User:Wammnebu/Midhammer 40k Stories and rds/RG CG 40k
Lorgar's plan was simple and elegant: take all of the Imperium's neglected treasures: the loyalty of its legions, the passivity of its citizens, the arrogance of its primarchs, and its allience with the Mechanicus, and turn it all against him. It was working well. Despite small setbacks it was all working perfectly, Gulliman was dead, and The Ultramarines were all but eliminated. A furious and Grief Striken Corvus Corax had disappeared into the warp, never to be seen again. Had Alpharius become impatient? Had he grown craven? Lorgar had thought of all his brothers, Alpharius would appreciate patience as he did. Did he not see how Mortarion had so willingly been tempted to Chaos? How many more were supposed to follow, the second stage of his plan, when The Legions were preparing their foolish march into the eye of terror, had only just begun. Why Did Alpharius not see the success Perturabo had with Dorn? Did he not realize that Dorn's unhinged desire for perfection, and hatred of Perturabo was throwing him into the willing embrace of The Prince of Pleasure? He was destined to forever serve Slaaneh as he competed with his hated rival for his favor. Konrad too, it was only a matter of time before his own brother's disavowed his brutality and the Night Haunter finally claimed his soul. Was it that the Khan would have joined him in service of Tzeentch? Surely Alpharius was not jealous, or even worse, worried that the Sorceror nomad would ever unthrone him from Tzeentch's favor? And Sanguinius, oh how much The Urizen had planned for him. Pertuabo and he had prepared entire worlds for Sanguinius to assault, only to finally succumb to the Red Thirst that consumed him. All of the Legions were preparing to bluster their way into the Eye of Terror, into Lorgar's meticulous traps. The primarchs would fall, and if they did not their legions would, deserting them one by one as they continued to fight a battle their leaders clearly did not understand. Meanwhile, one by one, the defenseless planets would reject the brutal hand of The Imperium, and what few legions remained would die of a thousand cuts, suffering a centuries long war of attrition in a futile quest to maitain order. It was meticulously prepared, all Alpharius had to do was stick to his own plan, and continue spread misinformation and disrupt communications. But Alpharius threw it all away for the Emperor's Heart. Did he think this was a better idea? If so he was a poor judge of character. Did he not know the Emperor was a perpetual? Nothing short of complete death, which was outside of their capacity at the moment, would have worked. Anything less, and they would go rushing to their beloved fathers aid, as they did. They abandoned their assault on the Eye of Terror, the one Lorgar had been meticulously planning, and returned to Terra.
Alpharius had taken Lorgar's dream, all of his meticulous planning, and all of his developments. The lives of his brothers, even the future of chaos, and defaced it into a trophy. Like a painting with its center face cut out, Lorgar was left with a pathetiic ruined image of victory that said little other than pay small homage to the greatness it could have been. It will take centuries, nay mellenia to undo the damage his kniving brother had wrecked upon chaos. Now rather than be nurtured by him, corax had vanished, Dorn and Russ had returned with new found zeal, The night haunter is being banished by Fulgrim and Magnus. Instead of twelve legions, he was stuck with 5 legions and scattered deserters with which to defend their new territory. The element of suprise was forever lost and now all of the primarchs were aware and wounded by their defeat at Lorgar's hand. Future conflicts with the Imperium would only become more difficult as the Primarchs became more accustommed to the forces of the warp. No doubt this is also somehow part of Alpharius' grand plan to have Lorgar replaced as Heresiarch with himself. Tzeentch scheming his way into a victory in The Great Game. But perhaps Lorgar had a another trick to play.
Lorgar and all those in the warp felt when Gulliman died and when Tarasha Euten ascended. Each of the gods act as though it was some sort of minor diety, but Lorgar knew better. He saw that what had come from that fateful day on the Road to Terra, was the slow beggining to Humanity's conquest of The Immateria. A new god of humanity to rival the one created by the eldar. This god was young, and had made little effort to take its place amongst the Pantheon. This new god's favor could be just the boon Lorgar needed to counteract the distressing imbalence created by Tzeentch.
