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/tg/ - Traditional Games

Be me
Be a Ghost in the Shell, a soul from the 3rd millennium who does not be long here
I've been transported to the 40k universe by unknown means and placed into the mind of Kyrus Legabath, a legionary of the Imperial Heralds.
I divulged the secrets of the future To Kyrus and now we have burdened ourselves to subvert the Horus Hersey. I was pulled into the Warp after fighting with a band of Dark Eldar. Now separated from Kyrus, I wandered the Warp aimlessly. I then came into contact with Malal somehow and shared a few 'insider' secrets before getting abruptly whacked by Titsnitch.

After being flown into the wider Warp once gain by Malal , I followed a blinding light. That blinding light just so happened to be the setting's biggest autist: Perturabo. After some intervention training, therapy and some much needed self-reflection, he has become a new man. I must continue my quest with or without Kyrus! I just hope he's alright.

Thread #1: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/2021/78580874/#p78601051
Thread #2: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/2021/80126761/
Thread #3: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/2022/82847470/
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>Perturabo’s mood has been less than stellar. As he expected a grander reaction, not the face of confusion and apprehension. That look of shock and awe. He had seen it on the faces of his enemies, but now it was on the faces of the guests and his Father.

>“They feared me… they always have, under their masks.”

>His voice quivered under his breath. He has given everything to them, to his sister. Oh, his sister. He shuddered at the prospect of seeing her face.

>“This is just the beginning, so don’t beat yourself. He kept complaining about this until we reached his tower where he immediately started working on his projects.

>Days went by as Perturabo continued to toil in his workshop.

>He’s making some type of humanoid model, among many things.

> Besides that, I noticed some changes within him ever since we joined parties.

>For one thing, he has been incredibly careful with his behavior. Always controlling his every move and planning each thought, down to the best detail.

>Unceasingly wary of what might erupt, should he lose his grip… he does not wish for the grim future to happen.
>Calliphone dropped by a few times to check on Perty.

> She was concerned about what happened at the banquet, but Perturabo assured her that everything was under control and cared for.

>Everytime she left his presence, she had a heavier heart.

>“Pushing her aside won’t help you.” He stayed silent. I cannot read much of his psyche, just what is on the surface.

> It was the same problem as Kyrus, I could never really know what they thought or felt.

>Then, on the 14th day of Perturabo being stuck in his workshop. He finally finished his grand project.

>“Behold, my Iron Warrior!”

>It was the humanoid figure he was working on, propping it up on its two feet. It was a large, full metal body. Simplistic and robust, but not without decorative features.

>It was beautifully adorned with scenes from Olympian mythology; the Byzantine machinery adds to the already ornate figure before me.
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>”So… what’s this for?”

>”It’s for you.” Perturabo said with a wide smile.

>”For me? Why?”

>”You mentioned your kind can possess objects and machinery, so I wish to test it.”

>Well I never possessed an inanimate object before, so this will be an interesting experience for me. So, here goes nothing.

>I phase out of his mind and already, I immediately feel the poison that is the Materium. Time is of the essence, or lest I evaporate here.

>I quickly became one with the ‘Iron Warrior’ machine. It felt… perfect. As if everything suddenly fell into place.

>To have my own physical body again gave me an enthusiastic sense of nostalgia. I first moved a finger, then my whole arm responded naturally. I stretched my body to test the durability.

>This was beyond perfect. It was liberating not to have to rest in another person's soul for survival.
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>I looked at Perturabo with happiness that could never be expressed through this metal replica.

>“This is amazing… how could I thank you?”

>“You can thank me by teaching me some psyker powers.”

>“Alright, that’s fine with me.”

>Unbeknownst to me at the time, Perturabo had planned something. Something, in hindsight, I should have seen coming.

>I then instructed him on how to properly channel psychic energy. Every attempt so far fizzled out before he could get a hold of it.

>He finally succeeds in creating a stable amount and containing it.

>“Wow, that seemed incredibly easy.” He looked at me with a serious gaze, as if calculating some hidden odds.
>The more perceptive one would’ve seen this red flag a mile away. But I was too embroiled in his training.

>“I’ll have you know, Ghost. I have been thinking of our time together. How much I have learned of the Eye of Terror, the Warp, and my own psychic nature from you. I could not think of anything else to show my gratitude for you!”

>“O-oh… okay, your welcome budd-”

>“I also learned the Warp is the home of all daemons.”

>I did not know why I missed the growing anger or the increased shift in power of the still steady warp energy in his hands.

>“What are you getting at?”

>“I was thinking whether you were homesick or not… because I’m sick of you!”

>Perturabo centers all his power into his right fist and slowly raises it. The condensed warp energy glows and flashes between every color imaginable & then some.
>a 30k isekai poster is back
Good to see you again dude, it's been too long. Don't feel pressured, however. Take the time you need.
Thanks for the warm welcome. I've been putting this off for far too long.
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lets goooooooo
40k isekai sweeeeeeep
>The awesome power in his hand shivers and sparks. They escaped from his grasp, destroying parts of the workshop. However, he did not seem to completely master his powers. Perty’s fist is beginning to carbonize, and his blood boiling from the extreme heat.

>Primarch blood drops to the floor for the first time. His godlike healing factor closes up the open cracks in his hand the moment they appear.

>But what scared me the most was how calm he looked, but he didn’t fool anyone.

>I could see his shadow self. His entire aura had changed to what someone might call ‘royally pissed off.’

>He was a real demon and with the biggest smile that would not have been possible without me. In fact, I do not know if I should be proud of it.

>“Before I… send you home. I thank you for giving me the joy of learning something. I hope to achieve understanding and great power.” He sounds sincere, which is the worst part.

>Now his fist is burnt, charred black. The amassed psychic energy rumbles and seeks to be set free.

>“W-why are you doing this?” I say with fear in my voice. Which was strange to hear the sound of own voice.
>“Why...? You ask why?! Every waking moment I hear your idiotic voice in my head! I couldn’t take it anymore! I even tried to run mental scenarios to distract you, but that wasn’t enough. Now it’s time for reckoning!”

>I must remain composed to not antagonize him any further.

>“You bastard! You are still the spiteful prick who rages at the slightest infraction! You have not gotten to this point if weren’t for me.”

>That did not go as planned, not at all.

>“Delete.” he said, as his eyes glowed with malicious intent.

>The workshop and the surrounding area were captured by the blazing psychic light that emanated from his attack. Those who were unfortunate enough to be near the blast were blinded.

>“I hit him. I hit him right in the fucking jaw!” Perturabo screams out to heavens while lying in the rubble that used to be his workshop.

>He looks at right hand or what used to be his hand. It was nothing but a large lump of coal; it pained him to move his destroyed fingers.
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>But Perturabo did not care for the damage. He could only laugh at this predicament.

>“Thank you again, Ghost! Your guidance has given me something I could never dream of.”

>It happened so fast.

>All I remember was this bright light hurtling towards my face and then I woke up in the Warp.

>Perturabo, for lack of a better term had absolutely atomized me.

>“Are you fucking kidding me right now?!” To be fair, I should've predicted something like this.

>Is that why he kept his mind shielded from me?

>“Goddamnit, Perturabo! Now look what you have done! Now what do I do now?! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUUUUUUUUCK!”

>Ghost will spend the next 25 years cursing Perturabo’s name.
>In the venerable halls of the Imperial Palace lie chambers, hidden from all but those who know them. Occupied in one such is the Sigillite, Malcador. Amid training his new disciple; the Orator, Kyrus Legabath of the Imperial Heralds.

>The company commander had asked Malcador to enhance his psychic ability. Unbeknownst to Kyrus, he previously placed restraints to hinder his potential. Before him stands a more powerful man with broken chains!

>Much to the Sigillite’s surprise. He accepted Kyrus’ proposal to prove if he was a threat that needed to be extinguished quickly.

>“Now focus your consciousness and clear your mind.” The Sigillite’s voice was a sonoros one, which could quell the rage of a rampaging beast. Each word wore its own weight that wrapped itself around the room.

