TALE - Just Because

[simison]

"Knowledge is rarely a wastful investment," the Warmaster replied as he kept his focus on Ardann. 

 

Ardann nodded. "There is truth to that, and to your knowledge. Asuryan, the Phoenix King, saw my abduction by the Primordial Annihilator. Foreseeing fate turning against him and his race, he intervened and rescued me from their clutches. He gave me a shard of his power before charging me to protect the Aeldari from the incoming time of nightmares."

 

"Ha!" Andruva laughed. "As if you alone could stop Slaanesh's feast."

 

Ardann regarded Andruva with icy threat. "That was not my mission. Asuryan saw his short-term fate was set. I would protect the inheritors of the old empire. Before She-Who-Thirsts coalesced into existence, Asuryan placed me aboard the Craftworld Iyanden to forewarn and to prepare. When the Fall occurred, we were as prepared as we could be. Since then, I have spent my time protecting the Aeldari and countering the Primordial Annihilator at every opportunity."

 

"We have destroyed several of these 'craftworlds'," Indra began with a tone rich in suspicion. "Did you betray your own race?"

 

Ardann stared at Indra, who glared back. "I have honored my oath."

 

"As obfuscating as one of the Changer of Way's brood," Father Alex noted. 

 

"And you're a prime example that not all of humanity is worth preserving," Ardann countered. 

 

"What of your legion? Your sons?" Little Alex inquired. 

 

Ardann shot him a look of intense bitterness. "Dead. Once my existence was discovered, the Emperor deemed the Ninth Legion corrupted and executed every one of them."

 

The news slammed a veil of silence as the Imperial Primarchs shifted uncomfortably. Father Alex shot a dismal look at the other side of the room and said, "And you wonder why I am over here." 

[simison]

Ardann spun towards the Disciple of Nurgle. "Do not dare justify use my sons to justify your betrayal. While none among the Imperium will understand the necessity of my actions, I did not condemn my race to a foolish bargain with the entities who seek to consume all of existence." Before the conversation could continue, the energy running along Ardann's spear surged. "Another approaches, this one corrupted as well."

 

The Warmaster peered over the gathering, confused before realization struck him. He turned his attention to the mirror next to Quintus. Abruptly, white and black wrestled over the service, neither gaining the advantage over the other. Although the Warmaster expected a weapon to make the initial entry, his prediction missed the mark.

 

Two wings lead the way through the surface. One, angelic white feathered; the other, black leather akin to a bat's. The contrasting wings were but the first oddity of the being who stepped through. The Warmaster recognized the auspice armor that Little Alex wore. But it had been modified. The once rich purple was gone, along with the resplendent crimson cape he had always favored. Instead, the armor's colors had been quartered, black and white each taking a quarter. 

 

Nor was that the only division. It was as though someone had split the figure's head in twain. One half bore the features the Warmaster had seen countless times in the mirror. The other half? Black scales replaced healthy skin. The left eye had been replaced by a reptilian one of blood red. When the entity grinned, even half of his mouth bore fangs. 

 

Only when the wings pulled back and unfurled behind the entity's body did the Warmaster see the weapon of choice. The left hand had been transformed into a claw worthy of the ancient reptiles who had once ruled over Terra. The right hand, bathed in white armor, carried a power fist scaled to a Primarch's size. 

 

The effect of the being's presence among the Chaos Primarchs was instantaneous. 

 

"Pretender," He Who Balances hissed. 

 

The new arrival pointed a single talon in return. "Pretender? I am not the one who fell for idle promises of power or is entwined with dreams worthy of a proper megalomaniac."

 

The Warmaster could not help but notice the room was beginning to strain under the sheer amount of power building within. Om-skry and Darshan's controlled energies may not have hidden the hint of the incredible power they could command, but it had affected the others but a little. He Who Balances, in spite of his overt display of arcane power and knowledge, followed a similar pattern. But power was woven into Ardann's very belongings and bled into the room. Not to mention that whatever blessing the Phoenix King had bestowed upon him could not be completely contained. And now this new one not only possessed a similar power granted from a higher power, but he did not bother obfuscating it in the least. 

 

"I thought the Renegade God was a myth," Father Alex murmured. 

 

Indra stomped his foot in frustration. "Who are you, what are you, and why are you on this side of the room?"

 

The being never took his eyes off of He Who Balances. "I possess a number of names and titles, some of which are quite lengthy. For the purposes of conversation, you may refer to me as Nemesis, Scion of Malal. As to why I'm in this position, I know not." Nemesis grinned at the Chaos Primarchs. "I'd be quite happy to trade places."

[simison]

Darshan studied the six Chaos Primarchs during the banter. He focused on Nemesis. "You're stronger than most of them."

 

"He is not," Om-skry argued.

 

"Of course I am," Nemesis countered. "They have to scavenge for scraps off of their distracted patrons' table. My god does not treat me as a disposable pawn, but as a critical knight in his war against the Four."

 

Ares snarled. "Malal is but a gnat on the Blood God's hand. You may appear to have more power than we, but we can command vast armies that dwarf the few weaklings you can muster."

 

Nemesis looked to the left and then to the right, before grinning. "They're not here now."

