the lion will make a a great sword out of metal from his pod and the materials around him. The lion will then look around to see how he could use the environment to his advantage in the fight against the horde of beasts that come for him.
The horde of animals came and the primarch stood ready, a sword of Adamantium in hand crude in appearance but with a blade of cutting might. Flesh fell as he cut through the Horde, the strongest barely anything compared to his might and inborn skill. Onward he fought for time uncountable to his own mind, a rest never given, ever was the monsters there to attack. The sword broken and remade many times over, bones of monsters added to its construction, his own blood poured into its blade. As the years churned onward, the blade was forged anew from the crude design of the beginning into a weapon worthy of a king. As the greatest beast of them all roared and a paw the size of a building tried to crush him, the blade shimming with the light of the night sky cleaved forth in a lance of spectral energy rending the great limb in twain. With a huff of effort the man leaped to the head of the grand beast and slammed the blade through its skull and into its brain.
The forest quivered for a time as it fell and then out of the darkness others came, in his shape and form, but small and fragile. Garbed in metal and leather, they moved cautiously towards him. They were no threat to him, and no beasts were near, he finally for the first time in life relaxed and let his blade fall to the ground at his side.
Gained: an unnamed relic: improves dueling skill mod by 0.25, negates half dueling bonus wound, can be used as a close ranged weapon
Knowing that my body is a weapon in its own right and that spreading this flame to create subpar weapons will weaken them, I condense the flames tighter around my body, and begin sowing chaos amongst my attackers, striking weapons out of their grips, throwing assailants away from the main body of the fight and meeting outstretched limbs with fierce punches or kicks.
With every burn and shattered bone I inflict, I draw their pain into myself, to strengthen my flames, reinforce my body and seek understanding.
My mind is muddled and I do not know quite what I am, but beneath my knowledge of All Power, and equal to my tactical and augmentative instincts I came into this world knowing culture, philosophy and the soul. None of my knowledge tells me this is a normal situation, and much of it tells me that rash action and misunderstandings can lead to infinite cycles of harm.
I must know the hearts of these beings before taking further action, and if drawing away their pain in pursuit of that knowledge renders me harder to kill, then (nevermind any chance of giving them pause) that is, as they say (though who are 'they' and why do they say it?) killing two birds with one stone.
The fight is bloody but onsided with the power of the stars, flight and a power over the fire of stars made it but a matter of time. Their weapons failed to turn the tide against my might, yet in the end the conclusion is written in blood. Their bodies remain broken upon the ground, their items thrown aside to ensure their survival in due course. But, as I slowly heal, the stars above called to me and the fire within warmed me.
Looking down from the mountains I can see on the horizon cities and villages, yet I wonder if I should venture forth or remain here.
Gained: various Aeldari weapons and armor, upgraded Pankration to Secondary
The lightless, dusty depths of Lycaeus' mines had given little to the young primarch; no mirrors with which he could see himself and compare his frame to the ones in his implanted memories, no scratchy voices barking orders nor solid ones promising liberation if only hand were joined in hand. The shadowed realm was not discomforting to the boy, but still he moved onwards and upwards through the mazelike tunnels in search of - something. People in need or people that needed killing.
That was what he was made for.
The high-pitched cries could've echoed for miles in the tunnels, but they were the first noise the boy had truly heard aside from the shifting of stone and his body's internal processes. Careful, purposeful strides gave way to a powerful sprint. Overhead lights banished the darkness and nearly blinded the boy, the sounds of distant mining almost cacophonous even at a whisper's level to his unused ears, but he was undeterred.
At last he spotted the source of the cries. A smaller, thinner figure on the ground, loomed over by a broad-shouldered one who glimmered in places with light reflected off implants. Memories and lessons flashed through his head - baseline humans bearing guns being overrun by fleshcrafted brutes, bones shattering, bullets deflecting, "The enforcers of the Khanate were augmented to-", weaknesses in the human body which might be overlooked by an overlord's scientists - and he paused for a moment.
His memories had guided him to help the girl, protect the weak and lead them against the strong, but should he make an enemy of that strength so quickly? Half-taught things fluttered through his mind, points of light in a dark void and throngs with flesh the color green. A greater purpose and greater foes that couldn't be reached from so low a position. Moreover, was he prepared to fight a foe with weapons and strength he didn't know, when ill-fortune could bring his early end?
...Yes. He should and he was.
The moment passed, and the primarch leapt into action. The enemy he knew was before him, and his purpose was to protect. It had been a question, but the only answer he could truly give was to defend the girl from the master.
There was no fight, in a moment the girl's master had fallen to his hands and he was standing before her. A smile formed on her face as she began to guide him further in and soon it became clear what was going on, a slave revolt was in progress, but the leaders wished for a champion and he was being offered the position in short. Trained in the ways of stealth and war, to lead the revolt but it would take time to gather the forces together and to build a force capable of leading the desired revolt and the question remained on how to achieve their victory. A plan had to be made and followed.