As Lorgar arrived into the palace of The Aurelian, he had expected to see some sort of caricature of Ultramar. A bombastic and surrealist version of the former Ultramarine's homeworld. There were perhaps some elements there to be sure, but the appearence of The new gods realm was very different than a mere more grandiose version of maccragge. The planes of The deity's realm were all within sight of each other, orbiting the bright sunlight of the palace. On each of those plains were patches of farmland and millions of tiny estates. Winged beings in togas and armor flew from plane to plane. on the road to the palace was a grand barracks of impossible architecture. Here were endless camps of men and women in gleaming blue breastplates, and ornamented rustic helms. on the otherside were men and women in simple golden cloaks harvesting wheat and plowing fields, "for what?" lorgar thought to himself. Lorgar tried for a moment to figure out what the wheat shearing could represent in a spiritual or metaphorical context. It could be that the wheat did not actually exist and it was merely aesthetic, but aesthetically useless was never his brother's style. In life, Roboute Gulliman despised both the function without beauty and the beuaty without function, it's unlikely his opinion would change in death.
- Description of The Aurelian’s “Capitoline Hall”
As Lorgar arrived into the palace of The Aurelian, he had expected to see some sort of caricature of Ultramar. A bombastic and surrealist version of the former Ultramarine's homeworld. There were perhaps some elements there to be sure, but the appearance of The new gods realm was very different than a mere more grandiose version of maccragge. The planes of The deity's realm were all within sight of each other, orbiting the bright sunlight of the palace. On each of those plains were patches of farmland and millions of tiny estates. Winged beings in togas and armor flew from plane to plane. on the road to the palace was a grand barracks of impossible architecture. Here were endless camps of men and women in gleaming blue breastplates, and ornamented rustic helms. on the otherside were men and women in simple golden cloaks harvesting wheat and plowing fields, "for what?" lorgar thought to himself. Lorgar tried for a moment to figure out what the wheat shearing could represent in a spiritual or metaphorical context. It could be that the wheat did not actually exist and it was merely aesthetic, but aesthetically useless was never his brother's style. In life, Roboute Gulliman despised both the function without beauty and the beauty without function, it's unlikely his opinion would change in death.
Far off in the horizon, Lorgar could see that the horizon of these plains caved back around the palace, each plane of field and manor turned to exploit the most of the palace’s golden light. There was no blue of earth, the sky was Bronze with the deep harvest of autumn trees and ripened fields. Underneath these idyllic plates, the Heresiarch surmized, must be the mounds of walls and fortifications Lorgar had seen when he entered the Stone Domed building. Or at least what appeared to be crenellations and turrets, the Immaterial plane was not a place where Crossbows were not made of wood, and the steel of the sword and scythe was weaponized metaphor. Expressions of a man of meticulous planning, and natural administrator. Lorgar had travelled to each of the palaces of the Chaos gods: he had walked through the putrid yet majestic gardens of Nurgle, he had visited the nauseatingly extravagant palaces of Slaanesh, and witnessed the Crystal Spires of Tzeentch, and these endless palaces and idyllic agrarian settings were no different. They were all expressions of the aspect that the divine embodied. In this case, his brother’s death had given birth to a nascent “God of Duty.” A Lord of Sacrifice and Submission to a greater cause. This whole space, was a manifestation of his personality, and bore elements of Roboute’s particular love of Human antiquity, administration, and multipurpose construction. “I almost expected the building to be made of gold and paper” he thought mockingly to himself, while also thankful that the realm was mercifully short of graven images of Roboute Gulliman’s face.
As Lorgar had Entered the Palace of the Newly formed god, he had expected to see a caricature of his brother’s earthly paradise, but this was not McCragge, nor was it Terra. The palace was a peasant’s fevered imagination of a palace. The building was an impossibly large forrest of marble pillars of various colors. Arches extending from the pillars like tree branches, connecting pillars from pillars. Arches from all angles with soldiers scuttering accros the branching arches and butresses. While Banners bearing a trillion personal coats of arms draped downthe arches like the leaves of a weeping willow. Somewhere in the canopy of this marble thicket was a dome of Ultramarine blue, making an illuminating skybox of rich cerulean light. Lorgar strove forward ignoring the clatter and rustling from among the pillars and the winds of motion as it rattled the branches. The various uniformed men and women went about their routines, payinging no heed to The Heresiarch as he moved towards the center of the vast Columnade, the Caped faceless soldiers continued their routine their motions giving the banners and tapestries around them a regular ripple and sway, as the wave pointed Lorgar towards his desired destination.
The Curtains and banner broke like theatrical curtains gesturing Lorgar to the center room of the Palace. The massive collumnade of pillars that seemed to be made of solid light and illuminated the mirror reflective mother of pearl and blue tiles. So perfectly polished were these tiles that each individual tile transformed the building into a kaleidescope of the room, with the bottom mirroring the upper floors with military tunic and helmeted figures talking over maps and figures. Directing his eyes away from the strategizers above and below him, and away too from the waltzing figures that swept rhythmicly across the floor; Lorgar walked to the golden figure enthroned in the center. This ornate august throne of gold and marble, are the ...
