(Disclaimer: I don't claim to own RWBY or Warhammer, those strictly fall under the purview of Roosterteeth and Games Workshop. This is just a passion project.)
- Remnants of Remnant -
Faithful of the Emperor
War is only won when every enemy is dead. A pacified enemy is still an enemy.
- Attributed to Angron, Primarch of the XIIth Legion
Fire filled the skies on the day the Legion came to the surface of Remnant. That much she still remembered clearly enough, even after so long...
The thrumming drone of the air itself rattling the panes of glass in her window waking her abruptly, the acrid smell of smoke making the young blonde gag and cover her face as she rose groggily, eyes burning...what she would only learn later to be the atmospheric particulates cast up by focused lance strikes from orbit.
Flying fortresses striking forth with batteries capable of shattering whole worlds, dedicated solely to the elimination of strategic threat upon the surface.
Anything that might seek to harry the follow up assault landing. The killing ax blow descending from above to sever Vale's spine...
Contrails of brilliant light just barely visible over a dawn tinged a bruised scarlet by ash, dozens of them, falling in fiery arcs down towards the wounded landscape of her world. Some like the shooting stars she'd stay up at night to watch sometimes from her sill, others curving off every which way towards their own destinations.
Her Father had burst through her door with a whimpering Ruby in his arms then, wrapped up tight in the cloak her mother had knitted for her, little Zwei nipping at his heels. The jolly Huntsman more terrified in that moment than she'd ever seen before, though trying his best to hide it behind a parent's calm.
All that did was scare her more, Taiyang ordering her to grab the small duffel he'd asked her days before to pack when reports first played of Aliens in the sky on the T.V...Invaders...Saviors...Returning gods...Harbingers?
Raised voices from her Father and Uncle that ended in more and more arguing. Questions of 'Why?' and ''How?', words like 'Faked' and 'Negotiations' bandied around on the Scroll Network until her Guardian had taken that away as well...
News about the Aliens...about the Noble ones, the Chanting ones, the Bloody ones... She'd been curious then, of course, had even asked questions like she'd been taught. Desperate to understand.
Repeating them once again now without reply as her Father dragged her behind him down the stairs and out the front door to where Uncle Qrow stood waiting for them. A sword as big as she was held loosely over his shoulder, looking exactly as he had in the woods so long ago...no, he was angrier than back then, scared too...
He and Dad had argued again, shouting words like 'Ozpin' and 'Ironwood'...her Uncle got really angry at that last one, but she couldn't be sure why.
She was confused, everything blurring. The burning scent was even worse in the open air, little Ruby crying and coughing, Zwei whimpering...
Taiyang's grip on her wrist had been so tight it hurt, trying to hide his own fraying nerves. But he was a Huntsman sworn to fight monsters, and while he might have known he couldn't stop what was coming, he could at least try to save his daughters.
He could at least try...even though he wouldn't succeed. Not against the thing that tore itself howling from the woods, this...
(Imperial Designate: Two-Zero-Three Eight upon Compliance, Local Designate: "Remnant", 994.M30 Approx. - Patch Island, Kingdom of Vale)
'...This...This can't be happening...!?'
She faltered in place unable to speak, hearing Ruby's shrill cries echo from nowhere and everywhere, orbs of violet fixed on the armored behemoth casting her in its vast shadow made larger than life...
Massive shoulders adorned with symbols and emblems she could hardly make out heaved in time with rasping breaths that spilled as vapor from a snarling helm. Glowing green lenses regarding her as soullessly as the Grimm had so long ago, like Prey.
Fingers twitching spasmodically across the haft of a chain toothed ax bound by thick chains to a mailed gauntlet, jagged teeth chock full of clogged meat dripping red droplets into the grass and across her shoes. Buzzing armor of pearly white edged with blue, thick with carved markings and stained nearly pink by arterial spray.
Blinking in startled surprise, drawing in an involuntary breath that left her choking from the coppery charnel stink of it, of this thing.
Her meager height putting the young dragon face to face with the grisly trophy hanging from the invader's waist by a knot of bedraggled golden hair, stained a dull brass from dirt and...worse. It's face gone slack with eyes vacant, lacking the usual disapproving frown or easy smile she knew so well, utterly unmistakable...
'...This can't be real, no!? No, it can't be...ah!?'
Before Yang could cry out, vomit, or even take a faltering step - whether to run or maybe in her confusion try and reach out to touch that familiar face, she didn't quite know - she felt her arm wrenched roughly from its socket with a sickening wet *pop* that left her howling!
Her kicking feet leaving the ground far behind as the bloody knight none too gently hoisting her upward so that pitiless green stared into trembling violet.
Examining her absently as pain unlike anything she'd ever felt coursed through her catching fire as she felt the sickening sensation of bones grinding together under flesh. So much agony at once that she couldn't breathe, her youthful system going into shock and her mind reeling from the sudden trauma while golden energy smoldered in her hair...her 'Semblance', Dad had told her...
