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Scars Episode XI Updated 16/10 (Spoilers)


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Just finished episode vii it's starting to get really interesting not too many spoilers or twists just setting up the rest of the book.

 

There is an interesting meeting at ullanor between some of the primarchs could lead to a confrontation on terra but that's just my interpretation

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Very impressed with this story so far - it was one that I wasn't sure how it was going to play out, but it is swiftly becoming a favorite, well written, lots of background, original ideas and interesting characters... great mix and an even better intro for the White Scars.

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pretty much shiban reports the lodge medallion to his superior who is one of the khans original brothers, he's a lodge member who wants to stop shiban but not kill him most likely convert to their cause, the lodge is growing in support. The khan is heading to prospero as he only trusts Magnus as he can't choose a side yet. The storm caller and new entourage take a word bearers ship, and it shows sang mort fulgrim and the khan on ullanor where a comment is made that the khan would kill fulgrim in a fight as they overhear mortals betting on primarch vs primarch, mort then asks who would win between him and the khan and it's decided they wouldn't be able to tell and fulgrim is a upset peacock

 

 

 

Edit: that's the quick wrap up

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"You need to know the Khan’s mind,’ said Qin Xa levelly. ‘You need to know what the dilemma is.’

‘So what is it? Tell me now – no riddles.’

Qin Xa looked at her with perfect earnestness. ‘When we are told that Russ has gone after Magnus, we can believe it. When we are told that Horus has become a monster, we can believe it. It is the warp, Ilya. It corrupts the finest – the greater the strength, the greater the corruption. Perhaps the Emperor himself has succumbed, perhaps the Warmaster has. In either case, it means ruin.'

 

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"We have orders from Terra,’ said Ilya, getting to the heart of it. ‘If things are unclear, surely we follow those first.’

The Khan took another sip of milk. ‘Do you have family?’

‘None living. I had a brother.’

‘Suppose you received notice of a dispute between your father and your brother. Suppose you could not verify which one was in the right. Suppose you had a… difficult relationship with your father. You had to choose. Would it be right, if nothing else were known, for you to side with one or the other? Do they not both have a claim on your loyalty?’

Ilya’s grey eyes did not flicker. ‘What is difficult about the relationship with the father?’

The Khan paused. ‘You share different beliefs.’

‘Significant ones?’

‘Over the destiny of mankind.’

‘That is fairly significant.”

“Yes.’

Ilya shrugged. ‘Terra is where my loyalty is. I swore oaths to the Departmento. For you, this is about strife within the family. For me, it is about where the orders come from.’

‘Orders are not important,’ the Khan said. ‘Oaths, on the other hand, are. We shall see who has been keeping theirs.’

‘Why? What do you hope to find on Prospero?’

‘I hope to find my brother.’

‘And if the rumours are true?’

‘Then at least I will know who to believe.’

Ilya hesitated. ‘But what do you think?’

For the moment the Khan said nothing. The outcome of the game on the board before him was still unclear – it could go either way. Some strategies were yet to play out, including the one he had launched at the very beginning.

‘I would know if Magnus had died. It would take a lot to convince me he was gone.’

He finally reached for a token and placed it”

“on the grid. It didn’t change much.

‘But we shall be there soon,’ he said. ‘Then the answers will come.”

 

End episode vii

 

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the argument is against building the imperium on a lie the khan is aware of the big 4 as there culture acknowledges they're power and existence and that even though they aren't gods to try hide it and pass it off as something else entirely will cause the collapse of the imperium

 

 

 

You know what tgey talk of all over the Crusade?’ Sanguinius had asked.

Ullanor’s steel-grey atmosphere had hung behind the Angel, making his rubescent armour shine all the more strongly. The primarch lived up to his moniker, and his flawless face had glowed with honest amusement.

It was not long after Horus’s investiture and the parade grounds still swarmed with listless warriors. It would take weeks just to arrange the landers to convey them all to the fleet in orbit above.

In the terrace overlooking the main processional, silken awnings sheltered four primarchs from the worst of the kicked-up engine grime. There you could forget, if you tried, about the billions of soldiers all trying to find their way off-world at the same time. The Khan, sitting with his brothers”

W“ondered idly who had been given the thankless task of orchestrating it.

‘Tell me,’ said Mortarion, though the Khan could see that he was not really interested. The Death Lord had cut an isolated figure during the celebrations, uneasy in all but his own company. In that respect, the Khan had some sympathy with him.

Sanguinius leaned back in his throne, dangling a golden goblet casually in one hand. ‘They place wagers on which one of us would win in single combat. There are odds. I have seen them.’

Mortarion snorted. Fulgrim, the fourth of the gathering, laughed.

‘That has been settled, has it not? Our brother Horus wins them all.’

Fulgrim and the Angel looked similar in some ways. They had the same sculptural faces, the same flamboyant armour. Where Sanguinius looked as though he had been born wearing gold-rimmed pauldrons, though, the Khan had always thought Fulgrim looked to be trying a little too hard. In the end, he guessed that Sanguinius would”

“have been happy to cast off his trappings; Fulgrim gave the impression that he would rather die.

‘That would seem to be our father’s view,’ said Sanguinius. ‘It won’t stop the common man making wagers.’

Mortarion shook his pale head, and the tubes running from his archaic rebreather jangled against one another. ‘Stupid.’

Fulgrim gave him an amused look. ‘Oh? Why is that?’

‘Because we were made for different fights,’ growled the Death Lord. His filtered voice never seemed to shift from a sullen register. ‘Come to Barbarus, peacock, and see how long your feathers last in the smog.’

Fulgrim’s silver eyebrows rose. ‘Perhaps I might, brother.’

