The pod had crashed into the ground only minutes ago, drawing a fiery streak through the sky before coming to a stop in a mess of metal parts and scorched Earth, but it is largely intact. The woman draws near, uncaring of the heat of the pod, working carefully to open it up, nimble fingers drawing upon her powers of the Materium, speaking to the pods' simple AI systems. She had felt something was about to happen, seen the visions, felt the disturbance in the Veil when the pod entered realspace hours ago on a collision course with this world. She wonders whether fate or her own decisions had brought her to Tenus, convinced that the Way has led her to this moment.
The pod opens up, revealing a human baby. Skin rosy, crying, innocent. The woman can feel the residual psychic energy emanating from his tiny body when she picks him up, draws him to her chest, holds him close until he ceases wailing, knows he is not a naturally born human and can feel the mark of the Four on his soul. Forbidden knowledge from an impossible realm brought into reality, thinning the Veil further. Part of her feels an odd sensation brewing inside her, hunger for the small one's soul, but before she can think about it more clearly, a familiar pull draws her back. A vision comes over her as she holds him, she sees men in powered armor warring, bringing victories in the name of the Anathema, building an Empire, a great Imperium of Man. The vision is vague, her connection brittle, she is not whole. Maybe if she were, she could see more, but she isn't. She is but a fragment of her former self and as such she can only see one thing for certain. The Anathemas wolves set loose upon the poor boy in her arms because…(Vote for one)
[]He will destroy a terrible weapon.
[]He will prevent a terrible tragedy.
[]He will save someone he will care about.
As quickly as it had come, the vision is gone and she returns to the crash site. There is nothing she can do for him. Her visions always come to pass, but everyone dies sooner or later. What matters are the choices one makes along the Way, the people one influences, whose lives one touches. He still has a role to play in the events to come, the second son of twenty sons, still has a life to live untouched by her visions.
She is already part of this, cannot back out now. The woman makes her way back, holds the infant in front of her, examines him, body and soul, knows she does not feel right when touching the brightly shining bundle of warp energies that is his soul. Her touch is sharp and painful despite her effort not to, causing him to wake up and begin crying again. He is still young and malleable, drawing out the potential of his physical form is no problem for her. He will need it. She will assist him, prepare him for the role the Anathema had planned for him. His potential for being…(Vote for one)
She smiles at him and moves him close to her chest again, soothing the little man of great power as she goes on her way to her current home on this planet. Tenus is…(Vote for one)
[]A world of hostile flora and fauna,
[]A world of extreme weather,
[]A world with toxic air and soil
It's people…(Vote for one)
[]Feudal realms of a medieval technology level
[]Have recently rediscovered the steam engine and begun to industrialize
[]Have just re-cracked the atom
She hums a song long forgotten by this humanity, making her way back past the walls into the city, the guards not being able to or not wanting to see her. The woman can make sure she can pass through the gates when she wants, prefers her privacy. As she makes her way home, she muses her mind for what to call him. (Vote for one)
Small thing I had an idea for. No dice rolls, only decisions. Can you overcome fate? You are welcome to try. Technically this quest is a companion quest to my supcom/40k one, but you should be able to follow along wether you read that one or not.
[X]Have just re-cracked the atom
[X]He will prevent a terrible tragedy
[X]A world of extreme weather,
[X]An indomitable psyker
[X]Alekandros Megalos
The first thing Alekandros Megalos Bourgh remembered were the lights. Small flickering flames in the darkness of his mind flashing in and out of existence. Small little things of warmth and emotion, hovering near him only for as long as he could hold on to them, soon dissappearing like sparks dissappeared into the night. Ma told him what he was feeling was a person's soul, that he would be able to see them for longer the more powerful his abilities grew. She would then hug him tightly and as always, he would close his eyes and try to see hers, feel her wamrth beyond the tight, loving embrace, see the spark of the person most dear to him.
He always came up empty, grabbing at emptyness, much to his frustration. When the two of them were out and within the fortress cities halls and corridors, he would ocasionally spot glimpses of other parents being out and about with their children, feeling the love ematating from their souls when he managed to focus the attention of his mind for just a second. He did not understand why Ma was hiding from him, why she choose to cover her soul in nothingsness, unable for him to reach out and feel the warmth.
A ember of resentment that stayed and festered, building steam until they bottled over. It was a bad day, one of the usual, sudden changes of the weather had cancelled their trip to the menorian cliffsides he had hoped to see. Alekandros was sulking with all the energy a few month old primarch could muster. Ma was an saint, with endless patients but it seemed like she too had reached her limit with his tantrum. He felt slighted, betrayed. He had observed he was not like the other children he played with on occasion, he was taller, smarter, they could not see the sparks. He knew his Ma could protect them from the weather and he really wanted to see the cliffs.
When she told him no, his kettle boiled over. His frustration manifested its way into reality in a crackling wave of force, directed at the object of his frustration before him. Anger turned to fear when the walls around them collapsed inwards, stone and rock and metal crumbling under the power of his emotions like paper, burying the two of them, crushing them under rock. For a moment, he could not move, more weight pressing down on him that the superhuman strength of his little body could ever hope to move. Fear turned to panic as the moment dragged on, trapped, isolated, alone.
The rocks moved, debris flowing backwards back where it had come from. The incredible weight on his chest was lifted as Ma rushed forward to take him into her embrace. As the room around them continued to fix itself, he could see something in her, like tiny daggers and ripping teeth digging on the edges of his mind. Her presence paused when she felt his discomfort and she returned to blankeness. He was wailing by then, afraid and yet at the same time craving her comfort, saying he was sorry. His ma just apologized softly and hummed, contuning to hold him until he fell asleep.
Time passed and his understanding of the world grew with him. By now people had noticed he was not developing normally, having experienced twice the number of years of physical and trice of mental development normal for his age. He basked in the attention, but also felt a tinge of sadness when seeing his neighbourhood friends were falling behind him as they continued to develop normally, their sparks retaining their childlike energy. Ma said he had come to her from outer space and one day someone important would come to take him back there. Space was what sorrounded planets, he knew that. He also knew he lived on a planet called Tenus, in the mighty Coalition of Sargell. He knew the Coalition had rediscovered nuclear fission during a destructive and horrible war against an imperialist and evil neighbour on the souther continent, the Empire of Solimin, which was apparently a big deal. Everywhere he went, people celebrated that nuclear energy would power their homes and nuclear weapons ensure their supremacy over Tenus. Apparently a long time ago Tenus had been part of a star spanning human realm, until a great catastrophe had brought it low. Sorrounded by the terrible and unpredictable weather patterns: winds strong enough to lift boulders into the airs, rainfalls heavy enough to wash away hills and dry periods so hot the sun cracked the rock beneath their feat, the people of Tenus had fought and labored hard to draw a meager living from the land. Cities had been carved into the bases of the tallest mountains, mines dug deep into the earth to extract Tenus rich natural resources and men of knowledge and wisdom labored hard to resiscover what had been lost all those centuries ago. Alekandros could see his Ma was not happy with the state of how things were, but she remained elusive when asked about it. Only giving up that peace could only be maintained as long as only the Coalition would have nuclear weapons. The people on the vox channels said the nuclear secrets were safe, but his Ma was wise and powerful, so maybe she was right.
