[Tavish POV]
Quest initiated
[Tavarius Machina]
Objective 1: Take up the Mantle of Tavarius Machina, Primarch of the Night Sentinels.
Objective 2: Assist _ in the defense of _.
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Reward: ?
[Restriction in effect!]
[Due to "Law of Causality" in regards to your power,]
[Your time will be restricted depending on your actions.]
[Current time remaining: 6 Weeks]
[New Perk Added!]
[Law Of Causality]
The remnants of project 21st protect you and your powers from the corruption influences of the warp, at a cost. Your time in this reality is restricted based on how big of an effect you have on events. Depending on your success or failure, this time limit can be increased as your legend grows across the galaxy.
The moment I stepped through the portal, I could feel something was wrong.
Outside of the radioactive sandstorms that buffeted against my armor plates, or the heavy pollution filtering through my helmet's purifiers.
Death hung heavy on the air as colossal warships battled in the atmosphere above, and bombers dumped their deadly payloads onto the landscape around me.
In the distance, a massive city erupted from the land itself, flames creeping out from its massive spires as it belched black smoke from its factories.
Following the "wrong" feeling through the ruins of the streets I now stood in I finally came across the bloody sight of ritual.
Bloody symbols and gore wreathed the square I walked into, calling out some horrific language centered around a spiked eight-point star.
[The Star of Chaos] (Rare)
A rallying symbol for the forces of chaos. It was used in a summoning ritual of some sort.
As if that wasn't obvious from the blood party thrown in the square.
Scanning for any living beings in the area, my sensors come back negative and I sigh.
This was just depressing.
Summoning a ball of holy fire to my hand I set it loose to burn out the unholy site as I take stock of the situation.
I could be on any number of worlds, at any point in time. The best way to gather information at the moment, is a military computer.
A sudden bit of movement caused my arm to snap up, the storm bolter loading a shell, only to reveal a servo skull chittering nervously.
Lowering the gun slightly, I approach the skull as it observes me.
A Mechandrites reaches out from my back and offer's an interface plug.
[Unit detects non-standard interface.]
[Question: Designation?]
"Tavarius Machina, Primarch of the Night Sentinels."
[Processing . . .]
[Divine Providence Referenced]
[Searching . . .]
[Analyzing Psykic imprint . . .]
[Confirmed.]
[Data Kernal available!]
[Glory to the Omnissiah!]
The skull finally accepted my connection, and a surge of scrape code assaulted my data fortress before I wrested the skull under my control.
Purifying the skull with holy energy, I extract barely a fragment of information.
Corillia.
The name of the planet I'm guessing.
It had a couple of frequencies attached to networks that I was working on deciphering.
If I had to guess what this skull was doing, it would be serving as a battlefield transmitter for local squads.
I immediately slave the skull to my cybernetics and start searching for any radio chatter.
The radio crackled to life as static interspersed the broadcast.
"*Crackle* This is Sergeant Chase of the 13th Armageddon Steel Legion. We have traitor forces looking to overwhelm our fallback position *Crackle* -support would be appreciated!" the voice reported.
Grabbing a map from the servo skull, I debate about thumbing into the vox frequencies before I shake my head.
Better go gain some battlefield recognition first.
[Sergeant Chase POV]
I duck as bolter rounds assault our position behind the shell of our damaged Chimera. The church sheltering civilians behind us was serving as a staging area for extracting civilians for the past several weeks.
Our unit served as the defense while personnel carriers transported people off world.
Unfortunately, the enemy had established an anti-air presence in the area, preventing more ships from coming to rescue the residents that were left behind.
At this point, the traitor marines were taking their time to pick us off. The lone traitor marine we managed to down bought us an hour of breathing room before they renewed their assault.
A war cry from beyond the fortifications caused me to brace before the soldier next to me was ripped from behind cover.
Taking my lasgun, I follow him and empty the battery into the chest plate of the Chaos Space marine that had crushed the soldier's skull.
He gave me a bloodthirsty grin, and raised his axe to decapitate me when a large figure ripped the marines arm from his body.
A massive marine came from the shadows behind the traitor, his fist ripping his enemies head from its body, the aquilla on his chest gleaming underneath the blood splatter.
The battle field suddenly shifted in our favor as he shot a projectile at a pile of slag and the metal started shifting and building into a gun emplacement.
Not waiting for direction, or questioning the odd archeotech he used, I ran for the newly available auto cannon, and rack the charging bolt.
Spraying lead past the Space marine with unfamiliar heraldry, I try to rally my men.
"Up and at 'em lads The Emperor has seen fit to bless us with one of his angels! Lets show these heretics how to wage a proper war!" I roar, watching the warrior bring one of his servo arms to bear, unleashing shot after shot from the massive cannon that extended from the end.
The remaining men let out a ragged cheer at the sight of the Space Marine and flashes of las joined the fray as the last of the chaos warband went down.
[Tavish POV]
So this is a Chaos Space Marine.
I don't know what I was expecting, but this wasn't it.
Both they, and the standard humans, are significantly smaller than I was expecting.
[Erm, you might want to check your race . . .]
Come on, I'm fairly certain that I didn't transform into my dragon form . . .
Tavarius Machina
Race – Primarch (1/100)
Class – Primarch (Locked)
Primarch
The leaders of the imperium, these divine beings tower over their respective space marine chapters in nearly every aspect. A primarch's affinities are normally determined by an aspect of the God-Emperor's personality, but you possess traits closer to that of the void dragon.
Well, that would explain the why.
I was distracted from my overly large hand by the sergeant approaching and dropping to his knees.
"Milord! Thank the Emperor for your timely arrival. I had almost given up on receiving any assistance before this position fell." He said, the men beneath him staring up in awe.
"Worry not guardsman. The emperor grants salvation to his most devout, though I admit, I was lucky to pick up your distress signal." I state, switching to the high gothic mannerisms of the imperium.