Something akin to a voice oozed from the monster's grille mouth, a guttural growl of odd syllables and harsh intonations. Ruby crying out her name once again as tears, Ruby...her little sister...the one this thing was going to hurt next. That stark revelation, combined with the chilling sight of the 'prize' swaying from its belt, overcame the agony.
And in it's place came something new, something born of the confusion and fear, all the sadness and helplessness.
Anger, pure and honest...no, more than that. Rage...
"RRRRRRRAAAAGGGGHH!"
Deep down in her conscious mind she knew she couldn't hurt this creature, just as she hadn't been able to harm the Grimm so long ago when they'd come for the siblings, but she didn't care. Ignorant of all but her efforts to hurt the thing that had stolen away her last parent and ruined her life, kicking and thrashing.
Throwing herself forward in the giant's inexorable grasp, screaming and spitting like a wildcat, golden locks tumbling about her face in matted bunches.
"MONSTER! I'LL...Gragh!...I'LL KILL YOU! I'll...Rrg-ah!?"
Whatever she could manage as many times as it took to make this thing hurt like it had hurt her. To keep it from even thinking of laying a single finger on her sister. Her gaze burning hot, not with tears but with that potent fury in her core that threatened to burn her up inside... She'd hurt it...NO! Kill it, she'd...!?
Gaping as her attacker laughed then, a throaty chuckling cackle that rattled in her ears like breaking glass or tumbling stones. Renewing its efforts a fraction and twitching a finger on the hand that held her almost dismissively.
The crack of bones and the blinding shock of the injury heralding a world of red tinged darkness, colored liberally by her sister's fading screams...so much red...
(XIIth Legiones Astartes Frigate "Daggerline", 004.M31 Approx. - 12th Company Armourium Chambers, 1st Command Squad - Private Cells)
Red like the flashing entry runes of her wall mounted chronometer flashing incessently, long past the appointed alarms she'd set to wake her...
..."Hah...whuh!?"...
The echoing *CLANG* of grinding pistons split what relative silence remained within the dimly lit space, ringing through the confined cell and startling the Artificer back to aching awareness like a Beowolf's backhand...or at least what Yang imagined such a thing might feel like.
Beowolves having been rendered quite extinct by the Legions long before she'd ever gotten the opportunity to enjoy the experience firsthand, them along with the rest of the so-called creatures of Grimm.
Just another hostile Xenos species wiped out in the wake of the Emperor's Great Crusade.
She propped herself up, straining her groggy senses in an attempt to hone in on the noise that had disturbed her. An instinct instilled long ago in the dark cramped decks of the ship, second nature by this point and honed by long proximity to violence.
One hand instinctively grasping for the multi-tool discarded carelessly on the workbench before her, seeking some -if any- kind of weapon she might use to defend herself.
Meanwhile the other clambered for support she simply didn't find, skidding off the oil slick surfaces of the tabletop and putting the yelping blonde face first onto the grimy plasteel decking of the cell. Loose parts and fine instruments alike clattering down beside her... an experience which, by in large, did nothing good for her cracked ribs or throbbing skull.
White hot needles of torment driving the air from her lungs as she lay there panting, feeling the chill metal surface against her bruised skin. Gasping appreciatively for mouthfuls of overly humid recycled air that mercifully tasted of rank post-human sweat, lubricating oils, and cleansing unguents rather than a razed city's ashes...
"Gah...Damn it, c'mon...!?"
Reality, it tasted like bitter sweet reality, the vivid dreamscape fading rapidly. Old anxieties and memories of long-distant Remnant fading back into the far reaches of her psyche where they rightfully belonged.
Fuel for the Pits, or otherwise something else to drink away in the seedier shipboard hovels in her dwindling spare hours. Like she had after seeing Ruby off to the Mechanicum decks. Retreating to wallow in her post victory high in one of the rare few places on this ship that was even somewhat, if in some small minuscule fashion, her own.
Like all things utilized by the Astartes of the XIIth, the chamber she occupied had once been little more than a simple spartan space dedicated only to that which aided in the making and prosecution of war.
Poorly maintained lumen strips and dull glowglobes flickered to reveal sparsely adorned walls daubed with Legion iconography. Slabs lined with crude hooks hung with various implements of wargear from curved blade to stock firearm, overflowing work stations set in pits upon which lay the varied tools and detritus indicative of Yang's assigned role.
Spare fibre bundles and loose servomotors sitting precariously alongside eclectically shaped shards of battered ceramite and half-empty cans of adhesive paints.
All of it artfully arranged in something vaguely approaching organization, at least according to the blonde's own preferences.
Not that she hadn't added her own touches here and there over the course of her years aboard ship. Scattered garments and nibbled foodstuffs strewn about in corners along with sheets for bedding, illicit Scrolls erm...data-slates, and the occasional knick-knack of her own artistic design. Even a sheathed short blade buried gifted to her at the start of her service, hidden among stained bed sheets, maintained fastidiously but never drawn.
