TALE - Just Because

[Skalpynock]

Yucahu awoke in complete darkness. It was unnatural, as if the walls absorbed all light in the room, apart from a circle of faint, white glow. It was unnatural, but not as a dream. There was a distinct tangibility to it.

 

As he ventured closer to the circle, he was flooded with memories of the day he had rebuked the Terrans from his legion, when he had cast the Fourth in brass and fire. He remembered how fervent the Voidborn had supported the foundation of the Eagles, how eagerly he had rejected the Morning Stars. To this day, the Starborn was still not sure of his equerry's motivations for doing so, beyond rumors of redacted campaigns.

When he set foot in the light, he was met by a giant of the stature and majesty of a primarch, yet not one of his brothers. His skin was a deep tan, like Yucahu himself or Azus. His armor's colors were disturbing. Orange, white and blue, inlaid with gold, the colors of the now-traitor Morning Stars. As the man spoke his name, his hypothesis was confirmed.

"Yucahu born of the Stars, primarch of the Void Eagles, at long last I meet you." His voice was a thunder, even for a primarch, that of the herald of an empire "Know that I am Mihran born of the Light, primarch of the Dawn Bringers. I have seen you in visions, in dreams."

"I have been given visions of you as well. The Terran seers of my legion have dreams of their legion led by a primarch much like you, Mihran the Paladin."

"As do my Ash Walkers, who yearn for the command of the Voidmaster. But without you they have fallen as low as the sons of Azus, and followed Darshan in his folly" he ended his sentence in a mournful gaze

"Azus and the Warmaster stand for the Emperor." Yucahu corrected "What folly are you speaking of?"

Before the Paladin could answer, images began to form in the darkness, showing scenes of another insurrection from the mind of, presumably, Mihran, and events Yucahu had witnessed himself. A deformed Kozja kneeling before the Emperor, pleading for Russ to end him. The death of Koschei at the hands of a crazed Azus. Lions mindlessly carving through Iron Bears. A red and golden armoured Primarch standing with Russ, defending the Eternity Gate against a rotting wave of Fire Keepers.

Mihran ran a finger through his beard "As I see, the War happened quite differently in your world. I would mourn Daer'dd as much as I do Koschei, although I foresee your war will last longer; had Kozja and the General dared to ask for forgiveness, you would have been victorious by now. Alas he didn't get to live in my world."

This elicited a confused look from Yucahu "Are you mourning for those traitors, or is there some information you have that I am not privy to?"

"The fact is, the Paladin sighed, that like Alexandros and Icarion, I am a seer, yet all my visions are doomed never to come to fruition. I can see only what shall never be. Hence your appearances in my dreams, for of the various alternatives of myself your future is the brightest. You will encounter adversity, Starborn, but you will survive. For my part, I can only guess that I shall fall; but where and how is only known to fate."

At this point the images lost their clarity, becoming vague echoes, as if signifying the primarchs that the vision was coming to an end.

 

Noticing this, Mihran bowed in an honour salute. "It is time for me to bid you farewell, Yucahu of the Stars; may the Light be with you."

His counterpart made the gesture of the Aquila

"May the Aquila reign in your world, Mihran of the Light."

And with this, Yucahu awoke in the Ala Lux, and Mihran in the Emperor's Voice.

[simison]

http://www.relatably.com/m/img/thor-another-memes/57802310.jpg

[Sigismund229]

Kozja gripped his throne as another spasm of pain wracked his body, gritting his teeth as the foreign gene-seed he'd introduced to his body attacked his spinal cortex. He had never experienced such agony as he experienced now, his body degenerating all around him. In an attempt to shut out the pain, he clamped his eyes shut and attempted to focus on other things, the war, his experiments, anything. Soon, the pain began to fade and dull down to just a small ache at the base of his back. However, when he opened his eyes, he did not see his throne room. Instead, he was confronted by a being with the stature of a primarch. Azus was Kozja's immediate thought. This brother wore a suit of cataphractii either made of or adorned with bones. However, he soon realised that this was not the brother he knew as the cold chill of a pariah's mind enveloped Kozja's heart. Like Gwalchavad, this primarch's face was covered by a mask. Unlike Gwalchavad, his mask wasn't plain. It was an ornately fashioned screaming face, a gas filter in the middle of its mouth. Unlike Gwalchavad, his eyes did not shine through the mask. Instead, they were pools of blackness that were no longer clearly eyes, two black holes that swallowed all hopes, dreams and light near them and gave back nothing but despair, pain and anger.