"You stated that their were civilians in need of evacuation?" I continue, causing the man to jolt.
"Yes lord! Local anti-air is making it difficult for ships to continue evacuation. Space marines of the Mortifactors chapter were supposed to help facilitate our movement to the evacuation zone." He reported dutifully.
"Which other chapters have made planetfall?" I ask, scanning the horizon for any sight of activity.
"The Lamenter's are holding off the enemy while we evacuate the planet sir! You are the only other space marine we have had any indication of." He said as his men moved about tending to the wounded.
Wracking my brain, I can only remember one instance where both those chapters were involved.
The ninth black crusade.
An unsuccessful assault from the forces of chaos in which they razed many worlds over the course of ten years.
They were notable due to the Mortifactor's abandonment of duty.
The Lamenter's were rumored to have a rather bad string of bad luck due to flaws within their geneseed.
As such the Mortifactor's, a notoriously superstitious chapter, refused to fight alongside the Blood Angel's successor chapter, leaving the world of Corillia to the tender mercies of chaos.
The Lamenters fought without support for six weeks, their only goal to buy enough time for the civilians to escape.
How the fuck the Mortifactors escaped punishment for such a blatant abandonment of duty is beyond me.
Where is a damn Inquisitor when you need one?
Ironic coming from me, but seriously, any other military would have court marshaled those idiots for leaving their post.
Maybe it's not too late . . .
"Do you have a means of contacting your central command?" I ask, as the man freezes.
"Y-yes lord. May I ask what for?" he stutters in concern.
"To find out where the Mortifactors are. Regardless of position, everyone has a duty to this imperium." I state firmly, and he nods and runs towards the cathedral they were defending.
Following close behind, he pushes open the massive doors revealing the terrified faces of the civilians inside.
They part as we hurry into the dark halls of the cathedral, passing by many alcoves and alters before we stepped into a side room containing a holotable and several commanders who promptly stood at attention as my presence made itself known.
Several projected figures were locked in conversation on the holotable, arguing and cajoling for various resources.
Two of the figures were quite obviously space marines were locked in an argument.
"Brother! Why?! There is no need for this superstition! These people need our help!" The first marine protested, his checkered pauldron shaking in disbelief.
"Our decision is final Malakim. Our ship is on its way out of the system as we speak." The skull helmeted marine replied, as the other conversations fell silent.
Reaching for the buttons on the console, I unmute my end as I make my presence known; "And who in the nine hells gave you permission to abandon your post marine." My voice rumbled with an undercurrent of rage, drawing the attention of every commander.
The Marine was silent for a minute as he took me in and responded; "And who are you?" he replied lazily.
"I am Tavarius Machina, Primarch of the Night Sentinels. I must say, I didn't believe my brothers geneseed would develop such cowardice from a few chaos spawn." I state, the identifier tag from the servo skull affirming my words.
The room was dead silent for minutes, before the Lord-general of the planet spoke up; "Would you consent to matching with the genetic material on file?" he asked causing me to raise an eyebrow and nodding.
I knew that the 21st primarch was an experiment, but to have a genetic marker on file?
Surprising to say the least.
A scribe came in with a genetic scanner, and I cut my finger tip.
The scanner mulled it over for a moment before turning green.
"This man has been confirmed as the 21st primarch." The scribe said aloud, the lord-general clapping his hands together.
"In that case, welcome lord! Thank you for responding to the planet's defense personally." He said bowing deeply the other commanders following suit. The first marine observed me with interest while the second sat in silence.
"Back to my question; who gave you permission to dessert your post?" I state, wasting no time in going back after the marine.
"The environment was deemed disadvantageous for the Mortifactors to make planet fall." He stated, glancing at the first marine who turned red in anger.
"Superstition isn't a valid reason to judge the environment "disadvantageous" Hougandez!" the marine protested.
"Very well, then you shall receive two options, Mortifactor." I state drawing their attention back to me.
"You can make planetfall within the next week, and honorably defend the planet as we evacuate the population . . ."
"Or you can be declared traitor for aiding and abetting the forces of chaos for your abandonment of duty." I finish causing many of the listeners to jolt.
"Make no mistake, regardless of your personal reasons, you are abandoning the emperor's subjects and willfully assisting Abaddon the Despoiler in his 9th, sorry excuse of a crusade. You do not get special privilege due to superstition."
"So I ask you, will you defend this planet, along with the other loyal subjects of the God-Emperor?"
"Or do you want to make yourselves our mortal enemy, and watch as you are hunted down across the galaxy and your fortress monastery razed to oblivion?!" I snarl, the holotable shaking at the volume of the threat.
The marine was silent, so I turned away from him to the other marine thumping my fist into an open palm.
"Well met Chapter Master. I have heard songs of the Lamenter's battles, and it's an honor to fight alongside Sanguinius's sons. A rather large contingent of Adeptus Mechanicus aids me on the battlefield, and was wondering if you require their expertise." I offer, watching the chapter master light up.
"Such aid is most welcome during this fight, and improves our odds considerably what did the mechanicus bring to this battle?" he asked, as the generals listen in.
"They bring their sky fortress, the Ausmerzer, along with servants of Legio Cybernetica, Collegia Titanica, Ordo Reductor, and Skitarii Legions. I have Night Sentinel acolytes, my Spartan's stalking the battlefield as we speak, assaulting essential targets." I finish, causing a quick outbreak of conversation to breakout amongst the commanders.
An incoming message filters in, and the figure of the spartan Leonidas appears on the table.
"Sir, local anti-air has been dealt with in this quadrant, and the Ausmerzer is on the move. Requesting deployment of Vulcan." He clips out.
"Permission granted." I reply, and he nods once and opens a challenge on the vox.
"Be advised, all units, "Volcano" pattern titan is being deployed. Stand-by for Titanfall" he stated before disconnecting.