For the planet's dismal state Konrad knew, or rather felt as it was the only factor here he really understood, that it was the crime that defined this world that was to blame. And so Konrad began to ponder how he would cleanse this world of the mire it had found itself in.
Konrad's first thought was to go forth seeking out criminals himself and personally putting a stop to their deeds, but as he thought on it further he reflected that this would not be enough. His knowledge on law imprinted upon him from birth told him as much, he had no legal recourse, no remit from a institution of any sort to bring justice to the lawless mire of this world. And to go without such a remit would simply to become part of the problem, as vigilantism is in and of itself a crime.
Konrad knew he would find no justice in service to whatever passed for a local government in this city, for globally there was none, the spires above just as divided as the depths below if at a larger scale. So Konrad resolved that if he could not serve the government he would BECOME the government, within the lower depths of the city he would build a kingdom of his own, where law of his making would reign and under the aegis of his kingdom freed from the mire of this world, first the depths and soon after the spires of this city and the world beyond it shall be theirs to conquer.
The question was who would he first turn too? Everyone was guilty, but what were those crimes that not even he could accept? What were the limits of his future government, and his own personal limits? These were questions that would have to be answered for not everyone had done all the crimes, and there were some by the standards of this world that would be innocent of the worst of the worst, but in the end where to draw that final line.
Along with the other question of how to create his new empire, terror would be a viable process, force would be another, but there were many options and one would have to be chosen to be what he would follow in the end.
Eleven (Eärendil)
The child headed toward the distant city.
The child raged against the hunger. This thing that threatened him.
Some days he struck everything in his path and screamed to the heavens.
It didn't help.
The hunger continued.
If anything, the rage made things worse.
Tearing apart a field of flowers, kicking an anthill just because, delighted the hunger.
And still the child headed toward the distant city.
The child sobbed, begged the Golden Light to save him. Or someone. Anyone. Anything but the hunger.
It didn't help.
Maybe the tears helped, a bit. Made it a bit easier to think in the aftermath.
And it didn't make things worse.
And still the child headed toward the distant city.
The child woke one morning and calmly, determinedly, said, "No. Not you. Never."
He said the same thing the next morning. "No. Not you. Never."
And the next. "No. Not you. Never."
And the next. "No. Not you. Never."
It became his ritual. "No. Not you. Never." His tradition. "No. Not you. Never."
Because it helped. "No. Not you. Never."
It didn't fix things. "No. Not you. Never."
But it made them bearable. "No. Not you. Never."
His commitment, again and again. "No. Not you. Never."
To never give in. "No. Not you. Never." To not die. "No. Not you. Never." Or at least not to this. "No. Not you. Never."
"No. Not you. Never," the Void agreed. Or he thought it did, somewhere in the back of his mind.
And still the child headed toward the distant city.
He ate what he could find, what he could forage.
He found a bees nest and stole some honey.
It was delicious, but it boosted the hunger.
He ate greens, ones he could tell were safe.
They were bland, but they dulled the hunger.
And still the child headed toward the distant city.
The child used the light of his soul only when genuinely needed. The hunger liked it, after all - and the things he had woken knowing spoke of its dangers.
It was unpleasant to be cold, and painful to be hungry.
It was annoying to be walking on foot, and maddening to wonder what he was missing.
It was inconvenient to be rained on-
-But better all than being gnawed on.
And still the child headed toward the distant city.
So this was the way to resist: To choose the hardest path. To have pain today for joy tomorrow.
The boy was growing up.
And still the child headed toward the distant city.
The child fought wild animals occasionally. He found it easiest to sneak past them, usually. Their meat was good, but he couldn't eat too much (or too often) or the hunger would grow.
Darting in and out, attacking and retreating, felt just as natural as stealth. But the hunger grew. So he didn't do that.
And still the child headed toward the distant city.
He studied everything he passed. This was fun! He counted the leaves on trees and tried to number the stars in the night sky.
He remembered the laws of numbers that had danced in his head - mathematics - when he had first woken up. He applied them to everything he saw. Numbers were beautiful!
If you dropped a feather and a rock, they would both fall. But one would be slowed down by the air currents. So the rock would hit first.
The child took the laws of numbers that he had been given, and thought through how to improve them as he hiked.
And hiked.
And hiked.
And occasionally climbed, or very rarely swam.
And hiked some more.
Half-glimpsed possibilities became clear.
Names attached themselves to concepts as he imagined them.
He constructed a few primitive instruments to measure things. The sun. His path. The angle of the hive to the horizon.
By the end of it, he had figured out how to navigate in the darkness by merely glancing at moon and stars and calculating the sines and cosines of the planetary orbits in his head.
He liked knowing. He liked learning. He liked things making sense, and he liked numbers.
And as long as he didn't obsess - which he had to draw back from occasionally - it didn't feed the hunger.
"No. Not you. Never."
The child - the boy - learned everything, and hoped for someday - maybe someday soon - to meet a friend?
And still the child headed toward the distant city.