As he grew older, he also began to become his own person through interaction with others and his life experiences, being less dependent on his Ma. What traits did Alekandros develop in his early life. Vote for as many positive and negative traits, the highest two of each will win, of his that will effect his personality going forward. (Please dont just make Vulcan 2.0, thank you)
Additionally, his dormant psyker powers developed more and more with every day. The sparks that he had once only been able to observe fleetingly, began to be a constant. Ma observed the careful exerimentation he did with his fledling powers with a weary eye, telling him to be careful, reminding him of the day he had almost buried himself. She sat down with him, told him of beings from beyond reality that would seek out and abuse him for their own gain. As he grew more powerful, the light of his own soul would attract them like the smell of freshly baked bread attracts the masses on a workday morning. He had laughed and promised her he would be careful.
It was not long after that the nightmares started. At first he would wake up, hearts racing and sweaty, not remembering what had happened, but as time went on the dreams became more clear. Whispers of voices promising him things in languages he could not understand, dirty flames drawing near him, their presence strange and confusing. Until one fateful night he felt something being in the room with him, invisible yet present. He whsipered for his Ma, terrified and confused, a Primarch yet still so young. Frost build on the walls and door as she tried to enter, before finally eradicating the obstacle between her and him from reality. She marched through the room uncaring of the presence, taking Alekandros into her arms, soothing him. A terrible coldness drew over him as she fought the entity. Alekandros could feel his own soul flicker under the drowning sense of emptyness engulfing him, clinging as tight to her as he dared to. He could feel the daggers and teeth again, but no matter how they hurt him they hurt the entitity more. He clung to her until he fell asleep again, remaining in her embrace until morning.
When he returned the following evening, the new door felt bitingly cold to the touch. His mom had done something to his room. The door, walls, floor and ceiling were covered in a black metal that made the room feel cold, not physically, but mentally. A cold his Primarch body could not overcome. Falling sleeping was hard, but he had discovered he did not need much of it anyway.
At least the entities never dared return.
It was a few weeks later that Ma pulled him into their kitchen and sat down at their kitchen table, a cup of recaff in her hand. The dark, bitter drink was heavily rationed, expensive, but Ma always seemed to have enough of it to share a cup with their neighbors. By now he was as tall as her despite his age, moving to sit down at the table under the yellow lighting of the Lumen above them.
Ma turned the cup in her hand, anxious. As usual Alekandros only had her mannerisms to read her emotions, her inner being unreadable to him, blank. She lifted the gaze of her green eyes up at him from the centre of the table, moving to say something, before looking down again, moving a strain of her long blonde hair behind her ear. He waited, it seemed important.
"Alek, I am sorry." She finally managed to say.
"What for?" He furrowed his brows, trying to read her.
"For not being able to help you with your abilities more. When I found you in that pod, I thought I could do more, but…" She trailed off.
"I never asked Ma." He responded, voice low. "It seemed like a question you did not want to be asked, but what are you?"
The unasked asked, she threw him a cold smile that ran a shiver down his spine. "I will tell you one day, I promise."
She took a sip, continuing before he could say something. "Transmuting your walls into phase iron is a temporary solution. You will need training from one of your kind."
"My kind."
"Psykers", she stated flatly. "We will move. This is not to be discussed."
He nodded, yielding to the stern tone of his mother.
Who will be responsible for training him? (Vote for one)
[]A Cabal of Underground Witches Psykers are strongly feared, monitored and hunted on Tenus because of scars and fears, the roots of which run deep. There is a cabal of witches on Tenus pracisting and developing their powers and knowledge in secret, away from the eyes of the Coalition or the Empire in a remote location, since the time of the fall.
[]The Imperial Sorcererer Academy While the Coalition has no such body, Solimin has at least a fledging intitution to train the strongest and most reliable with psyking powers.
[]An Eldar Farseer Alekandros had only ever heard rumored stories of the humanoid Xenos, least that his mother actually know some of them personally.
Thanks for participating. I reserve myself the right to disregard, interpret, change and add to WH40k and 30k lore as I see fit to support the narrative. Comments and feedback sustain my soul.
Alekandors was almost five years old when Ma told him to pack his most important belongins and leave what been their home since forever. He had realized for a while it would have been inevitable, even if he didnt require training to safely make use of his psychic talents. By now it had become apparent to his environment that he was not normal. The people of Tenus lived in tight-knit communities in the underground- and cave-districts of their cities and villages and considered him and his Ma as one of them. Still, they were wary of Psykers and you when taking glimpses of their minds he could see that many harbored suspicions against him, but Ma appeared to serve as a counterbalance. She was trusted and so kept any suspicions for themselves. No witchhunter would ever knock at their doors and try to take him away. It saddened him, feeling their distrust of psykers and witches, but Alekandros had experienced first hand how entity from beyond the veil tried to claw its way into reality using him as a gateway. It explained the deep rooted fears, but it also meant he had to work twice as hard to prove them wrong. The district they lived in had tried its best to accomendate Alekandros, but by now the teachers at the district schola had nothing left to teach him. He had grown increasingly frustrated at the lack of opportunities to allow him to continue learning, improving, perfecting his understanding of the world, while another part of him never wanting to leave. Going deep into himself however, he managed to disentangle these conflicting feelings. His psychic potential had developed to a point where his presence was a danger to those around him, excluding maybe Ma. His drive to master these powers smashed against this reality, bringing forth the realization that he would require outside help, that this was not a problem he could solve himself.
So they had to leave.
