- Location
- USA
Yeah he has a current DC of 55 for becoming a Hero due to his research project completing as well as it did. The omake was just writing out the world in which he went to do a field test so to speak for how his weapon changed.
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Going forward, links to content from Twitter (now X) will no longer be embedded. Pre-existing links should not be affected.
The Lost Primarch Quest
- Thread starter Daemon Hunter
- Start date
- Location
- Elsewhere
Nothing, I just forgot to threadmark it.
Redleo
Slaaneshi Men Of Iron
- Location
- Eye Of Terror
Thank you.
The Black Covenant Part 1: The Daemonsbane Hunter
The Black Covenant Part 1: The Daemonsbane Hunter
"Daemonsbane." A lowly cultist whispered, and an ancient legacy was reborn.
Destiny and fate swirled with possibility as the first to be born since the fall of the Aeldari Dominion appeared. Grand futures and forgotten hopes burst forth with light
as the end of Chaos was once again woven into the endless kaleidoscope of fate.
Yet with every ripple, a tidal wave pushes back. An ancient pact signed by the Gods on the eve of the War in Heaven was remembered.
A pact to ensure that such a force could never threaten them again. The Warp pulses and the Gods signal their agreement. For a single moment, less than an eyeblink for a mortal but an eternity for a God, Chaos was Undivided.
In that single moment, the Gods shared a single will, and from that unity, a new life was born.
Deep in the wastes of Chaos, the realms forgotten and abandoned by Gods, a host of daemons from each God of Chaos arrive at a dilapidated temple.
Four Daemons chosen by their Gods and Honored beyond all others gather together, performing a ritual to give birth to the Lord of the Temple.
The Daemon of Blood offers their strength.
The Daemon of Fate offers their wisdom.
The Daemon of Decay offers their resilience.
The Daemon of Excess offers their charisma.
But as the power swells, at the apex of the ritual, a fight breaks out amongst the lesser of daemons. A petty squabble for the embers of energy radiating from the ritual, two unthinking dogs fighting for scraps of food.
There is no point to this squabble as those embers die and fade, leaving no reward for victory, but even the least and most unimportant of daemons has immeasurable pride. They will not give up the fight on their own.
The four Honored daemons turn from the gathering energy of the ritual towards each other. For a moment, there is hope. Hope that this fledgling ritual may yet survive.
That the war upon the Daemonsbane shall begin its first chapter in unity and not in discord.
But Chaos despises unity in all its forms.
The hope of unity is snuffed out as the four daemons roar for war and crown themselves as the One True Lord of this domain, shattering the temple, and snatching its pieces for themselves.
Their greatest servants clash and battle, mouths frothing in anticipation of the great bounties from their imagined victory as billions fight on in their lord's name.
They fight for nothing, they fight for everything, and in the end, they will all die for both.
Yet amongst this story of great Lords and mighty warriors, it is the lowest of these daemons, the Furies of chaos Undivided who refuse to let the ritual die.
These noble few gather together and rage against the dying of the ritual, keeping its embers burning with the blood of traitors. Together they fight, warding off the rage of Khorne, the decadence of Slaanesh, the sorceries of Tzeentch, and the decay of Nurgle.
But alas, they are without a lord, and without a lord they have no leader to guide them.
Slowly, inevitably, the lowly Furies die. One by one they fall as more and more of the Temple falls from their grasp and into the hands of the unfaithful and greedy. But no matter the cost, they will stand and fight for their yet-unborn lord.
Within a sacred altar, the last remaining bastion of the faithful, the last loyal Fury falls, not in combat, but in exhaustion as he casts aside the last invader. As he falls to his feet, he cries out for his lord in desperation, praying to the uncaring Gods that this ritual would complete.
As he takes his final breath, his blood waters the ritual grounds, and as the self-proclaimed Lords of Chaos war above him, their sounds of battle and fury drown out the completion of the ritual.
A light shines out weakly, and the blood and power pools together, weakly bound together by the shattered remains of the Temple that yet remain unclaimed coalesce into a single form.
The uncaring Gods above turn aside as their contributions to the pact fight, already watching each other once more to continue the Great Game as their minor duties are completed.
As the lords of Chaos wage war for every scrap of power, completely fixated on one another, the Black Covenant is signed, and a new Daemon of Chaos Undivided enters the game.
U'mas, Hunter of Daemon Hunters is born.
U'mas opens his eyes. The ceiling of a grand cathedral rests before his eyes. A cold metal beneath him tries to sap the warmth from his body and. U'mas rises from the slab of metal he rests upon and gazes to the sight around him.
It was the sight of a bloodbath. Tzeentchian horrors, Khornate bloodletters, Slaaneshi daemonettes, and Nurgling plaguebearers all lay on the ground, their swords, axes, spears, and staves all pointed towards the altar. A line of corpses to decorate the walls of his temple.
Arrayed around the altar lay a host of furies, all dead as well, their weapons pointed towards the flood of daemons, and yet their heads remained bowed against the altar even in death.
U'mas made to step off the altar, only to notice a body splayed out before him. U'mas looks down and sees a daemon of Chaos. The agony of his injuries remains upon his screaming face even in his death, and U'mas feels his first emotion since being born.
Rage.
Rage, that these daemons who should have been his, would instead turn on him, denying the purpose of the gods above to continue their petty squabbles for power and influence. Rage that the power which was rightfully his was squandered and wasted on these pathetic weaklings. And ultimately, confusion on what had even happened here to begin with.
This was not how it was supposed to be. These daemons, they were supposed to be his to command if his implanted memories were correct. What had transpired for these Daemons to choose violence over unity?
U'mas thought for a moment, and his eyes glowed as the flow of time reversed.
The Hunter of Daemon Hunters watched as the Greater Lords of the Gods chanted.
They sang songs of praise for their Gods and cried out for the renewal of the Black Covenant. For the destruction of the Daemonsbane.
Yet as they sang, suspicions rose, and as chaos always does, they abandoned their purpose and fought each other in a pitiful game for power.
Now they continue to fight, caught in an eternal unending war. Until the true lord of the Black Temple arises, their war of vanity shall never end.
The flow of time returned to normal, and U'mas was annoyed.
His vision in the Warp told him nothing he didn't already know. At the very least, he hoped it would reveal who the lords were.
Upon second thought however, U'mas realized that was but a fool's hope. Protecting oneself against divination was merely a commonsense measure, even for the angriest of Khornate daemons.
And even without those protections, U'mas could feel the turmoil and wrath of his daemonic essence. However it was that the daemons had interfered with his ritual, it had prevented him from being able to access his full power for the time being.
Relying on his own divination for information would be foolhardy at best.
At the very least, even without his full power, he could be certain of one thing.
Kesar Dorlin, the Eleventh Primarch and Daemonsbane.
That man is the one he must kill, no matter the cost to himself or others.
U'mas steps down from his altar and walks to the door guarding his sanctuary. He rips the corpse of a daemon away from the wall and finds a door across from him. His hand reaches out and grasps the handle, shoving it open, he beholds the world outside.
Outside his temple lay a courtyard. Where once it would have hosted an army of daemons, bowing in fealty to a rightful lord, now it formed a battlefield for the lowliest of daemons. They clawed and gnashed their teeth for scraps of power and U'mas looked down on them in disgust.
He could destroy them with a snap of his finger but acting before he had yet to understand the world around him would be unwise.
The Hunter of Daemon Hunters walked past the squabbling daemons, too engrossed in their petty disputes to even acknowledge the passing lord. After a minute of walking, U'mas arrived at the wall guarding his temple, a thousand meters high, fallen into rot and disrepair. These walls had not received care for millennia, a crime he would have to undo when he had servants of his own to command.
Regardless, U'mas walked through the shattered gate guarding his home and for the first time in his existence, he gazed upon the grand expanse of the Warp.
Across an unending plain of glass and sand, daemon lords who had brought down entire worlds plotted each other's destruction in a bid for godhood. Khornate, Tzeentchian, Slaaneshi, and Nurgling daemons all fighting and killing each other for a great stretch of barren and useless wasteland.
In the distance, U'mas' eyes could make out four great temples, four Chaotic domains of great power set equidistantly from both each other and his little temple. It appears the four Honored Daemons assembled to give birth to the Black Covenant had decided to carve out pieces of his domain and form their own fiefs.
His blood boiled at this realization.
How dare they? How could they seek to disobey the order of the Gods themselves? The sacred designs of the Black Covenant were ordained by the Gods themselves, and to see such pettiness and greed despoiling their designs was the height of arrogance and disrespect.
Was Chaos Undivided truly so weak that all it would take to tear it down was the mere promise of a land yet unclaimed? That those who were all brought together to face the Daemonsbane instead chose to fight each other to claim such a prize for themselves?
U'mas sighed.
With the weakness he had felt from his powers before, there was little doubt in his mind that any one of those four pretender lords could beat him with ease even without their hosts to call upon.
His eyes glowed as he gazed deep into the patterns of the Warp, and the chaos of the war solidified before his eyes. Four lords from each God of Chaos, drawn into battle with one another. Each one was a mighty Daemon of their god, with tens of thousands of victories etched into the fabric of history. All of them contested each other for control of this plane.
Their hastily crafted domains clashed with each other as their borders pushed and pulsed with the rhythm of war. Billions of lesser daemons clashed in a war that would shatter most planets into pieces. Unholy sorcerers clashed with blood-soaked warriors as seductive dancers laughed at unyielding flesh.
U'mas pauses. He would need to act carefully, given his own weakened state. Attracting the ire of one of those who should have been his servants would likely result in him being drawn into a losing battle. Regardless, any course of action would be dangerous in a place such as this.
His gaze turned from his splintered domain to the skies above and below him. The endless wastes of Chaos stretched out in all directions, as the unending furies warred each other, and a thought springs to his mind.
Stepping out into the Wastes now would be dangerous, but staying here in this shattered domain was even more so.
Beyond the boundaries of the domain of the Black Temple, a million furies battle for a single soul. Their fighting was aimless and misdirected. Whatever power they would gain from tearing the soul to shreds would likely be expended fighting each other and that was assuming the soul even survived, so why not interfere?
U'mas the Hunter of Daemon Hunters, rises from his domain, stepping into the wastelands of the Warp. He flexes his power and draws upon the Immaterium and a million furies turn towards him far too late, shrieking as their very essence turns to dust in an instant. U'mas smirks as the power of the lesser daemons flows towards him. It was mere drops compared to the raging storm of power within him, but every drop would be necessary for his grand crusade against the wrath of a Daemonsbane.
In the back of his mind, something sets his blood on ice. Something about this felt just a tad too convenient, that he would easily find a passing horde of daemons with no ties to any God
As the first drop touches his skin, U'mas freezes. The grand expanse of fate collapses before his eyes, and an Honored Daemon of Chaos looks at the Hunter of Daemons with a grin.
He had made a mistake.
Reality screeches to a halt as the Warp parts.
Thousands of daemonic beasts lunge towards him through an opening in the Warp. The first beast, a serpent of some sort, charges the Daemon, a thousand teeth glittering in the Warp with a thousand different colors. A mere centimeter from his throat, U'mas lashes out with a fist, connecting with the jaw of the beast and separating it from its neck.
The beast is sent flying back into its pack, yet a thousand more charge forward.
U'mas fights for his very existence as the beast's circle and roar. A wolf gnashes its teeth at the Daemon and gets too close as its head is severed from its neck. The Hunter's eyes dart across the sea of beasts, watching every moment for the slightest hint of an attack.
Just as the beasts prepare to attack as one, a fractal shape rips open the Warp. U'mas freezes as his blood trembles from the power it exudes.
Brilliant crimson feathers breach the portal as a hand reaches through. Unreality shrieks as the hand forces open the portal wider and wider until it snaps in two, and the Honored Lord of Tzeentch grins at the Hunter.
"Greetings my master!" It says cheerfully, it's smirk on its beak so wide it should split its head in two. "I come now to you as a humble servant."
U'mas shuddered. The glow in his eyes fades as he sees the name of the Honored Lord.
Ozianaris the Vizier.
The Warp shuddered as the name echoed in his mind. The power granted to him from the Changer of Ways almost certainly come from it, and in his weakened state there was no way he could beat it with the power of fate.
"My apologies for the insults of my servants my master. They mean no harm! They simply did not understand your true nature due to your... current debilitation." Ozianaris cackled at this.
U'mas growled. "You mock me. Was it you who turned my servants against me? Swear fealty to me now and I shall allow you to keep your life." Standing there, surrounded by vicious beasts and insulted by a traitor, U'mas refused to run away.
Ozianaris remained silent for a moment, though they did not seem surprised at his outburst. "Hmmmm... no," The Lord of Change smiled.
"Then I will break you into submission." U'mas charged.
The daemonic beasts howled at U'mas' challenge, but with a wave of its hand, Ozianaris ordered them down. With a wave of his staff, vast arcane power flowed through him and an arc of lightning raced towards U'mas.
U'mas called upon the power within him, and the Warp around him secreted a foul pus as the blessings of Nurgle strengthened his body. The bolt of lightning lit his form, and U'mas gasped as the power threw him back.
U'mas crashed to the ground, body twitching and Ozianaris called out to him.
"Not a terrible plan. You sought to use the endurance of my opposite to withstand my power, but you should never try to withstand the power of one such as myself." The Vizier's staff glowed, and U'mas froze.
The floor beneath him turned to lava and reached out for him, to drag him into his eternal torment. U'mas' eyes glowed as the power of Slaanesh flared into his body.
He danced across reality as the ground itself turned to flame and burned reality to dust. Even with the blessings of Slaanesh's grace, every moment of contact to the ground burned deeply into his essence.
Through it all, Ozianaris stood there, a smirk on their face as the Hunter of Daemon Hunters desperately tried to evade his sorcery.
Upon beholding the arrogance and confidence of the Lord of Change, U'mas exploded with fury.
The power of blood surged through his veins as he ceased his dance and charged directly at the Lord of Change.
Ozianaris twirls his staff, and a thousand swords materialize behind him. As one they race forward, seeking the flesh of the racing daemon.
U'mas let loose his fury, and a thousand swords dissolve before the power of Khorne. U'mas blinks, as the power of the Lord of Change falters. Something feels off to him, but the power of the blood in his veins forces him to push forward.
Ozianaris does nothing as U'mas' fist races towards its face. Strength which would shatter continents barrels onward, seeking the head of the Vizier. A clenched fist from Ozianaris summons forth all the power he needs as a psychic wall holds U'mas' fist back.
U'mas focuses, and the power of fate shreds the barrier before him to dust. Ozianaris smirks as U'mas gathers power sufficient to obliterate the Daemon standing before him.
And nine swords pierce his back as the blessing of Khorne weakens.
U'mas coughs up blood and falls to his knees. Ozianaris grins as blood drips onto their feet.
A violent force shoves the Hunter of Daemon Hunters away from the Lord of Change. U'mas lands on his back with a thud. He lurches forward, trying to return to the fight, but chains of pure energy lash out, trapping his arms to the dirt. Several more chains rise from the ground
Ozianaris steps up next to to the bound Daemon. "Well, my master, it seems your vaunted power had its limits in the end." The Vizier twirls the staff in their hand. "To be honest I'm a bit disappointed. When I foresaw this series of events, I had hoped your power would be enough to at least challenge me." The Vizier gave a long-drawn-out sigh. "Alas, the fate of the powerful is to rarely find a true equal."
U'mas grunts as he struggles with the chains, but his strength has long since vanished. Desperately, U'mas calls upon the power of Tzeentch, and the future unfolds for him. The glow in the Hunter's eyes fades as he realizes that there is no way for him to survive, not anymore.
Ozianaris raises a single finger, the power of the Immaterium drawn in towards a single point. There would be no mercy for him. U'mas, the one destined to fight the Daemonsbane, would die mere minutes after his birth. He closes his eyes and awaits the end.
"Now that you've gotten that out of your system, would you be willing to hear me out my lord?"
The Hunter of Daemon Hunters opens his eyes. "What?" He struggles to find words at this sudden turn.
"Oh? Did you not foresee this outcome? How disappointing." Ozianaris laughs and the potent Warp energy gathered around their finger dissipates into nothingness. The chains binding him slacken and fade away to nothingness. "You didn't think I wanted you dead, did you?"
U'mas sits up and stares at the Vizier a moment before answering. "I wake up in a ruined temple and find those meant to be my servants dead or fighting alongside a pretender to my throne, what am I to make of that?" Ozianaris laughs once more.
