No no NO! None of this is helpful! Why was this so DIFF_IFFICULT?! Vox was combing through so many recordings of the South and West sides of the pentagram and cross referencing it with records of human history to see if there was any semblance of these invaders interacting with them, alive or dead. The control room filled with electricity as his anger towards hours of his life. So many issues with the invasion, more than just two new powers. The dinosaurs are mostly contained with the princess holding them in a special cell. So that became an issue for later, especially with her track record. But these Imperium were still an issue. They overtook one of Carmellia's weapon warehouses, limiting her supplies for another encounter. Surely, these holy symbols and fascist warriors have made some impact in recorded history. Nothing like these bastards have been seen in the modern world, so hopefully they had some ties to the past. Some way for him to understand how to beat these freaks.
Val once again steps into Vox's office uninvited. This time, confounded by how many people are with him. All doing their own recordings, attempting to understand this force through the world's history. Bleh, history. Not the pimp's forte. He enjoys living in the now, rather than what came before. That's what history is made of, just a bunch of todays. An intern rushed towards the Tv demon, bumping into Val as if he wasn't in the room. He had no reason to hold back his anger until he noticed Vox's face, more trigger happy than his. Val wasn't dumb enough to trigger Vox-at least when it mattered. "Boss, we're still trying to decipher newly discovered Mesopotamian tablets. There may be-" "Less talk, more SEARCHING!" The intern was scrambling towards his station, ready to serve his overlord to his fullest potential. Returning to his studies, Vox wonders if certain Egyptian mythologies may have drawn inspiration from the dinosaurs that attacked the North and East sides. His considerations for these ancient cultures and their inspirations were cut short as another sinner ran up to the Tv master. "Sir, sir!" We have a more detailed count on their numbers." "(Sigh) What is it now, another million?" "W-well, 24 million, 300 thousand so far. They seem to be-." "Yes yes, thank you Todd. Anything else?" "Well, the Astartes are expanding into Zeezi territory, and have requested our aid." Vox has enough on his plate, now these bastards are stepping into MORE territory? Whatever gripes he had with Mrs. Zilla were…mostly water under the bridge at this point. All that mattered was that the forces of Hell stick together. "Tell her the V tower is protecting any and all who offer their services. Ooh! And give her a few of our special equipment. About uh…20%? She'll make good use of it." Pragmatically speaking, it benefitted him and his goals if the opposition was more prepared to fight the invading forces. Practically speaking, it was beneficial for him to have those distracting his enemy to be better able to grab their attention. But inVal knew Vox's mind, and he really just wanted to see more shit blow up.
"Hey there, my sexy Tumblr man. You've been cooped up in this tower. I think you-" "Not now, Val." It was somewhat annoying that Vox was spending so much time on this invasion rather than the main man himself. But at the same time, sexy that he was so focused on this singular mission. The moth demon couldn't help but admire his baddie for his dedication. Then, Valentine witnessed his man's eyes widen in realization. He could not interpret why he would have this reaction. He sees Vox entering Henry Cavil Amazon, and seeing results about some grimdark sci-fi setting. "Babe, I didn't know you had Role Playing fantasies." "Shhh." Vox began to scroll through the news articles. A repeating name kept popping up: Warhammer. Val thought nothing of it more than it being the name of a weapon. But as Vox consumed what seemed to be some Harry Potter fanfic amount of lore, he began to worry about what his business partner had discovered.
"Uhhh, Voxxie, you okay, dear?" The Tv overlord swiveled the chair back towards Val, with a grin he hadn't seen Vox wear since he heard of Alastor's disappearance. Now Val was REALLY worried about what his man read about. Fanfictions were always filled with the darkest shit, not even he was comfortable with. Static chuckling was audible to Val, as Vox approached Vark and the other fish he didn't know the name of, and then…made a call to his staff and demanded a…ultimate façade, or something? Man, Vox loves using so many big words. Best not to waste any more of his time now. "Look, Vox…if you need anything, I'll be-" To his surprise, his partner placed his hand on his shoulder. Val felt a little blush creep up his face, as it seemed Vox was really locked into this. Man, he should spend less time with Velvet, she's ruining his vocabulary. Oh right, Voxxie. "Uhhh, you good?" "Hehehehe…I have a plan."
…
How strange, the mind of the Mechanicus. Where there is strength in the body, they see weakness yet to be cleansed. Where the Emperor gave them the knowledge to raise entire nations, they see cattle of unenlightened spirits, waiting to be awakened. To think, their faith was the exception to the Emperor's law of no gods. If it were up to her, the imperium would utterly destroy the tech priests and assimilate the products of their wisdom. But as her lord demanded their survival, the Empire and all its people will see to it. And their contributions to the Imperial stockpiles are invaluable. Not to mention, they supply the Hive Worlds with the technology necessary to house and feed billions of people. So their continued existence does benefit them, and thus any complaints she can muster are simply petty. As their works benefit humanity, she has little room to criticize their works.
She had plenty of time, sitting inside a furnace of a new Mechanicus factory. Normally, such a massive forge would need to tap into the magma of the world it resides in. However, the text priests have learned that a saint's aura is a wonderful substitute. It was strange, sitting in the middle of a metal tube felt cold ironically. Such an empty purpose, simply to fuel what the Mechanicus need to deliver for the Empire's conquest across the galaxy. Inside this furnace, there was no personality, no sense of artistic merit to the design. It was forsaken for the sake of efficiency. An aspect of nature would be drained so that humanity may live. This was the price of war. This is what His sons and daughters must do to sustain themselves against the wrath of the Xenos. It is their ferocity that seeks to end human life. So their retribution must be even more ferocious. The Emperor's vision of his people must be preserved, even if it is paved through the bones of its enemies. If only there were a better, more peaceful, and prosperous way. Alas, the galaxy is stubborn, strong willed against He whose will is divine.
