Chapter 1: The Exodus
Out in the coldest reaches of space, a lone ship drifted silently through the void. The lights dimmed, all form of iconography scrubbed clean, and running on as little power as possible, the crew spent every waking hour praying that none would find them. They all knew what awaited them if that happened. Aboard this vessel, amongst the tens of thousands of crewmembers manning their posts, one stood out from the rest. His clothes of finer qualities, his bearing that of a man used to command, and the shows of subservience offered by all he passed. He was their commander, their shepherd, their savior. Striding down the corridors of his mighty warship, his appearance was that of an aging Human man, hair slowly turning grey as the first wrinkles began marring an otherwise handsome face. The crew as well certainly looked Human enough as well, hailing from every culture known to man. But as the man passed through the holding cells, something lunged at him from within one of the cells, arms futilely reaching for him from behind the bars. As the creature within slammed itself against the bars keeping it penned in, the light revealed it to be another Human, weak and malnourished but filled with an unquenchable rage.
"Damn you, monster! You think you will get away with this?! You think we won't hunt you to extinction for this?! I swear to you, once we are done with the Men of Iron, your kind will be next!" the captive raged against his captor, who had remained unmoved by the display of anger. And only now did the man reveal his true form as he glared at his captive. Eyes once the color of the sky now turned to twin pools of darkness and blood, a savage hunger lurking within those malicious pools that cowed the captive long before the four tendrils of inky flesh wormed themselves out from beneath the man's robes.
"Silence," the words were hardly more than a whisper, but they were enough to send the captive scurrying back into the shadows of his cell again. All around him, the man could hear the terrified whimpers echoing out from within the hundreds of cells. But the man gave no sign that he cared about their existence as he continued on his way, the occupants of every cell he passed scurrying as far away from him as their meager accommodation allowed. Only when he had exited the holding pens, and the door slammed shut behind him by two guards, did the man let his façade of nonchalance drop. The tendrils withdrew back under his robes while his eyes turned back to their usual blue color. A resigned sigh escaped from his throat as he continued on his way.
"Millennia of work to establish peace between Human and Ghoul, all undone," he lamented to himself. Two species, so different from one another, and yet somehow hailing from the same world. If that was not proof enough that God had a sick sense of humor, he did not know what else could be. Ever at odds with one another, ever hunting the other but never able to end the vicious cycle. Even when they both took to the stars, the animosity remained, an invisible barrier that halted all progress for peaceful coexistence. Only with the discovery of xeno species did the option for reconciliation become a possibility. As more and more species banded together with mankind, the quarrel between Humans and Ghouls turned quite trivial when compared to the greater scope of the galaxy. Everything had been going so well for a change, and then the unthinkable happened. The one force no one expected any trouble from turned on their masters, and now the galaxy was being torn apart.
"So much work, so much progress, all lost forever," he muttered quietly to himself as he stepped aboard the bridge, currently abuzz with activity. But as soon as he stepped inside, they all stopped to salute their leader.
"Lord Fueguchi!" one of the greeted with great reverence.
"At ease," Fueguchi simply answered as he waved a dismissive hand at the crew, who quickly resumed work. "Any word from the rest of our fleet?"
"We're expecting group 3 back any second now," just as he said this, alarms began blaring while a Warp Rift opened up. Out of it, three ships emerged, bearing the scars of battle.
"I thought group 3 was supposed to contain 10 ships," Fueguchi observed calmly, even though worry began to gnaw at his soul.
"You're correct about that," the helmsman answered, right as an incoming transmission arrived from one of the newly arrived ships.
"Group 3 reporting in, sir," a voice crackled over the comm system.
"You were supposed to have 10 ships at your command, where are the rest?" Fueguchi's demand was at first met with silence, and when the answer arrived, it came with a solemn tone.
"They… they didn't make it. The Iron Men came while we were still evacuating, took us completely by surprise," a somber atmosphere gripped the bridge, and Fueguchi bowed his head in mourning.
"Everything keeps going wrong," he murmured to himself as more and more ships slowly trickled in, their numbers nothing but pale shadows compared to what had set out to begin with.