 

Andruva addressed Father Alex. "I'll flank left if you flank right."

 

"I want to know why you are standing next to me," Quintus interrupted as he waved his hands over the Primarchs to his right. "We remain pure and loyal to Emperor and to humanity."

 

Nemesis glanced at Quintus. "Who said I wasn't loyal?"

 

Might have something to do with the wings," Little Alex said, deadpanned.

 

Nemesis ran his armored hand across his leathery wing. "I would have done worse to myself if it meant forever shielding humanity from Chaos' taint. This was my choice to take the war against the malicious powers who seek to dominate and twist humanity for their own base amusement." He gritted his teeth. "Even if it means I will be forever separated from those I have sworn to protect." He spoke to Indra. "If the Emperor commanded you to sacrifice you and your legion to save all of humanity, would you hesitate?"

 

Indra glowered for a moment before he sighed. "No, I would not."

 

"And there you go." Nemesis paused. "Does anyone else feel a pressure?"

Edited June 23, 2019 by simison

[simison]

The Warmaster had not felt anything beyond the powerful energies dominating the room. A few seconds passed before he could feel it. The energies were weakening, bowing before an approaching force. Watching the reactions of the others, the Warmaster narrowed down the point of origin even as the effect became stronger. He Who Balances, despite his best attempts, could not hide his discomfort. 

 

"An Untouchable approaches."

 

A maul, wrought in the form of a hand clutching a spiked star, appeared in the mirror next to He Who Balances. The Primarchs did not have long to consider this before the maul's owner entered the room. He was there and not there. The Warmaster was reminded of Om-skry's other aspects who would fade in and out. The difference being was that the new entity alternated between levels of transparency. Regardless of how concrete the figure became, his aura remained steady and potent. 

 

Row-vell's protection proved useless against the being as the general took a step back. "What happened to you?'

 

Brown eyes shifted beneath long, black hair as they targeted Row-vell. A twisted smile erupted on the being's pale features. "Execution. Dear, old father did not appreciate my attempts to make friends."

 

"I had no issues..." Little Alex began warily. "What do we call you?"

 

"I don't care," the entity answered with a shrug. "All dead are doomed to become nameless; why should I fight it?"

 

The answer did not reassure the Warmaster, Little Alex, or several of the others. 

 

Whether consciously or subconsciously, Andruva's limbs had placed themselves between him and the Pariah. He said, "As painful as I find your presence, I'm still curious how you made 'friends'."

[simison]

"Spending time with people," the Untouchable began cheerfully. "Talking, and other activities."

 

Darshan eyed the Untouchable. "What are you hiding?"

 

The ghost chuckled. "What does it matter? What does it matter that I simply wanted a connection? What does it matter if my 'friends' did not share my sense of time? What does a few more deaths matter in the grand scheme of things?"

 

The Warmaster frowned. "Your own nature broke your mind."

 

The Untouchable slammed his mace against the mirror, which held before the blow. "Maybe I did, maybe I didn't? Who are you to judge me, myself? This room is quite useful in seeing present and past. You never had to contend with a power that drove everyone away from you. You weren't forced to use this power to break madmen and witches as they screamed and screamed! You were never denied brotherhood because of how the Emperor made you, Warmaster!"

 

"I tire of this," He Who Balances muttered, one hand held to his aching temple. "The aura is painful enough, but the whining is unbefitting a being of our dignity. "You four," he said as he pointed at Ardann, Om-Skry, Nemesis, and Darshan. "Aid me in restraining him."

 

"He is an Untouchable," Nemesis reminded him. 

 

For the first time, He Who Balances growled with frustration. "I know that. I am not saying we destroy the entity, merely contain him and the power he exudes."

 

The Untouchable laughed, a high-pitched, uncomfortable sound. "I'd like to see you try." 

 

"It's a simple enough concept," He Who Balances countered. He slammed a fist against the floor. A wave of energy cascaded from it and slid toward the shade. The energy slackened as it neared before it halted a distance between the two. There, it lingered, and the room's inhabitants felt a faint relief from the Untouchable's aura. Although they grumbled, the others soon added their own respective powers to the task. The Warmaster, although not a true sorceror, understood the concept. The empowered beings were creating an impromptu damping field, not by using their power directly against the Pariah, but by creating a reverse shield of raw energy around him. 

 

"Well, you boys have been having fun."

[simison]

Everyone's heads whirled toward the new voice. Distracted as they had been between the use of energy and the Untouchable's aura, none had noticed someone new had stepped in the mirror next to General Row-vell's. In many ways, the entity was familiar. Curly, long locks of fiery red. Dazzling green eyes gleaming with mischievousness. The armor retained the purple the Warmaster and Little Alex wore. Even a shield remained an important aspect of the being's panoply of war.

 

That's where the similarities died. 

 

For one, the armor did not encase the entire body. The breastplate covered only the upper half of the torso and did not extend down the arms. Instead, a matching pair of vambraces served as the only armor for the arms. Likewise, boots served as the primary armor for the legs, reaching up to and covering the knees. The last piece of armor covered the waist. Although, given the thick pteruges, it was difficult to tell how much armor was actually being used below the stomach. Technically, no skin was exposed outside the head and neck region. But the body sleeve beneath the armor was transparent.

