Chapter Six
Author's Note: Before reading special mention to Writer Specialist Samantha's Brush for donating to me a full on fight scene between The Empress and the Primarchs. I loved it.
…
The Great Crusade: Prospero, Tizca
"And this is how you shape the water accordingly depending on your will my son," shows Morgana to him as she manipulates the ball of water the size of her head at the air. "As always in magic my son remember always. It is with your will power that is the basis of all. The stronger your will is, the more formed and practical your magic becomes. Water is not like rock or anything solid. It resists the control of your will and thus more difficult to truly be forced into a stable shape," she explains before throwing the water ball at Magnus.
"Now you try it," the sudden throw of the water ball made of pure magic nearly makes Magnus fail on keeping it afloat at the air.
Grasping it with his own power, he takes a deep breathe before trying to imitate what his mother did on forming the shapes that she did. Levitating them and making them move in the form he wants them to seems easy enough. However the moment he tries to make them remain in the same way does things go wrong. Immediately the shapes they are forming wobbles turning them rather rough looking and ugly at the sides.
For Magnus who enjoys perfection in the things he makes, it is totally unacceptable. He applies more power to keep the shapes stable and immediately knows that he does it wrong as the shapes turn against each other before exploding in a watery mass that showers him, his red mane all wet and soggy.
The tinkling laugh of his mother chases the irritation and irkness inside him at the menial use of magic. He enjoys having his mother around and he enjoys it even more if she takes the time to teach him about her own brand of psychic abilities. Their father's favorite might be Horus, Fulgrim and that mutt, Russ but Magnus knows that his mother's favorite is he, Roubutte, the Princess and Angron cause he needs it…and literally. Magnus doesn't envy the latter. With the butcher's nails, Angron is in constant pain but the healing salves, medications both psychic and mundane of their mother is enough to alleviate most of the pain that at least the man can function correctly and not half-mad.
Right now is one of the rare times that Magnus won a bet against Roubutte which means he get to spend some quality time with their mother in Gulliman's "supposed schedule". He man-giggles mentally as he knows that Princess must be grinding his teeth now as he goes off Crusading with the Thousand Suns and his Ultramarines while Magnus gets to be with their mom.
"Never use absolutes Magnus," continues their mother summoning another water ball which she forms again into shapes. "Only use what you need. Great power you might have, but power without control is like a blunt hammer. Even those with little can overcome the great if their control is thin and precise like a blade," she explains before throwing it back to him.
Too engrossed is Magnus thinking about Gulliman gritting his teeth that he misses the explanation and the water ball splashes him for the second time today much to the laughter of their mother.
….
Present Day, Prospero, Tizca City, Capital
The landing of the Imperials isn't received well by well…everyone. Thousands of Daemons and Thousand Suns not to mention millions of Cultists appear from Tizca like a ravening horde as they rampage towards the gathered Imperials. Seeing the charge, such artillery of the Astra Militarum composed mostly of Basiliks and supported by Clone Regiment howitzer cannons and mortar teams immediately start lobbing explosive rounds to thin up the enemy mass. The enemy does also the same in retaliation, the skies full of whistling bombs and ammunition. Advantage however is on the Imperials' side as the Thousand Suns is not exactly the best in using conventional militarum grade weapons and many of their return artillery fire is intended as counter only. Many splash harmlessly while those that hit are random. The Imperial ones however are precise, aimed at massed locations and strongpoints throwing bodies all around as they land.
The war-horns sound and the enemy corrupted titans and walkers are the first to truly begin the battle aside from the artillery bombardments. Purple and Pinkish beams are released from their inferno guns vaporizing a squad here and there. Majority of their fire however are aimed at the Imperial Titans whose shields flare at the impact even as they fire from their own armaments.
The giant Jaeger however wastes no time standing still looking pretty as it charges towards a Warlord Titan, the guns on its forearms releasing their payload to the lumbering Chaos machine before bowling it over to the crowd and start smashing it in a very human-like way with its giant arms.
Meanwhile the infantry and heavy infantry forces of both sides start to charge each other fully into the battlefield. Clones led by officers and clone commandos rush forward firing and taking cover alongside Solar Guardsmen. Space Marines and Primaris Marines makes deep strikes against enemy weak points or strong points at the flanks and the sides, specifically targeting enemy dreadnaughts or corrupted Rubric Marines. The enemy does the same however. Thousands of Daemons alongside millions of roaring cultists charge to the fight while their Thousand Sun masters deal with the superhuman counterpart of the Imperium. It is a bloody slugfest of a fight as two armies clash not exactly descending into melee but close enough that each side can send close quarter combat teams to each other. The Imperials wise up against the idea however. They are after all outnumbered against the millions of cultists and takes full advantage of being better trained and better armed to the fullest extent. No need to go to a bayonet charge when you just shoot at the damned chargers from a safe distance. Chaos on the other hand have no such issues and they die by the thousands.
Back at the command center, Helaena watches as the tide of battle progresses. Of course despite being the Empress, she lets Gulliman take over full command from her as Lord Commander of the Imperium. To say that she's proud of her son would be an understatement. The Lord of Ultramar is in his natural state commanding and directing. His attention at the flow of battle is in painstaking detail and he commands their forces brilliantly. It is a good thing also that Gulliman is not one of those who would sacrifice a life whimsically. His brilliant tactic is not only letting the Imperials hold the line but also push their enemies' back one step at a time despite being heavily outnumbered. Units support each other perfectly from infantry to tanks, all are sublime to observe and witness.
So heavy is the fighting and their losses that the Thousand Suns deploy their Leman Russ tanks way too early even as All Terrain Enforcers Walkers takes the front line lead. Unlike regular Leman Russ tanks though, these ones are obviously modified by the Lord of Change's presence. Instead of firing shells, they fire psychic blasts like missiles. They come in the dozens rolling into the battlefield facing the Imperial army their cannons roaring. Their ammunition shells leave behind purple hues of power behind them.
The AT-TE's are no match for the Chaos tanks. Their lumbering forms are wrecked as the entire front line stalls. Missiles cut through the heavy armor sending pieces of the Clone tanks flying at every direction decimating squads and companies. The AT-TE's try to reform, their massive frontal guns ejecting a wall of blue lasers and macro cannons but the chaos shells are deadlier and the frontal advance fully pauses as the last of the front AT-TE's are decimated.
The enemy however has played his hand too early and fell to Gulliman's gambit. With their tanks now fully exposed, the LAAT gunships and bombers soar through the skies. With the Imperial Fleet securing space dominance, their rail guns are able to throw down much of the enemy air power at the planet giving the flyers total air dominance in the sky. Like angry pterodactyls they soar through the two armies fighting below. Lasers, macro cannons and heavy missile fire rip through the corrupted Leman Russ tanks. The bombers and the gunships are like a tidal wave as they screen through the entirety of the enemy army in the open leaving burning wrecks and mounds of dead behind their strafing fire.