The cities of Sargell were connected by underground railroads arduously dug over decades into the hard rock to facilitate trade and connect the various city states together. Transport of goods had largely been replaced by transport of people, as transporting bulk cargo had moved to promethium or nuclear-powered, leviathan-sized cargo vessels, that could withstand the turbulent seas of Tenus, over the last decades. Moving was as easy as buying a ticket for tram. There were some odd looks when security checked his credentials. Alekandros was a four year old, looking like a nine year old with some kind of growth disfunction, standing as tall as his Ma and taller than the two officers checking their tickets. Convincing them otherwise was as easy as carefulling reading their surface emotions and using the right words telling them it was merely some kind of mixup. Ma could have probably taken care of the problem somehow, but he was ocasionally driven by the urge to show her he could talk yourself out of difficult situations, that some things things could be done his way.
She did not comment and moved on.
Travel was uneventful. Apparently things were heating up in the south and the Coalition had moved one of her carrier battlegroups into contested waters as a show of force and support to an allied nation in the region. The young Primarch knew from his history and geography teachers that the equator had become contested in recent times as the geography allowed for limited open air-agriculture. Before the war, Sargell and Solimin had peacefully traded their industrial goods for agricultural produce from the equatorial nations to feed their growing populations, until Solimin had sought to annex these territories as part of their imperial expansion.
It was clear to him this could not have been the whole story, but seeking the truth of the matter, the other perspective, would have to wait. What also was clear was that another war in the region would affect everyone on Tenus. Food was rationed since forever in the Coalition, the cultural effects of which had managed to root deep. People occasionally threw angry glares at him, seeing his size and the developing musculature of his adolescent, superhuman body as a sign of excess and waste, not that he could help it. His ma had pulled some strings so he was granted a food ration card for teenagers, but he beyond that did not get any special priviliges. Stubborn as he knew he was, he had rejected it at first, but his mother had been rather insisted on the matter.
He also knew it was smart to listen to her, so had relented.
Their journey took them north, away from the brewing conflict. Tenus northern polar regions where characterized by unpreditable and quickly changing periods of heavy snowfall and melting periods and only very few people lived in these parts, except the few settlements that had sprung in the protective wind shadows of mountains, their primary trade being logging of the planet's mighty iron oaks, one of the few species of plants that thrived in the hostile weather and served as the basis for Tenus' sparse ecosystem, providing shelter from wind and weather.
Reaching the endpoint of the tram part of their jorney, they continued even further north. Alekandros was unsure if a normal human could have made this voyage, marching through the terrible storms of icy shards as big as knifes and through the sudden shifts to seering hot weather, even with the cover of the iron oaks. He felt his young superhuman body pushed beyond what he had been been forced to experience so far, but he marched on without complaint. Food was scarce, but Ma didnt seem to need to eat anyway and he discovered much to his surprise that his body could gain nourishment from the bark of iron oaks.
Hundreds of kilometers into the deepest, most hostile wilderness they drew close. Alek could feel his presence long before they actually arrived. It was…intruiging, different, powerful. The souls of humans were sparks, embers or small fires, flickering, inconsistent, but this one was a consistent, white-hot glowing piece of metal, smelling like discipline, control, with something alien. The presence refused to budge or respond when he tried reaching out, waiting for him to draw closer to arrive.
Finally, they reached a cave opening in the middle of nowehere, protected from the weather and in the middle of nowhere, and the source of the presence. A single man lived in these caves, clad in strange armor, sitting on a smooth piece of rock and throwing dice onto the smooth surface beneath him. The cave around him illuminated by feintly glowing crystals. Alek knew this could only be the Eldar his mother had mentioned, but his alien nature only became clear as they approached closer. Long, pointy ears, slender and refined features, humanoid, but not human.
"You are late, Outsider." He said as they drew close, dusting off snow from their heavy coats, Alek flinching at the aliens tone, elegant, arrogant and confident. His presence did not change, betraying not a single hint of his emotions.
"I like to keep a low profile." Ma responded, throwing a few logs of iron oak into the primitive fireplace and snipping her finger to set them aflame.
"Something you do very successfully, the runes had told me your arrival would be soon, but not by how much." Finally, he moved, picking up the runestones in one smooth motion before standing up in am inhumanly graceful manner. This refined, cold face turned to Alek, examining him. "Is this the Mon'keigh you spoke of."
"I think this is a redunant question." She took off her gloves and rubbed her hands in the fires warmth. "And his name is Alekandros."
He huffed. "I am aware. The boy soul is a raging fire I could spot since you left the last Mon'keigh settlement, very easy to read."
The remark triggered a burst of shame flickering up inside him which he tried to surpress, wanting to make a good first impression on his teacher, arrogant as he may appear. "I believe this is why I am here."
"That you are indeed." He nodded and moved forward a probing mental finger of psychic energy towards Alek, condensed and focused, speaking into his mind. "I can already feel you will be a troubling student, but I will do what is within my power. The runes suggest it would not be ideal to leave one with your monstrous potential untrained, unchecked, open to the lure of the ruinous powers. My name is Anvarian Shaie, Farseer of the Craftworld Alaitoc, Alekandros Bourgh, remember it well."
"How did you-" Alek took an involuntary step back.
"Focus and training, young one, something you have lacked so far. I can feel you have a primitive understanding of the projection of emotions, but none of language or ideas. You are raw power in a chalice, the slightest disturbance spilling it over the edge."
"My ways have brought me this far without indicent, Anvarian. I am aware I am in need of teaching, am willing to learn, but you will need to convince me of the superiotiry of your ways, not insult my person."
"Any discussion I should be a part of?" Ma asked, sitting at the fire and making some iron oak pine tea in a metal pot.
Anvarian further impressed Alek by answering while contuning to talk in his mind simultaniously, while making his way outside into the growing snowstorm. "I am merely having a discussion with your foundling, Outsider. No need to include yourself. Concern yourself with matters of this realm and make some hot water for me too."
"This shall be your first lesson then. Emotions are what attracts the Warp predators. Control them well, steel your mind in iron chains. Follow me outside."
Alek followed behind him into the brewing ice storm lightly illuminated by the north lights above them. The Eldar did not seem to care much, the ice shards seeming to never hit him as he strode through the knee high snow, staff in hand.
"Do not call me an Eldar. That is a mon'keigh term. We are Aeldari."
"Its what your kind is called in my tongue." Alek shouted to try and communicate thrugh the storm. "Call us humans and I will call your kind Aeldari."
"Hm, a fair trade young one." He mused, allowing a sliver of amusement to be visible through his presence. "This if far enough. Your guardian would do me great harm if something happened to you. So if you start to feel the cold, we will take a break." He moved his hands and the snow blew aside for him to sit down. "Sit, close your eyes, breathe."
