EVENT - The Koloss Syntheticide

[bluntblade]

Alternative title: Spot the Meshuggah Reference. I wrote this as our counterpart to Horus and the Emperor smashing up Orks in The Wolf of Ash and Fire, with the added element of Alex and Icarion fighting together.

The first transmission from the Pravus System came as the excited babble of Explorators, reporting that they had found an oasis of Man's technological inheritance.

The second came as a horrified report of hostile and lethal automata. Animus Silica.

The third did not come from the Explorators, and it wasn't a threat. It wasn't a promise. It was a cold, empirical statement. “Koloss discarded organic components 5572 standard Terrain years ago. Organic contaminants have been detected and removed in accordance with Protocol 33. All internal and external contaminants will be eradicated for the security of the Obzen Apparatus.”

The machine intelligence which ruled the Obzen Sector could not send its armada into the Warp, but such a fearsome and abhorrent enemy could not be tolerated, especially with the Qarith campaign taking up so many resources.

Mechanicum archivists had identified the ruling intelligence as a former defence and surveillance system, known as Koloss. This was an entity born of the Dark Age of Technology, first to safeguard its creators and then to conquer for them. It had endured the destruction of the Men of Iron, its makers arrogantly believing their tech-mastery exempted them from their species’ agony and using it to enslave neighbouring systems. Only years later did they realise their mistake, as the noose closed and furnace fires lit the worlds of Obzen. Koloss spent the following millennia strengthening itself and slowly expanding its domain, wiping out organic life wherever it could be found. The might it had acquired called for a truly exceptional force to destroy it.

After four brutal months, this force made planetfall on the adamantine surface of Stengah. They came in a glare of teleport residue, immediately striding out to meet their opponents. As Koloss was hooked up to every sensor and picter on the planet, these responded in just seven seconds.

Edited November 28, 2017 by Lord Thørn

[bluntblade]

These machines could never have designed themselves; artificials did not stray from the standard armoury used by mankind and other humanoid races, and they inevitably conformed to humanoid archetypes in their soldiers. These bizarre heaps of metal tentacles, ending in blades or electric nodes, could only have been designed by brilliant, albeit deranged, organic minds. According to the archives, the creators they had destroyed named them “agma”, equivalent to “daemons” in Low Gothic, and no wonder. A computer might comprehend the usefulness of an aspect which an enemy would deem frightening or repellent, but none would ever achieve that aim in the manner that these constructs’ bestial, shrieking faces did. And all guided by the ubiquitous picters and sensors, all acting as extensions of a single malevolent consciousness.

 

Against any other human army this incredible synchronicity would probably have prevailed, but this was an army of space marines, led not only by two Primarchs but by their race’s ruler, the most powerful individual in the Galaxy.

 

The Emperor. Psychic fire arced from His gauntlet, consuming dozens of las-drones, while His sword rang as he deflected tendrils and sliced constructs apart. Beside Him Chief Custodian Valdor was a blur of unceasing movement, his spear whirling as he defended the man he had followed for more than two centuries.

 

The space over their heads was filled with volkite fire as the elite of two Legions opened fire. Encased in Terminator plate, Halcyon Wardens and Lightning Bearers unleashed a storm of projectiles against the hated artificials. As the enemy closed they waded in, a near-unstoppable wall of ceramite and power weapons.

 

The ponderous speed of Terminator armour could prove a serious disadvantage against a fast opponent, so as the constructs made to attack the Astartes’ flanks they were met by the Emperor's Custodians. Their more individualistic styles of combat were best deployed here, where flexibility was key. They alone eschewed the use of volkites, favouring their signature bolter-spears. Assault marines rose into the air, taking the fight to the airborne constructs. Oil and tattered machine parts rained on the battle below.

 

At the heads of their elite forces, Icarion and Alexandros cut a path through the hordes of screaming constructs. Icarion fought much like his father, laying waste to everything around him with blade and golden lightning, but where the Emperor seemed to simply appear in place to destroy constructs, Icarion was in constant motion. He flowed through the battle, reaping abominations in a seamless dance as his spear whirled around him. It had once been said of an explorer of Old Earth that he was incapable of making a movement that was not beautiful. That hyperbole was entirely accurate when it came to Icarion as he rode through the carnage on the currents of foresight.

 

While the Stormborn spun around his attackers, ending them with flamboyant displays of skill, Alexandros’ fighting was taut and efficient as he cut a methodical path through the constructs, turning attacks aside with his shield and driving Xiphos into any holes he found in an enemy's defences. It was a marvel of dexterity and skill, even more so if the observer knew that every second, he was processing a dozen or more possible futures and planning accordingly. Pyrrhicles had often mused privately on how many times his Primarch had saved his life without anyone knowing. But in this mad ballet of blood, metal and oil, there could be no thought beyond what it would take to get him and his warriors closer to Koloss’ sanctum.

 

Except for that edge of desperation which persisted in every fight. He was a strange genetic compromise, and he knew that his body was deteriorating at a glacial pace. One day his Terminator plate and master-crafted weapons would not be enough to keep him alive. Every battle brought him closer, and the strange, gnawing feeling only grew with time. He had never raised this with anyone, and wondered if an Astartes could truly understand. Perhaps this was the residue of fear, which the Emperor and his scientists had been unable to purge from his heart. But he would not allow it to get the better of him. I will not fail and fall today.

