Well howdy, seems i'm doing something right if i've caught a few of you in to reading this far. Well, you're in for a ride, I suppose.
Might be a little late to say this, but expect massive spoilers, at least for Arknights. I'm making it take place after Ride to Silberneherze but before Path of Life. I think. Arknights is a little confusing in it's timeline storytelling, just take a look at IS5. Also, fair warning, if Warhammer OCs aren't your thing, should probably head back now. I'm not going to forget about Arknights characters or OCs though, just... let me cook. Anyways, enjoy.
"We've been lost for several days. The walls bleed. The astropaths scream at the shadows. I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do–" —Cogitator log found in a lower deck room. Next to the cogitator log a corpse was found with a missing head. It was sawn off completely. Investigation under way.
Chapter 2: A Holy Blaze of Glory
Warp travel; feels like traveling through the pits of hell. Shadows jumping in the corners of your vision or nightmares being more frequent than genestealers on a space hulk. It was becoming a major nuisance to the point that most of the filtered viewing ports—which Faust had put a lot of crowns into in order to see the more tame version of the warp without falling into madness—had to be blocked by the blast doors.
Psykers aboard were being affected the worst. The astropaths and the twin navigators were feeling the rougher parts; Faust didn't know if he even had psykers aboard his ship besides them. The Astropath choir was shut down, lowering the morale further as communications were effectively cut off. However, Faust had done this on his own orders, taking responsibility for it and commanding the bars aboard his ship to be on a permanent ten percent discount until they left warp travel.
While many thought Faust's idea as… less than reputable to cut off what was essentially any means at a rescue, others that encountered the astropaths knew exactly why. They were more than just restless. They were exhausted, with many sleepless nights and screams of nightmarish delusions haunting their very presence.
Faust had come across reports of crew member encounters with the astropaths feeling more than just a little paranoid. It was as if they were bestowed with the Lamenter's luck in its very essence, a shadow trailing them at each step.
As for the navigators, they were taking shifts trying to steer the Clad in Ire out of harm's way. It was as if they were in the wilderness, making sure one stood watch for the beasts howling in the twilight of the abyss.
Both of them were succumbing to extreme levels of fatigue, as they worked as much as they could to prevent the warp current from ripping the ship apart. Faust made a silent promise to himself that their deed would not go unrewarded if the voidship survived this trip. More than just a celebration, by the Emperor's holy Throne he would be sure they would be commemorated with statues in their honor in the main ballroom.
For the rest of the crew, they had other methods of distracting themselves. Most menials that had faith in the God-Emperor were praying as often as they could, sometimes in between eating their Soylens Viridian meals or whatever else they ate. Others drank the voices away, not listening to their wails of sorrow and whispery temptations. To the scant few who were of a moral spectrum less than what was normally allowed, pleasure was their goal, vying for whatever scraps they could even find on the ship—so long as they weren't found out by Faust's special "Arbites."
Many of the more militarized members were conducting training drills and whatever else they could find to distract themselves from the possibility of being ripped into pieces at any given moment if the rampart failed. Or the screams of the damned.
As for the facilities aboard, the least important ones were functioning, which was at least some bit of help keeping morale high. That being said, morale sat on a tightrope between nosediving and keeping afloat for one specific reason.
"Faust?"
Faust was glad that navigators Rulk Skaldwick and his twin, Rell Skaldwick had relayed the information to him, and only him. They lost the fragging Astronomican beacon. That was decidedly something Faust would not share with the rest of the crew unless he needed to.
Not being able to see where Holy Terra was only concluded one thing: they were so incredibly lost. That would have killed the morale of the crew if they ever found out. Only a select few were in the know of this, Faust, Delta-71, Brogg—who could surprisingly keep a secret—and the head of the astropaths, Ulric Brantzwerf.
If that was the only piece of terrible news, Faust would have dealt with it in silence. But, that still wasn't the case. The ship was getting roughed up in the warp, and with each quake and churn, it reminded him that the Clad in Ire was not invincible.
"Faust, hello, any enginseer in that brain of yours?"
It was almost… hopeless. But even then, Faust knew they would come out alright. The enginseers and servitors were repairing the ship as best they could. The only problem that remained was the warp-drive…
It was failing. Not in the explosive kind, thankfully, but it would die soon without proper repair. And the best fate they would be given is being thrust out the warp. The worst would be that they still remain.
Another groan shook the ship again, as if on cue that this terrible situation cemented itself into Faust's mind. As it turns out, defying the warp was harder than it seemed. This, without a doubt, had to be–
A mechanical growl of annoyance was heard from behind, "By the Omnissiah's will, pay attention to me Faust!"
