Arman Gallagher was having the time of his life.
The main reason for his joy was that the insufferable cunt, Diarmuid, had met an ignoble if temporary end, putting Arman back in charge. Not that they actually hated each other – neither of them was entirely capable of that – but Arman was the Captain of the Death Seekers now. Diarmuid coming down from on high to take command of them personally again, made him want to stab him.
Even when Diarmuid was respawned, as they liked to think of it, he'd undoubtedly be with the main forces and unable to catch back up with them. So it was entirely up to Arman to run the campaign and take the glory. HAH! Suck it, Diarmuid!
Arman absolutely loved this sort of thing and soon proved it. They began engaging in hit and run tactics, driving the orks wild and taking them into traps of various sorts. Particularly their glue traps, that was a favorite. They weren't cleaning up after themselves, oh no, so the tau would have to get rid of them later. Well, Arman had faith in them, they'd surely figure it out.
As the Death Seekers rampaged through the backlines of the orks, they took out what could only be called crude supply depots, with food and dakka. One camp they had to fight hard for but it was worth it, as they took a squig farm and the Crypteks had come up with something creative for that. They did hilariously lose one man as he tried to feed the concoction to the squigs and they ate both him AND the stuff. Everyone laughed, what an idiot!
"Hey Arman, what do you think? Should I wear these as a belt?" Markhos asked, holding up a string of tau heads. They were old and mummified, so Arman thought they'd come from a much earlier battlefield.
"No, they don't match your fashion. Get more of those ork teeth you love so much," Arman said and Markhos laughed before tossing the heads away and pulling out a knife, likely to do just that. For some reason, the sight of Markhos' teeth collection drove orks to a frenzy and naturally, he loved it. Arman did wonder why though, it wasn't like orks to give a damn about their dead.
(if Arman had known that ork teeth were currency and the orks actually wanted to kill Markhos to take his 'wealth', he would have laughed himself sick)
Truthfully, though, Arman knew if he let one of his men run around with tau heads he'd be in for it from someone. They were supposed to be doing this thing called diplomacy although Diarmuid might have soured that. Well, if they were too pussy to take a win graciously, fuck them. That was Arman's opinion anyway.
That done, they freed the squigs from the squig farm, confident they'd get eaten at some point or other and went on their way. Arman was on top of the world!
Right until he wasn't.
"Diarmuid you fucking bastard! I don't need you here, taking my fun and glory!" Arman said, enraged, as the fucker somehow managed to find them again. He didn't have his axe though, he was carrying a Staff of Light and Arman wondered who he'd gotten it off of. Oh, wait, it was probably Zahndrekh's. Not like he ever used it anyhow.
"Ah, Arman, if you weren't so good at your job I'd kill you," Diarmuid said with glyphs of high amusement. That made Arman bristle.
"Oi, bring it on!" Arman said, taking a ready position with his power weapons humming. Although he wasn't serious, neither of them were and they both knew it. The men knew it too and a few of them jeered, impatient to get back to the slaughter. "Pah! Well then, what do you want us to do?"
Before they could head out, though, there was a sharp bang and a cloud of purple smoke, along with some cries of alarm. They both turned to see what looked like a Warp entity? Some sort of daemonic thing. It paused a moment, took them all in with many eyes and then decided it didn't like the way they looked before turning tail and running back into a strange, purple portal. That portal quickly vanished, to Arman's puzzlement.
"What in Satan's arsehole was that?" he said after a moment before turning to interstitial messaging. What are you idiots playing at? Had they just done something?
One of our field engineers tried to play with some Weirdboy tech thing, sir. Oh for fucks' sake. He's gone for recall, looks like. Well, he'd damned well deserved it. Although hopefully the recall wouldn't fail, they could use their field engineers.
"Can you all stop being morons? Didn't we get over this when you kept messing with those spider things?" Diarmuid said, shaking his head. Arman winced a little when he remembered that. They'd lost some good men that day, and permanently too. Damn warp monsters. "Here's my idea…" Diarmuid began outlining his plan for continuing chaos and Arman had to admit that they would be killing a lot of orks if they could pull it off. Putting his knives away for the moment, Arman concentrated on helping Diarmuid do that.
