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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 37
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Commander T
Nov 27, 2020
#578
And here we are once more, round about a month later. Uni work has picked up again, slowing down writing progress, but I finally managed to get another chapter done, which is nice. So, without further ado, let´s get to it:
Chapter 37 - Council
The Ecclesiarchal representatives features drew themselves into a pinch, as if she had bitten into a particularly foul condiment, the furrows lining her wizened face deepening markedly:
"It has been made known to us, Lord, that several vast tracts of land on Holy Terra have been requisitioned for…" she studied the document in front of her again "construction purposes. Tracts of land that are not only incalculably expensive, but furthermore contain various edifices dedicated to the worship of Him on Terra. As the Adeptus Ministorums representative, may I be so bold as to request an explanation?"
Roboute Guilliman granted the Ecclesiarch a statesmanly smile: "But of Course, Lord Ritira. The areas marked are to undergo reconstruction; and will be turned into fortified underground storage spaces. In the event of a supply shortage, they will be used to keep the Imperial populace fed and provisioned, as well as offering shelter to strategically vital personnel."
Foreseeing her protest, Guilliman continued speaking:
"As you know, my Father…" he let the word hang there for a short moment to ensure it would take full effect "has recalled me to Terra. It is His wish that the planet be made ready to better withstand any potential attack; for it has shown itself that our defenses were woefully lacking when last they were tested."
There were somewhat embarrassed nods and cleared throats all around the table, the High Lords and their retainers caught in uncomfortable silence at the suitably direct mention of their own past shortcomings when it came to the governance and defense of Terra. Even though he kept his face neutral, Guilliman felt satisfaction at the effect of his words. For most of their lives, the High Lords dictated to others and called it the Emperors will, and it amused him to see them squirm, if only a little, whenever the tables were turned.
The ecclesiarch, Eos Ritira, was of his own choosing, brought in from Ultramar, a reformer, if a modest one, and as such her resistance was part earnest, part play for the other High Lords, and the Primarch found some joy in their verbal sparring. Alas, his personal enjoyment was of little interest, and Guilliman continued in more placating tones:
"Of course, once the construction of the new facilities is finished, care must be taken to ensure they blend in well with the rest of Terran infrastructure, lest they be singled out by an attacker and targeted first. The storage spaces are mostly subterranean, their reinforced ceilings level, and capable of bearing the load of heavy construction on top. As such they should serve as ideal foundations for new edifices of worship." He made a short pause, before adding: "Of course, in the case of a planetary blockade or a delay in shipments, salvation being delivered directly from beneath an Ecclesiarchal cathedral would not harm the Ministorums standing among the populace, either."
By now, the Ecclesiarch was all but beaming, nodding along enthusiastically: "A wonderful notion, Lord Guilliman. I will do all that is in my power to ensure that the project is completed with utmost expedition!"
"I had expected nothing less" the Primarch replied, his intonation conveying both praise and threat in equal manner; for it never hurt to remind those present of the price of failure. Eos Ritira swallowed, her smile dimming, and hastily began dictating orders and proclamations to a nearby servitor-scribe.
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On and on the talks went, as Roboute Guilliman conveyed to each member of the High Twelve – or their appointed representatives - his wishes, recommendations and orders considering the reorganization of Terran military and civil infrastructure; making full use of his political acumen and rhetoric ability to ensure the High Lords would fall in line; at least for the most part. The Primarch was well aware that some of the high twelve would seek to twist his orders to their own benefit, or circumvent what they believed unnecessary, but after another two standard Terran hours had passed; Roboute Guilliman found himself reasonably assured of their compliance. His agents and informants would oversee their actions in a clandestine fashion, allowing him to intervene if anything too outrageous was to be perpetrated.
Satisfied, the Primarch concluded the meeting, bidding each of the High Twelve farewell. The personal holograms of those not physically present faded, as the others filed from the chamber, most trailed by dozens of bodyguards, servants, advisors and scribes. Guilliman stayed behind, for a moment studying a map of Terran hive structures to be improved in the coming century. After his departure at the head of the Indomitus crusade, Terra had fallen into further infighting as those removed from the council by his order had – predictably – made their moves to subvert his changes and restore themselves to power. He had assumed as much even before he left, but decided against their immediate execution, instead allowing them to remain on Terra, albeit diminished in influence. Shortly thereafter, they had shown themselves as traitors to all who could see and been treated as such, being in turn liquidated without his overt involvement.
Since then, stability had slowly returned to Terra as shipments of supplies and fresh troops arrived. The scars of the second invasion had been – and were being – mended, damaged edifices and infrastructure repaired, and yet much work remained to be done. Many wounds the throneworld and its inhabitants bore, both in body and in soul, and those would be slow to heal and quick to split open anew if prompted sufficiently. He sighed deeply, staring almost resentfully at the convoluted, overbearing network of hab blocks and transitways that the map depicted, before rolling it up and turning to leave. At the door, a small grouping of Custodians awaited him, their white cloaks, red shoulder pauldrons and unique heraldry marking them as Emissaries Imperatus, the Heralds of the Golden Throne. His own victrix guard and Custodian retainers had drawn back to a respectful distance.
The Primarchs brow furrowed. Those amongst the ten thousand who were most convinced they felt his fathers will extend to them during dreams or meditation often spread out across the galaxy to follow whatever design their master had ostensibly revealed to them. Some had accompanied the Indomitus crusade and been of great aid throughout, offering their counsel and convincing the more reluctant Astartes chapters to accept the Primaris in their ranks. Those Custodians were never idle, and rarely moved without express purpose. Their appearance often superseded change, or highly important new information.
As the Primarch exited the safeguarded chamber, stepping from the confines of the soundproofing field and the electronic bafflers' influence, his voxbead began to chime with a whole torrent of urgent and high-priority missives before falling silent as he closed on the squad of Custodians, who had their own vox-nullifying devices activated. His eyebrows rising, he directed an expectant gaze at the squad leader and tapped his communication device:
"I suppose your appearance is related to this, Shield-Captain?" he inquired. His own voice was reflected back to him, sounding hollow. A sound-nullifying field, then, to ensure what was said remained between the Emissaries, and him. He turned, so that his lips would not be visible to his own retinue any longer.
The lead Custodes nodded courtly: "Affirmative, Lord. We are here, as the Emperor wills it, to inform you that the Primarch of the First Legion has returned."
A few words, yet they were enough to stun the Ultramarine Primarch into a moment of silence. He swallowed: "I…you mean to tell me that my brother lives?" an earnest smile spread across Guillimans face: "That is wondrous news indeed! I must confess that you have managed to surprise me; I had expected many a tiding, grave or joyous, yet this…are there details about the matters of his return, or his state of health?
"Your brother is in adequate health, Lord Commander. He has been recalled to Terra by the Lord of all Mankind, to extend the bulwark against the encroaching darkness."
"He…" Guilliman shook his head, confusion and excitement warring in his chest "my father knew where he was? That…that he was alive? Since when? Why would he not relay such information unto me?"
"We do not question the wisdom of His decisions" the custodian replied, a hint of indignation in his voice "We are here because our Lord wishes for you to be informed of your brothers return to Terra."
"My brother is at Sol already?!" Guilliman exclaimed, confusion finally overtaking excitement
"His fleet has translated into the Sol system 1,532 standard hours agon using Uranus' Mandeville point" the lead Custodian answered.
Guilliman nodded, understanding at last. He scolded himself not to have seen it immideately, having been taken aback wholly by the news delivered to him. Now the missives and vox-hails made sense. If a sizeable fleet contingent of Dark Angels ships had translated into the Sol system with little warning, it would have thrown inter-system traffic into disarray, and put Battlefleet Solar on edge. Still many a question remained, not least of all for how long his father had known, but the Primarch knew his creator well enough not to expect quick answers to any of them.
His confusion receding, excitement and joy took its place and a smile again spread upon the Lord Commanders face. He laughed with genuine mirth, shaking his head as he did so: "I confess that I believed I was beyond such surprises at this point in time, and here I am, proven happily wrong. I shall have a shuttle made ready at shortest notice and greet my brother at his earliest convenience!"
As he made to turn aside, the Custodes shifted ever so slightly, barring his way, their leader inclining his head:
"The Emperor wishes that you remain within the palace. Your brother is making haste toward Terra and will arrive in less than two solar days' time. His presence among the fleet may remain a secret until then, or it may be discovered who is leading the First Legion here. You know as well as I that the foe has agents upon Terra. Strict vox silence is to be observed until such time that your brothers ships are in orbit, and his shuttle can make directly for the palace. His safe arrival must be ensured, and all necessary preparations made. Your father is entrusting you with this task; and has ordered us to assist you in whatever way possible. Your brother is aware that the Emperor wishes to have word with him as soon as is possible and will act accordingly. An official parade in your brothers honour is to be held afterwards, broadcast to any and all Imperial worlds that can be reached, to elevate the citizens' spirits and bolster their morale. This, too, means there is need of your abilities here, now."
Guilliman did his best to hide his disappointment; for as much as he wished to converse with his brother immediately, he saw the validity of the Custodes' argument. A parade would have to be planned in record-time, suitably grandiose to elate the masses and drive home the importance of the new arrival. Simultaneously, such a procession would be the prime target for any and all remaining hostile forces on Terra. As much as he himself detested the cold logic that already replaced his genuine joy, Guilliman began to analyze the situation from a strategic viewpoint:
The impacts on morale, the opportunity it presented to draw out and then eliminate some of the more secretive hostile elements on Terra, the political ramifications of another loyal Primarchs return, the expected reactions of those in power and the many that advised them… in the span of a single heartbeat, hundreds of appraisals, plans and contingencies took shape as Roboute Guilliman committed himself fully to the task ahead:
"I shall do as my father wishes, then." he confirmed. He gestured towards the High Lords remaining in the wide hallway, some of which were staring at the Custodes with badly concealed nervousness and curiosity. "If you would be so kind and use your authority to recall those of the high twelve that have already left? I fear another meeting has just become necessary."
