The Primarch Chronicles Part III: The Bounds of Faith

[Kuja]

Since these seem to be going over well, does anyone have a request for a primarch they want to see written? Right now I have ideas in mind for Lorgar, Fulgrim, Konrad, Magnus, and Mortarion and I'm trying to decide which I'm going to do next.

[speaker-to-trolls]

I'd like to see either Magnus or Fulgrim. On the one hand I've always wanted to see a depiction of the desperation and anguish that lead Magnus to cross the final barrier into heresy-land during the sack of Prospero, but on the other hand it'd be great to see someone try to explain how Horus turned Fulgrim (the index astartes article just seems to say "Fulgrim was the Emperors most loyal and devoted son, then Horus gave a really good argument for why he should join the Heresy and he did". A bit dissapointing).

[Kuja]

The Primarch Chronicles Part III: The Bounds of Faith

Waaah! Some of the dialogue for this story was enormously difficult to write and I must thank Pick, Ghost Rider, and LadyTevar for chatting over AIM and helping my creative side shift into overdrive for this work. It is easily the most dialogue-driven of the chronicles so far, something a bit different for me. Yet I think the result was most satisfying. Read what follows and let me know if you agree.


Warhammer 40,000: The Bounds of Faith

"And so the Emperor said, 'let us not speak, let us do.' And that was how Murrn came to the Imperium after eight months of war." Lorgar smiled and sat up straight after leaning forward in the joy of his tale. "So, who can tell me what Mikhail and Ruscov did wrong when they prepared their plan?"

Many arms shot up into the air and some of the children stood in their eagerness to be picked. Lorgar's smile grew and as he lazily passed his hand over the small crowd, pretending to dither, a few of them even began hopping up and down. Lorgar's eyes went briefly to Fontaine and he had to keep from laughing as he saw that even the sour old chaplain had a grin tugging at his mouth.

"Yes, Dante?" he finally said, gesturing at one blond boy.

The thin young boy steepled his fingers in imitation of Lorgar's more thoughtful poses and spoke with an authoritative tone in his thin voice. "Mister Mikhail and Mister Ruscov didn't say anything to the Murrnians before they started fighting."

"And?" Lorgar prompted with a cocked eyebrow.

Dante gulped. "So the Murrnians were scared, and, um, they didn't really fight back because they were bad people, they did because they were scared and when you're scared you do things without really thinking, so when the Emperor showed up and told them what was really going on and they weren't scared anymore, so they stopped fighting-"

Lorgar gently held up a hand so that Dante could stop and take a breath. "Very good," he praised. Dante beamed and as he sat his friends offered quiet congratulations. "You see, sometimes a fight is unavoidable," Lorgar said as he began to fall back into a stream of loquacity. "And when that is the case, one must fight with every ounce of energy they possess. But just as often as not, a fight is indeed avoidable. It is not cowardly to avoid a fight, nor is it foolish. In fact, sometimes it takes far greater skill to avoid a coming fight than to actually fight it out. But more often than not, that effort will be rewarded. Chaplain Fontaine?"

"Lord?" the man replied as all eyes turned to him.

"What was said when two men met upon a narrow bridge?"

Lorgar could see a smile threaten to break out on the man's face but he kept his typical dour expression intact. "That either one could go back and allow the other to pass first or they could wrangle and both end up in the river below."

Lorgar clapped his hands once to bring the attention back to him. "Well spoken, my friend," he said. "There is much truth in the belief that we must not back down from our gains, for to do so would give our enemies great purchase. However, the wisest ruler knows the difference between backing down from an enemy and making a concession to an ally. And as the Emperor once said to me, the soul of a human is the most precious and irreplaceable thing. Spend it wisely, waste it never. Do you understand?"

Heads nodded, and one pale arm went up. Lorgar smiled and gestured for the girl to whom it belonged to speak. She rose, curtsied, and asked, "Sir Lorgar, how did you meet the Emperor?"

Lorgar chuckled quickly. He never made it through a sit-down like this without someone asking that question. His eyes went to the other chaplain present. Kor Phaeron's face was open and smiling. Lorgar raised his eyebrows as if to say "I told you so" and Kor had to cover his mouth as he laughed quietly.

