TALE - Just Because

[simison]

The Warmaster glanced at Little Alex before deferring to him. "We are. We specialized in divination and telepathy, the better to protect our charges and guide the future to a happier conclusion."

 

"Interesting," Ardann said as he studied the pair. "I don't feel as though my potential was as limited to just two of the arts."

 

"It's self-imposed," the Warmaster admitted. 

 

"Ah," Ardann said as he motioned toward his robe. Three runes hovered out and spun in the palm of his hand. The runes glowed with energy that reflected in his green eyes. "The blessings bestowed upon me, combined with Aeldari traditional techniques, have granted me quite the breadth of powers. Not all of which are easily classified in the arts of which you are familiar with, though divination does feature heavily among them. Like you two, I often use it in my stance as a guide for others."

 

"A mutant twofold," Indra growled. He shot a look at Quintus with a bit of hope. "Surely, you're not one of them as well?"

 

"I am," Quintus stated. After a moment, the pilum glowed with energy beyond the mundane. "I, Decimus, Quintus Decimus, and Vicesima are the designated psykers, each of us specializing in at least three disciplines. Quintus Decimus is the exception, being the greatest psyker among the Imperators. I was chosen to be proficient in biomancy, telekinesis, and geokinesis."

 

"All of which involve manipulating physical matter," Alexandra noted. She addressed Darshan. "While I won't claim he is deceiving us, but doesn't he feel weaker than us?"

 

"He does," Darshan agreed, a thoughtful look on his face. "Perhaps this is a consequence of his upbringing?"

 

Quintus frowned as his eyes bounced between the two of them. "I am more than able to fulfill my responsibilities."

 

Alexandra offered a sweet smile. "No one is suggesting otherwise, Quint, but I would have expected a Primarch of your caliber to be able to block my technique."

 

"It was most unorthodox," Quintus grumbled. For the first time in his life, the Warmaster saw a faint blush on a Primarch. 

 

Alexandra laughed, a thing of silver and silk. "Oh, how adorable. Anyway, I believe I've already demonstrated my abilities. What of yourself, Darshan?"

[simison]

"My prowess extends from one range to another, and others have already commented on my strength," Darshan said as he held his stave lightly. "To further specify beyond that description requires time and energy I do not want to waste on such a venture." He paused. "I am uncomfortable with it. True mastery is measured in the wisdom of knowing when not to use power."

 

"Pride masked as humility is a special kind of hypocrisy," Ares jeered as he leaned forward. "For all of your high-minded words, I have no doubt you've wielded those same powers in war, undoubtedly against other humans."

 

"A necessity, one I do not relish in," Darshan protested, his soft voice taking a hard edge to it.

 

Ares waves a hand and axe. "Spare me the tripe. I never had such powers, and I welcome that fact. I will not deny they grant certain advantages, but more often than not, they are distractions. Always struggling to keep one's mind rooted in the battlefield around oneself instead of being seduced by imagined riches in the Immaterium. I could not count the number of librarians who destroyed themselves when they were relied upon to provide critical support. The most hilarious ones were those who fell prey to their weakness and 'forgot' the spells they were casting." Ares fixed a ferocious grin upon Indra. "Isn't that right?"

 

Indra gritted his teeth before he reluctantly cast his gaze towards Donar. Donar laughed at the motion before slamming the pommel of his warhammer upon the ground, sending another bolt of lightning coursing through it. "Did you honestly believe that was my weapon doing so?"

 

Indra's glower was answer enough.

 

Donar laughed again. "One of my titles is the Lord of Lightning! I need no weapon to channel my gift. Nor do I need another such power. Lightning in of itself is an element that demands one's complete attention and is awe full to overcome any foe. I am quite content with it."

 

"And more than happy to demonstrate it," Father Alex added. 

 

Donar's answer was slow in coming. "Aye, indeed I am. I suppose I should ask of you. You seem to mirror those two over there," Donar finished as he gestured to the Warmaster and Little Alex.

 

"There are quite a few of them!" Father Alex quipped as he gestured to the glassy surfaces before chuckling to himself. "You have the right of it, though it is of my past. I still maintain a measure of my mind-speech, but my future-sight I have allowed to waste away in lieu of mastering all aspects of the body." He concluded with another hearty slap on his engorged stomach. 

 

Little Alex grimaced at the sight, especially when more stomach acid leaked onto the floor. "Is there a particular reason for such a change?"

 

Father Alex threw his arms open wide. "I have all of eternity to look forward to with my sons, brothers, and cousins! What need do I have of looking to the future when I can enjoy my present? Although," Father Alex said as he cast a sidelong gaze to He Who Balances, "I doubt you agree with me."

 

He Who Balances was still on his knees and a faint growl spilled from his lips. "I command the four Choirs. No power or skill is beyond my reach." Finally, he managed to lift his head against the pressure to meet Salim's eyes. "And I'm only getting stronger."

 

"Oh yes, we can certainly tell," Nemesis said, eyes dancing with mirth above his reptilian smile. "At your rate, you might be able to jump in another century." A wordless snarl answered. "Tsk, tsk. Temper, temper, lest you fall off your precarious position into Khorne's embrace." Nemesis leaned back, though his eyes never left the pleasing sight before him. "I too am a psyker, but perhaps more limited than the rest of you. Or, I was. My arts were particularly noteworthy for their temperament, waxing and waning apparently at random. I could not rely on them for war during my direct service to the Imperium." Nemesis flexed his wings. "It was not until Malal augmented me was I able to reliably use them."

 

Indra's face fell further and further with each answer. "Is it only myself and that traitor?" he cried as he regarded Ares.

 

Ares grinned and pointed at Row-vell. "You forgot that one."

 

Row-vell, although no longer swaying beneath the various powers around him, winced when Indra's enraged glare aimed itself at him. "I am just a man."

 

Indra roared. "Surrounded!"

 

Ignoring his Sindhuan counterpart, Darshan addressed Salim, "I allowed myself to be distracted, but I have not forgotten. You wield a new branch of power I've never seen before. What you did for Row-vell, you did not merely protect his mind. You strengthened his very soul. What art is this?"

 

Salim allowed the question to hover in the air. "In good time, you may learn it as well. It is a demanding discipline, requiring absolute dedication to master. In this place of beyond realms, I do not think it prudent to teach you." Salim shifted to look at Darshan directly. "So, I must advise patience."