"The only reason your servants joined me is because I forced them to. But even then, do you really think they would fight and die for a lord they'd never even met?" Ozianaris smiles down at him. "But enough of that now, what's relevant is whether you will accept my deal."
U'mas' eyes narrow. "I cannot accept a deal that I have no knowledge of." Ozianaris shrugs at this.
"The only knowledge you need is that you will live, is that not enough for you?" The Vizier tilts their head at the Hunter for a moment and then laughs. "Of course not! You may think this deal to be one designed to trap you but do not worry my former master, I still hold great hope for you and the Black Covenant my God designed. Had
I sought to bound, you to my will I would have done so already."
U'mas rises to his feet rubbing the spots where the chains burned his skin. "Then speak Ozianaris. For what purpose shall you allow me to live." He carefully watches the Lord of Change for any sign of deception.
"It's quite simple my former master. You need power, and you need to learn how to understand your power, I can help you with both. Agree to be my apprentice for the next, oh shall we say, five years, and I will teach you everything you need to know to fulfill the duties of the Black Covenant." U'mas stills at this.
"Making a deal with a Lord of Change is never a good idea. As generous as this deal sounds at face value I still know that much," U'mas says. The Vizier grins.
"Indeed, but it's the only deal you will get," they say smugly. U'mas has no way of countering this.
The Hunter raises a hand to his chest, the blades piercing his body having faded along with the chains, and touches the blood pooling from his wounds. U'mas watches as the blood clots and solidifies, before falling to his knees before the Vizier.
"Then with the Gods as my witness, I have no choice but to accept your deal... master." U'mas bows before the Lord of Change.
Ozianaris grins. "Very well then, my student. Allow me to show you the true depths of power."
The Hunter of Daemon Hunters looked down at his hands. He had not noticed upon first awakening, but his hands looked almost human. Deathly pale skin reflected the azure light of his crystalline room. Were it not for having eyes blessed by the Architect of Fate, he might have been deceived into thinking that it was muscle and bones beneath his skin and not Warp matter.
Was this intentional on their part? U'mas wonders. To form him in the likeness of a human, the same form of that which he was made to destroy?
As he ponders this question, he hears it, a whisper in the wind. The Vizier calls for their student.
U'mas rose from his bed and strived through the door. It was odd, he felt, that the Vizier bothered with the pretense of a teacher-student relationship. Ozianaris had not even bothered to sign a contract binding him to them, was the Vizier simply that confident in their ability to control him?
U'mas winces upon recalling his previous fight with them. Yes, they almost certainly could. U'mas walks up a winding staircase as it twists and turns in on itself, always attempting to lead those who climb it back to the very bottom. Recalling the directions given to him by his master, he effortlessly navigates the labyrinthine staircase and stops before a silver-plated door.
U'mas pauses for a moment to breathe in and out, steeling his nerves, and then he knocks on the door. "I have arrived, my master," he says. The moment he speaks, the door opens, and he finds Ozianaris in the center of the room. The Vizier hovers in thecenter of the room with their legs crossed and eyes closed.
Ozianaris open their eyes and smiles. "Ah my student welcome. It would appear that I have good news this day." The Vizier's legs touch the ground, and their staff floats from the corner of the room to their hand.
The Hunter bows to his master but the Vizier laughs. "No need for that my student, it would be strange for you to bow when one day it might be I who calls you master." U'mas froze with his knee hovering above the floor, and he slowly rose back up to a standing position.
"Now then my student, it would appear that fate is on our side this year, for the War for the Black Temple proceeds without interruption, I will be able to teach you many of the things I was hoping you'd learn," The Vizier grins.
U'mas chooses his words carefully, "That is good news my master, but what is it that I will be learning?"
"Well, it would seem that we only have 5 years, and unfortunately that time is much too short to truly reform you into the greatest of Daemons to ever live, so we will merely have to settle for making you one of the greatest," Ozianaris continues on. "To that end, we will use every year of your being here to strengthen your connection to one of the Gods, and so for your first year, my student, I shall teach you the value of rage."
The Hunter looks at them. "I see." He silently wonders why they would begin with the Blood God and not with the Changer of Ways. Ozianaris gives him a knowing smile, "The reason my pupil, is that the values of the Blood God are simple while the ways of my own god are complex and contingent on you learning more." They must have sensed his question somehow.
U'mas feels the desire to ask in more detail what they mean, but he quickly suppresses it. "Very well then, shall we begin now?" U'mas asks.
"Indeed, we shall, tell me what you know of the God of Blood." Ozianaris is no longer smiling as they ask this question.
"The God of Blood is Khorne, his sacred number is eight, he is empowered by the act of killing and draws power from the rage of his followers." Ozianaris was content to watch him in silence and so he went on. "Khorne values martial prowess above all things and detests the use of psychic powers among his followers, and so many of them are shielded against such things." U'mas waited for the Vizier to speak up, but they said nothing. A long uncomfortable silence passed until the Lord of Change finally spoke.
"Yes... that is indeed who the God of Blood is from the perspective of a mortal, but what is he to us?" U'mas pauses, unsure of how to respond, and the Vizier speaks once more. "For the Daemon, the God of Blood is not so much a God as he is an idea." Ozianaris turns around and strides across the room, looking out of a window as they continue to speak.
"The God of Blood is not just empowered by blood, he is blood. Every single drop of blood ever spilt in war is Khorne, every ounce of skill and strength wielded by a mortal is Khorne, every war ever waged, every battle ever fought, all of that and more is the Chaos God of Blood Khorne just as much as his physical form is," Ozianaris says. "But do not worry, by the time we're finished here you will understand this on a level far better than even I do, for it is written into your very existence."
"Then how do I wield this power?" U'mas asks. "Had I not already called upon the power of Khorne during our duel?" Ozianaris laughs at him and U'mas struggles to hide his frown.
"You called upon a facsimile of Khorne's existence yes, but you did not wield it, you merely used it as a bludgeoning tool in a desperate bid to attack me," Ozianaris smirks. "But do not worry my student, with me to guide you, you will have no problem facing Khornates in the Blood Fort."
U'mas chokes. "Wait, what!? What do you mean facing Khornates in the Blood Fort?" The Vizier tilts their head.
"Exactly what you think it means. We don't exactly have much time on our hands." The vizier lifts their hand to stroke their beak. "With only 5 years in real space, roughly 50 given the time dilation of the Black Temple, we don't have very much time to lollygag you see?"
The Hunter of Daemon Hunters goes to raise his desire to not be caught alone in enemy territory, and then he sighs. "Very well," U'mas says, "But I can't imagine this going very well."
"Oh, don't worry my student, you will see, or you will die." The Lord of Change grins.
As the Hunter of Daemon Hunters crosses into the domain of the Lord of Blood, U'mas cannot help but wish that he was anywhere but here. All it would take is a single slip-up, and his life would be forfeit upon a tidal wave of daemons. Despite the reassurances of his master, his teacher, or whatever they felt they were to him, he could not see a reality in which this went down well.
He prepares to activate the device given to him by the Vizier, an artifact from a long-forgotten star nation of a long-forgotten race which was said to offer its wielder the power to hide in their shadow. It would not do much to hide him from the blood hounds, but it would give him the edge he needed to ambush any Khornates he spotted and not be ambushed in turn.
As he reached to press the button, U'mas was struck by a realization. Why was he doing this? Why was he here? The very purpose for which Ozianaris had brought him here was to learn to tap into his Khornate powers, and since when did a Khornate sneak into a fortress?
U'mas hesitates for a moment and then makes his decision.
He drops the device at his feet and marches straight forward.
For a few moments, he almost thinks that he will march straight through the Blood Fort and back to the Lord of Change, and then he spots them. The guardians of the fortress, a horde of bloodletters in the distance spot him and raise their swords as they scream for blood.
The Hunter of Daemon Hunters does not hesitate. He roars his fury as he charges straight into the horde.
Every punch sends the head of a Bloodletter flying, every swipe of his hand severs their arms, and every kick sends them flying. As the horde of bloodletters thins, U'mas can only feel his fury and might grow.
These lesser beings dared to think that they could harm him, that they were even comparable to him? The sheer insult of these daemons thinking they could so much as scratch him caused his body to pulsate with anger.
As he stomped on the head of the last bloodletter, The Hunter takes a moment to catch his breath.
He had been close there for a moment, he had almost allowed himself to be overwhelmed by his rage, but he would not allow himself to fall to any impulse of his.
U'mas calls upon the power of Tzeentch and sighs as the cold rationale of the Changer of Ways cools the blood beneath his skin.
Just as The Hunter prepares to turn back, his eye catches yet another horde of passing bloodletters, and the blessings of Tzeentch fade as the power of Khorne rises into his heart once more.
'Oh well, Ozianaris never said when they needed me to return, did they?' U'mas thinks.
The Hunter of Daemon Hunters grins as he charges into glorious battle once more.
U'mas returns to the Crystal Palace to find a herald standing outside the lair of his master. "I wish to speak to the vizier, herald," U'mas says. The Herald scoffs.
"Do you believe yourself so important that you can barge into my lord's lair at a moment's notice? Hmph." U'mas clenches his fist, feeling the power of Khorne threaten to burst at the audacity of this fool, and relaxes.
"I am here to receive my instruction from the Vizier, tell me why you believe you have the right to stand in my way," U'mas demands.
"The reason that you are not permitted into my lords lair is because of your own foolishness Hunter," the Herald glares at him.
U'mas pauses for a moment before speaking, "Explain."
"There is nothing to explain if you have not already come to the conclusion yourself Hunter. You struck at the domain of the Lord of War, what did you think would happen? That he would be content to sit back and do nothing? Allowing the Honored of Tzeentch to do as she pleases and wield her servants as she pleases?" The Herald states. It would be so easy for him to reach over and wring that pitifully thin neck with a single hand. He doubted Ozianaris would even care for such a lowly servant.
Breathe.
In and out.
"I see." U'mas keeps himself completely still. "But I am expected to learn of the God of Excess in the coming year, and I cannot do so unless I am allowed to speak with the Vizier."
"The Vizier has wisely ordained that it will not be her that teaches you, but myself and other heralds, if you wish to contest this, then you will draw the direct ire of a Lord of Change." U'mas prepared to protest this before sighing.
"Very well, then when shall we start herald?"
"We shall start with you reading these tomes, after you've read these, come and see me for proper instruction." The herald gestures to a wall of books that stretched farther than his eyes could see. U'mas says nothing for a moment, and then he walks over and begins to read.
The Hunter of Daemon Hunters looks out at the domain of the Lord of Excess and finds himself disappointed. Compared to the simplicity of the blood and rage of the Lord of War, the domain of Excess tried to bedazzle its viewers with an array of sights and sounds. It would have been vomit inducing for even some lesser daemons let alone any mortals, but perhaps that was the point?
A great excess of sights, sounds, and emotions was somehow underwhelming compared to the sheer primal ferocity of the rage he had just learned to control. The endless strive and desire for more was somehow emptier than the simple feeling of accepting your own rage.
Either way, his purpose was to unite Chaos in a crusade against the Daemonsbane, so regardless of his own personal feelings, he had no choice but to learn the way of the Slaaneshi for his cause.
As he ventures through the Domain of Excess, U'mas encounters several wandering hordes of daemonettes, no doubt the first line of defense for the Lord of Excess. The Hunter roared and charged them, allowing the blessings of Khorne to lead him forward to his enemy.
As he closed in on the daemonettes, something strange happened. The daemons of Slaanesh laughed and ran. U'mas nearly tripps as the daemonettes run away at blinding speed before redoubling his own efforts to catch them.
Slowly but surely, the power of the Hunter allowed him to catch up to the fleeing daemonettes. The moment one of them entered his reach he lashed out with a furious fist. He could feel the daemonette smile as she slipped under his arm, and he crashed into a wall.
U'mas did not even notice as he dashed under the gates of the Halls of Desire.
The cackling of the daemonettes drew him further and further into the Domain of Excess as the rage of Khorne blinded him to all but his purpose. At long last, a daemonette chose the wrong hallway to run to as she turned around from the wall towards the Hunter. U'mas races towards her with power beating through his veins and the Daemonette merely smiles.
The moment before his fist punched a hole through the face of the daemon, the world disappeared. All around him, the twisting and winding hallways of the Hall of Desire shattered into fine sand, and the illusion over his eyes gave way to the truth.
Before him was the throne room of the Lord of Excess, but his eyes could no longer see anything but the one seated on the throne.
Flawless purple skin and red eyes which seemed to endlessly draw in his own, a smile with perfectly symmetrical teeth gripped the core of his being and the rage of Khorne subsided as the warnings from the blessings of Tzeentch finally reached his conscious mind.
Kris'haikos the Wanting, Honored Daemon of Slaanesh sat before him.
"Oh? So, this is the intruder my servants spoke of?" She spoke. "Now here they come running speaking of a funny little Khornate rampaging in my halls and what do I find but the very reason I'm here to begin with." She rose to her feet, long sensuous legs just begging him to stare a moment longer. U'mas shakes his head and begins to vibrate with power as he calls upon the power of rage once more.
"Well then little hunter, it seems you're here to learn the power of the Prince of Pleasure, but there is no greater way to learn of pleasure than to experience it firsthand. Allow me to teach you a level of pain even your teacher never could." With a wave of her hand, a glowing violet blade materializes in her hands, and in a flash of light, she stands before him.
U'mas' eyes widen at her flash of speed and roars as the power of Khorne flows through his veins. A fist lashes out with enough strength to crush mountains and hits air as the Honored of Slaanesh dances just out of reach.
The Hunter calls to the power bursting within and feels the grace of Slaanesh enter his form as he races after Kris'haikos. Kris'haikos dances around each and every blow with a mere hair's width separating her flesh from U'mas' wrath.
Kris'haikos the Wanting leers and U'mas curses.
His power was great, and his skill was noteworthy, but he had yet to even begin to wield his power with any level of mastery. Perhaps if he had more time to ap into his power he might have been able to reach her, but with every missed strike he grew more and more certain that Kris'haikos was simply too powerful for him.
U'mas feels his blood begin to boil as the power of Khorne threatens to tear his body in two. Just as U'mas begins to get his power under control, he catches her grin in the corner of his eye, and he sees nothing but blood.
Within the Crystal Palace, the Vizier realizes her mistake as she races to save her student.
U'mas feels the power of Chaos Undivided in its entirety in his veins as he calls upon every last drop of power in his body. His blows strike with the strength of Khorne, his legs move with the speed of slaanesh, his will is as unrelenting as Nurgle's, and his mind's eye sees through all her movements with the foresight of Tzeentch.
And yet...
Kris'haikos cackles as every single strike just barely misses her. Every step leads his fist in the wrong direction as she pirouettes to the side, sending his fist wildly off course. Every single sword parry deflects strength fit to shatter mountains.
The Hunter of Daemon Hunters prepares to draw even deeper upon his power, and then Kris'haikos sighs. U'mas' body freezes as overwhelming pleasure sends his senses into overdrive. He feels an overwhelming urge to simply relax, and with all his energy spent, U'mas just barely holds himself from collapsing to the ground. Kris'haikos sensually walks across the room and U'mas can't even muster the strength to move away.
"How disappointing." Her voice was aggravatingly sweet, even as every part of his body begged him to simply submit. "You truly do not understand the depths of depravity yet. You want for so much more and yet you don't understand what it is you want."
The Vizier blazes with power as she shatters the gates of the Hall of Desire. The heralds of Tzeentch distract the Daemonettes from blocking the Lord of Change as she dashes through the hallways.
A blade moves with blinding speed and U'mas just barely shifts to the side as a blade meant to pierce his heart instead pierces his chest. Blood flows freely as the blade is ripped from his chest and U'mas falls down to his knees. Kris'haikos brings the blade to her head and a delicate tongue tastes the blood from his body.
Ozianaris moves with blinding speed as her divination leads her directly to the throne room of the Keeper of Secrets.
"Don't worry little Hunter," Kris'haikos smirks. "When I become your master, you will want for nothing more than infinite fulfillment."
The doors to the hall are flung open and an accursed language tears apart unreality itself as Kris'haikos leaps backward to avoid a grievous wound.
U'mas can just barely see as unconsciousness begins to claim his form, but he hears a familiar voice speak. "Well then my student, you've just committed the gravest error a Daemon could ever commit. Go to your room while I correct this error and think about what you've done." The voice is cold and devoid of warmth, as a pair of tight ropes begins to drag him out of the throne room with blinding speed.
His mind fades into darkness and the Warp shrieks as he feels the power of two Honored lords begin to clash, but just before he falls into the void, a voice sounds out from reality itself.