"I met the Emperor years ago," he began. "When I was your age, I had dreams about meeting a shining figure in gold. Well, those dreams made some people angry because they thought it meant I was a bad person. We had a big, big fight right here on Colchis and eventually, I won. Then one day, I saw a star, streaking across the sky!" He gestured upwards and all the children looked up eagerly, as if they might see a star of their own that very moment. "It left a trail of white smoke that stood out vividly against the blue and I felt compelled to follow it. So easer was I that I didn't even take the time to look for the nearest transport, I simply ran off after it as fast as my legs could carry me! I ran, and I ran, and I ran until I felt my heart would burst." The children gasped and Lorgar smiled kindly to reassure them that his heart had not burst. "And finally, the star came low enough for me to see it for what it truly was. A space ship!" Another gasp. "I watched with my breath light in my throat as it descended majestically and as it set down on the ground, a door opened and light poured forth. Then, He came walking down the ramp. He was tall and most fair in His golden armor. I knew at once it was the man I'd been waiting for, my father, and with him came my brother Magnus."

"You see, I was not born here on Colchis, though it is my home now and I love it very much. I was born on Terra, but my brothers and I were snatched from our father's embrace by a terrible catastrophe that scattered us across the stars. Yet His love was so great for us that He assembled His greatest armies and set out into the wild territories to find us. Magnus had been with the Emperor and when he sensed my nearness they came to find me. We spoke of many things while I showed them the wonders of our world and when they departed I went with them." He arched an eyebrow. "Though I of course promised I would return."

"And a promise breaker you are most certainly not, Lorgar."

Lorgar shot to his feet and spun around in shock. That voice! It was Him! It was Him! "Your Majesty!" he shouted, and dropped to one knee.

"Ave Imperator!" he heard his chaplains chorus behind him.

He chuckled. "Rise, Lorgar. Rise, everyone," He said as He started towards the primarch. Lorgar arose, almost trembling.

"You…you didn't tell me you were coming, my lord," he said.

"I wanted to surprise you," He replied as He reached Lorgar and embraced him. "My son," he whispered. "I must speak to you, alone."

"As you wish it," he replied softly before letting go and turning away. "Chaplains!"

"Sir!" they chorused.

"Do me the honor of taking these young men and women to chapel, would you? I would speak with the Emperor for a moment."

Kor Phaeron bowed deeply. "Of course, master Lorgar," he said solemnly. He nodded to Fontaine and the two of them shepherded the gaggle of children away from the small gathering area.

"So, what have you come to discu-" Lorgar halted in mid-turn, seeing the scowl that had appeared on the Emperor's face. "M-my lord?" he asked. "Is something wrong?"

The Emperor sighed and Lorgar felt his heart skip a beat. "Lorgar," he began gently, "I have come to tell you that...I feel some changes are necessary for the Word Bearers."

"Yes, anything for you, my lord."

The Emperor's eyes hardened marginally. "Lorgar, what are you doing here?"

Lorgar stood frozen. "I…my lord, I…I was teaching-"

"Teaching," the Emperor said darkly and Lorgar swallowed. "Lorgar, you should be doing. Fighting. Why is your legion sitting on Nizar and Colecia while your brothers and their men sweep ahead, claiming worlds for our dominion?"

Lorgar stood straighter. "It is my order, lord. My men are to purge each conquered world of its heretical teachings and to teach the people there of the greater Imperium. To teach them of you, father! They cannot truly be one with their brothers and sisters until they are all united in your cause! Until they all understand that…that there is only you, my father, my lord!"

"Lorgar, this is what I came to speak with you about. This, this purging, this indoctrination, all of it must stop."

"Stop?" Lorgar all but shouted as he felt his stomach shoot up into his throat. "Stop?" "But, but, father, my Emperor, I give you worlds! Entire systems dedicated to your name! In all the time my Word Bearers have been a part of the great crusade, not one world has fallen to rebellion! Surely that is testament to our dedication!"

