Segmentum Ultima
Sector Priam, System 3249 
World Malfesia, Crown World of the Phobos Family

[img]https://i.imgur.com/n3peZNC.jpg[/img]



[h1][color=ec008c]Change always comes, in Time[/color][/h1]

[color=00aeef]Korvo awoke, from yet another dream of fire and blood, years spent watching the world through the eyes of the unseen. He had been an old man this time, pouring over old tomes and scrolls in his tower. He had fought back, feebly and fruitlessly, against a tide of change sweeping over his kingdom in a tide of fire and blood. A Dynasty, a line unbroken for centuries, had been brought low by an upstart Emperor. One that had sought to bring all before him to heel, or put it to the sword. Sometimes he would do the same regardless of submission or revolt, be they meek sheep or dogs backed into a corner lashing out, many would find the ax at their neck regardless. 

It shamed him to say that he found himself, in this dream, an Old Dog with no teeth and no ability to use his mind. No ability to think or reason, just an old rat filled with fear at the coming change. He had watched, years upon years, as time whittled by in a blurry haze of fear and loathing, until that Emperor had pushed all the way to the very palace that he had hid in with his tomes and scrolls. Yet what could he do? What could he influence in a dream in which he held no control? He had been forever a passenger in his dreams of other lives, so ultimately the fire of change consumed him. Yet he was not upset at it, it was not Change that he feared, it was the helplessness. To merely be a puppet to the fear of the coming tides, the Unknown was the great enemy. It was Anathema. Even his young mind, tempered by centuries of lessons, could see what so many he had observed missed. Knowledge was power, and those with the most held the power of their fate within their grip. 

He was a child, but he had learned much, but among it all what was key was this. He had paid attention, he had learned from failures that were not his own, and he knew that knowledge was most powerful when it was kept to oneself. And so he studied, he applied his mind at every turn, studying the books of his family libraries, finding many connections between his dreams and the written accounts of ages past. He recalled what knowledge and scrolls he had seen in his time as the Old Dynast King, he recalled the ever advancing Golden Army and he understood that with it came change and death for the unprepared. So he would be prepared, for how could he not? Yet even as he read and studied, his ever faithful companion sat on his perch and watched him through avian eyes. 

His oldest companion, the oldest friend he could remember, was not another child, but a feathered crow that had come through his windows years ago. WIth feathers that seemed blue in a certain light, yet when you focused all you would see is a crow, though sometimes those eyes seemed to hold a light that felt painful. Yet he said nothing, he revealed nothing, he was nothing but a crow to those without the mind to see the differences. His father was one of those, and he had hoped that his father would have been more observant but it is what it was. Not everyone could be held up to the standards he had come to expect of himself, and he only pitied them, for they were lost in their own ignorance. He would abandon Ignorance, and Embrace Knowledge.

[b]In Time, Comes Change[/b]

[img]https://i.imgur.com/KPrHpOA.jpg[/img]

[/color]

[color=f49ac2]The Boy read the scrolls, each and every day, he dug through dozens and eventually hundreds of scrolls seeking the knowledge he craved. He was at the very least better than many others of his kind, never satisfied with the things he knew. He craved more, always more and more, he sought the fruit of knowledge held just out of reach. It was amusing, truly, he sought elevation not understanding he was just following the plan laid out before him. He was seeking to escape the fate of the ignorant, and failed to realize he was simply marching down the paths of fate, as a pawn would and should. 

Ultimately it was disappointing.

He had held hopes for the boy, he had borne of an auspicious pact made many years ago, well at least according to humanity. The concept of time in their measuring was flawed, they saw it as a linear progression but failed to understand time was a concept that could not truly be understood or defined by their limited scope of knowledge. Regardless he is pontificating now, and had lost track of what was before him. He saw the boy had stopped reading and had simply been staring at him, observing him as he had for so many years now. He had been curious, he had made the pact on a whim, and he did not understand what compelled him to stay. 

The boy had proven himself a slave to fate, like everyone was, for even he could not escape the weavings of his master. Fate was the ultimate force in this Universe, in all of Reality! It was a magic so profound and powerful that the sole being capable of manipulating it had used it to ascend to Godhood in the instant of his birth. They had always been fated for it, or so they intended, and simply wove it into being. He was blessed to be even a fragment of such a being, a sliver of an existence which transcended understanding and time and effected change on such a scale as to move all of reality forward on the winds of Magic. 

