Big Sister (40k/???)

[bobnik]

I just think it's funny as hell that you got the GEoM to play a game of Warhammer 40K. His reaction to Ga'ri is the same one I get from reading the new special characters in each published codex.

[RecklessPrudence]

Nonono, it's Warhammer 30K. I wonder what edition they were playing? If it's got Dark Eldar as the default enemies, that'd be... 3rd Ed, right?

And the GEoM's reaction to Ga'ri is about what people used to have to my Autarch... Of course, the bastard cost more than most of my gravtanks, let alone his bodyguard, so he had damn well better be effective...

On that note, I wonder how overpowered Ga'ri had to be to get that reaction when there was a bloody Primarch on the table?

[JonB]

There is no indication that Vulkan himself was represented in that particular battle. But then again, this new and improved Vulkan may have deliberately toned-down his own model to better reflect his leadership rather than his combat abilities?

[Xon]

On that note, I wonder how overpowered Ga'ri had to be to get that reaction when there was a bloody Primarch on the table?

Nanoha was shown to be able to 1 shot a Dark Eldar skimmer with a single bolt and she can fire at least half a dozen of such bolts at once, and had a shield which can tank hover sled + eldar going splat onto it.

The snipet has her killing 3 such skimmer craft after deap striking in what amounts to a single turn. And she probably didn't take any wounds at all, since that shield is utterly inbalanced in how overpowered it is. Also her barrrier jacket(the magic combat armor) lets a 12-14 year old girl survive being slammed into concrete hard enough to crater it and walk away if nothing happened.

[Academia Nut]

Technically the round had yet to end, Nanoha was just positioned such that all three skimmers were in a line. So yeah, she took no wounds because the enemy had yet to actually fire back before she wiped the board.

[Academia Nut]

Vulkan stared out of the window of the cruiser down at Nocturne below. His world was a wounded one, with the great cracks and rents in is surface visible as bleeding wounds even his high up. It simultaneously pained and heartened him to know that life as fragile as humanity lived on that ravaged surface. Of course, with the greedy void just beyond the surface of the armoured crystal window, the wastelands of Nocturne were not the only inhospitable environment that people could thrive in.

Or be stubborn in. In irritation, Vulkan said, “I am not advocating letting psykers run wild, I know painful enough what happens when that occurs. What I am saying is that I will not simple abandon the Order of Pure Flame. They are my allies, and if did not seek to look out for their wellbeing, then that is poor repayment for exemplary service under my banner.”

“The Adeptus Astra Telepathica already serves the same function as the Order, and has orders of magnitude more resources, knowledge, and experience,” the Emperor explained once again to his stubborn son.

“Yes, but they are not my allies. Loyalty is something that is earned, which also means that it is not something easily taken away. You have both earned my loyalty, so I will betray neither, but clearly something must give,” Vulkan stated.

“Yes son, something must give,” the Emperor stated in a voice that indicated that it would not be him.

“Yes… yes. The Order should be absorbed by the Telepathica… but I want a contingent from the Telepathica attached to my command made from the members of the Order that survive the vetting process,” Vulkan stated, catching the exasperated look on his father’s face in the faint reflection off the window.

“Son…” the Emperor began.

“I trust them even if I am wary of their abilities, which while unreliable are of incredible utility when they work. You want me as a general in your armies? Well if I and my forces are to be at our best then I need people I can trust under my command and every tool available to me,” Vulkan insisted.

The Emperor sighed and then nodded. “Very well, you have made your point and made it well.”

Turning to the Emperor, Vulkan bowed his head in thanks and said, “All I have ever desired is to protect my people, I just did not realize how large that group was before.”

The Emperor nodded and said, “You are a caring leader Vulkan, and that gives you strength but also weakness. Your concern strengthens your troops’ loyalty to you, but it can also cause hesitancy and a refusal to commit to a necessary course of action.”

“I waged two guerrilla wars against alien raiders, and sometimes that meant that I had to let innocents get carried off to a ghastly fate simply so that I could get my forces into position. I had to, on many occasions; let units fight to the death because the loss of their lives would mean less than the loss of even a single individual to the enemy, or because it was simply impossible to reinforce them. I know that sacrifice is often needed to obtain victory, and the scars I bear proudly on my flesh testify to the fact that I was unafraid to use myself as bait. The only thing I ever question is if the loss of life required to achieve victory still makes it a victory in the end,” Vulkan stated, swelling up with righteous indignation at his father’s implications against his dedication.

The Emperor nodded in concession and said, “Well spoken, and I apologize my son. You will get along well with your brothers.”

“Tell me of them,” Vulkan asked, his mood shifting to a more pensive and curious one. “My sister was the greatest gift I ever received, and I hope that my brothers are just as worthy.”

The Emperor brightened up greatly and he said, “More so! Each of your brothers is as great a man and leader as you Vulkan, each with a great tally of victories to his name. Their names are Horus, Sanguinius, Rogal Dorn, Ferrus Manus, Magnus the Red, Lion El’Johnson, Perturabo, Mortarion, and Jaghatai Khan. You will get to know each well in the decades to come, along with your other brothers as we find them.”

“Who is closest?” Vulkan asked.

Waving his hand, the Emperor summoned forth a holographic display of the galaxy and zoomed in to the local stars around Nocturne. Several icons stood out brightly around other stars nearby and the Emperor explained, “The main crusade fleet is spinward, hubward, and anti-Magellanic at the moment and half your brothers are prosecuting a great war against a savage ork empire. It is a week’s journey when I am at the helm. However, the XVIII Legion, created from your genetic samples, is here, joined in battle with their brothers in the VIII and XV Legions, lead by Magnus. They are putting down a human world that has fallen into corrupt and bloodthirsty ways. It is a bit further, about ten days out, but you should be reunited with your troops.”

Vulkan stared at the symbols for a long time before he proclaimed, “My troops share my blood? Then even if it pains me to remain separate from the majority of my brothers, I must see first to my children.”

“I knew you would wish to do so. Your Legion is relatively new, about five decades, but they have your fire in their blood and are a stubborn lot. Where others see a hopeless situation, they just plant their feet and refuse to budge,” the Emperor explained.

“They will need tempering then. How long do I have to get my troops in order?” Vulkan asked.

“The Legions without their Primarchs are never as seasoned as those with as it is more difficult to produce replacement troops so by simple necessity they are kept away from the heaviest fighting, even though they still do their duty proudly and with all the skill and ferocity of their brethren. As such, I usually give a newly discovered Primarch about a year of off-duty time to reorganize their troops and induct in new recruits, then another five years of light-duty to find their stride. Of course, if the necessity of war requires me to put them on the front-lines sooner than that, I have never hesitated, and more than one of my sons has managed to get their forces ready early,” the Emperor detailed out.

“I will strive to be ready for battle as soon as possible, but the fact that I could take troops armed with single shot black powder weapons against Eldar raiders indicates that I am no slouch when it comes to training my troops,” Vulkan stated proudly.

“While I expect nothing less than excellence from my sons, I must admit that your exploits are a touch incredible,” the Emperor noted.

“I was mostly exploiting their stupidity,” Vulkan replied with a shrug.

“As a warning, not all of that decadent, treacherous species are that dumb. Had you been against a more competent faction with the resources you had, your survival would have been unlikely,” the Emperor pointed out.

