My brothers and I waited in anticipation for our glorious leader to show himself. We stood within the throne room of the Tears of Sanguinius, the twelve kilometre long behemoth of a battle barge that the Angels Transcendent 'chapter' used to sail the galaxy. We were, to my knowledge, the only non-legion sized group of Chaos Space Marines that eschewed the warband moniker. Our leader, Gabriel, was a refined chap - monstrous, but refined - and wouldn't be caught dead leading something so crass as a warband.
I occasionally wondered if that was a side effect of our gene-seed, or simply the outsized effect our immortal leader had had on the culture of the Angels Transcendent. Like Gabriel himself prior to his ascension to a daemon prince, we all bore the gene-seed of the Blood Angels. Most Blood Angels that fell to Chaos found themselves in thrall of Khorne, offering skulls in His name in a bid to control, and even harness, the power of the Black Rage. Gabriel, by contrast, focused entirely on the 'gift' of the Red Thirst, benefiting greatly from the patronage of Slaanesh. It was through our elaborate blood drinking rituals - many of which he had created - that instances of the Black Rage within our ranks remained rare.
Whatever the case, Gabriel had managed to maintain a more civilised 'chapter' that served the Prince of Pleasure, in stark contrast to our Emperor's Children cousins. This, combined with his loyalist heritage, had made him something of an outcast among his fellow Chaos Lords, yet he'd had the last laugh over the past century and a half. The introduction of the Primaris Space Marines to the galaxy had been a great boon to us, as well as all other warbands with loyalist gene-seed. Contrary to our elders' grumbling about the 'thin-bloods', it was without a doubt that we were physically and mentally superior to our firstborn counterparts. Of course, while our gene-seed's increased resistance to the corrupting effects of Chaos ensured that it was rather uncommon for loyalist Primaris Marines to fall to our side, this didn't prevent new Chaos Marines from being created from Primaris gene-seed. I should know, I was an example of one.
We weren't waiting long for Gabriel to arrive, literally flying in on his wings. In keeping with the refined image that he'd tried so hard to cultivate, he was most certainly not the hermaphroditic mess that was the average Slaaneshi daemon. Possessing the body of an ancient loyalist Blood Angel that he'd reshaped in his own image, he was even more beautiful than Sanguinius himself - or so he claimed. Otherwise maintaining the appearance of the stereotypical Blood Angel, his golden hair hung down to his neck, framing a pale face with a perfectly chiselled jawline, high cheekbones, and piercing, deep blue eyes. Being a daemon meant that his armour was purely cosmetic, yet he still kept it the traditional deep red with ornate gold and ivory patterns. Whether this was out of nostalgia for his mortal days, or an attempt to maintain some sort of fellowship with his underlings, I wasn't sure.
Spoiler: Gabriel
"My brothers," he said in a surprisingly soft voice, hovering in the air above us. While my augmented hearing allowed me to hear a pin drop in a sandstorm, no-one else dared to make a sound when our Archangel deigned to give a speech. "For more than eleven millennia you, your predecessors and I have carried out our righteous quest to bring humanity into the fold of the Prince of Pleasure. Even since Horus's great enlightenment, we have slowly but steadily chipped away at the Corpse Emperor's benighted influence upon the galaxy. Indeed, our younger brethren should consider themselves fortunate that the expansion of the Great Rift has helped facilitate our efforts to show mankind the true path of glory."
I couldn't help but consider that the more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Gabriel always gave some pompous speech or another before we raided a planet outside the Eye of Terror. Regardless of the target, our leader's words changed only in their composition, never their message. I had to wonder; were these just cynical attempts to allay what little dissent there was within our ranks? Or did Gabriel actually believe what he said? I wasn't sure which was worse.
"Beneath us lies the feudal world of Adderoth," Gabriel continued. "A more backward outpost of humanity you will never find. Hardly the challenge that I know you all relish. Therefore, I am sure you will be delighted to learn that a force of Adepta Sororitas are currently stationed there, to shield this particular branch of humanity from the truth of Chaos beneath a veil of the Ecclesiarchy's lies. A full preceptory of the Order of the Bloody Rose, in fact."
Many of my brothers exchanged glances, but no-one dared make a sound. As for myself, I didn't attempt to suppress my disappointment. A thousand Sisters of Battle was still hardly the challenge that Gabriel made it out to be, even taking into account supporting forces and whatever knightly orders the planet itself could muster.