>To stand alongside the likes of the Emperor and his gene-enhanced warriors, one must be something more than a human. He was just that, and this training proves it.

>Kyrus and Malcador have stayed in this chamber for days, while only taking short breaks. There are many monikers Kyrus has conjured to describe this Spartan regimen. Arduous, backbreaking, and absolutely fucking awful. Malcador, to say the least, was a strict teacher.

>Building up the foundation was a perplexing task as Kyrus had Ghost do the legwork. But now he must overcome this obstacle alone.

>“Hmm… perhaps you lack inspiration?” Malcador pondered upon this for some time before Kyrus answered back.
>“Have I displeased you, master? He said disheartened.

>“No… we have been in this training room for far too long. I believe a change in scenery is needed. Come with me.”

>They left the room with a pair of Custodes following them at the very moment the doors opened. Kyrus did not even notice until he saw their reflections in a mirror they passed by.

>Now standing in front of a colossal gate, an unremarkable door.

>“Unexpected, right? A doorway of such size within the Imperial Palace is not even golden.” Malcador said with a smirk.

>Kyrus had no idea if his master read his mind or anticipated this and created this response?

>“It is as you say, master.” Kyrus kept his response short to not give the Sigllite more topics to joke about at his expense.

>Malcador raised his staff and the door opened with two mighty bumps with the end point. The Custodes immediately took their posts outside the gate.

>“Come on now, you are letting all of the cold air out!” Malcador chuckled

>Kyrus showed the least amount of emotion and rolled his eyes. Not caring if his master noticed. The disciple followed his master into another unimpressive hallway. It was so poorly lit that it even made a Space Marine squint. Barely making out another door, a much smaller one.
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>Malcador walks forward unbaited and grabs the handle, swinging open. Bombarding Kyrus with a powerful light.

>His eyesight recovers and what he sees amazes him. Kyrus is surrounded by statues, paintings, and artifacts. The architecture in which these items are housed can match that of the Imperial Palace. Looking straight down a lengthy lane, Kyrus sees even more artwork.

>“What... what is this place? This marvelous, wonderful place?”

>“This is my private collection. Stored here are thousands upon thousands of historical pieces crafted by humanity’s brightest. ...At least the remaining ones.” Malcador says with a sadden heart as he was already walking in front of Kyrus.

>Malcador then perks up and says, “Allow me to give you tour.”

>“This is... am I worthy to roam these corridors? Do you believe I will find inspiration here?”

>“An idea, at the very least.”

>Malcador highlights the many, many artifacts in his possession. He gives a detailed description of each item. As Kyrus takes in all the information, he recognizes some objects from Ghost’s era. A collection of old electronics stacked on top of each other.

>Ghost spoke of devices many used during the 3rd millennium called ‘consoles’ and were popular amongst the young. Next to them was a painting which Malcador was especially fond of.

>“This is the Mona Lisa created by one of the greatest artist of mankind.”
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>Leonardo da Vinci was his name. Kyrus looked over to the small section dedicated to the rest of his works. Ghost also spoke of the venerable masters of Terra’s past. Their importance changed humanity as their work made them immortal.

>They have left their imprint here, and no matter what the size or significance. A piece remains.

>Malcador then stops after entering the ‘Greco-Roman’ wing. He slowly turns and mouths the words ‘look up.' Kyrus looks up to see 33 breathtaking paintings, each containing a figure or scene.

>“Like what you see?” Kyrus could hear the smugness in his voice but could not be bothered to check.

>“A work of art in its fullest term. These panels were excavated from the Sistine Chapel before it was destroyed... I sometimes mediate here.”

>Chapel... a place of worship. At Kyrus’ request, Ghost recounted the many tales of Terran mythology. The Odessey is one of his favorites. But he wonders why he has not heard of them? Was it because the stream of information was cut off or the Emperor’s edicts erased them from memory?

>All Terrans should know of these tales too-no... all of humanity should know. These stories had a message, something that should be taught and passed down. They acted to trace language and history. The wisdom and knowledge stored within them guided those who understood them.

>It is what made them... human. Kyrus rested on this idea of what it meant to live as a human. Was this the message Malcador was trying to pass on? This was the reason he was brought here; to be inspired by the wisdom of humanity yore

>“You have quite the collection of religious antiques, master. I thought you would not dare to touch a single piece.”
>“They are works of art, Kyrus. A testament to what humankind can achieve... it is of little concern to what these items stand for.”

>Kyrus then calmly looks at the pristine chamber of olden heirlooms. Many statutes of demi-gods and historical figures populate this wing. Behind him rests the entrance to a ruined temple. The Temple of Artemis to be exact, and more treasures are housed in it.

>The Astartes contemplates a profoundly serious, or even ‘heretical’ question. A question that would call everything the Emperor, his brothers, and even himself have achieved into scrutiny.

>“Master, is... is the Imperial Truth in it of itself a religion?”

>Even Ghost would shiver at the sudden shift in temperature. As Kyrus felt goosebumps all over him and his hands began to perspirant. The Sigillete looked blankly into his trainee's eyes.

>“Have I- angered you, master?” Kyrus maintains poise, but he was terrified. Time slowed to where one could be fooled into believing that 5 seconds equated to 5 hours. His hearts beating faster in each passing frame, his master did not answer.

>Kyrus feared every outcome and actions the Sigillate may take. This fear made him much more paranoid and reactive to the smallest movements. Malcador then does something unthinkable.

>He laughs. He is laughing. His disciple’s question gave him a good chuckle and Malcador composed himself with a soft smile.

>“Well- it is! Albeit... the better statement is it has functionally become a religion. However, at the same time, it is not.”

Kyrus was dumbfounded. Not only did his master respond but admitted to the Imperial Truth being a religion. To think he was so... open on this topic.
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>be long
As if being a word bearer wasn't cringe enough this nigga can't even into language.
When an Imperial Herald of all people was nervous about something, you know things got tense.

Don't listen to this loser OP.
>“Forgive me, I am taken aback by your willingness to discuss something that would inadvertently cause disruption among Imperial society. But I must ask, why is the Imperial Truth not a religion at the same time, it is.”

>“Ah, that is where the devil is in the details. Oh- pardon my French. But what do you think a religion is? A system of beliefs grounded in mythos? The backbone of morals that sets the precedent for behavior?”

>“It is all the above and more.” Kyrus murmurs, even the most softly spoken person would roar like a lion as his voice echos throughout the complex.

>“Correct! In that vein, the Imperial Truth has evolved from the manifest of destiny to what it is today. A religion of rationality and the empirical. However, no matter how it may seem to be one, it does not mean it is one.”

>Kyrus has been struggling to rationalize everything Malcador has said. He had already been privy to the true purpose of the Imperial Truth from the words of Ghost, but it is very telling to hear it from the 'second-in-command' of the entire Imperium.

>“But how is it possible? My brothers and I have set ablaze uncountable cities and worlds for religion. Destroying temples, artifacts, records: anything that goes against the Emperor’s one, true word. How is it different from those we defeated?”

>Kyrus deep down knew the answer; he just did not want to acknowledge it. There is a blurred line between loyalty and teachery, and the Word Bearers would cross that Rubicon.

>“Those sects and cults the Imperial Hearlds exterminated were have been long corrupted. Many institutions inevitably became this way throughout time. It is the human condition to seek to better themselves, but it then devolves into outright domination.”

>He then added “Even our righteous Imperial Creed is not immune to the test of time.” .
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>Kyrus began to feel irritated by the debate overtime and to the point of raging at this information. But the part that irked him the most was he already knew all this beforehand from Ghost. He can now see the flaws, plot holes, and hypocrisy of the Imperial Truth and the Imperium.

>“Then answer me this; if His word is destined to fall to the corruption of decadence, are we fighting only in vain?”

>“No.” Malcador said with a cold voice while tightly gripping his staff. “The efforts of you and your brothers will not be in vain. You are an Imperial Herald, the bearer of His word and the enforcer of it. Do not forget that.”