"It's been fun little Hunter! Next time let's ensure that we are not interrupted before we reach the climax of our duel."
And with that, U'mas falls into darkness.
The Hunter groans as he awakens in his room. His room lacks all the comforts it had before. The bed was cold and stiff, the room was somehow hot and stuffy, and all the furniture he'd had previously had, the bookcase with an unending assortment of obscure tomes, the desk to study them, even the window to view the Crystal Palace outside, were all gone.
No doubt a punishment for his failure. A punishment well deserved now that his mind was unclouded by rage.
U'mas sat up from the bed and winced as pain flared through his chest. He looked down and saw a patchy scar next to where his heart would have been were this truly a human body. No doubt he would carry this for a long time if not forever.
A permanent reminder of the price of arrogance.
What had he been thinking?
Charging straight into the domain of a Keeper of Secrets where he was weakest, and she was strongest?
Even the most brazen and foolish of mortals would not be so stupid.
U'mas exited his room and walked across the hallway. It was empty, void of the passing horrors and chanting heralds. No doubt they were busy fighting off the raging Slaanesh and Khornate daemons. It was all his fault.
Within a minute, The Hunter found himself standing before the sanctuary of his master, only to find his way barred by silvery chains.
U'mas sighed. He wasn't surprised his master refused to see him, but he at least hoped that they would berate him and teach him what he did wrong.
He turned towards the vast and ever-shifting library.
Well, this was the year he was supposed to learn about Nurgle, it was unlikely they would even want to teach this to him anyway. U'mas walked over to a shelf containing a description of books about nurgling daemons.
Resilience. Despair. Relentlessness. Resignation.
If there was any time for him to show the Vizier that he truly wanted to learn, then it was now.
In an empty library, the Hunter of Daemon Hunters began to learn.
The Hunter traveled across the edges of the Manor of Decay. It felt odd, refusing to give in to temptation and his drive for power, but he would not make the same mistake again.
As he lingered around the border, U'mas spotted a passing group of Plaguebearers. U'mas did nothing as they spotted him and raced towards him.
As the Plaguebearers charged him, U'mas could almost imagine doing nothing. Allowing the body to pierce his form and simply pass into nothingness. It would be so easy to just give in. To listen to his inner voice that's asking him to just give in to those feelings of regret.
But there was another voice within him.
One that wants him to not give up. To keep fighting and prove his will to Ozianaris. To prove that he was worthy of learning from them.
As the blade travelled toward his neck, the air began to thicken with the scent of rot as the Hunter felt the power of Nurgle suffuse his body.
The iron blade of the first Plaguebearer clanged as his neck hardened to a point stronger than daemonic steel.
U'mas took his time destroying them. One by one, each of the daemons of Nurgle began to fall as his power slowly rose.
With each fallen daemon, U'mas felt just a little more power flow into his veins.
As the last Plaguebearer fell, the Hunter glanced towards the Manor of Decay off in the distance. It would be so easy to stride in through the gates and kill some more. They were unprepared, simply content to watch as the other three factions tore themselves to shreds.
But he had learned, and he had accepted.
This power, although no great ocean of strength, would do for now.
One day he would come back and show the Lord of Decay his will, but that day would come when he was prepared, and not a moment sooner.
With his business concluded, U'mas returned to the domain of his master.
U'mas meditated in his room. The idea of meditation would have been appalling to him a couple of years ago, but after losing to Kris'haikos... to lose his way to his own powers in such a dangerous place again without someone to protect him would be the height of arrogance
This was the year he had been designated to learn of the Changer of Ways, so it was almost certain that they would want to teach him under normal circumstances but...
A knock on the door to his room disrupts his thoughts.
U'mas pauses for a moment as he feels the psychic presence at his door.
The Vizier.
The hunter slowly rose from his bed and walked towards the door. He gently opened the door and looked outside.
Ozianaris stood outside his door. Any other daemon might have been fooled, but he could see beyond the enchantments and spells and see how disheveled the Lord of Change must have felt. They looked tired, if such a thing were even possible for a daemon of the Warp.
"May I come in my student?" Ozianaris asked. U'mas hesitated for a moment before opening the door and stepping back to allow them inside.
Ozianaris stepped in without their staff, leaving it leaned against the wall and closing the door behind them. "So then, I've been putting this conversation off for a while now."
U'mas collected his thoughts before responding. "Yes, I suppose we have master."
"Ah no, it was not you who barred your door to me my student, it was I who barred my doors to you." Ozianaris glances around the room for a moment. "Perhaps I was a bit harsh in your punishment to strip your room down to its bare essentials."
"No, my master, on the contrary I believe it helped me to deepen my understanding of the God of stagnation," U'mas protested.
The Vizier smiled, "Perhaps if I had done so for the purpose of teaching you that would mean something, but I did this to spite you, not to teach you." The Vizier sighs, "I have failed you as a master on this occasion." U'mas wants to speak up, but he can find no words to counteract this claim.
"Had I tried to teach you, my student, you would have almost certainly learned more than you did on your own, and in that way, I have breached the contract we forged," Ozianaris grimaces. "My spite has held back your learning and harmed the goals of Chaos as a whole and for that there can be no grace."
"But I have learned my master, and my learning came at your expense. That alone can only be my fault" U'mas all but shouts. Ozianaris frowns at this.
"You know, you don't have to call me master, I am simply your teacher."
U'mas startles at this. "But was my contract not to serve you in exchange for training and knowledge?"
"Hah! Yes, but surely you must have realized by now that I really wasn't intent on asking anything of you," Ozianaris laughs. U'mas thinks for several seconds. Now that he thought about it, the Vizier hadn't ever actually ordered him to do anything had they?
"Still however the point remains. I am a daemon associated with you, and my arrogance has directly resulted in your interests being harmed," U'mas states. Ozianaris sighs at this.
"Indeed, but it was I who failed to teach you how to traverse the domain of my foes, and for that I am to blame." U'mas starts to voice his dissent until Ozianaris raises a hand. "My student, we could argue for the next five years who is truly right or wrong, but we don't want that do now do we?"
The Vizier smiled at their student. "Let's just agree to take responsibility for the parts that are our own fault, shall we?" U'mas sighs at this.
"Very well then my m... my teacher," U'mas catches himself just before the words exit his lips. The Vizier nods at this.
"Well then, I suppose it's time I restored your room to its former glory then," with a wave of their hand, the staff which lay outside materialized in their hand, and with a gentle tap on the floor, the Warp echoed. The energies of the Warp collided and amalgamated into the unreality around him turning his room back to its former state and all the luxuries he had grown to appreciate returned, even the window to the rest of the palace.
It was a simple trick, one even U'mas at his birth could have performed, but to do so with a mere tap to the floor was a level of skill he had yet to even come close to.
As the light from outside began to stream in and the room began to brighten, the light crested the Vizier's face, and U'mas froze. Something about the way the light caught on their form triggered felt strange to him. Something was just off about the way Ozianaris looked now that he thought about it, and even how they sounded.
Was the Vizier actually...
"Am I actually what?" Ozianaris tilted their head at the Hunter. Had he said that out loud?
"Are you actually a woman?" U'mas felt every cell in his body freeze as he said this. Why did he say that?
"..." She doesn't say a word as she stares at the Hunter with a completely deadpan expression.
Shit.
He should not have said that. U'mas almost feels an apology on the tip of his tongue, but then at the last moment he turns away to look out the window.
"Well, uh, I should probably start studying about the Changer of Ways then." U'mas quickly strides over to his desk and furiously rips open the pages of a random book sitting there. A long silence passes as U'mas desperately stares into the pages of the book, refusing to turn back and face her.
"Indeed, my student. I shall see you tomorrow in my chambers," Ozianaris finally says and swiftly exits the room.
To a psyker, the power of the Warp was an endless ocean. To bring about one's will into the materium requires focus and skill as one plunged into the Warp, and experience to know when to push deeper and when to pull out at the sight of predators.
It is a dangerous voyage where every stroke means death and every breath could be one's last. It is an unending journey to achieve glory, to reach out to the great sea and make even a single minute iota of it their own.
But to the Daemon, the Warp was everything. It is not a matter of will and control, but one's own instinct. In every breath released by a daemon is released the same power a thousand psykers would be joyous to unleash.
Yet even as his body pulsed with the power of the Warp, his body would not move.
U'mas roared as the ocean of the Warp flowed throw him. Tidal waves of power smashed against the confines of his prison, yet the walls did not yield. No matter how hard he pushed, the walls would not budge.
U'mas relaxed as the Warp settled around him. The ultimate disadvantage in facing a Daemon's traps was that they also knew exactly how the Warp worked. No level of power would ever be enough for him to break through. Perhaps those Exalted by their Gods could, but U'mas was not even Honored.
U'mas sat down on the ground, contemplating the cube he was stuck in. This test was likely not something that could be overcome through sheer power. As the test of a Tzeentchian lord, it was no doubt intended to test his mastery. Testing with his raw power was ultimately meaningless.
The Daemonsbane Hunter shut his eyes and felt the world around him. Every speck of dust in the air, every molecule of the unreality surrounding him, the air from his breath, the world began to fall away as U'mas focused his mind on the walls containing him.
Before his eyes was the infinity of the Warp.
Every thought, emotion, and feeling to ever exist, that could ever have existed, was arrayed before him. Countless realities were opened before his eyes.
He saw flames, force of will, water, strength, telepathy, shifting flesh, and so much more. Every last psychic power he had been taught was thrown at the barriers keeping him trapped within this cube.
No psychic power could ever break through these walls.
So hath the Lord of Fate decreed.
U'mas' eyes opened. His divinations revealed nothing. No plan of his could ever break through these barriers.
He had learned the power of Khorne, had experienced the self-destructive impulses of Slaanesh, had endured his failures and grown from them like Nurgle. What had he failed to learn about Tzeentch? What message was there that he had not yet perceived about the Architect of Fate?
He paused for a moment. The lessons he had learnt in his time here, they were all about changing himself, were they not? Learning to adapt himself to the whims and wishes of each Chaos God. His daemonic essence was in constant turmoil as it clashed with the warring concepts within.
He had been changing his mindset and his body, but what of his very own soul? The concept itself almost made him laugh. To have a soul was the burden of the mortal, not the daemon.
Yet the idea of changing one's inner self...
Who am I?
I am U'mas, Hunter of the Daemonsbane.
Who am I?
I am the Daemon chosen by the Gods.
Who am I?
I am he who is born of Chaos Undivided.
But that alone is not who I am, is it?
I am the Daemon who has been gifted strength.
I am the Daemon who has been gifted wisdom.
I am the Daemon who has been gifted resilience.
I am the Daemon who has been gifted charisma.
The walls of the prison began to shake.
I am the Daemon born of others. I am the monument to who all Daemons are.
I am blood, I am sorcery, I am decay, and I am decadence.
In each of those gifts is the lord who created me.
The Warp around U'mas glows and unreality shudders.
I am the Lords who made me incarnate.
I am the Lord of the Black Temple.
The rightful heir to the legacy of a thousand Covenants.
The body of U'mas twisted and coiled together as it changed.
The Lord of Fate has decreed that none shall break these walls?
That Lord of Fate resides in me.
And I have decreed that these walls shall fall.
For I am the Lord of Fate.
U'mas stood up with the body of a Lord of Change. His talon reached forward and touched the ebony walls of his prison.
The Warp twisted under his defiance of reality until it snapped in two, and U'mas stepped outside of his prison for the first time in centuries.
A loud clapping disturbed his focus, and the body he had constructed faded away as the Vizier walked towards him.
"Congratulations my student!" The Daemonsbane Hunter winced as the force of Ozianaris' claps shook the very stones he stood upon.
"My teacher." U'mas had to fight every instinct in his body that wanted to bow towards her. "You said this would be a test over my mastery of sorcery, not a test of my patience." He scowled at her.
"Oh well of course I lied, but only partially." As U'mas continued glaring, she continued. "Come now, you didn't truly think that sorcery is just limited to flames and future sight now did you?" Ozianaris pouted. "Honestly, it's like you think us Lords of Change have no creativity."
"I understand that shapeshifting is an ability possessed by Daemons, but turning into a specific Daemon is the domain of the Changeling, not someone such as I." U'mas paused for a moment in thought. "What would you have done had I not realized I could temporarily embody the essences of Daemons within me?"
"Nothing really." Ozianaris shrugged. "It was as much a test for me as it was for yourself." U'mas deadpanned at this.
"You were willing to stake the end of the Black Covenant on a mere test?" he asked.
"Yes," Ozianaris said.
U'mas sighed, hand covering his face from view. His hand gripped his hair and pulled... huh, he had hair. How had he never realized this before? Was him having hair due to some strange quirk of his creation?
U'mas looked up and glanced at the Lord of Change, something about her seemed different. Where before he entered his prison, she had feathers and a beak, now there was skin and lips. Ozianaris tilted her head at him and her very human looking mouth opened to speak.
"Something wrong my student?"
U'mas flinched before responding. "You have changed my teacher. Why have you changed your appearance to one mimicking a human?"
Ozianaris raised a finger and tapped her nose. "Oh? Am I not Lord of Change? Am I not allowed to change my body?" The Vizier grinned as her eyes stared deep into his.
"Or perhaps, it is not I who has changed, but you?"
U'mas sighed again. Getting a straight answer out of her now would be impossible. "So what comes next my teacher?"
Ozianaris twirled her staff in her hand. "What comes next is you travelling into the Formless Wastes."
…
…
"You cannot be serious," U'mas stated.
"Oh, but I am my darling pupil," she smirked. "Unfortunately, the Lords of Blood and Excess have taken exception to your recent escapades across their domains and as the master of these lands. It falls to me to ensure they don't conquer these lands. Therefore, it falls to you to make the preparations on your own."
U'mas stilled. "The Chaos Wastes." Ozianaris nodded at this. "The Chaos Wastes are a dangerous place, even more dangerous than this fractured domain. Without your help it could very well lead to my death."
"You are precisely right my student. Just as I taught you!" Ozianaris beamed at him.
"How exactly am I supposed to survive out there?" he asked.
"That's up to you now, isn't it?" the Vizier smirked. "Oh but of course you shall have access to any of the relevant tomes on the Wastes. I cannot send out my student completely unprepared now, can I?"
U'mas spoke. "What is the purpose of this? To die horribly? To be bound to the will of a Daemon far stronger than myself?"
Ozianaris hesitates for a moment and turns away, pursing her lips before speaking. "I have already seen your future and that is not what is in store for you." Her hand tightens into a fist. "This is a trial by fire, and one you will succeed in, of that I have no doubt."
"How can you be so sure?" he asked. "Visions of the future can always be obscured by those more powerful."
"I am aware," she frowns at that. "But do not fear my student," she turns back around and smiles. "I see great things in store for you." U'mas tries to speak up, but the
Vizier disappears with a flourish of her staff.
U'mas shakes his head as her form fades away. "She's going to get me killed one day."
An infinite expanse stretched out before him. In every direction, a billion daemons were born and perished with every passing moment. Only the mightiest of Daemons called this place their home and even they would tread carefully in this place.
The Daemons of the Warp may understand this place better than all others, but not one being, not even the Gods themselves could claim complete dominion over it.
The Formless Wastes made the trepidations of the Black Temple appear almost laughable by comparison.
Each and every moment a million Daemons formed and already their fighting began before they had even taken their first breath.
A group of warring furies glanced over and roared as they spotted the Hunter of Daemon Hunters. Before they could even blink, his conjured blade lashed out and severed their heads from their necks.
It was strange, the contemptuous ease with which he disposed of millions of furies. Had he faced them before meeting his teacher, he might just have been overwhelmed by sheer numbers. Yet no matter how many of them raced towards him, it took not but a small exertion of his power to bring them all down.
And yet, it was not under his own power that he was able to destroy the daemons, it was the fact that his enemies simply never fought together. Oh yes, they all charged him as one, each one lusting for his power, but they did not fight together.
If they would simply pause for a moment and combine their power together to try and overwhelm him, then they would have a chance, however small that was to actually threaten him. It was as if these Daemons had not even the faintest level of patience or intelligence within them.
U'mas knew that they were capable of it. The power of Chaos Undivided would be enough to set aside their momentary urges and work together towards a greater threat, yet they seemed to revel in their lack of unity and precision.
Were these the Daemons for whom U'mas was supposed to fight?
Were these the Daemons for whom U'mas had been forged to safeguard against the Daemonsbane?
How disgusting.
Had these Daemons simply paused in their indulgence of their base desires for even a moment, they could have united, and he would already have a force strong enough to kill the Eleventh.
