Warhammer: Adventures Of The Two

The Warp: 985.M41

The Emperor's boot

It turned out that the warp was NOT a calm place. Especially when you were being boarded by Chaos space marines.

"Keep the pressure on! Don't let them gain any ground!" Michael yelled as hundreds of guardsmen poured lasfire down upon the Marines, the modified power packs causing the beams of light to actually burn off the cerimite and cause the outer layers of adamantium to glow orange with heat.

Because of the more powerful weaponry wielded by the Imperials, the traitor marines were actually forced to use cover lest they be killed by mere guardsmen. One of the traitors looked up from his cover and let loose a shell from his bolter, killing a guardsman before he was forced to take cover.

The other marine beside him growled in frustration, "This was supposed to be simple! When did the corpse worshippers get weapons like this, Calivar, when!?" he said to his companion.

"I wish I knew Alius, but we will do what we can," Calivar answered, firing a few more rounds from his bolter, "Now if only Alaric would come to assist us, then we might finally have some new trophies."

The two continued to trade fire with the guardsmen, before Alius roared in frustration, threw his bolter to the side, picked up his chainaxe.

"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!" His warcry echoed through the sh.i.p.s hull.

The lasbolts peppered his armor, the surface glowing a dull orange with the amount of heat coming off of it. This did not slow the berserker, as he continued to charge and finally reach the Guardsmen line. His chainaxe tore into guardsmen, rending the flesh from their bones and covering the floor in red blood and gore.

The lasfire did not stop, however, and the adamantium armor began to melt away. The armor warped and steamed as a lucky lasbolt finally broke through, burning the traitor marines flesh. The traitor roared in agony, lashing out at the nearest guardsmen around him and tearing them apart. The guardsmen still held strong, continuing to melt through the marine's armor before he finally collapsed, his skin charred and his organs turned to boiled mush.

While his companions agony was not something he particularly enjoyed, Calivar took the distraction as an opportunity to retreat and get the sorcerer to actually help them. The inside of his ship creaked and g.r.o.a.n.e.d under his weight as he ran through it, praying that Khorne would allow him to live long enough for him to shed some actual blood that wasn't his own.

The bridge of the tainted ship was rather small for an Astartes but would give any normal human more than enough room to work in. Standing in the center of the room, stood a deathwatch space marine, arms outstretched and chanting. Due to him not wearing a helmet, Calivar could see Alaric's eyes were rolled back in his head, and his entire body seemed to shiver.

"Alaric! Snap out of it!" Calivar yelled, stomping over to the Legionnaire, "The guardsmen will be boarding the ship as we speak, Alius has already fallen and if we don't do something we will be next!"

Instantly, Alaric's chanting ceased, and he closed his eyes before looking directly at Calivar, "A plan has been enacted cousin, one that despite my distaste for him, the Lord of Change has had a hand in.

[-----]

Captain Jarod's personal quarters

"And finally, I cast fist!" Jarod yelled, slamming a piece of thin paste-board down on the table.

The eldritch being sitting across from him cackled, "So you have! And by doing so, you have activated my trap card! Mystical Spikes!"

"Ah, but Mystical Spikes is nullified by Guardian Angels flying ability! And he continues forwards, dealing one thousand points of damage!"

"OHohOHohOHohOHohOHohOH! Quite the play, my mortal dimensional traveler! It seems that you are quite the player!" Tzeentch complimented, "Or am I just taking it easy on you? Am I only limiting my own ability?"

"You probably are. Last time I saw you playing this game you had three Pot of Greeds. Which is practically cheating." He chastised the abomination.

Once again, Tzeentch laughed that terrible laugh, "And that is what intrigues me so! You know me, you know I am, you know what I do, you know why I do it! You have made certain the uncertain, and you know the unknown! Why is this? Are you simply a scholar who read one-to-many books? Or is it something else?"

"I'm pretty sure that if you knew where I got my information from, you'd either laugh or cry. Maybe both." Jarod explained, "Now are we done? 'Cause last I checked there are two traitor marines attacking my ship."

