NationStates Jolt Archive

Hefonfia was a interesting place. For the species that took it’s name from it, it had been a rich planet, one that not only supported civilisation, but encouraged it. The species had to fight hard for such a gem, however. The planet had spawned two sentient species. They had nearly wiped out each other, but the Hefonfians had emerged victorious, and they have deported the losers to another world in recent years.

But difficulties didn’t end there. The planet orbited the Gearwung star, a star which seemed to radiate sentience, as another planet also devolved intelligent life. A huge, destructive war might have erupted between these planets, if not for the intervention of a higher power, one that used living crystals to invade worlds. The Hefons were spared the wraith of these invaders, because of the protection of a nearby asteroid belt which caught the asteroid which contained the enemies main weapon, but the other planet wasn‘t so lucky. As they watched the said planet socially collapse, they decided to ‘intervene‘. They took control of the planet themselves, and started to eliminate the alien crystals. Then the aliens decided to intervene themselves, and the second major test for the Hefons started. They fought fiercely, and the result was a victory for Hefonfia, with the invaders repelled, the crystals destroyed, and the planet now under Hefonfian control, with the only way forward.

These two periods tested the Hefonfian race to it’s limits, and each marked the start of a period of prosperity for the species. Since the previous test, the Hefonfian race had grown and grown into a little empire. But soon, the people will be tested once more. This time it is not mighty empires, or dangerous substances that are the problem. This time, it is a young child.

* * *

A middle aged member of the Hefonfian species sat on a train, one that went from the local Starport to one of the more affluent areas of one of the massive cities that covered the Hefonfian surface. The name of the city was Loansdale-Rainiaer, and was an Eperopolis - a continent city, rather than a city that was a planet. Such things were not appreciated by Hefonfians, who loved the countryside as much as the urban jungle. And Loansdale was indeed a jungle, if one without a canopy, with the colours red, black and gold adorning spires ascending to the heavens. To some, it would be a sinister place. But to the Hefonfians, it was merely home.

The fast train began to slow down. The doctor glanced round the carriage, turning his reptilian, spined figure to inspect every last nook and cranny of the train, to see if there was anyone else on the train. He was the only one there.

It had been a couple of days since he had received a call to come immediately to the Loansdale-Rainic royal palace. He had heard rumours that one of the newborn was not well. He presumed it was a head tumour at first, but after news of his death didn’t appear, he was unsure. Now, he, the head neurosurgeon of the nation, had been summoned to take a look himself. And as the train slowed down, and eventually stopped, he thought about this in great detail.

As he got onto the platform, he was immediately escorted by a group of guards to an armoured car. It was a non-official taxi, one of those that floated. The car was completely painted in black, with the seal of the government on it, looking more like a prison van that a official car. He entered the vehicle, opened his briefcase, and looked though the notes he had received:

'The boy has been bed bound for many days now, and to our dismay, has not achieved speech yet…

…the boy, being of noble birth, has the Quadeye syndrome, meaning he has twice the eyes of normal Hefonfians…

…he has constant head pains, but as far as we can tell, he has no signs of any known disease, or head tumour…

…similar symptoms seem to be shown in the patient’s younger nest-mates. The problems may be due to unseen birth defects…'

As he finished looking at these notes, the taxi reached it’s destination, and he was briskly escorted to the place where the afflicted child was housed. The scene inside the ward was distressing for him. The boy was laid on a table, shaking, breathing quickly, as if he was having a fit. As the brain surgeon attempted to steady the boy, he heard a voice behind him.

“Don’t bother. He won’t stop.”

He turned around, and saw another person. He was wearing medical clothing, and was drinking from a mug.

“I’m Erik Rainior, leading Ophthalmologist. You’ll be the Brain Surgeon, then?”

“Yes. I am Edweard Vilsoan.”

“Well, there’s been some interesting developments since we sent for you. You know about the Quadeye syndrome? How it is apparently impossible for them to go blind?”

Edweard nodded.

“Turns out that isn’t not true. The proof? Right there. That boy is temporarly blind in all four eyes, possibly even permanently. And not from birth either. He’s been blinded since a couple of hours into these head aches. And another thing. Some of the sensor towers picked up strange energy signatures. Not all of them either, some of the more fancy ones. Yet, these were definitely not heat, sound, kinetic, or indeed any type of energy we know of.”