"As you might imagine, this is not a permanent detachment for such a galactic backwater," Gabriel said, his voice becoming ever more hushed. "They will leave soon, to defend some world or another more worthy of defending. The perfect opportunity to catch them unawares, wouldn't you say?"
It was a question that he didn't want anyone to actually answer, of course. He occasionally sprinkled in little tests like that, to check if anyone had forgotten the strict rules of civility he maintained.
"That is all for now. Go to your stations. Soon, yet more of the blind, ignorant masses will have their eyes opened to the beautiful, multicoloured, kaleidoscopic light of our lord," Gabriel said dismissively, watching as we filed out of the throne room in an excessively orderly fashion. The details of the assault had already been worked out, no doubt. Now it was up to us to carry them out.
-x-x-x-x-
In general, feudal worlds had little contact with the wider Imperium. For one in such close proximity to the Cicatrix Maledictum as Adderoth, even more so. The planetary governor didn't live on the planet itself, instead residing in a space station in orbit. I doubted he'd ever set foot down there.
With a force of Sisters of Battle stationed on the planet, they wouldn't have any trained psykers besides astropaths, who couldn't do much so close to the Great Rift. Even trained Chaos Sorcerers like myself were not immune to its maddening effects, but we could at least still function, albeit with the psychic equivalent of nails on a chalkboard ringing in our ears. With the Tears of Sanguinius hidden behind Adderoth's moon, they would never see us coming, nor would the wider Imperium ever hear of Adderoth's plight. Even if another Imperial force did show up to investigate, it likely wouldn't arrive until years after the populace had been 'enlightened'.
By now, the vast majority of the force would either be down on Adderoth itself, or on the governor's space station. Even here, crammed into a boarding torpedo, I could just barely hear the enormous engines of the Tears of Sanguinius roar to life, with it and the smaller supporting fleet coming into view of the Sororitas fleet soon.
While we waited, I took the opportunity to perform a last minute check of my bolt rifle. Originally owned by some unlucky loyalist Primaris Marine, more than a few had since found their way into traitor hands. With the Indomitus Crusade spreading hundreds, if not thousands of new chapters all throughout the vastness of the galaxy, it was only a matter of time before warbands like ours began picking them off, mainly for their equipment, their superior gene-seed an underappreciated bonus. Most of our new equipment, as well as our stocks of gene-seed, had come from a new Blood Angels successor chapter called the Ruby Host. Deployed within Imperium Nihilus, they hadn't even had the chance to link up with their fellow sons of Sanguinius before the Angels Transcendent descended upon the physically superior yet woefully inexperienced marines like vultures upon carrion.
In any case, I had chosen to bring my bolt rifle instead of my Force Axe and Storm Shield for this operation, despite the close quarters. As the only psyker among the half dozen Astartes in the boarding torpedo, I would be playing more of a support role. This was mainly due to my skill at biomancy, which was always handy for healing any of my injured brethren, even if that wasn't why I had chosen to specialise in it.
"The eyes of the Archangel will be upon you, young Melekh. Do not disappoint," rumbled Michael, the Chaos Champion that served as Gabriel's right hand man, and the one who'd be leading the assault on the governor's space station. Nearly as old as Gabriel himself, kept alive through his master's own command of the Warp. The boarding torpedo's only inhabitant that was taller than me, pushing eleven feet tall and built like an ogryn - at least he would be, if he was actually capable of removing his armour. He was a being of fleshmetal now, his transhuman body having fused with his suit of Terminator Armour.
Spoiler: Michael
"I only hope I can prove myself worthy of the attention he has granted me," I said diplomatically. "In truth, I feel a little out of place among such storied veterans."
"You may yet be a youth of only thirteen decades, yet still the blood of Sanguinius runs strong in you," Michael replied. "As it does among all those with this new gene-seed. You will make a fine Angel of the Prince of Pleasure, some day."
"You honour me with your words, Champion Michael," I said, glad for my helmet to conceal my surprise. Though many veterans looked down upon the new generation of the Angels Transcendent, our leader most certainly did not. Quite the opposite, Gabriel was intrigued by the potential of the Primaris gene-seed, hoping it would allow the next generation of Astartes to be closer to Sanguinius than those that came before. I strongly suspected Michael was just repeating Gabriel's words; I doubted he was much of a free thinker.