"How is sitting in the cold supposed to help me again?"
"Are you telling me this little snow is too much for you?"
"It is not", Alek answered, knowing full well Anvarian was appealing to his stubborn side, probably preparing fur a future lecture on not leeting others try to let his emotions dicate his actions and plopped down into the snow. The wind and icy shard felt like tiny daggers in his face, but he would show his teacher he could do it.
"Good, now, empty your thoughts. I see you imagine souls as flames. A primitive comparison, but I guess a fiting one. You are currently a raging inferno, try to smother these flames until you are but a large field of simmering embers."
Alek did as he told, forcefully trying to keep his emotions in check, breathing carefully, sitting on the freezing ground even as he was threatened to turn into a small hill of snow. It seemed like an impossible task, there was just so much. Maybe he was thinking too much. He needed to think about nothing first. How did one think about nothing.
"Let go, young one. Do not force the issue. It is a long walk, not a sprint."
"How about you let me try my way first." He reponded, the first instance of the effects of the cold siphoning into his voice. "If I succeed I have learned it myself, if I dont we can still try your way. It is a long walk after all, is it not."
Luckily for him, the weather shifted. The storm travelling elsewhere and the temperature rising, snow melting over the next few hours. By now he had managed to force his being down to glowing coals, not as much as he wanted. The temperatures now began to grow uncomfortably hot, even though it was night. His teacher appeared to be unaffected by the environment, his being gleaming with a constant, measured source of power. Sweat was running down his body, because of the heat and the mental exhaustion.
"We will stop for today, Young One." The voice of his teacher disturbed the hot silence. "I feel like if I don't end this sooner, your Guardian will smite me."
Taking a deep breath he turned around, seeing his Ma stand not far from them, invisible to his mental eye as always.
"You are a creative one, but I must warn of botteling up your emotions like you tried to do. It does work, but also leave them building pressure like volcanoes over time. Be aware of your emotions, but do not let them control you."
This ended their first session. Over the next few years Anvarian taught him in all manner of ways, usually involving the harsh environment as a crucible to forge his being. Much to the frustration of his teacher, he did turn out to be a feisty student, willing to spend a great time frustrating upon a particular lesson until he had mastered it to his own satisfaction. Much to the delight of his teacher however, he turned out to be a smart and attentive student, quickly learning whatever dicipline or lesson Anvarian had in store for him.
His teacher was aware the Aeldari way was only partially applicable to humans, but he still tried to instill the basics of their paths onto him, taught him about the Fall, about She Who Thrists and the Ruinous Powers and their never ending personal battle to control their emotions. By the end of the five years of training in the wilderness, Alek had grown even further. He had matured, mastered all diciplines his teacher had been able to teach him. His being was now an iron star, dense and hot yet indrecibly stable. His mind could reach far, much farther than he would ever had anticpated. He could see the little connections in the environment, how it was all connected. It was all so fragile, a single of his thoughts could have swept it away, shattered the mighty trunks of iron oaks but why should he. This world, harsh as it was, was beautiful and ancient in a way he felt hard to put into words.
He had physically matured as well. The years having formed his body into a exemplary specimen of humanity. His body burst with lean, powerful muscles that enabled him to shatter rocks with his bare hands, his physique an expression of the growing strength of mind as well. At ten years old he had seemed to reach the end of his physical growth turning into a…(Vote for one)
[]Tall Man (Comparable to Alpharius)
[]Towering Presence (Towards the Middle over all other Primarchs)
[]Gargantuan Behemoth (Towards Vulcan)
Both teacher and mother agreed he should take up at least something from the concept of Aeldari Paths. Anvarian argued it would be a good outlet for his emotions, something to anker his mind, to steel his resolve. Ma thought him having a hobby would be nice. Alek normally would have just done things his way, but for once they seemed to agree on something. It would not be the Aeldari paths, but his own, personal, Way. A particular aspect to focus his development on appealed to him. (Vote for one)
[]Way of Biomancy
All living things, except your Ma, are overflowing with life force, residual psychic energies. It takes only little effort to pull on those threads, closing wounds, healing flora and fauna alike, spawning them to grow stronger. Mastering this part of his abilities would be his Way.
[]Way of the Seer
The future is uncertain, but glimpses can be gleamed via way of the Immaterium, the closer the more accurate. Knowing the future is a powerful tool, but his mother warned of this Way, telling him that knowing the future could come at a terrible cost.
[]Way of Prowess
Alekandros is stronger, faster, more durable than the average man. From Anvarian's and Ma's tellings is clear that the Galaxy is a hostile place and his Way is ripe with blood. He will strive to become profiscient in all forms of combat, focusing his mastery of his psychic talents upon this aspect.
[]Way of the Mage
The Immaterium is a place of power that can be drawn upon for destruction. Ones thoughts are only required to send forth roaring infernos, destructive waves of force, bolts of lighting and creating indomitable shields. Mastering this aspect of destruction would be his Way.
[]Way of Mind
Souls are easily influenced and tricked, it requires a great deal of effort to pull someone strings of mind, to weave a perfect illusion. This would be his Way.
[]Way of the Artisan
Why use psychic powers to destroy or harm, when you can use them to create. Being an artist or artisan is already putting a part of oneself into ones work. This would be his Way.
Furthermore, as their time together drew to a close. The Aeldari actually surprised Alek, providing him with a boon, a token of respect for his powerful pupil. Teaching him the Aeldari Language. It was difficult, Anvarian often chiding him for his crude proncounciation and barbaric butchering of grammar, until he finally succeeded.
His training finished, they parted ways, unknowing if Fate would make them ever cross paths again.
Thanks for participating. I reserve myself the right to disregard, interpret, change and add to WH40k and 30k lore as I see fit to support the narrative. Comments and feedback sustain my soul.
[X]Way of the Artisan
[X]Tall Man (Comparable to Alpharius)
The Moneran Escalation Begins
The journey back towards civilisation symbolized Alexandros growth over the last five years of intense tuition, physically, mentally and psychically. His Improved confidence, abilities and focus enabled them to return to the settlement they had last set foot in all those many years ago. Heat, cold or the challenges of the terrain barely held him back anymore and even from far away he could already feel the logging village, sending a thin tendril of his mind forth to explore, basking in the feeling of being surrounded by other humans. It tickled a nostalgic string in him, although this time was different. He had been able to see the sparks of their souls before, but now he could see so much more. The flow of residual energies connected them all, connecting people and places in an interwoven web of memories, good and bad. Festivities in the town square when spring season began and the weather grew a little more tolerable or upon Unification Day, but also memories of hunger and disease, ailments rampant everywhere on Tenus where people where forced to huddle close together to protect from the elements. There was also a new fear, almost an anxiety, hanging over the town and her people, the specter of nuclear annihilation.
