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Awoken (Warhammer 40k, C'tan OC, AU) - An unofficial 40k what-if scenario
Thread starterCommander T
Start dateNov 9, 2017
Tags40k c'tan warhammer warhammer 40.000 warhammer 40000 warhammer 40k
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Threadmarks Chapter 31 -A bargain?
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Commander T
Jun 23, 2020
#473
And there we go again. Faster than some others, and yet still later than I would have hoped to be able to, I present to you the next chapter. Quite a few readers had expressed interest in the perspective of the other species in the galaxy, and I myself had planned for a while already to explore this as the C´tans actions begin to have ever wider consequences.
Without further ado, here we go:
Commorragh, by design, was a hidden city, located within the winding passageways of the webway and cloaked by multiple, arcane mechanisms. Many were the species plagued by Drukhari raiding efforts, and they would have gladly returned the favor if an opening presented itself.
Those who inhabited the dark city of course knew full well that such was the case, and that they would not prevail if faced with the concerted effort of one of the greater galactic powers. As such, their raiding fleets used all manners of precautions. Striking from expertly camouflaged webway gates, their attacks were thoroughly planned and flawlessly executed, designed to stay at any given location for as short a timeframe as possible, crippling their targets, gathering as much of their desired bounty as was possible, and retreating before any relief forces would arrive.
It was just such a raid that the forces of the Cabal of the Sundered Veil had performed, striking upon an imperial merchant convoy. Having made short work of the defenders they now returned, their slave pens full, for there had been imperial refugee ships among the cargo vessels, repurposed bulk haulers crammed with millions of frightened mon-keigh.
Leaving the panicked remnants of the imperial fleet behind, shaken but alive, so they may spread their fear to others, they quickly vanished out of the system, and back into the winding passageways of the aeldari webway.
Past outlying sentries and patrol vessels the fleet proceeded, scanned meticulously for hidden cargo and weapons. Comorragh and its inhabitants had many a foe; and it payed to be vigilant.
As their mewling cargo was being unloaded, a trio of cabalites exited the vessel, their strides halting and insecure, their usual confident swagger but a distant memory. They had news for their haemunculus, news they dare not keep from it, yet none was eager to face it, either.
In the end, they had been chosen out of a crew in its hundreds. Dice had been thrown, accusations of cheating and threats of violence exchanged, and the cabalites in question ordered to deliver the message, on pain of death.
With little other choice, the trio hesitantly began to make its way to the lair of one of the great fleshcrafters....
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The haemunculus did not enjoy interruptions to its work, but there were exceptions to the rule. Valuable information was to be delivered to it immediately, on pain of something far surpassing death in its implications. Important or rare prisoners too were inspected by it personally.
And now, a drukhari messenger kneeled before it, quietly shaking in fright. It seemed that indeed some matter of interest had arisen.
"We struck at one of the mon-keighs trade routes, randomly selected of course, and easily swept aside what pitiful resistance their ships could muster. All appeared to be going to plan, until we entered the last vessel we had incapacitated." The cabalite presented a small device to the haemunculus; a pict-capture-apparatus showing what could only be the interior walls of the mon-keigh vessel, blocky and primitive and, far more interestingly, covered in flawlessly written aeldari scripture.
"It appears that this message…it is directed at you, Lord"
"What is the message?" the haemunculus inquired
The servant hesitated for the shortest of moments, further intriguing the ancient being. None of its subjects would dare to deny its orders, and yet there was a noticeable delay in its answer. It appeared this one had reason to fear its reaction to the message.
"It…it is a challenge, Lord. Word by word, it reads as follows: To the flesh-master affiliated with this misbegotten band of parasites, Haemunculus Aedrulash the Modifier. Rich bounty awaits thee, and things presently impossible for you to reach, if you have the gall to accept His offer." The cabalite swallowed hard "The phrase is repeated all over the vessels interior, Lord."
The haemunculus´ interest was piqued. It began to idly wonder if this was some manner of attempted trap. Few had dared to speak to it in such a fashion for many millennia. It´s parchment-dry skin twisted into the dead mockery of a smile. It nodded thoughtfully, absentmindedly stroking the mewling grotesque huddled up next to it.
"How would any mon-keigh know of me personally?" the haemunculus inquired, caught between curiosity and annoyance at the idea that any mon-keigh would dare to even write its name, let alone that they appeared to have found out its identity and predicted where the raiding force would strike. This had wide implications concerning operational security as well as further raids and the efficiency of the safety measures. The haemunculus felt a twinge of annoyance at the situation, and was about to express it in a nonverbal form upon the servant that had brought it the message when it was interrupted.
A mon-keigh test subject, which had previously contented itself with vocalizing its suffering in a reinvigorating, if uncoordinated, manner suddenly spoke up in perfect aeldari:
"Oh, such a thing is quite easy."
The haemunculus´ head whipped around, its eyes focusing on the particular subject. Most of its skin had already been flayed off, the better to accept future flesh-grafts. Nonetheless, its skinless face displayed something only describable as a conversational smile as it spoke.
It was a mon-keigh, a simple, uneducated beast that had occupied itself with nothing but incoherent wailing since the haemunculus had begun work, providing little beyond a diminuitive measure of refreshment through its suffering.
Now, it was addressing him, in an Aeldari dialect the Haemunculus had rarely heard since the time of the fall.
"Your realm is well hidden, that I give you. But your cravings leave you no choice but to venture forth from within it. One must but find a sector that is raided with regularity, implant a certain percentage of the population with a marker and wait until one of your supplicant cabals carries them off. Of course, some tweaking was necessary to make sure a messenger would reach you, but that was a trivial matter" the mon-keigh explained impassively.
"What is more important by far is my offer to you."
The Haemunculus´ guards had interposed themselves between the slave and their master, weapons raised, as had his grotesques, snarling at the chained mon-keigh,
With a hiss of annoyance, he waved them aside. A mon-keigh throat was not capable of perfectly vocalizing the ancient Aeldari tongue, and yet this subject spoke it fluently, and in fact more clearly than most every Aeldari. The sheer amount of modification that had no doubt been necessary to achieve such a result left the Haemunculus more curious than angered at this most peculiar situation; it wished to continue the conversation, if only to better study the mon-keighs vocalizations:
"What is your offer?"
"The coordinates of a planet, an imperial world, population of 4 Billion, are located within this messenger. We have no doubt that you will be able to find them, after a thorough search." the skinless face winked "Should you choose to attack the world, its defenses will fail at the appropriate moments, and allow you to…access its population, if you so desire."
"A gift?" the haemunculus cocked an eyebrow
"A demonstration of trust, for us to show that we are keeping our word, and for you to show that you are not afraid to leave your hidden little realm. Further cooperation would become possible after that."
"You are calling me a coward?"
The slave laughed "Only if you decline" there were sharp inhalations of the surrounding guards and servants. Few could even imagine how their lord would react to such an affront.
The haemunculus merely smiled, its parchment-dry lips twisting: "I will consider your offer."
"An emissary will meet with you, should you choose to attack." The slaves eyes rolled back, its body going limp in the restraints.
For a moment, silence reigned, the Haemunculus lost in contemplation. As it stroked its mantle, several of its grotesques noisily tore apart the drukhari servants responsible for the integrity of the defenses.
Having made up its mind, the Haemunculus turned to the messenger, still kneeling where he had been, head bowed:
"Make ready the ships" it whispered "I will meet the creature that challenged me and take my measure of them"
The addressed stood quickly and, with a deep bow, scurried away.
A gesture had the rest of its servants filing out with great expedition, and the Haemunculus stepped towards the chained mon-keigh, which had reverted back to whimpering. Its limbs unfurled, pulling a plethora of instruments from its mantle. This particular subject had suddenly become markedly more interesting.
There were secrets to be uncovered within, and they would be found, be it sooner or be it later....
____________________________________________________________________________________________
And there we have it, the next chapter. As always, post your comments and feedback below if you´d like, or ask questions if you have any. I really appreciate hearing from you, and will try to answer as best I can (as long as that does not mean spoiling anything )
Last edited: Jan 22, 2022
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Commander T
Jun 23, 2020
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Threadmarks Chapter 32 - Unwelcome realizations
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Commander T
Jul 19, 2020
#480
And here we are again, over 24 days later as the forum informs me. Time sure flies, huh? But hey, I did get around to finishing another chapter, as well as working on many others that are slowly nearing completion, which is nice.
We shall see when those get published; I think on average it is something like 1 per month, so for those of you who are curious, yeah that...that´s that Information, I guess.
Anyway, as always, I sincerely hope you enjoy reading it, and if you have the time to do so, I would be happy if you left a comment or two down below; It´s always nice to hear what people think about a chapter!
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Chapter 32 - Unwelcome realizations
There were many things that had changed since the times of the Great Crusade; some of which were matters that Roboute Guilliman felt that he was more keenly aware of than most others.
Suffering, squalor and ignorance, though grating, were all well-known issues, at least to the higher echelons of the Imperium and he had no reservations to discuss those, and potential solutions, with his sons.
Yet still, in a way, their understanding was limited which, he thought sadly, may be a blessing. Contrary to him, the Ultramarines alive today, and even the Primaris, had never known the era of true hope that had been the Great Crusade. With his father alive and leading their efforts, his brothers all working in concert despite their differences, nothing had been able to stop them and a truly great future seemed all but assured, nothing but a matter of time. Instead, it had been torn from them, replaced with something surpassing, in some way, the worst fears he had harbored during that bygone age of wonders.
