I had a small plot bunny that just would not leave me the fuck alone, so I decided to have a go at writing it even when it has nothing to do with the discussion at hand, if only so I could go and focus on something else. Re-reading it makes me realize how much I suck at writing and should not do it, but the thought of a World of Darkness / Warhammer 40k / other stuff (some K6BD stuff) small crossover amuses me enough that I will post this anyway and hope somebody writes it to be better than mine.
A Bloodless Baptism
Another successful campaign, another successful day of extremely lucky survival, another night to indulge in a sliver of vice that he may celebrate Life itself, and the gifts he enjoys of it, beyond his bonds and beyond his service - Ciaphas Cain fell asleep, and found himself in a dream.
A world in darkness greeted him: not the endless expanse between the stars, that indicated a lack of existence; but an obsuring fog, wet and metallic, intent on keeping things unseen as such. He could see a dirt road beneath his feet, a grass that was not so, and the unjustified hope of a light ahead.
He would later blame his sleep-addled mind for his decision, and later still forget it completely, but in the moment taking the path seemed like the only thing to do.
A moment later, or what felt like it, the darkness… gave way, so to speak, and a man came to meet him some paces ahead. He was not much to look at, in truth, the kind of man you could find dozens of hundred times over on any planet: his hair was longer than his shoulders, curly and black, his beard neatly kept and well-groomed.
His skin was the first point of warning: at times a pale corpse's and elsewhere a pleasant color that was more inherited than a tan, as if a fussy artist was unsure of which composition to pick and attempted both to pick his favorite.
If Cain squinted hard enough he was sure a case could be made that the man looked somewhat similar to the more highbrow depictions of the Emperor he'd seen in a few noble's halls.
"Greeting, Caiaphas Caine. A more fortunate name for a Warmaster of Chaos couldn't be found."
"An unusual way to pronounce my name," he answered, not wanting to say incorrect, "but what fortune do you find in it?"
"Unusual?" the man snorted, "correct, I'd say. The original, at least, if objective correctness is something you're unwilling to concieve."
A smile overtook the man's lips, pleasantly amused. His body, however, took on the rigidness of a teacher of history, and Cain gave him every bit of attention he could, lest he call the enforcers to cane his failing students.
"Fortunate because of what it invokes. Caiaphas, the mastermind that planned for the death of a god for his own dark ends. Caiaphas, the blackened soul that used men and spirits alike for his misdeeds. Caiaphas, successful, victorious, forgotten and known for false regret: as every man of vast intelligence and few scruples wishes to be."
His body relaxed, and his visage calmed, and he let go of… something, something Cain couldn't pin down no matter what he tried.
"And Caine, of course, of too many titles and too many deeds and too much family to ever properly account for. The one none would contest, however, is the First Murderer. One of the very few entities to ever be moniked Arch-Traitor, alongside the likes of Horus – you might know of him. Kinslayer before men properly decided what kin meant, even."
The man exhaled, and controlled himself, and offered Cain his hand.
"Pleased to meet you."
They shook hands, and shivers overtook Cain's spine as his survival instincts kicked in. His words failed him as his hands desperately wanted to reach for a weapon he lacked, and his awareness attempted to find an escape where the fog would hide him.
Nothing would work, of course. He wasn't in a position to fight or flee from the Warpspawn that met him, and his mind failed to find any alternatives after the horrifying realization that it was a self-introduction.
"You have me at a disadvantage," the mortal Cain coughed out, "because I didn't expect any nightly visits of this sort. I'm unsure of who here is the host and who the visitor, even."
"A hard-ingrained habit, I'm afraid," the decidedly-not-a-mortal Caine grinned, and his canines were very sharp indeed, "I'm somewhat of an ambush predator, you see, unlike humans, who favor persistence hunting. I am seldom expected and even more rarely remembered."
Cain figured that was because most of his visits ended up being deadly or worse. It would be easier, he figured, if the man gave off any of the dangerous and suffocating auras that powerful Neverborn and transhumans generally carried with them; instead there was nothing to distinguish Caine from a barkeep or an administratum drone – if he hadn't heralded himself, not even Cain's overpowering cowardice would've warned him anything was off.
"And, for the record, I generally require an invitation before meeting someone on their own grounds; so for this occasion you are the hosted."
