The Emperor's Last Command
The Emperor’s Last Command
The last Black Crusade had broken like a tidal wave upon the Imperium; Cadia lay in ruins, her armies butchered by uncaring hosts, the fleets of the Imperium savaged beyond repair, and try as they might the warriors of the Adeptus Astartes, the most powerful soldiers the Galaxy had ever known, could not stem the tide of daemons and Traitor Marines streaming towards Holy Terra.
While they could not defeat the Forces of Chaos, they could definitely bloody them.
The daemonette hissed as Captain Titus rammed his blade into its chest, splattering his armored gauntlets with black blood. The servant of Chaos tried desperately to free itself, but the Space Marine was having none of that. With his free hand Titus grabbed the abomination by the throat and with a roar pulled upwards, splitting the daemonette in half and showering the ground with blood before the daemonette dissolved into a cloud of Warp energy.
Titus charged, hitting the rest of the daemons with as much force and rage as he could muster. His blade flashed forward, severing limbs and heads as he pushed forward, heedless of the monsters’ attempts to slow him. Titus spun around, plunging the combat blade deep into the head of another daemonette while simultaneously stomping a second flat beneath the might of his power armor.
Another daemonette latched onto the Ultramarine Captain’s shoulders, clawing for his head. He dipped forward, using his massive bulk to fling the daemon off his shoulders, but before he could recover a second daemon threw itself at him. The weight of the daemons slowed him down, and soon three more were clawing at his armor, trying to get at the squishy human beneath.
Titus’ deliverance came when the largest of the daemonettes screamed as a blade bisected it. The daemons turned as a second Space Marine, this one clad in green armor and a cape of scales, slammed into the group. Seeing his opening, Titus killed the daemon currently pinning him while his savior dispatched the remaining daemons.
“You’ll need to shape up if you are going to survive as the new master of Macragge.” said Vulkan He’stan, Forgefather of the Salamanders. He offered a hand to Titus, pulling the Captain up from where he lay.
“Calgar has fallen?” Titus asked.
“And Sicarius, and Tigurius, well over half your Chapter. They died with honor, though, and at least Fateweaver’s armies will not arrive.” Little comfort, but it is better than nothing. Titus looked across the battlefield, his vision marred by smoke and piles of rubble.
“What of our forces here?”
“I am unsure, but I would say several thousand Guards, maybe about half their number in Marines." He'stan replied. "More are coming, but the heretics have cut off our supply by air and it will take some time before we can win it back. If you really want to continue, Titus, I suggest broadening your senses a bit more.” Titus rolled his eyes and replaced his combat blade with a bolter.
“This position is undefendable; we’ll have to pull back to the palace and reorganize. I’ll move forward and see what forces I can find.” He’stan nodded as Titus rushed forward. The shattered bodies of daemons and humans littered the ground, making it hard for even the Space Marine to run. Brief memories of the Graia campaign came to mind, wading through the bodies of orks and heretics alike being just as arduous as it was now. It had been worse during several missions in the Deathwatch, where Titus and the other chosen Marines tore through thousands of alien monstrosities before being cast through the Warp and spat out here. Titus pushed these memories out of his mind and ducked as a squad of corrupted Guardsmen fired, lasbolts and plasma impacting the ground behind him. He rolled forward and fired, the hypervelocity rounds tearing the heretics to bloody pieces. More heretics and daemons advanced, forcing Titus to take shelter behind a burned-out Leman Russ.
“Captain? Thank the Emperor you’re here.” Titus turned and saw three more Astartes, two Ultramarines and a Salamander, along with a small group of Cadian shock troopers.
“I suppose it’s Lord Macragge now, but that can wait." Titus said before reloading. "What happened to the rest of your squadron?”
“We were ambushed by a Heretic Sorcerer; our squad was torn apart before a Predator drove the daemons off.” the lead Ultramarine answered.
“I was separated from my unit by that last wave of daemonettes.” the Salamander said.
“And you?” Titus nodded to the Cadians.
“Our commander was cut down by mutants, my lord.” The nearest Cadian replied “We fell back, but nearly half our squad was lost.” Titus muttered a curse under his breath before poking around the side of the wreck to fire another burst, dropping several mutants.
“The heretics are pressing in. We are falling back to a more defendable position. My brothers will provide covering fire until you can reach the Imperial Palace.”
“Yes, my lord. May the Emperor protect you.” Titus nodded in thanks before leaping out from behind the ruined Leman Russ, followed by the other Marines. There was the scream of a melta firing and several daemons were vaporized, further depriving the Heretical Forces of a chance to attack Titus. He and the two Ultramarines fired, their bolters clattering away while the Salamander reduced another group of daemons to charred husks with his melta.
“Having trouble?” a voice crackled through Titus’ vox communicator.
“Kantor, thank the Emperor it’s you. Listen, I need support as soon as possible.”
“Tactical fallback is not working so well, is it?” Titus rolled his eyes again.
“It’s going fine, except for the part where I used myself as live bait.”
“Get used to it; that’s what we were created for.” the communication cut off before five frag missiles slammed into the pavement ahead, showering the daemons with shrapnel. Smaller bits bounced harmlessly off Titus’ armor, although dust and bits of shredded daemon made it difficult to see.
“We’ve done our job. Fall back to the Palace.” the other Space Marines nodded and began backtracking, their bolters and melta still spitting death into the horde of daemons. The daemons attempted another advance, but a second salvo of missiles, supported by autocannon and lascannon fire, drove them back long enough for Titus and the Astartes to escape.
In front of the Gates to the Imperial Palace was a veritable fortress; barricades of the highest quality had been constructed, sheltering scores of lascannons and heavy bolters from daemonic assault. Guardsmen of all types, ranging from Cadians to Valhallans, held their positions at the guns, pouring fire down into the plaza below. Supporting them were fragments of countless Space Marine Chapters, the mighty warriors helping to mend gaps in the Guardsmen’s lines and deal with larger foes. Titus spotted Space Wolves, Imperial Fists, Ultramarines, Salamanders, and several other Chapters he could not identify off the top of his head, all working in fluid motion to smite the foes of the Emperor.
Titus knew that this was only a small sector in the ring of steel that surrounded the Palace, but his training as an Astartes told him to avoid worrying about their status; other commanders and generals in those regions would be better suited for that, and he needed to remain focused on the immediate threat. He discarded his blood-stained combat blade, searching around for a chainsword among the various stacks of supplies.
“You survived, Titus. Consider yourself lucky,” Titus turned and saw Pedro Kantor, Chapter Master of the Crimson Fists, walking towards him. “Most of our brothers have fallen to our enemies.”
“They died fighting for the Imperium; we cannot ask for more than that.” Kantor nodded and led Titus into the fortifications, the two Astartes ignoring a blast from a heretic plasma cannon.
“We have enough ammunition to last us a week’s siege, but I can’t say the same for our numbers.” the Crimson Fist commander explained.
“When will the Titan legions arrive?”
“Two days, at most. You missed Shrike when he heard of the delay; he tore apart a heretic Rhino without his lightning claws, he was so enraged.”
“And he always says we’re the ones who are too ill tempered." Titus muttered. "Do we at least have any other forces en-route?”
“The Space Wolves and four regiments of Catachans are trying their best, but they were caught up by Traitor Marines in the nearest Hive City. The only real support are a few Baneblades, but they won’t arrive until tomorrow morning. I’d ask for you to try and contact the rest of your Chapter, but then there aren’t many warriors of Ultramar left on Terra, now are there?”
“Not enough if they promote me to Lord Macragge.” Titus sighed. “What of the Grey Knights, and didn’t Commander Dante say he would provide support?”