They could have a duel later, for now it was time to slaughter the enemy.
Elsewhere on the battlefield, the Cabbits were engaging in industrial grade stupidity.
That was how Yazof thought of it, anyway. He was a member of the Indominable Cabbits and often despaired when a crazy, hairbrained plan with hardly a shred of common sense to it came down from on high. Yet they often seemed to work, so he just went with the flow, rather enjoying the chaos that surrounded them. Where Imotekh and Manric brought order out of chaos, the Cabbits were the opposite, taking orderly plans and transforming them into infinite levels of chaos.
That had a use on the battlefield though and like the Death Seekers had been dispatched to harry the orks, so had the Cabbits. Right now they were contemplating how to stop a brand new Gargant from joining the battle. They were the ork equivalent of Titans so keeping one of them out of the way would be a damned fine accomplishment, but how to do it?
The Gargant wasn't quite complete, the Mechboyz were still working on it, so they'd hatched a ludicrous and improbable plan. Yazof might have objected that this plan was utterly retarded, but the orks were also mentally deficient. So… it could work.
So, painted green and with a few teeth stuck to his face and a big backpack on his back, Yazof joined the assault on the nearly done Gargant. They simply walked up to the thing, to the ladders, and started climbing. The backpacks were an important part of the disguise, they'd stolen them off a few Mechboyz they'd caught coming in and they would hide their true nature from orks on the ground.
Just painting yourself green and walking with confidence was all it took and Yazof was giggling internally as he climbed onto the catwalk surrounding the Gargant's shoulders. He walked past an ork welder, who noticed absolutely nothing wrong, just concentrating on his work. A little orky thing went right on by him, carrying a great box that, to be fair, obscured his field of view. And Yazof and the other three with him waltzed right into the Gargant's command centre.
For a moment, Yazof thought the ork boss there wouldn't notice them either, but even ork braincells did eventually bounce together. The boss dismissed them for a moment then did a double take, his brows drawing down.
"Eh wot?" he inquired just before Yazof shot him. The other orks in the command centre finally reacted but it was all too late, as they unloaded their gauss flayers into the machines the Mechboyz had spent so much time, effort and materials to put together. Nor were they the only ones… another squad had gone for the engineering centres of the Gargant and from the sounds Yazof could hear, they'd made it as well.
Chaos achieved, it was time to skedaddle. Yazof lost two of his squad as the confused and enraged orks tried to stop them, but again the green paint seemed to make them partially invisible. Karlos actually pointed to one of the orks accusingly and then shot at him, causing the other orks to target one of their own, thinking HE was the infiltrator. Yazof wasn't sure if he should laugh or cry at the stupidity of it all.
"Excellent! We should do that again!" Oh god, could they not? Even orks would start to figure it out sooner or later! Still, Yazof had to admit it might take them a while. Then he had a thought that made him chuckle silently.
Green really was the greatest color.
When the battle was long done and the orks sufficiently mopped up, Manric cautiously approached the tau of the Farsight Enclaves for a parley.
He very much wanted to make contact with them, for several reasons. The first and primary reason was to establish relations positive enough that he could bring Nuhkes into contact with them. Hopefully he could work out how O'Shovah had ended up separated from the Ethereals and what his opinion was of them.
The secondary reasons were trade and bionics. Extra trading opportunities were always good, interstellar trade was very important to any empire. As for bionics, Boris was busy and making the Dakka-da survivors wait seemed cruel to Manric. They lived only sixty years on average and Boris might be occupied for ten years. There were other bionic specialists, but none that Manric would entirely trust to work with completely alien biology… however, if they had Tau experts to confer with them or simply bring their own bionics, hopefully they could resolve the problem.
Manric approached the Tau alone, on foot. He was carrying his spear but in a rest position, using it like a staff. The tau watched him approach, their guns trained on him but did nothing. When Manric felt he had reached a decent distance, he stopped.