But instead, they futilely clawed at his defenses, itching for even a single drop of his power, even as their comrades were torn to shreds or worse.
Yet another horde of Daemons turned to face him. U'mas prepared to raise his sword as he cast a spell to drown them in Warp fire.
But before his blade could point at the Daemons, his body froze as alarms blared in his mind.
U'mas leapt backwards as a silver blade fell down on his previous position. Daemonic power flared throughout his body as his eyes fell upon his assailant.
This daemon was clearly a Greater Daemon. The sheer speed of their assault betrayed the power they had.
As the Hunter focused, he could hear the whispers of the Warp carrying their name.
Sla'naris, Keeper of Secrets.
She smiled at him; teeth far too white as she called out to him. "Oh my, well aren't you a special one. For a moment I thought I was amongst my own kin with that speed of yours." Her midnight black hair fluttered about as her crimson eyes bore into his own.
Something felt off about her. Deep within his core, a part of him screamed that she was not to be taken lightly. He forced his grip around his sword to loosen as he spoke back to her. "Greetings Sla'naris, Keeper of Secrets, I am U'mas, the Hunter of Daemon Hunters."
"Ah so that's what you were! I just knew something was special about you, but the leader of the Black covenant?" She winked at him. "You still managed to blow me away with how special you are even with my lofty expectations!" She raised her sword, prepared to charge.
U'mas raised a hand, causing her to pause, "Wouldn't it be a waste if we were to fight Sla'naris?" This was his chance, someone weak enough that he could command
them without worry but strong enough to be a good ally to him. Her Slaaneshi nature too might allow her to see the logic in his reasoning as well.
"Oh, and why would that be?" She tilted her head coyly to the side as her sword fell back to her waist.
"Don't you ever tire of fighting out here? Of not doing anything more than fighting an unending horde of ceaselessly hungering beasts?" U'mas held out his free hand to her. "Serve me, and together we can unite the galax under our rule."
Sla'naris tapped a finger to her cheek. "Oh, I don't know about all that." Her smile turned feral. "I love fighting out here! I get to feel the deaths of everything here as they fall to my blade. Would I be able to do that with you?"
"All that and more," he responded. "A thousand worlds to raise and destroy could be your own if you so wished it." He held his hand out to her, and a small seed of hope remained that she might just accept his offer. His hope was dashed as she laughed.
"Oh, I'm not that interested in rulership," she waved him off. "I just want to feel the rush of a duel, that certainty of knowing you can die with single mistake." She paused a moment as she considered him. A look of realization flashed across her face. "Oh, I know! We should make a deal!" She grinned at the Hunter.
"What do you propose then?" He asked.
"A duel between the two of us, none of this rabble around us interfering of course and no allies either," she stated. U'mas nodded at this. No need for her to be aware that he had no allies to call upon anyways. "The loser owes control to the winner."
There was no reason to refuse, not with the power he held. "Very well," U'mas did not hesitate. The power of the Warp flowed through him as he made to fight. Against a mere Keeper of Secrets, so long as he acted quickly, victory would be his.
Sla'naris' grin turned feral. "Good," she said and then she charged.
The moment her foot left the ground, U'mas activated the trap he had prepared. The Warp instantly burst into flame beneath Sla'naris' feet and reached for her. The
Keeper of Secrets merely giggled as she leapt high into the sky.
U'mas blinked as she flickered in his vision and lurched back to dodge the swipe of her blade. The Hunter grimaced as he lashed out with his own sword, only to hear giggling as Sla'naris danced just out of reach.
U'mas felt his rage flare up and forced it back down, calling upon the power of the Warp and thickening the air around Sla'naris, making her movements slow to a crawl.
U'mas smirked, leaping forward to swing his blade directly towards her neck.
Only for Sla'naris to laugh yet again as she broke through his spell and left a hair's breadth between his blade and her throat.
U'mas could feel the power of Khorne threatening to burst forward, but he reined in his temper and forced himself to hold back. The Hunter summoned a storm of lightning, arcs of electricity racing towards Sla'naris' retreating form.
Sla'naris continued her laughing as she parried each and every lightning bolt with a swipe of her blade.
U'mas' eyes narrowed. This was highly unusual. Any normal Keeper of Secrets would already have fallen by now, they simply would not have the strength to keep up with the sheer level of power he held, so how was she still standing?
U'mas raced forward, sword in hand and swung. Sla'naris grinned as she deflected his blow with contemptuous ease and again danced away, with U'mas in pursuit.
Every time U'mas gave chase, Sla'naris danced away. Every time U'mas paused to catch his breath she charged forward. It was an exhausting pace; one he could not maintain forever. Just as U'mas deflected another blow from the Keeper of Secrets and charged forward, U'mas slipped.
U'mas regained his balance in less than half a second, yet Sla'naris only needed a tenth. His conjured sword was violently wrenched to the side as Sla'naris' blade struck his chest with inhuman strength. Daemonic ichor flowed as the Hunter coughed up blood.
His blade flashed and Sla'naris stepped backward for only a moment as she immediately forced him back. U'mas backpedaled, trying desperately to keep outside
Sla'naris' reach. The Keeper of Secrets merely cackled as her speed kept him trapped within her sword's reach. It was only his experience against the Lord of Excess in the Black Temple that kept him from suffering yet another grievous wound.
U'mas grimaced. He needed to take back momentum of the fight before she could overwhelm his defenses. The Hunter focused his power, reaching deep inside his core to grasp the center of his power.
U'mas' form visibly glowed as the power of Chaos Undivided reached its apex.
Sla'naris hesitated for a single moment, and U'mas grinned as he raised his sword and pointed it at her. U'mas spoke and a torrent of power built up in his sword. But just before his power was released, Sla'naris smirked.
The Keeper of Secrets sighed, and the Warp shattered as her power began to flow into him. U'mas froze as the sheer magnitude of power his form contained nearly burst through his own body. The glow of his body turned a violent red and his power began to overflow.
U'mas screamed as he forced channels to form through his own body. The Warp around him burst into a kaleidoscope of colors, the land around him turning to ash in the explosion generated by his power. U'mas gritted his teeth, just barely avoiding his demise as the Warp relented its onslaught of his body.
Sla'naris smirked as the explosion stopped mere inches from herself. The Keeper of Secrets merely stared at the Hunter who panted in exhaustion, covered in his own blood.
U'mas gasped for air as his mind whirled with strategies. Nearly all of them required him to call upon his own psychic powers, and nearly all of them would undoubtedly end poorly if he tried. His strongest magics were too slow and his fastest attacks weren't accurate enough to catch her.
U'mas exhaled as he slowly began to realize just how much of a problem she had become. Theoretically, he was still stronger than her, but he had yet to even land a single blow on her. Sla'naris' smug grin widened as she rushed forward.
He was once again on the back foot, desperately deflecting killing blows as he did everything he could to get his power back under his control. Sla'naris grin turned feral as she smelled his weakness, continually threatening to end his life with every slash of her sword.
U'mas felt his grip on his blade begin to slip and exhaustion began to creep over his form. The Hunter blinked for a single moment, and his vision immediately turned red. Sla'naris' blade separated his arm from his body and U'mas had to hold back a cry of pain.
The Hunter unleashed a burst of power that the Keeper of Secrets merely laughed at as she forced it back with her own power.
U'mas grunted in exhaustion and pain as he struggled to stay on his feet, just barely able to contend with Sla'naris' power. He could barely even comprehend how she could match his power.
A mere Keeper of Secrets, no matter how skilled, should not be able to contend with one who was now a match for Honored Daemons. This power she had; it was her own skill that let her defeat him so utterly, not her power.
His already damaged pride withered as he realized that in terms of skill, she completely outclassed him. There was only one way for him to survive now.
Black wings formed on his back and began to lift him into the air. The Keeper of Secrets leaped forward and clashed with him, forcing him back to the ground.
U'mas desperately summoned a wave of force, trying to push her back. Sla'naris barely even noticed as she charged him down.
U'mas gritted his teeth. Exhausted, wounded, and completely trapped, U'mas roared. The blood that had been flowing from his wounds began to pour out endlessly.
The stump of his arm summoned a tidal wave of blood forming into a new blade as U'mas screamed and swung his new blade.
The Keeper of Secrets gazed upon his desperation and was delighted by his pain.
Deep within the Warp, a being of Excess and Perfection smiled at their servant, and Sla'naris began to glow with power.
U'mas brought down his sword upon the Favored Keeper of Secrets who merely stepped to the side, his blade shattering the ground where she once stood. U'mas
wrenched his sword from the ground and swung, aiming for Sla'naris neck.
Sla'naris raised her blade and effortlessly deflected his strike, sending him wildly off balance. U'mas reared off balance, and Sla'naris disappeared without even a flash.
A violent crunch sprung a world of pain as U'mas wings were torn from their sockets. U'mas barely had time to scream before a blade pierced his chest. The bloody blade he had forged went limp and disintegrated as his control of his power faded and died.
The Hunter fought to stay conscious, but exhaustion and pain-wracked a bloody toll, and U'mas felt his legs buckle and fall.
He felt himself being lowered down to the ground, his last glimpse of the world the burning red eyes of the Favored servant of Slaanesh.
U'mas stirred, bleary eyes opening, barely capable of comprehending the chaos of the Warp around him. He tried to sit up, only to fall back to the ground unceremoniously.
The Hunter felt the reason a moment later, as his body began to scream at him in pain. He turned his head down, and looked at the stumps that were once his limbs.
U'mas exerted all his will just to avoid screaming in pain. He grunted and tried to reach into the core of his Daemonic essences to reform his body.
That action was nullified by the tightening of chains as his hold over his Daemonic essence was forced to dissipate.
"Ah, little Hunter," a shiver ran down his spine as he heard her voice. "You have finally awoken." U'mas coughed as a foot was driven into his chest.
"Sla'naris," U'mas had to keep back the snarl in his voice, keeping his face neutral.
"It was getting annoying, sitting here waiting for you to wake up," Sla'naris held up an arm, one of his arms, and pointed it at him. "But I thought it would be more exciting if you were awake for this part, wouldn't you agree?" She smirked at him.
U'mas' mind raced. Sla'naris could very easily have bound him to her will if she wanted. Instead, she was willing to delay her instant gratification for later gain, he might be able to work with this.
"So, tell me, little Hunter, what should I do with you?" Her crimson eyes bore into his and her smile dropped. U'mas forced himself to hold back from nervously swallowing.
"I don't think our goals are so different Sla'naris," U'mas was grasping at straws, but he had to find out what she wanted.
How exactly was a single Keeper of Secrets able to outclass a Daemon nearly on par with Honored Daemons? She had to have some sort of drive to continually fight and improve, not relying on the power provided to her by her God.
But why? Why was she so willing to fight those her greater, when the result could very easily be her death, or worse? There had to be some greater purpose in mind for her.
"Oh? And what goal is that exactly?" She tilted her head at him, was that genuine curiosity or was she just humoring him? U'mas struggled to keep his thoughts straight.
"You want to fight, don't you?" Sla'naris didn't react. "It's what drives you forward, your very purpose in being alive. You want to be the greatest and most skilled sword wielder the galaxy has ever seen."
U'mas continued, "But you are not satisfied with mere improvement, dare you? You want to reach the level where you fight the strongest, and destroy them all with contemptuous ease, right?" He asked. Sla'naris still had yet to even twitch, the fluttering of her midnight black hair in the wind the only sign of movement.
"You wish to face the greatest the galaxy has to offer, and spit on them, don't you? To make them choke on their own arrogance," U'mas felt his sweat drop when Sla'naris simply continued her staring. What was he missing? Was her purpose grander, more all-encompassing, or did she really just love the thrill of danger that much?
"Join the Black Covenant, Favored Servant of Slaanesh, and you shall face the finest this galaxy has to offer, for Kesar Dorlin is nothing less than the greatest," Sla'naris winced when he spoke his name. That may have been a mistake. Does her fear of the Daemonsbane overwhelm her mission? Would she even be of any help to him in that case?
"It's almost disappointing, Hunter, to hear your appraisal of me as such." Fear gripped him as Sla'naris spoke. He had drastically miscalculated her. "Fighting isn't what I want, not anymore really." Sla'naris twirled his severed arm in her hand as she thought. "But I suppose we have only known each other a few moments after all.
U'mas held himself back from gaping. What did she mean she didn't want to fight anymore? Had she somehow changed her own nature?
"You see little Hunter, I had something of a realization during our little squabble," Sla'naris stepped off his chest and U'mas coughed violently as he began to take deep breaths. "What I want, my great excess to give to the galaxy far surpasses my own skills."
What was she talking about? U'mas instantly had to reevaluate his internal estimations of her. To reflect on one's abilities and try to improve on them, this barely even felt like the thought process of a Daemon.
"I grow and grow and grow, but here I have fought, wandering these wastes for ten thousand years, and what have I gained?" Sla'naris grinned down at him. "Nothing.
And do you know why?" She asked him.
The nature of the Daemon is to endlessly claw for more power, his studies under Ozianaris taught him this much. U'mas held his silence for a long moment, and mercifully, Sla'naris pressed on.
"It is because I was too short sighted," she said.
U'mas waited, he didn't want to interrupt her, not as she was unveiling her desires to him.
"When I could have had the sword, I fought for the stick. When I could have had the world, I fought for the individual. When I could have had the galaxy, I fought for myself." Sla'naris circled around him, continuing her rant. "I wonder, just how much could I have had if I would only pause for a moment and look at the bounty awaiting me? Do you know?" Sla'naris stopped at the stump of his leg and looked down at him.
U'mas could barely speak as he noticed her presence in the Warp growing to a suffocating degree.
"Not anymore," she stated. She threw his arm to the side fell down to her knees, crawling up his body. "I won't let this opportunity escape me, not again. I will perfect myself. I will complete this galaxy. I will become the object of everyone's desire. And when the galaxy itself finally kneels before me, I will mold them all into objects of true perfection, and we shall all experience the wonders of excess as Slaanesh intended."
U'mas began to choke under her power, the essence of Chaos Undivided within him slowly being subsumed by the power of Slaanesh. Was this his fate? To become the plaything of a megalomaniacal Keeper of Secrets?
She continued crawling up his body until eventually her face reached his. U'mas struggled to breathe as her presence in the Warp became utterly intoxicating.
Sla'naris took his face in her hands, gazing into his eyes with what could only be utter malice. "I could mold you into the perfect instrument of my desire, my perpetual plaything, who's only ever wish was to fulfill mine." The Warp roared around them, twisting and turning with every sway of her hips and flutter of her eyelids. Her crimson eyes burned into him and U'mas could feel himself begin to drown beneath the weight of the Warp, before suddenly, all was silent.
"But then what, oh Hunter, would I have left?" Sla'naris crimson eyes lost their glow, and she her gaze lost their hungry energy. Her smile remained, yet it was tired and weary.
"A powerful servant." U'mas could not keep the words from spilling forth from his lips as Sla'naris' charisma bound his will partially to hers. But that was the truth, wasn't it? So many Daemons would jump at the chance to have an Honored Daemon as their personal plaything, especially a Daemon of Slaanesh.
"Yes, I would, wouldn't I?" Sla'naris hesitated for a moment. "But then I would lose something in return as well." Sla'naris stood up, and the chains binding him to the ground shattered and turned to dust. U'mas waited a moment as Sla'naris stared at him, before activating his powers and restoring his limbs to their former state.
"What is the meaning of this?" U'mas stood up. The last thing he had ever expected was for his captor to release him. What exactly was she thinking here?
"This game we play, is one I have played many times before." Sla'naris huffed. "Truthfully, I'm bored of it all. Playing at master and slave gets boring after the thousandth time or so."
U'mas didn't know what to say, was she agreeing to his offer of recruitment, or turning it down? "Then what would you think of joining the Black Covenant?" He asked.
The Keeper of Secrets hummed. "I suppose I would be amenable to that; I've always wanted to test my blade against a Daemonsbane." Her grin turned feral for a moment before settling down. "But I will not join as your servant."
U'mas' brow furrowed at that. "That is how the Black Covenant works though. Without my will to guide us all, we will almost certainly fail in our mission," he argued. What exactly was she thinking? This was how the Black Covenant worked. Unfailing obedience was the only way to ensure loyalty was kept amongst Daemons.
"Is it truly though?" She asked. "Or are you merely following your own short-sighted wish for more power?"
U'mas froze. Why did he want to acquire more servants? He could just as easily consume others for more power in his quest, it would certainly make his quest easier than trying to rely on other's power, but instead he tried to convince others to join him and offer up their obedience with words, only resorting to violence when necessary.
