[center][color=gold][h1][u][b]A Call for Thunder[/b][/u][/h1][/color]
-After the Meeting with the Emperor-[/center]
[hr]
The interior of the squat tower was as austere as its exterior. There was no time for decoration nor trappings. The bottom floor was the only section of the structure filled with any amount of furniture. Dozens of cogitators encircled the edge of an impossibly wide room. Adepts humbly worked their stations, receiving and dispatching information as it was acquired. Geneworkers hefted twenty large chairs in, each sized appropriately for a genewarrior of the Cataegis. Excertus Imperialis officers hoarded around the megalithic holotable at the center, easily one of the largest in the growing Imperium. A calm before the storm.

Conversations quickly melted away as a pair of leviathan doors suddenly opened. The cold winds of wild Ursh rushed in alongside a cacophony of titanic individuals. Each was as large as the last, their figures enhanced by rumbling warplate. Myriad hues decorated their forms, yet the yellow and Raptor Imperialis remained prevalent among them all. If they were distinct among other Thunder Warriors, then they were outright outlandish among their equals.

They were Thunder Primarchs. Each bore the scars of the past century. Trophies dangled from the vainglorious ones, while battle damage spoke for those that preferred practicality. All of them carried their weapons of renown, clinging to their side on magnet plating or chained to their back from sheer size. None dared to hide their faces behind helmets, save for those that wore armored respirators. Even now, some were in the throes of their geneflaw, despite their inherent stability. Their kindred did not follow them, left in the encampment until they returned with new orders.

At the lead of the pack was the Godslayer and Thunder Primarch of the First, [b]Aeternus Rex[/b], who held his winged helmet underneath his right arm. His face was as aquiline and strong as their master, yet scarred and burnt beyond beauty. Long, silky black hair had been cut short with shaved sides.  Apocrypha – the obsidian greatsword of Akkad - jostled on the back of his black armor, nearly cutting into the alabaster pelt that was his cape. His prized zmaj skull eerily stared out from his left pauldron at those he passed. The Emperor’s Blade halted at the furthest end of the hololith and remained standing.

[b]Bodiciia[/b], Thunder Primarch of the Second, followed after the Godslayer. Her behemoth form was encased in emerald armor with yellow pauldrons. A strong jaw set with mutilating scars blended into a half-shaven head of gray-blonde. Emerald eyes stared out from beneath green warpaint. An enormous power axe was chained to her back, haunting runes of Ursh bleeding from it. She stood to the left of Aeternus.

[b]Ushotan[/b], the Lord of Steel, trudged in her wake. Bare and battle-worn was his unadorned and unpainted armour, and just as unsightly and scarred was his face, its stubborn jaw a craggy cliff roughly cut by the elements. Squinted, cold grey eyes stared suspiciously from under his corrugated brow. Even among friends, the brutish destroyer of Maulland Sen seemed uneasy and diffident, restless fingers betraying their longing for the familiar grip of his huge and crudely built plasma-sword.

Primarch [b]Alexamandes[/b], Lord of the Tenth, lowly grumbled to himself as he trailed after Ushotan. The gregarious nature of the bearded giant was muted here. Red-gray locks of hair were bundled up behind him in a note, allowing his unevenly shaped head and mismatched eyes to breath. A cloak of forged scales bounced with each step of his half yellow, half crimson warplate. A pair of old chainaxes were maglocked to his waist, eager to cut and maim at a moment’s notice. He stopped just shy of Ushotan’s left.

[b]Alfovathan[/b], Marshal of the Umbra Paladins, followed in behind Alexamandes. His warplate was akin to the Godslayer, swathed in a hue of obsidian yet with a touch of yellow on his pauldrons and fists. A charcoal tabard hung over his chest with the Raptor, echoed only by an orderly cloak hanging over his shoulders. His pale eyes rapidly darted between all of the Cataegis warlords, then to the Custodes, and finally to Aeternus. A snarl formed on his lips, stretching his scorched burns up his shaven head. A powered executioner’s blade dangled loudly on chains attached to his powerpack, ever ready to lay down His law. The Umbra Paladin halted some spare inches away from the Infernal Phoenix, sniffing the air around his brother with disdain.