After 6 years of travel, the child finally reached the base of the great spire, wishing for the gold to save them from the endless hunger, they pushed onward, into the great spire. The doors open and welcoming to all, as they stumbled into the city proper, where a woman quickly grabbed their arm and gave them support. The child could feel the touch of the mind and knew she meant no harm to them.
Event Over
6 yearly actions, no other actions consumed
Gain: Physics at secondary, Celestial Navigation at secondary
Dusk Wraiths. Monsters. Poison-bringers and harvesters of the innocent. Vulkan had heard tales of them, of course, but never before seen them. This was the first time, but it would not be the last- or at least, not for him. For the hundred vile souls who taunted and cavorted, who sought to bring death to his home? This would be the last time they saw him- or anyone else.
They killed without remorse, revelling in slaughter. They would take from him everyone and everything he valued, if he showed but a second's hesitation. And for all that he was physically far beyond any other human he knew, for all the stories he'd heard of the Wraith's depravities... Vulkan knew he was a gentle soul at heart. That he could not guarantee he would not give them that second, in a moment of weakness.
So what choice was there then, but to embrace the flame?
With a roar, Vulkan smote the earth with his hammers, and reached out to fury below...
Into his heart poured the fury that lurked below. The endless fire within the dreams of the beasts below the rock that he had never known to exist but had in his dreams. Their fury filled his heart and mind, their flame burned in his soul. His soul filled with power and it had to be released, with a singular roar all became FIRE. The land melted before him, sand became glass as he stepped forward, a step burning through the ground, his flesh untouched but the dusk wraiths burning to ash that would never return. He could almost feel ephemeral sparks fading into the distance as the bodies died, but he could not feel them. In moments all 100 had fallen, turned to ash, and the fire within his soul remained but had quieted.
Event Over
Gained: Pseudo Trait Firesoul: can narratively unleash and control fire
Fulgrim stared at the wall of spreadsheets strewn around on the table before him. Every single factor, every point of gain and loss had been taken into consideration and the conclusion was as expected as it was maddening.
Chemos was dying.
It was a slow, ignoble death that lacked any sort of grace or gravitas or purpose. This world hadn't been invaded and no internal strife was to blame for the coming extinction. A simple lack of resources was to blame for the coming end. Whether food or water, biosphere or wondrous machinery of the bygone Era, Chemos had little of them and with every year the resources grew only scarcer.
Fulgrim grit his teeth and clenched his fists, frustration boiling up within. What was his purpose here if not to save these people that had so guillessly taken him in as one of their own? Fulgrim was born blessed with strength beyond any man and mind keener than any of the cogitators still functioning on Chemos.
And yet he felt as helpless as the day his adoptive parents died, their mortal bodies too spent by the banal cruelty of this world.
Corrin and Tullea...Fulgrim wondered what they would have thought if they saw him here - a ruler.
Fulgrim shook his head, banishing the phantoms of his mind. It was unworthy of him to waste time reminiscing. Not when there was still so much work to do to stave off the end that seemed all but inevitable.
He looked away from the reports and spreadsheets and looked up at the night sky. The stars shone brilliantly as they had always done. Perhaps it was egotistical of Fulgrim, but he always felt drawn to the stars above, wondering if he truly belonged in the muck and drudgery of Chemos. Only people that surrouned him remined Fulgrim what he was fighting for.
Suddenly soemthing flashed in the corner of Fulgrim's eyes. A tendril of light came down from the sky. Fulgrim knew deep down that this was no ordinary light, but portent of something greater.
There was no hding the grin that appeared on Fulgrim's face. Perhaps this was what he needed? There was only one way to find out.
Immediately, Fulgrim delegated his work to the precious few helpers Fulgrim found capable enough to help shoulder his burden, if only for a lttle while. With glad heart, Fulgrim set off on his journey, eager to find out what did this light brought with it.
Following the light into the wastes, he made sure to bring only the essentials for his functioning. He could last longer without food and water than any natural born human and so he set forth alone. Across the wastelands he walked for weeks, until eventually he found the place where the light fell to the ground. A barren patch of nothing in a desert of nothing, but with a fervor of hope he began to dig where only his eyes could see. Day after day passed under the scorching light, as he dug ever deeper, shovel breaking and then using his hands until on the first day of the third week he struck metal. Joy filled his heart as he began to peel away the countless layers of dirt that shrouded the metal in its grip. It took a week abut in due course a door was revealed and with quick actions it was pushed open, its old codes no match against his insight and strength.
Within, he found a place with barely any power, but that was not the bounty, but instead several machines that had dirt within them. Quickly learning the words written on them he understood the great find, these machines could grow crops to maturity in mere hours and across from them devices that would produce water from hydrogen and oxygen waited similarly preserved.
With this bounty he could easily ensure his city's dominion over Chemos, no other factory complex could hold a candle to these wonders that he had discovered, but the question came to him if he could truly horde this find only to himself.
Gain: 10 DAoT Plant Growth Accelerators and 10 DAoT Water Production Units
