[b][h1]Memphos[/h1]

He looked at them, glaring across the burning city and seeing nothing but mice running from the fire. It was humorous, truly, a marvelous sight that made his heart dance. This was Terra, before it all fell apart. It was a horrid waste, a vile and contemptible fallacy of human ‘Glory’. Sure, the Terra of his time was bright and golden, but one can cast a pile of shit in gold and underneath it all, it is still shit. But that is for another time, for another life many years into the future, for another him to learn. He would deal with it in time, of course, as it was his destiny. He would forge the beginning of that path here and now, with a single action, changing his fate forever. He turned to face the cowering man, holding the scrolls to his chest and sweating in fear as the necro spell ate away at the people further in the palace to give rise to the abominations. Far too similar to the rotting masses of the ‘Grandfather’ for his tastes, the dead should stay dead in his mind so that they may continue on the path of change. So that they may nourish what comes next, but those that refused to die only complicated and stagnated. 

[color=2e3192]“Do not fret, little mouse.”[/color] Korvo spoke, looking at the man in his thick robes which reeked of his fear. [color=2e3192]“You have been granted glorious salvation, a chance to change your fate.”[/color] he said as he practically skipped over to the man. His heeled feet clicking over the stone floor in a staccato tapping rhythm, dancing to a beat only he could hear. Holding one hand out like a showman, before he tapped his cane once on the ground and caused a swirling portal to begin to form. [color=2e3192]“You will be sent far from here, to a cradle of humanity, where you may live a life free of the terror and pain. You and your ‘vast’ knowledge will elevate you, will allow you to take the people I shall give to you and bring them back to a wondrous new future free of this ‘Emperor’.”[/color] he said with a whistle on his lips, as the air began to shimmer with new color, vivid hues the man could not identify winked in and out of existence as flames danced and laughed. Little cackling maws opening in the flames, as if laughing at some unseen or unheard joke, or perhaps they could taste the humor and let it spill out. The little flames danced with their master, as the portal swirled open and revealed a village with near industrial age aesthetics. Korvo slid across the floor, stopping before the man. [color=2e3192]“Take your knowledge, take your life, and live well.”[/color] he said as he lifted his cane, and gently pushed the man through as he fell down into a bundle of hay. [color=2e3192]“Here you were a slave, bound to a library to keep accounts, but there you shall be something of your own making. Goodbye, Sir Phobos.”[/color] he let out, giving one last friendly wave, before the swirling portal closed with a cackling pop, causing a small plume of smoke and confetti to rain down before it burned up in bright colors. 

Looking to the side, he smiled at the table, filled with important records, schematics and designs for things long lost. Things that could no longer be made due to a lack of infrastructure on Terra. He snapped his fingers, causing a few of them to shoot up into the air, and roll into tubes before they fizzled and popped away to be perused later. Yet Korvo knew he did not have long, he had to be quick and concise with what he did next or he could end up facing down the Master of Mankind and that rather potent mind he could sense in another part of the city. Going back to the window, he looked down to see those golden armored abominations, the early iterations of the Emperor’s very own legions. [color=2e3192]“Ah, the flawed ones. The Necessary Evil.”[/color] he said as he tapped his cane a few times as he mulled over his options. [color=2e3192]“Distractions distractions.”[/color] he said as he tasted the ideas flowing over his mind as he felt the bird on his shoulder twitch, growing a multitude of eyes across his wings, and a mouth that formed on every feather and chuckled. [color=662d91]“Do not fret my Master, broken toys they are, meant to be discarded in time. What does it matter if you break a few early?”[/color] the deep voice swam in his mind, even as the mouths spoke in a language no man could replicate. [color=2e3192]“You are right Vissar my friend, I suppose a bit of playful mischief could come to occur. After all, they are flawed products, and flawed toys tend to break at the worst of times.”[/color] he said as he waved a hand, creating a thin mist that flowed to the ground and mixed with the smog of war. Beautiful blue, or perhaps potent pink? None would be able to tell as they marched down the streets. Thick pops of gunfire mowed down the poor victims of the necro spell, and yet did nothing to stop the smog they so readily breathed in. They thrived in the crucible of war, in the death they caused, and it was almost cute. 

[color=2e3192]“Look at them Vissar, if you focus you can see them for what they are. Puppets, dancing on the strings of a master who cares not for them outside of their ability to kill,”[/color] he said as he held up a hand, glowing strings reaching down off his fingers, as a tiny little Thunder Warrior formed on the end of it. Moving his fingers in a playful manner, it began to dance and twirl, slave to his whims. One of the Thunder Warriors down the lane began to replicate what was happening, dancing and twirling in a way he could not stop. He could practically hear the music in his mind as he watched the dancing slave, [color=6ecff6]“You have Strings~ But there are no Strings on me.~”[/color] he sang to himself as the Thunder Warrior swung his hand around and unloaded his gun into his brothers. The gunfire drowned out the cries of surprise before the others returned fire and decimated his puppet, and yet despite the lethal shots the Thunder Warrior continued to dance around and shoot into his once allies. He did not need to be alive after all in order to serve his purpose, and in a handful of moments all five of the Thunder Warriors were dead with only a crater riddled standing corpse left before it fell slack and dropped.