[b]Corvinius[/b], Crow-Lord of the Thirteenth, stalked in behind Alfovathan. The gaunt Primarch had his black hair free of its knot, dangling down before his mechanical eye. A dark, plumed cloak jingled with the sound of clashing steel as his midnight armor bounded forward. His form was devoid of his signature magnarail, yet keen eyes could spy the power knife cleverly kept by his breastplate. He silently waited next to Alfovathan.

[b]Hannibal[/b], a previously vaunted figure, walked slowly striding in armor caked in unwashed blood and as battered as the whole of the Cateagis. The Primarch of the Fifteenth seemed tired, even for a being of his caliber his movements had slowed to a noticeable degree. Once, he had been seen decorated and always with a sly and cunning nature about him, now a shell of what he had once been. Quietly, the Caged Dog muttered to himself - one so close to being a second Aeternus was slipping, what was once a general, had the form and gait of a rabid animal barely holding itself together.

The Primarch of Sixteenth, [b]Gilgamenses[/b], clicked his tongue as he followed after Hannibal. His face was permanently fixed into a scowl. A heavy respirator uglied his formerly aquiline, charismatic features. Angry, grey orbs with heavy bags beneath glared out from above the facial piece. Pure lilac hued power armor covered his lithe, yet powerful musculature. No cape was fashioned to the warrior’s back, a long archeotech trident in its place. He breathed deeply to the left of Hannibal.

The gunmetal grey and yellow form of the Primarch of the Seventeenth came in not far behind Gilgamenses. [b]Apocalypsos[/b], his mouth a wicked smile and his eyes darting unceasingly about the room, muttered quietly to himself as he entered. His fingers danced about the hilts of the pair of short swords at his waist as if he was unsure of their reason for being there. While his mind appeared slipping his physicality was unchanged from the last he had been seen by his fellow Primarchs. He loomed large in the room just as the rest of his warriors, the threat of bloodshed radiating from his muscled form even as he frantically searched the shadows for a blade in the dark.

The Primarch of the Eighteenth, [b]Theadon Red[/b], stood too well-maintained, or at least to the ability he could around others. Unlike his usual robes, and the wear armor that he wore to these conventions of his brothers and sisters, he was prepared for combat, and from his face, it was not because it was in Ursh either, he had been here the longest, this was his home now, it was for some other reason. His strength bulged through armor plates that were strapped to thick chains over fur. Still, much of his torso, legs, and arms were coming in and out of the draping cloth that was fitted over him, but he looked stronger than usual. Still, his face showed an almost wild side that he would be, off-putting to most who knew him, where, in years prior, he would have been seen as more contemptuous and calm; it was almost as if that could be seen fleeing from him in his face. His once-wise eyes seemed to have a spark that would have been visible only in his youth, a fire that helped brighten those once dulled and wise old eyes. He had some tokens, though none from war; they were parts of shoulder plates, some still had XVIII painted on them in bright white or red, most were fragments, cut by a well-honed strike of a power weapon. His hip held his powersword and bolt pistol.

Less subtle was the flame in the gaze of [b]Charmagnol[/b], the bloody Red Knight. Age and wear seemed to only have stoked the ferocious glare within him, and now it beamed balefully from above the grilled mouthguard that covered the lower half of his face, a stark contrast to the hairless pallor of his scalp and brow. A few dark spots lay haphazardly over his crimson plate, mutely whispering of the rumour that its colour was layered in wildly spilled blood. His fists were clenched as if to purposely keep them away from his weapons, and he now and then turned his head to cast back a hateful glare.

Each of them was returned in kind by the one who came after.  The Fifth Primarch, [b]Jotharion[/b], kept a deliberate distance from his predecessor, boring into his back with a fearsome scowl when he was not meeting his eyes with mutual animus. The hide cloak over his red and yellow was ragged, and ruined also appeared his features, over which the inexorable decay of the Cataegis was writ clearer than most. Where once he was a beacon of humanity among the misshapen snarls of his men, his face now had the same hard and savage cast as the rest of them.

