[center][b][h1]The Invasion of Kush[/h1][/b][/center]
[center]-Delta Nilus-[/center]
[center]-Two Hours Before The Invasion of Memphos-[/center]
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The hazy, purple horizon of the sky met the crested tops of rising dunes south of the Delta Nihlus. Arid winds blasted grains of coarse, rough sand against the odd limestone chunk sticking out of the ground. Bare of vegetation, the bone dry wasteland stretched out for untold thousands of miles. Broken, fragmented structures from ancient, untold eras dotted the landscape in its vast expanse. Crumbling stone patched by old, rusted metal lay in decay throughout the whispering waste. Brittle, broken bones of inhabitants past stood buried where blasted sand met decaying building. Far beyond these ruins stood the real dwellers of the desert in Cyclopean constructs built high into the sky. Dommed temples of sky-touched stone, risen walls of torched metal, and strange sculptures of half-man-half-mammal creatures halted the arid gales of the Achamenidian desert.

These sights in the midst of darkness were what greeted a pair of large, armored humanoids that crested the dunes overlooking the Gyptian structures. One behemoth wore a cylindrical helmet in the style of Old Terran feudal culture, their body wrapped by bulking plate plainly decorated save for the alabaster pelt serving as a cloak. The other was easily as bulky, albeit devoid of a helmet and bearing a pair of blinking, oblong telescopes. Both kneeled into the arid hill with their attention drawn to the fixed structures heaving out of the sands.

Caravans of smoking vehicles, either drawn by pack animal or driven by archaic technology, traveled into and out of the scorched walls set before them. An array of glow-globes, torches, and luminescent lights arranged themselves around the caravaneers. Silhouettes bedecked in ornate, thin plating guarded the pack in small groups of twenty. Each held a long, shadowy piece of equipment in one hand and an illuminating device in the other. Amongst their number strode mammothine juggernauts in daunting warplate, black exhaust streaking from ramshackle engines attached to their backs. Threateningly enormous shapes were cautiously held in both of their hands, either ending in barrel or blade.

Each of the small groups arrayed around the vehicles moved in a frantic panic, desperately sprinting out into the desert or  jogging into the safe gates of the Gyptian citadel. Dark sentinels stood vigil over the returning caravans, their hulking warplates actively moving between the metallic gate and the tall forms of automated turrets on the limestone ramparts. Smaller, scrawnier forms skittered within the walls as impromptu laborers moving in a similarly urgent manner. The crack of whips and screams filled the air as easily as the roar of the 
traveling, lumbering engines. 

The unhelmeted individual lowered the oblong device and turned to the other.

“The Sigilite’s intelligence appears to be spot-on. The temple-city of Kush is the supply center for the southern Nilus region. Seems like the shipping lanes are working overtime to deliver last minute supplies to Memphos, Alexandrios, and Cairos.” The speaker’s voice was rough, more spackled with coarse sand than the very desert they stood in. His voice resonated, but only part of his lips moved due to excessive facial scarring. His skin was similar in texture to his voice, patchy leather worn beyond years.

“As I’d expect from the Emperor’s protege. Caestus, send out a vox-call to the other Legions situated further along the Nilus, Kush will be handled by the First and we will drag Dynast-King Ammahlud from his throne.” The other’s voice was spoken as if drawn from a lion’s maw, a courageous growl filtered through the unusually archaic helmet. The warrior pulled himself up from his knelt position and turned away from the temple-city sprawled out before him. His attention shifted to those waiting behind the dunes. No fewer than fifty warriors garbed similarly to himself knelt into the sands, the lenses of their helmets gazing up at him.

“Understood, Primarch Aeternus. I’ll fill in Lord Aristagorus and Lady Amalasuntha on the situation in Kush as well. I certainly hope that the Black Hawk feels inclined to follow our assault plan today.” The first speaker, Captain Caestus, chortled before motioning a nearby warrior to unholster their bulky voxcaster. “I still feel like we should’ve let the Achaemnidian foot soldiers deal with the initial assault.”

“They would act upon the ancient Gyptian-Achaemnid rivalry sparked between them. Their warriors would only serve to get in our way, same as those of the Eagle when we conquered the Himalazians.” Aeternus responded, gesturing to the rest of the bulky warriors to gather closely around him.

Each of his warriors were the same, hulking size as him with equal amounts of loudly humming wargear strapped to their body. Some carried oversized lasrifles, others heavy boltslingers, and even more stored savage melee weapons of wildly different categories along their armor. Many of their number held cocksure smiles plastered across their lips. Fewer bit their lips to hold back their bloodlust. Aeternus saw all of them. From their tiny, excited movements to their eager weapon fiddling. Each one he had named himself for in a way they were like his own blood. The noisy rumbling of the voxcasting box nearby honed his thoughts as the gathered throng awaited his word.

“The Gyptians think they can defy the noble cause sought by our Master, but His conquest is a goal beyond their understanding. We have fought the tribes of the Eagle and the Dragon. We have suppressed the Steppe Lords of Northern Indoi. We have dragged the Mountain Kings of Akkad from their holes. Each doubted the power of the Emperor’s thunder warriors, and each time they fell upon our blades.”

They stirred like animals, some beginning to flex their hands over their weapons and others starting to bray behind the rising sands. Aeternus could feel their anticipation as keenly as any of their number, yet it still disappointed him beyond measure to see warriors of their kind inviting savagery upon themselves. He was, however, alone in that thought as his warriors ecstatically glanced between each other. Their purpose was war, nothing else.

“Lady Black Hawk has confirmed that her side of the Legion is prepared for a frontal assault. Lord Aristagorus has stated on a force-wide encrypted vox transmission that the invasion of Memphos is imminent - willed none other than by the Emperor.” The captain spoke, returning with a disfigured smile blessing his scarred face. His soft, heterochromic eyes fell on Aeternus as the thunder warriors began to rile themselves up from a short speech. “Seems we’re ready to fight. Damned shame we can’t join the frontal assault, you know how much I love ‘em.”

“In your old age you’d likely be felled by their champions. No, I’d prefer you join me in a tactical strike. We are the God-Slayers. We do not settle for less than surgical assaults on enemy command. Otherwise, we would be more like the Iron Gorgons or the Nightbringers.” Aeternus shook his head in feigned disinterest at Caestus’ comment, then returning his attention to the temple-city in the distance.

“God-Slayers. Heed me. Kush hides itself within a valley, protected by wall and sand. Lady Black Hawk will see to it that her vaunted skills are put to good use. We have a different objective. Scale the valley wall and drop into the temple-city. Let none who oppose our Imperium survive, slaughter their commanders and spare the feeble.” Aeternus’ voice boomed, echoing the command as a lion roaring to his pack. The yellow fists of ramshackle, powered plating met sand as the warriors readied themselves for slaughter. Weapons were reloaded and primed, plating was pounded for assurance, and helmets were readjusted for the coming fight.

Aeternus felt their excitement. A plethora of combat cocktails augmented deeply throughout his body had already begun to pour into him. Automatically, his black gauntlet reached behind him and drew the large blade sheathed to his back. A titanic slab of dark metal fashioned into great blades of yore. He wielded it effortlessly in one hand, running a thumb over the activation rune that ignited a jet of searing plasma along its edge. Other weapons, motorized or powered, thrummed to life amongst their number as the hour of slaughter fell closer.

