Sworn To Remnant
-CHAPTER 10 - Sating Appetites-
All power demands sacrifice... and pain. The universe rewards those willing to spill their life's blood for the promise of power.
- Sindri Myr, Alpha Legion Sorceror
(Unmarked World of Remnant, Sanus - Beacon Academy Infirmary, Vale)
Lux groggily awoke to a sensation not so dissimilar to what he imagined floating in the void must feel like...without the horrendous death of course.
His body smothered in a soft warmth that had long been absent in the harried months leading up to that final desperate charge on the traitor-held trenches. Not since his earliest days in the Biologis labs in the latter days of his 'recruitment' had he...had he...!?
The frakking forest...That frakking Storm...Those frakking Monsters...!
Eyes blinking wide and heart thundering with a sudden violent start, he made to bolt upright only to find his body awkwardly unresponsive.
Bared tattooed muscle thick with scarred kill marks and barely remembered gang symbols swam languidly through the air far too slowly than they should've been. Dulled by chemical means via the needle drip linking him to a hanging bag of pale fluid. That seemed wrong, out of place...like he was.
"...ey!? Wo...alright! Cal...own...!" A raised voice, reverberating dully as though far away. A trick of the space? Was he speaking? Mouth was moving...check, though everything sounded weirdly off with his ears still ringing... "...kay! It's okay You're alright...!"
The sterile antiseptic scents and sounds of a Medicae facility all too strikingly familiar with every ragged breath, yet accompanying it by contrast...a spicy floral fragrance that tickled his nerves even through the numbness. Overwhelming pressure bearing the Trooper back down to the bed, drawing his attention, gloved hands, warm...violet eyes like his...golden hair.
Like the doll, no...woman he corrected himself in proper Gothic. The beauty from his dream, the one who'd fallen from the sky on fire. His brow furrowed and he tried to push up, push her back...to understand.
She didn't allow that, Throne she was stronger than she looked. And she looked pretty strong to start. Too strong...
"Dude, calm...ah whoa!? Listen for a sec, you weren't hurt bad, but you still shouldn't...hey!?"
A dream, all a bad dream, of course. Lux was still on Cadia, wound up here after an accident maybe? Or had he been wounded during the Battle?
No, that was wrong too. He remembered fighting all too well, could feel the telltale ache in his limbs as though he'd run the length and breadth of the wilds back in basic. And those creatures...
Those things, red eyes like burning coals in the sump pits, the smell of blood and spite on them...spite actually had a scent...you couldn't make that up.
Lux had heard Veterans whispering of encounters with the Archenemy and their 'Daemons'. Never so loud as to draw the attentions of the Commissars but the word spread regardless.
Was that what they'd been? Some trick of the mind cast by the Archenemy?
If so how was he alive? How? How? How!?
'Remember your training, ascertain the situation and act...' He stilled his breathing, blinking away the harsh stab lights and murmuring one of the litanies instilled into his mind during his 'recruitment'. 'Don't dwell, don't falter, move forward...'
This was some medical outpost, a battlefield surgery mayhaps? No, no too clean, not as much screaming...far too calm for that, too isolated.
An actual Medicae Center, with all the bells and whistles...Strange, they would've had to have won the battle to warrant such treatment.
He didn't remember winning much of anything aside from small glories. One very dead Heretic Astartes, enough to earn his way to salvation ten times over by the Priests' reckoning.
What Lux did remember all too well however was the Forest, the Monsters, and...
"There you go, Hot Shot. See, no need to freak out."
The girl was still there, certainly not dressed like any Medicae aide he'd ever seen...though he dearly wished he had. Might've went and gotten himself banged up a bit more in training, more than the usual at any rate...
"This is a safe place. Well, cept for the food but I can't really help that. Big bites, makes it go faster."
"You...You were the one from the woods...the Joy Girl...?"
"Wow, 'Joy Girl' eh? That's a new one. Most go with ''Blondie" and leave it at that." She smirked, presenting a thumbs up that she directed to a rather sizable chest. No complaints there... "Yang Xiao Long, Huntress-In-Training, at your service. I was the one who brought you in. Nurse thought it was a good idea to put me in charge of looking out for you, what with all the craziness going on."
She leaned back, crossing her arms and eyeing his approvingly, and his chest among other bits of him.
"Suppose ya could do worse, some might think it's a pun-ishment." She chuckled, ignoring his nonplussed stare. The joke not exactly translating correctly, a strange slang term perhaps? "Nice ink, by the way."
Hmm? Most folks found those a turn off. A sign of what he had been before.
"Huh, hard to believe they've got someone better. Heart might just give out." He gave her his best grin, the conversation helping him find his bearings. A natural reaction... "Call me Lux, Joy Girl...and let me say you've gotta be the sweetest sight I've woken up too in a long...long...?"
'Huntress...?'
"Ooh, so close to a half decent line there, buddy. Give ya points for the effort though. Nice to meetcha, Lux." She nodded her head, her blonde hair catching the light in a way that didn't seem possible. But Lux could hardly focus on that. "Um...You doing okay? I've got some water if you need...?"
"I didn't run?"
Things were clearing up, his memory slowly settling back into place alongside an earsplitting headache that had him reaching for his temples. Then the panic set in all over again, startling the both of them.
"The Commissar, the beasts...that wych, she... She must've...! I didn't scarper! I'm no frakking coward! I didn't mean...!"
Lux hadn't run from battle, hadn't abandoned his comrades. It came back, the Psyker stealing away in his mind, a puppet...his actions, her will.
"Easy, easy there. I believe ya if its any consolation." She assured him, passing the Trooper a cup of flat water that vanished in moments down his throat. "Standing up to an Ursa like that, big un-bearable buggers, all in all pretty ballsy move."
Ursa, so that was what that breed was called, a hateful name. One deserving of death, but that slang again left him cringing for some reason.
"Still you lot are pretty lucky the cavalry arrived when it did. Few more minutes and who knows what could've happened? Even with that sweet robot you guys brought along." Her expression was warm, comforting, one of easy smiles and sunny humors behind that smug exterior. "My Sis'll probably be wanting a word or two bout' that by the way. I thought Atlas liked em' big but man! Heh heh, was sure Rubes was gonna faint when she laid eyes on it, should've seen her face." She mock swooned, drawing a weak smile from the Guardsman before he could help herself.
Wait a moment?...
"Grimm?" The reality was settling in, it hadn't been a dream. The Sorcerer, getting swallowed by the Maelstrom, this strange world...
"Yeah, you guys were completely surrounded in the middle of that Storm, bad luck there." Yang nodded, not quite understanding the nature of his confusion. "But seriously, what's the deal with you guys anyway? Get lost on your way for the Festival or something?" She phrased the question as if to tease, her face falling flat a moment later replaced by guilt Lux couldn't quite understand. "Uh...sorry, I shouldn't joke. You guys lost people after all. It's just..."
