. He could no longer speak; he could no longer even form the necessary thoughts to speak in the first place.
Peace child. You do not have to die here.
The voices in his head that he had ignored for so long finally broke through his defences. A single invisible tendril leapt forward from the wall of flesh towards his mind, except it had not. He wasn't a fool! The line of flesh hadn't reached them how could they possibly even hope to strike them from such a distance! He lurched back as the invisible hand touched his scalp and reached deep inside him.
I do not seek to harm you child. I come only to ask you a question? Why?
What?
Why do you still raise your will to fight against us?
Somehow even though this voice seemed to consume his mind, his body still had the strength to respond to the voice of his commanding officer as he brought up his lasgun to bear. His mind was ripped from his body by the voice that spoke further.
You don't have to die here. Our father loves you so much yet you still reject him. Just give in. Let us help you achieve what you were meant to be.
I can't__ I mean_ I have a duty! To hold the line no matter what!
For who now do you hold the line? That despicable disciplinary master who cudgels you over and over again, no love left in that failing heart of his? The commander who sent you into a grueling, pointless battle to do for nothing? What about that girl, Illana is it? If your line falls both of you will die.
I can't let her die, or myself. Please help me! I don't want to die! I don't care about the commander or anyone else here!
I can offer you many things than just her. Our father above is watching over us and wants nothing more than for this suffering to end. If only you choose to follow me, I can show you the way.
What... what do I have to die to save us?
Only that which you already desire child. Simply allow the apathy to wash over you once more and you shall know what to do.
His arm which had been aching to finally move in a different direction from aimed directly forward finally had a new purpose. His eyes fell on the disciplinary master who had been hounding him for the past three years. He knew he that Illana would hate him for this, but now he had to do what was right not what he felt was right. As his eyes fell on him the rage, he had felt for three years finally dissipated, replaced by a sense of relief. He no longer had to worry about himself. He was finally free for the first time in his life to do what he wanted. As long as it was to protect his loved ones, he would do anything for his new mas__ Johan stopped.
What is that light in the distance? A sight he hadn't seen in years lay just beyond the shoulder of the man he was about to gun down. The lights, they're so beautiful... how could I have ever forgotten such majesty...
Old memories that had been long forgotten stirred up with a single glance at a starry night. His mother who laughed when he failed to button his shirt correctly as she properly demonstrated, his promise to Illana to tell her what he's been meaning to for years now, a speech from his disciplinary master, no his friend Thaddeus, as his friends slowly died, to never give up hope, no, what was he doing!?
He dropped his lasgun onto the ground, no longer trusting himself to not do something horrible and the unknowable presence that hanged over him like a cloud seemed to dissipate all at once.
No! The ANatHeM-
Even that treacherous voice urging him to fall into apathy disappeared. That all-consuming odor he had adjusted to for three years now had completely evaporated. Johan's eyes flashed about determined to find the source of this. His gaze went across Illana the woman he had stood by for so long, Thaddeus, the man who had always encouraged him, the soldiers who had stood next to him for so long, all of them with tears in their eyes as they looked forward. And he saw... nothing.
That wall of flesh, so unassailable and so hideous, gone. Already the stars had retreated from sight hidden behind the accursed sky of this wretched world, and yet it almost didn't matter, for standing before Johan was a single man. Clad in black armor, that giant of a man was so invincible, so powerful, that the great host of disease and rot simply melted away in his very presence.
The man turned around to face their line. Johan had no words that could describe their hero in that moment. The Daemonsbane, the Hero of the Maelstrom, Kesar Dorlin, there was no way to do justice to the savior standing before him. Kesar's eyes fell on the line of Guardsmen before him, and somehow Johan felt, on him. Johan felt his very soul become bare in that moment, every experience he had ever had, every memory he had ever made, every trial and tribulation, every success and distant dream, was nothing to this singular moment.
But Johan had nearly turned traitor. He had nearly killed so many people and was about to turn his back on his old dreams. What right did he have to stand before this man and pray for mercy or salvation?
Kesar smiled.
Johan's worries faded. What did it matter that he had almost fallen? He was still here and he was alive. He had not fallen and so he must continue to fight, to atone for the failures he had nearly committed. Johan laughed for the first time since he had come to this damned Maelstrom. He laughed so hard that he barely even noticed the tears streaming out of his eyes. A hand on his shoulder distracted him from his laughing. Illana was looking at him, concerned for him no doubt, yet the lines which marred her face were now absent. She almost looked...
Johan once again tried to gain a glimpse of the Black clad Savior yet he had already gone. 'I suppose he is no longer needed here'. Johan thought. Already the scent that had pervaded this world was crawling back in but now it was merely a nuisance where before it was an assault on the senses. A rotting carcass clawed its way through the Earth before an armored boot crushed it. An Eternal Warden's boot.
"Hear me soldiers of the Imperium!" His voice rang out across the entire battlefield as every single soldier turned to face him. "We have bled and we have lost more than we could ever hope! Friends family, loved ones, these wretched beasts have taken everything they wanted from us and more!" How had Johan been blind this whole time? The Wardens had lost just as much as him, the missing arm of the speaker was proof enough. Before there had been ten of those valiant warriors fighting and now, he was the only one remaining on the battlefield with only a bolt pistol and a single arm. Why had he been so callous towards them before Johan wondered? Had they not suffered too?
"Yet not all hope is lost! Brothers and sisters, we today have witnessed a miracle! The lord Kesar does not ask us serve flawlessly, nor does he ask us to serve heroically, only to serve as best we can!"
"Are we so weak at our best that all it takes is a few of these beasts to bring us low? We are not!"
"The same fire that the Emperor hoped to bring to humanity lives on in us! Here and now, we carry his will and hope!"
"Now join me brothers, sisters, and all, fight on in the name of the fallen! For these we cherish, come die with me in glory!" In that moment Johan, and countless other warriors rose from the trenches, for the first time in years. For the ones they loved, they could fight. For Our Savior, we will fight.
"For the Regiment! For the Primarchs!" They all knew what was coming next and as one an entire world shouted its defiance of fate and reason.
"FOR THE EMEPEROR!"
AN: First omake ever. Hope it's a good first showing.
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Gathering the First Echoes
- Location
- USA
I wrote another Auro omake regarding one of his personal projects that will take 10 years to complete so two turns. about gathering and researching alternative timelines and stuff around them.
The work I have begun with Majestic is complex and worthy of my focus, yet in the end I am not human. No matter what the primarch or Emperor claim, astartes are more than human, we are less than human in and of itself. We are exalted and damned, we are condemned and molded to task. We lose the freedom inherent to humanity in our ascension beyond their ranks.
Our souls are burdened with chains of duty and command, bending our minds and wills towards futures ordained by the maker of our kind. I know that when all is done and the galaxy is safe for humanity, we shall meet our end upon the battlefield or within walls of stone. In a peaceful future there is no place for beings such as I.
Where others might resent this fate, or rage against the path that has been set forth, I instead find it comforting in a fashion. I know full well that I am something that should not be, I know and understand the dangers inherent to my life. I see the other side clearly, clearer than most and I know its full horrors. Others even of my kind distract themselves with fleeting glory or blind themselves to the obvious cycle of our history that will one day come due. Yet, I stand with my eyes open and unclouded, I stare unflinchingly ahead into the future that will claim me in one way or another.
I will never be an exemplar of the Legion of Imperium and I am content with that fate. I was never the best fighter or commander. To me the secrets of battle are list of route instructions mastered only by dint of time and patience. Others are far more suited for the strain of battle within the Legion I call my own. In their hands I trust that the Legion will be safe and kept true even as I drift from its purpose by my own will.
Strange to think that I have a choice even though I know full well that my choice is but an illusion of chains and commands coded into my very nature. Even now I can feel the call to return to my Legion and the one that gave me his flesh and soul so long ago. Kesar: the daemonsbane, storm walker, Father; are but some of his titles. I feel the drive to gain his approval even though I stand above him in age and knowledge for now, yet even with this I do not resent him for what I am and I shoulder this burden as I always have.