[b]Sunxian[/b], Primarch of the Tempest Callers, was the last to enter of the warlords. The blood of Nei Mongol ran in his veins, yet the glory of the Cataegis was evident on his face. A plethora of tribal tattoos decorated his skin, each recording a great feat of his. Milk-white eyes acknowledged the others with cold familiarity. His teal-yellow warplate stank of engine oil and unwashed toxic waste. Black hair with hefty white segments was tied into a tail that trailed behind him. He alone bore no weapon to the conclave, yet the Tempest Caller was one of few with their mental and physical faculties present. The warlord stood next to the Godslayer, completing the circle.

Gold-plated genewarriors followed after them in cold, precise formation. Their guardian spears were held upright, ready to descend given the order. Ten in total fanned out across the chamber, spacing themselves out in a pattern fit for their fighting style. As soon as they were in place, the Custodes remained as silent as statues. The Primarchs knew instinctively by this point that the companions of the Emperor watched them. Prepared to slaughter the Thunder Primarchs, if necessary.

Aeternus fixed them all with a piercing glare. He was proud to see those who were still alive, yet Rex couldn’t help but feel pity for those that were already suffering the geneflaw. It was second only to the remorse of those that weren’t present. [i]Gon-Khaus, Fracosios, Raphariel, Apollyor, Vladorios, and Longinolos[/i]. In their place were equerries that they had prepared in case of their death or degradation. Even they, as trusted as they were, had been touched by the flaw in their own way.

“I won’t bother you all with platitudes or formalities beyond being relieved to see those who still remain. Time is short and Kalagann awaits us,” Aeternus announced, thumbing the rune on the hololith. A pair of images appeared, separated by content and delivery. The first was a transcribing of his conversation with the Emperor, gifted to him by Portia. The second was a geographical accurate hologram of Ursh, complete with active operations and planned assaults. Another press of a rune brought up the transcript from the Sigilite’s assistant.

“I alone visited the Emperor several days ago to seek the truth about our weakness – the geneflaw. I cannot hold back my tongue on the eve of Unity. [b]We are dying and He cannot save us[/b],” the Godslayer stated with a rumble in his voice akin to a lion. He was prepared for the backlash, especially from those on the verge of madness. His eyes calmly bounced between the assembly of surviving Primarchs. Already, he could see the machinations of the conversation having an adverse effect on some, yet others seemed to accept it unsurprised of His attitude.

“Ursh is to be our final chance to achieve glory before the geneflaw takes us. If we are to die, then I’d prefer it with Kalagann’s intestines in my hands then drowning in my own bile.” The Primarch of the First said with fury in his voice. Aeternus knew he would not suffer the geneflaw, yet he relished the chance to fight as the Legio Cataegis one final time.

Hannibal was amongst the first to react to this, a look of brief clarity flashing across his face, only to be replaced with a mixture of sadness and rage. After all the Legio Cataegis had done - after all they had sacrificed for His unity, the madness compelled him to rage against the injustice of it all. What little control he had left reigned in the physical rage, instead barking out, “After all we have done? We will not even get to see the unity we bled for?! [b]The unity we slaughtered and grew mad for[/b]?!”

“Say it plainly, Aeternus. You know better than this,” Ushotan sneered. The grim and forced turn of his lips and the rancorous growl of his voice were hardly less bitter than the pained fury drawn across some of the faces around him. “We’ve served our purpose and are no longer needed. By His mercy we can try to die by the sword one last time. Is that so?”

Before the Godslayer could answer, Gilgamenses spoke up like a crash of lightning. He slammed his lilac gauntlet against the gargantuan hololith, forcing it’s images to momentarily shift. With the same gauntlet, the Primarch swung his arm wide in a gesture to the rest of the gathered warlords. His enraged eyes, however, remained on the Primarch of the First Legion while speaking.