 

Beneath the confused gazes of the others, the woman smiled. She curtsied. "Greetings, brothers, my name is Alexandra."

 

Andruva's eyes roved up and down. "Tame, but definitely a good direction."

 

Little Alex's eyes flashed between Row-vell and Alexandra. "How is this even possible?"

 

"You call that armor!?" Ares roared.  

[simison]

"This?" Alexandra said, as she waved a hand over her body. "In a manner of speaking. I actually only use this armor when fighting against humanoids. Otherwise, I use a full-body suit of war."

 

"All it would take is one stray rocket," Indra pointed out.

 

Alexandra pointed at her forehead. "Seeing the future is an excellent counter to that point, and I always go to war with this," she said as she hefted her shield. 

 

"Even so, to believe that any true soldier or warrior would be distracted by such a display is a poor gamble on the battlefield," Quintus argued. 

 

Alexandra leaned in his direction and offered a sultry smile. The Warmaster saw a blast of combined empathy and telepathy lance the Terran Primarch. Whatever defenses Quintus may have had, they proved ineffective at blocking the unusual assault. Something akin to a groan slipped out of his lips as the Warmaster saw the man's aura succumb to a wave of deep red. He could not recall ever seeing any Primarch be overcome by what was supposed to be a completely foreign feeling to the Emperor's sons: lust. 

 

"I don't even need to use it on the less disciplined ones. Works on the Eldar and the Orks too. The Orks are especially hilarious because they don't even comprehend what's happening to them," Alexandra explained with a quiet laugh. 

 

"Delicious," Andruva declared with a fiery look in his eyes. 

 

She shifted her shield between her body and Andruva. "Normally, I'd be flattered, but there is nothing I want to do with you and your ilk."

 

"And she plays hard to get too," Andruva said to himself with a happy sigh. "Oh, the pleasures to be shown and to be had."

 

"That attack." Alexandra shifted her attention, happily, away from Andruva and to Darshan. The saffron-clad Primarch measured his response. "Those emotions weren't your own."

 

Alexandra raised an eyebrow. "You're perceptive. No, they were not. I borrowed them from others."

 

"So, even in your reality, our brotherhood remains distant from common humanity in reproduction."

 

With a nod, Alexandra, "Yes, though not all of my sisters have handled it as well as I have." A pause. "Are you doing something to that mirror, Darshan?"

 

"No, that's not me."

 

Said mirror had taken on the exact same shade of saffron that the Warmaster had seen Darshan's own mirror use. A moment passed, but no weapon appeared. Rather, a woman stepped through. The same size as a Primarch, the woman also shared Darshan's swarthy complexion. Separating the two was a red dot painted in the center of her forehead, and she wore no armor, not even footwear. She garbed herself in a saffron sari, a simple dress from the Sindhuan continent on Delos. No weapons could be found in her hands either.

 

She cast her gaze across the chamber and bowed her head, a strand of black hair falling before her eyes. "So much pain."

 

"At least the last one wore some kind of armor," Ares said as his eyes bounced between the two female Primarchs. 

 

The Warmaster glanced at Darshan. Darshan shrugged before he asked, "May we have your name?"

 

The woman offered a respectful bow as response before answering, "I am the All-Mother."

[simison]

"All-Mother?" Little Alex repeated skeptically. "A bit arrogant of a title, is it not?"

 

The All-Mother shook her head. "No, it is my name and title, until I eventually perish. I have adopted all of humanity as my children to love, to care for, and to watch over. I care nothing for your origin or your character. All are worthy of my attention and affection."

 

Father Alex beamed at her. "What a beautiful ideal." The All-Mother did not look as pleased to receive the compliment.

 

"What fething idiocy is this!?" Ares shouted. "Humanity's sole use is its ability to make war! Not to coddle and nurse! And where are your weapons?"

 

"I have none," the All-Mother answered.

 

"None!?"

 

Indra likewise seemed incredulous. "Don't tell me you've tried to talk to every foe you've faced in the Great Crusade?"

 

"I have never been involved with the Great Crusade," the All-Mother coolly answered. 

 

That answer detonated across the room. Even Ardann was caught off-guard. Several voices broke out in dismay and in anger, Quintus loudest among them. The Warmaster glanced at Darshan. Darshan met his gaze and nodded as the two telepathically shared their plan. The Warmaster took a deep breath as he felt Darshan give him a rush of power. "Silence." The empowered word cut through the arguing for a moment. In the temporary silence, the Warmaster asked, "Did the Emperor never find you?"

 

"He found me," the All-Mother, her features stricken with melancholy. "And demanded that I support his war. I refused. He reasoned, he pleaded, and he threatened. I refused. Perhaps if I had resisted, he might have executed me, but I would not, could not threaten violence against my own father. In the end, he decided my fate: banishment to the dungeons beneath the Imperial Palace. There, I await to see what the future holds."

[simison]

Alexandra scoffed. "Your pacifism is more important than protecting humanity from the monster, the xeno, and the tyrant?"