"+Query, did this one here him correctly? Because one does not simply drop God-Machines.+" A Magos chipped in that was participating in the call.
"You heard him correctly Magos, I carry many STC's in my arsenal that venerate the might of the machine god. Do you wish to view the template in question?" I offer, causing many of the priests skittering around the various devices to freeze and turn to look at me as one."
"+Additional query, STC's? As in plural?+" he asked faintly, and shrug.
Forwarding Vulcan's "adjusted" STC to the Magos, he is frozen as the remaining admech wait for his verdict.
"+Orbital drop possible for titan's of at least "Warhound" size. Template is one of at least seven variations. Protocol for "pilot" survival. Truly a masterpiece of the Omnisiahs work.+" He muttered before noticing the silent room.
"+This one apologizes, a truly monstrous gift lord. What do you intend to do with it?+" he replied, respect lacing his tone.
"Get it to Mars. Get these STC's through the checks needed so we can give humanity a fighting chance. This is incentive to evacuate the planet, and fend off the forces of chaos." I state, and the Magos bows.
"+I will reach out to the legions you have brought with you lord. We will mount an assault unseen since the War of Recovery.+" he said with determination, before dropping off the call.
Turning to the rest, I continue; "Now that the anti-air is down, I will get these people to the evacuation zone with the assistance of the astra militarum regiment. I will meet you and your chapter on the fields against the despoiler, chapter master. I state, watching him nod.
"The Emperor protects Primarch." He replied, making the aquilla sign, before I turned to the local commanders.
"Alright, lets figure out how to move all these people." I offer, letting the commanders speak up with solutions.
[Time Skip]
The great thing about being a primarch is that nobody questions your direction. Saves a lot of explaining and getting things done.
The downside, the absolute awe people had in your presence.
I was riding in the back of a Thunderhawk along with a few infantries, and a lot of civilians.
One was a pastor of the Ecclesiarchy, or the church of the imperial cult, and was barley holding it together that he was able to see a primarch in his lifetime.
Many of the civilians staired up at me in silent adoration, but their was one that amused me.
A small boy by the name of Reggie, thought it was a good idea to ask how'd I get so big.
His mother was horrified, but my laugh did much to appease her.
My explanation that the Emperor decided that a primarch needed to be this big seemed to be dissatisfactory to him.
"But what if you want to drive a car? I don't think they make car's your size." He continued, much to the horror of the priest as he focused more on his surroundings.
"Then I suppose I must make one that I can drive. Do you have a car you like little Reggie?" I ask, and the boy fishes around in his trousers before pulling out a matchbox car that is missing a wheel.
"Yup this is Mr. Buggy. Once I find another wheel it will be a good car to drive around in." he stated proudly.
"Hmm your right. I might have a wheel for Mr. Buggy, here." I say holding out my hand, and he sets the car in my palm.
A mechandrite unspools from my back, and spits out a bit of metal that I shape into a wheel.
Gently, I set the wheel and lock it onto the frame before checking over the rest of the car for functionality.
Smiling in satisfaction, I hand the car back to Reggie, who was very excited by the repair of his toy car.
"Thank you, lord." The mother speaks up, the shock wearing off as my discussion with Reggie continued."
"You are-." I start before the Thunderhawk shakes from fire from below.
"We're getting close to the landing zone, lord. The Lamenters are holding off the arch-enemy below so it might be a bit bumpy from the suppressing fire." I hear the pilot state over the coms.
"The Lamenters are directly below?" I ask getting affirmation from the front.
Standing up, I approach the back door, hitting the open button as the wind whips in.
"Thanks for the lift pilot. I must join the warriors on the ground, please shut the door after me." I state, watching the ground pass.
"Let the Emperor guide your aim." The pilot responded, and I leaped out.
[Lightning Claws Augment]
The long claws unfolded around my gauntlets as I shoot towards the mob of yellow armored marines.
[Anchor Hold]
A chaos blade bounced off the blue shield that formed around every lamenter surprising combatants on both sides.
"If you chaos fucks want to down these warriors, you have to down me first." I roar, slamming my boots through a chaos space marine, and rending my claws into another.
[Roar of the Beast]
The chaos forces faltered as they noticed the presence of a predator tearing through their forces.
[Indomitable Rage]
Grabbing a chaos space marine, I toss him up and break his back across my knee before tossing him up again and a Lamenter tears him in half with a melta gun.
The Lamenter's quickly realizing the potential of the ability, quickly get into formation around me, creating a shield wall maintained with my power.
Responding in kind, my claws fold away, and a spear of holy energy forms in my hand.
Yeet!
The spear burns away the touch of chaos, before blowing apart a marine with explosive force.
New data started flowing in as more of my mechanicus forces made their way onto the battlefield. A loud horn sounding out the arrival of the Ausmerzer, as it floated menacingly over the battlefield.
The bay underneath opened up as the first titan dropped, causing a boom across the chaos scarred landscape.
"For the Omnissiah! Let us rend our enemies unto scrap-code!" Vulcan roared out, sending a wave of thermite across the charging horde of cultists.
He was always such a good boy.
The Ausmerzer was repurposed from its original design, making it my only space capable weapons platform.
Couldn't really go anywhere fast, but it could float around.
A pistol round pinging off my helmet brought my attention back to the battle at hand.
Daemons were intermixed with the chaos cultists and traitor space marines, and I hadn't quite seen anything that I'd judge a threat outside of their constant flow from the various portals.
Time for a bit of a science experiment.
Reaching my hand out towards a portal, I carefully start sewing the space back together.
It's a bit like messing with playdough from a "mortal" perspective for lack of a better description. From the perspective of someone with a higher perspective of time and space, it was more akin to gently dispersing the energies keeping the portal open and returning them to a natural flow in harmony with the universe.
The sensation is difficult to describe, but these portals have an inherent wrongness to the way that they are powered.