>“Now with the Emperor completing humanity’s manifest of destiny and the Imperium becoming the de facto ruler of the galaxy. Peace will be secured. Our future will be secured, but only through the efforts of the Astartes Legions and the Primarchs. The Imperial Creed will become the framework for the new tomorrow and exalted by all. His words will live on forever.

>Malcador then taps his staff on Kyrus’ Raptor Imperialis, a badge of honor. A memento to signify he is a veteran of the Unification Wars. Many amongst his brothers have this upon their armor. It resonated with a strange, psychic spark of sorts. Kyrus felt a sense of unease; ‘goosebumps’ would be the term Ghost would use. “What does His word mean to you?”

>“A cruel reminder of His mercy. A cruel reminder of the shame brought on by my ancestors that I must carry. A cruel reminder of what my brothers and I must do to fulfill His will. That is what the Emperor’s word means to me.”

>Ash to ash, dust to dust. The 17th Legion were recruited from the conquered enemies of those who stood against the Emperor. In the smoldering ashes left by his mighty warriors arose the Imperial Heralds. Their armor painted in the very ashes they came from. The flame bored on their armor was the pyre of their cold fury.
>Before, Kyrus’ patience was thinning. But kept his temper contained and just under simmering. Now, this chilling rage is being presented in front of the Sigillite.

>“Master, if the Imperial Truth is such of an oxymoron. Why does the whole Imperium fight under its banner and proselytize its words to the masses? It makes no sense!”

>“Ah, that is where the Imperial Truth comes into play. It praises logic, rationality, and progress more than anything else. Crafted to do away with not only superstitions, but also to cast out the nihilism that had rooted itself into the human psyche.”

>“Then what of the Adeptus Mechanicus? They hold the same beliefs, but they hail the Emperor as a messiah figure and worship machinery. They are a vivid example of self-contradiction.”

>Kyrus’ wit struck hard as the Sigillite calmly inhaled and levelled his eyes towards Kyrus and then motioned his hand towards the ceiling of the hallow.

>“Do you know why those artists crafted these works of theirs? It is a lengthy list of varied reasons: but they have achieved greatness with it. What do you feel when you look upon them? I will tell you; it fills me with awe and inspiration that somehow, they found a piece of themselves and presented it in art.”

>Kyrus squinted at the artworks above him, seeing the unique shades between each painting and the brush marks made by the painter themselves.

>“It is the definition of power-”

>“What do we have here?”
I forget to add the link to the Discord. It should be an unlimited link.
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>Kyrus was interrupted by a loud voice coming from behind him. A voice would sound like thunder in these halls, and someone would have to be extremely powerful to emit such a voice. He sharply turns to see a large man flanked by several Astartes. His archaic armor was overlapped with thick fur and mystic runic marks adorned his person.

>Kyrus quickly deduces that this man could only be a son of the Emperor, a Primarch! He knelt before the Master of Mankind’s gene-spawn “Master!”

>“Get up” He growled “I ain’t your lord nor yer master... that title is for another brother.”

>“Leman, what are you doing here?! Are you not supposed to be on your first incursion?” Malcador asked with judgement in his voice

>Leman did not answer immediately, as he broke eye contact with the Sigilltie and murmred a few words.

>“What was that? Speak up!”

>“I got lost...”

>The few moments of silence could be heard from far away.

>“You got... lost?” Malcador's face turned into a harsh scowl.
>"I've been tryin' to leave for days now! I keep circling back to the point I started."

>That would be the psychic arrays at work. Keeping intruders confused until security forces arrive.

>The Sigillete sighed in annoyance and stares at Leman with contempt.
>“Just stay there and I will lead you out once I am done conversing with my disciple. Now then... where did we leave off?”

>The Wolf King groaned but was compliant. He decided to drink the time away and grabbed the wooded flask of ale from his waist.

>In actuality, Leman came back to see the dinosaur exhibit again. He was mesmerized and intimidated at the same time. The first time he saw the bones of the ancient masters of Terra, he felt small. Which was a new feeling for him and having to look up was also new.

>A pity that they’re all gone, Leman would’ve loved to fight or tame one of them. Especially the T-rex.

>But he now faces a new problem... his uncle. He’s been talking with that Space Marine, called him his ‘disciple.’

>Fancy seeing that, Leman thought to himself. What makes him so special? He doesn’t look powerful nor different from any other Astartes he seen so far.

>The small window of time gave Leman time to think as he had a spark of mischief in his eyes.
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>“Let us see what he is made of.”

>With no warning or hesitation. He quickly grabbed Kyrus, who could not even react to the fact he was now face-to-face with Leman.

>“Bottoms up!” he said with a wide, smug grin. Forcing Kyrus to drink the entire drinking vessel.

>“Unhand him this instant!” Malcador roared.
>“As you wish...” Leman drops Kyrus like a sack of potatoes. He violently coughs and gasps for air. The smell and taste of the alcohol was pungent enough for an Astartes to wince at.

>Whatever Leman had was something fierce. As if burning lava was poured into Kyrus’ veins, his first bodily reaction was to force the foul concoction out of his system.

>A Space Marine’s poison tolerance is resilient, but this brew was wholly different from anything Kyrus has encountered. It quickly spread like wildfire within him and very soon his head felt... light.

>Kyrus looks at Leman through his blurred vision and asks. “What did you- *hic.*”

>“Oh, I forgot to mention. This is the special brew I’ve been makin’ for me legionnaires!”

>Leman and his entourage begin laughing at the now drunken disciple. The commander struggles to stay on his own two feet and walks from side to side, trying to keep balance.
Fuck off to /qst/ or wherever the fuck you 40keks piece of shit
> also let's incorporate the worst of tr/a/nime too!!!
>Kyrus begins to bump into columns and supports himself to keep himself from falling.

>“What a lightweight!” Leman yelled with excitement.

>In a vain attempt to walk, he managed to run in a straight line towards Leman and company. One of Leman’s entourage stopped Kyrus and asked “Where are you going? Tavern’s other way!”

>“Yer arses arse and I’m the grass man, punk yeah ya havin’ heathin.”

>“I think he likes you, Luso!” Luso now had the position of Kyrus’ support beam.

>“Jet fuel can’t melt steel beams. The cake... is a lie!” Kyrus couldn’t control himself, all of these lines came from Ghost’s own unyielding ranting.

>Leman and company continued to laugh at his gibberish, but Kyrus did not like this situation. If any information were to suddenly slip out, it could doom their operation. He needed an opening and fast.

>He slowly looks up to Luso with an aching head.
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>“What? You warming up to me now? At least buy me some dinner.”

>“W-where’s... where’s the tavern?”

>“Oh! Looks like we got a lush here!” Luso said jokingly

>Luso guides Kyrus over to his Primarch and brothers. The entourage takes a step back to make some space for the two

>“Don’t worry, brother sir. I’ll take good care of you.”

>This was the moment Kyrus was waiting for and sped towards the small breach in their formation with his might.

>Leman was startled by the incredible speed exhibited by the Astartes, but he simply moved out of the way.

>“Why didn’t you stop him?” Malcador has had enough with Leman’s tomfoolery for today and now what’s to get everything in order.

>“It would be rude to get in his way!” Leman laughs, knowing full well of the chaos he has caused.

>It didn’t take long for the Sigillite and Leman to track down Kyrus. The intoxicated are known to be destructive and he has lived up to that moniker. Kyrus was found buried in the old electronics pile they passed by.
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>The whole chamber looked like bull ran through a china shop... and said bull was a Space Marine. It would take weeks for this place to be repaired. Leman and his retinue giggled at the scene in front of them, to Malcador’s dismay.

>“On your feet, Commander!”

>“Yeah! What he said!” Leman chimed in.

>The Astartes quivered trying to rise from the pile. Only to fall face first onto the floor.

>“Hello floor!” Kyrus yelled, which caused Leman to roar in laughter.