"What Festival?" The question seemed to catch her off guard for a moment, humor swiftly replaced with worry. "What are you talking about?
"The Vytal Festival? You know, biggest event on the face of Remnant?" Her eyes narrowed, lips pursed tight. "Where'd you say you were from again?"
"Vytal? Kingdoms? Remnant? I don't...?"
"No seriously." Lux faltered at her sudden shift in tone, the momentary flicker of shifting color in her eyes. A trick of the light, it had to be. "Lux, just where are you from anyway?"
"I...Cadia." He couldn't resist those eyes, his sense of unease building by the moment. "I hail from Cadia."
"Oooookay, good. That's good, progress." The 'Huntress' nodded slowly, easing back in her seat and obviously thinking he didn't pick up on it. "Now then, where's Cadia exactly? Somewhere near Vacuo, or...?"
"Vacuo? For Throne's sake it's Cadia, shield world of the Imperium! How could you not...!?" That look of non-comprehension, the one he'd been dreading. It hadn't been a dream, and something was very very wrong. "By the Emperor...frak me." Lux slumped back suddenly feeling more tired than he had before...or ever, chuckling to himself as the strange blonde eyed him nervously.
"So this er...Emperor guy, yeah. You uh...you wouldn't happen to have a number we can call? Would you, let him know we've got you?"
Yang wasn't lying. She really had no idea, no idea at all. No concept of the galaxy spanning Imperium of Man or its divine Leader and Guide...this world...Remnant...
"Oh no." He blinked, suddenly very conscious of the situation, the true weight of horror dawning upon him. "Oh...!"
(Unmarked World of Remnant, Sanus - Industrial District, Vale - Three Days Later)
"...gods! Just how much longer we have to put up with these freaks, anyway?"
Claret brought her head slowly up from the midst of silent devotions, regarding at a distance from across the warehouse floor the silvery grey haired youth, Mercury, murmuring conspiratorially to the mint haired female standing beside him with her arms crossed, Emerald.
Both of them children really not much younger than she herself was, but wards nonetheless of the representative the Exiled One had sent to shepherd herself and those few followers she had managed to retrieve to safety in this unfamiliar Remnant, this 'Cinder Fall'.
Both had been charged by their Mistress to watch over their curious guests while she was indisposed. Set to answer their myriad questions, entertain their oddly phrased requests, and make sure none wandered off to cause any sort of disruption to sensitive plans still in motion.
Of course, Lady Fall had only implied this, though the meaning was clear enough in her tone...they were a liability to be discarded swiftly and quietly...
She did not trust Claret and her cohorts, could not understand why her Master was so insistent they be protected even at the risk of possibly revealing herself and her fellows in the offering.
It was not her place to question however, only to act as their shared Benefactor desired, and that desire itself had been made very clear...defiance was not to be tolerated.
'The Fall woman does not know her own fortune, to be blessed with commandment from the very lips of a god...'
"Oh grow up will you?" Mercury's partner hissed back at him vehemently, her crimson orbs darting towards Claret and her companions from the corner of her eye, nervousness hidden under a veneer of starkly feigned indifference. She could not know Claret was listening, her senses honed by the presence inside her, but she suspected...intelligent, observant...fine qualities to cultivate. "Cinder promised she'd be back soon, didn't she? Just go wait outside if you're too scared."
Manipulative as well, she would make a fine follower if properly motivated, however her loyalties were most certainly in question. She was Cinder's creature, no true servant of the Powers motivated by faith or lust for power, no...no her motivations were far more altruistic at least where the Red Witch was concerned.
A show of power perhaps, especially considering she was the least impressed by the band of waif's assembled before her, even more so than her Lady.
Eleven loyal souls including Claret herself...
The leftover detritus of a zealous host that had marched across the burning surface of Cadia numbering in the hundreds of thousands...pitiful when compared to number of Imperial Lapdogs that had survived the Emerald Forest and the monsters within, but they would serve nonetheless.
The Powers had gifted this world's devotees with eleven, and so eleven would have to be enough...at least for now. Eleven, the sacred number of the Lost One...
"C'mon, don't act like that weird chanting isn't freaking you out just a little bit too!" Mercury balked as said chanting faltered, suddenly all too conscious of the eyes upon him, far more eyes than their should've been in some cases. "This...This is just weird, and I don't like the way that Hunchbacked one keeps sizing me up. Or at least I think he is."
Said 'Hunchback' most certainly was, and had the youth known for what reason then it was likely he'd have fled in terror long before now despite the Fall woman's wishes to the contrary.
"...Ninety-Eight point Seven-Seven-Eight-Four percent likelihood of full prosthetic replacement below both lateral ligaments, perhaps above. Displayed with negligible loss of fine motor skills and near seamless micro physical display. EXTRAPOLATION: Potential of Dust Substance #R-001 employed within artifice... -0101001001101001 01110110 01100101 01110100 01101001 01101110 01100111-..."
Claret gritted her teeth at the strident monotone delivered through crackling vox-emission, the ceaseless observation giving way to spastic spurts of binaric cant mixed through with something that made her temples throb.
Situated across from her kneeling position, his compacted misshapen form swathed in tattered red robes stained almost black by thick splotches of lubricating oils, unguent gels, and what the young Disciple knew for certain to be blood both human and otherwise, 'stood' Malach Ro-288, former installed Magos Dominus of the Adeptus Mechanicus...or perhaps even its ignoble predecessor.
Clacking along on a quartet of spindly spider-like appendages to the harsh sound of thumping pistons and hissing pneumatic pumps, the Heretek looked upon this new world world from beneath a voluminous hood that cast much of what remained of the former Magos' face in darkness.
Features indistinguishable but for an octet of small glowing blue lenses spaced about in random clusters that in turn adjusted and focused seemingly at random on whatever caught the ancient cyborg's fancy.
This fancy currently directed towards Mercury Black, or more specifically his legs. Proof of the Magos' skill, Claret would not have been able to pick out the prosthetic otherwise...though he would be the expert.
To her knowledge not even Viridis had been aware of exactly how much of Malach beneath those robes was still human, though Claret suspected very little if any still remained of the body he'd been born with.
His humanity sacrificed on the altar of fervent augmentation and commitment to the fell powers they all served.
What was left of his thoughts, those few glimpses Claret could glean, consisted of little more than scraps of binaric cant and machined processes bare of even the slightest hint of emotion.
