The Eagle Ascending

[Walter Payton]

The Eagle Ascending

 

“And into these calamitous times shall be born a man of skill and might from the bosom of the sky, And he shall tame the lions of North and the serpents of the South,

In his name, Macragge shall always be defended, but in his image, it shall be wrought

His sword will carve the stars asunder, but his loyalty will be to the golden god of the chirurgeon throne. By his hand shall the hydra be beheaded, but under the gaze of the ecstatic serpent shall he meet his end, entombed within time, in Hera’s womb”

 

“And yet-”

 

 

The only surviving transcription of the final prophecy of the Orakle at Pythia, Macragge. Note that the passage is incomplete. The remainder has become a near mythical object amongst the warriors of the Adeptus Astartes

 

“Heroes? Heroes? Hah! It will take more than a hero to topple me!

Gallan, first and last Emperor of Macragge

 

Prologue

 

Magos Moloch of the Adeptus Mechanicus hovered above his control console. Below his grav-pulpit, hundreds of adepts in the white robes of the Biologis division monitored cogitator banks, checking amniotics pressures, vital signs, and other important factors. In Geno-Lad One, deep below the surface of Luna, the work that would mould the galaxy was being conducted. The Primarchs were being born. It was not a quick birth, but it was a birth nonetheless. Magos Moloch felt his heart rate quicken. A bionic device built into his right ventricle immediately released a flood of stimulants, forcing it back to normal. In less than five hours, the Primarchs would be ready to take their first steps onto the barren soils of Luna. A huge iron blast door, framed with cogitator banks and void shield projectors barred the entranceway to their work. A cohort of Adeptus Custodes stood sentinel around the doors. The light of Moloch’s bionic eye flickered. A new message superimposed itself over his right eye.

++The Emperor has ordered another inspection. Valdor is on the upper levels. He is coming down.++

 

* * *

 

Constantin Valdor glowered at the elevator plate. Standing, resplendent in his golden power armour, the Imperial Thunderbolt emblazoned across his chest, Iron Halo rising from his shoulders. Slung on his back, on a sling of panther-skin, was his antique guardian spear, the attached bolter loaded and armed. Not that he expected anything to happen here. This was the most secure location in the entire Sol System.

 

Wasn’t it?

 

* * *

 

The Imperial Palace was a forlorn building. Built from granite and sandstone, it rose like a sentinel from the flatter hive areas around it. Portions of the mighty structure were covered with grav-scaffolding, some already sheeted with platinum and gold leaf. Others were stark and depressingly grey. The mile wide courtyards were filled with stacked crates and builder servos. In contrast to this drab scene were the Custodes, striding through the labyrinths as though they knew every twist and turn. In the centre of the sprawling complex, a huge golden dome rose above the tunnels and alleys of junk, and construction machines. To the inhabitants toiling below, it looked as if it were a second sun.

Deep within, shielded by metres of ceramite and psychic wards, was a small room, no bigger than a muster room of a barracks. In the centre of this small room sat a man, dressed only in a loincloth. The man’s skin was olive, his features handsome and patrician. A mane of black hair framed his benevolent face. He sat, cross legged, his arms raised. Around his sitting form spun various objects, ancient statues, tattered banners, rusty weapons and other miscellanea hovering unsupported a few feet above the ground. In a circle around him, his Custodes stood, facing outward.

The Emperor of Mankind was meditating.

 

* * *

 

Constantin Valdor checked the display slate on the elevator. Still another nine-thousand feet until they reached the bottom. He slipped his hand into a pouch on his belt, and drew out two chylix stones. He began to manipulate them in his hand, spinning the little gems around his palm, and clearing his thoughts. The other Custodes in his command squad did the same. It wasn’t much, but at least it was something to do

 

* * *

 

In the Immaterium, blackness boiled, lightning wheeled, and the laughter of eternity cried out in delight. A thousand psykers across the galaxy died as one.

 

* * *

 

The Emperor of Mankind stood up abruptly. The rotating objects crashed to the ground and shattered. He waved his hand, and a pair of Custodes rushed forward with his grey robes of state.

‘Prepare a teleport beam,’ ordered the Master of Mankind. Then he sent a telepathic message to his Chief-Custodian.

In his heart, he knew it was already too late.