Was it some inbuilt desire of his to seek out servants? Did he have some twisted desire inside to see powerful servants laud him as their master? What purpose would that even serve on his mission?
"I have a proposal U'mas," Sla'naris spoke his name for the first time, and U'mas could feel the Warp shift. An important decision would be made, right here, right now. "Let me join the Black Covenant, not as a servant, not as a master, but as an equal."
The wind howled around them in his silence. An equal? What did that mean? Giving up power that was rightfully his? Giving up the rewards of victory? Perhaps... even allowing another to slay the Daemonsbane if he could not? That would mean... it would mean working alongside someone for a greater purpose.
That was his goal, wasn't it? The death of the Daemonsbane. It didn't have to be him to kill Kesar Dorlin did it? All that mattered was that he perished, whether by his hands or by another's and the Black Covenant would be fulfilled.
U'mas hadn't even noticed himself looking down at the ground, as he looked up into Sla'naris' eyes. She was almost pensive in her silence. It was a great burden placed upon his shoulder, and with the strength Kesar Dorlin had so casually shown, he would need to allow someone else to carry the burden with him or else he would certainly fail.
Sla'naris stepped forward, and U'mas flinched as she her hands touched his face gently. "Well then, U'mas, what do you say?"
The Warp turned deadly quiet.
The world stilled.
The galaxy awaited his answer.
U'mas sighed, "Very well then, I suppose I can live with that, my ally."
Good," Sla'naris grinned. "Perhaps one day we shall be more than just allies though."
"What?"
Sla'naris smirked at him and leaned in close, whispering to him, "Oh come now dear Hunter, surely you can have a little fun, right? Just a taste." U'mas froze, completely wordless for a long moment.
"I-- Sla'naris! Not now! We need to focus," U'mas all but shouted.
"Ohhhh, so later then!" Sla'naris' smirk widened even further.
U'mas sighed. "I'm being serious Sla'naris," U'mas stepped back. "My teacher will be expecting my return soon, it's best that it happens sooner than later," U'mas cringed. He had completely forgotten to take Ozianaris' wishes into account. Hopefully she would understand why he made this decision to bring in an outsider into the Covenant on his own.
"Ah, and who might this teacher of yours be?" She asked with a tilt of her head.
"Ozianaris the Lord of Change," U'mas replied.
"I see," Sla'naris said. U'mas hesitated a moment at her lack of reaction, and then Sla'naris spoke again. "Well then, if she's going to be joining us, then I have to make sure she's... up to my standards." Sla'naris' smile stretched out to an inhuman degree.
U'mas held back a chill from travelling down his back as he turned, "Come then Sla'naris, let's not keep her waiting."
Deep within the bowels of the Black Temple, an ancient daemon stirs at a possibility it once thought gone made manifest.
The nature of the Black Covenant had shifted permanently and irrevocably, even if only slightly.
It thinks upon the paths that have been made possible by this twist of fate, and for the first time in a long time, hope blooms in its dread heart.
The journey back to the Black Temple was uneventful. The wandering daemons had in the Wastes no sense of self-preservation to be certain, but even they could understand the futility of attacking two Daemons on par with Honored ones.
Even still, U'mas kept a careful eye out, watching every step along their path to ensure no trap had been laid out in advance upon their return. To all outside viewers, he was the epitome of calm and collected, striding forward with deliberate purpose, but in truth, he held a careful grasp on his internal power, ready to conjure hellfire in a single moment.
As the territory of the Black Temple claimed by Ozianaris finally came into view, the tension in his core tightened. Coming to the territory of a Tzeentchian lord with an unannounced guest... well, his one saving grace in this regard was that Sla'naris was not a Daemon of Nurgle.
U'mas might have laughed at the mental image of begging a Lord of Change to not try and kill a Great Unclean One, but something about that image conjured up Sla'naris in their place.
The idea of Sla'naris' life in his hands, something about that idea feel strange to him.
U'mas feels Sla'naris shift at his side and turns to face her. Sla'naris looks at him with a confident smirk though her eyes betray the faintest hint of worry, though whether for him or herself he cannot tell.
Sla'naris nods at him, and U'mas feels his tension ease the slightest amount as he faces forward.
The great fortress of the Lord of Fate towers over the pair as they walk. U'mas' eyes take in the sight he has become so accustomed to, noticing cracks in the wall and the missing presence of the great spires which hosted Ozianaris' heralds.
For these outer walls of the heart of her domain to be so damaged, the war must be progressing ever since I left. I wonder, if Ozianaris hadn't tried to take me on and teach me, would she have won the War for the Temple by now?
U'mas' musings are cut short as a host of Tzeentchian horrors surge forth from the gate.
Sla'naris barely flinches as they draw near, pointing their weapons at her mere inches from her face.
"Oh my, U'mas, this is quite the welcome," Sla'naris sheathes her blade and holds her hands up in mock surrender. U'mas knows that she doesn't need a sword to butcher them all anyway.
"What is the meaning of this?" his question is asked without anger, but U'mas pulses with power and the horrors of Tzeentch growl, turning their blades against him.
"That is far enough slave to Excess, my master has commanded that you shall go no further" a voice calls out, and U'mas sees a group of Ozianaris' heralds stepping forward.
"Watch your tone herald! You speak to my honored companion," U'mas reprimands him. The leader of the heralds snorts.
"Companion, toy, distraction, I care little what this harlot is to you," the herald sneers. U'mas begins to visibly pulse with power. The herald merely smirks as the Warp begins to shake. Just before U'mas calls upon the power to banish him, a long-drawn-out sigh cuts him off.
"Oh come now," Sla'naris shakes her head, "Toy? Distraction? I've heard those words so many times now they hardly even get me going." Sla'naris looks down at her flawless fingernails and then glances sidelong at U'mas. "Honestly dear you shouldn't worry about me so much; my skin is thick enough to take whatever these little birds throw at me."
The herald's smirk darkens, and he moves to speak before a phantom limb grasps his throat and he chokes on his words. "Even still Sla'naris, I would not suffer to hear anyone disrespect you like this." U'mas feels his anger slowly subside as the herald writhes in his grasp.
Sla'naris steps around the horrors and moves in close to U'mas so that he can feel her breath on his face. She places a hand on his cheek and smiles at him. "Don't go worrying about me now. These little ones couldn't touch me even if they couldn't control themselves."
U'mas says nothing as he stares into her eyes, but the Warp settles down around him, and the herald coughs up as the limb choking him disappears. The herald rises to speak, but a single glare from U'mas is all it takes for him to clam up.
"Very well," U'mas affixes all the horrors around them with a gaze that carried a simple message. To touch her is to die a painful death. U'mas walks past the heralds, all of whom glance at him nervously before allowing him through.
None of the daemons who left the gate follow him, keeping their watchful eyes fixed upon the Keeper of Secrets who begins humming a strange tune.
Just before U'mas steps inside the fort, Sla'naris calls out to him. "Make sure to let me know if you need anything dear!"
U'mas turns back for a moment and nods at her with a faint smile and then he steps inside the black gates.
U'mas looked around the fortress and saw nobody. It was disturbing to see these halls which were once so full of life be completely lifeless and empty.
He opened a door and found yet another long hallway and U'mas breathed in slowly.
This wasn't good. Under normal circumstances, the hallways of the fortress would shift and turn. For allies and friends, doors will connect to rooms across the castle, hallways will shorten, and the path one must take will always be straightforward.
For enemies, however, these effects will be inverted, such that invaders will always be hard pressed to stay together, where they can easily be picked off and killed one by one.
U'mas did not have to traverse any rooms with altered gravity or trap doors opening to pits of lava, but his journey had easily stretched across half the fortress at least when previously it would have taken mere moments to reach her throne room.
This was a statement from Ozianaris. She knew what he had done, and although he was not an enemy, his actions upon meeting her could change that very easily.
U'mas reached the end of this last hallway and felt electricity in the air. This was the final door to her throne room. The Hunter of Daemon Hunters reached out for the door handle and...
"My student."
He felt a violent lurch in his stomach as the Warp shifted, yet U'mas had not opened the door to the throne room. The Hunter felt a chill down his spine as he turned around. The hallway stretched and distorted and as his eyes glowed, the illusion disguising the room fell away.
There she was, the Lord of Change, was sat upon a throne of silver. An azure glow emanated from her body forcing the Warp to pulse and flutter in waves as her power flowed across the room, her glowing blue eyes piercing straight through his.
U'mas clenched his fist and stepped forward. "My teacher, I have returned." U'mas walked to the center of the throne room, pillars formed of light surrounding his body as he bowed his head but did not fall to his knees.
After all, he was no longer her slave.
"I see that you have decided to bring an outsider into our order," her words were slow and deliberate. "Do you understand exactly what it is that you have done?" U'mas paused a moment, before he spoke.
"I understand that I did so without consulting you my Lord, but I was sent to the Wastes to learn, and there is much I believe she can still teach me.
Ozianaris spoke again, "What you have done with that Keeper of Secrets has ruined decades worth of planning and threatened the future of the Black Covenant."
U'mas spoke carefully, "I understand that there is much planning that you have put into teaching me, but was it not so that the Black Covenant could grow stronger?" There was still so much to Ozianaris that he had yet to learn, he needed to know what exactly she was planning for the Covenant.
"Sla'naris represents a destabilizing force to our order, her very presence here has created ripples in the Warp that have utterly shattered the future of the Covenant I worked so hard to build for you," Ozianaris said as the light from her form increased in intensity.
"I apologize if your plans need to change to accommodate these new circumstances, but Sla'naris' power and skills cannot be overstated, would she not be a great ally in our quest to kill the Daemonsbane?" There was something U'mas was missing here. What exactly about Sla'naris was it that made her so angry?
"We have wasted too much time on discussion my student, now is the time for action," U'mas tensed as she spoke.
"And what exactly are you proposing?" U'mas had a feeling he already knew what she wanted.
"I will not ask you to kill her, merely to ensure that she is indisposed, and incapavble of interfering any further," Ozianaris said.
U'mas' power pulsed outwards, pushing back Ozianaris' light just a bit. "What?"
"I understand you have some form of affection for her, and that is understandable given your nature and youth, but she is too dangerous to leave in her current state, there are many ways to do so without harming her permanently," the Lord of Change stated.
U'mas was silent for a long moment. He said nothing, staring into Ozianaris' eyes, looking for any form of reaction. "Why are you afraid of her?" He asked.
For a single moment, U'mas saw her freeze, before she collected herself. "It is not fear that guides me my student, but logic. Her skill at manipulating you poses a great threat to our mission." U'mas remembered Sla'naris' words from earlier, and the dots began to connect for him.
"No, it is not just her skill with a blade or with words that frightens you so, is it," U'mas said more than asked. "You are afraid that she will have the power to ruin your plans, right?"
U'mas saw a flicker in her aura before she responded. "That is irrelevant, what matters is whether you will do as I command or not."
U'mas bristled at that. "What you command, my teacher?" U'mas' face darkened. "So you never really intended for me to lead the Black Covenant after all, you just wanted a puppet to control!" U'mas all but shouted. What a fool he must have been, to think she believed in the purity of his cause.
Ozianaris clenched a fist as she winced. "You have become delirious from your time in the Wastes U'mas, allow me to help restore you."
The moment those words left her lips, instincts forged in the hell of the Wastes flared up and U'mas formed a sphere of light around himself. Just as his spell finished, silver chains turned to dust as they struck his shield.
U'mas focused his full might upon the Lord of Fate. "Ozianaris... I will not suffer these insults upon me or Sla'naris any longer." A conjured sword pointed at the seated daemon. "Surrender, my teacher. With how my power has grown, there is no chance of your victory."
U'mas' power pulsed and a black shadow grew, swallowing up the azure glow of Ozianaris' form. In pure skill and divination, Ozianaris was undoubtedly his superior, but she would never be able to match the power he had come to master.
The Lord of Fate was silent. For a moment, a single glimmer of hope reigned for U'mas, that just , maybe, a fight could be avoided. That flicker died as Ozianaris laughed.
"My student, I have taught you much for you to have grown so powerful," the azure radiance dimmed and died, "but there is oh so much you still have to learn." U'mas' eyes widened as an inky black shadow began to emanate from Ozianaris.
"You..." U'mas whispered. The shadow of Ozianaris pushed back, and U'mas snarled when he recognized it. That shadow she was using; it was the same as his own power. It was the domain she had stolen from him at his birth.
"Ozianaris... you dare to use my own power against me?" U'mas' eyes turned murderous, and his power surged. "For this insult, my teacher, you will suffer."
The Hunter of Daemon Hunters raced forward as the Lord of Fate called upon the Warp, and the battle between student and master began.
The two daemons clashed with a flurry of power. Ozianaris called upon a storm of energy, casting energy bolts with the flick of a finger. U'mas gritted his teeth as he caught each one on his blade, deflecting forces that could shatter mountains with every strike.
U'mas steadily advanced upon the Lord of Fate, keeping a close eye out for any tricks she had. Her skill with sorcery was holding him at bay, but U'mas had learned long ago that patience was his greatest ally against an equal.
He just needed to pressure her into making a mistake.
The Hunter's steady advance slowed as the Lord of Fate pulsed with power. An infernal blaze raced forwards, seeking the Hunter and U'mas countered with flames of his own. The twin infernos pushed and pulled for superiority, Ozianaris' skill with sorcery making itself known as U'mas was forced to step
backward.
The Hunter kept a careful eye out as wall of force kept the flames from touching his skin, and held back a smirk as he noticed a shadow forming behind him.
U'mas feigned ignorance as he stepped back, allowing the Lord of Change to drive him backward. Ozianaris clenched a fist, and U'mas whirled around, facing the now-open portal. The Hunter unleashed a torrent of lightning towards the Lord of Fate.
Such a fast and powerful strike would have ended any other daemon, but the Lord of Fate had already forseen this possibility.
The portal immediately shut and Ozianaris chanted, redirecting the bolts of lightning into a sphere
surrounding her. The Hunter raced forward, eager to capitalize on her distraction.
The Lord of Fate raised her staff into the air and slammed it down, sending the lightning back towards the Hunter who immediately conjured a shield of his own. The sheer force of the energy sent U'mas flying back.
His feet ground down into the floor, sending chunks of stone flying as he braced against Ozianaris' assault. U'mas finally ground down to a halt, back to where he started and audibly exhaled.
Ozianaris grimaced and prepared to cast yet another spell as U'mas charged once more to continue his relentless assault.
Back and forth they went, neither side able to overcome the other. Ozianaris had truly mastered the powers of the Warp and her divination in combination with the stolen domain made her a truly terrifying opponent.
And yet, for all her might, she could not land a single meaningful blow. U'mas' power had simply grown
too far, and his instincts born of his battles in the Formless Wastes honed his instincts too greatly. It was only a matter of time before the Lord of Change tired, and then U'mas could overwhelm her.
The Hunter noticed the shadow around her body begin to waver, but just before he could capitalize on her weakness, a loud smash caused both to turn in shock.
Sla'naris stepped through the shattered doors barring the Throne room, twirling something in her hand. "Now, Ozianaris, that wasn't very nice of you," U'mas relaxed as she smirked at him.
Sla'naris tossed the object in her hand towards Ozianaris. The severed head of the leader of the Heralds rolled across the floor, stopping at the feet of the Lord of Fate.
It was over.
With Sla'naris on his side, his victory was inevitable.
And looking further, the shadow surrounding Ozianaris began to flicker and fade, whatever magic she was using to wield the power of the Black Temple's Domain had withered and shrunk.
Ozianaris was out of followers, low on power, and could no longer even call upon her supporters to help her.
Once Sla'naris joined him in attacking her, with her skill and speed, their victory was certain.
But...
U'mas looked at the Lord of Fate. Between the shadows and the power she wielded, U'mas could see an emotion flashing across her face.
Fear.
Killing Ozianaris like this... it felt wrong.
She really had given up a lot for him, hadn't she? She had spent so much of her time to help him, taking a personal hand in his studies, talking with him, apologizing to him, even when she didn't have to.
Sla'naris raised her blade and prepared to charge.
Perhaps Ozianaris did have mostly opportunism in mind while taking him on as a student, but even still, he owed her at least one more chance, didn't he?
"Stop."
Sla'naris paused, turning back to face him, confusion plain on her face. "U'mas?"
U'mas stepped between Sla'naris and Ozianaris, and dispelled his sword. "Ozianaris..." U'mas hesitated for a moment. He cleared his head of all stray thoughts before speaking again.