Still, the Word Bearer had found Malach a useful tool over the course of the long centuries, the Tech-Traitor's innate talents in weaving the sacred mysteries of the Empyrean with the physical disciplines of the mechanical having seen many a Loyalist cesspit into ruin. Oft times with nary a shot fired as the faithful of the Undying Corpse and the Machine Idol found their precious resources turned against them in worshipful slaughter in celebrations of woeful sentience.
His truest loyalties however were to his work rather than to the Exiled One, but given the wealth of interest he had shown in Remnant's unique technological avenues such as the varied applications of Dust in matters of energy-propellant, medicine, and combat...well, Claret felt he would be able to content himself under her influence...with care.
A shame the same however couldn't be said of all those she had managed to salvage...
"Careful Magos, methinks you may be scaring the poor boy with that talk. Don't you?" A chiding tone shot through with good humor arose from the slender man seated nearest the twitching Heretek, leaned with his back against the shipping container that had been their most recent abode and conveyance as of a few hours before. "We are guests here after all, no need to aggravate our gracious hosts unduly is there?"
Balimund Nave, a walking contradiction if ever Claret had seen one, even among the strange unbelievable things she had witnessed during her time as Viridis' equerry. Clean shaven and athletically built with ebon slicked back hair and olive sun kissed features meticulously groomed despite the grimy battle worn fatigues he wore, soaked through a ruddy brown with dried blood.
A youthful gleam shining in a pair of mismatched eyes, one the vibrant blue of oceans, the other the gleaming golden glow of a star, complete with a roguish smile playing across full lips that was designed to melt bleeding hearts and put minds at ease. Whether this was achieved through surgery or careful rejuvenat treatments was unclear..
Yet despite all this, the Magus knew all too well that this man was far from the highborn socialite he appeared to be.
Exactly how far, Claret admitted she did not know, the man's mind protected from her Psychic perusals by a complex deeply ingrained system of ingenious mental and hypno-employed barriers and neuro-engrams.
The topography of his mental landscape a reworked mire of metaphor and subtle dissembly, making it quite impossible to deride meaning at a casual trace without more thorough methods.
Methods Claret dare not employ, knowing full well the secret traps and snares some chose to levy in defense of their darkest secrets. Her thoughts went to the grubby journal that lay bound to the man's hip by a length of gleaming silver chain, somehow untouched by the same damage that had afflicted his clothing...
Nave was, by his own words, an agitator...a fire starter at home among both the downtrodden masses of the underhives all the way to the heights of a Planetary Governor's court.
The Disciple had no idea where and when he had come into the Exiled One's service. Yet from what she'd heard tell of the man's name...those that could be attributed to him at any rate, were the bywords for corruption and rebellion throughout both the Angelus and Varinius sub-sectors. Responsible for the organization and implementation of cult activity across at least a dozen worlds and the full-scale rebellion of perhaps half that number, not to mention the murder of countless Imperial citizens.
All in service to the cause of tearing down the Imperium of Man and the Rule of the God-Emperor piece by piece, world by world, soul by damned soul...
"...tHE cONcerns of MEaT is OF little...*Pzzt* consequence, Subject: Balimund Nave. INTENT: I merely seek to admire the subtle wonders of this world's advances." Malach Ro-288 snarled through his vox-speaker in some guttural Underhive dialect, the tone breaking up partway before being replaced by the steady cadence of the educated. "Such workmanship, they are... exquisite."
"Truly?" Nave merely shrugged, finally taking notice of Claret's gaze, or finally deigning to acknowledge it with a nod...such casual arrogance. "I guess I will just have to take your word for it, my fried. Still to use the term 'freaks' is a little harsh given our majority. Ser Zaar, your thoughts on the matter?"
He turned his attentions elsewhere, gently rapping a fist against the container to make himself heard over the low grunting chants echoing from within, benedictions from the rest of Claret's congregation.
Lady Cinder had insisted...no, outright ordered the eight remaining individuals to remain hidden when at all possible.
Whether this was due more to security or to her own sense of decorum Claret could only guess at, her mind shielded somehow by something old and bearing its own sentience, diminished but still vital.
A wellspring of aetheric force not so far removed from her own passenger, the egotistical perhaps one of the Secondborn, the possessed? Was that possible, she displayed none of the signs?
Certain or not, it was difficult not to notice the horrified expressions crossing the two youth's faces at the hulking figure lurching with slow plodding steps from the interior of the hold on bare feet.
Broad slab-like muscle striped with ritual scarring and ink stacked in thick layers across a form nearly seven feet tall, and humanoid in only the loosest sense. One arm overlarge and shot through with spiked cartilage, wreathed further in rusting chains threaded with curved razors that sparked and skittered as they dug grooves into layers of metal decking.
Further signs of aberrant growths from scaled chitin, wriggling veins, and even a bloodshot eye littered what bits of corpse pale skin was visible underneath broken piecemeal flak plating scavenged and modified to fit his silhouette. The markings of at least least three differing regiments of Imperial Guard visible, their previous owners represented in the skull fragments hooked and hanging from a torque about what constituted the Mutant's neck.
Beady violet pinpricks the same shade as that on his chest stared out at Emerald and Mercury from brows coated in mottled weeping cuniforms of curling script that almost appeared to wriggle and shift, stretched more so by a wide mouth filled with far too many teeth that in themselves were far too large.
That he was one of the less afflicted by the Power's more visible blessings lurking within that hold...
"What I's be flappin' bout' callin' names, Clean-Gene?" The mound of flesh rumbled in its gutter slang, the same he'd used to incite his brothers and sisters against the upper levels of Kasr Soliq, insects crawling from the foundations to feast on the corpse above.
Balimund merely shrugged his shoulders dismissively, "Twists be Twists, Zaar, Ain't rollin' like dat'. 'Ser' be the top speak where I crawl up." He said in a perfect vocal recreation of the Mutant's dialect, even down to the social inflections and accent. Flawlessly done, that roguish smile making a show once more. "Ain't like other Stomps, keepin' boots down. Good noise?"
"You messin' our pulse, Nave! Cuttin' words round and round, sweet speak. We be bleedin', bleedin' raw...!"
He desired a return to his prayers, a true convert at least to the ways of blood and bone which had given him his authority.
The still bleeding marks dripping from more than a few fresh cuts and flayed sections of his free arm foretelling the dangers of repressing such urges in such a small space.
He wanted to kill, to tear the annoying little fop and his familiar words apart and feel the warmth of blood on his hands. The nigh consuming urge to feast upon his flesh, to rip the dermus and plunder the soft tissue within, bones cracking to powder beneath...
But Claret would not allow this. A gentle lash of mental Will across his forebrain enough to curb his attentions from violence, if only for the moment, and remind him of who commanded whom.
"Beggin' pardon, Mistress." He bowed his hairless head low, rattling his garish trophies. "No ruckus meant."
"None felt. Answer him, if you desire...Brother."