 

* * *

 

Valdor received the message as a jolt of warning and dread. His chylix stones dropped to the floor and exploded into a hundred fragments. He turned to the men of his squad.

‘Helmets on, safeties off!’ he ordered. A split second later, the general alarms went off across Geno-Lab One.

 

* * *

 

Magos Moloch felt his heart rate go up again. Wheeling red lights lit up the entirety of Geno-Lab One. Adepts wheeled and milled in panic, trying to find the cause of the alarm. Magos Moloch almost cried. No, not now, please, blessed Omnissiah, not now. Eventually, and Magos Moloch did not know if it was for a minute or an hour, he found his voice.

‘Initiate lockdown!’

He had no idea. None of them had any idea, that it was already too late.

 

* * *

 

Constantin and the other Custodes were pitched to the floor as the elevator stopped abruptly.

‘Damn!’ yelled Constantin, ‘Agon!’

The hulking Terminator stepped forward, chainfist whirring, and cut through the control cables. The elevator plummeted into the darkness. Constantin picked himself up, and took stock of the situation. He tried to raise his comrades in the chamber, but heard only ephemeral laughter, cruel and haughty, over the vox link. As though from a great distance away, he heard his master’s voice: ‘They will stop at nothing to destroy my work, Constantin. Their minions may lay siege to us, Their voices may whisper to us, but They will always be trying to unravel the tapestry of victory that we sew for ourselves. It falls to you, my friend, to ensure that that never, ever, happens.’

For the first time in his life, Constantin Valdor knew fear.

 

* * *

 

In the Project lab, the Custodes had already sprang into action. Forming a semi-circle around the blast doors shielding the future of Man, they had lowered their spears, and readied themselves to meet any threat. It was not until Adeptus Moloch pointed a trembling finger at the sickly purple light emanating from the plasglas window that led to the Primarch incubation chamber behind them, that the Centurion had begun to power up his meltagun.

 

* * *

 

‘Now, brothers!’ cried Valdor, and five of his men jumped as one. The platform hit the bottom of the elevator shaft and buckled. Had Valdor and his men been on it, they would have been crushed. As it was, they landed on the wreckage a split second later, to rejoin brothers Agon and Tiresias, whose mighty Terminator armour had been proof against any harm. Constantin gave a curt signal, and the two Terminators powered up their chainfists, then cut through the door to Geno-Lab one. He and his men emerged into a scene of chaos.

The alarms were casting rotating, insidious red fingers across the room, Adepts were screaming. Some, realising that their work was collapsing in front of them, were simply sat, crying. A man in front of Valdor was screaming profanities, and confessing how he had loved ‘tank III’ like his own son. Valdor shunted him out of the way. It was then that he noticed the psychic frost that was creeping across the room, from the door to the incubation room.

‘Adeptus Custodes, get on the floor!’ shouted Valdor through the speaker in his battle armour. The words, projected through a psychically impregnated mesh, drove the milling scientists to the ground.

Linking up with the men at the far end of the vaulted chamber, Constantin gave the order, and the Centurion finally fired the charged meltagun. The plascrete blast door rippled, then a molten hole appeared, big enough for a man to fit through. Constantin lowered his spear, the name of his lord on his lips, and charged into the violated sanctum.

Immediately, the Chief-Custodian was bathed head to foot in obscene purple light. The incubation capsules on the walls were shuddering, pipes spraying coolant. At the far end of the room, the previously grey wall had formed a shuddering maw. Constantin began firing his guardian spear’s in-built bolter, but immediately felt a mighty force sear across his mind. A lesser man would have lost his soul at Their touch, but Constantin was a man of pure heart and purer mind. Understanding that his worst fears were realised, he withdrew the small golden circular device that the Emperor had given him, flicked its trigger, then threw up his hand.

A glittering golden net flew from his open palm, catching every single capsule in its glorious light, forming a sparkling sheen over each capsule. That at least would protect them, Constantin knew, but not for long, against Them. He tried to keep hold of the capsules, channelling his considerable will through the device to keep them tied into the material realm. Even though he was no psyker, the Emperor had taught him how to channel mental force through a device such as the one he was holding. It was infused with the Emperor’s holy will, and was a last resort against the darkness. It would create a psychic shield around the capsules, at least until the Emperor could locate them with his mind.

‘NO!’