Dispelling the energy into the ether, I cut the flow of power, allowing the portal to close.
I didn't realize the sweat that had beaded up on my forehead from the effort involved in closing the single portal.
Releasing some holy energy to dispel the energy further, I reflect on my lack of anti-magic weaponry. This would be significantly easier if I could just wave my hand and dispel the sheer amount of warp energy surging through the area.
I might be able to come up with something on the spot if I could use High Gallifreyan to create a runic array, but I've already revealed enough of my hand to the local defense forces. It would be a tad bit harder to blow off a special language that can manipulate the fabric of shit.
[The only thing they fear is you: Demons]
Especially after this.
The daemons running towards the defending forces suddenly froze as a wave of fear impacted them leaving a massive circle that was completely demon free.
The regular cultists stopped in confusion while the more chaotic looking marines backed off and looked at me nervously.
Summoning a huge portion of the holy energy I had gathered, the power dripped from every word as I yelled out over the din of battle.
[Mithril Vocals]
"What's wrong traitors? Scared of a little resistance? Of an enemy that can fight back? You turned your backs on the Emperor's light and you expect salvation from some random entities you cannot even fathom?
"For in his light he brought Salvation"
"Shining with a brilliance to burn the daemonic"
"Take heed, ye who have surrendered to the Darkness"
"We shall be unbowed and unbroken"
"For where there is darkness, His light shall shine"
"And the darkness shall retreat"
Holy fire ignited and burned the area in a sea of flames as the cultist spontaneously caught fire at the sheer weight of my voice.
[Time Skip]
After several hours of combat, the enemy finally retreated, allowing the Lamenters and the guardsman to finally rest.
Skitarii stalked across the battlefield scavenging metal to toss into the foundry onboard the Ausmerzer.
Now that the local mechanicus were a bit more trusting, I was able to acquire STC's for several imperial vehicles I was lacking such as assault bikes, land raiders, and a few common bits of warfare tech.
I was in the process of reassembling a servo actuator in the arm plate of a Lamenter, several tech priests standing over my shoulder as I finish replacing the servo.
"How does that feel Lylus? I ask the grizzled sergeant, as he moves his arm around.
He grins in satisfaction; "Good as new lord. How long have you been working on machine spirits?" He questioned, and I reflected for a few moments.
"Some four to five hundred years now. The Omnissiah has seen fit to grace me the privilege of working on many machines during that time." I reply absentmindedly and his eyes widened before narrowing.
"Milord, if I may, where have you been? The other Primarchs have come and gone almost ten millennia ago. And your existence wasn't even revealed until a few centuries ago." Lylus asked, and I sighed.
"The Emperor, left many projects behind when he was interred within the golden throne. I was originally project 21st, or the 21st primarch. I was designed fundamentally different from my siblings, with heavy mechanicus influences in my design."
"The servitors left to develop the project finished their work several centuries ago, and his safeguards finally released for me to go out into the wider imperium."
"It was at this point I clashed with the forces of chaos for the first time, and I ventured multiple times into the depths of hell to kill demons, and stave off various chaos invasions."
"After that, I slowly gathered information, helping out a few worlds here and there before finally finding myself here." I finished, several other lamenters listening in on my tale.
"Lord, surly that can't be all that you did." A lamenter spoke up, clutching a force staff, as warp swirled gently around the end.
"Ah, that's a very much abridged version of what I did. I could tell tales of the titanic beast I slew, or of the worlds I visited, but those are better saved for times when one swaps deeds around a campfire." I reply, getting a nod from the librarian.
Mathis Dromor
Class – Librarian
Thoughts – wariness, curiosity.
"Then may I ask what hell is? You speak of it as a place." Mathis questioned, and I nodded thoughtfully.
"That's because it does. It exists in parallel to this dimension, similar to the warp, yet it holds nothing but the souls of the damned, and thirsting demons."
"The False gods exist within the warp, but the true demons exist within hell, constantly finding new and innovative ways to trick mortals into signing pacts with them."
"The warp is simply a plain that the ruinous powers have gained a lot of influence and are able to play around in, but hell is the source of power, their home. And it's the only way I've found to permanently kill a daemon." I finish watching the marine's glance at each other nervously.
"Not to question your capability lord, but may I check you for warp taint?" The marine asked hesitantly, and I observed him for a moment.
"What is your name?" I ask.
"I am Librarian Mathis." The marine introduced, and I nodded.
"Well met librarian. Your suspicion is well placed, and I applaud your caution. I give you permission to check for the presence of the archenemy." I answer, dropping down to the marines level.
The librarian reached up and placed an armored hand against my head and I could feel tendrils poke into my mind.
I had sectioned off most of my memories from sight as he searched around, finding fragments of memory to corroborate my story, pausing upon seeing me take a chain sword to a demon, or detecting portions of my mana core.
Finally, after an hour of searching, he withdrew, wiping some blood from his nose.
"Your verdict Librarian?" A marine questioned, many of his brothers gripping their bolters tightly as they realized what their librarian was doing.
"His story is as he said. Ironically, he's probably less warp tainted than most standard psykers thanks to how he wields the warp." Mathis stated, causing the surrounding marines to relax at the verdict.
"Yes, I quite dislike grabbing random bits of warp to throw at my foes. Prayer can serve as a good medium for using the gifts of the Omnissiah." I muse, my mechandrites reaching into a pouch on my back and pulling out a tablet and paging through it before showing the item on the display.
"Out of curiosity, do you happen to know where I could find black stone? I heard it was quite warp resistant, and I want to make some bullets to test out on some heretics." I question, causing the conversation to derail to the material.
Honestly, most of the space marines had no idea it existed, while the tech priests were just following me around and hanging off my every word and observation.
I was surprised I wasn't getting accused of tech heresy with some of the shit that I said, but I guess I skirted the mechanicus guidelines enough that it wasn't questioned.