Claret added the overly familiar title as an afterthought, though the rising impressions of glee and pleasure radiating from the Mutant made it clear he treasured the honor, or at the very least respected it. Warbands guided under her will had spared Zaar and his brother's lives, had armed and guided their wrath, earning her an approximation of debt and regard from those he commanded...useful to cultivate if blunt.
"How fares the others? I ordered no deaths, no injury beyond the scope of your daily observations..."
"Nah, they's be sittin' tight. I's gottem' in hand. My word, Mistress." Zaar declared emphatically, glaring out at the two children now watching the scene with mixed interest and disgust. "They's be hungry, true. Sweet Curve, warm, sweet." A forked tongue flicked across his fangs as he stared at a now thoroughly alarmed Emerald, loosing bloody spittle across the Agitator's now unsmiling face as incisors carved the soft tissue to shreds. "A taste, only be a nibble...!"
A renewed Psychic onslaught put him swaying back a few steps into the container's confines and thankfully out of sight, the last few moments along with his hunger torn from his mind and scattered.
Restless without outlet, confused without reason, the Mutant war-leader returned drunkenly to his misshapen flock, joining his voice with there's in worship of the Blood God that had seen them free. For now...
"Hmm...Almost sorry I asked now, boorish manners on that one. Their vernacular always leaves a bad taste." Balimund said with an air of resigned disdain, wiping the worst of the spittle from his face with a tissue cloth while offering an apologetic nod to the pair at the storehouse door. "Our generous Hostess best be quick about this business of hers, lest she come back to a few less helping hands. How much longer do you think to keep them suppressed so, Dearheart?"
"Far longer if you ceased antagonizing them at every opportunity." Claret replied sharply, hating that she rose to his baiting so easily. Her nerves indeed strained by the prolonged efforts to keep the Mutant Conclave calm and congregated in one place, quiescent...they had once numbered thirteen after all, Zaar and his brood had been so ravenous...beyond even her control, as Nave no doubt sought to imply now with his jests. "We must be cautious now so more than ever, as the last of our number still roaming free."
The last of the truly faithful...all other servants of the True Powers from what her visions and the whispers of her 'Passenger' conveyed had either been culled by the Grimmspawn or the Loyalists that first bloody day.
That, or captured by these Atlesian Planetary Defense Forces, an unlucky few hunted still moment by moment...the focus of their terror faint, only the barest glimpses of a giant in black wielding a rage far darker in the violent throes of their own psychic death cries...
'...an Angel's wrath...'
Those the Disciple felt clearly, each loss a blow to her gut...but she would not mourn them, but she may regret the loss of their potential.
"Small numbers indeed, given the fact you abandoned many of the rest to their fate at the hands of the Rot God King's servants. And now here we are left to grovel at the feet of one with barely the slightest idea of what or whom she truly serves!? Lord Viridis would never have stood for...!"
"Viridis is dead, sacrificed as the others were in carrying us this far!" Her words flowed freely, painted with pride and the knowledge of one for which all had purpose. "We stand on Remnant, Balimund, in the heart of the Exiled One's prison itself! The Rite of Cataclysm succeeded, a stable route parsing the veil between realities established, a true extimate fold found and reopened at the very doorstep of the Great Eye!"
"Yes, yes I'm quite aware of what we did, Dearheart." Balimund waved off the zeal, that mismatched gaze holding her fast. "The impossible tends to stick out amidst the tedium. What was it they said, a 'Dream of the Insane'?"
For good reason, the very basis of such a phenomenon involved the overlap of two entirely differing locations into the same point in both time and space, both in the Physical realm and the Empyrean. To go a drive further, to store such a space in between the folds...by all laws of physical and metaphysical reason this place, this planet, shouldn't even exist let alone be a seat of civilization.
But yet here it was, a jewel of incredible possibility cast adrift to the whimsy of beings far beyond petty things such as reason or sense.
-"Viridis, Gadreel and the Others all promised a world of paradise. Power beyond our reckoning, but we both knew that was simple fancy now didn't we? The skeins of the Warp never offers without taking something back in return..."-
Balimund leaned forward conspiratorially while tapping a forefinger to his temple, and Claret realized with an irksome start that he was allowing her to perceive this fraction of thought so that they might communicate without notice.
His mind compartmentalizing about this open door, a shifting puzzle where the first move had already been solve, the temptation to delve deeper...
-"No, wait...no, you actually truly believed him, didn't you?...Ah yes, I see them now, the micro-tells, the imperceptible twitches...written like art all over your...!?"-
-(-"ENOUGH!"-)-
The Agitator recoiled with a strangled moan as her Psychic Displeasure knifed into the meat of this puzzle with all the brutality of a true dagger, skull slamming back against the container's walls with a sharp ringing impact that drew growls and yipping cries from the ravenous abominations caged inside.
They feared such power, feared her as much as adored her...
Such outcries were swiftly silenced as well, until soon the only sounds in the wide empty space were the rapid clicks of the criminal duo's now readied weapons and Nave's wet hacking breaths, his airways clogged by vomit and mucous that lazily puddled across the floor.
The man's prettied features not quite so clean and put together anymore, not face down with tracks of crimson weeping from now panicked eyes.
-(-"We are hurt, yes. I believed, yes. And I am not Viridis, I lack his patience and his greed."-)-
Claret stared down from her kneeling spot of meditative worship, a juddering muscle pulse hidden beneath crimson bangs and a thin drip of blood from one nostril the only physical signs of what Nave's reprimand had cost her, the only one she allowed, but it was worth it to watch him squirm. Memories of Viridis' final perfidy, how he had drawn upon the the powers of the ritual to fuel his apotheosis to Daemonic Princeling...his fate had been deserved.
She would not make the same mistakes...all she had, she gave to the Cause.
-(-"Despite this, I will pave the way for The Fallen Angel and our Lords Highest. And standing together, by faith and blood, our Exiled Master WILL TASTE VICTORY!"-)-
This final emphasis set convulsions wracking through his prone form, his mind once again locked to her but thoroughly shaken in the offing.
Her 'Passenger' still felt it too lenient, claws raking at her innards, a tongue that wasn't a tongue lapping at her servant's fear and pain, sampling them as a Governor might sample a fine vintage.
But she would not, could not, allow herself to act on its desires, not yet. Balimund Nave was still useful...but examples must be made of course, even if Malach Ro-288 gave no outward signs of having noticed or cared in the slightest for the visceral interaction of his fellows.
No, the Magos' senses were keyed outwards, focused unerringly towards...
"...an influx of fresh biological contacts drawing closer to this dwelling's entrance. ANALYSIS: Four armed subjects bearing a Pattern of Assault Stub gun not wholly dissimilar from standard Stubcarbine Patterns, marching in loose formation with two heat signatures leading the advance."