 

"To what end, sister?" The All-Mother replied. "Father is working at a breaknecking speed, trying to restore an old kingdom created over 10,000 years in the span of a few short centuries. This rush has caused us to use the sword when the word was viable. We have trampled the innocent along with the guilty. My conscience wouldn't allow me to ignore them as much as he prodded me. I begged him to change his ways, to slow the pace, to allow our words to be our primary weapon against others." A single tear slipped down her cheek. "He rejected me."

 

The crackle of electricity interrupted further conversation. 

 

The mirror between the Untouchable ghost and Alexandra snapped with lightning bolts. The head of a warhammer, alive with power, punched through the surface. On the head were inscriptions that the Warmaster recognized as ancient runes. A hand came next, gripping a long haft before the owner sauntered out. The Warmaster's mind leapt to one of his brothers: Hectarion. Neither the Lorica nor the auspice armor were found upon this new being. He wore armor thick with symbols, but in the style of ancient Northern Europa instead of the south. The armor blared with bright red as its primary color with gold to highlight it further. No cape was to be found, but a wolf's pelt of pure white. Blue eyes surveyed the room, while blond hair ran down the being's neck. A full and healthy beard clung to the man's face. 

 

By far, the most familiar feature was that confident grin the Warmaster knew he had worn often. 

 

The newcomer slammed the pommel of his warhammer against the floor, causing another spark to fly. "What a company to greet the eyes!" He declared, his rich voice sounding throughout the room. "From daemon to familiar to fair," he said as his eyes lingered on the two women. 

 

"Finally, another worthy of the Emperor," Indra declared as he looked on with approval.

 

"Emperor?" The entity repeated. He laughed. "No, no Emperor is worthy of me. I forge my own path with the wisest of my kin."

 

"Another Traitor," Quintus spat.

 

The being chuckled again. "Bold words to speak on the behalf of a fool who could not even trust his sons. Before this conversation turns loose, I will regale you all with my name: Donar, Lord of the Storm Masters, one king of three of the Enlightened Realm." To emphasize the declaration, Donar sent a lightning bolt through his hammer. 

[simison]

"He's as subtle as Ares," Little Alex remarked. 

 

Donar grinned in reply. "What use is subtlety on the field of war? Humanity has and will always respond most ferverently to direct action. To the massed cannon and to the cavalry charge. We and our sons have been forged not to cower in trench lines like the Army or to hide in bunkers and fiddle with trinkets as the Mechanicum. Humanity wants their heroes to stand tall and proud before the enemy and to prevail with thunder and lightning. And I will happily provide."

 

Ares looked torn between admiration and hatred. 

[simison]

The Warmaster stepped in. "What would you compel you to betray your oath to the Emperor?"

 

"Why have you not submitted to the Pantheon?" Om-skry added, only one aspect this time.

 

"Why would I do either?" Donar pointed his warhammer towards the Warmaster. "The Emperor outright kept us in the dark about the single greatest threat against, not just the Imperium, but all of Humanity. Furthermore, the man has issues with matching the punishment to the offense. Several of my brothers and their legions were sanctioned, censured, and woefully punished beyond what they deserved. It fed a growing insurgency that would have happened regardless of anything else. But when the Emperor retired, it was only a matter of time before some form of civil war would have occurred. I joined because I wanted to show the most powerful being in the galaxy a measure of justice he had avoided through his own corrupted sense of entitlement."

 

Donar swung the warhammer in Om-skry's direction. "This does not mean the answer is to sell humanity into the most virulent tyrants in existence. The Imperium may have proved itself unworthy, but not humanity. And to equate humanity with the Imperium is to fundamentally misunderstand their relationship between the two. So I will continue to fight on humanity's behalf in the form of an empire worthy to be called its defender."

 

Every inhabitant in the room twitched, Row-vell being knocked off his feet, by the sudden onslaught of power. The Warmaster glanced around the room before he focused on the mirror between the ghostly Pariah and the All-Mother. White light pierced through the mirror and surged to the point cracks broke out over it. A shield came through first, the familiar circle of Aegis. 

 

The being who slid through the cracked mirror was also familiar. Same red hair as half of them. But the eyes were not green but glowed white with the strength of souls. The auspice armor clad the individual, only to a degree. The armor had aged and fallen into disrepair here and there. To the Warmaster's surprise, where original segments were absent, bone armor filled the gaps that mimicked the original. The same bone had been fashioned into a hilt for Xiphos; the sword Little Alex held in his own hand.

 

Yet, beyond all of these minor differences was simply the unending waves of power emanating from this being. 

 

Row-vell could not climb to his feet, even with Darshan's protective shield. The Untouchable ghost shivered within his now ironic haven. Only the more powerful members, those who had been granted a piece of godhood by a higher power, weathered the effect, while the lessers found themselves slowly pushed back against the mirrors which had given them entry. The being scanned the room before he bowed his head. "My apologies."

 

Gradually, the oppressing energy lessened. "It is dificult to contain myself these days. I have to actively focus to keep it locked down."

 

Breathing easier, Row-vell climbed back to his feet. "Just how did you acquire so much power?" He paused. "Do you have white in your hair?"

 

The Warmaster saw it to be true, a detail that had escaped him earlier. "That can't be aging."

 

"It's not," the being agreed. "It's a most unwelcome development, but one I seem to be losing control over."