The warlord of the First Legion smiled, not for wanton slaughter but for the future pride of succeeding another campaign in the Emperor’s name.
[hr]
[center][b]-During the Invasion of Memphos-[/b][/center]

Amethyst sky had given way to the brilliant, orange haze of day, smothered only by the incessant smog that perpetually polluted Terra’s atmosphere. The Delta Nilus burned, billowing smoke rising from several temple-cities and outlier scrap-towns loyal to Gyptus. The Raptor readily flew in locations decimated by the Emperor’s legion of yellow-coated super-soldiers. Others remained barren from the focused extermination sought out by the Emperor’s arbitrary heralds.

The valley that Kush nestled into was ablaze with the throng of war. Where once a river of caravans ushered in fresh trade between the temple-city and the rest of Gyptus now stood an alleyway of death and despair. Chunks of metal, meat, and stone scattered along either valleyside as a tide of yellow advanced upon the limestone ramparts. Streaks of bright red flashed down from the top of the walls, vomited forth from unwieldy weapons in the hands of feverish enemies. Rock exploded in great fragments as missiles screamed from bulky rocket tubes.

Gyptian soldiers garbed in strange masks and thin, ornate armor looked on in despair as juggernauts in yellow warplate descended upon their shattered ramparts. Screams of terror and pain pierced the air as the Raptor’s hulks slaughtered the defenders wholesale with lasrifle and motorized blade. The stationary turrets that had hindered their advance were quickly silenced by a flying, golden individual that joined the massacre of the temple-city’s defenses. Slaves scattered or fell to their knees in terror as the invasion breached the first walls into the city. Their masters, either dissolved into pink mist or humbled by lethal blows, had left them to die in the slaughter.

As the first gate fell, the yellow horde drove through the shattered limestone into the next layer of the temple-city. The warriors of the Raptor congregated just beyond the broken remains of the rampart, heralded by one of their number wielding a pair of deadly, motorized axes. With one weapon, he gestured it towards a hulking individual with a voxcaster on their back. With the other weapon, he gestured it at the second wall leading further into the temple-city.

“Bring me a vox.” The warrior stated before his attention fell upon the fleeing forces of the Kushian defenders. “You have but one choice in this situation, Kushites! Deliver the head of your lord, or suffer the consequences for disobeying your rightful Emperor!”

His voice was a savage bark delivered from the maw of a helmet formed into the shape of a snarling canid, his axing revving in response to his outburst of emotion. The yellow warplate that hummed on his person was bedecked in Himalazian furs and engraved with the streaking lightning of the Raptor’s legions. The warrior that he had gestured to earlier delivered a hefty, metallic box with a wide antenna. The raised axe fell to his side, signaling the fighting to begin again as he lowered himself to the voxcaster. Oversized boltslingers vomited huge slugs of explosive bolts into the edifice of the second bulwark while lasrifles scorched pinholes into the limestone walls.

+’Primarch. The initial layer has been breached. The Black Hawk has begun her hunt. The second layer will be breached in the next moment. The slaughter continues.’+ He spoke briefly, matter of fact and without interest. The anticipation to continue fighting forced him to fiddle with the activation runes on his motorized axes. Others within his cohort wouldn’t have been able to muster such complexities in their battlelust, but he was not beyond that capacity. Not yet.

+’Understood, Victorius. Glory to your edge of the battlefield. Slaughter in moderation.’+ The response was to Victorius’ liking, simple and sweet. Brief enough for him to keep himself engaged in the battlelust that he craved. Aetherius’ remark on slaughter brought a grim smile to his lips. The Primarch had always been keen on tactical moderation, but he still knew that warriors such as himself could never be shackled like caged animals.

“Glory to the Raptor!” Victorius Nero screamed, laughing at the maximum capacity that his augmented lunges could handle. Those legionnaires around him - his brothers - chortled as heartily as he did as they sprinted across the killzone set between the primary wall and the tertiary gate. Fearful, unaugmented humans were fast, but none were faster than the ground-pulverizing feet of the thunder warriors. He and his cadre tore and butchered the smaller combatants as they fled to their next layer of defenses. Bodies, limbs, and free flung organs were thrown in sporadic directions as the yellow tide advanced once more.

[hr] 

While the Black Hawk hunted the ramparts and beyond from her impressive height, teams of yellow giants followed after her in long, cumbersome gaits. As her golden wings led an onslaught, those warriors that pursued fought with practiced precision. Those left behind in Lady Amalasuntha’s carnage were quickly dispatched by boltslinger pistols or razor-edged knives the size of a mortal man’s leg. Unlike their brethren on the ground, these giants simply killed and moved on instead of relishing in the slaughter.

Just behind the fiery Custodian, yet beyond the following cadre of superhuman knights, strode a warrior bedecked in a shadowy cowl that blended into a long cloak of torn fabric and feather. An archaic pistol of unknown power was wielded in one hand and a wrist-mounted blade of superheated metal attached to the other. He sprinted faster and longer than his fellow troops, easily able to keep up with the one that he followed so closely. Though he had no wings to speak of, the warrior was as weightless as one could be while being weighed down by imperfect powered armor.

“Lady Amalasuntha! The primary layer has been breached, Captain Nero has begun the assault on the tertiary layer. I’ve confirmed with the voxcaster that Primarch Aeternus has begun his drop assault into the heart of Kush. If you wish to-” Before he could continue speaking, the golden banshee had already flitted away on burning wings to assault her next target. Her lance had been a stroke of brilliance as she flew, impaling a Gyptian and throwing him into the air before exploding the sentinel into a visceral mess.

“Captain Tiberius, Third Cadre has cleared the first layer ramparts completely.” One of the thunder warriors spoke as she halted next to him, her yellow armor stained by fresh ichor. She wiped bits of enemy entrail off the naked flesh on her face before speaking once more. “First Cadre reports extensive enemy interference on the tertiary layer. They had held back their shock infantry in powered armor closer to their temple-citadel. Where would you have us hunt, Captain?”

Tiberius viewed the battlefield from the broken ramparts that their cadre had picked clean, noting every detail from their vantage point. Homes, workshops, and weigh stations had been demolished by the Second Cadre’s assault. Those Gyptian slaves that had bowed their heads in compliance remained as they were with their heads to the ground in trembling kowtow. Meat piles vaguely resembling humanoid shapes clogged short alcoves where the slaughter had been most prevalent. Smaller warriors bearing the sigil of the Raptor had begun quickly moving in after Captain Caligula had mustered the second assault. Those ramshackle mercenaries and drafted soldiers that made up the Imperial army rapidly exfiltrated those that had surrendered.

“Resume the hunt. Aid the Black Hawk where she could need it. Let none that defy the Emperor survive.” Tiberius stated coldly, leaping from his portion of the rampart onto the next. The warrior that he had been speaking with followed shortly after, relaying orders from the Captain to the rest of the cadre. Their footfalls threatened to shatter the limestone beneath their feet with each sprinting jump they took to keep up with Amalasuntha. Each part of the valley-wall that they leapt upon saw the Gyptians laid low, either by the Custodian’s lance or by the Legion’s pistol and blades. For every part of the bastion that fell brought them ever closer to their target - the Grand Palace.