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And there we have it, a meeting of two Primarchs appears imminent even as Guilliman does his best to optimize Terran infrastructure and strategic reserves. How will it go, and what secrets will be revealed when the two demigods meet? Tune in again next week (month, more likely) to find out!
As always, I´d love to hear your feedback and opinions, so feel free to post those below, and thanks for reading!
Last edited: Apr 18, 2021
88
Commander T
Nov 27, 2020
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Threadmarks Chapter 38 - A meeting of demigods
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Commander T
Dec 4, 2020
#584
The last days had passed in a flurry of activity, the sheer magnitude of the planned parade, as well as the necessary security measures and precautions to be enacted, took up every ounce of Roboute Guillimans organizational skill and attention. Short on time due to his brother's sudden arrival, the Ultramarine Primarch had thrown himself at the problems he faced, almost relieved that he had tasks to perform and problems to solve instead of being confined to his chambers, unable to contact a beloved brother that was now so close.
Having moved his personal office to the very chamber in which the Lion was to be welcomed served multiple purposes. Well protected it lay, deep inside the Imperial palace, shielded, soundproofed and protected from listening devices and scanners by archeotechnical means. It would serve as a secure meeting hall, far away from the bustle of activity of the wider palace. It would also assure that few souls realized just who had arrived on Terra before the official parade, the better to keep the procession safe.
And finally, it meant he was mostly undisturbed, all but the most urgent of missives being stored elsewhere for later appraisal.
Finally, while he was busy reworking the patrol routes of the outer defense perimeter of the parade grounds, the ornate doors opened with a whisper of arcane mechanisms. Through them strode Lion El´Johnson, first of the Primarchs, his head held high and his gait purposeful. His appearance was one of implacable confidence, and he entered the hall as if it belonged to him alone. Dark Angels Astartes and palace personnel trailed behind him, but did not cross the room's threshold, halted by the smallest of gestures from the master of the first.
"Brother!" Roboute Guilliman sprung up from his desk and rushed forward, smiling, eager to embrace his returned sibling as the great doors fell closed behind him. Finally, the Lions face shifted, from a neutral impression to one of disgust and fury.
"How much of this is your doing?!" he barked. Guilliman's smile fell, his brow furrowing. He stopped.
"Lion? What are you…?" He did not get to finish.
"Roboute Guilliman, the Lord Commander of the Imperium, bearer of my Fathers sword. The Saint, the anointed Primarch, the God-Emperors blessed son!" The Primarch of the First spat out the words, one by one, his voice a dangerous growl, stabbing an accusing finger towards Guilliman. He continued before his brother could reply: "I had my reservations, back in Secundus, but this I did not expect, not even from you. You forced Sanguinius to become regent, so you would not appear a tyrant. Tell me, Roboute, have you tired of the facade?"
Finally, Guilliman managed to speak up:
"Lion, Brother, this is not what it seems to be, I assure you!" And yet, even as he spoke them, Roboute Guilliman became aware just how empty these words must sound to his returned sibling. He had done his best to leave the horror of his first few months behind, focusing on his manifold duties instead, but he remembered his own disgust and fury vividly. When he had at last been informed of the Lions return, he had been overjoyed, then thrust into action, his focus drawn fully towards the preparations, so much so that he had, he realized, paid no heed to how the state of the Imperium, and indeed his own position, would appear to the Lion. The changes he had wrought, no matter how necessary; the squalor of the Terran hab-blocks, the ever-present religious imagery, so much of it now depicting him…it was as if a veil had suddenly been lifted from his eyes, allowing him to clearly perceive the situation, but too late…
Staring at his brother's face as if fixating prey, the Lion chuckled, a low and dangerous sound: "The Emperors last loyal son. I am certain you liked the title." Acidic sarcasm crept into his voice: "How sorry I am, my brother, that I have ruined it by my unscheduled reappearance."
Guilliman found himself struggling for words. For so long now had his many titles been a part of his office that he had gotten used to ignoring them. Pinned on him by mortals, tolerated for their usefulness…he realized with apprehension how it must appear to his brother, out of context and without explanation.
"I did not wish for those titles, Brother" he attempted to assure the Lion. The Primarch of the first legion remained unmoved, his face a mask of disgust:
"No? But neither did you resist them, I assume? Or did you? Did those dreadful mortals overpower you, Roboute, and force their titles upon you after your surrender? A living saint of the Ecclesiarchy. A saint!" he hissed, taking another step towards his brother, who began retreating in turn.
"I did what was necessary to stabilize our Father's realm and avoid total collapse", Guilliman retorted.
"The measures I took were necessary, I assure you! I am aware how it appears, but…"
"Appears?" the Lions voice was a whisper. Then, with a suddenness that made his brother flinch, he roared the word out again. "APPEARS?!" The first Primarchs face had become a mask of fury, Guilliman fighting the urge to reach for a weapon in response to it.
"The Imperial Senate bereft of any who would oppose you, the Legions that you saw abolished reinstated under your command, the Astartes geneline meddled with, all with your explicit blessing! Whom are those Primaris loyal to, pray tell? You, or mayhaps a splinter faction on Mars?" There was a pause, and the Lion wheezed a laugh. It was a hollow sound, very much unbefitting of his regal appearance.
"I was removed from this galaxy for ten millennia, and I return to...this!" The Primarch of the first legion spread his arms, wildly gesturing to the walls around them and, Guilliman assumed, the entire planet beyond. For the first time, something else crept into the Lions voice, a desperation Guilliman knew all too well.
"You claimed to be a core defender of the Imperial Truth, punished Lorgar for the faith he spread, and now they worship you! You swore to me, back then, that you were no tyrant, and now you have declared yourself the supreme ruler of our fathers Imperium!"
"Enough!" Guilliman's voice rose at last to meet the Lions challenge. "Two centuries ago I awoke in this...this nightmare! Alone! My sons were estranged, my brothers dead, vanished or worse! I alone had to try and salvage this rotten carcass of our Fathers dream, this abomination held together by blind faith and constant sacrifice. What I did, I did to ensure the Imperiums survival! Be glad that I had contingencies in place, on Mars and elsewhere, or this world may have fallen to the foe already!"
The lines in Roboute Guillimans face had deepened as he spoke, furrows dug into an ageless visage by the weight of responsibility.
He sighed wearily, continuing in softer, almost pleading tones: "If I had spoken out against the Ecclesiarchy, then there would have been war, Lion, Civil War, fit to tear asunder this Imperium from within even while our enemies draw in for the killing blow. I had no choice but to accept it for the time being."
"A civil war, eh?" the Lion whispered, thoughtful, nodding as if in agreement: "Quite akin to the one we avoided by breaking our legions in accordance with your codex. Say, did the memory pain you much, brother? Did you feel the irony when you gave Cawl the order, or did its touch elude you? You must have realized it, when you raised a new legion in all but name. Under your control, of course. I named you a hypocrite before, but this is impressive even by your standards." He continued before Guilliman could reply.
"And this…Ecclesiarchy? An Imperial Church?" the Lion now returned to his earlier point, sounding more disappointed than furious "We had no need of this crazed belief in our Father's divinity when the Great Crusade began. In fact, He himself forbid it, expressly so. Do you wish to tell me that in two centuries, you have found no better means of inspiring the Imperial populace than the very thing the Emperor made you burn Monarchia for?"
Guilliman shook his head in resignation: "Look around yourself, brother. You have seen it with your own eyes already, the squalor, the suffering, the ignorance, the hopeless decrepitude. No doubt your sons have informed you about the Imperium's overall situation on the way to Terra. This is what large swathes of humanity endure and have endured for ten millennia. Even if the Ecclesiarchy was not interwoven with the Imperium on almost every level, if it lacked all the power it now possesses, I believe faith itself would be no less integral to the current Imperium. Barring a scant handful, all that now live have not known the dream of hope that was held so highly in our time. To them, the promise of better days to come never even existed! They know only a realm in slow, unstoppable decline. I loathe its implications, but for many, faith is all they have left, the only wellspring of true hope that they possess. It is what holds this realm together, what saved it from total collapse in the time of our Father's internment upon the throne, and our own absence. I fear that without faith, little, if anything, would have remained for any of us to return to."
Finally, a flicker of doubt passed the Lions face at the resignation and guilt in his brother's voice and he remained silent for a long moment, his brow furrowed in deep thought. When he spoke again, his voice was low and his inflection almost hesitant.
"Tell me honestly, Roboute. Is there anything left that is worth saving?"
This comment, if made derisively, would have enraged Guilliman, yet it was a question so profoundly sorrowful that the Ultramarine Primarch found himself deeply moved.
In that moment, and for the first time in ten millennia, Roboute Guilliman felt a true brotherly connection once more. Through shared grief instead of hope or triumph, yes, but a connection it was, the two brothers joined in the terrible, heart-wrenching pain of seeing all they had striven for so twisted and broken. He realized that a part of him had longed for it ever since he awoke from stasis. He sighed again; for all their disagreements, he did not wish to argue with the Lion any further. He nodded solemnly.