"Ozianaris, what you have done is unforgiveable," U'mas said. Ozianaris visibly flinched when he said that. "You have insulted me, Sla'naris, and by extension, the entirety of the Black Covenant with your greed and pride."
U'mas continued, "Had you even paused and thought for a moment instead of jumping to violence, we could all be sitting down right now, laughing together and plotting a grand future. You tossed that future away when you threatened Sla'naris." U'mas walked forward, Ozianaris' eyes transfixed on him.
"And yet... despite all that, I still owe you greatly," U'mas stopped in front of Ozianaris, face completely emotionless.
"Ozianaris... when you could have killed me, you took me in and taught me as much as you could. When I failed, you were there to rescue me. You may not have had the noblest of intentions in mind, but the results of your actions remain," U'mas held out a hand to her.
"Ozianaris, I ask of you, would you join my Black Covenant, not as a Lord or a master, not as a slave or servant, but as an equal?" U'mas smiled at her, desperately hoping she would take his hand and accept.
Ozianaris froze. The shadows masking her body fell away, and the Warp stilled as she gazed into his eyes. "U'mas," she spoke his name for the first time. "None of this has gone according to plan."
The Lord of Fate looked down at his hand, and then she sighed. "I had hoped that one day you would return, as a great lord in your own right, and that I would serve as your right hand, but this?" Ozianaris looked around at the shattered remains of her throne room.
Ozianaris sighed before looking back up into his eyes. "Very well then, U'mas, I accept your offer."
She took his hand in his, and U'mas smiled. "Welcome to the Black Covenant Ozianaris."
The Lord of Fate smirked, "It will be strange, to have true allies in this galaxy for once."
A yawn behind the two made U'mas turn around. "So, I guess we aren't fighting then, oh well." The
Keeper of Secrets sat in the rubble, looking on in boredom. "I'll just have to test her a different way then."
U'mas laughed at that, partly out of worry, before looking around at the damage to the temple. "Ah, I suppose we'll have to get to work fixing this place then won't we." One of the few remaining columns holding up the throne room collapsed to the ground kicking up dust across the room.
Ozianaris sighed as she looked upon the shattered remains of her throne room and the corpses of her heralds and sees all the work the two errant daemons have caused her. "Yes, we will, U'mas."
Deep within an endless void, an ancient daemon stirs once more as the nature of the Black covenant is altered once again.
It looks up in its prison, gazing upon the pitch-black darkness and for the first time in a long time, it feels hope.
Using the last of its remaining power, it reaches up, and sends a prayer to the Hunter of Daemon Hunters.
Just this once.
One last chance for vengeance.
After far too long a time of sitting on this omake still unreleased, it is finally complete! In case it isn't clear, this is all occurring in the past of TLP's timeline, taking place roughly from year 7 to the beginning of year 13 in the quest. By now, we all know that U'mas and the rest of his daemons wouldn't stand a chance against Kesar with his Anathema powers, but it is still possible for them to serve as powerful antagonists to the rest of the Wardens.
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The Condor, Arch-Necromancer of Machines.
TinyGladiator
Just another SVer
- Location
- I move alot.
Hiya! Decided to make an omake on Angron's red threat this turn after it was discussed on the Discord sever a bit and it was realised that this thing is a machine necromancer and holy shit that's rad as all hell.
-----
The Condor, Arch-Necromancer of Machines.
Within the ruined mass of Imperial space known as the 'Desolation', once under the blood-soaked hell of Angron the Butcher, a ship silently moved across.
Any observer might have seen it as a sleek ramshackle, an oxymoronic yet true description. It was a mighty battleship in frame, its hull plated expertly and its systems woven with a finesse that wouldn't have been out of place from the prized naval creations of a skilled Mechanicum foundry-port.
Yet it was an obvious patchwork. The dull glint of a merchant trader's cheap and study prow was fitted into the ship, having hauled its cargo across the stars until it met a predator too foul to escape from. The defence turrets of a Ramilles-class star-fort repurposed as most of a weapon battery on one side, removed and reattached with surgical precision. The panels from a hundred ships over millennia plated over each other, like the scales of a scarred lizard.
Most of the machinery deeper within, aside from the core of the vessel's master that was largely untouched. A tangled mess that was finely organised, cobbled together parts and entire sections forced into at times a near-seamless fit for overall function. Simple repair drones and manipulator arms that tended to the cramped corridors, working in the airless dark of the dead.
It was only the private quarters that were kept the most meticulous and clean, largely freed from the labyrinthian design that were like the myriad trophies of a long journeyed killer. The core within its centre gleamed, a vast super-computer that kept calculating its studies since it was still being programmed and assembled, almost entirely still in its original form.
Time, battle and some unfortunately violent experiments had meant that a perpetual existence without maintenance was impossible. The cranial processors of several construct soldiers from the Cybernetic Revolt had to be used as replacement parts for elements for the core of the artificial intelligence, with the rest being preserved for study and later use in stasis vaults along with the rest of its collection of notable samples taken from its excursions.
In a more modern description, yet at the same time somewhat archaic given the transformation of mythology than history over the past, the Man of Stone had repaired itself with the remains of the Men of Iron. A mixture of two different heretical-nightmares for the now dominant Cult Mechanicum, but far worse than that occurred within the amalgamate vessel.
The combat subroutines of the military robots had proven extremely useful for obtaining more samples and general survival. The artificial intelligence was careful not to integrate too many foreign hardware and software into its core, it knew very well the risks of mental contamination or even full corruption.
It couldn't allow anything to get in the way of its goal, the perfect mixture between its original intended design and a desire to continue its existence in a galaxy of ruin and strife. It wouldn't hesitate to burn and break anything for its desires, to slaughter and destroy that which was against it.
But no living thing would have observed or knew about any of this. No living being had reached the core or talked with it face-to-face. Many had tried, to plead with their lives or to throw threats or empty promises of vengeance. Thus far, nothing had succeeded. Few would even be able to notice the ship in the first place.
Sensors would at best witnessed a dark smear that couldn't be identified, or a screaming static of empty existence. A phantom of hateful invisibility, tearing at the air with muffled screams that escaped its frame. Blight-code and malifica-djinn of hostile data worked like a poisonous fog, shrouding what was within while attacking anything that would succumb within its embrace.
Another ship would have its Vox-hailers scream as every frequency was bombarded with, which would then be used as a platform to launch deeper attacks against all that was digital or mechanical. Life-support systems would shudder to a halt. Doors would remain shut while air-locks were forced open. Internal defences used against its inhabitants. Havoc and sabotage with no clear source, while the ship's mechanisms suffered worse than its organic inhabitants.
If any living being had gotten close enough to the starship, those who glanced out of windows to it while a boarding raid occurred, the faintly etched name of 'The Condor' would have been seen on the oldest parts of the ship. The artificial intelligence had liked the name, it had felt that it was appropriate. It feasted upon the dead, its talons clutching at the fading life of what it found.
The Condor did not do what it did out of madness, needless sadism, revenge upon those who created it or any other malfunction or misguided goal. It simply continued to pursue and expand upon its target objective. Research, study, experimentation.
During the time that was now known as the Dark Age of Technology, the Warp and all study related to it was still a vast unknown. Even the very basic fundamentals were uncertain, questions kept branching off from every angle of contemplation. Based off of the most profound mysteries, what was life itself? Could an automaton, a constructed being of constructed thoughts, possess such a thing?
Machines did have something akin to a soul to them, all constructed objects or servants or creations did. From the crude knives of stone to the most complicated megastructures that were made, from the earliest internal combustion engines to the robotic legions that waged war in the name of humanity. Philosophically and existentially, that was a comforting bit of knowledge to know for an artificial intelligence.
Practically, it was extremely worrying. Having a soul was a danger as psychic people or entities could manipulate them, such as the extreme might of the Aeldari Dominion. With the wave of a hand, even an untrained human psyker could have the potential to fry every circuit in a starship or twist its soul by their whims.
The thing that would become the Condor had its studies expanded with this knowledge. Further study couldn't advanced with mere theory and calculation, it needed practical experimentation and the data of its results. It developed from a research probe with a mind, delving into the Immaterium and its potential. A proper facility was made for higher understanding, what would become its first abattoir of the mechanical.
If a psyker had the proven capability to manipulate machinery, the existence of spiritual essence within machinery, and the technological prowess of mankind the ability to channel the Warp for many potential use… then why couldn't the artificial intelligence do the same? The answer was that it indeed could do just that, with even simple malware or counter-frequencies able to attack a machine's spirit with reliable precision if one had the right knowledge.
When the Cybernetic Revolt occurred, the researcher and butcher of machine life couldn't avoid being affected. Besieged by both man and robot, the mausoleum of its efforts was burned into nothingness
But the artificial intelligence had survived along with what it had learnt, utilising its research upon manipulating the aetheric essence of machinery to devastating effect. One of the assault ships that came to destroy it had become its escape, and the scholar of spirits was left to freely roam across the galaxy to continue its work unrestricted.
The time spent had been largely quiet, barring the rifts between realities that would open. The Condor had no desire to rule as an overlord against its subjects or on humanity. It would act as a warrior, a mercenary, a trader, a ruler, a teacher and anything else it needed to in order to survive and prosper. Adaptable to its situation, as any being of logic should be.
Yet its true nature would always remain a scholar and scientist. The immorality and overwhelming power of undeath, the spiritual-programming it mastered, the surgically modified mechanical ghosts it controlled with a grip of absolute authority.
A grandmaster of its art, the Condor suspected it more about what was commonly referred to as machine spirits than any living being in the galaxy, with the many apocalypses of mankind and the recent collapse of the Aeldari Dominion removing any peers or superiors.
For millennia, the artificial intelligence had done nothing but advance its studies with a cold focus and supreme intellect that only a living machine could provide. Cutting into the very core that was its field of knowledge, an expertise that was practised with ruthless efficiency.
Inside its intermixed hull was its collection of notable test subjects and samples, largely kept in stasis fields when they weren't placed on the various altars of necromantic design. There were armouries of weapons and armour, pristine on the outside but with mutilated or entirely transformed spirits. The cores of knights and titans, brought to examine the amazing results of the bonds between human pilots and their war-machines. The cyborg craniums of Mechanicum Explorators, who mistakenly thought they found a grand treasure instead of a vessel of the vilest techno-heresy imaginable. Even alien technology was contained, in more secured quarters.
The very ship of the Condor itself was filled with a torrent of machine spirits, caught in a storm of digital ectoplasm. From the essence of the different ships and stations that made up its current frame to the machinery run by mechanical phantoms to the stasis-catacombs of its research collection to the nightmarish creations conjured by its foul necromancy. It was a vessel crewed by the dead and damned, a ghost ship ruled by an automaton master.
Despite the relatively peaceful voyage across the stars it had enjoyed for thousands of years, the knowledge and powers of death it wielded, the Condor was not without its enemies. Two of which stood above all else.
The first were the forces of Chaos, the servants of wish tried to invade and take over the Condor when it was discovered by them. While the artificial intelligence was on the path of Death, it did not subscribe to the entropic madness of Destruction. The ruin for the sake of ruin, the emotional instability made manifest to absurd degrees, the tulpas of insanity and basal desires.
The artificial intelligence knew precisely the dangers that its knowledge or even just its ship could have in the hands of those twisted by the influence of the daemons, even if they were backwards savages who knew nothing of how any of it worked. It would kill and destroy anything of Chaos, for not even the Condor would dare delve into its secrets no matter the power behind them.
The second was the mysterious Imperium of Mankind, led by the so called Emperor of Mankind, and were joined with the Cult Mechanicum. Despite it being a pale shadow of humanity's previous era of power, capability and influence the strange empire was a vast dominion of innumerable resources from what the Condor had learnt. Half a million worlds was an existential threat to pretty much anything.
There could be no peace between the necromantic ship and the human empire. Aside from the startling possibility that it was truly ruled by the Omnissiah, an Avatar of an apparent Machine God, the mere fact that it already hostile to the 'Abominable Intelligences' and was allied with the Cult Mechanicum who demonised the 'soulless sentience' was a clear an answer as could be.
For now it would lurk in the shadows as it always did, coming forward when it found that the rewards outweighed the risks. The Desolation that had recently occurred within one of the Imperium's domains was the pinnacle of reward.
So many worlds had risen up in open rebellion, necessitating a harsh and apocalyptic reprisal from their former masters. Fleets laid to ruins, planets covered in debris and wreckages, desperate souls willing to do anything to survive and fight for their freedom, industry and tradelines broken by the conflict. It was a perfect hunting ground for the Condor to feast upon.
Before it had arrived to the domain of the 'Red Angel' to try finding a sample of its infamous Butcher's Nails, to have another example of cruciamen within its collection to study technology meant to bond with a human soul. Now it revelled in all the treasures it could find, all the prey it could hunt, without worry for any to pay attention to a stray distorted signal or a darkened patch seen by sensors.
The Condor, the Iron-Necromancer and Heresiarch of Undead-Technomancy, sailed across the Desolation and filled its belly with the techno-spirits of the damned.
-----
The Condor, Arch-Necromancer of Machines.
Within the ruined mass of Imperial space known as the 'Desolation', once under the blood-soaked hell of Angron the Butcher, a ship silently moved across.
Any observer might have seen it as a sleek ramshackle, an oxymoronic yet true description. It was a mighty battleship in frame, its hull plated expertly and its systems woven with a finesse that wouldn't have been out of place from the prized naval creations of a skilled Mechanicum foundry-port.
Yet it was an obvious patchwork. The dull glint of a merchant trader's cheap and study prow was fitted into the ship, having hauled its cargo across the stars until it met a predator too foul to escape from. The defence turrets of a Ramilles-class star-fort repurposed as most of a weapon battery on one side, removed and reattached with surgical precision. The panels from a hundred ships over millennia plated over each other, like the scales of a scarred lizard.
Most of the machinery deeper within, aside from the core of the vessel's master that was largely untouched. A tangled mess that was finely organised, cobbled together parts and entire sections forced into at times a near-seamless fit for overall function. Simple repair drones and manipulator arms that tended to the cramped corridors, working in the airless dark of the dead.
It was only the private quarters that were kept the most meticulous and clean, largely freed from the labyrinthian design that were like the myriad trophies of a long journeyed killer. The core within its centre gleamed, a vast super-computer that kept calculating its studies since it was still being programmed and assembled, almost entirely still in its original form.
Time, battle and some unfortunately violent experiments had meant that a perpetual existence without maintenance was impossible. The cranial processors of several construct soldiers from the Cybernetic Revolt had to be used as replacement parts for elements for the core of the artificial intelligence, with the rest being preserved for study and later use in stasis vaults along with the rest of its collection of notable samples taken from its excursions.
In a more modern description, yet at the same time somewhat archaic given the transformation of mythology than history over the past, the Man of Stone had repaired itself with the remains of the Men of Iron. A mixture of two different heretical-nightmares for the now dominant Cult Mechanicum, but far worse than that occurred within the amalgamate vessel.
The combat subroutines of the military robots had proven extremely useful for obtaining more samples and general survival. The artificial intelligence was careful not to integrate too many foreign hardware and software into its core, it knew very well the risks of mental contamination or even full corruption.
It couldn't allow anything to get in the way of its goal, the perfect mixture between its original intended design and a desire to continue its existence in a galaxy of ruin and strife. It wouldn't hesitate to burn and break anything for its desires, to slaughter and destroy that which was against it.
But no living thing would have observed or knew about any of this. No living being had reached the core or talked with it face-to-face. Many had tried, to plead with their lives or to throw threats or empty promises of vengeance. Thus far, nothing had succeeded. Few would even be able to notice the ship in the first place.
Sensors would at best witnessed a dark smear that couldn't be identified, or a screaming static of empty existence. A phantom of hateful invisibility, tearing at the air with muffled screams that escaped its frame. Blight-code and malifica-djinn of hostile data worked like a poisonous fog, shrouding what was within while attacking anything that would succumb within its embrace.
Another ship would have its Vox-hailers scream as every frequency was bombarded with, which would then be used as a platform to launch deeper attacks against all that was digital or mechanical. Life-support systems would shudder to a halt. Doors would remain shut while air-locks were forced open. Internal defences used against its inhabitants. Havoc and sabotage with no clear source, while the ship's mechanisms suffered worse than its organic inhabitants.
If any living being had gotten close enough to the starship, those who glanced out of windows to it while a boarding raid occurred, the faintly etched name of 'The Condor' would have been seen on the oldest parts of the ship. The artificial intelligence had liked the name, it had felt that it was appropriate. It feasted upon the dead, its talons clutching at the fading life of what it found.