[hr]

The center of Kush, an already ornate city in the depths of the Achamaenidian desert, rose to meet the sky from its grand palace. An enormous, Cyclopean piece of architecture that dared to resemble a heavily decorated hive spire stood at its core. Smaller, bulbous towers attached to the wonder at every fifteen degree interval, connected thinly by land bridges and megarail lines. Though it paled in comparison to the greater pyramid of Memphos, it stood out on its own as the Gyptian trade-center of the Delta Nilus.

And it was the core target of all Imperial forces in the southern region.

Aeternus’ wished that he could marvel at the architectural superiority that humankind could achieve with Terra in the state that it was; however, wishful thinking was not a part of his duties to the Emperor. He slammed another blackened fist into the limestone wall to lower himself further into the center of the valley. Around him, those yellow armored brethren in his cadre followed suit in their careful infiltration. To his immediate left, Captain Caligula groaned as he heaved his body downward to the Kushian core. To his immediate right, a thunder warrior with a voxcast carefully dropped inches at a time with lightning quick grabs at spontaneous footholds. None of his retinue had fallen. It was to be expected, considering that they were the God-Slayers.

“The battle seems to be going well for them, I’d think. I can barely make out the wings of the Black Hawk from here, but I can certainly see tell which poor Gyptian sods got in her way.” Caligula spoke through gritted teeth as his hands found another stone to latch onto. His head was half turned towards Aeternus’, both of his eyes staring below and beyond at the raging battle. Even in the Achaemenidian summer it was easy to tell what weapons were at play below. Brilliant streaks of red signaled the use of lasrifles, sheens of orange corona spelled the use of disintegration cannons, and the pearlescent blasts of blue spoke of plasmic ordinance.

“Focus, Caestus, we have another twenty feet before we can jump and not fall to our deaths. I refuse to suffer casualties until we reach the ground.” Aeternus’ hissed in response to the Captain’s attempt at horseplay. The other warrior quickly took the order to heart, creasing his lips and quickening his pace. Both of them had an outstanding relationship, as commander and subordinate, as companion and friend, and as genesire and genesired. Regardless of their companionship, the Primarch understood the necessity of honed focus in a situation such as this. Their plan had worked, most of the coreward Gyptian defenders had maneuvered from the primary and tertiary walls to the innermost ramparts. Their diverting of troops would deprive the labyrinthine complex open for an easy, surgical strike.

That was the hope, at least.

As the edges of the coreward rampart were beginning to greet the sights of the First Legion, an ear piercing cry from one of the many sculptures rang out across the central boulevard into the Kushian capital. Although most of the Gyptian defenders had truthfully been drawn to the frontal assault led by the other Legion cadres, there still remained the semi-autonomous machines that guarded their masters unflinchingly. The mammalian-humanoid effigies began to crackle, shedding limestone scales and unsheathing deadly ranged weaponry in the directions of the descending thunder warriors.

“Damnation! Glory for the Raptor! Jump!” Aeternus’ cursed before fully planting his feet against the valleywall and pushing off. His bulky body lunged through the air like an aeronautical bomb unleashed from the fat belly of hypersonic gunship. The yellow armored warriors followed in precisely the same measure, hooting and hollering as they descended through the valley interior. Those dextrous enough to leap and draw their ranged weapons did so with blinding speed, unleashing volleys of blind red lasfire or torrents of oversized stubber rounds into the sculpture-automata.

The primarch spun midair, using the inertia to tear the great blade from his back and plunge directly on top of one of the animated machines. The vicious, crimson corona of the black blade cut through the automata as easily as a surgical knife through flesh. Instinctively, Aeternus brought the flat of the sword up to shield himself from a pair of sculptures firing a pair of heavy stubbers. Both were quickly silenced as Caligula rolled to his side, the lasrifle sharply barking in his hands and striking with precise shots to vital components.

Others of his cadre were not so lucky. Some fell too quickly, shattering their legs on impact and swiftly being silenced by the raw firepower of the automata. Many managed to catch their landing, rolling into a combat form and immediately engaging with the soulless defenders of the Kushian core. Nonetheless, the First Legion had managed to successfully infiltrate the central boulevard of Kush. As if practiced thousands of times over, the thunder warriors began to butcher their immediate surroundings before coalescing towards their Primarch in short form.

“Caligula, get on that vox and announce our surgical strike. If the Black Hawk is feeling particularly vengeful, she’ll meet us at the palace in short order. The second phase has begun.” Aeternus roared, his voice echoing as loud as a screaming missile. A pair of the yellow armored behemoths rushed forward around Captain Caestus, unholstering bulky shields from their backs and slamming them into the brick laid street. The voxcaster from earlier rolled next to her Captain, hoisting the voxcaster from her back as the rest of the cadre advanced from their positions.

Lunging into the fray amidst sporadic stubberfire, Aeternus slashed in perfect timing to the melody of screaming bullets. A crocodilian faced automata fell to his left as the black blade melted it in half, while another crumpled into scrap metal from a violent strike of his blackened fist. Lasrifle erupted from his sides as the Primarch and a number of his retinue ventured forward through the core, slicing and scorching the automata in place of their fleshy counterparts. 

Only one last push into the palace.

[hr]

The tertiary wall - an oblong amalgamation of limestone rockrete and rusted metal - was ablaze from either side. A more prepared, well-organized defense was entrenched on the Gyptian side of the rampart, while the Second Cadre of the Emperor’s First Legion were dug in awaiting the next phase of their operation. Long, fat cannons fused with storage-vats of plasma unloaded gallons of seething death onto the invaders from a safe vantage point. Pairs of yellow armored giants from below unleashed ancient, blinding beams of deadly disintegration against the fortified Gyptians. Over enthusiastic super-soldiers rushed to their deaths in an attempt to climb the rampart from below, while desperately confident sentinels frantically shot any manner of weapon in their possession at the defenseless climbers.

“Understood. Now tell Curzio to do his damned job and silence those cannons!” Captain Nero seethed as the voxcaster relayed the next set of orders from the Primarch. He had spent no longer than fifty minutes stuck at this segment of the Kushian temple-city’s defenses. Time he would rather have spent tossing the enemy’s lifeless corpses from the top of the valley. Their initial defenses had been scattered, harebrained at best; however, it had been a cunning plan to draw in the legionnaires into a killbox designed by the Dynast-King. Despite their successful execution of using their own people as bait, it had done little to actually slow the advance of the Raptor’s legion. 

As the next phase began, Victorius removed himself from his barricaded position within the closest structures to the wall and began to sprint forward with his motorized axes revved in excitement. The rest of his retinue followed as willingly as a dog to their master’s heel, frothing at the lips and screaming guttural cries of death. A sudden charge backed by seemingly nothing beside their own bodies momentarily shook the defenders on the rampart. A brazen, suicidal attempt to breach their fortified position drew upon their innate fears. Some immediately broke as a tide of yellow fearlessly flung themselves forward into hell’s embrace, abandoning their position and sprinting away in cowardice towards the inner walls. Others, cocksure of their defenses, remained to spit salvoes of plasma and las into the Raptor’s behemoths.