 

"Who are you?" He Who Balances demanded, a dark look written upon his features.

 

"I am Alexandros Darshan VonSalim," the being answered. A soft smile appeared on his face. "However, given the audience, you may address me as Salim."

[simison]

"You smell of the Webway," Ardann mentioned, eyeing the armor. "And you wear wraithbone."

 

"Correct on both accounts," Salim said softly. "The Webway has been my haven, and wraithbone is the only resource I have reliable access to when it comes to armor repairs."

 

"Another traitor," Quintus growled. "No doubt the power you bargained for drove you to forsake your oath."

 

Salim chuckled, his body still glowing. "I have not forsworn my oath to humanity or to the Imperium. Unfortunately, when I discovered the true threat of Chaos, the Emperor rejected my suggestion to warn my brothers. Instead of submitting, I fled into the Webway with my sons willing to stay by my side. From there, I have continued my war against the true threat against humanity. As for my power..." 

 

Salim turned his gaze upon the Primarchs of the Ruinous Powers. Hands tightened grips on weapons. Salim lifted a single open palm towards them. 

 

"Kill him!" Ares roared. 

 

Light blazed into being from Salim's hands. Under the precise rays, the five Primarchs halted, mid-charge. They squealed and howled with pain before the light jumped in intensity. As it did, the Primarchs were thrown backwards against their respective mirrors. "You'd be surprised at what we are capable of, given 9,000 years to grow and learn."

 

Nemesis clapped. "Bravo! Do it again."

[simison]

[i'm going to live up to the name of this thread. If you want me to continue this story, vote for your least favorite aspect to be eliminated from the story.]

[Doctor Perils]

This might surprise you but... I vote against Ares - he just doesn't feel like a potential aspect of Alexandros, nor a polar opposite. What's more, he doesn't really feel all that different from a watered down Angron or Raktra...

[Nomus Sardauk]

While I agree with Perils Ares I at least find amusing in his little outbursts of annoyance at things, personally I'd rather vote against Andruva, he just seems rather bland character-wise, just your bog-standard Slaaneshii hedonist, which I just can't see Alex ever becoming. Plus, based on his description he looks rather silly in my head with all those arms. Edited June 20, 2019 by Nomus Sardauk

[Kelborn]

I'm with Nomus.
Ares, at least, is a stereotypical Khorne brute, who always brings a direct and rough behaviour and entertainment with him, like Lheor in the Black Legion novels.

But as I personally dislike Slaanesh the most of the four, I'm voting for his champion.

And for the same reasons Nomus said.

Edited June 21, 2019 by Kelborn

[simison]

"One demonstration shall suffice," Salim said as he ended his assault. "For now." 

 

The five lords of Chaos fell forward on feet and knees, no longer pinned against their mirrors. Salim's gaze locked onto Om-skry. All three aspects had manifested. All three froze under Salim's watchful gaze. 

 

Father Alex bounced onto his feet, surprisingly mobile for his girth. "Such power. Are we truly of reaching such heights without blessing from one of Four?" 

Edited June 21, 2019 by simison

[simison]

He Who Balances narrowed his eyes at Salim. "That is not your power alone."

 

Andruva stretched out his many limbs, livid. "I am no stranger to pain, but that blow was devoid of even a hint of pleas-AAAGGHH!"

 

An axe tore into the Primarch's neck, length-wise. Limbs spasmed in pain as nerve pulses fired randomly. Andruva attempted to twist, but a second axe hacked away at his back. The room filled with fleshy ripping as Ares hacked at limb after limb, pushing his first axe deeper into Andruva's spine. No one else reacted at the sudden onslaught. The other Chaos Primarchs kept one wary eye on Salim and Nemesis (who looked vaguely annoyed). The others felt no compulsion to defend the Scion of Slaanesh. Several of Andruva's tentacles snapped against Ares, while hands tried to claw at his face. 

 

It mattered not. 

 

The axe went up. The axe came down. Blood splattered over Ares as his smile twisted and widened. 

 

When the last limb fell from bloody stump, Ares slammed the second axe higher into the neck. With a jerk in opposite directions, Ares decapitated Andruva. 

 

To the Warmaster's surprise, where Andruva's blood doused, blood-red covered Ares' armor, but blood upon skin produced his original tone. It looked as though someone had splattered skin over Khorne's chosen. With a deep breath, Ares stepped back from his work.

 

The mirror that Andruva entered through glowed bright purple. The Slaaneshi's remains slid as some force pulled it back into the mirror. When the last of the body disappeared, the mirror cracked and shattered. 

[simison]

"I feel better," Ares declared with a happy sigh. 

 

"You've also reduced your numerical advantage," the Warmaster noted.

 

Ares shrugged. "Wasn't much of an advantage to begin with. Only five of us against eleven, even with the pathetic excuse of a Primarch," he said as he threw a lazy glance at Row-vell. "Whatever advantage we might have had with raw psychic strength with He Who Balances was nullified by Salim. The only real advantage we have is in aggression. Too many weak wills on your side to initiate combat. Andruva threatened that stalemate, and now, even if I am defeated, I have the pleasure of knowing I lasted longer than that ."

 

Little Alex stared at Ares. "You sound different."