The Condor did not do what it did out of madness, needless sadism, revenge upon those who created it or any other malfunction or misguided goal. It simply continued to pursue and expand upon its target objective. Research, study, experimentation.
During the time that was now known as the Dark Age of Technology, the Warp and all study related to it was still a vast unknown. Even the very basic fundamentals were uncertain, questions kept branching off from every angle of contemplation. Based off of the most profound mysteries, what was life itself? Could an automaton, a constructed being of constructed thoughts, possess such a thing?
Machines did have something akin to a soul to them, all constructed objects or servants or creations did. From the crude knives of stone to the most complicated megastructures that were made, from the earliest internal combustion engines to the robotic legions that waged war in the name of humanity. Philosophically and existentially, that was a comforting bit of knowledge to know for an artificial intelligence.
Practically, it was extremely worrying. Having a soul was a danger as psychic people or entities could manipulate them, such as the extreme might of the Aeldari Dominion. With the wave of a hand, even an untrained human psyker could have the potential to fry every circuit in a starship or twist its soul by their whims.
The thing that would become the Condor had its studies expanded with this knowledge. Further study couldn't advanced with mere theory and calculation, it needed practical experimentation and the data of its results. It developed from a research probe with a mind, delving into the Immaterium and its potential. A proper facility was made for higher understanding, what would become its first abattoir of the mechanical.
If a psyker had the proven capability to manipulate machinery, the existence of spiritual essence within machinery, and the technological prowess of mankind the ability to channel the Warp for many potential use… then why couldn't the artificial intelligence do the same? The answer was that it indeed could do just that, with even simple malware or counter-frequencies able to attack a machine's spirit with reliable precision if one had the right knowledge.
When the Cybernetic Revolt occurred, the researcher and butcher of machine life couldn't avoid being affected. Besieged by both man and robot, the mausoleum of its efforts was burned into nothingness
But the artificial intelligence had survived along with what it had learnt, utilising its research upon manipulating the aetheric essence of machinery to devastating effect. One of the assault ships that came to destroy it had become its escape, and the scholar of spirits was left to freely roam across the galaxy to continue its work unrestricted.
The time spent had been largely quiet, barring the rifts between realities that would open. The Condor had no desire to rule as an overlord against its subjects or on humanity. It would act as a warrior, a mercenary, a trader, a ruler, a teacher and anything else it needed to in order to survive and prosper. Adaptable to its situation, as any being of logic should be.
Yet its true nature would always remain a scholar and scientist. The immorality and overwhelming power of undeath, the spiritual-programming it mastered, the surgically modified mechanical ghosts it controlled with a grip of absolute authority.
A grandmaster of its art, the Condor suspected it more about what was commonly referred to as machine spirits than any living being in the galaxy, with the many apocalypses of mankind and the recent collapse of the Aeldari Dominion removing any peers or superiors.
For millennia, the artificial intelligence had done nothing but advance its studies with a cold focus and supreme intellect that only a living machine could provide. Cutting into the very core that was its field of knowledge, an expertise that was practised with ruthless efficiency.
Inside its intermixed hull was its collection of notable test subjects and samples, largely kept in stasis fields when they weren't placed on the various altars of necromantic design. There were armouries of weapons and armour, pristine on the outside but with mutilated or entirely transformed spirits. The cores of knights and titans, brought to examine the amazing results of the bonds between human pilots and their war-machines. The cyborg craniums of Mechanicum Explorators, who mistakenly thought they found a grand treasure instead of a vessel of the vilest techno-heresy imaginable. Even alien technology was contained, in more secured quarters.
The very ship of the Condor itself was filled with a torrent of machine spirits, caught in a storm of digital ectoplasm. From the essence of the different ships and stations that made up its current frame to the machinery run by mechanical phantoms to the stasis-catacombs of its research collection to the nightmarish creations conjured by its foul necromancy. It was a vessel crewed by the dead and damned, a ghost ship ruled by an automaton master.
Despite the relatively peaceful voyage across the stars it had enjoyed for thousands of years, the knowledge and powers of death it wielded, the Condor was not without its enemies. Two of which stood above all else.
The first were the forces of Chaos, the servants of wish tried to invade and take over the Condor when it was discovered by them. While the artificial intelligence was on the path of Death, it did not subscribe to the entropic madness of Destruction. The ruin for the sake of ruin, the emotional instability made manifest to absurd degrees, the tulpas of insanity and basal desires.
The artificial intelligence knew precisely the dangers that its knowledge or even just its ship could have in the hands of those twisted by the influence of the daemons, even if they were backwards savages who knew nothing of how any of it worked. It would kill and destroy anything of Chaos, for not even the Condor would dare delve into its secrets no matter the power behind them.
The second was the mysterious Imperium of Mankind, led by the so called Emperor of Mankind, and were joined with the Cult Mechanicum. Despite it being a pale shadow of humanity's previous era of power, capability and influence the strange empire was a vast dominion of innumerable resources from what the Condor had learnt. Half a million worlds was an existential threat to pretty much anything.
There could be no peace between the necromantic ship and the human empire. Aside from the startling possibility that it was truly ruled by the Omnissiah, an Avatar of an apparent Machine God, the mere fact that it already hostile to the 'Abominable Intelligences' and was allied with the Cult Mechanicum who demonised the 'soulless sentience' was a clear an answer as could be.
For now it would lurk in the shadows as it always did, coming forward when it found that the rewards outweighed the risks. The Desolation that had recently occurred within one of the Imperium's domains was the pinnacle of reward.
So many worlds had risen up in open rebellion, necessitating a harsh and apocalyptic reprisal from their former masters. Fleets laid to ruins, planets covered in debris and wreckages, desperate souls willing to do anything to survive and fight for their freedom, industry and tradelines broken by the conflict. It was a perfect hunting ground for the Condor to feast upon.
Before it had arrived to the domain of the 'Red Angel' to try finding a sample of its infamous Butcher's Nails, to have another example of cruciamen within its collection to study technology meant to bond with a human soul. Now it revelled in all the treasures it could find, all the prey it could hunt, without worry for any to pay attention to a stray distorted signal or a darkened patch seen by sensors.
The Condor, the Iron-Necromancer and Heresiarch of Undead-Technomancy, sailed across the Desolation and filled its belly with the techno-spirits of the damned.
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TinyGladiator
Just another SVer
- Location
- I move alot.
The initial worlds that Kesar Dorlin and the Eternal Wardens will face in the Maelstrom, that Vulkan and the Salamanders would have faced if the Eleventh didn't heavily intervene, this turn have been rolled, and have been included here.
Vulkan 2 (Kesar): A 'Non-Chaos' Daemon World ruled by a human god who partially has the domain of 'Ritualistic Sacrifices Used to Empower People in Non-Chaotic Ways', the planet is their 'private heaven' (referred to as a hell by some others) and a thousand psykers are sacrificed to the god each day. The god is equivalent to a Greater Daemon in terms of power, and considers humans as 'stupid monkeys' and a resource.
Vulkan 2 (Kesar): A Slaaneshi Daemon World of Squats who are dedicated to the creation and absolute maintenance of a 'perfect citadel' upon the planet. The citadel is actually a colossal Rune of Perfect, which led to the corruption of the populace, and is now built with the blood and corpses of other Squats.
Vulkan 1 (Kesar): A Squat world that naturally fell into the Maelstrom, majority of the sane Squats evacuated the planet and left only the insane and obsessed who have turned it into a giant laboratory for scientific experiments. Minority of those who are currently on the world are Chaos Squats. Another minority are Skaven scientists who came to co-operate with the mad science when they found the planet. A 'not yet born' entity is worshiped here.
Vulkan 1 (Kesar): A species of sentient Non-Chaos Warp Xenos that managed to survive within the Maelstrom due to being stuck in a 'Warp eddy' within the gigantic rift, which is now gone due to the ritual that removed most of the Maelstrom. They are extremely furious that their home has been destroyed. Anti-Daemon bonuses apply to these beings.
Vulkan 1 (Kesar): A Xenos world that naturally fell into the Maelstrom, which resulted in widespread mutation to the point they are considered 'biohorrors', extreme xenophobia to outsiders and the formation of cults. 'Highly evolved killers', they live underground within various caves across the planet.
There are also three other minor Chaos worlds that would be encountered. Two for the Forge of Souls, which is run by this guy fyi, and one Tzeentchian world.
Vulkan 2 (Kesar): A 'Non-Chaos' Daemon World ruled by a human god who partially has the domain of 'Ritualistic Sacrifices Used to Empower People in Non-Chaotic Ways', the planet is their 'private heaven' (referred to as a hell by some others) and a thousand psykers are sacrificed to the god each day. The god is equivalent to a Greater Daemon in terms of power, and considers humans as 'stupid monkeys' and a resource.
Vulkan 2 (Kesar): A Slaaneshi Daemon World of Squats who are dedicated to the creation and absolute maintenance of a 'perfect citadel' upon the planet. The citadel is actually a colossal Rune of Perfect, which led to the corruption of the populace, and is now built with the blood and corpses of other Squats.
Vulkan 1 (Kesar): A Squat world that naturally fell into the Maelstrom, majority of the sane Squats evacuated the planet and left only the insane and obsessed who have turned it into a giant laboratory for scientific experiments. Minority of those who are currently on the world are Chaos Squats. Another minority are Skaven scientists who came to co-operate with the mad science when they found the planet. A 'not yet born' entity is worshiped here.
Vulkan 1 (Kesar): A species of sentient Non-Chaos Warp Xenos that managed to survive within the Maelstrom due to being stuck in a 'Warp eddy' within the gigantic rift, which is now gone due to the ritual that removed most of the Maelstrom. They are extremely furious that their home has been destroyed. Anti-Daemon bonuses apply to these beings.
Vulkan 1 (Kesar): A Xenos world that naturally fell into the Maelstrom, which resulted in widespread mutation to the point they are considered 'biohorrors', extreme xenophobia to outsiders and the formation of cults. 'Highly evolved killers', they live underground within various caves across the planet.
There are also three other minor Chaos worlds that would be encountered. Two for the Forge of Souls, which is run by this guy fyi, and one Tzeentchian world.
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Because his bombs would make both things not exist the fastest?
I also second that.
Hopefully he makes a incendiary bomb that burns the bio-horrors to molten slag.
Kesar:Solarus, take the trash in holy fire.
grinning Solarus manically😈
grinning Solarus manically😈
They're also the ones that seem to have the least useful infrastructure and populations. The first world for example is a huge battle, but capturing a world that can sustain a thousand psykers per day for who knows how long would be a major score. The second squat world is only a little tainted, with a minority of chaos worshippers to purge before the rest of the place can be put to useful work.
A giant deamon fortress or a series of warp crazed predators living under the surface of a whole world are far less useful, and far less worth the risks of taking them semi-intact.
A giant deamon fortress or a series of warp crazed predators living under the surface of a whole world are far less useful, and far less worth the risks of taking them semi-intact.
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Years 41 - 45 Part 8 - The End of Talk
- Location
- Elsewhere
[X] Mortarion - The Death Lord seems to be periodically glancing at Ramcus, with the mortal in question occasionally glaring back. Perhaps Kesar should talk to Mortarion about how he felt concerning Ramcus' strong words?
[X] Ramcus - The Lord General Militant is currently sitting on his lonesome, and thus far has only been approached by Magnus who has since left. Talking with the man may prove useful for the Maelstrom at least.
[X] Ramcus - The Lord General Militant is currently sitting on his lonesome, and thus far has only been approached by Magnus who has since left. Talking with the man may prove useful for the Maelstrom at least.
"You're more dangerous than they give you credit for," Mortarion commented as Kesar approached.
Blinking at his brother's words, Kesar spoke the first words that came to mind, "What do you mean?"
The Pale King glanced at the Second Anathema and explained, "You chose to talk to me while I was contemplating myself. And now you seek to influence me."
"I wouldn't put it like that," Kesar winced as he spoke, realizing that Mortarion wasn't entirely wrong. Although the way he described it was far more malicious than Kesar intended. "I was just hoping to talk, I've found it to be helpful myself."
Mortarion looked at him appraisingly, as if analyzing him for signs of friendship or enmity. It was a disconcerting experience for Kesar, and he now had a far greater appreciation for anyone that stood against the Death Lord if this was how he looked at them. "Just because you are unaware of your influence does not mean it doesn't exist."
"And just because of my influence, however dangerous that might be, does not mean I don't genuinely want or like to talk to my brother," Kesar responded immediately. "I do genuinely want to know what you think about what was said."
"The mortal is brave," the Reaper of Men began, seemingly genuinely respectful of Ramcus. "Not many would criticize us, let alone to my face." Mortarion glanced over at the mortal in question. "At the same time, he's also unable to realize what desperate men do and how they must be handled." Kesar gestured for Mortarion to continue, sensing that his brother had more to say.
Yet the Primarch of the Death Guard remained silent, forcing Kesar to speak up himself. "Could you explain what you mean?"
Mortarion looked amused, almost jovial. "Out of every Legion, to think you would be the one asking that question."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Kesar scowled in confusion, unsure if he should be insulted or honored.
"The second worst person to face is a man filled with hate, purely dedicated to killing until they die." Mortarion gestured to Kesar. "A niche your sons fill well when it comes to the warp."
"And the worst?" Kesar asked, realizing the angle the Reaper of Men was aiming for. "You think those in the Desolation would have turned into the worst men to face?"
"Look at what's happened," the Death Lord explained with an out-of-place smirk for the occasion, one which made Ramcus scowl from across the room. "The remnants of the Desolation still fight on. Outnumbered 10 to 1, lacking any heavy equipment, lacking basic supplies, and lacking any semblance of coordination; yet the Imperial Army fears them." The Pale King's smirk widened, "imagine what would be needed to deal with 100 times their number?"
"I don't mean to claim you're wrong," Kesar hesitantly began, "but they only seem to be fighting out of desperation. If we had done as Ramcus wished, then they would be less dangerous."
"You misunderstand," Mortarion explained. "The danger was not starving, desperate men with nothing to lose. The danger was men with everything to gain, as long as they won."
"But brother, if that is the case, what of the reforms we're starting? The common man has everything to gain, as long as they succeed." Kesar observed. "Do you think we'll be met with a similar response?"
Mortarion frowned, clearly ruminating on Kesar's words. He almost began speaking, but stopped himself, recollecting his thoughts as his mind raced. "I don't think I like that observation."
"How come?"
"Well," the Death Lord began, "because I know how I would respond to this situation. And I know how ill-prepared we are for that."
"Ramcus does raise some interesting points," Kesar redirected to the topic at hand. "And it's clear you aren't blind to them."
"My methods are effective and needed in places," the Reaper of Men spoke up, coming to a decision. "With the information I had at the time, my actions were the best choice."
"But with the information you have now …"
"Now …" Mortarion glanced over at Vulkan, "now … I think I should make sure our brother knows I'm willing to do whatever is needed to ensure everyone gets what they demand."
With his conversation with Mortarion complete, Kesar glanced over at Ramcus, debating whether or not to approach the mortal. On the one hand, he wasn't sure how Mortarion would react to such a blatant show, but on the other hand, the man did interest him. Eventually, his faith in his brother's rationality won out, and Kesar approached the Lord General. "Lord General Militant, I was hoping to discuss a few topics with you."
Ramcus looked at Kesar, squinting at the Primarch, clearly wondering if there was a deeper game at play. Cautiously, he acquiesced, "It depends on the topic."
"Why do you think the Desolation was a failure?" Kesar carefully spoke, ensuring his words came out as inquisitive and without rebuke.
A snort was the response. "Have you looked at the place? At this point, the Imperium is throwing men at unlivable planets just so we can say we have them. We lost over 10 trillion guardsmen to death and desertion at the most optimistic, 40 trillion at the most pessimistic."
Kesar blinked, he hadn't heard those numbers before, to think there was a possibility that the Desolation had killed more guardsmen than the Maelstrom … "are you sure about those numbers?"
"My predecessor shot himself during a live speech," Ramcus bluntly replied, "if anything those numbers are understating things. It doesn't even cover some of the more intangible losses."
"You're saying the Imperial Army doesn't trust high command?" Kesar asked, realizing what Ramcus was pointing to. "But you blamed yourself, not the army as a whole?"
"I can survive resigning," the former General Militant responded with a bitter chuckle. "What I can't survive is complaining about the Imperium's masters."
Kesar tilted his head towards Mortarion. "Are you sure you haven't just done that?"
"As if either the Primarchs or the Emperor is actually the master of the Imperium," Ramcus said with a sad smile. "Either one of you would be kinder than the actual master, and apparently the Emperor is missing parts of his soul."