Their seemingly reckless charge, however, wasn’t backed by insane bravery. While the Gyptian sentinels were waylaying the oncoming horde of titanic warriors, a shadowy figure slipped past their perception and into their formation. A pair of yellow gauntlets crushed the skull of a man that had been operating the stationary plasma cannon on the leftmost side of the tertiary gate. A cry never escaped their lips as they were immediately terminated. Other yellow armored behemoths emerged from valley catwalks and building rooftops to descend upon the defenders, tearing limb and flesh with blade and pistol. The first warrior to the hunt maneuvered to the cogitator controlling the gate controls, pressing the activation rune to open the portcullis into the tertiary layer. In unison, the would-be assassins leapt from the top of the tertiary rampart into the advancing tide below.

“Damnation, Curzio, any longer and I would’ve rushed the gates myself - Primarch’s precious plans be damned.” Captain Nero boomed as he approached the newly arrived thunder warriors, splitting the tide of rushing warriors blitzing further into Kushite territory. The one to whom he spoke calmly with walked forward to greet him, slamming his fist against the Raptor on his breastplate.

“Then we shall discuss with Primarch Aeternus to assign you the priority of defending Lady Amalasuntha. Be thankful that the Black Hawk rushed beyond our capability to keep up, otherwise more of your cadre would’ve died.” Captain Tiberius sneered as he spoke with the more aggressive commander in the Legion. The comments only forced Nero to wear an uglier smile beneath his canid shaped helmet.

“As much as I appreciate the Black Hawk as a kindred in the martial spirit, bodyguarding isn’t my duty. Slaughtering and butchering the foes of my liege is.” Nero began to speak as the two began rushing forward into the tertiary domain, a select handful of their own cadre arranging around the two commanders in a protective cluster. Nero continued to speak as the familiar whistling of a screeching jetpack raced onward within their sight. “Seems your duty is no longer to bodyguard, then. You can take the supporting role of this phase, I’ve been dying to run free this entire invasion!”

Before Tiberius could properly respond to the other Captain, Nero had already sprinted forward with inhuman agility, recklessly activating his motorized axes like an overstimulated child with a new toy. He begrudgingly accepted his new duty, holstering the archaic pistol and removing a long barreled lasrifle from his back. Echoing the movements of their commander, the Third Cadre seamlessly swapped from close quarters combat wargear to medium-long ranged weapons. Curzio brought up one of his hands and flicked a pair of his fingers five times, signaling to split away from the Second Cadre’s charge. Those in his cadre began to splinter off from the yellow tide, slamming their shoulders into self-defining barricades and lay down suppressing fire on the final wall to block their reunion with the First Cadre.

It stood before them. The final defense into the Kushite core. A towering, monolithic wall greater in scale and grander in decoration than the previous ramparts had been. Four titanic sculptures of previous Kushite Dynast-Kings stood sentinel at even intervals along the inner-wall. Coreward defenders, and those that managed to flee the initial invasion, stood ready nearly five stories into the sky upon the temple-cities final barricade. Those that had the capacity to wear powered exoskeleton plating bore it, while those that could not cautiously hoisted heavy weapons and tempered rifles on wall bracings.

“Glory for the Raptor!” The Captain of the Second Cadre screamed, receiving a warcry that rumbled the valley from those thunder warriors around him.

[hr]

“The final assault on the inner wall has begun, Aeternus. I’m sure the Second Cadre will be thankful for your order. Damned berserkers were practically giddy when I told them that the second phase was underway.” Captain Caligula stated, kicking over a destroyed automata that wildly sparked with a hole drawn through its metallic skull. The other half of the cadre had already split off to ensure logistical destruction within the capital, while the remainder were given the task of carrying out the surgical strike. Fifty of their number remained around the Primarch, no fewer than forty had scattered to fight further into the Kushite core.

“Their wants matter little in this regard, but it does bring me a smile knowing that their wishes and mine align in rare cases.” Aeternus swiftly responded as he glanced up at the descending macroelevator, slowly climbing down to the foot of the grand palace. Hundreds of the screaming sculpture-automata lay strewn about in scrap piles from their previous assault. After the initial wave of the machines were defeated, none dared to come further past that point. In truth, he felt disappointed that there was so little resistance in the capital of their most precious trade city.

“You’re too soft on them, Rex. They’ll pick up on that weakness eventually-”

“I am as soft on them as I am on the disobedient masses that fail to see the truth of the Emperor’s conquest. I am not blind to their cravings, Caestus, same as yours.” The Primarch interrupted, a tinge of anger creeping into his already booming voice. Noticing the shift in his demeanor, Aeternus quelled the fury that built up inside him. He was no stranger to the vices of his Legion, nor to the difficulties that it could bring. Regardless of those traits, Aeternus had honed his Legion into a fighting machine unlike any other. He refused to have their glory tarnished, even slightly.

“My apologies, Rex, I know how you feel about us… Do you think that the Black Hawk will reach us in time?” The First Cadre Captain spoke, initially remorsefully before switching the subject as the macroelevator chimed with its arrival at the base of the grand palace. Those thunder warriors that remained from the cadre readied themselves. Boltslingers were quickly reloaded, lasrifles tuned to overcharge, and blades held in a defensive position. Aeternus neutrally stood with his greatblade dug into the ground, one hand on the draconic pommel and another on the hefty crossguard.

The macroelevator gate, ornately decorated with the heraldry of the Dynast-King of Kush - a haughty sparrow caring aloft a golden scepter - greeted the sight of waiting genesoldiers. A screen of energy began to perforate, dissolving to allow those to enter and exit the platform as required. The gate split away in both directions on automated tracks, slowly revealing the interior of the ascending chamber into the grand palace.

And the current inhabitant.

There was no shortage of cursed creatures in the wastelands of Terra’s post-apocalyptic future. Terrifyingly augmented supersoldiers, irradiated creatures glowing with explosive pustules, and technological horrors on multiple limbs now fill the world that it had once been. What stood before them was an abomination that combined all three of those types of nightmares. A panoply of flesh, metal, and limb in radical increments of eight. A vaguely humanoid face, shackled by monstrous respirator and ill-fitted optical devices, wedged itself between mountains of pale muscle. Eight arms, four on either side, augmented by a plethora of exterior chunks of technology hoisted a splattered canvas of machinery ranging from heavy stubbers to plasmic emitters. Tubes filled with all manner of necrotic fluid plugged into several rises of skin on the creature. The air filled with hints of electrical charge and the sharp stink of ozone in the presence of the creature.

It howled a dreadful gale of turbulent force.

The thunder warrior had been prepared for a counterattack of some kind, but a monstrosity of this caliber was not anticipated; however, none doubted their duty or faltered in their resolve. Aeternus was the first to bark, activating the technoseal on the black blade and shifting his stance into an offensive lunge. Caestus hipfired the lasrifle. The other fifty yellow knights reacted immediately with boltslinger, lasrifle, plasmic repeater, and disintegrator carbine. Some had already started the process to lunge at the being with blade, motorized axe, or powered mace.

None of these actions would succeed, save for the Primarch's movements.