"Yes. Humanity."
For a moment, the Lion hesitated still, before the faintest of smiles crept onto his face:
"Always the optimist. I suppose that has not changed."
Guilliman pressed his advantage before any further accusations could surface:
"Speak to our Father, Lion, I implore you! What I did, I did to keep this Imperium from total collapse, acting either upon His wishes, or with His blessing. I am painfully aware as to how it appears." He chuckled sadly "Throne on Terra, it might even be simply how it is!" Guilliman shook his head: "Yet, even in light of the changes I have been forced to enact to ensure the integrity of the Imperium, I can assure you that I have not abandoned humanity! And neither will I, for as long as I draw breath!"
The lion showed a short, thin-lipped smile. "Very well, brother. I shall enter the Throne Room and talk with Him. I hope for your sake that what our Father has to say coincides with what you did." His voice became a dangerous, low whisper once again. "If not...."
Leaving the threat hanging in the stale air, the Lion turned and strode, regal green cape billowing, from the hall.
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And there we have it; the Lion has returned at last. Much like Guilliman upon his return, he wants to know what the fuck went wrong with the Imperium. In addition to that, he is as proud and mistrustful as always, meaning that this particular family reunion is apparently not off to a good start 
I hope you enjoyed reading this! As always, comments and feedback are greatly appreciated, so feel free to tell me what you think of this chapter down below.
Last edited: Apr 19, 2021
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Commander T
Dec 4, 2020
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Threadmarks Chapter 39 - Revelations
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Commander T
Jan 9, 2021
#598
The hours dragged on, seemingly stretched beyond any rational measure as Lion El'Johnson conversed with their Father. Roboute Guilliman could feel the faint, psychic tremors emanating from the throne room, and had received reports aplenty of strange dreams and psychic mirages experienced by citizens all across Terra. Already new cults were forming, made up of those who claimed to have heard His voice, ecstatically proclaiming the Emperors majesty in the streets below. Guilliman was ceaselessly reminded in turn of his own "talk" with his Father. The close presence of the Emperor as he had experienced it was akin to that of a star, a barely restrained force of nature, pouring understanding into those He conversed with through psychic bursts of information and meaning; agonizing in their burning intensity.
Guilliman felt pity for his brother; who now, so shortly after returning to the horror that was the current Imperium, had to witness the Emperor in such a state, and for the pain he no doubt felt as they conversed. It was no wonder, Guilliman mused, that the Emperor had rarely, if ever, spoken to any of His subjects directly, and for any extended amount of time. For all His restraint, His attention could kill most that He would attempt to convene with, and it had hurt the Ultramarine Primarch deeply.
Finally, a bell rang with sonorous clarity, the stairs leading up to eternity gate having already been cleared of all pilgrims to keep the Lions arrival and presence as secret as possible. Guilliman stood, expectant, alone but for the unmoving Custodes guarding the entrance to the throne room. Ever so slowly, the grand gates crept open, silvery mist seeping from the widening crack.
From the psychically charged fog Lion El'Johnson emerged, and for a few heartbeats he seemed to his brother a wizened old man. His expression appeared almost haunted, his back was bent and his skin pallid and taut. More potent than before, the memory of his own pain resurfaced in Guillimans mind, the weary exhaustion he, too, had felt after conversing with so potent a psychic entity as his Father. Within moments, the Lions appearance changed, vigour returning to him with every step he took, and by the time he reached his brother he appeared as he had before entering, upright, noble, proud, knightly and tall, every bit the regal Lord of the First Legion, the Primaris Angelus Mortis. There remained, however, a trace of pain in his eyes, which Guilliman chose not to remark upon.
Instead, the two brothers nodded to each other in silent understanding, making their way down the stairs, past the ancient honor pennants of near-forgotten regiments that hung limply in the still air.
The Lion made to speak, then hesitated. Guilliman stayed silent, suppressing the urge to offer encouragement. Eventually though, his brother spoke, more haltingly than he had ever heard him do.
"I…understand now some of the things that you have said, and some of those that I have seen." He whispered.
Guilliman nodded "He has changed." He wished to say more, but found that words failed him, unable to vocalize how he felt about what their creator had become, or mayhaps always been.
The Lion chuckled ruefully: "That He has."
Without further words they descended onwards, keeping their distance from one another, and made their way towards a set of heavy, ornate doors. The Custodians flanking the entrance dipped their heads ever so slightly, and the doors swung open, granting them entry.
The two Primarchs stepped into the gilded chamber, the doors whispering closed behind them. A familiar pressure enveloped Guilliman, his Creator's powers obviously at work.
The Lion nodded, appearing satisfied. "Now, at last, we should be safe from prying eyes and strained ears."
Guilliman flashed a half-smile, "Then you do assume the same as I."
The Lion nodded, "It will have informants or surveillance automata even in this part of the palace, of that I have no doubt."
"Then let us use the time our Father has granted us protection for." Guilliman replied, allowing himself to smile at last. He had left the communications device the C´tan had supplied him with laying on his desk, alongside his comm-bead and any other similar devices, ensuring that they were now, at last, truly unobserved.
"Believe me Lion, a day has not gone by that I have not wished for my loyal brothers to return!" the Ultramarine Primarch exclaimed.
The two brothers moved towards each other, performing a warriors handshake before Guilliman pulled the Lion into a fierce embrace. For once, his taciturn brother seemed taken aback, returning the hug, if hesitantly so.
Guilliman smiled broadly: "I have missed you, brother."
The Lion chuckled: "If only I could say the same."
Then, he became serious once more.
"I believe an explanation is in order concerning our previous talk, and… perhaps…" Now his brother hesitated, as if unsure how to proceed, "…an apology as well." The Lion blushed faintly "I have reconsidered my previous accusations, measured them against the knowledge so recently imparted upon me by our Father and…I believe I have been too harsh in my judgment of your actions. I…" He trailed off as Guilliman suddenly began to laugh, shaking his head as he did so. The Lions face became a mix of confusion and anger.
Guilliman quickly lifted his hands in a placating gesture. "Peace, brother, I am not mocking you! I was merely struck by slight disbelief, for I too have realized something while I awaited your return. In my case, it concerned the Emperors actions precluding your arrival." The Lion raised an eyebrow in askance, though his expression had softened somewhat.
"He must have known," Guilliman elaborated, "that I would be wrong-footed by your – to me – sudden arrival, and most likely unable to plan in detail what to say or how to act. I see it clearly, now.", he added. "The timing of your arrival, not announced to me by Him or any of the Custodians, the tasks I was given at short notice to keep me engaged fully, preventing me from truly appreciating how the changes of this realm would appear to you, and that you would react as befits your nature." He shook his head again.
"My reaction will have been clear to Him as well." the Lion added, now too chuckling in slight disbelief; "He knew I would be shocked by the state of the Imperium; highly mistrustful of you and the situation as a whole, yet never did he forewarn me of what I may encounter, but kept me busy likewise with the planning of the coming crusade."
"A confrontation thus followed once you arrived here…" Guilliman began
"… and presented the informants the C'tan has no doubt placed even within the inner palace with two Primarchs that appeared more likely to engage in violence than they were to cooperate in harmony. All close enough to the throne room that He or His guardians could have intervened, had we truly come to blows." The Lion finished, an impression of slight fascination now upon his regal face. "And all this I only fully realized once within this room, as if…"
"As if a veil had been lifted from your mind´s eye?" Guilliman finished the sentence without missing a beat. "I have felt the same, and I would be willing to wager much and more that it was not a coincidence." He continued, slight amazement in his voice:
"This gives us an advantage we can exploit to put some of the star gods calculations into disarray, a tactical resource it will not be fully aware of." Guilliman laughed softly: "Our Father… He played us both, simply to craft an impression!"
The Lion, too, laughed: "I suppose He decided that no act of ours would ever be as convincing as genuine emotion. In a way it is a relief for me to see that his capacity for subtle manipulation remains undiminished. I confess I was worried about His state of mind"
"I am still." Guilliman replied, serious "He has changed. In some ways He is more than He ever was, but in others He is … less."
A hint of sadness in his eyes, the Lion nodded: "Aye." Then, he sighed "But He is our only hope, I reckon. The only being that could match the C´tan as we understand it with regards to mental capacity, reach and power.
"We must proceed with immense caution." Roboute warned. "If the Aeldari myth I managed to acquire and analyze bears even a remote semblance of truth within it, then the C´tan faced beings that may have rivaled or even surpassed the Emperor in psychic might,… and won."
The Lion swallowed, then nodded: "We were made to prevail against impossible odds. We shall find a way to safeguard humanity."
"We shall." Guilliman confirmed. "I suggest we make what use we can of our few advantages. Let the Endless believe we are divided and working together only gratingly, and when we absolutely must."
"An impression that should be easy to craft" the Lion replied, causing Guilliman to laugh.
"Was that a joke I just heard, brother?"
The corner of the Lions mouth quirked upwards for a fleeting instant: "A fine question, Roboute."
They quickly became serious once more, the severity of their overall situation weighing down on any attempt at levity. Guilliman spoke again:
"There are many things to discuss about the coming times, brother. We must decide on how to proceed. You have spoken to our Father most recently…"
"You begin, Roboute." The Lion interupted, inclining his head slightly: "You have been observing its actions for longer. If necessary, I shall interject."