 

"It's the blood," Nemesis said.

 

"Half-right," Ares acknowledged, pointing the smaller axe in Nemesis' direction. "When I ascend, I will be Khorne's greatest general, a proper Warmaster. Until that day when I finally join my lord across the veil, the Blood God has given me blessings to increase my martial abilities with a small price."

 

Disgust wrote across Darshan's face. "You are a shadow of yourself outside of war."

 

 

[simison]

Ares grinned. "Or the truest expression of our being." The Warmaster scowled, but Ares preempted him. "Every Primarch was created for the sole purpose to be the Emperor's mightiest instrument of war. To deny that, such as being a fool dedicating himself to the purpose of peace, is the height of idiocy. All I have done is take the purpose of our existence to its logical conclusion: a being perfected for war."

 

"What a horrible view of oneself," the All-Mother murmured. 

[simison]

Before another word could be spoken, any being who possessed any form of divination threw their attention toward Om-Skry. All three aspects varied with a snarl as he aimed his torches at Salim. Fire exploded towards the eldest of them as three voices incanted. Salim held out a hand, and the fires split around him. He showed no signs of heat or fear as he weathered the barrage.

 

The incantation jumped in volume and was spiked with agony. The Warmaster peered through the flames, confused as to what harm had befallen Om-skry when Salim had yet to make a counter. He saw a familiar gauntlet, gripping Om-skry's neck from a Warp portal. 

 

The flames uselessly grasping at Salim stuttered and then faded. Om-skry twitched as purple energy slid from him into the gauntlet. The blond aspect faded first. Then the darker one. Finally, his voice still whispering whatever fell speech of Tzeentch fell silent. The gauntlet retracted through the portal to return to He Who Balances side. Om-skry's body collapsed to the floor. A blue-purple light blazed from his mirror and sucked the corpse back through. Once Om-skry's body was gone, the mirror shrank, until it vanished from existence.

 

He Who Balances met Salim's gaze. "The gap between you and I shrinks."

 

"The more you take, the less you have," Salim said with a gentle smile. 

 

Ares could not decide if he was pleased or frustrated with this turn of events. He addressed Father Alex, "You're better company anyway."

 

Father Alex laughed. "I will admit you're much more pleasant to talk to now. Although, is the blood fading from you?"

 

"It is," Ardann affirmed. Andruva's blood on Ares' hands gradually disappeared under watchful gaze. "Another part of your curse."

 

"Curse, no," Ares said as he looked over his body. "A reminder. As a realized god of war, I should never go too long without spilling blood. You may have noticed how I am when I am deprived."

 

"Yes, some of our ears are still ringing with your one-note babbling," Nemesis stated as he flexed his power fist and claws. 

 

Little Alex added, "Which I suppose is the point. Your very own words and personality shift to invoke a fight however you can." Little Alex's eyes narrowed. "You'd make a poor strategic asset in the long-term. Do you slaughter your own sons when you've gone too long, monster?"

[simison]

"Of course not, every Spartan is too valuable to be wasted as such," Ares retorted. 

 

The Warmaster threw a dubious look. "You renamed our Wardens to the Spartans upon your fall?"

 

Ares scoffed. "Of course not. I named the IV^th Legion the Spartans when the Emperor gave them to me." Ares slammed a fist into his chest in what most recognized as an ancient salute. "I had them don the crimson worthy of those ancient warriors as we launched into the Great Crusade. With shield and spear, we marched ever forward across the stars."

 

"Fourth Legion?" Quintus repeated.

 

"Did the Emperor cripple your ability to listen as well? Ardann mentioned his legion was the Ninth."

 

"He's a mutant and a traitor to humanity," Quintus stated flatly.

 

Ardann threw a poisonous gaze at Quintus. Ares ignored both as he continued, a sense of wistfulness entering his red eyes. "The Spartans was the foremost heavy infantry legion of the Great Crusade. Imagine, if you can, the sight of a thousand crimson legionaries marching across the fields of war, to slay the enemy in the most noble of fashions. We shattered Ork, Eldar, and Man in our advances."

 

Donar laughed as he tapped his warhammer. "You are mistaken. For none were finer than my Storm Masters. We did not rely on shields to bring us to our enemy, but met him with fierce charges. Red lightning caged in the form of men." Donar chuckled. "Though we were also more than willing to add a bit of real lightning to the mix. My legion, the Ninth Legion, also earned a bit of renown for the potency of our seidr for their ability to wield physical lightning in our wars. Oh, I cannot tell you of the pleasure of shocking a foe who had no inkling before the bolt landed on his head!"

[simison]

The Warmaster hesitated, vague disapproval written across his face. But he pressed, "When I met my sons, they had called themselves the Storm Riders and had earned a reputation for tank warfare. Was that true of your legion as well?"

 

"It was," Donar answered as he rested his hands on his warhammer. "Hence why I renamed them the Storm Masters. They were quite capable, but I elevated them to beyond what they were. The same could not be said of the tanks. Such warfare is better left to the Imperial Army and the mortals. We are higher than that."

 

The All-Mother frowned. "It is a mistake to think us above humans."

