Loyalists' Strategium

[Chief Captain Redd]

The last drops of blood.

Part 4.

 

Koschei responded without words, his sword flicked like a whip, deep through Daer'dd's paudron, bright crimson spilled with various fluids arcane from the open wound.

 

Daer'dd grimaced a vital strike, a death strike even on a transhuman, but by the time the blade was pulled back the wound was closing. The damage done to Daer'dd was starting to add up, he had the Juggernaut plate pump chems, vital nutrients and iron into his system, but it was little more than a balm for his system; he was getting weak.

 

K'awil could barely keep his one good eye on the fight, he reached slowly, grabbing the dangling orb pushing it back in slowly. He reached into a pouch for a medical bonding gel, he grabbed the chunk of face and maw off of his belly, he applied the gel adding it to bits of flesh and bone he hoped would stick.

 

Daer'dd and Koschei faught in a blur trading blows and stabs that moved like lightning.

 

K'awil started to stand reaching for a broken blade. The fight was but a blur, but K'awil dismissed it as problems with his eye.

 

Koschei let both arms fall after a strong blow from the Giant.

 

Daer'dd saw his opening and took it, he rushed Koschei, grabbing him with both arms;

"a bear hug so prudent"

K'awil thought as his crimson vitale spilled slowly from cracks and holes in his plate.

 

Daer'dd put every ounce of might into the hug, he heard ceramite crack and adamantium buckle and squeal. And then something so very warm deep in his lower spine, then a second up through his diaphragm and out the back of his neck.he couldn't feel anything. A dozen more piercing blows came to his torso. Daer'dd heard only beautiful music and saw his two fathers and mother weeping.

Vengeance will be taken.

 

It was at that moment that a God died.

 

Koschei and K'awil stood breathless. Daer'dd was dead.

 

The thunder was from nowhere, like a hundred strikes around. The Sixty Six, the very best of the Totem Guard.

Dozens of lightning and plasma weapons, sat dead on target on the two Primarchs.

 

No words were spoken only the slow movent of all involved. A figure stepped up broad and almost as tall as the two Primarchs, the Champion, Solomon Grimm noted for his paper white complexion and a shock of white hair. He leaned down and touched his fallen fathers body, and with but a flash they were gone. Only a moment later so were the sixty five other Totem Guard.

 

Koschei and K'awil leaned against each other, both started laughing and slumping down onto blood soaked ground. "Our brother is dead" K'awil said trying not laugh. But all they could do was laugh.

[Chief Captain Redd]

I apologize for any errors. But I hope you find it an enjoyable end. I went with the mass stabbing spine severing thing because A. It felt a little more Shakespearian in imagery b. Being that so much of Daer'dd is based off of I thought he'd go out the wat I almost did (broken back nearly severed my spinal cord)

[MikhalLeNoir]

Like it. Nearly the way Gwal dies un the caninverse(woah spoiler alarm) but i am honest, i missed the turning on of a plasma gun ;)

[Demus Ragnok]

A little teaser.

 

 

 

"The question you must ask yourself, witch."

 

The primarch spate the word "witch" as if it were a bite of spoiled fruit, his revulsion palpable.

 

"Is, Do you believe the ather favors you today?"

 

The scarlet clad giant flexed the joints of his oversized gauntlets, matter sundering energies arced angrily over their surface.

 

"Well. Do you?"

[simison]

I got that reference!

[MikhalLeNoir]

When I read witch, I tend to think of monthy python

[simison]

The machine-spirit of the Aquila Ignis was a fierce opponent, made worse by the sheer distance between it and Darshan. Distance wasn't as clear-cut barrier to a psyker, but it still counted for something. Adding Princeps Camulos and his command crew to the minds Darshan had to dominate stretched his powers to his limits.

 

But control was his. 

 

The legio was a mere half an hour from their target: Magma City. When his visions had first warned him of the impeding Martian rebellion, Alexandros had organized his Wardens with Imperial Army regiments to put an end to it. He had identified Fabricator Kane, Forge Master Maximal, and Adept Zeth as the key Loyalist leaders that were the key to freeing Mars from Icarion's influence. The Martian Reclamation force was landing now, but none could reach Magma City before Legio Mortis' assault. Thus, Alexandros had deemed it necessary for his personal intervention.