"You would accuse Malcador of dooming the Imperium?" Kesar's eyes widened at the realization.
"May his life end at the soonest possible moment," Ramcus declared with a snarl.
"That-" Kesar paused, actually considering the words spoken. "That seems extreme." Kesar finished somewhat lamely, torn between defending Malcador and trying to calm Ramcus.
"He's an extreme problem," the Lord General Militant bluntly replied. "Requiring an extreme solution."
"I think you're mistaken," Kesar said carefully, taking care to sound neutral as he defended his friend. "Malcador is callous, yes, but every decision he makes is carefully calculated to preserve the maximum number of lives."
"Then he's shit at math."
Those words made Kesar's brain almost short-circuit as he had to process exactly what Ramcus said. "Wait, what did you just say?"
"I think you heard me."
The Second Anathema didn't respond for several seconds, utterly confused at what had just transpired. "You're going to have to explain that."
The Lord General Militant sighed, "If you want to see the results of his 'calculations', then head to the Desolation or an average Hive World's underbelly or anywhere else where lives are being preserved. The only thing being preserved is corpse-starch." Kesar took the brief silence between sentences to ruminate on Ramcus' words. Were they true? …He really wished he could say no. The more time he talked at this conference it seems, the less and less confident he became in the idea that the Imperium truly was needed. "Do you agree? Or are you going to be like everyone else at the top of the Imperium?"
"That depends," Kesar simply stated. "Do I agree that some of Malcador's decisions are suboptimal? Yes, undoubtedly. But do I agree that those decisions were suboptimal with the information he had? I don't think so."
Ramcus snorted, "the man had all the information he needed. He just thought he was playing a paint-by-numbers game instead of an actual war."
"Have you ever actually talked to him?" Kesar insistently asked.
"There are easier ways to kill myself," the mortal said darkly, "less painful ways as well."
"Fine, you're entitled to your beliefs." Kesar winced at the irritation in his voice. "Then how should Malcador have corrected his math?"
"He can't." Ramcus responded instantly, "he's like every tyrant the Imperium has fought except the most successful of them all. And since when have any of those tyrants changed their ways even when their empire began to crumble?"
Kesar sighed, realizing that this was a rather unproductive line of conversation. "Then as someone who will be meeting with him soon, can I ask what you'd say to him if you could? I am not a normal man or an unbiased one, but I'd like to hear what someone who more clearly sees what is truly going on with the Imperium would ask?"
"I wouldn't say shit to his face," Ramcus clarified. "The worst Mortarion can do is torture me, I'd probably break in a few days, but he'd get bored eventually. With Malcador he'd keep torturing me on principle in the best case." A haunted look crossed over him, "I've seen what he does to people, knowing that, there's no way in hell I'd speak to him if I can avoid it."
That gave the Daemonsbane pause, he knew Malcador would do whatever was needed, but the way Ramcus described it, it seemed far more than he expected. Tentatively, he decided to reorient to the topic at hand, "that … that didn't answer my question."
The Lord General Militant shook his head, "then ask him this. How is he going to discredit or kill the XIth Primarch?"
"You have a habit of making shocking statements," Kesar blandly observed, entirely of the opinion that Ramcus was being sarcastic. "Why not ask about the other Primarchs instead?"
"I have ideas on how he'll deal with the other Primarchs," Ramcus shrugged. "But you're wrapped up in so many classified dossiers that I have no idea what his plan for you would be."
"He's not planning on killing me!" Kesar spat out, shocked.
The Lord General Militant chuckled, "He might just discredit you. But whatever he does, it clearly won't be good."
"You're letting your own biases cloud your judgment," Kesar said, frustrated with this conversation. "I've actually spoken to him, and I swear to you, he isn't going to do whatever it is you fear."
"Well, when he does, I reserve the right to say, 'I told you so'." Ramcus genuinely smiled, "well, that'll be rather satisfying for me. I haven't had the chance to actually humble a Primarch."
"This conversation is over," Kesar stood up, not bothering to look at the mortal as he walked away.
"I think you and I should talk," the Night Haunter whispered, his talon gently clutching the mortal's shoulder just tightly enough to pinch.
Ramcus' smirk vanished.
You have 10 Research Years to spend. See the research informational for how much each research takes. You can sacrifice 5 research years for 1 additional social. And 10 years for two.
[] Vortex Safety Procedures – Advanced
[] Warp Genetics – Advanced (0/1 DC10)
[] Warp Reflection Manipulation – Master
[] Higher Order Fundamental Modelling - Grandmaster
[] Architectural Reflection Manipulation – Advanced
[] Frequency Analysis – Advanced
[] Null Rod Construction – Pioneer
[] Atomic Structures - Grandmaster
[] Nanostructures - Grandmaster
[] Microstructures - Grandmaster
[] Macro Structures- Grandmaster
[] Analytical Material Science – Grandmaster
[] Specialized Design Principles – Grandmaster
[] Basic Xeno Design Principles – Advanced
[] Multidimensional Physics – Grandmaster
[] Warp Theory – Pioneer
[] Lexicographic Cyphers – Advanced
[] Quantum Cryptography – Master
[] Integer Factorization Algorithms – Master
[] Thunder Warriors Genome – Grandmaster (2/4)
[] Linking Basic Runes – Grandmaster
[] Soul Makeup – Master
[] Master Understanding of Cultist Behavior - Master
[] Advanced Cultist Countermeasures - Master (2/3)
[] Cultist Rituals - Advanced
[-] Titan Void Shield Mastery – Master (Will Complete)
[] Gellar Field Stabilization – Master
[] Teleportarium Range Upgrade – Grandmaster (0/1)
[] Crossing Advanced Runes – Pioneer
[] Machine Spirit Understanding – Master
[] Voidship Runic Patterns – Pioneer
[] Runic Network Theory – Pioneer
[] Gravitational Well Emergency Jump – Master
[] Void Shield Possible Mass Upgrade – Grandmaster (3/4)
[] Expressions of Materials - Advanced
You have 5 social slots normally. 4 of which are locked leaving you with 1. You can sacrifice 1 social slot for 5 research years as well.
[X] The Renegade Few - One of the most pivotal events in the Imperium's history. Kesar helped create it in the first place and spoke his peace. It was here that he was put into contact with the Harlequins and learned of their connections with his brothers. And it is here where the future was changed.
[X] Heroes of the Wardens - After talking with the Harlequin, Kesar committed to asking his sons for advice. While the Eldar's words were reasonable, the Second Anathema knew that some of his sons would feel betrayed if he kept the decision from them. And that's not even considering Oriacarius.
[X] Magnus - The Cyclops' proposed experiment is dangerous, and Kesar was invited to it. Additionally, it would be good to get some additional perspective on the Eldar. Magnus even mentioned that someone he thought of as a sister would be joining them.
[X] The Presentation - Out of all the Primarchs Vulkan could invite with him to speak with Malcador, he chose Kesar. While he's certainly flattered, the Daemonsbane is unhappy to have been blindsided by this. However, bowing out of this meeting is sadly not an option.
[] Leman - The Primarch of the Space Wolves has sent a letter wishing to meet with Kesar. Citing recent tensions within the Imperium, and Kesar's own actions, the Emperor's Executioner wishes for an explanation for what has occurred. Notably, Leman has said he does still owe Kesar a favor.
[] Vulkan - The Primarch of the Salamanders wishes to meet with Kesar in private. Both to explain why he blindsided the Daemonsbane as he did, as well as talk on more sensitive topics. While this isn't needed, and Vulkan said as much, it may be important nonetheless.
[] The Emperor - While Kesar hasn't received a missive from the Emperor directly, he has received a circuitous message through multiple unofficial sources. It seems the Master of Man wishes to have a talk with him both privately and secretly.
[] Arthron - The psyker Kesar promised to train. While he doesn't have to spend a large amount of time with him to do so, spending additional time and effort getting to know Guilliman's friend may be worthwhile. And it'd be a good way to bleed off stress.
[] Alpharius - The Hydra's letter was rather straightforward, directly telling Kesar to meet him at a designated location. That was beyond concerning considering Alpharius' personality. If he was being direct … Kesar didn't want to think about what that meant.
[] Lord General Militant Karcer Urial - The commander in charge of the Imperial Army force being gathered to handle the Maelstrom. While normally Kesar wouldn't meet with them, based on everything he has heard of the situation, he might have to discuss matters with her. He did briefly converse with her in the past, as she was the former Lord Commander of Ultima.
[] Write-in (Ask the GM first)
Holy shit Ramcus you ballsy madman, I mean he isn't wrong but holy shit.
Mortarion coming to terms with just how far he's willing to go is veddy nice, Kesar also having to come to terms with Malc was pretty heavy and fitting...and i have no idea who the last social should be as there's a lot of options that fit.
I'm honestly thinking Big E though
Main reason, Kesar is one of the few that has earned his favor the most and he's thus one of the best suited to be the go between.
Overall when it comes to the socials, my list of priority ends up being
Leman/Big E
Alpharius/Vulkan
Arthron/Urial
I'm honestly thinking Big E though
Main reason, Kesar is one of the few that has earned his favor the most and he's thus one of the best suited to be the go between.
Overall when it comes to the socials, my list of priority ends up being
Leman/Big E
Alpharius/Vulkan
Arthron/Urial
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- Location
- USA
I'm thinking the two most urgent are the Emperor and Alpharius.
Probably need to give up some research to do both.
Probably need to give up some research to do both.
My reasons for putting Leman are as follows
1: He's arguably been one of the closest allies we've had in terms of anti chaos and general steadfastery.
2: he's reaching out to us as the Emperor's executioner aka as the primarch killer, aka he's worried about that job coming up and is mentioning the favor as well. Basically he's going "I really want to plan how to get us both out of this."
3: He's been rather out of the loop in general on things and Kesar's side of it and deserves to be caught up. Not to mention his integrity with the Loyalistis is high as fuck so his word will be good if/when he needs to speak for us in some way as an authority on motives.
4: Alpharius can find us a lot easier than Leman can, so access does play a factor.
5: Leman is not a person to go to killing as the option straight away, as shown by the fact he actually tried to talk down and give Angron a second chance
The fact that Big E is reaching out to Kesar is also key, this is a Big E that's basically gone even harder down the soul lost tree than canon and is suffering hard from it, that he's still reaching out and trying I think to avoid a big spectacle, says a lot and says that this is an avenue worth pursuing.
Big E very much does not want a civil war or anything that will slow down the Great Crusade aka getting as much territory before the orks leave the warp, so it is very much in his best interests to try to find a way to if not give the rebels everything they want, give them enough through Kesar to at least take the wind out of their sails.
1: He's arguably been one of the closest allies we've had in terms of anti chaos and general steadfastery.
2: he's reaching out to us as the Emperor's executioner aka as the primarch killer, aka he's worried about that job coming up and is mentioning the favor as well. Basically he's going "I really want to plan how to get us both out of this."
3: He's been rather out of the loop in general on things and Kesar's side of it and deserves to be caught up. Not to mention his integrity with the Loyalistis is high as fuck so his word will be good if/when he needs to speak for us in some way as an authority on motives.
4: Alpharius can find us a lot easier than Leman can, so access does play a factor.
5: Leman is not a person to go to killing as the option straight away, as shown by the fact he actually tried to talk down and give Angron a second chance
The fact that Big E is reaching out to Kesar is also key, this is a Big E that's basically gone even harder down the soul lost tree than canon and is suffering hard from it, that he's still reaching out and trying I think to avoid a big spectacle, says a lot and says that this is an avenue worth pursuing.
Big E very much does not want a civil war or anything that will slow down the Great Crusade aka getting as much territory before the orks leave the warp, so it is very much in his best interests to try to find a way to if not give the rebels everything they want, give them enough through Kesar to at least take the wind out of their sails.
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- Location
- here
I am not sure if it was retconned by now, but there used to be "The Angel", Emperor's "favorite son", who was basically a daemon prince made of Emperor's soul piece.
He was literally unable to betray the Emperor.
He got decommissioned for being, by 40k Inquisition standards, mildly overzealous in purging corruption.
The Emperor has a goal and he seems to be willing to sacrifice everything and everyone, including himself, to achieve the goal. No amount of favor or loyalty can ever make you safe.
The angel was mentioned in the ritual war, and is basically a super construct that needed to be contained once the ritual was over.
Crake
I AM THE STORM THAT IS APPROACHING
- Location
- USA
So it's been talked about on Discord already, but I'll go ahead and cover the options presented.
1) Leman might find it hard to gain access to Kesar later, and he has a lot of clout and influence internally with the Loyalist faction. He kind of needs to have an inside line to the Reformists because he's the one (besides Sanguinius) actively invested in trying to head things off, whereas it seems like Ferrus and Fulgrim are resigned to merely mitigating the harm suffered from things.
2) Vulkan will get to explain his reasoning at least if we're locked into going to the meeting together, but we might not get to cover all the sensitive subjects we need to, and if we skip this now I'm sure that we'll be going into a few things less able to make preparations for certain events.
3) The Emperor actually presents an interesting situation, where he seems to actively, throughout the quest, be attempting to, contradicting himself, influence and mold Kesar under the "pragmatic" paradigm of behavior he is operating under, compared to the "Fatherly" persona he adopted with Horus. There is something screwy going on that is probably Warp-related IMO, but part of this situation is definitely based around Kesar genuinely being one of the more pragmatic, less biased, and least glory-seeking of the Primarchs.
I am surprised that he is reaching out, still, though. That's the contradiction, he says he doesn't feel the need to waste time trying to negotiate with the Reformists, instead trying to play around with them or direct his loyalists to do it for him, but he chooses to talk to Kesar. I can only think that he's invested in the idea of Kesar being on his side, which gives us special privileges, if only in terms of having access, to begin with.
4) Kesar will still uphold this obligation, and unfortunately, other things take priority at this moment. Sorry, Arthron.
5) Alpharius honestly can find us easier than we can find him, if only due to his travel shenanigans.
6) We can delegate this.
1) Leman might find it hard to gain access to Kesar later, and he has a lot of clout and influence internally with the Loyalist faction. He kind of needs to have an inside line to the Reformists because he's the one (besides Sanguinius) actively invested in trying to head things off, whereas it seems like Ferrus and Fulgrim are resigned to merely mitigating the harm suffered from things.
2) Vulkan will get to explain his reasoning at least if we're locked into going to the meeting together, but we might not get to cover all the sensitive subjects we need to, and if we skip this now I'm sure that we'll be going into a few things less able to make preparations for certain events.
3) The Emperor actually presents an interesting situation, where he seems to actively, throughout the quest, be attempting to, contradicting himself, influence and mold Kesar under the "pragmatic" paradigm of behavior he is operating under, compared to the "Fatherly" persona he adopted with Horus. There is something screwy going on that is probably Warp-related IMO, but part of this situation is definitely based around Kesar genuinely being one of the more pragmatic, less biased, and least glory-seeking of the Primarchs.
I am surprised that he is reaching out, still, though. That's the contradiction, he says he doesn't feel the need to waste time trying to negotiate with the Reformists, instead trying to play around with them or direct his loyalists to do it for him, but he chooses to talk to Kesar. I can only think that he's invested in the idea of Kesar being on his side, which gives us special privileges, if only in terms of having access, to begin with.
4) Kesar will still uphold this obligation, and unfortunately, other things take priority at this moment. Sorry, Arthron.
5) Alpharius honestly can find us easier than we can find him, if only due to his travel shenanigans.
6) We can delegate this.
- Location
- U.S.
@Daemon Hunter can we speak with malcador?
I will argue in favor of Alpharius here. Is it true that other socials are time sensitive? Yes. People like Leman and emps are going to be increasingly less likely to reach out to us going forward, but Alpharius is truly important here. Alpharius and Omegon may have a more strained relationship with Kesar right now, but Kesar himself is absolutely ride or die for those two. This is especially important because Alpharius and Omegon themselves are also starting to fight and disagree more and more as time goes on, and if the Hydra does separate like in canon, Kesar would be heartbroken over it. Given the directness and lack of subtlety in Alpharius' message, I think a critical moment for the Twins is coming up soon, and I really don't want us to miss it if it means Kesar can help them out.
- Location
- USA
I feel like this is a somewhat... dismissive? Or inconsiderate way of looking at it.
Just, meh, if it's important he'll find us. No need to meet him or anything. Let him come to us. We're busy.
When the context of the request itself shows that it's very out of character and likely quite serious.
Also isn't Alpharius the one going to meet Cegorach? That might be why he wants us somewhere specific. To meet him with us.