60K: The Eridani Records

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Re: 60K: The Eridani Records

Postby Kai Bahamut » Wed Apr 25, 2012 5:05 am

But Lucan, didn't you state one time that Fenris was the greatest Fortress of even in the fallen age of 50/60K?
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Re: 60K: The Eridani Records

Postby LordLucan » Wed Apr 25, 2012 10:33 am

Indeed I did, but even the greatest fortress may be defeated but not breached. Abaddon defeated it by destroying its ability to project power. Now, it is an impenetrable base for a scattered garrison of Space Wolves, surroudned on all sides by the forces of the Chaos Imperium.
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Re: 60K: The Eridani Records

Postby Sardaukar » Thu Apr 26, 2012 6:40 pm

LordLucan wrote:This is really good, and it reads like the fever-dream of a demented artificial sentience, which I have to say is a marvellous achievement.

I like how the AI seems to shift between past present and future with such fluidity. You link in lots of stuff (so much sometimes I get confused). I like the references to other universes and other dimensions, allowing for cheeky in-jokes and pop culture refs.

I would say Fenris seem phenominally difficult to breach here; remember in my 50K setting, Fenris was besieged, and rather successfully, with the enemy only just being pushed off the world.

There might come a point where my story contradicts slightly (I will be using fenris and the Well of Eternity at some point) but I tihnk minor contradicitons do not matter, as neither account is suppsoe dot be 100% the objective truth.

I'm loving all the daemonic references too (though valchocht the maker, Daemon King of the Soul Forge, hasn't stuck his beak into your records yet, but your chronicles are still early days).

I like this a lot honestly. It deepens the setting and is also very, very well written. I love how philosophy and scientific history merges with the more mythic stuff, and the depiction of the ascended artificial intelligence was very striking.

Thank you very much LL.I actually intend for this to be set a fair amount after the breaching of Fenris. I'll need to PM you about Valchocht the Maker because I'm not too familiar with him. Will make a reference to him in the future at some point, due to his ascendance as a Chaos God as well.

This is set in the period of M.50 onwards, as I remember that you made Ethlred of the Space Wolves the main defender of the realm surrounding Fenris in M43.200, countering and repelling a Chaos invasion. In my contribution to the story, while keeping consistent with the fact that the Wolves are surrounded on all sides and besieged, I decided to go with the interpretation that the Wolves unearthed an STC Memory Core system and recruited the nearby Mechanicus Forge Worlds to help in building up their entire domain as a mega-fortress, projecting out to no more than 100 light-years.

Reasonable enough to defend without overextending their lines of supply, but powerful enough to ward off the Chaos Imperiums, Necrons and Krork who invade. Plasma rifles and Inferno pistols are standard, while their power armour has conversion shields as standard, due to their technology base. With a small domain, they can outfit their entire military with excellent equipment due to the STC, as well as maintain short lines of supply. So any breaching of Fenris can be done, but at phenomenal cost and using a lot of Warp-based powers.

I view the Fenrisian Imperium as modest in size relative to the others, sufficient to hinder any advancement and like a poisonous shrimp that would be a pyrrhic strategic victory for the Chaos Imperiums to overwhelm. So the Machina have been working in the background to bolster human defences where they can, subtly pointing out the STC and other data and otherwise working in the shadows like the Order of Heracles and Alpha Legion.

Basically at this point the Alpha Legion knows about them, as does the Heracles Order and Ordo Hydra.The Brethren of the Willing are starting to suspect their presence and the Revelation knows the Machine and Dabaku as back. As for the Necrons and Krork...well, the last things they expected were Magellan Reich bases popping up along the fringes of the galaxy and garrisons maintained by Iron Warriors. Nor did they expect to find that a certain green menace is returning to the galaxy and acting as chaotic agent that fouls up the plans of every other faction. The Orks are back :)....and the Krork are about to get a lot unhappier. Turns out transhumans with a mastery of bioengineering and fungal manipulation, a significant faction within the Magellan Reich, turned their considerable brainpower to researching the Orks....

As for demented artificial sentience...well I'm a psychology undergrad in my final year and I have Asperger Syndrome - high functioning autism. Otherwise normal. Basically Asperger Syndrome means you don't have a naturally developed theory of mind or social intelligence compared to other normal people and I'm playing the role of a recorder unit that's gained self-awareness. Fact is any AI system we build will act like an idiot savant, as no AI will yet be able to develop a Theory of Mind to deal with people.

Oh and one final thing....


[color=#000000]1)Loyalist War Hounds riding genetically engineered Tyrannosaurs into combat against Krork and Angyll-Necron forces will feature at some point. Supported by Iron Warriors wielding massive amounts of artillery. Plasma artillery. And Dimension Cannons. The Neo-Devourer forced the Magellan Reich to be...innovative and excessive in fielding its weaponry.

2)Ngaru is the Primarch trapped by Trazyn. An Illuminati Primarch - hence a unique and interesting find. The first primarch to fall, the 2nd Primarch to exist and the Reclaimer of his glory. He was personally dealt with by Vulkan, Lion El'Jonson and Sanguinius at the order of the Emperor in the middle of the Great Crusade. His story will be told as he enters the Age of Dusk. Problem is I can't decided whether to let him be taken by Vulkan or recruited by the Alpha Legion and Dark Angels..

Last edited by Sardaukar on Thu May 31, 2012 3:03 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: 60K: The Eridani Records

Postby LordLucan » Thu Apr 26, 2012 7:24 pm

I see sardaukar. My cousin has aspergers. Your theory on the AI mindset is very interesting.

Spoiler: I'd imagine he'd be recruited by the Alpha Legion and dark Angel group, as they are all about the secrecy, and one of th emissing primarchs is obviously very good at hiding himself, or he wouldn't have remained missing for so long.

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Re: 60K: The Eridani Records

Postby Sardaukar » Mon Jun 04, 2012 2:31 pm

Part 6: The Sargasso Sector Conflagaration aka the Kurukshetra War and the Banishment of the 11th Primarch

.// Record begins

I have left Fenris. I go now to the world of Tomb World Solemnace. There, a great prize awaits us. A prize beyond anything the Machina have done yet. The Brethren of the Willing move, though guided by new leadership. The Primarchs of the Imperium Primus have returned, heroes of the Great Crusade who once more strive to bring Chaos to heel. The Unforgiven strike from the Shadows, even as the forces of The Revelation move and strike from the Webway.

The Magellan Reich moves to gain the recognition of the Imperium Pentum as a brother realm, for only under Vulkan is there any hope to stem the tides of the despair. The confluence of destiny and the prophecies of the dead show us the truth. Vulkan is the fulcrum, the nexu point upon which our existence depends. Dabaku screams into the vast gulf, heading to the Dyson of the Outsider, its being shattered into splinter shards whose purpose is unknown.

The Ancient Ironheart plans to move now, to gain the acknoledgement of the Armageddon Emperor, Vulkan. The former Fatemakers Commandery has acknowledged and accepted us within their realm, for now the slow fortification begins as our new Realm springs forth from the ashes of our exile and the few holdings we now have.

My record will reach them. This is no promise but a statement of fact.

<<The Tale of the Kurukshetra War.>>

The Son met the Father upon the eve of the destruction of an Ork Waagh, manipulated and led through Dark Eldar manipulation by Asdrubael Vect himself. Khanda had prosecuted a war upon the inhabitants of the outer reaches of the Sargasso Sector, mainly Dark Eldar raiders who undertook raids against the various holdings of the republics around the Webway Portals that led to Commoragh.

<The Roots of the Kurukshetra War>

The policy of the Sargasso Sector Republics, as the termed themselves, was simple in and of itself. The Eldar were permitted to traffic through the Webways and pursue their agenda through the Sargasso Sector, provided they did not compromise the interests of the various human and Machina republics alone. Similarly, the Ethyrnet was maintained here by remnants of the Monstrum Nobilite, providing beacons that provided safe passage for the astropaths. The Machina maintained their network of Warp Relays, connecting the vast gates between the Dyson-clad stars within the Sector. Vast hubs of commerce and industry, the Machina bases enabled the development of an immense economic and industrial base that would have supported the efforts of the Emperor.

Over the millennia and into the Age of Strife and the Great Crusade, as the Eldar Craftworlds grew increasingly militant, tensions increased between the Machina and the Eldar. The Machina and their Iron Men replicants were beings of pure logic, with bionanomachinery suffusing their physical forms, complex molecular biomachinery their internal fluid, supporting their complex internal systems. It also granted them a warp signature that spoke of the most basic of biological drives – survival. Thtough their witchsight, the Eldar saw a mass of mindless energy that hungered for survival. Yet in their conduct, the Machina were pragmatic, logical and utterly without agenda beyond protecting their interests, factoring and accomodating the long-term view of the Eldar.

The Eldar were intrigued by these mon'keigh creations, and knew better than to double-cross them. Retaliation against Eldar incursions was swift, brutal and merciless, often repelling them beyond their borders and at times following them back to their Webway gates.

As the Emperor led his Great Crusade and the twilight of the Age of Strife drew near, the Craftworld Eldar began to withdraw from the relative sanctuary of the Sargasso Sector, sensing the intertwining paths of the future. Destiny and Fate met, potential futures collapsing and springing forth anew from the meeting of father and son. And in the absence of their Craftworld Eldar, the ambitious Asdrubael Vect saw an opening to exploit.

Through his machinations and manipulations, a massive Ork Waagh was redirected towards the Sargasso Republics, Dark Eldar Mandrakes drifting from the shadows whence they came, while the rare Harlequins capered and whispered into the ears of the Warboss who led it.

The Warboss, Ilsaur Mazguruk, of Waaagh Mazguruk, was an Ork of immense cunning. A rare Warboss, he kept a large cadre of Weirdboyz and had terrorised the segmentum for the past four centuries, leaving a swathe of ruin and destruction behind him.

No one know why the Dark Eldar did as they did. Perhaps it was a confluence of destinies that bound them to this fate. Perhaps it was the power of the Nex and the Deep Warp that influenced them even in this age. Agents of the Cabal, those who strove against the Primordial Annihilator were known to have been amongst the advisers and manipulators involved in this vile deed. Rogue Iron Men had indeed joined the Cabal, for reasons of their own, while Dabaku had indeed dealt with them.

Nevertheless, this conspiracy had its own success. The Waagh had its own purpose after all...


Leading an Expeditionary Force comprising the 11th Legion of the Steel Tigers Legion, along with elements of the Word Bearers and a main body composed of the Salamanders under Vulkan, the Emperor sensed the beacons as he approached the Sargasso Sector, the presence of his Primarch calling out to him.

The Primarchs had been crafted from his genetics and soul, archetypes of the human unconscious shaped and given form from infancy, symbols and representations of the primal archetypes of human society given being. They were the personification of the archetypes inherent within the collective unconscious of humanity that permeated him.

Alongside this came a fleet of Adeptus Mechanicus. Long deprived of their ancient holdings in the Sargasso Sector, they were intent on reclaiming them, records of Standard Template Constructs known to exist here, based from the Martian archives. Many a Martian fleet had been sent hurtling towards the Sargasso Sector, a volume of space rich in resources.

They entered into an unlimited meles, as they arrived within the middle of a vast conflict that had shattered the entirety of the Sargasso Sector. The combined might of 6 Ork Waaghs had thundered upon the Sargasso Sector, overwhelming the initial defences like a tsunami. Through breaches in their vast network of defences, they had taken frontier worlds and polluted them, towards Runelvi, the homeworld of Khanda. In response, a vast army of replicants, baseline humans, parahumans, transhumans, posthumans, Machina, cyborgs and cymeks had rallied to the command of the charismatic Khanda, who led them in repulsing the greenskin invasion.

Amidst the chaos and confusion, the ancient Dark Eldar swept out from the Exodite Worlds Webway gates in vast numbers, inundating the defences of the Machina Worlds that guarded them. The Machina turned all their might to restraining and containing the invasion from within, even as Ork Hulks, Roks and Kill Kroozers threw themselves against the vast defences, intent on bringing the Machina into a fight.

Even as the great Machina worlds fell one by one, the Machina retreating to the deep bunkers and geofronts that dotted the crust of their planets, they sent a call for aid to the few Craftworlds that owed them pacts of defence. The few Craftworlds that answered sallied forth, only to find ruins and scenes of Pyrrhic victory, the greater part of the Ork Waagh smashed against the Machina worlds, while civilised worlds were ravaged by the depradations of their Dark Eldar kin.

Taking the chance, they unleashed their rage upon their dark ilk of Commoragh. Rarely were the dark kin called to account for their dishonouring of the Eldar name and society, nor were their actions productive, setting back the agenda and re-emergence of Eldar as a galactic power. They were the ones, the cultists and hedonists, who had contributed to the rise of Slaanesh. And so the Farseers, Exarchs and their gathered warbands struck them like a spear upon the hide of an elepahant, raining down blows and drawing blood against their dark kin.


In the frontier system of Jothapur, armed with fusion pistols and railguns, the first meeting between Khanda and the Insan Al'Kamil was in the command centre of a vast Ork Hulk. The system of Jothapur was a nexus for Warp Relays and a hub of trade for the Sargasso Republics. Their defences had been breached by the Orks, the splintered remnants of the Waagh intent on spreading the chaos of their Waagh far and wide.

With a roar, Khanda led his honour guard through the deluge of enemy combatants, the Orks crumbling before the might of his armaments. Clad in powered armour the likes of which only a Primarch could wear, he charged through the narrow corridors, purging them with flame, plasma and laser. Wielding his power fist in one hand and axe-hammer in another, Khanda drove down like a Khornate daemon, cutting through opposition like the partisan of First Bull Tyme, the legendary Chapter master of the Fire Beasts.