First it's one then it's two and now it's three. Soon the entirety of the enemy lines is running away at the destruction of their armor support. They fell back en masse into the city of Tizca and Helaen mentally sighs as the realization sets in that the rest of the invasion would be a brutal urban fight that would surely take a lot of lives. They have no other choice though, they need to end Magnus if Terra is to survive and not end up destroyed. With the corrupted Primarch gone could Prospero only return to the Immaterium since he used his soul as an anchor to keep the demon world in real space.
"We need to take the fight into Tizca itself mother. There is no other way," Roubutte says marching beside her, his armored bulk almost creating miniature earthquakes at every step.
"Look at them Roubutte. Look at them down below cheering at this victory," points out Helaena. "They are celebrating not knowing the hell that they are going into in a few moments,"
"Yet it cannot be avoided mother. This is the only way I can think of. Magnus must be stopped if Prospero is to fall and Terra saved," sighs Gulliman. "I have a plan. Me and the rest of the-,"
"No, no Roubutte. Whatever your plan is, I know that it is good. However I have already decided on what I am about to do,"
"Mother please, you don't need to-,"
"I will go with a strike team of your own choosing and punch straight through Tizca while the rest of our forces secure the city and hunt down the rest of the traitors and their demon pets. The power of your father is near so their will not be many of them here. I will face Magnus myself,"
"We could simply bombard his palace from orbit," suggests Gulliman.
Helaena only smiles wryly at him. "You as well as I know that that would be a bad idea Roubutte. The chances of Magnus escaping would be high and we don't have the resources to search every rock and cranny of Prospero if he does. The longer he stays alive, the longer the damage to Terra would be due to the fluctuating gravitational field. No, for good or ill this would end here right now,"
"Then I am coming with you mother. There is no way in hell that I would allow you to face that monstrosity without me at your side!" says Gulliman stubbornly.
Helaena barks out a laugh at that placing a hand on Gulliman's shoulder pad. "I expect nothing less from you my son,"
….
Deep Inside Tizca, The Palace of Knowledge
"hmm…mother comes. I can feel her. It is as I saw foresaw it, she would be fighting her way here. Roubutte, simple Roubutte also comes with her. I never expect him to take the field. I half expected her to order him behind to consolidate and command the loyalist scum,"
Beside the sitting Red Cyclops on the throne, a giant almost the same size as him bearing the sigil of the Death Guard Legion grunts. His armor is cracked in places emanating ooze and other more sickness of decay and rot. It is quite obvious that he is a demon prince by first impressions alone and one that belongs to Nurgle's host.
"In terms of Astartes, they greatly outnumber us,"
"It is nothing of importance," Magnus waves off. "Ever that has been the case since we are banished after the days of our brother's Horus rebellion. However our might does not come from our numbers, you know this most of all….Mortarion,"
"No, greater numbers does not mean always victory, but they do help in weighing in the scales our way. "Then there is the Empress herself. Are you sure that you can win against her brother?" Mortarion asks, eyes gleaming beneath his helm.
"Indeed, the companion of our dear father, the one who our hosts want dead most of all. Her presence would put in disarray everything that the we have worked for these past tent thousand years. We would deal with her brother while my monster would deal with Roubutte and her other guards and companions,"
"Do you really think we can strike her down? We have memories of her,"
The Cyclops only chuckles and the entire hall turns from the color of metal to beautiful crystal and then to silver in response to his abilities.
"The gifts of the Chaos gods have powered me that I would be able to punch through her wards. Even if she does possess the means to destroy us, she must first reach us. There are others for me to slay tonight other than her and I would have no qualms on doing it,"
Mortarion only stares. There is no point in talking anymore to the proud Magnus from the path they both take. The Empress expects one Primarch, she would not expect two waiting for her in ambush. "Very well, my sons will destroy the loyalists that will try to attack the outer defenses.
"Keep them out of the palace," Magnus waves off. "Our real target is the Empress and Gulliman if he proves stubborn enough to survive my monster,"
Mortarion "hmms" again before leaving the hall to take command of his sons hiding all over at Tizca. Only when he is gone does Magnus looks to a broken mosaic of the Empress made especially for her so many millennia ago, his single-eye boring into it.
"You abandoned us mother. Abandoned me when I needed you the most. You let the wolves slaughter my people and my sons while you did nothing. Horus drove us into the arms of Tzeentch. But now….here you are, afraid of what I can do. You are nothing more than a coward who will try to stop what I will do and you are acting as my executioner, my teacher. And thus once more the wolves come to my house, and you are that mother. This will not be a repeat of what happened ten thousand years ago and I will bathe in the blood of your body and the loyalist dogs!"
…
The Highway, Tizca
Helaena keeps her anger in check as she flicks a stone with her thumb sending it with the strength of a bolter right smack dab in the face of a Pink Horror. The monstrosity vanishes in a puff of pinkish smoke leaving the squad of Silver Stars Chapter who it has been creeping on unharmed.
"Our many thanks Emores," they all bow forcing Helaena to use her magic to make them all bend to their knees just in time too as a rocket full of pestilence zooms over their heads while they are busy bowing.
"Keep your heads down by the Emperor you fools!" she snarls in anger even at the obvious sheepish looks of the Space Marines as they return to the fight. She peeks through cover seeing the Death Guard being peppered by bolter fire from the Silver Stars. No one tells her that the disciples of Nurgle would be in this planet.
They first encountered the members of the former Fourteenth Legion of the Great Crusade when they first entered the city. The plague marines are everywhere stubbornly halting the advance of the Imperial forces to the city. The Plague Marines are trouble, that much is obvious. They can be wounded, hacked and blasted apart and still keep fighting thanks to the blessings of Papa Nurgle. In fact the entire flank advance at the right and the left all over Tizca are progressing very slowly the cultists, Rubric Marines, Daemons and Plague Marines making the Imperials bleed for their advance on every inch. Only the ones at the center led by Helaena and Roubutte are making good headway.
Stubber rounds ping at the direction where some of the Clones of the fifth are hiding, one bouncing off the helmet of one of its members. His hand touches his head where it hit, his brothers laughing at his rather lucky break away from death.
The advance towards Tizca for Helaena's strike group is making steady progress but it is anything but easy. The Thousand Sons obviously realize her ploy for they are making it hard to fight. Mad groups of Tzaangors counter charge the Strike Force every hour causing massive losses to the Clones especially. Rubricae and Sorcerers of considerable power also stand in their way. The latest checkpoint is the fifth that Helaena has personally attended to alongside an entire Clone Batallion, companies of Primaris Marines and Ultramarines alongside a cadre of Silent Sisters and Custodes. Other chapters that are able to make it are also present lending their strength to the charge.