"May I request a parley?" Manric said, enhancing his voice with his psyker powers. It would reach them easily, yet not be overwhelmingly loud, a mystical form of projection. There was a pause and Manric thought the tau were conferring amongst themselves before a small group of tau came out to speak to him.
They included what was, to Manric's eyes, clearly a Water Caste diplomat. He was the only one not in armor and armed. There was also a tau in a Battlesuit that Manric thought might be Farsight himself. He was armed with a sword, which was unusual for a tau. Manric scanned the sword and found, to his surprise, that it completely defeated all his sensors. It might as well not have existed at all, for all he could get a read on it. Manric filed that away as 'concerning' but then concentrated on the tau. There were also three regular Tau warriors, all of them looking like battle-scarred veterans.
"I am Commander Farsight. Are you the Commander of the necron forces?" The Battlesuit pilot asked and Manric shook his head.
"I am not. I am a diplomat, similar to your friend there," Manric said with a nod towards the Water Caste. "I wish to arrange a time and place for serious diplomacy, between yourself and the actual leader of our forces, as well as some others." Diarmuid wanted to come, which Manric had been tempted to refuse but finally allowed, mainly because the rest of Diarmuid's men were giggling. What exactly was going on with that? He was afraid to find out.
"I see…" Farsight conferred with the Water Caste diplomat, a bit of quiet talking.
"Can we meet at this location?" The Water Caste pulled out a portable hologram projector, showing a location and coordinates in an unfortunately alien system. Manric studied it carefully before managing to translate it into something he understood.
"I believe I have it… my apologies, I am not proficient in your language." The Water Caste hesitated a moment before changing it into a human system of coordinates. "Oh, thank you. That is very helpful." Now Manric knew exactly where they wanted to meet.
"You are more familiar with human language systems?" Farsight asked with an oddly suspicious air. Had he gotten some inkling of the pwi-necrons? However, Manric wasn't going to go into that just now.
"Of course. The Sautekh Empire is vast and holds hundreds of human worlds," Manric said easily, betraying nothing. He wasn't sure they would even tell the Farsight Enclaves about biotransference and how it had been used on humans. Tau were very good with technology, would they be able to create a version of it themselves? Most likely yes, although there was no chance they would be able to preserve their souls if they used it. "So we shall meet tomorrow?" He thought he understood the time measurements involved. "At what appears to be sunrise?" It seemed to be timed that way.
"Yes, precisely," the Water Caste said and Manric bowed to signal the end to the conversation. Then he went back to his forces, sending Zahndrekh the information via interstitial message. This was going to be interesting, particularly since Manric thought he understood why Zahndrekh would be telling Farsight that ancient story.
Concerning indeed.
Farsight was not sure at all about this parley, but he was sure the consequences of failed diplomacy would be ruinous. So despite his misgivings, he consented to it.
The Water Caste diplomats wanted him to go without his battlesuit, but on that Farsight held firm. Without it, he could not handle the Dawnblade and he wanted that in case everything went badly. The Water Caste assured him that it would all be fine, but Farsight knew they were often grossly optimistic… they had once been sure they could treat with the orks! The only species they had never tried to talk to was the tyranids, not even the Water Caste were THAT insane. Farsight also wanted to bring Brightstorm, which made the Water Caste throw up their hands in despair. But he did not want to leave his second in command.
When they met the necron delegation, the next day, Farsight got a tremendous shock.
Oh. Well, that explains why they were less than concerned, Brightstorm said and Farsight could only nod. There was a member of the necrons who was painted jet black and very familiar, despite the staff he was carrying. He just stared at them as they came to the meeting point. Is he taunting us?
I believe so, Farsight replied, feeling a deep burn of anger. Even if the necrons could come back from 'death' they were perfectly well aware that other races did not. And that name, Diarmuid… if this necron had been a human, there was NO excuse. The Water Caste would have started the conversation but Farsight could not bear it.
"Can you explain why we should treat with you when you have in your number one who attacked me for no reason?" Farsight demanded and he thought the 'diplomat' was taken aback. The one he thought was the commander tilted his head, a stolid bodyguard behind him, holding a giant scythe.