Thus, I have come to the place where I can make the most of my skills and talents. This hidden sanctuary of knowledge and learning, a strange place buried under the pole of Terra or Old Earth as it was once called. Where others find the architecture to be disturbing due to it being built over the eons by AIs and non humans, I find its differences refreshing as a departure of the sameness that plagues the galaxy. I have walked upon a thousand worlds and upon them all humans build in the same forms with only slight deviations from the norms.
If this place will become my tomb in centuries to come, it would be nice to be put down in a place where I can feel at ease and secure in the knowledge that my work had true meaning. I might have centuries left of life if I stay far from combat, but even now I feel drawn to the fight. I know in my hearts that there is conflict out among the stars and my body draws me to the fight, for it is what I was created for. But I am more than just a slave to the instincts of an Astartes, I was once a human and I have within a limited selection free will nonetheless.
In this time I choose to spend my effort not on the battlefield but in the lab, furthering the Imperium's knowledge of the shattered empyrean and the primal structure. I give my all to the Grey Soul project, save for the few hours a week that I save for my own use. Even for an Astartes it is possible for us to burn out and run ragged just as the source material that was forged into the crude steel of our existence from the iron and carbon of base humanity.
Thus, I turn from the constant work on the secrets of the Grey Soul theory and turn instead towards the blade that rests at my hip. It is always a comforting presence, a solid weight in the mists that drift through the air and it shines as a beacon within the shattered empyrean. I can feel and I know the nature of it as the back of my hand, whenever I touch the hilt I am welcomed by something within.
An echo of an echo of an echo is what the sword is. I know that it bears secrets that I am ill suited to ferret free of the cage that they are locked within, but I am unable to access the masters of the shattered empyrean to ask for guidance and so I shall endeavor to do my best with what I can.
I am adrift in the ocean of options without light to show my way and so I must decide on my own what to do and what to seek, for the secrets held within the blade at my hip should be known before the time comes to use it in battle once more. I do not believe that there is safety within this place, for the insanity of the people within the walls is apparent to the sight of those that can see beyond the surface. Cawl for a human is great indeed in the realm of science and logical action, yet I can tell that he carries a level of arrogance that could easily become overwhelming and easy prey for the Last Born. Alexander shows his insanity, he makes no efforts to hide what he is and for that he has my respect for it is clear that if he wished he could hide behind cloaks of shadow and mystic, giving a lying face to all that knew him. Yet he chooses to show his true self and for that I rest easy around him even as I worry for his mental health and keep an eye on his creations in case the Aspect Divider slips in tendrils to corrupt them.
Regardless of the danger at hand, I am astartes and thus I am the steel to the human iron. I stand above them and yet I stand below them, for I am condemned to be steel for all of my life. Yet, in time it is certain that eventually eons from now humanity will ascend from the iron of the current and into the Gold of the future. I would give much to see that moment with my own two eyes and know that the peace that humanity and the rest deserved came to be.
As I walk through the halls without the armor of my station and baring the tattoos I have engraved upon my flesh without shame, I ponder the questions that have always plagued my mind for the recent months furthered by the clicking of metal at my hip. The mists that creep around my feet tinged golden from the light of the Astronomincan, a welcome sight after so much green during the war within the shattered empyrean. Yet, at the same time it worries me for it implies that the shattered empyrean seeps through the cracks in the primal structure even here upon the heart of order and hope, the seat of the Primal Anathema.
Perhaps, I am looking at this incorrectly. I question myself and my ideas, even as I continue my walk and let the hallways guide me where they will, for in this place even if I find myself lost more than not. The question of the mists seeping through is less a matter of the primal structure being weak for I can feel the sturdiness of the primal structure in this place and know that it is sound. So in that light it would by my sight that sees that which is not there. I am seeing into the shattered empyrean even now, which explains much about my life before now. I always knew that I was somehow different from others of my kind among the wardens, I never could avoid seeing the horrors of the shattered empyrean where they could shut them out of mind and now I see why.
My soul thrums with the secrets of the future and time itself runs through my veins. I was destined to be a diviner of secrets, I was destined to be different than I am. The destiny that the Aspect Divider wrote for me was to be one of the many pawns of its endless schemes upon the red world, to condemn Mars to a fate worse than death.
Yet, the Aspect Divider fails to see the potency of the power of choice among those of the living. It fails to understand what that gives to us and from that power I broke its chains upon my fate and over the course of a century my path led me to this moment. I look back over the years and decades and I wonder what could have been if different choices had been made across my life. I wonder if more or less could have been done if different actions were taken and different causes spiraled outward rewriting the skein of time and fate into a different image, perhaps one more pleasing to the eye.
Then logic returns and I know that it would be foolish in the extreme for I was, but one mortal servant of the red world. I was nothing impactful, nor would I ever wield the influence to write a new more pleasing image for the galaxy to hold too. Iron and Steel are both too powerless to shape the galaxy, the influence of Iron is squandered by the untold trillions that scramble across the stars hoping for another day of life and the steel is lessened by the Silver that stands above us.
If Iron or Steel is insufficient, perhaps if Silver had changed the course of the stars would have changed as well. I turn towards the mists creeping around my body and let myself look into the eddies to see if anything could be seen, I expect little and gain little for in this place spending fractions of seconds on this topic would result in little chance of anything resulting.
Yet, perhaps this was the correct path to pursue for now in the mystery of the blade. It came from another time, another place. I know well that it was crafted by something impossible and yet the familiarity that rings true whenever I touch it leaves little options. In the vastness of the shattered empyrean, I know that another self, another Crescum Auro crafted the original form of the Blade in another time. I expect that it was forged upon the world I fought upon during the war, I expect that it was forged when Kesar won the war and ripped all the greater broken fractal apart.
Perhaps, seeking out the secrets of other times and other places would shed light upon the secrets within the blade. In the light of its origin and source it would only make sense in the end for that to be what was needed for it to reveal more of itself to me.
In my pondering I find myself returning to my quarters and the rune of true light shining in the corner giving light to the room, enforcing the truth of the primal structure upon light within the small confines of this place. Beyond it and a handful of uncompleted dimensional runes little exists in this place, for it is but a place for me to rest and think. I require no support where others might, the desk only accepted due to the need to have a place to work upon my project in peace.
I let myself fall into the mediation form that had been taught to us all so many decades ago upon mars in the recruitment halls, and let my mind drift within the shattered empyrean. I drift from place to place, never letting the influence slip through my shields of logic, the mystical gears that I envision around myself spinning as they interlock to keep my mind safe from the external realm that I currently rest within. I swim through the currents of stars and void, I let myself sink through the rivers of thought and memory, I let myself be warmed in the light of Sol.
Yet, in the end I drag myself free of the momentary relaxation of the shattered empyrean and focus upon my goal. I look for eddies where there should be none, I seek places of void where there should be light, I seek light where it should be void. I drift through the currents of the shattered empyrean seeking echoes of times never born and yet born nonetheless. The secrets I had learned so long ago on a world where the 11th Legion fought alongside those of the 15th for a time guiding me through the currents.
In the end I find something that does not belong, I can feel the tint to its flavor. Where the rest sing of honey and gold, this sings of rose and silver a piece of time unconnected to this place and bereft of stability in this part of the shattered empyrean. Even as I watch I can feel it destabilizing as if something had disrupted its fragile existence beyond the breaking point, before it is lost I reach forth to touch it lowering for the first time the outer layer of the Logical Matrix that surrounds my every action.
As I touch the echo of a time unborn, I am ripped away from this place and I see the world as it could have been.
I see Mars, the red planet of my nightmares. I see the countless factories and serfs working upon them, I see the grand ring of iron floating in the sky above. Yet, what draws my eye is the Archmagos that stands atop a pillar of metal, outfitted with cybernetics that replace most of their body. Yet, even from this far remove I can sense that they are male, their robes flowing in the plums of smoke from the smokestacks of the factories below him. Behind them lies the truth of the echo that I have found.
Down I go, following the trail of the echo from the now to the point of origin. I see humans beyond count as I flow through the echo without touching, time inverting as I move closer to the source of this timeline. Years and then decades and then centuries fading away as I near the source.