Guilliman sighed, knowing immediately what his brother spoke of:
"I have indeed. The C´tan has been of assistance to the Imperium in many ways, there is no denying that. It seems to wish for our Father's realm to remain stable, at least for a certain amount of time. However, the forces it has delegated to the support of the Imperium on this side of the Noctis Aeterna are…limited. Much of its infrastructure is automated, or could be, as far as I am aware, and most of its population appears to have been mobilized for war. Yet the crusade fleets known to us only appear to contain about 20% of the – conservatively estimated – population of the realm. If the rate of population growth has increased in the centuries hence, this number lessens further"
"You have inquired about this?" the Lion asked.
"Through proxies, naturally." Guilliman confirmed "The answer was that most of its fleets – and the forces therein – are employed in the defense of the 'Endless Realm', as it remains threatened by chaotic forces."
"Have you been made aware of their true purpose?" the Lion inquired.
"Until recently, I had not." Guilliman confessed "Our Father…contacted me, in a way, shortly after my recent arrival on Terra, though until now I dared not speak of it to anyone. Before that, I had naught but scattered reports and my personal suspicions to draw assumptions from. He confirmed it; most of the C´tan's crusade fleets are employed in Imperium Nihilus now."
"It is good that you were made aware." The Lion stated "Did our Father also elaborate on the reasoning behind it?"
Guilliman shook his head, "I am afraid He did not."
The Lion smiled "He has done so now and wishes for you to know as well. But before I explain further, what was your impression of the Xeno Deities actions concerning warfare?"
Guilliman stroked his chin, brow furrowed, thinking.
"Reports are far and few in between, but to the best of my knowledge, the C´tan has been all but reckless with the deployment of its forces. I have seen examples of its technology; the pylons and their voidships, not to mention their combat-automata. Its servants should have no issue keeping the forces of Chaos at a distance, nullifying their warp-spawned powers, and destroying them with very limited losses. And yet…"
"And yet, by the reports available to us, it has thrown them into the most bitter and bloody conflicts available, with limited support." The Lion finished his train of thought.
Roboute Guilliman nodded, still deep in contemplation. "I have deliberated for some time – and without a clear result – why it would do so. Its forces seem to have prevailed in most conflicts, but with heavy losses at every turn. It seems almost as if it is sabotaging its own war effort, and I could not produce a satisfying reason for why it may act in such a way. The forces of Chaos may have been unlike the foes it had faced in ancient times, but after centuries of conflict, it strikes me as highly unlikely that the star god would still continue to make such military blunders."
The Lion smiled grimly, "It does not. In fact, our Father has reason to believe that it has never blundered, though it may appear otherwise to an outside observer. According to Him, it´s actions are intentional."
"Intentional?... Yes… I had considered this option time and again, as little others remained, but the question still stands: Why would it cause more losses than necessary among its own forces?"
Guilliman went on, confused. He was once again looking at the problem from a myriad different angles, but could still not reach a satisfying conclusion as to the Endless´ motivation. Losses could amplify the hatred for a foe, or strengthen the feelings of brotherhood between surviving soldiers, but none of the Endless´ forces appeared lacking in hatred or motivation to begin with. Neither was there evidence for internal power struggles, as was so often the case in the Imperium, where one military leader might sabotage a rival for political gain. Threatened as the Endless was by multiple foes, it made no sense for it to waste its forces like this.
The Lion sighed. "It is not my area of expertise, so I have to rely on what our Father said." he paused, a hint of discomfort passing over his regal face: "It is creating a warp deity."
Guilliman simply stared at him for a few seconds, baffled into utter silence.
"A warp deity?" he asked, incredulous: "But…as long as it has been active in this galaxy, it has fought against the servants of Chaos and their influence. Why would it seek to create another god within the Immaterium?"
The Lion smiled, spreading his arms in a gesture of helpless acceptance: "To assist it in its goals. As I have come to understand it…" he began, the distaste clear in his voice, "…two things are necessary for the process to proceed quickly: faith and sacrifice. The sacrifice is provided by those who die fighting in its name, and so it ensures that there are plenty of losses even in victory. The faith - and the belief that it stems from - it steers, controls and corals. It is not merely creating a warp entity, brother! According to our Father, who has felt its presence and its growth, the C´tan is shaping it – through various means – according to its own designs and goals, most likely to assist it in further conflict."
"I…I have no words." Roboute Guilliman was speechless for a moment as the implications of the C´tan's actions sunk in, leaving him unsure if he should laugh or scream in frustration. "Another supposed god to plague the galaxy?"
"The ancient Terran proverb of fighting fire with fire appears to be holding merit." The Lion quipped. "Besides, the forces of Chaos are not the only thing it faces."
Guillimans eyes widened in understanding. "Of course!" he shouted, angered at himself for a moment that he had not realized it immediately, taken aback as he was by the new information: "There are other star gods out there, imprisoned ones, the Endless said so itself. It expected to have to face them eventually. If their weakness is the warp…"
The Lion nodded: "Indeed brother. It seems your erstwhile ally is preparing thoroughly for future conflict."
"What are we to do?" Guilliman asked, anxiety in his voice: "This new development once more proves that my own understanding of Warp-lore is still lacking sorely, or I may have uncovered its plans myself! As such, I must ask: Did our Father…?"
"He…mentioned it." the Lion said. He looked pained, now "He does not speak as He used to, as you well know, but He gave me the knowledge I required. For now, we will not oppose the star god directly, but cooperate with it as you have done so far. If it achieves mutual destruction with its kin, all the better. As it stands, we are to know only that He has plans in motion to safeguard humanity."
"And you?" Guilliman inquired, accepting his Creator's decision, knowing that he could do little else either way, "What did He ask of you?"
"Two things." The Lion answered "Outwardly, He only wishes for me to do what I was created for."
"That being?" Guilliman asked, although he was certain he knew the answer already.
"A great injustice has been inflicted upon humanity" Lion El'Johnson began, stating what he would again soon thereafter, in front of the High Lords of Terra: "Monsters prey upon the weak and the innocent, doubly so within Nihilus." He paused, his face laden with grim finality:
"I shall take what loyal sons of mine remain…" the Lions face seemed to darken further, flashing with an unreadable expression for the shortest of moments "…and force the Nachmund Gauntlet. I have invoked the Ikaros Contingency. No alien or heretic shall sway our course or stall our progress. And once we are there..."
A dangerous, predatory smile began twisting his lips and for a moment, he did not resemble at all the noble knight of Caliban:
"We will hunt!"
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And there we have it. I spent some days trying to figure out how to handle this one. The primarchs still have a lot of stuff to speak about, but the chapter is already quite long. As such, I finally decided to just do a solomon and cut it in half. The other part will be released as soon as I am done with it (probably in another month or so, hopefully).
Oh, and also, the chapter after that part will focus on xenos, which I think at least some of you have been looking forward to, so stay tuned for that!
As always, feel free to leave comments and feedback below, and thanks for reading!
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Commander T
Jan 9, 2021
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Commander T
Feb 24, 2021
#624
Hi everyone;
first off, my apologies to those who may have clicked a notification expecting a new chapter. I am currently busy with my bachelor thesis, which takes up not only time, but also quite some mental resources, focus and concentration, meaning it is currently more difficult for me to get into a "writing mood". I am nevertheless continuing the story, and should probably be able to release another chapter within a week or two.
In the meantime, as my last post was quite a while ago, I thought it would be nice to let you guys know that i am still working on the story and all that.
I have, at the insistence of my girlfriend, also started getting a bit into drawing and artwork myself; although it's "only" pixel art, and am reasonably content with how my first artwork turned out, so I wanted to share it with you guys to help shorten the wait for the next chapter 
So yeah, it is indeed a pixel-art null knight with a power-halberd. Not as detailed or as epic as the artwork of others, but i think it looks kinda neat, and gets the idea across, or so I hope at any rate.
That is it for today, and i hope to be back here soon with the next chapter. Cheers!
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Commander T
Feb 24, 2021
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Threadmarks Chapter 40
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Commander T
Mar 16, 2021
#627
Damn, 40 chapters already (plus some interludes)! Out of curiosity I looked into it, and saw that it took me around three and a half years to get here, which means i managed to actually write around 1 chapter per month on average (discounting the first 4, or so, which I had mostly finished before deciding to post the story here), which is nice because that means I was not as slow as I sometimes felt/worried that I was, haha.
Anyway, for those of you wondering, yes, I have indeed managed to finish another chapter. Thanks go out to my ever-helpful beta reader, who, despite having a ton to do himself, found time to review my work and assist me in combating its most persistent spacing issues and some other mistakes that somehow always seem to creep in despite my efforts to catch them right away.
Without further ado, let us drop back in where we left off, with two brothers talking about the state of an Imperium they sought to build ten millennia ago, and its potentially perilous future...
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Guilliman nodded grimly, deciding not to press the Lion with regards to his sons actions, or the invocation of the Ikaros decree. "And the second one? Our fathers true goal?"
"To counteract the star gods ever-growing influence in Nihilus." The Lions voice was hard now: "We both know that its support is temporary. Sooner or later, it will destroy all that it perceives to be a hindrance to its ultimate goals; and usurp all else. We cannot allow it, or the warp-creature it is building, to grow too powerful!"
Guilliman nodded in agreement: "I agree with your assessment. What precisely did our father say on the matter? Does He have a specific course of action in mind?"
The Lion nodded:
"He assured me that my crusade shall receive whatever support can be mustered. Nihilus is not entirely innavigable and navigate it we will!" Before Roboute could speak up, the Lion held up a hand: "To most, it would be intraversible, as we both know well enough. Longer warp jumps without the Astronomican in view are foolish at best, and suicidal otherwise. There are, however, houses of navigators that still possess individuals powerful enough to brave the tides of Nihilus."