“The Blood Angels are trying to draw some of the heretics away from the Palace, but Dante is at the Eternity Gate." Kantor's voice became more annoyed as he continued. "The Grey Knights are holed up inside the Palace; they say they’re waiting to defend the Emperor, but personally I think Draigo’s waiting until we’ve broken the heretics before he makes his entrance and claims victory for himself.”
“Figures.” there was an explosion as a Chaos Predator was torn asunder by krak missiles. “If Draigo wants to play hero, let him; we have a war to win.”
“Agreed. I need you to locate what’s left of your Chapter and move to support the Guard. I will continue to provide heavy support and see if I can work out our coordination issues.”
“I understand.”
...
Deep within the caverns of the Imperial Palace lay the Golden Throne. Few creations could match the intricacy and splendor of the Throne, even though most Mechanicus adepts dreamed of such creations. Exact dimensions of the Throne were a closely guarded secret, but it dominated the massive throne room, and was adorned with as much Imperial icons and calligraphy as could be fitted. Before the Throne stood dozens of Adeptus Custodes, the golden clad bodyguards silent as battle raged outside and completely indifferent to the few Mechanicus Adepts and Grey Knights milling before the Throne.
And strapped inside, His head and torso exposed, was the Emperor Himself. Gone were the days of His majesty; all that remained was a dried husk of flesh and bone, shriveled and grey from thousands of years of undeath. His hair, once a deep raven black, was all but gone, the last few strands as white as bone. His teeth and nails had long since rotted away, and His eyes were milky white and crusted from lack of use. The only sign of life came from the beeping of the machines attached to the Throne and from a small line of drool running down His face.
“Has anything changed?” asked Kaldor Draigo, Supreme Grand Master of the Grey Knights.
“No, my lord.” The Mechanicus Attendant said, drifting away from the Throne and the Emperor.
“But the forces of Chaos are marching on us as we speak!” shrieked Draigo, grabbing the Attendant with his free hand. “He is supposed to wake from His slumber and slay the heretics! Why isn’t He doing so?”
“I am not one to doubt His Will, my lord.” The Attendant said “He has a plan for everything, and we are not worthy enough to judge His Plan.”
“Well, He shouldn’t be so secretive.” Draigo released the Attendant and began to pace across the floor in front of the throne. “Why are we just sitting here waiting? There has to be some way to-”
“It is not possible or ethical to attempt to speed up the Emperor’s awakening. Relax, my lord, He will awaken when He so wishes.”
“I wish you would stop interrupting me!”
“I am sorry, my lord.” The Attendant drifted off to another part of the room, leaving Draigo alone. He considered going to the Custodes for relief, but the silent sentinels did not even acknowledge he was there. He continued to pace before two more Grey Knights and some Guardsmen burst into the room.
“My lord,” the lead Guardsmen said before kneeling “We have heard rumors of daemonic forces attempting to infiltrate this room. We came here to see if it was true.”
“There are no daemons here... Although that pesky Attendant has been giving me some trouble.”
“Because you wish to wake the Emperor before His plan can be fulfilled.” The Attendant called.
“Silence. If I wanted your opinion I would have asked for it.” Draigo snapped.
“Funny, and I was told the Grey Knights were more open in the sight of the 'Emperor',” said a deep voice, dripping with malice and hatred. Draigo and the other humans in the room turned to see a hulking brute clad in warped Terminator Armor march out of the shadows surrounded by a score of Traitor Marines and lesser daemons. “It seems as though I was misinformed.” Before Draigo and the others could react, the intruder let out a roar and charged forward, the other Chaos spawn firing into the group. Draigo raised his weapon to attack, but the intruder swatted him away with a mighty blow, the Grand Master slamming against the wall and going limp. The Guardsmen returned fire, killing several daemons, but the Traitor Marines advanced and obliterated them. The last remaining Grey Knight fired several times at the Chaos leader, who responded by grabbing the Astartes by the head and twisting, severing the Knight’s torso from the rest of his body.
“Shame what passes for a lapdog of the Emperor these days.” Abaddon the Despoiler growled, tossing the corpse of his last victim away. The Traitors had little time to reorganize before the Custodes attacked, the golden clad sentinels advancing towards the heretical forces. Daemons and Traitor Marines roared and charged, slamming full on into the Custodes. The ringing of swords against Guardian Spears filled the throne room as Custodes and Abaddon’s forces clashed, the bodies of the dying making it hard for even the most battle hardened warriors to fight effectively. Abaddon tore through another Custodian, tossing the shredded corpse over his head before lunging into another group. Even with their training, the Custodes could not stand against Abaddon’s fury, and soon the Talon of Horus was coated red from the blood of the fallen. Satisfied, Abaddon turned to the Emperor, the Corpse God still unmoving upon His Throne.
“So, we finally meet face to face, False Emperor.” Abaddon spat at the base of the Throne before continuing. “Your defenses and armies have fallen, and the Lords of Chaos are ready to sweep the Galaxy clean. You have failed, ‘Emperor’, and while it would bring me great joy to allow you to live and watch your precious Imperium crumbled away, my masters feel that killing you will only speed up our victory. The armies of Man will be broken, and they will swear allegiance to their true masters.” Abaddon laughed, a deep sound that could chill the bones of even the hardiest Astartes.
“I hope this causes you as much pain as possible.” With another roar, Abaddon swung his mighty hand towards the Emperor, fully intending to take the Corpse God’s head off. But before his strike could connect, a yellow glow enveloped his hand and stopped it mere inches from the Emperor’s face.
“Do you honestly think I would leave myself defenseless?” a disembodied voice echoed throughout the room.
“What sorcery is this?” Abaddon roared, trying hard to pull his hand free of the glow.
“The exact schematics were lost during the Age of Strife," the voice explained. "I had to create it from scratch based on what I remembered of the era before. It was designed to catch projectiles and stop them from killing important leaders, but increase the power tenfold and it will stop near anything, unless I allow it through.” Abbadon growled in frustration as he tried to free his hand, but every time he struggled the field grew stronger.
“Release me, then present yourself so we may fight like true warriors!”
“‘True warriors’? You are no more true than a newborn Catachan who has just grasped their first knife.” the voice laughed. “As it stands, though, I have need of you.”
“What?”
“Well, I say you, but I really mean the Warp energy that has infused your being. Over the last few centuries I finally found a way to cure myself, so that I can finally walk amongst my people and lead them back into the light. However, the thousands of psykers sacrificed to me were not enough, their Warp presence being too weak and short-lived. You, on the other hand, have lived most of your life in the Warp; It has infused your entire being, molded you into the beast standing before me. Also, Draigo’s blood, while not optimum in the least, will be enough to remove the daemonic presence from your Warp energies and allow me to rebuild.”
“You... You bastard!” Abaddon swung with his free hand, but that too was enveloped in a yellow glow. He could only watch at the head of the Corpse Emperor turned towards him, leering all the way.
“My goal was to kill the Chaos Gods,” The Emperor said “And I have awoken to do just that.” A blinding light filled the room, engulfing Abaddon and the Emperor and causing the Traitor Marines and daemons to stagger back. Even the Custodes stopped their attack, taking the time to reorganize. The light continued to expand and glow brighter until a jet of warpflame shot from the center of the light, engulfing two of the Traitor Marines and vaporizing them before they even had a chance to cry out. The light faded, and all present in the room, daemonic or otherwise, could only stare in awe.
Gone was the corpse of a dying king. In its place stood a man, taller and broader than any mortal to have ever lived. Muscles rippled beneath a gold tunic, and His body was wrapped in a golden glow of Warp Energies. He gazed across the room, His eyes locating the daemonic hosts readying themselves for an attack.
