986.M41 Cellos VI
Imperial Guard encampment
"And he is currently negotiating with the Necron warlady…?" Gaz asked the Techpriest, not quite sure what to think of the situation.
"Confirmation: He ordered me to come up to the surface and tell you to have your forces fall back to a defensive line," Alek explained.
Gaz glanced upward, "And the space marine standing behind you?" he asked.
The techpriest made a slight whirring noise, "To avoid… personal bias."
Gaz sighed, turning to look at the holo-table which held a map of the combat zone. Months had passed, thousands of men were dead, and now some Rogue Trader was going to end the war just like that...? It was nigh on impossible to believe.
"When will he return?" Asked the Inquisitor.
"Unknown. The amount of time to negotiate with the Necrons could take days, perhaps even weeks. We should also prepare our forces in case the negotiations are to fail."
Gaz hummed, turning to Alaric, "And what do you think, space marine?"
"I have full confidence in Captain Jarod's ability. He has dealt with Xenos on more than one occasion, and has shown a great aptitude for diplomacy."
Inquisitor Karev cursed under his breath, sighing at the sheer audacity of the situation they were all in, "I suppose there is no convincing him to abandon such negotiations?" He asked.
The space marine shook his head, "When Jarod Carolinus has decided to do something, there is very little you can say that will give him pause."
[-----]
"-and if you were to just outright declare yourself a higher rank, they wouldn't exactly have a reason not to believe you, and because there's no one here of a higher status, even if they thought to argue, no one could actually back them," Jarod said, finishing a long-winded explanation.
"Hmm… I had not thought of that. I suppose it would be worth a try." Nevha pondered.
"If you did that, then the warriors would be underneath your direct control and we wouldn't have to keep avoiding each other." He explained.
Nevha nodded, before standing from her seat, "If I am to do this, then I suppose it would warrant… ceremony… of all things."
Jarod chuckled, "I suppose you do. Have anything in mind?"
"I was thinking of rallying the commanders of the army and doing what you suggested," she said simply.
Standing up from his chair and following Nevha out of the room, they started walking through the tomb. The Necron warlady made sure to keep the warrior patrols out of their path as to avoid a confrontation between them and Jarod, and before long, they found themselves in a large, dark room. They stood on a balcony roughly a dozen feet in the air, with a set of stairs going off to the side. The room itself was probably several hundred meters long and across, making it difficult to see anything in the black darkness that enshrouded the room.
When Nevha spoke, the effect was immediate, "Necrontyr! My people! Awake!"
Thousands of glowing, acid green eyes opened at the sound of her voice. Bright green lights lit up the room, revealing a vast army of Necron warriors, each one a pristine silver and green.
"I am Nevha Cleo, Warlady of the Ektahk Dynasty. From this moment forward, I will be known as Phaeron Nevha of the Ektahk Dynasty!" She announced, silently hoping that the rogue trader's plan was as solid as he claimed it would be.
The Necron army responded by saluting in the way Necrons do, the loud clank of metal echoing through the room.
"As my first act as Phaeron, I am declaring a truce with the Imperium of Man and all their subsidiaries," she announced.
[-----]
The first thing the Guardsmen noticed was the distinct lack of artillery bombardment. The green beams of energy had stopped, and when several fearful Guardsmen peaked over the edge of the trenches and walls, they weren't immediately atomized. Where the guardsmen had broken through the first wall, the entrance to the tomb remained silent, and where the Necron defenses still stood, the metallic Xenos stood lined up on the wall, seeming to ignore the men who had been shooting at them not an hour earlier.
Inside the command tent, no one was quite sure what to make of the situation.
"Did the man actually do it…?" Gaz asked hopefully.
"He had the Necrons full attention when he began negotiations, so it would not surprise me if he did. How he did though, that is the question." Alaric explained.