He did not breach the topic with his Ma until they had reached their destination, briefly stopping by in a diner to eat their first real meal in years. Eggs and fried potatoes, it was not much, but he had found a new appreciation for it, finding it interesting what he could gleam from the food via a little use of divination. The cook was a hardworking woman, working day and night to provide for her three children, their father having died in the Great War.
His mother did not share his enthusiasm for the deeper meaning in the food, wolfing it down without much care, listening to the public vox broadcast playing from a speaker.
"Seems like Silimin has their own nuclear weapons now." She stated dryly, ripping Alexandros from his lunch based fascination to listen closer.
"Tensions run high as the Empress defends the stationing of short range ballistic missiles on the island of Moten, putting Coalition cities into nuclear strike range. As a response, the Council has announced a new wave of military investments in the face of…"
"Those who play with the devil's toys will be brought by degrees to wield his sword." She hums and pokes her eggs.
Alek nodde, drawing a minor illusion around them so noone else would listen in too closely. "This is what you were talking about before we left? I could feel it long before we got here. People are tense, afraid." He shook himself slightly. "The threat of destruction haunts them."
"Seems like you returned at an opportune time then." She smiled at him. "A good period to make a name for yourself."
"I fail to see what I can do in this situation short of forcefully controlling all relevant figures in Solimin. But that would be dangerous, they have their own psykers."
"The Sorcery Academy, yes." Ma took a sip of recaff. "None of them are as powerful as you."
"That does not make it less dangerous. If pushed into a corner they could do something desperate like summoning forth demons or worse." He paused, seeking the gaze of her green eyes. "But if you have wisdom I do not have, tell me of it."
"As one chapter of wars close another one opens." She folds her hands in her lap. "A chapter of smaller scale conflicts and proxy wars, of espionage and diplomatic power plays."
Alek stared into his potatoes. "I could do without that. If I could I would return home, see how the district is doing. There is so much I could do for them now with my talents." He meandered on. "I would like to go to university, learn engineering and art, buy some paints, learn how to paint the north lights we saw when the sky was clear and the firmament full of stars."
"If you could?"
He met her gaze, fidgeting with his hands. The fact that his mother was unreadable to him frustrating him. "Maybe together we could-"
"It is sweet of you wanting to include me Alek", she smiles warmly. "But I like to keep a low profile. There are powers out there whose attention I do not want to draw." Her face grows sour. "By adopting you I will already have drawn that of your creator. I am an Outsider, this is not my Way."
"I can protect you."
"I knew you would try." Her smaller hand moves to cup his. Pale skin meeting recaff cream colored brown, warm, reassuring. "But please, trust me. I can only assist you in a way that a mother can."
Alek throws her a grin, turning his hand to give hers a gentle squeeze. "Then, can I have some Talers. I want to buy some things."
She returns it, rummaging through her bags to pull out some stenciled metal bars. "Of course, sweetie."
The train ride back south was uneventful. The yellow lumen above them flickered, while outside in the tunnel the occasional maintenance light zoomed past. The compartment was full with civilian and soldiers in Coalition uniform, the seat he sat on made for someone much smaller than him. If he were any taller he would have come to regret it. Using biomancy hurt like hell and he was glad to stay as he was. Ma was sleeping in the seat next to him, leaned against his shoulder. Or at least he was sure she was sleeping. How exactly his mother worked was an ongoing mystery, but he did not try to dig too deep even if he desired to understand her. She gave him the gift of privacy and it was fair to return it.
Carefully not to wake her, he moved through his bag to take out what he had bought before they had left for the south. One of the better things about living so far north was that paper was much more affordable. Ma had still be slightly mad when he had come back hands empty after buying a single sketchbook and a set of graphite pencils, not wanting to tell her he had given the rest to a homeless veteran living in the public corridors. He had spent a minute talking to the man, who had clutched the Talers, crying and praising Alek in the name of the heavens. A sense of sadness had filled his heart upon hearing his story. Fixing his simple arm prosthesis was easy, requiring nothing more than a few subtle applications of psychic talent. His bad teeth and aching knee wound where harder to deal with, but with what little time he had he had at least been able to close heal cavities and inflammations, while suppressing the mans pain perception while he did what he could. It was far from perfect, but Ma was waiting for him.
He opened up the sketchbook and took ahold of one of the pencils, staring at the blank white paper in front of him. He had never taken an interest in drawing before, but it was a skill he needed to learn. The way of the artisan would be based on being able to draw sketches and plans, develop a comprehensive feeling for bringing ideas to paper and then into reality.
First he tested the pencils, carefully figuring out their hardness, how the lines behaved he could make with them, trying different angles. He let go of emotion and let them all flow into the paper through the pen, the graphite nothing more than an extension of his soul with which he could bring things into reality. He listened carefully to the whispers in the graphite, hard pencils for sketch lines, soft ones for shading, how he needed to move his hands over paper to create perfect lines and circles, covering the entire piece of paper in hundreds of them, observing and examining each for faults, imperfections, before he tried again, opening himself up to feeling how the pencil should be moved. In union, they replicated this over hours, making careful use of each square centimeter of paper real estate, until it all was filled with fine lines of increasingly refined nature.
When it was done he returned into reality from his deep, artistic meditation, relaxed and exhausted at the same time, feeling contradiction emotions of frustration and delight as his progress. He could feel the emotion in the lines he had brought to paper, the contradicting emotions flown into his practise sheet making it all look disjointed and wrong.
He sharpened his pencils and tried again, flipping to an empty page of virgin potential. The tip of the graphite hovered over the paper while he closed his eyes and pondered what he would try now. Images flipped through his mind, until one of his Ma came to the forefront. He furrowed his brows, browsing his memory for still impressions of his mother. Her gentle eyes, her warm smile, her friendly face, the eyebrows she could wiggle in a way that had made him laugh when he was younger.
The pencil moved, partly conscious effort, partly going with the flow. He tried to keep his emotions steady, coherent, pure, an expression of the love he felt for her. His pencil strokes grew quicker as he grew in confidence, using small movements to bring out the subtle details of her face. He could feel himself on the edge of deeply relaxed state of stoic creationism, peaceful, harmonic, nothing mattering but himself and the sheet of paper in front of him, frustratingly pushing onwards towards the edge, wanting to get there.