Then I find it and come to a stop. A door bars my path, a door that I see in my memories even now, a door that I never thought to see again. A door that was the last thing I saw before I left the false safety of peace behind. I behold the door to the barracks of my childhood, I move through the grimy metal and corroded nails to the other side and see myself as a child upon a bed of metal sleeping untroubled.
I see as I wake up from the sleep and begin the normal daily routine. As I look around the room, my perfect recall gives me enough to know the time that this is and where it is. This was the first time I suffered from the visions. I can recall those dreams even now as clearly as the rest of my life and yet, the one before me moves carefree and without horror. As I watch I realize the single point of change in this echo and that was that I was never tormented by the dreams and so my powers remained quiet.
I never would race to the surface to join the Legions when they arrived in four years time, nor would I become the nearly insane figure that I did in my life from the tormenting whispers and visions that were forever my curse. In this timeline, I was free of this curse and I would one day become an Archmagos and serve the cult of the machine across the stars in the Great Crusade.
Perhaps, some would consider this a better future. Some might consider it a worse future. I see it for what it is and that is an opportunity, a possibility nothing more. It would never have been mine, unless it had been and in that case it would never be seen in this moment for it would have been lived. Thus, such conundrums are of little purpose beyond torturing a person or making one doubt themselves.
As I watch the future play forth, I draw the blade in this place, the crystalline metal glowing brightly within the void of time and in the space between timelines as I write into the ever changing glyphs upon the surface the secrets of this timeline. I write of myself and the world, I write of the future I saw, I write of what could have been and what was in this place, I write of this all in golden ink drawn from my soul engraving upon the sword itself. The runes that glowed faintly for months burn ever so slightly brighter now even as more join the endless dance upon the sword.
As the echo is stored within the crystalline matrix of the blade, I let go of the hold I have placed upon the echo and let it drift away into the depths of the shattered empyrean, to never again resurface in this time and place. As I watch it sink below the currents of the shattered empyrean drifting below the layer at which I exist I wonder if below where I am there would be more to find and learn of what they are, but that is a question for another day.
I drift for a time among the currents of the shattered empyrean, letting it guide me to places unfound and unseen. I see the echoes of the past upon Terra or Earth as it was once called, and I see the grand cities turned to rubble under the march of time and I witness this through the lens of insanity via the shattered empyrean. I let the currents of ruin take hold of my drifting form, secure deep in the Logical Matrix tightening the systems and equations that cycle through an infinity of thoughts and designs to keep my mind safe as I travel into the region that is truly shattered.
I let myself drift into the areas of the shattered empyrean where the echoes of the most grievous of events would be shown and arise from the layer below. I drift through this land of broken and insane dreams, refusing to let them enter my mind as I drift among this graveyard of ruin. I find echoes aplenty of times undone or yet to be.
Echos of the Silver falling to the forces of ruin and leaving annihilation in their wake. I find the echoes of stories where the heroes fall to evil and become the horror they fought against, I find the stories that once lit the way now corrupted and broken by the corruption of this once peaceful realm.
However, even in this place I continue my search and I drift along the currents, letting them guide me to where I would end up. Letting go of control and surrendering to the whims of the shattered empyrean. Eventually, I find something, a gem of darkness, a locus of ruin and horror beyond any that I have yet so found.
I can feel the terrible echo from this place, even in the glow of the golden light of the Golden One, it still darkens the shattered empyrean around it. I hesitate for a moment on the action of interfacing with the event and the story it contained. In the end it was too dangerous and so I began to shift away until the blade that had rest at my side sleeping stirred and drifted towards the echo of darkness.
It was strange that the blade would take action beyond my own whim, but it would prove that this echo gem would be important for me to find and see. Thus, I reach forth to touch the gem of darkness. Unlike the last I refuse to lower my shields and let it flow through and around me rather than into me.
Perception shifts once more and I see worlds of broken fractals roaring in victory eternal as one of the greatest stars falls dark against their eternal might. I witness as the grand star that was the soul of Kesar fell to the claws of the broken fractals, aspects of the Shattered Aspects grand in their horror and magnificent in the evil they produce.
I see the story of the Blade's forging at my side, the confirmation of my theories made real and obvious. I see myself overcome with despair, and burn my soul away to feed the furnace of creation and give rise to a blade of unmatched might against the forces of the Shattered Aspects. I can feel through this vision the power of the ritual as It touches the primal structure and the Gleaming Empyrean, bound together to forge a weapon that would ensure the survival of the former at the cost of the latter.
A foolish action made no less foolish by virtue of being made by myself in a timeline never born. It was as foolish as once could be, yet as I see the forging of the Blade I find myself in awe of the pinnacles to which I could reach if I was willing to dismantle the Logical Matrix and push beyond my limits. It is a sobering reminder of the power that I hold, that any one of my rank holds and I alter equations of the Logical Matrix to ensure that this revelation would enhance my abilities rather than limit them further.
I look beyond the echo of myself and his foolish yet grand actions and see the other worlds. I see the broken fractals fall to the blades of my kin in the unending hordes as their victory turns bittersweet and songs of hope thunder across the worlds as the Exemplars of the Legion rally the rest to their feet.
Even in the face of the loss of the soul of the Legion, we would not break and I take solace in that knowledge as I see the Exalted of the Legion give war to the broken fractals as well as could be expected.
I further expand my sight beyond that of my kin, sure in their victory against the forces arrayed against them. We would win this day no matter the cost, we would make them pay dearly for the killing of the soul.
I turn now towards the other forces arrayed within the echo. I see the golden one upon a hill of infinite bones fighting a battle that never began and will never end until the day the stars burn out and all surrender to the end of all things. I see the lord of iron in his command post crying as he learns of his friend's death and pledging to avenge him by any means, I can see the cracks in his soul burn wide and far. I know that he will soon become a threat to all that he now holds dear and I can only hope that in this place he will find solace before he shatters all in misguided revenge.
Finally, I see the khan and I pity him for his legion is dead, his fleet annihilated and everything lost. He will never return to the field of battle again for decades to come, his legion reduced to a handful of his newest sons. His infrastructure reduced to rubble, he is crippled a legion no more. Yet, his soul remains yet strong and pure, perhaps he and the lord of iron could give each other the support both will need in this timeline of horror.
Even now I can feel the strain upon my mind and soul as I see far beyond what I should, but I refuse to not see what is there to see in this dismal unborn future. I force myself to witness the horror and glory of this place, the sacrifices and the gains made. I am a silent witness to this horror and I will carry its story forth into the primal structure, allowing others to know of this event if they so wish.
With blade in hand I engrave the truth of this echo into the blade. All that I know, all that I saw, all that I could predict; everything was engraved into the blade and more besides. I could feel the connection that the blade held to its origin point and I engraved that as well into the very core of the blade's matrix. Piece by piece rune by rune I wrote what was to be written. In this moment I was the scribe of unborn futures, I was the witness of horror, I was a guardian of knowledge unknown, I was more and none of these things. It was a solemn duty to record this echo for all of time upon the blade that came to me from this place of ruin and ensure that it was known.
As the final engraving was done, I let go of the echo and let myself return to the normal space of the shattered empyrean. I found myself tired of the sights beyond mortal perception and regardless of what some of my kind wished to claim we were no less mortal than humanity as a whole was. Thus, I close my eyes to the horror and wonder of the shattered empyrean, to find myself back in my quiet room with only the blade with glowing golden runes detailing all that I had so far seen upon its surface, intermixed with the runes of order and mathematics from its creation.
I rest for now even as I prepare for the next day.
logical matrix -> the protections that Auro has around himself that limit his powers in exchange for lower CR malus
Warp -> shattered empyrean
Daemon -> broken fractal(s)
Chaos Gods as a group -> Shattered Aspects
Tzeentch -> Aspect Divider
Slaanesh -> The Last Born
Warp -> shattered empyrean
Daemon -> broken fractal(s)
Chaos Gods as a group -> Shattered Aspects
Tzeentch -> Aspect Divider
Slaanesh -> The Last Born
The work I have begun with Majestic is complex and worthy of my focus, yet in the end I am not human. No matter what the primarch or Emperor claim, astartes are more than human, we are less than human in and of itself. We are exalted and damned, we are condemned and molded to task. We lose the freedom inherent to humanity in our ascension beyond their ranks.