 

Donar threw a pointed glance at Row-vell and then met the All-Mother's eyes. "I hope you can at least see the difference in height, if nothing else. What of your legion? Did you at least meet them before you abandoned them?"

 

The All-Mother went quiet for a moment, her hands folded. "I did not abandon them, but I did meet them. Among the Emperor's attempts to persuade me, he brought me before the command staff of my sons, hoping their words would sway me. They were the Vth Legion, but they had not taken a name. They were viewed as oddities by their cousins. They were known for their compassion and had become something of diplomats among the Astartes. Forsooth, they too struggled with the demands of the Great Crusade, but duty had been bred into them since their conception."

 

"You had sons?" Alexandra inquired with a quirked eyebrow.

 

The All-Mother nodded. "Yes, and they were fine men. Were not yours?"

 

Alexandra grinned. "My daughters are fine women, though they are also of the Fifth Legion. We are known as the Amazons of Delos. Not a very imaginative name, I know, but we sort of inherited it. We aren't famous for our charges," she said as glanced at Ares. "Or are lightning," she added before nodding to Donar. "But we do have something in the way of diplomacy. Our biggest claim to fame is that the Amazons is the largest legion bar none. Unfortunately, we also are one of the weakest."

 

Indra frowned. "Those claims are usually mutually exclusive."

 

"Yes, but it has something to do with this," Alexandra said as she waved a hand over her chest. "My daughters look more human than their cousins do. Normally, the gene-seed places quite a bit more bulk on the frame for obvious reasons, but, either by design or defect, the Amazons don't gain as much muscle. Which is why we are the weakest. Any other legion could challenge us, either in war or in a duel, and in an equal fight, we lose. We compensate through very extensive recruitment rights throughout the Imperium."

 

"Hence, achieving the largest legion," Little Alex finished.

 

Alexandra beamed at him. "Exactly."

 

"I," Little Alex paused as he glimpsed at the Warmaster. 

 

The Warmaster nodded. "We both have similar advantages. Our Legions, both of the Fifth and named the Halcyon Wardens, are the largest of our respective realities. We have both codified a diplomatic corps called the Order of the Open Hand to explicitly prevent combat from breaking out where we can with words. We have similar intra-legion organizations for the librarians and the tank masters among the Wardens."

 

"We are also known for our heavy infantry formations, though they are not simply used as battering rams," Little Alex added, his eyes on Ares.

 

"So you spill more blood though your reactionary tactics," Ares countered with a sly smirk. "Khorne is pleased. And what of you?" He said to Indra before throwing a thumb towards Donar. "He does not hide his sons in metal boxes."

 

Indra snarled. "The Hathi Corps is the pride and joy of the XVIIIth Legion, the Astral Devas. We have crushe-"

 

"As you've bloviated about, yes," Ares interrupted before he turned to Father Alex. "And what of your legion?"

 

Father Alex smiled. "Fifth Legion, the Halcyon Wardens. We've tried to discard the name when we embraced Nurgle's love, but names are stubborn things. I imagine we share much in common with yourselves," he said as he nodded to Little Alex and the Warmaster, "before history took a divergent turn." There was an uncomfortable pause before he spoke to He Who Balances. "Do these settings hold true for you as well?"

 

He Who Balances never turned his gaze from Salim. "No. I commanded the Second Legion, though they were once the Halcyon Wardens. We were never the largest legion, denied such an opportunity by the Emperor. They are now the Stygian Legion, the ones strong enough to follow me on my path of balance."

 

Salim met the stare. "Coincidences abound. We too were the Second Legion yet remain as the Halcyon Wardens, despite our long vigil. At my current time, our psychic strength has only grown, paralleling my own growth. It is aided our fight against our unyielding fight against Chaos."

 

He Who Balances' expression never changed, but the Warmaster could sense a spike in rage. "Does it hold true for you as well, pretender?"

 

Nemesis snorted. "I'm not the one cowering over there. You shouldn't stare, it's rude and completely opens your flank to an attack." He Who Balances did not waver in his gaze. Nemesis stretched out a talon in the Chaos Primarch's direction before he continued, "XIth Legion, also the Halcyon Wardens. Though we are no longer a legion. My sons who followed me are too few to merit being called a legion, while those who remained in the Materium were absorbed into another legion. Numbers don't matter, for each Warden who walks my path is mighty indeed."

 

He sighed before he addressed the Untouchable, who sat in his impromptu cell, staring at nothing. "Are you joining this conversation?"

 

"The dead command no one."

 

Nemesis rolled his eyes. "I thought not." He turned to Quintus. You said the Jermani Legion. What exactly are they known for?"

 

Quintus regarded Nemesis warily for a few seconds before he answered, "We are adept in close quarters combat, rapid armored tactics, and legion-auxiliary coordination deployments."

 

"Right, nothing new there," Nemesis said before he turned to Ardann. "And your legion is dead. Do you actually know that, or is that only what you've inferred?"

 

"Do not mock me," Ardann countered as his grip on the spear tightened. He jerked his head away from He Who Balances to glare at Nemesis, his red topknot swirling with the motion. "What the Aeldari know, I know. The Ninth Legion had been sighted in several engagements throughout the first century of the Emperor's conquest. It was only after I was forced to engage the First Legion did the Ninth disappear from the front lines. I searched for information about them, using my considerable powers when I could do safely without attracting the Emperor's attention. Visions and runes of destruction and dark fates greeted me with each attempt." He took a deep breath.