He faltered, missing a step somewhere as he pushed too hard, emotions boiling over in frustration as he made a small mistake, the pencil tip breaking off as his psychic flow state flickered. He could feel himself falling, panicking, being drawn deep by a whirlpool of energies focused on the image of his mother. Suddenly he was somewhere else, a tear in reality high above his heads as endless armies of machines fought a never ending battle in the shadow of a Black Sun.
He felt himself be pulled back as icy coldness enclosed his being, siphoning energy from his soul, the familiar feeling of teeth and daggers at the back of his mind. He gasped, looking at the drawing of Ma ruined by the small imperfection, before turning his gaze down towards her. There was a glow in her eyes and the lumen in the carriage flickered ominously. She blinked and everything returned to normal, her face furious as she looked up at him. "Don't ever do that again. She hissed quietly. "There are things I am not telling you for a reason. Do not attempt to use Divination on me again. Some knowledge is dangerous."
He swallowed, quickly falling into the familiar patterns to calm his emotions and steel his mind, smothering the flames of his soul. "I was not-I was trying to." He showed her the sketch and her anger disappeared immediately. "Alek, this is perfect. I didn't know you hid artistic talents this amazing from me all these years."
"It is not perfect", he quickly corrected her, examining his creations. "It's experimentation. The lines are still not right and the shading could be better."
She hummed in agreement, before growing serious again. "More seriously, please be careful in the future."
"I will." He hastily closed the sketchbook and it and the pencils away. "I promise."
The way home was cut short in Lengington, the last change of tram before they would have finally reached home. Alek was currently engaged in sweet talking the tram officers when an emergency message played through the underground tram stations vox speakers.
"Breaking News: After months of buildup and posturing, the Kingdom of Merunia has begun an offensive into the territory of the Principality of Monera. The Coalition and our allies have called out this act of aggression as a further step of escalation in the ongoing Moten-crisis. The Empress of Solimin has yet to comment, but Empire spokespersons claimed they were supporting the territorial rights of their ally, but would not directly involve themselves. The Council is assembling at this very moment to formulate an answer to this illegal act of aggression."
In that moment he felt a hunch, a strange pull forcing him into actions. He apologized to the officer and begun searching for his Ma, cursing her soulless nature, for it made finding her in crowds excessively difficult. For once his height was more useful than his psykers powers.
"You heard that," he asked as soon as he had found and reached her, trying to figure out the look on her face.
"Did you see something?" She tilted her head.
"Felt, I think…I think I need to go." He swallowed, expecting resistance. His ma just smiled and moved a hand to caress his cheek.
"Write me regularly, allright?"
"That's it?" He frowned in confusion. "No be careful?."
"You are powerful. I do not expect something to happen to you."
He chuckled and moved in to embrace her. "Something every ten year old wishes to hear from his mother."
"You are a very special ten year old." She kissed him softly on top of his head. "Do you need some money for wherever it is you need to go."
"Yes please", he laughed, worming out of her arms. "I might need it."
Alek confidently strode trough the Coalition naval port, clad in the multi-weather combat uniform and carrying his gear and M16 autogun over his shoulders. Around him in the roofed over loading dock, armored vehicles, supplies and soldiers were loaded onto the titanic landing craft that would set course towards Monera within a few hours time. He had psychically scanned the various officers around the space shouting orders for the specific one he needed to talk to, but playing dumb never hurt.
"Excuse me", He politely approached Colonel Harskin, putting on his most charismatic smile. "I am looking for Colonel Harskin."
Harskin, a surprisingly stout man with a scar across his temple looked up at him with an expression on intrigued confusion. "Heavens boy, what did your Ma put in your lunch. If you're looking for Harskin, that's me."
"I have these transfer orders." Alek handed him the small sheet of paper which he had talked, and psychically nudged, a very nice military administration woman to make for him, which Harskin read carefully. "You're late, Private Bourgh." He finally said after a minute of careful examination. "The 5th Armored Regiment is leaving harbor shortly. Get your ass in gear and get onto that beauty there." He pointed at the leviathan landing craft, face serious before grinning and slapping a beefy hand on Aleks shoulder. "Welcome to the 5th, Private, you look like someone I would want to anchor myself in a storm. Now go, find Sergeant Higgus. I need to make sure none of the idiots in logistics hurts themselves."
Alek mirrored the grin and saluted the man with a "Yes sir," before moving on. The Leviathan was a massive landing craft, its belly full of gear, supplies and soldiers frollocking around. Some of which turned their head to oogle the new arrival, but Alek projected a mild field of unimportance. He just wanted to find Higgus. Following the line of surface reads of peoples minds and simply asking politely, he eventually found the man and froze.
He knew that specific Bor Higgus.
Bor had already turned around and spotted Alek, the spark of recognition firing wildly within his mind. He could just smother that spark with some psychic pressure, but he would need to do it again and again and didn't particularly care for rewriting the mind of one of his childhood friend's brother's.
"Alek" Bor said confused, half question, half statement. He decided to roll with it. Smiling and striding forward to meet him. "Bor, ey, as if fate wanted to bring us together?"
"Someone you know Sarge", one the soldiers he had talked to before asked, mustering Alek top to bottom.
"We come from the same district." Bor explained drily, eyeing someone who he remembered as playing dirtball with his younger brother, someone who now towered over him. "Make yourself useful. I want to catch up to him in private."
Murmured complaints came from the men as the scrammed off, Alek never breaking the friendly act the whole time. As soon as they were out of earshot range, Bor pounced on him.
"Alek, what happened you and your Ma are suddenly swallowed by the elements and then you return and like-" He motioned helplessly up the young primarchs body. "What are you, fourteen."
"Ten."
"Heavens", Bor massaged his temple. "Five years ago I watched over you playing in the dirt with the kids and now-" He repeated the helpless gesturing.
Alek waited for as long as possible with answering, until the ships internals began to rumble and the leviathan left the dock, then he turned to the Sergeant, face serious.
"Okay, Bor, we can do this two ways."
"What are you talking about?" He sat down on a crate of ration bars, looking exhausted.
"One, you keep this little secret for yourself and I make sure nothing happens to you." There were things he'd rather not do than tell his friend, no matter how far apart they were by now, that his older brother was dead. "Two, you try to get me thrown out. I know my paperwork is in order. Claiming I am ten years old will only get you in trouble."