Michael just nodded, hefting his Thunder Hammer with one hand and Storm Shield with the other. I thought a pair of lightning claws would have been more appropriate, but he preferred to just smash people's heads in. He was old fashioned like that. I shook my head; of course he was, he was more than eleven thousand years old.
I thought I heard the distinctive, energetic humming of the lance batteries opening fire upon the Sororitas fleet. No doubt Gabriel would be hoping to disable rather than destroy the ships. While there were a few Forge Worlds maintained by the Dark Mechanicum capable of producing new ships, their services did not come cheap. Maintaining existing ships, on the other hand? That was more feasible. He might even trade a ship to the Dark Mechanicum in exchange for some of their more specialist services.
With the lance batteries lighting up the sky above Adderoth with an array of high energy laser beams, it wouldn't be long until we saw some action of our own. My suspicions were confirmed as my body jerked sideways, my power armour helping me maintain my balance as the boarding torpedo was shunted out of the Tears of Sanguinius. In the minutes it would take us to reach our target, I pondered; the Sororitas fleet would no doubt be returning fire upon the Tears of Sanguinius. Not that they had any hope of even penetrating its void shields, let alone destroying it, but soon we would cross paths with five metre wide adamantium macrocannon shells flying through space at relativistic speeds. If one of them struck the boarding torpedo, we would all be killed instantly. There were worse ways to go, I supposed. And it was rather unlikely; space was pretty big.
With the boarding torpedo now disconnected from its mother ship, we could hear nothing besides the low roar of the engine, no other sound reaching us through the vacuum of space. I could practically feel the anticipation building, the atmosphere electric. Not that this would be a great challenge, even with only six of us against Slaanesh only knew how many Sisters of Battle. Gabriel would be displeased if there was even a single fatality. I couldn't let that happen. I wouldn't let that happen. I just hoped none of them had a meltagun.
I knew it was time for action as the boarding torpedo ploughed into the governor's space station with the horrific screech of tearing metal. Michael was out of the vessel before it had even finished moving, racing down the hallway we'd crashed into with surprising speed for someone in Terminator Armour.
"We're clear," he barked into his vox caster, his deep voice filling our helmets as he filed out into the hallway, no-one yet aware of our presence. "We head straight for the governor's quarters. Kill everyone that gets in our way, but spare those that surrender. Sorcerer Melekh, be ready to provide healing."
"Copy that," I said into my own vox caster. Not that I believed that anyone besides the governor and his family would surrender, but you never did know. Any that did might have the chance to be brought back to Baal Superior, the daemon world that served as our home and Gabriel's seat of power, to be 'enlightened' to the ways of Slaanesh.
With so few of us, there was no need for us to split up even within the close confines of the space station. Michael formed the vanguard of our formation, a living shield against our opponents weapons. Something that quickly proved its worth as we came across the first squad of Sisters of Battle. There were ten of them, clearly having been rushed into battle against the unexpected invasion. Caught out of position they were easy prey, their bolter fire harmlessly bouncing off of Michael's fleshmetal body as he pulped three of them with a single swing of this Thunder Hammer, hymns to the Corpse Emperor upon their lips as they died.
The rest fell shortly afterwards, standing little chance against ancient Chaos Marines that had been augmented further by blessings of the Prince of Pleasure. Every single one of them moved with an unnatural quickness, at least by Terminator standards. I did manage to take a single one of them down myself despite it not being the reason for my presence, putting a bolt shell between the eyes of the Battle Sister at the rear of their formation.
"Clear," Michael said shortly, stepping over the corpses as we continued. Someone would come along later to collect anything of value from the fallen. Mere mortals they may be, but power armour was power armour. It was a shame we didn't have any Warpsmiths of our own though. Something that made us uncomfortably reliant on our Dark Mechanicum 'allies'.
The automatic doors wouldn't open for us, with Michael resorting to smashing them open with his hammer. Something that came back to bite him when we came across the next squad of Battle Sisters. This lot were clearly more prepared, taking cover behind anything in the room made of metal. One of them had a meltagun, the enormous blast of heat melting even Michael's fleshmetal body like candle wax. He grunted as a foot wide chunk of his torso was seared away, his hammer coming down on the impudent mortal, smashing her weapon to pieces.