Tzeentch cackled knowingly, "OhohOHoHOhOHOhOhoHoHoHOHOHOHo! Well, you can drop that down to TWO more of the anathema's ex-children, one of them is already burnt!"

"I'm not even going to ask what you mean by that."

"Smart mortal."

The warp-born entity seemed to fade from existence, becoming transparent and its form wavering. Before it disappeared entirely, however, it did say one last thing, "Oh and you're a psyker now, have fun!"

"Wait, what!?" Jarod asked, before Tzeentch's form disappeared entirely and a psychic wave sent Jarod sprawling to the floor.

Standing back up, he felt a splitting headache come on, making him rub his temples. This was only amplified seconds later when he suddenly heard the violent screeches of the psychic beings within the warp as they tried to rend his soul from his body.

Jarod cried out in pain, trying to use his force of will to eject the psychic presence from his mind. It somewhat succeeded, many of the smaller mental probes leaving his mind. Still, the larger, more painful ones persisted. He tried putting up mental defenses, blocking out all thought except for the image of a solid iron wall.

This seemed to work, as the probes finally left his psyche. Slowly, he released the image from his mind and tried to think of what to do next.

He could, for lack of a better term, feel the warp around him. He could almost 'see' the beings within the warp swimming around him like sharks to a piece of fresh and bloody meat. Fortunately for him, they soon lost interest and went towards a much larger psychic than his own.

Taking a deep breath, Jarod stood up again, before moving slowly towards the door to his room. He would be lying if the Eldritch abomination had not shaken him to his core. While in Tzeentch's personality was remarkably similar to his internet persona, it seemed he was relatively unaware of the fact, which made Jarod curious.

Opening his door, he heard the sounds of lasfire coming from somewhere in the ship. Keeping a hand on his throbbing head, he made his way towards the sounds of combat. Opening a blast door he was assaulted with the smell of Ozone and blood, as he saw the remains of a traitor marine and several now dead guardsmen.

Looking around, he saw that the guardsmen had halted their fire, though they still had their guns trained on what looked like a boarding ship. Panning around the room, he found Michael hauling a wounded guardsman onto a stretcher.

"Michael!" He called out, getting his attention.

Michael turned his head towards Jarod and walked over, "Where have you been!? We've been under assault from chaos space marines for more than long enough for you to take notice!"

"For the record, I did take notice. The only reason I only just came down is due to the fact that a particularly indecisive mollusk decided that I would be the perfect candidate for his patronage." He explained.

Michael's eyes bulged, "As in, the big blue space squid?" He asked worriedly. Himself and Jarod had talked extensively about Chaos and the effects it might have on them. They concluded that due to their extensive knowledge of the subject matter they would be able to avoid the most dangerous pitfalls.

Jarod nodded, "Yeah. Challenged me to a children's card game too. I suppose Alfa Busa knew some things that many in the Imperium don't."

Michael sighed, "I'm guessing you aren't anywhere near corrupted?" He asked in a less worried tone.

"Nope. Though, considering blue boy just made me a psyker…" He trailed off.

Michael shook his head rapidly, "Wait, you're a psyker now!?" He whisper-yelled.

Jarod nodded, "The last thing he said to me was 'you're a psyker now' and a splitting headache followed soon after." he explained, "Not to mention all of the Daemons trying to constantly get into my head."

Michael shook his head, letting out a long sigh. Either of them being psykers was NOT something that they had made a plan for. And they had planned extensively. They were prepared to fight Space Marines, as they had just proven, they were prepared to fight Daemons, Tyranids, Orks, Eldar, the Inquisition, the Adeptus Mechanicus, the Tau… they were even prepared to fight the Primarchs if it came down to it!

But getting turned into a psyker wasn't on the list of thing's they'd prepared for.

"So, are you a ticking time bomb, or do you know how to keep yourself stable?" He asked.

"I think I'm stable for the most part. It was worse when it first happened. It felt like a dozen iron bars were being stabbed into my head, but they left to swim around some other psyker. He's more powerful than me, that's for sure." Jarod explained.