In essence, some souls may have considered the cell an overly cluttered sprawl. A number including the one it nominally belonged to, and to whom she owed her service.
To Yang however, it was her own little slice of the Daggerline, which in a way was fitting considering she spent most every waking hour huddled in its meager confines.
Her efforts taxed simply by maintaining the standards expected by her Lord. The World Eaters not wholly a fighting force known for their restraint, both in personality and in the treatment of their wargear. Such that it had nearly driven Ruby to tears, the young woman taking what most might describe as a slightly less than healthy fascination with weapons and such. Some holdover quality from the tales of Hunstmen and Huntresses, and now those of the Legions and the mighty vessels that carried them through the stars.
Yang couldn't say she wholly approved, still it was a better obsession than many aboard ship and less proscribed by far. That and it gave her little sister reason enough to visit, which her Master entertained sparingly as it was.
All together, the Cell felt almost something akin to a home in a way. Curious, as in other Legions she'd heard it said that such private chambers were mostly used as places for moments of self-reflection and solace by the Astartes.
Things both rarely experienced or sought by the Primarch Angron's sons, the majority of their time better spent in the Practice Cages butchering servitors and on occasion each other, though oft times the Legionaries elected to use the Gladiatorial Pits...the true Pits, for such bloody contests.
Spectacles of such martial skill and savage brutality both, that it made the old televised memories of the Vytal Festival Tournament look exactly like what it was, children playing at war. Some Legion bouts held to similar tenets, restricted by arbitrary standards such as first or third blood, others to Sanguis Extremis...to the death.
Yang had witnessed more than a few of the latter cropping up even in these last few months firsthand despite the best efforts of Captain Macer Varren and the Officer Cadre to reign in their Warriors.
Beings that had once been men reforged, driven by rage amplifying cortical implants and combat stimms. Squaring off against one another in titanic bouts that would have seen even the hardiest mortals reduced to twitching paste...
From what she could guess at, the bite of Butchers Nail's had been fiercer of late. Partly the reason this latest campaign on Ambria, or Two-Zero-Three Seventeen, had progressed so rapidly these last few days.
The World Eaters were being let off the leash, ripping the enemy apart before they could even think to do the same to one another...
"Ugh...Bloody fugging Throne...?"
Her fingers instinctively sought the crystal charm hanging about her wrist as the Artificer worked herself up to her knees, imagining the warmth the Dust shard hadn't carried since it had left her Home world's atmosphere behind.
An old ritual, more a habit really, and it did help somewhat. Distracting from the headache, the aches and hurts both physical and mental, helping her mind latch onto more pressing matters.
Such as the post-human juggernaut fresh from battle, standing hunched at the open threshold to the Arming Chamber. Green tinged photolenses regarding the sight of her prostrate before him in the semi-darkness just as coldly as in her nightmares, bringing the entire sordid experience back again.
She knew this Legionary by the subtle markings carved across his battle plate, symbols of rank and prestige, tally cuts denoting particularly memorable kills. His profile unmistakable, even among a Legion of similarly armed and armoured killers.
Khalos Reid, Sergeant of the XIIth Legion's 1st Squad under Captain Macer Varren, the man who'd taken an interest in her and her sister years ago on Remnant.
The man who'd butchered Taiyang Xiao Long...
"I never took you for the groveling type, Xiao Long." He spoke in a measured tone, cocking his head idly to the side, voice rendered to a throaty rasp through the filters the his helm's vox-grille. Heavy thudding footfalls carrying the warrior towards the central Arming Station on snarling servos and thrumming power couplings, his overwhelming presence filling the space utterly. "Get up, it doesn't suit you."
Dread seized as her muscles locked in instinctive fear response, that familiar coppery stink of foreign viscera filling every sense, stealing her breath...and then Yang Xiao Long relented. The bite of the crystal's rough-cut edges biting into the meat of her palm, pain bringing clarity and a vivid flare of inset anger that seethed into the usual resigned sarcasm tinged with bitterness as she moved to comply, snatching up a tanned hide jacket and making herself half decent.
Not that he would care for a bit of inked skin here and there...
"L-Lord Khalos, what...what a surprise." The Artificer stammered through a forced half smile, spitting golden hairs from her mouth while working herself up quickly to her feet with only a modicum of stumbling and muttered cursing. Effortlessly switching from the base Low Gothic spoken by most all of the Imperium, to the Legion's own bastardized tongue of Nagrakali. "I...I was told you and the rest of the Captain's Squad would be remaining planetside a few more days yet, the Compliance...?"
"Is over with." He spat back without looking at her, the World Eater's tone conveying clearly what he thought of that. His left gauntlet rising to work at the neck seals embedded behind his gorget, more grunting threats forthcoming as the tremors coursing in the limb prolonged the task. "Grr...accursed thing...!" The Legionary began only to draw his hand back abruptly, drawing in a deep rattling breath before resuming the task with far greater efficacy.
