NationStates Jolt Archive

Gouts of fire filled the sky, as rhythmic chanting caused the very air to tremble in anticipation. The Servitors and slaves writhed, blood leaking from their ears as the psychic resonance overloaded their minds. The chanting rose through the air, spiralling up from the boreholes, dug thousands of miles down into the bedrock.

Seven hundred and seventy seven they were, each floating on a Disc, a Screamer, a gas-bloated Firewyrm. Their chanting grew, voices lifted by the winds of magic, pulled into the huge vein of adamantium in the center of the chamber. Arcing throughout the walls, filaments of rare and mystic minerals wound about the chamber, glowing from the massive psychic fallout.

The chanting reached a crescendo, the voices of the Tzaanlords booming through the air. With a thrust of multicolored wings, the Hand of Change lifted himself into the air, circling the massive chamber like a crazed gnat. As one, the seven hundred seventy seven bellowed the name of their God, and the earth pulsed. Jagged spikes of adamantium thrust up from the ground, grasping each other, forming a bizarre alien ribcage. Again, the chanting reached a crescendo, and again, the hundreds of Tzaanlords crying out the name of their Lord. Again, the ground quaked, tendrils of rare ore snaking through the superstructure, superconducting filaments forming the basis for a nervous system, arcing along the spine, filling the void of the ribcage.

Weary now, the Chosen Ones bellowed the name of Tzeentch a final time, causing the ceiling to burst outwards, the collossal cavity open to the gargantuan borehole above. The adamantium coalesced, millions of tons of ore refining itself, sliding into place around the framework of the gargantuan corpse. Spires and effigies of the Daemons of Tzeentch formed themselves, decorating the hull of the enormous ship taking form in the bowels of this planet, thousands of miles below the surface.

The vessel was complete, its massive Cathedral over two kilometers across, banks of lances hidden in the eye sockets of massive Firewyrm statues, the Warp Core a burning void, energy pouring forth to give birth to new life aboard this leviathan.

Helion's face, expressionless until this moment, broke into a wide grin.

"Hail the Changer of the Ways, for with His power, nothing is immutable! Praise His holy name, and sing glories to His Daemons! We have been blessed with His benevolent mutations, and shall ascend to the heavens with the power of this vessel, crafted in his image! Behold the Glory of Tzeentch!"

Before the great warp powers had subsided, as the massive and powerful vessel of power was formed and screaped the ceiling with its majesty, a lone figure exited the immaterium itself, to show himself to the Tzaanlord Helion.

The figure snickered and laughed, his teeth rotten and black, his tounge long dried up. On the center of his forhead bore a small tatoo of the Eight Pointed star, the universal sign of chaos. He wore different tones of red, his armor resembling the colors of the World Eaters, a legion of Khorne. His right pauldron even showed the sign of the World Eaters, jaws closing on a burning world.

He watched as the great vessel lifted itself and formed, then when completed, bellowed a laugh. "This vessel is might, yes! It is almost worth the power of one of Khorne's great vessels.. but not quite. The followers of The Changer of Ways have outdone themselves! I have not seen such a vessel since the Gothic Wars."

He smashed the tip of his defiled daemon hammer into the ground, and leaned on it the maul. Smiling all the way, awaiting a responce.

Smiling, Helion turned.

"Ah, Lord Gabriel. A pleasure to finally meet you in person. Yes, the Glory of Tzeentch is a beautiful sight, is she not? The design is stolen from the Adepts of Mars, suitably altered to fit into the Master of Mutation's designs. The nova cannon array is an especially nice touch, I think. But where are my manners? I am Tzaanlord Helion, Warmaster of this planet, although I do believe you already know this. Would you like some refreshment?"

Turning, Helion motioned to a subordinate.

"Elias, please fetch a pitcher of our finest amasec for our guest. We can't have him going thirsty."

Gabriel cocked an eyebrow. "How did you kn-... you Tzeentch followers creep me out...." He let out a maniacle laugh and got up off his hammer. "And no, I would not like something to drink.. nothing like that fancy filth... I'll not be seen as a Slaanesh follower..."

He cackled again and turned his back on Helion, taking in the sights, but talking aswell. "Seems.. you are well established... have not seen a Changer of the Ways force this big since the Thousand Sons... Khorne has granted me access to traverse the warp here... even I am.. unsure as to why. Might you know, 'Warmaster'?" He turned around again and grinned, his rotting teeth showing through his curled decayed lips.