Running a trio of fingers across a similar number of parallel burn marks on his right cheek and jaw, Vulkan said, “Oh, do not worry about me falsely believing that with my experiences and these new marvels you have shown me that I am invincible. I have seen and fought far worse things. Far worse.”

The Emperor frowned at that and then said, “That reminds me son. I have been meaning to speak with you about what happened with that thing the psyker became…”

Vulkan turned away from his father, averting his gaze and he said, “Yes… yes, I too have needed to speak with you about that. Speak your peace first father.”

Moving up behind his son, the two of them gaze out into the void, the Emperor said, “I would wish it if you and those around you would keep the nature of what happened discreet. People are too prone to assigning unnecessary characteristics to the things they don’t understand. Everything has an explanation, and I do not want people thinking that it is possible, let alone wise, to think that they can turn to the aliens that dwell in the Warp for aid.”

“You want me to pretend that those things don’t exist?” Vulkan asked.

“No, just keep their existence quiet from the general population,” the Emperor elaborated.

Vulkan stared into his father’s eyes via reflection and then spat, “I’ll keep them quiet for you by killing them wherever I find them. If you will let me, I will make it my exclusive mission to destroy such abominations.”

The Emperor frowned and said, “We do not have room for such a specialized force in our ranks, but perhaps… yes, yes I can feel the depths and purity of your hate for the things beyond the Veil. If you swear to keep the secret between you and your most trusted troops, I will grant you some of my knowledge on the matter and permission to train some of your troops especially for such missions.”

Vulkan turned and looked like he was about to swear such a thing when he paused, bowed his head, and instead said, “I will swear it father, but only if you still accept me after I show you this.”

Vulkan then held up his hands and concentrated, sweat beading on his brow for a few seconds before his upturned palms began to flicker with wisps of light until finally they burst into white hot flame. The Emperor raised a curious eyebrow and asked, “How long have you been able to do this?”

“Since my confrontation with the abomination,” Vulkan admitted while he let the flames die away. “That was only the second time I have ever done that willingly, the first merely to test to see if I could, to see if I had merely dreamt what happened.”

“And what happened?” The Emperor asked.

“I don’t know,” Vulkan replied with a shrug. “I went to confront the creature with my allies. We fought, and soon only I, my sister, and the thing that had been our student were left. With Ga’ri in the air bombarding it at range, it focused on me, hurling its blasphemous sorceries at me, but the power just washed over me like water across stone. It bathed me in fire and I advanced on it as the blasts intensified, until finally the fire in my own heart erupted against the pale flames of the monster. I struck the abomination, and my flames burned it, made it scream in agony like none of our previous attacks had.”

The Emperor nodded and said, “Yes, I can see what happened now. All of my sons carry some of the same spark of power as I do, although it manifests differently for each. The two strongest are Sanguinius, who has the gift of foresight, and Magnus, who commands a suite of different abilities. Your resistance to psyker abilities is not surprising, all of you have that sort of protection on top of your will to resist, but this late stage manifestation is more interesting. The psychic stress must have unlocked hidden potential.”

“So I am not contaminated?” Vulkan asked.

Clasping his shoulder, the Emperor beamed, “No, far from it my son. Your powers are yours and yours alone, purely a manifestation of the strength of your soul.”

A great weight lifted off Vulkan’s shoulders and he sagged with relief, “Thank you father, you have no idea how good it is to hear I am free of the taint of that creature.”

“It would seem that fate is guiding you in unexpected ways. Your Legion lies with your brother Magnus, and your hatred and ability complement each other, for your flames burn brightly on both sides of the Veil, so you are one of a handful of individuals actually capable of hurting the things that dwell in the Warp,” the Emperor explained.

Vulkan nodded and said, “Then it is not a power I shall use lightly, for I shall swear to you father that I will keep my knowledge secret and use it only to hunt and destroy the abominations.”

“Excellent my son, excellent,” the Emperor said with a beaming smile while clasping Vulkan’s shoulder.

Vulkan smiled, but it hurt inside to know that he was capable of lying to his father and getting away with it.

[LionElJonson]

Lion El'Jonson doesn't have an "h" in it.

Other than that, looks good. I hope that the Salamanders (or whatever Vulcan might name them; the White Devils?) are on hand for the discovery of Angron; the Emperor fucked that one up royally, and given how Vulcan was raised by Nanoha, I don't doubt that Vulcan would join him, and probably bring the rest of his legion with him. Also, if they're going to have anti-daemon units, they'd probably be able to detect that the sword that Fulgrim looted from the Laer in the OTL is tainted, assuming that they're not the ones tasked with the destruction of the Laer in the first place.

Heck, if they can detect the taint of marines like Typhus and Fabius Bile before they can spread their taint, they might be able to stop even more legions from turning.

[StrikaAmaru]

“Then it is not a power I shall use lightly, for I shall swear to you father that I will keep my knowledge secret and use it only to hunt and destroy the abominations.”
[...] he was capable of lying to his father[...].

Oh, dear... A NOT applied to the first sentence doesn't lead to anything good; you don't intend him to fall, now do you? Or to clash with his father on ideological grounds?

Add to that, it's kinda scary to think GEoM can in fact be directly lied to.

[EDIT] And did Nanoha actually die in battle?
[EDIT #2] ...And is this story connected to 'The Open Door'? (Multiverse-wise, I mean; the two fics obviously deal with different Nanohas.)

[Simon_Jester]

The Emperor has a huge mental blind spot when it comes to any kind of less-than-absolute-loyalty from his sons; Horus exploited that tremendously during the Heresy. Vulkan might not be able to take so much advantage of it as his brother (and hopefully not for the same reasons), but it's still there.

So while an ordinary man might not be able to lie to him, the Primarchs can.

[Highlord Laan]

Hm. Vulkan shows a skill for misinformation, a liking of small unit tactics, and a decentralized command structure, as was stated with his forces on Nocturne.

Mmm. Smells like Alpha Legion.

[Simon_Jester]

Yeah, but on the other hand he still has a lot of the same virtues that made the Salamanders in the canon timeline: toughness, determination, loyalty to his troops and reluctance to sacrifice them casually.

What we're likely to see is something very much like the Salamanders legion, but with more mobility and flexibility: tenacious and determined in defense, but also adaptable, instead of just "hold in place and die to the last man before yielding an inch!"

[Highlord Laan]

Yeah, but on the other hand he still has a lot of the same virtues that made the Salamanders in the canon timeline: toughness, determination, loyalty to his troops and reluctance to sacrifice them casually.

What we're likely to see is something very much like the Salamanders legion, but with more mobility and flexibility: tenacious and determined in defense, but also adaptable, instead of just "hold in place and die to the last man before yielding an inch!"

Oh, I was by no means intending to make that methods and skills I mentioned seem as if they were failings. Any jackass can win a battle with overwhelming firepower and/or numbers if they've got no aversion to casualties. Misinformation is one of the greatest skills any military leader can have, it's also one of the rarest to be used correctly.

In that vein, it's why Alpha Legion is easily my favorite Chaos Marine chapter. They're either excomunicate traitors that betrayed everything the God Emperor stood for and pulled it off with nary a hitch, or the most loyal and dedicated Space Marines the Imperium has ever had and are engaged in the longest and most dangerous deep-cover mission in galactic history just to have a chance at saving humanity.

[Simon_Jester]

Oh, I was by no means intending to make that methods and skills I mentioned seem as if they were failings. Any jackass can win a battle with overwhelming firepower and/or numbers if they've got no aversion to casualties. Misinformation is one of the greatest skills any military leader can have, it's also one of the rarest to be used correctly.