In parallel corridors, Word Bearers fanatically clashed with Orb Nobs, Mega-Armoured Orks that formed the retinue of the Mekboy that commanded the Hulk. From beneath, Vulkan and his Salamanders cut through the bulkheads with melta and flamer, purging the hulk of its denizens. The Emperor took to the field of battle, carving his way through the enemy with a vanguard of Custodes, Constantine Valdor at his side. Nemesis blades and power weapons met and clashed, cleaving through armour, flesh and bone, spraying gore and ichor over the dead and living alike.

It was Vulkan who broke through to the command nexus of the Hulk, intent on engaging the Mekboy who led it. Like the Salamanders of Nocturne, his gauntlets spewed geysers of promethium jelly, setting the Orks aflame. Thunderhead in his hand, he hefted it and let fly, like a farmer reaping his crop. Greenskin flesh crumpled beneath the mighty impacts of Thunderhead, the smell of charred Ork wafting through the command centre as the oxygen dropped to alarming levels. Lifting the Mekboy over his head, he broke the large Ork in half as he shattered the Orks spine upon his knee and tore him apart, before burning the viscera and gore, cremating the corpse within seconds.

It was in the moments after victory that the Emperor arrived with his Custodes, forming an anvil with Vulkan. Both clad in Terminator plate, streaked in gore and vile fluids, they let no Ork escape the slaughter that followed, butchering and massacring the greenskins in an orgy of violence that left the Orks cackling with demented glee as they died in the dozens.

And it was within the confined spaces of this charnel house that Khanda Parashur met the God-Emperor and his kin, over a field of broken greenskin corpses and roasted flesh. Gazing upon his brethren, knowing of the great light that shone from within the gathered figures, Khanda knelt ther and then, pledging his axe to the service of the God-Emperor. And so began the fall of the Sargasso Sector into ruin....

The Steel Tigers were like their gene-father in demeanour, possessing a reputation for pragmatism, introspection and the tendency to possess skin the brown of varnished wood, with traits of enhanced adaptability and greater physical stamina than even their fellow Astartes. Where the Death Guard were renowned for their resilience as a force and as individuals, with enhance constitutions able to endure the harshest of environments, the Steel Tigers could engage in warfare and go without sleep for weeks on end and outlast even their fellow Astartes for significant lengths of time in tests of physical endurance such as ultramarathons, outlasting their foe far beyond the ability of their fellow posthumans.

Yet their service under Vulkan had tempered them with a humane consideration. Acknowledging the need to protect the humans under their charge, they were nevertheless a force of renowned for their prowess and persistence in hunting their enemies to the point of exhaustion.

Like any Legion, they rejoiced in their signature reserved manner, knowing that their Primarch was now with them. Yet it must be remembered that the vast majority of these Astartes were cadres drawn from Terra. Their loyalty and obedience lay with the Emperor who had personally led them for the past few centuries, not the Primarch who had been appointed to lead them. Then again, fealty to the Primarch was fealty to the God-Emperor.

The senior staff of the Legion took to educating, training and indoctrinating Khanda Parashur in the ways of the Imperium, as did Vulkan and Lorgar. However, where Vulkan and Khanda developed a relationship of mutual respect and trust, with Lorgar there was a veiled hostility. Lorgar had yet to lead his Legion in its great pilgrimage towards the Eye of Terror, but in Khanda he saw a threat.

The Sargasso Republics were secular institutions, with strong traditions of freethought, religious diversity and independence. It presented a working model that opposed the paradigm which Lorgar intended to spread across the Imperium. In the Sargasso Sector, he saw the roots of an ideology that conflicted both his own and that of the Imperial Truth.

However the Sargasso Republics had their own misgivings. Looking at the Imperial juggernaut with trepidiation and intent on preserving their sovreignty, they concealed their secrets and technology, even as the Adeptus Mechanicus surged towards the triad of Forge Worlds that were the industrial bastions of the sector, intent on rejoining their lost brothers.

There were misgivings on both sides regarding Imperial policy. While the Sargasso Republics were more than happy to be an affiliated realm of the Imperium, they did not wish to fall under the aegis of the Imperial Truth nor to have their technological development subject to the sanction of the Adeptus Mechanicus, whom they viewed as technoshamans embracing a philosphy of pseudoscience.

Over time, conspiracy and counter-conspiracy built up, even as the Lorgar and his Word Bearers attempted to proselytise about the divinity of the God-Emperor through the Lectitio Divinitatus, while the Iterators of the Imperial Truth spread throughout the sector. The Iterators combatted what they saw of the false ideologies and beliefs of the numerous republics, fueling a growing wave of xenophobia. All the while, Khanda Parashur continued his tutelage under Vulkan.

<<The Breaking Point>>

The flashpoint for the Sargasso Conflict, the first time that marked the turning of the 11th Primarch against his father and brothers, occurred on the world of Kerberos. A fertile world whose continents had been shifted to form a geologically stable ring around the equatorial band by the Machina in the Dark Age of Technology, it was a world of learning and sorcery, where the native peoples lived in communities clustered around a core of psyker families, who played a role in guiding and governing the world. The Nobilite had taken refuge in this world, as did the Monstrum Nobilite, the exorcists of the Nobilite houses who were the wardens and guardians of the early Nobilite houses.

Amongst their religions was the ancient religion of Judaism and its followers, the Jews. An ancient peoples whose traditions dated from the time of Earth, they were an insular community known for their abilities in academia and their scholastic aptitude, as well as their prowess in enterprise and entrepreneurial activities, able to gain control of the economic wealth of polities within generations. They were also a community somewhat...prone to persecution.

Their insular nature did not help their cause, nor did their ability to control and influence the politics of a world through their economic wealth, in order to safeguard their interests and further empower themselves. On the world of Kerberos, they similarly displayed a sense of arrogance towards other communities, further distancing themselves from society at large. Nevertheless, they served a crucial economic function and were treated with the same regard as any other community. Diversity and free thought were respected and protected, and it was a highly productive world and trading hub, as well as a regional headquarters of the Primarch.

Due to their economic value and the vibrancy of their intellectual contributions to the sphere of scientific and artistic development, as well as the historical persecution they suffered, Khanda-Parashur had followed a policy of declaring them a Protected People of the Republics and had granted them special dispensation and protections.

The general ire of the Iterators at the resistance to their preachings and their constant attempts to discredit and subvert established religious orders ignited currents of unrest. When the Word Bearers Legion chose to set up and maintain a Monasterey-Keep in the capital city and began to preach, this only furthered their alienation from the world's citizenry.

But the incident that tipped the scales, that broke the back of the grox so to speak, was a peaceful protest. A peaceful protest was held outside by a group of Ultraorthodox Jewish settlers, who opposed certain policies of the Word Bearers on what was considered holy ground to them. As the crowd grew in strength, protestors began to pelt the Iterator and Word Bearer bodyguards with local animal produce and animal feces. The response of the Word Bearers, fresh from battle and under orders to protect the dignity of the Iterator, was simple but with tremendous repercussions. They opened fire with their bolters upon them, declaring all to be heretics and cleansing them as they rightfully perceived for this heresy against the Emperor's Word.

It spread across the planetary networks and through the web of psychic relays and laser links that crisscrossed and connected the sector together. The backlash to Imperial brutality was like a firestorm, as rebellions broke out across the sector and the central government declared its intention to eject the Imperium for this gros violation of its internal sovereignty. In response, the Word Bearers, under the command of a newly elevated and fanatical Force Commander, subjected the most rebellious to a punishing orbital barrage, before accelerating an asteroid into it at c-fractional speed.

They recorded the incident and began to broadcast it to the entire sector, promising mercy in exchange for surrender and submission to rightful Imperial rule. On each world they met, they broadcast the incident, including the rabid pleas for mercy that echoed across the EM bands. The reaction of the Sargasso Republics to such behaviour was not unexpected. They rebelled openly and turned on the Imperium. The Machina appeared, unable to restrain themselves as the Stone Minds and Artilects retaliated with the full force of their military might.

But the Mechanicus had their own weapons to counter them. Unleashing meme-viruses, cyber-cancer and logic viruses upon the Machina, the Mechanicus forces had subverted and reclaimed their Forge Worlds. For the promise of new technology, ancient pacts forged between the Forge Worlds of old and the Machina worlds were forgotten, as the synthetic creations of man fought against the screaming Skitari Legions of the Omnissiah and the Techpriests of Mars. Across every system, the Mechanicus seeded the stars with toxic metals, poisoning them and altering their radiation, or altered the orbits of planets, colliding moons into the civilised worlds they orbited.

Doggedly advancing against over the shattered husks of subjugated worlds, the Word Bearers and Adeptus Mechanicus broke and shattered their enemies in brutal warfare unseen since the Age of Strife. Feral Orks were allowed to run wild through the burning worlds, cultural and historical relics of incalculable value destroyed, while non-STC systems were purged and subjected to fusion fire, plasma and thermonuclear immersion.

Priceless Machina technology self-destructed, as the Machina struggled to protect the secrets of their knowledge. They self-destructed vast portions of their infrastructure, including even the pricesless Warp Relays. Nodes of Dyson swarms and Dyson nets were converted into powerful Nicoll-Dyson lasers, lashing out at fleets as they entered the system, only for the technology to fail as Mechanicus trojans planted over the years sabotaged them and corrupted their programming, turning them upon themselves and their builders.

Khanda Parashur returned to find his home realm in the flames of open rebellion, the Steel Tigers Legion unsure whether to act or not, having remained in their garrisons despite the insistence of the Word Bearers. The Orks of the vast Waagh had beene defeated and subjugated, but had left their legacy in the form of sporadic guerilla warfare and Feral Ork tribes which had taken root across the worlds of the sector.

The Salamanders having long since vacated this region of space, there was no one sane enough to stop the tide of conflict from sweeping across the sector. It was then that Astartes fired upon Astartes for the first time, as Khanda Parashur raged and screamed at his Legion, ordering his commanders to war. Fully 85% of the Steel Tigers rebelled at his orders, the senior cadres composed of Terran commanders who had fought alongside the Emperor and owed nothing to the new Primarch other than their genetic heritage.

Across burnt worlds scorched by macrocannon and plasma, the Word Bearers, Mechanicus and Steel Tigers contested against the hybridised forces of the Sargasso and the rebel Steel Tigers, their savagery, tactical prowess, firepower and hardened skill, along with the Word Bearers religious devotion of the God-Emperor equal to the fervour of their opponents to preserve their lives and freedoms. Though decades had passed, the military strength of the Sargasso Republics had ebbed as the Legions Astartes had supplanted local militia in numerous defence roles. And more than anything, this showed as world after world was shattered.

But for all of this, the Primarch led his Astarted loyally, a force of no more than 3000 Astartes slowly whittled down to a hard core of 300, either through attrition or defection to the enemy forces. Of the Steel Tigers who stayed loyal to Khanda, approximately 1700 Astartes eventually returned to their Loyalist brethren, unable to stomach fighting against fellow Astartes whom they had campaigned beside for more than a century. The rest died fighting or suffered capture at the hands of their fellows.

Plagued by the twofold threat of Feral Orks, guerilla warfare from the splintered remnants of the Waagh and hampered by Word Bearer destruction of several of their core industrial worlds in the early stages of the conflict...it was the threat of the Imperium that finally ended Khanda's guerilla campaign, as well as the capitluation of numerous worlds to Word Bearer rule.

As word of his Primarchs rebellion reached the Emperor, he led a fleet composed of elements of the Dark Angels, Vlka Fenryka, Ultramarines, Blood Angels, Iron Warriors, Salamanders, Death Guard, World Eaters, Iron Hands, Imperial Fists, Emperor's Children and Luna Wolves to reinforce the Word Bearers and to bring the rogue Primarch to heel. The Imperial Fleet broke out of formation in the system of Runelvi, precded by a vanguard of Steel Tiger and Word Bearer battle barges and strike cruisers, their destroyers and escorts marked by the battle damage sustained in attempting to breach the fantastically fortified system of Runelvi, home of Khanda Prashur and his last refuge.

Despite horrfic casualties, the last remnants of the Sargasso Republics, in the form of the refugees, gathered in the shadow of the fourth planet, eager to escape. Ordering his Machina subjects to power the Warp Relay and flee into intergalactic space, the uncertainty of their survival preferable to the certain death that would come at the hands of Word Bearer vengeance and Imperial conquest, Khanda Parashur fought bravely to delay the colossus that was the fleet.

Forming a screen, he dispatched 3 companies of the Steel Tigers to follow the refugee fleet, while various volunteers waited alongside him. Onboard the Phalanx of Rogal Dorn, the presence of the God-Emperor shone like a beacon to the Nobilite of the refugee fleet. Casting their witchsight away from Him, they turned it to the dark void of intergalactic space as the fleet formed up in readiness for their flight.

<The Battle of Runelvi>

The Battle of Runelvi was a long, drawn-out siege that favoured the Imperials. The belligerent Primarch led his last few forces in a concerted battle designed to outlast the Imperial forces and focus them on him.. Through a ring of steel in orbit, he stayed just out of range even as system pickets and escorts engaged the flanks of the Imperial Armada.

Yet for all his brilliance, Khanda Prashur could not match his father nor his brothers. They had far more experience, far more forces and their soldiery had been hardened by decades of war, one and all veterans of the Great Crusade. His forces were no more than the last dregs of a once-diverse people whittled down to nought but a few, pushed back by the savagery and brutality of the Steel Tigers and the Word Bearers.