As such, in a painful twist of irony, while his return had seen hope rekindled in countless billions, he himself oft felt it slipping away. This was, in part, due to the stark contrast between the present and the past he remembered, yet on a functional level, the Primarch was beyond such sentiments, and able to perform as needed in defiance of emotional turmoil.
The larger issue, then, was one of simple logic, and this one he could neither ignore nor escape:
Without hubris or arrogance, Roboute Guilliman could say that he had one of the greatest military minds in the galaxy. It had been created that way, crafted by the Emperor of mankind to fullfil a specific purpose. He could plan entire campaigns in mere seconds, adapting and changing their outlook as the situation evolved. And this very same methodical mind of his tormented him now with its eloquently haunting conclusions:
They were losing.
The expansion of the eye of terror had cut the galaxy in twain. While some imperial psykers were convinced that it could have been worse, that it may have unraveled reality in all of the galaxy if not for the Emperors intervention, which many insisted they had felt, the simple fact of the matter was that what had happened may already have been a killing blow, albeit one whose effects would take centuries or millennia to fully manifest.
The Imperiums area of control had been effectively halved, as had the number of available laborers, fighting men and women and raw resources. At the same time, their foes tactical position had been strengthened considerably, chaotic flotillas demonstrating the ability to strike more or less at will along the entirety of the great rift. The warp-borne abilities of the traitors too seemed to have increased in potency. Where before, many of the traitors had already been hideous and deformed, many now were barely recognizable as humans or Astartes, twisted and riven with mutations.
No matter their deformations, though, they fought and they won, time and again, often overpowering those among his forces that should have been their equal.
The Imperium, even mismanaged and riven with internal strife, had been able to hold its own in a war of attrition for 10000 years, with the remnants of the traitor legions mostly caught in the eye of terror and a whole galaxy to draw upon to replenish its fighting forces.
Now their combat strength was but half of what it had been, while the chaotic forces had not only retained their numbers, but in fact bolstered them tremendously. By his own estimations, thousands of now-corrupted planets, swallowed up by the great rift, were most probably providing trillions of new hosts, cultists and sacrifices for the traitors cause, as well as rich stock to create new chaotic space marines from. And while little to no communication existed with Imperium Nihilus, he had no choice but to assume that many of its worlds, cut off from resupply and reinforcements, had likewise fallen to the traitors.
The Primarch was not one to dwell unduly long on such things; he had been made to overcome impossible odds. In fact, upon realizing the severity of the situation, he had begun immediately to search for – and then enact – solutions, a process now spanning over a century already.
Through his own involvement, in combat but even more so by working to cause an increase in overall efficiency concerning manufacture and governance, he had been able to grant them time, and would continue to act upon the matter but this, at best, may buy them a few millennia, especially taking into account the various xeno species expanding their influence in the face of Imperial weaknesses.
Roboute Guilliman knew better than most that in the long term, a campaign was often decided by logistics, and the numbers had inevitably shifted against them. Entire chapters of Astartes had been lost in combat, drowned in waves of billions of chaos-afflicted creatures, their prowess no match for the sheer numbers employed against them.
He himself had made several attempts to locate the chaotic warmaster, Abbadon, to cut the head off the snake, but the foe and his fleet eluded him time and again, be it through prescience or superior mobility in the warp. The Officio Assassinorum had likewise failed in their efforts to kill the Warmaster, losing many valuable assets in the process, until finally he had ordered their attempts on Abbadon halted. There were other targets aplenty, more achievable ones that nonetheless bore enough significance to warrant liquidation, and to those had the focus been shifted.
No further headway would be made, for now, with relation to the matter of the Despoiler, and so he had turned his mind to the next issue at hand:
He knew that some Astartes had feared that Arch-Magos Cawls Primaris marines would replace them, and Guilliman had needed, in the past, to intervene; to alleviate their worries and ensure their continued loyalty. Yet, by now it was clear to all involved that such a thing would not happen. The Primaris stemmed from a more time-consuming creation process, one that it had taken Cawl many millennia to refine to the point it was at presently, and while they were potent, the current production rate was unable to even offset the combat casualties.
As such, both types of Astartes were now being created in tandem, and in rates not seen since the Great Crusade. Guilliman had used the power of his office to increase the rate at which aspirants were tested and trained and begun to rework his Codex Astartes in light of recent developments. He stood by his decision to cut the legions into chapters; convinced still that it had been the right decision at the time, and preserved the Imperium in the millennia that followed. Now, however, matters of survival took precedence, and an unchangeable doctrine often became a liability, one they could afford less than ever before.
He had adapted the Codex Astartes, unchanged since his internment, to streamline the recruitment process and raise the number of full Astartes employed in a codex-compliant chapter. By his order and allowance, some chapters had already been expanded to several thousand marines, the better to prepare them against facing the numerous traitor incursions into imperial space.
Miniature legions in all but name.
Guilliman sighed deeply. He remembered the squabbles he had had with Dorn and Russ over the implementation of the Codex Astartes. "Here I sit" he thought to himself "and the galaxy proves that Dorn was right". He felt an ache in his chest at the thought, not of having been wrong, though in a way he had been. No, this was a more simple matter. He missed his brothers, and he regretted the disagreements they had had. Few remained in the Imperium that even knew the details of the Great Crusade, let alone having participated; leaving him with a feeling of distinct loneliness, a displaced relic of a bygone age dragged unwilling into a bleak future.
He breathed in and out a few times, straightening his back. He could ill-afford melancholy, not with that much at stake. Many had suffered because some of his brothers had placed their whims and wishes over the needs of humanity, and he remained determined not to repeat that mistake.
Thinking of the next matter at hand elicited a grunt of annoyance from the Primarch.
There were more issues that still required his attention, chief amongst them the Adeptus Mechanicus. Their order remained an ongoing matter of contention that required his intervention at frequent intervals. Granted a whole host of privileges by his creator in the Treaty of Mars, they tenaciously clung to the technology that much of their power and influence stemmed from, often hamstringing the Imperium in the process. He had been using his position as a "son of the Omnissiah" to enact certain changes, but for all their overt obedience, the priests of Mars fought his reforms at every turn, and he could not risk alienating them overmuch, lest the Imperium loose what advanced technology it still possessed.
He smiled grimly. The members of the Mechanicus were stubborn to a fault, but he had faced far harsher opposition before, and remained confident that an agreement would be reached eventually. It had to be:
Many fleets had been lost during the expansion of the great rift, smashed apart by empyreal tides, scattered and damaged, or stranded in Imperium Nihilus, unable to traverse the warp without the astronomicons guiding light. New vessels would thus need to be constructed and crewed, and faster than had been possible before.
Automated loading systems were one example of many that would allow the Imperium to fully man higher numbers of vessels with a given amount of crew members. The Mechanicus` own ships possessed such systems, while Imperial vessels often did not. This was to be changed. Guilliman nodded to himself. Representatives at Mars had assured him of their compliance in the matter, but their progress was slow.
He made a mental note to find further ways in which to incentivise them, whatever means they may be, writing down a series of orders to set the process in motion.
Too soon, and against his wishes, his mind returned to the most pressing of matters:
Their long-term strategic situation was untenable. It was his duty to do everything in his power to ensure the survival of humanity, and yet, he hesitated, and he knew why.
He had pondered the implications of the changed galactic situation several times before, and realized all the things he was now reevaluating.
He had placed his hopes in the Primaris space marines, that secret force of Improved Astartes and, he admitted to himself, in his own influence and leadership. And yet, while he had reached some limited successes in improving the Imperiums efficiency, as well as military ones, his own mind had long since arrived at the conclusion he was now considering the implications of.
They were losing, and his power and influence alone were not enough to change that fact. He needed support, and there was only one being out there with both the will and the abilities to achieve that.
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During the centuries of the Indomitus Crusade, Roboute Guilliman had been, and still remained, torn between two oftentimes mutually exclusive approaches:
One course of action was to visit worlds not under attack, to reorganize and improve, spread his Codex Imperialis in person to ensure its implementation and set up imperial planetary leaders that were, at the very least, competent.
The second option, and one he was forced to pursue with increasing frequency, was direct conflict, rushing from warzone to warzone, defending and reconquering imperial worlds attacked by mankinds various enemies.
He realized that he had postponed the issue, allowing himself to be swept up in the manifold immediate problems that plagued his fathers realm, rushing from one catastrophe to the next, fighting, rebuilding, stabilizing and doing what he had been made to do. In a way, it had been almost pleasant, existing in the moment, commanding, fighting, pursuing what he was best at. It had helped him push aside, at least temporarily, the many things that ailed humanity.
He was hesitant to beseech the star god for aid, for multiple reasons. Trust played a role, of course. The more dependent the Imperium was on the alien creature, the less they could do should conflict ever break out between them and the star god. Their independence, and capacity for independent action, would be limited in an ever-increasing manner.
His pride, he had to admit, had played a role as well. He was unwilling to beseech the star god for aid, the very idea of relying on the alien deity for support souring his mood. No doubt the star god would be aware of the Imperiums overall situation. Furthermore, it had an interest in imperial stability, for its own reasons, and yet, it had offered no help as of yet. Roboute Guilliman suffered no illusions as to its motives. It was waiting for him to beseech it for aid, to beg it like some manner of supplicant creature.
In the end, however, it made no matter; he knew where his priorities lay. The survival of mankind had to come before his personal pride and preferences.