[simison]

Next votes:

 

• Ardann - 1
• Little Alex - 1
• Darshan - 1
• Father Alex - 1

[simison]

Fire, multi-hued, mushroomed in the room's center. "On guard!" Ardann cried before three beings charged from within the flame. The three sprinted towards Little Alex, Darshan, and Salim. In the instant after they emerged from the fire, the Warmaster was shocked to see the three aspects of Om-Skry. "What?"

 

The three targets reacted. Little Alex held his shield high, while Darshan slammed his stave into the ground before him. Salim lifted a hand before him. With white light, Salim speared the charging body, Om-Skry's central body dissolved in the attack. The body mirroring Darshan's features slammed into a forcefield and exploded into fire. The final body crashed into Little Alex and transformed into living flame. Little Alex howled in pain as the fire melted his body. 

 

Salim reached his hand out to Little Alex before he froze. "Darshan!"

 

Darshan twitched and bent over, one hand clutching at his chest. "Tricky," he muttered as he fell to his knees. 

 

Little Alex's howl died away, leaving only ash in his place. A spot of corrosion manifested in the center of Darshan's armor and spread. Salim moved to aid Darshan, but the latter shook his head. "Watch He Who Balances."

 

Salim paused before he nodded and returned to his vigil. Darshan pushed himself backwards and seated himself on the floor. Balancing the stave on his lap, Darshan crossed his legs and rested his hands on his knees. He bowed his head as he closed his eyes. The rapidly growing circle of corrosion slowed and then gradually came to a halt. 

 

The mirrors behind both Little Alex and Darshan shined in the colors heralding their arrival. Little Alex's ashes were sucked into the mirror before it too vanished in fire. Darshan went limp as he allowed the force behind his mirror to pull him into its embrace. The mirror then sank into the floor. 

 

"What just happened?" Donar shouted as the fire in the room abruptly extinguished. 

[simison]

"Abominable witchcraft!" Indra hissed as his eyes scanned everyone in the room. 

 

Alexandra's eyes were locked where Little Alex had died. "That was Om-Skry."

 

The Warmaster was distinctly uncomfortable to suddenly have much more space now that the two beings next to him were gone. "He Who Balances killed him."

 

Nemesis' eyes focused upon He Who Balances. "That spell. That wasn't Om-Skry, truly. That last incantation had something to do with it. But the corrosion smelled of Nurgle's work."

 

Father Alex smiled even as more than half of the room's occupants buried him beneath their gazes. "I can honestly say I made no move against Darshan. Do you honestly believe he," he pointed at Salim, "Would allow us to move freely?"

 

"You are correct and deceitful," Salim answered. "That was Om-Skry's death-spell, but you know there was an element of Nurgle within it."

 

Father Alex scratched his fat chin. "It did seem familiar," he said innocently. 

Edited June 26, 2019 by simison

[simison]

"I was under the impression that those two particular powers were incompatible," the Warmaster said toward Salim.

 

Salim stared down at He Who Balances. "Normally. To bridge that barrier would require one not bound to either." He Who Balances made no answer.

 

Nemesis eyed Father Alex. "And here I thought you were a family man. Poisoning doesn't exactly strike me as something a good father does."

 

"Only if one views my gifts as poison," Father Alex countered, his smile never wavering. "On the contrary, they are the avenue to joining the eternal family. I hope to spread them from one end to the galaxy, most especially to my biological family."

 

"Biological?" Alexandra repeated with a quirk of her eyebrow. "You mean your fellow Primarchs?"

 

Father's Alex smile widened. "Not just my brothers, but my father as well! All should be able to enjoy the embrace of Nurgle!"

[simison]

"You would spread your taint to the Master of Mankind?" Quintus repeated, utter disbelief written across his face. 

 

"I can think of no more noble endeavor," Father Alex said before he reached an open palm to Quintus. "Join me. Surely whatever life I can offer you would be vastly more fulfilling than whatever half-life that has been inflicted upon you."

 

Quintus struck the ground, sending a rumbling pulse throughout the room. "I am created to serve, and it is my highest honor to fulfill the purpose I was wrought for. To have another ambition beyond that one is to defy the Emperor of Mankind."

 

Ares spit toward Quintus, his red eyes alight with disgust. "You're nothing more than one of the Mechanicum's tin soldiers with more flesh." Ares pointed his larger axe at Indra. "Are you as crippled as this one?" The Warmaster noted a quarter of Andruva's blood had disappeared.

 

Indra sneered, pointing his vajra at Khorne's champion. "It is the Emperor who has tamed this galaxy, and it is the Emperor who is worthy of our service. I agree with Quintus, as I'm sure the rest of us do," he finished, waving his hand over the Warmaster, Quintus, Row-vell, and Alexandra. 

 

Quintus nodded. The rest hesitated. Quintus and Indra glared at them as the silence grew. Concurrently, Father's Alex smile grew, while Ares developed a fierce grin. It was hard to tell how angry Indra was given his bright red skin. The other Warmaster pointed his trident at Alexandros. "Have you forgotten your station? As the Warmaster, you are to be the greatest among the Primarchs, ever providing an example worthy of the Emperor's trust."

 

"I am the Warmaster," Alexandros admitted, his voice solemn. "However, I am more than a weapon crafted by Father. Regardless of what powers I wield or my size, I am, ultimately, a man. I have my own desires that may or may not align with Father's."

 

"It is unseemly to hear an Imperator refer to the Emperor as Father," Quintus said. 

 

Alexandra scoffed. "It's no less true that he is our Father." She addressed Alexandros. "I'd like to hear what else you'd like to accomplish beyond the wars we wage."

 

"The wars are not eternal. When peace comes, I'd be happy to continue my diplomatic duties, winning hearts with words before conflict can break out."

 

"The Order of the Open Hand?" Alexandra mentioned. 

 

Alexandros smiled. "Exactly. I will not deny war can return; so it is my hope to continue to offer guidance to ensure that peaces lasts longer than any war that humanity must engage in, ever again."

 

"Idiot," Ares said.

 

"Fool," Indra added.

 

"Unrealistic," Quintus said. 

 

"Abomination," He Who Balances muttered.

 

"Incredibly naive," Nemesis finished. 

[simison]

Alexandra scowled at the naysayers before her attention returned to Alexandros. "I think it's a beautiful dream."

 

Unperturbed by the others, Alexandros asked, "And what of yourself?"

 

"Myself?" Alexandra repeated as she leaned back, her green eyes unfocused with thought. "I am not nearly as idealistic as you are. Nor as kind. I have made mistakes, burned bridges between myself and my sisters. I would like to restore them, if possible. If that were ever accomplished, I could dedicate myself to keeping an eye on humanity, as you do. But I suspect it'd be hard for old habits to die, and I'd be more likely to have a bit too much fun with them."