Michael hummed, "Well if they're strong enough to take the attention away from you I guess that's good."

A large explosion came from the back of the room, where the traitor ship had docked with their own. Looking back at it, they saw the two Chaos Space marines standing, not shooting at them, not charging at them, just standing there in the doorway. One of them was one of the ones from before, wearing red armor and symbols of Khorn.

The other was a marine in black armor and blue-green highlights. A white cloak trailed behind him, and a power sword sat at his hip. What intrigued the two travelers the most about hi was the distinct lack of chaotic imagery, as well as his whole motif being that of a member of the deathwatch then that of chaos.

"Jarod Carolinus Robertson." the black armored marine asked- no, stated.

Everyone in the room was tensed, but no one dared move a muscle for fear of sparking conflict again. In response to -- mostly -- his name, Jarod stepped forward and addressed the marine… with dozens of men and guns between them.

"That's me… and who are you?" he asked.

"I an Alaric of the Astral Winds chapter. The Khornate beside me is Calivar, of the Space Wolves. The one you have miraculously slain was Alius, of the same chapter as his gene-brother." the Astartes introduced himself and his comrades.

Jarod nodded, not taking his eyes off of the two, "And why are you attacking our ship? I would assume you have far better things to do." He said in a stoic voice, while inwardly panicking.

With his new psyker powers, even if he may not be able to use them at all, he could easily see that this Alaric character was the one that the daemons were trying to attack. By extension, this also meant that the space marine was a far more powerful psyker than he was, meaning he could likely pop his head like a balloon if he wanted to.

Which begged the question, why hadn't he done so already?

[-----]

Alaric was many things. A psyker. A traitor. A servant to the Emperor. But for all is training and preparation, nothing would have prepared him for the psychic backlash that occurred when Tzeentch removed whatever dampeners had been put on the mind of one of the two. It was as if a stun grenade had gone off right in front of his face, without his helmet on and his eyes wide open.

It was worse when the man essentially broadcasted his psyche to the entire immaterium, granting Alaric a great deal of knowledge about who he was. Granted Alaric was not able to learn much before Jarod walled off his mind as if turning it from an open book to a sealed vault capable of resisting exterminatus.

What made the encounter even more irritating was the absurd amount of daemons his psyche had attracted. Once his mind was sealed off, they immediately went to find the next strongest power source, which just so happened to be Alaric himself.

While he was completely capable of defending his mind from the creatures, it was a difficult task at first. He had not been initially prepared for the onslaught and was surprised when the daemons came but he was capable of recovering nonetheless.

The knowledge he was able to gather was Jarod's name, a snippet of his conversation with Tzeentch, and the name of his friend and likely the other suppressed psyker. Not much, but enough.

When he'd stepped onto the ship, he'd been slightly surprised by the number of guardsmen still alive. He'd known that they had been better equipped than most Guardsmen, but there wasn't nearly as much damage as he had expected there to be. When he introduced himself, he'd almost expected everyone to start shooting at him. He hadn't expected Jarod himself to address him.

"I am here because yourself and your allies are beacons within the warp. You are destined to change this universe," Jarod seemed to wince slightly and the latter part of that statement, "And as I have foreseen, you will be able to change the galaxy for the better. Chaos lurks in the shadows, and my companion should be a testament to that."

Calivar huffed, muttering something about the glory of Chaos and the follies of the Corpse Emperor. Alaric ignores him and continues speaking.

"I merely ask that you let myself and Calivar assist you on your… quest, I suppose would be the word." He finished.

Jarod seemed to be in deep thought before he leaned over to the man next to him -- whom Alaric assumed was Michael -- and whispered a short conversation. When he finished, he turned to the two marines.

"You are both aware that anyone else in the Imperium would have you executed, right?" Jarod noted.

Alric nodded. He was very aware that he was treading on thin ice as it was. He also knew that he had a better chance of negotiating with a Rogue Trader than an inquisitorial vessel. Which was exactly why he approached them when he did.