Yang remained quiet throughout his rant as she strode lightly in his shadow towards the work tables, plucking up scattered tools and depositing them in her belt loops. Doing her best to remain present and ready to act, all without making herself too noticeable or moving too quickly.
Wary of setting off the Legionary by accident. Of joining an ever growing statistic of Legion Serfs who'd made that fatal error.
So instead she focused on her role, a trained eye already noting the fresh scars upon her Lord's ceramite shell. Some self inflicted and clearly meant to be preserved to the best of her ability, most others the typical result of XIIth Legion warfare in practice.
In other words, a distinct lack of dodging oncoming fire or care for personal safety of any sort. She could understand that sentiment.
"Feh...Looks like you tried picking a fight with a grox and lost." She broke her silence, leaning in to examine the extent of the damage more closely with a heady sigh while schooling her mane back into a long tail. "I take it the other guy looks worse?"
Shallow rents and chips from what must have been sustained volleys of stubber fire covered much of the front armour facings, settled alongside impact craters inflicted via explosive detonation and even the charred whorls of super heated paint from an energy weapon of some sort.
All of which individually and unequivocally lethal to most foes, though proving of little obstacle to a warrior of the Legiones Astartes. Especially those driven to frenzy by the Nails for which injury was an irritant and brutality was exultation...but it was always worse after a fight.
"I wouldn't know, too many faces, difficult to remember them all." Khalos said, mistaking the humor for the literal as he so often did. "The Ambrians had artillery situated about their Capitol, so much noise all at once. Goruuk fell moments after the Captain gave the order to charge, then the Nails bit deep..." He trailed off with a rattling whine of tensed joints, fingers juddering a moment before finally succeeding in popping the seals with whining hiss of escaping pressure and a dark chuckle.
"I...understand, my Lord." She nodded her head deferentially, trying not to envision what would be left of the unwitting world the 203rd Expeditionary Fleet had encountered weeks ago.
"Hnng...I'm certain you do at that."
Abruptly he tugged the scarred Sarum-pattern helm free, discarding it carelessly to the metal decking to reveal the distinctly human features underneath - or what had once been human but now stood so much more and yet so much less - a stark contrast of closely shorn sweat-stained dark curls inter-played with strange mechanical tendrils that appeared to be nailed into the base of his skull.
Stern bloodshot eyes of amber gold looking out from a leathery face littered with dark stubble and a patchwork assortment of livid scars. The most prominent of which a jagged line curling from his right cheek down to his chin, forcing his thin lipped mouth into a perpetual snarl that had needed no help in forming.
That fiery gaze now aimed down at his frowning serf as she picked up the helm with a grunt of effort, even for her gene-hardened muscle. Yang barely able to suppress a groan at the rattle of delicate loose components echoing within, figuring each clatter another few hours hunched over a work station.
From there it was but simple routine, accepting the World Eater's proffered bolt pistol, its barrel warped from the heat of prolonged use but simple enough to replace, before moving onto the warrior's panoply. Chipping away the clogged dirt and gore of yet another battlefield and another world with a mechanical efficiency born of experience.
Ignoring the flesh caught in armor joints, the congealed viscera sluicing into the grates that she would later spend hours scrubbing away. Beating back with cheap cloying incenses and more distilled spirits.
Long minutes passing in spurts of actinic sparks and grinding whines, the young woman methodically cleansing the wargear of Ambria's lingering touch. Furtive half recited tidings to a Machine Deity neither truly believed in fresh on her lips.
They both knew why he preferred she see to this personally rather than employ those mindless servitors devoted to such purpose. Perhaps he also enjoyed watching her grovel despite his earlier assertions, though nevertheless she knew what he expected, and as always she did her best to hold back. To prolong this little game as long as...?
"You've been to the Cisterns again, haven't you?" Khalos oddly enough was the one to break the awkward silence, something unusual enough that it caught the serf off guard and made her pull away. "Against my order, I can smell it on you. Did you think I wouldn't take notice?" Oddly enough he didn't sound angry or irritated, any more than any World Eater always did at any rate, casually giving voice to his Serf's disobedience.
"I didn't realize I stank so much, my Lord." She replied carefully, attempting to but not quite able to meet those burning pupils. "Apologies."
"And I care little for your apologies, Xiao Long." The Legionary shifted on the pedestal, his lip pulling back to reveal fangs of acid etched metal. "Tell me you won at least, that it was worth the effort?"
She nodded as she resumed her ministrations, unable to conceal a wry grin that survived even his wintry glower. "The ship is so quiet with the Legionaries absent, my Lord. It's just so...so stressful." Her expression twisted into a demure pout, one entirely wasted on the World Eater. "And a girls gotta vent her frustrations somehow, y'know?"