Cain, failing to find alternative solutions, decied to behave himself as a grateful guest of a powerful noble; his preferred backup weapon with the Neverborn, when violence wouldn't be of use, was of course proper etiquette.
"I thank you for the honor, but I fail to see what I have done to earn it, beyond coincidence on our shared name," he commented mildly, not an ounce of terror creeping out in his words, "I don't believe I am impressive enough for a direct meeting of such an revered, unbowed entity."
A stab in the dark, but a very well-reasoned one: this being held no indicators of any Chaos God he knew, and this place, did not give him the impression of any of their domains: it was a dim road in darkness towards nowhere, perhaps not even the being's true territory. Also, his way of educating and talking told Cain that this was an entity older than he cared to think possible.
"I appreciate the flattery, but don't bother too much with it. It's been so very many years since I've been worshipped and I miss little of that time. At least you had finesse about it, most are just gauche in their methods."
"Can't, in good coscience – as much as I have of it – call myself unbowed, though. Khorne owes me a pound of flesh still and I am a stickler for debts, you see. The one you now call Emperor has also bruised me far more times than I care to think, though I'd like to believe we mostly tolerate one another now."
"You knew the Emperor, personally?" Cain sputtered, incredolous.
"Indeed! From when he walked good old Terra as a mostly-mortal human. We hated each other, yes, but the respect for a worthy foe was there since the beginning. We were both naive and passionate, in a way, and saw much reflected in the other… though he liked his philosophies far more than I did ever after the Mad Gadfly came around. Suppose that could've happened regardless. We're talking the better part of half a million years since we met, after all."
Cain couldn't possibly hope to grasp that span of time, no matter his attempts. Half a million years…
Cain knew military parades very well. Wasteful as it occasionally was, keeping his troops well-publicized, his civilians awed and his elites happy was improtant to his lifespan in more ways than one.
He imagined, in his mind's eye, a tiny parade of five thousand men, and reasoned that if all of their average maximum possible lifespans – war nonwithstanding – were summed together, it would only cover the period of time from this entity's meeting the Emperor to the moment the Emperor's love for knowledge bloomed, any other period in either of their lifetimes unheeded.
His mind boggled at the thought. It sounded unconcievable, at the very best.
"He despised me and my Kindred as inhuman parasites, once, and attempted to hunt us to the very last, after the Deluge happened. Believe me on my word or not, but he has become much more permissive with what he deems human: the wider galaxy has opened his eyes greatly, and he realized that my lineage is absurdly close to humanity, in a variety of ways, compared to what dwelt between the stars."
Cain could hardly think of the Ecchlesiarchy and the Lectitio Divinitatus, the words of the Emperor as poor mortal humans could best comprehend them, and what they said regarding mutants and demons, and call any of it even remotely permissive. If this spoke to the Emperor's more youthful hatred, he couldn't understand how Caine was still in any way whole, much less alive.
"I'll get him around to it yet, don't worry. He has learned to aknowledge mankind's collective power over the Warp, recently," Cain reminded himself that Caine's definition of recently wasn't even in the same Sector as his own, "He'll realize the Kindred are kin to humanity still."
Caine looked supremely convinced of himself and Cain did not have the coldheartedness to tell an older-than-dirt Neverborn that he should lower his expectations, even if he didn't have the faintest idea what the Kindred were.
"Sorry, sorry, I know you asked me a quick question, but I have a tendency to ramble when speaking to such a promising soul. You have given me greater hope than any in countless eons, Cain, and this meeting alone is insufficient in honoring that, as you put it earlier," Caine's black eyes glowed an eerie and cheerful red, "that's for later, though. I have a question for you, now. Are you concious of what you are accomplishing, or is it pure luck? I don't mind either way. Humanity, in all of it's faces and shades, needs a great deal of either or both."
"Accomplishing… through my war on Nurgle, you mean?" Cain wasn't sure what else would qualify as worthwile in Caine's eyes. He was unlikely to care about the labour rights reforms in his demesne, if he had the measure right.
Cain suddenly fooled himself into thinking he was merely answering a question for an interview, as he might've done for the Liberation propaganda vids, and not risking a word game against an entity that could decimate his soul on a whim.
"The start of it… was luck, in a sense. Opportunity is half of that, at the very least. I don't deny that I took the road I could see as easier. If I must control Chaos, as much as the thought is paradoxical, I must give them an enemy – and I did not want for it to be the God-Emperor of Mankind, for the Heresy showed such an ending failure, nor could the Xeno spark enough interest for them to fit.