When the Necron tomb started to shift, with several Warriors coming out and lining the entrance, several Guardsmen panicked and almost shot them, only to be stopped by their superior officers who had been given orders not to open fire. A strange order to be sure, but one that any guardsmen worth their salt was going to follow.
The clank of metal feet rang throughout the valley, and if one looked closely enough, they would see the forms of dozens of Necron warriors exiting the Entrance. It wasn't long before columns of them started pouring out, hundreds if not thousands of them walking in perfect unison. And at the head of this new army, was none other than a Rogue Trader and a Phaeron.
The Necrons continued to pour out, but they slowly began to line up alongside the edges of the valley, filling it up to the brim. While this happened, Jarod, Nevha, Calivar, and a select few honor guard made their way to the guardsman line. Many a man prayed to the Emperor that day, and many a commissar wondered if they shouldn't be shooting at the Rogue Trader for consorting with Xenos.
Still, when the commanders saw that Jarod was headed their way, they made all haste to meet him.
They met less than a hundred meters from the guardsmen line, with a Chimera APC driving up and the Inquisitor, General Gaz, Techpriest Alek, and Alaric all stepped out of the vehicle to meet Jarod and the as of yet unknown Phaeron.
"Inquisitor!" Jarod called out, a smile on his face.
"Captain, it seems you have… succeeded, in some way." Karev responded, relatively unsure what to say.
"That I have. May I introduce you to Phaeron Nevha Cleo, of the Ektahk Dynasty. She has declared a truce with the Imperium and all her subsidiaries, and I think it would be wise if we reciprocate the gesture." Jarod explained.
Inquisitor Karev let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, "You are well aware that I am obligated to charge you with Heresy correct?" he asked.
Jarod snorted, "If the Emperor walked of the golden throne and said 'I am not a god', you would burn him for heresy. I'm pretty sure there isn't a thing I've done that isn't considered heresy somewhere in the galaxy."
Gaz simply stared at the Necron army, dumbfounded. They didn't have nearly the number of troops needed to fight the hundreds of thousands of Necron warriors that lay beneath the planets surface, and if what the Rogue Traders claim was genuine, then they could save hundreds of thousands, if not millions of lives by accepting the truce.
Alaric simply grinned beneath his helmet, surprised that Jarod was able to accomplish his goal so easily, but not so much so as to be dumbstruck. He was an Astartes after all.
The techpriest muttered in binary, cursing the Rogue Trader for his heretical ways and the fact that he was totally unable to do anything about it. Even if he were to inform the Magos of his home forgeworld, they had much better things to do and would likely write him off as a lunatic, or worse, a Heretek.
"Well, I for one would be glad to have one less gun aimed at our heads," Gaz said firmly, turning to the Phaeron "As the General of the 2nd Kathian Regiment, we agree to your truce, and will do our best to uphold it."
"As a representative of the Ordo Xenos of the Emperors Holy Inquisition, I will do the same. Though I will state that you should not expect the same from the rest of the Inquisitors, for there are many of us."
Jarod turned to Alek, eyebrow raised.
"Reluctant Statement: I cannot guarantee the actions of the Adeptus Mechanicus, however, I will take no actions against you."
Jarod nodded, turning to Nevha, "Well, there you have it. You are officially at peace with one of the most powerful organizations in the galaxy." He said with a smirk.
[-----]
986.M41
Slaaneshi Daemon world
Deep within the bowels of the warp, Lucius the Eternal laughed as he slaughtered the many cultists of Slaanesh. His victims did not scream in pain or terror but rather moaned in an agonizing euphoria. The feeling of the Laer blade rending their flesh apart was something that the hedonistic worshippers of the Prince of Pleasure found to be a potent aphrodisiac, hallucinogen, and stimulant all wrapped into one.