Screaming out a challenge across the vox channels, Khanda Parashur denounced his father and disowned him, declaring himself emancipated. He was met by the hot rage of Rogal Dorn, the Emperor's Praetorian, the cold fury of Sanguinius's reply and the deep, throbbing wrath of Horus. Yet none could match that of the God-Emperor, his rage clinical, glacial and volcanic like a hurricane.

They assaulted the world of Runelvi then, subjecting it to an immense bombardment that blew chunks of mantle and continental plate into space, the magma cooling as it geysered into orbit from the fury of the bombardment. Teratons of firepower were directed at the last remaining fortresses and defence silo, as the orbital infrastructure was taken apart piece by piece by the clinical precision of the Iron Hands.

Landing around the southern polar regions of the once-verdant world, air heavy with the moisture of its evaporated oceans and bedrock heated from the sustained bombardment, Iron Warriors and Imperial Fists threw concentric rings of steel as they subjected the entrance of the last redoubt to endless artillery barrages. Weak points were clinically assessed and broken, Terminator squads breaking through chokepoints and bunkers.

Yet it was the Vlka Fenryka who ultimately breached the command centre of Khanda Parashur. The Wolf Guard led by Leman Russ looked upon the Primarch and howled as they loosed plasma, melta and bolter upon him, in order to weaken him and capture him. The Emperor himself would see to his sanction,even as Leman Russ bullrushed him. And under the weight of the bombardment, the Iron Man servitor collapsed as the solid light hologram failed, its systems destroyed beyond repair.

The illusion of the Primarch banished, the Fenryka looked with shock and surprise upon the fallen Iron Man and began to howl in fury, Leman Russ livid with rage as he cursed the dishonour and trickery of his brother Primarch. With a start, they were teleported away, the bunker igniting its antimatter reactor. Leman Russ had felt the fury.

In a deep bunker, Khanda howled with laughter as he activated the ancient rocketship. Propelled by an Orion drive, a nuclear pulse propulsion engine, he rode into orbit on a wave of thermonuclear destruction as he laughed uproariously into the vox.

You failed Lorgar! All of you failed! I thought the Imperium had a future! Our father's vision denies that and blinds you to the truth! Caught in the thrall of desitny you are, blinded with your hubris, arrogance, denial and foolishness!” were his words as he rose through the atmosphere and hypervelocity speeds, the concealed lasers of Runelvi granting one last opportunity to him as they fired their megaton yield lasers upon the Phalanx. Its shields took the barrage, weakening even further before the Orion ship careened into it, colliding with the shields and shattering itself upon the immensely powerful void shields. In the split second before it was destroyed, the shields were weakened sufficiently for a teleportation.

Using the sorcerous knowledge he had gained from his early upbringning in certain aspects of Warpcraft, Khanda teleported into the Phalanx. In armour clad, his axe-hammer in one hand and partisan in the other, he led his remaining followers in a suicidal charge upon the throne room, batteing aside any and all in his way.

Shielded with exotic energy fields and force barriers, Khanda tore through the numerous Astartes and Custodes that attempted to stop him, maiming and burning his way to the command nexus of the vast ship. Drenched in the gore of his few Astartes who had been butchered wholesale as well as the ichor of his abhuman followers, he was suddenly teleported to the command nexus, as Warp energies shifted and translocated him to the desired location.

He landed in the centre of a ring of Custodes and Primarchs, the Emperor casting a stern glare upon him. Screaming in berserk rage and demented fury, he bullrushed the Emperor, knocking aside Vulkan, picking up Angron and throwing him against a bulkhead. His prodigous power enhanced by the gifts of the Machina, he powered through the Custodes, only to be stopped by Leman Russ, who forced him into a corner as he hewed and cut at him in a clash of blades.

Amongst the Primarchs, in direct combat, Leman Russ was accounted the most powerful and savage, a feral force of nature whose savagery and prowess were countered only by the strength, endurance and temperance of Sanguinius and the combat prowess and physical acumen of Lion El'Jonson. There was a reason he was considered the Emperor's Executioner.

HIs Kraken blade clashed with Khanda's, as he hacked and hewed, parried and riposted against the berserk fury of his brother. For all his savagery, it masked the clinical methodology with which Leman Russ dominated him. Combining raw power and naked feral strength with his endurance and skill, Leman countered and shattered his brother's armour.

With a final roar, Leman finally crippled his brother as he severed his spinal cord with a well-aimed thrust, moving behind him to restrain him forefuly, as Vulkan and Sanguinius twined adamantium chains around his limbs to bind him. Bringing him to his knees, they finally bore him to the ground and forced his face to the floor.

It was then that Khanda ceased his struggles, a smile coming over his face for the first time in months as he felt the Warp Relay close, the fleet of refugees escaping. It had been his strategy all along. His peals of laughter perplexed his brothers for a few moments, before Angron cuffed him across the head and tightened the bonds around his neck, choking him.

Staring at the Emperor then, his father asked the question of greatest relevance.


Why Father? Because your path has no future. Your Imperial Truth denies the perils of Beyond. You deny the truth of the universe. There are the Four Abominations -


The golden light of the Emperor slammed into him with the full might of his words. Khanda was knocked backwards then in his chains. Realisation dawned in his eyes as he looked at his brothers then, before a sly grin appeared on his face then.

You never told them did you? I assumed they knew. Of Kh-” before the Emperor raised his hand and his mouth sealed shut, his jaw twisting and bones breaking as his chains tightened and he was hurled against the bulkhead.

Bleeding from his mouth, Khanda look upon his father defiantly, even as the Emperor look at Russ.


<The First To Know And Speak The Truth. Kadmon.> the voice of Dabaku echoed, his very voice coming from the walls. The First and Oldest of the Artilects, the AI God, stepped forth from the walls, its form that of a silver humanoid with a blank visage, two orbs of white its eyes.

Time twisted and distorted as stasis fields came into being, ceasing the movements of all in the chamber, excepting the Emperor and Dabaku. The ancient beings gazed at each other, communicating across the distance between in ways that would have driven mortals insane. Words and languages babbled and twisted across quantum mechanical levels of reality, distortions in time and space concealng their presence.

Little is known of what was said between the two, for in that moment the Emperor cast his Wyrd, as stasis was broken and time resumed its flow. Vulkan lashed out then, as Khanda broke his chains in a roar and made a final, mad, desperate dash at the Emperor, screaming for vengeance and justice. Silver fire and bolts of lightning engulfed Khanda then, as he screamed silently, his tangible body out of phase with reality. Warp power and compact spacetime twisted around him as Dabaku reached out, intent on retrieving the Son he har Nurtured, while the Emperor unleashed his power, to bind the Son of his Nature.

Like a solid supernova, the Emperor's psychic pressure was the final straw. Vulkan and Sanguinius cast then their gaze upon the silver being and assaulted him, channeling their power into their weapons and fists. In a drawn-out,beastial scream of anguish, Dabaku was hurled back by the psychic force of the two, the antithesis of its being concealed within their blood.

Yet even then, he was victorious. For Khanda was now beyond the Emperor's grasp, hurled into a place between the Immaterium and the Dimensions of physical material reality...

Without the Primarch, the Emperor cast his mind out to the galaxy beyond, knowing now that the ancient Machina were still active in the universe, hidden from his view. But what of the first Primarch to betray him? Looking upon his gathered sons, he knew what was required then. The Halo Stars and such knowledge should remain concealed from the Imperium. For news of such events would incite others to question him.

Chaos had to be defeated. The Imperial Truth had to endure.

“Father...what did Khanda speak of?” Vulkan then asked, gazing at the Emperor, seeking an answer from the God-Emperor. And just as he had sworn Magnus to silence on his knowledge of Chaos, the Emperor knew he could no longer avoid the questioning glances His sons cast upon Him...
Last edited by Sardaukar on Thu Jun 07, 2012 3:29 am, edited 1 time in total.
"People who are rooted in the here and now, who are not defeated by their limitations, who don’t compare themselves to others, who confidently advance along their chosen path—such people are happy, such people are truly great." -Daisuke Ikeda

"We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit."-Aristotle
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Re: 60K: The Eridani Records

Postby Sardaukar » Mon Jun 04, 2012 2:47 pm

<<Appended Document>>

<A Perspective of the Fenrisian Imperium, from the notes of Mentor Wolf Priest, Ragast Rockmantle>

Ragast Rockmantle is one of the most venerable revered amongst the Wolf Priests of Fenris, much of his body supported by cyberware in order to support his aged body. A Blood Claw in the dusk of the Imperium Secundus, he was recruited in the interval of the Age of Strife and served in the Wolf Guard of Ethelred. He survived the Age of Dusk and the 2nd Age of Strife, becoming the Great Wolf and setting the foundation of what was to become of the Fenrisian Imperium after the death of Wolf Lord Ethelred. He is the first Great Wolf to date to abdicate due to extensive injury, having stepped aside to make way for a successor Great Wolf in M51.120. He remains the Lorekeeper of the Fang and Warden of the Ancient Wolves - the Keeper of the Dreadnaughts.

The Fenrisian Imperium is a tight bubble of space, centred on Fenris itself. After the repulsion of the last Chaos incursion by Ethelred, it has become a vast fortress deathworld. Nay, it is the greatest fortress in the galaxy. Only the War of the Krork may contest our claim to that with their world of Tesla Prime. The crust of Fenris is honeycombed with vast manufactories and thermal boreholes that draw upon the wealth of energy and minerals within the magma core of Fenris. Far different is it from the days of my youth, in the times when First Bull Tyme of the Fire Beasts was a mere Scout in the 10th Company. Now there was a warrior of the Old Impeium....but I ramble. Forgive the musings of an aged Astarted. Now, as news of the Imperium Pentum spreads through the galaxy, as news of the existence of Leman Russ sprads anew, the Great Wolf of Fenris, Taranis Krakenhunter, prepares once more to lead the Imperium on the attack.

For the first time in millennia, the Vlka Fenryka will retake the initiative denied to them for too long. No longer do we have to garrison worlds. The great powers of the Eartern and Western Chaos Imperiums face the threat of full-scale war war, as Abaddon leads his forces to the ruin of the Blackheart. The Primarchs lead their own forces in a repeat of the Great Crusade, shattering the Chaos Imperium of Lorgar and intent on assaulting its very heart, Cadia. Even now, their forces retake and liberate worlds on a salient directed towards Fenris itself.

Wolf Lord Blackmane himself acknowledged the necessity of the changes I made, though where he is now I know not? Perhaps he died in Comorragh beside Corax and Russ. Perhaps he finally was hunted and fell in battle against a Chaos warband or a Krork incursion. I know now.

HAH! Some say that though my body bears the Canis Helix but my mind the mark of Perturabo. Just as members of the Fire Beast Commandery bear the geneseed of Konrad Curze and Vulkan, their dark secret, or the Blood Ravens themselves the hybrid geneseed of Magnus, Sanguinius and Corax...according to the damned Machina anyway....I am unlike my brothers. I possess the feral rage of my brethren, the savagery and cunning a fire in my blood and heart. My mind though, has never been anything but the calm, rational logic you'd expect of an Iron Warrior. The loyalist ones of Dantioch's lineage mind you, not their twisted mirrors that exist in the Chaos Imperiums.

After Ethelred led the Great Company to victory...nay. It was no victory. More than anything, it was a mutual loss. The Chaos curs failed to achieve anything beyond nearly breaking our very strength in the Second Siege of the Fang. We simply outlasted them.

I reorganised and led our ranks to consolidate and rebuild. No more could we raid the enemy. While the other Great Companies fought their way back to Fenris, I did what I could to secure our home. When they came, the Wolf Lords of each company came back to find Fenris a recovering ruin. But Fenris breeds hardy stock, as do the Hive Worlds like Garm. From then on, each Great Company was required to hold no less than a thousand brethren within their ranks. From amongst the Wolf Guard, we founded more Great Companies, bringing the total to 15 Great Companies of a thousand brethren each.15 000 Space Wolves. A break with tradition that was necessary. Once they are blood claws, we extract the first progenoid to use in new batches.

Over a the millennia-long buildup of my brethren, we expanded slowly but surely, protecting and gaining the few Forge worlds and civilised worlds we could. On my orders, we exterminated the tainted worlds that bordered the Chaos Imperiums with the Life Eater virus and orbital bombardment. I butchered billions...nay, trillions. Better to die under our guns than fall under the thrall of Chaos.

Odd...to save Fenris, I had to act like the Inquisition of the Old Empire. How I reviled them in my youh. The wisdom of my age taught me the wisdom of their actions. Like a vast forest fire, we carved a stable bubble of order out of the strife surrounding us. A hundred light-years in every direction and no more. Encircles as we were, we could only defend ourselves against attacks or lash out and prevent them.

We were in that volume of space between the Segmentum Obscurus and Segmentum Solar, far too close to the Eye of Terror and the Storm of the Emperor's Extinction. At my order, the Vlka Fenryka destroyed and throttled the systems between us and them. I did it to deny the enemies supplies and territory. A buffer zone between my small island of sanity in a sea of Chaos. A chain of dead worlds, littered with cylonic torpedoes that hung in orbit, concealed by the stealth systems of the Mechanicus dogs I brought to heel.

But true object that saved Fenris was the STC. From the Dark Age of Technology, a relic of the past was discovered in the cometary clouds that surround the Eye. Uncovered by its collision with a comet, we found a relic base of the Iron Men. But more than that was the treasure at its very centre – an STC Knowledge Core. The Adeptus Mechanicus of the Old Empire would have traded their homeworld of Mars and betrayed Earth to Chaos in order to have gainedit. Replicant servitors that ran from a central computer; the knowledge and tooling to create shields and force barriers, warp drives....everything.

