The Chosen Few [IC|40K]
Posted: Thu Mar 12, 2020 8:56 pm
The Imperial Fleet burned in the void, caught between a perfectly calculated ambush in the Kythonar Gulf. Calthanir Kaeduin watched an Imperial warship break apart from the bridge of the Hammer of Vaul in front of the deep blue light of the Beroi, the star of this remote system on the edge of the Gulf.
The Anhrathe had struck the Imperial Fleet just as it had translated into the system, isolating and destroying each ship with brilliant strokes that had the fleet completely destroyed. Unfortunately, not the hated mon keigh masters were with the Fleet. But it had given the Anhrathe great pleasure nonetheless in having destroyed so many humans, to be on the offensive when too long they had only tried to defend themselves and what was theirs.
Calthanir turned back to face the silent crew of Anhrathe, all of them focused on the Prince. Behind him, Beroi provided a sapphire glow to outline the figure of the Corsair Prince. The silence was pregnant with unspoken words. But it was Calthanir's place to give words to these moments. He spoke slowly, words flowing around his men and women, eloquently for the moment and tinged with the psychic might so prevalent among the Aeldari.
”Today, we stop the mon keigh from spreading their tendrils in to this sector. But make no mistake, more are coming. And here we will make our stand. We have lost too much too soon. Too many of our kin have been lost, too many of our Maidens turned to Crones by the Great Devourer. Only to see the mon keigh descend like the scavengers they are! No more, I say. Today, we send a message to the mon keigh that we are Aeldari! And this part of the galaxy is ours!”
There was no cheering among them. The Brotherhood knew enough of what had not been said between the words spoken. There would be no stopping the mon keigh. Them and their hated Imperium was too strong for the Aeldari to win this war or any to follow. Fatalism had curled it's heart about the majority of them, choking out hope. No longer did they concern themselves with the after, instead wishing only to kill as many of the humans before dying themselves. And thus no one challenged the proclamation of their Prince, grim faces all turned towards Calthanir.
All the same, Prince Calthanir knew what his people felt, feeling the wash of their despair breaking upon the tide of his resolve. It broke his heart to see the once proud people he had led for so long reduced to such a state, but could not fault them for it. What they did not know though of what their Prince planned. They saw this as a glorious last stand of the Brotherhood, a final fight that had endured for thousands of years.
Calthanir had other plans.
The Emperor's Word had been sent. More than a dozen Primarchs had been recalled to gather at Dolgota, a world just taken by the 5th and 8th Legions, torn from the grasp of the hated ork. It was the largest gathering of Primarchs ever to occur since the onset of the Great Crusade, and not a few of those Legions would be wary of what their Father intended.
Some Legions would not be able to heed the call of the their Emperor, busy as they were in campaigns that required their attention.
Others had been waiting for such a call.
Icarion opened his eyes. The Chamber of Meditation, buried deep in the heart of the Thunderchild thrummed with psychic focusing crystals as Icarion stretched forth his mind's eye to peer through space and time. Unfortunately, as was increasingly becoming the case, he saw nothing but fire and blood. It was an auspicious omen that did nothing to reveal anything he needed to know. While he had been able to perceive that his Father would be calling upon the 1st Legion to go to war soon, he did not realize that it would be for over a dozen of his Brothers as well.
He had been incredulous of the information as it had been relayed to him by the Astropath, but he was in no position to doubt it either. It made sense though for the Legions to gather at Dolgota. A world recently taken by the 5th and 8th Legions, the ork filth had been wiped from it's surface and a Triumph had been held to celebrate the battles hard fought. Icarion thought it had been prideful vanity to hold such a celebration. He had not held a single celebration for any of the many campaigns and battles his Legion he had held, not even after the Xenocides and Incursions. He merely had to look at the roll of honors as testament to his and the 1st's victories. But he knew many among his Primarchs did not hold such views as he did.
He came out of the lotus position, feet touching cold steel floor for the first time in several hours. As soon as his feet touched the floor, the soft glow of lights illuminated the room. A hiss of depressurization as the door opened and Raiden Athrawes stepped in. He bowed from the waist. Unlike his Primarch, the Marshal and Equerry was bedecked in his armor, ready to stride forth in war and glory. With an almost imperceptible nod from Icarion, Raiden straightened and spoke to his Primarch."We're about to translate in to the Dolgota system, my Lord. What are your orders?"