>Malcador has had enough of all this nonsense and just wants to spend the rest of the day cleaning up the place. He is additionally displeased at the sight of the damaged airfryer.

>“LEMAN!” He shouted, “...Pick up my disciple off the floor now!” Leman knew he already angered the Sigillete greatly and this might be the straw that broke the camel’s back.

>He walks over and grabs the boozehound of a disciple like an abandoned kitten. Leman turns him over to his uncle.

>“*hic* Heeeeeyyy, Maly... w-when did you get so s-smol *hic*?” Kyrus says through bloodshot eyes.

>Leman tactfully suppressed his laughter and helped him to stay on his two feet. While Malcador sighs in exasperation, Kyrus began to ramble on about miscellanies topics.
>From the beginning of his career to great philosophers’ favorite ice cream flavors and then arriving at the idea of premonitions. He went on and on, while Leman was mildly interested. Malcador was leading them towards the exit and only heard snippets of what Kyrus said.

>Now... no reasonable person would believe a single word a drunkard says. Because they are drunk. But something, one word, a modest line of dialogue that most people would not catch was caught by Malcador.

>He second guessed himself, believing it to be the normal incoherent speech of a drunk and to his credit it was. ...But there it was again.

>“Stop... Kyrus, my disciple.” he turned and spoke warmly to the intoxicated Astartes. He looked back with sleepy eyes, slurring his words. They stopped at a narrow corridor with a few paintings from the Baroque period. It was a tight fit for all parties involved with Leman having to crouch to fit.

>“Repeat what you just said.” Malcador was disturded to say the least.

>“Master...? I don't... don't understand.” While standing directly in front of him, he noticed that Kyrus’ tongue had been healed and with some bitemarks still intact. He has been trying to silence himself.

>“I am not in the mood for this. Repeat what you said, and that will be all I ask of you.” even in this increasing tense moment, he was still patient and greeted Kyrus with a faint smile.

>Then it happened. Perhaps it was Leman’s clowning, or the gravity of the words spoken by the Space Marine. But Malcador had enough and snapped.
Last post for tonight. I want to see if anymore people get interested or old readers return after a nearly 2 year hiatus.
This a pretty fun read. We don't get enough of these kinds of threads on this board. I look forward to seeing where this goes.
where is cupbearer anon?
is he safe?
is he alright?
I was thinking it was a bit of a break
Not sure myself. My guess is either he kicked the bucket or abandoned the story due to stress of life.
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>He let out a cry of untold psychic power with Kyrus flying towards the incumbered Leman. In seconds, Leman easily grabbed Kyrus and fled from the corridor. The entourage under him quickly surrounded the Sigillite instinctively, but they were just as quickly immobilized.

>“Uncle! Calm yourself down!” Leman pleaded with the enraged Malcador. His entire body illuminated with pure warp energy; his eyes bright like suns, he looked down upon the Master of Mankind’s offspring with contempt.

>“Kyrus, my most burgeoning disciple. All your master asked of you was to repeat your words... why do you anger me so?” Malcador spoke not as a master but as “higher being.” Some onlookers would categorize him as something mythical or angelic... even godlike.

>Kyrus trembled before such an awe-inspiring presence and the alcohol didn’t help. He couldn’t tell him; he can’t tell him! He ran out of the previous chamber to avoid this.

>But now Kyrus must think of something or else everything that he and Ghost have worked for would be for naught! He somehow grabbed what remained of his wits and eyed his master.

>“I...” That was all. All he said before Malcador became impatient and forced his way into Kyrus mind. The result of this act was a potent psychic backlash that shook the entire private gallery.

>Kyrus pitifully attempted to resist the psychic invasion of his mind, but to no avail. He then deduced a way so Malcador couldn’t find out the truth.

>Kyrus would “drag out” the Sigillite into the valleys of his mind, making sure the information his master seeks would just be out of reach.

>Malcador immediately noticed this tactic and did not pay any heed to this ploy. He will get what he wants sooner or later.

>However, the massive amount of warp energy being concentrated onto this very small area had... side effects. Cause and effect have ceased, and gravity has seemed to have taken a rain check.
Keep going
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>Numerous other supernatural phenomena began to manifest; shadow people crept out of the darkness, the very walls became rusted and twisted by the malignant properties of the Warp.

>The incredible intensity of the ‘mind raid’ caused warp lighting to lash out and damage many of the artifacts. Leman dodged many of these attacks but was still whipped savagely. The lighting caused his armor to glow as if it was still in the Frenrisian forge and had completely disintegrated.

>He roared in pain, yet the worst part was the damage was not only physical, but mental as well. His mind was being attacked by the shadow people; Leman swing and no connection was made. He looked at the source of this madness.

>Leman was beyond bewildered at this point. For the first time in his life, he was afraid, petrified even. He could not stop shaking and all his instincts told him to run. He knew psykers were powerful, his Father is evidence enough. But this? This was nothing Leman could imagine.

>Malcador was a potent psyker in his right. But if anyone who were not discipled often like him to control their powers. The damage they will befall upon the hapless victims. Leman vowed to make sure that no one will have this type of ability.

>Meanwhile, Kyrus had fallen into a catatonic state and there was nothing he could do. He experienced multiple visions of the past, present and future.

>He sees terrible, grim scenes from the revolt of the Men of Iron. The countless lives and worlds they destroyed. He then sees the Emperor leading the mighty Legions to victory. He sees countless images of the future, mainly the founding of the Primarchs.

>The reclamation of Angron and Konrad Curze; the former becoming bitter and slowly hating the Emperor, the latter slowly becoming insane from his own terrible, grotesque vision of the future.
it's also possible he might have been spooked by what happened to cryptek anon, who got moronically punted to /qst/ around that time and stopped shortly soon after.
Cryptek was moved to /qst because of a couple people complaining heavily to the mods. He would've been thrown out of /qst if weren't for mods there having an actual brain. Cryptek got back to /tg and the people who complained got banned. Plus, Cupanon has a cult following within /tg. So I doubt would be stupid enough to do that on his thread.
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>He sees the Emperor landing upon Colchis, the homeworld of his father, Lorgar kneeling before the Crimson King and their father. But then... something unexpected happened. Kyrus’ next vision gave him a more... ‘front row experience’ as he was now viewing one of the few scenes involving the Lost Primarchs.

>Ghost went into detail about this scene, as he knew surprisingly little about the Lost. Was their erasure truly that impactful?

>“My brothers and I have come to put an end to this madness, once and for all. The history of the Imperium is not something that can be amended. We will not allow it.”

>That was the first time Kyrus met the master of the Luna Wolves, Horus. His very presence demanded respect and he was furious from the looks of it. His face was unfazed like a marble statue, but anger brewed within him.

>Kyrus sensed the anger methodically rising from the Warmaster. The rage was not geared only towards the sentencing of his brother but also to himself. Horus felt guilt, tremendously even He thought he was especially responsible; thought he could have done more to prevent this. He could have done more to save him.

>The Khan and Alpharias seemed more eager to go along with Horus than actually standing against Malcador.

>“But to deny that they ever existed? To openly dishonor the memory of our fallen brother? What gives you the right to decide that, in secret, behind closed doors?” said Alpharius

>Malcador leaned against the throne’s carven back. “If you three cannot see the reasoning behind this decision, then you only convince me further that it is the right one, and that there is nothing more to discuss. Pray, return to your Legions. The Imperium needs victories more than ever. Let these past failures lie.”

>Quite unexpectedly, Horus laughed, loud and long.

>“You can’t even say it, can you,” he said, incredulously. “You can’t even say his name.”
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>“Do not speak it,” Malcador thundered, loading the words with psychic force that struck the Primarch’s mind like a hammer to the forehead.

>Horus reeled, blinking away the pain. His brothers, too, seemed to feel the blow, along with every mortal still in the chamber. Even the Sigillite’s own ears rang, but he kept his voice firm and unwavering.

>Kyrus seemed to have reacted as well and almost forgot the very real battle he was having with Malcador.

>“This was your father’s command, boy, and you all agreed to it. To disobey now is to break faith with the Emperor Himself.”