Eventually, the various regiments started setting up camp nearby when it was evident that the enemy wouldn't continue their assault for a little bit, which left me a bit of time to myself.
A small contingent of skitarii followed me as I stalked through some nearby ruins,
It was odd being here. It felt almost like I had an invisible timer counting down till when I returned home.
My presence was out of place in this universe, but if I wasn't supposed to be here, I could only alter stuff within my constraints.
A whirring noise brings my attention to a servo skull that floats into view and observes me. Observing it, it didn't take me long to note the stylized "I" on the face of it.
"Quite curious. I wonder where your owner is, little machine." I rumble, and it motions with a small armature, and starts floating further away from the encampment.
Stepping cautiously through the rubble and over the remains of various perimeters, I follow the skull towards what was most likely, an inquisitor.
Someone I didn't want to deal with at the moment, but I had to deal with it at some point.
The buildings eventually opened up revealing a figure wearing powered armor surrounded by several black armored humans, and a large contingent of space marines wearing gleaming grey heraldry.
The Grey Knights.
A space marine chapter whose very existence was a secret to the point where anyone they met was either killed on sight, mindwiped, or sworn to secrecy.
The former happened far more often than the later, so I did the only thing I could think of.
"Skitarii, "See no evil" protocol." I snap out, and I hear the mixture of replies behind me.
"Wow! I love the geology of this planet! It's so fascinating!"
"I am legally blind sir!"
"Why did we come to an empty clearing sir?"
"The scenery is so beautiful this time of year!"
"Man, I cannot believe how empty the city is. It's like its abandoned!"
Any follow up replies were interrupted by the laughter of the power armored figure.
"Peace Primarch. I would not have waited for you with the knights if I did not wish for you to be aware." They announced as they took their helm off revealing a head of brunette hair.
A woman of noble looking bearing stood confidently amongst her troops as we observed each other for a moment.
"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Inquisitor Leilani of the Ordo Malleus. She stated, tucking her helmet under her arm.
"I am Tavarius Machina, Primarch of the Night Sentinels." I reply warily, watching the grey knights for any reaction.
Leilani glanced back at the space marines before turning back to me.
"I will cut straight to the point Tavarius. A rumor has reached my ears that you have killed daemons before. Is this true?" She directed, her tone demanding a response.
"Aye. Everything from an imp to a titan had met its end at my hands at some point." I offer, causing her eyes to narrow.
"May Librarian Astura, confirm and observe your words?" She asked gesturing to a Grey Knight librarian.
"He may." I state, dropping down to a knee so the psyker had better access.
Bringing up my memories of battle in hell, I watch him flinch back at the sight of the hellscape in my mind as he observed the various demon types.
He continued until he came across the titan demons I had killed several centuries ago.
"It's not often you see a demon comparable in size to an Imperator Titan." He muses aloud, causing the Inquisitor's eyebrows to shoot into her hairline.
"Will he be of use for this venture, Librarian?" She asked, as the psyker withdrew from my mind.
"Quite. His capability to tear through daemons is remarkable. Though you should have more heraldry to reflect the sheer number of kills, along with those titan demons." He mused, and I grin.
"I feel like I'd rapidly run out of space librarian. Now, how may I assist the wards of the Inquisition today?" I offer, and the inquisitor's face drops to a serious tone.
"We have the unique opportunity to take down a greater demon while Abadon is preoccupied with breaking the defenders on the planet." Leilani stated, and I sober up quickly.
"Blood god?" I ask, and she nods.
"Abominatus to be precise." She stated and I wracked my brain for that name.
It sounds familiar . . .
"Its currently bonded with an Imperator-class titan." She finished, dropping the next bombshell.
"Oh joy . . ." I reply sarcastically, and she shakes her head.
"Well, there are few as apt for the task when it comes to a primarch that's immune to the effects of the warp." She dropped, causing my eyes to widen and then narrow.
"And how did you discover that fascinating tidbit?" I ask dryly, popping my helmet off.
"I did a bit of research on project twenty-first, or what little the mechanicus has declassified. That was one of the few bits of information that could be confirmed. As for how I knew you'd be here? I have a rather proficient psyker amongst my retinue that has the gift of foresight." She replied.
I debated internally for a moment before deciding to fill in the missing links.
"I am protected from the corrupting influences of the warp. However, it comes at the cost of causality. Are you aware of living saints? Or the legion of the damned?" I ask, watching both the inquisitor and the knights perk up in interest.
"They are able to appear where the imperium needs them most for a limited period of time before vanishing back into the warp. Causality is effectively a restriction that enables the emperor to exert his will in full and bring these warriors to the battlefield. The bigger the impact . . ."
"The shorter the time." Leilani finishes before looking at me closely.
"So, depending on what you do here, will reduce the amount you can mess with the various events." She stated, and I nodded.
"Precisely. I can extend this time by performing significant events, and growing my legend. But this allows me to use a bit more power than my brother primarchs." I reply, my eye drifting to the timer left in the corner of my vision.
[5 weeks, 2 hours, 24 minutes]
"How much causality would you burn for assisting?" Leilani asked, and I shrugged.
"If I outright killed the daemon, and burned his presence from the warp? I estimate that I'd go through about three quarters of what I have remaining. It would limit how much assistance I could render to the defenders. I was able to kill many demons upon my arrival without much effect, but the moment I started saving lives and altering the outcome of the defense, The time disappears like sand in the hour glass." I finish, and she goes into deep thought.
"If your statement is true, it would explain the lack of information we have acquired from such forces. But why hasn't that information been communicated before?" An unnamed marine spoke up, drawing my attention.
"Saint Celestine brings reinforcements to the most beleaguered of defenders and departs as soon as her duty is done, while the legion of the damned are bound by their vows of silence. The only shared trait between the two is being martyrs that have so much to give the emperor that they can't bear to lay down their arms before the emperor takes them personally." I reply, a sad smile making itself known.