Magos Malach Ro-288 quirked the mismatched amalgamation of photolenses, feeder tubes, dangling wires, and shaped plastek casing that constituted much of what remained of his head in examination of threat probabilities alongside analysis of appropriate situational dialogues for various outcomes.
Augmetic senses far beyond that of his compatriot's meager flesh allowed such luxury for preparation and contemplation, having already scanned minor gait-variations among other unique biometric identifiers against recorded archives embedded within the warm thrumming of his Intelligence Core.
Computation worthy of several cogitators, fulfilled in the span of time it took young Nave to shudder and buckle under the Sorceress' mental assault. Those most recent dealings to secure such upgrades had been truly worthwhile indeed. His cortex driven thoughts raced at speeds akin to divinity, his auto-senses creating a web of sensory in-load that extended far beyond this meager hab block.
"...-0101001001101001 01110110 01100101 01110100 01101001 01101110 01100111-..." He ex-loaded his glee in rapturous whispered cant, a slight glitch in the artificial nerve bundles of his augmetic forelimbs reacting to an old involuntary pleasure neural response present in his previous flesh carapace. Metallic digits and mono-filament mechadendrites quivering in unbidden haptic excitement.
An old quirk, one he had decidedly never acted to discard, for what purpose he couldn't quite say. The reasoning no doubt lost to the centuries of rampancy and bio-mechanical ascension...
He consciously allowed moments for contemplation and self reflection, sectioning off layers of processing within his neural network. His true focus however was directed upon the interlopers, the entities sharing his consciousness devouring raw data with single-minded voracity.
The haggard breaths of multiple sources drawing in air by way of the inefficient sacs of shuddering meat within their chests, disgusting truly. The chugging hum of a distant aircraft's engine cycling down, practically screaming in its desperate need of proper maintenance denied it. And above all, that telltale marker associated with the steps of their Benefactor's emissary, punctuated by the clicking of inefficient glass heels...
"DETERMINATION: Lady Cinder has returned, and brings others in her wake as well. Further data influx concludes with Ninety-Five point Two-Four Percent certainty that these newcomers consist wholly of the local Abhuman-strain designated..."
"F-Faunus!?"
It appeared Nave was recovering somewhat, his voice hoarse and slurred, all illusions of class stripped away by indignity and discomfort. Possessed of an impressive fortitude indeed, far-exceeding that of others subjected to similar stimuli in Malach's archives. The Agitator had worked his way up to his knees, refusing to look at the Psyker Sorceress though addressing her all the same, so inefficient...
"The Fall woman never mentioned a blasted word about bringing strangers here! Certainly not those bearing arms!"
His unspoken question was clear, yet Lady Claret didn't bother entertaining an answer. Deigning only to rise and straighten the tattered vestments she wore into something resembling civility.
Slow and measured steps bringing her to Malach's side as a rattling *clang* arose from the rolling sheet metal doorway that constituted an entrance, Emerald Sustrai at the ready to greet the party outside while Mercury Black stood as observer and monitor both.
Truly he was a marvelous subject, stepping with the calm assured grace that well equaled if not surpassed similar augmentations displayed by the Skitarii militant forces of most standard Forgeworlds. Whoever or whatever had gifted the boy his implants was quite a mind indeed, one whose brain Malach would very much like to pick apart.
"These souls do not intend us harm, though they are wary of our Savior." The crimson haired female commented with the assurity provided by her 'talents'. Black Nostromon irises narrowing slowly as the metal portal completed its squealing vertical trek and Cinder Fall stepped into the stark illumination of the warehouse's overhead flood lamps.
Eyes of gleaming amber leered out at the assembled inhabitants from beneath ashen black tresses that fell across bared shoulders in easy waves. A near scandalously cut dress of fiery red outlined by gold colored traceries that almost appeared to burn with a fiery flickering radiance. In fact they were burning quite literally, the Magos easily detecting excessive traces of Dust Substance #R-001 present within the weaving of the material, in itself emanating a potent aetheric field detectable by his more esoteric sensors.
'Imbuing the material within items of clothing...DETERMINATION: Further study warranted, potential combat and defensive benefits outweigh risks...'
An impressive specimen of disarming physical beauty and regal disdain, evoking the image of a Planetary Governor's favored daughter without the all too common traces of subtle yet heavy cosmetic surgery and weight of excess. Lady Fall was dangerous as well, much like the flames she commanded at will in battle, emanating this air of tireless hunger.
Ruthlessly cunning if what small glimpses of her overall plan were to be believed, ambitious in the extreme...and eternally displeased with the rising interest shown in her newest charges.
"My deepest apologies for being away so long, urgent business to attend to. You all understand I'm sure?" Her voice, low and well modulated to present auditory cues of regret and conciliation, all likely false. "I trust Emerald and Mercury have been more than hospitable in the interim?
-(-"Stand vigilant yet follow my lead, and do not act without provocation. I sense an imminent crossroads ahead, salvation and doom in equal measure."-)- Claret continued in psy-communion, inclining her head slightly in respectful greeting as though to an equal. Nave and Malach moving to follow suit in their own ways, Nave grimacing at the continued telepathic contact. Despite this, the foppish provocateur bowed low with no small amount of flourish. Somewhat still off-balanced by his earlier punishment and leaking in some places, meanwhile the Magos made a show of adjusting fine weight distribution along hissing joints.-(-"There is potential here...Cinder, she seeks to rid herself of us in the guise of providing aid. Little does she know she truly fulfills both, Magos.-)-
Ah, so she was only truly addressing the Mages then?
That would make logical sense, Nave's array of mental defenses no doubt locked tight, his discomfort more a matter of proximity than direct contact. Young Claret was coming along so fast, just like her Master before her. Malach had to wonder how much of that was the female's own initiative and talent, and what she owed to the 'addition' he had aided Lord Viridis in granting her.
He could have extrapolated likely percentages and run simulations regarding the comparison, though that would have been a waste of processing capability.
Especially when there were far more interesting subjects of study readily available...
"So...these are the ones you told us about?"
A measured growl preceded the handful of armed individuals treading into the space behind the Red Witch, falling into a loose tactical spread that Malach Ro-288 noted would allow them to react with varying degrees of effectiveness to any present threat within the structure, even that from Cinder herself.
A motley bunch uniformed in white sleeveless jackets stuffed with body armor that didn't quite distract from the various signs of physical abnormality. Vestigial ears, scales, even a prehensile tail, all were represented by these mutants, these...'Faunus'.
"The 'travelers' you picked up? The ones supposedly left over from the Cata...from the Storm?"