The son of Fulgrim was in pure bliss, unable to comprehend the feeling of true discomfort, as every one of his senses was overwhelmed. The bright, clashing colors of the Emperors Childrens armor made the eyes water and burn, the sounds of screams, moans and the white noise of the noise marines made ears bleed from its intensity. The smell of blood and other bodily fluids coated everything, making many lose their sense of smell entirely. All this and so much more were the gifts given to the followers of Slaanesh.
And yet, Lucius was… unsatisfied. Ten millennia of constant exposure to every sensory stimulus imaginable would do that to a person, even an Astartes, and Lucius craved something new. Something fresh.
Wiping the blood from his sword, he turned to face one of the traitor marines who had caught his attention, one who had been savagely slaughtering and raping the slaves kept on their world. The Astartes had lead a failed raid on an Eldar craftworld -- Aurorum III if he remembered correctly -- and had since acted more like a Khornate Berserker than a Slaaneshi marine.
The fact the raid had failed was not an unusual thing all things told, but the tales that the survivors had told… guardsmen assisting the Eldar? Lasguns killing space marines? It was a story some refused to believe no matter what explanation was given, but Lucius thought otherwise.
It was not unheard of for radical members of the Inquisition, or certain Rogue Traders to make short-term alliances with the Xenos, and it would not surprise the Lord Commander to learn that this was just such a scenario.
Still, the marine that had to lead the Incursion had been dedicated to having his revenge on the craftworld and had been gathering allies, many of which were not even worshippers of Slaanesh. Some were simply random cultists of Chaos undivided looking for some purpose, others still were Khornate worshippers with a grudge against the Eldar in one way or another. And others still were members of the Night Lords, Raptors who sought to gain the favor of Slaanesh.
Lucius doubted the Marine would be the one truly leading the Expedition by the end of it, but who would end up leading it was another question entirely. On a whim, mostly because he had nothing better to do, Lucius opened up a conversation with the Marine.
"So, you plan to lead a raid on that craftworld yet again?" asked lucius, using the lash of torment to string up a slave as he skinned them alive.
"You should know well enough I do, Lord Commander. I would ask you to join us, but I don't know if it would be to your specific taste." the marine answered.
Lucius only laughed, "And what makes you think I would have no interest, hmm? Do you not think that I would enjoy such a think?" he asked.
"No, but I would be surprised if you had other engagements at the time."
"You would be surprised… Ten thousand years tends to allow for some free time, I should think. What would you say if I were to join you?"
"I would be a fool to turn down such an offer." He responded.
Lucius chuckled, "Well said."
The Eternal servant of Slaanesh finished their discussion in the act of bisecting the moaning slave in the clutches of the Lash of torment, dropping the corpse to the blood soaked ground.
[-----]
Jarod watched the last of his Guardsmen clamber onto the transports headed back to the Emperor's Boot, satisfied that they had served the Emperor well. Michael rolled up next to him in a wheelchair, his legs still not fit to stand, let alone walk.
"Well, can't say you didn't do a good job." Michael commented.
Jarod chuckled, "I actually managed to get the Necrons on my side, the zombie robots who can dampen the warp."
"I'm more surprised that one of them was a girl. I mean, not that that's a bad thing, just the GW never made any female models for them, nor did they write anything in the lore for them to my knowledge." Michael explained.
Jarod smiled, before a frown found its way onto his face, "How long have we been here Michael?" He asked.
Michael hummed in thought, "Well, last I checked we got here in the year 985.M41, and only switched over to 986 a month ago, so, I don't know, just under a year?"
Jarod hummed, looking at the local guardsmen saying their goodbyes to his own, "Thirteen years." He muttered, "Thirteen years until Abaddon's thirteenth Black Crusade."
Michael nodded, "We might be dead by then, but knowing our luck, we'll probably be on the front lines. At least getting Trayzins help will be easier, now that we have some other Necrons to help convince him."
"True enough, still though, have you thought of how to prepare for it?" Jarod asked.
Michael grimaced, "Cadia will fall. I don't think that's something we can change, not without canceling out the crusade in the first place."