>The primarch gave a wry, defiant grin. “My brother’s name was–”


>Horus froze, his limbs locked fast within his armour. He shuddered uncontrollably, pressure building in his muscles as he fought against it. Slowly, Malcador stood, holding the Primarch in place with the power of his mind, and nothing more.

>The Khan sprang towards the centre of the room. ‘Lord Regent,’ he urged, holding out his open hands. “You must release him. Please. He speaks from grief, and the shame we all share.”

>Kyrus believed this sentiment was shared by all the 21... 19 brothers. Now he was curious as to what kind of man this lost brother was?

>The air between them thrummed with invisible energy. Malcador could still see that hateful, defiant pride shining through, in Horus’ palsied gaze. “You are not ready for the future you crave,” he hissed. “None of you are.”
He came back? Somehow missed that, I thought he got killed off for good by the tards.
Nope, Cryptek is well and alive. I'm pretty sure he already has the ending already written out?
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>He forced Horus down onto his knees.

>“Mal…’ the stricken Primarch choked. ‘M-Mal… al…”

>The Sigillite’s face twisted into a vengeful rictus. He felt the old, familiar rage beginning to stir, deep in his undying soul.

>“Enough. You will be silent, or I will unmake you, here and now.”

>Horus’ windpipe closed with a sickly crackle. His right eye bloomed red as a blood vessel burst in the sclera.

>But still he would not relent.

>Kyrus was shocked of how easily he fell one of the Emperor’s own sons to the ground. A Primarch, a being endowed with the gifts and abilities to push humanity to its new golden age. A being at the pinnacle of mankind, gasping for air.

>He was in awe of how his master was capable of this. Kyrus was also worried about how long this vision would last as he fought against the idea of how he had already lost, and this was just a byproduct of his broken mind.

>He curled his fists; he knew the fight was not over yet. Kyrus could still feel the fury of Malcador’s search for the information. Hope was not gone. But that was the least of his worries.

>He could see the kneeling Warmaster... ‘powering up’ as Ghost would put it. Kyrus knew this feeling very well and Malcador sensed it as well.
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>“What are you planning?” The Lord Regent looked down at Horus from his great seat.

>He began to hyperventilate roughly through his cracked windpipe, as warp energy drew within him. Many dark, powerful emotions were absorbed by him.

>Pain, and guilt, and shame, and rage breached the surface. Allowing them to be one with Horus.

>The Sigillite questioned the purpose of this gambit. Kyrus knew, it was the same tactic Kyrus and Ghost used against the Dark Eldar.

>A sudden explosion of warp energy flared from Horus, as he rose again. He was now caped in magnificent warp energy with his brothers and Malcador perplexed at the sight before them.

>“You know... he was right. Absolutely right about you, Father, and this Imperium!”

>“I did not want to believe him in his words, but I was too gullible to go against Father. I wanted to trust there was something to prove him wrong. To prove you and Father right! But now I see it, the truth has set me free!”

>Horus voice was filled with resentment for himself and those above him. Gone was the stoic Warmaster, replaced by an angry, bitter man whose institution he wholeheartedly gave himself onto had failed him.

>Kyrus’ jaw dropped to the ground. “No... no! This cannot be so! This must not be real; it should not be real! ...But can it?”

>Ghost has told him predicting the future is extremely difficult. Especially with the fact the future can change, every chance may come to pass.
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>This vision was likely just another opportunity, another line of thought the future has conjured up. But the idea this may be a possibility shakes Kyrus to his core.

>Malcador let out a powerful burst of psychic energy towards Horus like a whip. The skin on his face blistered and turned bright red. Horus was pushed back by the strike but stood his ground.

>“Brother... what have you done?” The Khan was disturbed by the sight of the demonic Warmaster. Alpharius was speechless, afraid to move or to speak as if it demanded the penalty of death.

>“Disobedient child, you do not know what lies ahead! Yet here you stand claiming to bear the truth? You cannot handle it... you couldn’t.” Malcador concentrates his powers into the palm of his hand. Plotting to put Horus in a long coma, nothing lethal but would be an adequate punishment.

>“My brother may not have been with us for too long, but his merits and talents must be recognized. It must be honored so that we can learn from his faults.”

>“Do not dare. This is your final warning.” The accumulated warp energy emitting from the two caused every scribe and neophyte to run. Leaving the Khan and Alpharius to witness the spectacle.

>Malcador launched another attack upon Horus, hoping to at least restrain him before the Custodes would arrive. This blast seemed effective. Horus was thrown to the floor and remained still for minutes. His brothers cautiously moved towards Horus. Alpharius whispered into his ear to stop, else the worse will happen.

>But Horus was not done, far from it. He must have his revenge and honor must be restored. He must right the wrongs. The Khan quickly sensed what was happening and pulled Alpharius from the Warmaster. Dark energy even more potent than before erupted from Horus.

>He screamed out like a banshee and quickly rosed to his feet. His body burned with impure might; he looked at the Sigillete with unadulterated hate through his teary eyes.
I think demon Perturabo would look better w/o all the skulls lining his body, skulls are so FUCKING overused anyways.
>“My brother was the master of the XIth Legion, the Xenos-Bane, the Gargoyle! My brother’s name was Malachi Tauras, and he shall be remembered ‘till the last of our days!” He shouts at the top of his lungs and charges to the blinding light that is the attack from Malcador.

>The immense amount of Warp energy collected within the vision broke through the fabric of time itself and manifested into reality. It was astronomical, such levels of power can only be harnessed by the likes of the Emperor or Magnus.

>The blast managed to break Malcador’s mind raid and push him back. He was surprised to have such a strong force going against his own. His disciple trembled from the onslaught like a newborn. Same could be said for Leman.

>Malcador quickly summoned a great amount of energy again for round two, but Kyrus raised his hand in defeat.”

>“Please, master... h-have mercy!” This disciple shall obey. The room now began to calm down, the shadow people were gone, and the halls were no longer bending out of reality.

>“See? If you had done that from the beginning, all would have been well. Now tell... what did you utter?”

>Ever since Kyrus became one with Ghost, he had dreaded the day when Pandora’s box would be opened. He had skillfully avoided this outcome until now. Now, now is the time for clarity, for the truth to be revealed, all else shall be laid bare for all to see. All shall be put upon display for the eyes of hungry gods.

>Kyrus slowly rose to his own two feet and took a deep breath. The Orator has returned to his wits and bearings. He shall a battle he was made to fight, a battle of words and ideas.

>“Master, I shall firstly wish to apologize for my discourtesy. While my intoxication had impeded me, it was no excuse for my actions.”
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>The Sigillete was gladden to his eloquent disciple had returned to him and his flock. A small smile sounded down his face.

>“I must apologize as well; I had lost my temper due to Leman’s shenanigans. A more sophisticated approach would have been the proper thing to do. I am deeply sorry for my actions.”

>There was some pain in his voice. After all, he was Kyrus’ sponsor since the days of the Unification Wars. It would be bothersome if anything serious happened to Kyrus.

>“Now unto to the main event and the cause for all this bedlam. I had held back this information because I could not find a way to convey it properly. Formalities are not important now, and the truth will be revealed as to your wishes, master.”

>...I see. Let us adjourn to my study, my disciple. Leman, clean yourself up and leave. I’ve already deactivated the traps.” Malcador didn’t bother to look at Leman. The Wolf King sheepishly exits the gallery alongside his warriors with a drained, long face.

> “Master, is your study close?”

>“Not exactly, but that is why it is time to fast travel. Kyrus, stand in the circle with me.”

>A great circle, shining like the rings of Saturn envelope them and they arrive in Malcador’s study in an instant. Kyrus wasn’t too surprised by this ability and his master spared no time in getting what he wanted.

>“Now then... tell me what you know.”

>Malcador looked onto Kyrus with a judgmental but open gaze. He will not be denied again.
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>“Horus Lupercal... will betray the Emperor.” There was no hesitation in Kyrus’ voice. He had already steeled himself for this moment, the day when the buried truth would be revealed upon the callous rays of the sun. Barring all affiliation, all must be burdened with the consequences.