"We will be almost in range of the Cyclops' castle castle soon," Gulliman says as he spears a Tzaaangor with the sword of the Emperor, the daemon vanishing to dust before deflecting a several rounds with his massive fist, his sons countering fire for him at the one who dares attack their father.
Gulliman hasn't strayed beyond a few paces from her at any point in the campaign. He along with the Custodes takes up something akin of a permanent guard around her while the rest of the Strike Force mops up during the fighting.
"We just need to punch a hole and I can deal with Magnus," hisses Helaena. All these delays are getting her cranky. Add the fact that she's already extremely stressed with what she is about to do and her patience is wearing very thin. "You!" she points to one of the Clones carrying a radio. "Give me that radio trooper," she barks out.
"Here it is Empress," he hands it to her as she cranks it up. "Artillery! This is the Strike Force Phoenix. By my command, shell the positions around this checkpoint we are advancing in and cover our attack!"
"As you command Empress," the radio crackles in response. It does not take for the cracks on the sky and the first of the shells start to land all over destroying whatever cover their foes are using to stop their charge.
It is the clones who first open up fire. Heavy chainguns, rocket launchers, blasters and grenade Rubric Marines have zero self-preservation are torn apart. Those that are left of them are pulled back by controlling Sorcerers. With little to no cover, they obviously understand that they cannot stand up against Imperial firepower. As a result, the fire at their positions slacked up that the Strike Force are able to charge in.
The first of the attackers to claim a kill is of course her. A flick of her hand and the flying sword of Gryffindor cuts through the head of a Sorcerer. A Custodes rush past her, spearing a Rubric Marine with his Guardian Spear while his comrades cover him, cutting down more Rubric Marines. A roaring Gulliman flattens another in one punch while leading his sons to focus on a group of Rubrics aiming at his mother. As for Helaena, she crushes a wardless Rubric to scrap with her magic. Bolt Rounds fill the air aiming at her. Squads of Primaris Marines however and Clones counter them with sustained fire.
In the matter of minutes it is over and the Imperials have won with the ones with flamers among them burning any remaining Rubric which does not integrate to ash. Helaena has been quite insistent on that, issuing direct orders that anything with a chaos symbol on it be burned. It is never a good idea to leave magical artifacts behind, especially ones which are daemonic and tainted by dark magic. Long and bitter history has taught her that it can bite you in the ass if you are extremely unlucky.
Still….all this slow infighting finally cuts through the last of her patience. She stares at the different faces, different personalities that are now taking rest from the fatigue of the non-stop fighting that they have been doing for nearly three days ever since they have won through the battle outside Tizca. They are tired and Helaena would be lying to admit that even she has been feeling a little weary too, not physically but mentally. One can only go so long in creeping and fighting all over an entire urban area where your nerves are always at the breaking point without getting exhausted.
She also knows that this small band of theirs would be of less than little help against the final fight that is to come. If she brings them with her, no matter how many they are, they would be cut down before the might of Magnus and the other one, Mortarion. Two Primarchs, two of her sons whom she loves. One accepting Chaos as a need and the other surrendering to his feeling of lack of self-worth and finding it in the arms of the monsters in the void. Today she must face them. She can't however with this group. Hundreds would die if she try to bring them with her. The last time Ultramarines go against a Primarch, it is during when they tried to delay Fulgrim from fully finishing off Roubutte and at least sixty Marines died in the attempt and Fulgrim is still alive despite with several burns on his body. No, this would not do and she has to ask his son for forgiveness later for what she intends to do.
Walking a little bit away from the rest of the Strike Group, she casts a Disillusionment on herself disappearing into thin air out of everyone's eyes with no one the wiser.
The angry bellows of Gulliman can be heard three minutes later.
….
Somewhere at the Upper Halls of the Palace of Knowledge- An hour Later since the Empress left her Strike Group.
The thunder of Mortarion's ornate boltgun can be heard as he backpedals to avoid the appearance of the Empress out of thin air in her sky-blue synth suit. He has known she has entered the palace. Magnus has relayed it to his brain via telepathy much to his rage at his doing without permission.
As for why Mortarion is even here at Prospero is by the very will of Nurgle himself. The Empress is an anomaly in the plans of the Chaos gods. For all their planning, for all their schemes, they have not expected her to appear. During the heresy they only faced the Emperor. The Companion, their mother has disappeared just after the first information of Horus' Rebellion reached Terra. It seems that she has vanished into thin air and not in the past ten thousand years has someone neither hair nor hide of her. Records of her almost disappear with very few remembering the presence of the Companion of the Emperor. So much is her sudden disappearance to memory that even the Chaos gods do not account of her presence in anything of their plans. Yet here she is, powerful in her own right, lesser only to the Emperor power wise, yet as ancient as any of the Perpetuals that served him before.
Mortarion would admit that his relationship with his mother is one of fondness. It is almost like an old picture, an ancient memory that no longer holds any sway to him. Once he might have enjoyed her reassurances about how special he is, about how much success have been attributed by his hands. Once he might have enjoyed the pleasure of her company and her promises telling him that he is someone. Yet now twisted beyond compare by Nurgle, those promises are ashes to the wind. All he can recall now is her absence as he and his legion suffers under the sickness and rot full of pain that they have no choice but to submit to the Plague god for deliverance. He remembers her abandoning them and putting her lot with the Corpse on the throne that he calls Father before. The one who doesn't care about them and uses them as tools for his dictatorship, not caring for their wishes or their desires. Now here she is probably orders from the Corpse itself to finish them off once. All her words, all her promises nothing more than lies just as the same as the man who calls her his dearest Companion.
"What do you think mother?" he watches as she jumps avoiding the Bolter blast. "I wish I could read your mind right now, but I have no desire to even talk to you, Corpse lover, the worst of them all.
Helaena's arm flares a bright and distinct green, a nearly invisible spear extending outward. Mortarion recognizes this move from before when she is training with them Primarchs. It is one of her signature moves and much more dangerous than a regular psychic flare that could rip even a Space Marine's head apart. Dodging a psychic flare is hard enough, this one's harder. The lances that his mother uses during those training fights go through cover. Maybe if he is a nimble and graceful Aeldari, he would try the dodge and avoid method, but he is a human and a Primarch which is quite big and easy to hit. So he does what Plague Marines tend to do and use to the opportunity to peg the Empress with a curse of Nurgle he aptly named The Wrap. The Wrap Curse lowers the body resistance of a cursed increasing the damage it takes as well as dealing damage over time as it wraps the organs with pain. It ignores any wards also the cursed has. It stops whatever regeneration and depletes health continuously. Of course with someone like the Empress who is as skilled as Magnus, it might not have the same as dangerous effect. Any Space Marine hit by it would be a soggy mess by now on the ground.