Faust was then smacked upside the head by a large mechadendrite and lifted by his legs high in the air by another mechadendrite afterward, now at the mercy of his annoyed attacker. Faust was face-to-face with a mildly upset Delta, who had been ignored for quite some time. The right side of her face was peeved, her brow narrowed and her lips frowning. The left side was expressionless as always, as what was once flesh long ago had been replaced by multiple servos and trustworthy steel. Notably, her red ocular lens was shut in a way to also mimic a narrowed eye.
There was also a dash of red on her expression, but Faust already knew it was of aggravation more than anything else. Or so he told himself…
The amount of mechadendrites holding her up gave her quite the bit of height, coiled up in a way as if she were more a snake standing upon its body. Meanwhile, several other mechadendrites flowing from the many crevices of her purple robes twitched; aggravated as they whirred or flicked angrily. Her white hair was the only part that wasn't trying to string him up, at least for now.
Even the servo skull that loomed nearby her, dubbed 8-CT4V or Octavia for short, had a medicae needle pointed towards him. If a servo-skull could frown in disappointment, this one likely would.
A metallic finger sharply jabbed into his chest, "Have I finally received your attention oh great and mighty heir of House Decimbrus?" Delta asked with enough sarcastic bite that it could give the denizens of the warp a run for their souls.
Faust came to the stunning realization that he probably should apologize to the Tech-priest, who for better or for worse, looked like she was going to shake every molecule of regret out of him. If he didn't, then her spare servo-arm would likely squeeze the life out of him. So he did.
Faust sighed, "I apologize Delta, my mind was… preoccupied."
Delta crossed her arms, "And…"
"And to not ignore you when you're calling for my name."
Delta hummed as she nodded, both vocally and mechanically, before letting the claw holding his legs loosen, dropping him gently.
Faust landed face-first into the floor, blood rushing to the rest of his body again "Ow…"
"Better, now then…" Delta lowered herself to his height, and picked up her Omnisian axe she had embedded into the floor with her servo-claw, having some of her mechadendrites immediately repair the dent. "May I finally give my report on our current situation?"
Faust dusted himself off the ground as he stood up, "As always."
Delta smiled, sitting on her pile of mechadendrites, "Very well. Current calculations and reports show our enginseers efficiencies our down twenty-two percent and are plunging. The plasma drive's machine spirits are completely unresponsive to our prayers with the warp dragging us wherever it wants. Morale is suffering and–"
"Yes Delta, I know about that, tell me something I don't know," Faust said, interrupting her with a slight bark.
Delta's eye twitched, but she shook it away after seeing the tiredness within Faust's eyes, "…We may be in a deficient state, but we're still managing to stay above the threshold of pandemonium, most of us at least. Other than that, we cannot seem to find that infuriating Aeldari. He's seemingly scuttled into the far crevices of the ship. Though…."
Faust could hear Brogg walking up from curiosity, but he put that aside as he focused on her hesitation, "Yes Delta?"
"We may have a problem in about… five or ten minutes, perhaps less."
Faust tensed slightly, but put on a smile as best he could. His lips curled only slightly upward, "And that is?"
"Navigator Rulk communicated that we're–"
An explosion rocked the bridge, causing Faust to immediately stumble to his station as he shouted, "What in the Emperor's name was that!"
"We're getting dragged into a warp storm!" called out one of the menials, Wundertolg, if he remembered the brown haired lady correctly. The crackle of distant energy boomed in the distance again, and the sounds of awful whispers were slowly starting to increase in volume.
Delta lowered a raised finger, shaking her hand in a wince, "That. We are dealing with that."
Faust shot a slight glare at Delta, "You couldn't have mentioned that earlier?"
"Don't blame me for this, Faust! I was given this information as I gathered it at exactly twelve point two minutes ago! Well, as it stands, I think it's best I go direct my enginseers to make sure repairs are done on any damages. Tata!" Delta yelled as she slithered away in a hurried manner, using her Omnisian axe to pull herself forward with each thrust into the floor.
Faust understood her leaving so early. It was not because she was escaping the wrath of being reprimanded—which rumor had it Faust gave legendary lectures that could kill someone with sheer boredom—but because she truly needed to.
"The void shields aren't holding up against the storm!" A menial with an augmented eye, Cirdoza, called out.
"Our plasma drives just took heavy damage!" Aurelia shouted, as another explosion rocked the ship, the alarm blaring.