I'm not saying they are failings. My point is that we're more likely to see a characteristically "Salamander" legion that's more flexible and adaptable than the 'real' one, not an entirely different legion.

Vulkan's formative experiences may make him more flexible and perhaps more empathic (he was already one of the most empathic of the Primarchs, and his legion one of the most empathic of the legions, as it was). But I don't think they'll change his essential nature outright, only modify it- and the nature of the Legion invariably reflects the nature of the Primarch.

[Academia Nut]

The next two weeks pass in a blur of travel, triumphal parades, and speeches, leaving Vulkan little time to absorb it all. His memory is perfect and his intellect vast, but some things still require time to sink into the mind, and then the soul. It was a heady thing to know that his father was the most powerful man in existence and that the stars above would be Vulkan’s battlefield, one that he tried to accept with as much humility as possible. He had spent much of his time in transit attempting to understand the technological marvels around him and their implications, especially the ones his army would be using. Just the vox-casters alone would have been worth their weight in coal back on Nocturne during his campaigns, to say nothing of the weapons and armour available.

However, now that Vulkan was on 83-209, as the world was referred to by the Imperial Crusade Register, he had a bit more time to think long and hard about everything he had learned, even while he tried to clamp down on the little irrational piece of his heart that he could not clamp down. In all the myriad stars out there, was there one that held his lost loved ones? He knew such thoughts were dangerous, incredibly so, but he could not stop them from rising, so he had to fight them off.

He was in one such mood of conflict, alone in the study that had been assigned to him until his Legion could be safely taken off the front on this world without endangering the rest of the campaign, when his brother walked in on him and asked, “That eager to get out to the front, are you brother?”

Vulkan looked up from his thoughts and realized Magnus must have noticed him pacing back and forth. Vulkan considered the question for a moment before he said, “Yes and no. I am eager to do some good out there for my troops and humanity, but I am still working out what I will need to teach my men.”

Magnus considered Vulkan for a few moments with his one oversized eye, the other a twisted socket that had never opened, before he said, “Yes, I remember the same thoughts I had when I first received command of my Legion, although I suppose I was less worried about what I would teach them and more worried about how many would survive! Only the Third Legion has had it worse than my Thousand Sons.”

“Hmmm… yes. I am still reading up on the process, especially since I shall begin recruiting from Nocturne soon… although I am disturbed by the recruitment methods of some of our brothers,” Vulkan admitted, letting a scowl cross his face.

“Oh brother, what of our other brothers disturbs you?” Magnus asked.

“Several of them have left their home worlds feral and disunited for the sole purpose of letting the people fight and suffer so that they can recruit the most savage of the warriors to induct into their Legions,” Vulkan explained with a frown.

“Ah well, do not worry about it. Those worlds are for our brothers to worry about, and they govern them in their own wisdom. Father has not spoken out against the practice, so do not trouble yourself with concern,” Magnus replied with a dismissive wave.

Vulkan bit off the reply before it had finished forming and instead said, “Never mind then. What brings you here brother?”

“Why you of course Vulkan! We did not really get a chance to speak as brothers before, and I wanted to greet my new youngest brother properly,” Magnus replied.

“Ah! Forgive me for not realizing sooner,” Vulkan stated. He then glanced about the room and asked, “I fear that I have not yet upgraded the facilities here to properly receive your familial visit.”

Laughing at that, Magnus said, “Let us walk in the gardens then. I understand you come from a place that does not have such things?”

“No, the concept of a garden is somewhat foreign to me right now. Give me a moment though so I will be able to keep up with you,” Vulkan said before he tapped a few buttons on his new armour and the soft hum of the generator firing up was heard.

Magnus raised his eyebrow and asked, “You were pacing about with your armour powered down? That eager to grow strong are you?”

Smiling wryly, Vulkan shrugged and said, “I am seeking to master this armour, so I need to know how it will feel under all circumstances.”

Turning his head toward the door, Magnus gestured for them to head out. Walking down the halls of the somewhat burned out palace the Imperium had appropriated from the locals as their command centre on this world, Magnus asked casually, “So brother, I suppose it is as good a place as any to start, have you decided upon what your heraldry shall be.”

Glancing down at the bare ceramite of his new armour, Vulkan mused for a second before he said, “I am thinking of continuing to take the image of the salamander as my own. Powerful creatures from Nocturne, they are one of two creatures with the resilience to reliably live through more than one Time of Trials.”

“And the other?” Magnus asked.

“Men,” Vulkan replied with a huge grin.

Magnus chuckled at that and said, “Your world sounds a harsh one indeed. My own home is rather inhospitable, but in the sense of there being little there to support life, rather than the elements actively trying to kill you.”

“I think I remember reading that about that. Your world is… Prospero? Correct?” Vulkan asked.

“Yes, yes brother. A beautiful if unforgiving place, covered in rugged, dry mountains and scorching desert basins. The original settlers went there for the solitude, and were rewarded with a place to cultivate their skills and knowledge,” Magnus said before shoving open a great set of doors to reveal the gardens he had spoken of earlier.

Outside it was partially clouded over, the red star in the sky casting a peculiar glow over the terrain that was strange to Vulkan’s eyes, but he could not help but smile at the wonderfully tended terraces and pools, the neatly maintained gravel paths, and the bubbling fountains forming the centrepieces of the garden. It was like nothing he had ever seen before, but he could not deny its beauty and tranquility.

“I can see by the look on your face that you like it?” Magnus asked with an amused smile on his face.

“It is wonderful brother, I have never seen a place so… serene,” Vulkan stated.

“Yes. I have to say my two favourite places are libraries and gardens. In fact, this garden is modelled after one of the gardens attached to the Great Library of Prospero. Ah, I remember my youth sitting under the crystal dome of the Great Library in the full light of the sun, the flowers in bloom all around while I perused a tome of lore,” Magnus said, a nostalgic look of contentment settling over his crimson features.

“A beautiful place brother… but I can already hear the ring of hammers calling me. My place of peace is in the forge,” Vulkan admitted.

“Ha! Brother, the fact that you have a ‘place of peace’ elevates you above every brother besides Sanguinius in my mind. We are made for war, true, but some talk that concept too far in my mind,” Magnus answered, thumping his brother on the back with the loud clang of ceramite meeting ceramite.

“A blade that is not given respite from battle for repairs will soon dull and then break,” Vulkan mused.

“A philosopher, are we?” Magnus asked with amusement.

Vulkan shrugged and said, “I am a young Primarch, a being made for war, who was hurled to a harsh world and forced to wage war under the most uneven conditions against a deadly foe. I have had little time to consider any philosophies outside the forge or battle.”

“All Primarchs carry within them two sparks; one for war, and one for something else. Too many have turned their second spark towards war, but if I am an example of a genius of the mind and you a genius of metal, then I think we can show our brothers that a more balanced path produces the superior warrior,” Magnus opined.

Vulkan looked at his brother sideways for a moment before a slightly amused neutral expression settled over his face and he said, “Brother, are my skills deceiving me, or do you have an ulterior motive at the moment?”

A perfectly innocent – or at least as innocent as a three metre tall red skinned, cyclopean demi-god of war clad in power armour could get – look crossed over Magnus’ face and he said, “Why brother, I have no idea what you mean.”