 

Finally, this new primarch lumbered forwards and jabbed one finger of his power fist at Kozja. "Who" he demanded "Are you?".

 

"I am Kozja Darzalas, sire of the Warbringers and Lord of the Suzerainty. Now. Who are you?".

"I am Dievas Niekas, sire of the Black Guard" came the rumbled reply.

 

Kozja lifted an eyebrow "Dievas Niekas? Your name seems to have a symbolism I don't understand".

 

"King of the Soulless. That is what the Romuvans called me when they cast me out to survive on my own in the toxic wastes they call home".

 

Niekas. Similar to Niechezo. Conclusion: distant relative of Strelan Kozja thought, filing it away for future use. This early conversation had given him time to analyze his, presumably, brother. From his armour hung various censors, releasing fumes, likely poisonous. In one fist, he gripped a flail while the other was clad in a power fist and Dievas' armour was covered in chemical, biological and radiation weaponry. He makes Azus look squeamish Kozja thought. Then he noticed a steel covered...book hanging off Dievas by a chain and asked "What's that?".

 

Following Kozja's gaze down, Dievas replied "The Kothu Drausma. It details every aspect of my legion's organization and discipline. Every one of my legionaries is required to learn it by heart and any deviation from its principals is punishable by death, whether of a single legionary or decimation of a company".

 

These words, uttered with casual brutality, hit Kozja like a hammer. "You would kill your own sons?"

 

"I would" came the reply "Savagery wins fights. Discipline wins wars. Discipline must be maintained. There can be no retreat once engaged, for to retreat is to surrender Imperial ground and so may never be surrendered. Any unit who chooses cowardice over their orders must be punished in the harshest manner possible. Decimation".

 

"Retreat is sometimes the proper course of action. Some battles cannot be won" Kozja pointed out.

 

"No" Dievas replied, shaking his head "Never. Once you have retreated once, why not again? And then another time? Such is the death of discipline. Perhaps your sons are noble enough to only retreat when they must. Mine are not. They are the dregs of humanity, filth and scum dragged up from the deepest gutters and given to the Soulless to command. This is what our father bequeathed to me" he said bitterly. Or rather, Kozja heard the bitterness yet it was delivered in a strange monotone. Conclusion?

 

"Why do you have an augmetic throat?" Kozja asked. Then, Dievas reached up and removed his mask. Nothing could have prepared Kozja for what was beneath.

 

Besides the two black holes where his eyes should have been, Dievas' face was horrific testament to humanity's capacity for destruction. Half of it was rotten and black, forever frozen in the early stages of decay, infected with biological weaponry so deadly even maggots died on touching it. On his other cheek was the tell tale burn of a phosphex bomb. All of Dievas' teeth had needed to be replaced with iron replacements and blood ran down his chin from lungs that were being broken down one stage at a time. A single straight scar ran lengthways across his face, as if he had been scarred by death's scythe at an early stage. The remaining parts of his face that were relatively unscarred were even paler than K'awil.

 

"This is what the world I landed on and its people did to me" Dievas rasped. Without his mask, his voice was that of a dead man, his words distorted by damage to his jaw. The replacing his mask, he said "And this is what our father did to me. I wanted the suffering to end. I begged him to end it. Begged" he said, spitting out the word beg in disgust "Instead, he locked me in this suit of armour. It keeps me alive, hides my features and normalizes my voice. It does nothing to dull the pain".

 

Then, Kozja opened his eyes and the pain began again.

[simison]

"The[n] replacing his mask..."

 

I like how this one has a more practical reason for why this occurred, Kozja hallucinating. 

[Sigismund229]

Alexandros wondered the caves of Molech, gazing up at their strange stone walls. There was something about this place, odd, primal...original. He couldn't place what it was, all he could do was feel it and the feeling was unshakeable. It was as if this was where the universe had been born. All of time and space, every planet and star, humanity and the primarchs...they all found their origins in this strange cave complex. It was a humbling thought, Alexandros mused, to think that something so grand and incomprehensible came from something so small.