"I shall land on the surface with you by my side. No others."
"Do you feel that wise, my Lord?" Unlike in other Legions, Icarion promoted an open mind and encouraged his officers to speak their minds to their superior officers. In other Legions, it would be viewed as sacrilege to question the word of a Primarch. In the 1st, it was par for the course.
"We are the 1st, Raiden. No need to remind my Brothers and Sisters of that." He said with a smile, patting the Marshal on the pauldron of his armor as he stepped forward."Besides, our Father is there." With the Emperor of Mankind on the surface of Dolgota, nothing in the galaxy would dare threaten such a meeting.
The Thunderchild translated into the Dolguta System to find the Sun Angels and Sons of Calmora fleet already assembled in a protective ring around the primary planet of the system. Icarion was relieved to have found them in such a manner, especially with the system on the edge of newly conquered Imperial space. Although he would not say such to them or anyone else. He was also relieved to have found that, from the powerful auspex array, that the Lightning Bearers were the first to arrive in the system, excluding that of the 5th and 8th.
The Gloriana Class Battleship was followed only by a small escort. Most of the Legion Fleet had been left in the nearby Kaloss System, still licking their wounds after having destroyed the Abominable Intelligence. When and if, Icarion would recall them for this campaign.
Icarion and Raiden boarded an Ash Phoenix Gunship which bore them to the surface of Dolgota. As they neared the ruins in what had been deemed the Palace of Princes, Icarion was alerted that other Legion fleets were translating in to the system, on the heels of the 1st Legion.
As they came out of atmosphere, Icarion and Raiden viewed the world coming up to meet them. A world of green fields and green seas, it was no wonder the Orks had fought so tenaciously to hold on to the planet. Here and there, to break the verdant monotony, was what appeared to be the ruins of great cities dotting the surface. From what had been told to Icarion, the Princes of Dolgota had ruled their world fairly and justly, the people well fed and happy. This had all changed with the arrival of the Orks. Now, only the ruins of their great works remained, as evidenced by the massive Spires that dominated each city.
One such city didn't have just one spire like the rest. No, this one contained a dozen, with another half dozen having fallen to ruin. Spread out around the massive ruins of the city was a virtually new city of camps stretching to the horizon, temporary home for millions of men and women that had brought this world into the Imperium. Even from their high altitude, the bright lights of celebration and fireworks illuminated the night. Despite disapproving of the minor Triumph, the sight brought a smile to Icarion's lips.
The Palace of Princes was the tallest Spire on the planet, reaching near a kilometer in height and reminding Icarion of the Kartyg spire cities, although this spire was far more robust and made of steel, stone, and glass. Near the top of the spire, landing pads large enough for several gunships had been built by orks and then reinforced and improved upon by Imperial forces. Icarion was disheartened to see no sign of the Emperor or his gunship. Instead, the only ships seemed to be exclusively that of the Sons of Calmora and Sun Angels.
As the Ash Phoenix touched down, Icarion strode forth from the gunship, the ramp touching metal almost as soon as Icarion's feet did. He was armored in his panoply of war, sans the Thunderchild in his hands. Likewise, Raiden was bedecked in his finery except he was armed, unlike his Primarch. While it might have appeared that Icarion was without weapons, they would have forgotten the mind that made Icarion a far more deadly opponent than any weapon could do. To meet his arrival stood Elyrian Manuxus and Vasilisa Sanguina, the former towering over the latter. Luckily, it seemed that the powers that had made Vasilisa infamous in the 1st were not active, otherwise Icarion and Raiden would have been hurriedly returning to the Ash Phoenix as fast as their legs could carry them. Meanwhile, Elyrian glowered in all of his towering majesty. Icarion's younger brother was well renowned for his ferocity but, like the proud Giant Calmoran Elk, it was difficult to rouse him to such wrath.
While Raiden remained several feet behind Icarion, the 1st Primarch strode forth and embraced his siblings, clapping Elyrian on his massive bicep and gripping forearms in a warrior's greeting with Vasilia. Upon his face was a grim smile for, while he was gladdened to have see his siblings, it was only through the business of war and their Father's summoning did they once more meet. When the greetings were done, Icarion stepped back,"Elyrian. Vasilia. It has been too long. Where is our Father?" He did not feel the need to mince words with his brother and sister, and no doubt they would approve of the bluntness Icarion so rarely exhibted.
