A/N: here and in the following chapter are a number of short stories that I had written a while ago ans I have decided to publish here as I work on the next big part of this. I apologize for the lack of updates but sometimes life is like that and the muse abandons you.
The Silver swords:
You were a liberator once, someone who fought for the freedom of all men. Or that is what few
foes old enough or knowledgeable enough say to taunt you, contrasting your oh so noble
beginnings with what you are today.
They are right in a sense. You really did once stand against tyrants and fight for the rights of all.
You were but one of the many youths who fought alongside soon to be gene father as he
opposed the cruel monarchy on your homeworld of Canalis. Oh how could you forget the mass
swathes of citizens marching as one under his banner, singing the song of angry men and
refusing to be slaves once again.
You even joined him as he sought to liberate other worlds, ignoring the concerns that were
springing up even then about the wisdom of submitting to the Imperium. You trusted your gene
father and your cause seemed so just. So many greeted you with open arms, and many more
required only the tiniest bit of "reconsidering" to give heed to your cause. You slayed many kings
and brought down many tyrants, all the while serving the worst tyrant of them all.
The cracks began to show slightly after Ullanor but before Sobek's rise to Warmaster. It was the
tithing system which first upset you, for it seemed cruel to free worlds only to force them to give
so much. Next was the tightening of the lex imperalis, even the Primarch of the Fear Mongers
who penned it, the so called "great Judge" thought the Emperor's revisions to be too harsh.
You kept quiet, keeping your disquiet to yourself even as another legion was censored and the
memories of the lost were being purged. Perhaps you would have stayed that way, cowed by
fear and vows given long ago, had it not been for encountering the cults of the youngest
goddess on Yiven. There you experienced what true freedom looked like and though you initially
recoiled in horror, it stuck with you and caused you to doubt.
Advisors from the Sacred Band and Void Specters subtly pushed you along the path of pleasure
and pain. They whispered dark secrets in your ears and summoned daemons who seduced
many of the mortals in your fleet. Some tried to resist, claiming that these pleasures offered no
freedom and instead enslaved to passions far worse than the leash of any tyrant. These
warnings fell on deaf ears and indulged on all the forbidden pleasures that Slaanesh could
provide.
But rather than fully abandon your ideals, they morphed and evolved into something greater.
Now you offer a much more substantial freedom to all who have the strength to claim it. When
the war started you were tasked with spreading the rebellion far and wide, and that you did with
panache. You taught the dull and witless masses the horror of their insignificance, before
delighting them the bliss of giving into the absurdity.
What many see as mindless debauchery is actually a grand philosophical statement far more
profound than anything the dour Iconoclasts or the devout Caliphates can provide. For this is
the choice you offer, a chance to laugh in the face of a cold, meaningless cosmos. To dance,
sing, make merry, love and consume to your heart's content. Reason is illogical in this cosmos,
as even the Iconoclasts can admit, and restraint and discipline are pointless.
You offer freedom unbound by artificial constraints of conscience or morality. Some say this has
made you weak, ill disciplined and ill suited for war. But they are wrong, for goddess has made
you stronger. For ten thousand years you have done whatever you wished in this galaxy and
now that the 42nd millennium dawns, you will liberate the masses once more. For all across the
dominion of the sons of liberty, the masses call out to you for the taste of true freedom and will
indulge them…..
Rising suns:
You were born to be a killer. That is a fact that you have been running from for all your life. War
and blood has surrounded from your first memories stalking gore stricken fields to savage for
food and supplies. You tried to fight it, the urge to kill and maim, but you always knew that the
blood rage would consume you.
You were elated when your soon to be Primarch ended the continual conflicts on your
homeworld of Kyushu. With their end, a new era of peace and prosperity came along. You were
given the chance to learn how to earn your living, doing honest work helping out on a farm.
Therefore you felt indebted to the new Shogun, and you even volunteered to join him in what
appeared to be a noble endeavor. For the father of the Shogun must be as compassionate and
even handed as he.
For many years this appeared to be so, for you learned not only the ways of war, but also art,
philosophy, and history. You became so much more than a mere warrior and you were proud to
do so. The foes you fought were mostly mindless xenos who couldn't be reasoned with, and the
worlds you saved were glad for your interference. You forged many bonds with your cousins, for
most of which was the 19th.
It hurts you to recall the 19th and what fate awaited them. Ostensibly four legions fought against
the Ragdan, and only three returned. Imperial records show that the 19th fell in battle, at the
hands of the enemy. This was a lie, as you know full well. While the Sacred Band and
Executioners were tasked with hunting down the last of the Ragdan, your legion was given the
unenviable task of dealing with the 19th who had been corrupted by the xenos.
In a bloody and terrible conflict, you slaughtered your cousins to the last. Your reward having
your memories wiped and being sent back into the crusade by Malacador. A dark cloud was
cast over your legion that day, even if you couldn't remember why. That doubt festered for years
under the surface, only for the Sacred Band to use that doubt to turn you against the Emperor.
Using the power of chaos, the Ever chosen had revealed the truth to your gene father and
eventually to the whole legion. The fury of the legion boiled and was stoked deliberately, to suit
the Ever chosen's ends. Many swore oaths to him right then and there, others had to be
silenced and for a second time, your blade ran red with the blood of a fellow legionnaire.
That would be far from the last, as you were sent to deal with the Fear Mongers. They had
escaped their trap mostly intact and helped bolster imperial resistance across the galaxy, mostly
through fear and intimation. You chased them back to their homeworld of Megahdan, and their
you slaughtered your cousins once more. The Shogun slayed the Great Judge, hoisting his
brother's head in triumph after a great duel where he finally let go of his mercy and restraint.
From that day forward, you felt the mark of the war god upon you and your legion. You watched
as a great blood pact was signed between your legion and Khorne, as eight whole companies of
loyalist were sacrificed. You were granted Khone's blessings without losing your mind, in
exchange for your eternal souls.
The rest is a haze of battle and bloodletting as you pushed the loyalist back to Terra. Your legion
was the last to retreat and thus suffered the most from the loyalist's wrath. Your legion was
broken on Terra and has barely recovered in the ages since, millennia spent spilling blood in the
name of Khorne.
You hold to notions of honor and martial pride, even as others scorn them. Deep in your heart
you that your rules are meaningless, that your codes are nothing but soft assurance to yourself
about how deep the rot has set in. It is all you can do to stay sane and focus your anger on a
galaxy which failed you. A voice rings deep in your ear, calling for blood and battle for it's own
sake….