The Traitor Marines fired, their daemonic- enhanced weapons clattering as the lesser daemons rushed forward, weapons raised. The Emperor raised His hand and a wall of Warp Energy surged outward, knocking the heretical forces to the ground. A ball of flame formed around His left hand as He advanced, the heretics trying in vain to stand and fight. He thrust His hand forward and launched the fireball, slaying a score of Traitors before assaulting the lesser daemons, warpflame and lightning arcing off His arms and destroying all that stood in His way. The Custodes rallied and charged, laying into the Traitors with bolter and Guardian Spear. The last survivor was a Traitor Marine, his legs and left arm mangled from a blast of warpflame.
“Y-Your defiance is in vain, False Emperor,” the Traitor said as the Emperor advanced “The Lords of Chaos will smite you and devour all that serve under your name.”
“They failed to kill me while I was entombed in the Throne, when I was weak and helpless,” The Emperor snarled, raising the Traitor up with His psychic powers “I doubt they will be able to slay me when I have regained my power. Now, taste my Wrath.” The Traitor squirmed before being engulfed in warpflame, his armor and flesh melting into liquid beneath the Emperor’s Fury. The Emperor released His victim and turned, singling out the terrified Attendant lying petrified on the ground.
“I-I am sorry for disturbing you, my lord.” the Attendant stammered. The Emperor walked towards the Attendant, the lesser human curling into a tight ball. “I-I only meant to serve you... Please, show mercy on your servant. I-I did not know the Ruinous Power were here... Please, do not purge me!”
“Be at ease, my son,” The Emperor knelt next to the Attendant, placing a hand against his head. “You performed your duty to the fullest, and I cannot ask for more than that. I foresaw the Ruinous Powers breaking in here to slay me; you were merely an unnecessary victim. Any sins you may have procured have been absolved.”
“Th-Thank you, my lord.” the attendant said as the Emperor helped him to his feet.
“Now, we must not waste time; the Ruinous Powers are advancing and my sons can only hold them for so long. The barrier between The Materium and The Immaterium has grown weak, and I must act upon it’s weakness. Fetch me my armor and weapons, then prepare yourself.”
“Y-yes my lord.” The Attendant scurried off, leaving the Emperor alone with His Custodes. For a moment He opened His soul to the Immaterium, feeling as the storms of the Warp lashed against His aura. It was nothing new to the Emperor, but finally stepping back into the physical realm... it was a feeling he would not soon forget.
He was interrupted by the sound of the Eternity Gate opening. The Emperor watched as a score of Astartes in blood red armor entered, led by a figure clad in golden armor and Jump Pack.
“Damn the traitors if they think they can slip past me!” Commander Dante growled, not yet noticing the Emperor standing before him. “They will suffer my wrath for daring to...” Dante stopped when he realized that not only were the Traitors dealt with, but the Emperor was standing before him, alive and well. Dante blinked twice before kneeling, his fellow Blood Angels joining him in reverence to the Emperor.
“Commander,” The Emperor said “Why do you worry?”
“I do not worry, my lord.”
“Don’t lie to me; I know full well that worry lays upon your soul.” Dante was silent for a moment before speaking.
“For many years I have served you, and I swore upon my life that I will defend both the Imperium and you. But now that the heretics have broken through to you, I know that my vigilance has failed me.” Dante lowered his head. “Do with me as you wish.” there was a pause before the Emperor spoke.
“Commander Dante, you have not failed me; the forces of Chaos had to attack me if I was to be able to revive myself. Your time will come, but I will not be the one to force you towards it.”
“Thank you my lord.” Dante nodded and rose, the Blood Angels joining him. There was the sound of machinery being pushed aside before the Mechanicus Adept returned, pulling several trolleys on which a suit of golden power armor and a master crafted sword rested.
“Now we must hurry,” the Emperor said, using the powers of the Warp to lift His armor. “The forces of Chaos are preparing to attack."
...
A lull had grasped this section of the battlefield, immersing everything in silence. On one side of the war zone, the Loyalist Guardsmen and Astartes dug in behind their fortifications, preparing themselves for the coming onslaught. On the other side, more powerful daemons stepped out of breaches in the Materium, bringing with them lesser daemons to replace the scores that had been butchered by the Loyalists. The daemons roared and shouted curses at the humans, hoping to intimidate them enough to break.
Titus was silent, taking the time to steady himself. He could hear commissars and officers speaking to their fellow Guardsmen, rallying them to the defense of the Imperial Palace. Vox communications had informed Titus that the heretics were attacking all along the line, driven by some force that the Loyalists could not fully understand.
If the Imperium is to die today, he thought. Then it shall be known that we died with honor. Sensing their foes building up their defiance, the daemons roared and charged, their weapons raised to reap the Loyalists before them.
The first weapons to fire were the lascannons and missile launchers; the heavy lasbolts easily passed through the bodies of lesser daemons and badly wounded several greater daemons, while frag missiles cut down many in a storm of shrapnel. The daemons charged on, heedless of loss, before running into a wall of heavy bolters and sniper rifles. Daemonic bodies exploded into black mist as heavy shells tore through flesh and bone, but only enraged the charging enemy.
Next came what few assault cannons the Loyalists had, the rapid-firing weapons shredding the first rank of daemons and tearing into the second rank. The daemons would have none of it, and a blast of warpflame washed over the barricade, roasting several gun crews and badly maiming a number of Guards and Astartes. To make matters worse, the flames wrapped around a large supply of bolter ammunition, superheating their charges and blasting a hole the size of a Dreadnought in the fortifications, the explosion showering the defenders with dust and the shattered remains of their comrades. Bolter fire from Traitor Marines tore into the defenders, shattering Guardsmen and Astartes alike, and the daemonic assault pressed forward.
Finally, the multitude of meltas, lasguns, plasma guns and bolters the Loyalists had on hand opened fire, their position becoming obscured by a cloud of light from hundreds of muzzle flashes. The daemons returned fire, their accuracy not hindered in the least, and on both sides casualties began to pile up, the corpses of the fallen bogging down the defenders and tripping up the attackers.
Titus ducked as a stream of bolter shells raced over his head. Behind him, he could hear the screams of Guardsmen torn asunder by the attackers, their flak jackets proving useless against the armor-piercing shells. Muttering yet another curse, he leveled his bolter and fired, daemons and heretics bursting as he sent shell after shell downrange. Lasbolts and shells exploded around Titus, showering the Astartes with dust and rubble and throwing off Titus’ aim slightly.
“We can’t hold out like this for much longer!” another Astartes shouted over the din.
“Tell me something I don’t already know.” Titus said, firing the last of his current clip of ammunition into a group of Plague Bearers, the bloated corpse daemons exploding into a shower of green ooze. “Contact Kantor and have him lay down more suppressing fire, then go back and bring some more troops to the front.”
“Yes Captain-” the Ultramarine’s head exploded as a bolt pierced his visor and detonated. The corpse staggered and collapsed, a river of blood collecting on the ground. Titus cursed and fired again, catching the Traitor Marine that had killed the Astartes and severing its legs from the rest of its body. Titus heard someone leap down next to him and saw He’stan, the Forgefather’s armor flecked with burns and scratches.
“I heard you were looking for more troops?” He’stan was soon joined by a squad of Salamanders, their meltas and flamers roasting the attacking daemons as they fired. “Before you ask, you left your vox on; you need to be more careful lest the Traitors can listen in.”
“Apologies.”
“Don’t apologize to me; I am not your commanding officer.” He’stan raised his bolt pistol and fired, killing another pair of Plague Bearers. “Besides, your section is the one with the heaviest concentration of daemons; it only makes sense I come and bring relief.”
“And I am thankful for that.” He’stan nodded and fired again, this time using The Gauntlet of the Forge. A jet of flame swept over the daemons and heretics, their flesh and armor cracking beneath the intense heat.