 

Darshan counted his targets. Legio Mortis fielded four Warhounds, five Reavers, three Warlords, and the Imperator. The Aquila Ignis was equipped with a plasma annihilator and a hellstorm cannon, along with countless secondary weapon systems. Forcing Camulos to his will, weapon safeties were disengaged and power flowed into the weapons. A couple of confused queries reached out, asking for an explanation. Camulos became Darshan's voice, claiming it was Aquila Ignis' machine spirit's hunger for blood. They believed the explanation. After all, why would they believe their leader would betray them? How could they expect such an intimate betrayal to wreak bloody havoc on them? Alexandros grinned.

 

Retribution would be his. 

 

The Imperator's arms raised and targeted the nearest Warlord titan. Its princeps panicked as he demanded an explanation. Calumos fought as hard as he could.

 

Fire, Darshan commanded. 

 

The hellstorm cannon shot first, knocking out the Warlord's void shields. The plasma annihilator fired, and the Warlord disappeared in a titanic explosion. As the two main guns fired, Alexandros concentrated the other weapons on a Warhound. Unprepared, it was battered by missiles and cannons. It died moments later, shredded by the rain of fire.

 

Two down. Eleven to go.

 

The rest of Legio Mortis still demanded a reason as they powered weapons and targeted Aquila Ignis. Alexandros decide to give it to them. Calumos jerked unnaturally as Alexandros' voice flowed from his throat. "I am the Warmaster Alexandros. I declare all of you guilty of high treason. My sentence is simple: death."

[Chief Captain Redd]

Simison, I stand and applaud. That was a chilling piece. And one of the finest exercisions of a Primarch's power.

[Demus Ragnok]

Everybody has been doing great with these stories.

 

I got three outlined that I need to get done.

[simison]

His announcement made, he selected his next targets. Calumos had done him a disservice, moving toward the front of his legio before their attack on Magma City. Had Darshan waited any longer, the Ignis would've been at the front of the pack, leaving him exposed to rear fire with little chance of counter-fire. As of now, a Warlord, two Reavers, and the three remaining Warhounds were in his weapon arcs. Logic dictated the Warlord to be the next target, if he wanted the Ignis to survive.

 

Unfortunately, Darshan knew better. He could annihilate the rest of the legio, but Zeth's forces couldn't recover the Imperator before the traitors did. And Darshan wouldn't have the strength to force the machine-spirit to commit suicide. Thus, even as he destroyed them, he needed Mortis to be the ones to deal the deathblow to Ignis. The weapons arms swiveled away as they targeted two Reavers. Laser Blaster batteries began the attack, wiping out void shields before the main guns fired. The hellstorm cannon blew off the first Reaver's carapace weapon, but it lived. The other Reaver facing the annihilator disappeared in a brief star of energy. 

 

Darshan felt a host of angry minds charging towards the bridge. Despite the Mechanicum's emphasis of machine over flesh, very few followers were willing to part with their free will. Darshan forced Calumos to lockdown the bridge. It would buy him the needed time for his mission. 

 

Mortis finally returned fire. Ignis shook as nine titans attacked it. The void shields collapsed underneath the weight of fire, allowing a couple of hits to hit the titan directly. The Warhounds fired as they bounded away from Ignis' firing arcs, leaving the damaged Reaver and the Warlord to face his wrath. The two held their ground, determined to keep his attention. Alexandros rewarded their bravery. 

 

He concentrated the laser fire on the Reaver's left leg, punching through adamantium armor to saw it off. It toppled over, its own weight crushing it into the ground. The Warlord felt the full strength of Ignis' weapon arms. It lasted a moment before a wave of secondary explosions, ripped it apart from within. Both were out of the fight as Alexandros shifted all shield power to the rear, recovering a few void shields. No more targets in front of him, Alexandros began the laborious process of turning the Imperator titan.

 

The Mortis legio ripped away the resurrected shields before their combined fire destroyed the hellstorm cannon. Negative feedback slammed into Calumos, while Darshan blocked the pain with a mere thought. To Darshan's delight, the damage proved a boon. Ignis' machine-spirit grew enraged with its companions, while Calumos' will was sapped by the cauldron of pain he was in. Furthermore, now an arm short, the adamantium behemoth was moving faster. 