The cry, reptilian, yet somehow bird-like, echoed through Constantin’s mind.

‘Yes,’ he grunted. Then a bolt of bright-blue fire shot out from the portal in the far wall, and struck him in the chest. The Chief-Custodian was thrown across the room, into the arms of his brothers. He staggered to his feet, just as the last of the capsules disappeared into the glowing, fleshy portal. Before the portal sealed itself shut, Valdor thought that he could see the outline of four figures, each as different in aspect as the Emperor was to Constantin. Then the portal was gone, leaving Their after image burned onto the Chief-Custodians retinas. Constantin Valdor uttered a word he had not said since his days growing up amongst the fighting forces of Alba, during the Unification Battles;

‘Feth!’

Then he tore off his helmet, threw it at the wall, and collapsed to the plasteel deck, his energy spent.

 

* * *

 

The warp. Roiling and multifarious, the twisting medium rippled with the laughter of Inevitable Gods. The capsules drifted through the pulsating, coruscating medium, protected from the roiling currents of emotion by Valdor’s shield. However, the Chief-Custodian’s shield could not protect them from being tossed and separated by the currents of raw emotion. One capsule, ‘XIII,’ stencilled in pastel blue colour on its flank, drifted through a dark valley, formed of the psychic manifestation of Hope. Just above the warp-horizon, a school of strange ray-like creatures wheeled and dived. One, more inquisitive than the rest, swam across the twisting nether to the Capsule. It ran a spiked tongue over the circular plasglass observation port. Tasting the soul within, the Screamer tried to lunge.

It never got a chance. The moment its teeth made contact with the glass, it twisted and writhed, golden fire rippling down its length, and then winked out of existence, its essence obliterated.

 

* * *

 

 

On Terra, the Emperor grinned, then resumed the task of tracing the lost capsules. With a last, great effort, he tore them free of the cloying Immaterium, scattering them across space. Before the psychic link was broken, he knew this much: All the capsules had landed upon human inhabited worlds. He got to his feet, then went to the medicae where the chirurgeons were at work upon the exhausted Valdor. The Emperor felt a pang of concern for his friend, but it was eclipsed by rage with Them. They would pay for this atrocity. He would crush Their followers, cast down Their idols. He would break Them.

 

* * *

 

Capsule XIII, broke the night sky over the Valley of Laponis, leaving a trail of fire across the night sky. Landing in the centre of the Valley, throwing up muddy spumes and scattering the deer that were grazing there, Capsule XIII, buried itself in the ground. A slowly spreading stain of dark amniotics soaked the grass, spreading like blood. The hatch at the top of the capsule swung slowly open. A child, unsteady and inquisitive, tumbled from the hatch. Picking himself up, the boy began to walk. The moonlight shone off his golden hair. Far in the distance, he heard the thunder of a waterfall.

 

* * *

[Allfather1]

Very good. I am looking forward to the next update.

I like the tie in to the Gaunt's Ghost serires.

[calgar101]

Very good my friend except i believe the Primarchs were created on Terra in gene-labs below the Imperial Palace and not on Luna.

 

Edit- And why would the Emperor need a shuttle...he could teleport to the surface of Luna much faster..

And didn't the Guardian spears have in-built bolters? I highly doubt they had lasguns which would barely strip the paint of their armour.... Also its not chief Custodian but Captain General, sorry to be so negative but this criticism will help your story :cuss

[Walter Payton]

Thanks guys! Calgar 101, Captain-General seems to be a post-Heresy title, as Valdor is only ever described as a Chief-Custodian. Will change the teleport and bolter.

 

Where the primarchs were made seems to be a matter of canon conflict. False Gods puts them in the Himalayas, Others under the palace, and others on Luna.

 

I think that Luna is the best location, considering that the Himalayas were full of civilian workers hollowing out Mount Everest, and thousands of possibly dangerous psykers. Underneath palace must be an awfully big place, considering that there is already the Emperor's throne room, which is so massive that it has its own environment-clouds form at the roof. Also, there is already a huge AdMech team there building a webway gate. I think it would be much easier, security-wise, to have it on Luna, which is just a huge military base.