 

"Your emotions have been amplified," Darshan observed.

 

"Aeldari are far more intense emotional beings than humans are," Ardann answered after he had subjugated his choler. "What of yourself? Do you hail from the same lineage as most here?"

 

Darshan shook his head. "We are the XVth Legion, the Travelers Eternal. Every one of my sons is a psyker as I am. We use these gifts in war though with considerable hesitation and discipline. To instinctively rely on the Warp in any endeavor is to invite ruin and death," he said as his eyes swept over He Who Balances, Ares, and Father Alex. "When not in battle, we observe, learn, and spread our knowledge throughout the Imperium. We are the pioneers, the wary travelers of the Immaterium."

 

"Ambitious," Alexandra muttered.

 

"It is necessary for our race to survive," Darshan replied before his attention shifted to Row-vell. "You may not command a legion, but you command far more than we do."

 

The haggard Lord General nodded, not-so-subtly leaning on his rifle for support. "I command the 109th Expeditionary Fleet, primarily, but my authority extends to several operating in the same region of Segmentum Pacificus. One million soldiers answer to my orders, but, like several of you, it is my super-heavy battalions that I favor the most. Personally, I go to war in either my power armor or aboard my personal Stormhammer, the Advent of Terra, depending on what the campaign demands." 

[simison]

[Remember, vote for two aspects to be removed.]

[simison]

The All-Mother's mirror dazzled all with blazing, gold light slamming from it. The Warmaster felt a presence all too familiar. The All-Mother cowered beneath the light as she whispered, "father."

 

Cords of light sprung forth from the mirror and wrapped themselves around the All-Mother. She struggled as tears slipped down her face, murmuring, "Please, no. I want to stay." No matter how much the Primarch fought, the binding light dragged her to the mirror. She turned to Salim and shouted, "Help me!" 

 

The eldest among them winced at the plea before he shook his head; his eyes never left He Who Balances. "His power is still greater than mine."

 

Trying to grasp at anything, the All-Mother vanished into the mirror with a final cry. The light then sucked in the mirror itself in an instant, leaving only a bare patch of wall in place. He Who Balances grinned for the first time, aimed straight at Salim. "For all of your power, you remain as weak as the rest of them."

 

The room shrunk as Salim released his power again. The power was a fraction of the first time, but even restrained as it was, the Warmaster and others flinched before it. "Kneel." In the Warmaster's mental eye, the telepathic command was a hammer worthy of a continent. He Who Balances did not kneel so much as collapsed to his knees before the weight. "Do not mistake my grace for apathy again."

 

The power slid from the room, drawn once again beneath Salim's iron will. Next to Alexandra, Row-vell gasped deeply of the air. The remaining female Primarch bent over and helped the aged general to his feet. The Warmaster noticed the shade of the Pariah studying his mirror. The spells and energy around him moved as he moved. The ghost pressed a hand against the mirror's surface and cackled when it went through. Before the spirit could depart, the Warmaster said, "You never gave us your name."

 

The ex-Pariah threw a cruel grin in return. "And you never will learn it." Fading for the last time, the ghost disappeared, along with his mirror. 

 

The Untouchable's presence gone, the room once again tightened without a force to contain so many powerful entities, even accounting Om-Skry's absence. Row-vell shuddered beneath the unintentional pressure. "General." 

 

Row-vell looked up to see Salim looking down at him with a benevolent smile. The eldest saluted in ancient fashion, fist over heart. With an effort, Row-vell matched the gesture. Immediately, pure light swelled over him. The Warmaster could see a potent layer of protection embracing the mortal. Row-vell took another deep breath and stood without relying on his rifle for support. "Thank you, my lord."

 

"I am no lord," Salim answered without rancor as his attention flipped back to He Who Balances. 

 

Although now freed from the influence of the others, the Warmaster noticed out of the corner of his eye Row-vell subtly knocking on his mirror with the butt of his rifle. A brief look of disappointment flashed over the general's face as the mirror held. 

 

Darshan, however, was completely preoccupied with Salim. "What power was that?"

 

"Mine," Salim answered good-naturedly. 

 

"It was a witch's spell, what of it?" Indra said with a shrug. 

 

"No, it was-" Darshan paused as he rounded toward Indra. "You do not have the gift?"

 

Indra frowned. "Of course not. I never have been a mutant." 

 

"Your red skin begs to differ," Nemesis countered.

 

"Gene defect," Indra insisted. 

 

Little Alex mirrored Darshan's confusion. "But you do have power, Indra. It's a subtle thing, but it's there."

 

"No, I do not," Indra said again. 

 

"I don't think he does," Adrann pronounced. He addressed Darshan. "It's too subtle, more akin to an inward trait than one of the gifts."

 

The Warmaster nodded. "Several of our kin have been blessed with power, but are not actual psykers. That must be what we have sensed."

 

"We?" Indra repeated as he scanned the room with a suspicious eye. "How many of you are there?"

Edited June 24, 2019 by simison