 

Donar's gaze flashed from Quintus to Alexandra. "Can't quite stop manipulating people?"

 

"Not like that," Alexandra said as she frowned at Donar. "And what of you, O rebellious one?"

 

Donar chuckled. "What does any rebel want? Victory! Victory over the Loyalists. Victory over the Traitors. Over Chaos and over the Emperor, until none can challenge my strength in the galaxy."

 

Nemesis cut in over the protests of the ultra-Loyalists and the Chaos Primarchs. "Well, you're straightforward."

 

"Come now," Donar said as he leaned toward Nemesis. "Surely, you seek the same thing?" 

 

"Chaos alone is the only enemy that can destroy humanity," Nemesis warned, jabbing his claw towards the Chaos Primarchs. "You waste your strength making war against the Emperor and the Imperium, flawed as he might be."

 

"I wholeheartedly disagree," Donar countered. "That man ordered the destruction of entire civilizations because they did not meet his shifting approval. While Chaos may be the worse threat, it does excuse for the atrocities the Emperor has committed. What's more, what will you do if you ever complete your request? You are now forevermore a creature of the Warp."

 

Nemesis went quiet for the moment. "If it were possible to slay the other Chaos gods-"

 

"Blasphemy!" He Who Balances interjected.

 

For once, mild anger crossed Father Alex's features as he hefted his massive sword. "None will harm grandfather."

 

"Delusional," Ares stated. 

 

"- then I will continue to watch over the Warp from within. An eternal vigilance to ensure no force in the likeness of Chaos will ever rise again!" Nemesis slammed his power fist into his clawed hand. A thunderous boom clapped in the room. 

 

Ardann looked upon the Champion of Malal and quietly said, "May your quest bear good fruit in time."

 

Nemesis cast a wary eye upon Ardann. "You are like me, forever changed by the power of a god. What do you desire?"

 

The hybrid answered, "harmony. I am charged with defending the Aeldari, but I am not charged to slaughter all others. I seek the day where the security of the Aeldari is accomplished and to reunite with humanity." Utter weariness nearly overwhelmed Ardann. "I doubt I will be welcomed, but I simply ask for the chance. I too would like to know my brothers."

 

Nemesis absorbed the words before offering a soft nod. 

 

"That day will never come," He Who Balances promised with his black eyes, still stuck on his knees. "There is no 'final' victory to be had against Chaos. It is a foundational aspect of all of existence itself. One may as well seek to destroy all physical matter with such insipid dreams." He Who Balances fixed his stare against Nemesis. "The only true victory to be had is to master Chaos in all of its forms." 

 

Ares fixed a suspicious look against his Chaotic compatriot. "There is an ambition underlying your words that I don't like."

 

"Do you need to kowtow again?"

 

Nemesis laughed at Ares' sudden silence. "Let me guess, all you want to do is wage war for all of eternity?"

 

Ares glared at Nemesis. "I'm not giving you the satisf-"

 

"Noted," Nemesis said as he reluctantly addressed Salim. "That leaves you. What more do you want from life?"

 

An expression of pure wistfulness appeared on the eldest. "I seek a day where death holds no promise of torture and malice." A soft smile then appeared. "But you are forgetting one. Is that not right, general?"

 

Row-vell craned his neck to look up at Salim. "I have offered the Emperor a long and meritous service. I intend to complete one final Compliance in the Emperor's name. Then, this old soldier wants to retire with his wife and dote on his great grandchildren."

[simison]

Roiling green energy smelling of bile spilled from Father Alex's mirror. The Primarch turned toward the mirror, raw happiness in his every move. "Grandfather!" 

 

Salim's head snapped toward the mirror, alarm written across the features. "Defend yourselves!"

 

A wave of liquid Alexandros dared not identify exploded from the mirror. Nemesis wrapped his wings around him with a wordless shout of revulsion. Freed from Salim's power, He Who Balances merely raised a hand and the wave blew around him. Ares snarled before he was submerged. The Warmaster and Alexandra both jumped in front of General Row-vell who could only haplessly watch. The male and female beings conjured a shield around the three of them. Quintus and Indra took the wave full-force. Donar, the Lord of Lightning, slammed the warhammer's head in front of him. Electricity blazed into life and surrounded its master in a cocoon of energy. 

 

As quickly as it sprung, the wave retreated. It was forced back into the mirror as shimmering gold energy surrounded it and pushed. The smelly liquid vanished into the mirror; Father Alex was nowhere to be found. The golden energy field remained around the mirror with Salim inside. The eldest of them slumped to his knee as portions of his flesh necrotised. The patches grew no larger, however, than a dozen or so centimetres. 

 

A wail echoed throughout the room. Indra's efforts to endure the attack had backfired. Where the necortisation was contained upon Salim, on Indra it ate and ate and ate. The Imperial Warmaster aimed his vajra at He Who Balances. A bolt of lightning discharged from the weapon. He Who Balances, untouched and unspoiled, flecked the attack to the side. Indra roared before his rotting flesh gave way. The red-skinned Primarch, now a sickly black, dissolved before them. 

 

Quintus bore his similar approaching death with a quiet dignity. As his golden armor rusted away, he turned to the remaining Warmaster and saluted. "Ave," he gasped at his shield arm fell from his body. "Impe..ra...tor." Then his body fell to pieces unto the floor. 

 

Their respective mirrors glowed with their colors, summoning the remains into them, before vanishing. 

[simison]

Row-vell fought as long as he could but failed. The old soldier leaned over and vomited. With a deep breath, he demanded, "What was that?"

 

"You should be honored," He Who Balances said as he rose to his full height, finally free. "Few mortals are ever given a chance to witness the gods' might so directly." A smug smirk erupted as he laid his eyes upon Salim. "None can withstand their power."

 

Salim stiffened before sliding around while seating himself with one leg bent upward. The patches of dark, ruined skin disfigured his features, one eye shut and a cheek rotted. "I am not yet consumed."

 

"Only a matter of time," He Who Balances insisted before he scanned the others. "Depriving them their greatest defender."

 

The ghostly green shield around Ardann faded with a hand gesture. "You remain outnumbered."

 

"Gyarh!" Ares shouted as he wiped the muck off of himself. The Warmaster noted less than half of Andruva's blood remained. "Revolting!" He shot an angry glare at He Who Balances. "Were it not for Khorne's blessings, that would have slain me as well."