"Lorgar," the Emperor said forcefully, "you and your men are space marines! I have priests enough! I have orators enough! I need soldiers! Warriors, Lorgar! It is not your dedication I question. It is your direction! Cease with this demagoguery and do the job I created the Word Bearers do to! Fight!"

Lorgar felt tears rise but paid them little mind. "I have always believed," he said slowly, voice threatening to break, "that each new world added to your worship was a greater victory than any-"

"Lorgar," the Emperor said sternly. "I do not want to be worshipped in this fashion. I did not create this empire to fan my ego! I created it for humanity! Not myself! If you do not understand this, then not only have you failed me, but I have failed you."

Lorgar fell into one of the nearby chairs, eyes involuntarily locked to the Emperor's face. "Failed…you?" he managed. "Father, I have ever been the most loyal-"

The Emperor gently placed his hands on Lorgar's shoulders. "Lorgar," he said quietly. "Your loyalty is less precious to me than your intelligence and ability. Now, I say this. Lorgar, I expect your legion to drop this religious peddling and rejoin your brothers. If in one month you and yours are not back at the forefront, I will return here, and my coming will not be so quiet as it was this day. Do you understand, my son?" Lorgar nodded dumbly. "Then let your heart not be so burdened." The Emperor pulled Lorgar to his feet and put an arm around his shoulders. "You are my son Lorgar," He whispered. "And I know that you have the potential to be the greatest of your brothers." Lorgar slowly nodded again. "I must go now. I'll see you again in a month." He arched an eyebrow and smiled. "I trust it will be far from here."

--------------------------------

The chaplains gathered at the far end of the great hall. "How long has he been like this?" Kor Phaeron hissed, remembering just in time to keep his voice down.

"Ever since the Emperor came," one of the others replied. They all anxiously looked down the aisle towards the great aquilae. Clad in nothing more than a shirt and breeches woven from goat's hair, Lorgar was using a threadbare rag to clean the church's altar.

"This can't be allowed to continue," Kor Phaeron said firmly.

"What do we do? We dare not overrule the primarch," one of the others said.

"Then we must simply guide him," Kor Phaeron replied. "Fontaine, come with me." The two senior chaplains left the rest behind and quickly walked down the aisle, each taking a moment to bow before the aquilae. "My lord?" Kor Phaeron asked.

"Hello, my friend," Lorgar mumbled without looking away from his work. This close, Kor Phaeron saw that Lorgar's movements were slow and torpid, almost numb.

"Lorgar, my lord," he said gently, "what is it that ails you?"

Lorgar spoke as he worked, his words a monotone. At one point he glanced up at Kor Phaeron and the chaplain was left utterly nonplussed. Lorgar's eyes were dull and lifeless, his hair shabby, a ragged beard beginning to form on his jaw. When he tried to reconcile this broken spirit with his primarch, the alive and energetic man he had come to know and love as a brother, he found himself physically ill. He looked to Fontaine and knew the other man felt the same way, despite the helmet that covered his features. "My lord," he said, "are you sure you are not…overreacting, a bit?"

Lorgar was on his feet and grasping the chaplain's helmet with both hands in an instant. "My friend, my father came here to tell me that my loyalty is nothing! My legion is a failure! All my work, all my effort, all my energy, for nothing! Overreaction is not possible!"

"Lord Lorgar," Fontaine interposed, "the Emperor is a good man, and a kind man. He does not wish to be elevated to such a place-"

"But that's just it!" Lorgar snapped as he turned to the other chaplain. "How does he justify it? He is a man, yes, but a great man, a wonderful man, a man better than you, me, any one of us? He deserves to be worshipped, for he is our savior!" Lorgar spread his arms and practically danced down the aisle. "Look at this!" he shouted. "Look around you! Without the Emperor, none of this would be here! None of this beauty, this grace, this architectural glory would be here without him! The schools would not exist! Our children would learn at our feet the way we learned at our parents'! The shipyard! Gone! Our very legion! Gone! A thousand miracles of man, gone!" Lorgar turned back to his chaplains. "And he comes to me and says my loyalty is unimportant! What am I, then? Tell me Kor Phaeron! Tell me Fontaine! What am I, what are any of us, without the Emperor? We are nothing!"