 

Alexandros' next target was a Reaver titan at the edge of the annihilator's range. Its princeps had held position to line up the critical shot that destroyed Ignis' arm. The moment before the princeps ordered the Reaver to move to safety, Darshan struck. He enflamed the man's hunger for blood and fame before whispering to his mind. Why move? One more shot, and you could be the one to bring down an Imperator. Your glory would be forever, Darshan quietly suggested. The image of victory took root and the princeps anchored his Reaver even as his compatriots advised against it. 

 

It was only when the annihilator locked on did the man realize his mistake.

 

Alexandros fired, the plasma shot melting the Reaver's head and all within it. The headless Reaver was now a useless hulk. The surviving Mortis engines fired a third volley. Without void shields, the Aquila Ignis took several critical hits. Reactor warnings blared throughout it as it died. Darshan released his hold on Calumos and the titan, but he had one last try to play. He infected the Warhound crews with blinding rage. A rage that propelled them toward the dying titan, firing their weapons. The new Mortis commander ordered them away, to avoid the incoming nuclear explosion. Darshan silenced the warning from their minds as he propelled them forward. When Ignis finally died, the resulting explosion destroyed all the Warhounds. 

 

Darshan's mind lingered over the battlefield for a moment. What had started as an unbeatable force was now reduced to one Warlord and two Reavers. Legio Tempestus would make short work if they dared to attack Magma City. And, if the Mortis commander chose prudence, they would withdraw. That would allow Legio Tempestus to destroy Melgator's force. 

 

Magma City was saved. The Mechanicum Loyalists would not suffer defeat this day.

[Demus Ragnok]

Lene tugged at her coat. She wasn't sure why.

The sound of her foot steps drummed in her head. Lack of sleep and stems had given her a headache of terrible intensity.

But she knew this could not wait. She quickened her pace. The hooded figures behind her struggled to keep up.

She caught herself fidgeting with her braid, she wished now she had put it back up. But this couldn't wait for her hair.

She turned the corner and her heart jumped. She hurried a half step more. She could see the door to the sanctum. Two hulking guards standing watch.

They knew her, the guards. She was a deputy equerry to the primarch. Liaison officer to the Imperial Army. She frequented the sanctum. But the two Triakonta guards did not step aside.

Lene Zarya was not tall, even though, she was not slight. But in that moment she felt tiny. The terminator guards were immense. Their armor gave them the appearance of hunchbacked ogres, with broad shoulders and thick limbs. The guard to her left turned to look at her, and leaned down.

“This cannot wait.” She said, trying to keep an official tone.

“I cannot let them in.” the stooping terminator replied, looking at the two figures behind her.

Lene straightened her back.

“This cannot wait. Do you think I would bring them here if it could?”

“I have my orders. I will not let them in.” Lene was tired, she had no patience for debate.

“I will see him.” She snapped at the giant.

“Very well” he replied stepping aside, “but they stay here.”

The great iron door swung open and she entered the primarch’s quarters. The door closed behind her.

The only light was from a hearth at the far end of the room. She did not wait for her eyes to adjust. She had walked this floor enough times to know every stone.

“I was not expecting a briefing at this late hour Commandant Zarya.”

Commandant was not an official rank among the Sarmant Silahdars. Lene was technically a Captain, a company commander. When the primarch chose her for his staff Sarmant High Command had created the rank of Commandant to reflect her unique status.

The primarch Niklaas was reclining on a low couch. He looked at the woman standing in the fire light. She seemed tired. Strung out even. Her umber skin lacked it's usual ruddy undertone.

Her braid of jet hair was draped over her shoulders rather than pinned up. Her golden eyes were weary.

Niklaas thought back to when he had first noticed her. When the Sarmant regiments first joined his expedition. They were odd to him.

The Sarmant were a Gynarchy, a society ruled solely by women. Not only were they ruled by women but the majority of the population was female, and their military was entirely female. The women of Niklaas’ home world took up the blade only when need was most desperate. To see entire regiments of women soldiers was strange to him.