He smiled, wide and with teeth. "Do we understand ourselves, Sergeant?"
Bor threw death glares at him from his sitting position. "I am going to be sign your name in for so many maintenance shifts, Private." He spat but with no harshness in his tone.
"Good that we understand ourselves. Now, I need somewhere to bunk."
The weeks of ocean travel were uneventful. Storms shook and rocked the leviathan, but Tenusians were a hardy people, accustomed to the harsh elements of their home planet. As threatened, Bor took special care to punish Aleks presence with as many maintenance shifts as he could get away with without drawing suspicion. He did not mind. It was easy to push the mechanics into giving him a rundown of how things worked and he swallowed it all up like a sponge. Whatever item was put into his lap was taken apart, cleaned, oiled and put together again the full attention and focus of his mind, heart and soul. He could practically feel the journey the parts had taken to be here and now, ore mined deep in the bowels of Tenus, refined and forged in impossibly hot foundries, assembled in factories with workers taking sometimes more, sometimes less pride in their work. The little residual touches of maintenance personnel could be felt all over each item, giving it a unique story and personality. Listening to them was easy, mending their ires as well. They were not alive, not conscious, far from it, but he wondered wether or not if a machine was maintained and repaired long enough, wether the countless touches by countless people would embude it with a machine spirit that was more than a lingering suggestion. It took sometimes more, sometimes less nudging with his mind to return broken parts to service and he made sure to return each item in as perfect a condition as he could manage to. When he went to rest after his shifts, after having cleaned forearms and hands of grease and oil, he would take out his sketchbook and let his mind wonder. By now his autogun has been taken apart and put together again so many times that each of the parts were like an old friend for him. He would then draw sketches of his own creation for guns, support equipment even an armored transport, plans for how to make one himself one day.
His skill went not unnoticed and soon soldiers from the 5th would seek him out with scraps of paper from everywhere, to draw them or, his more favorite trick, have them describe someone close to them: a wife, a girlfriend, parent, child, sibling, and then draw a perfect rendition of their face based on their description and the psychic resonance carried in their soul and words. Some would even come to him with more special requests and occasionally would oblige them, enjoying the giddy look on their face.
They had thrown anchor somewhere close to Monera and Colonel Harskin has assembled as many soldiers as possible in the big utility room, but as usual kept the men under his command waiting for a litte. 'Letting them cook' he had heard him say it once.
"Ey Bourgh, whose that?" Wechsler spied into Aleks lap as he was drawing in his sketchbook. "Damn, she's hot. Girlfriend, wife or sister?"
Bor huffed from a row in front of them. "That's his Ma, Wechsler."
The wiry man scrambled backwards in mock fear. "Please don't eat me, Bourgh. I swear I had noble intentions."
Alek grinned, closing his sketchbook and putting one of his large hands on Wrecklsers head. "I promise I wont, if you damn well make sure write your Ma once the higher ups let us."
"We got a deal." He cackled and lightly punched Aleks side.
"ATTENTION", Harskin bellowed, marching on stage. "We have our OOOOOOOOORDERS."
He waited for the murmurs to die down before continuing. "As you all know, the weather cursed Imperials think they can do whatever they want now that they have nukes. Problem for them is, we have them as well." The lights went out and a flickering map of Monera was projected onto a screen. "Damn Merunians have pushed back our allies almost all the way back to the shore. We can't have that obviously. Command in their wisdom will do something the Empire bootlickers will never suspect and launch an naval invasion to take the port of Nuzia, all the way up here. The city is a critical relay point for supplies so taking it will be of highest importance. For the next part, everyone put on their raincoats please."
The map shown changed. Alek took great care in memorizing every single detail, while the Colonel continued.
"We will wait for a raining period in the weather and then attack. The Bootlickers wont know whats coming for them. Coalition soldiers are not afraid to get a little wet, are we?"
Laughter came from around them. "Coalition soldiers fight in every wind and weather", someone howled and the room begun to cheer, Alek joining into the commotion, excited to do his part for the communal psychic spirit in the air.
"Intel suspects the weather will shift in our favor in the next few hours. The 5th will be part of the second wave. More detailed orders will be given to your superior officers, I expect everyone to be ready within twenty minutes, is that clear."
"Yes, Sir." The room bellowed back and Harskin smirked.
The atmosphere in the the armored transport was tense. Everyone's repertoire of jokes was used up and now all that was left was listening to the groans of the landing leviathan around them and the distant sound of the Coalition battleships flattening Merunian positions. Alek was in the back, psychically scanning the shore. Coalition marines had done a good job creating a landing spot, but by now royal forces were reorganizing and were starting to put up a resistance. If he interpreted the psychic shatter around him correctly, the second wave would begin soon.
"Prepare yourself", he warned them. Bot huffed, but checked his weapon, as did the others in the squad. Moments later the order came.
"Alright gents", Bor grinned, while the leviathan groaned louder as its massive engines forced it forward towards the shore. "Lets show those bootlickers why we won the Great War and they did not."
Tension built until there was a sudden shock forward and the forward ramp of the leviathan opened its maw. The driver immediately pushed onto the gas and the transport jumped out of the belly of the beast and onto the shore, gravel and stone cracking under the threads of the armored transport.
Alek could read the enemies trap the moment the armored regiment rolled forward to support the marines, the heavy rain doing nothing to impede his psychic might. "halt immediately", he shouted. "The shore is littered with anti-tank mines."
"They would have blown the Marine support vehicles to hell." Bor rolled his eyes, but Alek did not care much, easily wrestling the vox from Wrechslers small frame. "5th Regiment halt, the shore is trapped. I repeat, the shore is trapped." He put as much psychic authority into his voice as he could and the entire regiment ground to a halt. Harskin was for a moment taken aback as well, before he could collect his wits and shout into the vox to continue advance again.
A single APC followed his order and blew itself up twenty meters further.
"Heavens dammit", the Colonel cursed. "All squads disembark we will do this one on foot from here."
Wrechsler rubbed his wrists. "How did the Marine support-"
"Variable pressure-" Alek explains, moving towards the back of the APC. "The Marine support vehicles are not heavy enough to set them off."
"Shit", he grumbled, correcting the position of the vox unit on his back.
"Doesn't matter now, out." Bor ordered and they disembarked the vehicle and went out into the rain.
In truth it did not really rain as much as the sky emptied itself, adding to it winds that resulted in a 45 degree angle for the direction of the fall. Great streams of water run down from the soldiers raincapes and helmets as they pushed forward from the shore and onto the sparsely populated land. Visibility was almost zero for them, but also for the enemy…unless. Alek carefully eyes the thick curtain of rain in front of them.