In the silence that followed, Kor Phaeron slowly bowed. As he rose again, his hand flickered for Fontaine to follow him. "We leave you for now then, my lord," he said humbly, and he went to leave. The other chaplains followed.

---------------------------------

"Clearly he is not to be dissuaded."

"He is overreacting. Delusional."

"He is our primarch! His sorrow is ours! Something must be done!"

"I have an idea."

"What?"

"What is it?"

"Lorgar has long labored under the belief that his father is everything and without him he is powerless. In a sense, he is still a young boy following his father around seeking his approval."

"How dare you!"

"That is tantamount to treason!"

"Silence! He has a point. What do you propose, chaplain Kor Phaeron?"

"I think…it is time Lorgar grew up a bit."

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The sun had set and still Lorgar wearily scrabbled about on his hands and knees, swabbing at the floor tiles until they satisfied him. The water in the bucket had long since gone from crystal clear to a dirty gray, and soon he would need to dump it out. Sweat poured off his brow and his breath rattled in his lungs. His stomach felt agonizingly empty. He hadn't eaten since…before yesterday.

He heard boot steps on the floor, two pairs. He didn't bother glancing up. He already knew it to be the two chaplains, Kor Phaeron and Fontaine. Yet still…he looked up as they approached. There was a purpose to their walk. Almost a menace. Both wore their full armor and their ruby eyes bore down on him as though flaying his soul. They stopped a mere arm's length from him.

"Yes? What is it?" he asked tiredly.

Without taking his eyes from the primarch's, Kor Phaeron casually lifted up one foot and kicked over the bucket of water.

For a long moment, Lorgar was held still by shock as he watched the dirty water slowly crawl across the floor of the cathedral. Then he slowly brought his eyes back to the chaplain's and began to rise, obviously holding in a great surge of anger. It wasn't until he stood over the chaplain that he finally spoke. "You had best explain yourself…most quickly," he said softly, yet there was great tension in his voice.

"It is time for you to get off your knees and act like the leader you were born to be," Kor Phaeron said harshly. "Stop acting like a child rebuked."

Lorgar's eyes threatened to burst. "You dare-"

"Yes, lord. I dare," Kor Phaeron interrupted. "Because I must. Too long you have allowed yourself to…to be your father's dog. Not at his insistence, mind, but at your own." Kor Phaeron briefly glanced away. "My lord, I must speak."

"Speak, then," Lorgar said shortly.

"My lord, know first that I am your servant and the Emperor's, and none other's."

"I do not like the direction of this, Kor Phaeron."

"Nevertheless, I have not been…completely faithful to your edicts, or to the Emperor's."

Fontaine's head swung around and Lorgar's eyes narrowed themselves to deadly slits. "Explain," he snapped.

"My lord…I have spoken with warp-spirits."

"You what?" Lorgar spouted.

Kor Phaeron bowed his head in shame. "I know that it goes against every convention we hold true-"

"Why?" Lorgar snapped off.

"My lord…they wish to speak with you."

"You can't be serious," Fontaine interrupted.

"I have never been more serious. My lord, I feel that you must meet them. They bear you no ill will; if they did I would have warned you of them long ago. I believe they genuinely wish to change the way things are in this world."

"You talk treason!"

"No! Never! Never would I pursue such a course! Under the Emperor the stars and humanity are united! And yet, and yet, not all is well. My lord, you need only look at your state of dress, at your state of mind to know the truth in that. I could never seek to overthrow the Emperor, blessed be his name, but…I do think there is room to change and improve the Imperium itself." He again bowed his head in shame. "I am a chaplain of the Word Bearers. Is it so wrong that I would seek to better the Imperium they fight and die for?"

There was a long pause.

"I will meet with these…spirits, Kor Phaeron," Lorgar finally decided.

"My lord-"

"But not in this state. Follow, my chaplains."

-------------------------------------

Thirty minutes later, the three of them were flying above the skyline of Colchis Alpha. Lorgar was now resplendent in his slate-gray armor, the flame-and-book symbol of the Word Bearers upon his right shoulder. He stood next to chaplain Fontaine in the shuttle, watching Kor Phaeron as he piloted the ship. "Do you know where we are going?" he asked idly.