But they were soldiers, elite soldiers, with advanced gear and a fearsome disposition. The Silahdars proved themselves time and again. And so when Niklaas had need of a new deputy he chose the most fierce but unassuming officer among them, Lene Zarya.

And now she stood in his sanctum as she had done many time before, with something heavy on her mind.

“What brings you here Lene?”

The primarch’s voice was soft but still powerful.

She was so tired. She wanted to reach down inside and find some anger to use to press through this. But she was empty even of anger.

“May I sit?” She breathed out.

“You needn’t ask.” The primarch gestured to the couch opposite him.

Lene adjusted her armored jacket, gathered her great coat and sat, straight backed, on the edge of the soft sofa. She looked up at Niklaas, his dark eyes were questioning.

“There is a message my lord.”

“A message?”

Lene looked into the primarch’s dark eyes.

“It is from the Warmaster himself.”

She could see Niklaas’ patience beginning to slip.

“The message is sealed. It is for you and you only.” She clenched her trembling hands into fists.

“I have brought two Astropaths, they cannot read the message it must be passed directly to you, my lord.”

Lene used an implanted hypnoroutine to control her breathing.

The Fire Keepers were wary of psykers. They did not use librarians as other legions did. The Astartes officers seldom dealt with Astropaths or Navigators, most times allowing other staff to serve as go betweens. Niklaas himself was known to actively hate psykers save for The Emperor and some of his brothers. Astropaths had never even been on the same deck as his private quarters. And now Lene Zarya had brought two to his door. But these were perilous times. And it seemed now that all rules stood to be broken.

“And my Triakonta wouldn't allow them in?” Niklaas asked tilting his head to the side.

Lene shook her head in response.

“Go bring them.” Niklaas gestured toward the door, moving to stand.

As Lene walked back to the door she concentrated on breathing.

This was far from over.

The primarch seemed phlegmatic but she had seen how quickly and violently his moods could change. As she walked she heard the click of a vox from behind her.

The great iron door opened, rotating on a central pivot. She beckoned the two green robed figures to follow her.

The lights in the chamber increased to a more comfortable level.

The Commandant and her followers walked to a large table next to which Niklaas now stood. The primarch’s expression was unreadable.

“This is Chief Astropath Relan and Astropath Mara.” Lene announced.

The two figures bowed slowly.

“Mara received the message, my lord. Relan is here to direct the transfer. I understand it to be an unusual operation.”

“What is involved in this transfer?” the primarch queried.

Relan looked to Lene and Lene to Niklaas. “Speak.” He spat.

Relan took down her hood. She appeared ancient, sharp features covered by sallow skin, a scalp with sparse wisps of feathery white hair and empty orbits where eyes had once lived.

“My lord primarch.” Relan released a long breath. “The transfer will require physical contact.” Relan’s voice embodied a strength directly opposed to her appearance.

“Be on with it then.” Niklaas rumbled.

Relan instructed Mara to take down her hood and come near the primarch.

Mara was young, with a complexion that still appeared healthy and brown hair that was only just beginning to fade to white. In place of eyes the young astropath bore a pair of finely wrought augmetics, brass with ebon trimming and blue lenses. She was obviously terrified, lip trembling, unable to look up at the primarch.

Relan held a hand out to Niklaas. “My lord could I ask that you kneel?” The giant primarch lowered himself to one knee. Much to Lene’s amazement.

Mara’s trembling increased.

“Please… d d don't hur hur hurt me.” She sobbed.

“Focus”. Relan commanded. Niklaas glared at Mara seemingly unmoved.

“Just place your mind at rest my lord, but be prepared. There is no way to say what the content of the message may be.” Niklaas released a heavy breath.

Relan brought Mara nearer Niklaas and reached up as if to touch his face. He almost recoiled.

“Could you come closer?”

Niklaas leaned lower. Relan took Mara’s left hand placing it on the primarh’s right temple and then leaned the young astropath’s forehead against Niklaas’. She then place Mara’s right hand on her own forehead holding it their with her left hand while placing her right hand on the primarch’s left temple.

Lene had broken out in a cold sweat and her stomach ached.