"What? I… Diarmuid, what the hell have you done?" the diplomat demanded, easily divining the culprit. The black painted necron shrugged.
"I saw him fighting the orks and just had to see his technique up close, sir. I'm sure you understand," he said and the diplomat's eyes flared.
"I am going to punish you later for this… my humble apologies, they were under specific orders NOT to engage with you." Hmph.
"And what punishment will you give to him?" Farsight demanded as the Water Caste diplomat tried desperately to signal that this was NOT diplomatic. But Farsight did not care, he could genuinely have been killed in that confrontation and that would be a tremendous blow to the Enclaves. He was not in a forgiving mood.
"Oh yes, do tell how you are going to punish me sir. Are you going to beat the shit out of me?" the psychopath said brightly and Farsight looked on him with extreme disfavor. From what little he'd seen, he thought the monster would enjoy that. The diplomat's simulated sigh was very good.
"We both know you would enjoy that." Farsight blinked at the odd echoing of his thoughts. "No Diarmuid, I've got something else in store for you… I have actually been planning this for some time," he said before hesitating a moment. "I wasn't going to reveal this, but I was once human, as was Diarmuid." Farsight was glad to have his suspicions confirmed. "So to punish him, I will get in touch with my nieces and granddaughters. I will have them pick out their favorite piece of fiction and I will make sure it is something only a young girl could possibly enjoy. Then, he will be required to watch or read all of it and submit a report on all the major plot points." He stopped for a moment and stared at the black one in a way that struck Farsight as almost sadistic. "And if that report is not sufficiently detailed, you'll have to watch it again." Diarmuid actually seemed taken aback.
"Bloody hell sir! Is this some form of psychological torture?!" he asked, but Farsight didn't think it rose to that degree. It WAS a truly ingenious punishment, though, and he made a mental note of it. Tau rarely required such things but you never knew. The diplomat – he really needed to get his name – shook his head.
"No, not at all. If I wanted to actually torture you, I would just chain you to a wall, make sure you can't disable your auditory receptors and then put 'Wiggle Worm' on repeat." The black necron made a sound akin to a death rattle.
"I'd fucking kill myself sir," he said and the Water Caste diplomat just had to jump in.
"I'm sorry, what is 'wiggle worm'?" he asked and Farsight thought he already had the idea. He had younger siblings, although they were surely long dead, and he vaguely remembered the Ooshy Booshy song. In fact, now that he was thinking about it, he thought he could still sing it.
"Oh, you know, it's one of those songs for children that just gets in your head like some kind of mind virus." Yes, exactly what he'd thought. "Do tau children have songs like that? I remember, it goes 'wiggle worm wiggle worm, wiggly worm…" Diarmuid started to sing and the diplomat visibly twitched.
"Don't actually sing it! Oh god! Now I'm going to be thinking about that damn song all day!" Yes, Farsight was currently trying to STOP thinking about Ooshy Booshy. It was difficult to do. "In any case, is that sufficient?"
"It will do," Farsight allowed. The Water Caste diplomat immediately jumped in.
"I am Por'El Tash'Var Fir'Pin. Please, call me Tash'Var." That was needed with alien species… another tau would not need the use name to be pointed out. "This is Commander Farsight and this is Commander Bravestorm. May I ask your names?"
"I am Manric Duleth. This is nemesor Zahndrekh and vargard Obyron. Zahndrekh is the commander of these forces," Manric said and Zahndrekh nodded. "Forgive me… before we go any further, may Zahndrekh tell you a story?" A…story? "It is an ancient myth of the necrontyr, a story that is well over sixty million years old. A non-Chaos aligned Warp entity indicated it will be of great interest to you, Commander Farsight."
"A… non-Chaos aligned Warp entity?" The Water Caste diplomat asked, confused. Manric hesitated a moment before heaving another audible sigh.