 

"Are we?" He Who Balances inquired, ignoring Ares. "Look among you. A half-breed who's already admitted to slaughtering his race. A shallow parlor trickster who's betrayed his allies not once, but twice. And another scion of the Warp." He Who Balances fixed his gaze upon Alexandros. "Warmaster, your list of allies grow thin and unreliable."

 

The Warmaster's eyes narrowed as he detected a faint thrum of power. He tightened his grip upon the Spear of Terra and slammed against Aegis. He amplified the piercing tone and countered the malicious note. "No. The odds are in my favor."

 

"...perhaps," He Who Balances allowed. "You remind of another foe who tested me."

 

"Was it a mirror?" Nemesis groused.

 

"A wolf," He Who Balances countered. "Leman Russ was his name."

 

The Warmaster's mouth formed a thin, hard line. "I know Leman."

 

"Do you? Was he a self-righteous fool all too eager to slay enemies, real and imagined?" 

 

"He was a man of honor and principle," the Warmaster countered. "I lamented his death."

 

"I reveled in it," He Who Balances declared in a soft voice packed with vindication. "For years, after learning of the Dark Powers, I studied and searched for every scrap of information I could get my hands on. The Emperor's dog soon began to track me, convinced I had done something worthy of sanction. Entire years of progress were lost because of his interventions. Until finally, I had laid the foundation for my ascension. I was to take my legion into the Eye of Terror to complete the ritual. The XIth Legion followed. We clashed on a dead world where he hoped to stop my final step into ascension." A low laugh escaped his lips as he raised his open gauntlets. "Instead, he fueled it. It took every spell, every curse, and bit of damned lore I had acquired over decades, but I overcame him. It did not matter the Rout had halved my legion. When I choked the last of his life out of his crushed throat," He Who Balances shook with rapturous pleasure. "Did you know what became of his sons? Half of them grew mad with lupine rage, becoming wolfmen before my eyes. The other half fought with all of their strength to avenge their fallen father." He Who Balances swept his arm in a grand dismissal. "It mattered not. For Leman's death was the catalyst to my enlightenment. With my newfound power, I slaughtered them. Their totems now only a hindrance to me, and I drank each of their deaths, one. By. One."

[simison]

"You remind me of one enemy who I hope to see dead by the end of the Insurrection," The Warmaster replied with bite. "Ixitptatlan. He walks a similar path to yours, seeking to delve into powers best destroyed instead of harnessed. I will do all he can to prevent him from achieving half as much as you have."

 

"The ignorant always seek to destroy what they don't understand."

 

"I understand more than you," Alexandros returned with a snarl, a familiar pain in his chest. "I spent a decade understanding the forces and their source when I came to father's aid at the Golden Throne. I understand all too well what horrors seek to bind humanity to them."

 

"Not humanity alone," Ardann added. "The Primordial Annihilator seeks the destruction of all."

 

Ares scoffed. "Yes, yes, you've already mentioned your obsession. High-minded words for a fairy who's never had to fight a Primarch."

 

Ardann stared daggers at Ares. "I have."

 

"Ah," Ares said with sudden interest. "Fratricide in addition to betraying your race. Who did you kill?"

[simison]

Ardann's free hand tightened into a fist. Yet, after a moment, he answered in a weary voice, "His name was Charlemagne, Lord of the XVIIth, the Imperial Reclaimers. From what I understand, he took the name from a great king on Ancient Terra. He was devoted, had dedicated his entire being to seeing humanity ascendant over all of the galaxy. But he was not like others who deemed no foul trick or poisoned weapon beyond their reach. He was a more noble soul than that, ever eager to recapture the past nobility of some venerable warrior's code." Ardann glanced at one of the new vacant spaces. "Quintus reminded me of him in some ways: that utter confidence in purpose and duty. Charlemagne was the first to discover my nature. He was attempting to destroy Il-Kaithe when I intervened."

 

"Hm," the Warmaster noted.

 

Ardann looked at the Warmaster for a moment with raw curiosity. When the Warmaster did not answer, Ardann continued. "I always suspected the Imperium would not react well to my discovery. I took care to keep my presence as obfuscated as possible. Asurya's gifts aided me in that regard. My ability to navigate future threads was unparalleled among the Aeldari, and enhanced only further when we pooled our efforts along the Eternity Matrix. I have won a hundred battles without ever stepping upon them."

 

"Where's the fun in that?" Donar replied with a sarcastic smirk. 

 

"Exactly," Ares rumbled as he banged his axes together.

 

Ardann ignored them. "I could not avoid it on Il-Kaithe. Charlemagne had personally landed upon the craftworld, and in those early days, we did not have the means to summon Khaine's Avatar. If I had not fought, Il-Kaithe would have died."

 

Alexandra frowned, a mixture of empathy and frustration. "And you chose to kill him over protecting a small band of xenos?"

 

"I did not kill him in our first duel," Ardann answered. "For all of his prowess with a sword, he was not prepared to fight a psyker of my strength. I wounded him to the point of forcing him to withdraw. Unfortunately, his code of honor was enflamed against me. Not only had I bested him in close quarters, but my mere existence offended all he believed dearly about the Great Crusade and humanity's place within the galaxy. Ever since that first defeat, he hunted me, relentless and implacable. Thrice, we fought. He soon learned slaughtering the Aeldari was the surest way to draw me. In our second duel, I pleaded with him to forsake his chase. I even hinted there was a foe more dangerous that threatened all of humanity and Aeldari. He would not listen. I let him live that time, hoping my words would reach him once the heat of war had faded from his mind."

 

"Doesn't sound like it was in his character to do such a thing," Nemesis observed.

 

"It wasn't," Ardann confessed. "We fought a third time. His skill grew with each encounter, but he simply could not match my strength, thanks to Asurya's blessing. With this spear," Ardann said as he hefted his weapon, "I slew him and gave him rest from his own honor."

 

Row-vell frowned at the tale's conclusion, while the Warmaster could perceive the bitterness emitting from Ardann's soul. Ardann turned to Nemesis, "Were you forced to pay a similar price?"

[simison]

"I was not," Nemesis answered without rancor. "My greatest foe is very much alive, and we continue to fight in my unending war against Chaos."

 

Donar nodded, "He is as immortal as you are then?" 

 

"There is no true immortality," Nemesis countered as he pointed his claw at the empty-spots of Om-Skry, Father Nurgle, and Andruva. "Even gods can die with enough power. But, it is a difficult process. The one I face is known as Burz'gul. He was once a noble warrior, much like your Charlemagne but an arrogant man. With sword and shield, he did his part in destroying the enemies of Man, ever seeking to grow his fame higher and higher. Then one day, the fool charged headfirst into an Ork WAAAGH! commanded by the greatest greenskin we had ever witnessed. He survived his bout with the giant, but at the cost of his eyes. At the time, the Emperor had retired to the Imperial Palace, and the damage was extensive that none beside him could undo the damage done to the fool. He demanded the Emperor come out of retirement to heal his eyes."