"The Paternovae!" Guilliman's eyebrows rose. "They have rarely taken to the stars themselves since the Heresy. You believe they will obey your command?"
"Mine? No." the Lion chuckled. "I suffer no such illusions, for even a Primarch can do little but beseech them…But there is one that they will obey without question, one to whom they are bound by ancient and terrible pacts."
"The Emperor has ordered them?" Guilliman whispered, suddenly feeling his Father's monstrous presence around them more keenly than before.
The Lion nodded solemnly: "He has called upon them, and they will answer, rest assured of that." He nodded to himself, before moving on in a more conversational tone:
"Using the light of the Astronomican that shines through the two stable passages within the Noctis Aeterna as a point of reckoning, the most capable of their species, supported by a council of subordinate navigators and a coven of astropaths, will enable the Rock to attempt warp jumps with reasonable accuracy. The rest of the fleet should be capable of following the improvised warp beacon that my astropaths will project, though its potency of course cannot rival the Astronomican. That failing, they should at the very least be able to follow in the warp-wake of so potent a vessel. In addition to that, His spirit will guide and protect us, and should allow us to weather what we must."
Guilliman nodded, though he remained sceptical: "And how are you to stop the spread of its influence once you are within Nihilus? If open combat is out of the question as of now…"
"There will be no fighting with the C'tan's forces." The Lion confirmed "Even if it refrained from retaliation at present in order to keep the Imperium stable for its own reasons, it would no doubt adjust its plans accordingly if we openly prove ourselves to be its enemies. A newly returned Primarch hungering for vengeance however, so much so that he would rush into Nihilus despite his brothers urgent pleas for support in Sanctus, further straining their relations, all to seek out those that were once his kin, and bring them to heel…it would be in accord with what it believes to know about us Primarchs, what it judges our weaknesses to be. Who can tell, it may even be tempted to explore an opportunity to play us against each other, or draw us to its side as assets to further its own cause."
Now Roboute Guilliman smiled: "A suggestion we may prove…receptive to, all very hesitantly of course. Just enough to make it believe it has found an opening, and is in full control." Guilliman stroked his chin: "Yes, I concur. Mayhaps its only weakness, as far as I could determine after conversing with it multiple times, is that it seeks to dominate not by force alone, but through actual approval. I have speculated that the betrayal that saw it imprisoned may have shaken its confidence, and driven it to attempt to inspire true loyalty, perhaps even adoration in its subjects, as opposed to ruling through oppression alone, even when attempting to do so may carry additional risk. Thus, it may very well seek to turn us to its cause even if it judges the chances of success to be small, if only to reaffirm its own greatness; and thus create an opening for us to throw its plans into disarray."
Lion El'Johnson nodded: "Our Father will use His powers to weave a most subtle yet potent shield around our innermost thoughts, to ensure the C'tan does not become privy to them even if it converses with us. As for the way in which we may counteract the star god; once my crusade arrives in Nihilus, I will simply seek to outpace it's forces when it comes to the number of encountered worlds per standard solar year. Of course, outwardly I will make it appear as if I was simply hunting for those of my sons that have turned their back on the Imperium." A shadow crossed the Lions face, making Guilliman reflect once more on the rumours concerning the loyalty of the first legion, and the scattered reports of Fallen Angels that had sporadically surfaced throughout Imperial history. He remained outwardly unmoved; this was not the time to prod old wounds. His brother went on.
"As we pursue our foe, we will reinforce and protect what worlds we come across, driving back the lackeys of Chaos and reinforcing the faith in our Father…" the Lion trailed off, distaste evident on his noble features.
"I share your dislike of this Imperial Creed, brother, and I understand it is difficult to accept its presence." Guilliman placed a hand on the Lions shoulder: "It has its uses, that much cannot be disputed, and I fear we have little choice but to accept it… for now."
The Lion sighed, "It is not merely the creed that troubles me. Our Father has made it clear that multiple…" he grimaced, "…Imperial Saints would reveal themselves if the need arose, some from amongst my forces, or upon the worlds we will encounter; and serve to further bolster the Imperial faith."
Now Guilliman's eyebrows rose at last: "Has he now? Most curious…"
The Lion stroked his chin: "You seem more intrigued than surprised, brother."
"I have encountered Imperial Saints before. One, anyway." Guilliman explained, "Saint Celestine, who supported my forces on the way to Terra after my…reawakening." Guilliman chuckled, "Ever since I encountered her have I wondered what her true nature is. I spoke with many of those who may have known, Librarians from multiple chapters, Grand Master Voldus and his Codiciers, multiple Inquisitors and even a few priests. All were in agreement that she is infused with immaterial power. Most, including the Grey Knights, were adamant said power stems from our Father, or His worship. A few feared it might be of a more…sinister origin."
The Lion nodded, thoughtful: "An interesting conundrum. I assume you are hoping I can solve it?" He chuckled, "I cannot, not fully, anyway. All I was informed of is that the Saints are allies to our cause. Of their ultimate origin our Father did not speak, though I beseeched Him to do so."
Guilliman laughed, "I would lie if I claimed surprise. To think that our Father is still so enamoured of secrets. After all that has happened, one would almost think…"
The Lion chuckled, too: "That He would change His ways? Please, brother, I remember your jokes being better."
"A small mercy!" Guilliman exclaimed, grinning "Nobody else seems to remember them at all."
Still smiling, the Ultramarine Primarch went on:
"Speaking of secrets and their keeping, there is another matter we should discuss in advance of leaving this room, and the secrecy it provides us." He became serious again.
"In the time since my first encounter with the C'tan, I have come up with a number of ideas concerning the safe and – more importantly – secret communication between Imperial forces, in case such a need ever arose." Guilliman began, "Overall, none of our usual technology and encryption measures can be trusted to withstand the attentions of the star god and its servants. I would thus suggest the usage of Psykers for the clandestine passing of messages."
"I concur." the Lion agreed "Do you have a system in mind?"
"Aye." Guilliman confirmed "I have discussed the matter at length with Varro Tigurius, my Chief Librarian. He has informed me that there are techniques to shape and lay open ones surface thoughts in such a way as to craft a message. Those thoughts, in turn, if one allows it, can easily be read by a gifted Psyker, for example an Astartes Librarian; who in turn may pass them on to an Astropath through psychic means alone. If the astropath is skilled enough, and communes with another who is sworn into secrecy likewise, such a message should be able to pass alongside other communiqués, all but unnoticed. In reverse, such a message could then be passed onwards and into another's mind again, yours in this case, providing it is open for it at an appointed moment. I have worked out a system for passing down such messages unnoticed multiple times each day; within the usual goings on of the fleet, to avoid additional visits to the astropathic choirs on our behalf."
The Lion smiled. "Silent, quick and easily implemented. A sound proposition."
Guilliman shrugged, a half-smile on his face: "I had a few centuries to plan for all kinds of eventualities."
The Lion chuckled: "That is certainly the Guilliman I remember. Very well, I shall find a number of Librarians I can trust and bring them up to speed on this endeavor. With utmost caution, of course."
Guilliman nodded, satisfied:
"I would continue immediately with the next point, brother, but I admit that I have been somewhat wrong-footed by this wealth of new information. I must think on the matter, and adjust my plans accordingly. It does not pay to be hasty, or to proceed without having given the matter appropriate thought, not when faced with an adversary as powerful as this." He smiled warmly:
"Besides that, I am certain you will need to plan your own actions further, and bring the other commanders and functionaries within your fleet up to speed on the task our father has bestowed upon you."
In truth, though he had been initially wrong-footed by this new information, Guilliman would have trusted in his ability to adjust quickly. His brother, too, was more than capable of planning out entire campaigns in mere moments of focused thought and had proven himself Guilliman's equal at the least in countless exercises and cogitator-based combat simulations.
The real reason, then, was another:
Guilliman knew that the Lion had been shaken to his core by the current state of the Imperium, and much more still by his recent meeting with their Creator. He remembered how drained of vigour, how weary and tired he himself had been after convening with the Emperor; sensations that had mostly been theoretical curiosities to one such as him until that point in time, and he saw the tell-tale signs of it in his brother, no matter how well he sought to hide them.
Even now, more than a century later, Guilliman keenly remembered the agony that had accompanied his direct conversation with his Creator in His current form. His brother urgently needed time to rest, and to adjust to this changed Imperium. By presenting the matter as his own weakness, Guilliman now offered him a way out which would leave his pride intact, and his brother took it almost without hesitation.
For a moment still he feared that the Lion would resist him and press on with the matter immediately; or perhaps even take the suggestion of weakness as an insult. After a few heartbeats of trepidation, however, he nodded wearily: "An appropriate suggestion, Roboute. If you wish for more time, you shall have it. We will reconvene at a point in time that befits us both. I shall require further information from you once we do."
Guilliman quickly nodded, smiling, relieved that his brother had accepted: "So be it! You will have what answers I can give you, brother."
He clasped the Lions shoulder: "I am truly glad you are back." His brother sighed, nodding: "If only I had returned to an Imperium closer to our Fathers vision, or at least further removed from madness and strife." He smiled for a fleeting instant: "Mayhaps we can one day make it so."
With that, he turned, and strode towards the heavy, ornate doors, which slid open soundlessly before him...