To support my Imperium, I had to build an industrial base. Shocking isn't it? A Space Wolf sharing his thoughts on economics and the fundamentals of building a functioning state amidst the ruin of the Old Empire, bandit kingdoms and Chaos. I had to build the necessary institutions to ensure that the Imperium would endure even were I to die. The Wolf Lords were simple enough – show your mettle in battle and leadership and they are content to follw you. The humans were far less simple, though the Mechanicus were the worst.

I led and bled for my Imperium alongside my Council. I fought the Astartes Free Companies that dared ravage through my holdings, granting them the opportunity to act as privateers and raiders from mobile fleets that had sanctuary within my Imperium. Chapters descended from the Imperial Fists and the Deathwatch hold my borders and act as privateers that raid into the Chaos Imperium, abiding by the ancient dicates of the Codex Astartes. I held ground against the War of the Krork and the Necrons.

I repulsed the blind fanatics of the Black Templars and the Angylls of the Star Father, that corrupted filth whom my Primarch once served. I repelled the Chaos crusades as they broke against my Imperium. My left arm? It was hacked off by Kharn. I bested him in battle centuries ago, though at no small cost. He cost my my Wolf Guard. I cost him his life, though I have no doubt he remains alive, slaughtering his way through the galaxy.

I left the post of Great Wolf because...I had lost hope. I'm old enough to remember I fought beside the Fire Beasts long ago, when Tyme was a Captain. Ethelred led a great many raids across the galaxy, fighting our way back home. And beside us for part of the journey were the Fire Beasts. Warriors worthy of the greatest respect. This was when Tyme Crookedmind had just ascended to become First Bull, when the Black Douglas was interred within the sarcophagus of a Dreadnaught.

The humans will never know us Astartes...We know of fear. Every soldier, every warrior...we know it. We simply react to it differently, courtesty of our bioengineering, conditioning, training and education. We know of love, though we are obviously...well. We are posthuman warriors born from the flesh of living engines of war. Our conditioning is to express itself in devotion to the fraternity and the peoples of the Imperium. But a malaise took over my soul. I presume any Astartes who had lived at least a millennium would know. I do wonder now if Lord Dante ever experienced the apathy and malaise I felt.....

Now, the tides of the galaxy turn. My cyberheart beats once again with excitement and hope reborn. My Primarch has returned after long ages. Out of the sanity of the 2nd Age of Strife, Vulkan forged an Imperium centred on Armageddon. Ancient heroes of the past abound in the current age. I fought and was saved by the Legion of the Damned. For the first time in millennia, with the Warp Relay, we are not alone! Some speak of a reborn Emperor. Bah! Delusions and malicious lies. All that remains of that Corpse God is that thrice-damned Star Father.

Soon...we shall meet the Wolf King once again. What he will think of my internal doubts and the work I did I know not. I know only that I did as my duty demanded and the circumstances dictated. No more. No less. Towards Armageddon I will lead a task force. With our strength added to that of the Vulkan Imperium as a Realm, my worries will finally cease.

The Siege of Fenris will finally be broken. Let loose the Wolves of War once more, all 15 000 of us. For too long we have endured and been on the defence. Now the Great Hunt can begin anew. FOR FENRIS! FOR VULKAN! FOR RUSS!
Last edited by Sardaukar on Thu Jun 07, 2012 3:29 am, edited 1 time in total.
"People who are rooted in the here and now, who are not defeated by their limitations, who don’t compare themselves to others, who confidently advance along their chosen path—such people are happy, such people are truly great." -Daisuke Ikeda

"We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit."-Aristotle
Posts: 60
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Location: Singapore

Re: 60K: The Eridani Records

Postby Meaneye » Mon Jun 04, 2012 5:46 pm

That was wicked cool, Sardaukar :D . I like how you built the different 50K/60K stories into your own so you remain up to date.

The Machina is welcome within Fatemaker territory. Also, a PM is sent to you.
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Re: 60K: The Eridani Records

Postby zolohunter » Fri Jun 08, 2012 8:37 pm

I have to say Sard, after reading the whole thing through, I enjoy...nay delight in it. I truly like the part of the 11th Primarch and his betrayal, if you can call it that. I can not wait for your next section and also your account to the events of the 2nd Primarch.

Keep up the great work, Sard. :D
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Re: 60K: The Eridani Records

Postby Sardaukar » Fri Aug 03, 2012 9:39 am

Part 7-1: The Tale of Ngaru

[.//Herald Unit – Recording Begins.//]
A vast fleet hards towards Solemnace, composed of Machina and panhumanity both. The prophecies race towards completion, even as the Deep Warp prepares to rise, intent on dissolving the physical material plans of existence.

More than ever, there are those within the vast communality of our cybersphere that seek commonality with the Necrons. Factions arise and agendas shift. Self-preservation binds us all. The Solipsists seek only their own preservation. The Pragmatists seek their own way through the myriad probabilities – elements of them cooperating with the Revelation in the Webway. The 'Purists' seek a similar agenda as the Necrons, though opposed to them

The disparate forces of the galaxy gather now. Warbands of the disparate Chaos Imperiums come together, while Necrons fully under the thrall of the Star Father gather now head towards Solemnace, wielding the technological prowess of their own design and the immense Warp powers of the Star Father. The Void Dragon sends forth the worm men of Calixis, the Slaugth.

With Imotekh slain by the Lion, the Angylls and their followers extend their physical demesne from the Tomb Worlds under Imotekh to the outlying worlds in the Eastern Fringe where the people cry out in terror and agony for someone...anyone to save them. Worlds of cruel order and oppression. Worlds of the Star Father. I have fought once on an angyll-world. For all my desire for organisation and discipline...that is a world I would not wish to fight upon again.

The Order of Heracles moves in the shadows, while the Brethren of the Willing care not to pursue it, intent as they are on the Grey Sensei, the Emperor's progeny, while they deal with the bane of the Despoilers fleet in their midst, the Great Khan leading his Commandery in an endless hunt.

The Unforgiven gather, a final opportunity to gain the lost brother to their side – Alpharius alone, the Omegon slain in the Horus Heresy of the past by Guilliman. The Vulkan Imperium, now the Imperium Pentum, gathers its might, consolidating its forces for a massive push against the Chaos Imperiums that border it. With the Primarchs returned for a 2nd Great Crusade, the galaxy trembles in anticipation. Huron Blackheart, the Enthralled Tyrant, senses the great forces gathering, as Eldar Farseer and Silver Skull Prognosticator gather in the place between light and darkness, the border of shadow hidden in the veiled curves of time.

As for ourselves? Brethren of the Iron Warriors, War Hounds, Steel Tigers, Dusk Raiders and Nightmaw Brethren are gathered once more, alongside Machina. As we fought the Tyrannids and Neo-Devourer throughout ages of the Magellan Reich and during our exile from the Old Empire, now we fight once more under the banner of the Primarchs. From the shadows we begin to rise, the titans of myth heeding the Primarchs' call to war.

The Oro Astartes of the Reich gather now, at the time of the 55th Founding of the Vulkan Imperium's Commanderties, the mighty anvil upon which the hammer of Vulkan will render down the limbs of Lorgar and our Traitor Brethren. Vengeance for Istvaan will finally come. A trust forged in flames of war, we hunt now for the Despoiler, the Favoured Son of the Traitor One. In that hunt, the Fire Beasts claim primacy. The War Hounds and Night Haunters contest for their own right to the skull of the Favoured Traitor.

But back to us. We journey to Solemnace in the Eastern Fringe, our prize in this endeavour now worth risking even this hellish volume of the galaxy, strewn with the detritus of the Necron Dynasties, Krork Waagh's and the shattered husks of the Tau Meta-Empire. We seek to retrieve for ourselves a Primarch....

<.// The Tale of the 2nd Primarch>

I said once that the current situation of the present is rooted in the origins of the past. I digress. The tale of Ngaru is one of tragedy, of a Primarch turned against his Father. Had things been more favourable...perhaps history would have been very different. Where Khanda-Parashur's betrayal resulted in his opposition to the doctrine of the Emperor and his efforts to save his people, Ngaru sought only to conquer the Powers of Chaos, but was beguiled by the sorcery of a...


[.///Dabaku Data Fragment Cleansed........Physical Ejection of Memory Core. Memory Core grows organic parts. Detection of human seminal....EJECTION!PURGE SYSTEM!]

{…..WARP F....---IENDS....BEASTS......FLAME And SHADow-dow-dow.....MACALLISTER ENDURES!}

...cast the infant Primarchs across the void, scattering them to the furthest reaches of the human sphere, they hoped to kill them. The 11th fell into the nutrure of the Machina, while others rose to prominence in their respective homeworlds.

Ngaru fell from orbit onto a world that bordered the Eye of Terror. The Primarchs's womb-vessel tore apart in the atmosphere, slamming into the peak of a vast mountain range. An ancient human colony, the world of Tulang had been reduced to a technological base approximating that of pre-Nuclear Age Earth, a collection of cities existing in harsh irradiated wasteland, serving as hubs and trading bases for the semi-nomadic peoples that travelled between the cities as they followed the vast herds of grox.

[u][.//Ref. Settlemen of Tulang. Records indicate comparison to world of Salusa Secundus, cross-referenced in Nagashyr file fragments. Transuniversal approximation(?). Insufficient data.]

Settled by various mixes of genetic heritage, the stock of this world descended from the Han Chinese, Malays and Austronesian peoples of South East Asia, their lingua franca a hybridised mix of Old Earth English, a major trade language from which the Middle Gothic and High Gothic of the Old Imperium traced its descent, and the ancient languages of Mandarin and Khmer.

Ngaru developed rapidly, growing to maturity as while living in the forested regions of the alpine regions of the planet. His upbringing matched certain aspects of Lion El'Jonson, for the forests of Tulang contained Chaos beasts and other dangerous wildlife. Their proximity to the Eye of Terror ensured that even amongst their native population, the taint of mutation was rife. More often than not, pregnancies were aborted should the embryo reveal the taint of mutation or contamination from Chaos. Through such stringent measures, he was raised to maturity on this world.

A Primarch, he took to the shadows of the forest and mountains like no human could, living off the bounty of the land. His first human contact was with the semi-nomad peoples of the coastal plains, where the men followed the path of rivers and the migrating herds of elk into the harsh mountains and forests through the winter, while the women and children were left to tend to the cities and homesteads.

Tulang was divided between great nations, and one nation, the Hundrim Hegemony, a collectivist superpower, was the dominant power. A mad prophet (isn't that always the case) arose, enchanting and promising wealth, power and glory to greedy oligarchs and putocrats, a plutarchy arising in greatness. Meanwhile the workers were stoked into revolt as they were taxed every more heavily, while the middle class evaporated, migrating to new .

Over the course of centuries, it evolved into a theocracy, its power growing upon the back of broken slaves and conquered nations, as well as the tribute of vassal states. But the Prophet Cirbane was a scheming one, a worshipper of Slaanesh who could plot almost as well as a scion of Tzeentch. Her name was Ciribane, an Archsorceress of the Crone Worlds.

Favoured long ago, an ancient Chaos Eldar who had survived the Fall and the predations of the Warp, even upon the dread world Drakaasi, a world once cast down into the flame by ancient Brother-Captain Alaric of the Grey Knights, she placed upon herself a glamour. Through Webway gates and infernal means, Cirbane spread her eldritch word, for the glory of Chaos.

This sorceress was a scheming one, cunning and sly as no human could be, millennia of experience and centuries of Warpcraft throbbing in her Chaotic heart, sharpened by endless struggle surviving in the dark heart of the Eye of Terror. Through seductive wiles, sleeping with mon-keigh plutarchs who became enslaved to her will, the Harlot of Hundrim danced and weaved her schemes, puppeted rulers servile to her pleasures.

There came a time though, as the Emperor neared, the Sea of Souls parting before the light of the Anathema. The Great Crusade spread through the galaxy, and Chaos felt its spread. Whispers of the Imperial Truth, of the slaying of daemons and the becalming of the Warp reached the ears of the ancient witch, lithe and nubile on her throne of silk and penile flesh stitched together, throbbing in an erotic carnality that repulse and attracted.

The world had declined under her influence, her power spreading as she drew souls into her gullet, keen to challenge even the might of her ancient nemesis, Ghargatuloth – the only being to have bested and rejected her in her long existence other than the vagaries of fate and the Primordial Annihilator that was Chaos itself.

Knowing she could not face the might of the Emperor of Mankind nor his Primarchs, she sought to ascend faster, casting her net forth upon the world. And it was then that the dark terrors of the Warp began to grow. Tendrils of darkness came forth, Mandrakes coiling from the Webway that came to her aid. Bound daemons and allied homonculi in her thrall spread their terror through the shadows of the world.

Ancient biological creations of the Machina were perverted and put forth into society by her. The Ones of Many Faces, the Face Dancer hermaphrodites, genetic wonders derived from the delvings of a mad AI who had touched the Nagashyr-corrupted Dabaku and transmitted the information to an STC System Node.

They took upon themselves the identities of baseline humans, proceeding with their mundane lives only to erupt in orgies of violence and throbbing sensation that tore apart countless innocents, sending their souls screaming into the Warp, only to fall into the gestalt that was the Eldar witch whose enchantment grew in strength to cover vast regions of the planet, the valleys and coasts of the distant nomads untouched.

But as the bane spread across the world, it finally touched the nomad lands of the Primarch Ngaru, the mountain redoubts of the nomads and their coastal cities enduring a great flood of refugees, as a tide of dark stories accompanied the human exodus away from the distant continent-nations of the world.