“Burn in the fires of absolution, hellspawn!” He’stan shouted, sweeping the Gauntlet across the daemon host once more. The daemons turned their fire towards He’stan, but the master crafted armor the Forgefather wore was more than enough to repel their fire. He’stan attacked once more, sending even more daemons screaming back to The Immaterium.
“If Draigo is waiting to play heroics,” Titus shouted, firing off another burst into the chest of an advancing daemon. “Now’s the perfect time to show up!” The daemon roared and raised his lash, preparing to slaughter the puny Astartes that dared to stand against it.
Before the daemon could strike, however, a blast of lightning struck it in the chest, knocking it back and causing the daemon to trip and crush a collection of daemonettes. As the daemon attempted to recover, its body exploded outward in a column of fire which consumed all nearby daemons and heretics. Titus and He’stan paused for a moment, unsure of what exactly had happened.
“I didn’t know we still had any psykers amongst our ranks.” Titus said.
“We don’t...” the two Space Marines turned and saw, standing at the door of the Imperial Palace, a man clad in golden armor. His entire body was wrapped in glowing Warp Energy, the power sword He carried flowing like fire. He raised His left hand and sent forth a blast of fire, vaporizing two squads of Traitor Marines in an instant.
“It... It’s Him.” Titus said, lowering his boltgun. “He has returned.” The Emperor stepped forward, followed by what remained of the Grey Knights, Custodes, and Dante’s Blood Angels.
“Sons of the Imperium!” He shouted, His voice carrying across the battlefield “I, your Emperor, have risen from the Golden Throne to smite the Forces of Chaos once and for all! You have fought well, and the daemonic hosts have fallen to your will! Now, rise up, my sons! Strike back at the daemons and drive them back to the Warp!” with that, He vanished in a flash of light, appearing again right in front of the Chaos hordes. His sword flashed with light as dozens of daemons were sent flying, their strength and armor useless against His Wrath. He’stan climbed over the barricade, raising the Spear of Vulkan high over his head.
“Forward, Sons of the Emperor! For the Imperium!” every human, Astartes or Guardsmen, let out a cheer before surging forward, the Astartes acting as a shield to protect the lightly armored Guardsmen. The forces of Humanity slammed into the heretics, daemons and mutants being cut down by the blades and fists of the Space Marines. In the center of it all stood the Emperor, His golden armor stained black from daemonic blood.
The Emperor’s attack were fluid, His blade moving faster than the mortal eye could track. Daemons and Traitors found themselves bisected before they had realized they were being attacked, their bodies being crushed beneath the boots of the Emperor. With His titanic might He tossed daemons and mutants aside, rendering them only smears against the ground. None withstood His Fury, and scores were cut down as He waded through the daemonic force.
There was a shimmer to His right, and as He turned a daemon prince stepped forward, the beast’s axe dripping with the blood of the Imperium's Warriors. The daemon raised his axe, sneering at the Emperor with jaws filled with teeth.
“Now is when you die, Anathema” the daemon rumbled. “Fear me, for I have butchered thousands of your soldiers on thousands of worlds.”
“Bold words,” the Emperor said, raising His own blade “But words with little meaning.” The daemon charged forward, swinging his axe in an arc towards the Emperor’s head. The Emperor blocked with His power sword, sparks flying as the two weapons collided. He slipped out from under His attacker and swung out, but the daemon parried and thrust forward, striking the Emperor in the chest with the blunt edge of the axe. The Emperor staggered back, but managed to block another strike from the daemon.
The Emperor struck again, aiming for the daemon’s head, but the beast blocked and countered, the axe missing the Emperor’s head by inches. The two locked blades, the daemon trying to force the Emperor back using his superior strength, while the Emperor’s armor made it nearly impossible for Him to be moved.
“You are weak, Anathema,” The daemon prince said. “Your subjects call you a god, yet here you are and you can barely overpower someone who is your equal.”
“You are not my equal.” The Emperor pulled His left hand free of His sword and grabbed the daemon’s face. Warpflame erupted around the Emperor’s hand, burning the daemon and causing it to stagger back. Seeing His opening, the Emperor rushed forward and swung low, His power sword slicing through the daemon’s leg with ease. As the daemon fell, the Emperor leapt up and landed on its back before plunging His sword deep into the daemon’s back, blood spilling over His gauntlet. The daemon hit the ground with a crash, the Emperor withdrawing His sword and leaping clear before impact.
“Forward, my sons! Cleanse the earth of the unclean!”
...
Fighting lasted until dawn; with the Emperor’s return, the forces of Chaos were put on the defensive. Up and down the line the daemonic host was assaulted by the Emperor and His army, and soon the ground was coated black and red from the blood of both humans and heretics. Fighting shifted away from the palace and to the hives of Terra, the Emperor’s forces fighting block by block against the heretics. The might of Chaos was finally broken when, as more and more daemons converged on the Emperor’s position, a force of Baneblades supported by Leman Russ battle tanks struck the rear of the Chaos army, throwing them into disarray and allowing the Emperor to slaughter them to a man. By the time the sun rose the next day, the forces of Chaos were in full retreat, sliding back into the Warp and headed towards the Eye of Terror.
The Emperor stood atop a ruined monastery, looking out across the shattered world that was Holy Terra. Mighty cathedrals and palaces lay in ruins, and cities that once held some of the greatest of Mankind were little more than piles of ash and rubble. The bodies of men, women and children lay in the streets, the sheer multitude of corpses blocking the ground from view. The shattered remains of Predators, Whirlwinds, Land Raiders, Baneblades, Basilisks, Chimeras and Thunderhawk Gunships dotted the landscape, smoke billowing from destroyed engines and breached hulls.
The War for the Materium is over, He thought. But the War for the Immaterium must still be won. He turned to the sound of boots crunching rubble and saw the remainder of His army, lead by He’stan, Kantor, Dante and Titus. The assembled soldiers kneeled, turning their gaze down to avoid staring directly at Him.
“Lord,” Titus said. “We have destroyed Your enemies and fought with courage in Your name. Now, command us as You would see fit.”
“Rise, my children.” The Emperor said, raising His hand. The soldiers of the Imperium rose as the Emperor continued to speak. “You have fought well, and you have saved the Imperium from destruction at the hands of the Ruinous Powers; your descendants shall remember this day and sing praises in your honor for as long as Humanity rules the stars.
“But, I shall not be amongst you... physically, at least.” there was a murmur of confusion among the assembled soldiers, some looking to one another for some kind of explanation.
“What do you mean, My Lord?” He'stan asked
“The Ruinous Powers are still at large, and they will continue to rebuild their forces until another assault can be launched." The Emperor said, looking out across the ruined battlefield. "It may take thousands of years, but it is time that I do not wish for you to be paranoid about. So, I will ascend into the Immaterium and battle the Chaos Gods myself, so that you may have a chance at a brighter future.”
“But Lord... Who will rule the Imperium?” Dante asked.
“Reform the Lords of Terra, with yourselves as its members. You fought to save the Imperium; it is only fitting that you be there to guide how it grows. This is my final command: that you rebuild the Imperium, free of the taint of Chaos. Go out through the Galaxy, and show the other races that Humanity will remain a bastion amongst the stars.”
“Yes, Lord.” the Emperor’s forces bowed once again. “As you command.” The Emperor nodded and turned back to the ruined landscape, arms outstretched.
“I call upon the powers of the Warp, for they are mine to command!” the Emperor cried out, glowing energy rippling down his arms. At first, nothing happened, a small breeze blowing through the land. Then, a column of light engulfed the Emperor, bathing all humans presence in an unearthly glow.
When it dissipated, the Emperor had vanished, with only a small light to mark His presence.
...
The Warp is incomprehensible to most beings; it has no end, yet it contains borders, time flows slowly, yet events are over in an instant. There is no up or down, but there is direction, no gravity, yet there is weight. The closest thing a mortal could compare the Warp to would be a sea being struck by a hurricane, and even that was nowhere near the whole truth.