While relying on the star god for support would weaken their overall position, he realized that if the Imperium fell to its myriad other foes beforehand, as it most likely would without support, the whole issue was going to be rendered moot in either case.
He chided himself for giving in to those tendencies of his in such a fashion. In a way, his actions in the last minutes mirrored the larger issue at hand.
And though it still chafed at him to do so, he nodded to himself, a decision being made at last. No more delays, then.
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Taking a deep breath, Guilliman placed the small communication device on his desk. The best tech-priests of the fleet had attempted multiple times to discern its inner mechanisms using various scanning implements, but failed, and he did not wish for it to be damaged by their more intrusive methods, so it remained mysterious. It worked, however, which sufficed for the moment. He gently tapped its side and stepped back.
Within a heartbeat, the star god appeared in front of him, hovering en-miniature over his desk. It seemed to have expected his approach, or mayhaps it had merely reacted at an instant. It made no matter. He needed to converse with it, and there it was.
Despite its holographic nature, the alien deity somehow still radiated an air of incredible power.
The Primarch respectfully inclined his head. "Greetings, Lord of the Endless realm"
"You require my aid." The star god stated, ignoring his greeting.
Guilliman raised an eyebrow. He was no longer shocked by the C´tans insights, yet its answers continued to at the very least surprise him.
"I had expected you to reach out." the C´tan explained "Your Imperium has been weakened critically by recent developments and is unlikely to be able to recover on its own. You are limited, but less so than most creatures in this galaxy, and you understand your situation. You also understand the need for outside assistance." It spread its arms:
"And thus, here you are."
"Here I am" Guilliman confirmed. It gnawed at him that he had to beseech this creature for support, but his personal discomfort was meaningless compared to the survival of humanity. "Seeing how you correctly anticipated my request, I assume you have already considered it?"
"You assume correctly, Primarch." The C´tans golden eyes twinkled "My benevolence shall be extended to your crumbling realm, and aid delivered to you."
"I owe you my thanks" Guilliman replied, bowing his head. "May I inquire the exact nature of this aid?"
"You may" the C´tan allowed "I shall supply your Imperium with devices that will allow for a marked increase in productivity and organization in both the agricultural and mechanical sector. Furthermore, systems for disease protection and environmental decontamination will be supplied, to ensure that your diminished numbers of human assets perform their intended function for a longer span of time before expiring. I understand that you have already begun endeavors pertaining to this but have been hampered by your realms underdeveloped state and internal…disagreements."
Guilliman nodded with enthusiasm, the sting of the star gods criticisms a mere afterthought compared to the tantalizing possibilities that unfolded before his mental eye. The star god, however, simply continued on:
"I shall additionally provide your realm with scanning devices capable of detecting genetic aberrations caused by Tyranid genetic material." The C´tan continued "This should enable the planets under imperial influence to finally deal with Tyranid Genestealer infiltration organisms and their tainted offspring in a conclusive fashion; something your realm -outside of specialist forces- has been demonstrateably incapable of so far. And fear not, Primarch" it added with casual disdain, "care shall be taken to ensure that the device and added manufacturing equipment are simple enough that even the Adeptus Mechanicus will be able to mass-produce it without issue."
It lifted a finger, forestalling his next question "No weapons or combat-related systems will be delivered to you. Your Imperium remains rife with internal strife and treachery. Whatever advanced device I may grant you will appear soon thereafter in the possession of your enemies, be it as spoils of war or carried over by those who succumb to the temptations of the realm beyond. Instead, greater numbers of fleets shall be dispatched from within my realm. They will engage and liquidate chaotic elements and xenos incursion forces and aid in stabilizing what is left of your creators Imperium. That is all."
The Primarch knew better than to argue with the star god. He had gained the support he needed, if not quite all that he had hoped for, and now the only thing that remained was to observe formalities: "I thank you, Endless, for the honour of your audience and the aid you grant the Imperium in your benevolence!" he presented a statesmans smile.
The link cut off, the image of the alien deity vanishing along with the feeling of its presence; the small communication device returning to its inert appearance.
Guilliman sighed. Even with the promised support, the situation remained critical. It would be his duty to ensure that the equipment in question, if indeed it did arrive, was distributed and implemented on as wide a front as possible. If humanity was to survive, then he would need to plan his next steps with great care and trepidation, incorporating all the extrapolated consequences of the Star God's promised aid. To do that, he needed the support, understanding and assured cooperation of the forces under his command, without discord, mistrust or resentment.
A war council would be held on short notice, involving representatives of the Custodes elements in his fleet, his own sons, the leadership of the Imperial Guard and, of course, the Miles Annihilator. Some in his retinue would chafe at their presence, true, but hey needed to be briefed just as well, and their counsel had proven valuable any time he sought it. Not to mention, if he were to invite them separately, some of his sons may become more incensed yet at the "private audience" granted to them.
He rubbed his temples, wearily shaking his head. Suddenly, he smiled, an idea taking shape in his mind.
He picked up his vox-link communicator and began hailing Yassili Suleymanya.
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And there we have it, the consequences of the cicatrix maledictum beginning to make themselves felt.
I personally found the consequences of the great rift (so far) in "Canon-40k" to be a bit underwhelming, so I decided to write my own take on the matter (plus, I wanted to cover it anyway from a story-writing perspective, because its a big event with lots of interesting consequences and all that).
In my opinion, if you have been barely holding your various enemies at bay, and suddenly you loose 50% of your resources and fighting forces while your foes increases their own strength and tactical flexibility in various ways, even a Primarch will struggle to stabilize what is left, and I wanted to explore what the consequences of that situation would be, in the context of this story.
Now i am curious, what do you guys think of the matter? Fitting or not? Way off or agreeable?
As always, I´d enjoy discussing that, so comment below if you´d like, and thanks for reading!
Cheers
Commander T
Last edited: Jan 22, 2022
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Commander T
Jul 19, 2020
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Threadmarks Artwork
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Commander T
Jul 25, 2020
#489
Did any of you ever wonder how a null knight would look like as a funko-pop like figure?
Neither did I, but yesterday my girlfriend surprised me with just such an artwork and while it´s not done in the same more serious style the stories other artwork has, It made my evening yesterday and it does look kinda cute so I wanted to share it with you guys as well. So uh, here it is:

And a second one, with his animus-speculum device powered up, ready to smite some daemons:

So yeah, I know this is a bit random but I hope you guys like it too. Next chapter is in the works and will also get some neat artwork to go with it, so look forward to that!
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Commander T
Jul 25, 2020
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Threadmarks Chapter 33 - Friendship?
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Commander T
Jul 28, 2020
#495
And here we have it, the next chapter. Already? Yeah, I am kinda surprised myself haha. Two chapters in less than a month, I didn´t even need to click away the thread necromancy warning like usual 
But yeah, I am now "reaching", story-wise, a bunch of chapters that I have been writing on for a while, and that are close to completion, which allows me to occasionally post stuff quite a bit quicker, as is the case now. This will not always happen, I guess, because the chapters are not all finished and sometimes I still need to wait for the inspiration on how to write the last bits, how to structure it, and so on. But yeah, this time I did manage to be faster.
This chapter also contains some neat artwork, which I am quite happy about (and excited to hear what you think of it!). So, without further ado, let´s get to the story, shall we?
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Kratus Marcii fully rested within himself; busy as he was bringing himself up to date on the state of affairs across the galaxy. For a null knight such as him, many a matter was of great importance, be it any and all reports of daemonic encounters, to be thoroughly analysed for any hint of new information regarding his primary foe, or political matters of the Imperium that he might find himself questioned on by the Lord Guilliman or any other functionary.
During times of low assessed risk, he and his brothers would take turns at the immediate side of the Lord Commander; so that the others may train, oversee maintenance and improvements on their armor, or update themselves concerning gathered intelligence.
There was such a wealth of reports that even his mind could not log it in a few instants; as such, he had placed himself in a chronological accelerator. In the Imperium, such devices, capable of slowing or speeding up the flow of time within a containment field, were commonly referred to as stasis apparatuses. Used to keep valuable items from decaying, they were most often regarded as the prized relics of ancient times and rarely offered more options than those of turning them on and off. Unhampered by the technological regression that plagued most of humanity, the endless realm was easily able to supply its agents with such devices, able to slow or speed up the passage of time within them according to the wishes and specifications of the user, allowing the Knight to spend "hours", or even several "days" going through reports, running combat simulations or meditating, while only seconds or minutes passed on the Maccrages Honor, ensuring that he was available at all times should the Lord Guilliman request his presence.
As he began to read through an after-action report filed by squad 24, detailing their disabling and capture of a Khornate Bloodthirster, the automated surveillance system noted a figure approaching the door to his quarters. Facial recognition algorithms confirmed Yassili Suleymanya, the lead historitor of Roboute Guillimans Ordo Logos. Kratus had previously assigned a 78,4% probability of her reaching out for a meeting in one way or another, owing to the individuals generally inquisitive nature and the curiosity towards his organization expressed by her on previous encounters.
Calculating the time frame of her arrival, he chose to time his response so as to not startle his guest, instead keeping up the appearance of being surprised by the visit. He would wait for her to approach and knock on the door before bidding her to enter. Finishing his reading of the report, he noted down several points that would require further analysis, and added his own thoughts to the matter in short, concise points. Then, he began the process of exiting the decelerator, the world around him appearing to speed up as the stasis field receded. He stepped out of the device, reaching for his helmet. He clamped it down upon his head, the internal pressure of his armor equalizing with a hiss. Tactical displays sprang into being, a vast array of sensoring equipment offering up data for him to assess if need be.