"How long do you believe this assault will continue Primarch?" Leilani asked, observing the huge chaos ships battling in orbit with planetary forces.
"Who knows Inquisitor. The Lamenter's may continue fighting for six weeks, ensuring the safe evacuation of the planet's population. After that I imagine we may or may not get reinforcements from the Ultramarines and maybe the White Scars. But it will be a close thing if nothing is done." I answer, grinning at the vagueness of her question.
She quickly figured out that I had some understanding of what may happen, and knew she couldn't ask directly, so she went for the roundabout way of asking.
"If the Mortifactors made planetfall, the situation would probably improve significantly, but I haven't had contact with them since threatening to court martial them." I added, causing the inquisitor to cast a bemused look in my direction.
"Why on earth would you threaten to court martial them?" she questioned, curiosity sparking slightly.
"Running away from the battlefield without a valid excuse. Personally, it disgusts me that Guilliman's geneseed is so willing to run from a few chaos spawns because they don't want to fight alongside the Lamenter's. A standard human regiment I could understand, but space marines?! They should feel ashamed." I huff, hearing several of the grey knights grumble in agreement.
The conversation came to a halt when the roar of aircraft engines echoed out overhead as new warp tears manifested in the planes nearby.
"Looks like duty calls once more. Inquisitor, please contact me if you find a solution for our conundrum." I state, slipping my helmet back on and turning back towards the battlefield.
We part ways in silence, and it wasn't until we had walked for fifteen minutes that I released my breath.
Damn, that was too close.
The Grey Knights had the nasty little habit of killing literally anyone who saw them. We were just fortunate enough for them to deem us allowed to live.
[Time Skip]
This officially sucks.
Even when I was stuck in hell killing demons, it was mildly amusing.
But this was just depressing.
The Space Marine's had no sense of humor, the guardsmen were just getting ready to die, and the only person that had any semblance of a back and forth was an inquisitor who was gone half the time doing various dubious activities with some people who "definitely" didn't exist.
I really had to draw the line when the marines started passing out cans of "Corpse Starch".
And yes, it is exactly what it sounds like.
Regardless of the local norms, I was not down for consuming the "Soylent Majority", so I decided to do a few things here and there to improve the living conditions.
Gave me a chance to play with my plant affinity, and my life affinity in conjunction at any rate.
Places I walked subtly regained life, allowing plant matter to regrow and deadened the warp in the area.
Wasn't quite sure what it would do, but chaotic entities couldn't burn away the nice little bit of grass that started growing.
It was a bit of a struggle with how heavily industrialized the planet was, but I did get a bit of amusement watching some of the local humans touch grass for the first time in wonder.
If I could get away with it, I'd grow a full orchard of fruit trees to feed the people, but the more I tried to help, the bigger the issue seemed to grow.
The best thing I could do, is kill these damn demon cultist hippies.
They had a bad habit of popping out when you least expect it, and like to disturb me whenever I try to have a little "me time".
I was attempting to fry an egg over a small fire when one popped in the window, startling me.
[Flashback]
"Blood for the blood god!" The man roared lunging at me with a power fist.
*Whang*
*Thump*
"Ah you bitch . . . you got blood on the eggs . . ."
[Flashback End]
Suffice to say, I lost my appetite after I murdered him with the frying pan.
This led to my current predicament of glaring at the large cup of what passed for coffee in this sorry universe.
They called it Recaff. Supposedly it was closer to tea than actual coffee, but it stood as a fairly foul substance in the grand scheme of things.
It had been three weeks, with no sign of the Mortifactors making planetfall. The only saving grace of the situation was that my interference left us with a plethora of good spirits due to the severely reduced attrition rate.
I didn't really sleep at any point, so I spent a lot of time hunting and killing the forces of chaos wherever they appeared.
And either I was stupid strong, or the danger of these forces was drastically oversold to me.
Centuries of combat my ass, these guys didn't know what to do if you suddenly "steal" their arms.
Perk Added!
[Walking with Wookie's] (Rare)
You are very proficient at disarming your opponents with your raw strength alone. Makes it 10% easier to dismember your opponents with feats of strength.
I was questioning the effectiveness of such a tactic until I saw a chaos marine attempting to keep as many cultists between me and him as possible.
It was really funny, up until the chaos gods decided to interfere directly.
[Due to your "strong arm" tactics,]
[The Chaos Gods have added various equalizers to the battlefield.]
[This has indirectly increased your causality.]
[Three weeks have been added!]
Their equalizer?
A handful of possessed chaos space marines, a few dark mechanicum . . .
Oh! And a greater demon.
The damn incarnation of a chaos god.
. . .
Alright, we'll play that game . . .
Taking refuge in the depths of a partially destroyed hive city, I got to work.
Taking over an existing foundry with a few well-placed nano spikes, I started manufacturing automatons, weapons, skitarii, and Panzerhund.
The Tech priests went nuts over the Panzerhund.
Apparently, it shared some similarities to the Serberys Sulferhound, a war dog like mount ridden by only the most skilled skitarii.
The fact that the Panzerhund were just set loose against the chaos forces on the planet did tweak a few of their spark plugs the wrong way, but that was quickly resolved by letting ad mech forces charge in with them.
Kept having to stop the little fuckers from strapping so many skulls to anything I manufactured. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the occasional artistic skull or scriptures on my machines. But it doesn't need a mile long parchment stapled to the top of a Panzerhund.
If they dedicated as much time to getting underfoot, as killing demons, chaos would be a non-issue.
A small contingent of priests had taken the time to accuse me of "tech-heresy" but I neither had the time nor inclination to deal with that particular group of toaster fuckers.
Because I was busy spreading the words of the Omnissiah!
Best I can figure, if I grow a big enough following, my "adjustments" to the religion will catch on, and then slowly implement policy change.
Casual Fridays, dental, a general shift towards standard human decency, I can see it all now.