Nurglites are easy prey. Their condescending ways incense the pride of other Cults of Chaos. Their filth and sickness make them unfit to share space with, anywhere. Their dedication to despair and distress make them single-minded regarding persistence; they are unlikely to ever change any of their ways in either direction. They wallow in their squallor, literal and metaphorical, and still target are difficult to miss.
Besides, the best enemy, that is, the most hated, is always from within, never from without. The Imperium pursues Xenos with a shade of the dogged dedication they pursue Traitors with."
Cain shrugged, and gave an air of natural pragmatism.
"The rest came natural after that, I suppose."
He'd fooled himself so good that he expected the sound of shuttering cams, for a second.
Caine chuckled, more relaxed. "Luck, then, because I see you are yet ignorant of the changes you bring. Tzeentch likes you far more than anybody would care to admit, Cain. Your gifts from Slaanesh and Khorne are obvious and bold, but the Architect of Fate's aid is of a much gentler sort."
"You hold the Truth without properly grasping it. This is the potential I was talking about! You are a soldier still. You analyzed the soldiers and deduced information about their generals as a consequence. You think in concepts of enemies, threats, respite and morale… but you came to the correct conclusion regardless.
But beyond Chaos' armies and cultists and Daemons and Gods, Cain, lie the very concepts of existence itself. The risk of change is preferable to the comfortable rot of stagnation, of wallowing in one's own filth, as you said, for the good of mankind. That is indiscussable, in my opinion."
"I was one such changed being. I was born a Man, soon becoming an exemplar Traitor through my own delusions. I became a Neverborn, and I was a Beast in those earlier times. Later I'd become a Prince, a Father, and a thousand good things too… and then attain Royalty. I'm not sure of when I removed myself from the wheel of time. I'm sure I don't care.
Some of those changes were for the better, some for the worse. Some of them of my own fist and hardship and glory, and some of them through the unwavering faith of my worshippers. The most unexpected and most appreciated was when uncaring mortal men convinced themselves that me and my Kindred were humans too – of nobility and evil, much like your High Lords, but humans nevertheless: capable of joy, of love, of betterment, of honor, of regret and peace, of all the good a human is capable of, if lessened."
"You honor me, Cain, by bearing my name and sharing my truths, unwittingly or not, and by being a shining example of mankind in thousands of it's contradicting ways. I am immensely grateful for it."
"My blood and my curse are elsewhere, now. I have lent what remained of them to the man you call Emperor of my own volition. He used them, and another's, to make a prince. Beautiful, angelic, tragic and doomed that he is.
I can't share those with you. I wouldn't, even if I could.
But a gift you deserve and a gift you shall have.
A name is all well and good, but you deserve a proper Name. And a Naming ceremony besides."
Cain readied himself. Being bestowed gifts from a grateful Neverborn was always an experience, not ever easy, but he couldn't lie to himself and say that the man's gratitude sounded false in any capacity.
Caine readied himself, and spoke: as he did so, the darkness gathered in storm around them, and the path upon which they stood became greater and clearer. The vegetation too was greater than before, but Cain could swear that among the storming darkness he saw, every so often, a lightpost: and he realized that the darkness of the garden did not betray much evil.
"I, Caine, Exile among Exiles, son of Adam and Eve, brother to Abel and Seth, lover to Lilith and Zillah, founder of the First City, and bearer of a thousand lesser titles besides, baptize you, Ciaphas Cain, as honored kin, a part of the House of Eden, whose Garden may one day be Reclaimed.
For every Gens and Manse, every Garden and Forest, every Lock and Door - I Name you Ciaphas Cain, or Caiaphas Caine; and I prophesize that you shall attain Royalty upon standing on the corpse of your three-hundred-two trillion eight-hundred-seventy-five billion one-hundred-six million five-hundred-ninety-two thousand two-hundred-fifty-third enemy."
Cain felt a fundamental change in what he was, and felt exalted to something beyond normal humanity, and as nonreality broke down around him, his voice failed to leave his throat, and his soul, for the pain could not be of his body, sublimated itself to be of the purest stock.
"Before you leave… there is a contingent of Adeptus Astartes called the Lamenters. You ought to help them out, you know, when you meet them – you are distant kin of a sort, now..."