"Hmph...is that so?" Khalos' mouth twisted as he hocked up a gobbet of pink tinged saliva and spat it to the platform's base, the metal sizzling upon contact with the chemical venom his glands produced. "Perhaps I should work harder at finding you a mate? Something virile to keep you occupied, better than having your brains dashed in the muck of some waste duct, eh?"
"I said I fight in the pits to get rid of my hangups, not add to them." Yang grumbled through gritted teeth as she pulled, wrenching a jagged shard of shrapnel free of the adamantium mesh of his left cuisses, a leftover from the artillery strikes he'd described.
One of several studded across his armor, and if even one had penetrated any deeper...
"Though I must admit, the prospect of playing brood-mare and pumping out some ugly sump-brute's blonde spawn sounds oh-so enticing." She shook her head, examining the shell casing before tossing it into a slowly growing pile laying beside her. "Especially when you call them a 'Mate', really makes me feel special."
"Ahh...Would you prefer a female, then?" The World Eater replied, a low rumbling from overhead as her tool juddered in a shaking grasp, stinging her face with sparks. "That can be arranged rather easily, given you aren't so unattractive by mortal standards."
"I think I'd prefer a change of subject, in truth." A glower splitting her tender face, rebelling fiercely against the warmth coloring her cheeks. Not that she found herself abashed by the subject, she'd just rather keep what amounted to her personal life and what she did in her sleeping quarters separate from him of all people. "Appreciate the offer though, I'm so fortunate to have you looking out for me, Lord." She offered, tone dripping with sarcasm.
"More fortunate I find your foolhardy disregard so endearing, Xiao Long, and that your skills are so highly prized." She felt her breast swell in pride at that, the rare praise unexpected, that feeling of being recognized that all young folk craved... "Besides, it would be too much effort to train another Artificer, though in truth I'm certain that Sister of yours could be properly...?" He paused, no doubt noticing her now stiffening posture and the skipping of her heartbeat. Satisfied he'd finally gotten a proper reaction, scarred lip curling cruelly. "Which brings to mind, your weapon seems to have caught even Varren's notice."
"Hmm, that so?"
Yang bit her lip, chomping down on the swell of anger at the mention of Ruby. Little Ruby, too young and much to kind to be wrapped up any closer in the culture of the VIIth than she had been already. Bad enough she'd had to grow used to the Pits, the infighting for rations rife throughout the lower decks, the overarching violence inherent to this life...
That was why she'd been branded with Khalos' mark rather than her, a potent symbol and warning to all aboard the vessel of her status among their Masters. It saw her fed, saw her safely through the corridors, and all it had taken was Yang's oath of service. A meager price to pay, to arm and armor a creature she hated for a cause she begrudgingly saw as necessary.
"Indeed. He called it 'pretty', too much so for a Legion like ours. Something fit for one of the Phonecian's peacocks." The Legionary shifted, giving no indication he was aware of Yang's simmering temper or showing any concern if he did. Raising his right arm and glancing at the clenched power fist encasing the limb, a discerning scowl marring ravaged features. "I can see his point, it seems...excessive."
No doubt he was referring to the 'embellishments' Yang had included in the outward design prior to engagement upon the surface. Resembling an overlarge gauntlet of white and blue, the cumbersome piece of wargear possessed the capacity to generate a focused anti-matter field across its surface when activated. Effectively disrupting any solid matter the wielder came across in the spectacularly brutal fashion that marked out many of the Imperium's complement of arms.
This example had been something of a passion project, Yang working closely alongside a few of the Daggerline's more human tech adepts, as in those that could still be swayed by a few pointed compliments and furtive smiles. Their sorcery inciting the weapon's spirit to even greater fits of activity, or so they claimed.
In finer terms, it was a volatile bastard of a machine. Spitting and angry, just like the one who bore it into battle. Ruby had even managed to lay her hands into its workings, naming it one of the most beautiful things she'd ever seen.
Not that Yang didn't agree for by the throne it was gorgeous, inlaid with finely sculpted pieces of gleaming brass along the knuckles and vambrace and painted with stylized designs of coiling dragons and leaping flames. Their finely detailed scales and vibrant embers trails having been spotted in places with dried viscera that had somehow survived the storm of conflicting energies and become part of the overall piece, safely contained within the disruptive aegis.
There was something telling in such a thing, fitting as were the fresh scars and chips across its surface. A tool of war truly blooded...and it brought a hard pit to her stomach to see it as such.
"That's nonsense!" She carefully hid her unease behind a sarcastic scowl and a broad smirk of careworn pride. "Bet the Captain's just jealous is all. I mean that's quality Xiao Long work you've got on hand."
'Endearing' he'd called her...that was good to know. It set the pace of this little back and forth.
"Yes, I suppose I do at that." Khalos frowned at her strange stressing of the words, the attempt at a pun clearly not translating overly well from Gothic to Nagrakali. "'Ember Celica'...Is that supposed to mean something? Or did you pick it on a whim?"