 

PS: I think Constantin Valdor is a Scot. My, don't we get around...

http://cod-x.com/soap.jpg

Chief-Custodian Valdor

 

 

http://wh40k.lexicanum.com/mediawiki/image...ntin_Valdor.jpg

'Soap' Mactavish

[Skirax]

:D:lol::D:lol: at the above :D

[calgar101]

Think newer fluuf has the gene labs on Terra, makes much more sense; The Emperor is there, the Legio Custodes are based there, its the most secure place in the galaxy even then. Yes i know chaos still stole the Primarchs but still ;)

 

And haha Constantin MacValdor :(

[Brother-Chaplain Gaius]

good work mate hoping you do another!

[Walter Payton]

I will be updating tomorrow.

 

@calgar101. I still like the idea of them being on Luna. Underneath the palace, considering it was the political centre of the Imperium, and that it was full of AdMech workers, doesn't seem to be a useful place, considering that secrecy would be much harder. After all, what's to stop Petronella Vivar or some other dilletante shooting their mouth off about all the Biologis workers she sees on their smoking break. On Luna, it is all strictly miltary, and therefore, far more secret.

[calgar101]

I'd imagine there are floors far below the surface and that the workers don't come up. Well having her soul obliterated from existance is stopping her :( Anyways keep up the work and write more.

[Walter Payton]

Discovery

 

Gaius Konor Guilliman looked out from the balcony of his villa, in the wealthy Apitolinus district of Macragge City. The silhouette of the Senate Amphiteatrum dominated the city’s skyline to the north. The clatter of weapons and battle rose above the city. It was the sound of Macragge’s heart beating. It was said that no matter where you were in Macragge City, you could hear the sound of weapons. The youths were training in the barracks.

 

Konor remembered his own days there, where Drillmaster Julius had flogged him until his back was bloody ribbons because he had mocked him. He remembered having to jog around the city walls one hundred times, with a rucksack full of stones from the quarry, whilst Julius had sat on a cart with his whip on his lap, pulled by donkeys, shouting at them. Then he had fallen off. Konor had commented that Julius was the man who knew so much of war and battle, but was defeated by a miller’s cart.

 

Drillmaster Julius had been an intriguing man. To the untrained eye he had seemed fat, but his drooping belly hid a mass of muscle. As punishment for the jibe, he had promised Konor the beating of his life, but only if he could not do the run again. In his arrogance, Konor had told him he could. Five hours later, Konor was lashed to a tripod made from electro-spears, muddied and bloodied, with a cackling drillmaster standing standing above him.

 

Konor grinned. Even thirty years of living in the city had not completely eroded the muscle built up by ten years of the barracks. Those had been the days, he thought ruefully, gladius training in the morning, physical exercise in the afternoon , and an evening of sparring or on the ranges. One day off a month. Gallan could do with a healthy dose of that.

 

Gallan. The very thought of his co-consul was enough to banish Konor’s good mood. Gallan. There was no-man less suited to governing Macragge, in Konor’s opinion. Gallan. It had taken nineteen thousand centariis to purchase his place amongst the consuls. The man was a shameless plutocrat. It was even whispered that he was trying to make a move on Konor’s position. Let him try, thought the consul, let him just try. The Hoplites will cut him to pieces.

 

Taking in the skyline of the city, the mighty pillars, the roaring bronze lions, tigers, hydras and eagles, the fluttering standards, the winding streets. The barracks and training grounds. The Amphiteatrum. Konor felt a great pang of sadness. The planet was drowning. Slowly, but drowning nonetheless. Was he the last good man in Macragge? Was there another who did not care for the lure of the centarii? Everyday he looked at his fellow senators, and saw a gang of fat, greedy old men. What had happened to Macragge. There were some men who even wanted to abolish the barracks. The barracks!

 

Konor sighed, then clapped his hands. Lavinia came runnind from the nearby room

 

‘Attend me,’ instructed Konor, and the serva brought a mirror and a bowl of hot water. Konor stretched his head back, and Lavinia began to shave him. Lavinia had been Konor’s serva since her first day of life. A serva was the get of one who had rebelled against the battle-kings, and whose family was now consigned to eternal service, until they were set free. It was a mark of how much Konor trusted Lavinia that he let her shave him, her porcelain hands manipulating the thin blade inches from his throat. He looked at himself in the mirror. He had a mane of grey hair, a hooked patrician nose, and a pair of blue eyes, that seemed to sparkle in the candlelight. He rose, looking once more across the Macragge skyline. From his own balcony he could see his rival’s house. Everyone in Macragge City could. Gallan had installed glow-globes. No candles for the high and mighty consul, thought Konor, no, Gallan had spat upon the ideas of self-sacrifice and self-denial that had built Macragge.