The lance of his mother hits and passes through him like a spirit scrambling and shredding his insides all the way out. Mortarion coughs. If not for his Prince of Rot and Healing blessing from Nurgle. He might have been dead already. He coughs up again and blood comes out as he lurches back a step counting very much on his durability and regeneration again. That would be what will keep him up in this fight. The Empress likewise lands, her synthsuit and body crackling with the effects of his curse. Mortarion knows that her mother has a regeneration of her own sort too just like his father. He understands just how long a fight he can be in right now. If her mother's regeneration is anything like his which is based by internal healing from the inside, the Wrap Curse would put up a stop to it.
"Even with your blessing my son," Helaena snarls and her eyes glow green through the transparent orange helmet she wears at the front of her face. She sets her feet and prepares. "You aren't immune, you know. I'll just lance and lance and lance until everything is sticking out of you!"
"DON'T CALL ME YOUR SON!" roars Mortarion even as a black tint colors his vision as a blood vessel in his left eye pops. Helaena's powers are putting an ever escalating pressure at the inside of his skull. Mortarion can feel the throbbing pain in his ears, the blood suffocating behind his nose and eyes, agony at the tips of his bloated tongue and the frostbite pain of his joints. Throughout the thoughtless haze and the pain, he recognizes fully the sensory overload threatening to overwhelm him.
"YOU HAVE NEVER LOOKED AT ME AS IF I'M WORTHY TO BE YOUR SON!"
He grits his teeth. His entire face is on fire and he feels as if he is wobbling. Already his vision turns slowly to vertigo, he barely manages to raise his cursed ornate bolter to take aim at the lithe slender figure in front of him. Mortarion's rotten hands squeeze and the pressure instantly stops.
"Damnit!" Helaena curses back-flipping over to avoid the fire. Her head turns a heartbeat later and her arms flow up to cover her face to avoid the incoming attack.
Still under the effects of the Curse, Magnus' psychic blast detonates the Curse on contact.
"Keep her Cursed!" Magnus is in the fight. The Red King is advancing at the side, his daemon-level psychic power up and read. "Don't let up for even a second brother!" he roars.
"Hnn!" Mortarion only grunts pinning the staggering Helaena with a fresh Wrap Curse field. That she is still standing at all after being the center of a Psychic Explosion with a Wrap curse is very impressive. More than once, the Daemon Prince of Nurgle has seen a Pyschic Explosion made by Magnus sending Chapter Masters and full Terminators flying away like kicked toys.
Magnus snarls triumphantly as he unleashes two Psychic blasts, one with each hand, eliciting a neon-red double-explosion that knocks the Empress to the Steel effigy of Magnus. The large effigy cracks and buckles slightly under the impact, a web of cracks extend from where the Empress crashes unto. Helaena has her arms up covering her face.
"Son of a bitch!" she curses in another language as she hisses from the pain and damage.
"One more!" barks Magnus in an ordering manner, bright red aura enveloping his arms again. "Mortarion!"
"Hnn, Right!" reaching into his own body and great blessings from Nurgle. He takes aim with his hand. The tingle of slowly building Curse starting to register as he prepares. It is a sensation that he has been very familiar with when without warning his arms jerk sharply on their own and abruptly at the elbow.
His Curse already triggering by the tips of his fingers bundle to the nerves in his arms goes wild and splashes to the wall harmlessly.
"What in Chaos are you doing?!" Magnus demands angrily and barely has time to see the green psychic energy heading his way. His eyes grow wide and he roars out in pain as the swirl of psychic power circles like angry serpents around her arms and explode.
"I'm surprise that even work. Mind and body marionetting isn't usually my specialty my sons," Helaena is already pushing off the effigy of Magnus, her eyes glowing green again through her helmet as she cranes her neck and her burnt forearms. "It requires a subtle touch and time….an offensive mindset, more of your father's specialty.
In the blink of an eye she advances and despite his efforts, Mortarion finds himself falling back precariously close to the drop-off of one of the giant open windows. The sound of battle coming from outside where the Imperials and his own sons are fighting intensely outside. He is literally two steps from falling off the window from his sudden backtracking .
Getting off the final round from his overheating weapon, he pushes the bolter into the red. Mortarion reverses the weapon and brought the butt of it down upon the charging Empress' head. The Bolter is a Primarchs and a Space Marine's weapon through and through. Back ever since in the Great Crusade, it has crushed more than its fair share of alien and human as victims of hand to hand combat.
The Empress' hands fly up and catches the Bolter as it descends. Mortarion fells back a step as his personal ornate weapon explodes in the Empress' hands, torn apart to pieces by a green swirling psychic field. It isn't like any use of psychic energy.
Helaena moves in like an enraged lion her fist swinging in from the left. Well aware of how powerful his mother is and the power behind her attacks during years of "practice" at the Great Crusade. Moratrion throws up an arm to block. Sidestepping, he blocks a quick right jab and responds in kind. The hold she has on his hands still tingle at the edge of mental control but when he charges up the Curse, he has full control of his hands again.
Magnus is a cocky fool but he has the right idea in using the powers given to them by the gods.
The curses of Nurgle flow from Mortarion's fists, only a tenth of what he normally use. Helaena is way too fast and far too dangerous to make any big obvious moves. Instead he peppers her with a series of low-level Curses spreading the effect across her upper body bit by bit. A cursed Wrap even on the level he is throwing is no joke. It could stifle a regular Space Marine's regeneration and the oscillating fields are extremely painful for the body. Then again the Empress tanks a full powered Wrap that should have turned her to sludge but instead she bounces right back into the fight. Pain alone isn't going to do it.
Helaena's fist connects soundly with his jaw and Mortarion's neck whips to the side, one half of his face he is sure is broken. It doesn't matter. Bones grow back.
Increasing the level of the Wrap curse, Mortarion starts a mental countdown. The current curses over Helaena's body would only lasts for twelve or thirteen seconds by his estimate before she overrides it. That is if it is working at all. His brain screams I pain as he mentally focuses on the charging of the Wrap Curse, nerves burning and cracking with power. His first strike she neatly deflects by her left hand and his second by her right as she steps to the side trying to get an angle to his vulnerable side. She has a good read on how to take down bigger opponents, the arms of a person in Imperial Power armor comparatively shorter with respect to the barrel like torsos.
A fist buries at his side, the impact hurting him a lot more than expected, the armor there breaking.
"Come on boy!" she taunts much to his ire as he can feel the thrill of battle in her tone. A glowing fist nearly takes his damaged face off. The air crackles and glows green leaving contrails in the wake of her psychic covered fists. There is a split second opening and the Daemon Prince struck into it catching the Empress by her left shoulder.