“There is no reason for Aeternus to explain it, Ushotan. The answer is not in that we served our purpose, but by who stole our purpose! Did the Emperor explain to you that, not only are we barred from recruitment, all of our genestock is going to our respective counterparts?” Gilgamenses finished with a scowl. It was an angry, feral appearance that could frighten a man to death. Madness lingered on the edge of the warrior’s tone, yet it was directed in a direction far away from those closest to him. The rage all dwelled on the genewarriors known as the Astartes.
 
Theadon Red stopped there staring at the others, he hunched just barely as a smile formed across his face, “It is because they are the future Gilgamenses, I accepted that when I first met them, and I took them under my wing because as soon as I felt the change I knew there needed to be a next Generation, we were a stepping stone, the first step in their paths… Do not Hate, Resent, whatever term you choose, because they are the future, it’s only your blindness that didn’t allow them to become your legacy while staring at the face of imminent demise!” 

Red seemed to grow old in a moment as he took a deep breath to compose himself. He hated every moment awake at this time, and he knew his time had come. “Ursh is a worthy place Rex… I’ve spent the most time in the steppes and ruins, it will kill us or change us, do we know where our final field shall be?” he asked solemnly, the fragrance of barbarity he had walked in with, had washed away in those few moments of outburst. 

The voices began to grow among the Primarchs. The vexation that Gilgamenses and Hannibal displayed caused no shortage of grumbling and arguments from erupting. The Godslayer observed them as their opinions and thoughts inadvertently split them apart – those aligned with the Emperor’s decision and those against. The first party was beginning to form between himself, Ushotan, Bodiciia, Alexamandes, Red, Corvinius, Alfovathan and Sunxian. The latter party was forming with Napoleos, Apocalypsos, Charmagnol, Jotharion, Gilgamenses, and Hannibal. He wondered which route the deceased would’ve chosen.

“[b]Enough[/b],” Aeternus growled with a tone that wagered his strength and feats against their mewling. It felt almost as an aura to the other warlords. One that radiated with their unified hopes, dreams, and endurance. This was always how he had been from the beginning. Some found that suffocating, while others found it a guiding line in an unending war full of madness. His dark eyes turned to address Ushotan first.

“[b]Yes[/b]. Our purpose is finished once Kalagann has been toppled. Narthan Dume would remain if not for his active dethroning by the Astartes in the east,” the Primarch of the First responded. Words weren’t required to explain that ‘garrison duty’ was not in their future. His tone was neither of defeat nor was it of miraculous triumph. His truth was simply stated. That was always how the Steel Lord had preferred it. His eyes regarded Theaddon next.

“Our final field will be in [b]Mosrovoth[/b], Kalagann’s fortress. It will be our final conquest, Red. Those that survive will see Unification before succumbing to the geneflaw,” Rex replied. Aeternus’ tone suggested many would perish. The battle plans had already been discussed. He didn’t need to explain where the Thunder Warriors would be. They all knew where their place was, yet it was a matter of with whom and how. An answer that he turned to the rest of the Primarchs to begin explaining.

“Gilgamenses and Theaddon are both correct. They are our replacements. They are also our future. We may never see the stars alongside our Emperor, but they will carry on the legacy of the Cataegis. Make your peace with this for they will be joining us in our final fight,” Aeternus concluded. He caught Gilgamenses gritting his teeth loud enough they could shatter. A glance to the Custodes saw that none had dared move, yet the Primarch of the First was certain they were listening.

Apocalypsos, from his position, stood behind the seat marked for him, his hand steady, pointed toward Aeternus. His lips quivered a moment as his eyes appeared to at last focus on a single point in space at the center of the First Primarch’s chestplate.

“You wish us to simply allow this?” he muttered, his lips quivering between words and shallow breaths. His focus became clear and he shook his head at Rex, “You wish none of this, you do not wish to be--” he shook his head violently now as if to rid himself of unheard voices, “this is not your wish! It is not ours! We were to conquer to-- to---” he slammed a balled fist into the raised back of his seat, splintering it where the blow landed, “We were promised [i]unification[/i], Aeternus! [b]We were promised the stars[/b]!” he bellowed, spit spraying across the holotable and dribbling from his mouth like a lame dog.