The Speaker, sporting dark clothing of mixed reds and blacks in stark contrast to his fellows though bearing a similar mask obscuring the upper half of his face, placed a lazy hand upon the hilt of the sword belted at his waist and strode forward confidently. Malach surmised him a leader among his fellows, marked out clearly as an 'Alpha' and placed above by his differences, his blatant displays of individuality common in pack/squad mentality.
Jagged horns of dark ivory material peeked out along the sides of his head, almost lost in his shock of red hair, only a few shades darker than Malach's own Mistress and the dress Cinder flaunted.
"Indeed, from a group at odds with those currently residing at Beacon. As we discussed before." Cinder replied, crossing her arms and easing back into a relaxed stance while her pair of underlings moved to either side. "You don't approve?"
"Certainly don't look like much." The bull-headed Faunus spat back, gesturing with a nod towards his men in non-verbal command, two breaking away to follow him as he moved forward with his hidden gaze intent on Lady Claret and Balimund Nave. "More humans, of course. Why am I not surprised?"
Masks worn in imitation of the Grimm Xeno-form for reasons of primitive intimidation tactics, wholesale Faunus demographic, fragmentary cross-comparisons of the logo across one particularly anxious solider drawn from glimpses as he'd shifted to glance behind him...Malach knew of this outfit designation, though this was his first time encountering members of the White Fang Movement 'in the flesh' so to speak.
The Heretek had not been idle in his curiosity these last long days. The opportunities presented, a whole new culture nay...a whole new world to record, quantify, and understand. And it wasn't as though the gleaning of such information had been overly difficult, especially once he'd been able to incorporate the 'Scroll' cogitator device Emerald Sustrai had provided him with into his physical makeup successfully. Utilizing fully his voracious Data-Geist's as well as the unprecedented access of even this civilian device to delve deep into the collected history and knowledge of his surroundings.
In the Imperium, data on anything was a precious commodity jealously guarded by the Priest of the Red Planet if not lost across the deepest libraries and long forgotten cogitator banks of a million worlds by dint of the overwhelming bureaucracy of the Adeptus Ministorum. It's own bloated system it's own perfect defense.
But here by comparison, in this place, facts, figures, and even communications might as well have been sectioned off into easily digestible chunks free for the sampling. The mainstream of processing and transfer centered around and controlled by a series of relays leading back to four central hubs that fed off of and supported one another intrinsically.
A web work of function supported by these vast pillars...and yet so very delicate. If even one were to fall...thoughts for another day.
These and more had been the cyborg's first true tastes of Remnant in an exalted swell of holy data, and the Thief's first experience with the full scope of mechanical splendor comprising Malach's artifice. Going by the retching heaves his auto-senses had isolated along with the mocking sympathy of her Partner, Emerald did not take to the revelation easily. It was almost offensive...
'Meaningless, focus on the facts...'
The White Fang had been a rather well documented Movement, its actions and motivations of interest to many across the length and breadth of the planet these recent years. 'Militant Faunus seeking to tear down the systemic oppression of the human race and uplift their fellows' or perhaps 'Bloodthirsty terrorists seeking to bring an end to civilized society through extremist dogma and reprehensible terror campaigns', both definitions depending on whom one asked.
The Heretek had seen their like before across dozens of worlds, a downtrodden segment of the subhuman population seeking to better their environmental conditions by increasingly violent means, often at odds with suppression forces controlled and supplied by the status quo.
Viridis had cultivated many such cults with passionate fervor and levels of enjoyment often bordering on sadism, their numbers almost always decimated by Imperial forces, their only purpose to soften resistance and distract from the true threat. Men like the one coming closer always the most useful, and always the first to the pyre...
"You stand before the White Fang. The truest defenders of the Faunus race, the representatives of Remnant's superior species." The swordsman cocked his head at Malach's companions before favoring the fallen Tech Priest with a wary sneer. The Heretek was inclined to allow this, following his Lead's order and remaining silent, despite the dozen or so threat markers and targeting matrices picking the Faunus apart moment by moment. "My name is...!"
"Adam Taurus, vaunted Lieutenant of the White Fang, and 'He who slices apart the hanging moon'." Claret curtsied, startling the now named Taurus with her sudden speech, evidently thrown off and for good reason while his guards brought their weapons to bear. Pointless really, Malach doubted they'd manage to get so much as a shot off if pushed to extremes. If not at the hands of Claret than himself, and if not him...well, Zaar and his flesh brothers would enjoy a morsel. "Chosen by the skeins of Fate to lead his people to new heights, despite great personal sacrifice. You are known."
"Hmph...Pretty words." Adam raised a hand to steady his guards though noticeably not the one he kept on his sword hilt. "You seem to think you know quite a bit at least. The Red Witch mentioned that, so you're the one called...?"
"Claret, the name the gods gifted me with. Such will serve." The mention of her deities unsettled the terrorist, micro-expressions among other chemical tells indicating as much. Claret noticed this too, pursing her lip before lowering her eyes once more in deference. "And the Lady Cinder is correct, I am privy to many things lost or thought hidden. It is one of my gifts, one of many I can offer if you would allow it so?"
"Gifts like mind reading? Cinder let slip that little detail too on the way over. No need to test that." The Fall woman smirked, and though faint Malach could feel the tension ripple through Claret's presence. Carefully schooled into calm serenity and a smile that stole the grin off her counterpart's face. "Which I suppose means you must know why I'm here, then?"
For one encountering a Psyker, Adam Taurus displayed commendable restraint. Of course the Magos surmised a Eighty-Nine Point Nine-Two percent likelihood he was merely confident he could slay the Sorceress/Demagogue before she offered any true threat.
"I am aware what Lady Fall promised you and your compatriots, yes Adam Taurus." She replied tentatively, maintaining not only an air of confidence but one of submission as well. Nave merely choosing to stay quiet, though the former Priest could feel the pounding of his heart and note the tension in his bowed musculature. He hated being forced to grovel, almost as much as he hated being contained. "In return for your aid and succor in this time, I will swear myself and my companions to yours and your fellows' shared cause. Together, we will see an end to the Kingdoms of Mankind and those who claim to defend it, setting the foundations of a new order to the benefit those worthy."
By his expression it was clear who Adam Taurus felt to be those 'worthy' of this lofty declaration, though he seemed pleased enough. Pleased, but skeptical...
"An 'end to the Kingdoms' eh?" He bared inch by inch of ardent cerise steel slowly with a near silent hiss perceptible only to those with senses keyed to levels remarkable. A sneer creeping across his thin lips as he moved with speed well beyond the expectations of what should have been possible for an unaugmented human, closing the distance until the edge of his sword shone a mere hair's breadth from Claret's jugular. Malach's targeting aides flashing red, tracking the entire motion if only just while Nave's hand twitched for the book he carried. "We'll need more than overzealous promises and fancy rhetoric, Human. We require weapons, an army...!"