Our souls are burdened with chains of duty and command, bending our minds and wills towards futures ordained by the maker of our kind. I know that when all is done and the galaxy is safe for humanity, we shall meet our end upon the battlefield or within walls of stone. In a peaceful future there is no place for beings such as I.
Where others might resent this fate, or rage against the path that has been set forth, I instead find it comforting in a fashion. I know full well that I am something that should not be, I know and understand the dangers inherent to my life. I see the other side clearly, clearer than most and I know its full horrors. Others even of my kind distract themselves with fleeting glory or blind themselves to the obvious cycle of our history that will one day come due. Yet, I stand with my eyes open and unclouded, I stare unflinchingly ahead into the future that will claim me in one way or another.
I will never be an exemplar of the Legion of Imperium and I am content with that fate. I was never the best fighter or commander. To me the secrets of battle are list of route instructions mastered only by dint of time and patience. Others are far more suited for the strain of battle within the Legion I call my own. In their hands I trust that the Legion will be safe and kept true even as I drift from its purpose by my own will.
Strange to think that I have a choice even though I know full well that my choice is but an illusion of chains and commands coded into my very nature. Even now I can feel the call to return to my Legion and the one that gave me his flesh and soul so long ago. Kesar: the daemonsbane, storm walker, Father; are but some of his titles. I feel the drive to gain his approval even though I stand above him in age and knowledge for now, yet even with this I do not resent him for what I am and I shoulder this burden as I always have.
Thus, I have come to the place where I can make the most of my skills and talents. This hidden sanctuary of knowledge and learning, a strange place buried under the pole of Terra or Old Earth as it was once called. Where others find the architecture to be disturbing due to it being built over the eons by AIs and non humans, I find its differences refreshing as a departure of the sameness that plagues the galaxy. I have walked upon a thousand worlds and upon them all humans build in the same forms with only slight deviations from the norms.
If this place will become my tomb in centuries to come, it would be nice to be put down in a place where I can feel at ease and secure in the knowledge that my work had true meaning. I might have centuries left of life if I stay far from combat, but even now I feel drawn to the fight. I know in my hearts that there is conflict out among the stars and my body draws me to the fight, for it is what I was created for. But I am more than just a slave to the instincts of an Astartes, I was once a human and I have within a limited selection free will nonetheless.
In this time I choose to spend my effort not on the battlefield but in the lab, furthering the Imperium's knowledge of the shattered empyrean and the primal structure. I give my all to the Grey Soul project, save for the few hours a week that I save for my own use. Even for an Astartes it is possible for us to burn out and run ragged just as the source material that was forged into the crude steel of our existence from the iron and carbon of base humanity.
Thus, I turn from the constant work on the secrets of the Grey Soul theory and turn instead towards the blade that rests at my hip. It is always a comforting presence, a solid weight in the mists that drift through the air and it shines as a beacon within the shattered empyrean. I can feel and I know the nature of it as the back of my hand, whenever I touch the hilt I am welcomed by something within.
An echo of an echo of an echo is what the sword is. I know that it bears secrets that I am ill suited to ferret free of the cage that they are locked within, but I am unable to access the masters of the shattered empyrean to ask for guidance and so I shall endeavor to do my best with what I can.
I am adrift in the ocean of options without light to show my way and so I must decide on my own what to do and what to seek, for the secrets held within the blade at my hip should be known before the time comes to use it in battle once more. I do not believe that there is safety within this place, for the insanity of the people within the walls is apparent to the sight of those that can see beyond the surface. Cawl for a human is great indeed in the realm of science and logical action, yet I can tell that he carries a level of arrogance that could easily become overwhelming and easy prey for the Last Born. Alexander shows his insanity, he makes no efforts to hide what he is and for that he has my respect for it is clear that if he wished he could hide behind cloaks of shadow and mystic, giving a lying face to all that knew him. Yet he chooses to show his true self and for that I rest easy around him even as I worry for his mental health and keep an eye on his creations in case the Aspect Divider slips in tendrils to corrupt them.
Regardless of the danger at hand, I am astartes and thus I am the steel to the human iron. I stand above them and yet I stand below them, for I am condemned to be steel for all of my life. Yet, in time it is certain that eventually eons from now humanity will ascend from the iron of the current and into the Gold of the future. I would give much to see that moment with my own two eyes and know that the peace that humanity and the rest deserved came to be.
As I walk through the halls without the armor of my station and baring the tattoos I have engraved upon my flesh without shame, I ponder the questions that have always plagued my mind for the recent months furthered by the clicking of metal at my hip. The mists that creep around my feet tinged golden from the light of the Astronomincan, a welcome sight after so much green during the war within the shattered empyrean. Yet, at the same time it worries me for it implies that the shattered empyrean seeps through the cracks in the primal structure even here upon the heart of order and hope, the seat of the Primal Anathema.
Perhaps, I am looking at this incorrectly. I question myself and my ideas, even as I continue my walk and let the hallways guide me where they will, for in this place even if I find myself lost more than not. The question of the mists seeping through is less a matter of the primal structure being weak for I can feel the sturdiness of the primal structure in this place and know that it is sound. So in that light it would by my sight that sees that which is not there. I am seeing into the shattered empyrean even now, which explains much about my life before now. I always knew that I was somehow different from others of my kind among the wardens, I never could avoid seeing the horrors of the shattered empyrean where they could shut them out of mind and now I see why.
My soul thrums with the secrets of the future and time itself runs through my veins. I was destined to be a diviner of secrets, I was destined to be different than I am. The destiny that the Aspect Divider wrote for me was to be one of the many pawns of its endless schemes upon the red world, to condemn Mars to a fate worse than death.
Yet, the Aspect Divider fails to see the potency of the power of choice among those of the living. It fails to understand what that gives to us and from that power I broke its chains upon my fate and over the course of a century my path led me to this moment. I look back over the years and decades and I wonder what could have been if different choices had been made across my life. I wonder if more or less could have been done if different actions were taken and different causes spiraled outward rewriting the skein of time and fate into a different image, perhaps one more pleasing to the eye.
Then logic returns and I know that it would be foolish in the extreme for I was, but one mortal servant of the red world. I was nothing impactful, nor would I ever wield the influence to write a new more pleasing image for the galaxy to hold too. Iron and Steel are both too powerless to shape the galaxy, the influence of Iron is squandered by the untold trillions that scramble across the stars hoping for another day of life and the steel is lessened by the Silver that stands above us.
If Iron or Steel is insufficient, perhaps if Silver had changed the course of the stars would have changed as well. I turn towards the mists creeping around my body and let myself look into the eddies to see if anything could be seen, I expect little and gain little for in this place spending fractions of seconds on this topic would result in little chance of anything resulting.
Yet, perhaps this was the correct path to pursue for now in the mystery of the blade. It came from another time, another place. I know well that it was crafted by something impossible and yet the familiarity that rings true whenever I touch it leaves little options. In the vastness of the shattered empyrean, I know that another self, another Crescum Auro crafted the original form of the Blade in another time. I expect that it was forged upon the world I fought upon during the war, I expect that it was forged when Kesar won the war and ripped all the greater broken fractal apart.
Perhaps, seeking out the secrets of other times and other places would shed light upon the secrets within the blade. In the light of its origin and source it would only make sense in the end for that to be what was needed for it to reveal more of itself to me.
In my pondering I find myself returning to my quarters and the rune of true light shining in the corner giving light to the room, enforcing the truth of the primal structure upon light within the small confines of this place. Beyond it and a handful of uncompleted dimensional runes little exists in this place, for it is but a place for me to rest and think. I require no support where others might, the desk only accepted due to the need to have a place to work upon my project in peace.
I let myself fall into the mediation form that had been taught to us all so many decades ago upon mars in the recruitment halls, and let my mind drift within the shattered empyrean. I drift from place to place, never letting the influence slip through my shields of logic, the mystical gears that I envision around myself spinning as they interlock to keep my mind safe from the external realm that I currently rest within. I swim through the currents of stars and void, I let myself sink through the rivers of thought and memory, I let myself be warmed in the light of Sol.