“We are close to the reunification of our home, while… we will never see the stars.” Theadon Red held his hands in front of him, pressing them down as if saying to calm, “at least from the sky, we will likely see the last War on this world, and be ended in it, we will conquer this world. We will be mourned, we will be seen throughout the annals of history. It pains me to say it as well; I believe that if we survive our final battle, we wouldn’t see the skies in the way any of us desires. I… I would ask of us all to write down our tactics, our traditions, our doctrines to pass down, to give to those who come after us. So that we are not just placards and statues.”  

There was a silence from Hannibal as the others spoke, the remnants of his mind trying to coax himself back into what he had been long before. Those remnants had long been overshadowed by the madness of their collective flaw-his voice cracked as he spoke, “This is far from what we had been promised! We had been- we were-”

Hannibal’s snarl returned. “We were what brought this Imperium to fruition, Thaedon! Why is it that we must be cast aside while the likes of them-” He gestured to the silent custodes that stood in the chamber, “Them who were made without ‘flaw’! They who follow His bidding just as we have loyally to our men and women’s final breath! These Custodians will not be cast aside by Him while [b]WE[/b] are! The Astartes, lesser than us in all but one way, will see the stars while we are meant to be sod in the earth that [b]WE[/b] took, Thaedon! Were we made to be discarded like refuse?!”

“Because WE were experiments! Can’t you see that!” Red snarled looking over at his other side, “We were the first part in making the Astartes, we were just a step, they didn’t know, our maker didn’t know we would waste away before we even made it to the stars… This is just a way to prepare us, for something I’ve known about far longer than you all, I’ve felt the change since before Ursh, and if I had not been controlling madness I wouldn’t be standing in this room. I’ve held on this far, and I know I cannot make it much more. I have only told one, and he stands in this room…” his eye going towards Aeternus, “but, I should have told you all, that we would waste away before the stars.” With that, he looked down, as he had betrayed them in this, and he regretted not telling them. 


Charmagnol stared at him, and there was in his eyes a dangerous and feverish light of obstinacy.

“And what if we don't?” His voice, once impetuous, had been reduced by a fraying throat and a spasming jaw to a slow, careful drawl. Now, however, in the tense cold silence, this tone of a wary ancient sounded like the threatening deliberation of one who speaks of the outrageous. “What if when Mosvoroth is rubble under our feet we stand and do not die? Our fury has carried us around Terra, and maybe it will through this.” He glanced at the Custodians, and one could hear the strained but vicious grin in his words. “Would they really be glad if they didn't see us fall? Would [i]He[/i]?”

Jotharion grunted. Much as he loathed to agree in anything with his rival, he hated the alternative - the admission of his own weakness - even more.

The Primarch of the First glanced towards the Custodians. None had moved a centimeter from their position. He doubted they ever would during this meeting, especially given that the Black Hawk was nearby. Their stagnant silence was poison to this place, yet Rex inherently knew why they were present. They were all going mad. All except for him, he thought grimly as Alfovathan spoke up.

“Then we continue to be the tools of Unification that we were always meant to be! There will always be war, even when He takes to the stars,” Alfovathan snarled, his fists coming down on the hololith. All of the raw strength of the Thunder Primarchs combined was beginning to deteriorate the console at an alarming rate. It fizzled into hazy azure before reforming again into an image of the Emperor’s transcript. His pale eyes caught sight of it again, then gestured with one of his gauntlets. His rigid, slovenly voice continued to speak, “do you not see from this alone that He was genuine? Why would He even enlighten us in our final hours if not to give us this chance?”

“It is because He wants us to die, either by the blades of Kalagann or from within,” Alexamandes spoke out, slobber clinging to his lip in an uncharacteristic frown. His words were spoken through barred teeth like a snarling dog. No longer did the booming sound of his hearty lungs fill the room, each utterance reduced to disgusted mewling. The gregarious warlord of the Phoenixes was no more, reduced to a disdainful warrior akin to many of the other Primarchs. Napoleos rose up immediately, cutting the air with his hand in a defiant manner.