“We will begin” Relan almost whispered. “Close your eyes and be at peace my lord.”

There was an agonizing moment of silence before Relan began to murmur.

Then it happened.

Niklaas roared. An ear splitting, heart stopping bawl of deep agony.

The sound was enough to stun Lene, she tried to move but was frozen. Niklaas reared up sending the Astropaths through the air. Mara struck Lene knocking her to the floor.

Relan rolled across the stone floor, limp.

Before Lene could react there was a heavy foot fall beside her.

Niklaas shouted something in the Obsail tongue. She turned to see one of the Triakonta guards. His great ax held ready to strike.

“Get them out of here.”Niklaas bellowed. “Leave me.”

Lene thought he sounded heartbroken.

[MikhalLeNoir]

Woah. Among the best I ever read

[AlphariusOmegon108]

Wow, that was.. wow, loved that

[Demus Ragnok]

Thank you for the kind comments.

[simison]

I have to say, Demus, that was a particularly skilled piece you wrote.

[Demus Ragnok]

I have to say, Demus, that was a particularly skilled piece you wrote.

Thank you sir.

[Slips]

Segmentum Tempestus

+++

Forsarr Sector

+++

Iona

+++

Hive Cluster Alpha-Prime

+++

Legion Armorium Facility Omega-Secundus

+++

Dreadnought Integration Chambers

+++

 

Two Months Before Arrival:

 

He was concious, that much was certain. But, what was't certain was why he couldn't "see". Why he felt like he was swimming in molasses. And why he perpetually heard disembodied whispering. He tried calling out to them, his voice strong in its presence. No answer came and yet, they continued. At points, he tried to make out what they said. But, for all his mastery of Languages Human or Xenos in origin, he could not make out any of the words, the intent just as muddled and vague.

 

He could feel presences moving about him, all familiar in a sense but different. He tried to place them in his space and found that he could not. One instant they were above, behind, below, all around at once and at the same time, not. A few times he could visualized a powerful, bright presence. He tried to latch on to it to better help drag him out of this Purgatory. His attempts, frustratingly enough, were all in vain. While he did not feel Fatigue or Hunger in this space, he had no real control on anything but his thoughts.

 

As unmeasured time flew past, he grew restless, tiring of his imprisonment. He had vague memories of what came before this moment, brief flashes into prior conciousness, feelings of Sorrow, Pain, Hate, flooded his memories disconnected from their Origin, he did not know why he felt that way just that he did.

 

At some point, he guessed, his prison was dragged through the warp. How he knew was the sudden cascade of maddening colours and impossible, cyclopean vistas swam in his 'vision' there for all eternity but gone in the blink of an eye all at once. As this voyage was undertaken, the quiet whispers at the edge of his hearing turned from passive and vague to fear and hateful, they fear the warp and all who inhabit it, he surmised, so sudden and drastic was the change in tone. The longer the voyage was, the Louder the cacophony became, the more restless and aggressive the voices going as far as to ever-so-slightly manifest before him and his Unseeing Vision. 

 

And just as abruptly, it ended. They had exited the warp.

 

Whether it was by Rote, Familiarity, Buried Memory or other some such, he had an Inkling as to where they now were. Though he knew, just how he couldn't tell, that they were in Orbit above a Planet, it was the sudden appearance of a Gigantic Blue Globe, hazy as it was due to his Un-Sight, that confirmed his suspicions: He was Home.

 

+++

 

"Where is He?!" Inna demanded, striding across the facilities floor, still in her own customized Power Armor, Helmet Cradled under one arm, herself having just arrived on World from another Campaign "I wish to see my Brother with my Own Eyes!" walking up to the Forge Lord overseeing the operations.

 

"My Lady, I think it would be best that you wait until the operation is complete. We cannot Delay." Came the cold, steely reply from Forge Lord Fo'Sharn.

 

"You will not deny me this, Fo'Sharn. I wish to ascertain his health myself!" She insisted.

 

Frowning Slightly he answered in a cool, mechanical tone "I would spare you the Grief of Knowing."

 

"What do you mean, Forge. Lord. Speak plainly, I'm in no mood for evasive word craft when it comes to the Health of The Primarch."