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And there we have it. For now, I think I have focused on these two for long enough; so the next chapters will feature other characters, some that are already familiar to my readers, and some that are, as of yet, most likely known only to me. So, uh, stay tuned I guess.
As always, thanks for reading; and I'd love to hear what you think of this chapter (or the story in general), so feel free to post your feedback, opinion, questions etc. below.
Commander T
Last edited: Mar 16, 2021
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Commander T
Mar 16, 2021
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Threadmarks Chapter 41 - Alliance?
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Commander T
May 4, 2021
#639
And here we are again, chapter 41. As the thread necro warning reliably informs me, 48 days have passed since the last post here, and probably even more since the last chapter was posted. Sorry for the wait!
In my defense, I am very busy with uni stuff at the moment, which takes up a lot of time and mental attention; however, the following chapter is quite the long one, so long in fact that I split it in two parts, so I hope that can make it worth the wait for you, dear readers. Without further ado, let's get into it!
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After an uneventful passage, the Aeldari vessel slipped from a concealed Webway gate close to the preordained meeting point.
Hidden behind cloaking holo-fields the ship slid closer, creeping up to the star's single habitable planet, unnoticed by the Inquisitorial cruiser in geostationary orbit. The planet below was an unnamed, near-barren, rocky world, dominated by wind-swept saline seas and algae that served to make a thin, frigid atmosphere grudgingly breathable.
A small Inquisitorial outpost, established during one of the many phases of mon-keigh expansion, and having lain derelict for centuries hence, had been chosen as their clandestine meeting site.
As they approached, Eldrad and his fellow seers scried the future again and again, searching for signs of betrayal, conflict or impending death for them or the mon-keigh present. And time and again, no particular such likelihood emerged. As far as could be said with any surety in such uncertain times, none of their paths ended on this world. It appeared that they were in no immediate peril, and neither were those they would soon encounter.
Their shuttle, equally cloaked and optimized for stealth, was soon making its way through the grey, chill skies of the world below. With a whisper of contact, the small voidcraft landed, a side-hatch irising open.
The motley group of Aeldari stepped into the icy, howling wind, and began making its way to the nearby outpost. It was an ugly structure, a rectangular, grey slab of lichen-covered rockcrete, appearing as brutal and simplistic as most Aeldari viewed the species that had created it.
Despite his best efforts, Eldrad found it difficult to disagree. The humans, as they called themselves, most assuredly possessed members that were smarter and more thoughtful than most Aeldari gave them credit for, but the majority of their number was mistrustful, violent, xenophobic and intolerant. He had no doubt that, if circumstances were otherwise, the very same mon-keigh that had contacted him would have endeavored to hunt them down with full enthusiasm.
As they approached, the ancient Farseer reached out with his mind, searching for the tell-tale sign of further souls in the structure that lay ahead. His brow furrowed beneath his Seer helm. Nothing.
As they closed in, he felt the slightest trace of…nothing. A blind spot, as if situated at the edge of his psychic vision, yet localized nonetheless. He smirked. The mon-keigh Inquisitor had not come unprepared either.
Eldrad could feel the other seers reach out with their minds as they entered the structure, searching for hidden traps, foes hiding in ambush. Just like him, they found nothing.
Moments later, the band of Aeldari reached the outposts main chamber. It was surprisingly spacious compared to the structures' squat outward appearance, the underlying bedrock having been carved out to expand the outpost downwards. They were in a command centre of sorts, mostly empty save for a small number of derelict, brutalistic mon-keigh machinery.
At the chambers other end, a small band of figures had gathered, some of them hooded. Eldrad recognized Stormtroopers of the Militarum Tempestus, Inquisitorial acolytes, a mon-keigh psyker he assumed to be of considerable power, belonging to the Adeptus Astra Telepathica if the symbols on her staff of office were any indication, and a sister of the Ordo Dialogus, present no doubt to facilitate understanding if necessary.
Before them all stood a mon-keigh female that, by her confident posture and by her rosette, could only be the Inquisitor. Next to her resided the reason none of the Aeldari had been able to truly gaze upon the Inquisitor and her revenue until this very moment, and the reason their psychic probes still returned nothing but a feeling of diffuse, cold emptiness. A…
"Abomination! Soulless one!" one of the other Farseers hissed. "How dare you bring this…thing to our negotiations? How are out talks supposed to proceed in good faith while this creature is disturbing us all with its presence?"
The sister Dialogus leaned over, whispering intently into the Inquisitors ear. The mon-keigh nodded along, before stepping forward and pulling back her cowl, revealing a hard, drawn and scarred face. The Inquisitors eyes were cold and calculating, and as she spoke, her manifold scars twisted her visage into something brutish:
"This…thing, as you call it, ensures that you will not use your powers to invade the minds of me or my…associates, or to attack us. If you believe this meeting is based on anything other than grave necessity, you are beyond foolish. I suggest you stop wasting my time with accusations and proceed."
Eldrad spoke and understood the mon-keighs language, but not all Aeldari with him did, and so they waited for the translator at the Inquisitors side to repeat them. The Dialogus' Aeldari, while far from fluid or phonetically appealing, was understandable and Eldrad felt some of his companions bristle at the Inquisitors words.
Holding out his hands in a placating gesture he stepped forward, a movement that prompted the Tempestus Scions behind the Inquisitor to raise their weapons in one fluid movement.
Slowly, Eldrad bowed his head, removing his Seer helm and hooking it to his belt; reaching out with his mind to his fellow Aeldari, bidding them to allow him to talk, before beginning to speak to the mon-keigh Inquisitor in her own primitive language:
"Please forgive my associates their…ill temper. Many members of our species cannot help but react in a certain way to those that you call blanks. I too believe that we should indeed attempt to begin conversing in earnest and avoid wasting time with ill-placed accusations."
The Inquisitor nodded, once, as if making a grand concession, and even without his psychic senses Eldrad could detect the undertone of revulsion in her voice as she spoke again, no doubt disgusted at the mere idea of cooperation with ones such as them:
"I shall give thanks to the Lord of all Mankind that at least one of your number has sense enough to understand this. I shall abide by your wish, Xeno, if only because it suits me, and waste no further time…" at her gesture, the Tempestus Scions lowered their hellguns.
"The Imperium is in need of a weapon. One associated by my most knowledgeable acolytes with your kind. I understand that the star god is an ancient enemy of your people, and that you wish to see it destroyed."
Eldrad smiled sadly: "We know not if an Yngir Star-Hungry can ever be truly destroyed, but yes, we wish for it to be neutralized, lest it bring ruin to this galaxy once more."
"And so we have common cause." The Inquisitor inclined her head "Which leads to the most important question I will ask you on this day:
Can you operate the Blackstone fortresses the Imperium possesses, and locate any further such installations that may exist outside the sphere of Imperial influence?"
Eldrad raised his hand, slowly, so as to not provoke the Inquisitors twitchy guardians: "My kin and I may be able to help you in this regard. However…" he spoke up, raising a finger "there is a condition attached. I will preface this by saying that I have sensed no duplicity from you so far, and that your motives appear earnest to me. I bear you no ill will, nor do I wish to impugn your honour. But the fortresses are immensely potent weapons, beyond catastrophic in their implications should they fall into the wrong hands. We often serve different causes, sometimes conflicting ones, as all of us well know. If I am to help you, I must be beyond sure of your intentions."
The Inquisitors face did not shift, but her tone of voice became more disdainful still.
"I hope that the irony of your kind in particular - of all the many aliens to plague this galaxy - worrying about duplicity and hidden motives is not lost on you, Aeldari!" The mon-keigh spat the last word out as if it was a particularly foul curse. "I had expected nothing else of you, however, and I have nothing to hide, by the Emperors grace."
A court hand gesture had the soulless one retreating to the right and backwards, keeping a respectful distance to the mon-keigh psyker, who nevertheless twitched in discomfort as it passed her. The Inquisitor stepped forward.
"I will allow you to examine my mind, xeno witch, because I believe it serves His Imperium to do so." She gestured behind herself "This one is a telepath, of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica. Capable, potent. She will be the watchful eye which observes all that you do inside my mind. If you attempt any trickery, or manipulation, if you or your ilk do anything besides confirming for yourself the truth of my words, she will notice, and this will end in bloodshed." The Inquisitor looked straight ahead at the Aeldari delegation: "I trust I have made myself clear."
Eldrad smiled amiably, bowing slightly, continuing to speak in the mon-keighs own primitive language. "Most certainly."
Slowly, carefully, he extended his awareness outwards, feeling the presence of the mon-keigh psyker hovering besides his own, watchful and alert. He slid into the Inquisitors mind, begrudgingly opened to his attentions, and found what he had expected; a world of iron-hard discipline and depthless hatred for all that opposed humanity. Countless experiences of pain, hers and that of so many others, loss and horror, all held under control by sheer will and determination.
He could feel the traces of death and despair that clung to the Inquisitor. This one had overseen the deaths of billions, and performed many a desperate gamble in the attempt to save the wider Imperium from a multitude of threats, both internal and external; altering the paths of an uncountable number of beings across the width and breadth of the galaxy. Her being radiated hostility, and hatred, buffeting his disembodied spirit, but for all her disdain, he sensed no duplicity, no lie in her mind. She spoke the truth, as far as his considerable skill could distinguish. He retreated his psychic sense, nodding respectfully:
"The Inquisitor speaks the truth."
"Of course I am speaking the truth, Xenos!" the Inquisitor cut in "It is a gesture of cordiality that I do not request you allow my seer to perform the same intrusive probing on you and your ilk."