Standing amongst the blackness is the Emperor, a shining light in an otherwise cruel land. The storms of the Warp lash against Him, but His Indomitable Will scatters the storms about. He stands, waiting, preparing Himself for the task at hand.
"You have come a long way to die, Anathema.” a deep voice rumbles from the blackness. The Emperor is alerted to four beings, beings of unimaginable power and malice.
“You know full well what shall happen today,” the Emperor says. “Your reign as the Masters of the Galaxy is over.”
“And you, a mere mortal, have come to deliver it?” a second voice wheezes from the void.
“Oh, I just love when mortals become overconfident,” says a third voice, younger and much more feminine. “It is so much more satisfying when they finally break.”
“You assaulted me throughout the time I was in the Throne; every assault failed.”
“And how do you know that wasn’t the intended plan?” the final voice says. "Perhaps we wanted to make you feel confident, to draw you in where we could crush you fully.”
“Your intimidation tactics won’t work on me, Tzeentch; one of your prophets informed me of what would transpire here, that I would face off against you and your ilk in fair combat.”
"Fair? Fair? You are but a child pretending to be a warrior; you know not of fair combat, especially against the true masters. Your skull shall make a fine addition to my throne, Anathema.”
“You are nothing but a brute, Khorne. I smote the finest of your warriors and spilled the blood of your princes, and none of them provided me with anything resembling a decent fight.” This draws a roar from the void.
“You dare mock me? I am Khorne, the God of Warriors and Bravery, the mightiest fighter to have ever traveled the Warp. My armies slaughtered millions before your pathetic race invented projectile weaponry! Each one of my followers is better than a legion of your underlings!”
“If they are so brave, how come they ran in terror as I went to challenge them?” there is a snigger from the third voice and a growl from the first. The fourth voice sighs and speaks again.
“Fate has already spoken; our armies will clash, and the Galaxy will be crushed.”
“Army? He has no army.” As if on cue, there is the sound of a thousand metal boots marching in unison. The Emperor turns as shapes march out of the void, bolters and chainswords drawn. Their armor is black as night, their eyes glowing like burning embers. Behind them marches a second army, this one more numerous than the first. They bear the markings of countless regiments and chapters, the fallen of both Space Marines and Guardsmen alike forming up behind Him. He turns His attention back to the voices, spotting a horde of daemons marching from the void.
“It matters not,” Nurgle wheezes. “You are outnumbered, and weaker than any one of us.”
“I may be outnumbered,” The Emperor raises His sword “But you are still outmatched.” He thrusts His sword forward and charges, the Legion of the Damned and the souls of Humanity’s fallen warriors following behind Him. The daemonic armies roar and charge as well, rushing forward in an unending wave stretching on for millions of miles.
The War for the Immaterium lasts for eternities, yet is over in seconds. Daemons and Legionnaires slam into each other with a force to crush planets, weapons spitting forward hellfire and screaming like tearing metal. Millions are erased from existence itself, their souls crying out in the Warp as if part of some otherworldly choir. Charges and sieges punctuate costly campaigns as the Emperor clashes with the forces of Chaos.
The first god to confront Him is Slaanesh, the youngest and least experienced in combat of the four. Her forces are spent as the Emperor marches toward her refuge, monuments to pleasure and sensuality burning as He advances. With a mighty kick the gates of Slaanesh fall, the Emperor’s forces pouring into the inner sanctums and slaughtering all that stand in their way.
The Emperor raises His sword, advancing towards Slaanesh. The Chaos Lord of Lust and Pleasure, usually formless and unidentifiable, has taken the form of a woman, fair skinned with deep violet eyes. She wears only a semi-transparent silk robe, tight against her body to reveal every single curve. She smiles at her foe, who ignores her charms as He advances towards her.
“So, I’m the first to deal with you?” Slaanesh says, a girlish giggle slipping past her lips. “I honestly feel honored by this. It will be fun to brag to Khorne that I was the one to bring you down.”
“Silence, witch.” The Emperor says. “Your corruption of men’s minds and wills shall end today.”
“Corruption? Me?” Slaanesh laughs. “I do not corrupt men. I release them, show them their true capacity for pleasure and feeling.” she walks forward, moving in such a way that would break the wills of lesser men. “But you wouldn’t know what that feels like, would you? You wrap yourself up in your armor and your regulations, cutting yourself off from the world around you.”
“My body is like a palace, my soul a temple. Nothing shall desecrate it.” Slaanesh laughs again.
“But what’s a good temple without a good keeper to make sure it is clean and well kept? I provide a way for men to revive themselves, to make them feel alive-”
“While you distract them from their tasks, turn them into depraved embarrassments to society, and consume their souls?”
“I never said my followers were intelligent.” Slaanesh reaches the Emperor and runs her hand down the side of His armor, tracing each icon as she goes. “But still, total freedom is what I offer. Freedom to do whatever you want, to please and entertain yourself. You wish your people to be free, and I can help with that. You can do... anything...” the Emperor notices that she has slowly opened her robe, exposing soft pink flesh. With a jerk, He shoves her back and plunges His sword deep into her chest. Slaanesh gasps in shock and pain as the Emperor lowers her to the ground.
“Beware the Seductress,” He growls, driving the sword deeper into the Chaos Lord’s chest. “She draws men away from their tasks and fills their minds with images of impurity and corruption. They become complacent, immoral, devoted only to their pleasures while their lives crumble around them. She says she does so for their gain, but she cares only for pleasing her body.” He leans in closer, glaring into Slaanesh’s face.
“Purge the Seductress from where she lies; burn her home and destroy her bed. Beat her and shame her, and cast her from your presence like the whore that she is. Only through purity of soul and body can true pleasure be achieved.” He stands and yanks His sword from her body, which shatters into millions of fragments as He advances.
Next to be met is Khorne, his massive fortress rising from the Warp. Daemons and beasts of all shapes and sizes charge towards the Emperor and His army, slaughtering dozens in their crazed attacks. Bolters, lasguns and heavy cannons fire, shredding the assaulting daemons and allowing the Emperor to advance. The Blood God stands at the base of his throne, a massive pile of bloodstained skulls both human and alien. No words are traded, no speeches given; the two raise their weapons and charge forward, their armies right at their heels.
The clash of Khorne and the Emperor is a brutal affair, with the Emperor’s speed and quick mind pitted against Khorne’s strength and stamina. Each blow from His sword is matched with a blow from Khorne’s axe, the two titans of battle never yielding. Warriors that are too slow to move out of the way are cut down or trampled beneath the feet of their leaders, and soon their struggle becomes the main focal point of the conflict.
“For thousands of years you mock me,” Khorne says, locking blades with the Emperor. “You create your pathetic Astartes as a mockery of my daemons, and you steal the souls that rightfully belong to me.”
“They were never your souls to take.” The Emperor says, breaking the lock and stepping back.
“Their blood was reaped, it seemed only fair I collect the rest.”
“Somehow I don’t believe that.”
“Believe what you will, Anathema.” Khorne roars and charges forward, knocking the Emperor back and relieving Him of His sword. The Blood God raises his axe for the final blow, but the Emperor fires a bolt of lightning and strikes Khorne in the chest, knocking the Chaos God back. The Emperor leaps for His sword and manages to grab it and block a swing from Khorne.
“Traitor! Coward!” The Blood God roars, swinging his axe wildly in an attempt to overwhelm the Emperor with a flurry of blows. “You dare to use sorcery against me? You fool, I shall tear your soul apart for the rest of eternity!”
“Did you say the same thing to Tzeentch when he first manipulated you? Or Slaanesh when she first charmed you into her bed?”
“I had nothing to do with that self-centered whore.”
