'No rest for the wicked.' Grumbled the Father.
It had been millennia since he shed his mortal coil. In that time, he learned of himself, and the purpose for which he was created. He watched his corrupted sons, get whittled down little by little.
Death comes to all, eventually.
He learned to be at peace with his visions. He learned deeply of the Warp and its inhabitants. On his journey, he met his supposedly dead brothers. Learning the truth of the Old Gods and how the 20 of them were an amalgamation of different races and technologies. Created to keep the Warp and Chaos at bay.
He along with many of his brothers traversed the fringes of the Warp. Being who they were, the daemons of the Warp would steer clear, or would be destroyed. Never to prey upon the material world. I came across many interesting, people and...things. Kaldor Draigo, is a maniac. Dorn, keeps an eye on the mad lad. But there is only so much he can do for the as yet mortal. Keep him alive by slightly interfering every now and again? Yes. Keep him sane? No.
Khan is taking care of the Drukhari infestation.
Corax is...what's the word, ah yes depressed. Messing with his own gene-seed, what did he think was going to happen? Manus is trying to help him.
Johnson, the comatose prick, is running around as one of his fallen sons, fucking shit up at the least convenient time.
Russ took an impromptu vacation.
Vulkan, Sanguinius, Manus and Corax, are also working on trying to revive the Father.
It was after Fateweaver returned from the Well of Eternity, that I started my own project. Mapping the fringe regions of the Warp. if the Warp can bleed into the material plane. stands to reason there must be relics and such floating around in the Warp. Daemons, thankfully aren't too handy. Otherwise we'd have daemon based Astartes. Not the chaos legions, chaos daemons enhanced to be better than normal by 10,000%.
It was on my journey to help the Omnissiah, by recovering a whole intact STC, that I was pulled into the Well of Eternity. Well at least I had an intact STC from the Golden Age.
The two others in the room were strange. One was looking around like he had no idea of what was going on. He felt like a mere mortal, relatively young, disoriented, panicking. But there was a sense of peace from him. No longing for the still living. Regrets, everyone has a few. But from him, I felt a bit of apprehension, and peace.
The other one, is no mere mortal. The strength he exudes is very much like Father. He feels unpredictable. Either he will leave us be, or kill us both and be on his way. The way things are looking right now, I don't think I will be able to win, but I can give him a run for his money. Let's see what happens.
*****
'A new dawn, new world, new fuck wits.' Regretted the Spirit.
Following the will of the Force, in hindsight, was not a good idea. Usually, the pull was akin to a child dragging their parent to what they wanted. Possible to ignore, for a time, but one must relent, lest they slowly distance themselves form their child. Or in this case the Force.
This time however, it was more like an order from a father. Do what is required, or fuck around and find out. Being but a humble servant of the Force, he obeyed. The price for disobedience, well, I really don't want to find out. I have existed as a spectre in the Force for close to 2 millennia now. You pick up a few things along the way. The past to learn from. The future to hope for. The present to act upon.
The force is strong with the giant. Very strong in fact. It has a darker taint to it. Akin to someone bathed in the blood of at least millions. His vast potential is unrealized. As he his now, it will be a tough fight, but I can win. Not unscathed however.
The other one, is...different. At peace with his, from the looks of it, untimely demise. The Force, registers his presence, but nothing more than that. He has no martial training, of any kind. From the way he keeps looking around.
The Force is unresponsive, no hints as to what it would like me to accomplish. I guess I just have to wait and see.
*****
'Where in the hell am I?' The Son thought.
For sure I should be in purgatory or limbo. Not in a room with a scary zombie giant and a pissed of John Wick lookalike.
If I am in hell, I am fucked. If I am in heaven, that has to be a mistake.
Please don't be some choice thing. Or a three way Mexican standoff. A bit more information would be really nice right about now.
Looking around, the hall or room to the giant, the architecture is gothic renaissance. It's in a word, magnificent. The workman ship on each individual stone is unparalleled. The fact that each stone is 10 m x 10 m and cut with such precision that the seams are practically invisible. It looks like one huge stone. And by extension the entire palace would be more of the same.
Yes palace, the architecture allude to a very large manse, simply put a palace. The ceiling shows scenes of an epic war. The tapestries, there are 72, depicted heraldry of unknown origin. I am no history expert, but there are a few flags and symbols that even I would recognize.
I looked between the giant and 'John Wick', if I have to fight them, I am so fucked.
Just as I am about to talk to the other two, a tall handsome man and a drop dead gorgeous woman enter.
"Evening gentlemen, drinks?"