"He has not yet arrived." Elyrian rumbled, obviously perturbed by having to be the bearer of such ill news.
Icarion frowned, tapping his chin before exhaling through his nose."No matter. Knowing our Father, he will arrive at precisely the right time to do so." He waved forward towards the darkened recess of the Spire."By all means, lead on. No doubt, our Brothers will be arriving just soon."
While Elyrian was chosen to greet each new Primarch, Vasilia acted as escort to Icarion and Raiden as they delved into the Spire. Here and there were signs of combat, a missing chunk of masonry there, a hole in the wall there. Upward, they tread in a slow spiral around the edge of the Spire until they entered a massive chamber. The chamber was surrounded in the ruins of great statues of the fallen Princes, stern in their armor and weapons. At the base of each statue sat simple black granite thrones, dozens of them forming a ring around the center of the Chamber. The ceiling, what was left of it, had been intricate glass work bereft of any scroll work or image. Instead, only the light of the stars and the false stars of warships served to illuminate the chamber. To make up for the lack of light, glowglobes had been placed strategically around the Chamber. Despite that, the room was a darkened affair, intimate and foreboding all at once.
Icarion took his seat near the central dais where no doubt the Emperor would take his place. While he sat there, musing on what was to be, several Imperial Army officers came in. As was their place, they took seats on the outer, higher ring of thrones, chatting among themselves. Vasilia took a seat opposite Icarion. Raiden, for his part, took a position near the entrance.
The first to arrive was Oberon, looking surly and unhappy for having touched ground in probably years. Followed quickly on his heels was Igneous, reminding Icarion of a thunderhead in the distance, calm and serene in the distance only. Next came Miztli Huitzilihuitl, a mysterious Primarch who, like Icarion, led from the front. Cyprig Lusssard was next, a wide smile on his face. Luckily, he wasn't butchering someone while he was doing it but the evening was young. Remigius followed Cyprig, as was usually the case after Cyprig got done with a planet. Remigius appeared solemn for the occasion. Next came Nikolai Szaraczkiewicz, jaw set in stern contemplation of all that around him. Titus Ironborn was next, face hidden behind his helmet, forever stained by his censuring. Mercaekha Taristus was right on his heels, Icarion sensing secrets flourishing about the Third Primarch, Next to last was Samael, more mysterious than Miztli and rarely seen. And the last, fashionably late and escorted by Elyrian, was Napoli. Which was fitting, the largest escorting the smallest.
When they had all gathered and took their seats, each Primarch fell into chatting with the other, each one debating on what the meeting would entail while the Imperial Army and Armada officers did the same. Some Primarchs and officers sat in silent contemplation while others seemed to have a flood of words they needed to get out. Icarion remained silent, eyes glancing from each one of his siblings to the next. Of the Primarchs not called, no representative of their Legions had arrived. From that, Icarion could only surmise that the reason for this meeting was to discuss the current state of the Great Crusade and new fronts to be opened up.
Suddenly the lights in the Chamber seemed to brighten. Icarion turned to face the entrance. Soon, the marching of feet could be heard. In strode forth two of the mighty Adeptus Custodes, each one taking a flanking position beside the entrance. Raiden was forced to abdicate his place and took a seat near the door. However, instead of being greeted with the sight of their Father, in strode Malcador the Sigilite, moving slowly, face hooded beneath his cloak, the tap of his staff the only sound echoing from the walls as Malcador took his place at the center of the Chamber.
After a brief moment, Malcador looked up and threw his hood back, his piercing eyes finding each man and woman in the Great Chamber before speaking."Our Emperor sends his regrets that he could not come, but urgent matters aboard the Bucephelus keep him from attending. My Lord Primarchs, I come forward with grave news. The 78th and 901st Expeditionary Fleets, near here in the Kythonar Gulf, have been completely destroyed. No survivors." Malcador held up a hand to forestall the cries of outrage and denial." We believe this to be the work of Xenos, more specifically that of the Eldar. This is no doubt in an attempt to keep us from the Ishariel Sector. Instead of accomplishing that goal, however, the Emperor has ordained the Sector be cleansed of all life in retaliation for the loss of two fleets and for the repeated transgressions of the Eldar."