"No, my lord."

Ten more minutes passed in silence as Kor Phaeron took them far outside the city. Now, the only thing below them was forest. Up ahead were the mountains. But not just mountains, Lorgar now knew. A light became visible ahead and Kor Phaeron began to descend towards it. As they grew closer Lorgar saw that the light emanated from some two-story building he assumed was some sort of hunting lodge. He felt his ears pop and a few moments later he felt the craft shift as they touched the ground. Kor Phaeron touched a series of switches that deactivated the craft and lowered the ramp, stood, took his crozius in hand, and came back. "Are you ready, my lord?"

Lorgar drew his plasma pistol and flipped the safety off. "Standard dispersal," was his reply. "Fontaine to my left, Kor Phaeron to my right. Go."

Had anyone been watching, they would undoubtedly been impressed at the way the three men disembarked. Even before the exit ramp had fully lowered, chaplain Fontaine was on the ground, brandishing his bolt pistol at the distant line of trees. Kor Phaeron hit the dirt a moment later, covering the building with his own weapon. Lorgar followed in a flash, his chainsword out and plasma pistol whining quietly.

"Clear," Fontaine reported as the ramp went up.

"Clear," Kor Phaeron echoed.

"Clear," the primarch finished. "Holster." The pistols and the chainsword went away.

A moment later, the door of the hunting lodge opened, letting light spill out onto the grass. A young man stood in the doorway, half-hidden by the frame. "Welcome, master Lorgar," he said in a gentle, ringing voice. "Your guests await you in the basement. Please, do come in."

The three Word Bearers exchanged glances before approaching. As he reached the door, Lorgar realized that the young man's eyes had no pupils. He shuddered minutely. "Master Kor Phaeron," he added as the chaplain reached the doorway. "It is always an honor to welcome you." The chaplain bowed but said nothing, and once they were all inside the strange young man closed the door behind them and bowed deeply. "Master Lorgar, your guests await you in the basement common room. Please, if you would follow me." The young man guided them to a large room with a vaulted ceiling, a large throw rug on the floor, and a roaring fire in the fireplace. Ignoring all else, the young man knelt before the rug and tugged at the corner, folding it in half lengthwise and revealing a hidden trap door beneath. "A crude disguise," he said idly as he took that handle. "But one that has served well." He pulled on the iron handle and the door rose to reveal a set of spiral stairs that descended into the earth. He then bowed a second time. "I am not allowed to go beneath. I am only allowed to say this. Master Lorgar, you stand at a powerful junction of pathways. To descend or not to descend, the choice is yours. Know only that whichever path you choose to follow, the fate of the Imperium and all humanity will be swayed by it."

Lorgar eyed the descending stairway for a moment. "And what will I find down there?" he asked.

"Only those whom your chaplain believes may provide great comfort to you in this hour…Lorgar of the divided faith."

Lorgar remained still for another moment. Then, with a quick glance at Kor Phaeron, he began to descend.

-----------------------------

"This is no basement," he said aloud. The spiral had gone on for at least six minutes, the iron stairs surrounded by dry, packed dirt.

"I agree," Fontaine said. "It must be some kind of bunker."

"Aye, it was," Kor Phaeron confirmed. "Back during the Age of Strife."

"How much farther do we have to go?"

"Only another minute," the chaplain reassured. And he proved right, as not quite one minute later they came to a simple wooden door baring a golden handle. Lorgar didn't hesitate, reaching out to turn the knob and pushing the door open.

Holy Emperor, Lord of Terra and Guardian of Mankind, what was inside!

There were four of them. Four warp-spirits, as Kor Phaeron had termed them. Daemons, as they were known to many others.

The first. Ruby-skinned and clad in shining brass, a great mane of ebony hair flowing back from massive curved horns. Muscles fit to give even a primarch pause cording its arms and legs. A great iron sword clenched in both hands, the point resting upon the ground. A near-palpable aura of haughty arrogance and strength. A Bloodthirster.