Yet, in the end I drag myself free of the momentary relaxation of the shattered empyrean and focus upon my goal. I look for eddies where there should be none, I seek places of void where there should be light, I seek light where it should be void. I drift through the currents of the shattered empyrean seeking echoes of times never born and yet born nonetheless. The secrets I had learned so long ago on a world where the 11th Legion fought alongside those of the 15th for a time guiding me through the currents.
In the end I find something that does not belong, I can feel the tint to its flavor. Where the rest sing of honey and gold, this sings of rose and silver a piece of time unconnected to this place and bereft of stability in this part of the shattered empyrean. Even as I watch I can feel it destabilizing as if something had disrupted its fragile existence beyond the breaking point, before it is lost I reach forth to touch it lowering for the first time the outer layer of the Logical Matrix that surrounds my every action.
As I touch the echo of a time unborn, I am ripped away from this place and I see the world as it could have been.
I see Mars, the red planet of my nightmares. I see the countless factories and serfs working upon them, I see the grand ring of iron floating in the sky above. Yet, what draws my eye is the Archmagos that stands atop a pillar of metal, outfitted with cybernetics that replace most of their body. Yet, even from this far remove I can sense that they are male, their robes flowing in the plums of smoke from the smokestacks of the factories below him. Behind them lies the truth of the echo that I have found.
Down I go, following the trail of the echo from the now to the point of origin. I see humans beyond count as I flow through the echo without touching, time inverting as I move closer to the source of this timeline. Years and then decades and then centuries fading away as I near the source.
Then I find it and come to a stop. A door bars my path, a door that I see in my memories even now, a door that I never thought to see again. A door that was the last thing I saw before I left the false safety of peace behind. I behold the door to the barracks of my childhood, I move through the grimy metal and corroded nails to the other side and see myself as a child upon a bed of metal sleeping untroubled.
I see as I wake up from the sleep and begin the normal daily routine. As I look around the room, my perfect recall gives me enough to know the time that this is and where it is. This was the first time I suffered from the visions. I can recall those dreams even now as clearly as the rest of my life and yet, the one before me moves carefree and without horror. As I watch I realize the single point of change in this echo and that was that I was never tormented by the dreams and so my powers remained quiet.
I never would race to the surface to join the Legions when they arrived in four years time, nor would I become the nearly insane figure that I did in my life from the tormenting whispers and visions that were forever my curse. In this timeline, I was free of this curse and I would one day become an Archmagos and serve the cult of the machine across the stars in the Great Crusade.
Perhaps, some would consider this a better future. Some might consider it a worse future. I see it for what it is and that is an opportunity, a possibility nothing more. It would never have been mine, unless it had been and in that case it would never be seen in this moment for it would have been lived. Thus, such conundrums are of little purpose beyond torturing a person or making one doubt themselves.
As I watch the future play forth, I draw the blade in this place, the crystalline metal glowing brightly within the void of time and in the space between timelines as I write into the ever changing glyphs upon the surface the secrets of this timeline. I write of myself and the world, I write of the future I saw, I write of what could have been and what was in this place, I write of this all in golden ink drawn from my soul engraving upon the sword itself. The runes that glowed faintly for months burn ever so slightly brighter now even as more join the endless dance upon the sword.
As the echo is stored within the crystalline matrix of the blade, I let go of the hold I have placed upon the echo and let it drift away into the depths of the shattered empyrean, to never again resurface in this time and place. As I watch it sink below the currents of the shattered empyrean drifting below the layer at which I exist I wonder if below where I am there would be more to find and learn of what they are, but that is a question for another day.
I drift for a time among the currents of the shattered empyrean, letting it guide me to places unfound and unseen. I see the echoes of the past upon Terra or Earth as it was once called, and I see the grand cities turned to rubble under the march of time and I witness this through the lens of insanity via the shattered empyrean. I let the currents of ruin take hold of my drifting form, secure deep in the Logical Matrix tightening the systems and equations that cycle through an infinity of thoughts and designs to keep my mind safe as I travel into the region that is truly shattered.
I let myself drift into the areas of the shattered empyrean where the echoes of the most grievous of events would be shown and arise from the layer below. I drift through this land of broken and insane dreams, refusing to let them enter my mind as I drift among this graveyard of ruin. I find echoes aplenty of times undone or yet to be.
Echos of the Silver falling to the forces of ruin and leaving annihilation in their wake. I find the echoes of stories where the heroes fall to evil and become the horror they fought against, I find the stories that once lit the way now corrupted and broken by the corruption of this once peaceful realm.
However, even in this place I continue my search and I drift along the currents, letting them guide me to where I would end up. Letting go of control and surrendering to the whims of the shattered empyrean. Eventually, I find something, a gem of darkness, a locus of ruin and horror beyond any that I have yet so found.
I can feel the terrible echo from this place, even in the glow of the golden light of the Golden One, it still darkens the shattered empyrean around it. I hesitate for a moment on the action of interfacing with the event and the story it contained. In the end it was too dangerous and so I began to shift away until the blade that had rest at my side sleeping stirred and drifted towards the echo of darkness.
It was strange that the blade would take action beyond my own whim, but it would prove that this echo gem would be important for me to find and see. Thus, I reach forth to touch the gem of darkness. Unlike the last I refuse to lower my shields and let it flow through and around me rather than into me.
Perception shifts once more and I see worlds of broken fractals roaring in victory eternal as one of the greatest stars falls dark against their eternal might. I witness as the grand star that was the soul of Kesar fell to the claws of the broken fractals, aspects of the Shattered Aspects grand in their horror and magnificent in the evil they produce.
I see the story of the Blade's forging at my side, the confirmation of my theories made real and obvious. I see myself overcome with despair, and burn my soul away to feed the furnace of creation and give rise to a blade of unmatched might against the forces of the Shattered Aspects. I can feel through this vision the power of the ritual as It touches the primal structure and the Gleaming Empyrean, bound together to forge a weapon that would ensure the survival of the former at the cost of the latter.
A foolish action made no less foolish by virtue of being made by myself in a timeline never born. It was as foolish as once could be, yet as I see the forging of the Blade I find myself in awe of the pinnacles to which I could reach if I was willing to dismantle the Logical Matrix and push beyond my limits. It is a sobering reminder of the power that I hold, that any one of my rank holds and I alter equations of the Logical Matrix to ensure that this revelation would enhance my abilities rather than limit them further.
I look beyond the echo of myself and his foolish yet grand actions and see the other worlds. I see the broken fractals fall to the blades of my kin in the unending hordes as their victory turns bittersweet and songs of hope thunder across the worlds as the Exemplars of the Legion rally the rest to their feet.
Even in the face of the loss of the soul of the Legion, we would not break and I take solace in that knowledge as I see the Exalted of the Legion give war to the broken fractals as well as could be expected.
I further expand my sight beyond that of my kin, sure in their victory against the forces arrayed against them. We would win this day no matter the cost, we would make them pay dearly for the killing of the soul.
I turn now towards the other forces arrayed within the echo. I see the golden one upon a hill of infinite bones fighting a battle that never began and will never end until the day the stars burn out and all surrender to the end of all things. I see the lord of iron in his command post crying as he learns of his friend's death and pledging to avenge him by any means, I can see the cracks in his soul burn wide and far. I know that he will soon become a threat to all that he now holds dear and I can only hope that in this place he will find solace before he shatters all in misguided revenge.
Finally, I see the khan and I pity him for his legion is dead, his fleet annihilated and everything lost. He will never return to the field of battle again for decades to come, his legion reduced to a handful of his newest sons. His infrastructure reduced to rubble, he is crippled a legion no more. Yet, his soul remains yet strong and pure, perhaps he and the lord of iron could give each other the support both will need in this timeline of horror.
Even now I can feel the strain upon my mind and soul as I see far beyond what I should, but I refuse to not see what is there to see in this dismal unborn future. I force myself to witness the horror and glory of this place, the sacrifices and the gains made. I am a silent witness to this horror and I will carry its story forth into the primal structure, allowing others to know of this event if they so wish.