Faust gripped the railing harder, making sure not to repeat his last mistake of staying silent, "All hands to your stations! Send a message to all decks to brace for impact! Scramble any medicae personnel and enginseers! Lock down the ship and by the God-Emperor's majesty pray for safety…"
Faust, once more, could feel a bubbling hatred for House Vinrexus. Truly, if he were to survive, they would be on the warpath first.
There was silence above the empty space of a semi-arid world, with the two moons looming in orbit in the void. This planet held a secret, vast enough to hide the civilization on it from threats that sought to destroy life, yet a crack in its armor was still present, almost done in regenerating.
As for the threats… they were not present. And whether that was out of luck or ignorance, none on Terra could say. But that wasn't the event unfolding within its star system.
A tear in reality was occurring, as the empty void began to ripple with the energy of nightmares beyond humanity's wildest dreams. It swirled for a moment before it opened completely, a swirling mass of colors and madness tearing apart the material realm.
A voidship, a heavily modified dauntless-class cruiser wreathed in flames of pure pink and blue energy, barreled out of the warp tear like a heretic set aflame. The tear that had belched the voidship out started reforming and closed completely a moment later, leaving nothing but empty space behind.
The voidship's momentum kept it moving forward, slowly approaching the world without the caution to slow down.
Meanwhile, aboard the Clad in Ire, the ship was in chaotic turmoil, as all hands on deck were trying their damnedest to repair it or section off places that had been butchered apart. On the bridge of this vessel, orders were being shouted.
"Give me the usual!" Faust yelled, leaning over the railing.
"We're out of the warp! Our hull is damaged, but its integrity stood valiantly against the onslaught!" Shouted Faust's second in command of the ship, a short man with an augmented left eye; Goethia held the cane under him with a vice-like grip from the stress.
"We've… we've survived," A menial said, hunched over his cogitator station. "By the Emperor's holy light, we survived!"
Faust visibly slumped on his throne, as the rest of the bridge was either thanking the Emperor's guidance through this harrowing journey or focusing on the ships reports now coming through from various sectors of the lower decks.
Brogg laughed heartily, "See? We made it just fine. No problems."
No one had noticed the blip that was present on the auger, located so very far away, still endlessly drifting in the void of space. A satellite, destined to see the stars for the very first time, still on its endless mission. But the operator on the auger array was too busy fanatically praying to the Emperor's majesty.
They had survived. For now. All they needed now was a bit of luck and rest, and they would be back in the field in no time. Faust would likely call for a celebration in a solar day or two.
Faust was about to call for another drink to soothe his worries until a rumble shook the bridge forward, causing him to catch himself on the railing. Always one thing after another, Faust grumbled to himself, as he tiredly asked, "What now!"
"Sir? We've… completely lost any and all contact with the plasma drives…" Aurelia said, her voice horrified.
Faust's eye twitched, "Which ones?"
"All of them…"
A brief silence overtook the ship, as the blast doors on the windows opened, slowly revealing the fact their ship was on a collision course with the planet in front of them. Faust could infer that his ship was indeed about to be nothing more than junk as it was going straight for the supercontinent.
But there was something off about it. From its perspective, it looked like there was… a crack on its dome. As if it were glass, which briefly shimmered in the light on cue.
Was that a… planetary void shield? Impossible… he'd never heard nor seen such a thing, yet here it was. The realization of his current situation struck Faust's brain faster than a round firing from a commissar's laspistol into a coward's skull.
They were heading directly for it without any means of stopping. This vessel was also not especially good at ramming. At the current direction they were heading, the ship was unlikely to fall in the direction of the crack, but it did give one clue. It was breakable. The current situation was…
…Pleasant. Just pleasant. Faust roared in anger, slamming his fist on the railings, "VIN-REX-USSSSSS!"
Faust calmed himself as he coughed awkwardly, rubbing the ache on his left hand, "I want all capable forward facing weapons to fire at the planet, we're heading into a void shield and I wager it might be stronger than ours! Miller, mark that shimmer for concentrated fire! Have our dorsal cannon shoot directly at it and be reinforced by our Ire of Man torpedoes! Alert the lower decks to prepare the best they can for a crash landing, either with the savior pods or getting somewhere secure. Have any and all space capable craft evacuate as much as they can, be it valuable or personnel. And…" Faust swallowed the lump in his throat, "…and prepare yourselves for a rough landing."
Faust scowled as the Clad in Ire made no hesitations in stopping, watching idly as the torpedoes from the front flew off into space. He didn't wait for them to blow up, as he headed for his room to put on his protective gear—Brogg trailing close behind.
