(UPDATE) OP
Karen
信奉者
- Location
- Ireland
The blaze of the funeral pyre was overwhelming, as to be expected of such a mighty character. Horus lay entombed in his great pristine power armour, helm locked over his fair face as his body was consumed by the blaze of flamers. The tattered banners of a thousand worlds, of hundreds of battles, and of many, many more accolades attributed to him and his legion stood above the dead Horus Lupercal. At the front of the procession stood his brother primarchs; ten in total. Any other time, it would be a gallery of heroes and the greatest champions the Imperium and humanity as a whole had to offer, yet here, it was a time of grief, where many of those present atoned for the loss of a dearest brother, father, and friend. The Emperor stood above the blaze, his brilliant red cloak discarded for black, all military awards stripped save for the single obsidian badge of the Ullanor Campaign, his halo dim, yet, to those mortals gathered in the colossal triumphant fields crafted by the Mechanicum, he was still a figure of brilliance, a face to be awed and inspired by, and one that brought those before him to weep openly for the lost son, first to be found, third to fall. Horus was dead, but the Great Crusade had not ended.
"My sons, it is with a heart laden with sorrow that I speak before you all. Horus, my first son, beloved by all fell at the hands of the great enemy of humanity. The unapologetic greenskin, so wrought by war, so greedy for bloodshed, had taken the Imperium's Shining Star. We had seen the edge of the galaxy and back, he and I, yet, it was not meant to be. The Imperium, nearly whole, would see the future without Horus, and that pains me deeply. But, we must look to the stars and say We are not done, that our quest and purpose has not yet been fulfilled, for while Horus may have seen much of the deed, the great work of humanity is not done. Hundreds of systems lay beyond our grasp, still held by despots and madmen, stars left unconquered and stellar tyrants left unbeaten. That is the great purpose - to bring the light of the Imperial Truth and the unity of humanity across the whole of the galaxy, and Horus, like you, had accomplished much of that. From the depths of despair, I wrought the Imperium to this point, and I had hoped Horus would carry that torch onwards."
A momentus pause followed as the thunderous step of Dies Irae came to an end, the titan stood in vigil over the funeral. Many were shocked at what they heard; the Emperor, passing the torch of the Crusade to Horus? It made sense, but the meaning behind it shook some like reclusive Ferrus Manus and mighty Leman Russ to their core. Corvus Corax dared not speak, yet one could see the confusion on his face more plainly than imperious Guilliman, whose once solid complexion lay broken as the Avenging Son openly wept, for he was the first to see the dead Horus, and was the one to carry the body of the First Son before the embattled Emperor.
"My days in the Crusade are done, for I must retire to Terra and continue the great work of humanity. However, your days are far from finished, and, with the wisdom of my war council, I name Ferrus Manus my Warmaster. Ferrus, beloved by few yet respected by all as befitting of one whose hands bring the fortitude and stability only matched by his unbreakable will and loyalty will serve as my herald and voice. From this day until the stars die out, treat the word of Ferrus as if it came from my lips, for all the fealty you swore to me, you must to him. Not for the sake of consolidation, my sons, for I know all of you compete with one another as you do love, as brothers are want to do, but now is not the time for squabbles. Set aside your bonds of humanity, and become the champions you are all made to be, glory awaits, do not let it find you wanting."
The Emperor gave way to other orators. Ezekyle Abbadon spoke the longest, supposedly holding the attention of the crowd with his deep tones and barely contained rage as he mourned for Horus and for the Imperium which had lost its brightest star, Angron raged also, speaking of the cowardice of those who would slay Lupercal and the honourless way his brother was to die, calling for blood. The deathly Mortarion spared a few words, but each one dripped of venom, each one a knife promised to take the head of a xenos. The last one to speak was Erebus, surprisingly, the proxy of ponderous Lorgar, who claimed he regretted he could not slay the beast which took Horus himself. The fire had settled as it seemed words had been made the entire day, with the distant pale sun of Ullanor settling on the horizon. The Emperor returned to speak long after, and, to many mortals, these final moments turned to a misty memory of pale legion and fallen hero, while the Astartes heard his last, terrible words with open ears.
"I ask of you, as I have before, to swear to secrecy, to never speak Horus' name, be it in glory, or remorse. The Imperium, as the aquila shows, looks only to the future, and we cannot be trapped turning to the past in misery. Horus will be forgotten as have two others, but not for any fault of his own, but for my own failures; his legion will be dissolved and spread to the ranks of others, to bolster those who need it most, to grant the fallen strength of arms to those who serve on our battlefronts and fields now, their legion name, colours, and my First Son be sequestered away to the vaults historia, never to be spoken of again."
The Emperor departed not long after.
Stats for turn 0. Note: the guys at Nikaea don't have their fleets and associated attachments.
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