She drew in a sharp intake of breath unbidden, running a tentative hand across the surface of the Legionary's gauntlet where the name lay carved along the vambrace in Remnant's flowing script. Drawing it away swiftly as the limb beneath that armor twitched and spasmed in sympathetic reply to the pain engine in its wielder's skull.
"I didn't..." Her thoughts drifting back to the drawings she used to make under her father's praising instruction, her dreams of Signal Academy, of life as a Huntress... "...nothing, my Lord. It's not important, I just thought it sounded cool...appropriate, I mean. Appropriate..."
They both knew it to be falsehood, though luckily Reid didn't seem to care much either way. Allowing the weapon to flicker to potent life in a flash of crackling crimson fury for but a moment.
"Hmph...It was certainly 'appropriate' enough for the Warmaster's entourage on the surface." The World Eater grunted dismissively in retort, a tick of annoyance creeping onto his posthuman features at his Serf's oblivious surprise at the news. "Just how long have you been idling, stupid Girl!? Line runners from the XVIth Legion translated in system nine standard hours ago with word from Lupercal himself. Reinforcements apparently, though they were hardly needed." He added with a contemptuous growl of grinding flex-steel. "Even brought one of Lorgar's piteous priests with them, Viridis they called him...hnng...the way he talked down to us, Varren should have given me leave to...!"
Meanwhile Yang simply blinked away the crimson afterimages, processing her Master's news in bewildered shock as he devolved further and further into threats as the Nails dug further in the post-battle low, his abused brain misfiring signals that manifested as ticks and twitches.
She should be doing her best to distract him, or at least get clear and allow some poor servitor to endure the Astartes' wrath. But she didn't, her mind raising...
The XVIth Legion here in the middle of frontier space? Sons of Horus Lupercal, the Warmaster's own, the greatest of the Emperor's Chosen traversing the void. And a Word Bearer along for the ride... Even now she still remembered scattered shots displayed in her living room, leaning forward into the TV unable to believe her wide eyes.
Granite clad giants lined in flowing cuneiform spewing flame across an island of begging Faunus back on Remnant, singing hymnals all the while...the Chanting Ones...so much fire, she'd never seen so much...
"...travel to the Istvaan System...rrg-ah...Some inane backwater the Raven's rendered compliant, only they did a piss poor job of it. Seems the Planetary Governor's gone and whipped a coup, and the Lupercal want's the XIIth Legion's aid in making a show of his...displeasure." The XIIth Legion, not just 12th Company? The whole of the World Eaters coming together in one place? "And we won't be alone. No no no no NO!"
Yang cursed aloud at the sudden exclamation, recoiling backwards from the morbid grin spread across those thin mutilated lips, pain ticks deepening the furrows of flesh even further as the Legionary regarded her with a sort of excitement she usually associated with the practice cages.
A warning voice in her skull screaming the need to vacate the space and quick, but she couldn't move, the muscles in her legs little more than water.
"Mortarion, the Phonecian, even Horus Lupercal himself, along with every Astartes they can scrounge from their sordid broods along the way."
Khalos gritted his teeth with a groan, sweat beading his brow as he mastered himself once more. Yang's pulse still beating nevertheless at the glazed look in those maddened eyes, even as the Astartes lurched gracelessly from the platform and de-coupled Ember Celica from his armor's feeds. Practically tearing the piece of Wargear from himself in his seeming haste to be rid of it.
"Blood of the Throne imagine it, Xiao Long...a war like no other seen since the damned Greenskins fell on Ullanor, no hnng...not even then!"
No, not even then. Yang finding it difficult to truly imagine the scale, her only experience being with the Expeditionary Fleet at large. It would be incredible to witness...
Four whole Legions...Four Legions AND their assorted Primarchs...Primarchs as in plural! Four of the Eighteen! Liege lords of the Imperium, Commanders of its armies, leaders of Transhuman warlords beyond any force in known space...
Even the force that had claimed Remnant and dispatched the Grimm, that most ancient of enemies that had plagued her home, had been but an offshoot of Fleet elements. A pittance of the force falling upon these poor upstart fools for daring to rise against the Emperor's authority, against the Warmaster.
She felt a flicker of worry at the thought, fear and pride as a human being, then disgust at such elation and...and...A flicker of golden heat roiled through her at the conflicting emotion, palpable as her eyes flickered crimson and her hair smoldered.
Her Aura reacting, attempting to mend her hurts, the small lacerations earned for her labor vanishing from her fingertips along with the ache in her chest and skull. And not just her physical ills, an upsurge of confidence filled her, sending her emotions soaring...
A heady sigh filled the chamber, multiple lungs exhaling in audible relief that swept that brief feeling of freedom aside. "Finally, took you long enough."