Edweard was puzzled. As far as he knew, there was no way that a boy who was hardly half a decade old could mess with military sensors from a distance without moving.

“So far, we haven’t got any official hypothesis…” Erik continued “…They’ve got in all sorts of doctors; General Practitioners, Neuroscientists, Psychiatrists, Ophthalmologists, they’ve even got a Dentist coming in tomorrow. It’s madness, yet that lad’s parents still refuse to get outside help. My opinion is that unless we get someone in who really has an idea what’s going on, we’ll be cutting up his dead body by the end of the month. The Psychiatrist agrees with me, although the GP doesn’t. What do you think? ”

Edweard thought and thought. This was new to his species, but perhaps other races knew what to do? Perhaps. But then, help from other peoples might end up causing more problems than the help solves.

He looked at the spastic body that lay on the table. The poor being looked like he was being possessed by some evil sprit. Edweard felt sorry for him, but also considered the possibility that this might be a new plague. Perhaps outside help should be sought?

“I think we should. I’ve got friends in immigration control, I can get unlimited visas for pretty much anyone.”

“Good. I’ll get a message out. We won’t bother asking the dentist. Never liked them myself, and I doubt he’ll contribute much.”

* * *

While the top medical minds discussed the boy’s fate, the boy struggled to fight the great pain in his head. His mind was capable of much more than the standard Hefonfian. It was as if he could draw on a force from another plane, but the energy filled his head to the brim. He suffered constant migraines, yet he still tried to explore this strange realm. However, his exploration of these new powers caused him to make himself visible to anyone who could also draw on this power.

It would not be long before someone would find this new pioneer.

(OOC: Okay, basically he’s hanging around in the Immaterium, and due to his inexperience he’s open to anything really. Possession, assassination, mutation, even recruitment into your uber-evil order of chaos. He's going to be quite a powerful psychic in the future, as to foster interest. And as for us non-chaotic nations, I’ll need anyone who’s experienced in Psychics, Psyking, or whatever you call it to come and investigate this lad.

This is basically a glorified introduction thread. And it's also my first attempt at starting a rp thread. So don't go too hard on me. And no random carpet nuking either.)

OOC: Definite tag from your resident Chaos Lord.

OOC: Since the Deatharoni are highly Psionic it would only make sense to TAG!

The signal towers of the city were engaged, sending out a message across the stars. The message had been sent by the doctors, calling for help in a field that was new to them:

Attention all Spacefaring Nations:

A couple of days ago, a young boy of our race came down with an illness that caused him to have constant spasms and migranes. Usually, we would be able to handle the problems ourselves, but we have attempted to diagnose him using every resource at our disposal, to no avail. Also, his kin seem to be showing early signs of these problems. The only indications other that the spasms and migranes that something is wrong are that the patient's brain seems to have more connections, has contracted blindness, and that nearby sensors have shown signs of an unknown type of energy radiating around. Attached are our medical notes, directions to the ward, and limited travel permission documents.

Please come soon.

Meanwhile, the boy was still exploring the strange plane. During this, he could have sworn that he could feel another being in him. Curiosity getting the better of him, he called out to the being, trying to see who this enity was.

(OOC: This strange enity could be anyone, though seeing as he's the first chaotic person to show interest, it's probably Chronosia. If not, I'm going to say first come first served)

The Hall of Omniscience was the Centre of the Spire. Off it shot the Chamber of Parliament, the Office of the Regent, The Imperial Academy, the Throne Room and the Imperial Armed Forces Central Command. To get to any of these, you had to pass through the Hall of Omniscience at some point, and often people would stop and marvel at the structure, for it was impressive to see.

Each wall had data streaming down it, billions of messages streaming through as data at any one time. Some of them where centuries old, only arriving now on the waves that carried them at the speed of light, and some merely seconds as they where carried past Light-Speed on the Faster then Light energies. In this hall, all information that was broadcast, all information that was sent in an omni-directional wave reached this hall at some point. From there, it was recorded and noted, and either sent off to the relevant people or simply stored in the Archives, only ever being paid attention to again when someone called for a specific file to help them with a project or thesis.