That, and the fact her telepath was not quite potent or skillful enough to do so to one such as him, Eldrad thought to himself, though he smiled to her. "We appreciate your kindness, Inquisitor." A bit of honeyed words to stroke this one's ego would not go amiss, and besides, his own pride mattered little in the grand scheme of things.
He clasped his hands. "I suggest then that we shall begin in earnest…"
The soulless one returned to its prominent position, blocking any further psychic probes from being attempted by the Aeldari, had they sought to do so.
Still wary of each other, the two groups now began to negotiate, reluctantly yielding bits of information to their respective counterparts, haggling over each scrap of knowledge. Concessions were wrung from unwilling subjects, begrudging promises elicited, accompanied by insults and threats, some veiled, some open.
Finally, they had reached a conclusion of sorts, an uneasy alliance of necessity, balanced on a razors edge, and held upright mostly by sheer desperation. Eldrad sighed inwardly. It had gone better than expected, he thought morosely, he had only been insulted and threatened a few handful of times.
He forced himself to smile: "I believe this concludes our negotiations then. We will see to the fulfillment of our side of this…endeavor, and I trust you will uphold yours. I…"
He trailed off, blinking in confusion. The chamber was still around him, more still than anything he had witnessed in ten millennia of life. His psychic senses were attuned enough to sense the movements of air currents around him, the shifting of dust particles, to feel the heartbeats of all those around him. And yet, beyond arm's length of himself on all sides, nothing stirred.
He turned around, staring at his companions, their stern Craftworld guardians and the gaudy Harlequins, all silent and still, some arrested mid-sentence. He reached out with his mind, searching for the flickering fires of their souls, and found them nothing but pinpricks of light, like distant stars, visible, but so very far away.
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Chapter 41 - Part 2
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Suddenly, a new voice flooded the room, emanating from everywhere at once, addressing him in perfect high Aeldari:
"Eldrad Ulthran, once High Farseer of Craftworld Ulthwe, Outcast, summoner of Ynnead. I have been waiting for you."
The ancient Farseer was still, very still. He had known the paths would lead him into danger, and readied himself accordingly. And yet, he realized with growing panic that he was woefully unprepared for this particular encounter. A mortal could have mistaken the figure that now appeared in front of him for a simple mon-keigh, somewhat androgynous in features, its face hidden in the shadows of its cowl. Yet he was an Aeldari, psychic like none other of his race, and his very being recoiled at the entities' mere presence. The warp reeled and receded, his abilities all but deserting him as his connection to the realm of souls weakened dramatically.
The figure walked through the Inquisitorial delegation, glancing at some as if admiring a group of fine statuary as it neared him.
The beings simple presence all but battered Eldrad to his knees, and something deep within his very being recoiled in animalistic fear as the hungry nothingness approached, maniacally screaming at him to run, to hide, to pray for his gods to return and save him from the....
"Calm." the being spoke, measured in volume, yet its word was not an offer, or an order, it felt more like a clearly stated fact of reality itself. What it- no, what He said, simply was.
Eldrad staggered back, his mind racing as he tried to unravel the unending skeins of fate in a desperate attempt to discover knowledge on what to do, yet found his powers gone, pushed aside as an oppressive, mind-numbing emptiness enveloped his very being.
"Do not waste our time with futile panic. If I sought to harm you, I could long since have done so."
Arresting his movement against all instinct, Eldrad finally found his voice once more.
"I...how did you find me?"
His voice shook; his foresight, that ancient companion, and with it the strands of fate, always so keenly observed and delicately manipulated, had simply deserted him, pushed away by the beings terrifying presence.
The figure made a dismissive gesture with its hand "How I found you? You are not half as secretive as you believe."
"I...I sensed no falsehood in this Mon-keigh inquisitor, no planted memories or hidden intentions..."
The being shook its head, chuckling. "Eldrad, Eldrad, are you truly that naïve?" It looked up, its radiant, golden eyes causing the Farseer to instinctively avert his gaze. The being chuckled:
"Most biological beings are amusingly predictable." It began to explain, with an air of casual disdain.
"An ordo Xenos Inquisitor with puritanical leanings, famous for her conviction concerning Imperial dominance. The documented existence of diplomatic relations between your species and the Imperium of Man. The fact that you, of all your species' members, have been in contact with the Emperor's creations since before his mistakes saw him chained to the throne on Terra…" the corners of the beings mouth twitched upwards for a fleeting instant.
"It was clear that once the alliance between my realm and the Imperium became more commonly known, certain individuals would begin to search for ways to terminate me. It was never a question if this particular individual would contact your people, and you specifically, only when. Just as it was clear to me that you would come in person. You have never been able to resist the urge to meddle with lesser beings fates." It chuckled, sending shivers along the ancient Farseer's spine.
"You sensed no falsehood from this one, no artifice, no trick, because there was none." It gestured at the unmoving form behind it. "Why would I implant the Inquisitor with foreign ideas, or force falsehoods upon this simple little mind that may even be detected by one such as you?
No, she simply came to fear me and my influence upon the realm she serves through observance of her surroundings. Things were spoken and heard that she would take notice of, reports written, interactions made, options weighed, and finally, she formed a plan, according to her mental predisposition. It was not a brilliant one, but it was her own, sincere and true for all intents and purposes, and free from any meddling on my part. It was, however, also wholly predictable, as was your reaction to her plea for aid. Influenced as your people were by the lies and propaganda of your supposed betters, it was only natural for you to attempt to neutralize me at the earliest feasible opportunity."
The beings golden eyes again twinkled with mischief as it spoke. "I find it truly astounding how often the inhabitants of this galaxy convince themselves that they can outsmart the gods, and how rarely they succeed."
The ancient Farseer fell silent, then, the implications of the star gods words fully sinking in. This whole endeavor had been a trap, and he had flung himself headfirst at the unwitting bait. Blind to the true future, predictable, foolish… Before he could continue his train of thought, the being spoke once more, irresistibly drawing in his whole attention.
"Despair not. I come to you not to harm you, but instead to present to you a word of caution, and an offer. You have attempted to summon a new deity, Ynnead, the dead that sleep yet wake. It seems you have even succeeded; if only partly."
There was a pause as the being let its words sink in; then, it continued, its next words a hammerblow of intense conviction:
"It will not suffice."
Eldrad stared at the...thing; confused now, his heart hammering in his chest. Why was it talking, surely it would kill him, or worse, now that it had gloated over his folly. "It will not suffice?"
The being laughed, a sound that made the Aeldari before it shudder in body and soul.
"You call yourself a Farseer, and yet you are so painfully short-sighted. Even if one assumes that you bring your plan to fruition, how long do you believe will it hold?"
"I..." Eldrad stuttered "I do not understand what you mean!" He tried to remember what his plans had been, his hopes and ideals, all he had striven towards, but found he could not grasp them anymore. It was getting ever harder to think…
The Yngir's tone hovered somewhere between amused and disappointed.
"Do not pretend that you do not know. You have lived longer than most fleshlings, and you are curious. Let us assume, for a moment, that Ynnead fully awakens. It sweeps away the last god your people made, and the other three as well. Your species rises to dominance once more and rebuilds your stellar empire. You destroy all your enemies." there was a short pause before the being continued:
"How long until the Aeldari fall to decadence again? That part of your people, of course, that has not already joined your darker kin. Perhaps they are the true Aeldari." it added, a speculative tone in its voice. "They are certainly more numerous by now than the rest of your species."
"No!" Eldrad shouted, horrified "They...those who escaped the decay would never fall again! We are the descendants of those that fought She-who-thirsts and her influence. We…"
"You are not." The Yngir interrupted "Those who fought against the calamity on the core worlds are dead, devoured alongside their corrupt kin by the fourth upon its birth. You are the descendants of those who fled."
Eldrad shook his head in desperation: "Our people have suffered so much through the fall; how could they ever forget and err again?"
The Yngir appeared almost sad as it shook its head, a most unfittingly humanoid gesture on such a being, Eldrad thought.
"As they forgot before."
"But they had not made the experience before!" Eldrad exclaimed. He could feel a different kind of dread rise within his chest, pushing aside his fear of the monster in front of him; a horrifying realization dawning upon him as he frantically sought to find a reason, any reason, for the star god to be wrong. His thoughts felt slow, slurred, his head pounding under the weight of the Yngir's null aura, leaving him grasping for words. All his lives work...it could not be for nothing! The Farseer continued speaking, faster now. "We know now of the horrors that await us should we fall ever again. Our people are warned, and all is written down. The servants of the Laughing God retell the story of the fall; so many of ours have died. How could my people ever repeat the mistakes of the past?"
"Oh, my poor Eldrad." The star god sounded almost wounded by his words: "Do you truly, truly believe your ancestors knew not of the dangers beyond? That they were unaware?"
The Farseer had nothing to say, instead remaining very still.
"I shall tell you something your species has long since forgotten. Your people, during the first war, created those that you call your gods now, under the guidance of their misbegotten masters. Did you know?"
Glancing at the Farseer's face, the being chuckled.
"No, of course not. Your species forgot that, too, in time. Your ancestors knew of the dangers of the Warp better than most, knew what could be created by collective belief, by a species' actions. They erected wards, to keep your part of the Warp-realm safe, and for good reasons. Do not delude yourself so, Eldrad of Ulthwé. They knew, and then they forgot, as all mortals do, and thus stepped on the road to corruption and calamity. Your species never matured psychically as much as they would have needed to survive unaided. The Aeldari are a weapon, hurriedly elevated to great psychic might, to fight in your masters losing war. What would have taken a thousand generations was done in but one, and it shows itself, time and again. Even now, with the fourth abomination's hunger as a constant reminder of your failures in the past, your people remain arrogant and aloof, daring to call other races primitive, as if the Warp we see today was not your peoples doing!"