Vulkan upturned one corner of his mouth and he stated, “You want my help with something.”

“Did father tell you?” Magnus asked brightly.

Vulkan shook his head and said, “No, it was just your tone of voice near the end there. You want my help with our brothers on something.”

“Guilty as charged,” Magnus admitted. “I have been petitioning father for the past few years to let me formally introduce psykers into the registers of the Legions. Numerous psykers already appear in my Legion thanks to the blood they share with me, but there is no official place for them. A few other Legions have similar issues, but none feel the issue so keenly as my own. Thus far I have persuaded Sanguinius and Jaghatai Khan to my side, and I think in a few more years I can convince father to allow us to try out my proposal, but with your voice added to our own we should be able to get forth our message that much faster.”

“Hmmm… and are you approaching me now because I am young and impressionable or because I have stood up to father over the issue of psykers on my own world?” Vulkan asked.

“Both of course!” Magnus replied with a smile.

“Well then, because you decided to be sly about it instead of forthright, I fear there will be a cost for my voice in this matter,” Vulkan replied, crossing his arms and putting on a stern look.

“Name your price, and I will consider it,” Magnus answered, bowing his head graciously.

Unfolding his arms, Vulkan gestured to the gardens around him and said, “I intend to build great cities across Nocturne to shelter my people during the Time of Troubles, as I doubt they will all wish to leave for the stars, especially now that there is someone to sell all our mineral wealth to. As such, I want your gardeners there during construction. Nocturne might be no place for towering crystal spires, but there can certainly be places of tranquility there.”

“Ah brother, you would have just had to ask me and I would have gladly sent my people to you,” Magnus replied with a grin.

“A favour I would have given anyway for a favour you would have given anyway seems a fair trade, don’t you brother?” Vulkan asked with a smirk.

“Oh, Sanguinius will love you brother almost as much as I think you and Dorn will get on each other’s nerves,” Magnus replied, shaking his head with amusement.

Vulkan’s smile broadened and he held his arms wide while he said, “To any who think me soft and weak, I say to them, ‘Come on if you think you’re hard enough’ and we will see whose philosophy has bred weakness.”

“Brother, you talked father into letting you keep your pet psykers, on practically the second day you met him. I would not take you up on that challenge,” Magnus answered, a huge smile on his face.

Vulkan’s smile turned to a small scowl and he said, “The people of the Order are my allies, not my pets.”

Magnus waved the concern away and said, “Apologies. Semantic mistake. I should open up my libraries and draw out a few good tomes to fill in the gaps in knowledge your people have.”

Vulkan bit off the first retort that came to mind as while Magnus was no doubt right, he felt the man should not be so condescending about it. Instead Vulkan asked, “I don’t suppose you have much knowledge on protecting against xenos that dwell in the Warp, do you?”

His brother looked a bit noncommittal for a moment before he shrugged and said, “I am sure it is in the archives on Prospero somewhere, but I have honestly never had to worry much about such things. The abilities I inherited from father mean that any such creatures that might exist have never bothered me. I know it is a problem for lesser psykers, but the knowledge has never been useful to me.”

Again, Vulkan held back his retort at his brother’s arrogance and instead said, “Well brother, if you open up your libraries to me and my allies, I will have to find a suitable gift in return. I have heard of weapons that psykers can use that act as channels for their power…”

Magnus nodded and said, “Force weapons. Father did not see fit to gift me with one, but…”

“Find me the design and I can make anything,” Vulkan boasted.

“Brother, force weapons are nothing like what you might have made…” Magnus trailed off as he noticed Vulkan had pulled out a small knife and was using it to shave away at a bit of ceramite on his armour. Magnus just stared at him and the knife before he asked, “You made that on Nocturne, didn’t you?”

“On a hand pumped charcoal forge,” Vulkan noted before flicking away the offending slice of ceramite.

Magnus’s one eye boggled at what his brother was doing before he said, “I will… I will make sure design specs are included in the knowledge sent over from my libraries.”

“And knowledge on things in the warp,” Vulkan reminded. He then added on, “Although those works can stay with me.”

“Yes… yes. The best material in the library I like to keep away from father in any case, so I would appreciate if you kept it that way,” Magnus replied.

“Of course brother. I promised father I would keep this sort of thing quiet,” Vulkan answered.

[RecklessPrudence]

Heheh... this looks like it could be very good, or very bad...

Although, I noticed two places were I think you missed out on a word:

“A blade that is given respite from battle for repairs will soon dull and then break,” Vulkan mused.

I think you mean "that is given no respite"

and:

Nocturne might be a place for towering crystal spires,

"might not be", right?

That aside, looking forward to more!

[Academia Nut]

Vulkan knew that his Legion, recently rechristened on Terra as the Salamanders, had no idea what to make of him. He knew that they were glad to have their own Primarch, the final piece that elevated them to the status of a complete Legion amongst their brothers. He also knew that their prides had been stung by being pulled off the battle line before their mission was complete, although the operation on that world had been in its final stages in any case. Finally, Vulkan knew that their martial honour was smarting from his decision to not just pull them back but to run them like they were raw recruits. He knew they could fight and fight well, but the question was if they could fight the way he wanted.

At the moment he had the entire First Company, the elite of the Legion, running laps around the interior of their cruiser in full armour… with their reactors off… in the dark… with their inactive helmets on… and the gravity on the deck plating turned up to Nocturne standard rather than the lighter Terran standard. The thousand marines of First Company were performing well but still below Vulkan’s standards. It was time to up the ante.

“Company! HALT!” Vulkan bellowed at the top of his considerable lungs. Behind him the veterans of the Legion came to a ragged halt, the men breathing hard from the long, tiring run.

Vulkan looked down over all of his troops, summoning forth the memories from when he and Nanoha had been training and he said, “Well, it seems that the lot of you can run, but that doesn’t mean that you can fight to my standard. It’s time to increase the odds. Company, form squads, single file! Sergeants, power up your armour and auto-senses. The rest of you keep your reactors cold. The drill will now go as follows: sergeants are to set the pace and any man who falls behind or falls down must complete ten push-ups. You are not however to stop, and you are not to break file to go around those that fall. Instead you are to go over them while they do their push-ups. Any man who falls during this process is to assume position in front of the first man and do his push-ups, supporting his brother’s step when he finishes his punishment. I will be moving amongst the squads and making sure the exercise goes according to my wishes and we will continue until I am satisfied with your performance. Am I clear?”

A thousand voices barked out as one in affirmative, but Vulkan knew that they were all wondering what sort of sadistic purpose this was supposed to have. He hoped that the best of his Legion would not disappoint him. Still, the first several minutes were a comedic farce as men could not keep the pace of their sergeants and either tripped in the effort or simple dropped behind. This then cascade into disaster as the men behind tripped over their brothers. Sergeants screamed at their men and curses and oaths flew freely as the disaster unfolded.

Vulkan kept his face passive. Surely there would be one man in the thousand who would meet his expectations? He scanned the masses of tangled bodies, seeking just that one who would… there. Out of the thousand, one man had what he wanted in him.

Stalking forward like a fire giant advancing on a helpless village, Vulkan barked, “Marine! What do you think you are doing?”

The man, rather obviously the offender he was referring to, straightened up from his crouched position and replied, “I was helping my brothers my lord!”

“You realize that you have fallen behind your sergeant and thus must do the required punishment?” Vulkan asked.

“Yes my lord, but…” the man began.