The Wrap solidifies with the other curses before and Mortarion's fist explodes into a a maggot explosion of Chaos energy.
"Die whore!" he roars the rush of battle overflowing in his veins. He has been on edge waiting for her all this time while she fights her way through the city. Now is the chance of two superhumans in their own right to go head to head.
Maggoty Green and Psychic Dark Green duels straight amid thunder cracks and explosions with lances of ethereal light. Mortarion feels one of his lungs collapse as Helaena lands a sound blow flat across his armored chest, but it is a fleeting concern. A second later and he feels something break when he buries his fist into her gut, one of her ribs obviously. Her transparent helmet fills his vision then, the abrupt head butt giving him pause. More green fills the air and he nearly forgets how close they are to falling from the second floor hallway of the palace.
A haymaker with his left goes wide and Helaena deflects it with rather less force than normal. Instead she redirects his momentum and spins him, tagging him now on his exposed left shoulder blade. His entire right arm spasms, the muscles locking up so sharply and so suddenly it feels like his bones are about to explode out of their sockets. He swings the limp limb around, still charging with the Wrap Curse and grins to himself when it connects with the surprised Empress. Helaena fell back a step, her helmet cracked and smoking with wispy licks of green energy.
"I just have to avoid her fists," Mortarion stamps his foot focusing a shockwave of maggots and diseases down into the floor. It would work just his Wrap Curse and finally knock her on her ass. He knows whoever lost their footing first in this fight is done for immediately.
Despite being dazed by the Wrap Curse eating her brain from the last attack of Mortarion. Helaena hops neatly jumping over and out of the cone of the shockwave. Just his luck. She understands the move obviously and the easier to avoid up close. If she has jumped back and away like anyone else might have done, she would have been hit.
"I've got a few seconds left," Mortarion still has his mental tally in mind. Seeing her slightly off balance, he charges up another Wrap curse and lunges. His eyes sticks to her fists, watching that eerie green glow. They are up in a guarding position not poised to strike.
At the last second however Helaena pivots letting the Curse surge flow past her back. Fists still up, guarding she takes a strong step forward and into Mortarion's guard. The move baffles him for all of an instant. Then her elbow descends like a bolt of lightning hitting the top of his exposed head straight on. Mortarion gasps as it hit. Primarchs might be super human but they are still human and can take damage in vulnerable human areas. Their bodies might be hard and bone strong, but it isn't completely insensitive and under it the flesh is soft and vulnerable and very much alove. Just like a strong blow might rattle your gums, Helaena's elbow hit hard enough and over such a small area that Mortarion feels It right down his chest.
Bouncing on the balls of her feet she jumps up another half-foot and brings her elbow down a second time on the same spot. Mortarion's whole body seizes up as the light struck twice, eyes wide in pain and obviously brain damage, he slumps forward falling to his knees presenting an even more perfect target.
Screaming like a banshee, the Empress hops a third time and for a third horrible strike, her elbow comes down.
CRACK!
And Mortarion knows no more as his soul fails to return back to the Plague god's embrace being so near the Anathema. Even in death he still hates the kind face bearing those chocolate brown eyes looking kindly at him in sorrow.
…
Outside the Palace Gates,
"PUSH! BY THE EMPEROR PUSH GODDAMN IT!" roars Gulliman as they finally arrive at the footsteps of Magnus' Palace. Thousands of Clones are already dead when they bull rush their way over here and by his direct orders nevertheless. Gulliman for the first time doesn't care for the loss of life. His mother has chosen to fight alone the monster that is his brother inside this palace of the damned.
"Incoming!" the shout of one of his honor guard is enough to snap Gulliman out of his rage as he jumps to the side as a ball of warp sorcery crashes where he is standing a few seconds before. The five clones that are hit by the flash of the spell die screaming as blood explodes from their helmets.
"There are too many of them Lord Primarch! We need to get out of the open or else we are going to be torn to pieces," shouts one of the Custodes peppering the Chaos line that have formed into one defensive wedge with his guardian spear taking the heads of a cultist or two.
"I agree Lord Primarch, any more of this and we would lose our Militarum support to those entrenched heavy positions alone," insists one of his honor guard.
Gulliman grits his teeth. Every fiber of him wants nothing more than to charge in and fight alongside his mother. If he loses her, he would be alone again in this thrice Emperor forsaken galaxy with a rotting Imperium that he is sure would be thrust into his hands. Worse, he would be wholly and utterly miserable all by himself.
Worse he knows that his sons and everyone else is right. They have already expended too many lives to reach where they are right now. The last of the enemy defenses are the staunchest currently forming into a defensive line with at least five heavy bolter emplacements aimed at their location alone with hundreds of Cultists and many more Rubric Marines being controlled by Sorcerers. At least a hundred of those Plague Marines are also present. They bar the way of Gulliman to the palace.
"Baby Gulliman! Late Gulliman! Always late when he is needed the most! Boring Gulliman who always fail to save what is important to him!" the taunts of his brother Fulgrim echoes inside his skull. He used those words before he nicked him on the neck nearly killing him.
It might simply be taunts but one cannot deny the inlay of truth in those words. Gulliman is late in saving his foster father, he is late in saving his real father, he is late in joining the fight and prevent the death of Sanguinis, he is late in saving this bloated Imperium that all that remains of his father's dream, he is ten thousand years late in saving any of his remaining loyal brothers, now it seems that he would be late again in saving another family member.
"Do not worry Lord father, we know your worries and we will give you the breach you need to get inside," the vox suddenly crackles making Gulliman yank the poor radio man half dangling at his hands as he answers the radio.
"Who is this?" Gulliman demands loudly at the machine.
"Chapter Master Malleus of the Sons of Ultramar Lord Father, I have brought two hundred of my Chapter with me, about to drop into your positions momentarily,"
"What do you know of the Sons of Ultramar?" Gulliman questions or more like demands to one of his honor guards crouching in cover.
"Second Founding father, they come from our legion. They specialize in-," he is cut off with the sound of hundreds of jet packs above them all.
"DEATH FROM ABOVE! STRIKE FROM THE SKY BROTHERS!" the grilled tone of Chapter Master Malleus can be heard from one end of the palace to the other as he crashes straight into the enemy fortified positions alongside two hundred of his fellow Astartes throwing the staunch defense line. The sounds of their melee weapons can be heard coming online from the more common chain swords, the buzzing of power swords, claws and fists or the familiar common screech of metal against metal as combat knives of Space Marines go against axes.
"Assaulting enemy positions via jet packs," finishes the Ultramarine lamely.
"Seeing the chance being given to them by his sons from another Chapter, Gulliman levels the Sword of the Emperor at the descending melee.