 

"So be it. But, remember that I tried to save you from this grief, that you would be reunited when He is once again whole." He grumbled back.

 

He led her back to the farthest and largest of the operating rooms, passing by a Mechanical Construct larger than any Dreadnought Inna had seen before, the one meant for Pionus, she hazarded a guess.

 

It was a thing of beauty. Unlike his White, Gleaming, Opalescent Ward, this one had plates the color of the Blackest Abyythic Pearls, worked and shaped into works of art in their own right by artificers from both the Iron Bears and Crimson Lions, a Gift borne out of Love and Admiration for Pionus as well as his station as Primarch. Each Hand, nay, Fist was exquisitely wrought to resemble the heads of a Lion and Bear Respectively to homage those who had aided in its construction. All the details and trimmings were the color of Cinnabar, the majority of them being reliefs of the Deeds Pionus had accomplish, rendered with unmatched artistry. The most striking aspect to it, however, was the Face. In each gigantic socket lay an Opal of unmatched splendor, their colors shifting unendingly, a Ruby the size of a Large Child sat in the middle of its forehead. The entirety of which was shaped as a Serene Death Mask of its future inhabitant forever frozen in the calm of Death.

 

An Oddity she noticed, however, was the lack of Exhaust Stacks as was common with Dreadnoughts and Imperial Knights of all types. Had the Mechanicum gone out of their way to use their Jealously Guarded Archeotech in the construction of this Machine? Inna could only guess, the means and methods of the Mechanicum being beyond even one such as her. Another was the Actual Material the Supersctructure was made of. It had no metallic sheen or shine and was the color of light bone and it was much more smooth and curvaceous than typical Imperial Construction even replicating Musculature at times. She had an inkling, a Suspicion brought about by her instinct and gut feeling but decided to suppress it, not wanting to think of the possibility.

 

As they passed it by and entered a smaller adjoining chamber, Fo'Sharn led her to a Sizable, armored Display Case within which rested a Skull made of a Cloudy, Deep Violet Crystal within which a smoke moved about.

"What kind of jest is this. I asked for my Brother, the Primarch, our Liege and your Gene-Father. And yet, you bring me to this room and show me this Bauble." She stated dark frown on her face.

 

"I did just as you asked. In matters concerning our Lord, there can be no jests made least of all when his life hangs in the balance." Came the reply.

"Then why do you bring me here? Where is Pionus? I see him not."

 

"But you do, My Lady, He is here." Waving a hand toward the skull, itself having Opals within its Crystalline Sockets.

 

"...What? What do you mean?!" the shock of realization dawning on her as she connected the dots.

 

"It was the only way, My Lady, the Mechanicum Assured us that any other method would have resulted in his death. I Consulted Antonidas and the other Praetorians on the matter and all were in accordance. Our Liege's life was worth more to us than the potential Stain of Heresy were this secret be known."

 

"Then why was I not consulted on the matter?!"

 

"To save you from the Grief, as he would have wanted."

 

Gritting her teeth and biting back the tears, she continued "S-So Be it. F-Finalize the operation. Tell a Comms Officer that I wish to have a word with the M-Mechanicum Branch that oversaw the P-Project." an All-too-Audible Quiver present as she spoke.

 

"As you wish." He stated, bowing slightly to her as she turned to depart.

 

With that she stormed out of the Facility a Mask of Cold Fury to all those within who observed her leaving. It was only once she sat alone aboard the Tram that would bring her from the facility to the hive, hunched over with her face in her hands, that she openly wept.

 

+++

 

As he floated listlessly in the pervasive darkness, trying his best to ignore the intelligible whispers ever at the edge of his hearing, he came to see, pass by and finally settle down behind a large spot of Neutral-White Color an odd resonance between his un-reality and this object. Why? He did not even know. Around him he could see other, much less distinct auras moving about in space, all oddly level with one another. Odd, he wasn't able to visualize so many until his arrival at this Blue Globe.

 

After another indeterminate amount of time, he felt a familiar presence approach. This was a much smaller aura in stature but much more brilliant. Its color, for the most part, remained a constant Red. It was only when it came close, alongside another much-faded aura, and a brief pause that it suddenly changed from Red, to Black. How he could still see it, being Black upon Black, he did not know but he followed it moved away and out of his perception the way it came in.