 

"It is isn't it?" came a voice from behind him.

 

Spinning around, with the spear of Terra in hand, Alexandros found himself facing a...deamon? Xeno?

 

It was large, slightly taller than him. From its back sprouted two wings that now sat furled behind it, one a bat's wing the other an angel's wing with feather of purest white. Instead of feet, it had two hooves and it's skin seemed more like cracked stone than biological matter. From its forehead two horns curled up and a forked tongue flicked out from its mouth. Yet its most strange feature was its eyes. They changed and shifted, one minute orbs of violet, the next a single pool of ever shifting colour and the next a pair of brown human eyes. At its waist was sheathed a sword and it was clad in...power armour?

 

"What are you?" demanded Alexandros.

 

"Don't you recognize me brother?" it said, the words followed by a deep chuckle. The words were also, strangely, unaffected by the fact that it had a forked tongue rather than a human tongue. They came out in perfect, unaccented gothic.

 

"Warp spawn" Alexandros growled "I have slain a thousand of your kind in the past months".

 

"No, although I do have the appearance I grant you" it replied. "I am father's greatest failure"

 

"You lie" Alexandros snarled and lunged forwards, arm extended in a spear thrust that would penetrate to the being's core and send it back where it came from. However, before the blow could connect, it had drawn its sword and parried.

 

"Not so easy to kill me as it is deamons is it?" it smiled. "I'm given to understand I was like you once. Well, not entirely but you understand my meaning. A primarch. But then, we were scattered. Father protected many of us but not all. This form is the scar I bear of that brush with the warp. It left its mark on me. I am half a part of the material realm, half a part of the warp".

 

"The Emperor does not make mistakes of that magnitude" Alexandros replied pulling back in preparation for another attempt.

 

It grinned "Then how do you explain me, Mephisto,the deamon spawned, primarch of the II^nd?".

[simison]

Alex seems unusually aggressive in this piece.

[Demus Ragnok]

Alex seems unusually aggressive in this piece.

Maybe he needs a Snickers?

[simison]

 

Alex seems unusually aggressive in this piece.

Maybe he needs a Snickers?

 

 

How about a KitKat bar?

[Skalpynock]

http://www.relatably.com/m/img/thor-another-memes/57802310.jpg

Do you want to hear of Icarion, who spent the entire war in the web-way, fending off the daemons threatening the palace?

Of Leman Russ, executioner of the Emperor’s will, who had to put down three brothers?

Of Hectarion, chosen of Khorne, the bloodied lion?

Of Mihran, herald of light, fell at the climax of the Siege of Terra?

Of Darshan, whose secret writings about the Emperor’s divinity were discovered, leading to his censure and fall to visions of a tempting changer of ways?

Of Daer´dd, now without brothers?

Of Raktra, whose excess were too much for the Emperor, and got him executed?

Of Koschei, the first murdered?

Of Kozja, whose experiments saw his deformed legion plead the Wolves for death?

Of Niklaas, whose burning hatred for the witch led to service to the lord of stability and decay?

Of Magnus, the less said, the better.

Of Gwalchavad, who in this world was quicker to declare for the Emperor?

Of Travier, who in this world was quicker to sacrifice his brothers to the Pantheon?

Of Azus, the Mad King, first murderer, revelling in the death of brothers?

Of K’awil, chosen of Chaos against Chaos?

Of Morro, sorrow-sworn sacrificed to the Eldar-eating god?

Of the Jade General, unable to ask forgiveness to the Imperium, unable to admit his faults.

Of Flash Vallant, whose fleets broke through the warp-storms to bring word of the betrayal to the Imperial court?

Of Pionus, whose bright vision was shattered?

Of Andezo, whose legion is once again broken?

[simison]

I'm a little confused. It seemed to start out as the reverse version of BotL, but it's not a clean mirror.

[bluntblade]

Which has made me think of something I should add to Alex's scene with Magnus.

 

"Your appearance is not quite as I remember it, Magnus."

 

"No?" Magnus' vague indifference was infuriating.

 

"The eye, brother. I remember you with two, whereas here you look as though you only ever had one."