"And it's not like I have the standing with Tzeentch to do that. He wants change, that much is true, but does he want it so bad that he'll sabotage one of his own schemes to get it? One that's been in place for thousands of years?" Jarod asked, "I don't know, probably, but I'm not going to bet on anything."
"We're dealing with what are basically gods here, we'll be lucky if we can guess a third of what goes through their heads."
"Yeah, that's true…"
The two continued to stare at the troops, until finally, they were the only ones left on the hill, everyone else having left the planet or moved back to the encampment. They didn't even acknowledge the teleporting Eldar behind them.
"Elirom said that the two of you were unconventional, but I did not expect you to ally with those atrocities." Tasiel spoke, her voice dripping with venom.
The two turned to face her, flat looks glaring at the Eldar, "Ya'know, it's been sixty million years since the two of you almost wiped out all life in the galaxy. Don't you think it would be a good idea to lay off the hate for a while? Nevha doesn't even remember fighting you, and I don't think she'd want another enemy anyway." Jarod commented.
Tasiel tsked, her helmet hiding the glare she wore on her face, "You expect us to forgive the ones who started the War in Heaven?" she asked.
Michael shrugged, "I mean, considering your empires downfall wasn't even their fault, and I seriously doubt you were alive to witness what happened during that war, I don't think it would be hard."
"Be careful psyker, I am far more powerful than you are, or could ever hope to be." she said.
The two interdimensional travelers paused, "Did you just call me a psyker?" Michael asked suddenly.
Underneath her helmet, Tasiel's eyes narrowed, "You read my mind when I went to see you the first time. Granted it was only surface thoughts, and you are clearly not a powerful psyker, but you are one nonetheless. A bit disappointing, considering Elirom's boasting of your so called 'power'."
Jarod coughed, giving Michael a wary look, before turning to Tasiel, "It may surprise you to know, that I am the psyker Elirom told you about."
As soon as he finished speaking, he unbarred a portion of his psychic power, not so much as to leave himself undefended against the predators of the warp. He instantly felt the souls of every living thing around him, from the soldiers down in the encampment and up in orbit, to the birds native to the planet.
Tasiel recoiled at the sheer light that exploded from Jarod's soul. Like so many before her, she was blinded within the warp by what she saw, though unlike others, she was able to recover quickly enough thanks in part to Jarod reigning in a rather large portion of his power.
"What… what are you?" She asked, unsure of what to think of the man before her.
Jarod smirked, "I'm a nerd from the 3rd millenium who got sucked into the 41st millenium by Tzeentch thanks to some utter bullcrap and a lot of overthinking things." He answered quickly.
"I'm sorry, what-?"
"I'm an incredibly powerful psyker who happened to be the heir to a Rogue Trader. My powers were dormant until a trio of space marines forced me to unlock my abilities." The fact that Tzeentch was the catalyst for that event left unsaid.
"Ah, I… suppose that makes sense. Still… you are almost as bright as the Anathema." She commented, causing both Michael and Jarod to share a quick glance.
"Wait… are you saying I'm almost as bright as the Astronomican?" Jarod asked.
The Eldar nodded.
Jarod hummed, "This… complicates things somewhat." he said. Focusing his power, he raised his defenses again, dimming his light, allowing Tasiel to focus on the world around her again.
"What complicates things?" Michael asked dryly, "The fact that you're basically a second Astronomican or the fact that I'm apparently a latent psyker."
"Both, though the former of which I was somewhat aware of." he elaborated.
The three let out a collective sigh. It was going to be a long way back to Aurorum III.
[-----]
Again, the light flashed, and again, they changed course. The steady, slow burning light had been guiding them for so long, and now another had made its presence known. They would consume it, for that was their purpose. They would feed, grow, evolve, and become stronger.
Their ever-present shadow moved with them, denying any hope of the light seeing them. A shadow in the warp.
They would feed, and they would do so soon.