“But what?” Vulkan barked.

“But my brothers need me my lord!” The man protested. “With our helmets inactive, we can barely see. If I support the man doing the push-ups and guide those stepping over him I can keep either from collapsing.”

Vulkan glared down at him before his scowl reversed into a broad smile and he said, “Finish helping your brothers, do your punishment, and then you are excused from the rest of the exercise.”

“What my lord?” The man asked, a hint of fear spiking into his voice. He probably thought he was being dismissed entirely.

“You will be done this exercise. Go rest,” Vulkan stated.

“I… yes my lord!” The man barked, thumping his fist against his cuirass in salute before returning to aid his brothers in their exertions.

From there the whole thing spread like wildfire as the Marines realized that the exercise was not one of physical performance but of teamwork. It took less than a minute before Vulkan saw a man take it to the next logical step. He bellowed out, “Marine! I saw that! You took a dive!”

The man on the ground grunted out, “My lord, I knew that if I fell that would allow one of my brothers to aid me and thus complete this exercise.”

“Excellent! You are to aid him in his punishment and then you both may go!” Vulkan replied with a laugh. They were all getting it now. Within a few minutes the majority of the First Company had completed the exercise, and all but one squad had been reduced to a handful of Marines. The one squad out was because they were walking.

Approaching the sergeant carefully leading his men around the course, Vulkan asked, “Sergeant, what are you doing?”

“I am setting the pace for my men, my lord,” the man replied.

“Tell me your name,” Vulkan demanded.

“Sergeant Iemay, my lord!” The man responded proudly.

“Lieutenant Iemay, you and your squad are done this exercise, please retire from the circuit ring,” Vulkan stated.

The sergeant looked taken aback for a moment by the sudden promotion before he nodded and said, “Right away my lord!”

Finally only a handful of men remained, men too proud to help their brothers, some even running ahead of their sergeants, all of whom had slowed down in realization that Vulkan had never ordered them to run. Vulkan knew that there would be men like this, but every one of them would be a problem in the future, he knew. He had to break them of their bad habits soon, but he also knew that he could not break them, lest he turn his men against him.

Deciding that this was not the exercise to break them of their bad habits, Vulkan announced, “All who are still running, drop and give me one hundred push-ups! That includes sergeants, who had better turn off their reactors! When finished stand at attention with your helmets off.”

After a few minutes the proud ones all stood at attention under Vulkan’s watchful gaze and he memorized all of their faces. They were all breathing hard and drenched in sweat, but they refused to be cowed by their Primarch. Vulkan considered for a long time before he replied, “You have all impressed and disappointed me. You now all stand upon a fork in the road. Down one path is my approval, filled with honour and hardship. Down the other path is my disapproval, filled with even greater hardship… but perhaps even greater honour. Continue to bear your own pride ahead of my wishes and I shall treat you like a stubborn burr, with the enemy as the grindstone. You will either be ground down and thus no longer my problem or you will grind down the enemy and thus I will have no choice but to pin your well earned medals to your chests and tell my father and brothers of your glorious exploits. Your choice.”

Vulkan could see hesitation and reconsideration amongst a few of the men, mostly the sergeants dragged into this by their stubborn men, but the majority seemed to take the challenge as something to throw into with full gusto. Vulkan took one last look to complete memorizing their faces before he said, “Return to the ready room with your brothers, I will address you all.”

A few minutes later and Vulkan found himself in front of the assembled ranks of marines from the First Company and he glared down at all of them for a few moments before he smiled and said, “Good job all of you, for you all have passed this first test in your own way. We are an army, a Legion, and some would call us a chain, in that we are only as strong as our weakest link. This is both true, and not true, for we are no mere linear chain. We are mail, many chains interweaving to create something stronger than the whole, and if one link fails the rest can still carry on without collapsing. We are the armour of humanity against a cosmos that hates it. And the weakest link is often not the most flexible but the strongest, and thus most brittle. Or, if the strong link does not shatter, then it could tear its fellows apart when if it bent the whole would have remained intact and unyielding. You are called brothers for a reason, act like it.”

Vulkan took one last look over them all before he said, “Your sergeants will resume your standard training schedule until I announce my next special training session. Dismissed!”

Retreating to his private sanctum aboard the cruiser, Vulkan removed his armour, carefully setting aside the inactive plate. He would give them a day to rest and think before he judged their mood and swung the hammer again in the process of reshaping them.

Sinking into his chair, a throne really although he had made it more comfortable than the word ‘throne’ normally suggested, Vulkan pulled out two tomes from their hiding place. One had been given to him on Terra from his father’s representative, Malcador the Sigillite. The other was a copy of a text from the Great Library on Prospero, the first tome Magnus had secretively given him. Reading either one was illuminating, but reading both side by side was terrifying.

Father was lying to him, to everyone, while Magnus was toying with powers he should leave well enough alone. Vulkan knew that despite this knowledge, he was caught in between the hammer and the anvil. He was too young, and the Warp was not his specialty. If he confronted either right now, he would just hurt his own position. Especially since he had a weakness that he could not expose.

Vulkan had studied the histories of his brothers and of all the Legions. In all of them, none of his brothers had ever taken a wife, even when it would have been politically convenient. The process that created a Space Marine also sterilized the man so selected. Vulkan had his suspicions, but not enough proof to confront father on the theory yet.

Slumping back in his throne, Vulkan breathed, “Oh Fara…”

[LadyTevar]

Oh dear. This is going to be interesting. At least his Legion got the idea behind his training.

[CaptainChewbacca]

I really have no freaking idea whats going to happen in this story, and I really like it. Will Vulkan make the difference, or will he fall as well?

[DeRogue]

I really have no freaking idea whats going to happen in this story, and I really like it. Will Vulkan make the difference, or will he fall as well?

Alpha Legion, only Vulkan?

[CaptainChewbacca]

Well if Vulkan is being more wary and adaptable this time around, he might actually make it TO the siege of Terra, so I dunno.

[Academia Nut]

By the chronometers of the cruiser Vulkan had been on, he had been away from home for a little more than a year, while from the reckoning of those on the ground he had been gone perhaps eight months in total, if that. The vague, muddled nature of time in the Warp was something he doubted he would ever get used to. Still, for however long he had been gone, Vulkan had seen and done incredible things. He had stared out upon the glowing void while his ship ploughed through the incandescent dust of a stellar nursery, he had walked upon the ancient ground of Terra, where every flagstone had the weight of tens of thousands of years of history pressing down on it, and he had witnessed ten thousand throats roar at once their fealty to him.

He smirked slightly at the last point, for he had repaid their fealty by turning their world upside-down, breaking down everything they thought they knew about combat and forging them into a blade he knew he could take into any battle. First he had forged them into a single unit, and then when they could fight as one he had folded into them the fires of Nocturne. Each man was an army unto himself, independent and resilient. Drawing upon his own experiences in war, Vulkan sought to forge each member of his chapter into a man who could serve on the line with his brothers or a general waiting for an army.

Now that he stood on the deck of his cruiser, rechristened Nocturne’s Forge, Vulkan could not help but smile with joy and sentimentality at seeing his world out the window of his cabin, the surface slowly rotating far below. The orbital lanes about Nocturne were growing crowded with all the traffic coming into them. The Emperor had sent dispatches to his allies in the Mechanicum and the Priesthood of Mars had sent enormous factory ships in response, taking up the vast mineral wealth of Nocturne and transforming it into all the things his people would need to survive and that his Legion would need to wage war.