‘I would not recommend it,’ said Sanguinius. ‘I have seen those chem-clouds. I suspect he would stand them longer than you, Fulgrim.’

‘Some of us had it easier than others,’ Mortarion muttered.

Fulgrim looked archly at Sanguinius. An

“awkward silence fell.

‘You should not regret that,’ said the Khan. The other three turned, as if surprised that he had a voice. ‘The hardship.’

Mortarion glared at him sourly. His pallid flesh almost matched Ullanor’s overcast, humid skies. ‘I don’t regret it,’ he said. ‘I could regret that only some of us gained our father’s favour, though. I could regret that.’

Sanguinius took a sip of wine from his glass, serenely unconcerned. ‘Brother, you should be pleased for Horus.’

‘Why?’ Mortarion’s expression was pinched. ‘Because he was found first? Had the longest to work with his Legion? If it had been you on Cthonia, if it had been me, we might have been in his place, now.’

Fulgrim sniffed. ‘Speak for yourself. Being Warmaster is not the only accolade.’

Sanguinius laughed. ‘No more talk of your palatine aquila, brother. You will only make him more jealous.’

‘I’m not jealous – not of Horus, nor of you,’ scowled Mortarion, missing the humour in Sanguinius’s voice. ‘You don’t understand “understand the problem.’

Fulgrim leaned forward, clasping his long hands together. ‘Which is?’

‘While He was leading us,’ said Mortarion, ‘we fought to gain even a glance or gesture from Him. That was acceptable, for none of us are His rival. Nothing in the galaxy is His rival. Now we will fight to gain a glance from Horus, but Horus is not the architect of this. He is just one of us. It will lead to trouble.’

Fulgrim shot a tolerant glance at Sanguinius. ‘He is jealous.’

The Khan shook his head. Fulgrim could be irritatingly stupid. ‘No, he speaks the truth. It should never have happened.’

Sanguinius looked at the Khan thoughtfully. ‘I thought you, of all of us, would feel joy for Horus.’

The Khan shrugged. ‘He is the best of us, I begrudge him nothing, and I have told him so. But it should never have happened.’

‘So should it have been you?’ asked Fulgrim acerbically. Mortarion snorted again, but Sanguinius said nothing.

“I wouldn’t have taken it,’ said the Khan.

‘Of course you would have,’ said Fulgrim.

The Khan shook his head. ‘I have no use for another title. My people give me enough.’

Sanguinius smiled. ‘My brother, I think you are the most inscrutable of us all. I know what Rogal wants, and I know what Roboute wants, but even after so long I have no idea what you want.’

‘He wants to be left alone,’ said Fulgrim. ‘To shoot off into the stars and hunt down xenos on those delightful jetbikes. They’re devilishly fast. I heard from a contact on Mars, Jaghatai, that you do strange things to your ships.’

The Khan shot him a heavy-lidded stare. ‘I heard you do strange things to your warriors.’

Fulgrim’s slender face briefly flared with anger, but Sanguinius laughed.

‘I wonder which one of you would win in a duel,’ the Angel mused. ‘I would like to see that. You both handle a blade like gods.’

‘Name the place, brother,’ Fulgrim said to “the Khan. ‘I’d even travel to Chogoris, if you built a palace to keep the dust from my armour.’

The Khan felt the insult. It stabbed at him, deeply, but his expression never changed. They could never know, none of them, how much their closed fraternity rankled him.

‘You would lose,’ said the Khan.

Fulgrim grinned, but there was something fragile in it. ‘Oh?’

‘You would lose because you would treat it like a game, like you treat everything, and I would not. You would lose because you know nothing of me, and I know everything of you because you shout it from the turrets of your battle cruisers. My prowess remains unknown. You have some reputation as a swordsman, brother, but I make no boast when I tell you I would leave you choking on it.’

Fulgrim’s cheeks flushed. For a moment, he looked like he would go for his blade. As ever, Sanguinius’s calm smile soothed the moment.

‘Now I regret bringing this up,’ he sighed

“In the cause of peace, shall we put this stupidity behind us? We are not at war, and never likely to be, and that is truly a blessing.’

‘Who’d have thought it?’ said Mortarion to the Khan, a shrewd glint in his rheumy eyes. ‘You do have your pride.’

‘As do you.’

‘Then what would be the wager on us, brother?’ asked Mortarion. ‘What would you pay, if we fought?’

The Khan sighed. ‘No. I grow tired of–’

‘Tell me,’ Mortarion insisted. ‘Or do you only consider the odds with sword-dancers?’

The Khan stared back at him. As he did so, he realised that, of all his seventeen brothers, Mortarion was the only one who, like him, had remained on the utter margins during the Great Crusade. Even Alpharius had played more of a role at the centre. The Death Lord was as mysterious to him as the warp.

Intriguing.

‘I don’t know,’ he said, truthfully enough. ‘It would be interesting to find out.”

“Mortarion laughed then, but what could be seen of his expression was crooked. His whole face seemed arranged for dourness, as if levity risked cracking it.

‘That it would,’ he said. ‘But we have nothing to fight over, you and I, so breathe easy.’

‘No?’ asked Sanguinius, seriously this time. ‘Not even the Librarius?’

The crooked smile faded. ‘That’s different.’

The Angel took another sip of wine. ‘How so?’

‘You’ve not heard the news, then. Our father has taken the matter in hand. I know you take your creation seriously, but you must know it couldn’t be suffered to go on.’

Fulgrim looked intrigued. ‘What do you mean, taken in hand?’

‘There will be a reckoning.’ The Death Lord shot a wry glance at the Khan, as though revelling in some secret knowledge that would become public very soon. ‘I’ll be there, when it happens. I hope you will be there too. Some fights are too important to be left to advocates.”

 

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