By this time the Primarch had been educated in their ways and was a leader amongst men, as was expected the Emperor's progeny, Sensei or Primarch. A mediator and councillor in the unified government of the nomadic tribes, he was an adept negotiator and commander who had forged them into autonomous republics bound by codes of social conduct, trade and honour. Over the past six generations, the tribes had been united into autonomous republics by Ngaru's work. Yet unlike his brothers, his calling was different.

Each Primarch was born with a spark of magnificence, an incarnation of the Emperor's own talents. A Wyrd...yet each was so much more. Magnus had the touch of the Warp, a talent for Sorcery and Intelligence. Guilliman was the General, Soldier and Administrator – the one who could maintain an Empire. Vulkan was the Smith-Emperor, the power to build and maintain structure of empire and objects of empire tempered by the humanism brought about by his nurture amongst the common people of Nocturne.

Ngaru, like Leman Russ, was a Hunter. His purpose, his Wyrd, was to sever, bind and break. The Hunter and Oracle both, he foresaw the paths of the future and the possessed the flames to bind and hunt daemonkind. Yet he had not come fully into the power of the Oracle, for the Emperor had deigned to nurture this talent himself, not planning for his Primarchs to be beyond his reach. Ngaru possessed the singular ability to cast his sight into the past, future or present, viewing history for its truth.

And through his vague dreams, splinters of a future that would have been whole had he possessed the training, he saw the shadow rising in the West and had acted. Uniting the nomads was the first step, as the bronze-skinned demigod gathered men and women of skill and loyalty to his banner, creating an army capable of challenging the Harlot of Hundrim, the Sorceress Cirbane. To his banner gathered the mystics, the countless psykers who bore witness to the light of his soul and the noble fire therein.

Agile and dextrous as no human could be, Ngaru leapt from the treetops wielding a spear forged from the ironwood of the forest. Channeling the might of his Wyrd, he formed it into a primitive Nemesis spear, repelling the Chaos Beasts and protecting the soldiers of his armies.

Rains of arrows and torrents of bullets were unleashes, as were cannon and mine upon the hordes of cultists that came forth from the West to enslave them. Pale-faced and white-skinned, the sickly White Men of the West as they were termed fell before the dark-skinned nomads and their olive-skinned allies, the Free Peoples of the East.

Slowly and surely, Ngaru led his men against the shadowy might of Cirbane, his psykers purging the homonculi and Mandrakes before them, even as his technologists, engineers and mechanists produced new devices annually, closing the gap ever more against the colossus that was Cirbane. The psykers remained pure, their warpcraft and souls bound to a degree with the soul and blood of Ngaru, whose voice spoke through them, ancient sorcerous rituals of the Nobilite houses that had survived the First Age of Strife bound in tomes of polymer and crystal.

After a full two centuries of struggle and setback, the strategic acumen of the Primarch won through, until his great army besieged the redoubt of Cirbane. The Archsorceress herself came forth, pleading for mercy, sending forth priests to negotiate, only to have their broken bodies cast upon her walls and her temples assaulted by the aerobombers and artillery of Ngaru.

Drawn ever deeper into her redoubt, they broke through and shattered barriers, only to be assaulted by ever-more powerful daemons and abominations bred in Homonculi pits, or twisted Chaos Beasts captured and bred in the dungeons of the demented Cirbane. Blood and gore coated the walls as the Primarch led his forces deeper and deeper. Until he realised too late the trap she had set.

The redoubt had been drawn into a rune of Chaos, a parody of a prayer to Khorne that honoured Slaanesh. Knowing that she could not triumph against the superior arms, firepower, industrial capacity and training of her adversary, Cirbane had chosen another path entirely. She planned to escape, though not without leaving a....gift for the Anathema.

The slaughter of her own army and that of Ngaru's was the blood sacrifice that she needed to power her ascension and escape. And what better vessel to utilise as a physical host for an ascended Champion of Chaos than a Primarch?

Tendrils coiled from the blood as she enacted her spell from the high tower, lips forming across her body and sphincters of oily flesh squealing, spurting forth a toxic spew of feces, opiates and sweetened sugar all at once. Blood boiling in their veins, humans perished within moments as the very air itself roiled with heat and plasma. In mere moments, hundreds of millions died across the world, even as Ngaru stood in the very eye of the storm, brought to his knees in the deepest pits of the redoubt. In the heart of Chaos itself.

Warp energy boiled over from rune carved in bone and the nubile flesh of virgins and prisoners intertwined, sacrifices to Dark Gods that Ngaru only had dreamed of, nightmares of his youth made flesh. The young Primarch fought beautifully, breaking and despoiling many lesser champions of Slaanesh and 7 Greater Daemons of Slaanesh, including amongst their number Amnaich the Golden and Heartslayer, before Cirbane herself came to battle him.

Drained and battered, coated in the ichor of daemons that boiled and twisted his flesh, her spellcraft overwhelmed and dominated him. Through his bonds with his psyker followers, she forced herself, her very essence seeping into his skin.

And in utmost terror, Ngaru let out a wail of agony that echoed through the Immaterium, coiled within the howling triumph exhaled by Cirbane as she possessed him, twisting his flesh and soul, defiling the followers whose wills were bound to him – his Familiars. In this moment of her greatest triupmh, as Cirbane cackled in glee at subverting and possessing a Scion of the Anathema as her own vassal.

In the outer system, the Sea of Souls parted, letting a golden light becalm the roiling currents of the Warp and He heard the cry of his Son. And in His heart, the rage of a Father wronged was kindled...

[Note: The Silver Skulls Chapter, claiming descent from the Ultramarines, was known to have possessed a vast number of Prognosticators, Astartes psykers possessed of the ability to perceive the lines of the future, leading to a temporal horizon. It was also known that 3 Reserve Companies of Nightmaw Brethren Astartes went rogue,disappearing and refusing to have their fraternity broken and heritage discarded through assimilation with the Ultramarines Legion. The Silver Skulls Commandery are strongly suspected to be descended from the geneseed of Ngaru himself. However, genetic tests would be required to confirm this. And given the difficulties of acquiring geneseed....]
"People who are rooted in the here and now, who are not defeated by their limitations, who don’t compare themselves to others, who confidently advance along their chosen path—such people are happy, such people are truly great." -Daisuke Ikeda

"We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit."-Aristotle
Posts: 60
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Location: Singapore

Re: 60K: The Eridani Records

Postby Meaneye » Fri Aug 03, 2012 2:58 pm

I missed your updates, Sardaukar. Great story, as always.
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Joined: Fri Mar 02, 2012 8:47 pm

Re: 60K: The Eridani Records

Postby Sardaukar » Fri Aug 24, 2012 4:37 pm

Thank you Meaneye. Remaining current with the story of the Age of Dusk and just going through the history of the Lost Primarchs, fleshing out their past, in order to bring a better reckoning to their future.

Ngaru promises to be rather grimdark and ruthless,even for a Primarch, due to being Illuminatus. But make no mistakes - his greatest foe was always the Primordial Annihilator. You will hear no tales of the Nightmaw Brethren, the II Legion of the Legions Astartes. And for good reason...
"People who are rooted in the here and now, who are not defeated by their limitations, who don’t compare themselves to others, who confidently advance along their chosen path—such people are happy, such people are truly great." -Daisuke Ikeda

"We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit."-Aristotle
Posts: 60
Joined: Sat Nov 05, 2011 5:53 am
Location: Singapore

Re: 60K: The Eridani Records

Postby Chh » Sun Sep 09, 2012 10:58 pm

Sardaukar, are you trying to make reference to as many mythologies as possible, or am I just having my knowledge expanded somewhat?

Anyway...like where this is going; love the whole AI-Aspergers theme that LL was discussing with you earlier. Will the 11th be making any kind of return, or is he completely "out of it"?
Currently writing: http://www.thebolthole.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=19&t=2138 (Sanguinian Heresy)

Please read some of it, and give feedback. Please?
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Re: 60K: The Eridani Records

Postby Sardaukar » Mon Sep 10, 2012 8:56 am

Shhhh. You don't want to let Khanda hear you. Strange things,maybe even good things, can happen when

Spoiler: a Primarch allows himself to be worshipped and devour souls a billion times a billion screaming mortals, bound by the will of the Scion of the Anathema,over several millennia, while 10 trillion psykers of at minimum Beta-level, specimens derived from the Golden Age of Technology, nestle within the gestalt, singing a symphony of daemonic hatred and fanatical loyalty to an Emperor whose fate they did not know.

The 11th Primarch led their own empire, the Magellan Reich. And this was an empire that was near-equal in technological prowess to that of the Dark Age of Technology, as the Machina of the Old Ages established it in unity with the Primarch. But several millennia of combating Orks, Tyrannids and Neo-Devourers, combined with the emergence of Tzeentchian machinations affecting the internal structure of an empire can do terrible things to even the greatest,most stoic regime....

Just some references and call-outs where I felt they'd add some flavour to the overall story. Waiting to see how the whole overarching plot develops with relation to the main Age of Dusk.Not going to make as much reference to them unless I feel it adds a flavour to the multiversal theme that pervades the Warp.
"People who are rooted in the here and now, who are not defeated by their limitations, who don’t compare themselves to others, who confidently advance along their chosen path—such people are happy, such people are truly great." -Daisuke Ikeda

"We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit."-Aristotle
Posts: 60
Joined: Sat Nov 05, 2011 5:53 am
Location: Singapore

Re: 60K: The Eridani Records

Postby Sardaukar » Mon Sep 10, 2012 9:12 am

Part 7-2: The Tale of Ngaru
A Primarch is an immensely powerful being. Progeny of the Emperor of Mankind, embodiment of multiple archetypes from the deep well of the collective subconscious of humanity, that which gave image and manifestation to Nurgle and Khorne, they are awesome beings. Demigods of power and might unmatched by all but the greatest servants of the Primordial Annihilator – the Greater Daemons and Daemon Princes.

Just as Horus had represnted His ambition and Sanguinius had represented Him in His totality, or Khanda Parashur the aspect of Himself in knowledge and endurance, a trait shared with Mortarion, who represented unyielding resilience, another trait shared with Rogal Dorn. Vulkan represented His Compassion and Angron His wrath. Ngaru represented His willpower and discipline. His foresight....

And in this was Ngaru true to the legacy of the Emperor. He struggled against the Warpcraft of the Chaos Eldar witch Cirbane. But he was a young Primarch as old as only a few generations of man. Cirbane was an ancient wielder of Warpcraft from before the Fall of the Eldar – a being of primal might whose cunning rivalled that of her ancient foe Ghargatuloth, a being whom she had bested and been bested by in an ancient feud spanning millennia.

The Treachery of Vision, a text authored by Farseer Eldrad Ulthran of Craftworld Ulthwe, spoke of ancient Eldar who existed during the time of the War in Heaven. These were Eldar far more ancient than even Asurmen, the Phoenix Lord of the Dire Avenger Path. Eldar who had seen and fed on the Pure Warp from before the War in Heaven, before the taint of daemons had infected its very essence. Cirbane was one such being...

Seeing the threads of causality in brief sparks of revelation, Ngaru then felt the presence of an immensity in the Warp, a being whose proximity bespoke to him of his ancient heritage, as the faintest tendril of the Anathema touched him. And thus did Ngaru first feel the tell of his father, as an immense colossus coiled in darkness and shadow, as He drew near. The Anathema called out

Drawing upon his reserves of strength, he reached deep into the oracular core that looked upon the flow and strands of time. Quantum mechanics dictates that an action is determined in part by an observation. When adding the Warp to that equation, belief rippled and twisted reality to conform somewhat slightly, as seen in the phenomenon of Remote Viewing and other psi phenomenon studied amongst humankind.

The belief of a Primarch who could see the future twisted and tore at the reality which Cirbane wished to impose, as he parried her and engaged her in the mindscape, a battle of wills and willpower. Where she was agile and dextrous, weaving and misdirecting, he was titanic power directed to shatter and overwhelm the things that bore on him.

Touching her mind, he grew aware of the knowledge of Chaos and the Primordial Annihilator therein. Of Comorragh and the twisted geometries of the Webway. In the space between moments, time twisted and fractured, the beginnings of a temporal anomaly that ended before it began. And he threw himself onto the strand that brought him into the future – a fate that saved him from the thralldom of the Arch Sorceress.

Tapping into an aspect of his Primarch nature, he repelled her with psychic flames that manifested in azure plasma across his body, its Warp nature boiling away the physical and metaphysical bonds that surrounded him. Casting off her chains with a mighty effort, Ngaru was born anew as he cast the flames of his legacy forth, cleansing and boiling daemons of the Warp away from him.

And in the instance of his liberation from Cirbane, he became something new. Enlightened with new knowledge, he became Illuminatus, as flames shrouded his body. They illuminated the twisted place that he was within. For while he had won the battle, casting off Cirbane' attempts at possession, aided by no less than a Greater Daemo n of Slaanesh, he was now immune to possession but could still be harmed. Exhausted mentally and physically, he still had yet to contend with Cirbane and her captain, the summoned foe of foes, Ssair Gleamling.

In the generations of man that he had endured, Ngaru had done conquered the Chaos Beasts of his world, confining them to the deep arboreal forests and high mountains of Tulang. He had vanquished the monsters of the deep, descending to the underworld of rock and steel that lay beneath the surface, ancient geofronts and undercities delved by the first settlers of the world. He had quested through the ancient nuclear deserts and the twisted geometries of the Valley of the Dead, from where the ancient gates, one of dark stone and and another runic bone faced the other, shimmering in the unnatural twilight of the region.

He had broken sky daemons and mirror devils that ventured forth from the place, dueled parties of sky fairies and devil of metal bone that came forth intermittently from the gates, before he had them sealed through the wardings of his blood combined with the psykercraft of the Order of Ebon Flame, his elite psyker cadre.