"Of course I know. But I must decline to answer, excepting that you are meant to be here, and that you shall come to know the Khurganate better during your visit. I trust you shall enjoy your stay, there will be ample time for you to train against some of my best Tzaangard, but for now, a tour and a history lesson. You are not far from the truth when you say we are the largest force since the Thousand Sons. Magnus and his Legion were the last great Tzaani force in this galaxy, but we dwarf their might a thousand fold. My Rubric Guard are based off of Ahriman's rubric, but with subtle alchemical improvements. The Astartes are similar to the form of the Sons before their fall, in fact, are nearly identical. Still, we have a full ten Legions, ten thousand strong each, and with the full support of the Legions of Change, our unaugmented soldiers. And the Priesthood.... The Priesthood's ships are second to none but those of Khorne. The Glory of Tzeentch is but the latest example of their art."

He grinned widely. "Interesting... I am not usually an... intellectual, but I shall enjoy this. Me and my World Eaters warband recently arrived... with the aid of Khorne's minions, we were able to purge a low-tech world... But I am more interested in your society... let me see these.. Tzaangard"

"Ah, the Tzaangard. My own pride and joy, my own creations, the scions of my Tribe. While Hecuba was still in the hands of warring tribes, my Tzaanpriests created them, infusing them with the raw power of Chaos. In combat, they are the equals of the mighty Astartes, wearing power armor in the gold and crimson of our tribe. It was they that broke the stalemate that had resulted on this planet, turning the tide in favor of the Khurgan. Come, I shall show you their training grounds."

With a gesture, the pair of them vanished from the bustling arena where the Glory of Tzeentch was docked. In a flash of hellfire, they reappeared at the rim of a pit where giants in gold and red battled each other with bolter and blade and mailed fist. The sounds of war filled the room as the pair watched dozens of Tzaangard training, fighting mock battles in every type of terrain imaginable. Moving incredibly quickly for one so burdened by their armor, they flitted about the battlefields, using each rock to their advantage and flinging bolts of psychic energy and warp fire at one another.

"Magnificent, are they not? While surely no match for one of the Adepts in your World Eater Legion, their skills are remarkable, as is their aptitude for sorcery."

Gabriel snorted and nodded slightly. "They are impressive.. but as you said yourself.. no match for Khorne's favored Berzerkers, or the might of the World Eaters ourselves.. but impressive none-the-less."

He looked upon the warriors fighting, the warp energies being thrown about like it was child's play. "Even I know the dangers of the warp... I prefer slight of axe than fling energy at a distant enemy... I like to see their eyes in terror.. I crave to see their blood flow... I yearn to inflict death."

He snapped himself out of his own self-induced trance and turned to Helion. "You call yourself a tribe... you were once plainsman?"

"Indeed. The people of the Khurgan once roamed the lands of Hecuba, raiding and being preyed upon by the other tribes. But we began to gain the upper hand, with the aid of Tzeentch and the creation of the Tzaangard. We assimilated other tribes, those of Slaanesh and Khorne, destroying those of the Defiler. Upon defeating the last tribe that opposed us, the Jaktahr, I, Helion Orrimar, High Priest of the Fourth Wind, was elevated to my Master's right hand, and was granted knowledge of all. With that knowledge, we have expanded across the stars, bringing Change to the Galaxy, reforging the Old Imperium in the flames of the Warp."

He snorted once again. "You...'assimilated' the followers of Khorne? To abandon the ways of Khorne deserves a punishment worse than death, or even torture."

Sighing, he turned again to look around his person. "Trying to recreate the old imperium..." He let out a slight laugh. "That can never be done.. this universe has grown crowded... very crowded, too many different empires lurk, many are big ones... most are small. All the legions of Khorne couldn't tame this galaxy, I doubt all the legions of chaos could at all.

"But we have come... a vangard... we need to retake what should be Khorne's.."

"Not so much assimilated as... recruited. The Khornates among us retain their beliefs, their worship habits, they merely pay a token amount of respect to the Lord of the Fourth Wind. The same with the Slaaneshis, they continue their decadence and avoid the Khornates."

"As for recreating the Imperium of old, it may be an impossible task, but the Lords of Chaos have done much to reclaim it. The Khurganate itself has retaken Tigrus, and with the help of the Chronosians, we reclaimed Ryza in the name of Chaos. The Vaul Crusade is scheduled to begin shortly, and we shall reclaim yet more Forges to serve Chaos."

"As for retaking that which is Khorne's... perhaps we could assist you in completing the work of Angron, capturing Armageddon once and for all... All we would require is aid in the Vaul Crusade."

Gabriel slowly turned to face Helion at the mention of Armageddon. "Armageddon... it has been so long... yet every day, in the bowels of my black heart, I yearn to retake it after so many years... But would we require help?"

He turned around once again to face away. "Many of my warband still traverses the warp to make arrive on our burned world..."

Again he turned around, his his full of hope, or as close to hope a black heart could get to. "Very well, Helion. You aid us in taking Armageddon, we aid you in your crusade..."