"So few," someone observed sadly, and Fueguchi could not help but agree. The Men of Iron, those designed by man to serve and protect, were now ravaging every system they could reach, slaughtering all in their path. The Ghoul population, already in a minority beforehand, was rapidly vanishing from the galaxy. With Human aggression bubbling to the forefront again, and with the multitude of Xenos hovering above the carnage like vultures, Fueguchi knew that the Ghouls were done for if action was not taken. What he was doing now would be his last gamble, an all or nothing to try and save his people. He would gather every Ghoul he could find from every corner of the galaxy, and like Moses and the Hebrews he would lead his people on an exodus, to find a safe haven. Let the Iron Men and Xenos fight over the scraps of humanity's empire, Fueguchi would not allow his people to fade into oblivion. Not without a fight, at least.
"My lord, another ship inbound," the helmsman reported as another Warp Rift appeared. What came out of this one however was a badly mauled husk of a ship, spewing fuel and oxygen from the innumerable holes punched through its armor plating.
"What the hell happened to them?!" Fueguchi burst out in outrage as the whole bridge erupted in chaos, technicians running back and forth in a blind panic.
"Incoming transmission!" the call went up seconds before another voice spoke over the comm, urgent and terrified.
"We've been compromised! The Men of Iron knows where we are! They're heading this way as we speak!" and those words turned Fueguchi's face white as sheet. He knew well enough that their meager forces were no march for the Men of Iron in open conflict. Quick action was needed now, if they would have a chance of surviving.
"Send the call out, we're leaving right now!" he swiftly ordered.
"But all our fleets haven't returned yet! If we leave now, they'll be stranded with no way to contact us!" someone fearfully pointed out. He did not elaborate on their fates further than that, because they all knew what it would be.
"And if we stay here, the Men of Iron will obliterate us and then pick apart the rest of us at their leisure!" Fueguchi roared back in anger. He hated himself for what he was ordering them to do, but it had to be done. Better that most of them die than all of them.
"We're receiving confirmation, my lord, the rest of the fleet is moving to follow us,"
"No suitable course has been found yet, as we don't know what awaits us out there,"
"We've got incoming hostiles!" and that last warning heralded the arrival of the Iron Men. Hundreds of their fearsome serpentine-like spaceships slithering through space straight towards the ghoul fleet.
"Dammit, get us into Warp travel now!" Fueguchi shouted to be heard over the blaring klaxons.
"But what's our destination?!"
"ANYWHERE BUT HERE!" by now, even Fueguchi's visage of confidence was cracking under the strain, but he cared not at this point. All that mattered now was getting away with as many lives as possible.
"But we're not ready yet! We're still calibrating for the jump! And the Iron Men will be upon us before that happens!" more and more bad news. At this rate, none of them would make it out alive.
"Fueguchi, you get our people out of here, me and my boys will hold the bastards off," someone called over the comm, his identity lost in the chaos.
"You know that's a suicide mission. Even if you win, there would be no way for you to rejoin us," Fueguchi warned. Standard protocol by now, ships designated for delaying tactics were not given the rendezvous coordinates to prevent enemy pursuit in case of the worst. In the past, they had a secondary rendezvous point from which they could be safely picked up at a later date, but there would be no such thing this time.
"What can I say? I always did like to play the big damn hero," came the humorous reply before a group of ships detached from the fleet and rushed straight towards the oncoming hostiles. Fueguchi said nothing, merely lowering his head in a brief moment of mourning before turning his attention back to the crew.
"What are you lot waiting for? They're giving up their lives to save ours, and I don't intend to make their sacrifice be in vain!" he barked at them as the fleet continued on. Battle was soon joined, and the Iron Men absolutely chewed through their rearguard.
"Come on, come on, come on," Fueguchi repeated over and over, waiting for the signal.
"We're ready, sir!" and there was what he had been waiting for.
"Then make the jump already!" Barely had the words left his mouth before the view before them exploded into a fiery combination of colors and the fleet rushed headlong into this churning maelstrom of otherworldliness. Then the view vanished as metal panels slammed down around the bridge's windows, a protection against the madness that awaited on the other side. Though blind to what happened outside, Fueguchi still felt when they fully entered the Warp, an uncomfortable feeling that made his insides flip over before the protection of the Gellar Fields lessened it. Only now, away from realspace, did Fueguchi allow himself to relax as he collapsed into a chair, weeks of exhaustion catching up to him.