Soon he would examine the great adamantium pillars being driven deep into the eldest rock of Nocturne, the foundations of the seven great settlements he would place upon the surface where his people could find shelter during the Time of Trials. Soon he would examine the geothermal stations being plunged like draining fangs into Mount Deathfire and its kin, to bleed away their wrath to power the great manufactories that would be built. Soon he would examine the orbital platforms being erected that would tend to his Legion’s fleets.

But he had other plans for today.

Remembering standing looking down on Nocturne like this, what felt like a lifetime ago, Vulkan found himself now taking the role of lord listening to the petitions of his subjects, and once more the subject was about psykers. He had turned his back on the men and women behind him and stared down at Nocturne to focus his mind. He had to think of what was best for Nocturne, what was best for humanity, not what was best for him.

Turning about once more, he stared down impassively at the young woman bound before him, her head bowed but her body still held proudly despite the faint crusting of her tunic along her back that showed where she had been whipped. That detail was the one that had set Vulkan off, or rather the one that combined with the rest that made him want to snap her handlers in half. The other details were the things that added up to the girl attempting to imitate Nanoha’s appearance, particularly the way she had dyed and styled her hair.

His face neutral, Vulkan asked the blind seer assigned from his father to take over the Order of Pure Flame, “So now that I have thought about what has been said, the issue can be summed up to the fact that this witch likes to wear make-up.”

“You trivialize the matter my lord,” the Telepathic representative protested. “Not only is the act of her covering her face in ash a primitive, barbaric practice that must be crushed, but she admits to attempting to imitate a superstitious spirit with her appearance. She would have been executed if not for her vehement demands to see trial before you, and the protests of her peers that she be granted such an unworthy honour.”

Vulkan struggled to keep the frown off his face. He man very likely knew nothing of Nocturne’s customs or history, and he was just doing his job. Instead of immediately rebuking him, Vulkan instead asked, “Is she a threat otherwise? Is her will too weak? Does she pierce the Veil too frequently or with too much vehemence?”

The man looked troubled for a moment before he said, “She is otherwise a fine student, but her refusal to accept the Imperial Truth has marked her out as unworthy.”

Vulkan then asked, “And how much do you know about Ga’ri?”

“I have heard tales from the Order of some form of witch or spectre of the ash wastes,” the man replied.

Vulkan sighed. Now that he thought about it, those psykers who had known Nanoha best had perished in the fight against Puelammi and many of those who had seen her first hand, even if only in passing, had perished fighting the Eldar raiders. In just two years Nanoha had become more myth than person. How long before the only things that remained of her were his memories and the things from the room where she had slept?

“Ga’ri is the local dialect for ‘Ash Maiden’, a mythological creature that also served as a nickname for my sister, an incredibly powerful mage who stood with me against a possessed psyker when all others would have fled screaming. In my eyes, Ga’ri is a worthy fit to sit beside the Emperor and my brothers in the halls of glory and honour,” Vulkan stated, trying to let a minimum of irritation leak into his voice.

The sightless man seemed to be at a loss of words for several seconds, trying to figure out if he was hearing blasphemy from one who should be by definition incapable of such things before he said, “That still does not excuse her behaviour.”

“So far I have heard her words second hand, from your mouth. Let me hear her speak her case,” Vulkan demanded.

“My lord, we are still not convinced this is not an assassination plot,” the man replied.

Vulkan glared at the telepath before sweeping his vision across the additional guards holding the girl down and at the Space Marines stationed at the doors to his cabin and finished by saying, “She could try, but it would not do much good. Let her speak.”

One of the guards pinning the woman down removed the gag in her mouth, and after working her jaw for a few moments she looked up to lower her head more respectfully before she said, “My lord, I thank you for the chance to speak my case.”

“You’re welcome, but do make it well as I am not yet convinced you are not mocking my sister,” Vulkan replied, a cold knife edge to his otherwise emotionless voice.

Gulping hard, the woman said, “I don the guise of your sister and cover myself in ash as camouflage and as a warning sign to the predators of the Warp. I take the guise of your sister because she is the deadliest bitch in the cosmos and I wish to honour that.”

“There are no daemons!” The telepath barked.

Vulkan nodded and said, “Indeed, there is no such thing as daemons… but if there were, they would surely have been terrified of my sister, so I take that as a compliment on her behalf.”

Walking from the window to a wall of armoured metal, Vulkan placed his hand on a bioscanner, causing the wall to open up to reveal a small armoury of melee weapons. The eyes of all in attendance went wide to see Vulkan’s personal collection. Picking up a spear nearly as tall as the average Marine made of a light, elastic, yet incredibly sturdy metal and topped with an adamantium blade shaped like a long, wicked leaf, Vulkan said, “I am making a gift for my brother, Magnus. A ferociously complex item, it is a weapon for a warrior of his stature and nature. This is a prototype you could say, a weapon not meant for a Primarch, but certainly made with him in mind. Catch.”

The spear sailed through the air on a long, lazy arc with the blade towards the ceiling. As expected the representative from the Telepathica intercepted the force weapon in mid-flight rather than let the girl touch it, and immediately screamed as his hand was incinerated up to the elbow. The spear clattered to the floor amidst a pile of charred bone while the representative collapsed backward, clutching at the stump of his arm, his eyeless face pale with shock and twisted in agony.

Waving to his guards, Vulkan barked, “Get him to an Apothecary immediately!”

Once the now limp man had been dragged away, Vulkan loomed over the girl and said, “That weapon was forged with the fires of Nocturne for the pure heart of a Primarch. It will not accept anyone as its master. Let this be your trial. Pick up the spear. If it accepts you then your intentions and heart are pure. If it is not, then you will become a literal Ash Maiden.”

The girl swallowed hard and stared for a long time at the spear, reaching out her bound hands for it. Vulkan glared down at her, but before he had to remind her that picking it up was not an option she snatched up the weapon with both hands. Salamanders of warp fire sprang up from where her palms touched it, but there was no great conflagration, and after a moment she gasped with shock and relief.

Vulkan loomed down over her and took the spear from her grasp as easily as a father might take a rattle from a sleeping babe. She stared up into his glowing magma eyes and gulped, but he just said, “Congratulations.”

Straightening up, Vulkan examined the force spear for a few seconds before he said, “Of course, this does not get you out of the woods yet. In fact, I think your troubles may just be beginning. My father has the Adeptus Astra Telepathica; I have the Order of Pure Flame. The Adeptus Telepathica has the Sisters of Silence… and I will have the Gae’ri, my Ash Maidens. You wish to imitate my sister? Well then good, you can march with me to battle like she did.”

Vulkan then turned to her terrified and awed handlers from the Telepathica and said, “Take her. Train her to be a battle psyker. Take any other young woman who is pure of heart and mind, faithful to the Emperor, the Imperial Truth and to the righteousness of Man. Adorn her in ash, and I shall give her my arms so that they might smite all who stand in the way of my father and I. Go.”

Vulkan waited for the room to be empty before he dismissed the last of the fire he had impregnated the force spear with, while idly scratching at the scar that had given him the accursed power in the first place. The girl had already dissipated most of what was left after the majority had explosively dumped into the first hand that touched it, but Vulkan did not want random bits of Warp energy discharging out of control. If the now significantly more mutilated telepath survived the ordeal then hopefully he would learn not to touch things not intended for him.