She blinked angrily, watching as Khalos rolled his heavy shoulders and massaged his temples with a look of utter contentment. Tension bleeding from every muscle in his face, seeming almost happy...her Aura doing more than easing her hurts. That much she knew, even as the Astartes staggered, his breathing slow and measured.
'Endearing'...perhaps, but Yang knew full well the real reason the World Eater fought back the urge to break her for her insolence as so many before him had done to servants far less deserving.
His only weakness, if it could be called that. A salve only she could offer, so far as either knew.
For whatever reason she knew not why, simply being within her vicinity at such times drew pressure away from the ever-present bite of the Butcher's Nails drilling their pains deeper and deeper into the meat of his mind with every breath if only for a moment.
A moment of absence, of genuine peace for a tortured mind who craved as such... and then it was done, the pain returned, and so did the anger.
"Oh Throne."
Yang backed against the wall and slid down it, the power of her soul spent as the Astartes took his leave from the chamber with a shake of the head and a final muttered expletive. Feeling the chill of the void seeping through the thin fabric of her shirt as she stared woefully into the helm he'd left behind in retreat, knees curled to her chest.
That snarling faceplate from nightmare leering back at her with a hunger potent enough to swallow whole civilizations in it wake.
Undeniable, unstoppable, the might of Mankind...
"Oh gods." She even forgot the teachings of the Imperial Truth, falling back onto the old abandoned legends her Father had shared. "This...This just getting...!"
(XIIth Legiones Astartes Frigate "Daggerline", 004.M31 Approx. - Lower Crew Deck Levels "Cisterns")
"...serious. You've not mentioned to your Sister the nature of these gatherings, have you? If the Legion were to...!"
Ruby strode onward through the winding maze of humid maintenance decks and dimly lit access byways that had earned this part of the ship its nickname, passing oil streaked gunnery ratings and hard eyed armsmen that all nevertheless hugged the walls as they caught sight of that telltale tattered cloak and tried to avoid sneaking glances underneath the raised hood.
A behavioral awkwardness the young Remnant-born expected and hardly even noticed anymore, knowing the other crew members that might have barred their way all likely feared the brand on her shoulder.
The reprisal it could bring, a reason why all usually went out of their way to avoid the silver eyed girl like pox...well, not all thank the Throne.
At the moment however she found herself distracted, her brow was downcast and her hand fingering one of the many charms on her Dust bracelet, one in particular. A brass charm worked into the shape of a dual headed eagle, one set of eyes gazing into the past, its opposite towards the future yet to come.
Her thoughts dwelling on matters beyond the worried seeming companion doing his utmost to avoid attention. A task a man like Yatsuhashi Daichi, his already prodigious growth further augmented at the hands of his Mechanicum masters though perhaps less subtly than Yang, was singularly poor at performing. He was a kind soul however, that's what mattered especially below decks in those early years.
"I only ask because...Ruby? Ruby, are you quite alright?"
"Huh?" She jumped looking about, face as red as her cloak, surprised to find her fellow crewman staring down at her rather worriedly. Balking at the realization that she'd simply been nodding her head for the past few minutes along their path and he likely expected an answer. "O-Oh, Yang? No! No, of course I haven't!" Ruby shook her red highlights fervently, walking beneath a nest of snarled intake couplings that Yatsu had to almost crawl on hands and knees to avoid. "Not...Not that I wouldn't want to! It's just I-I don't think she'd really understand even if I tried. And if she doesn't..."
She trailed off, trying to imagine -as she had been for the past few days- how divulging perhaps this most dangerous secret to her sister might go right, as well as the innumerable ways it could go so horribly wrong. Yatsu expressing his agreement solemnly. "Yes, from what I've seen of Yang Xiao Long, she can be quite...stubborn. Not that a strong will isn't a potent blessing, given her placement in the Pits and responsibilities within the Legion, however..."
However it was that very closeness itself, to the Legionaries and those that represented their interests, that presented that most potent of dangers. That of discovery, of scorn and persecution...
"You were wise to hold such matters in confidence, yet I asked if you were alright?" Yatsu concluded with a concerned if kindly smile seeking to hide his own relief, laying a hand across her shoulder in as chaste and gentle a manner as his bulk allowed. "It's never easy to carry a secret, Fox and I often struggle with Coco at times, but especially so if its from your own family. Given your situation, I couldn't imagine bearing such burdens."
"It's fine, I mean it's probably for the best, isn't it? I'd probably screw it up and say the wrong thing anyway, then we'd really be in trouble." She managed her best attempt at a smile, the pair approaching the end of another innocuous corridor, hesitating for mere moments before ducking behind a loose service panel marked with the same symbol as that Ruby carried through which lay a web work of moldering service vents.
One of several hundred nearly identical sections intersecting and crossing like arteries throughout the strike cruiser's circulatory system. Paths for those mindless Servitors and lower ranking tech adepts responsible for maintaining the myriad inner workings needed to keep the ship functioning.