The second. Sickly green in color. An unclothed obese mass of festering sores. Flabby hands tipped by ragged claws. Uneven eyes that burned yellow. A sheen of slime and sweat that covered its body. A rusted axe, its butt held against the stones of the floor. The faint and yet tangible scent of rot and decay. A Great Unclean One.

The third. Ivory-skinned. Legs set akimbo to hide and yet tantalize the mind. A distinctly feminine face surmounted by a cascade of velvety indigo hair. Black satin that concealed very little. Piercing violet eyes. Delicate curved horns. A shining gold whip curled around one forearm and the handle clutched in the other. A virtually suffocating cloud of sensuality and passion. A Keeper of Secrets.

The fourth. Eyes of astonishing blue. Regal blue wings that fluttered idly. A beak longer than a man's forearm. Skin the color of polished sapphires. Girded by belts and chains of gold inscribed with innumerable runes. Eagle's claws, bronze-scaled. A polished wooden staff covered by silver tracery. An almost electric tang to the air. A Lord of Change.

They bowed their heads as Lorgar stared. "Welcome, primarch of Word Bearers and master of Colchis," they said simultaneously, their voices ringing in his ears. "We have long awaited your arrival. We are most gratified you have seen fit to hear from us."

Lorgar debated drawing his chainsword and quickly decided against it. He had come too far to let it simply come to a brawl now. He stepped into the room, allowing his chaplains to flank him protectively. "I will listen," he said firmly, "provided your words are offered in honesty and not deceit."

"We will speak and you shall decide yourself whether you shall listen or simply hear," they replied.

He nodded, quietly relaxed by the reply. "Then speak, I charge you," he said.

The four shared a brief glance and it was the Bloodthirster who stepped forward and a moment later, knelt before Lorgar. "I am but a lieutenant to He That Is Khorne," the warp-spirit said in his deep and powerful voice. "I would flatter myself to compare my position to that of your own, loquacious Lorgar. My duty to my lord is simple. I am to fight until I can no longer do so. He That Is Khorne is the commander of the battlefield, a great god of blood and war. At his command I will throw myself upon a for many times greater than myself for I know that even in death and failure, I serve my lord by dying in glorious battle, offering my blood and my life to him alone." The Bloodthirster nodded its head and stepped back. Lorgar was astonished by its complete lack of self-preservation in the name of its god. How many humans were so dedicated?

The Unclean One sighed and shuffled forward. It could not kneel as the Bloodthirster had, but it did tilt its rotundity forwards in a bow and laid its axe to the ground. "My lord is Nurgle," he said, voice rasping with phlegm. "The Unconquerable God of Plague and Decay. In this life, all things will one day perish. All things will one day rot away to nothing and be forgotten. Yet my lord gives me the power to endure forever. Look upon me, most beautiful Lorgar. My body is wracked with disease and filth, and yet I do not fall. I trudge on endlessly. Such is my faith in my god that it is possible. Only through Nurgle, whose embrace is endless, can there be an alternative to the slow decay of the grave." The Unclean One rotated itself level again and slid back. Lorgar could not take his eyes from it, horrible though it was to look upon. Preserved entirely by its faith? Saints were made for less!

Then the Keeper of Secrets stepped forwards and his attention was rooted to her as she reached up and hung the whip around the back of her neck. She did not bow, but instead reared and tossed her head, displaying her most bountiful figure. She smiled and it was both alluring and deadly. "My lord and lady is Slaanesh," she said, her voice soothing and smooth as lavender. "A god so powerful that it does not matter whether you worship a male or female aspect as I do, so long as your voice is raised to her. Slaanesh is the god of sensual love and the desires all races store within their deepest heart. Do you lust? Do you desire? Do you seek? Slaanesh knows your heart. Her very birth was the downfall of the corrupt Eldar race. Her cradle is now known to your people as the Eye of Terror. Slaanesh asks for the love of her followers, and her gift in return is to fulfill their dearest wishes. Without fail." With that, the whip uncurled and sketched a perfect circular frame around her as she curtsied deeply and slowly backed away. Lorgar felt his head spin. The Eye of Terror? A mingling of the warp and the universe as large as an entire segmentum…a cradle? What unparalleled power!