He would easily survive such a wound even without my aid, but my role here was to heal; drawing upon the power of the Warp I channelled healing energy into Michael's body, the fleshmetal of his torso knitting back together before our very eyes. If the Sororitas were unnerved by our squad leader's apparent invincibility, they didn't show it. They instead had the sense to focus their fire upon his wounded chest, but without hitting a vital organ they had no chance of taking him down. My healing of his injury merely sealed the deal.
The Ecclesiarchy's finest were little more than fodder before us, but Michael's earlier words still rang in my ears. Gabriel would want to know how those that had aided his closest ally would perform. Channelling the Warp through myself and into the bodies of the rearmost Battle Sisters I made their blood boil within their arteries and veins, it pouring out of their mouths, nostrils, eyes and ears. Surely manipulating blood would earn me some extra favour with our blood obsessed leader if anything would?
By now the rest of the Sororitas were dead as well. We pushed on, deeper into the inhabited portion of the space station, coming across a few more squads of Battle Sisters, Michael being more careful to avoid any more meltagun blasts. At the same time, I took care to boil the blood of anyone armed with melta weapons before they could be brought to bear. Since I was the only one not wearing Terminator Armour, quite a few of them trained their weapons on me instead, though the much bulkier Terminators did a good job of providing cover. To be on the safe side, I used biomancy to cast a Warp technique that I called Iron Flesh - a more advanced variant of Iron Arm, one that affected my entire body - to ensure their bolter fire couldn't do more than scratch my power armour.
It wasn't long before we reached the portion of the space station where the governor actually lived, Michael smashing the door down with his hammer. There were three remaining squads protecting the governor and his family. The governor's wife and children had found refuge in the corner of the room, while the man himself had to be carried by two of the Battle Sisters, apparently too fat to walk. I idly wondered how his wife could bear to lay with him as I boiled the blood of the two Battle Sisters carrying him, the wretched creature letting out a shriek like a dying grox as he was showered in his carriers' blood.
Without any more melta weapons to worry about, Michael and the other veterans tore apart the remaining Sororitas with contemptuous ease. My Warp-sight confirming there was no-one else left, I turned to the governor and his family.
"We surrender!" the governor wailed in terror, trying desperately to shield his family from us - something that was more amusing than valiant, given his inability to stand. "Take whatever you want, please just leave us be!"
"As amusing as it would be to watch him attempt to squirm onto a transport vessel, I suspect the Prince of Pleasure would welcome one such as him with open arms," I said in the driest tone I could manage.
Michael let out a digitised bark of laughter. "Indeed He will, young Melekh," the Chaos Champion said. "The slaves will be along shortly. I will not deign to carry such a creature, even if it would be entertaining to hear him squeal."
We all laughed at that, my own laughter hopefully masking my creeping discomfort. The governor may well be welcomed into the embrace of Slaanesh, but I tried not to think about what would become of his pretty young wife and children. Hopefully they'd find themselves in the 'employ' of one of the less sadistic members of the Angels Transcendent… I doubted it.
AN:
After playing around with the celestial grimoire for the past couple of weeks, and wanting to write set in Warhammer, I decided to put this together. Melekh will get access to it in chapter 3.
The Angels Transcendent are my attempt to imagine a more refined/civilised Slaaneshi warband. No less messed up than the rest, just less obviously messed up, being a group of blood obsessed Blood Angels.
I'm making all the images myself where possible, by the way. If you're wondering why they have different art styles, I had to use different settings in Stable Diffusion for the image of Melekh (a different Lora). I would have preferred to use the same art style as the image of Gabriel but what can you do. Unfortunately, making these images has convinced me that getting a star of chaos in Stable Diffusion is basically impossible.Last edited: Jun 15, 2025 Like Quote ReplyReport Reactions:Student of Zelretch, Sorain, Xryuran and 219 others
From what I'd gathered over the vox, the void 'battle' had concluded not long after we'd apprehended Adderoth's governor. With each of their ships being breached by a boarding torpedo, we'd managed to take them mostly intact. Three Cobra-class destroyers and a Dauntless-class light cruiser were hardly the most formidable force in the galaxy, but free ships were free ships.