Initiating the dampeners inside his armor with a mental command, he caged of his own aura for the time being, before taking a seat at the weapons workbench, furthest away from the door. His armaments were in no need of further cleaning or maintenance, yet he had found that appearing engaged in a physical activity rendered him more approachable; furthermore it allowed him to achieve maximum distance from any potential visitors, limiting their discomfort, and, by his own experience, decreased the feelings of intimidation or fear experienced by baseline humans, were he to stand.
A moment later, there was a knock at the door. Mixing a tone of surprise into his voice, he spoke up:
"Yes?"
"Ser Knight?" his visitors voice came through the door, muffled but still well audible to him.
"Yassili?" He voiced her name as a question "Do come in." Upon his mental command, the door slid open.
The historitor stepped halfway through the doorframe before stopping, seeming to hardly notice. Under his helmet Kratus smiled wearily. The effects of his aura, even with engaged dampeners, were still noticeable, of course. The historitor had evidently left the small, furry lifeform often perched upon her shoulder at her quarters, an understandable action, as it had reacted badly to his presence, attempting to flee the last time Yassili had gotten close to the knights in a council meeting.
No matter her evident discomfort, her smile was kind. "Busy?" she asked
"Always" he replied, a trace of humor in his voice.
"Busy enough to refuse a summons from the Lord Commander?" she inquired, her grin turning cheeky. "He sent me to fetch you."
"I confess my surprise" Kratus answered, the subtlest trace of sarcasm bleeding into his speech. He lifted a little metal object up for her to see "My communicator must have been malfunctioning, then."
She chuckled, shaking her head "To be honest, he wanted to send me instead, much as I wanted to be sent. I wished to talk to you while we walk to the bridge"
He nodded. "Very well." He rose up to his full height, causing the woman to take an involuntary step backwards. He gestured towards the hallway. "Lead the way then, historitor."
"Oh, you can call me Yassili" she replied, beginning to walk. "If you should wish to do so, of course"
With two strides, he had caught up to her, still keeping a certain distance to mitigate her discomfort. "Yassili, then. What is it you wish to talk about?"
"I wished to talk about matters in the endless realm, among other things. I know there have been diplomatic exchanges already, but I would like to hear it...well, first hand."
Not missing a stride, Kratus turned his head towards her, and down:
"I cannot help but wonder if this was not wholly the lord Guillimans idea." He remarked, humor in his voice.
"Why would it be?" she asked, all innocence save for the slightest of grins
"Mayhaps he had hoped that his most fair and likeable historitor would loosen my tongue pertaining to certain matters, where he himself could not?"
She giggled with mock excitement, theatrically placing a hand upon her brow: "Oh, you are too gallant, Ser knight!"

He inclined his head, chuckling: "I aim to please, m´lady. Now, then, what exactly do you wish to hear about first?"
"Are you content with the life you lead?"
"I am not certain I understand..." he answered
A trace of sadness had crept into Yassilis voice: "What you have become, what you do. Did you wish for it?" she paused for a moment, seeming to search for the right words:
"It is just...I did not expect to end up where I am now, though I am glad to assist the Lord Guilliman in his endeavours and, well…" she smiled "about not being burned as a heretic and all that. Yet I could not help but wonder how it is, concerning the Astartes, or the Lord Guilliman. Or you. Who knows what they might have become, had they grown up in different circumstances? What, or who, you might have been..."
Keraphos waited a moment, to give her the impression that he had to think about the answer. He had long since learned that answering questions too fast made baseline humans uncomfortable:
"If I had not been inducted into the Miles Annihilator and remained removed from the realms of my Lord? I may have ended up a culexus assassin, or a member of an Inquisitors retinue. Alternatively, and much more likely, I would have died, killed by being abandoned or attacked by those around me for the effect that my presence had upon them."
Suleymanya seemed honestly sorry for him. As he had known already, she had almost been burned as a heretic before being saved by the Lord Commanders intervention, making her aware of certain workings of Imperial society. "You think they would have killed you?"
"That is the most common fate for blanks in human society outside His realm" he answered, his voice harder now.
For a moment she waited, wondering perhaps what his story was, but Kratus divulged no further details.
"Hmmm." She stroked her chin "A less saddening thought experiment then. What if.... you had not been born a blank, merely a human on one of the many imperial worlds?"
"You mean a highly speculative scenario in which fundamental parts of me are different?" he glanced at her, and she nodded enthusiastically, smiling "Very well. I would most probably have been a menial worker or become employed in agricultural production, as those are the two most common occupations for homo sapiens in this galaxy. With a lower, but still significant chance I would have become a clerk in the Adeptus Administratum or been conscripted into the military. Statistically speaking, I would have most likely have founded a family too, if I had survived long enough to do so."
Her expression had become thoughtful: "And, would you have preferred that?"
He shrugged: "If I had no knowledge about the wider galaxy, I might have lived a reasonably content, if hard, life, yes."
He raised a hand to forestall her next question: "Yet, I do possess a level of knowledge that would make it impossible for me to ever be satisfied with such a lifestyle. Indeed, it would be horrifying!" He continued before she could speak up:
"Unlike the Astartes, I was never hypno-indoctrinated, nor did I have my memories removed. After being found by His agents, I was merely educated as to my abilities and informed by my Lord, the Endless, about the manifold dangers and horrors that the warp presents the galaxy with. After that I began to train to become a Miles Annihilator, fully of my own volition. If I were to settle down on some planet for a supposedly peaceful life, I would never be able to suppress the knowledge that, without exaggeration or hubris; I could have saved millions, if not billions, from a fate often worse than death, had I chosen to stay with the annihilators. I view my powers not as a curse but as a gift, it being my responsibility to use them as effectively as possible in the fight against Chaos. As such, I am very much at peace with who I am, and what I do. I know I am doing what I do best, and that I am saving countless beings from the horrors of the warp as I do so."
He paused for a moment:
"I hope this answers your question?"
"It does, and quite thoroughly so." the historitor smiled broadly at him "Thank you for your answer, I had long since wondered about it. If I could ask another question, one related to that?"
"Proceed" he replied.
"You said you were simply educated as to your abilities, which, being such a…valuable asset, one could say, makes sense, and is not too dissimilar to how certain individuals in the Imperium are trained." She paused for a moment, stroking her chin "But…what about the common folk inside the realm; what education do they receive?"
"An extensive one, by the standards of your Imperium." Kratus began "No offense intended", he added quickly.
Yassili laughed "None taken. I would not be in my current position if I reacted badly to uncomfortable truths."
"Well said" the knight answered "The citizens of the endless realm begin with a generalized education which is later specified according to the abilities and preferences demonstrated by them in various tests. This ensures that all positions are filled by those most capable to perform the required tasks. Furthermore, all citizens are educated as to the dangers posed by the realm beyond, and the ways in which it seeks to corrupt."
The historitor seemed surprised. "Such matters are taught to them? I was never certain if the Imperial approach of secrecy was the correct one, but does knowledge of their existence not empower the creatures of the warp?"
"In some limited fashion, mayhaps." Kratus conceded "But these effects pale in comparison to the negative impact that ignorance can have, for it leads to mistrust and a lack of confidence once one realizes his or her lack of knowledge. One cannot well fight a foe that one knows too little of." he lifted a hand:
"This of course does not mean the citizenry learns everything there is to know about the warp. They are taught that there is a realm beyond our physical one, inhabited in part by malicious creatures that seek to increase their own power by influencing those in the material realm. Citizens also learn how to recognize signs of chaotic corruption. Of course those who leave the realm to fight are taught in more detail how to fight the beings of the warp and resist their powers as best they can."
There were more measures in place, concerning the citizens education, tests of competence and loyalty as well as their education, but their continued success depended in part on their secrecy. The knight was thus not cleared to inform the historitor in any more detail. The woman seemed to have noticed that, too:
"This is something of a less detailed answer compared to the ones I have received before" she remarked. "I assume there is reason for that?"
"There is. I am unfortunately not able to elaborate further."
Yassili nodded in understanding: "Necessary secrets, huh? I get to hear that often" For a short moment, there was a hint of bitterness in her voice, possibly reminiscing the clashes between her order and various other Imperial organizations that opposed the Ordo Logos' quest for understanding. Nevertheless, her smile returned quickly: "Be that as it may; I do not put you at fault, you have your orders and I accept that."
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With another question, the historitor changed the topic:
"How is it with Psykers within the realm? They are, in some ways, your polar opposite, after all. I know individuals of psychic talent are often shunned within the Imperium, but they can also be extremely useful. In that, I suppose, your kind and theirs is similar. And as your realm seems to have avoided falling to superstition and myth so far, I began to wonder what is done with them."
"Psykers are…a difficult issue" Kratus replied "It is indeed true that psychic individuals possess many abilities that would make them invaluable assets. They do, however, also present a tremendous risk."
He looked at her
"Are you familiar with the way the Aeldari practice their psychic powers, and the reasoning behind it?"
She furrowed her brow "Tentatively so. I had some contact with them, and -thanks to the lord Guillimans influence- was able to study some of their writings." She stroked her chin "If I remember correctly, they practice strict moderation and have to be tremendously careful when exercising their psychic powers. More so perhaps than even imperial psykers."