>Instead of fire and brimstone, Kyrus received nothing but cold, but attentive eyes of his master.

>“You claim that Horus will betray the Emperor; yet I believe there is more to this than meets the eye. Speak now.” Malcador asked with tempered anger, a far cry from his earlier behavior.

>“There are some hidden details that will assist in uncovering the truth behind this. For example: for reason why and how one of His favored sons would fall so far.”

>Much like Ghost on his first counter with Kyrus, he divulged many secrets pertaining to the corruption of Horus Lupercal. He tactfully left out some clues so as not to give his master any more cause to inspect further.

>“The reason for Horus’ fall was the exploitation of his own insecurities. His mind was twisted, contaminated by lies and half-truths. Small, insignificant details snowballed into the becoming the monster he was remade into.”

>Malcador pondered and never broke eye contact with his disciple. He pondered not just over the revelation, but what to do with the now enlightened Space Marine? Should he just mind-wipe him, have Kyrus locked away, or just ‘relieve’ him where he stands?

>“And you received this information from the vision you saw?”

>“Yes, master. I have revealed everything I know.”

>What a boldfaced lie in front of his master. Malcador surmised Kyrus knew more than he was letting on. But Malcador had to look into himself, he was the one who caused all this mayhem. He was the sole reason why Kyrus was able to see the visions. He must take responsibility for his actions.
>“It seems I have wronged you, Kyrus. I truly apology for my previous behavior.” The Sigillete proceeds to kneel before his disciple, much to Kyrus’ shock

>“Master, please! It was Leman’s shenanigans that led to this. You are not at fault!”

>“No. This must be done.” Malcador stayed in that position for hours and only stood up after the constant complaints of Kyrus.

>“Now then, let’s get productive.” Malcador extends his hand, and a bundle of parchment emerges from a pile of one of the many towers of tomes & records. It gracefully lands in Malcador’s hand and maneuvers it to Kyrus.

>“I wanted for you to have received this until after your training was done. But... no time like the present!”

>Kyrus opened the first scroll of parchment and his eyes widened to its content. This scroll is a special writ, given out to those who done a great service to the Imperium. But it also presses the receiver of the writ into the Emperor’s personal retinue.

>But in this case: Malcador’s own.

>“With this writ and the authority vested in me by the Emperor, I induct you to become one of my eyes & ears. You shall be my sword, my shield, my rock. Upon which I will call when needed.”

>Kyrus knelt and Malcador laid his staff on both shoulders. The Orator arises, and now became an agent of the Sigillite.

>“Go with peace.” Malcador teleports Kyrus to just outside the Imperial Palace with merely a snap of his finger.
I'm enjoying this so far
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>"You can talk now... he's gone"

>"You get quite biblical there. Have you been reading lately?" The person Malcador was speaking to no other than his master, the Emperor.

>Malcador 'pinged' the Emperor multiple times following the altercation between him and Kyrus.

>"Leman, that jackass! He and his tomfoolery had royally fucked up everything. In hindsight, I did lost my temper. Because of that, Kyrus knows everything about the future. He knows about Horus!"

>"...Welp, shit." That was the Emperor said before he and Malcador noticed the huge spike in psyker energy

>"Did you just felt that?" said Malcador

>"Felt like someone got punched in the jaw. Really fucking hard. With spiteful rage."

>The two felt the psyker equivalent of someone knocking on the front door. They couldn't who it was

>"Get out of town!" The Emperor then 'opens the door' for the long awaited guest.

>"Holy shit, Ishmael how's it going-?"

>"WOW, what's with the hostility?" Malcador and the Emperor said in unison.


>The Emperor and Malcador faces turn into a mixture of confusion and disgust from the intense yelling.

>"Bro, we haven't talked since you fucked off back to Elysium. We thought you died!" the Emperor jabs backed.

>"Can you calm down with the yelling as well?" Malcador pleaded

>"I will be dead if you don't get your ass over here already!" Ismael yells passionately.

>"Look Ishmael, we're running on a tight schedule. We can't head to Elysium just because-"

>"Oh, fuck!" Malcador exclaimed.

>"What's wrong?" Ishmael asked

>"We might need to go to Elysium actually" Malcador said nervously.
Last post for tonight.
That was fun. Hope it lasts until the next update.
Have you considered putting this on something like AO3?
I don't know if I'll get a larger audience? But it can't hurt to try.
You would get a larger audience, yes, especially since it'll stick around longer than a 4chan thread.
Also lets you revise and edit after the fact
I'll put it into consideration.
Might as well sign up now, they have a waitlist to join but it's worth it. (The waitlist is a little anjouing but it seems to keep out spammers)
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>Malcador continued

>"During the altercation... the airfryer got damaged."

>"WHAT?! Was that Leman's doing?! I will beat his hairy ass to a bloody pulp! Ishmael, we need you!" The Emperor roared.

>Ishmael sensed an opportunity here to get the Emperor remove his pet project out of Elysium.

>"Will you remove that upstart from my planet if I agree?" he asked with great smugness in his voice.

>"YES! I was going to investigate that power surge but this takes priority! Teleporting you to Terra right this fucking instant!"

>"Wait-!" that was Ishmael could force out before being whisked away to Terra and right in front of Malcador.

>"Long time no see, Ishmael." Malcador's attempt to ease his friend's sudden predicament was feeble.

>"Likewise..." he groaned

>Malcador escorted Ishmael towards the remains of his gallery as the two did some catching up that stretched centuries apart.
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>With Kyrus now seemingly off the hook and away from the prying eyes of his master. He charges forth into the Great Crusade once again.

>Far away from the every increasing borders of the Imperium. Lies a corrupted planet, shrouded in near perpetual darkness: Nostramo.

>Shield-Captain Set readies his host for disembarkation on the planet. They have been warned about the statues of Nostramo and its most prominent resident; a Son of the Emperor, who goes by the moniker of 'Night Haunter.'

>The information was gained from a generous anonymous tip and revealed many key details. The planet is in a state of near constant crime spree where every deplorable and violent act are made under there weak sun. This environment greatly shaped the nascent Primarch into becoming what he is today.

>He is unpredictable, coupled with his power of foresight and cutthroat nature makes him an especially dangerous adversary. That is why he was commanded to bring the most eloquent of his Shield-Host and a rather large cohort of his brothers.

>But they found something peculiar when they approached Nostramo, several interstellar buoys were placed within the stratosphere. Leading almost exactly where the Shield-Host needed to land. Cleary the work of the Primarch.

>"Steel yourselves, brothers. While this is a retrieval mission, the cargo we are escorting is a Son of the Emperor and a dangerous item by default. It is of great importance that everything goes as planned." Set voiced much on the 'as planned' portion.

>Unfortunately for him, everything will not go as planned. None at all.

>The Shield-Host finally land on Nostramo and wasted no time in marching to there objectives. But the streets of the capital are entirely empty and the lights are activated except for the ones that leaded straight onto the palace of the Night Haunter.
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>"Does he take us for fools? This is a trap" one of the members of the Shield-Host mused with novice-like arrogance.

>"Only one way to find out. Unless you wish to be the first one up, Darius?" Set said with a witty voice

>The Custodian remained silent with no rebuttal.

>Set leaded his cohort through the only dark road of the already sunlight starved planet.

>They finally reached the front door to the dark palace. Dark both in architecture and in lighting. Set started to visualize a pattern on Nostramo.

>"Do we knock or-?" another Custodian asked.

>Then the gates started to open by themselves. Then at the end of a extremely dark great hall, sitting in a throne with a ghastly grin and the only spot with light in the entire corridor.

>There sat a Son of the Emperor, the ruler of Nostramo, the Night Haunter, Konrad Curze.

>"I have been expecting you. I have already taken care of any who could impede your journey here. Please... enter!"