 

"Let me guess," Donar said with a knowing smile. "He refused."

 

Nemesis responded with a flat look and, "Yes, he did. The fool should have waited. He didn't. When the Emperor refused him, the fool searched everywhere else, until the Ruinous Powers were able to whisper an offer to him. He has become their greatest servant, who renamed him Burz'gul. It was he who sundered the Imperium and attempted to replace the Emperor with himself. At great cost, we stopped his rebellion, sending him fleeing into the Eye of Terror. I knew he was still a threat and accepted Malal's offer so I could wage war in the Warp so that it would not spill into the Materium."

 

"You've done nothing more than guarantee your eternal suffering," Ares threw at Nemesis.

 

"A small price to pay if it keeps you idiots trapped in the Warp," Nemesiss shot back. He lifted his hand and claw. "With these, three times I have stopped Burz'gul from escaping the Eye of Terror. And every time," Nemesis finished a grin, "he is utterly shocked he can be defeated." 

[simison]

Ares scoffed. "It is only a matter of time, until you are worn down and chained. I predict that the gods will then parade you throughout their domains for amusement, countless indignities and pains await you." A bloodthirsty grin spread across his features. "A fate I would very much like to see happen to my first adversary, Zersees."

 

Alexandra's eyes flipped back and forth between Ares and He Who Balances. "I'm not going to enjoy this, am I?"

 

"He commanded the largest legion of the Great Crusade, but was a weak warrior than most Primarchs, preferring to bury himself in reports and texts than kill. Numbers and administration was all he could offer, yet his fame grew throughout the crusade, eclipsing my own." Ares bared his teeth. "He dared to try to sanction me for my legion's treatment of the helots." 

 

Alexandros stared at him, dubious. "You had slaves?"

[simison]

"Mortal warriors," Ares corrected. "I told you earlier. A Spartan's life is not to be wasted. That's what the helots are for. Any duty unbefitting a Spartan is to be accomplished by the helots."

 

"Do I even ask what those duties consist of?" Donar said, half-rhetorically. 

 

"Holding actions, anti-guerilla operations, distractionary assaults, anything that draws the enemy to where the Spartans need him to be to allow us to be or fighting against enemies unworthy of our time. Zersees snatched at a battle where the helot units were used in an assault against a human rebellion somewhere in Ultima. We knew the rebels were planning to deploy nuclear weaponry. So, I forced their hand. The helots ensured their weapons were ultimately wasted, and the Spartans swept in to destroy them."

 

"Definitely not enjoying this story," Alexandra said.

 

"When I was recruited to join the Traitors, I made an explicit point that I would take Zersees head for his slights against me. At the height of the war, I finally got my wish, and we fought within the Imperial Palace." Ares growled. "I wounded him, but his damned sons drove me off before I could finish him off. Now, I aim for the day when I can reach apotheosis and take his head with my own blades."

 

"Oh, there is a happy ending," Alexandra said with a sly smile. Ares' fiery gaze only caused the smile to widen. 

[simison]

Alexandra matched Alexandros' eyes, and her smile faded. "I wish my story had such a happy ending, but it's not yet to end. The rebellion is intensifying by the day, and I do not know how Amaterasu will secure victory against Isis' rebellion. What I do know is that I would dearly love to see Yarra die before the end of it."

 

"Yarra?"

 

"The Lady of the XVIth, the Drowned. For a long while, I thought we were friends. I told you, I am not as noble as you are. I have never shirked my duties to father, but I sought comforts along the way. Treasures I can unequivocally call my own. Yarra was the same way, I believed. We enjoyed the finer things in life together. With Yarra, enough was never enough, and I would find myself agreeing with her whenever we spent time together," she explained, her smile now gone. "There was an allure to it, you know? And if I ever felt guilty afterwards, I could always console myself that Yarra was worse than I was. She approached me, the day the galaxy was forever scarred. She told me of Isis' rebellion and tried to seduce me with promises, only if I would cast aside father."

 

"There are more noble reasons," Donar interrupted. "But there is merit in the rebellion." 

 

Alexandra fixed a flat stare upon the Lord of Thunder. "Do not try to defend those you do not know. I said I was not as noble. That does not mean I'm bereft of honor. I refused. Yarra attacked me. She nearly killed me with her claws, but I managed to elude death. Now, my daughters are dying just to stem the tide against this insanity, and if there's any justice in this existence, I will kill Yarra before whatever end I may meet."

 

"There are other paths," Donar insisted. 

 

"And who did you kill to walk them?" Alexandra shot back. 

[simison]

"None." After a second, Donar added, "Yet."

 

"Why do I have trouble believing you?"

 

Ares snorted. "So, for all of your boasting, you're nothing more than a neophyte."

 

"Believe it or not, I never desired to kill my siblings when I took part in the rebellion," Donar explained. "The sole being I wanted punish was the Emperor. Nothing more, nothing less. I will grant you that I have soured my relationship with several of my kin. One of which has become my most relentless foe, though that will be changing soon."

 

Row-vell furrowed his eyebrows. "You said you haven't killed another Primarch."

 

"And I didn't," Donar assured. "I merely destroyed her left arm."

 

"Her?" Alexandra repeated.

 

Donar leaned his back head in reminiscence and grinned. "Ayden is quite the tactician, but no duelist. In the war's second opening move, I was part of a second wave of what the Imperium thought were Loyalists that would crush the rebellion. Surprise, surprise, most of the second wave had already turned their cloaks. By chance, the warzone pitted my Storm Masters against Ayden's Tempest Lancers. I informed her nothing was personal about my assault against her legion, but she didn't take it that way. We fought, I destroyed her rifle, which isn't a proper weapon for a Primarch, and channeled enough lightning into her left arm to scour it within and without. Up until last week, she swore vengeance, and we have clashed several times." A hearty laugh rumbled out of his chest. "You should have seen her face at the treaty signing ceremony. I asked if a kiss would be enough as an apology. She nearly hurled her lance into me." Donar faced He Who Balances, his grin now predatory. "However, Ayden, whatever her faults, will not violate an honest truce. Now, one of your ilk will no doubt fill in for her, and I will take great joy in destroying your lot as the war ends."