Kratus nodded:
"Indeed. This is, to the best of our knowledge, due to the attentions they receive from one of the four so called chaos gods, she-who-thirsts, as they call it. Histories indicate that before the fall of their empire, the Aeldari were capable of using their powers without reservations, but with the attentions of such a powerful warp entity now focused upon them, a single mistake can mean damnation."
Yassili nodded in understanding. "Not a fate one would wish for. Yet, I am not sure what point you are trying to make."
"The Endless realm represents a danger to the denizens of the warp and their influence on the materium" Kratus explained "As such, it is often the focus of their combined attentions."
For a moment, Yassili was silent, before her eyes widened "You mean…"
Kratus nodded "The Aeldari demonstrate what the attentions of one chaotic deity may cause. Now imagine, if you will, the attentions of all four." Before she could answer, he elaborated:
"Within the realm, psychic powers are repressed due to the defensive pylon-network. However, even when repressed, pykers have a stronger reaction than others to blanks such as I. By that method, we were, and are, able to single them out. Seeing the potential benefits of their usage, and lacking the knowledge we have now, a training program was implemented on an outpost world with limited pylon protection, enough to keep their powers hampered, if not fully suppressed. It was believed that this would allow the psychic individuals to practice their arts in moderation and learn the necessary skills to avoid possession."
Yassili looked horrified: "It failed?"
Kratus nodded, his voice grim "It did. Whatever mental defences the psykers might have had were eroded in moments, yet their new puppet masters proved cunning and secretive. By the time their possession was revealed, the entire planet had already fallen. This was the first time us null knights were employed en masse, and the program was…terminated."
"I am…truly sorry to hear that" Yassili answered, sadness in her voice "but…new psykers are still being born, are they not? What happens to them?"
Kratus could hear the apprehension in her voice. Used as she was to imperial procedures, she no doubt expected them to be culled upon discovery.
"They are not killed" he answered. "As is stated, within the realm their powers are blocked, and they remain safe from the predations of the warp. Thusly, they are allowed to remain in the realm, upon worlds with particularly strong pylon systems, and fulfil other functions to the best of their abilities."
"A surprisingly caring approach, considering our methods" Suleymanya stated, a hint of bitter sarcasm in her voice
Kratus merely shrugged "Our lord is merciful."
Yassili chuckled "If you say so. Now, a third matter, if you would allow it."
"I do."
She looked up at him, craning her head to do so, brow furrowed but still smiling. "I have never laid eyes on you without a helmet. Might I see your face?"
The null knight slowed his steps, looking down at her. "I am normally cautious about removing my helmet around others outside my order"
"What?" she asked, "That hideous?"
He stopped, apparently taken aback for a moment. Then he laughed, a low rumble through the speakers upon his armour. Yassili grinned, clearly proud upon her quip.
"Depends on whom you ask" he responded, amusement evident in his voice: "Most daemons would certainly find me abhorrent" he chuckled, before becoming serious again: "My helmet contains measures that keep my aura dampened, if I so wish. Without it, being that close to me will cause you...discomfort. I would rather avoid that."
Her smile was less broad, but still present, determination clear in her voice: "Your care for my wellbeing is flattering. But I still want to see."
"As you wish"
The helmet seals disengaged with a series of clicks, followed by a hiss as the slightly over-pressured atmosphere within his suit normalized. He lifted off the helmet, producing an immediate effect:
The historitor took a step back, her smile becoming strained. He saw her swallow, hard.
"...definitely feel that" she muttered
Kratus smiled encouragingly, stepping further away from her to lessen the effects of his aura: "You are handling it well, Yassili. Many have had...stronger reactions."
"As in?" Her curiosity apparently remained undiminished by his aura.
"Involuntary regurgitation of past meals, cursing, attacks, multiple seizures." he listed some of the previous happenstances.
The historitor laughed "Someone puked on your boots, huh?" her smile lessened "But…seizures?"
The null knight nodded "We of course keep our distance from the psychically active elements of Imperial forces, to ensure they can still perform their intended functions. There is, however, a certain percentage of humans who possess psychic abilities that are not detected. Some repress their powers, be it consciously or subconsciously, fearing censure and prejudice, while others are weak enough in psychic strength that they themselves may never notice. That is, until they are exposed to a strong null field, such as mine."
"I see" Yassili nodded in understanding.
Kratus began to lift up his helmet, and, receiving no protest from the historitor, put it back upon his head, its multiple seals reengaging in near-silence. As his aura-dampeners reengaged to full effect, he could hear a faint sigh of relief escape from the lips of his conversation partner. Involuntary no doubt, yet present all the same. Such matters did not faze the knight in the slightest. For all its drawbacks, his powers were a gift, allowing him to serve his lord in a way few could, and protect the material realm from the cancerous madness of the warp. Without missing a beat, he continued the conversation:
"I do hope that, after viewing me helmetless, you still consider the resulting discomfort an acceptable trade-off for the satiation of your curiosity."
She laughed "I think that depends on how long it will take for my headache to disappear completely"
"It should recede in short order" Kratus assured her "If not, you may need to report yourself to the Inquisition to have your psychic potential assessed."
She chuckled, shaking her head "Great advice, Ser Knight."
"Glad to be of service" he replied, deadpan. He gestured ahead of himself: "We are approaching the bridge."
"Indeed we are. I have not been invited to join the Lord Guillimans council this time, so I shall return to my other duties. In our latest forays we have amassed small mountain of contradictory scripture to be assessed, cataloged and reconciled with our existing records." She sighed.
"Reading some of it could make one wonder if making the truth of history near-impossible to decipher was not the authors' true goal. Of course, knowing the Ordo Chronos exists makes such speculation unnecessary. Having to go through thousands upon thousands of such…inventive pieces of writing in hopes of finding a kernel of truth makes me wonder if the pyre would not have been the preferable option after all."
The null knight chuckled at that.
"Be that as it may" she smiled at Kratus "I am glad we could converse today and hope we will be able to do so again in the future."
"Likewise" the knight replied, inclining his head "I wish you fortitude in dealing with your duties, historitor. Farewell."
"Farewell" she answered, turning around and making her way back down the broad corridor. Kratus glanced to his left, where his brother Tomallus was approaching. The rest of his squad was already at the lord Guillimans side, reporting that most of the invited had not yet arrived. He stepped towards the reinforced doors of the main bridge elevator, and turned his mind fully towards the upcoming council…
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And there we have it. Some (hopefully interesting) background information about life in the endless realm, or at least about how it is presented to outsiders. I figured it made sense for Guillimans lead historitor, Yassili Suleymanya, to seek one of the Knights out for some smalltalk, seeing her personality and curious nature in the books, and it allows for some neat character exploration and interaction, as well as exposition, while hopefully not getting too boring, either.
I had quite some fun writing this, and i hope you will have had fun reading it, too!
As always, I would be very happy to hear from you in the comments below! Opinions, questions, feedback, you name it.
That´s all for now, thanks for reading!
Last edited: Apr 17, 2021
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Commander T
Jul 28, 2020
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Threadmarks Chapter 33 - Alliance
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Commander T
Aug 8, 2020
#507
And here we are again, another release already thanks to the fact that I had been writing on this for quite a while already, so that limited what I still had to do. Anyway, let us get to the story without much further ado; as always comments and feedback are very much appreciated; and i hope you enjoy reading!
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It was not often that a Haemunculus left its oubliette, let alone Commorragh; supplied with all necessities as they were within the dark city and unwilling to interrupt work that they considered far more important than something as trivial and menial as attacking an imperial world.
In this particular case, however, the interest of one of their ancient order had been roused. Within days, a sizeable fleet had been made ready; provisions, test subjects and laboratory equipment from the Haemunculus' oubliette loaded onto its personal vessel. Soon, the onboard fleshcrafting halls contained enough materiel and tools to perform most, if not all tasks the Haemunculus would in its abode. With it came many of its favoured creations; grotesques and modified slave creatures as well as, of course, a sizeable retinue of cabalite guardians.
More vessels had joined the small fleet, members of several rivaling cabals drawn in by the promise of plunder, or the curiosity of their Archons.
Finally, Aedrulash the modifier boarded its own vessel. The captains and the crews of the various ships had discussed among themselves in hushed whispers what had caused the Haemunculus to leave the port, for the first time in millennia. In the end, none dared voice a question, and contented themselves with the thought that only an extraordinarily important source of plunder could have done so, confident that they would capture their share of it in turn; or gain a favor with the modifier through their assistance.
After a short and uneventful journey through the winding pathways of the webway, the Drukhari fleet slid from a concealed warp-gate, accelerating towards the Imperial world that the haemunculus had chosen to attack. Orders passed through the fleet to power down weapon systems and deactivate holo-fields. Numerous captains baulked at the order, yet none dared refuse it. Within minutes, the lead ships of the raiding fleet were close enough for even the mon-keighs primitive sensors to pick them up.
The systems defense force, though lacking in swiftness and maneuverability, could nonetheless destroy Drukhari vessels if they managed to hit them, and several captains began to prepare for evasive maneuvers, although none dared to be the first to break formation, even as detected energy spikes warned them about the mon-keighs weapon systems powering up to fire.
Suddenly, as the vessels were about to close into range, new readings were detected, emissions of energy too unfocused to be weapons fire, bursts of radiation and panicked streamers of transmitted communication. The fleet continued, unscathed, soon passing the mon-keigh vessels, drifting without power, one of them bleeding reactor plasma from the hull.
As the drukhari ship-masters began to land their forces, the bewildering situation continued. The planetary defense forces, less meager than on many imperial worlds, appeared to be in total disarray, routing in panic before the first cabalite had ever set foot on their world. No enemy fire met their vessels, defensive weapons failing or being deserted by their occupants.