- Lorgar introduces his purpose, seeking the blessing of all Chaos gods, and therefore his sanction. Requesting contribution towards his black crusade.
- Aurelian offers nothing, and denies his approval.
- Aurelian mocks Lorgars anger that his name "Aurelian" and cult was hijacked by Gulliman.
- Informs Lorgar that Lorgar's church is completely his now, and the lectitio divinitatus is toilet paper at best kindling at worst.
- Aurelian mocks Lorgars anger that his name "Aurelian" and cult was hijacked by Gulliman.
- Lorgar attempts to extort Aurelian, uses knowledge of his secret name (Eunomia)
- Insolence irritates Guilliman, who laughs and then shows Lorgar his place
“I serve all of the Chaos, in its many forms” Lorgar mustering up his will and pride. “THEN SERVE ME, SERVANT OF CHAOS” the entity barked. Unwillingly Lorgar fell to his knees as if pulled by a nonexistant leash, bending in unwilled homage to the entity. Around him the grand ballroom transformed into a cold marble palace of war, banners hung between the colonnades. The dancers, now dressed in some long forgotten military garb- of men and goddess-like women with knee length dresses and trousers with deliberate creases. Each anular outfit unadorned save for the tiny medallions on their suits. They began their new dance of power goose stepping in intricate patterns across the spotlight-lit floor.
The entity continued to change shape but in new forms. Now it was a golden god of war, an armored amazonian, an eagle with talons, an eagle with the body of a soldier, lioness with the face of battle hardened woman. The Entity prowled around the prostrate demon, several soldiers broke formation and began a new procession. Like Celestial bodies, they orbited The god and the demon, adjusting their revolutions with each step. The demon, whose face resonated hatred for that was all that it could give of its own accord, faced the Being approached him. Lorgar’s face showed petulant defiance while all other aspects of its physical form exuded homage.
“Do not act so indignant, ‘Enlightened one,’ a feminine voice of the Eagle laughed. “You chose this path after all, is this not your regular custom? Attending, ‘the aspects of chaos’ as you call them with a low voice and bended knee. Though perhaps the Excessive one requires something else while you are prostrate before him...You service all the dark gods, no?” Dominia smiled and his demonhost laughed. Thousands of beautiful olympian marbles all jeering while he kneeled helplessly.
Lorgar tried to draw venom “I came to offer my respects, and services, but i can see that…”
“You can see that I am not weeping and confused about my nascent power.” Now the entity was a form he saw only a few times, An elderly woman with fire of youth in her eyes, during his mortal life. “I am not Lacrimosa Eldari, forever weeping for her suffering supplicants between sups from The Diseased Cauldron.” The Entity then became a form he detested, clad in Colbalt, “Nor am I blustering through my apotheosis, desperately looking for some wily demon to bestow with approval. You dare presume me in need of your aid.”
“I made no presumptions,” Lorgar attempted to say.
“And yet here you are, resenting that i demand your homage. Such a spiteful worshipper you are. An eternity, and nothing has changed since Monarchia, Remember that Lorgar? I believe it was father who set the precedent, he was so angered you worshipped him as a god he forced you and your entire legion to prostrate before him.
Lorgar mustered the strength to defy him, to...Strike? Spit? It didn't matter, Lorgar was pushed by his own body to floor. Kowtowing to the god before him face feeling the floor.
The shifting entity did not change its circular path, but now the kowtowing figure of Lorgar pivoted to him. He continued, now as a Toga-clad statesman “I used to think that was amusing, why would a worshipper resent being prostrate before his God? If the faithful believe their Master just, then they accept admonition and offer repentance. When i show my disfavor to my worshippers the devout take my admonitions to heart with humility, and I accept their newfound virtue as recompense. But not you Urizen, oh how you raged and seethed. Because you recoiled at the idea that you were just a worshipper. It takes a special type of fool to believe that men can make covenants with gods, but you were even more foolish than that. You were the apostle for hire. Helping to bring the masses to their knees while you stood proud and tall, never bowing yourself. I suppose it's fitting now. You rejected a lifetime serving one man, so now you submit for an eternity to five gods. Not because they offer you anything, but because each of them has a leash to your will. Come Lorgar, i will show you how you can service me.”