Even though he had paid for the bridge to be especially reinforced, he wasn't keen on taking chances from a ship falling apart at the seams.
If he was going to go planet side, he wanted the armor he knew very well.
Iberia was as gloomy as ever. The dark skies bubbled with storm clouds, beckoning for rain to pour on the streets. But those were always the skies Iberia held, and Inquisitor Jordi had grown used to them.
Jordi was mostly focusing on the documents that St. Carmen had left him, mostly to finish up what was left after the incident at Gran Faro.
He sat at his own office, a dream he didn't think he'd have, but it'd been almost a month since the sinking of the Stultifara Navis. Jordi had earned this satisfying reward for his competence. Although it wasn't a grand office, it was simplistic and decorated just enough to satisfy him. On his desk was a replica of a model ship, a reminder of the once glorious navy of Iberia.
Jordi shuddered as the terrifying memory of screeches and hisses from the Seaborn swarm resurfaced, clawing their way through the lighthouse. Thanks to the efforts of former Inquisitor Irene and High Inquisitor Dario—may his soul rest in peace—they were able to stave them off.
The inquisitor remembered the tall spire that rose into the sky, a beacon of hope relit. Truly, it was as magnificent as it was desecrated by the Seaborn. A feat of Ægirian engineering that still stood the test of time.
Jordi wasn't as strong as the inquisitors, on that he knew. But he had the strength to face the Seaborn threat, and that was all that was required of him. He had shown his worth to the inquisition and was now under the tutelage of Saint Carmen.
It was difficult working under them, as the trials proved to be just that, trials. Irene was a sweetheart compared to most of the inquisitors he met, which only harshened his experience. Not that his time in the Inquisition would stop him as he had promised to brave the harsh waters of life so long as he lived.
Jordi sighed as he browsed at the documents, having finished them just at the precise time, earning him a small bit of leisure. He straightened them out as he placed them in a neat pile, putting a paperweight on top. Jordi decided perhaps a walk would be an alright usage of his time.
He sat up from his desk, stretching, and dusted his clothing off. The inquisitor straightened out his dark blue hair, making sure he looked presentable. As he opened the door to take a step out, he nearly stumbled into an inquisitor who was rushing outside with a few others.
Inquisitor Carmelia, if Jordi remembered the ivory-haired Liberi correctly. "Woah!" Jordi backstepped out of the way, as the group continued to jog past him with worried expressions. Jordi looked at them strangely as he wondered what was going on. Did the Church of the Deep do something terrible again? Whatever it was, he decided he needed to tag along.
The halls of the inquisition were old but beautiful works of ancient art. They were made of delicately carved stone walls and intricately crafted wood floors and ceilings. It unfortunately didn't matter at the moment, as Inquisitor Jordi picked up his speed to get outside.
A small crowd had formed around the main plaza of Perdoni, looking up to the sky and pointing with shrouded whispers. Other inquisitors were either calming them down or looking at the sky as well, with confusion or fear in their eyes.
The rumbling of the clouds began to increase in volume, drawing Jordi's own attention. He stepped a bit closer to the central plaza, recovering from his jog, and looked towards the sky.
Just then, it shattered apart, as a hole was torn through, with a laser slicing through into Terra's landscape far away from Iberia. And in the newly made hole—this being the second time in history of it happening—showed the space above the skies, he could see a faint, white object growing larger by the second.
Jordi fumbled for his spyglass in the innards of his coat, pulling it out and peering through it to get a better look. And there he saw it.
A flying city… no… it had a downward pointing prow. There were cannons aboard its side, and chutes that looked like torpedoes on its front. Its appearance was chalk white with golden highlights. That was a ship! Alien in appearance, and weirdly resembling something from Laterano, but it was a ship nonetheless. It was flaming and falling apart at the seams, as pieces of it broke off while it fell from the heavens.
And it was… beautiful. Jordi had never seen such a work of destroyed art. It was equal parts might and beauty to the point the Iberian navy of legends likely couldn't compare. It looked like a torpedo itself, as the flames on the very back of its white armor jutted into the void.
In a few moments it went through the hole, and soared across the sky for all to see. A large chunk of its underside near the back exploded in a ball of fury, crashing into the ground so many kilometers away.
Other pieces of debris fell from it in a more… controlled manner. They didn't look like pieces of wreckage. Something was off about them, but he couldn't put a finger on it. Others had to be some sort of flyable craft, as they flew away from the ship, keeping away from its falling wreckage. Some weren't so lucky…
This was likely going to be a lot of paperwork and investigations. Jordi wanted to be at the head of this, if he could.