Suitably impressed by the genius of the Haemunculus that had no doubt engineered the situation, the Drukhari set to work with gusto, and by the time the Haemunculus' personal lander set down amidst the largest planetary settlement, much of the population had already been captured and dragged onboard the waiting slave-haulers.
Surrounded by its retinue, Aedrulash the Modifier strolled through the burning city, studying with detached interest the crude architecture of the mon-keighs dwellings, drinking in the suffering of their former inhabitants. Just as it began to grow annoyed at the wait, movement in the swirling smoke caused its guardians to raise their weapons. At a gesture from their master, they stood down.
A mon-keigh was approaching them, clad in a simple black robe inlaid with lines of gleaming gold, flanked by two armoured giants whose battleplate seemed to drink in what dim light still lingered under the roiling smoke of a world set ablaze.
As they closed, the Haemunculus felt a discomforting tug at its very being, recognizing the mon-keighs guardians as blanks. Their effect on it was limited, for the Drukhari, unlike their craftworld kin, had long since stopped using their psychic powers, causing them to atrophy. Nevertheless, its grotesques, growling before, began to retreat, mewling and hissing, while it's cabalite guards twitched in discomfort.
The small group halted at a respectful distance, the diminutive mon-keigh inclining its head as it stepped forward:
"Honored lord of flesh; I am grateful that you have chosen to meet with me."
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No unmodified mon-keigh throat could truly formulate the ancient Aeldari tongue, and yet this one, much like the slave-messenger before, spoke High-Aeldari without accent and without mistakes. This hinted at extensive modification to the vocal cords, lungs and even the parts of the brain responsible for language. The Haemunculus had itself pursued such a project out of boredom once, attempting to create an Orkoid fluent in Aeldari to serve as household staff. As such, it admired the craftsmanship of such precise manipulations, feeling a hint of curiosity. Much could be learned from dissecting this individual and comparing its modifications to the first. As it began to plan the necessary incisions, it answered the robed figure:
"You serve one of the yngir." It was not a question
"The honored lord is well informed" the mon-keigh smiled. "More precisely one known as Ysha´kaddra."
"And what would he who hungers endlessly gain from approaching me?" the haemunculus rasped
"An excellent question" the ambassador smiled "And one possessing a simple answer: Your skills. It is known that you are capable not only of fleshcrafting in the biological sense, but also when it comes to…more exotic arts. Arts forbidden even in Comorragh. He has need of those capable in performing them."
Where usually, swift and inventive punishment would have followed for anyone believing themselves entitled to the Haemunculus' services, the Drukhari creature now ignored the affront:
"Psychic engineering" the Heamunculus whispered, its eyes lighting up with delight, all other matters forgotten. It´s considerable intellect, wandering and detached before, began to focus fully upon the mon-keigh before it.
Warp-based arts and experiments, something that had been its proficiency in the millennia before the collapse of the old empire, were one of the few things now forbidden even to it; a rule it followed for they represented a threat to the integrity of the entire sub-realm, including its own abbatoir. Even a haemunculus could not simply perform such acts in Comorragh, and so it had remained shackled in its experiments to the laws of physics and biology, to its ongoing frustration. How often it had lamented the miracles it had been rendered unable to perform and thought with longing of those bygone days of wonder and creation.
In realspace however, were one to be supplied with enough sustenance and materiel, and protected from the potential mishaps that may occur…
"I see that you understand the implications of the offer, honored lord of flesh." The mon-keigh answered, meeting the Haemunculus gaze without a hint of disquiet:
"My master would grant you the ability to perform such endeavours without the constricting limitations present in your current abode, and all while being impeccably well protected, be it from rival forces or the tempestuous energies of the realm beyond. You will of course be supplied with equipment, servants and sustenance as required, as well as assistance, though far be it from me to claim that you would need any." The ambassador winked at the haemunculus casually, continuing to speak:
"This, however, is not all, for my lord has a second offer to make. I take it that you are aware of a star gods abilities?"
"I am aware of the ancient myths" the haemunculus replied "They speak of stolen souls, and red harvests. I never decided if I believed them."
The ambassador shook his head: "My lord does not concern himself with souls. Reflections in the warp are not something he consumes; but what he can take from others is memories and experiences."
There was a moment of silence, the haemunculus stroking its chin in contemplation, its body shivering ever so slightly.
"I can see you understand. I do not wish to…suggest things that may be untrue, honored Aedrulash, yet one wonders if not boredom and repetition set in after such a long life, especially when one has such…stifling limitations placed upon them." The mon-keigh smiled still, his voice full of mock innocence. And where at any other occasion, the Haemunculus would have dedicated a sizable portion of time to find a punishment suitable to repay such an insinuation, it remained silent and unmoving, its mind awash with tantalizing possibilities.
The mon-keigh nodded knowingly: "If you so wish, He will periodically remove select memories from your being, of course while leaving your skills and abilities untouched, so that you may experience things again and again as if they were happening to you for the first time."
The haemunculus inhaled deeply, drawing itself up to its full height: "You have my agreement!" Its voice was no longer a whisper as, for the first time in millennia, the ancient creature felt true excitement: "I will cooperate with your lord."
"Very well" the ambassador smiled excitedly "What exactly he requires of you we shall discuss at a more…" he spread his arms in excuse "clandestine location, if you would not mind?"
"Agreed."
The ambassador nodded, apparently pleased "As for your work, you will of course be provided with any and all additional materials and accommodations that you may require. I assume you have already brought with you much of what is necessary to perform your arts?"
The drukhari creature nodded in understanding. "In the rearmost vessel of the formation."
"Is there any among those present whose services you still require?" the ambassador asked
"I remain fond of my creations" the haemunculus stated, gesturing towards the hulking grotesques sitting in wait behind it. "More remain upon my vessel."
"Anything else?"
"Chaff."
The ambassador smiled: "As you wish."
The haemunculus´ servants were fierce cabalites, used to the intrigues and infighting of Commorragh, and yet fear had held them in place this long, fear of the drukhari-shaped monster that they served, and hope that they may still be included within its selection. Now, at last, they moved, for they knew what was about to happen. It was too late.
The hulking guardians of the ambassador moved at an impossible speed, catapulting themselves forward in defiance of gravity or inertia, reaching the cabalite warriors behind the Haemunculus before their weapons had cleared their holsters.
Inbuilt gravitational manipulation devices, the haemunculus remarked mentally, observing with interest as a single gauntleted fist disintegrated the torso of the nearest guard while a massive powersword bisected half a dozen more in a single swing. Handheld laser weapons of considerable potency, appearing almost small in the guardians hands, blew open helmets and chestplates as the shardcarbine return fire of its rearmost guards struck an invisible barrier, a fingers width away from the mon-keighs armor. Personal shield systems as well, then.
The Haemunculus could not help but admire the speed and efficiency with which the no-doubt gene-enhanced warriors killed, becoming further convinced that its decision had been the correct one.
While the hulking mon-keigh warriors made short work of the last members of the Haemunculus' direct retinue, bypassing its whimpering grotesques, it let its gaze wander. Previously concealed automata sprang into action with astonishing rapidity, beginning to dispatch of the surprised Drukhari with contemptuous ease, weapons fire pattering harmlessly from their flaring shields. Simultaneously, new stars lit the heavens as the yngirs fleet revealed itself. The Haemunculus had seeded information of its intended travels throughout the dark city, intent on drawing a number of Drukhari warships into conflict with whatever force wished to bargain with it, the better to assess their technological and military prowess. Now its modified eyes peered into the sky as the systems of its own vessel supplied it with further information, allowing it to closely follow the engagement:
Their exact means were unknown to the Haemunculus, yet the Yngirs vessels appeared unperturbed by the hurriedly activated holo-fields and stealth generators of the Drukhari vessels. Perhaps they applied saturation fire to box their foe in, or perhaps they had logged the waiting vessels positions before the battle started and were drawing conclusions from that point onwards. One way or the other, they apparently prevailed, as moments later contact began being lost with the vessels above, in quick succession. Soon, the entire fleet had been sundered, some while trying to fight, most while trying to escape; all but one. The Haemunculus´ personal ship remained untouched, its confused crew told to stand down by its master.
The Haemunculus stepped towards the mon-keigh as the screams around them died down, the combat-automata fanning out to hunt down the remaining stragglers and dispatch of any mon-keigh witnesses, or so it assumed
"Your forces capabilities have further validated my decision" it told the Yngirs puppet.
The mon-keigh smiled "I am certain ours will be a most fruitful, mutually beneficial cooperation. If you would follow me, the shuttle is waiting…"
__________________________________________________________
The emperor protects. Three words, words which formed the foundation for the beliefs of humanities uncountable masses. A simple mantra, yet exceedingly difficult to verify. Many interpreted it in a personal fashion, hoping that He on Terra may shield them and those they held dearest from harm. Those who had seen war and strife oft concluded that His protection related to ones undying soul, not the corporeal body, for many faithful died no matter their prayers.
And a select few within His Imperium, those whose access to information allowed them a broader view of humanities interstellar empire, knew that such words, though true, pertained to no single being. The Emperor protects humanity. But in a galaxy of bloodshed and eternal war, many a sacrifice of the individual members is needed for the survival of a species.