Once the weapon was safely tucked away for the time being, Vulkan took advantage of the lack of anyone around to take a peek at a pict image that had been covertly sent up to him when the fleet had arrived in system. It would not be easy, but some time after the triumphal parade and tours of the new facilities being built he would have to sneak off to meet the subject in the picture for the first time in a year and a half. He sighed wistfully. Not even what the Eldar had done to her could mar her perfection in his eyes.

[LadyTevar]

oh, extremely well done. I always thought the Telepathica treated their 'bound witches' far too harshly, and thus paid a high price when they went mad.

[Academia Nut]

Designed to carry dozens of fully armed and armoured Space Marines, the hold of a Warhawk seemed empty with just two occupants, even if one of them was a Primarch. The flight was extremely smooth thanks to the skill of the pilot, but that was compensated for by the storm of conflicting emotions that boiled behind Vulkan’s eyes. To set his mind elsewhere, Vulkan finally broke the silence with the other man in the assault transport’s hold.

“Apothecary Teruel, I suppose I should tell you why I decided to whisk you away without warning or explanation,” Vulkan stated, breaking the silence.

“That might be nice my lord,” the man stated in a way that indicated that he was actually totally earnest in his words.

“There are two reasons I have brought you with me today. The first is that I have news that could be interpreted as being rather unfortunate and I wanted to give you some privacy to sort it out first before seeing your comrades again,” Vulkan explained.

“My lord, I do not know whether to feel honoured that you would go out of your way for my sake, or insulted that you think me so immature I would make a scene,” Teruel replied evenly.

Vulkan nodded and said, “I weighed the consideration of both and decided to err on the side of caution. There are two types of pride; the first is the one that makes us strive to excel, to put the best possible effort forward… and then there is hubris, that which blinds us with our own feeling of superiority. The problem is of course that the first can often lead to the second, sometimes not because of a change in us but a change in the situation. I bring you here Teruel because you put a great deal of pride into your work. And that is why I am taking you off the main combat roster and leaving you here on Nocturne.”

Teruel was very quiet for a long time, his face clearly struggling to keep from reacting for several seconds before he asked, “My lord, why?”

“Because the future is the most important thing there is Teruel. We cannot change the past, and the present slips away in an instant, but the future is still ours to make if we try. And the future of the Legion is its initiates. I have read through the process and I know that not all who are chosen survive the process. Some of my brothers consider this a good thing, a weeding out process that eliminates the weak, but if I am going to go through the trouble of selecting a young man, a boy really, to reshape into a Space Marine, I want him to survive. I have seen your reports and honours and I have watched you in training. You are the man I trust most to stand on the vanguard of our Legion’s future… but that also means that you will be taken from the front lines and your brothers to wait here, raising the next generation,” Vulkan explained.

Teruel absorbed this information quietly, and he mulled it over for a long time before he nodded and said, “I thank you my lord for this opportunity to think about your words knowing my brothers will not be watching. I take it that you also wish me to voice my opinion freely.”

“You may, but about the only things you could say that will get you out of this responsibility will also get you thrown out the Warhawk,” Vulkan replied, not smiling at the last part. It was neither a joke nor a threat, merely a statement of fact.

“My lord… I wish to see this from your perspective, to see that you are doing this because it is the best thing for the Legion, but I find that all I can think about is how the faces of my brothers will haunt me. Whenever casualty figures come back, I will wonder how many I could have saved by being there. Just one will be enough,” Teruel admitted, his expression showing his distress.

“And do the faces of those in other fleets haunt you? Or those who perished under your ministrations despite best efforts?” Vulkan asked.

“No, for even though I cannot help all my brothers, I can help those around me knowing that I am the best at what I do,” Teruel stated, the pride that Vulkan knew was there finally creeping into his voice and posture.

“Tell me then Teruel, will the faces of your brothers haunt you when they die because they survived initiation not because they were the strongest and most suited to become Space Marines, but because of luck?” Vulkan asked.

Teruel looked like he wanted to protest, to state the situation was different, but he found his own argument had turned against him like all bad arguments were wont to do. He nodded and said submissively, “If I am the best man for the duty, then I would be turning my back on my brothers to fail to shoulder the burden.”

Vulkan smiled and said, “Excellent. Take strength from that fact: you are the best man for the job. Others could do it, but none so well as you. When we return, tell your brothers with pride of your new duty, and what it means to the Legion.”

Teruel smiled and said, “I will my lord.”

“Good, because the second reason I bring you out here is one you can never breathe to another living soul until I say otherwise or I will hunt you down and throw you out the airlock of a ship in the middle of a Warp jump, even if I have to come back from the grave to do it. You cannot even think about this in the presence of the Emperor or one of his psykers, lest they snatch the thought from your mind,” Vulkan said, his whole demeanour transforming into something that could be best compared to a pyroclastic cloud ready to collapse; raw, apocalyptic violence ready to be unleashed.

Teruel gulped, clearly shaken by a request that could be considered treasonous under certain interpretations. Vulkan glared down at him, knowing that this would be the breaking point, the point where Teruel decided whether his loyalties were stronger to the Emperor or to the man who had just arrived a year ago and shaken his world upside down. Teruel then straightened his shoulders and said, “You would not act against the Emperor’s interests, and you would not ask this of me unless you thought I was the best man for the job.”

Vulkan nodded and said, “You are right. Now come, I need you to meet someone.”

The Warhawk settled into a hover a good ten metres above the ground, the rear hatch opening for Vulkan and Teruel to drop the remaining distance, their superhuman physiologies and armour casually absorbing the fall, the tall grass that was so dangerous to unprotected humans snapping and flattening beneath their immense, solid forms.

Nearby a tribe of nomads tried to keep their sauropods from growing too agitated by the presence of the flying machine and the armoured giants. Despite outward appearances, Vulkan could see the outlines of the numerous autoguns and even a few human sized bolters concealed amongst the traditional garb of such peoples. Despite the initially suspicious looks, a wave from a handsome, middle-aged woman in ornate robes riding at the front of a howdah saddled sauropod quickly disbanded their unease.

Approaching, Vulkan bowed his head respectfully and said, “Matron Uxoria, I thank you for your services these past years.”

The sturdy woman, unbowed by three Trials or the birth of many children, bowed her head in turn and said, “The honour has been all mine Lord Vulkan. My people have long been favoured targets of the raiders, and your campaigns have saved us enormous suffering and tragedy. It is the least we could do for you, and your orders to supply us with the weapons of the men from beyond the stars mean that we can never repay you your generosity.”

Vulkan waved the compliment aside and said, “You know my motives for arming you so were selfish, although I will of course not request the weapons back when your service finally comes to an end.”

Uxoria frowned and said, “I know from experience that your motives are the least selfish in the universe, and you dishonour yourself by saying otherwise.”

Vulkan hung his head in shame and said, “I know, but I feel so terrible for not being here, for not getting to see her in so long. I just don’t know how father will…”

“Daddy!” A young, female voice cried out, emerging from the howdah. Blessed with onyx skin and burning red eyes the girl could be no child other than Vulkan’s. Teruel gaped openly at something that should have been impossible, while Vulkan nearly had his heart implode with relief and grief.

“Thalia!” Vulkan roared, throwing his arms wide and the little girl literally leapt from the back of giant lizard to be caught adroitly by hands that could tear apart tanks. Bringing the happily giggling child close to his face, the size discrepancy between them was made apparent by the fact that Vulkan’s head was bigger than his daughter’s entire body.