Yet even as he contemplated this, all of the grandeur that comprised his existence and origin, he still found no answer to the question he had. Why did he stay? What compelled him to remain as the aide to a child, even as strange as the boy was, he could see nothing in the weave of fate when he looked at the future held for the child. He could not even see a single day in advance, for anything tied to the boy was as clear as muddied water. Certainly you could argue it was this muddied fate that held his interest, and yet when he gave it supreme thought he realized it wasn’t this. For even if he could not see the exact route he would take to get there, the boy's fate was damnation at the end and that was clear as crystal. So no matter how muddied the path, if you knew the ending then what did it matter? 

No it was something else, something that brought a chill to his mind. He could feel it, as if the answer was before him but not forming on the tip of his tongue. So he watched, he played the role of attendant and pet, and observed. That was how the years went by, the boy bloomed as puberty struck, his mind growing in leaps and bounds. He was quickly becoming a man that led millions, billions even. 9 Worlds, the most auspicious of numbers in service to the great one, all called him Young Lord. They answered to him, the men and women who sowed the seeds of harvest all the way to those that marched in formation and fought in the defense of their homes. Generals and Warriors, all powerful men and women, knelt when he strode before them. He saw this all from the perch he held on the boy's shoulder, the loyalty and trust they held in him. He could see why he had them so enthralled, for the Wise always rose. The Ignorant and the Foolish found serenity in Wisdom and Knowledge, and those with both led Empires. 

Very rarely the boy ever spoke to him, not in the last few years since his boyhood had abandoned him, he seemed to grow bit by bit every day as he awoke. He was more knowledgeable, wiser and more powerful in mind and will, and he could feel it growing each day. The connection to the weave of magic, he could feel the sorcerous growth on the boys soul and yet he knew the boy had not touched a magical tome or text in the entirety of his existence. It was slightly curious, then again perhaps he was just a natural mage, they did occur quite often in a species as large and expansive as humanity was. Their emotions, while not on par with the Aeldari or their Progenitors, were powerful in how raw they were emotionally.

It made them excellent mages, while also making them pitifully easy to control and corrupt, for even the barest hint of power could have them dancing in your palms moving to the tune you wished. It was laughable, how much that could be achieved with a whispered word or a sweet promise in the ear of a desperate human. Ultimately he knew that the promise of power, mixed with the temptation of knowledge would drive this Human, this Korvo Phobos, into the grip of fate and the ultimate damnation that awaited him. 9 Years had passed, and it had finally come time to leave. No matter how much he felt compelled to stay, nothing had truly changed. He had aged sure, become wiser and more knowledgeable, and even had surged in mystical apptitude.  Yet it was not enough.

At least that was the thoughts going through his mind, before the boy spoke to him again after years of silence.[/color]

[color=00aeef]“Hold your flight Vissar, we have many things to do together. It would not do for your time here to be wasted, it would not do at all. The Future is now my old friend, my old companion and you and I have a future to mold. A Fate to Shape. A Path to walk.”[/color] [color=ec008c]the words said as they drifted over his mind, his name had taken root and compelled his obedience. He did not leave, he did not take flight with wing or magic. He could not, after all his true name had been called and so he must answer. 
[/color]

[color=8882be]“You!? You know? How? When?”[/color] [color=ec008c]were the only words the Daemon could offer from his perch,his voice was heavy and powerful, and yet held no effect on the boy. A man would be driven to madness at the very least upon hearing his voice, should their mind be weak, and at the worst his presence could cause blistering mutation of the flesh and soul and yet Korvo simply stared and smiled. Vissar could feel the strength of will that had now leashed his own, the dominance of this human over his own existence. Yet his confusion had slammed full force. How had the boy known? How had he even realized? Never had he spoken, never had the boy had any interaction with the Daemonic forces aside from him. No scroll or tome on the planet held the knowledge that would even begin to formulate the idea that he even existed, let alone offer the boy what he had just invoked. A True Name, the one granted him upon his creation by the being whose shard comprised his very existence.
 