"Estimated time until arrival?" he inquired.
"Five months, give or take a couple weeks," the navigator reported, receiving a sight nod from Fueguchi.
"Then there's only one thing left to do," as he said this, he rose from his seat and activated a ship-wide comm.
"Brothers and sisters, we have finally escaped the clutches of death. We are now on the road towards a new and brighter future for our kind. But it was not without cost or sacrifice, so I call for a minute of silence for all those brave men and women that gave their lives for us," a somber mood spread across the entire ship, all Ghouls present mourning their lost comrades. Fueguchi for his part only gave himself a few moments to offer the same courtesy, then it was back to work. They had escaped for now, but danger still lied ahead.
"So, how bad is it?"
"Not as bad as you might fear, my lord. While many of our cargo ships never made it to the rendezvous point, we still carry enough provisions and equipment to kickstart a new colony. It will be a bit less comfy, and definitively a hell of all lot more crowded, but we can still make due," Those had to be the best news shared so far, gathered after days of extensive inspection of their holdings and that of their fellow ships in the fleet.
"That's good to hear, but what about the Humans?" Fueguchi's question brought with it an uncomfortable silence as the messenger worked on how to best formulate it.
"They've become… agitated. We've had to kill several of them to restore order, but that only works as a temporary solution," he finally admitted. Yet another problem on Fueguchi's desk.
"Do whatever you can to suppress them, but do not go overboard with executions. We can ill afford to thin their numbers too much," Fueguchi cautioned. Oh, how he wished he could have just left those Humans behind, would have saved countless resources for other tasks. Alas, with Ghoul physiology being the way it is, those humans were a necessity for their continued survival.
"We'll do our best, but-" an ear-splitting scream interrupted whatever else the messenger meant to say, and they both turned their startled eyes to the Navigator, currently writhing on the floor in agony as he screeched like a wounded animal.
"What the hell's going on?!" Fueguchi called out as he rushed to the navigator's side, trying to hold the man still as he flailed about, screams giving way to incoherent babbling.
"Word just got in, our Astropaths just went completely bonkers as well!" someone called out, right before the whole ship shook, throwing everyone off their feet.
"Did we hit something?" Fueguchi called out in bewilderment, just as another violent bang echoed through the ship and rocked it like a fishing boat caught in a storm. And was it Fueguchi's imagination, or was there someone laughing in the background?
"I don't know, we're not detecting anything of note!" as those words were uttered, the unmistakable noise of metal groaning under heavy pressure echoed through the ship. Now there was no question about it, someone was laughing, except it sounded like no laugh a normal Human or Ghoul could ever produce.
"Get us out of the Warp, now!" Fueguchi frantically called as the ship began jerking back and forth, like a titanic beast was trying to tear it in two.
"But we haven't reached our coordinates yet! We'll have no idea where in the galaxy we'll end up!" a loud bang nearly deafened the whole bridge, right before panicked calls from engineering reported that… something had ripped its way inside the ship.
"Better than staying here with whatever the hell's attacking us!" Fueguchi call seemed to win over as the crew hurriedly began relaying orders back and forth in preparation.
"Emergency exit in 3… 2… 1…" and then, it was over. They were back in realspace. Battered, bruised and limping, but alive. Finally, after what felt like hours to most, Fueguchi spoke up again.
"So, how bad is it?"
Three ships, that was all that remained. Out of a fleet numbering in the thousands, only three ships had made it all the way through, the rest destroyed in human space or lost in the Warp. There had been billions of Ghouls taking part in this Exodus, now they would be lucky if they could scrape together ten thousand from the battered ships.
"Status report," a tired Fueguchi requested from the gathering of Ghoul commanders, or at least the highest ranking Ghouls still alive.
"To be honest, we're in deep shit. We lost every psyker in the Warp to that… whatever it was. And our engines got pretty badly mauled when we made that emergency exit, meaning we wouldn't be able to leave this system even if we had the psykers to guide our way," one of the captains reported grimly.