Edited June 28, 2019 by simison

[simison]

"If you think lightning alone will banish warriors of our caliber," He Who Balances warned, "You will be in for a rude awakening."

 

"If your gods had any strength at all, then they wouldn't skulk in the shadows," Donar countered. "Relying on pawns to fulfill their plans. A true god would get off his  and do his own work. This one," he said as he pointed at Salim. "Is more worthy of worship than any of your Warp-cursed deities." Before another rebuttal came his way, Donar looked downward. "And what of you, little general? Do you have some adversary you can boast of?"

 

"Not in the way you make them," Row-vell answered as his old eyes surveyed the room. "My enemies die on the field, far from my sight." A frown broke out. "Only one I'd consider close to what you'd consider an adversary. For a decade I served under Lord Marshal Pölzl in the 430th Cohort. The first few years were quite pleasant. Pölzl may not have a strong grasp on strategy and tactics, but he was magnetic. He could get men to love him, eager to fulfill any role or duty he gave them. Then something went wrong after the Zbruch campaign. That particular campaign would have been simple, its people far too primitive to be a true threat to us, but their various rulers had sorcerers at their command. At some point in the campaign, Pölzl came into contact with one of them on the battlefield. I understand he was gravely injured in some fashion. But he recovered, we cheered at his recovery and completed the campaign in good time."

 

"Something went wrong," the Warmaster stated.

 

Row-vell nodded. "Something went wrong. Pölzl began to believe he had been altered in some way." Row-vell's lips twisted into a scowl. "He began to demand absolute loyalty. He masked it at first as concerns with discipline. Innocuous and a never-ending concern for a good commander. Then it escalated. During campaigns, he often worked in conjunction with the strategos and other officers to assemble battle plans. After Zbruch, he slowly shunned others, until he alone was responsible for our success and our defeats. And we tasted the latter all too often. We tried to avoid it. Friendly suggestions were listened to without use. Then they were ignored. At the height of his paranoia, merely suggesting an alternative idea was enough for him to sanction. Officers who wouldn't toe the line were given the most dangerous assignments and weeded out. Our casualty rate soared."

 

"If you were a Primarch, you'd could have easily disposed of him," Ares said, condescension dripping in his words.

 

"I am not, but I am not bereft of ability. Four years of surviving beneath his command provided an opportunity of relief. We were locked in a stalemate with the Orks on Garanges 7. Somehow, Pölzl believed a decisive strike on their flank would break the deadlock. For whatever reason, Pölzl deemed it an absolute necessary that he be in the first strike. I was charged to launch the second wave."

 

"Did you?" Alexandra inquired.

 

Row-vell looked at her with a hint of bitterness and satisfaction. "Communication error. We never received the signal to support the attack. Regrettably, Pölzl died honorably on the field of battle in service to the Emperor."

 

Ares snarled, only a quarter of Andruva's blood left on his chestplate. "Worm! You should have killed him with your own hands!" 

 

The Warmaster was more sympathetic. "I'm sorry you had to go through with that."

 

Row-vell shrugged before he addressed Salim. "And you, my lord?"

 

The Warmaster saw the spots of necrotised flesh had shrunk by a couple of centimeters. Alexandros glanced at He Who Balances, but the latter showed no reaction in his features. Salim took a deep breath. "All of Chaos is my enemy. But if you ask for names, I have six I continually hunt in my Warp expeditions: Lorgar, Angron, Mortarion, Fulgrim, Magnus, and Perturabo. In my 9,000 years, I have crippled, broken, and defeated each of them a few times so that the Materium may breath just a little bit easier. With time, I hope to strike a more lasting victory."

[simison]

Salim's mirror blazed with multi-colored light. With a grim face, Salim regarded the mirror before forcing himself to his feet. "I am needed elsewhere." He took a shaky step forward, steadied himself, before carefully walking the rest of the way. The golden energy field wrapped itself around him as he moved. "It was a joy meeting most of you," he said with a smile. He reached out with xiphos, piercing through the glowing surface. He took a step through...

 

...He Who Balances rushed him. Punching through with one gauntlet, the Lord of Undivided laid a hand upon Salim. 

 

"Begone," Salim commanded as he stepped through the portal. He Who Balances flew across the room, crashing into the opposite wall. Salim's mirror disappeared. 

 

"Entertaining," Donar declared with a big grin. 

 

He Who Balances climbed back to his feet. Then revealed his hidden left hand glowing with green energy. 

 

Ardann hefted his spear as he charged, "No!" 

 

The Warmaster slid in front of Row-vell, while Donar, Nemesis, and Alexandra charged forward. Ares' axes intercepted Ardann's spear. He Who Balances snapped his fingers.Several bolts of sickly green flew from his hand. One struck Donar directly, and the Lord of the Storm Masters roared in pain as he fell to his knees. Nemesis took to the air to evade, but the bolt zigged and zagged before hitting him. With a pained grunt, Nemesis fell back to the floor. The last two flew at the Warmaster and Ardann. Alexandros held his shield steady, but, at the last second, the bolt twisted around him and crashing into his back.

 

Alexandros gritted his teeth as he felt the power that tore Indra and Quintus to pieces eat at him. The Spear of Terra went from weapon to staff as the Warmaster held himself standing. Distracted by Ares, Ardann threw a shield up at the last second. The diseased bolt pierced it, though weakened. It stabbed at Ardann's shoulder, and the hybrid winced at the blow. 

 

Alexandra, unaffected, swung at He Who Balances. He batted the blow as he stepped back several steps. "Ares, kill the woman. I'll kill the half-breed."

 

Ares grunted before the two scions of Chaos switched. With axes held at his sides, Ares stomped towards Alexandra, "This will be quick!"

 

She offered a sultry smile. "Will it?" 

 

The pain throbbing through the Warmaster was enormous. It did not blind him to the fights before him in all of their complexity. Ares, however, could not see what was about to hit him. Lust and passion slammed into Khorne's Champion. Whatever blessings he may have had, it was not enough to freeze Ares as his mind endured the assault. Alexandra was upon him. She slammed one axe with her shield before she stabbed forward. His actions jerky and imprecise, Ares twitched enough that the sword jutted into his shoulder instead of one of his hearts. 

 

He Who Balances rained blows with gauntlets of red and yellow, but Ardann managed to fend off long enough for Nemesis to throw a claw at Balances' flank. Although he had endured better than others, Nemesis moved slower, giving Balances the necessary time to fall back. "Ares, do not waste my opportunity."