Those same ways Ruby and Yatsu navigated now, the latter with a fair bit more difficulty than the former. Following a trail of innocuous marks and waypoints that none but they and those within the same circles would know to seek out.
Finally, after what seemed like hours but could only have been minutes, they arrived at a final porthole, long oxidized by the moist heat of the space and sitting in such a manner most would have thought it immovable. Just as those that had arranged the space had intended, a faded icon embossed across the edging of one panel in flaking gold.
"Don't worry, Yang doesn't suspect a thing. I'd swear to it in His name." Ruby piped up as they approached, stepping aside and allowing Yatsu free access to the final aegis. Her hands crossed across her breast, fingers splayed out in imitation of spread wings. The mark of the Aquila, the mark of Imperium, His mark...
"There's no need for such a pledge, I believe you." Yatsu reassured her, answering the symbolism of the gesture with a firm nod before heaving the slab of metal towards on squealing hinges, muscles straining with that final potent effort.
Head bowed respectfully, Ruby stepped passed her friend and moved into a spacious ancillary chamber. A vaguely cylindrical junction point that marked the convergence of similar tunnels as the one they had traveled along, rarely used and never intended for gatherings such as this. The cavernous space within lined with votive candles and hanging strips of recycled scrip, charms and tokens left in reverence at the foot of a mural that dominated a whole segment of a crumpled metal wall.
A figure of gold rendered inexpertly upon crude canvas by the nevertheless loving hands of a community. A mish mash of humanity from all corners of the ship, a few dozen in total. Enginarium hands and rag-toting wastrels rubbing shoulder to shoulder with finely adorned upper-deck scribes, carapace-clad Armsmen, and what were clearly members of the mortal auxilia of the Imperial Army of several ranks. Some bearing leatherbound books, other dataslates, some little more than scraps of parchment.
Some Ruby knew by reputation if not by face, others quite the opposite, even some she didn't recognize at all with a flash of momentary alarm.
A young woman maybe a few years older than she herself was lurking towards the farthest edges of the gathered crowd, raven black hair framing a striking face that peeked out from the depths of her own hooded cowl with amber yellow. Despite such features, Ruby found she was having difficulty keeping her in focus, the black tunic she wore appearing to almost blend into the shadows, except a runic symbol embossed in silvery grey over her heart and shoulder. A shattered moon, not unlike that which lingered in the furthest reaches of her memory.
A newcomer, yet the quality of her robes suggested a person of station? They almost seemed similar to the duty-wear Yang on occasion wore, if far more formal.
'...Who might she...!?'
For the briefest instant their gazes locked, Ruby swiftly breaking the contact before she embarrassed herself further and vanished into the depths of her hood, cursing her impropriety. She should have known better, of course she should have.
Such behavior would be considered rude, especially in this place. Some content to reveal themselves openly in this sacred space, others less so for fear of discovery, which was their right. Even being here they risked so much, yet they came regardless.
Still she couldn't help a flicker of unease, a furtive glance confirming the woman now had her eyes to the mural, examining it with a sort of somber appreciation with hands clasped before her as though in...no, clasped together in prayer as many were throughout the congregation. This similarity easing the tension in Ruby's chest before Yatsu moved beside her, barring the newcomer mercifully from view.
It was a trepidation not easy in passing, but pass it must. For while newcomers represented danger, they also presented opportunity. A sign that their ideals might be spreading further, that more might embrace the beliefs she and so many others held as reality.
A reality daubed in flowing golden script at the mural's head, shining even in the dim candlelight and arranged to be visible no matter where one stood in the space...so long as they looked with reverence toward their Savior, of course. Towards the one true guiding light of Mankind, He who had lead their species from the darkness and even now worked to bring them into the light.
That message a declaration, perhaps one of the few that truly mattered in a galaxy beset by so much war.
...-"REJOICE, FOR I BRING YOU GLORIOUS NEWS. GOD WALKS AMONG US. THE EMPEROR PROTECTS"-...
- LOG TERMINATED
A/N: And up goes another chapter, certainly took me long enough, Happy New Year btw.
Know there are probably gonna be questions, one of the biggest of which is probably going to be Yang's Aura. She can use it, but unlike in canon she never really got any training so its natural uses (healing her wounds, making her sturdier) is about the best she can manage.
I'm also treating it as something different from Psyker power, similar but not quite which will be explained later if this continues. Rather than making the Nails react negatively, it has a sort of soothing influence, which if one's read anything to do with the World Eaters wouldn't be something so easily overlooked with that lot.
Khalos keeps her around and somewhat content, and Yang helps him in return if more than reluctantly.
As for Ruby, the title applies most definitely to her. Seen a few stories with a similar premise, and given some thought it does seem kind of appropriate.
Anyway, feel free to shoot me any questions, comments, or thoughts y'all might have my way. Always appreciate hearing feedback. Thinking I'll cover what Weiss is up to next tme around. -Mojo