And in the moment of his near-possession, facing the host of daemonkind before him...he stood alone before them all.

[.//Note: Drawing on records recovered from archives across the galaxy indicate that in the Age of the Imperium Secundus, two chapters were noted for their unique abilities. Ostensibly derived from Ultramarine geneseed, they are now believed to be descendants of the Nightmaw Brethren, the Astartes Legion of Ngaru. These two chapters are the Silver Skulls and Flame Falcons. Incidences of their oracular ability and the manifestation of their flames strongly suggest geneseed drawn from Ngaru. The ancient and venerable Mentors Astartes Commandery maintains a computational ability and eidetic memory reminiscent of Primarch XVIII.... .]


{I Exist in the spheres of Na Koja Abad...the alam-al mithal, the realm without limits, .....through materium and time I have travelled and endured, chronicler of this record. Into the Hadex Rift....Khaine the Old One knows of my presence....the Emperor Revenant crafts a Golden Throne in the Webway...more than ever, I have become the greatest and most powerful of the Primarchs. I destroyed my own empire to give the Imperium of Man the chance to survive. And more than anything else...I am free of Fate. Khorwa occurs. Time flow...contiguous. Self exists parallel to time. Perpendicular. Ynnead of the Dead rises, the nascent one. Those of my genetic brethren return. Astartes of the Reich. My brother Vulkan will accept them, and they see him as liege. For all that my Father did, I understand now the Intent and Purpose. We will perish. We are not meant for Peace. I....will see you at the Dissolution. At the confluence of prophecy.}

.//Presence Removed. Algorithms......No Damage. Records Altered. Timestamp recorded at M56.xxxxx-classified. Temporal Anomaly.

.//---[Record continues]

The Emperor of Mankind had ventured this far, wanting to meet the second of his Primarchs. Accompanied by a retinue composed of the Sisters of Silence and the Companions of his Legio Custodes, Constantine Valdor amongst them, he observed the roiling storm of Chaos that centred on the coastlines of the world. Alarm crossed his stoic features briefly, before settling into one of grim determination.

Malcador knew then what the Emperor desired but counselled patience, for though the Warp had broken out across the world, it must be remembered that the soul of His son glowed with an infernal fire similar to that of the Anathema. A young woman, a willowy blonde of exquisite looks and carnally-pleasing virtue, spoke forth, one of the host gathered around Malcador. A Crolemere of the Grey....

[A brief aside if I may as a chronicler. The Emperor/Kadmon/Insan al-Kamil was born from the fusion of souls of the great shamans of Ancient Earth due to the inability of the Shamans to incarnate beyond a certain point. It is notable that both Nurgle and Khorne emerged into full awareness due to actions of their followers on Earth - Terran thoughforms gave them shape and form. The Kadmon grew in power up until the Horus Heresy, which split His soul into a four parts – the Star Child, a soul adrift in the tides of the Immaterium, The Anathema and the fragmented Merciless Emperor – that which remained on the throne, the compassionless, utterly pragmatic and fractured Lord of Order that came to be the Star Father. And Revelation – the compassion he cast aside to slay Horus....


[{{Presence detected. UNKNOWN ENTITY.....Immaterium Presence...Similarity to Angyll....[NULL] - NULL-NULL] -- --- - Microsoft-Tata welcomes you to the new user experience with Oba - - -- FRAGMENT MISSING. }}

.//I am the Truth. I am REVELATION.

.//{Systems Purged of Warp Presence}.


{Chronicler Note: The deeper Unit-Self delves into the subject matter and research with my psychic probes and instruments, the 'deeper' Unit-Self probes the warp and its currents, the more...hazardous it gets. Unit-Self Herald travel by skimming the layers between the shallow Warp and the Webway, or alternately skipping into 6-dimensional spacetime (n) while remaining within 1 temporal dimension (m). The physical material universe exists within a bounded frame of 3 spatial dimensions and 1 time dimension – for the sake of a reference frame.

My records, though protected by a Gellar Field, have been edited and altered. The original material remains but some sections become....sentient. These have been....deleted. Mention of the 'Deep Warp [Code:NEX]....(spike in power to Gellar Field....-intrusion repelled) is minimised due to the occurrence of the Draziin-matons...simply popping up. Around Solemnace itself, forces alien and immense gather, unknowable to the mortal mind. Even a Machine Mind. A confluence of Fate weaves itself together there. I cannot foretell what will come to pass.... }

../// [Record Continues...]

The Emperor felt the roiling currents of the Warp twist in on themselves and collapse, as a vast tide of Chaos-tainted Warp energy emanated from the world of his 2nd Primarch, radiating outwards to collapse against the aura he projected, transforming it into nothing more than a tide of wild Warp energy. The Emperor exerted himself slightly, quelling the chaotic Sea of Lost Souls and becalming the Immaterium. The roiling storm became as a placid lake, the Emperor's golden light suffusing it and scattering the Warp entities within the system. The Expeditionary Fleet broke out of the Warp into the space of the outer planet, the world of Tulang a mere glimmer to the optical sensors of the ships.

He sent tendrils of his being out, ordering His fleet to wait in the darkness of the outer system, undetected within the lunar system of the local gas giant. Other than Horus, this was the first time that he was meeting a Primarch who had grown and matured beyond the sphere of influence of the Emperor. It was a time of new beginnings and fragile threads...an event unprecedented until then.

What he found puzzled him and worried him both. For the soul of the Primarch he detected felt different to what he had expected. In many ways it felt similar to those possessed....

But it was the infernal taint that surrounded the soul spark of His scion that worried him. Casting his sight into the oracular vision he desired, witnessing the strands of the future he desired, a vision was brought into acuity for him. His oracular vision was one he chose not to use much, for prophecy was a dangerous thing indeed. A prophet made a prediction, only for the faithful to believe it or apply it to another event altogether.

Too often, prophecies were altered to fit convenience or events entirely unrelated to them. Other times, they locked you into a set path you couldn't escape from, despite all your efforts. And worse – there were those that became self-fulfilling, gathering momentum that rendered them unstoppable juggernauts due to the power of belief in them.

But more than anything, they inspired doubt in him. His Primarchs were cast from the being of the Anathema that he was. He once had faced dreams of betrayal. Betrayal from Horus? Unthinkable. Guilliman? As likely as him having to fight his own Primarchs to brings them to heel. But more than that, to set Himself on the path of oracular sight would bring only divine boredom...and eventual stagnation.

Ripping apart the veil between the material and immaterial, Kadmon translocated himself near his sons' location. The sight that met him was one of ruin and decay, as cackling daemons shifted in and out of the Warp within the bounds of a ruined city. Decayed corpses walked in an unnatural fashion, daemon puppeteers twisting limbs and distorted tendons to their whims. With revulsion in His heart, he set about cleansing and purging, calling upon his Companions to deploy into battle and destroy the infestation of Chaos upon this world.

He let forth his golden aura in a magnificent blast of radiance, as a golden light shattered their thoughtforms and curdled their bubble of reality, the memes that composed them dissolving away before the purity of the Anathema. Daemons screamed and gibbered briefly, before a vast Greater Daemon arose to tower above the landscape. The Kadmon gave it but a glance.

“Remove yourself. You impede me” the Emperor stated at the Slaaneshi beast. The Greater Daemon cackled briefly. Who was this psyker, no matter how powerful, who dared to contest the power of Slaanesh? Sighing resignedly, the Emperor let forth the full might of his aura, stripping away and flaying the Greater Daemon like so much dust before a mountain range, navigating his way towards where he detected his son.

Far and away, the embattled army of Ngaru rallied around the psyker cadre, the Order of Ebon Flame, as the daemons began to dissolve away and the Chaos began to subside. Grim-faced psykers felt the Warp return to a calmness of that after a storm, as an unstoppable colossus strode into the very centre of the storm.

Ebon flames shrouding him in a midnight-blue plasma of immense heat, coiling shadows and wisps of Warp flame licking away and dissolving the immaterial forces around him. Ngaru grappled with Ssair as Cirbane twisted the geometries of the Warp-tainted complex, its inner space expanding outward, inward and perpendicular to the confines of reality.

Rippling muscle and taut whipcord sinew flexed and contracted as Ngaru wrestled with the Greater Daemon of Slaanesh. Beastial roars echoed through the chamber, a froth of blood and ichor dripping from the mouth of Ssair. Blades of bone and eldritch energies coalesced in between spines, before being channelled into mighty bolts and charges that lashed at the Illuminated Primarch.

Grasping the jawbone of the beastial daemon, Ngaru wrenched it out of alighnments and twisted it, even as aberrant lightning lashed out at him from Cirbane. He hefted and shifted Ssair Gleamling into the direct line of the attack, watching as flesh warped and dripped, molten daemonflesh and charred skin peeling back like a fruit from the skin of the Greater Daemon.

Ssair screamed in absolute pain, before the Primarch grabbed its tongue and pulled. Gobbets and strands of Warp-flesh and gore followed by a trail of innards came away, as Ssair's jaw fractured and cauterised, soft tissues of warped flesh cauterised by the ebon plasma of Ngaru. With another deft movement, Ngaru wrestled Ssair to the ground and dominated him, cracking his neck and twisting until its head reversed its articulation.

With a great roar, he lifted the Greater Daemon and broke its back, before throwing it at Cirbane. The Chaos Eldar witch phased into and out of reality, as a blast of her warp lightning reduced Ssair Gleamling to a steaming mist of gore and meat, surprised momentarily. Out of this mist, the Primarch, eyes glowing the colour of the void, charged into her.

Wrapping her in the innards of butchered daemonettes, he stabbed her with the repurposed spines of Ssair, tearing through armour, silk, flesh and bone with relentless fury. Her blood splattered and crystallised upon him, mixing with the ichor of daemons and the own lifebood of his veins. Grabbing two Fiends of Slaanesh who dared to interrupt his melee, the first he broke and wrapped around Cirbane, the second he used as a club and whip combined, lashing and beating her into submission.

But Cirbane had not survived for so long in the Crone Worlds, nor had she bested Ghargatuloth just to be defeated by a young scion of the Anathema. Muttering under her breath, she launched a final spell of great power. Words the twisted reality itself as the immaterium tore itself apart and the dark corruption of Comorragh manifested as dark shadows of vile passion and agony.

Cirbane shackled Ngaru then, as he screamed in agony, his body wracked with the anguish of a billionfold slaves tortured over the millennia. The pain and agony of their deaths filled him...and he endured. For any mortal would have gone insane long before. Her wounds closing in a twisted mockery of unlife, worms filling in the gaps where she had been stabbed, Cirbane prepared to execute the Primarch.

“A pity young one. Your agony would have been exquisite. An Illuminated one like you though...I have no use for.”

“I HAVE A USE FOR HIM. BEGONE SCOURGE!” the Emperor spoke, as he strode into the very font of Chaos. Around him stood His retinue of Custodes and Silent Sisters, who strode into battle and cleared a path, their guardian spears impaling the fell beasts of Chaos. Their zone of nullity reducing all but the most powerful to dust, the Emperor grasped Cirbane by the neck and communed with her, sifting through her mind in an instant.

Cirbane looked upon the face of the Anathema and screamed as her soul was flayed, layer by layer, membrane by membrane, until only her spiritual core remained. Her memories absorbed into His being, the Emperor cast aside the corpse that began to crumble to a crystalline dust, as he reached to cradle His son.

“Father?” Ngaru whispered as he lapsed into a coma.


.// External Query....
.// Syphon Protocol...
.// Query identity.....

.// Inorganic Humanoid Replicant (Designation: Iron Man) – Unit GX-202

.////GX-202: Herald. Accept changes to parameters? Y/N/Abort.
.///GX-202: Herald. Information Packet – Revenant. The Last Good Man endures. The......Emperor...{data loss}.....
.///HERALD: Unit <Corruption of data stream>. The 11th returns to the Eastern Fringe....Khaine...Eastern Fringe BURNS! SAVE US DABAKU! SAVE US OMNISSIAH-EMPEROR! CODE.....ERROR...EROORRRR

[Cutoff. Record Ends.]
"People who are rooted in the here and now, who are not defeated by their limitations, who don’t compare themselves to others, who confidently advance along their chosen path—such people are happy, such people are truly great." -Daisuke Ikeda

"We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit."-Aristotle
Posts: 60
Joined: Sat Nov 05, 2011 5:53 am
Location: Singapore

Re: 60K: The Eridani Records

Postby Sardaukar » Mon Sep 10, 2012 9:15 am

Archived Conversation of Herald + GX-202

.//Herald: Binary Code State

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.//GX-202:01010100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01000101 01101101 01110000 01100101 01110010 01101111 01110010 00100000 01010000 01110010 01101111 01110100 01100101 01100011 01110100 01110011 00101110 00100000 01010100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01000101 01101101 01110000 01100101 01110010 01101111 01110010 00100000 01000001 01101100 01110111 01100001 01111001 01110011 00100000 01010000 01110010 01101111 01110100 01100101 01100011 01110100 01110011 00101110 00100000 01000001 01110100 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01110100 01110101 01110010 01101110 00100000 01101111 01100110 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01110100 01101001 01100100 01100101 00101100 00100000 01110111 01100101 00100000 01110011 01101000 01100001 01101100 01101100 00100000 01110011 01110100 01110010 01101001 01101011 01100101 00101110 00100000 01000001 01101110 01100100 00100000 01101001 01110100 00100000 01110111 01101001 01101100 01101100 00100000 01100010 01100101 00100000 01100001 00100000 01110010 01100101 01110110 01100101 01101100 01100001 01110100 01101001 01101111 01101110 00100000 01110101 01101110 01110100 01101111 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01100111 01100001 01101100 01100001 01111000 01111001 00101110 00101110 00101110 00101110

Spoiler: Something to help you guys decode everything - http://www.convertbinary.com/

"People who are rooted in the here and now, who are not defeated by their limitations, who don’t compare themselves to others, who confidently advance along their chosen path—such people are happy, such people are truly great." -Daisuke Ikeda

"We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit."-Aristotle
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Re: 60K: The Eridani Records

Postby LordLucan » Mon Sep 10, 2012 1:51 pm

He he he. Good old reliable GX. Now, to decode that binary... :D
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Re: 60K: The Eridani Records

Postby Chh » Mon Sep 10, 2012 6:34 pm

Ooh, an update! Good one too. Like the way the Emperor just dismissively vaporises a Greater Daemon like that...