"Almost no cover." Bor shouted over the rain, leading the squad forward. "Wish we had the protection of the transports."
"Wish we them to protect us from the rain." One of the others bellowed.
"Afraid to get a little wet?" Alek joked.
"In your dreams Bourgh." came as an answer.
The navies bombardement at least had punched a lot of craters into the flat landscape, allowing them to advance somewhat undisturbed. When they had reached the roadway, the turned right and advanced onwards into Nuzia."
The fighting at the edge of the city was hellish.
"We are fucking stuck here." The Marine sergeant spit some water onto the ground. "Bootlicks have stubbers everywhere at the port and we don't know where. Where are the APCs?"
"Stuck, because of mines until the corps has cleared the beach."
"Damn", he cursed and leaned against the wall that hard served them well as cover, the occasional bullet causing a small splash of pulverized rock. "Anyone have ideas."
"Give me all your guys grenades." Alek ordered, already forming an idea in his head. "I will take them out from afar."
"Bourgh, you look like you can throw me over an APC, but be realistic." Wechsler shouted, flinching each time an explosion or shot came close to them, but handed Alek the two frags he carried with him.
He took them without comment, reached out to the stubber crews defending the port entrances, confused their minds with a few pulls and pushes and then threw six grenades one after the other. The throws would have been impossible, even with his enhanced physique, violating all laws of ballistic arcs by using his mind to guide them where they should go. When they exploded, taking the stubbers with them, he put a little extra oomph into the explosion just to make sure. The suppression fire ended and he motioned the soldiers to move forward. The marines were first to accept his authority, his own squad taking a second longer get going. The stubbers destroyed, royal troops were streaming out of their holes to take over the firing positions that now layed silent, but Alek would not let them. He killed the first seven before they had even spotted him, using his psychic powers to guide his aim, the third he threw against a wall so hard he died then and there, his spine pulverized under the impact, the last one he simply gave a psychic command to sleep, moving ever onwards. Besides him the Marines and the 5th did as he did, falling upon the unprepared fire positions out of the rain, cleaning them out in a matter of minutes. Ever moving, Bor advanced was next to Wechseler, shouting into the voc receiver that the western gate had just been taken. From here they entered the city proper, all subsurface, narrow corridors. Normally they would wait for armor infantry to come and advance through there, but Alek had studied the maps of the city well and an idea formed in his head.
"What do you think of taking out their command staff?"
Of course they followed him. Alek wove simple illusions to keep the way free as much as possible, making sure they were in good positions to jump upon enemy groups where conflict was unavoidable, as they worked their way through the inner city past one beautiful, now war-torn, arcades, shopping streets and public spaces until hey had reached what was tentatively used by the local Colonels as a command post.
They never had a chance.
Caught unaware and unprepared the Coalition troops engaged them from point blank range, water still dripping of their coats. Merunian officers drew their tunnel swords, but engaging Alek in close combat was as fruitless as doing so from afar. He was a whirlwind of destruction, moving, weaving simple illusions to keep the upper hand, shooting when he thought he had a good target, an punching them to death with the butt of his rifle once ammunition had run out.
When the dust had settled they had killed or heavily wounded all but the highest ranking officers, Alek's rifle was broken in two, much to his dismay. Wechsler had been wounded, a flesh wound from a stray shot only, but the man complained like he would die any minute. The Marine medic treating him was rolling his eyes.
The enemy Colonel, who was wearing a uniform totally unfit for combat in Tenus weather, looked at Alek with a measure of fear and disdain as he walked close. The Young Primarch towered over him, carefully and with a smile on his face putting a vox receiver into his hand. "Tell your forces to surrender." He said carefully, loading the words up with as much suggestion as he could draw from the warp. The Colonel deflated, the words working.
Harskin was looking very pleased with himself as he walked into what had only a few hours ago been the office of his equivalent on the enemy side. "Heavens be damned, Bourgh", he addressed him. Alek was standing straight to attention, Bor throwing him angry glares from his position standing next to him. "What you did was crazy, reckless and should not have worked, but-" He ignited a victory lho stick from the enemies stash, taking a deep pull. "-It worked and we took the port and the city with minimal casualties, thanks to the stunt you pulled. And you are missing a Platoon Lieutenant after the previous one got himself offed." Harskin yeeted the rank insignia onto the table before him. "See it as a temporary promotion. If you can prove this was not a one off, you will make it far in the Coalition forces. Now scram off and let me celebrate with this high quality lho sticks confiscated from enemy combatants."
They saluted and left the Colonels office, on their way to visit Wechsler in the infirmary with the others guys.
"You are impossible." Bor groaned.
"You are impossible, Lieutenant." Alek teased him. "Want to become my second in command?"
"Do you even know what that is."
"No", Alek admitted, jumping away from a kick that was so heavily telegraphed a Leviathan battleship could evade it. "But I assume you do."
"I remember disinfecting a scrape on your knee you big child. What would you ever do without me. starting tomorrow we will have some lessons on what being Lieutenant actually means."
What Weapon does Alek craft to replace his broken rifle? (Vote for one)
[]Artisanal Double Swords While useless in a firefight, in the tight environments of Tenus cities double swords would enable him to become a close range nightmare.
[]Artisanal Sword and Autopistol Trading one sword for an autopistol replaces some close combat capacity for a simple ranged option.
[]Artisanal Autogun Autoguns are simple, versatile, precise and not too heavy. The ultimate weapon for the war at hand.
[]Artisanal Heavy Stubber A heavy stubber can let loose a hailstorm of bullets. Normally a heavy weapon for a team, Alexandros incredible strength would allow him to use one like a rifle.
[]Artisanal Autocannon An autocannon is a heavy auto-weapon for use against lightly heavy infantry and light vehicles. Normally a heavy weapon for a team, Alexandros incredible strength would allow him to use one like a heavy rifle.
[]Artisanal (Write-in Ask me First)
How do Alekandros Bourgh and his platoon distinguish themselves during the Monera Escalation? (Vote for one)
[]They broke a encirclement trapping hundreds of Coalition soldiers
[]They held an important position against impossible odds
[]They freed thousands of Moneran prisoners of war.
[]Not a single act of valor, but an unbroken record of excellent service.
Thanks for participating. I reserve myself the right to disregard, interpret, change and add to WH40k and 30k lore as I see fit to support the narrative. Comments and feedback sustain my soul.