Teruel finally managed to get out, “My lord, this is a miracle!”

“Indeed it is,” Uxoria replied, the look on her face indicating that she considered the miracle of a different order but same magnitude as Teruel.

“Why are you hiding this from the Emperor? Your daughter…” Teruel began.

“Is unique amongst all of my brothers,” Vulkan interrupted. The look of absolute bliss at holding his daughter warred with one of suspicion and distrust and he finally asked, “Do you not think it strange that men as powerful, intelligent, and charismatic as my brothers never sought out lovers? That despite the usefulness of such unions, they never even had wives of political convenience?”

Teruel floundered for a moment before he said, “They are Primarchs, the essence of Astartes distilled out.”

“Exactly,” Vulkan stated. “I don’t think father wanted us to reproduce. I think the sterilization of the marines after the implantation and maturation process is, as the ancient saying goes, ‘a feature, not a bug’. As such, I am not fully convinced the Emperor would not view my Thalia as a threat.”

“You cannot be certain of that my lord,” Teruel protested.

“No, I cannot. But neither can I be certain that he will view her the way I do,” Vulkan replied before sinking into his daughter’s embrace as she attempted and failed to get her arms around his head in a great hug. “I am still gathering information to make a decision. That is part of why I brought you here Teruel.”

“My lord?” Teruel asked.

“Thalia has inherited my features, and some of my incredible growth, both physical and mental, as she is only about fifteen months old. I need to know what else she inherited,” Vulkan stated gravely.

Teruel looked down at the Apothecary equipment he had on his armour at all times out of habit and nodded. He pulled out a medical auspex and said, “My lady, this will not hurt a bit, but I will need to come closer.”

Thalia looked down at Teruel from her vantage point on her father’s neck, and Teruel got a good look at her face and winced inside. An extensive network of fine scars crisscrossed her face. Thalia could see the look in Teruel’s eyes and cringed back slightly. Uxoria interrupted the moment when she said, “The girl does not like others noticing her scars. They remind her why her mother is alive and why her father cannot be with her.”

“I apologize, my lady,” Teruel replied.

Picking her up off her perch, Vulkan cradled her close around his chest and said, “Do not fear, Teruel will not hurt you, and the look in his eyes is rage at what the Eldar did to you.”

Tiny fingers traced the pattern of scars over her face, and Thalia whimpered, “I don’t remember mommy.”

“No, you don’t, and for that I will ensure that every last Eldar goes away, for both you and your mother. But don’t worry, Teruel here is… he is like your brother, in a way, and he would never hurt you,” Vulkan explained.

Teruel got a second shock when he realized that she was in fact like a sister in the relationship between them. He then nodded and said, “I just want to make sure my big sister is safe,” while holding up the auspex.

Thalia giggled and said, “I can’t be your big sister.”

A look of sadness flashed before Teruel’s eyes and he said, “You were our father’s daughter before I was his son.” He then looked down at the readings from the scan he had quickly performed and said, “My lord, I am detecting the presence of all twenty additional organs present in an Astartes.”

Vulkan frowned and asked, “Their condition?”

“I am detecting nothing that indicates gross malformation, but I would need a blood sample to run a more thorough test,” Teruel indicated.

Vulkan nodded and then looked down into the eyes that burned with his fire and said, “Thalia, your brother has to make a quick test, but this one will sting a little. Can you be a brave girl?”

Snuggling into the ceramite chest-piece of her father, Thalia nodded uncertainly and said, “Yes daddy.”

Pulling out the finest needle he had, which considering he normally worked on full grown male Astartes it was still intimidating in size for a little girl, Teruel held it carefully near Thalia and said, “I will need your hand, sister.”

Thalia looked up at Vulkan for several seconds, her lower lip quivering before he bravely held out her left hand. Teruel struck like a gentle serpent, drawing what he needed as quickly as he could without harming the tiny arm presented to him. Thalia recoiled in pain and fear, tears welling up in her eyes, but he was already done by then, the tiny amount of bright red blood in the phial of the syringe already being loaded into his scanner.

Gently stroking her dark hair, Vulkan said, “There Thalia, that wasn’t so bad. You’re so brave.”

The tears were held back by the bright smile at the praise from her father, and when Vulkan raised her back to his head she snuggled in closer than ever before. The moment however was interrupted by the Warhawk circling back around towards their position, moving in low. Vulkan sighed in utter defeat and despair and gently pried Thalia away from him. He said, “Thalia, it pains me more than you know, but there are still bad people out there who would hurt you like they hurt mommy. There are also good people too, and daddy has to help them, but that means I have to go now.”

Now Thalia burst out into wet, bawling tears and said, “No! No daddy, you need to stay! You just got here.”

“I know Thalia my sweet, I know. My hearts ache just to hold you, but for now I have to keep you hidden, keep you safe. You stay with Auntie Uxoria just a little while longer while I make sure no one can hurt you ever again,” Vulkan stated, even though his heart was clearly breaking.

“But daddy!” Thalia bawled.

“Be brave for me Thalia, be brave,” Vulkan said while steeling his heart and turning away to where the gun ship was preparing to land.

Teruel followed behind his forlorn lord and he saw the masks that he had never known were there until they had been removed slowly erect themselves once again. Vulkan looked down at the Apothecary and said, “Not a single breathe.”

“Never my lord,” Teruel replied with utmost certainty. He then asked, “My lord… my father… what happened?”

“Assassins. They found my tent with my lover, Fara, but not me. Seeing her swollen with child, they decided to send a message. Fara died relatively quickly, the blood vessels needing to be cut to spill her womb meaning that she bled out in less than a minute, but the sick monsters decided that since the child survived the impromptu surgery it would be best to leave her skinless, squirming body for me to find, to let me get one look at my daughter as a mangled lump of flesh just before she died. I got back to the tent just as they were starting on her face. I have never struck so fast in my life,” Vulkan explained, the hate flowing freely from his voice.

He paused in his speech for a long several seconds before he said, “On Nocturne, the bodies and possessions of the noble dead are cremated so that no scavenger might ever pick at them, the ground never staying still long enough to ensure their permanent burial. I have scattered Fara’s ashes to the wind, and it brings me comfort to think that she is now all around me in some way. As such, I am going to find a dead, airless world around a white dwarf, a world that will last until the end of time, so that I might turn it into a sepulchre world for the bones of the Eldar. I will not be satisfied until their perverse race is extinct.”

“I am with you in that my lord, my father,” Teruel agreed, his stomach churning at the monstrosity of what had been done to his liege. He then added on, “You must speak with the Emperor soon about this.”

“Yes… yes I must,” Vulkan replied.

“And if he too is a threat?” Teruel asked.

“Then the galaxy can burn,” Vulkan stated.

[CaptainChewbacca]

A female... astartes... twenty organs fully functional... the God Emperor of Man is a GRANDFATHER!

Its like you had sex with my brain and then punched my imagination in the throat. This has some fucking insane implications for future space marine chapters, not to mention human evolution. How do you come up with all of this?

Also:

They remind her why her mother is alive and why her father cannot be with her.”

I'm sure that should be 'is not alive'.

[bobnik]

Wait wait wait - twenty organs? The usual total in the fluff is nineteen. Someone wouldn't be cloning linker cores into the Legions, would they?