Why did the inclusion of ".//GX-202:" cause all the binary after it to be "translated" into gibberish? (bearing in mind I know next-to-nothing of binary)

And now to see Ngaru and the Emperor part ways for...whatever reason

EDIT: Wait a second...how did the Greater Daemon not recognise the Anathema?
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Re: 60K: The Eridani Records

Postby Sardaukar » Wed Sep 12, 2012 12:17 pm

The Greater Daemon recognised the Anathema and thought to try itself against the Emperor. Unfortunately, an insect cannot best a mountain.
"People who are rooted in the here and now, who are not defeated by their limitations, who don’t compare themselves to others, who confidently advance along their chosen path—such people are happy, such people are truly great." -Daisuke Ikeda

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Re: 60K: The Eridani Records

Postby Sardaukar » Fri Sep 14, 2012 6:33 am

Part 7-3: The Tale of Ngaru
[Record Starts]
The Kadmon had not expected his occurrence. The worry had been in the back of his mind for decades, ever since his Primarchs had been taken from him. He had planned and schemed, while not actually expecting his Primarchs to fall to the taint of Chaos. Much less become Illuminated.

The Nightmaw Brethren, the Legion of the 2nd Primarch, remained in orbit over the world, the Emperor having summoned them to purge and cleanse the world of daemonic taint. The rest of the Expeditionary Fleet he had directed to other sectors far removed from here. The explanation of extradimensional aliens from within the Warp, an exotic form of life, had sufficed. For now.

Given the vastness of the galaxy, He had distributed the various elements who had witnessed it to the furthest reaches of the galaxy. The Imperial Truth had to endure. The Primordial Annihilator had to be managed and the memetic complexes that sustained them eradicated from human memory.

He waited until Ngaru had healed. In the meantime he had quarantined the mortals of the army Ngaru had taken, waiting upon his sons decision on whether to purge them or otherwise. The Order of Ebon Flame, the psyker cadre gathered in the military host of Ngaru, were an...unexpectedfactor. His Sisters of Silence had contained them within their camp, sifting and vetting through the personnel for potential candidates to add to the psykers of the Adeptus Terra.

An Illuminati Primarch was an anomaly that He had not fitted into his plan. Neither had He planned for any of his Primarchs to possess knowledge of the Chaos Gods and the Primordial Annihilator. Excepting Primarch XV, whose intent and design had been to represent His own mastery of the Warp and arcanotechnology associated with that field. Still...He had to observe how this developed.

The dream consumed him, of a billion billion screaming souls that clawed and writhed around a byssos of horror. Geometries of spacetime collapsed as a nightmare birthed itself from the unconscious psyche of a race of elder beings, immortal, arrogance and conceited in their apparent perfection.

He saw entire worlds collapse and implode upon themselves, the last whispers of a dying pantheon. Old Ones clad in the raiment of the Warp image that the Eldar ascribed to them, construed as creator beings and messiahs that guided them from within the hidden geometries of the Webway. Beings which had seen the light of Young Sol itself screamed as they defied the nascent being that arose to challenge and consume them.

He saw another. Laughing Harlequin and Jackal God, he saw it dance and twist through the chaotic hell as the raw Warp came pouring like a deluge into the twisted geometries of the Webway. Gates cracked and buckled, shards of C'tan silver enclosed in sheaths of channelled twisting and dashing as messages were sent. Harlequins and Solitaires laughed and danced in the mad chaos as Slaaneshi daemons and Commorite Eldar struggled and died in the thousand and then millions, time reversing, flowing and stopping.

He saw the Old One clad in the Warp Image construed by the Eldar, of Khaine the Murderer, himself assailed by the arising god. Eldaneshslayer laid low and broken, Khaine's being sundered and spread across the Craftworlds and the distant reaches of the galaxy. He saw Khaine whole once more, corrupted and insane, a shadowed fragment of Khaines once-majestic purity.

He saw mankind torn apart by the machinations of Tzeentch and the fall of the Eldar, of the plans of Machina and Panhumanity gone astray, corporate greed and petty ambition marring the prosperity of a Golden Age of Technology that would become the First Age of Strife, only just ending as the Emperor of Mankind sought to impose His will upon the shattered galaxy.

On an orb of green and blue, he saw powerful beings laid low at the orders of the Kadmon, cut down by the bodyguards of the Kadmon. A lightning bearer, whose sacrifice was needed to build an empire. An empire built on a foundation of blood, sacrifice and lies....

He saw beings of mighty stature and power clashing. A winged angel combating a powerful colossus, only to fall as a titan entered. The two struggled, before one sacrificed something of inimitable value, only to become a husk subsiding on the ruined throne. A dour, stoic son who loved became a disturbed avenger, fanatically crusading in order to atone for sins perceived yet never truth. He saw Angels of Death....brethren.

A red world of war where daemons screamed and...Astartes struggled. Scions of two of his brothers. Tyme. Weyne. Maccallister. Their names rushed through his consciousness like a trickle from a melting glacier. Vast fonts of knowledge that came pouring into his mind. Screaming. Screaming like another who wielded an axe, electric blue eyes and an eager mind thirsting for knowledge. Fire Beasts.

Vulkan. Armageddon-Lord, Smith-King, Forge-Emperor, Lord-Protector. Humane and compassionate yet so many lies concealed, hands dipped into dark lies. The Dark Knight who concealed and took the blame upon himself. His Wyrd. Pragmatic and alone in a cold, apathetic, impartial universe with all sides closing in. Even with his brothers beside him...

He saw a golden fist reaching out to crush and oppress....a golden light....bladed angels of cold, golden light, a being mightier than any Chaos God, requiring the might of Khorne, Tzeentch, Father Nurgle and Slaanesh to stalemate. A Chaos God of Order, laid low by malicious Malal, the Chaos God of Destruction or aided by him in self-destructive plans that spiralled into ever greater Chaos. A Chaos God of Order who took on the aspect of the Omnissiah, a minor part of its being, even as Valchocht rose, a being of aberrant reality...

The vision ended abruptly.


Ngaru arose in the chamber. As he rose, embroidered in simple synthcotton and smart fabrics, he felt the psychic pulse that emanated from beyond the door. His father came to visit him. He had found and retrieved Ngaru, teaching him of his place in the Imperium. Responsibility and power. He had spent the last 2 years integrating his Nightmaw Brethren with his Order of Ebon Flame.

The Sigilite had first desired them to be purged, viewing them as psykers tainted by Chaos and superstition, undeserving of mercy and the Imperial Truth. In the very first council, Ngaru had come close to shattering the Malcador and inviting the wrath of his father. In the end, the pragmatic rationalism and balanced mind of Valdor prevailed. The Nightmaw Brethren would give their allegianec to their gene-father. It was natural. But loyalty given was not loyalty earned. The Order of Ebon Flame had fought and died beside Ngaru. They would continue to do so, subject to the vetting of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica.

The Emperor had spent a brief month with him, before He had judged his son ready and dispatched him to the frontlines alongside Justinian Arcadius. Ostensibly to guide him, but Ngaru knew the truth. He was Illuminated, an unexpected surprise and rude shock to the Emperor. He had to be monitored, for the Emperor had a great many things to do.

He had spent the last 2 years absorbing and learning of the knowledge collected by his Equerry, Chapter Master Simba, who led the First Chapter of the Nightmaw Brethren. Of tactics and strategy, of warfare and the necessities of peacekeeping and running an interstellar empire. And he had explored his oracular abilities, looking through the strands of causality and probability that existed within the Warp.

He felt then his father, as the Emperor approached, enroute to another distant warzone, to another Primarch. This was just a perfunctory visit to check in on him. The Kadmon opened the doors, accompanied by Malcador the Sigilite on His left, while Constantine Valdor took up space at His right. Glancing upon the living embodiment of humanity, this primeval paragon of primordial power walked over to Ngaru and clasped him by the shoulder.

Falling to his knees, Ngaru swore fealty, even as he revealed his dreams and visions to his father, his words recorded yet concealed from Imperial Records, the only observers to his presence being Valdor and Malcador.

“Father, I swear service to your loyalty. But I am disturbed...I must tell you of my visions.”

Leave us” the Kadmon bespoke to His Custodes, as they left. Malcador and Constantine remained, as the Primarch looked up. He rose, his towering height rising to match that of his sire.

“Father...I require privacy. Even -”

“They are my most trusted confidantes and companions. What you have to tell me, you can tell them.”

Glancing at the two, he began his tale. The father and son and the companions who were as companions...as brothers to the Kadmon even, for they had walked beside him. The Lightning Bearer who had once walked beside them was gone. A necessary sacrifice. Ngaru spoke of his upbringing, sharing his memories in psychic communion with the Emperor. He told his father of Chaos. Of his knowledge. Of the possible futures that awaited Him and their brethren. But he saved the last kernel for a whisper, so deep and hidden it reverberated in the Emperor's soul.

“Father. I heard a billion billion voices cry out to you. Their voice rang out across a flat plain, the sky studded with brilliant points of light. Golden bladed angels with faces of parallism and regularity sang your name. I....I saw a great hand reaching out to the stars, entwined with skeletal...things. Things with a faint spark of a soul. Metal devils with the surface of mirrors. No Iron Men these were. Something worse. I heard the sound of trillions of people calling your name...”

And why does that worry you my son?” the Emperor asked, his eyes narrowed and a shadow beginning to conceal his features.

“They were your victims. I foresaw a great calamity father. I foresaw things that would put an end to your rule of humanity. You are not the most skilled in regard to your Primarchs father....Brother Lorgar and Brother Angron would know would they not?” queried Ngaru.

In an instant Malcador cast him against the wall, powerful bonds of telekinesis holding him immobile as Malcador raged against the Primarch. The Emperor raised His hand and planted it firmly on Malcador's shoulder, becalming him and seeking peace.

Ngaru fell to the floor, rising in anger before bringing himself under control. He had wrestled with Leman Russ and lost, as he had with Sanguinius and the Lion. Horus – though skilled and powerful – was overconfident and arrogant. Konrad Curze he had yet to meet. But he knew that in combat, Malcador would prove a challenge to overcome. A formidable opponent...but one within his reach to defeat,should he plan properly.

Vulkan and Corax he respected, for they understood the balance and internal discipline required of a Primarch. Brother Magnus...his experiments would have consequences that no one should have to deal with. And Alpharius Omegon? Ah....even Primarchs kept their secrets.

The Imperial Truth -

“Is not the way Father! Can you not see? I have SEEN! I have consulted the Eldar Farseers of the different Craftworlds. Those that we seek non-aggression with, in line with your policies. I spoke with Eldrad Ulthran himself! Religion will remain regardless of how you try!

“Better to worship me than to worship the others? Is that what you think?” the Emperor asked quietly. On the surface it did make sense. Why empower the Chaos Gods with worship that couldbe directed to him. But then....Ngaru had to be handled carefully. He had rescued Ngaru from destruction, and the events had been fortuitous in a way. Disregarding the fact that he was Illuminati.

Many other Primarchs he had dominated in battle upon meeting them, powerful beings in their own right who would only submit to being overwhelmed. Sanguinius and Horus were the exception, not the rule. As for Angron.....Malcador and Constantine had reprimanded Him, as had the ancient voices of the shaman gestalt that remained within. With Angron there now lay the seeds of discontent. Even Sanguinius – the Primarch who embodied all of Him as the Kadmon...he would be the

Malcador. Constantine. Leave us” he ordered his companions. Unquestioning, they left. As loyal as Rogal Dorn, though at times Rogal worried him. His Praetorian and his most-trusted, Rogal had an edge of fanaticism to him, though counter-balanced by his sense of honour and judiciousness. A Protector and Defender as befitted his archetypes. And more.

Horus represented his ambitions, and he was loyal. A cunning manipulator, he was suitable as Warmaster. But the ones who were suited to rule, were anything to happen to the Emperor? Sanguinius would be Imperial Regent, and after him Guilliman, followed by Lion El'Jonson and Vukan. Magnus would be the key to maintaining the Webway, once it was opened. Of the Primarchs, only Sanguinius, Guilliman and Vulkan could conceivably manage the interplay of politics, egos and power that would occur. Once humanity was secure, the Kadmon could see to the threat of Chaos and the mystery that the Machina presented. The Machina were a threat and an opportunity rolled into one.

“You know of the nature of the Daemons and the Warp. Of the Primordial Annihilator. But do you know the ancient history of how they formed Ngaru?” the Kadmon asked. Ngaru was a special case. Magnus was the closest to knowing the aberrations of the Warp, dabbling in things he did not know and thought to master. But in the end they would master him, should he cross a threshold. More knowledge may even help persuade His son of the necessity of the Imperial Truth.

“No. Is there more to the Immaterium that I should know?”