>Curze's voice was certainly a cruel and vicious one. Every pleasantry was a poorly hidden threat, and every threat from him was a promise of violent, painful death. But there was evidence of regalness and poise within him. He had the demeanor of a king, true ruler, a liberator. Not like some warrior-king or a conqueror. Set probed this behavior to be... odd to say the least.

>Set walked in with only a handful of brothers. The remaining Shield-Host would have scattered away to complete their separate objectives. Set and company stopped exactly half way into the great hall.

>"By the order of the Emperor, your Father, we have come to bring you home. Be at peace, Lord Konrad Curze.
Sorry for the small amount of posts today.
we all got those days anon
whats important is you dont stop
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>Konrad laughed at the 12 Custodial delegate.

>"But my honored guests, I am already home!"

>"We have been ordered to bring before the Emperor... by any means necessary." Set pounded his Guardian Spear to authenticate his will.

>Konrad leaned forward and squinted his eyes "Is that so?"

>He closely inspected the 12 golden demigods in his presence after which he received a vision. It detailed the skirmish between between them in the typical gruesome fashion Konrad has grown accustomed to.

>He sees himself lunging into the supposed leader of the trope and somehow parrying much of his blows, but not before falling back into the group. The others counter-attack and the engagement turns into bloody brawl. With Konrad taking many hefty blows. and the Custodians would seem to have the upper hand, but would falter as they fall one by one. The Night Haunter would be too eager to exterminate them and underestimate the might of his foes.

>For the first time, Konrad is defeated by the band of demigods. He quickly snapped back to reality, and with the golden cohort awaited with disciplined silence.

>"I know full well what you intend for me. I have known of your arrival for many moons, and I know of my destiny my... father has charted for me. You have a mission and I have mine. I am this planet's hope, I am its avenger, I am its will made manifest to punish those who have corrupted Nostramo. And I surrender."
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>Konrad stood up from his throne and marched out of the great hall.

>But not before being stopped by one his advisors. "Please, my lord! Please don't leave. We need you."

>The old man pleaded to the Night Haunter.

>"I am sorry, Archimedes. I must go. Destiny calls." Konrad sounded actually remorseful, as he didn't even looked at the old chamberlain.

>As the Shield-Host escorted the Primarch to their battle barge, many of the residents had summoned the courage and looked outside their windows.

>A quick glance form Konrad was all needed to to scare them back into their homes. But news traveled fast and the once cowed gangs of Notrasmo rejoiced over the exodus of the Night Haunter.

>Riots began to appear almost immediately after Konrad exited his palace. However, the criminal scum seemed to have not anticipated the intervention of the Custodians. As the riots were ended by the Emperor's Companions as quickly as they appeared.

>Bolter fire can be heard around in different parts of the capital.
Good stuff.
>"How many are there of you exactly?" Konrad heard fighting from almost across the other side of the city.

>"About 30. Including us." Set said

>A mere handful of them is enough to bring him down, but there was more than double currently here. Curze thanked himself for taking the levelheaded approach.

>Then what sounded like thunder ringed throughout the entire planet, and they looked up to see the sky lit ablaze.

>"A Warp storm here?! Everyone, double time!" Set ordered his cohort, but Konrad had other plans.

>"What is that?" Konrad asked with shock and awe.

>"Something very bad. We're almost to our ship." the Warp storm seemed to gave the rioters and criminals more cause to commit destruction. This was no problem, as it gave more targets for the Custodes.

>As they got closed onto their battle barge. They see another one of their own spacecraft that shot out of the Warp storm.

>"That's one of ours! Lord Curze, we must-"

>Set saw Konrad grabbing a pair of children. They were caught by the Night Haunter after they smashed in a window of a bakery and stole several loaves of bread.

>"My Lord, we must make haste!" Set commanded.

>"I have my mission and you have yours. As long as I am here, I am justice."

>Curze was about to snap both of their necks before he heard someone... something behind him who uttered a rough, guttural vocalization.

>"Let them go."

>He turned to see a man, as large he was. Covered in blood and gel liquid, he wielded one of the very same weapons the Custodians had.

>The Red Angel had descended upon Nostramo.
So we brought the retard with us?
Don't sweat it.
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>Konrad looked at the barbarian with curiosity. He clearly isn't a resident of Nostramo and couldn't understand a word he said.

>He turned to Set "Is he one of your own?"

>Konrad felt a sharp pain that pounded his head. He saw the barbarian grabbing the child criminals and receiving a grievous wound from the Guardian Spears.

>Konrad knew full of the capabilities of that weapon.

>As Angron went in for the rescue, Curze masterfully countered his attack by placing the child criminals in front of him.

>Even if Konrad couldn't understand the barbarian, but he knew what he was after.

>Angron hesitated for a but a brief moment and that was all Curze needed. He dug in his lighting claws into the Red Angel's jugular with superb speed.

>Curze smiled as twisted his claws, seeing the barbarian screaming in pain. But the Red Angel was made of sterner stuff.

>He dropped one of his spear and grabbed Konrad's forearm. He then saw multiple visions of his past and future as well as the barbarian's.

>Konrad the slave pits of Nuceria and how they fought in gladiator matches against each other. All for the amusement of the slaver-masters.

>He saw the eventual uprising led by the Red Angel and the end result of its failure.

>Angron in turn saw the state of Notrasmo before the rise of the Night Haunter. The decrepit, horrible state the planet was in. Crime was an everyday occurrence, with many of the residents at the mercy of gang bosses and the elite. The two seemed to had many things in common

>This was a sort of psychic exchange of information. But this was not the only thing they gained from it. Angron absorbed his brother's anger, his pain, his countless years of suffering.

>Angron had lifted Konrad's burden and sins and placed it upon himself.
>Konrad then pulled back. He already released the children and now had all of his attention upon Angron.

>"W-what did you just do?!" Konrad yelped out.

>Konrad detected a sensation he never experienced before: peace and inner clarity.

>He looked at his brother with swollen eyes. Konrad has never felt this emotion before, it was completely foreign to him. He couldn't hold back the catharsis.

>No more disturbing glimpses of the future, no more mental anguish.

>However, Curze was mistaken. He believed the fight was over. As he didn't even register he got hit until he was on ground. He looked up in astonishment and wondered why he never attained a vision of the attack.

>His face changed into a horror-ghoulish filled expression after he connected the dots and realized the angst wasn't the only thing that was taken; it was his foresight as well.

>Angron grinned like a devil and cracked his knuckles. "Do not take this to heart, but think of it as a 'practice in humility' or a 'great humbling.' Something that you desperately need."

>Konrad was still lost in translation yet he somehow understood the message. Something that unites and transcends language altogether.

>That message was violence. Great, considerable, and pronounced violence.
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>Angron picked up his brother and placed Konrad upon his feet. "This will be my only courtesy. There will be no mercy from on out."

>He said before sucker punching Curze. He reeled back and prepared a series of lighting fast attacks.

>It would have been effective if Angron didn't see it coming from a mile away. The Red Angel was initially caught off guard by the snapshot of the future, not completing understanding until he saw the movements in real time.

>He parried every blow and savagely countered with his own rhythm of quick attacks. Sufficed to say, Konrad was fighting a lost battle. As it became painfully aware to Angron that his brother used his ability as crutch. Konrad never thought of the idea he would lose his powers.

>As the fight dragged on, Curze slowly looked more pathetic by each passing minute. Angron still kept the pressure, with the Custodes on the sidelines watched the one-sided slaughter.

>"Should we... do something?"

>"Hell no, Otho! This is the best entertainment we'll ever get!" Darius said before he got smacked on the back of his helmet by Set.

>Angron knew this bout won't last forever, even if he has the outright advantage. Konrad quickly adapted to Angron's fighting style and his newly acquired ability was difficult to handle. But all of that changed when Curze finally got his first real hit into the Red Angel: a well placed shot to the liver.

>But the Night Haunter didn't gloated for too long, as the empathic connection made earlier gave Angron an idea. He then transferred the pain of the blow to Konrad and it stung ten fold.