The Anhrathe had struck the Imperial Fleet just as it had translated into the system, isolating and destroying each ship with brilliant strokes that had the fleet completely destroyed. Unfortunately, not the hated mon keigh masters were with the Fleet. But it had given the Anhrathe great pleasure nonetheless in having destroyed so many humans, to be on the offensive when too long they had only tried to defend themselves and what was theirs.
Calthanir turned back to face the silent crew of Anhrathe, all of them focused on the Prince. Behind him, Beroi provided a sapphire glow to outline the figure of the Corsair Prince. The silence was pregnant with unspoken words. But it was Calthanir's place to give words to these moments. He spoke slowly, words flowing around his men and women, eloquently for the moment and tinged with the psychic might so prevalent among the Aeldari.
”Today, we stop the mon keigh from spreading their tendrils in to this sector. But make no mistake, more are coming. And here we will make our stand. We have lost too much too soon. Too many of our kin have been lost, too many of our Maidens turned to Crones by the Great Devourer. Only to see the mon keigh descend like the scavengers they are! No more, I say. Today, we send a message to the mon keigh that we are Aeldari! And this part of the galaxy is ours!”
There was no cheering among them. The Brotherhood knew enough of what had not been said between the words spoken. There would be no stopping the mon keigh. Them and their hated Imperium was too strong for the Aeldari to win this war or any to follow. Fatalism had curled it's heart about the majority of them, choking out hope. No longer did they concern themselves with the after, instead wishing only to kill as many of the humans before dying themselves. And thus no one challenged the proclamation of their Prince, grim faces all turned towards Calthanir.
All the same, Prince Calthanir knew what his people felt, feeling the wash of their despair breaking upon the tide of his resolve. It broke his heart to see the once proud people he had led for so long reduced to such a state, but could not fault them for it. What they did not know though of what their Prince planned. They saw this as a glorious last stand of the Brotherhood, a final fight that had endured for thousands of years.
Calthanir had other plans.
The Emperor's Word had been sent. More than a dozen Primarchs had been recalled to gather at Dolgota, a world just taken by the 5th and 8th Legions, torn from the grasp of the hated ork. It was the largest gathering of Primarchs ever to occur since the onset of the Great Crusade, and not a few of those Legions would be wary of what their Father intended.
Some Legions would not be able to heed the call of the their Emperor, busy as they were in campaigns that required their attention.
Others had been waiting for such a call.
Icarion opened his eyes. The Chamber of Meditation, buried deep in the heart of the Thunderchild thrummed with psychic focusing crystals as Icarion stretched forth his mind's eye to peer through space and time. Unfortunately, as was increasingly becoming the case, he saw nothing but fire and blood. It was an auspicious omen that did nothing to reveal anything he needed to know. While he had been able to perceive that his Father would be calling upon the 1st Legion to go to war soon, he did not realize that it would be for over a dozen of his Brothers as well.
He had been incredulous of the information as it had been relayed to him by the Astropath, but he was in no position to doubt it either. It made sense though for the Legions to gather at Dolgota. A world recently taken by the 5th and 8th Legions, the ork filth had been wiped from it's surface and a Triumph had been held to celebrate the battles hard fought. Icarion thought it had been prideful vanity to hold such a celebration. He had not held a single celebration for any of the many campaigns and battles his Legion he had held, not even after the Xenocides and Incursions. He merely had to look at the roll of honors as testament to his and the 1st's victories. But he knew many among his Primarchs did not hold such views as he did.
He came out of the lotus position, feet touching cold steel floor for the first time in several hours. As soon as his feet touched the floor, the soft glow of lights illuminated the room. A hiss of depressurization as the door opened and Raiden Athrawes stepped in. He bowed from the waist. Unlike his Primarch, the Marshal and Equerry was bedecked in his armor, ready to stride forth in war and glory. With an almost imperceptible nod from Icarion, Raiden straightened and spoke to his Primarch."We're about to translate in to the Dolgota system, my Lord. What are your orders?"
"I shall land on the surface with you by my side. No others."