 

He saw Sergeant Kammenos impaled and torn open by one construct and sprang forward with a scream of rage, smashing the machines aside with his shield and forcing them back, hoping that an Apothecary would reach Kammenos and salvage the gene-seed from his death. A Custodian nearby was caught by a pack of constructs that enveloped him, blades stabbing at the joints of his armour and under his helmet. They were springing at new targets before the Custodian hit the ground, blood spurting from his throat. Pyrrhicles snarled and blasted two of them apart with his volkite. A strange weapon to him, but he couldn't deny its effectiveness here. Another Custodian speared the third killer through its face before firing his bolter, blasting its head apart and hurling the spasming remains back into the constructs’ ranks.

 

Koloss was throwing everything at them, but nothing could slow the advance with the Emperor at their head. Pyrrhicles revelled in the sight of Alexandros beside his brother and father again. In the beginning, with Valdor completing the quartet, they had been astonishing. Now, with centuries of war behind them, they were truly unstoppable. They wove around one another, never stopping. A booming cheer went up from the Astartes and Custodes as the four charged the gateway. But as they reached the threshold Alexandros and Icarion skidded to a halt.

 

“Stop! Back!” Alexandros howled. Then Koloss sprang its trap, and the battleground erupted.

Edited February 26, 2016 by bluntblade

[bluntblade]

The people who created the abomination really had been brilliant. The great, cathedral-like fortress was just a decoy. Pillars shed their rockcrete to reveal tendrils larger than any of them had imagined as the walls crumbled and their foundations disintegrated. The Primarchs, Valdor and the Emperor vanished in the explosion.

 

Pyrrhicles was first back on his feet, grabbing his sword and howling his Primarch’s name as as he raced to the crater. He could hear the sounds of combat behind him as the constructs redoubled their attack, but he paid it no heed as he watched the spectacle below below.

 

Koloss was larger than any terrestrial war machine the Imperium had ever fielded, fashioned from obsidian plates and some strange, silvery metal. Its hundreds of tendrils were as thick as the legs of a Warlord Titan, and it moved with the same syncopated rhythm as its minions. But its face was what truly stole Pyrrhicles’ breath. Lit by some strange, inner fire, it appeared human, serene and beatific as it regarded the four little creatures before it. Then it rippled and changed, the jaws distending and reshaping to form a hideous, bestial maw lined with jagged glass fangs. The noise that emerged from those jaws was a million voices, human, animal and synthetic, all warped and distorted a thousand times. Then it attacked.

 

The Emperor, the Primarchs and Valdor were like leaves in a storm, dodging around its vast bulk and hurling projectiles at it. Tendrils tore great trenches in the floor around them, and electrical blasts reduced the stone to bubbling white puddles. The four warriors danced like performers in some insane ballet, seeking a weakness in their enemy.

 

Pyrrhicles scrabbled down the slopes, seizing any constructs that pursued him and dashing them against the walls. A Custodian, strangely armed with a massive broadsword, charged beside him. A few hundred metres away, Raiden Athrawes cut his way through the press of machines to follow them.

 

Koloss paid them no heed, focusing all its might on the golden warrior who tore molten strips from its shell with psychic flames and His bluesteel sword. His powers kept its projectiles at bay, but as He dodged another attack he was suddenly cut off from the others. While the attackers relied on their own senses, Obzen could use all the surveillance apparatus that riddled the planet, observing its targets from every angle. It had exploited that advantage to isolate the main threat, and now moved to neutralise it. Tendrils lashed the ground around the Emperor, caging Him, and He disappeared amid the debris. Koloss kept up the assault, pulverising the stone and hurling the others back as they tried to intervene. When the dust cleared, the Emperor lay battered and half-buried in the debris.

 

The awful fire that illuminated Koloss’ visage grew to a caged supernova, and they all skidded to a halt. Its face distorted yet more as it lunged towards the Emperor and hurled a torrent of plasma at him.

 

A figure in purple leapt into the oncoming wave of fire. Alexandros dropped to one knee and brandished his shield as Koloss’ fury broke over him, using every ouunce of his psychic power to keep it from killing his father. Pyrrhicles cried out as he saw his gene-father’s armour burning, ceramite running off it like candle wax. He could hear something over the vox that he had never heard before; his gene-sire, roaring in agony. Icarion and Valdor were transfixed by the horror of what you were watching. “No!" He roared, and sprinted forward, unloading his volkite at the monster’s face. As he drew closer the terrible heat began to sear his flesh too, but it didn't matter when his Primarch and Emperor were in such danger. His defiance jolted the others into action, and Icarion came to his brother's aid, throwing up another barrier against Koloss’ attack.

 

Koloss did not feel anger or frustration and so did not scream in response to their resistance, but the sudden silence was deafening as it broke off the attack. Instead it coiled hundreds of tentacles into a single, massive limb, crackling with lightning, and swung it down to flatten Alexandros. Now the Emperor regained his feet and darted forward, using his powers to halt the blow. Jamming His blade into the mass of tendrils, He directed the electricity back into the abomination. The others followed him, power weapons jabbing into the exposed joints, and suddenly Astartes appeared over the lip of the crater, volkites spitting at the monstrous form from all sides.