"For the Emperor! For the Empress! Charge!" he roars out and his Strike Group needs no further encouragement. With battle cries they left cover and rushes in with wild zealotry. Gulliman of course is at the forefront, his demigod strength giving him the speed he needs to outrun the others. For the life of him though, he has no idea how the large Imperial Fist Centurion is able to keep up with him. The thing has stuck with them like a sore wart throughout the campaign. So far it has been effective, scratch that, it is a juggernaut as it rips through buildings and walls like they are made of paper. Once it even pulls out the turret out of a corrupted Leman Russ tank, pullings its innards outwards along with its shooter and driver.
Rubric Marines and Cultists fell from the onslaught of Gulliman's strike group, two Rubrics having their undead lives ended by the Sword of the Emperor itself. The Centurion bursts to a pulp one of the Plague Marines by crushing its head and stomping it again and again to stop whatever regeneration it might give. Around them the men and women at their command charges through the melee. Solar Guards wielding flamers and bayonets burn Cultists left and right with heavy clone support who tries to form a perimeter, a square wall of guns as they rotate, hitting everyone not wearing the Aquila symbols with their blue lasers. Many of them die as the servants of chaos try to attack the obvious line of Imperial servants. Unfortunately many of those are chaos space marines which cannot be brought down by ten or even by twenty lasguns at full power. The toll is high for every dead enemy Astartes. Space and Primaris Marines grapple against their counterparts while Sisters of Silence and Custodes slices and dices around Gulliman to prevent him from being overrun and surrounded.
For Gulliman however it is obvious that despite the recklessness of their charge and the heaviness of their attack to Chaos lines, it is not enough. The enemy is too many and already the hammer blow of the assault is weakening as the enemy recovers from the shock and are hacking and fighting gleefully against their forces with savage glee. Sorcerers that their men are unable to reach are summoning daemons of every kind even more that join the fray that is sure to overwhelm them through sheer numbers. Gulliman recognizes Ahriman, the most powerful Chaos sorcerer, second only to Magnus summoning daemon after daemon as simple as if he's breathing. Gulliman grits his teeth even as he disembowel two plague marines into bouts of flame. There are just too many of the enemy and they are blunting the attack of the Imperials. They are not winning but they are delaying Gulliman and his forces from going in.
A lightning bolt appears out of nowhere striking Ahriman in the face making the Sorcerer give off a pained screech as he is thrown off his feet, his pet sorcerers crying out as they die, their energy expended as they try to block the attack.
"What in the Emperor's name-," Gulliiman mutters beneath his breathe as he turns to see out of nowhere groups upon groups of Eldar bearing the mark of the Ynnari appear. At their forefront, the familiar pale but beautiful face of Yvraine scowls as she turns her attention to him.
"We will deal with the forces of the Chaos gods. You go on and do what you must son of the Emperor," she says melodiously before raising her arms again. This time a huge psychic orb appears like a comet overhead before falling straight at the disheveled looking Ahriman flattening him again as it explodes like a ball of crystal shards.
"Go sons of the Emperor, we will hold them off alongside with your forces. Ynnari For Khela Mensha Khaine! Charge!" the Eldar ranks break into a wedge formation as they join the melee of Imperials, Banshees, Wyches, Warlocks, Sorcerers, Gliders, Warp Spiders, Dragoons and Guardians all jump in, their wraithbone weapons blazing in action as they tear through the Chaos forces and daemons like a thresher upon wheat.
"You Centurion come with me!" barks Gulliman to the giant looking yellow banana thing. If asked one what prompts him to call the Centurion with him, he would not be able to answer. It is just a gut feeling kind of decision.
"Varrus! Lead the others, we are going in!" he calls out to the Custodes in charge who raises a Guardian Spear in salute.
With that taken care of, Gulliman and the Imperial Fist Centurion dive into the bowels of Magnus' palace.
….
Prospero, Magnus' Palace
"Y-You fucking Corpse-Emperor's whore!" roars out Magnus seeing the fallen unmoving form of his brother with a broken skull at the feet of their mother who is supporting only one arm as the one she had used at the left lie limp at from the elbow below and is leaking blood through the sky blue synth suit. There is little love between Mortarion and Magnus even during the days of the Great Crusade and lesser when they become lords of their own domain under the patronage of their own deities. However Mortarion is still his brother and he just died at the hands of the woman who confessed that she loves them more than life itself so long ago.
Psychic power radiating with extra fields, he grabs hold of his mother's lither form and hurls her into the nearest wall, a wall full of razor sharp teeth. The aura of her mother burns the demons at the wall even as she cries out when they try to get a bite on her. She bounces off the wall then the ceiling before she manages to orient herself.
A purple void snaps into existence without warning with Magnus at the center.
"By Tzeentch!" the Red King screams in pain before a hasty teleport brings him out of the persistent vortex.
He knows that his mother is fast, faster than him and he knows that going to his daemon form in this battle of might and sorcery will only hinder him. No, he has to channel his power in his current form without going big and red if he plans to survive. Being bigger would not grant him any boons here and he would be a target practice to her only. He has to beat her in this mundane Primarch form that his father created originally.
Already he can feel his entire body recoiling from being so close to his mother being a servant of Chaos. It feels like being burned by the sun, her very aura an anathema to Chaos just like his father only a lot lesser. He also knows that he must be careful of the purple void his mother is throwing around and the fires of green. Any more than two seconds of being hit by it and he would be shredded.
"Son," Helaena's voice sounds out regaining her feet and motioning for him to come forward with her right hand, her left arm still hanging limply by her side. Even wounded, her armor half in tatters, her arm broken, her helmet cracked and broken, she still radiates righteous anger and violence.
"How did it come to this my son,"
"You were never there!" Magnus surprises himself by his own words coming out. "You were never there when the wolves burned Prospero and when father commanded the mutts of Fenris to tear my home and my sons apart. You were never there mother!"
"And that gives you the right to turn to these monsters that you worship as gods?" she hisses back in return.
"Who else can I turn to?! Father rebuffs me and hates me when he blamed me for the damage of the Webway after I TRIED TO WARN HIM about Horus' rebellion. Horus might have twisted Russ' commands that ends up burning my home, but the point remains that IT HAPPENED! And the wolves did it gleefully. Where were you then?!" he demands angrily. "You disappeared when we needed you the most and now here you are, my executioner!"
"I am truly sorry Magnus, I truly am, I tried to save all of you but your father, your father imprisoned me on my own ship putting me on cryo. I was on Ice for the past ten thousand years," the sorrow in his mother's voice almost made Magnus relent before he managed to compose himself.