 

When it left, other Faded auras, much like the first, converged on his location. They then started moving around, seemingly haphazardly but definitely with a purpose. He could not make out what was happening but he knew he was at the epicenter of it. It was a veritable hive of activity, luminous forms flitted in and out of his range of perception, some faded, some bright and some naught but the tiniest of specks. The majority of the activity occurred around the giant form he resonated with.

 

Again, as time imperceptibly flew/crawled by, he was suddenly aware of, he could only assume, himself moving towards the source of resonance. Strangely enough, as he grew closer to it he noticed the formless luminous beings suddenly gaining definition. He could see it now, the giant construct that it was, bedecked in armor, replete in iconography and thrumming with a vital energy. He swirled around in his null-space and looked at the other sources of illumination. The majority were normal humans, albeit augmented in some way. The nest largest groups were those who were nearly light-less. At their core they were human but they seemed to lack what the others had. The Smallest group and the brightest - though all were dim in comparison to the previous Beacon. They  were all human that much was undeniable. They had augmentics too, he could deduce but they were much more. Stature alone set them apart and slowly, as he drew closer to the Construct memories seemed to surge from the depths of his being.

 

They were Space Marines.

 

He Drew closer still.

 

Techmarines. Names surged to the fore, he recited each name, the familiarity of them bringing more memories to the surface.

 

They were of the XIXth Legion.

 

Their livery was Pearl and Blood, more blood than pearl owing to them paying homage to the...

 

...Mechanicum! 

 

He was now being inserted into the construct.

 

They were part of the Imperium of Man, of which he was a part of, yes.

 

Connections Were being made, tying him to the machine.

 

He was Human, yes, but greater, even greater still than Astartes. He was...

 

...from this Planet. A Water World. Inhabited by Creatures Large and Small, all deadly and unwelcoming of human life.

 

The planet...was called....IONA! He remembered, a strong sense of longing and nostalgia flooding him.

 

And He, he was...!

 

+++

 

"Final connection made, Forge Lord. Hes hooked up." Said the senior techmarine seeing to the Crystalline Skulls integration into the Construct.

 

"Good. Prepare activation sequence"

 

"As you wish, sir!"

 

The air quickly filled with anticipation. This moment could either spell the final demise of their Primarch or it could restore him back to them.

 

"Preparations complete, Forge Lord, the honor is yours."

 

"No, we  shall not wake him right now. Gather the Senior Captains who are in system and call for The Lady, she has a right to be here."

 

"As you command!" And the Techmarine departed for the Communications Relay.

 

+++

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

He had lost conciousness, that much was certain. For how long, he could not tell. Oddly enough, his un-sight was yet again lost to him unable to see the auras he was able to beforehand. The whispers, too, were oddly quiescent. Finally, some peace and quiet, he thought.

 

It would not last long.

 

A Humming sound soon invaded the space he was trapped in. It was low and unassuming. Had there not been a complete lack of sound at this very moment, he would have dismissed it as nothing but White Noise. But now? Now it held some importance. 

 

As the sound grew so did his perception of the space around him. First was the re-apparition of the Luminous Auras - the red/black one was back, he noted, alongside a few equally bright others and the previous faded ones.

 

On and on the sound droned. As it increased in volume it slowly gained a cyclic modulation to it and with each cycle his perception increased in kind.

 

*whump*

 

He could tell that he was standing far above those gathered. He had perspective.

 

*whump*

 

Shapes started to form and coalesce.

 

*whump*

 

Details now made themselves known to him: Shoulder Plates, Helmets, Armor, weapons at their waists.

 

*whump*

 

Sounds? These were not the whispers that pervaded his enclosure. He heard actual talking. Voices Familiar yet Foreign to him.

 

*whump*

 

He now saw the environment he and those below him were in: a Metal box at its most simple with a single floor-to-ceiling window on the wall opposite to him in front of which was standing the assembled humans, bathed in a blue glow.

 

*whump*

 

The glow was caused by water. They were beneath the surface of...

 

*whump*

 

...Iona. He was at...An Armorium Facility, Omega Level he judged by the equipment found around the locale. Dreadnought Specialisation? 