 

Ares howled with emotion as Alexandros could see him fighting against the emphatic attack with raw hate. Ares thew an aggressive barrage, which Alexandra alternated between deflecting and blocking. "You seem a little distracted," she said as she blew a kiss. Ares physically recoiled beneath the psychic blow, allowing Alexandra to cut across his cheek. 

 

He Who Balances slammed his gauntlets together, generating an energy whip that tasted of Slaanesh. He snapped it at around Nemesis' wing and pulled, red energy surrounding the Chaos Primarch. With strength beyond a Primarch, He Who Balances threw Nemesis into Ardann before transforming the whip into a lance. He threw it.

 

Alexandra, on the verge of scoring another wound against Ares, was caught off-guard. The lance pierced her thigh. In mid-action, she lost her balance and slipped to her knee. Ares did not waste the moment. He swung the bigger axe into her unarmoured stomach, disemboweling her. With a fierce grin, Ares declared, "Instead of words, consider armour." 

 

Blood spilled out of Alexandra's mouth, but she still smiled. "Big words for a boy who needed help with a woman." 

 

With an enraged snarl, Ares buried his other axe between Alexandra's eyes. 

Edited August 25, 2019 by simison

[simison]

The Warmaster watched all of this as he fought to stay standing. His back was melting ice, growing weaker by the moment. He had newfound respect for Salim's ability to win against the virulent disease and to hide all of the agony within. Alexandros may have the potential to win this war against this weakened dose with his own impressive biological defenses. But he did not have that kind of time. 

[simison]

Row-vell aimed and fired his lasrifle. The beam tore into Ares' cheek, ripping the cut into a hole. 

 

Only a single tactic came to his mind that could counteract the power of a god ruining his body. He had never attempted it before and understood the risk was quite large. As Alexandra's corpse flopped to the floor, the Warmaster made his decision. He opened himself to a cache of energy he had slowly been creating for the last few years. Energy, emotion and thought rendered pure, flowed into him. A mere second after he opened himself, he sensed taint lingering at the edges of the flow and cut himself off.

 

It was enough. 

 

Empowered, Alexandros swept the infection away, white light briefly encapsulating him. He Who Balances' head jerked his way, and loathing filled his eyes. "Ares, withdraw!" Ares' blood-red eyes locked on Row-vell, but he was no berserker. Ares ran to join his compatriot. He Who Balances deflected a swing from Ardann and punched Nemesis back a few feet. When Ares reached his side, Balances' gauntlets glowed bright blue before he slammed them against the floor. A wall of fire cordoned off the Chaos Primarchs from the others. 

 

Alexandra's body was already gone, along with her mirror. 

 

"We're not going to get another chance like this," Ares warned. 

 

"Perhaps," He Who Balances said as he stood. Row-vell fired, only for the beam to bounce off the fire. "You'll find this barrier is more than smoke and flame."

 

Blood streamed down Ares' chin as he glared at Row-vell. "Little man, I will inflict fourfold what you have done to me." 

 

"I may not be a warrior in your mold," Row-vell groused, "But I have heard enough idle boasts to know their worth." 

 

Ares mimed an axe against throat. 

[simison]

Donar struggled to reach his feet but failed to do so. "You must have been quite popular before you became insane," he jested, voice strained with pain. 

 

Ares looked over Donar and grinned. "There are no friends for beings such as we. Only temporary allies and ever-present enemies." 

 

"And tools," He Who Balances added. 

 

Donar shot a pained grin at the Warmaster. "Then they wonder why we do not deign to join them."

[simison]

The Lord of the Storm Masters shot a look of contempt at the two corrupted Primarchs. "I trust Deborah, the Lady of the Fourth, with my life. She too was able to see through the Emperor's pretenses for the fool he is, and was unafraid to challenge him without being so consumed with animus to be tempted by Chaos. Her counsel has proven fruitful over a thousand battles and has personally seen me through some of my worst fights. It is on my strength that the Enlightened Realm stands, but it is her vision that guides us onward." 

 

"Do you have any brothers?" Ares snapped at him. "Why is the IVth Legion led by a woman?"

 

"Judging by you, they should be led by a woman," Donar countered. He shifted his gaze to Alexandros. "And what of you, Warmaster? In whom do you place your trust above all?"

 

Alexandros opened to speak, a familiar name ready, but stopped. That bridge, while it may one day be restored, was in no shape to be worthy of any sense of friendship. Names flashed by in his name before the answer came to him. "A brother by the name of Pionus Santor, Lord of the Nineteenth, is the one I most place my trust and faith in among my brotherhood. There was one I loved more than he, but he has chosen a foolish path."

 

"Love," He Who Balances repeated, revulsion dripping from the words. 

 

"Yes, love," the Warmaster preempted. "For all of our powers and gifts, we are but men, just as capable of the same virtues and follies." He paused. "I imagine, Ardann, that not even an Eldar god could change that about you."

 

Ardann, who stood before the wall of flame, turned enough to look over a shoulder at the Warmaster. His face was composed, but Alexandros could sense something unnatural about it. "On the contrary," Ardann explained, his voice almost monotone. "As mentioned before, I feel everything with twice the intensity as you do. The dread of disaster, the exhilaration of victory. I suspect I can even feel a shadow of fear. As for trust, it is a small list. The Aeldari are a long-lived people and are much more cautious since the Fall. Few treat me without suspicion. Among that number, only Iliathin has opened himself up to me."

 

Row-vell quirked an eyebrow, even as he kept aim at the Chaos Primarchs. "Who?"

 

"I doubt you would know anything. Perhaps you would, Alexandros. He is better known as Asurmen, Hand of Asuryan, first and greatest of the Phoenix Lords."

 

Alexandros paused before he nodded. "I know of him."

 

"What heresies have you been up to?" Ares wondered aloud. 

 

Nemesis snorted. "Do you possess any form of self-awareness?"

 

Ardann ignored them both. "He is a noble being, trying his hardest to protect his people. If I need anyone to confide in, it is him."

[simison]

Finished, he addressed Nemesis. "What of you? Are is that a sacrifice you have made for the power you have gained?"

 

Loathing waved across Nemesis' features. But Alexandros saw it was directed inward not outward. "A necessity. Regalius was needed to keep the Imperium standing. Though he may never forgive me for my 'abandonment', I can do much greater good in this form that I ever may accomplish in the Materium." 

 

"Abandoment is a strange term to use in lieu of murder," He Who Balances said. 

 

The winged Primarchs growled at the barb. "He lives. Unlike you lot, Malal alone was necessary for me to achieve apotheosis. I did not slay kin to reach this state, though I happily would have killed one of you fools. Then I could have rubbed salt in the wound by denying one of the Four a mighty servant, while fueling my own rise."