 

That eye flashed violet for a second. "You are gazing into the Warp, Alex. Not a benign, clean mirror."

[Skalpynock]

I'm a little confused. It seemed to start out as the reverse version of BotL, but it's not a clean mirror.

Some men are beyond redemption, others are unable to leave their virtue.

[Nomus Sardauk]

A little idea I've had rumbling around in my noggin for a while now, finally got it out and on paper (so to speak) so here goes!

 

-----

 

Terra was burning. Humanity's birthworld, the cradle of the species, the heart of an Imperium that nearly conquered the Galaxy. And now it was under siege, her skies swarming with warships and their burning wrecks as they duelled, died and fell from the sundered heavens, her once mighty cities pounded into a choking smog of dust and mountains of rubble and twisted metal as towering superhuman invaders in storm grey armour marched through the ruins in their tens of thousands, a vast tide of bodies moving as one towards a single goal, the Imperial Palace. There before the colossal Eternity Gate, now sundered and broken by weeks of constant bombardment, a pair of Demigods fought to hold back that malevolent tide, or die trying.

 

Icarion ducked under the Thunder Hammer as it swung for his head, the crackling head singeing a few of the stray hairs that had escaped his now-disheveled hair bun as he brought Thunderchild around to sweep the legs of his attacker. With a dazzling arc of azure lightning the spear effortlessly cleaved through the grey-clad figure's legs at the knees, dropping the hulking warrior to the blood-stained dirt as he deftly parried another warrior's blade before spinning around to deliver a decapitating strike.

 

Risking a glance over his shoulder Icarion quickly spied his brother Alexandros nearly a dozen metres away, the Spear of Terra carving limbs off and punching holes through yet more grey-armoured giants as bones shattered beneath bludgeoning strikes from Aegis. Despite this fearsome display Icarion could tell his brother was struggling, his armour bore multiple rents and craters from powerful blows that would have slain an Astartes outright and he was bleeding significantly. Alexandros! Icarion called out telepathically, feeling the sting of psychic interference from the tulmult in the ether as he began moving to his kin's aid. Hold on brother, I'm coming! Abruptly Icarion paused as a sudden weight attached itself to his left leg, turning his head to see the warrior he'd earlier relieved of his legs clutching Icarion's own as he sunk his combat knife into the soft armour on the Stormborn's side. Gritting his teeth Icarion swiftly redirected his pain, channeling it into a telepathic lance that shattered the offending Legionnaire's mind for his trouble as he kicked the now-limp body off and continued his march to Alexandros.

 

Breaking into a sprint Icarion barrelled into the closest foe attacking Darshan, impaling the traitor through the chest as the Stormborn lifted him off the ground and launched him into the next warrior as they sought to outflank him. His intervention having giving Darshan room to breath the two brothers immediately went back to back, covering one another's blind spots as another wave of traitors surged forth to surround the Primarchs, but this time the hulking figures hung back, warily keeping their distance as if awaiting some unknown signal.

 

Well this can't be good. Alexandros sent, the message devoid of all trace of his usual humour. Wait, do you feel that...?" He asked, concern bleeding through the telepath link. Icarion quickly reached out with his warp sense, scanning over the hundreds of minds around them before he found the presence Alexandros had to be referring to, a yawning emptiness, a sickening hollowness of spirit that made Icarion recoil in horror. This was not the all-consuming psychic "black hole" of a pariah, but it was close, no this was something different, a spiritually stillborn abomination, and it was getting closer.

 

Even over the hellish cacophony of the apocalyptic struggle raging all around them, somehow both Primarchs could hear the vast, slow footfalls as it stomped towards them. Slowly the crowds of warriors parted to allow a figure through, the figure was chillingly tall, dwarfing the two Primarchs' in size, even Daerr'd, rest his soul, would have had to crane his neck somewhat to meet the harrowing gaze that now fell upon them.