 

*whump*

 

Feeling came back, the sensation of his limbs and body but he could not move them.

 

*whump*

 

Smell. Such a minor thing but surprisingly welcome.

 

"He's concious, the scans say as much" Spoke Fo'Sharn "Releasing Restraint Locks...now."

 

*POP* *HISS*

 

He suddenly felt his limbs go limp and he sagged forward ever so slightly before righting himself, seeing those gathered below flinch as he lurched forward a foot or two.

 

"M-My Lord?" Came a lone feminine voice. "Can you hear us?"

 

"..."

 

"Odd, our instrumentation indicates that he can hear us." Spoke Fo'Sharn looking up from his wrist-mounted Diagnostics Screen.

 

"..."

 

"Try again, My Lady, it might just be the stupor of reawakening." Said the only member of the entourage whose Plate was the Colour of Shadow.

 

Taking a few Step Forwards, she attempted once again "My Lord, Can you Hear us? We know you're awake. Please, Pionus..."

 

At the utterance of his name it all clicked into place. He knew who he was, what he did and why he was in this state.

 

"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmooooooooooorrrrrrooooooooooooooooo........" He groaned.

 

"My Liege?" Came the startled replies.

 

Snapping out of his post-remembrance stupor, he took a step forward and kneel'd down to reduce the size gap between himself and those gathered.

 

"How long was I gone?" His voice, while strong, had hints of others repeating what he said in countless different inflections, accents and tones, phantom echoes as they were.

 

"Precisely two months, my Lord. We would have brought you back sooner but the Mechanicum had to overcome some....difficulties...in creating your new form to ensure that it was capable of adequately sustaining you." Said Fo'Sharn stepping forward.

 

"Fill (fill, fill....filll) Me (ME! memememememe...) In later (later...later....). For now (now...nnnowwww NOOOWW!) I am just glad to be counted among the living." Came the Ethereal response.

 

"What of our Brethren? Should we tell them of your recovery? The Lions and Bears especially for they have given much to augment the shell you inhabit." Asked one of the more Senior Officers.

 

"Yes (indeed, Correct, yess...yess....) Tell them, but make sure the Traitors (TRAITORS!They...Shall..Drown..in...Bloooooooddd) Know too that the Atlantean is on the Hunt and the are the Prey (THEY SHALL KNOW FEAR!)."

 

 

END

 

+++

 

For the Last part, when Pionus Speaks I wrote it to try and sound like this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eqmucurnDO0

 

Or near enough.

 

Hope what I was going for Translated Properly from Head-to-print. Without any reference to what its like to be inside of a Soulstone, I had to kinda make it up on the fly. Hopefully its clear enough.

 

Still feels like something is missing....

 

Oh well.

[AlphariusOmegon108]

Bruh... Wow... Thats amazing

[MikhalLeNoir]

2 great stories on one day.

 

what's going on

[simison]

I see what you mean, Slips. Truth be told, I only have a vague idea of what to do, and think your approach was a valid one. For now, I have an intense desire to write Alex meeting Pionus in this form.

[Slips]

Oh that should be fun. He'll also have voices swimming in his head when he opens up his mind psychically when near Pionus :p

[Sigismund229]

(shoulders way through a wall of homework)

what the...? I'm gone for 5 minutes and people start writting this well? I gotta be gone more often...

[Slips]

Well, I'm glad y'all enjoy my stories. 

 

I guess reading amazing english Literature (Currently Slogging Through Dune so that may color my writing style for the forseeable future) has finally paid off :p

[Skalpynock]

About Alexandros meeting mecha-Pionus, doesn't the former die before the later? Though that doesn't have to be mutually exclusive: we could have echoes of the dying Warmaster sent through the Warp, discussing with each loyal primarch still alive (and perhaps a revolutionary or two) in the same way Magnus was shattered between Prospero and Sortiarius. Could also be a good opportunity to play on the Alex/Darshan/Gottfri split you have hinted at.

 

If Pionus dies esrlier than Alexandros, consider the point moot.

[Slips]

Good point.

 

Me n' Hesh'll have to figure out when in the timeline their fight happens.