Eldrad flinched, hard. The being had not raised its voice, yet the intensity of its exclamations drove icy barbs into his very soul. There were so many claims, so many revelations, all vying for his attention, while his mind reeled, battered and shaken by the Yngir's mere presence.
"So, tell me again, Eldrad Ulthran, what do you believe? How long will it hold? How many generations of protected existence and fully realized psychic potential until your people fall back to debauchery? Were you so focused on your goal, this new god, that you never considered what would come afterwards?"
The ancient farseer had finally slumped down onto his knees, tears streaming down his partly crystallized face. He did not answer. There was no answer. The Star Gods voice was almost kind when it spoke again, as if hesitant to convey such grave tidings.
"Ynnead is a temporary solution at best; the death toll of your species at worst. The Aeldari will fall back to their old ways as soon as they are able to. You had an entire pantheon of your own; the galaxy at your beck and call. And yet you broke yourself given enough time. Now you have but one god by your side; recent, half-formed, created by a species so much weaker and less numerous than it was in the times of old. The warp is in turmoil, your people's powers but a shadow of what they were. All the power that you had could not keep your people safe, then. How do you expect your much-diminished efforts to do so, now?"
Eldrad's voice rose again, from a desperate whisper to the determined confidence so many of his kin still followed him for.
"I cannot let my people die out or fall to She-who-thirsts! What fate befell our species must never do so again!" From somewhere, his strength had returned, the determination that had led him on his millennia-long path. He would defy the star god's bleak predictions. "So many of my kin were willing to wait for the slow death of our species in the hopes that Ynnead may rise from the death pyres of our species. I was not willing to see my people die out, and even though my efforts saw me banished from my home, I regret none of it. I will not stand by idle while Asuryan's children dwindle!"
He rose once more to his feet.
"I have to save them, and I will!"
The star god nodded, and smiled, beatifically, a golden radiance slowly filling the chamber as its stature grew, its cloak dissipating into nothingness, lines of molten gold now adorning its worldly form.
"Yes! And safe they shall be. All mortals forget; some slower, others faster. But there is a way to temper your species' flaws; becalm the warp and rectify the mistakes of the past."
Something in Eldrad tried to countermand the star god's words, but it was getting harder and harder to think, the Yngir's oppressive aura permeating his thoughts. He sank to his knees once more, unable to resist the urge to bow before His majesty. Finally, he forced out a question.
"How?"
Still smiling, the star god spread its arms as its luminous glow and warmth fully encompassed the room.
"Me."
The Endless paused, letting his words take effect.
"I know of the flaws that led to your species' near demise. I am eternal, and I never forget. My vigilance will not falter, my spirit will never decay. I can safeguard your people for all time; and end Chaos once and for all. The warp shall be calm, then, and all life will prosper."
The Endless moved closer to the Aeldari kneeling before it.
"Your ancient masters lied to you. I am no monster, simply a god wishing to rule, in peace and prosperity. Your own gods failed you, they could not prevent your species' fall even when the galaxy was yours. Creating another like them will not change that. I, however, can protect you, and all of your kin."
He raised a hand.
"I am aware that you question the sincerity of my offer, and of my claims, but we have a common cause. I wish not for Chaos to win; and neither do you, for it would mean the end of both of us! I have met with you for a reason, Farseer; for you have a part to play."
He smiled again. "I wish to offer you a place by my side. An opportunity to end Chaos, permanently. Eldrad Ulthran, help me save this galaxy!"
Eldrad found that he would not give in to the beings claims so easily. He would not be manipulated by their ancient enemy!
"We are eternal adversaries, my species and your kind, common goal or not!" the Farseer spoke, mustering all his courage "Why would you seek to help us, and why would any Aeldari ever assist your cause?"
For a moment the star god was silent, its smile fading, and the ancient Farseer began to fear that he had roused its anger at last. Then it spoke:
"I knew of your plans to destroy me, using the smith-gods little toys that your race employed during the war..." The star god's aspect became frightful in an instant, the light receding from the chamber as its eyes blazed with immortal, barely contained power:
"Most beings would suffer a fate far worse than mere oblivion for such an affront." The Endless stated, matter-of-factly, sending a fresh wave of dread through Eldrad, isolated as he felt beneath the suffocating null-presence of the Yngir.
"Your little band of Aeldari is not as secretive as you made yourself believe, and many eyes have followed your progress towards this meeting. I could long since have ended your journey, unmade your frail physical forms, cracked the little talismans you wear and consigned you to the fate which has claimed so many of your race already. I did not, and you shall know the reason:
The others are going to reform; my late and unlamented kin, some sooner, some later. I will have to face them when they do; and attempt to destroy them. But they are strong, stronger perhaps than even I. Should they triumph over me; they will not be as lenient as I have been with this galaxy. Many of them were broken apart in the betrayal, and I suspect their minds have been damaged beyond repair. They are demented, driven only by hunger. Once they have vanquished the Necrons, and me, should they prove able to, they will feast, and scour this galaxy clean, beginning with their most ancient adversary still remaining; the Aeldari."
There was an urgency in the star god's voice, something distantly reminiscent of desperation:
"Not only are you in danger of repeating the mistakes of the past; if my kin are ever allowed to return unchallenged, you will be extinct long before your species has time to fall once more!"
So intense was the will behind those words, so urgent the warning, that Eldrad could not help but ask what he must needs ask:
"What....do you need me for?"
"Be my ambassador to your people, a voice of reason among the madness." The star god sighed, for a moment appearing as if weighed down by monumental responsibility. Then it elaborated:
"Your people have been led to believe that I am a monster, a thing for which nothing truly matters beyond its ravenous, animalistic hunger. That is a lie, perpetrated by your ancient masters, the ones of old. They saw potential in your species as a weapon to turn the tide of their losing war, and thus convinced your ancestors that all star gods were naught but evil."
The C'tan smiled.
"You can set right this ancient lie, and convince your kindred of the merits of cooperation." it spread its arms. "All I wish is to stabilize the galaxy and vanquish once and for all the forces of Chaos, so that I may rule in peace over all my subjects. In simple terms, our goals align."
"Why us specifically?" Eldrad inquired "Why me?"
"Why your people?" The star god repeated his question "The Aeldari are potent psykers, capable yet restrained, and apt at evading the attentions of those beyond the veil…" there was a pause, the C'tan seemingly struggling for words.
"I must admit to you, that I have attempted, and failed, to employ psykers in my service. With the gods of the Immaterium focusing much of their attention on my realm, as I am the greatest threat to their dominance, those of psychic talent who sought to serve me fell soon to corruption and madness. I believe that your people, and your people alone could evade the notice of the denizens of the Warp; find all the Talismans of Vaul, and operate them to destroy the other Yngir before they can bring ruin to this galaxy." Then, it smiled once more, and continued:
"Why you? Because you are the best that your species has to offer. An Aeldari open-minded enough to consider and weigh what He was told, to search for a better solution when presented with an insufficient one. A being brave enough to rouse a god, defying the will of his supposed betters, to save his people. One who is not above cooperating with those most of his kin would arrogantly shun, if doing so benefits his people. One willing to give not merely his life, but his eternal soul to set right a terrible mistake! Ever since your gods fell, you have been the closest thing to a guardian spirit that your people possess."
Eldrad could feel warmth spreading in his chest at the star god's words. Vindication was at hand at last; here was one that truly understood his millennia-long struggle, valued it, and reacted to his manifold endeavors not with scorn and mistrust, but by praising him! A god, merciful, trusting in him, bestowing upon him such honours even though he had sought to destroy Him but moments earlier!
His smile bathed him in warmth as the Endless stepped closer, bidding Eldrad to rise.
"Soon, time must continue its flow. The others present here are unharmed, despite what they sought to do, for I am merciful. They will return to their senses, knowing only that this encounter was resolved to their individual satisfaction. You and you alone shall know what truly transpired here."
The Endless placed a hand on the ancient Farseers shoulder, and strength flowed into His servant, invigorating and pure.
"I bid you, return to your people, spread my word, and together we can save this galaxy!"
Words failed Eldrad, and he could only nod, smiling in the face of His radiant majesty…
The Farseer blinked, and He was gone, time lurching forward as if eager to make good on lost instants. Dust swirled, hearts beat, and around the servant his companions staggered in confusion.
"The cold, did you feel the cold...?" one Farseer muttered to herself, while another shook his head "Must be that accursed soulless one in the mon-keigh's retinue. I am glad our talks have been concluded, lest I need to spend but another moment in proximity to that thing!"
Opposite to them, the mon-keigh delegation had turned to leave as well, the Inquisitors complement of Scions aiming at the Aeldari group, methodically covering each other as they slowly retreated out of the chamber, safeguarding their master's exit.
Along with the others, Eldrad turned, His mind filled with clarity of purpose unlike any he had felt in millennia. He would save his people, and finally undo the doom unleashed by his ancestors' folly. The galaxy would be made whole once more, for He had decreed it so…
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And there we have it, Chapter 41, almost 6000 words (thanks go out to my awesome beta reader/corrector for taking the time to check all of them!), and hopefully worth the wait!
As always, I'd love to hear what you thought about this chapter in the comment section below!
Thanks for reading, and see you around!