With blade in hand I engrave the truth of this echo into the blade. All that I know, all that I saw, all that I could predict; everything was engraved into the blade and more besides. I could feel the connection that the blade held to its origin point and I engraved that as well into the very core of the blade's matrix. Piece by piece rune by rune I wrote what was to be written. In this moment I was the scribe of unborn futures, I was the witness of horror, I was a guardian of knowledge unknown, I was more and none of these things. It was a solemn duty to record this echo for all of time upon the blade that came to me from this place of ruin and ensure that it was known.
As the final engraving was done, I let go of the echo and let myself return to the normal space of the shattered empyrean. I found myself tired of the sights beyond mortal perception and regardless of what some of my kind wished to claim we were no less mortal than humanity as a whole was. Thus, I close my eyes to the horror and wonder of the shattered empyrean, to find myself back in my quiet room with only the blade with glowing golden runes detailing all that I had so far seen upon its surface, intermixed with the runes of order and mathematics from its creation.
I rest for now even as I prepare for the next day.
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Years 36-40 Part 1 Legion Traits
- Location
- Elsewhere
[X]Plan: Binding Ties
-[x] Send Orion to the White Scars - With Khan about to depart for a lengthy expedition, Orion may be useful there. With his admitted identity issues, sending him to the White Scars would help him figure out his purpose. And would help the Khan in his journey. *Orion becomes a hero of the White Scars until Khan's expedition returns. Khan will remember this.*
-[X] Write-in- The Triquetra: There is much for the Librarians of the Eternal Wardens to do, and to make sure that it is all done with appropriate focus, you decide to do something unorthodox but not unprecedented. You will select more than one of the candidates for the position and have them work together, with each having their own focus and duties. Savinath will lead the Librarians, helping your sons not only increase their ability to survive whatever the galaxy and Warp throws at them, but also delving into the discovering and breaking of curses. With him shall serve Raz as well as Nasin. Both have valuable insights to bring to the legion and will help balance Savinath's anxieties and concerns. In turn Nasin will bring valuable insights, knowledge, and skills from the Thousand Sons as well as gaining his own insights on how to properly mesh with the Eternal Wardens from Raz and appreciation of support from Savinath. Nasim will bring out their potential of skill it is true, but you know that Raz will bring out their heart and with him in a position of authority, your librarians will gain not only guidance and support that few others can give them, but that shall spread to the rest of the Eternal Wardens through them and even the Imperial Army as your Librarians become beacons of valor and might. Savinath and Nasin will be good to curb Raz's own tendency to leap ahead of himself as well, preventing you from losing one of your most earnest sons.
[X] [Social] Horus
[X] [Social] Magnus
[X] [Social] Vulkan
[X] [Social] Party on Olympia
[X] [Social] Dorn
[X] [Social] The Emperor
-[x] Send Orion to the White Scars - With Khan about to depart for a lengthy expedition, Orion may be useful there. With his admitted identity issues, sending him to the White Scars would help him figure out his purpose. And would help the Khan in his journey. *Orion becomes a hero of the White Scars until Khan's expedition returns. Khan will remember this.*
-[X] Write-in- The Triquetra: There is much for the Librarians of the Eternal Wardens to do, and to make sure that it is all done with appropriate focus, you decide to do something unorthodox but not unprecedented. You will select more than one of the candidates for the position and have them work together, with each having their own focus and duties. Savinath will lead the Librarians, helping your sons not only increase their ability to survive whatever the galaxy and Warp throws at them, but also delving into the discovering and breaking of curses. With him shall serve Raz as well as Nasin. Both have valuable insights to bring to the legion and will help balance Savinath's anxieties and concerns. In turn Nasin will bring valuable insights, knowledge, and skills from the Thousand Sons as well as gaining his own insights on how to properly mesh with the Eternal Wardens from Raz and appreciation of support from Savinath. Nasim will bring out their potential of skill it is true, but you know that Raz will bring out their heart and with him in a position of authority, your librarians will gain not only guidance and support that few others can give them, but that shall spread to the rest of the Eternal Wardens through them and even the Imperial Army as your Librarians become beacons of valor and might. Savinath and Nasin will be good to curb Raz's own tendency to leap ahead of himself as well, preventing you from losing one of your most earnest sons.
[X] [Social] Horus
[X] [Social] Magnus
[X] [Social] Vulkan
[X] [Social] Party on Olympia
[X] [Social] Dorn
[X] [Social] The Emperor
"Oriacarius, be nice to them." Kesar handed the dataslate to his First Captain, detailing the creation of the Triquetra. "I know you care, but please don't scare off my nephew."
The eternally paranoid Astartes just scowled. "This is going to take months of paperwork to avoid internal arguments." Sighing, he continued, "bringing in a Thousand Son … I see the benefits, but I'll have to moderate the three for a while."
"There's a reason why I'll be having this as a trial period." As much as the Daemonsbane thought this idea of his would work, he knew that he would have to be careful. "And if you are concerned, I can deploy the Triquetra with you."
"Please do." Oriacarius began tapping away at the dataslate Kesar handed him, adding his notes to the information within. "The division of responsibility should work, I'll make some additions for edge cases just in case."
The three Chief Librarians would each have their own position. Savinath would lead the Librarians in the design of new runes, where he would both be insulated from his curse, and have the resources to research it with the other Wardens. While it would delay his projects for combatants, it would be safer. Something Oriacarius had insisted on. For Savinath, he would be the Glyphmaster.
Raz was a master of bringing out the hearts of the Wardens, someone that cared and was willing to walk through another's mind for their safety, he understood people more than most. And so he would lead the Librarians in combat directly, teaching them how to apply as much as they can in battle. He would be the Astral Champion of the Legion.
Then there was Nasin who would take time to arrive. The Thousand Son was a stranger within the Legion, and unlikely to be used to runic design. His skills with a sniper and projects led to Kesar deciding to have him as the Chief of the supporting Librarians. He would be the Master of Relief.
"Are we agreed then Oriacarius?" Kesar spoke softly, thinking if there was something more to this topic. "Anything else you will need for this?"
The First Captain nodded immediately, even if there wasn't more he could do, he'd somehow find something. "I will have to spend so much more time analyzing the Thousand Sons' culture and practices than before."
Something told Kesar that it was for more than just a welcoming ceremony, but Oriacarius' paranoia had yet to cause issues for the Legion. "And Nasin will do the same for us!" Kesar beamed at that, he'd always wanted to increase ties between Legions. "It will be a cultural exchange."
Oriacarius glared, but couldn't fight off the smile. "Sometimes I forget I'm older than you."
The Primarch snorted. "As do I, we've had a busy 35 years, haven't we? Sometimes it feels as if a century has passed."
"The galaxy changes far too quickly at times," Oriacarius grumbled, the Astartes never did like it when he lost control of the situation. "How we all long for easier days."
"Does this war count?" Kesar smirked, and Oriacarius' light smile turned into an amused glare. "It was easier than expected, was it not?"
"We came out of it better than I thought we would." The First Captain mused on the possible outcomes. "It was one of the more obscure possibilities I thought of."
The Daemonsbane stared. "One day I need to read your journal. If only to see what madness you plan for."
"It's not madness if it has happened," Oriacarius replied confidently. "And I write my journals in code, let me know if you break it so I can change it."
The Primarch raised an eyebrow. "Alpharius would be better at that than I am."
The Astartes grimaced at that, "he is. Annoyingly so." Kesar smirked, he knew that expression. "I'd like it if that Legion stops replying in ciphers I've made, it's not easy to encode information into this." Oriacarius indicated towards his cybernetic arm. "It's the only way to make it as secure as I need."
"You might want to just ask him for a cipher." While Kesar knew his First Captain would reject it on principle, he still thought it would be best to suggest it just in case he listened. "Alpharius wouldn't care if you had plans in case he betrayed the Imperium. He'd probably just provide suggestions."
"Oh, he has." Oriacarius gave a look of frustration that Kesar was familiar with. It was the look someone had when the Twins took far too much amusement in messing with. "As much as 'have Kesar say how disappointed he is in me' is a suggestion." Well, Kesar did think that would actually mess with the Hydra psychologically, but the First Captain was likely looking for something more. "The only reason I haven't complained is that he gives me just enough useful info not to stop reading his messages."