It burst forward from the macroelevator with unnatural speed, moving from standstill to the charging speed of a hive’s magrail train in a matter of miliseconds. Lasfire and bolts useless plunged into its flesh as it knocked aside the entire formation. thunder warriors flew across the core courtyard of Kush, some managed to recover from the charge with their limb intact. Others turned to visceral paste as they clashed with structures, flattening their anatomy down to a thimble. Only the Primarch managed to wound the creature in the midst of its impossible gait, severing two of its eight arms before being flung a short distance away. Captain Caligula only partially managed to recover himself, colliding with a large sculpture and puncturing his powered armor in several places.

“Scatter! Focus fire on this abomination’s limbs! Raptor Imperialis!” Primarch Aeternus’ roared as he rushed forward to meet the chimeric creature with the practiced skill of a genetic soldier. The great blade was a flurry of obsidian, crimson corona, and sizzling flesh as the Himalazian knight engaged the abomination in close-quarters combat. It screamed, howled, bayed, cried, and roared all at once and in eight different voices. Aeternus stole the mutated things attention as it wildly flailed in an attempt to defeat the Primarch.

The thunder warriors of the First Legion shuffled once more, regaining their wits and joining the fray. The handful that remained broken but alive began to coalesce into one region, aiding Captain Caligula and jamming combat stimulants into their exposed flesh. Caestus cursed himself as he punched one of his legs back into working condition, accepting the assistance of a warrior with their brain exposed. The remainder of the functioning cadre had discarded their ranged weapons in favor of melee weapons. Screams of hungry engines and humming powerfields filled the air above the dismal cry of the abomination.

“Get off me! One of you get the voxcaster and get the Black Hawk on call, the rest of you join the fight with your Primarch!” Caestus yelled, removing a stimulant from a tactical pouch and slamming it into an exposed part of his powered armor. His eyes dilated as the stimulant pushed him to full prowess, ignoring any possible brain fog and pain intolerance. Yellow gauntlet’d fingers gripped the shaft of a hefty blade at his side, tearing the weapon from its sheath and thumbing the activation rune to ignite the powerfield. The First Cadre Captain descended into the fray with his power sword ready.

Aeternus accepted a punch to the flat side of his gargantuan blade before riposting deep into the abomination's flesh, pulling sidewards to lop off the other two arms on the right side of its torso. The chimeric being howled in protest, dancing away and unleashing a torrent of bullets against the throng of thunder warriors that had entered the combat. Bullet, beam, las, and plasma melted powered armor and scavenged plating alike as it shuffled back. Those lucky enough to duck away were quickly met by the rampaging limbs that demolished their pilfered wargear. In a manner of minutes the abomination had whittled Aeternus’ retinue to a mere fifteen from the original fifty with only Caligula and himself with a handful of others still actively fighting.

Aeternus prepared for another assault, hopping backwards to coordinate a great lunge into the core of the beast. He calculated that it would be successful. He knew that it was a worthy risk. The alternative was not allowable. Death, at this point, would only disgrace the unification of Terra. He would not die here, nor would he be laid low by a mutant aberration. 

 Fortunately enough as well, the barking of an ancient weapon sounded from above. Kinetic rounds sending the beast into recoil as it shredded away armor. The indomitable form of the Black-Hawk slammed into the creature from about, her lance burying itself where armor had been destroyed. The force of the attack unbalanced the creature enough to send it to ground. Her hands blazed with incomprehensible speed, drawing her misericordia and rending away limbs and tubes sending black ichor splaying across the floor. Yet even to the masterful genetics of the Custodian, the thrashing creature was enough to force her off.

Her auramite pinion activated, taking to air as the beast struggled to its feet only for the thunder warriors to slam into it, hacking and slashing with their weapons in near maddened frenzy. Once more did the abomination thrash with what remained of its limbs, using its mass to knock aside some of the God -Slayers. More kinetic shots rang from above, Aeternus saw his opening and surged forwards as the abomination brought up its plasma repeater to try and shoot the venatari out of the air. With one swift strike, the primarch severed the weapon from the beast. Another horrid screech before it thrashed and threw Aeternus with what remained of the severed limb.

As it mindlessly surged forth towards the thunder warriors,  Amalasuntha’s pinion screeched overhead. Another impact with her lance sent the beast sprawling onto its chest, but this time she wasted no time. With gene-wrought might she grappled the mutant, locking an arm around its throat and ripping away its respirator. It hacked and coughed as the air entered its lungs. Thrashing and coughing, the beast tried to stand but the custodian kicked out its leg - forced to one knee as Amalasuntha’s grip tightened. 

The smell of ozone intensified, lightning crackled from one of the creature’s augments. Yet, swiftly did the Black-Hawk move, placing her talons around the beast’s and kicking off the ground. Her blackened wings spun and activated. Blood sprayed onto the floor. The smell of ozone began to dissipate. She landed in front of one of the thunder warriors, the creature’s head gripped within her hands. The head fell with a thud against the ground. Amalasuntha looked to Aeternus, the black ichor of the beast coating her head with the only white of her form being that of her eyes, before finally speaking to the Primarch, “Our work is not yet done, warrior. Gather what remains of your men, we must end this siege.”
	
The primarch simply nodded, turning away from the corpse of the abomination to face the few that remained standing after the devastation. Twenty had survived the encounter, nine remained broken, and eleven had managed to remain combat worthy for the next stretch of the siege. Aeternus’ eyes narrowed on the limping form of Caligula, the captain’s form beginning to slouch over the powered blade stabbed into the ground. A single look from the older warrior was all he needed to know of his condition. The First Legion commander silently seethed behind the knightly helmet, turning away from the form of his ailing captain to regard the survivors.

“You heard Lady Amalasuntha. The siege is not over. The broken will remain to guard the elevator with their lives. The rest will join the fray. Onward!” The primarch roared, his commands being heard from beyond nominal range. Those yellow armored warriors that remained slammed their blood-coated fists against their chest, saluting the Raptor engraved upon it. Their voices howled in response, a cacophony of war cries that echoed the call for war.

With no need for an order to be repeated, those Himalazian knights designated to the assault force began to collect their discarded ranged weapons with a sense of calm, collected urgency. Boltslingers were racked, lasrifle energy packs were swapped, and plasmic repeaters were set to vent stored heat. As they retrieved their weapons, sheathing their most gruesome blades, the First Legion entered into the macroelevator to await the next phase of their siege.

Aeternus hefted the obsidian blade against one of his sculpted pauldron, the crimson edged corona long having been deactivated when the abomination was defeated. His footfalls fell in time with the Black-Hawk as the pair strided into the ascender, stopping shortly after the two had fully entered the platform. His spare hand inputted a series of digits into a small cogitator within the chamber, then pressing the activation rune to initiate the ascension process. The device regurgitated an ear-piercing shrill of binary before their surroundings started to violently shake. After a tense moment, the platform rose beneath their feet.

“You have my gratitude, Lady Black Hawk. The First Legion owes you their lives.” The Primarch spoke with exceptional sincerity in his voice. His body language echoed the appreciation in a muted way, the thunder warrior’s helmet slightly inclined towards the Custodian and his armored form facing the front of the ascender. The Himalazian pelt-cape attached to his back  jolted in period increments as the ascender rose. His black armored fingers flexed in preparation for the next fight, one in which he hoped to prove his worth to the Custodian.