 

Koloss was paralysed, and now the Emperor charged. His sword, alive with aetheric energies, tore into the roof of the construct’s mouth. +Now it ends+ resonated in all their minds, and the fire within Koloss flared golden, impossibly bright, burning it out from the inside. Pyrrhicles could barely stay on his feet, unable to believe what he was seeing. Above them, every construct animated by the mind of Koloss spasmed and died, as the AI was taken apart neuron by synthetic neuron. A monster which had thrived through the horror of Old Night, murderer of billions of humans, the epitome of Abominable Intelligence, was no more.

[bluntblade]

When it was over, Pyrrhicles staggered to his Primarch and helped him to his feet. Alexandros was greatly weakened, his armour ruined, but as he twisted off his helmet and grinned at his equerry, his injuries were already healing. “Quite the day, my friend. The smiths will be appalled,” as he gestured with his mangled helm.

 

Pyrrhicles was struggling to frame a response- after all these years, Alexandroa’ levity could bring him up short- when the Emperor spoke. “Pyrrhicles, Raiden and Aquillon, might I have a moment?” Pyrrhicles swayed, before dropping to his knees beside the Custodian and Lightning Bearer. The Emperor knelt before them, looking each warrior in the face. In all his years of fighting, Pyrrhicles had never imagined this, and euphoric tears ran down his face. “Today you helped save my life, and end a terrible evil. You fought beyond the limits of endurance and sanity to stand beside us against the abomination, and embodied the very highest ideals of the Great Crusade. And Pyrrhicles,” He said as the half-Astartes’ head swam. “Some dismiss you as unworthy to stand beside a Primarch. Today you proved them utterly wrong, and henceforth you shall carry this title- the virtue of your Legion.” And for that, Pyrrhicles truly had no answer.

 

After they regained their feet, Aquillon took the wrists of

Pyrrhicles and Raiden in the warrior’s grip. A curious smile played across his bronzed features as he said “I never thought I was speak these words to Astartes, but it was an honour to fight beside you today, brothers.”

 

Some way away, the Emperor was speaking with the Primarchs. “Hectarion was certain. With their invasion of Mondrian foiled by the Bears, the Qarith are doomed to destruction.” Icarion declared, his usually austere features breaking into a smile.

 

“So as we destroy one legacy of Man’s hubris, your brothers rid us of another,” smiled the Emperor. “Then it is truly time. You're not allowed to look ahead,” He added as His sons’ smiles faltered in confusion. “But know this: it will be an occasion that the Galaxy will never forget. Constantin, notify Malcador and our friends of the Mechanicus to begin the preparations. The next stage is upon us.”

Edited February 26, 2016 by bluntblade

[MikhalLeNoir]

Awesome Story, especially you described the graze of Gwalchavads movement ;)

[bluntblade]

Awesome Story, especially you described the graze of Gwalchavads movement ;)

Sorry mate. I did warn you it was looking too crowded for him. There'll be another story for Gwal to shine in.

Edited February 25, 2016 by bluntblade

[MikhalLeNoir]

No probs. I just thought, that Icarion moves like Gwal ;) the graze, the speed, the beauty.

[bluntblade]

No probs. I just thought, that Icarion moves like Gwal ;) the graze, the speed, the beauty.

Well, about the first thing in the Lightning Bearers' thread is "unparalleled grace". And I figured that Icarion's foresight should be portrayed a little differently to Alex's. Alex is always hunting through potential futures, Icarion just rides the current to where he wants to be.

[simison]

Only one criticism. As a Myrmidon, Pyrrhicles is typically armed only with a Siren grenade launcher and carries a power pike and a tower shield. But it's not unreasonable for Pyrrhicles to have picked up a volkite before deploying, perhaps even at Alex's suggestion. So, that criticism is on me for not clarifying his typical load-out.

 

That out of the way, I love this piece! Before Alex was the Warmaster, he was the Shield-Lord, and you gave him an awesome moment to prove why he that's one of his titles! And you managed to capture his humor when Pyrrhicles checks on him. That detail was completely in-character. Well done!

 

Finally, you also captured Pyrrhicles very well to the point where now I'm actually going to miss him once the Insurrection starts. I'm definitely including the Emperor-given title in Pyrrhicles' death scene.

[bluntblade]

I nicked Saul Tarvitz's posthumous title. As for Alex's shield, it's a nice change to have a sword-and-board Primarch, and in some ways it's easier to be dramatic with a shield than a humble gladius.

 

Well, as I said, the aim was to give a sense of what will be lost in the Insurrection.

[simison]

Oh, one other mistake I caught as I was rereading, Pyrrhicles is the Equerry, but Irvin Ruel is First Captain/Chapter Master.

[bluntblade]

Oh, one other mistake I caught as I was rereading, Pyrrhicles is the Equerry, but Irvin Ruel is First Captain/Chapter Master.

I'll amend that