"Yet here you are still supporting father the way you always have even after what he did. It is too late mother. I am who I am now and I serve the Chaos god Tzeentch, and he demands your blood,"
"I'm sorry to Magnus for everything. I care for your father, that is why I do this and why I take the crown he gives me. He is my companion, longer than you can ever imagine. I cannot let him go, not especially in his current state,"
"Then I'm sorry to mother. May you die screaming in agony,"
The two moves in unison in the blink of an eye, one full of red aura, the other green. Even by Space Marine standards,no, even by Primarch standards, the battle would be freakishly fast. Magnus charges across the ground, Helaena turning and twisting to keep her in sight. Magnus closes the distance without warning with one charge straight on. Taking a page out of Mortarion's book, he tries to hit Helaena with a psychic blast inlaid with a curse of Tzeentch. The Empress deflects it with her right hand as it strikes jabbing like a viper's tongue trying to taste its prey. Magnus' first Pyshic curse blasts up into the ceiling of the palace the oscilliating psychic field breaking through the stokes creating a tell-tale ripple in it. His second blast hit the floor to the right of Helaena's boots creating another scar on the already ruined second floor of the palace.
Helaena retaliates with her own psychic green energy, but magnus is fast, and alert compared to his opponent. More importantly he is still relatively unhurt. Where Mortarion is slow and has to take the green lances of their mother head on, Magnus can dodge. He after all more than anyone knows how their mother fight with her magic. The two circles like duelists and strikes in a whirlwind of arms and legs as Magnus manages to trap Helaena's right arm and knee her in the gut once, twice, three times with a snap kick to the side of the head. The Empress is quick to break free, her arm going up to block two more bone –cracking psychic powered kicks. Helaena unlike Magnus prefers to remain solidly grounded.
Sweeping Helaena's feet, forces the other to a quick jump, Magnus unleashes another Psychic blast. The red tint distortions the air missing the Emoress in a hairsbreadth as she lands and ducks. Magnus' other hand is already primed however with a basic psychic pull. The fact that he can use both hands with two different techniques at the same time speaks a lot of his natural talent and skill. Most psychics can't do that due to concentration issues and Magnus executes as easy as he is breathing.
Helaena lurches forward, off balance thanks to the pull made by the corrupted Primarch.
Magnus lays into her tagging her with a curse of Tzeentch messing up her internal organs and her brain and them layering it with two more curses in on top of it with a flurry of quick strikes with both hands. He might have been better off with a full scale Pyschic blast but that power takes time. He is completely off guard by what Helaena does next. She hooks her right arm under the armpits of Magnus' left arm grabbing into the back of the neck armor of the Primarch, the end of the seam at the neck.
Magnus yelps in shock as his face flies down right unto the Empress' right knee. The sound of Magnus' forehead thudding into the Empress' knee cap is like a ball being slammed into a concrete wall full of explosives. The second time he hears it, the sound is present with the splash of black corrosive daemonic blood.
"My head!" Magnus howls with his face bloody but recognizable enough to angle his left hand behind his back and fire off a random Pyshic Throw point blank. The pulse hits Helaena and combined with the previous curses throws her away, vomiting pieces of her organs to the floor.
The two being fly apart rolling across the floor, bloody all over.
For a few long seconds, both superhumans in their own right try to get back up and prove that theya re still alive and breathing. Magnus has her face down and hacks up something reddish and blackish. Wiping away a bit of blood from his mouth, the daemon prince growls low in hisr throat and starts to crawl back up onto all fours and then onto his knees. Helaena meanwhile having finally been knocked down also seems to be struggling with her helmet. Unhooking something, she jabs a small nebule into her torso and tosses it away. Even before it hits the ground, the little stick disintegrates into slag, so toxic is the ground.
Magnus spits a wad of darkish corrosive blood and cleches his fists. "YOU-," he hisses with so much hate that a psychic aura envelops over him. His body explodes into another charge one that hit Helaena and carries her back and right off the edge of the Second Floor of Magnus' palace. Magnus is on top and Helaena is a the bottom when they fall and they crash into the ground floor somewhere near Magnus' throne.
"Don't you know who I am?!" Magnus yells holding the Empress down and straddling her on the ground. His right arm rears back and blurs as he strikes down using pyshic power to enhance her strikes. "I…..AM…..MAGNUS…YOUR….MURDERER! NOW DIE!"
His arm is like a pounding wave as it hits again and again. Then it stops the giant fist being caught by the Empress' right hand.
"No need to yell! I know who you are my son," Helaena says her voice full of fingers in her right hand tightening around Magnus' armored fist and flares with green. It takes a second for him to register but when it does, the former Primarch screams in agony. Red psychic power tries to act on the arm but misfires sending off streams of uncontrolled curses everywhere. Strange warbling red distortions in the air pops and fizzles and fumes as arcs of electricity dances between them.
"HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME!" wails Magnus even as the fire climbs up his arm to his neck and into his body. His body distorts as it tries changing from man to demon but it is obvious that his concentration is going into whack as he gets stuck into a morph between the two. Ten Thousand years obviously of being lazy and having no one to fully challenge him left Magnus weakened as he thrashes like a dying fish even as he burns, his free hand in the left stuck in a metamorphosis between a monstrosity filled with claws and muscle claws the hand of the Empress trying to dislodge it even as he tears through the synth suit ripping off skin and muscle from the shoulder down below of the Empress' right hand.
She does not let go.
Sorcerers appear heeding Magnus' cry throwing powers of the warp at the Empress hitting her all over like punches causing even more wounds to her already battered body. She does not let go of the now fully immolated Magnus who is shrieking in pain even as she bends in unnatural angles with all the curses.
"DIEEEEE YOUUU COWARDS!" with a powerful roar, the appearance of Gulliman and the Centurion of the Imperial Fists catches the attention of the Sorcerers away from their target.
The rocket launcher at the shoulder of the Centurion fires and the rocket flies and explodes at the face of the nearest Thousand Suns. Gulliman on the other hand wastes no time bulldozing anyone that gets in his way with the Sword of the Emperor towards his mother. Already the fire dwindles and all that is left of Magnus is ash. The bloody and severely wounded Empress however fells to her face, her free hand clutching a locket. The sight of his mother falling is enough to drive Gulliman into a rage as he cuts through towards her to avoid her being finished off. To the surprise of everyone the Centurion also garbles a war cry as he rips off his own helmet.
Grizzled white hair adorns a regal but serious face with sky blue eyes. A mustache badly cut and angry expression fills it.
"By the Emperor's Name, all of you will fall before the mighty Rogal Dorn! Primarch of the Imperial Fists!" the former Centurion roars. Gulliman looks gobsmacked along with everyone else as the banana coloured figure in Centurion Armor rushes the Sorcerers. The booster at his back burns fuel and he barrels through the Thouand Suns like a bulldozer roaring his hate and anger.