"Forgive me. I know you will find this disturbing… it identified itself as the Greater Good," he said carefully and Farsight stiffened. Were they being mocked?! Although he actually felt like the necron was deeply uncomfortable with what he was saying. "The Immaterium is the manifestation of the subconsciousness of all intelligent species, and humans resonate strongly with it. By promoting your way of life with them, you have caused this." Farsight knew many of his people would reject this as pure superstition, but after the events of Arthas Moloch, he knew better. "Be that as it may, this entity seemed to be purely good. May we please tell you this story? I have heard it and I fear it is of great importance."
"Very well," Farsight said, feeling a deep unease. No one knew the history or true properties of the Dawnblade. But… sixty million years? Or longer? Surely it could not be that old!
Then Zahndrekh began to speak, and they all listened to the story of the ancient past.
Long ago and far away, there once was a young Overlord named Drajheth the Valiant. Not the son of the Phaeron nor related to his line, he was a great general who served loyally and well.
This was the times of the ancient necrontyr, as we were still in our youthful glory. Expanding across the galaxy, and exterminating all other species to replace with our own. Drajheth led many of the campaigns in that great war and brought home many victories. In one of them, he destroyed a great and terrible alien race. Their name and attributes are lost with time and all we know is that the leader of this race seemed to be unable to die. No matter how he was hacked apart, poisoned or annihilated with flame, he would return. They finally locked him in a tesseract and put him in a vault, to be forgotten.
Drajheth took the creature's sword for his own and all unknowing, sealed his fate. For with every life the sword took, he changed. The first sign of his change was his unnatural vigor, but it did not end there. He lived long past the lifespan of the necrontyr and he revelled in his immortality, pushing further and further against the enemies of his Dynasty.
The grandson of the first Phaeron became afraid of Drajheth and tried to have him assassinated. The attempt succeeded, but not for long, as Drajheth rose from the dead and slew his murderers but one. That one he tortured relentlessly until he gave up that the Phaeron had betrayed him and Drajheth's wrath knew no bounds. He came home with his army at his back and deposed the Phaeron, taking his seat.
Thus began the reign of Phaeron Drajheth. For thousands of years he ruled well and the commoners praised his name, but the rot was setting in. He outlived so many generations, his own children withered and died before his eyes. He began to experiment with his own immortality. He'd died once, but not stayed dead. What would be required to kill him?
It is said he tried every manner of death. The most advanced of weapons, the crudest, deaths both quick and painfully slow. Every manner of poison and toxin. Everything, until he could literally think of no more, and the Crypteks helping him could also think of no more. He was immortal.
Drajheth began to see the necrontyr around him as lesser beings. How could it be otherwise? They lived such mayfly lives, gone in the blink of an eye. He began to experiment on them as well, seeing what sensations he could find with another and what he could inflict upon them. And his subjects began to fear him, as they saw the beginnings of a descent into madness.
Yet even if they had tried to stop him it might have been too late, because with every life Drajheth took he became stronger. He no longer even needed the sword… The change had become part of him, woven into the very fibre of his being. And he began to see further. He began to see the Ones Beyond, who live in the spaces between.
What are those? Ah, I shall clarify… this is something your Earth Caste should know. When you begin to learn to warp reality, to create interstitial places, be wary of the Ones Between. Do you know of the curse of the Ghoul Stars? No? Well, send an expedition if you want to find out… or rather, don't, because they will never come back. Or perhaps, come back irredeemably insane. The Ghoul Stars are a place where the Between comes close to the surface, tainting the entire sector of space with the influence of the Ones Between.
…
No, this is not superstition and yes, I am offended. The Ghoul Stars were not like this when our kind went into hibernation but not a single Dynasty in the Ghoul Stars survived. Most fell into terrible forms of madness. If you want more specifics on the limits to spatial warping, perhaps the Crypteks can advise you, but we do limit such things to avoid terrible disasters. The Ones Between perhaps do not mean us harm, but they do not understand us. Do you know what harm can come of an all powerful being who is simply trying to understand?
Let me continue with the story. Drajheth saw the Ones Between and saw them seeking, questioning. Straining to reach our reality to explore and profane it. He became enraptured with them and stopped the sacrifices to the Star Gods. Instead, he had his people sacrifice to him.