"We're also running risks of food shortage soon. We lost all our dedicated cargo ships on the way, the amount of Humans we carry onboard can only feasibly last for a year, maybe two if we impose some harsh rations," another added.
"Furthermore, one of our ships is too badly damaged to continue to operate. We're gonna have to abandon it as soon as possible," and the bad news just kept on piling up.
"You can add the last two ships to that list as well. We don't have the tools or the resources to repair and maintain them as dedicated battleships. We're better off landing them somewhere and use them as habitats," really, was there no end to them?
"Might I suggest keeping quiet about just how bad the situation is? The crew is growing increasingly agitated due to recent setbacks. Any further and it might escalate into mutiny," no, they really did not.
"Please tell me there is some good news at least?" Fueguchi almost pleaded with them.
"Well, we did find a habitable world for us. Initial scout runs suggest it has a similar climate to Old Earth," another reported.
"Well, at least that's something," Fueguchi grudgingly admitted as he pondered their situation. This whole Exodus had gone to hell in a handbasket, with the only consolation being that they somehow survived. But for how long would that last? How much longer until they starved to death? Or were tracked down and exterminated once and for all? 'NO! I can't allow myself to think like that! My people is looking to me for leadership, and I can't allow myself to be distracted by doubts! We will survive this, no matter the cost!'
"It seems we have little time to waste then," he spoke up again, gaining everyone's attention. "First order of business is establishing a colony on our new home. We'll crash the unsalvageable ship to the surface and use its part to lay the foundation. The other two ships will be kept in space for as long as possible in case of a potential attack. Furthermore, due to the obvious shortage of food for us, we'll need to include population restrictions, as well as forcing the Humans into a rapid breeding program. To that end, I suggest the following…" and as Fueguchi continued to lay out the groundwork of his plan, he fervently hoped it would be enough to save his people. Some of what he planned could easily be described as cruel, maybe even damning, but he cared not. As long as he could save his people, no price was too high.
"By the way, what should we call our new home?" someone suddenly interrupted, and everyone turned to Fueguchi in anticipation. Caught off guard by the question, he nevertheless quickly recovered and made a decision based more on a whim than actual planning.
"Gūru. We'll call it Gūru,"
And so began the first steps to rebuild their decimated people, a work they took to with gusto. Within years, a bustling capital had been forged out of the remnants of their scuttled ship, with villages slowly sprouting up in the surrounding countryside. Within decades, explorers had mapped out most of the world, with new towns and villages springing to life worldwide. Under Fueguchi's guidance, the Ghouls thrived, but the Humans suffered. For while great cities arose for the Ghouls to live in, the Humans were treated as no better than cattle, contained in what was essentially a bastardized hybrid of prisons and farms, with only the privileged few granted the right to live among the Ghouls as lowly servants.
But none of that mattered to the Ghouls, who hailed Fueguchi as their savior, granting him the title of Shepherd. Yes, with Fueguchi at the helm, the future looked bright for the Ghouls. But all good things must come to an end, as not even one as mighty as Fueguchi could escape the cold clutches of death. Fifty years to the day of their arrival, Fueguchi passed away, and a whole race mourned his passing. To many, he died the greatest Ghoul that ever was or ever would be, and saw his passing as the end of an era.
Oh, how right they were.
With the great visionary dead, many looked to his son for guidance, but it proved to be a task too great for the young man. Kind and gentle, with a mind for culture and poetry, he lacked the charisma, strength, and above all vision that his father had used to unite a broken people. Constantly under pressure to live up to an idolized image no mortal being could ever hope to match, he grew cautious and doubtful, constantly second-guessing himself, no matter how trivial a decision it may be. In the court of lord Fueguchi, the disappointment was almost palpable. But with that disappointment, came ambition.
Soon, many began looking to better candidates to lead them into the future, and those candidates in turn began a ruthless game of politics and propaganda to boost their own popularity and discredit their rivals. As lines were slowly being drawn in the sand, Fueguchi desperately tried to maintain control over the situation, but few listened to the inept ruler. As talks turned to insults, insults turned to threats, threats turned to plotting, and plotting turned to fights, it was clear to ever sentient being on Gūru that lord Fueguchi had lost control of the situation. Now it was only a matter of time until something went horribly, horribly wrong.