 

The colossus was clad in the same stone-grey armour as it's Legionnaires, although where theirs was plain and relatively undecorated save for the usual tactical markings and Legion symbology, his was richly decorated with platinum trim and gold filigree. His visage was all at once beautiful and terrifying, like a marble statue of some ancient deity had come to life, his skin was flawless alabaster that seemingly bore not a single imperfection despite the fury of the apocalyptic conflict that raged around them. His head was smooth and hairless, while his eyes matched his snow-white complexion save for the black dots of his pupils. Upon his left pauldron sat the figure of a idealised human man, limbs spread wide as if to reach the ring that encircled him and with great wings sprouting from his back. His breastplate was beautifully crafted with angelic figures carved from white marble, all circling and holding aloft a great "XXI" rendered in contrasting black. In his right hand a titanic Power Sword as long as the average Astartes was tall crackled and snarled with barely contained power, while in his left he bore a masterfully-crafted Volkite Culverin, modified to be held and fired like a mere Charger.

Most chillingly of all however were the sword and maul hanging from the behemoth's belt, both Icarion and Alexandros immediately recognised them as the Obsidian Fang and the Righteous Authority, the favoured weapons of their lost brothers the Jade General and Kozja Darzalas.

 

Icarion felt a fresh wave of cold fury wash over him, this thing, this monster, this grotesque parody of everything he and his brothers stood for, dared to wear the weapons of his murdered kin like some sort of trophy?! His grip around Thunderchild tightened, knuckles turning white within his gauntlets as his rage threatened to overwhelm him. Get ahold of yourself Icarion, he's trying to bait us. Alexandros sent, concern for his brother's mental state colouring the thoughts with fear even as Icarion could sense Darshan's own anger simmering within him.

 

Despite the two being further up the slope of rubble that lead towards the breach the towering newcomer still managed to look down upon the two Loyalists with apparent disinterest. Finally, after a long moment the giant spoke in a voice that barely raised above a whisper, yet carried clearly across the battlefield with all the force of a thunderstorm.

 

"Inferiors, cease your futile resistance. For I am Vitruvian the Newborn, Primarch of the Genesis Legion, I am the future of Humanity, and you are obsolete."

[simison]

Love that piece, San. It's cool to see Icarion and Alex back-to-back, and a preview into the horror that will be the False Primarch.

 

Blunt, I think that's a brilliant addition, since one of the rumored reasons that Magnus has only one eye is because of his deal with Tzeentch.

Edited April 13, 2017 by simison

[Nomus Sardauk]

Thanks Sim, by no means is this the definitive name or appearance for the False Primarch, that's not my call, I just took some creative liberties based on my own personal vision for him, with a fair bit of inspiration from the Engineer of Prometheus.

[Skalpynock]

When I first had the idea, I pictured a mix between the Engineer and the most recent depictions of the Meta-Baron. Though I envisioned him with a war-hammer rather than a sword.

[Nomus Sardauk]

When I first had the idea, I pictured a mix between the Engineer and the most recent depictions of the Meta-Baron. Though I envisioned him with a war-hammer rather than a sword.

Hah! i guess great minds think alike Skalpy, I actually had him wielding a Warhammer at first but changed it after I thought that he wouldn't really need a strength-enhancing weapon given he's imbued with the combined size of Magnus & Daerr'd as well as the Bear's raw physical power so instead maybe he'd wield a huge blade that he could scythe down dozens of "obsolete" Astartes with, Guts-style.

 

Also, who's the Meta-Baron?

[Skalpynock]

A character in Jodorwsky’s Incal comics. He’s the last of a dynasty of ridiculously overpowered warriors, fending off threats from outside the galaxy and stuff. The quintessential science fiction murderhobo.

[Nomus Sardauk]

I just googled it and... Jeez, and I thought the Primarchs were pretty screwed-up as a family.

[TheBlindPrimarch]

“I do not see the point of this...finery,” Daer’dd grumbled as he glared down at the Sage from atop the pedestal he'd been instructed to stand on. “Would not clean fatigues, our better yet, my armor, suit this garment’s purpose just as well?”

 

“Surely you jest, my friend?” The Sage laughed as he was shown two different bolts of fine silken fabric by the tailor’s assistants, one a deep green with an embroidered golden leaf pattern, the other, a rich oak brown with a muted green pattern designed to resemble vines. He selected the green cloth after a moment's consideration before removing his hand from the shoulder of the Legion Serf that had been serving as his eyes,and turned towards the mostly nude Primarch of the Sixth Legion, who wore nothing currently, save for his loincloth.