“You disgust me. Think of all our siblings that’ve perished. Did you forget about their absence? Do you only think for yourselves? They will never know Unity or scour the stars with Him, yet you all mewl here when it is in sight,” Napoleos yelled. He’d never forget Vladorios’ final remarks, nor the moments that the Custodes had allowed them in their fight for Indoi. He grit his teeth loud enough to audibly hear them crack. His eyes savagely darted between the warlords.

“You think we’d ever forget them!? Hundreds of thousands of Cataegis died for this day, Napoleos! Killed, replaced, and used by Him! Theaddon has the right of it, we are tools and experiments, but that doesn’t stop us from having a damned glorious ending!” Bodiciia roared in response, fuming with unmanaged rage. Her face darkened in anger. The bloodlust was palpable in her form, her hands reaching back for the power axe.

Each of the Primarchs felt the innate desire to draw their weapon as the Primarch of the Second dared to. The air was thick with violence and ignorance. The Custodes remained silent still, yet all turned their helmets a miniscule fraction of degrees as if assessing the situation. The Primarch of the First put a gauntlet on Bodiciia’s pauldron. His gesture was enough for her to hesitantly back down, opening up the floor once more for him to speak.

“Red. We have always known we were wasting away, dying in ways that Cataegis shouldn’t. Some were keener than others. I’ve had to mercy kill my warriors more than any commander should ever have to,” Aeternus, at last, replied to Theaddon. His hand instinctively went down to the sheath of his dagger, reminded of the promise he’d made with Amalasuntha. He regarded the rest of them with a steely gaze. Rex’s voice spoke out, “this is not how I wished for the Cataegis to end. I wished to fight alongside Him into the stars. I wished my warriors, my siblings, my friends, to be cured of their flaws. I wished to continue to slay gods.”

“I accept this end regardless of my wishes. It has never been – or never will be – a thought that I do not war beside our Master. Whether it is because we are tools, experiments, or defective goods. Whether we are replaced by something lesser or greater than us. We were made with a purpose.  We are Thunder Warriors. We marched across Terra and brought it to heel through our strength. We are the sole arbitrators of Unification. We will forever be remembered as heroes. Nothing can ever take that away from us. Nothing ever will,” Aeternus concluded, his voice projecting out with pride. Nothing he said would be able to ease the pain of this betrayal, subjected to a quick death through campaign or slowly dying by geneflaw. This was all he could do as a leader of warriors. A solemn wish and an acceptance of the Emperor’s plans.

Red stood slowly, he had both hands folded on each other, and had since he had spoken, his face was full of disgust, not in the others, it was an inward hatred of himself, “Aeternus… I would like to speak privately sometime in the future. I do not think I, or most of us, can withstand this… discussion, and I feel it in the edges of my mind. I can contain it, but I would rather not fight those I’ve stood beside for so long, and I know if this topic continues, there will be a fight. What else is there to discuss, if anything?” 

Apocalypsos, his eyes as unnervingly focused as after his first outburst, turned his gaze to Theadon.

“You have always been too craven to finish that which others started,” Apocalypsos spoke from gritted teeth, “but I do not believe that is the case here.” he looked now to Aeternus, pain evident on his features. He swept a hand across the Custodian Guard arrayed about the room, his wicked smile returning once more, “I will be cold and dead at the end of a worthy foe’s blade before I cross swords with another of His servants, I only hope that the rest of you can say the same.” Apocalypsos gave a nod to Aeternus now, a hint of the intellect behind the madness showing through for the briefest of moments.

“For as long as they’re His servants…” Ushotan grumbled cryptically, a hint of an ugly-looking smile at the corner of his otherwise rigid mouth, but said no more.