The ever stoic Amalasuntha was tempted to disregard the words of the barbarian, such a creature would have been felled no matter what. She slid her misericordia between a bent arm to clean it from the abomination’s blood - despite herself still being drenched in ichor herself. Not after too long a silence the Black Hawk spoke to the God-Slayer, her own voice not matching the sincerity of Aeternus, “[b]You[/b] fought well enough. Soon, the city shall be in control of the Emperor, the defenders are overrun.”

“It was preordained. The Emperor bade Kush fall and its Dynast-King murdered before the First Legion. So it is.” Aeternus replied, echoing the sentiment of the Black Hawk as the ascender entered its final stages of arrival. The thunder warriors around himself and the Custodian began to shuffle, twitch, and bay at the sound of future slaughter. A look from the Primarch was all that was needed to stifle their behavior, the Himalazian knights returning to calculated battle preparation. “The Sigilite only further assured the Emperor’s victory. You have ensured the Raptor flies over Kush.”

The Black Hawk cast a discerning glare to the Thunder Warriors, grip tightening around her Lance. The praise of the Primarch seemed to pass by her as she looked over the warriors - none knew. Her gaze traveled back to Aeternus, she knew [i]him[/i] to be a fine warrior but it was clear where her mind was. Amalasuntha spoke softly, “Your warriors better be ready for what comes for them. The future may not be so kind.”

The final call came to them in the next moment, a shrill scream of binary code that erupted from a nearby cogitator. The platform shook around them as magnetic rails found their home in the gravitic mechanism at the top of the grand palace. The screeching of metal followed after several seconds of high intensity vibration as the gates began to open. Immediately, the stench of incense and ozone flooded into the ascender. The taste of iron filled the mouth, repugnant decay filtered into the nostril, and a sickeningly sweet siren song penetrated the ears. Their eyes witnessed the foray of the grand palace before them, bedecked in a myriad of Gyptian silks and statues. From the ascender to the bottom of the throne at the furthest end of the room, chandeliers and braziers were lit as bright as fresh plasma spewed forth from the archaic weapons of the Long Night. Golden censers, formed in the shape of the naked body, disgorged vast streams of lilac haze from eight, enormous pillars. No precession greeted them, only eerie silence and the singsongy chime of metallic ornaments. 
	
Aeternus, saving future dialogue for later, lowered the great blade from his sculpted pauldron and moved first into the grand palace proper. Carefully, confident steps brought him forward to the first set of Cyclopean pillars that held this section of the palace together. The rest of the thunder warriors moved with him after Lady Amalasuntha, surrounding their commanders with fortified spirits and wargear raised. As the Imperial invaders made their presence known halfway through the room, the ringing of a bell began to emanate at the end of the foray. The artificial darkness at the base of the Dynast-King’s throne lifted, unveiling the architect of the invasion’s counteracting force. Flanked by a pair of robed figures, the lord of Kush groaned in eternal pain upon their governing seat. Flesh stretched from dais to baldachin, sinew masterfully etched with mechanical protrusions and mutated tendrils alike. The horrendously disfigured patch of skin that sufficed as the face of Ammahlud was contorted into a weeping maw of despair. Sucking, slinking appendages as long as a rope slowly drained the King’s life into green vats of stinking ichor.

Finally noticing the intrusion into their lair, the robed figures began to step away from Ammahlud’s distorted form. Both disrobed as they slowly maneuvered towards the Raptor’s warriors, revealing their similarly contorted figures to them. The being on the left was a cacophony of visible sinew, horn, and mechanical augmentation with a pair of ominous, dripping sickles the size of a carnosaur’s foot. The being on the right had mutated skin like stone freshly dissolved by magma, wielding a leviathan blade retrieved from the pillar closest to them. Those creatures stopped shy of engagement distance from the First Legion, eyeing down the invaders with curiosity and an eerie sense of sanguinity.

“The Anathema’s fight is futile. It is spoken beyond. In the void, the Raptor falls. Submit. Breathe in life as Ammahlud did.” The mutant on the left spoke with a soft, savory voice that belied it’s overtly disgusting appearance. Within close proximity, a normal human would have felt faint and weakened by the beings presence; however, those engineered by the mastercrafted biogenetics of the Emperor felt no such yearn.

“His Legions will be broken! His hands will be shattered! It is spoken! In the void! The Raptor falls! Die, valorously, glorious, in vain!” The mutant on the right spoke with a fiery temper, heat cascading in tumultuous waves around it. Piercing eyes that wept vitae like fresh lava barreled down on the thunder warriors. An attempt to thwart the spirit of the invaders, to scream in their face and shatter the core of their beliefs; however, they were resilient and held an indomitable spirit.

 No further words were spoken for none needed to be said. Boltslingers and lasrifles erupted from the thunder warrior’s group, their formation splitting in two separate combat squads that focused down on the mutants before them. Pairs of yellowed armored giants drew savage melee weapons, activating engine or powerfield, and dived into close combat with the disturbing guardians of Kush’s throne. The being on the left deftly stepped out of bullet trajectory before disemboweling the first thunder warrior to cross their path, leaving corrosive rends where the gene-soldier had been penetrated. The being on the right hefted the crimson, leviathan sword as a shield against bolts and lasfire alike. A Himalzian knight charged with a grenade in one and a motorized axe in the other, but fell short as the red mutant simply crumbled him with the flat side of their blade.

Aeternus Rex required no direction to fling himself into combat with the mutant with the heavy blade, wielding his own black sword against the charred creature. Aggressively thumbing the activation rune, the Primarch’s weapon illuminated the area around him with a crimson corona that threatened to slice through the environment. Penultimate genes forged pushed him further than his lesser brethren, slamming into the abomination with a ruthless shoulder bash before swinging his personal weapon in a wide arc around himself. Desperately, the aberrant hefted their own weapon skyward, blocking a gnarly slice from the gene-soldier with the flatside of their monstrous wargear. The two squared off further along the rightmost side of the chamber, flitting and feinting away from the Custodian and closer to the twisted form of the Dynast-King.

On the left, shots rang against the other creature as the venatari harried the creature from the air. It deftly moved out of the way but focused upon the Himalzians that charged it. Cleaving and hacking, dancing and dodging. Even as Amalasuntha came diving from the air did the abomination dance out of her path - just barely. Sparks flew as the Black Hawks lance slid across the floor, pulled just in time to avoid being lodged within the flooring. Amalasuntha went on the offensive, her feet dancing with the abomination as the Custodes relied on her training [i]Kaptaris[/i]. It relied upon its speed to match the Custodes but the Hawk moved too swiftly, too aggressively for it to attack. Even as it attempted to retreat, the custodian fell upon it, keeping it confined to one area.

Other warriors joined the fray, hacking and slashing like madmen against the left creature. All it could do was twist away with only enough time to parry a blow from the venatari. Cuts ran shallow as some blows connected from the warriors or the custodian, spilling purple blood across the floor. It hissed in delighted agony as it relished the pain, but still it could focus only upon [i]her[/i] the Black Hawk who trapped it from being able to quickly dispose of the Himalayan knights that struck at it. Amalasuntha kept her keen eyes upon the mutant, calculating every move - every step. Yet, from the corner of her eye she watched Aeternus’ duel.
	