Kal'tsit's lynx-like ears twitched as she sat at her desk, feeling something was… off. She stopped doing her paperwork and looked forward with a frown, caressing her short, greenish-white hair. It wasn't any specific feeling of dread or happiness, it was just… off. She never liked that feeling. It was a mixture of mild dread and large amounts of annoyance.
The first thought that came to mind was that the Doctor was up to his "shenanigans" again, as he liked to call them. She half expected the Doctor to burst through the door at any second, making insane demands over the tiniest of things. Like how he had requested a figurine made in his liking so that he could give it to one of his operators as a gift a few days ago. Or ordering years worth of instant noodles so that he could "test their resilience as well as have a permanent method of dinner." The most likely theory that came to mind that involved the Doctor was that something was on fire. Kal'tsit sighed as she sat up from her desk, walking over to her coffee maker, brewing herself a fresh mug to eventually deal with him.
Coffee was like a crutch for her. No matter how long she had lived for, it was among her favorite drinks. It helped keep her from becoming tired—though it's not like she needed sleep either—and it tasted good enough to cause her to analyze better. Truly, a coffee to start the day was the best option, even if it was midday.
She took a deep breath, smelling the richness of her Sargon blend, and sipped it as she approached the window.
Kal'stit immediately spat out her coffee as she saw it, leading to a coughing fit as she tried to get the hot coffee mixture from clogging her throat. She wiped away the tears in her eyes as she looked back to confirm what she was seeing.
Horror was the first thing that resurfaced into her mind and widened eyes, something she hadn't felt in thousands of years, causing her hairs to stand on its ends. The first immediate thought was that the Observers were here to finish the job…
Her rational mind won over as she saw it fly closer. No, fly wasn't the right word. Fall was more accurate, as it was… burning. Breaking apart. No, this couldn't be the Observers who wiped out the previous civilization, because sending a burning space vessel to crash land onto Terra was not her first assumption on how they would enact the destruction of humanity.
So then… who were they?
This was going to be more than problematic. Everyone on Terra would not be able to miss this event. It would likely be dangerous too, as whatever was inside could be a threat to humanity. These aliens… likely would change the fate of Terra, whether they knew it or not.
The familiar sound of Mon3tr growling in concern snapped her out of her daze. Kal'tsit peeked behind to see her faithful guardian, a tall, dark emerald hued creature. Its jagged spines bristled as its mandibles clacked, the sharp head turned in both curiosity and unease at Kal'tsit's feelings.
Kal'tsit formed an almost impossibly small smile, patting Mon3tr's head, "It's nothing to be concerned over; it's not them."
Mon3tr chittered, retracting back into its crystallized form, allowing Kal'tsit to pocket her guardian once more. She straightened her medical coat, glancing at the stained coffee on her green dress. It was going to be one of those days, wasn't it?
The door busted open, with the Doctor stammering before shaking his head in frustration, and clearing his throat, "Kal'tsit!"
Yes, yes it was.
Mount Karlan's winds were as icy as ever for the Karlan Trade construction workers, working on creating a new Synergistic Hyperbeam Ampllifying and Focusing Tube, or S.H.A.F.T for short. Snow continued to fall lightly, like powdered sugar.
It would work much like a battery array to power up the cannons—when they get built—and crack through the starpod like it did during Trimounts. And while they didn't have another H.A.M.H.R.R to laser through its defenses, the cannons would work fine.
They had already built the main launch site and the starpod research station, and were still continuing its development. It was, after all, a prime position for launching future shuttles for its proximity to the starpod and studying the actual sky hidden from view.
There was one person who was ecstatic to see this being constructed. She currently sat on a rock, patiently watching her people continue to build for the Columbians. Some of them, mostly technicians and very eager astronomers, were already here, making sure it was all going according to plan. They were interesting folk, but also agreeable, especially Muelsyse when she visited.
She was a very kind soul, to the point even the good Doctor had put in a recommendation for Muelsyse's opinions; then again, he tended to put in a good word for everyone. Ah well, he was still right, wasn't he?
As for Enya, well, she wasn't here at the moment, doing her saintly duties and… mending things with her brother again. Kjarr wanted them to have some privacy, and while she could peek in anytime, it didn't feel right to. And so, she sat on the rock, watching the second-largest project happening in Kjerag.