"I am fully aware of that fact. I am also aware that you are the heir to the Rogue Trader that owns this ship. I would like to suggest a joint venture, I help you, and you keep me away from those in the Imperium who would wish for my head." Alaric offered.

Jarod considered the offer. That alone made him more worthy of Alaric's help, as most Rogue Traders would have simply agreed without question. What worried Alaric was when Jarod's eyes shifted from him to the ex-space wolf.

"And what about you? Several of my men are dead or injured thanks to you and the other one." He gestured to the burnt corpse of Alius, "And if your armors symbols are any indication, its a wonder you haven't gone into a berserker rage yet."

Alaric was… he wouldn't say surprised, but what Jarod had just said was fairly unexpected. He was clearly aware of the ruinous powers, as it was Tzeentch that had unlocked his psyker potential, but he seemed to know quite a bit about the other gods of chaos.

In response to Jarod's question, Calivar simply huffed, "Many of my brethren may be mindless brutes, but I am not one of them. If you were to classify my alignment, I would almost say I am more akin to Chaos Undivided rather than throwing my weight behind Khorn. Though I must admit I am… unusually calm at the moment." He explained.

Alaric took a mental note of Calivar's statement. 'Unusually calm' was certainly an apt phrase for him, as he had never once flown into to a rage like his brother had. It almost made Alaric wonder if Calivar still had some doubts about chaos, which could prove to be very useful information.

Jarod seemed to take the information in stride, nodding slowly along with every explanation they gave.

"Well, as you are not currently trying to kill us, and only Calivar seems at all chaos-y, I suppose I will grant your request. Under guard and your weapons out of reach." He stated, laying out his conditions rather plainly.

[-----]

012.M39: Unknown Imperial world

The 24th founding. There weren't many who were overly enthusiastic about it, especially not with what they planned to do. Many claimed that every single new chapter would turn traitor. Many more claimed that they would undoubtedly be unstable and that they were all doomed already.

There were a few, however, who had faith that even if their progenitors did not stay loyal, they would.

And so, four new chapters were created.

The Bronze Stars chapter. Their gene-seed was that of the War Hounds Legion, later renamed the World Eaters by their Primarch Angron. Mutations were minimal, with the only real defect being their above-average aggressiveness.

The False Children chapter. Their gene-seed being that of the Emperors Children Legion. The only defects were occasionally white hair and distinctly jet-black eyes, which were far more s.e.n.s.i.t.i.v.e to light than they should be.

The Stone Raiders chapter. Their gene-seed being derived from the Dusk Raiders Legion, later being renamed the Death Guard by their Primarch Mortarian. No noticeable defects were found, and it appeared as though at least one of the new chapters was a complete success!

And finally, The Astral Winds chapter. These Astartes had their gene-seed derived from the Thousand Sons Legion. It was the one chapter that no one expected to survive. It surprised everyone when it turned out that the chapter was not only stable, but the only mutation they had was a slight boost to their psychic potential and their psychic stability.

These four chapters were supposed to be the first line of defense against the Orks, who had been getting more and more viscous. No one knew if these chapters would become corrupted or if they would stay loyal, and because of that fact, there was very little trust between them and the rest of the Imperium.

Regardless, all of the chapters remained loyal. The False Children even came into contact with their fallen brethren and found themselves disgusted with what they had become. After the planet had been put under Exterminatus, no one questioned their loyalty again.

The Stone raiders were the only one of the chapters that actually came close to turning traitor. In the year 251.M40, there was a chapter civil war where a third of the chapter wanting to reunite with the Death Guard. This resulted in a three-decade-long war, with the Death Guard coming to assist their brethren. Fortunately, the Astral Winds chapter came to their rescue and drove the traitors off of their homeworld.

In the end, no small amount of trust was built with the False Children and Astral Winds. Their heritage was kept a secret from the rest of the Imperium, and even many among the chapters own members believe that the origins of their gene-seed had been lost to time.

When the time came, their mettle would be tested, and their loyalty would be strained. Fortunately for the Astral Claws specifically, there were more than a few Tournament Illegal cards stacked in their deck.