"YOU WILL PAY FOR DARING TO STRIKE MY MOTHER!" he roars out grabbing a Sorcerer in the face before slamming him into the ground. Momentarily he is in pieces as he is dragged through while the Primarch is still using his booster at full charge. When it pauses, he swings him around before punting him towards a group of gathered sorcerers kilos of metal flying that crash unto them killing them on impact alone. He makes a turnaround and swings his fist overhead before slamming it to one of the bigger sorcerers flattening him immediately in the ground.
"Brother keep them off me while I call for teleport!" roars out Gulliman who has cradled the lithe broken and bloody form of their mother into one of his hands even as he radios for the ship above to bring them out. Already the planet is heaving seismic waves, the death of Magnus sounding an alarming knell on it as it fails its grip on reality. Momentarily the planet will be sucked in back to the Warp. Normally Gulliman would be overjoyed at the presence of another of his loyal brothers, and royally pissed off for hiding in a Centurion suit no doubt. However there are more serious matters to deal with and that means evacuating their rapidly paling mother.
"I got this brother," salutes Dorn. An overhead slam flattens another Sorcerer, the Centurion armor shielding him from Warp fuckery even as he side kicks another one, turning him into a paste on the wall.
An angry roar catches their attention and a Lord of Change charges Dorn who tries pelting it with bolt rounds from his twin cannons at the arms. The bolter fire doesn't even register to the Daemon who roars as it strikes with its spear catching Dorn by surprise as it cuts through the Centurion armor and deep into his ribs.
"BROTHER!" Gulliman roars out in panic as Dorn is thrown with a spear in his midsection. It might have been the permanent end for the Primarch of the Imperial Fists if not for the smell of ozone as Grey Knights teleported with Khaldor Draigo at the head.
The revered Chapter Master dodges and weaves the attack of the Greater Daemon as easily as dancing. Around them the rest of his squad keeps the enemy away as he duels it. As the Daemon struck a downward stroke,he jumps over the barbed half cutting a spike out of the enraged demom which squeals at the wound. He is not finished yet though, using the momentum of the daemon pulling his spear, he jumps up catching the flying hook spike and slams it directly at the head of the screeching Lrod of Change who doesn't even have the time to scream out its death throes before it disintegrates, its essence burning up being so near the Emperor at Terra and the Empress.
"Lord Primarchs, activate your beacons, the entire army is disengaging and being teleported back. The planet is being pulled back to the warp," says the Chapter Master who has his own beacon activated.
Gulliman and the wounded Dorn need no encouraging as they activate their own. Soon the familiar feeling of being teleported and they find themselves within the Indomitable and the Empress is handed immediately to the medics with an entire squad of Custodes and Sisters of Silence trailing after them. Dorn on the other hand is also hauled away by the Apothecaries of the Space marines to be checked leaving Gulliman to be alone inside the command center with his mother's blood still staining his armored gear.
Even as he watches Prospero being sucked back to the Warp like a black hole would to a dying star, the Chaos fleets finally also disengaging from the Luna and Solar Fleets, the Blackstone Fortress destroyed. Gulliman for the life of him can't feel the victory as he stands there alone looking at the view of the command center.
…
Memory During the Great Crusade
There are few times that Conrad Kurze and the Corvus Corax would ally each other. This time however they have an uneasy alliance as they creep through the darkened halls of the Imperial palace dodging Custodes left and right which are patrolling the palace's floors. Their hearts beat heavily in their chests. They are confident in their abilities in staying in the shadows, but neither of them has any desire to be caught accidentally tonight. They have a mission after all.
Creeping through the floors and the walls like shades of the night, they barely make any sound. The wind in fact would have more sound as they help each other in the more trickier places that require the aid of two to traverse.
They reach their destination.
The kitchens this time of the night is as silent as the grave as the cooks are at their rooms resting. The two primarchs are careful that their heavy bulks not touch any of the plates or pans in the room as they creep forward. Their target is a plate of heavenly baked chocolate cookies lying in stacks fresh from the oven that is not far from the corner of the Kitchen. Their mother has promised the food for them tomorrow but the two of them decides that they are not in the mood for sharing and would steal as much as they can before the rest of the eighteen get their greedy paws on it tomorrow.
Both would agree after all that early bird gets the worm.
The two barely manages to pull a cookie each saluting each other silently in victory and taking a bite moaning at the sweet taste when the lights flash all around them catching them red-handed crouching over a tray with cookies on both hands looking extremely guilty. There looming over them is a menacing looking Morgana in an apron and holding a giant looking spatula and fly swatter which eerily looks the size of a Primarch's butt.
"Well, well my sons, what do we have here? Thieves creeping and stealing food, you know what happens to thieves do you?"
Conrad and Corax need no more persuading. With a mental agreement, they both try to make a break for it only to be snapped into immobilization by their mother who looms over them with that terrifying smile on her face, the fly swatter swinging left and right.
"They get whacked!"
The sound of pained screeches of both Primarchs would awake the entirety of the palace in a few minutes.
….
Memory During the Great Crusade:
Monopoly, such a simple board game but all twenty Primarchs are gathered around as they try to outdo each other in the game. It is not surprising that Gulliman is leading. The Man is so well-versed in his talent for administration that he is single-handedly dominating everyone. Ironically the ones at the worst are Angron (Since he can't focus due to pain), Russ (since he has absolutely zero administration skills), and Dorn (since he just fortifies one area to the high heavens). Morgana simply smiles as Big E lies on her lap away from his armor as she massages his scalp. It is so nice to have a peaceful family time…..
At least until Russ roars out in anger at being bankrupted again which ends the peace. In moments, the Primarchs are punching each other again, the monopoly game all forgotten as they try to throttle one another throwing threats through slights (at the game) and for insulting their intelligence(which is lacking to some).
One hour later and everyone will have sore butts with Gulliman practically sobbing at her lap saying sorry as she pats him on the head. Everyone just looks at disgust at the crybaby and mama's boy.
….
Author's Note: Yay another chapter done. Hope you like this. Sorry for the long wait. It's 11 500 words all so it's a bit long. Please Review your opinions. I enjoy reading reviews since it reflects how I write and probably the fuel for my inspiration.
Hope you liked the fight between the Empress and the Primarchs. I pray I did the enemy Primarchs justice in this fight.
Yes, that's two Primarchs down. Guys I need a review about which Primach is which and where so that we can adjust at the next parts of the story.
OOhhhhh I forgot. Next chapter will have one of the mystery Primarchs arrive, and it's not who you expected. Oh and Gulliman will have a lot less stress also.
Alright boys and girls. How do you want the Character of Dorn to be in this fic? I mean Gullimans a mama's boy though he will never admit it. How do you want his character to be, Dorn I mean?
Someone asks where the Eldar is last review, there they are. Happy now?