"He … has that effect on people." As much as he loved his brothers, he had to admit they could be a bit much to those that didn't know them as he did. "I assure you he doesn't mean anything by it."
The First Captain of the Wardens sighed, calming himself. "I know, it just frustrates me that I can't plan for some situations effectively."
"You don't have to do everything Oriacarius." Kesar reached over and patted his son's shoulder. "The Imperium will not turn on us my son, I won't stop you from planning for a possibility, but don't stress over it."
The First Captain seemed dubious but eventually nodded. "I will prioritize other matters then." That … was probably the best he would get. "For now have you figured out what the Legion should learn from this war?"
Kesar smirked. "That I have."
Masters of the Otherworld - Within the depths of daemonworlds, the Wardens learned much of how to fight within the warp. They've learned what few rules seem to hold, how to plan for impossible maneuvers, and what to be wary of. Even the guardsmen have learned something. *Reduce warp terrain malus by 70%*
Pick 3
[] Warpbane - It is one thing to fight daemons, it is another to fight them on a daemonworld. Yet, the Wardens did that. They fought on daemonworlds for years, and they have learned much about how to fight their most hated foes. *+15 Anti-Daemon*
[] Annals of Battle - For half a decade the Wardens fought, gaining more and more understanding of battle with each passing second. Now they understand the nature of war more than they ever have. And they are stronger for it. *+10 Legion Combat*
[] Baptized in Hellfire - Within the bloody war, some heroes went beyond what was needed. Kesar the most prominent. Yet Maticus banished an Exalted, Oriacarius defeated the Court of Storms, Solarus made more bombs than he ever has, and Doom Slayer had more individual kills than any but Kesar. They have been baptized in hell, and they are stronger for it. And as Kesar becomes the Anathema, his greatest sons become daemonsbane. *Heroes and Kesar gain narrative corruption resistance (they will not fall unless they willingly do so). Heroes gain Tier 1 Daemonsbane (-10 to daemon rolls when present. Stacks with other daemonsbanes)*
[] Covert Allies - The assassin temples played a critical role within the Maelstrom. Without their efforts, the daemonic legions would have been far more coordinated than they were. Let it not be said that the Wardens do not learn from the success of their allies. *Increase bonus from allied assassins by 50%. -20 to rolls targeting those assassins.*
[] Triage Protocols - It takes a special type of horrific war to learn as much about triage as the Wardens have. The works of both Rikard and Vaidya have proven instrumental in what the Legion has learned from 5 years within the warp. Every medical tool has been improved, every protocol revamped, and many lives will be saved for it. *Upgrade reduce Warden casualties from 12.5% to 25%*
[] Warden Kill Teams - One of the critical reasons for the war's success, the kill teams of the Legion allowed daemons to be engaged with numerical superiority. Combined with the heroics of many, enemy champions will learn how well the Wardens can fight. Especially when supporting their own champions. *Kill teams become a permanent part of the Wardens. If no proto or hero is present, they will engage enemy champions with a +25. Heroes and proto heroes gain a team to assist when they face champions providing a +20 that may grow with time.*
[] Cousins in Arms - Together, the Imperium is stronger. Without the Iron Warriors, without the White Scars, without the Ultramarines this victory would not have been possible. Victory was achieved through the power of cousins. The Wardens understand this, and with their cousins in arms, they will fight ever harder. *+10 when fighting with another Legion (stacks with the number of Legions)*
GM Note: As before, 12 hour moratorium.
[] Warpbane - It is one thing to fight daemons, it is another to fight them on a daemonworld. Yet, the Wardens did that. They fought on daemonworlds for years, and they have learned much about how to fight their most hated foes. *+15 Anti-Daemon*
[] Baptized in Hellfire - Within the bloody war, some heroes went beyond what was needed. Kesar the most prominent. Yet Maticus banished an Exalted, Oriacarius defeated the Court of Storms, Solarus made more bombs than he ever has, and Doom Slayer had more individual kills than any but Kesar. They have been baptized in hell, and they are stronger for it. And as Kesar becomes the Anathema, his greatest sons become daemonsbane. *Heroes and Kesar gain narrative corruption resistance (they will not fall unless they willingly do so). Heroes gain Tier 1 Daemonsbane (-10 to daemon rolls when present. Stacks with other daemonsbanes)*
[] Triage Protocols - It takes a special type of horrific war to learn as much about triage as the Wardens have. The works of both Rikard and Vaidya have proven instrumental in what the Legion has learned from 5 years within the warp. Every medical tool has been improved, every protocol revamped, and many lives will be saved for it. *Upgrade reduce Warden casualties from 12.5% to 25%*
These 3 are the ones i have in my mind if i were to vote
[] Warden Kill Teams - One of the critical reasons for the war's success, the kill teams of the Legion allowed daemons to be engaged with numerical superiority. Combined with the heroics of many, enemy champions will learn how well the Wardens can fight. Especially when supporting their own champions. *Kill teams become a permanent part of the Wardens. If no proto or hero is present, they will engage enemy champions with a +25. Heroes and proto heroes gain a team to assist when they face champions providing a +20 that may grow with time.*
Maybe change one of them to this if an argument can be made for this
[] Baptized in Hellfire - Within the bloody war, some heroes went beyond what was needed. Kesar the most prominent. Yet Maticus banished an Exalted, Oriacarius defeated the Court of Storms, Solarus made more bombs than he ever has, and Doom Slayer had more individual kills than any but Kesar. They have been baptized in hell, and they are stronger for it. And as Kesar becomes the Anathema, his greatest sons become daemonsbane. *Heroes and Kesar gain narrative corruption resistance (they will not fall unless they willingly do so). Heroes gain Tier 1 Daemonsbane (-10 to daemon rolls when present. Stacks with other daemonsbanes)*
[] Triage Protocols - It takes a special type of horrific war to learn as much about triage as the Wardens have. The works of both Rikard and Vaidya have proven instrumental in what the Legion has learned from 5 years within the warp. Every medical tool has been improved, every protocol revamped, and many lives will be saved for it. *Upgrade reduce Warden casualties from 12.5% to 25%*
These 3 are the ones i have in my mind if i were to vote
[] Warden Kill Teams - One of the critical reasons for the war's success, the kill teams of the Legion allowed daemons to be engaged with numerical superiority. Combined with the heroics of many, enemy champions will learn how well the Wardens can fight. Especially when supporting their own champions. *Kill teams become a permanent part of the Wardens. If no proto or hero is present, they will engage enemy champions with a +25. Heroes and proto heroes gain a team to assist when they face champions providing a +20 that may grow with time.*
Maybe change one of them to this if an argument can be made for this
- Location
- USA
Crap...
Those are all really good.
[] Baptized in Hellfire - Within the bloody war, some heroes went beyond what was needed. Kesar the most prominent. Yet Maticus banished an Exalted, Oriacarius defeated the Court of Storms, Solarus made more bombs than he ever has, and Doom Slayer had more individual kills than any but Kesar. They have been baptized in hell, and they are stronger for it. And as Kesar becomes the Anathema, his greatest sons become daemonsbane. *Heroes and Kesar gain narrative corruption resistance (they will not fall unless they willingly do so). Heroes gain Tier 1 Daemonsbane (-10 to daemon rolls when present. Stacks with other daemonsbanes)*
[] Triage Protocols - It takes a special type of horrific war to learn as much about triage as the Wardens have. The works of both Rikard and Vaidya have proven instrumental in what the Legion has learned from 5 years within the warp. Every medical tool has been improved, every protocol revamped, and many lives will be saved for it. *Upgrade reduce Warden casualties from 12.5% to 25%*
These two feel good.
And then the general +10 boost against everything or the kill teams I'm thinking.
Those are all really good.