[Your Titan, Vulcan, has put down a greater demon of Khorne.]
I froze at the message, before chucking at the bullheaded nature of the titan.
[Time Skip]
[Malakim POV]
This new Primarch was strange.
He lacked the noble bearing of Sanguinius or Lionel. In fact, he had a closer bearing to Leman or Vulkan.
His fierce appearance carried an emotional bandwidth that I think surprised both space marine, and human alike as his very footfalls brought attention to his presence.
His abruptness in barging into that first meeting, ripping into the Mortifactors, gave much to give heart to those demoralized by their departure.
The lack of his chapter to back him up did nothing to deter his spirit as he wielded warp and blade in equal measure to create much needed breathing room against Angron's forces.
Normally, our chapter does not prescribe to heavy religious teachings against the warp, but this was the first time I had seen the capabilities of a "Tech-paladin" as Tavarius phrased it.
But you couldn't deny its effectiveness of his "holy power" as he burned away the tainted forces that stood against us.
After the battle was over, he simply talked, asking questions, and affirming his own theories or perceptions against the various forces that were defending the spaceport of the hive city.
I was on my way towards the base he had set up within the city itself, curious as to his activities during the lull of battle.
Eventually, I found my way to a recently re-established foundry with a significant line of guardsmen standing in line.
One of the ones near the back snapped to attention.
"Guardsman, why is everyone here in line?" I asked, and he dutifully presents a card.
"Primarch Tavarius passed out many of these "punch cards" that allow you to accumulate points for various actions that contribute to the defense my lord. We can exchange the points for better equipment, food, and tools to use." He replied dutifully, as I looked at the card skeptically.
"What kind of items are we talking about? I doubt it necessitates this line." I comment, watching more people join the queue.
"Better weapons, armor. I had a friend that managed to purchase an exo-harness a week ago, and it allows him to overpower most cultists." The man informed, another man passing by holding a heavily modified lasrifle.
"Where are the tech-priests? I would have thought they would be trying to kill him for all these unlicensed modifications." I question observing the equipment closely.
"That's what had happened at first, but the primarch presented STC's for each of the designs, and now they are so excited that they are actively helping him." He finished gesturing, and I spot the tech-priest running by with an armload of parts.
A battle automaton marched in the other direction with various tech-priests chasing after it attempting to bless it with incense and I shook my head at the sight before making my way into the foundry.
The smell of molten metal hit my nostrils as I sought out the primarch the sound of hammer blows that echoed out over the sound of the machinery.
Coming to an opening in the tangle of machines, It opened up to an area next to the smelter. Tech priests chanted canticles around the primarch causing a massive surge of golden light throughout the area.
In the center of the circle, the primarch handled red hot metal with his bare hands, his fists ringing out as he shaped the metal with mechanical precision.
"My primarch, how will we achieve monomolecular edge with such a . . . antiquated method?" A tech priest questioned as a spear took shape under the primarchs guidance.
"Its one of the few problems one may run into when chasing remnants of the machine god Magos. You forget the true paths from which we were forged." The primarch started, his fists giving off blistering heat.
"For under his guidance, does belief take shape. And its under his care that we match those that stand in our way." His voice echoing amongst the chanting.
Golden light enveloped the spear as its edge took on the characteristic sheen of monomolecular, divine energy coursing through the mighty weapon blowing a wind through the room and a final ring sounded out as the room became still one more.
The primarch held up the magnificent spear to the torch light, humming in satisfaction.
"Chapter master, what do you think?" He asked, startling me before I responded.
"An interesting weapon. Did you craft it for a specific purpose?" I ask, watching him slice through the air in an experimental swing.
The spear surged up golden flames wreathing the weapon as it leapt into the air, its very presence forcing the surrounding people to their knees, I myself barley retaining my footing.
It floated their watching the primarch for an order.
"Kill!" The primarch uttered, and the spear shot off down the hall, increasing in speed until it vanished from sight.
"It shall hunt daemons. Everywhere a daemon will poke its head out, that blade will be there to meet it." He stated in satisfaction.
A large explosion echoes out over head, and my comm unit started buzzing urgently.
Pulling it out, it revealed the face of one of the captains of our ships in orbit.
"Chapter master! Did you get one of the orbital batteries back online?! A shot from the surface pierced through the reactor core of one of the chaos vessels!" the captain questioned hurriedly, as another explosion rocked the ship.
I hurriedly glance back at the primarch, his excited grin answering the unasked question.
"Its name shall be Daemonbane!" He declared proudly, the priests around him excitedly tracking the spear as it continued to accelerate.
[Tavish POV]
[Causality has accounted for the terror you unleashed on your opponents.]
[Time reduced by five weeks.]
"Think that it will give us enough breathing room chapter master?" I ask, watching the spear tear through another ship, decimating the blockade overhead.
"It may have just won us the battle, lord." He replied, and I turned my gaze to the astartes.
"Then may I ask a favor?" I enquire, watching him stiffen slightly.
"Please watch over Daemonbane. It is quite young, and it would be nice if your chapter watched over him as he delt out his righteous fury." I request causing him to jolt in surprise.
"Your giving us Daemonbane? We are not as deserving of such an honor . . ." he tried to decline, causing me to shake my head.
"If you are not worthy, there are precious few who are. This charge comes with the task of hunting and eradicating the forces of the archenemy wherever they may lurk. The Imperium needs to expand its awareness of such an opponent in order to effectively combat it, and the change must start with his angels." I replied, lifting a necklace from the table next to the forge.
"Daemonbane will not stray too far from this necklace. And he will run towards the nearest source of chaos, it will fall to the Lamenter's to follow, and save the Imperium from the forces eating it from within." I state, as he gingerly accepts the necklace.
"You speak as if the weapon is alive. . ." He states guardedly, as I chuckle.