 

Konor sighed, then turned away from the balcony, just as the sun dipped below the roof of the world, and night came to Macragge. Dismissing Lavinia, he climbed into his cot, which he had ordered specially made to resemble the one he had slept on in the barracks-cold, hard and uncomfortable. He leaned over, and snuffed out the final candle.

 

Outside, a comet carved the night sky above the Amphiteatrum in two.

[calgar101]

Really good, like how you have already portayed Gallan and Konor to be polar opposites already :blink: I also like the Greek/Roman feel and how it isn't fully pushed upon us. Now please get to Konor meeting Roboute :lol:

[Walter Payton]

Really good, like how you have already portayed Gallan and Konor to be polar opposites already :woot: I also like the Greek/Roman feel and how it isn't fully pushed upon us. Now please get to Konor meeting Roboute :P

 

Never you mind, it shall happen soon.

[Walter Payton]

Konor dreamed fitfully. His consciousness wandered through burning forests of Laponis, through the shattered streets of Macragge City, banners adorned with obscene icons hung from the few upright buildings. Trees were burning, and the Ampitheatrum was drenched in blood. A malevolent drew across the sky, and hundreds of glowing eyes stared at his from the darkness. An overturned cart burned in a corner. The barracks were ruins, slain youths tangled amongst the wreckage, seeping gore. Winged creatures wheeled in the tortured sky, and capering beasts emerged from the shadows, brandishing weapons.

 

‘What is this place?’ he yelled into the tainted night. No answer was forthcoming. Konor turned left and right, frantic, but he soon saw he was surrounded by the weird and capering beasts. He was afraid. He had known fear before, but never like this. The foes that had given him pause were but men, no greater or lesser than he. These creatures were not men, but their eyes glittered with a malign intelligence nonetheless. Konor gulped, and then fell to the ground, bowled from his feet by a cackling winged hound. Drenched in sweat, he willed himself to wake up, but nothing came.

 

Something brushed Konor’s shoulder. Turning his head, he saw a trio of lithe figures running into the clouds of smoke. A massive shadow enveloped him, and a winged warrior wearing brass armour gazed down at him with eyes of fire. Its head was like those of the Minossians that Konor had seen depicted on jars, and told tales of in his youth. Konor flinched as it opened its mouth to speak. Endless rows of needle like teeth were visible in the murky depths.

 

Then a shaft of golden light impaled it from behind. Howling, the beast thrashed and spun, as the other creatures backed away in fear, The monstrous Minossian-beast immolated in a hideous mauve conflagration. A figure stood behind it, shining with a golden light. The figure, dressed in golden robes and wielding a fiery sword, threw up his arm. A bolt of golden lightning flew from his hand, splitting into hundreds of flaming balls, which sought out the chittering hell-spawn and burned them away. The darkness was lifted, the banners depicting the weird sigils blown away, and the city began to rebuild itself.

 

The saintly figure sheathed his sword, and walked down the avenue towards the stricken Konor. Holding out one olive hand, the figure helped Konor to his feet, and, and whistled. Two horses, each one a magnificent bay gelding, galloped around the corner.

 

‘Please,’ said the stranger, gesturing to the nearest of the two. Unsteady, Konor climbed atop the nearest horse, and watched as the stranger leapt lithely atop his own.

‘Come,’ ordered the man, and began to canter down the violated avenue, which was rebuilding itself, shattered stones re-knitting. Even the dead were climbing back onto their feet.

 

Konor studied the man. He was handsome, black-haired, and tanned, almost like the barbarians of Illyrium, far to the north. Emblazoned upon his robes, picked out in gold filigree, was a thunderbolt device. The man spoke again, his voice reassuring, calming the frightened Konor.

 

‘What you saw there was a vision of things to come, should you fail to act,’ said the outlander, ‘The senate is not what it once was, is it my friend? They act with only their own interests at heart. Surely you have noticed this? This vision is what Macragge will descend to, should some within the senate gain power. I do not know who, but I am arming you for the coming fight, with knowledge, the greatest of all weapons.’