[] Baptized in Hellfire - Within the bloody war, some heroes went beyond what was needed. Kesar the most prominent. Yet Maticus banished an Exalted, Oriacarius defeated the Court of Storms, Solarus made more bombs than he ever has, and Doom Slayer had more individual kills than any but Kesar. They have been baptized in hell, and they are stronger for it. And as Kesar becomes the Anathema, his greatest sons become daemonsbane. *Heroes and Kesar gain narrative corruption resistance (they will not fall unless they willingly do so). Heroes gain Tier 1 Daemonsbane (-10 to daemon rolls when present. Stacks with other daemonsbanes)*
[] Triage Protocols - It takes a special type of horrific war to learn as much about triage as the Wardens have. The works of both Rikard and Vaidya have proven instrumental in what the Legion has learned from 5 years within the warp. Every medical tool has been improved, every protocol revamped, and many lives will be saved for it. *Upgrade reduce Warden casualties from 12.5% to 25%*
These two feel good.
And then the general +10 boost against everything or the kill teams I'm thinking.
Warpbane + BiH would Enhance our deamonblending to ludicrous degrees, however the teamwork buffs are going to be important going forward, and the kill teams are super useful, and would likely be a method for supporting allied heroes.
Triage is just plane helpful in all things, as is AoB.
Triage is just plane helpful in all things, as is AoB.
- Location
- USA
[] Baptized in Hellfire - Within the bloody war, some heroes went beyond what was needed. Kesar the most prominent. Yet Maticus banished an Exalted, Oriacarius defeated the Court of Storms, Solarus made more bombs than he ever has, and Doom Slayer had more individual kills than any but Kesar. They have been baptized in hell, and they are stronger for it. And as Kesar becomes the Anathema, his greatest sons become daemonsbane. *Heroes and Kesar gain narrative corruption resistance (they will not fall unless they willingly do so). Heroes gain Tier 1 Daemonsbane (-10 to daemon rolls when present. Stacks with other daemonsbanes)*
[] Cousins in Arms - Together, the Imperium is stronger. Without the Iron Warriors, without the White Scars, without the Ultramarines this victory would not have been possible. Victory was achieved through the power of cousins. The Wardens understand this, and with their cousins in arms, they will fight ever harder. *+10 when fighting with another Legion (stacks with the number of Legions)*
[] Annals of Battle - For half a decade the Wardens fought, gaining more and more understanding of battle with each passing second. Now they understand the nature of war more than they ever have. And they are stronger for it. *+10 Legion Combat*
These three are the best options in my mind for the following reasons.
BIH is obviously the capstone trait for the Legion and it will ensure that all future heroes can not Fall to Chaos ever, gives them paths to ascendance like Kesar has and lets those base level bonuses stack. All of this together is a massive long term and short term victory for the wardens.
Cousin in arms is frankly the single best trait here barring BIH due to the fact that it gives the bonus to the other Legions in question if the Wardens are able to coordinate and are on good terms with the other legions involved. So it not only increases Warden legion combat but it also applies to the legions with the wardens. (this is how I interpret daemon's statement on discord, so might not be true)
Annals of Battle is just good for shoring up our lowest point of legion combat baseline
[] Cousins in Arms - Together, the Imperium is stronger. Without the Iron Warriors, without the White Scars, without the Ultramarines this victory would not have been possible. Victory was achieved through the power of cousins. The Wardens understand this, and with their cousins in arms, they will fight ever harder. *+10 when fighting with another Legion (stacks with the number of Legions)*
[] Annals of Battle - For half a decade the Wardens fought, gaining more and more understanding of battle with each passing second. Now they understand the nature of war more than they ever have. And they are stronger for it. *+10 Legion Combat*
These three are the best options in my mind for the following reasons.
BIH is obviously the capstone trait for the Legion and it will ensure that all future heroes can not Fall to Chaos ever, gives them paths to ascendance like Kesar has and lets those base level bonuses stack. All of this together is a massive long term and short term victory for the wardens.
Cousin in arms is frankly the single best trait here barring BIH due to the fact that it gives the bonus to the other Legions in question if the Wardens are able to coordinate and are on good terms with the other legions involved. So it not only increases Warden legion combat but it also applies to the legions with the wardens. (this is how I interpret daemon's statement on discord, so might not be true)
Annals of Battle is just good for shoring up our lowest point of legion combat baseline
Kamangr
Stella!!
[] Annals of Battle - For half a decade the Wardens fought, gaining more and more understanding of battle with each passing second. Now they understand the nature of war more than they ever have. And they are stronger for it. *+10 Legion Combat*
[] Baptized in Hellfire - Within the bloody war, some heroes went beyond what was needed. Kesar the most prominent. Yet Maticus banished an Exalted, Oriacarius defeated the Court of Storms, Solarus made more bombs than he ever has, and Doom Slayer had more individual kills than any but Kesar. They have been baptized in hell, and they are stronger for it. And as Kesar becomes the Anathema, his greatest sons become daemonsbane. *Heroes and Kesar gain narrative corruption resistance (they will not fall unless they willingly do so). Heroes gain Tier 1 Daemonsbane (-10 to daemon rolls when present. Stacks with other daemonsbanes)*
[] Cousins in Arms - Together, the Imperium is stronger. Without the Iron Warriors, without the White Scars, without the Ultramarines this victory would not have been possible. Victory was achieved through the power of cousins. The Wardens understand this, and with their cousins in arms, they will fight ever harder. *+10 when fighting with another Legion (stacks with the number of Legions)*
I'd go with those three screaming "ORKS!!" We are in dire need of general cambat stat. We have Alpa Legion members, sneaking around us, and a TS Chief Librarian, so +20 is a given with third option.
[] Baptized in Hellfire - Within the bloody war, some heroes went beyond what was needed. Kesar the most prominent. Yet Maticus banished an Exalted, Oriacarius defeated the Court of Storms, Solarus made more bombs than he ever has, and Doom Slayer had more individual kills than any but Kesar. They have been baptized in hell, and they are stronger for it. And as Kesar becomes the Anathema, his greatest sons become daemonsbane. *Heroes and Kesar gain narrative corruption resistance (they will not fall unless they willingly do so). Heroes gain Tier 1 Daemonsbane (-10 to daemon rolls when present. Stacks with other daemonsbanes)*
[] Cousins in Arms - Together, the Imperium is stronger. Without the Iron Warriors, without the White Scars, without the Ultramarines this victory would not have been possible. Victory was achieved through the power of cousins. The Wardens understand this, and with their cousins in arms, they will fight ever harder. *+10 when fighting with another Legion (stacks with the number of Legions)*
I'd go with those three screaming "ORKS!!" We are in dire need of general cambat stat. We have Alpa Legion members, sneaking around us, and a TS Chief Librarian, so +20 is a given with third option.
- Location
- USA
I'm not sure about this.
It looks like it would buff our legion 10 per legion we are fighting with. I don't see anything about buffing other legions the same way.
I'm not sure that's as good as the other bonuses.
I could be wrong but that's how I read it.
How many legionarys are needed to get a bonus just one or a certain percentag of overall troops?
- Location
- Nowhere and Everywhere
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I think you mean 25% to 12% because currently, it's an increase in casualties. Besides that, on the topic of the 3 boons. I favour BIH, Triage Protocols, and Cousins in Arms if the +10 buff also applies to the other Legions, if not then Warden Kill Teams to counteract enemy Champions and help in Compliance actions which we are slowly drifting from.
Edit - I checked on Discord and Cousins apply if the Wardens are there to other legions as well. So I'm voting on,
[] Baptized in Hellfire
[] Triage Protocols
[] Cousins in Arms
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- Location
- Denton, Texas
If we want purely long term buffs, there are three I see
Baptized gets the ball rolling with our "totally not Grey knights"
Triage will keep us afloat even in the face of grevious injury and that's no small thing. Double the amount of sons that live to fight another day
Warden kill teams. This is a permanent doctrinal change that will enhance our legions strengths and ensure that our heroes go in with backup always.
We already got plenty buffs for being with our cousins and we already are pretty decent in battle. We don't need to be the absolute best but we can ensure we shine brightest in the darkest hours here
Baptized gets the ball rolling with our "totally not Grey knights"
Triage will keep us afloat even in the face of grevious injury and that's no small thing. Double the amount of sons that live to fight another day
Warden kill teams. This is a permanent doctrinal change that will enhance our legions strengths and ensure that our heroes go in with backup always.
We already got plenty buffs for being with our cousins and we already are pretty decent in battle. We don't need to be the absolute best but we can ensure we shine brightest in the darkest hours here