That something came on the day of lord Fueguchi's birthday, when his headless corpse was found in his chamber.
Barely had his corpse grown cold before a dozen pretenders rushed in to claim the title of Ruler of Gūru. It turned into a heated debate as they argued back and forth about who should be the new ruler, threats and promises handed out like candy by all parties to lure more supporters to their side. That was when the late lord Fueguchi's daughter burst into the hall, accompanied by over fifty Ghouls and with nothing but vengeance on her mind. He debate turned into a massacre, as the new lord Fueguchi killed every man and woman she could get her hands on, uncaring of their guilt or innocence. What few survivors that managed to escape her wrath quickly fled the city, scattering in every direction. Alas, that one massacre proved to be the final nail in the coffin. Within a fortnight, the empire that the Shepherd built had fractured into hundreds of warring states and fiefdoms, each vying for power with their neighbors. Society degraded into a feudal society, and much of the technology and knowledge scavenged from their broken ships were lost in the chaos.
Though the line of Fueguchi survived, it was now nothing more than another house of Ghoul nobility clinging to whatever scraps of power it could maintain, constantly under threat from rivals all around them. So they remained, as years turned to decades, and as decades turned to centuries. And as the remnants of the Ghouls busied themselves with slaughtering each other on their backwater planet, the galaxy moved on without them, the memory of their very existence slowly fading into legend.
But this was not to be the end.
Millennia later, long after Ghouls had passed into legend among the human race, an event that would shape the future of the galaxy was unfolding. Deep beneath the surface of Luna, guarded by the best security known to man, lied a laboratory so secretive that only the highest of echelons even knew of its existence. And in this laboratory, twenty chambers lied in silence, tended to by scientists and servitors with the utmost care. This was the Primarch Project, the work of the Emperor of Man himself in his bid to create legions of genetically enhanced super soldiers to conquer the stars and reunite the scattered remnants of the Human race. But there were forces working against the Emperor's goal, malicious fiends of unimaginable power that desired nothing but Chaos and destruction. These forces now made their move, bypassing the defenses laid out by the Emperor and tearing open a rift in reality itself. As the laboratory was consumed in madness and destruction, the twenty chambers were torn free and swallowed up by the Warp.
Be it by the machinations of Gods or by pure dumb luck, these twenty chambers were not wiped from existence once in the grip of Chaos, but instead scattered across the galaxy. One by one, they would burst back into reality, each landing upon a world that would come to be their occupant's new home, be it a thriving planet or an irradiated wasteland. But one of these chambers was special. You see, in another time and age, this chamber would not have travelled far from his creator. It would have landed on an unremarkable world ruled by Humans, and the Primarch within would then come to carve out his own fiefdom. He would have been the third one reunited with the Emperor, proudly serving his father until circumstances deleted from archives would see him and his legion vanish, never to be heard or seen of again.
But now, with fate being woven in a new shape, that future was lost. Just as the chamber was about to burst out of the Warp, an ancient power seized it and cast it further into the Warp. Every time it seemed close to enter into the galaxy again, that same power would drag it back in and guide it deeper into uncharted space. When it was finally allowed to leave the Warp, its journey had brought it many millions of lightyears from its original destination. And as it descended from the heavens towards the planet below it, there was the laughter of thirsting gods.
"Hurry, they're gaining on us!" a young voice shouted frantically, its owner fleeing with all haste through the dark forest. Around him, other shapes moved with great haste, fearful glances thrown over their shoulders. At that moment, the full moon peaked out from behind the dark clouds above, bathing the land below in its ethereal glow. It was enough the faintly reveal those fleeing in terror below. Humans, roughly a dozen of them, clothed in wool and leather, and dirty from weeks on the run.