Kjarr's tail swished idly at the idea of having cannons on the mountainside, flicking away snow behind her seat. Her biggest reason for not minding having the cannons on her back… err, on Mount Karlan's back, was that it was way too cool to pass up on.
There was a sudden rumble in the skies above, far, far away. Her people did not hear it over the construction, but she certainly had. It drew her attention away as she looked far into the distance, and she saw it with wide eyes.
It was a falling city, traveling past the shattered sky of the starpod a long distance ahead, leaving a trail of smog in its wake. And it was heading directly for Kjerag.
Kjarr was definitely not expecting that. And she was absolutely against it crashing here.
Kjarr sighed. It was time for a miracle, and now she had to go do it. Whatever happened to just performing her duties as the Saintess' head maid? Why did she have to take her role as Kjerag's guardian…
…Not that she really minded.
She completely disappeared from the rock she was on with a blast of snow, reappearing at the peak of Mount Karlan, and waited for it to get closer.
Kjarr's eyes glimmered blue as she summoned the winds to buck at her command with a concentrated frown. She likely couldn't stop the city completely, especially at her current strength, but she could divert its course away from Kjerag. She hoped.
A blizzard was starting to form in strength, clouding the skies for all of Kjerag. The frosty winds protected Kjerag as most of the flaming debris was blown away from it. She stretched out her hands and with all her might, directed the frigid winds to blow away the ship about to scrape the mountainside. It was heavy. Kjarr gritted her teeth as she performed the near impossible, lifting metal with sheer gales of ice. Her body ached as she made use of her powers.
Many of her attendants were swarming nearby, the rock-like ice drones reinforcing her focus or doing damage control on any debris that fell through the blizzard.
The blizzard whipped past her against the city, her traditional outfit camouflaging with the snow, pushing it off course like a redirected spear. It was a lot of effort just to move it centimeters, yet she was doing all she could.
One particular debris rocketed across Kjerag into the mountain range a bit away, as Kjarr was focused more on making sure the whole freaking floating city didn't hit her beloved people. Another wreckage piece flew close by, almost following the first past Kjarr. As she glanced at it, it seemed more like one of the crafts Columbia used. It piqued her curiosity for a second, but was dulled almost immediately as she was finally able to dismiss her powers, letting the huge city follow a different course.
She sighed deeply watching it finally leave the area, before letting herself fall over onto the snow. That was a tremendous amount of work, and she wasn't even paid to do it. Ah, but she did it because she loved her people, so it didn't really matter. Kjarr would, however, bug Enciodes about getting a small reward. Like tea, perhaps? But it was likely going to be another vacation to the Rhodes Island landship.
Enya was—probably—going to scold Kjarr for exhausting herself, but it was so worth it.
Kjarr sat up from the ice and snow, patting herself off, and teleported away as the blizzard cleared once more. She needed to talk to the siblings about this.
Faust gripped the side of the wall from the sudden explosion of another part of the ship, his helmet under his arm. He muttered another curse toward House Vinrexus as he tried to regain his balance.
He hoped Delta was alright and had escaped through one of the savior pods. She probably was, all things considered.
Brogg lifted Faust back up effortlessly, "C'mon now sah, we gotta keep'er moving!"
Faust nodded, staring at the crimson helmet matching the same color as the void armor on him. It was his father's old armor he found exploring past the Koronus expanse. It was an ancient armor, a relic to time, and now refashioned to be Faust's.
The helmet had a ventilation system to go along with the void armor, protecting him from the most hostile environments, including that of the raw cosmos. There were pipes running along the chin of the helmet, and as he put it on, he could see through the two small, golden visors. It reminded him of goggles and the inside of the helmet smelled like charcoal, but it did the most important job.
It was also upgraded, having a few tricks up its sleeve.
"Let's go," Faust announced through his vox system, his voice coming out slightly more static.
They finally made it for the bridge in the nick of time. And by the nick of time, they were mere minutes away from hitting the surface.
Many of the menials were scrambling around or doing what they could in the final moments.
Faust rushed towards his throne, clinging on with the might that even the Emperor's sons could be impressed by.
"BRACE FOR IMPACT!" Faust yelled through his vox, causing most of the menials to try to cling onto something.
Faust was prepared to be flung into his throne.
He, however, was not prepared for it to break completely, flinging him through the air with nothing to hold onto.
His last memory of being conscious was hitting the ceiling.
Roseblade here, again. Just wanted to complain a little in the fact I can't do epigraphs in the form of smaller text, so, it'll just be underlined and before the chapter starts. That's about it. Roseblade out.