The Emperor sees all, knows all. Another common belief, this one was plain false. Truly, his sight encompassed most of the empyrean, and the myriad strands of the future unfurled under His gaze. And yet, limits existed. His mind, once united in purpose, had begun to fracture as time wore on, anchored to the throne and yet cast adrift in the great ocean, elements pulled towards his many different duties. His powers, though immense, were not without limits, and taxed constantly by his manifold struggles.
Furthermore, the future was malleable, both in the outcomes produced and the ways in which those could be attained. Other powerful creatures, too, inhabited the immaterium, vying for supremacy over the present and the future, and clashing with His mind at every turn. Some things thus remained hidden from His gaze, while others were visible, yet beyond His direct influence.
Nevertheless, few things long escaped His notice in the Galaxy, and fewer still within the Warp. From the worship of billions, profound consequences sprung; and something new had been born among the star gods subjects. The freshly formed deity, though skillfully hiding, had begun to influence the empyrean around it while growing in power until the effects of its actions made it impossible to elude His notice.
When He drew himself together, and turned His gaze towards it, it retreated, cautious. Projecting ones powers over vast distances was draining, even for one such as He, and the new deity had quickly shrunk away, out of reach. He had, however, gained what insights He required, and confirmed His earlier assumptions.
Schemes millennia in the making were adjusted, options weighed and finally, a decision was made. A stabilizing factor needed to be introduced.
The uncountable twists and turns of the winding pathways of fate stretched before Him, and he followed them in turn, plucking at some and cutting off others, striving to reach the most beneficial outcome possible.
Having done what He could, He swiftly returned to his manifold other duties, until finally the foreseen moment approached, a single point in time at which the desired outcome could be achieved. For a moment the hum of the throne shifted in pitch, eliciting hushed, worried exclamations from the Magii supervising it. A heartbeat later, psychic individuals all across Terra staggered as His mind reached out into the galaxy.
A single pulse of power, a thought of blinding, radiant intensity, was sent screaming through the warp, carried by His will on wings of psychic fire. A manifold array of voices it was; a pained utterance, a triumphant roar, an insistent whisper. Its passage caused Imperial Psykers on the worlds along its path to cry out in pained adoration the message that passed them by, even as His words made their way into the thoughts and dreams of billions of His subjects in their passage:
"It is time."
Three words, yet enough to change the galaxy. In moments, the message reached its destination, a part of what had once been a world, until torn asunder in ancient betrayal. It passed through void shields, hull plating, kilometres of ancient rock, through caverns and chambers; ancient seals and runes of warding parting before it. Warp-borne protectors, their true might hidden behind their diminutive appearances, scattered before it, bowing their heads in supplication as the motionless body in their midst began to glow with a faint, golden light…
And while in the void fortress above, alarmed calls arose and Dark Angels Apothecaries hurried to assist their suddenly comatose Librarians, in a chamber hidden deep within the Rock, Lion El' Johnson opened his eyes for the first time in ten millennia…
Last edited: Apr 16, 2021
112
Commander T
Aug 8, 2020
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Threadmarks small survey I guess
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Commander T
Aug 9, 2020
#517
I have to say, talking about the topic gave me an idea:
For those people on here who like(d) my story, I would like to ask, just out of curiosity:
What exactly do you like about it and/or what do you like the most?
Because that´s something I have been wondering about once or twice before and it would be pretty nice to know ^^
20
Commander T
Aug 9, 2020
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Threadmarks Chapter 34 - Portents of the future
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Commander T
Sep 11, 2020
#537
And here we are again, finally, with the next chapter. I hope you enjoy reading, and as always, I would appreciate comments and feedback. Without further ado, lets get to it:
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The Imperium of man condemns the alien, as they do the mutant and the heretic. The xenos are unworthy of trust, unworthy of mercy and, most important of all, unworthy to share the galaxy, whose dominion is mankinds solemn birthright.
This is the official stance, repeated on countless worlds, and in put into action across the length and breadth of the Imperium.
Unofficially, matters are more fluid.
Routes of communication are maintained between certain species, secret and often characterized by mutual mistrust, forced into being by the vagaries of a decidedly hostile galaxy. It was through such a channel, dormant for decades before, that tidings of potential cooperation had reached Eldrad Ulthran.
A message had arrived, directed at him and the seer council he had once led, its author most likely ignorant of his recent removal from said councils leadership. It was advocating for a desperate alliance to oppose the returned yngir that threatened both their species, penned -or at least signed- by a member of the Mon'keighs Inquisition, more precisely their Ordo Xenos. The ancient farseer was well aware of the fractured nature of said organization. As such, the message had the potential of being genuine, as well as carrying the risk of being a trap.
Ever since it had arrived, having passed through many secretive pathways, the seer council of Ulthwé had debated over it, and he with them.
His banishment from Ulthwé -on pain of death- which had followed his failed attempt to summon Ynnead early, had been retracted after a devastating attack led by the accursed Tzeentchian daemon Kairos Fateweaver, which had seen Ulthwé teetering on the brink of destruction, and which he had helped repel. He was therefore now once more allowed to walk the halls of the Craftworld he had called his home for many millennia, and had returned to weeks earlier in reaction to the Yngirs return, which any and all psychically active Aeldari had felt.
This, however, did not mean that his previous actions were now approved of, let alone forgiven. In fact, he could feel the barely concealed hostility of many of the farseers around him, even now, dazed and in considerable pain.
Eldrad of Ulthwé, returned outcast, former high Farseer, lay on the floor of the Seers chamber, panting through gritted teeth. Around him, a dozen other Farseers struggled to rise once more, many failing to do so, sinking back to the ground accompanied by gasps of pain. His partly crystallized limbs shaking with the effort, Eldrad finally pushed himself into a sitting position.
Guarded by the spirits of past seers, their minds focused by the psychically resonant chamber, he had led the scrying efforts of the Ulthwé seer council. They had allowed his participation in lieu of the exceptional circumstances, which required a unity of purpose in the Aeldari people not seen for aeons. The Aeldari seers had long since stopped attempting to approach, even in so metaphysical a way, the shrieking, soul-sucking emptiness of the returned Yngir, having learned that nothing was to be gained from the attempt save for crippling pain and terror. Instead, they had been skirting the edges of its influence, seeking to draw conclusions from the consequences of its actions which, in turn, could allow for predictions to be made.
Theoretically.
In practical terms, even linked in mind and purpose and protected by the chambers runes and the spirits of past seers around them, the mere attempt to discern its future in this way had left the ancient Farseer feeling drained; drenched in sweat and shaking. The great ocean was in turmoil, possible futures twisting and flowing into each other, the star gods influence introducing an unobservable element that cursed them with a certain degree of unavoidable uncertainty as the forces of chaos too redoubled their efforts towards dominance, clearly incensed by the successes of the newly risen challenger. Their powers of foresight, not infallible at the best of times, had become ever more capricious in recent times, further hampering their scrying efforts.
Confronted with the realization that further attempts at deciphering the star gods plans in such a fashion were liable to end in failure much like their most recent attempt, Eldrad now turned his mind back to the Imperial message they had received some days prior, penned in dark blue ink on the tanned hide of some unfortunate animal.
Having examined it many a time, using his powers to read out its psychic signature, Eldrad could ascertain that it was infused with genuine, powerful emotions: anxiety, desperation and fear; yet also hope and determination. A forgery was possible; yet became increasingly unlikely as more and more Farseers examined the letter and proclaimed it genuine. For all intents and purposes, it was truthful.
Following that realization, Eldrad had led the seer council in linked meditation. The inquisitor had included, as a show of trust perhaps, a small Aquila of tarnished copper, worn by her for most of her life. Linked to its wearer in the realm of souls by centuries of shared history, it had allowed the Aeldari seers to scry the swirling depths of the great ocean for portents of the Inquisitors future in particular, in addition to their own.
Their art had become more and more difficult as of late, the oppressing emptiness of the Yngirs presence disrupting their foresight as its actions influenced the myriad possible futures. However, provided with a spiritual link of such potency, they had been able to tell that, should a party of theirs meet with the Inquisitor as proposed by her, no harm would come to them, nor to the Imperial agent. The paths of their fates would intersect, then branch apart again; changed but not terminated.
Beyond that, little could be said with certainty. There was the potential for great benefits to the Aeldari species, the runes whispering of peace and prosperity, and the subduing of she-who-thirsts, but mentioning little and less of how this would be achieved or even attempted. It was a common problem; this, being able to see the possibility of reaching a desired end goal, yet remaining frustratingly unable to discern the precise means of its achievement.
Unable to learn anything more regarding the issue, they had ventured out into the great ocean once more. Their latest foray into the realm of souls had been the final attempt to discern if the Yngir was involved in the inquisitors proceedings, and, if so, how strongly. Alas, too many creatures' fates had already been influenced by its actions in one way or another, if only indirectly, making it increasingly difficult to "untangle" the individual strands of fate, and decide what may be a lure and what a genuine-and much needed-offer of cooperation.
_________________________________
Next to Eldrad, another Farseer spoke up, words punctuated by groans of discomfort as she rose: "I need to rest. We all do."
Their minds having been intertwined so recently, Eldrad had felt - and could in fact still feel - the pain and exhaustion of his kin. He nodded wearily: "I concur. There is nothing further to be gained, and therefore no use scarring our souls in further vain attempts."
Another farseer joined in: "We have determined that the mon-keighs motives are genuine, to the best of our knowledge. None of us sensed lies or deceit, nor a hidden agenda. It pains me to say it, but I believe this to be the single most promising option available to us. This is not a foe we can overcome on our own, not without grievous losses that our people may never recover from."