"Keep moving! Don't stop for anything!" the one at the head urged on. For a moment, he slowed down to check their rear. What he saw filled his soul with dread. Dark shapes, barely visible in the undergrowth, slowly closing in on their group. Then, for the briefest moments, he glimpsed a single thing about their pursuers. Eyes, red as blood, and filled with a ravenous hunger. Without hesitation, he picked up the pace, almost outstripping his fellow Humans. But no matter how hard they ran, no matter how far they fled, their pursuers never lost track, never tired of the chase. Suddenly, one of the Humans tripped on something, falling over with a terrified yelp. But no one stopped to help her.
"NO, COME BACK! DON'T LEAVE ME!" she screamed in terror, hands outstretched after her fleeing compatriots. Then their pursuers were upon her and with a final wail of anguish, she was torn apart in an explosion of blood and gore. Once the grizzly work was done for, one of the pursuers threw his head back and laughed to the skies.
"Oh, I never grow tired of these hunts!" he loudly proclaimed, black and red eyes sparkling with murderous joy.
"Save it, Ruyju," another grumbled in annoyance, eyes warily scanning the surrounding forests.
"Aw, don't be such a killjoy, Nazim. We don't get to have this kind of fun as often these days," the one identified as Ruyju said, his gaunt face split in half by a deranged grin as his lanky form stooped over. Nazim for his part gave him an unimpressed looked, meaty arms crossed over a broad chest as he glared down at his partner.
"And for good reason. You know these part of the woods are dangerous these days," he cautioned, and was met with a mocking laughter.
"You think a bunch of runaway Human slaves can pose a threat to us?" Ruyju sneered.
"I wasn't talking about Humans," Nazim stated, and that shut his partner up.
"Tensions have been mounting with the neighbouring Ghouls," he reluctantly admitted, right before his sickening grin returned in full force. "But that just makes things more fun," Nazim was about to reprimand him further when a great thunderous noise boomed across the land. Two startled pair of eyes travelled upwards, just in time to watch a burning meteor descend from the skies, lightening up the darkness like a beacon for the few seconds it remained airborne. Then it slammed into the ground with a great explosion that shook the very earth.
"What in the world..?" Nazim mumbled in astonishment, eyes glued to the direction that the meteor had plummeted to. Then he was off in with a speed no Human could ever hope to match.
"Hey! We are you going?!" Ryuju called after him, desperately working to keep pace with his partner.
"Where do you think?" Nazim called back as he continued onwards.
"But what about the Humans?" Ryuju questioned.
"They can wait, this can't!" Nazim answered as he ploughed through the undergrowth without even slowing down. A bunch of renegade Humans could easily be tracked down later, assuming a rival Ghoul kingdom did not simply do the job for them. This however? Whatever it was, Nazim would bet his life that it would not remain undisturbed for long. Finally, they arrived at the clearing the meteor had landed in. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that they arrived at the clearing created by the meteor's landing.
"Damn, that was one hell of a landing," Ryuju commented, eyeing the completely scorched ground around it with something skin to admiration.
"Focus, dammit," Nazim reprimanded as he strode onto the ash strewn field, heading straight towards the object resting at the very center of the devastation.
"No appreciation for the artistic things in life," Ryuju grumbled quietly to himself as he followed after. And as they drew closer, they began to take note of certain peculiarities regarding this meteor. First and foremost the fact that it was not a meteor in the conventional sense.
"Is that thing made out of metal?" Ryuju asked in surprise. Nazim responded to his question by lightly banging on the object, receiving the telltale clang of metal.
"Sure as hell looks like it," he admitted as he circled the object, scrutinizing every inch of it. "And this part looks quite a bit like glass of some kind,"
"Now that you mention it, yeah," Ryuju's admission was followed by him leaning closer to peer inside. "Hey, is it just me, or is something moving inside there?"
"What?" Ryuju quickly found himself shoved aside as Nazim gazed inside as well. "By the Shepherd, you're right! Something's inside!" the second Nazim realized this, his koukaku burst forth from his back, a sickly green mass of scales and muscles that flowed over his right arm until it formed an arm twice as thick and topped with a gigantic fist with four clawed fingers. Without hesitation, he slammed his fingers straight through the glass before ripping the front half of the object off.
"Wow, subtle," Ryuju deadpanned, but he quickly grew silent as they beheld what was within.