"Do you feel that wise, my Lord?" Unlike in other Legions, Icarion promoted an open mind and encouraged his officers to speak their minds to their superior officers. In other Legions, it would be viewed as sacrilege to question the word of a Primarch. In the 1st, it was par for the course.
"We are the 1st, Raiden. No need to remind my Brothers and Sisters of that." He said with a smile, patting the Marshal on the pauldron of his armor as he stepped forward."Besides, our Father is there." With the Emperor of Mankind on the surface of Dolgota, nothing in the galaxy would dare threaten such a meeting.
The Thunderchild translated into the Dolguta System to find the Sun Angels and Sons of Calmora fleet already assembled in a protective ring around the primary planet of the system. Icarion was relieved to have found them in such a manner, especially with the system on the edge of newly conquered Imperial space. Although he would not say such to them or anyone else. He was also relieved to have found that, from the powerful auspex array, that the Lightning Bearers were the first to arrive in the system, excluding that of the 5th and 8th.
The Gloriana Class Battleship was followed only by a small escort. Most of the Legion Fleet had been left in the nearby Kaloss System, still licking their wounds after having destroyed the Abominable Intelligence. When and if, Icarion would recall them for this campaign.
Icarion and Raiden boarded an Ash Phoenix Gunship which bore them to the surface of Dolgota. As they neared the ruins in what had been deemed the Palace of Princes, Icarion was alerted that other Legion fleets were translating in to the system, on the heels of the 1st Legion.
As they came out of atmosphere, Icarion and Raiden viewed the world coming up to meet them. A world of green fields and green seas, it was no wonder the Orks had fought so tenaciously to hold on to the planet. Here and there, to break the verdant monotony, was what appeared to be the ruins of great cities dotting the surface. From what had been told to Icarion, the Princes of Dolgota had ruled their world fairly and justly, the people well fed and happy. This had all changed with the arrival of the Orks. Now, only the ruins of their great works remained, as evidenced by the massive Spires that dominated each city.
One such city didn't have just one spire like the rest. No, this one contained a dozen, with another half dozen having fallen to ruin. Spread out around the massive ruins of the city was a virtually new city of camps stretching to the horizon, temporary home for millions of men and women that had brought this world into the Imperium. Even from their high altitude, the bright lights of celebration and fireworks illuminated the night. Despite disapproving of the minor Triumph, the sight brought a smile to Icarion's lips.
The Palace of Princes was the tallest Spire on the planet, reaching near a kilometer in height and reminding Icarion of the Kartyg spire cities, although this spire was far more robust and made of steel, stone, and glass. Near the top of the spire, landing pads large enough for several gunships had been built by orks and then reinforced and improved upon by Imperial forces. Icarion was disheartened to see no sign of the Emperor or his gunship. Instead, the only ships seemed to be exclusively that of the Sons of Calmora and Sun Angels.
As the Ash Phoenix touched down, Icarion strode forth from the gunship, the ramp touching metal almost as soon as Icarion's feet did. He was armored in his panoply of war, sans the Thunderchild in his hands. Likewise, Raiden was bedecked in his finery except he was armed, unlike his Primarch. While it might have appeared that Icarion was without weapons, they would have forgotten the mind that made Icarion a far more deadly opponent than any weapon could do. To meet his arrival stood Elyrian Manuxus and Vasilisa Sanguina, the former towering over the latter. Luckily, it seemed that the powers that had made Vasilisa infamous in the 1st were not active, otherwise Icarion and Raiden would have been hurriedly returning to the Ash Phoenix as fast as their legs could carry them. Meanwhile, Elyrian glowered in all of his towering majesty. Icarion's younger brother was well renowned for his ferocity but, like the proud Giant Calmoran Elk, it was difficult to rouse him to such wrath.
While Raiden remained several feet behind Icarion, the 1st Primarch strode forth and embraced his siblings, clapping Elyrian on his massive bicep and gripping forearms in a warrior's greeting with Vasilia. Upon his face was a grim smile for, while he was gladdened to have see his siblings, it was only through the business of war and their Father's summoning did they once more meet. When the greetings were done, Icarion stepped back,"Elyrian. Vasilia. It has been too long. Where is our Father?" He did not feel the need to mince words with his brother and sister, and no doubt they would approve of the bluntness Icarion so rarely exhibted.