Korvo smiled as he hummed the rest of the tune to himself as Vissar chuckled from the small display. [color=0054a6]“Vissar, I am sure this is quite amusing but we do have other duties to attend to. But I am quite sure, it shall ultimately be oh so very fun.”[/color]

Across the city, Malcador looked up with a sudden wince of pain as he felt the firmament shift insidiously. Next to him, a coruscating wave of putrescence flung forth by a now-dead sorcerer shifted in its arc by the slightest of margins, sailing harmlessly into a building that immediately crumbled into dust. Its intended target, Xenophon, looked up at his master with pursed lips, both knowing that a fate decreed had been defied.

Blowing out an unsteady breath, the psyker straightened himself as he put his weight upon his staff. [color=00a651]“An alteration has occurred. Remain here and provide what aid you may to the Lucifer Blacks, follow the orders of Borethensipulas as if they were mine. I shall handle this myself.”
[/color]
A shimmering skein of energy coalesced around the ancient man as yet another doomed fool sent a bolt of colors that were not, dissipating harmlessly as the Sigilite took his leave. Vanishing into an alleyway, he vanished in truth, walking through more subtle corners as he crossed the expanse of Memphos on paths drawn on no map.

He saw the bodies of the Thunder Warriors first, the spray of gore that erupted from their brutal armaments plastering far more of the cityscape than any humane - or practical - weapon. Drawing in a soft breath, Malcador wrought his soul to reduce its shine within the Warp, for the stench of witchcraft hung thick upon the air. Cautiously, he extended not his body but his mind, searching for the well of power he was all but certain had wrought this death. Of course, he knew all too well that his own travels had been far from subtle, rendering the Sigilite both hunter and hunted.

Korvo shook his hand, as if waving off the magic that had bound the corpse to his will like it was some sort of unwanted foreign material. Vissar, that great avian ‘thing’ that sat upon his shoulder would, to the eye of Malcador, be more an ‘unknowable mass that was not a mass’ than the simple crow-like form others would perceive it as. Not to include the absurdity of a creature the size of a building casually perched on a humans shoulder like a pet would be. However, despite the fact Malcador was dimming his presence in the warp, Korvo and Vissar both would turn, as if drawn to a gaze that could not be seen. The man smiled, and the Bird that was not a bird cackled, both of them stepping into the immaterium to more properly greet their guest. Korvo and Vissar’s presence melded together in some amalgamation of horror, both hiding and bolstering their presence as they confronted the ‘Voyeur’. There was only two beings on this planet, to their knowledge, that could perform such tasks. 

Considering the fact they were not boiling alive in its presence, it seemed the Golden One, the Anathema, had not turned his gaze or presence this way. So it could be only one, the grand one, the Sigilite. They took in the presence of their hidden guest, and did not prod any further, it would not due to play with the tapestry of fate to much just yet. Some things must happen as intended, the weave must be spun wide before grand designs could be sown in amongst the rest. The ‘Thing’ that was Vissar and Korvo twisted and turned, a million eyes opening and closing as they looked around, before going blind all of a sudden and embracing vibrant nothingness. Then it rang out, a voice that spoke with no words, playful yet serious, arrogant yet humble. 

[color=662d91]“We welcome you, our dear friend Malcador. Blessed One, Cursed One.”[/color] spoke the avian voice, before the voice of a man came through. [color=0054a6]“We would speak with you more, yet we have things we must do. Tales we must Spin, Fates to Weave into being. Do hurry along though, we hope our next meeting shall occur soon enough. For the Great Game is ever in motion, and we must play together at that point. Shall we gather pieces first?”[/color]  [color=662d91]“Or shall you?”[/color] the man spoke, as their presence would begin fading, the avian voice came back at the end as if to mock the man. Yet they knew the strength of this one, fearsome it was, and they would not test staying too long in his presence just yet. Yet they could not help but urge the Sigilite forward, after all no game is fun if there are no players.

“An enslaved master and a ruling slave,” Malcador muttered, his voice splitting into a thousand whispers that rippled through things that were not air. [color=007236]“Now is not the time of our meeting, now is not [i]your[/i] time. Get thee hence, and return to your when. We shall have our confrontation later, shadow of the future.”[/color] Disdain laced the psychic echoes of his voice, even as he dissolved himself amid the firmament. Daemon and psyker had been bold enough to announce themselves in their strength, and while a battle would be grievous for both he could at least take advantage of such arrogance.

They felt him, heard him with ears that did not exist, and yet the voice of Malcador was like both gentle rain and booming thunder in the Warp. The warning was clear, but he did not come this far to heed such a warning. His confidence came borne of knowledge, he ‘knew’ the fate of many and the Daemon had shown him even more. The tower he ruled, the times he had seen and visited, he knew exactly what to expect and yet sought to change it. [color=a187be]“Shall we dear Sigilite? Shall we have our confrontation with walking Dust? Before I leave however, I will make you a promise.”[/color] the voices said before the man came forth, his face cast in ever shifting color and shadow that shone bright in its darkness. 

[color=0054a6]“I am going to show you something[/color] [color=662d91]Be[/color][color=f49ac2]aut[/color][color=ec008c]iful[/color].~” the voice said as Malcador would be able to hear the shifting color of words. Before the sound of a million million crows burst into flight and the entity vanished into the warp, as Malcador had requested. Riding the wave of time to the future, yet….not to far. [/b]