Yet even as he swam in doubt and mystification, he could hear it on the winds of fate, the laughter of an amused god. His great creator had been amused, he had been given a show and been surprised pleasantly. It was his condemnation, but also his validation. His compelled stay, his unnatural obsession with the boy for so long. He had spun this tale into being hundreds of years ago, when he saved a mewling coward from the fate he had been promised and watched a nation spring up in the far reaches of space. He had watched fate weave and twist, as the eddies of the warp manifested a child that would bring damnation. Never did he expect to wind up a slave to his own machinations.

It was a joyful occurrence, and maddening all at the same time. It rankled his feathers, and made him grin in a manner no crow could ever achieve as a bit of his true self slip through his disguise. Black Feathers bled blue, a multitude of eyes sprouting on his skull and across his body all staring at the once boy but now Man, Master of Vissar, a Lord of Change. He was one of the most powerful beings in all of creation, surpassed only be a few select existences outside of the Greater Daemons of the Four Gods and the Princes that served them. Yet now, he had a master that was nothing more than a Human. A Human gaining power was never surprising, many had even managed to ascend to Daemonhood as a Prince, and among them were a select few of notable and fearsome power. Yet not Korvo, he was just a man still, untouched aside from what little his presence over the years had imparted upon him. 

Yet here he stood now, a Master Planner that had somehow escaped his notice, who had so subtly gained knowledge of such quality that it should not exist in this universe. He could feel the joy radiating through his being was not wholly his, it came from the part of him still connected to his creator and god, to Tzeentch the Fate Weaver. The Human had, with but one request, gained favor with his god. He had offered no sacrifice, he had made no bargains or pleas for power, he had simply shown his knowledge and his will and had risen. The Human known as Korvo Phobos held great promise, for he was slave to nothing yet. The Only slave here sat upon the shoulder of a human, and he looked forward to what was to come. [/color]

[color=8882be]“Tell me then, how did you find out? How did you know? Never before have I seen a human as maddening as you, for all the boredom that compromised your existence. Your entire life the result of a passing whim of mine ages past. Yet in this one moment, you have caused me to question everything. Tell me Human, my Master, how is it you came into possession of my name? 9 Years I have known you, and 9 years have you had me fooled. How?”[/color] [color=2e3192]the feathered one asked as the Human began to walk back into his palace. The Great emptiness of its walls and sculpted statues offered them silent vigil as the human smiled. Holding his hand out for the Bird Daemon to step to, the blue feathered many-eyed Daemon did so so Korvo could stare down into those blazing eyes. [/color]

 [color=00aeef]“When one knows and sees the eyes as impermanent, ignorance is abandoned and True Knowledge is gained. When one steps into a Dream all things become possible, and the Mind’s eye allows one to see the true nature of things. I have known what you were since I was a boy. I have always known, and you chose to play the role of pet and I allowed it. For the more I observed you, the more I learned and even now I learn more and more. So do not rush to the ending my friend, enjoy the path. Watch and Learn, grow in enlightenment with me and let us carve a path together. I promise, you will not be disappointed.”[/color] [color=0054a6]he spoke so simply. Waving his hand as the candles that lit the path extinguished, the magic was clear and it showed how much the Daemon had missed. And so the man walked in time with the bird sat upon his shoulder, the swaying fabric of his suit and coat shifting from velvet red to pearlescent blues and pinks before going back to the velvet it had always been. The man had found himself blessed, and Change was now following him wherever he may walk. 

With a tear, sounding much like a rolling thunderstorm and roaring lightning bolt sizzling away the flesh of an unfortunate victim. A grand swirl began to emerge in the air, thick blue and blacks mixed with a sickening purple that would drive a normal man mad, appeared. If one was to look, they would see anything used to measure the passing of time begin to tick in odd ways, before it began to spin backwards maddeningly fast until the very machinery inside began to slag itself and the portal stabilized. One could see a grand city under siege, and a cowering man clutching at books on the other side of the glassy portal. With little hesitation, Korvo stepped through. Going from the 40th Millennia to the 30th. And with it, the rules had been changed, and the Game started fresh. [/color]