 

“This is to be a formal event, not some leisure gathering or military briefing,” the Sage admonished Daer’dd kindly as he indicated to the master tailor that he was to begin. “Arriving underdressed would not only result in significant embarrassment to ourselves, but would also dishonor our host considerably. An event that would most assuredly result in a duel being declared.”

 

“A duel?” Daer’dd asked as he raised a bushy eyebrow in surprise, holding his arm straight out to his side obediently so the tailor could measure him. “Over which pelts I choose to cover myself with?”

 

“Oh yes,” the Sage chuckled as he looked towards Daer’dd, the Bear feeling a nagging sense of unease as he felt his friends fey gaze examining him. Fortunately the feeling passed as quickly as it came, the Sage looking away as he continued, his tone darkening. “Our host’s injured honour would demand satisfaction, and I've no desire to shed an innocent man's blood this night.”

 

“Nor do I.” Daer’dd grunted in mild discomfort as the tailor wrapped his measuring tape around Daer’dd's massive neck. The Sage stood in silent contemplation for a moment, and Daer’dd could see that his mind was elsewhere, before he suddenly turned towards him and smiled once more.

 

“Fortunately that is a possibility we will be avoiding by getting you properly attired.” The Sage replied. “Now hold still, less you knock the tailor’s scaffolding out from under him. The sooner we finish here, the sooner we can attend to your education in the proper method of dancing.”

 

“Dancing!?” Daer’dd roared in surprise, causing the tailor to jump from the scaffolding in terror. “No one said anything about dancing!”

Edited March 29, 2018 by TheBlindPrimarch

[simison]

Daer’dd. Otherwise, entertaining.

[TheBlindPrimarch]

Fixed

[simison]

Alexandros ran a hand through his grey-speckled beard as he stared at the maw of a ravenous beast, it’s jaws opened wide enough to swallow a galaxy. The beast was not a single entity but composed of trillions of leering eyes and salivating mouths. Although beyond counting, each beast was commanded by one guiding intelligence. A lone mind that obsessed over a single primal desire: to feed. And it called upon an entire race to serve its bidding.

 

“There’s a lot of them.”

 

Pionus sighed, “As ever, brother, you are the soul of understatement.”

 

Nomus offered a small smile, “At least some things don’t change.”

[Kelborn]

Andezo joined his brothers, resting a hand on Alexandros shoulder. It has been a while since he had a chance to hunt something different than traitors and demons.

He smiled, filled with joy by the opportunity to go on a true, clean hunt again. His blades thirsted for blood and the taste of this new foes flesh. What he saw reminded him of the great Ke'mano beasts of the distant Kaijo. Seeing them in a way his brothers could not, he could sense the impossible will, the unthinkable desire, this absolute purpose to feed. Such quantity of all kind of specimen, all part of one single mind. He had never imagined something like this to exist in such a scale. Like one colossal carnivore were these Xenos approaching. But with that kind he was familiar with. His Legion fought as one by themselves like the lethal monsters of their homeworld. They had mastered every challenge, through every bloody tide of carnage and war they had prevailed.

This new thread promised a new challenge for him, his brothers and his beloved sons. The Predators were spread across the imperial realm. To see them unified again along his brother's legions would fill his heart with pride. Trophies of all sizes would be brought back to their home of Mardum.

"This might take a while, hm?" He said jokingly, clapping on his brothers shoulderpad.

Edited June 25, 2018 by Kelborn

[Skalpynock]

Yucahu switched through all of his armour's autosenses. All these centuries of development had made the Nemoan Plate one of the finest suits of Tactical Dreadnought Armour in this galaxy. While his brothers were humouring themselves, he was more tense. He had lived through the Rangdan Xenocides, the Qarith Campaign, the reign of the Black Orks, the Taslob Voidbeasts Incursion, and many more massive wars. But this new foe was unlike any seen before. It was coming from everywhere at once. He turned to Niklaas, his hulking figure rotating far more swiftly than it should have.

 

"This shall be the greatest war we will have fought to this day, brother. Do you hold high hopes?"

 

The War-Mason nodded

 

"There is no hope to hold, Yucahu. We shall fight as we have always have, and we shall prevail. The Imperium withstands. Our ten-thousand years reign shall be broken by no beast nor man nor machine. You of all brothers should know that."