"And both you shall have and so much more, wielded and led by the finest of Warriors. The whispers of the gods and our Exiled One proclaim it to be so, and so shall it be." Slowly, ever so slowly, her pale fingers moved to push the blade gently aside. Her face impassive even as the fine edge sliced deeply into the digits staining the sword a further crimson, Taurus allowing the motion though whether willingly or by some unseen communication between the two the Heretek could not say. "But of course if proof is what you require, take heed of the least that I offer and judge the worth of my words. You were followed, Adam, betrayed yet again."
"What!? What do you...!?"
Taurus stepped back, flicking the Sorceress' blood from his sword an instant before flood lamps sprang to life along the periphery of the outside, bathing the whole of the work yard in bewildering illumination. Sirens blared as well, half a dozen ground cars including a large personnel carrier skidding to a halt surrounding the entrance.
Lightly armed Arbites roved into cover at the sides of more heavily equipped soldiers in thick sets of carapace armor if more heavily modified.
"THIS IS VALE P.D IN SUPPORT OF ATLAS-VALE SECURITY FORCES!" The missive boomed, garbled by distortion and noise baffling but clear enough in it's intent. "TO WHITE FANG MEMBERS AND AFFILIATES, LOWER YOUR WEAPONS AND SUBMIT TO ARREST! THERE'S NOWHERE TO RUN...!"
While Nave reacted swiftly to leap behind what protection the storage container provided, Malach's Data-geists picked out varied pieces of technology and weaponry on display, cross-checking it against known and available specifications present in data he'd collected. Determining firing patterns and target priority, vectors of attack along with elements of communication.
An outgoing signal was detected, bouncing off the nearest prime hub towards a position several hundred meters above the city.
'INFERENCE: A ship perhaps, an organized effort?'
Whatever the reason it mattered little and could be reexamined at a later junction, the Heretek's peculiar suite of Machine Spirits smothering the signal and swiftly moved to infect the offending piece of technology with a potent infection of scrap-code that swiftly spread throughout the strike team's communications and much of the nearby area's broadcast network.
The security, if it could even be called such, was utterly laughable and overwhelmed in mere moments.
"...SURRENDER PEACEFULLY OR YOU WILL BE FIRED UPON! THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING!"
If they noticed however the insidious poison pervading their technology they gave little sign. No doubt intent on their prey, animals hunting animals...Adam's soldiers scrambling for what pitiful cover they could reach. Meanwhile Cinder and her fellows retreated into the shadows, their outlines blurring until they simply...vanished?
'ERROR...ERROR...RE-CALIBRATING...'
No, they didn't simply vanish, they were merely hidden, whether by some cloaking technology or something more arcane Malach couldn't determine without further data. Details to assess at a later date...
He could still track their signature in Infrared prey-sight however, Cinder's outline a bloom of heat in comparison to the others. Standing in contrast was Claret who, despite shielding her sensitive eyes from the harsh lighting, seemed perfectly at ease, placing a comforting hand on Adam's shoulder to ostensibly keep him from acting hastily. She was fortunate, he'd calculated a fifty-seven point nine-four percent likelihood of a violent reaction stealing the limb by mistake.
"Traitors must suffer, in that we are agreed." He heard the redhead whisper softly in the Faunus' ear before murmuring something else, something foul.
A word that was not a word by any reasonable quantification or vocabulary, one that swept through the fabric of reality and made it ache. A sound that defied reason and created such discord in his mental equilibrium that the Magos was forced to shut down and re-calibrate his auditory sense implants lest he be swept in the foul enunciation's tides, Adam himself staggering with a Crimson energy about him flashing wildly like an ignited signal flare.
As it was, the White Fang who had been looking back out the door earlier let loose a throat rending howl that exploded from his mouth in a welter of bloodied vomit and broken teeth, collapsing into open view of the yard for all to see. Uniform bulging and limbs jerking at unnatural angles, his fellows torn between aiding him and fleeing at the horrific sight.
So grotesque was the display that even those outside didn't quite know how to react, staring in dumbstruck horror as the young Faunus' body rebelled against itself. Flesh running and pooling in thick rivulets like melting wax, all while hands now bloated with jagged bone struts clawed and tore into a face collapsing inward until all that was left was a distended screaming maw of broken incisors attempting to articulate pleas that simply would not come.
Stolen by that single word...
Instead the thing that had once been Faunus wept and it thrashed, charging headlong at the hastily assembled cordon screaming pitifully for mercy, finally provided by the sharp rapport of one quivering Arbites' weapon though not before it tore the bodies of three others apart in spectacular displays of violence and weathered the salvos of several more. Silence falling over the entirety of the scene, silence broken by a voice of zealous adulation and joy.
"We of the Exiled Path greet you, White Fang!" Claret collapsed to her knees taking Adam's struggling form down with her in some mock imitation of obeisance. Dark veins showing along her neck and face, a gleam of fiery red burning in the dark of Nostramon orbs. "Let this be the beginning of a beautiful partnership, and the beginning of the end for this paltry peace!"
At her declaration, whatever spell or influence holding Zaar and his twisted kin docile was ripped away and discarded in a moment of eerily curious tension. A single long drawn out moment of false serenity.
Then the door to the storage container flew off its hinges with an ear-shattering *CRASH*, the shadows writhing within spilling forth in a tide of misshapen flesh and the fury of those bearing the favor of a god whose passions had been denied them for far too long. Heaving muscle strained, chains and hooks dragged across permacrete, rusted blades embedding themselves into deeply gristle and bone...
At that point such silence was moot, the only sounds after that the panicked discharge of weapons fire and the screaming of those who survived afterwards to whet the mutant's ravenous appetites...
-END
A/N: A little look at Chaos, not everyone's favorite cup of tea but we've gotta give the antagonists some love too, just to see what their up too and plan some good ol' fashion witch pyres. Took ten chapters, TEN, but I think the world buildings pretty much done. Folks like seeing RWBY characters interact with the Grimmdark, and I will strive to provide.
In other news, I know there are heretical amounts of characters in this story and quite possibly more to come. Just thought I'd whip this list up for you guys just to help people keep track of names and where they are in the narrative, even the dead ones. Hope it makes things easier. - Mojo
(-Dramatis Personae-)
:Imperium:
Junior Commissar Catriona Catelin - Junior Commissar hailing from Cadia assigned to a detachment of the Cadian 8th acting in defense of Kasr Rantik, serving with distinction and even assuming indirect command of the defending forces upon the sudden violent death of her Mentor. Lead the counter-attack that saw the Commander of the Traitor Forces dead if not in time to prevent the ritual that sent herself and a sizable number of forces drawn from both sides across the surface of Cadia and beyond. Fought to repel sudden attack by Grimm flocking in response to negative emotions, once more taking charge of scattered Imperium forces and organizing a defense until relieved by arrival of Atlas Forces.