"The machine spirit makes near any machine seem alive. Respect it, and it will respect you and aid you in your endeavors." I reply, golden motes of light wrapping around my armor.
[Causality being recalculated . . .]
[Daemonbane's legend is growing exponentially]
[Opening shot from a Primarch . . .]
[Church of the Machine spreading . . .]
[Causality reduced to zero!]
[Recall initiated!]
"Well, looks like our emperor has decided that I've interfered too much on this world. . ." I state sadly, watching my fingers vanish in motes of light.
"Lord! What is happening?!" one of the tech-priests asked, panicking as I was vanishing before their eyes.
"The emperor crafted me a tad different from my brothers. While I'm protected from the corruption of the warp, I'm limited by how much I can interfere with the outcome. So, it appears I must vanish for a little while." I reply, gazing around the workshop before giving the chapter master one final grin.
"I leave my mechanicus detachment to you and your lamenters, chapter master. Do make good use of their abilities, will you?" I finish, the last bits of me vanishing as I head back home.
[Interlude: Homecoming]
[Eleanor POV]
I jolt awake as I hear a thump in the kitchen.
Opening my door, I walk towards the now on, kitchen light.
Stepping through, I spot dad's armored form, his helmet held under his arm as he smiles at me.
"Hey Elie! I'm back from my trip!" he said enthusiastically as I took in the battle-scarred armor.
It was covered in dried blood, gore, blast marks and grime.
And he was standing in the middle of a kitchen I just cleaned.
Without a second thought I summon a jet of water and blast him in the face with the force of a pressure washer.
"Ack! PTHPTH! What was that for?" Dad exclaimed around a mouthful of water.
"We eat in here! And you thought it was a good idea to come in dressed like that?" I roared, grabbing a bottle of soap to mix with my water assault.
The doors sealed on the kitchen allowing me to corner the sulking Tavish and rinse the grime down the drain.
[Omake: Tales from the Tardis Tavern]
[Tavish POV]
I gently polish a glass as the murmur of my various patrons fills the room.
This was one of my favorite pastimes that I've developed over the past century or so.
Serving patrons from various worlds and trading for treasures or bits of knowledge gave my travels a delightful sense of mystery.
The door opened, and Pete the leprechaun walked in, hopping up on the stool as I pour out a drink.
"Thank fuck . . . I thought I was going to die of thirst before I got here." He grumbled through his thick accent.
"Rough day?" I ask and he snorts into his mug of chestnut ale.
"Rough week. Daughter tried to elope with her new "boyfriend". Turned out, he was just a really carnivorous changeling in disguise. Whole lotta tears about that 'un." He grumbled, as I raised an eyebrow in confusion.
"Doesn't sound like the type I'm familiar with. Thought that they were just fey that were particularly good at changing their face." I muse, Pete making a negative gesture in response.
"Nah, our changelings are closer to mimic's than anything else. Lure in prey, and then try to devour them." He replied, grabbing a menu out of one of the holders on the bar.
The door opened once more revealing a new figure, his red leotard gleaming in the sunlight behind him.
[Observe]
Patrick O'Brian
(Plastic Man)
Lvl – 766
Thoughts – curiosity
"Welcome to the Tardis Tavern, friend. Grab a stool, a pint and take a load off." I greet as the man's eyes comically widen, his neck stretching out as he looks around the room.
"Right, well you are aware that this is supposed to be a police booth, right? I don't think you're supposed to set up a bar inside. What if someone needs to use it?" He commented, flipping through various accents, his body finally taking the general shape of a police officer with a red and yellow theme.
"Ah don't mind Nova, she changes her looks so often, the police box just happens to be a favorite of her's to blend in. Why don't you pop the door open and check again." I reply, and the comedic superhero obliges.
The door opened to reveal the earth floating below, Nova letting loose a series of beeps that I could attribute to giggling.
"You cheeky girl, you've gotten better at sneaking when I wasn't looking." I murmur, watching the hero's jaw literally hit the floor.
"How? What? When?" he stuttered out, and I chuckle.
"Time and Relative Dimension in Space my friend. Don't worry, we'll get you back right after you left, but in the meantime, interested in a bite?" I ask, prompting the man's body to suddenly land on the stool next to Pete.
"Should have said that sooner Tavish. I'll cover Stretch's meal since it doesn't look like he can't carry a lot with him in that get up." Pete chortled, as the hero looked around the bar.
"It almost looks like a fantasy bar. From one of those stories where adventures head off to slay the evil dragon" Plastic man mumbled, as I pour out a glass of rainbow fruit beer.
"Carful when saying that. Might run across a dragon who'll take offence to that here." I helpfully supply as his eyes bug out.
"Remember when Mushu was having it out with that Dragonite?" Pete laughed, placing an order for Fish and Chips.
"I still don't know what that damn Pokémon said, but that little red dragon can take a beating, I'll give him that much." I chuckle, glancing fondly at the pokedex that Dragonite left in leu of payment. I set up a little case on the wall where it currently resided.
Maybe someday, I'll catch them all myself.
"Why did you wait so long to break up the fight?" Pete asked, as I handed a menu to plastic man.
"They took it outside and asked Nova to wait, after that, it was because I felt like Mulan would have preferred a whole dragon verses dragon paste." I shrug, plastic man pointing at the picture of a massive hamburger that was roughly two feet tall.
"What the hell are these ingredients?! Devil Serpent patties? Mineral Cheese? Neotomato's? Why such weird names for ingredients for an admittedly delicious looking burger?" he questioned and I looked at him flatly.
"We were just talking about dragons, you're sitting next to a leprechaun, and your surrounded by various mythical beings. And you don't think I used unique ingredients for a burger?" I asked, and he shrugged.
"You could be doing a themed bar. I went to one where you got served by superheroes once!" he helpfully supplied, and I acknowledged his point.
Serving up the burger, I excitedly wait for the next patron to walk in through the door, occasionally making another drink, or serving another customer.