>Curze buckled for a millisecond, which Angron dealt a direct blow to the solar plexus. He needed to finish this now, not with his fist solely.

>"I know your kind. You use your strength to enforce your will upon others, eliminating those who stand against you. You paint yourself as a messiah, an answer to everyone's problem and a fix-all tool for everything. But you are none those, the only reason is you have attained your wealth, your authority, your position is because no one was your equal. No one was there to challenge. You had no fear of losing to anyone. Few can stand up absolute brute strength, and fewer can defeat it."

>Angron connected his fist to Konrad's chin "You're a tyrant!"

>Another shot to his ribcage "Bastard!"

>Lastly, a swift kick to the groin. "Pretender!"

>Angron gripped Curze's head and created a temporary empathic link between them, just long enough for he had planned. He wanted Konrad to hear this

>He leaned into his right ear and said "You are no better than the criminals that you abhor. You're a parasite, just like them."

>"PARASITE?!?" That was the breaking point Angron looked for. Curze gave him a wallop of an uppercut. But Konrad wasn't done and wanted payback, he bit down on his neck and tore off a hunk of flesh. He grabbed Angron testicles and squeezed the life out them.

>Konrad swiped both of his eyes and gave him good to Angron's own solar plexus.

>"I am no parasite! I am nothing like them. Before I came here, this place had no hope, no future, no light. Only grim-darkness and the feeling of the cold steel of a knife stabbing into your side. I arrived in pain, that was first lesson I was taught by Nostramo. I butchered ever last bastard, murderer, rapist, whoreson until they learned. That's the thing these humans understand! Fear and violence! Once I was in control, there was peace and I'll happily do it all again if it meant Notrasmo would be safe. I am her only hope of maintain law and order. How dare stand there and lecture me?!"
>"How dare stand there and lecture me?!"
He's forgetting Angron probably saw that one memory of him torturing a woman because she tried to commit suicide.

>Konrad didn't care about anything else. He didn't for the damage he dealt caused by empathic connection returned to him in spades. He didn't care that Angron had already healed and readied for round 2. He didn't care anymore. But the one thing he wanted was to see this invader flayed, bloated corpse upon the highest spire on Notrasmo.

>Konrad blindly charged in, but Angron smirked. This is what he wanted. breaking him down to his most base, feral self. Making him angry was the second step, angry people are bound to make mistakes. It'll make Konrad more unpredictable; that would be problem if Angron didn't have foresight.

>Konrad now wanted blood, the two engaged in a even worse brawl with Konrad giving his against his more combat-harden brother. Every punch was parried and countered, every kick was blocked, and any dirty trick Curze learned on Nostrasmo:Angron already knew about it. There was nothing he could do and suffered in the meanwhile.
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>Be me

>Be ganger of Nostramo.

>The lockdown has been putting some real pressure on business.. among other things.

>Apparently the whole city is planning to welcome some 'special guests' or whatever that means. Boss is pretty determined to ignore it and go collect debts.

>As we were walking around, we then got word of a strange, golden craft landing on one of the interstellar docks for large shipping freighters.

>My friends and I ducked behind cover, as we saw the golden warriors exiting the ship. Their armor reflected the light too brightly and so we couldn't see them too clearly.

>We abandoned our tasks and followed the newcomers. Couldn't shake the feeling like they knew we were here.

>They then stopped in front of the Night Haunter's Palace. What the fuck do they want with him? The group broke up and the rest entered the palace.

>We didn't even registered they were gone until we heard screams and the acute sounds of mass body tearing. We realized these guys might business and that direction was where we last saw our boss.

>We all then looked at each other and thought 'Welp, there goes that. Let's start a riot!' We firstly settled some unfinished scores, local snitch thought he was safe and cozy. We knew about his hideout for months.

>After taking his scalp and flayed skull, we went around causing as much mayhem as possible. Looting and killing our way around the block. But all of the changed when one of our little birdies came yelling something that happened at the palace.

>"I swore, the Night Haunter is leaving Nostramo for good! I saw him being escorted by those big, golden dudes in the same direction where they came from!"

>My eyes widen at this news "This we gotta see. C'mon, lads!"
Great story, do you happen to work at black library?
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>We then see the sky above explode with fiery colors. Like something poked a hole in space. That's when everybody started to go crazy.

>We saw people clawing at each other and going mad from the hole in the sky.

>We attempted to avoid them, but they somehow caught up to us and they wanted blood.

>They fought like savages and that is rich coming from me. Tore apart two of my mates. We managed to break off and sweep into the alleys.

>I ran, and ran, and ran until I couldn't anymore footsteps following my way. I still heard the screams of the city destroying itself and who ever those golden dickheads were in for one wild ride.

>With just 3 of us remaining, we got to the spot where our little birdie told us and she did it disappoint. We saw this big fucker beating the absolute shit out of the Night Haunter. I couldn't believe it but here it was.

>From the looks of it, the golden dickheads were escorting the Night Haunter and then this big dude... ambushed them? They don't seem to eager to help. Just watching from the sidelines. Everyone stopped what they were doing to just witness the curb stomp. I don't blame 'em.

>We are ecstatic, seeing that bastard getting a taste of his medicine was therapeutic. Then the big fucker turned to the ever growing crowd. We cheered him on, demanding for more, we wanted more, we deserved it.

>Even the golden pricks stopped anybody from getting too close to them

>He looked at us like he had an epiphany. He seemed sadden and anger at himself. Didn't quite understood it at the time.
I wish, that would be a dream come true.
>"This is not what I wanted" Angron said under his breath.

>He saw the crowd cheered him, baying for blood and violence. He has returned to the fighting pits of Nuceria.

>The residents of Nostramo were just as bloodthirsty, maybe even more.

>Now Angron saw his opponent for what he truly was; a child.

>A scared, little child crying into the void. He had allowed himself to revert back into his old ways. He was better than this, The Red Angel knew he could do better.

>Has the Butcher's Nails still shackled him? He now has the possibility to change and take back what was taken from him. And this is how he squandered his opportunity? Is he unable to change and rise above his most primal thoughts? Is he destined to remain a brute who only purpose is to kill, maim, and burn? NO!

>Angron would not allow himself to remain in the shadow of Nuceria. He never return to the demon he was.

>The Red Angel saw an opening to finally end this. He ended the empathic link with Konrad, much to his dismay. He screeched and clutched his head. All of the dark and vile emotions Konrad had once held came rushing back to him.

>"Make it stop! Please!" Konrad cried out

>He saw Angron's final punch quickly approaching his face. But Konrad couldn't discern whether it was vision or not. Then everything faded to black
>James trying to spot wrongthink in his company
Not today James.
>And the crowd went wild. The Night Haunter was defeated.

>Half the city was in awe of the "Red Savage." They chanted his name and screamed for grand finale.

>Just like the gladiator pits, Angron knew what they wanted.

>"Animals." I said while looking at his audience. I must break my chains. We can change. For my sake, and my brother.

>I took in a deep breath and at the top of my lungs yell out "SILENCE!"

>That shut them up. All the windows got shattered as consequence and pricking a lot of people. "Oops."

>Then my band of Custodians escorts finally caught up with me. Took them long enough.

>"Borthers! Thank the Emperor we have found you! We must-...oh."

>"You missed all the fun." Darius said childishly.

>"You found him!"

>"More like he found us." Otho monotoned.

>"Why didn't you intervene?"

>"We're not fighting TWO Primarchs. Edgelord over there almost did fought us." Darius snapped back.

>"That aside, we extremely behind schedule and need to get moving. So, brother, if you don't mind. We'll be on our way." Set was more than displeased with the whole

>Set motioned to restrain Konrad, but Angron had other plans.

>"Don't you dare touch my brother!" Angron roared out and picked up the unconscious Night Haunter.

>"Well? What are you just standing?" Set begrudgingly leaded Angron back to his battle barge with the other Custodians

>"Wait...how the fuck does he know Gothic?"

>"Shut up, Darius."
>Page 10
Live dammit.

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