 

Konor nodded, still too shocked to speak. The two of them were leaving the city limits now, and Konor for the first time noticed that the horses were cantering at greater speed than most could gallop.

 

‘Although our foe's greed and arrogance is worldly, their deeds shall become otherwordly. Although their ambitions are only for this world, their villainy and cruelty will echo in…the spirit world, and they shall cause far more suffering than they could ever imagine. In the end the barriers between the worlds shall weaken and split, and they shall ever be the pawns of darkness, Macragge their prison. They will become ruler of nothing but their own dark and foetid prison.’

 

Konor finally spoke, ‘But, sir, who are you, how do you know this? Where do I fit into all this?’

 

The stranger considered his words, his face pensive. After a long pause, he spoke, ‘Konor, I am the true Emperor, not only of Macragge, but of the entire cosmos. But I think I shall let you rule for now, as you seem to be doing a very fine job of it.’ The Emperor laughed. ‘As for your second question, well, who is the only man the senate fears?’

 

Konor considered. In his heart, however, he knew the answer.

 

‘This duty that you ask of me, it is… massive,’ he said. He did not why he trusted this stranger, only that he did, and that he would do anything for him.

 

‘I concede,’ said the Emperor, as the two men reached what Konor recognised as the Valley of Laponis, ‘ that your task is not an easy one. You need a hero. I shall send you one.’

 

‘Do you see these falls Konor?’ asked the Emperor, ‘This location shall be where it happens, shall be where the man who is born to lead Macragge into glory shall arrive.’

 

The Emperor picked a leaf from a tree, and handed it to Konor. Konor studied it, turning it this way and that.

 

‘Do you see that leaf, Konor?’ asked the Emperor. ‘Notice how the veins move outward from the centre, a microcosm of the tree it fell from. That is fate, Konor. Much rests on you finding the hero tomorrow. He will be golden, and fresh. I must leave you now, as I have other matters to attend to. Farewell.'

 

The Emperor turned away. Konor realised that he was at the Falls of Hera. As the Emperor left, Konor called out.

 

‘Are you a god?’

 

The Emperor paused, then laughed again.

 

‘No, my friend. I am most certainly not that.’

 

And then he was gone.

 

* * *

 

Konor awoke. Outside, the sun was creeping over a city that was waking up. The clash of weapons and armour was once again audible, and the clatter of shots rang out as the youths practised their martial skills. Konor pulled on a toga and stood once more on his balcony, and looked out over the city. The flags of Macragge fluttered in the early morning breeze. A cohort of soldiers were visible, in the distance, running around the city walls. The rising sun sparkled on the chests and wings of the eagles that adorned banner tops.

 

Konor felt something brush his right leg. He bent down, searching for what it was. He froze. He was looking at a leaf. He recognised it. The entire memory of the previous night’s events hit him like a war-hammer. Calling Lavinia’s name, Konor pulled on his ceremonial armour. A hero…a hero.

 

The serva came running from her quarters, holding Konor’s shaving bowl.

 

‘No, Lavinia, not time for that, no,’ flustered Konor. Lavinia looked concerned.

 

'My lord, the senate does not expect you for another three hours, they are beginning with the problems with the Aqua Apiia, and then-‘

 

‘I know, I know,’ said Konor hurriedly.

 

‘Then what?’ began Lavinia.

 

‘Saddle my horse,’ said Konor, ‘and call out my guard.’

 

* * *

[calgar101]

Very good add, but umm you guessed it i have one problem. Konor shouldn't know its Gallan who brings about this treachery as well ruins the story a bit. As Konor would have Gallan killed straight away, the figure sould be an obscure one.

[Walter Payton]

Fair point. Will change that. Now.

[calgar101]

Thats the only problem really, now write more please.

[Walter Payton]

Yes my lord! (*salutes)

 

On a general point to the forum as a whole, does anyone have anything to say about the quality of writing, stye, et cetera. Point out fluff mistakes by all means, but I also want to know what else I am getting wrong. I can't be perfect :)

[calgar101]

:)

 

Well to me i cant see any mistakes but then im not that good. The only fluff mistake is the bit about the Emperor but as the account of Konor discovering Roboute does not go into great detail you can write what you want really; if you break boundaries or write crap, i am sure we'll tell you.