The fighting down on the planet itself hadn't lasted much longer, less of a battle and more of a massacre. Apparently it had been divided into ten separate kingdoms, with the governor ensuring they stayed in a constant state of conflict with each other. Presumably in years past, when Adderoth was less isolated from the wider Imperium, this would have been a good way of ensuring the planet's best and brightest could rise to the top - as much as was possible in such a stratified society anyway - catching the attention of the governor to be recruited into the Imperial guard, Adeptus Astra Telepathica or even the Adeptus Astartes.
Clearly, the past few governors had continued this tradition without fully understanding why it existed. Something that was to our advantage; it would allow Gabriel to ensure only the strongest, most cunning, and most psychically active were brought back to Baal superior. How much of this was for servitude or entertainment varied depending on which Astartes took ownership of them. The vast majority would become the property of the warband as a whole, likely being selectively bred to ensure the next generation of Angels Transcendent were even closer to perfection than the last.
A few hours later, with the fighting over, my brothers and I were assembled in the capital of the greatest of the kingdoms. Almost all of us were seated around the outer edge of the great hall of the king's castle - all but three of us, with Gabriel stood in the centre of the vast room, the king forced to kneel before him by a pair of his honour guard.
"And so, it has come to this," Gabriel murmured, his Warpcraft ensuring his voice reached the farthest corners of the room. "Your entire world has been subjugated by fewer than a thousand of my finest warriors, and yet still you remain so… obstinate. Curious."
"Our faith in the God-Emperor will see us through these trying times," the king said with complete and utter conviction. A grey haired, middle-aged man dressed in the finest clothing - by feudal world standards - he glared up at Gabriel with a defiant look, not showing any hint of the fear he was no doubt feeling. "His angels of death will come and strike you down, heretic."
Gabriel gave a single, derisive laugh. "See that enormous glowing rift in the night sky? It blocks this world out of the Corpse Emperor's view, and has done for more than a century. Still, your resolve is admirable. And unlike the cruel, uncaring tyrant you so eagerly worship, I am not without mercy. So how about this? If you can nominate a champion capable of defeating me in a duel, my brothers and I will depart this world with no further bloodshed."
Obviously, Gabriel risked nothing by this apparent show of magnanimity. I considered that his defeat by a mortal was about as likely as tossing a one thousand piece jigsaw from the governor's space station to Adderoth, and having the pieces all land into the completed pattern when they hit the ground. Giving the mortals the idea that they had some level of control over their fate, no matter how unreal, would slightly help bring them into the fold of the Dark Prince.
My suspicion was proven correct as the king actually took the time to consider who would act as his champion. He chose his nephew, a knight in polished plate armour. The centre of the room was cleared, leaving only Gabriel and his opponent who wielded a poleaxe. A good choice of weapon. A shame it wouldn't help in the slightest.
There was a flash of Warp-infused blood as Gabriel summoned his own weapon. Having created it with his own command of haemomancy, it took the form of an ornate, gleaming red rapier nearly as long as his opponent was tall. Made entirely of the crystallised blood of an aeldari farseer, and containing the bound essence of a greater daemon of Slaanesh, it really summed up everything anyone could ever wish to know about its wielder.
Either out of bravery, or stupidity, the knight charged his opponent, poleaxe held high, though in such a position as to block a theoretical incoming attack. It made no difference; Gabriel cut the head off of the weapon contemptuously, looking bored as he left his opponent armed with a stick. He made no attempt to stop the knight drawing his backup weapon, a sword. Once again the knight attacked, a bit more wary this time, only for his opponent to neatly slice off the hands holding it, passing through the steel armour with zero resistance.
The knight yelped in pain, as Gabriel sighed loudly, clearly exaggerated for dramatic effect. "The correct course of action was to politely turn down my offer, and submit yourself to me," he said, addressing the king. "All you have done is given me an opportunity to show the price of resisting. The price of a mortal not knowing their place beneath us."
A purple glow appeared around Gabriel's off-hand as he channelled the Warp. The knight began screaming in agony as his very blood crystallised in its veins, expanding outwards in thousands of thin red spikes, piercing his armour as effortlessly as his flesh. Gabriel then directed the blood into a more elaborate shape, flowing out of the exposed flesh of his arms, growing into a single twisting, spiked pillar, lifting the man into the air. By the end, he more resembled a twisted rose than a man, his body forming the flower, his muffled screams indicating that he still lived despite his transformation, Gabriel's Warpcraft keeping him alive - and in agony - for centuries to come.