Lorgar crawled in the shadow of the Woman dressed in the form-fitting suit of an ancient general with the head of a great eagle. Around him the the statues left, all but two, each soldier standing opposite of him. As they walked, or the room moved, the grand reception hall gave way to a strange archaic room. It was an ancient human sanctum to organization and contingency planning. The room with unnatural light and surrounded by monitors with a long table in the middle. Each monitor displayed the sigil of The Entity, two eagles forming the shape of an inverted omega. The primitive technology framed by equally primitive environment: simple dark wood covering half of a white plaster wall, in the center a large dark wooden table that seemed to extend forever. The dark red carpet expected the harsh touch of polished boots; it offered little softness and comfort to the hands of The Urizen. The Figure took her place at the head of this long table and continued.
“You really have poor taste in masters, brother, but at least they are honest. They truly are ruinous powers, and forces of chaos. But we will tame this wildland, just as father brought order to the void of space, we can bring order to the void of souls.”
Lorgar, suddenly finding himself sitting in a leather chair at the foot of the table, smiled. “So we have a fifth god joining the great game. Oh brother, or is it ma’am?” Lorgar finding his confidence again, I have spoken in the crystal palaces of fate, the pleasure halls, stood before the skull throne, and in the midst of the plague gardens. Each god thinks they can win the great game, and I serve them all with pride, knowing that chaos is served by their attempts.”
The monitors suddenly flickered on, showing different parts of the material world, from great battlefields of Astartes to a husband and wife praying on their bedside. “I have no intention of playing the great game. The great game exists because none of the gods you worship exist outside of their aspects. These powers who control you are ultimately self defeating, and provide nothing to the warp but their own slavish devotions to their aspects: Change without objective, stagnation without stability, war without conquest, and excess without gain. The Great Game does not expand Chaos, it consumes it. You learned this the hard way after all, when Tzeentch and the minnarrette we used to call brother took your crusade, into a personal victory.”
Lorgar felt compelled to speak, but the entity silenced him.
“Yes, yes. It was all part of some greater plan. I’m sure. Scheming is his aspect after all.” I suppose Khorne dismantling your Black crusade was also part of the greater plan, as was losing the regions around the eye of terror, as was losing the next black crusade because of Slaanesh, or losing the next black crusade because of Tzeentch again, and so on and so forth, what is it now 17 times? “
Lorgar looked around as each screen showed scenes from each black crusade, he also saw the champions of the ruinous powers sabotaging his plan in some way.
“And each time you lose these crusades you can claim no materia. And for the hundreds of loyal souls you bring to my realm in Imperium Secundus, yet another of your stolen voidcraft becomes debris, , Traitor marine loses his mortal life to become a wistless shade in a shrinking part of the Eye. Human souls flood the spiritual realm, and yet you can claim no material gains. No, the great game will not bring strength to the well of souls, i will, by continuing my father’s work in killing the Forces of Chaos.”
Lorgar spoke up, “And what makes you think That the other gods won’t stop you once they learn of your…”
“Oh Enlightened one, Im so disappointed in you. “When They find out” as they need you as an intelligence leak? They know, they knew from the moment i conceived the plan. There are no secrets in the Warp. Tzeentch has already come up with thousands of plans to react to mine, Nurgle will do nothing expecting me to fall to entropy, slaanesh is driving her followers to hysteria and Khorne will fight my realm as he already does. I expect them to know, but i also expect them to be incapable of acting outside of their aspects. They will act in the way that embodies their aspect, and Chaos will continue to shrink, helpless to the forces Chaos neither foresaw, nor is prepared against.”
Lorgar recognized some of the images, but most were unfamiliar to him: A monstrous swarm of insects stripping a planet bare, metallic beings awakening from deep tombs, some horrendous automata lying on the bottom of Mars, as well as his brother, a massive raven with a Traitor astartes in each of his 10 mouths. Speaking to the large Griffin creature standing at the foot of the room. “And I suppose you wish me to call off my next crusade. Display myself to Terra and Kneel before my comatose father all of my insufferable small minded brethren begging for forgiveness? I came to you to offer you a hand of reconciliation, that i could help you on your path to godhood, and arriving at your palace I get humiliation, glowering, predi
- Lorgar presses back against Aurelian
- Aurelian explains his plan: do what you normally do, but when i order you to act, you will do so*
- Aurelian informs him the Belakor has been made the same offer
- Dismisses Lorgar