Currently held by said Forces much to her chagrin, representing Imperium interests.
Sister Novitiate Delphine - Sister of the Order of Our Martyred Lady, Delphine fought her first war upon the surface of Cadia alongside her Sisters against forces assailing the already besieged Kasr Rantik. Stood against the Apostle Viridis as her Order's sole representative on the field, aiding in distracting the Astartes leading to his death. Drawn to Remnant and fought in the Battle of the Emerald Forest.
Currently held under guard of Atlas forces under heavy guard.
Trooper Lux Brindle - Trooper of the Cadian 8th Imperial Guard and re-socialized Ganger scum, determined as highly skilled and months away from consideration for the Kasrkin Elites. Waylaid by the 13th Black Crusade, serving with distinction during the battle of Kasr Rantik where he and the Junior Commissar slew the Chaos Sorcerer leading the assault. Was manipulated by Psyker Nell to act in her defense, fighting through the chaos of the Battle for the Emerald Forest against both Grimm and Traitor Forces to reach her before being saved by Yang Xiao Long.
Currently held by Atlas Forces, serving under Catelin.
Lady Vivian Stahl - Knight Scion and Head of House Stahl, Pilot of the Knight Titan Verdant Dawn, who fought upon the Fields of Cadia against the Apostle Viridis' forces. Drawn to Remnant by the Sorcerer's ritual, she engaged larger Grimm that fell upon the beleaguered survivors where her Mount sustained heavy damage.
Currently held by Atlas Forces along with her machine.
Nell - Imperial Wyrdvane(Wild) Psyker in service to the Cadian 8th Regiment, assumed indirect Psychic command of Knight Scion Vivian Stahl, Trooper Lux Brindle, and Sister Novitiate Delphine during the Fall of Kasr Rantik. Through this bond, she manipulated Brindle to her defense during the chaos of the Imperium's arrival within the Emerald Forest.
Currently held by Atlas Forces under 'strict' watch.
Darius Trager - Sacristan(A Demi-Tech Priest of Knights) in service to the Noble Knight Household of Stahl and its Lady Vivian. Thought Lost upon the surface of Cadia.
Alberic - Imperial Primaris Psyker stationed alongside the Cadian 8th during the fall of Kasr Rantik. Slain upon the field by the Dark Apostle Viridis.
Canus - Honored Knight of House Krast, lost along with his Knight Titan Stalwart in Grace upon the Fields of Cadia to creatures within the Immaterium.
Atra - Minor Knight of House Krast who served during the Fall of Kasr Rantik, lost along with his Knight Titan Mordred's Humility in the midst of the Cataclysm.
Sister Superior Mariana - Commander of the Adepta Sororitas survivors during Fall of Kasr Rantik, slain by the Apostle Viridis.
:Space Marines:
Raaf Praeto - Scout Marine of the Raven Guard Chapter on the cusp of promotion to full Battle Brother, was drawn to Remnant during actions to apprehend/assassinate a Traitor Astartes Sorcerer alongside forces of the Deathwatch and his own Chapter. Currently the 'prisoner' of the Branwen Tribe, a Latent Psker.
Caim Sarkha - Brother of the Flesh Tearer's Chapter seconded to the Deathwatch (Alien Hunters). Currently roaming within the Emerald Forest in defiance of Atlas Forces after aiding Imperium Forces upon arrival.
Giallo - Devastator of the Lamenters Chapter, cast upon Remnant during a failed teleportation assault directed towards Cadia. Currently traveling within the confiens of Menagerie, making war upon hostile White Fang Forces.
Tetahi Mā - Void Brother of the Carcharodon Astra(Space Sharks), encased in the Terminator Armour of his Chapter's 'Red Brethren' in service of the Chapter Master. Landed upon the coast of Menagerie, encountering Giallo to the detriment of White Fang Forces.
Odd Redtooth & Bruna - Skyclaw(Assault Marine) of the Vlka Fenryka(Space Wolves) Chapter serving in the Great Company of Sven Bloodhowl, taken by the void alongside his Cyberwolf companion Bruna during orbital assault on Traitor Forces, he arrived on Remnant and now fights for survival along other Astartes Remnants.
Niall - Apothecary of the Black Templars Chapter, drawn to Remnant in the wake of Viridis' Ritual. Currently dwelling in the wilds of Atlas alongside other Astartes, protecting the gene-seed of his fallen Brothers.
Neophyte Lividus - Scout Marine of the Ultramarines Chapter, drawn to Remnant while in service to the vaunted Ultramarines Honor Company and the defense of Cadia. Currently dwelling in the wilds of Atlas alongside other Astartes.
Honorable Dearg - A Battle-Brother of the Brazen Claws Chapter sealed within a Contemptor Dreadnought Chassis now 'leading' the assorted survivors upon the fields of Atlas on Remnant. Ancient beyond counting, perhaps stretching back to the dark days of the Horus Heresy and the Xth Legion.
:Chaos:
Viridis - Traitor Astartes Apostle of the XVIIth Legion "Word Bearers". Proclaimed Prophet of the Exiled Fifth God of the Warp, he utilized Abbadon's 13th Black Crusade and the death throes of Cadia to fuel a ritual (Known as the Cataclysm) that opened a rift between Physical Reality and the Immaterrium. Siphoning on the sheer excess of Sorcerous energy, he sought to remake himself as a Daemon Prince of the Forgotton One, but failed and was slain by the combined efforts of Loyalist Forces. Succeeded by his Disciple, Claret.
Clara / "Claret" - A mortal follower descended from the long dead world of Nostramo, corrupted Psyker of great power, and favored disciple of the Dark Apostle Virdis. Currently leading the scant Remnants of her Master's forces upon Remnant, dancing to the tune of her Mistress and the proliferation of Chaos Manifest.
Zaar - Mutant War Leader responsible for uprisings in the lower underhives of Kasr Soliq. Sworn to Claret's service alongside his Kin, a fervent tool of Powers beyond his reasoning.
Malach Ro-288 - A Dark Mechanicus Warpsmith in service to Viridis and later Claret,a Heretek loyal only to the pursuit of knowledge whatever the cost.
Balimund Nave - A mysterious figure working in association with Viridis and now Claret. An agitator with a long list of rebellions and worlds cast into anarchy by his name and his deeds.
Gadreel & The Lost Others - The Benefactors to whom Claret and by extension all surviving followers of the Exiled Path owe fealty. Gadreel the 'Fallen Angel', and others for whom Claret has sworn to to open the path to unspoiled Remnant.