As the Hall discovered message arriving from the Hefonfian Medicals, it didn’t pause but simply filed to the Lord Doctor Jansos Marcevilen at his office. It traveled through the air, tight-beamed to the Prince Regent’s Hospital. Upon arriving it traveled through the network to the Lord Doctor’s Secretary, who read it over before sending it through with a sound that would sound much like an alarm going off.

Beeep-Beeep-Beeep!

“Wha? I’m up, I’m up!” the Lord Doctor snapped upwards, going from sleeping on his desk to sitting straight so fast if you blinked you might have missed it. The reflex done, he looked around sluggishly, attention trying to grasp exactly what had woken him up. He looked to his sides, to the roof, before looking down at his desk to see the flashing Message box at the top of his data-pad. “Methra, what is this?” he snapped across the Inter-link.

“It’s a message from the Hefonfian Medical Society,” She said back, happily patient, like a teacher explaining something for the fourth time in a Row. “They have had a boy having some real problems, blindness, Spasms, Migraines and he has been generating a weird energy.”

“So what is it?” He asked, looking the message over. “What’s this kid got?”

“I don’t know, and the Hall sent it to you.” She said back. She waited, before she heard a cheer coming from the other end of the Inter-Link.

“It doesn’t know what it is!” came the voice of the Doctor on the other end. “Methra, pack my bag!”

“Sir you keep a bag packed for these sorts of things…” came the reply, which was cut off mid sentence.

“Then Get me that bag, and let the Techs up top know I want my Ship Ready in an hour.” He burst from the room holding a bag and wearing a broad-rimmed hat. “Oh, I found that bag, tell the techs I want my ship ready to go by the time I am ready to leave. Is there anything I need to sign before I go?”

“I will forge it if something comes up sir.” She said smiling. “Go solve your mystery.”

“Woot! Woot! Woot! Woot!” He yelled at the top of his lungs as he ran down the hallway sideways. The people in the Hospital where confused, but by now well used to the Lord Doctor’s Eccentricities.

-=-=-

Jansos’ ship arrived in the Hefonfian System Four Hours later. In the form it was as he floated along it looked quite odd, as it had the shape of the end of a stethoscope you put on the patients body with a radius of about Four Meters. It was the shape he liked most, so he had kept with it in any instance stealth had not been a problem. Inside the ship, Jansos was humming to himself, pressing the buttons as needed. He approached the world that he had been told to and sent out the Travel Permission Documents, as well as a little message.

Tally-Ho Gentlemen!
I am Lord Doctor Jansos Marcevilen of the Prince Regent Hospital working for The SPIRE. I am here regarding the matter of a little lad who seems to be quite ill. I have these here travel permission documents, now where did you want me to land so I can have as much access to my ship as possible, as it has my equipment. If you need me to make my ship smaller I can, and the manual says I can jump anywhere with only a 1e-20,000,000 Chance of error. I don’t trust manuals though, so you may wish to give me a normal dock close by.

With Respect.

"Vilsoan! We've got someone!"

Edweard Vilsoan, the neuroscientist, immediately sent back a message:

Dear Lord Doctor Jansos Marcevilen

Thank you for responding to our message. Attached to this message are coordinates for the nearest dock, and the directions to the ward we are in. Everything had been prepared for your arrival.

Yours Faithfully

Hefonfian Medical Society

(OOC: In other words, we can skip straight to you examining the patient.)

The Warp. A roiling sea of pure energy, madness incarnate. The power of the Immaterium was continual behind the veil of reality, the gears ticking beneath the fetid skin of the Material Realm. It was the Empyrean, a realm of Gods and Daemons. Fed by the thoughts of every living being within the universe, torn on tides of anger, lust, despair and aspiration, bracketed by tumult and storm, it was truly the domain of Chaos.

Most men were flickering candle flames before the might of the inferno, but some blazed like stars before the power of the Aethyr, crackling with psychic potential, drawing daemons to them like flies to a corpse. Potent beyond measure, their power often lying dormant, Psykers were a valuable resource.

The auguries had been going on for days now, blood rites and ancient invocations that would draw apart the folds of the Warp. It was touched by something, a new power, a harmonious exploration of the terrible realm, an almost child-like curiosity. Severino Jeriacor allowed himself a smile.