“That’s not what some of my followers say.” Khorne surges forward again, screaming with fury, but he is so consumed in his rage and bloodlust that the Emperor is capable of dodging every strike with ease. Finally, deciding He has had enough, the Emperor side steps another charge and brings His sword down on Khorne’s back, the blade slicing through the Blood God and severing his legs from his body.
“Beware the Warmonger,” The Emperor says, pinning the dying Khorne with His foot. “He speaks of fire, but strikes like a newborn. He orders his followers forward to great slaughter and bathes in the blood of battle, caring not for who wins, only that there is conflicts to revel in. He cares not for cause, because he lives on bloodshed. He creates weapons and makes speeches, but on the battlefield he cackles and dances, never once lifting a blade against his enemy.
“Purge the warmonger with fire and with steel; turn his weapons against him and force him to wallow in his own blood. Rally not to his words, but take cause against him, for battle without cause cannot be won, and only duty and devotion can carry the day.” the Emperor raises His sword and with a mighty sweep removes Khorne’s head. He picks it up from where it lays and tosses it against the fallen god’s throne, splashing the skulls with fresh blood.
“Enjoy your place on your throne, Khorne.” the Emperor cleanses His blade and advances as the Fortress of the Blood God crumbles to dust.
Battle rages among the swamps and putrid sewers that support Nurgle’s domain, corpse-daemons rising from the muck to attack the intruders. The stench of filth and disease fills the air, choking many and slowing the assault. The Emperor attacks with the power of the Warp, lightning and fire burning daemonic foes. The daemons flee, driven from the field by His Wrath.
“Why do you oppose me, Anathema?” says Nurgle, the massive Chaos Lord not much more than a bloated sack of rotting organs, diseased flesh, and dying bones that towers over the Emperor. “I bring great gifts to the mortal realm, yet you come in here, slaughter my followers, and proclaim that I am evil.”
“Your disease destroys men’s souls as well as their bodies,” The Emperor says, pointing His sword at Nurgle’s head. “You slaughter billions just to see if your latest creation works, and you turn your followers into mindless husks that do not know reason.”
“They ask for it. I save them from pain, from having to suffer from wounds that would kill even the strongest of warriors. They no longer fear death, and thus can enjoy life.”
“I do not see living as a bloated corpse as life. And without death, we fall into complacency and boredom, causing us to become further depraved and unclean.”
“You do not have to lecture me on death,” Nurgle chuckles before continuing “I know full well the cycle of life, death, and decay; I helped to create it, after all. I shower my children with love and kindness, helping them grow strong and they love me for it.”
“But those that your diseases don’t kill, what of them? They despise you and curse your name, and they work hard to destroy your ‘gifts’ as fast as they can. Your children are the most hated beings in the universe, and your love for them is the cause. You drive them away from the Galaxy and constrict them within their own little worlds.”
“That is why I ask them to spread my love, to bring gifts to others.”
“And that is why I must destroy you.” the Emperor leaps for Nurgle, His sword blazing with light. Nurgle swings out with his hand, striking the Emperor with a wet punch. As the Emperor falls away, a cloud of noxious gasses rises from Nurgle’s body, blanketing the area in a green haze. The Emperor struggles back to His feet, channeling His powers for attack. Nurgle swings again, but the Emperor becomes wreathed in flame, Nurgle’s flesh sizzling once his attack connects. The flame expands outward, burning away the rot and disease and clearing the air as the Emperor strides forward, blade in hand.
“Beware the Plague Bearer,” The Emperor says as He blocks a strike from Nurgle. “His body may appear clean, but his mind is desecrated. He spreads and encourages disease and filth, draining the wills and bodies of those around him.” Nurgle pins the Emperor with a hand, but a swing from His sword removes the hand from the Chaos Lord’s body. “While others race to cure him, he devours their supplies and resources; he is a hungry beast, demanding more than what is needed to cleanse his body. As long as he stands, others shall fall into his ways.
“Purge the plague bearer, both in body and in mind,” the Emperor leaps again, stabbing His blade into Nurgle’s shoulder and hoisting Himself up. “Cut him off from society and cleanse his body with medicine and holy fire. Should others turn to his ways, burn out their heretical thoughts and scour their bodies of decay. Cleanse your world and your mind, and destroy those that would spread plagues and filth.” drawing from the Warp, the Emperor blasts Nurgle with a column of lightning, tearing the Chaos God apart in ragged chunks.
“I suppose my fall should be inevitable, Anathema.” Nurgle says, with no sign of hate or malice, before he sinks back into the swamp that was his home. The Emperor turns but instead of leaving to find Tzeentch, He goes deeper into the swamp, searching for a light in the darkness.
He finds that light in the form of an Eldar maiden, bound inside a closed-off area of Nurgle’s realm. Her body is covered in sores and scars, residue from many of Nurgle’s “gifts” to her, and her breathing is choppy from liquids collecting in her lungs. The Emperor steps forward, lowering His blade to calm the Eldar.
“Wh... Why have you come here, human?” Isha asks. “Your kind hates my people.”
“Chaos drove your people to becoming what it is now. With Slaanesh slain, they can change. You will help them.”
“You are an idealist; my kind is too arrogant to accept you, and yours is too fanatical to accept mine.”
“I never said it would be easy.” He raises His blade and swings, severing Isha’s bonds. The Eldar Goddess stands, turning to face the Emperor.
“May your blade be swift as you smite the Lords of Chaos, Emperor.”
“Go in peace, Isha; may you bring life back to a dying Galaxy.” Isha bows and disappears, leaving the Emperor alone once again. He brings forth His blade again, the remaining spectres of the Emperor’s army forming up behind Him.
Tzeentch’s realm stretches on, a mass of shifting pathways and mighty sorcerers. Warpflame and lightning rains down upon the forces of humanity, who responded with bolter fire and roaring blades. The Emperor blasts apart constructs with His powers, ripping through walls that should have been impenetrable, while His soldiers strike down all that stand in their path.
“So, you finally arrived,” The raven-like form of Tzeentch says. “A little behind schedule for my original plan, but then freeing the Eldar goddess was always an interesting factor to deal with.”
“Enough with your prophecies, Tzeentch. Once you are dead, the might of Chaos will be broken and the Materium shall be free.”
“So, you actually encourage stagnation? And you always struck me as the progressive type.”
“Advancing is good, as long as there is not a malevolent power behind every man’s step.”
“Without me, there is no change; everything would stop and your precious Imperium would stay the same as it always was. I saw what you were trying to do, and let me say that without me your plan to have your best troops rebuild will fail if I am not there.”
“Was there a realm where they succeeded without you?”
“... What?”
“All fates have an inverse, a chance of going wrong. Was there a realm where they succeeded.”
“You’re question is rather irrelevant. You are wasting your time, and I do not wish to deal with you-” Tzeentch is interrupted by a blast of warpflame from the Emperor. He disappears and reforms elsewhere in his maze, but the Emperor does not allow him to slip away that easily. Lightning arcs through the Immaterium, chasing the God of Change through his realm.
“ANSWER ME!” the Emperor roars, launching more of His power at Tzeentch.
“Fine, fine. Jeez, you’re worse than Khorne.”Tzeentch lands on a ruined building, leering down at the Emperor. “Yes, I did see a world where my death did not stop the Imperium from prospering. No, it still wasn’t a nice place, and no it did not change very rapidly, but yes, it was getting better. However the chances of you possibly causing that reality to happen-”
“Your words alone make it so.” the Emperor launches a psychic blast at Tzeentch, the Chaos God parrying with his own strike. Lightning collects around Tzeentch’s hands before he thrusts them forward, a column of energy striking the Emperor in the chest and knocking Him down. The Emperor pulls Himself back up, but Tzeentch pounces on Him, the two beings striking each other with as much force as they can muster. Tzeentch hurls the Emperor against a wall, the masonry crumbling as His armored form struck it.