[Walter Payton]

Good. In the interim, you should check out Conn Iggulden's Caesar series, and Massimo's Alexander series

[Midgard]

I find the writing to be very much in line with the style adopted by many Black Library authors, which is good in this context. I know I have enjoyed it so far, and am looking forward to more.

[Walter Payton]

This will be the last update for a while, as I am concentrating on other stuff. C&C craved!

 

Phillipos Manix was not a wealthy man, not was he a particularly impressive one. His family had been born into the nadir of Macraggeii society, the farmers who lived out in the wilderness between the cities and the Highlands of Illyrium. He earned his bread by hunting and tilling the land. He had never gone to barracks, and never gone to the rudimentary schooling that the senate had set up for the country-folk.

 

Despite his poverty, and his illiteracy, Phillipos did have one thing going for him. He was the best hunter in Macragge, or so he boasted in the village. His bow, Sagittar, was the only thing he had inherited, but it had paid a thousand inheritances.

 

Today, he was stalking the valley of Laponis. Tall, rangy, with a shock of curly auburn hair and a thin, lugubrious face, he was the perfect build for a hunter. Padding forward silently, he nocked an arrow. Between the trees, he saw the outline of a deer. The bow creaked as he drew it back, but the thunder of the Falls of Hera drowned out the noise. Smiling, Phillipos looked down the bow, and began to sight his prey.

 

* * *

 

 

Konor and his entourage galloped through the Northern Gates of Macragge City, their horses’ hooves kicking up muddy spumes and scattering rocks. The horses continued out from the gate, forming a v-shape with Konor at their head. The low hills of the valley were visible on the horizon. Konor’s heart was in his mouth. As he continued along the rocky path, he pondered what the Emperor had said to him.

 

* * *

 

The deer was quite still. Phillipos’s arrow had transfixed its brain, killing it instantly. The hunter grinned, and pulled out his knife, proceeding to remove the viscera. He pulled open his rucksack. Then a new cry spilt the dawn air.

 

* * *

 

Konor heard the crying of the child, the high-pitch cutting over the ever-present thunder of the falls. Dismounting from his gelding, he dropped to the forest floor. His guards did the same.

 

* * *

 

Phillipos found the boy walking by the falls. The child seemed unsteady, walking across a log over the river, his arms outstretched. Phillipos gasped, for the child must surely fall, but the child showed no signs of overbalance. Smiling the boy jumped lithely off the log, and looked at Phillipos, an inquisitive cast to his eyes.

 

Phillipos, unsure, stretched out an arm towards the child. The he saw Konor and his guards. Bowing low, and ignoring the golden-haired toddler, he began, ‘my lord, I was merely’-

‘Save your alibis, my friend, for there is no crime. Take this,’ replied Konor, handing the hunter a bag of golden coins, ‘and go in peace. You have rendered a great service to the people of Macragge this day.’ Phillipos, eyeing the bag greedily, nodded, lost for words, and retreated from the clearing. Konor picked the child up, and looked at him. A pair of round, fearful blue eyes stared back at him. Konor looked to the heavens, and saw an eagle, wheeling in the morning sky. The wind, stirring the leaves around the twilight grove, whispered to him.

 

ROBOUTE

 

Konor pondered this for a moment. Roboute. The cries of a woman in pain seemed to echo across the intervening decades. Roboute.

 

‘So be it,’ proclaimed Gaius Konor Guilliman. ‘You shall be our saviour. You shall be Konor Roboute Guilliman.’ Roboute Guilliman smiled, and whispered a single word,

 

‘Father.’

[Legio Draconis]

This my friend is a great start. I will enjoy reading more when you have the time to update.

[Walter Payton]

This my friend is a great start. I will enjoy reading more when you have the time to update.

 

Thanks very much, that is very good to hear! I will submit it to the Librarium when it is done, and hope!

[Dosjetka]

This is pure goodness. Really amazing stuff. And I really mean it. You've added some nice little details and I crave for more! :D

 

++Over++

[Walter Payton]

This is pure goodness. Really amazing stuff. And I really mean it. You've added some nice little details and I crave for more! :D

 

++Over++

 

 

Thatnks! It is always nice to be apreciated! I will come back to it after my IA, Disciples and Iron Hand stories are finished, which shouldn't be too long (except for the IA)