 

"Who was your brother?" Alexandros inquired. 

 

"Regalius? Lord of the VIIth, and the Emperor's most noble son. He was offered the position of Warmaster but rejected it, claiming it belonged to the Emperor's greatest strategist. The Emperor honored his wish, and it proved an unexpected boon to us when the rebellion came. Actually," Nemesis said as his eyes turned upon Row-vell. "I have yet to hear of you mentioning a Primarch in your reality."

 

Row-vell shrugged. "I do not claim to know the Emperor's designs, but we have none."

 

Every Primarch shot the mortal general a confused look. "What of the legions?" Donar pressed. "Surely, the Emperor wields a transhuman army of some sort?"

 

"We have the Praetorians and the Custodians," Row-vell explained. "From what I understand, the Praetorians are not as intricate as the Custodians genetically, but they are quite capable." 

 

"Interesting," Alexandros muttered. "And whom do you trust the most?"

 

Row-vell chuckled as he lowered his rifle. "My wife, of course. Jenna is a jewel among women, and has had quite enough of my military service. Yet, despite how long some of these campaigns have been, I always know that she'll be waiting for me at the end of them. And, after this last one, I'm eagerly looking forward to her smile when I show her my discharge papers." 

 

Alexandros watched the man's face light up with old yet persistent love and felt his emotions mix in reaction. The Chaos Primarchs could not look less interested, while Donar and Nemesis' interest was more polite than anything else. Ardann's war-mask remained in place, hiding any potential emotional reaction. 

Edited June 30, 2019 by simison

[simison]

"Johan?" 

 

The general's eyes went wide as he turned to his mirror. The camouflage pattern had returned. A look of overwhelming relief cascaded over Row-vell's face as his body sagged. "Gentlemen, it's been an...experience," he said as he marched towards the mirror. 

 

"Farewell, General Row-vell," Alexandros said with a wave. 

 

The general slid through the mirror eagerly. Fire snapped into existence. He Who Balances and Ares charged through the flames straight at the Warmaster. Alexandros managed to heft his shield and spear, intercepting axe and gauntlet. The sheer force drove the Warmaster back. Alexandros spotted Ares' other axe rushing to his face...

 

A rune-covered blade caught it. Ardann twisted his spear and forced Ares' weapon away. The blue-and-purple fire that heralded the Chaos Primarchs' surprise surged forward. It wrapped around the four combatants. He Who Balances' gauntlets shined with violet energy. The Master of Undivided's speed grew frenzied and faster. Ardann spun around the Warmaster as he matched the sudden onslaught, predicting each attack before it happened. The room echoed with crystal against adamantium as the two clashed again and again. Ardann slammed a gauntlet away before he shot green lightning. With his other hand glowing blue, Balances' unleashed bolts which matched the lightning. The two energies collided, flashing the room with bright light.

 

Aegis rang aloud as Ares hammered at the shield with both axes. Alexandros' shook from the Khorne-empowered strength, but deflected the simple blows. The Warmaster took a deep breath before slamming a psychic roar against the red-skinned Primarch. Ares snarled as the force chipped at his armor and forced him a step back. Alexandros thrusted the Spear of Terra into the opening. Ares hammered his axes together, catching the Spear before it pierced his chest. The two Primarchs wrestled against each other. "I'll be honest," Ares confessed through gritted teeth, Alexandra's blood still driving from his hands. "I don't know if you or the All-Mother disgusts me more. She completely denied her purpose as a tool of war, but had the conviction to stand against the Emperor. You, on the other hand, may wield weapons and play the warrior, but you desire an end to your own created purpose." 

 

"I'd be happy to relieve you of your quandary if you drop your axes," Alexandros answered with a grin. 

 

"At least some fire burns within you," Ares said with an approving and bloodthirsty grin of his own. The two parted weapons before crashing into each other again.

 

He Who Balances' right gauntlet shifted from violet to green. Wind, tainted and noxious, billowed from the gauntlet. "Tell me, chosen of a dead god, do you feel at least satisfied you lived up to his example?"

 

Ardann kept his mouth as the wind circled around him. The gods you serve have a beginning, and they will have an ending. It is inevitable. 

 

Balances' left eye burst as the telepathic assault lanced against him. "Chaos is eternal," Balances' declared with a whisper. He clawed at Ardann, who blocked with spear. Balances' gauntlets gripped the spear before his remaining black eye fired a red beam through Ardann's neck. Paralysis wrenched control of Ardann's body from him as he flopped to the floor. "You are not," Balances' finished as he placed his gauntlets around Ardann's head. He squeezed. The sound of bone cracking filled the room as Ardann's skull collapsed beneath the pressure. 

 

He Who Balances' stood and flicked brain matter from his hands. He turned to the other two struggling Primarchs. "You're next, Warmaster." 

 

"Can you wait your turn?" Alexandros grunted as he narrowly sidestepped an overhead swing. 

 

He Who Balances' smiled as he stepped forward. The smile transformed into raw agony as a claw punched through his chest. Fire clung to Nemesis' wings and skin, but he wore a victorious grin as he twisted his claw. "I cannot tell you how satisfying it is to finally shut you up." He jerked his claw out, two hearts skewered on the talons. He Who Balances gurgled, unable to say a word as he fell to the floor.

 

Ares paused as he weighed the tactical situation; an opportunity Alexandros took as well. None could deny Nemesis' bravado. But his hair had been burned off of him by his trip through the fire. He beat out the remaining fires, but his moves were jerky and unsure. The Warmaster was not convinced Nemesis would be of much more aid against Ares. Without its master to maintain its life, the fire sputtered out. Donar stood beyond the fire, watching. However, Donar clung to his warhammer still. 

 

"A hypocrite, a cripple, and a half-dead fool," Ares observed. "I like my odds."

 

"Warmaster, a question," Donar called out.

 

"Yes, Donar?" 

 

"I have no taste for witchcraft but have learned that my lightning works as well against the destroyers as well as men. Does that apply to their curses?"

 

"I'd like to see you throw a bolt on your crone's legs," Ares jeered. 

 

Alexandros thought on it for a moment. "It should."

 

"My thanks." Lightning sizzled through the warhammer before surging through Donar, who roared with pain as it coursed through his body. It lasted a moment and was over. Donar sighed; however, he then rose to his full height, no longer sapped by Nurgle's lingering power. 

 

Ares' grin became brittle as the Lord of Lightning approached. "...feth." 

Edited July 1, 2019 by simison