A great madness of hysteria and religion began to overtake them. As Drajheth became swollen with the deaths of his people, they became more and more fanatical. Great scaffolds of the dead were built to him, symbols profane and unspeakable etched into the ground with bodies and blood. And with each sacrifice, Drajheth became closer and closer to the Ones Between, his whole body changing to accommodate their power.
Until this point, the rest of the necrontyr had left Phaeron Drajheth and his Dynasty in peace. The Silent King was only pleased that Drajheth did not seem to covet his throne. That attitude continued through many generations, but at this time it broke. Drajheth and the Ones Between had obfuscated the gaze of the Crypteks, but as the time drew close the veil became thin. The greatest of Chronomancers at the time raised the alarm, speaking to the Silent King and telling him of the doom that was coming. Once one had spoken, others were able to pierce the veil and see. The entire galaxy turned against Drajheth. Necrontyr fought necrontyr in a war that was unthinkably bitter, as Drajheth's soldiers fought with a fervor unmatched. The fought for their God, made manifest in this world.
It is said that in the final battle, the Silent King himself faced Drajheth and named him traitor, to all necrontyr and the galaxy itself. And he slew him in combat, which meant nothing, but he took his cursed blade and impaled him with it. And as he held the horror in place, the Crypteks created a great cage. A tremendous working of our technology, it was not a mere tesseract, because Drajheth was beyond even that. They bound him in the cage and placed it in the centre of a star, where he could burn for all eternity. Sixty million years, and it is said he burns there still.
With the sword that had caused all this, they put it in the hands of a statue, sealed there with more of our technology. And at the base of the statue was an inscription… "lift not this sword, lest you also be granted the curse of true immortality." Now, Commander Farsight… I am told you are three hundred years old.
Where did you get that sword?
"…Honestly, until Manric asked me about this story, I never thought it was real. I thought it was just a myth, the sort of story you tell over a campfire at night to frighten yourselves with," Zahndrekh said, clasping his hands together. "To think that it's true… it's quite a daunting thought." Farsight stared at him, then looked down at the Dawnblade.
It has been drinking the lives of the ones I have slain? Farsight felt genuinely sick as he contemplated that. Feeding them to me? He'd known the sword had lengthened his lifespan, of course. But he had not thought it was a mechanism as dark as this. Was it truly that surprising, though, given the darkness of the galaxy?
"So you believe that if Commander Farsight does not set aside his sword, he will achieve immortality?" Tash'Var said, questioning. Zahndrekh nodded. "But how is that a bad thing? Your king went insane, but we have faith in Farsight." Farsight felt annoyed at him. Vampirizing others through his sword was not acceptable! But Zahndrekh shook his head.
"It is not just immortality, it is true immortality." What? "I am technically immortal yet if I wanted to die, I could just shut off my recall functions and command Obyron to strike off my head. He would never do that of course! Eh, my loyal Vargard?" Obyron nodded stoically and Farsight could swear Zahndrekh was teasing him? "But I could do that and I would die. True immortality is immortality that cannot be broken… a death that cannot come, no matter how much you want it to." Zahndrekh seemed to become quite solemn then, clasping his hands together in front of him. "It is a terrible fate. Do you truly wish to see the galaxy itself come to an end?" …
"There must still be time, or the Greater Good would not have sent this message. You must set that sword aside, to avoid this curse," Manric said, gentle and inflexible. Farsight looked at the Dawnblade once more. It had possibly saved his life against Diarmuid, and had saved him so many times before. Could he truly give it up?
"I will consider it," Farsight finally said, although he thought he knew his decision. His own damnation was one thing, but he would not put his people in danger. Put the entire galaxy in danger. Could he truly go insane? After a million years, Farsight thought perhaps he could. It wasn't worth risking such a fate.
(it did not occur to him, or any of the necrons, that if the sword was real than Drajheth was likely real and still caged in a star. But even for necron technology, sixty million years was a very long time. Also, there were many younger, inquisitive races around who might someday come across this particular star. How long could this cage last?)
(but that is another story)