An alien world glimmered somewhere in the void, alight with the flame of psychic might. He chuckled lightly as he let his auguries continue, the hissed lamentation of psykers was nothing if not music to his ears. Slowly he intoned his own rites, prayers of dark mysticism and scrying, praying that the Changer would accept his offerings and sacrifices.

And reveal to him the source of his amusement, the defiantly naïve presence that he had felt within the Realm of Chaos.

A body hung from the wall, pinned by thick stakes through the wrists, bone split by the corroded metal, blood staining them an arterial red as it struggled and kicked. Severino let his hand close about it’s throat, leaning in to face the man before him. His tongue had been removed and lay smouldering before him, his eyes were burned from his sockets by twisted runes…A worthy offering before Tzeentch, but not complete.

He let his fingers close around the glowing edge of the ritual blade, sigils blazing upon the dark metal which seethed and snapped as though it were a living thing. He could feel its power, feel the promise within the blade. It spoke of madness and ruination, beyond space, beyond time, a power and a reckoning that threatened to consume all within its machinations. Tzeentch spoke through the blade I na thousand whispers of deceit, all bound together by an undeniable truth.

Death.

Servitor things scuttled back and forth, braziers hanging from their grotesquely arched back as Severino raised the blade, thrusting it into the chest of the man, feeling his life drain, watching his face contort in raw agony. He savoured it, every moment of torment and torture, yearning to draw more from him. He could feel the air, electric, crackling about him as he let the blood spill into the floor, flowing along ritual lines.

“Yes…” He hissed, raising his hands to the sky, watching symbols dancing about him, blazing upon the walls, searing themselves upon his vision. “That is where they lie…Ready the fleet. Gather my apprentices. We will seek out this power, and open it utterly to the glory that is Chaos.

And their world shall tremble at the revelation.”

The mind of the boy explored the new power he had received. Was it a gift or curse? The pain he head felt was beginning to become almost normal to him, and it started to become less and less noticeable, though still very there. A thousand opportunities, millions of forces, billions of... feelings.

One such trio began to assert itself above the others. They each simultaneously spelled themselves out. A feeling of hope. A opportunity for change. A force of progress...

Then, all of a sudden, these merged into one thing in the young mind of the new psyker...

Tzeentch...

* * *

From the log of Edweard Vilsoan, Neuroscientist of Hefonfia

It was an amazing recovery, almost too amazing. I've had people with lesser symptoms than him who had much more permanent damage. There he was, lying on the table, still having the spasms, then suddenly, they stop and he gets up as right as rain, save for a bump on his leg and a minor limp. Still, his parents still want us to stay and watch for any more problems. Don't you just hate the government? At least they pay well, but I rather be doing something more than just reading the newspaper all day.

Also, there's something about that boy that, well, unnerves me. Erik seems to get the same feeling as well. Almost like a...a...a whisper, if it can be called that. I might have to see a doctor myself. I thought we'd caught something off the boy, but we've done checks and nothing is wrong. But that strange...thing seems to go on nevertheless. Perhaps it is stress related? I'll have to check when I get home.

The boy doesn't act like people of his age, either. He seems to sit around, daydreaming all the time. I have to say, I did that a bit when I was young, but not nearly that much. The nursery staff hate him as well. They always seem to stay away from the boy, though I can't really really blame them for hating the bastard.

But, how can such a young boy disturb me so much? I worry for his nest kin. I do hope they don't turn out similar.

* * *

It was in a border station on the edge of Hefonfian space where the second stage of the third test was to begin.

At one of the consoles, there sat a bored employee, sat with his bare feet on the top of his work desk, their talons wiggling about ever so slightly as an article in the magazine the worker read entertained him. He had got through pretty much all of the pile that sat beside him. His uniform hung shabbily on his person, and as he fidgeted in his chair once more, he took yet another sip of the coffee that sat perilously on the edge of his desk.

The console only really gave him any work during the prime time of trade. Containers of wine, and other Hefonfian products went out, and returned with large containers filled with stuff from the peoples of who ever. Everyday he hoped that a great army who go past, and he could watch as a great battle unfolded on a planet far far away as Hefonfia pulverised planets that were barely in space yet on the television screens. But at this time of day, there were only documentaries on battles that had been fought long ago, and episodes of once decent shows that had been killed by each network repeating it day after day after day...