The Lord of Change ruffled his wings to catch Lorgar's attention. He did not step forward or make any kind of supplication but only fixed him with a blue gaze that was as cold as ice and as hot as lightning. "My master is Tzeentch," he said simply in a voice meant less to impress than to communicate and enunciate most effectively. "He is called the Changer Of The Ways and the Great Sorcerer. He is many things, among them strategist, scholar, orator, negotiator, and not the least, a psyker. You dreamed of the Emperor's coming, Lorgar. Your brother Magnus is fascinated by the workings of the Empyrean. Both of you are bright as shooting stars to the Great Sorcerer and there is much he would teach you. Tzeentch has seen many empires rise and fall, and he has analyzed their victories and defeats in minute detail. He is most wise and it is his will that an empire greater than any other span the universe. However," and here the Lord of Change raised a clawed hand in caution, "to many, my lord Tzeentch is also the Great Betrayer. To him, I am nothing. I may be sacrificed without regret if it means the success of my lord's plan. To Tzeentch, none of us are indispensable. It is only my faith in my lord and my knowledge that he is my greatest patron that keep me in his thrall." The Lord of Change nodded briefly, the only sign of submission he would allow himself. Lorgar felt his heart thud powerfully in his chest. Here was another creature so utterly dedicated it would sacrifice itself in an instant, even acting on nothing more than the word of its lord. What a bond of trust; what selfless dedication!

"You have clearly come with the intention of swaying my heart," he said numbly. "But I must know, to what purpose? Why would I embrace the gods you clearly love so much, when I have my father, my Emperor?"

"Your dedication to your Emperor is most selfless, Lorgar," they said, again speaking together. "Yet your Emperor is making crucial mistakes. His Imperium will not survive if he does not make himself heard. Lorgar, only with the aid of our gods may your Imperium truly be made to last. You yourself have spoken of the need to bind through worship. Our gods do not merely expect such worship, they demand it, for they are worthy of such devotion. Under their leadership your Imperium will last a thousand millennia and more, glorious and powerful. This is the aid we offer to you, Lorgar of the Word Bearers, son of Colchis."

"By the Emperor," Fontaine whispered.

"Now you understand why I spoke to them," Kor Phaeron said.

Lorgar felt his legs grow weak and he slowly let himself drift down to his knees. For once in his life, the charismatic Lorgar could find no words at all.

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The trip back was utterly silent. All three of the Word Bearers were lost in their own thoughts. Finally, it was Fontaine who spoke. "Never in my life had I thought to see…" he shook his head as though waking from a dream and trailed off.

"Lorgar," Kor Phaeron finally said.

"Yes, my friend?"

"Do you understand what I meant when I spoke of you as your father's dog? Do you forgive me now for my presumption?"

"I do, my friend," Lorgar said.

----------------------------------

It was another beautiful day as Lorgar, clad in his magnificent armor, faced yet another group of eager young faces. He smiled. No matter what anyone said, he would never tire of teaching. Yet today was touched with a bit of sorrow, for soon he would depart for Nizar and the Word Bearer's newest campaign. Yet he was not so pressed for time that he could not take a moment to teach his world's youngest generation.

"Master Lorgar?"

"Yes, Liam?"

"What are you going to talk about?"

He smiled. "Today my sons and daughters, I am going to teach you of the sin of blind obedience…"

[LadyTevar]

I have no words, Kuja.

I was utterly entralled by the story. That was simply to beautiful/powerful a story, and such a wonderously simple way to break Lorgar to Chaos.

[Ford Prefect]

I love you.

[Captain Cyran]

Wow. The Emperor really is an asshole.

The story was enthralling. Truly wonderful. The dialogue was great and necessary. Rarely was the turning of a clan brutal and violent but through ways such as that.

[Singular Quartet]

Some things are beyond awesome Kuja, and I hate you for it.

[Stravo]

Very good Kuja. I prefer dialogue driven work and this latest entry is different than the previous one in that respect. Very well done and it certainly helps other noobish 40K authors *cough* in terms of characterization and feel of the universe.