The door to the furnace opens up, allowing the sister to exit the blazing tube. The tech priests are swift to act, ensuring this holy pyre shapes the metals of this twisted land into something far greater. Prototypes for future bolters, molds for the chains for many swords, and the production of further forges on other locations to drain this world of its magma to properly make weapons and armor to combat the infernal opponents that litter the plane they now occupy. A sign to Juneline that the corruption to her mind may yet soon come to an end, as she becomes closer with her Father in the Immaterium.
"How was your magma bath, oh Seraphic one?" Juneline sighed as her body finally cooled down, smoke escaping her body in rather toxic fumes. She began to wonder how many people would die in this smog if they hadn't installed vents to expel it into the atmosphere. "It was rather bland, Zeta. I was expecting a sense of fatigue as if my flesh had come into a battle against the furnace, and the struggle to maintain it. But no…it was peaceful. I am hopeful there will be actions in the future that require more of my efforts."
Engineer Zeta made a noise Juneline could only make out as chuckling. It didn't quite come out as a scoff with the steam flying out of faulty pipes. "Are you prepared for cosmic hexes to punish your hubris?" The audacity of these Tech Priests to assume the Emperor would give one of his saints into the hands of a daemon prince for the price of questioning how efficient the tech priests that were working with their resources were. She considered it minor, just a minor misstep. If their minds were so diluted, their actions in the future would reflect on her mistake. "Whatever battles the Emperor wishes me to fight, I will do so with all my heart." The optics of the engineer dilate as he observes Juneline's response. It was one of devotion and faith to the Omnissiah's form of flesh. As this reassurance lifts his spirit, Zeta receives a message that the astropath Graxior has found something. The engineer rushed towards the meditation chamber, followed by the saint. Surely, a status report is great news, or even the map of the way out.
…
The psycher in the recently constructed meditation chamber was sifting through the emptiness of such a void they were in, searching for a way back home. Alas, to no avail. There was something akin to the Warp, an endless crimson prison where those who enter cannot leave. The visions of sadism and malevolence fills the air of this dungeon. But surely, there must be a way. Something his enhanced vision was missing. Graxior sacrificed his globs of goo most would call eyes to better be attuned with the universe. It was only in this…world he could ever consider himself blind. Where was he? He could only hear faint thoughts and emotions from those around him. They were an anchor to Graxior's sanity. And slowly, that anchor began to loosen. The voices grew quieter and softer. Soon…silence surrounded him. All his struggles were for this venture through the abyss. He couldn't afford disappointment, and so he pressed forward. The only way he could move. Then…he saw…a distant glow. Despite possessing no physical limbs in the warp, Graxior could feel his body being taxed as he ran towards it. It was a powerful aura, an enlightening aura. One would dare to say…divine. He saw an enchanting figure with flowing blue and greenish-yellow hair resting. His ears were blessed with the soothing hum from its lips, stripping the soul of all his struggles. Its form possessed a goldish yellow fabric flowing through the ground, covered in leaves like a waistline to a dress. Everything about this figure spoke feminine to Graxia, as it turned towards him with as curious a face as he had for…her.
The figure stood up, walking towards this stranger with great interest. An invisible choir echoes a name for every step she takes: Asherah. Stunned by her glory, Graxia could only remain still, dumbfounded by the sheer vibe coming off her. She lowered herself to his level and spoke. "Why, hello there! I've never seen you before." Knowing it was rude to ignore her inquiry, the telepath struggled to speak out a response. "Uhhh, nor I you. I-uh, oh-I…am a-a-Grassio-no. (inhale, exhale) I am Graxior." Amused by this creature's attempt to beatbox, she then saw this man for who he was: a man whom has endured so many sufferings in life. Someone who has never had a pleasant memory since childhood. Someone who was with her now in the Empyrean. Someone she can help to remove the pain of unknown horrors. She reached out from the blessed tree and removed from it a fresh bounty. She then held it out, offering the treat to this Graxia. "Eat, Graxior. And never know pain again." She saw many tears drop from Graxior's eyes, as he reached out for this mouth watering treat. Then just as suddenly, the human screams before vanishing from her presence. Asherah was miffed by this change. She was rather intrigued by this gentleman. She pulled out a sticky note, wrote the name "Graxior" on it and set it somewhere safe in her bosom. One way or another, she promised herself she would deliver that apple to this man.
Images of fractures emerging all over a world emerge into the Astropath's mind. Followed urgently by images of: two siblings coming together, a ferret hugging another, two construction workers going to a shattered building with materials to repair it, a static image with a smile, and a pen holding several chickens. Such symbols with little room in the moment to decipher them broke Graxior's concentration and sent him back to the real world. The world with ash and soot. The world where his vision was naught, and the world was reduced to the ground and what he could touch. Somehow, the world was shrouded to him, as the Warp has little room in this Hell. And with this message, he somehow knew…they weren't alone Still, his other senses remained, including the ears that picked up on stomping boots ready to meet the only means of traversing this prison astrally. One was a techpriest , based solely off the pistons near the legs. The other was their saint, Juneline the Inexorable. He knelt in her presence, ready to obey her orders. "Rise Graxior. You are faithful." He obeyed, getting off his knees, still ready to serve. "Seeker! Have you received a message?" The telepath pauses to receive a breath, then speaks. "We must leave now. Take the harpies with us." He could sense Juneline's confusion, pondering why the urgency of this "Whom sent this message?" Softly, the astropath responded. "Rediscovered allies."