As the Black Hawk performed her dancing ka’tah, the Primarch savagely fought against the red mutant with the ferocity typical of his kind. Despite his fighting style appearing barbarous, each swing of Aeternus’ enormous blade was quick and calculated. The aberrant on the right side of the foray found itself eternal on the defense as the Himalazian knight barreled into the monstrosity. Each strike saw the pair pushed further inclined towards the throne, the thunder warrior beating down on the abomination with ruthless efficiency. Where his Custodian counterpart outmatched him handily in speed, Rex’s own strength heavily outmatched the Venatari. A brutal, diagonal swipe towards the legs saw the creature nearing the foot of the Dynast-King’s dais, partially stepping in outstretched skin.
	
It snarled and barked, protesting the fate in which it had been thrust into. The toothy maw of the mutant began to open as if to speak; however, it was interrupted by a lightning quick jab to the face from the Primarch’s blackened fist. Sharpened teeth shattered beneath the force of the augmented soldier’s blow, followed shortly by a headbutt that threatened to split the creature’s skull into two. Taken aback by the torrent of devastating strikes, the abomination finally found its footing and sprung forward into overhead chop from its leviathan cleaver. To the surprise of the aberrant, Aeternus accepted the strike upon the flat of his obsidian blade. To the horror of the abomination, the thunder warrior failed to stagger, stun, or falter.
	
Aeternus abandoned the greatblade, allowing the enemy’s cleaver to slide free to his immediate left. A blackened gauntlet gripped the neck of the red mutant while another broke the sword arm of the monstrosity with a swift punch. It howled in pain as it began to choke. The armored fists of the thunder warrior began to glow bright as burning plasma as the aberrant’s skin superheated the plating; however, it would do little to halt the furious onslaught of the Primarch. The Himalazian knight lifted his opponent, swinging downwards several times over. Every bodyslam saw pieces of vitae, brimstone skin, and bloody magma eject from the creature. Satisfied with his carnage, the gene-soldier flung the weakened opponent into one of the eight storied pillars before following up with a sickening kick to the skull. Brain matter exploded in eight different directions, the Primarch’s opponent falling limp, destroyed, and barely recognizable from its original state. 

With the Primarch having done his duty, Amalasuntha saw it time to do what she had been made to do. As the abomination attempted to strike at the Custodian for the first time in their bout, the Black Hawk activated her pinion and launched to the side before quickly turning and bringing her lance down upon the forearm of the monstrosity. Blood spewed from the wound and the beast screamed in pain, recoiling and clutching its severed arm before a swift strike severed its legs. It fell upon its back and began to plead for mercy, the other gene-warriors had lost interest and began to move back to their Primarch, leaving the mutant to the Hawk.

“Ple-“ was all it could get out before Amalasuntha lodged her Lance in its head and pulled the trigger on her lever-action. Sickly sweet blood sprayed the floor before the venatari began to walk back to the other warriors. 

She gave no further thought to the abomination, instead walking to the Dynast-King and gazing upon his form. Were this monarch not her enemy, then she may have felt pity as to his state of being - trapped on a throne of his own agonizingly overgrown skin. Amalasuntha looked upon his despondent face, it was clear that whatever had been done to him caused him great pain and now he was nothing more than a shell of a man. The venatari looked to the Primarch of the First, stepping away from the throne and leveling her lance at the Dynast-King.

“We must find his kin. This palace must be purged, Aeternus,” she said in a voice quite out of character, softness unheard by the Thunder Warriors. There was a moment’s pause, only broken as she fired the kinetic shot that ripped the would-be king asunder, before the Black Hawk amended her order, “Spare the children. Perhaps they may not be cemented in fate.”

[hr]

The Raptor flew from the highest peak of Kush’s grand palace - the symbol of conquest and victory. Silence, save for the meticulous tiding of oncoming Imperial vehicles, filled the void where defiant defenses had once bristled against merciless invaders. The Gyptian walls, streets, and cities were slick with the blood of Kushite defenders. Alleys were clogged with limbs, cadavers, and other pieces of dismembered flesh tossed aside by the Emperor’s butchers. Those that had surrendered were being forced out of their own home, shackled in chains and led into the vast city of tents outside the walls. Buildings that held any markings related to the Gyptian faith were burned, shattered, and destroyed in bombastic finality. Thunder warriors still patrolled alcoves, meeting places, and broad plazas in distinctive patterns to ensure no further fighting broke out.
	
The Primarch of the First Legion, as well as all of his cadre commanders, stood in a half-circle around a hololithic table. A bulky vox caster nearby filled the chamber around them with the voices of Imperial commanders across the Delta Nilus. Hazy, orange light filtered in from decorated windows as they debriefed on the second highest chamber of Kush’s grand palace. Other, smaller humans stood on the other half of the table. Some were dressed as officers of the Imperial Army, another pair in robes signifying them as the Sigilite’s messengers, and a final handful as Achaemenidian envoys from the recently acquired vassal-state. The Black Hawk remained nearby, closest to the genesoldiers of the Emperor and closer still to Aeternus Rex. All had their eyes drawn to the risen map projected above the table, a Raptor symbol proudly displayed over their current location.

“Kush has fallen, the Dynast-King and his guardians were defeated. As the Emperor had mandated, those that surrendered have been spared. Those that rebelled against His word were quelled. All religious paraphernalia has been disposed of. The First Legion will now reunite with Lord Aristagorus in Memphos.” Aeternus Rex stated, his voice booming as if relaying commands from the rearguard. The non-augmented slightly flinched as the Primarch began to speak, slowly growing accustomed to the way that the First Legion’s commander spoke. “Pieces of the Dynast-King Ammahlud’s flesh have been delivered as requested by the Sigilite’s order. Patrols have been set until the moment the Legion leaves. Achaemenidian relics have been left untouched as requested.”

“And what of the Ammahlud’s golden horde atop his grand palace?” One of the Achaemend envoys asked, spoken with greed masked as sincerity typical of their culture. The man wore a lightweight garb of orange, gray and gold, armored by small sheets of ornate metal sculpted to reflect their culture.

“Destroyed. Each piece was meticulously eradicated to erase the taint of the Dynast-King’s deeds. Any further questions about the Dynast-King’s treasury will be met with swift retaliation.” The thunder warrior quickly replied, the question having already been raised several times before by similar delegates of the Achaemenid Empire. His frustration did not fall on deaf ears, the envoys raising their hands in an apologetic manner. The small group spoke amongst themselves in their natural tongue before moving out of the chamber with short bows of their tanned forms.

“Will the First Legion be assigning a garrison to Kush, or will the Imperial Army once again have to muster defenders in the wake of the thunder warriors?” The officer questioned with a tone of careful accusation, her eyes locking with the Primarch as if she already knew the answer to the question. Her attire counted the officer as one of the Imperial Army commanders, the very one assigned to support the forward advance of the First Legion. She appeared as an older, sterner woman adorn in the military organizations red coats and Himalazian pelts typical for their troops. Fiery, ginger hair expertly restricted into a military bun accented her aged, yet fresh skin. “I worry, Primarch, that this will be a repeat of Akkad. Once your Legion has left the region, the possibility of open rebellion skyrockets. I implore you to leave at least a squad behind, if nothing else than for the recruiting process.”