The First Primarch looked between the final three speakers and granted them a nod of acknowledgement. All of their eyes fell back on Aeternus as he placed both of his armored hands on the hololithic table. Grumbling, whispering, and groaning halted as the Lightning Bearer spoke once again. The flickering display on the table quickly switched to the sign of the raptor and lightning.

“Then there is nothing more to speak of. If this next fight is to be our last, then let it be known that I’ve cherished the glory of unifying Terra with all of you. Remember the fallen. Fight for the living. Bring glory in His name. [b]Raptor Imperialis[/b]!” Aeternus finally said as he drew their attention in, slamming one of his fists against his chestplate in salute to the rest of the Primarchs. No matter their differences, Rex honored each and every one of them in his own way. 

“[b]Raptor Imperialis[/b]!” The remaining thirteen Thunder Primarchs responded with their own salutes, whether it be with fist or drawn weapon. Each slowly left with a variety of aggression on their tongues. Rex knew that the Custodes could hear each and every one of them. He could feel the gaze of Amalasuntha bearing down on those that left with burning eyes of hatred. A refused to move until the last pair of Primarchs in the chamber were himself and Theaddon.

“This is as private as it will get for us, Red. I wish we had had more time recently, so forgive me for holding off until now.” Aeternus sighed, rounding the table to stand next to the other Primarch. His words hung in the air of grievances unspoken across his many campaigns. He clapped an armored hand on his pauldron and offered a pained smile to the warrior. Despite all of the attrition his legion had suffered, Rex remained happy enough to enjoy the presence of his most treasured brethren. 

“So speak with me as we once had in bygone days,” the Blade of the Emperor said, releasing the warrior’s shoulder and relaxing against the hololithic table.

Red stared at the man for a moment, instead of giving him a salute, it was a bear hug, “I do miss those times, Aeternus. Since the early campaigns, I have only seen you at these meetings or spoken to you through ciphered messages.” Theadon would eventually release the man and lean against the table as well, his hand waving over it a few times. “I still remember when my legion didn’t look like giants of mythos clad in the decay of fallen enemies, with trinkets adorning their armor. This next generation, I am thankful that the few sane ones left are able to pass down the knowledge and some of the traditions of my men before we pass.” 

A genuine smile would rest upon the giant, “First, let us get the formal things out of the way, then I would be honored to reminisce before we depart again. The battlefield chosen for our deaths will be a good one, there is a small complex nearby, I would like to take it with you, it’s an ancient thing, and a small team is all we would need, crucial to take though, it is filled with ancient equipment, no doubt that when the planet is rebuilt it will likely become the hub of research in the area, or to archeologists. Still… the area I know well, while Apocalypsos words did strike home, there are few things I complete, not out of cravenness, but… I think this last one does, the thought of imminent death strikes itself into each of us, but so does our pride, or honor, whatever motivates us.” Red chuckled, “I know I did it for duty, there is no honor in slaughter and subterfuge. Scouting and being caught in an ambush could gain some, but what I have done I know not. It was a necessity to bring war machines down to their knees so someone like you could behead the beasts.”  

Aeternus listened to Theaddon with closed eyes, reminiscing and enjoying the memories of their earliest campaigns. They were memories that he would never forget. He opened his eyes once more as Red finished, turning towards him with an apologetic look crossing his features. His gauntlets settled against the table as he mustered the will to reject his friend’s request.

“I cannot, Theaddon. Kalagann stands before us, hiding away in his citadel for our final assault. If the war in Ursh wasn’t coming to it’s conclusion, then I would relent,” the Thunder Primarch of the First Legion replied with soft words. There were many things that he still wished to do. Chasing after objectives with his siblings was one of his most cherished that remained. He bit back the desire and continued, “but this war is almost over and I only have fifty God-Slayers left to fight with. The Emperor will not spare me any further distraction.”

His attention briefly turned away from Theaddon to the looming shadows above them. He could barely identify the silhouette of the Black Hawk, yet Aeternus knew without a doubt that she was there. It was to her that he directed the final words to. A promise to finish what had been started decades ago in the mountains of the Himalazians. His eyes rested back on Red again, his hint made plain for the other Primarch to catch.