Eldrad nodded, at last managing to rise to his feet fully, his partially crystallized legs creaking ever so slightly: "The talismans of Vaul" a murmur rose in the chamber at the mention of the ancient god-weapons "Some remain hidden even to us; but others we know the location of. None are currently in our possession, and we cannot take, crew and defend them without support."
"So it is true" one of the more recently arrived Farseers cut in accusingly: "You plan to lead the mon-keighs straight to the talismans?"
Eldrad could hear the resentment in her voice, one that many around him no doubt shared, incensed still at his actions surrounding the premature birth of Ynnead. He shrugged:
"If we prevail, we shall find a way to make the fortresses unusable for the imperials thereafter. If we fail, it no longer matters. Do you wish to suggest an alternative course of action, Ylvannah?"
Silence met his words, the Aeldari around him grim but determined. Satisfied, the ancient Farseer continued: "I shall meet this inquisitor in person" he stated, matter-of-factly "That should allow me to apply my powers more thoroughly, and become certain of the inquisitors true motivations before we agree to reveal the talismans locations."
"What makes you believe that we would let you meddle with a matter of such importance?" Erdanesh cut in. Murmurs of agreement arose in the chamber. Eldrad sighed:
"My psychic powers are of considerable potency, as all of you are aware, and so is my foresight. I believe I can say without hubris that I would be of use in this endeavour." He stated. Speaking on before the protest he could feel forming on several lips could be voiced, he shrugged: "Besides, if it turns out to be a trap after all, I reckon few of those assembled would mourn my loss overmuch."
Several low chuckles followed his remark. He spread his arms: "Feel free to accompany me if you do not trust my motives; although I assure you that I have naught but the best Intentions for our species."
"Do not think playing the humble saviour will make us forget what you did!" another seer added. "Your actions may well have damned us all!"
Eldrad did not wish to play his trump card overmuch, but could not resist the opportunity: "Had I wished for the destruction of Ulthwé, I would have merely needed to accept the councils ruling and stay elsewhere. Instead, I chose to help, and then and there my presence seems to have been welcome enough."
"This does not change what you did." Ir'hanesh hissed: "The council may have accepted your assistance, for the time being, but your actions spoke true enough. That you dared to disturb the ancient seers souls, and risked upsetting the prophecy…" the seer shook his head
"How dared I?" Eldrad shot back, his own anger rising: "How did you not, I should ask! I dared because I saw a solution that did not require the full extinction of our great species to have a chance of succeeding. I dared because I prefer survival to vengeance from beyond the grave. Your masterful design consisted of nothing more than waiting for the death of every true Aeldari in this galaxy, to be followed -or so you hoped- by Ynneads awakening. What use is a salvation that follows after total defeat, I ask!"
"It would rid the galaxy of the thing we cursed it with, and avail us vengeance for our fallen ancestors." Ylvannah shot back, accompanied by a venomous glare that non-verbally carried the addition of Until you ruined it!
Eldrad laughed, spiteful now: "Vengeance from beyond the grave, eh? Accepting total annihilation just to destroy a foe? Are you certain you do not support the idea of joining forces with the mon-keigh? You appear to have similar mindsets alltogether."
Several sharp intakes of breath followed, Farseer Ylvannah bristling at the insult:
"Your abortive little attempt may have costed us everything..." she forced out through gritted teeth
"He who tries, may fail. He who does not try, cannot succeed at all." Eldrad retorted
"Be that as it may!" one of the less conservative Farseers cut in, hands raised in a placating gesture "We cannot change what is done, only seek to bring about a beneficial future for our people." He smiled insincerely, not adding the: "So shut it, all of you!" that was clearly burning on his lips.
"I, for one, will come as well," he added "if only to make sure you do not break your word, or start killing each other." Several other seers nodded in agreement. They needed his assistance, and they knew. Just as they knew that he knew they did. Eldrad did his best to shroud his thoughts from them, suppressing a smile despite the ache in his body and soul. Mistrust may have been their main motivator, but a group of remarkable potency was being assembled nonetheless, increasing their chances of a successful journey.
"So be it" Eldrad agreed "Now, let us talk about the specifics of our mission…"
__________________________________________
As they stepped from the seers chamber soon thereafter, Eldrad noticed a small gaggle of motley figures assembled in the passageway, clad in a dazzling array of colours, their forms flickering and shifting as they moved towards the Farseers. Harlequins, followers of the Laughing god, led by a Solitaire. As their leader neared, she performed a mocking bow, the bells on her perched cap rustling softly:
"Your escort, Farseer, so that you may reach your destination without getting lost" Eldrad smiled at her sarcastic undertone:
"At last, someone to hold our hands during the long and frightening journey. Relief!"
The Solitaire chuckled, as did the small troupe behind her: "But of course! On a mission of such importance…and self-importance…" laughing at the indignant looks from several of the other Seers, the harlequins turned around, and began to walk away:
"Prepare yourselves, and stock up provisions" the solitaire advised them, calling back over her shoulder: "We shall eagerly await your party at the webway gate!"
________________________________________
And here we have it. The endless' return, of course, stirred up quite some of the Galaxies inhabitants, and now we get to see what exactly their reactions and plans are.
I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading, and feel free to leave a comment below, I would appreciate it!
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Commander T
Sep 11, 2020
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Threadmarks Interlude 3 - Fulgrim
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Commander T
Sep 18, 2020
#546
Deep within the Immaterium, a planet, more myth than tangible reality to most, ploughed through the tides of roiling madness. Its name was whispered in fear or maddened hope; the world being sought by many but rarely, if ever, found; unless its master permitted it.
Upon this world, the planet of pleasures, did Fulgrim, Primarch of the Emperors children reside, unless called upon to serve his master within the great game of the Gods, partaking in the worlds eternal pleasures, and all but detached from the goings on of the material realm. Surrounded by his twisted court he lay, tended to by a whole host of daemonic courtesans and pleasurers when suddenly, his eyes snapped open.
There were few beings that could claim to be his equal and survive, and only one that called itself his master. As such, few dared disturb him, and yet, now the winds of the warp whispered tidings from his master, and the daemonic Primarch listened with intent.
The fragrant currents spoke of the future, the opportunity to destroy a hated foe that had so narrowly escaped his attentions millennia prior, and the chance of winning even-greater favors from his god. Glory and pleasure, in undreamt of intensity, would be His if He succeeded…
Daemonic courtesans scattered in subservient fright as the daemonic Primarch rose, shuddering in extasy at the thought of his prize, his ink black eyes glimpsing a future only he could see, one that he now hungered to bring about. For a moment, then, he halted his movements, a statuesque image of contemplation. Then, he turned his head skywards.
Arms spread theatrically wide, Fulgrim inhaled deeply of the perfumed air, and began his siren song. His scream reverberated in the warp, spreading over the tides of the empyrean, soon finding its way to those intended to hear. It was a message and a beacon both, a twisted parody of his late fathers Astronomican, a guiding light visible to his depraved offspring. For millennia, his sons, desperate for any and all new sensations, had searched in vain for the pleasure planet, denied its location at every turn. But now, he called out to them, with a message their insatiable hearts could never ignore:
"I tire of your plight my children. Come, an eternity of pleasure awaits you."
Time often flowed strangely within the warp, but the daemonic Primarch did not need to wait overmuch before the first vessels approached, cautious at first, wary of a trap after millennia in the service of Chaos, then approaching with increasing rapidity once they had confirmed the nature of their destination.
Shuttles and drop pods hurtled to the surface heedless of caution or carrying capacity, and sorcerous teleportations occurred, each chaotic marine consumed by the desire to reach their prize before any other. More and more Emperors children arrived, warband after warband making their way to the planet of pleasure, all welcomed in turn by its master. Here, they found what sensations they had always sought, their deepest and darkest desires laid out before them, waiting to be claimed.
And soon, in their fulfilment, they developed new needs and passions, things they had never understood they wanted, but could now not bear to miss for but a heartbeat longer.
The world rang loud with otherworldly sounds, fallen marines and daemons indulging in an orgy of carnal pleasures, sensations and debauchery that transcended words´ ability to describe. For a time, a time that would later, upon longing reminiscence, appear to them like an eternity of indescribably potent pleasure and bliss, Fulgrim permitted it. Indeed, the daemonic Primarch partook himself in their excesses before finally, smiling, he whispered a single word of power.
Within moments, the planets manifold pleasures began to wither away. Traitor astartes cried out in desperate anguish as their servants and toys faded to nothing, delectable delicacies and fine vintages turning to ash and dust in their mouths. Soon, they were alone, surrounded only by a bleak and empty desert, searching in vain for the new, hitherto unknown desires that had awakened within them, roaring in frustration, pain and terror when those failed to materialize.
And on the howling wind the voice of their Primarch carried over:
"As you well know, my Children, everything in this realm has a price. I have, in my benevolence, permitted you to indulge in the pleasures of the gods, but such a state cannot last, unless it is earned. This I offer you, my Emperors Children, a chance to secure yourselves a place upon this world for eternity. And all I require in return are your services…"
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Short one today, more should be coming soon (ish). New players enter the field as the consequences of the star gods actions and Guillimans return change the galaxy, and the myriad strands of fate shift in unknown directions....
As always, feel free to leave comments and feedback below, it´s greatly appreciated!
Cheers
CommanderT
Last edited: Dec 15, 2020
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Commander T
Sep 18, 2020
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