You should explore delving more into this style because it seems to work.

BTW thanks for the tip of the hat, makes me feel bad that I had you devoured by a Chaos plague in my tale.

[Setzer]

Try Night Haunter next. I want to see inside the man who terrorized Nostramo Quintus.

[White Haven]

....wow. I need to visit this forum more often. That's just....incredible. And I'd second the Night Haunter...but only if you've read Lord of the Night first. I think that'll add quite an interesting cast to his fall.

[Kuja]

For the folks who comment on the Emperor being a jackass (Cyran ), keep in mind I'm writing these stories with the intent of portraying the fallen primarchs in a tragic light, which means things are a little skewed since I'm giving more slack than some of them probably deserve and the Emperor is naturally going to get the short end of the stick as far as balance goes.

That said, the Emperor's parentage is questionable at best, even in canon 40K history. When one looks at the list of who rebelled and who didn't, you get an interesting pattern of the Emperor's relationship with his sons. Let's line the primarchs up from loyal to traitor and take a look:

Roboute Guilliman, Jaghatai Khan, Leman Russ, Vulkan, Ferrus Manus, Corax, and Sanguinius. All of them stayed loyal, but why? The answer is that either they had honor and loyalty instilled into them by their adoptive parents (such as Guilliman) or it just came that way naturally (like Ferrus). In other words, the Emperor had little or nothing to do with it.

Rogol Dorn. Since his background is sketchy, there's only two things to go on: he was the only primarch to go and meet the Emperor instead of being discovered, and he was chosen to guard the palace itself. That speaks to a most loyal spirit. So apparently, the Emperor's patronage for him only enhanced what was already there.

El'Jonson. If certain accounts are to be believed, he was waiting to see who won at Terra before making a desicive move. If that story is false, he reverts to the same bracket as Guilliman and company (brought up by the honorable Luthor). Not looking too good there, Emperor.

Fulgrim. He was such a success story that I can still hardly believe he's a traitor. By all accounts he was the most intensely loyal of all the primarchs, then Horus said something and he switched sides. WTF. I really can't blame the Emperor for that one.

Horus. A classic case of someone being given enough rope to hang himself. Had the Emperor kept him on a shorter leash, his ego wouldn't have blown up to the point where he thought it was time to replace the old man.

Mortarion. I blame his fall on Horus stirring up his festering resentment over the Emperor bailing his ass out of trouble. Not the Emperor's fault per se, but he might've noticed Mortarion's anger and done something about it. No bonus points there.

Lorgar. Probably the Emperor's biggest embarrassment. A legion that worshipped the ground he walked on, then he bitched them out and they became dedicated to his downfall. Whoops.

Angron, Perterabo, Magnus, and Night Haunter. There's little the Emperor could have done with this bunch of maniacs. The injuries from his inability (or unwillingess) to save Angron's army never healed over. Perterabo was, by all accounts, a sociopath (though it should be noted that his intense rivalry with Rogol Dorn could have been headed off). Magnus wanted it his way or no way. And Night Haunter was, ultimately, just too nuts to control (note that this assumes Zso Sahaal's story is false).

Alpharius. In my eyes, the Emperor's biggest failure. Alpharius needed a father figure and the Emperor had ample opportunity to step into that role, but he didn't. Horus did instead and when Horus went bugfreak, Alpharius went with him. Way to go, dad.


So take a look at this list. The Emperor's skills as a parent are, at best, ambiguous. And this makes the assumption that Sahaal's story is false (if you want the full version, read 'Lord of the Night' an excellent book), Castellan Astelan's story is also false ('Angels of Darkness' another most enjoyable book) and the initial catastrophe that scattered the primarchs was unpreventable. If the stories are true and/or the Emperor could have prevented the scattering, then my take on him drops from 'fair' to 'utterly heartless'.

Make of it all what you will.

[Kuja]

And as to the requests for a Night Haunter story, I do have one in mind and I'm working on the details. I don't know if it'll be the very next one, but I will write it at some point.

[White Haven]

Totally off-topic, I drool for a sequel to Lord of the Night. Sahaal is an awesome character.