"Is that a fucking Human baby?" Ryuju finally burst out in disbelief, not that Nazim could blame him as he too had a hard time believing.
"You know what? I think you might be right," Nazim eventually managed to say as he stared at the peacefully sleeping infant curled up in what had to be a pod of some sort. Even as the infant was roused by the noise around it, Nazim still had a hard time grasping what was before his eyes.
"For fuck's sake, I thought those stories momma told me as a kid about where babies come from was just a pile of shit," Ryuju added as he stared up at the sky in perplexed curiosity. Nazim for his part saw no reason to respond as he continued to observe the infant, curiosity and suspicion starting to grow within him. He could not place it, but something was off about the child. The way it looked, the way it moved, and the way it smelled. He could not place it, he could not even wholly convince himself it was real, but his guts were telling him that there was more to this child than meets the eye. Not to mention the look in its eyes as it looked back up at him. There was far too much of an intelligence behind those eyes than any infant, regardless of race, had any right to be in possession of.
"Anyway, you wanna eat it or can I have it?" Ryuju's question brought Nazim back to the present as he turned to his partner.
"What?"
"The baby, you gonna eat it or what? And please make up your damn mind quickly, 'cause I'm starving," Ryuju had barely even finished his sentence before striding towards the child, a grey bikaku in the shape of a scorpion's tail slithering out from underneath his jacket. But Nazim quickly blocked his path, a disapproving frown on his face.
"No, we're not eating this one, we're taking it back to lord Fueguchi," he stated, to his partner's visible disappointment.
"Awww, why do that? Can't we just eat it and be done with it?" he whined like a petulant child.
"Something's different about this one," Nazim simply answered as he gently scooped the infant up in his left arm, his right still encased in his koukaku. Still the infant gave no greater reaction than gazing up at his face in curiosity.
"Special? It's just a Human baby, we have hundreds of those back at the farms. What's so special about this one?" Ryuju argued, receiving an unimpressed look from Nazim.
"They don't usually fall from the sky, for starters," he answered, before marching away with the child securely clutched in his arm.
"Point taken," Ryuju admitted as he fell in step with Nazim, casting a few curious glances at the child. "So what will you call it?" the question caught Nazim off guard as he just stared blankly at Ryuju.
"You found it, after all, so shouldn't you get to name it as well? Besides, if we're keeping it around for our lord, I'd be easier if we could actually call it something," he pointed out to his partner, who slowly nodded his head in agreement.
"So, what will it be?" Ryuju pushed on, his eyes travelling from Nazim to the infant and then back to Nazim again. There was silence at first as Nazim pondered the question. Giving names had never been his forte, at least not creative ones. He dug deep into his memories for a suitable name before coming across one, a half-remembered name from an old book he read years ago.
"I think Gherib will suffice,"
So, this story has a bit of an interesting history behind. As a 40k fan, I'm always on the lookout for interesting fanfics about it, and so I one day stumbled upon The Lost Primarchs by dorawarrior (which I highly recommend you check it, that story is simply fantastic). The story is about the two lost Primarchs, and dorawarrior created a very interesting and complex image about what these two lost sons could have been like. Needless to say, I was quickly inspired to make my own spin on this idea, but I could never seem to create an interesting enough story around the concept, so it basically lingered in development hell while I worked on my already established story.
But then a fellow named Mace Shepard came along, asking if I could write a Warhammer 40k/Tokyo Ghoul crossover, with his original idea setting the events in modern 40k times. At first, I was dismissive of this idea, burdened by three other stories already and not really seeing the appeal, but then I remembered my half-forgotten ideas about a Primarch story. And as if struck by lightning, inspiration came to me. Within weeks, I had the baseline for a while story planned out, and the first few chapters mapped out in my head.
And so here we are, with yet another story added my my already crammed schedule, despite the fact that I can barely maintain a consistent update schedule with the stories I'm already working on. I know, I'm a glutton for punishment.
Anyway, before finishing this story up, I just want to point out a small thing about the first half of the story; I have no idea whether they used Navigators and Astropaths during the Dark Age of Technology, or if they were even called that. If I got it wrong, feel free to point it out in your reviews.