"He has not yet arrived." Elyrian rumbled, obviously perturbed by having to be the bearer of such ill news.
Icarion frowned, tapping his chin before exhaling through his nose."No matter. Knowing our Father, he will arrive at precisely the right time to do so." He waved forward towards the darkened recess of the Spire."By all means, lead on. No doubt, our Brothers will be arriving just soon."
While Elyrian was chosen to greet each new Primarch, Vasilia acted as escort to Icarion and Raiden as they delved into the Spire. Here and there were signs of combat, a missing chunk of masonry there, a hole in the wall there. Upward, they tread in a slow spiral around the edge of the Spire until they entered a massive chamber. The chamber was surrounded in the ruins of great statues of the fallen Princes, stern in their armor and weapons. At the base of each statue sat simple black granite thrones, dozens of them forming a ring around the center of the Chamber. The ceiling, what was left of it, had been intricate glass work bereft of any scroll work or image. Instead, only the light of the stars and the false stars of warships served to illuminate the chamber. To make up for the lack of light, glowglobes had been placed strategically around the Chamber. Despite that, the room was a darkened affair, intimate and foreboding all at once.
Icarion took his seat near the central dais where no doubt the Emperor would take his place. While he sat there, musing on what was to be, several Imperial Army officers came in. As was their place, they took seats on the outer, higher ring of thrones, chatting among themselves. Vasilia took a seat opposite Icarion. Raiden, for his part, took a position near the entrance.
The first to arrive was Oberon, looking surly and unhappy for having touched ground in probably years. Followed quickly on his heels was Igneous, reminding Icarion of a thunderhead in the distance, calm and serene in the distance only. Next came Miztli Huitzilihuitl, a mysterious Primarch who, like Icarion, led from the front. Cyprig Lusssard was next, a wide smile on his face. Luckily, he wasn't butchering someone while he was doing it but the evening was young. Remigius followed Cyprig, as was usually the case after Cyprig got done with a planet. Remigius appeared solemn for the occasion. Next came Nikolai Szaraczkiewicz, jaw set in stern contemplation of all that around him. Titus Ironborn was next, face hidden behind his helmet, forever stained by his censuring. Mercaekha Taristus was right on his heels, Icarion sensing secrets flourishing about the Third Primarch, Next to last was Samael, more mysterious than Miztli and rarely seen. And the last, fashionably late and escorted by Elyrian, was Napoli. Which was fitting, the largest escorting the smallest.
When they had all gathered and took their seats, each Primarch fell into chatting with the other, each one debating on what the meeting would entail while the Imperial Army and Armada officers did the same. Some Primarchs and officers sat in silent contemplation while others seemed to have a flood of words they needed to get out. Icarion remained silent, eyes glancing from each one of his siblings to the next. Of the Primarchs not called, no representative of their Legions had arrived. From that, Icarion could only surmise that the reason for this meeting was to discuss the current state of the Great Crusade and new fronts to be opened up.
Suddenly the lights in the Chamber seemed to brighten. Icarion turned to face the entrance. Soon, the marching of feet could be heard. In strode forth two of the mighty Adeptus Custodes, each one taking a flanking position beside the entrance. Raiden was forced to abdicate his place and took a seat near the door. However, instead of being greeted with the sight of their Father, in strode Malcador the Sigilite, moving slowly, face hooded beneath his cloak, the tap of his staff the only sound echoing from the walls as Malcador took his place at the center of the Chamber.
After a brief moment, Malcador looked up and threw his hood back, his piercing eyes finding each man and woman in the Great Chamber before speaking."Our Emperor sends his regrets that he could not come, but urgent matters aboard the Bucephelus keep him from attending. My Lord Primarchs, I come forward with grave news. The 78th and 901st Expeditionary Fleets, near here in the Kythonar Gulf, have been completely destroyed. No survivors." Malcador held up a hand to forestall the cries of outrage and denial." We believe this to be the work of Xenos, more specifically that of the Eldar. This is no doubt in an attempt to keep us from the Ishariel Sector. Instead of accomplishing that goal, however, the Emperor has ordained the Sector be cleansed of all life in retaliation for the loss of two fleets and for the repeated transgressions of the Eldar."