Aeternus considered for a moment, then shook his helmeted head in rejection to the request of the officer.

“Our duty is to annihilate where the Emperor wishes, Commander Eddith Krayl, there will be no First Legion garrison at Kush. The Raptor must rule the Delta Nilus. We will ensure that becomes a reality. Request assistance from the Achaemnids if you suffer a lack of personnel.” The Primarch spoke with an edge to his voice, dismissing the rightful request of the Imperial commander who proceeded to seeth and storm out of the chamber. Her entourage of scribes, officers, and communicators followed quickly behind her like dogs leashed to their master. Captain Caligula stifled his laughter, barely able to contain a deep guffaw before Aeternus began to speak again.

“Sigilites. Relay to your master that his assistance - his duty - was greatly appreciated. Kush would not have fallen without his information, nor would we have suffered so little casualties. Relay to the Emperor our triumph and our next destination. We will be marching within the next day.” Aeternus Rex softly spoke, finally turning to greet the pair of robed men that had been patiently waiting for the affair to end. Both inclined their heads in the direction of the Primarch, who reciprocated their response with one of his own. A large vial was carried between the two as they exited the chamber, shielded by hexagrammic patterns and heavy plating.

As the final, unaugmented human left the chamber, the gathered throng of thunder warriors began to relax. Caligula stretched his torso, fresh wounds still aching from the battle within the confines of the Kushite core. Nero groaned, leaning his back against the reinforced limestone wall directly behind him. Tiberius leaned forward on his hands, intently staring at the floating image of the Delta Nilus. Aeternus remained as he was, yet his eyes bounced between all of his captains before speaking once more.

“The Raptor flies over Kush. A feat not possible without the First Legion. We have slain those that herald themselves as deities. Take pride in that fact. Attend to your cadre, count those of us that have fallen, and resupply your equipment. This is your leisure time, use it wisely before we destroy the next foe of the Emperor. You are dismissed. Raptor Imperialis.” The Primarch spoke with strict warmth in his voice, lightly tapping a blackened fist against the emblem of the Emperor engraved upon his breastplate. Caligula smiled widely, echoing the salute and removing himself from the chamber with a limp in his step. Nero grinned a toothy smile, slamming his fist against the symbol on his shoulder before leaving. Tiberius solemnly nodded, repeating the gesticulation before slinking out with the rest of his brethren.

The chamber was now devoid of its original attendants save for Aeternus and the Black Hawk, who continued to eye down the holotable with vested interest. The symbol of the Raptor hovered over pockets of red signifying the cities currently engaged with the Emperor’s armies. Smaller, golden icons moved across the vast Gyptian planes reflected in the hologram, signaling those armies that were actively moving in conjunction with the invasions. Plentiful more sigils populated the display, different meanings for each and every one that blinked. The Primarch inclined his head towards Lady Amalasuntha.

“Will you be joining us for Memphos or Alexandrios, Lady Amalasuntha?” Aeternus asked, using one of his armored fingers to hone the holograph around the blazing zone representing Memphos. The question was redundant for he knew what the Black Hawks duty was. The Primarch was further aware how often the Custodian had been intently watching him, similar to that of predatory avians. He did not fear her, neither for her duty nor for her vigilance. 

“I shall,” were the only words to come out of her mouth, her eyes focusing on the Primarch. Her hand propped up the master-crafted Lance before she walked to the table. The blackened armor of the custodian was bathed in red, black outlines disappearing into the darkness behind her. A comment flew from her mouth, “Some show signs of instability, how will you handle them?”

Aeternus felt his ire rise for a moment before diminishing into a cool facade behind the helmet. A breath escaped his lips as he considered the question at hand. Slowly, he reached up and removed the knightly helmet. The very source of the First Legion’s agony revealed itself as it had many times before. An imperfect reflection of his master’s visage was unveiled. Long, silky black hair tied back into a knot dangled around masterfully sculpted, perfect facial features blemished by a dozen scars over bronze skin. His dark eyes met the Custodes with a mixture of pity and resistance.

“They are treated as any of our warriors are. I am not blind to our geneflaw, Custodian. Each member of the Legion experiences it in a different way. Nero and his cadre display short, uncontrollable bursts of violence. Caligula with his moments of intense mindfog. Tiberius with his controlled kleptomania and penchant for skulldruggery. When the signs become too much for them to bear, they’ve approached me with their troubles. In those that can confess they no longer feel the security of their mind, I personally treat them. Same as it has been since we left Indoi.” Aeternus spoke with an eerie calmness to his voice, intentionally remaining cautious with his words so as to not invoke the wrath of the Custodian. He placed his helmet on the edge of the holotable, turning his body to fully address her with well placed respect.

The custodian met Aeternus' eyes with a similar mixture of pity, it was known that while she favored none of the warriors there was a respect for the First Primarch. Her half helm hid the frown that she held. Yet, she was not fully satisfied with the answer that the Primarch had held - knowing that he would favor them as ‘people’ over his duties. She spoke, softly again, “You must know that the instability will strike. When it does, they may kill those under serving of their wrath - companions, civilians.”

"I am aware. I will - [i] I have [/i] - perform my duties when their flaws overtake them. The First Legion is well aware of what must be done. You, as well, I hope will perform your duty should madness overtake me." The Primarch stated coldly, well aware of the fact that he was ultimately no different then the thunder warriors under his command. Only that their genecode was derived from his own biology. His face remained stoic, certain, and resolute as he spoke to the Black Hawk. Whatever he may have thought, his words mirrored his true thoughts in this case.

“You are different, Aeternus,” she said, finally speaking to him by his name. Her eyes went sharp as she watched his demeanor, though there was no other change in disposition. Her words came swiftly now, “You are the Primarch of the First Legion of Thunder Warriors. Your geneseed is more resolute - stable. As far as can be seen, you may not succumb to the madness as your others may.”

"I did not think you held that much faith in me, Amalasuntha." Aeternus replied, genuine surprise spreading across his formerly stoic features. The response nearly warranted a small grin from the thunder warrior were it not for her last words. He shook his head after the initial surprise. "If you put that much trust in me, then allow me to assuage your worries. So long as I never falter, then the First Legion will continue to perform their duties without fail." 

“Very well - may you serve the Emperor well into your last days. And in those last days, I shall still be watching,” Amalasuntha said, eased by the Primarch’s response. She stepped back into the shadows, darkness enveloping her form. Her words came with her normal composure as she spoke the will of the Emperor, “Our liege expects Mephos and Alexandrios to fall swiftly, Terra must be under him.”

"And so Terra shall be His. Raptor Imperialis, Amalasuntha." Aeternus Rex replied, allowing one of his blackened digits to expand the holographic map to reveal the entirety of the planet. The symbol of the Emperor - the Raptor - appeared over Terra, several invasive arrows pointing from Gyptus and beyond. The Primarch retrieved his helmet, pressing it against his skull and leaving the chamber to the ravaged spirits of Kush's grand palace.
[hr]
Credit: [@MarshalSolgriev] (Aeternus/God-Slayers), [@Lauder] (Lady Amalasuntha)