“This is real change, Emperor!” Tzeentch yells, circling his opponent as the Emperor recovers. “How long has it been since you first felt pain such as this? Since Horus tore you apart piece by piece? Your arrogance has cost you victory, and now your Imperium dies with you.” Tzeentch leaps towards the Emperor, but He slams His fist into the Chaos Lord and pins him to the ground.
“My arrogance died the day I blasted Horus into the Warp. It is your faith in what you see as the truth that has blinded you, for what are paths if there is no way to deviate from them.” The Emperor’s hand begins to glow, causing Tzeentch to struggle.
“Beware the Silent Manipulator. He hides in alleys and dark rooms, waiting for unsuspecting victims to stroll into his trap. He fills their heads with lies and points them down the path he designates. He sets them on rails to their doom, and when they try to fight back he wails and diverts them down another path until they have become lost inside a web of half-truths.
“Destroy the manipulator above all else; throw his plans in his face and refuse his offerings. Seek out trust and honesty, and consecrate yourself so you are not pulled in by soft words. Be truthful to those around you, and to yourself, for within the heart of every man lies the ability to judge the gods.” The Emperor’s hand is engulfed in flame, setting Tzeentch ablaze. The Chaos God screams and withers beneath His grasp, but is unable to break free. He burns, feathers and flesh melting under the intense heat, leaving only a charred skeleton pinned beneath the Emperor’s fist.
“Embrace the change of your death, Tzeentch.” The Emperor stands as Tzeentch’s lair collapses. With no gods to rule them, the remaining Daemons scatter to the farthest reaches of the Warp, many dying of psychic backlash from their masters dying. Mighty storms break through the Warp, consuming everything and sending the Legion of the Damned swirling off into the unknown.
It is one of these storms that the Emperor allows Himself to be claimed by. He disappears, His being flying through the Warp like a leaf on the wind. Through reality He flies, carted away to realms untouched by Chaos, untouched by anything that reached His home Galaxy.
The Warp is in disarray, and a new ruler steps forward.
...
Igneous rock was the only thing to stop the Emperor’s fall. He tumbled head over heels until crashing into a cooled lava flow, shattering the rocks and scattering them to the wind. He groaned and pulled Himself up, shaking His body to remove any remaining fragments.
“The Warp is finished,” He said “But I expected it to take me instead of leaving me... somewhere.” He looked up at the sky, seeing only smoke and the stars beyond them. In the distance, volcanoes spewed out magma and ash, choking the landscape under a blanket of suffocating toxins.
“This world is young... very young. Tzeentch probably planned to cast me here in the event of his defeat.” He sighed, raising a hoof to His head “Perhaps I should find a way to re-enter the Warp and make sure that he’s fully-”
Wait, hoof?
The Emperor pulled back. Sure enough, where His right hand should have been was now a snowy white hoof. He blinked, waving the hoof in front of His face to make sure He was actually seeing the truth. He turned His head and gasped.
Four legs ending in hooves. A slender frame. Eagle’s wings. A tail and mane comprised of three colors, all moving in some unseen wind. A stylized sun on each rear flank.
“I... I am a Xenos?” The Emperor asked before placing a hoof against His throat. His voice had raised several octaves, and was now much more bell-like and regal rather than harsh and commanding. “A female xenos?!” For whatever reason, His eyes drifted to the top of His head and saw a horn protruding from His skull.
“WHAT THE FRAK HAPPENED TO ME?!”
Stats
Page generated in 0.031 seconds
Total duration
793 users online
647,266 hits today, 2,244,100 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
Celestia is the god empress? HERESY
(keep it coming or the commissars will get you)
The fighting segments were delicious. I've played Warhammer 40K games for awhile, and you seemed to hit them pretty well.
Also, the end. Perfect.
So, so perfect.
Where custodes? Usually Dark gods call him Аnathema.
That was freaking awesome man. There weren't any real fluff errors that I could see so you should be good on that front. Keep up the good work. I can't wait to see what happens next.
You did very well on the battle scenes, and I did not see any fluff errors, but then again 40k fluff is so freaking varied its like chaos itself.
Wait wait wait,so this is a Warhammer 40k/Ponies fic?
Funny,since Celestia's voice actress voiced Farseer.
Definitely checking this.
Man, this made my day; I have played 40 for years and I have read some BL books; and I can say that this is once of the best 40k stories which I have seen. Good work!.
the return of the emperor actually seem plausible. if you know GW get the plot moving.
also when he was fighting the chaos gods?
manly tears T.T
Wonderful!!!!
I want more, please!!!
The God Emperor of Mankind entered into the unimaginable currents of the Immaterium, and fought the Ultimate Battle against the Ruinous Forces of the Dark Gods. The fight was long and terrible, but in the end, the False Gods of the Warp laid eviscerated by his Holy Wrath, their forces left crushed and scattered all over the Immaterium. The Emperor looked at the battlefiled, where His enemies lain by the billions, and smiled, for Mankind now was forever free from the taint of Chaos.
And then... he created a race of magical, talking Equines, and saw it was good.
Excellent job, by the way!
Damn
Oke that was....there is now word in the human dictionary to describe the epicness in this one.
Let me form it another way:
"I used to wonder what epicness could be,
then you shared this fimfic with me!"
1591746 My mind imploded into a warpstorm the moment I realised this.
I wonder if there will be some some references or cameos in the next Nightmare Night episode.
I for my part would wote for that.
this was so awesome
"...your soldiers on thousands of worlds."
"Your words are bold."
Haha, I see what you did there
1592118
I think he means the Titus from the Space marine game, but in all reality the Ultra-smurfs are terrible anyway so as long as Ragnar Blackmane is still alive we're all good.
Oh and well done, you managed to actually advance the plot of the 40K universe, something GW has never done. Love where this is going.
1592255
I never knew that Space marine took place before black reach. Thanks for that.
Also, lets just bring in an angry marine and watch as all of chaos collectivly wets itself.
1592281
Death company are all well and good, but just seem to be massive emos anyway, mostly like the rest of that chapter.
Any way, at least we can be thankful that marneus calgar died. I wonder if the Primarchs came back and were killed again?
1592301
Fair enough, I guessed that probs happened, maybe this isn't the end of time yet though, maybe there will be a bigger battle later on.
I wonder if the new Imperium will be as backwards and stupid as the old one. Hopefully the Codex astartes get ripped up though.
This carries the approval of a veteran of the Imperial Fists, as well as the will of the Emperor that it continue. May He always grant your ideas merit.
1592317
I'd say it would be better now, you know with the Emperor known to be alive and Chaos dead, no more Annoying exterminatuses because someone on a planet coughed and then a fly appeared.
1592327
I think he's dead. Titus said something about not having any psykers left, so unless he was off planet and not helping he is most probably dead. I can see where your coming from with the mechanicus still being scared of any technology they see though.
1592352
Or dead, or Heretics. Probably just late though.
1592362
Well the rest fthe origional legions are probably on Terra, you know, in the epic battle to defend the IMPERIUM not just their own planet. I'm operating in the assumption that any 1st founding chapter not mention is dead. Thats my opinion and I'm sticking to it. iambrony.jsmart.web.id/mlp/gif/4572.tumblr_lrocgkLILx1qfgjtno1_500.gif
I guess the battle scenes in the warp could have been a bit more outlandish to enforce the strangeness of the warp.
But other than that it was awesome especially the monolouges the Emprah delivers while smiting the four.
1592118
Space marines, if not killed in battle, are practically immortal so its entirely possible for Titus to be there if all other Smurfs fell in the defence of Macragge and Terra.
And i agree that there is a distubring lack of Blood Angels!