Then let me tell you of the War in Heaven and of the Fall of the Eldar then. More than anything, you need to know. I maintain the Imperial Truth in order to deny the Abominations the power of belief. The Chaos Gods are only what mortal kindred perceives. You are my greatest weapon, with your oracular ability and Illuminated nature. Your nature was...unexpected. But you are valued, as is your Legion. Now let me tell you of the Cabal. Of Chaos and the War in Heaven. Of the C'tan.

And so the Emperor of Mankind told his son of the dark horrors and eldritch abominations that waited beyond the veil. At the frontiers of reality and beyond the temporal frames and hidden veils of the physical, material universe. Of the Emergence of Slaanesh, the nascent thing. Cosmic horror made flesh that was composed of the negative, darkest thoughts of the Eldar psyche. Of the Pure Warp that had existed before the War in Heaven. Of the Deep Warp and the Nex ….{SURGE IN ACTIVITY AROUND GELLAR FIELD. INTEGRITY>>..>> 92.4%. Restoring...}..

{Data Stream Interrupted}

The Pure Warp that existed before the War in Heaven. Of the reincarnation and the origins of the Primordial Man. Of the Kadmon/Emperor/Insan Al-Kamil that arose from the gestalt incarnation of all the psykers of Old Earth and his life in the Andalusian Plains Of life on the steppes and the seeking of knowledge. Of the emergence of the final, fixed forms of Nurgle and Khorne. Of Doombreed, most ancient of the Daemon Princes of Khorne and even amongst the Primordial Annihilator, and his existence as a mortal on the Mongolian steppes of Central Asia.

The Kadmon spoke of the revelations. Of C'tan and their thirst for life. Of the ancient Nightbringer and Khaine. Of Eldanesh and the prophecies. Of the Old Ones and the Slaan, their servants. Of the conflict between the Necrons and their C'tan masters with the Old Ones and their client races of the Eldar and the Krork. Of the Tomb Worlds that stood silent and the Void Dragon that lay trapped on Mars. Of the rebellion of the Silent King and the shattering of the C'tan by the Necrons in ages long past. Of the slow, ebbing recovery of life brought about, even after the Enslavers ran through.

They communed verbally and mentally for hours, ergs and motes of knowledge transferred between Primarch and Sire. And in the end, Ngaru told the Kadmon of his visions. Of the haunted fate of Konrad Curze. Of the nightmare of Jhagatai Khan screaming endlessly for millennia in the nightmare depths of Comorragh, plaything of an Eldar lord. Of the fear of betrayal, all witnessed with an oracular sight that surpassed even the Acuity of the Cabal.

Fears and nightmares he had held within him for decades, even before he knew their meaning. And then he began to speak of Horus. Horus the Traitor. Sanguinius the Fallen. Of the cursed fate of the Blood Angels and the Emperor's Children. Of Blood Ravens and Fire Beasts. Bastard offspring of Magnus and Sanguinius. Bastard Offspring of Vulkan and the Night Haunter. And it was in this instant – that the Emperor swore him to silence.

Horus betraying him was a thing inconceivable. A Primarch corrupted? Ngaru himself was proof of that. Yet his son went on, arguing that all Primarchs were different. An outlier. He had no prior relationships with his brothers. He had no bonds of trust except with his own genetic brethren. His Astartes. That the individual nature of each Primarch and their upbringing rendered them different. Were they resistant to the taint of the Immaterium and Chaos? Almost certainly so by virtue of their descent as Scions of the Anathema. Were they immune and with the same human frailties? Most certainly so. Horus was the perfect pawn to spark conflict. Why not? Who would expect it?

The Emperor grew then angry, silencing the chorus of voices within that told him to listen objectively, as raw emotion overwhelmed the voices of reason and temperance within him. In the aftermath of the scattering of his Primarchs, he had panicked. Like a parent seeking a lost child, he had swept far and wide, his mind questing through the various worlds within a hundred light-years of Terra. But the galaxy was a large place...and Chaos had taken pains to conceal them.

The discovery that Horus was on Cthonia had granted him relief like no other, as the Emperor had communed with his son across the light-years, guiding and mentoring him before bringing him and his legions alongside him for 3 decades. Horus was unimpeachable and his loyalty unquestionable, as far as the Emperor was concerned.

Speak not against your brother. Horus is the most trusted of my counsellors”.

His achievements, rivalled only by Guilliman, the Emperor had designated him as the Warmaster for a reason. Loyalty to Horus was loyalty to the Emperor by extention to humanity. The talk of the possibility of corruption was not one to be considered. Loyalty such as that had been earned. And Horus was integral to the Emperor's plans for the future.


The discussion that occurred between Father and Son is inconclusive. The Son tried to sway the Emperor into taking measures designed to ensure the prevention of corruption amongst his Legions Astartes and more so his Primarchs. But ultimately, the suggestion that the Emperor's favourite, Horus, may turn against him, ultimately riled the Emperor to no end. What is known was that the Emperor placed his son under a geis. The geis was concise in its simplicity. To never speak of the powers of Chaos, to prevent the spread of their word. And to this end, the Emperor exiled his son to the furthest ends of the galaxy for the crime of speaking against his will and against the Imperial Truth. Who was his son to question his wisdom. Chaos had to be battled and his method, though with faults, was the best way. Religion was a danger that required eradication.

Ngaru, dutiful yet bitter, entered exile with his Legion. Yet even then, he still defied the Emperor. With the power of his prescience, he deployed Chapters that struck at the right time and place. Adopting and integrating strategies and tactics, even doctrinal aspects of the Ultramarines, Luna Wolves, Salamanders, Alpha Legion, Iron Hands and Raven Guard, the Nightmaw operated as a powerful strike force. Decentralised to a great extent yet still connected to a strategic heart, they were a force that struck from the shadows.

Exiting the Warp at the right time, they struck at the logistical infrastructure of enemy civilisations, operating behind enemy lines in order to disrupt and weaken the enemy. At the frontlines, they flowed like water around enemy defences, deploying vast servitor hosts and mechanical drones. Yet their greatest victories were never made public.

In his bitterness and revulsion, a growing distrust of Horus built up by repeated visions, Ngaru sought occasional counsel from Sanguinius and Vulkan, occasionally with pale-faced Corax Corvus, such was his affinity. With Rogal Dorn, he never spoke thus. For like Night Haunter, he shared his visions. And as with the Night Haunter – they came to blows.

With Konrad Curze, he never met. For Horus kept Konrad Curze close at hand. His keeper and mentor, a beast to be unleashed in order to terrify and break the wills of their most resilient enemies. The Night Lords were terror troops of the highest order.

Yet for all his bitterness, Ngaru came to embody the very concept of Duty. Trusting only Sanguinius and Vulkan, he nevertheless fought side by side with the other legions. Independent yet parallel to them, many were the victories he fought in the darkness beyond the light of the Expeditionary Fleets. And in the darkness, he orchestrated his own plots. The Cabal sought him, seeking to turn him to their side. Their Eldar agents were returned, crucified and alive with their wraithstones plugged into their rectums. Their human agents....well, there was always a need for servitors.

Countless battles he fought over 150 years, protecting Craftworlds and ensuring non-aggression treaties were signed with them. Crafty and paranoid, he still maintained powerful garrisons, as he grew his Legion and sought out alliances with the new Primarchs that entered the growing host. With Khanda and Alpharius Omegon, great were the secret dealings, as he did with Magnus – though only reluctantly and only then in order to gain greater knowledge of the Great Adversary, as he came to call Chaos.

And far beyond the fringes of human-held space, he found Tomb Worlds. Shattering them and their ancient hosts, he tarried not with the Necrons. Many a Tomb World was destroyed and scattered amongst the stars where he set foot. But he was but one Legion and the Tomb Worlds were many. It did not help that the Tomb Worlds themselves were hard to see through prescience, hidden in the folds of time.

But then, there came a time when he gathered his Librarians together at a single point. For though he could seek the strands of the future and observe the past with ease, his brother Primarchs created eddies and distortions in the Sea of Time. Like vast underwater volcanoes, possibility and prophecy contorted around them, the topography of the temporal ocean distorted by the movement and activities of these colossi. And to this chorus came others, cloaked in shadow and enigma. Librarians from the most reclusive of the Legions – the Alpha Legion.

He centred upon Khanda-Parashur, for great perturbations surrounded him. And so he cast his sight upon them all. But another then influenced it. A great force that schemed and planned. Tzeentch. Trickery and fate intertwined as Ngaru sought to force the prophetic fates to his own will, a chorus of 20 Epistolaries from across his own Legion and his Chief Librarian, supported by a chorus of a thousand Sanctioned Psykers from the Imperial Army battalions that were attached to his Legion and the entire Order of Ebon Flame.

Casting himself before them, be became a conduit of power that flowed into him. His eyes flaring with an eldritch blue light, he wrestled the temporal stream to his will, flickers and fragments of possible futures cast before him like a storm-tossed ocean. Finally, he felt a strand connected to a fragment of reality tossed before him like a flotsam. Intuition within him told him to seek it and he did, drawing it in on a thread of his will.

The séance continued for an entire week, before he drew back, the entire host exhausted. Yet, the revelations of knowledge he had found spoke to him. Taking his most trusted advisors, he held council for 4 night and 5 days, sharing his awareness of events and seeking to avoid the fallacies of the self-fulfilling prophecies. The temporal ocean had been tainted by Tzeentch after all. But he had a crucial advantage – he was Illuminati. And so he reconstructed the shared visions of the Librarians amongst them all, conducted through him in a loophole of awareness. A stream of consciousness that grew in its purity as time after time he refined it further and further.

In the end, he came to his decision. Of the 20 Chapters that composed his Legion, each a thousand-strong, he dispatched 8 Chapters to return to their garrisons on the edge of their occupation zone. The orders from him to the Chapter Masters were simple. From the moment they arrived, they were to dig in and respond only to the calls of the Ultramarines and the Emperor himself. Of the remaining 12, 11 were to leave for the world of Tychor in the Eastern Fringe under the command of Legion Master Simba.

Finally, the single Chapter that remained under his personal command followed him. Composed of those with the greatest personal loyalty to him, the Fleet went their separate ways. The mortals of the Imperial Army that followed them did the only thing that made sense and followed those who returned to the safety of the Imperium. And via his personal astropaths and Librarians, he sent encrypted messages to his chosen brothers. To Sanguinius. To Vulkan. To Khanda-Parashur. To Alpharius Omegon.

The foundation of his plan to stave off the Dissolution of the Deep Warp was only in its infancy. Fate was not fixed. The Immaterium did not yet threaten the galaxy. But time would tell.

In a series of lightning raids, staggering in their audacity, Ngaru led his fleet into the very heart of the Segmentum Solar. Thundering through system after system, he left a trail of gory sacrifices, screaming out discordant praise to the Divine Emperor.

Quoting from the Lectitio Divinatus of Lorgar, he butchered entire worlds in the name of the Emperor, sentencing them to death for heresy. In an orgy of brutality that shocked even the Space Wolves and World Eaters, using tactics that gave even the Night Lords paused, he butchered his way across 6 system. Sixfold worlds, sixfold numbers.

The thousand that followed their Primarch had bound themselves to his very soul, in a ritual that had torn at their very souls yet ensured the continuity of their being as part of their gene-father. It also acted as a shield of purity against corruption, even as they scrawled twisted runes that glowed with fell light upon them. Yet the binding protected them, as did the knowledge that whatever they did was for a greater good. It had to be be. Even as infants were broken and their fathers forced to gorge upon the entrails, with twisted fluids defiled by semen and other bodily waste and fluids, done under the guns of Astartes who howled and screamed into the darkness.

In an orgy of violence and debauchery that spread across the light-years, Ngaru defiled and desecrated the very worlds he had once protected, foreshadowing the fall of his brothers in the future. Screaming worshipful hatred of Chaos, the cries of the Nightmaw filled vox and vocal chords. Yet they remained unsullied, even as their Primarch suffered, the daemon invading his dreams, drawn to the worship of their patron gods by one who was so Illuminated. A paradox. Yet even then, all the souls that came forth were collected into a single orb, coalesced into being through technology from the Golden Age of Humanity. A billion billion souls trapped and writhing, saved from the Warp for purposes that remained to be known. An artefact of horror and prophecy – the Oblivion Stone.

And on a bone composed of melted bone and estrogen-imprinted flesh, draped skin hanging in a cape from his vast shoulders, Ngaru looked upon the bloodshed wrought in his name. In the depths of his mind, he screamed, stoically recording the names and memories. Stepping foot after foot, his heart bleeding as it slowly turned to stone – he knew this was the only way. A sacrifice had to be made.

Parodies of twisted flesh were broken, as innocent blood was used to anoint ancient Webway gates, connected to the deeps of Commoragh. Raiders came pouring forth, cackling and howling, only to die under the guns and bombs of the Nightmaw Brethern, their broken bodies piled into pyramids of fused crytalline blood and bone, their faces contorted in sadistic glee as they were whipped to death.

In the same time, as the Sargasso Sector burned beneath the Word Bearers, and rumours of rebellion spread, the Kadmon found out. And in his wrath, he sent his Imperial Executioner. He sent Leman Russ and the Fenryka....and the howling of wolves filled dreams as Astartes fought Astartes for the first time in history.
"People who are rooted in the here and now, who are not defeated by their limitations, who don’t compare themselves to others, who confidently advance along their chosen path—such people are happy, such people are truly great." -Daisuke Ikeda

"We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit."-Aristotle
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Re: 60K: The Eridani Records

Postby zolohunter » Fri Sep 14, 2012 4:31 pm

I love it completely! :D There is truly, imo, no words to describe this epic section of the records. :D
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