The hint was noted, and a smile continued on his face, “I figured, then send your sanest son, and I will do the same. They will live on, I found a curious individual, one who we have seen many times throughout the lifetimes of some mortals. They will be important to what we have created the foundation for, or at least that is what I was told. I know I figured out our roles long ago, and still saw the hope the small bit of humanity in me feels.” 

“Rex, can I stand beside you then in our final hours? I have twelve sons of darkness left that are on the edge, and three that are as sane as they can be, two can go with two of yours to secure it. Just think about it, when in the final stages before the day.” Red slapped his friends back and chuckled a bit, “Regardless I know if you sent me in first, no matter how strong any of the other legions were, I would make it to him first, my ‘craven’ tactics.” Red would say mocking his sibling, “are still efficient, and can put me right where I want to be far faster than running headlong into the fangs of their biomonstrosities.” 

“We will not perish so easily, my friend. You may continue to stand with me until the day that Unity no longer needs us.” Aeternus replied, knowing well enough that he had rejected whatever plan that Theaddon had been brewing. They had warred together for decades. He knew when the warrior was preparing for something beyond the scope of the campaign. One of his best and worst traits, he thought nostalgically. Rex would have to change the course of his desire.

“There isn’t much time left for us, Red. I will be leading the siege on Mosvoroth from the front with the rest of my God-Slayers,” the Thunder Warrior started to say, fully turning his armored body to Theaddon. There was a hard look in his eyes that echoed the solemn attitude that he had always exuded. He held a hand out to be taken, knowing well that Red may not accept his final proposition. Aeternus continued to speak after a short moment, “join me in my call for thunder. Just like we massacred through Akkad, join me in this final charge to bring down Kalagann.”

There was no room for maneuvering in his posture. As much as it was a friendly request, Aeternus offered an ultimatum that was left unsaid out of respect for his longest living companion. Join in the frontlines of Mosvoroth, or suffer in the reserves to fight another day on Terra. For that moment alone, the Primarch of the First felt like the Shield of the Emperor. Inflexible, solemn, and strong. It was as if the Emperor’s Black Blade perfectly reflected the First of the Custodes.

Red stared and nodded, nostalgia and hope plagued the man, but he took the hand, and gripped it tightly, pulling his longest friend to his chest, and wrapping him with his other arm, “I will always stand beside you, and if my duties did not require, I would have many times prior to this. If it was not my nature to run free on this world I would have stood beside you always… I did find it ironic that the most stoic one of us was the one I found to be my favorite to stand beside.” 

“I will stand beside you, like Akkad. The last bastion of true resistance to the Emperor on this world will know not what hit it.” Red knew that reserves were not an option here, there was not enough of them to be considered reserves if it did not account for the newer generations of gene-forged warriors, “I would rather stand beside you in the end, not on some random part of the line.” He said quietly before releasing his friend.

“As it was always meant to be,” Aeternus responded with a sigh of relief. He brought his fist up his chest in a final salute to his friend and offered a scarred smile. “Meet with the last of your warriors and prepare them for what’s to come. Join the small corner where the God-Slayers are readying for war. [b]Raptor Imperialis[/b], Red.”

As Theaddon the Red echoed the salute and departed, the Primarch of the First turned back towards the hololithic table. His gauntlets typed several runes into the attached terminal, forcing a new hologram to illuminate the chamber. Mosvoroth, the Citadel of Kalagann, appeared as a digital facsimile with it’s outskirts snaking out like veins. Several symbols of the Raptor with attached numbers, sigils, and designations surrounded the fortress. Dark eyes remained fixed on the center of the location.

“[i]Unity[/i],” He breathed out.
[hr]
Credits: [@MarshalSolgriev] (Aeternus, Napoleos, Alexamandes, Gilgamenses, Alfovathan, Bodiciia, Sunxian) [@Oraculum] (Ushotan, Jotharion, Charmagnol), [@Lauder] (Hannibal), [@FrostedCaramel] (Apocalypsos), [@Jamesyco] (Theaddon the Red)