The Legion of the damned do number only about 200 marines or less who are dying as they fight because they are afflictet with some strange disease that drove them insane and they only fight the foes of the imperium because their loyalty to it is stronger than any kind of insanity.
I guess those warriors that fought at the Emprahs side against the four where the souls of everyone that died in service to him, and not the Legion of the Damned Marines, kinda like how the dead that reside in Valhalla ride at the side of their gods into the battle of Ragnaröck.
1592118 Well, as for the legion being only 200-300... the Warp's weird that way
For estimated casualties, I'd say at least half of the Space Marine Chapters were either severely reduced in strength or completely obliterated... And I completely forgot about the Blood Angels when writing this
1591941
Nicely put
It think this will work just as well, "Ye He walks through walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, He fears no evil, for He is the Baddest mother in the valley."
Epic battle, epic introduction, and the ending... one hell of a surprise.
1592620 the ending and the fight with Slaanesh were actually the first things to come to mind when I wrote this chapter; everything else kind of came to me as I wrote
Yep! Something tells me that the Chaos Gods had one last joke prepared for the GEoM. Win or lose, he was going to have to get used to a very, very different form of life!
I'm not really very familiar with WH40K, except through fan-fiction and through my uncle, who played it in the early 90s. That said, I think you got down the slightly crazy merging of technology, near-medieval religious imagery and hostile extraterrestrials who actually were demons from hell pretty well. I wonder if freeing the Eldar's goddess from her slavery might lead to peace between Humanity and the Eldar. I think that the GEoM knew that wasn't his concern - his prophesied time had come and it was up to his people to decide their future in the new universe free of Chaos.
Oh... and there's a chaos god on this new planet. GEoM... or Celestia as you are now now... may I introduce you to Discord? I'm genuinely surprised she didn't eviscerate the monster; I can only assume that he is so much more powerful that killing him on a physical level is nearly-impossible. Maybe he really is actually an aspect of creation rather than a immaterial alien whose power is so great that he could be considered a god...
Then again, I can see, post RoH Part 2, Celestia prowling about his statue and privately promising that, next time, there will be no further reprieves. I can also see the wedding invasion being a lot more vicious. Poor Chrysalis can't understand why Celestia keeps on calling her 'daemon'.
I quite enjoyed the Nurgle and Emperor banter
But now kneel before Celestia, heretics! God-Empress of Ponykind!!
1593300 She won't be meeting Discord for a long time... and, well, it's kind of boring being stuck on a planet with no one to talk to
Not bad wished you would have mention dante, mephiston, the iron hands, or any of the primarchs but glad you gave the legion a cameo
I imagine the voice of Peter Cullen (Optimus Prime) whenever the Emperor talks.
The only real errors I saw were your missing a lot of text coloring such as when the Emperor speaks being black instead of gold. And you using you're (you are) instead of your (possessive).
1593757 That's why I hate formatting on this website. These errors will be found and cleansed
Just me presuming here, I think you are confusing Terminator Armor (The armor the Emperor and Failbaddon wore) with Dreadnoughts (Life support gurneys on steroids).
Just for reference:images.wikia.com/warhammer40k/images/8/82/Custodes_terminators.jpg This is Terminator armor.
images.wikia.com/warhammer40k/images/b/bc/SiegeDreadnoughtRaptors.jpg This is a Dreadnought.
I don't want to sound like an asshole or anything, just want to educate a little (If you already didn't know the difference already).
1594012 Terminator Armor is called Tactical Dreadnought Armor in the Space Marine Codex
1594018
Ah, well, my memory of the Codex has failed me then.
Back to the Warp with me then.
That happens for not letting Tzeench finish.
Correct me if I'm wrong, but wouldn't the psychic backlash from the death of the Dark Gods and the collapse of the Immaterium wipe out most, if not all sentient life forms in the Materium, and potentially even destroy the Materium? Wouldn't that make the Emperor's efforts to rid the universe of chaos pointless, seeing as he would also destroy said universe?
1594136... probably
but who's to say Tzeentch didn't have a backup plan if/when the Emperor killed him and the others?
The Dark rating on this is HERETICAL!!
There is no darkness in the Emperor's Light!!
“We fell back, but nearly half our squad was lost.”
Rules check! Yep, only nearly half, so they are not broken and make a regroup check.
The first chapter was much better written, probably because your action sequences could use some work. And then there's the 'oh i think i'll just go travel to the warp now, lalala,' which feels a little too 'its just so'. There needed to be more clever thinking here - some way in which the traitor/demon plans were subverted to permit the emperor access to the chaos gods. (Make him a chessmaster, it'd be fun). Possibly instead of having him join the frontlines, whatever the traitors plan to do to him instead opens the way for him, and when he defeats the chaos gods in the warp it destroys the demons on Terra and lets the Imperial forces rally to victory. And then they go to check on the emperor and find the throne empty.
But have a like and a favorite. The premise is... solid isn't the right word... sufficiently cracked to be awesome.
1596399 True, but let's not forget that Tzeentch often makes plans that actually contradict or otherwise interfere with each other, so who knows what may happen.
Kinda sad Tzeentch's last words weren't "CREEEEEEEEED!"
I can live with the fluff errors, mainly because the authors mangle the canon too. But the actual fluff is that the imperium fails. Yeah, it dies... Also the m,opre you physically fight chaos the more powerful it grows, killing khorne would just bring him back the moment anyone felt angry again, the same with tzeentch.
The general premise is that chaos will endure forever as long as humanity exists, that's why the Alpha Legion sided with chaos, in the book Legion, Horus was prophecied to have felt mind-shatteringly horrible about killing the emperor and end up destroying all of humanity, destroying the very emotional race would deny the chaos gods form their emotions, which is what the warp actually is, it's mostly the emotions of the dominant race. So the Alpha Legion knew the only way to save the galaxy was to destroy humanity to the last. The very essence of chaos is conflict as well as the absence of conflict. if you get sick you aid nurgle, you also aid nurgle if you help an injured animal, or give someone medical treatment, as it's being kind, which is his domain. if you feel hopeful or happy, you aid tzeentch, if any blood is shed (yes, even khorne's) you aid him and he becomes more powerful, he also becomes more powerful when you spare the weak and protect the innocent and fight honorably. (which is actually one of khorne's major commandmnets, it bugs me when peopel only think he's 'killkillkill' especially when black library authors trample their own fluff.) if you even love anything, slaanesh is aided. The Eldar have banned themselves form having any emotions because it aids the chaos gods.
Even so, I like the story.
edit: I really hate the lack of spellcheck here, it makes me seem like a literary buffoon.
The entire chapter was a gigundo lead-in to the one thing that could humble the Emperor: Being turned into a Pretty Pony Princess. Well played, sir, well played.
Could use a copyedit - lots of it's/you're errors and some grammatical issues (how is killing the Emperor a way of speeding up "your" victory? One would think a Chaos speaker would say it would speed up "our" victory).
Sounds about right.
I did not see anything that leapt out at me in terms of errors.
The Emperor's bodyguards are the Adeptus Custodes they let no one see the Emperor (Not even the high lords of Terra) and tend to him themselves. They are bad-ass proto-marines that are stronger than regular marines.
Without the emperor on the golden throne (AKA a working golden throne) Human's no longer have faster than light travel through the warp as the Astronomicon (The warp beacon of the throne.) is no longer present for navigation.
Also you did not touch on the fallen Primarchs who became demons such as Magnus and Angron.
But as you say you are new to 40k fluff and you have an interesting story premise.
Hey. Hey author guess what.
"'Destroy the manipulator above all else; throw his plans in his face and refuse his offerings. Seek out trust and honesty, and consecrate yourself so you are not pulled in by soft words. Be truthful to those around you, and to yourself, for within the heart of every man lies the ability to judge the gods.'"
That isn't gold/yellow. You missed something there.