Technology might have advanced in leaps on bounds, but daytime television was still as terrible as it had always been.

But as the worker turned the page to a mildly interesting article on some obscure piece of one of the many people's that lived under the control of Hefonfia's culture, the console suddenly relayed information on a incoming ship...

The worker pulled down his feet, and looked at the console with a confused face. He looked again.

This was a new ship. As in, a type that had never been seen before.

Others began to be picked up, and after a short while the previously bored workers now had something to do.

The one who had been reading the magazines put them back on the floor, and sent a rushed message to the approaching ships...

To incoming ships

This is the borader station ismere, you are now approaching Hefonfian space, pleas send information on were you orignally came from and your destination.

Thanks in advnace.

We come from the Chronosian Imperium, a vast bastion of mankinds might and power, and a symbol of true faith and worship. We bring the faith to those who are most needing of it, warrior priests who roam this galaxy in search of those who might benefit from the divine truth of Chaos.

There is one amongst your race who suffers and writhes in torment. It is only our healing that can rouse him once more. It is only our guidance that can redeem him, and purify your race for the coming storm.

I would ask that you bring us to him.

"The Message is sent, Lord Primarch." A twisted Mechanicus thing bowed to the great Sorceror, his features twisted by gangrenous machine implants, mechadendrite tendrils writhing under his robes as he limbed away on artificial legs.

"Excellent. Bring us about, intone the Blessings of Tzeentch. The Architect has brought us here, now we must trust in him to guide us. Let these heathens hear the whispers of Chaos, and tremble...For they know they are unworthy...But may yet be redeemed."

The worker looked at the message in confusion, wondering who was the 'one' they seeked.

Upon asking his workmate, he was told that a boy in the capital was ill.

"Oh, I know that. My uncle said he was going to the capital for some work on that boy. I'll ask him about it.

Hi Erik

We've just had a collection of ships on the border, and they might be able to help you sort out that boy who's been causing you so much problems. They're from a place called Chronosia. Dunno who they are, and they've got a rather weird sense of architecture, but I'm sure all xenoarchitecture looks weird really. I think they might be apes, though I'm not sure. They certainly don't sound like them.

Get Back to me Soon.

Hello dear Nephew

Really? Excellent! Do tell them that I'm bringing the boy now. I should be there quite soon. Thank you very much.

Dear Chronsia Vessel

I can inform you that a boy who has been suffering great migraines is en route now. They should be quick. The doctor present thanks you.

* * *

On the capital of Hefonfia, the doctors were manhandling the boy into a ship to take to these 'Chronosians'.

"Shouldn't we really ask the parents for permission?" Said the Neurosurgeon.

"Look, the sooner we get rid of the wretch the better. Anyway, we were told to do anything necessary to cure him" Erik remarked.

The boy was put into a room at the back of the ship, where he would be as far away from the crew and the doctors as possible. Watched though a camera, the boy just sat there, seemingly daydreaming, his eyes shut while the doctors both enjoyed a glass of Hefonfian wine to clear their thoughts.

"So, these Chronosians. How much did your nephew tell you?"

"Not much really" he paused, and took a sip of wine as the ship began to rise slowly into the air. "He said they call themselves humans, though they don't seem to sound like them, and their ships don't tend to look that human either."

"Meh, I've known worse. I had to put up with them Ramtoes once."

"Really?"

"Aye, I did an autopsy on one of them..."

The neuroscientist paused for a second, and had a look of deep thought on his face.

'No, that can't be it...'

"Yes?" The other doctor interrupted.

"Oh, nothing, just a thought. Anyway, its a good job we shot them all. Useless little things they were. Weird gods, seemed to have an obsession with skulls and asymmetrical symbols, and killing."

"Like the old tribesmen of Hefonfia?"

"Not quite. They seemed to kill just for the crack. Anyway, the thing is, they are all dead now. Good job and all."

The doctor then took a look outside of his window, and saw the spires of the city, and how they seemed the form a massive bed of spikes. As the ship lifted, the horizon revealed more and more spires, until he could see the edge of the city, and then the edge of the atmosphere, after which the ship began to speed off to the location of the the border station.