"Perhaps now you understand why opposing me in any capacity is so unwise," Gabriel said loudly, drowning out the screams of the knight's wife and children, present at the far end of the hall. "After that little work of art, I could do with a snack."
Without further ado his honor guard roughly shoved the king before him, tossing him to the floor. Gabriel dispelled his weapon before grabbing the king, the daemon's jaw opening up unnaturally wide. Hundreds of long, needle-like teeth sprouted out of his mouth as he bit down on the king's neck, ignoring his family's screams as he sucked the man's life essence out, drinking it down like a parched man drank water. He dropped the man's body once he was done, now a bloodless husk, licking up any stray droplets with a supernaturally long tongue as the king's soul was cast into the jaws of the Prince of Pleasure.
"My brothers, we have won a great victory here today, made all the greater by not a single casualty," Gabriel said, his mouth having morphed back into its normal shape, the very personification of the statement 'pretty on the outside, ugly on the inside'. A juxtaposition that he enjoyed. "For now, let us make merry. Afterwards we can divide the spoils of our collective effort."
As monstrous as he was, I did regard Gabriel as a genuinely competent leader, even if his nature as a daemon meant he had certain… limitations. Most notably, a compulsion to act more cruelly than might otherwise be advisable. Even then, he still managed to twist these compulsions to his advantage. The display served as a reminder to what happened to those who displeased him, while immediately following it with a celebration, reserved for his loyal followers, helping to ensure that they stayed loyal.
Outwardly loyal, anyway. The fact that I was part of the new breed had allowed me to keep a fairly low profile despite being a psyker. After I had been unexpectedly selected to join Gabriel's honour guard during their assault earlier today, that was looking like an increasingly difficult path to tread. Just in case Michael's words hadn't made it clear enough. Following his orders would be one thing, but if he, intentionally or not, sent me down a path that made me as monstrous as him…
I shook my head, clearing my thoughts. I couldn't afford to start feeling sorry for myself. If I actually wanted to retain some level of independence, I would need a clear head. I could worry about the details later.
-x-x-x-x-
The celebratory feast came and went, providing a temporary respite from my dilemma. It was a microcosm of the Angels Transcendent as a whole; the refined, civilised image that Gabriel insisted was just that, an image. If that was our conduct in private as well we'd be little different to the loyalist Blood Angels. Our leader certainly encouraged us to give in to our basest impulses, just in a 'what happens behind closed doors, stays behind closed doors' sort of manner.
In typical Gabriel fashion, even something as mundane as our celebratory banquet had strict rules to maintain the proper decorum, such as not resting one's elbows on the table or not using the wrong set of cutlery at the wrong time. At least he had the sense to not insist on silence for social events such as these, even if he would never allow it to get too raucous. His minions had gathered entertainment from across Adderoth - dancers, troubadours and the like - which performed while we ate and drank. This also served the dual purpose of evaluating their future; if they overperformed they would be brought back to Baal Superior. The bloody sculpture formed from the king's nephew served as a reminder of what would happen to those that underperformed.
Afterward came our more permanent reward. Our raid of Adderoth hadn't merely been for our amusement. The world's population would be tested to identify the best, brightest and in the case of the females, the prettiest. More importantly, we would identify any with latent psychic abilities. We would then cram as many as we could into our fleet's cargo holds to be brought back to Baal Superior. The most promising adolescent males may well be inducted directly into the Angels Transcendent. The adults would instead be paired off to breed, selecting for traits such as strength, intelligence, psychic potential and most importantly, gene-seed compatibility. This manner of selective breeding was one of the ways Gabriel was so keen on to ensure the next batch of Astartes would be of the highest possible quality.
Besides that, we were allowed to select a few for our own personal use, though the nature of this usage varied from Space Marine to Space Marine. For me it was as concubines; contrary to popular belief, Astartes were not actually sterile in the biological sense. Instead hormonal changes wrought by the Biscopea, the gene-seed organ mainly responsible for our muscle growth, caused the sex drive to be suppressed to the point of non-existence. A deliberate part of our creation, no doubt. In any case, I had already known of a few Angels Transcendent whose devotion to Slaanesh had seen them rewarded by having their sex drives restored. Given that I would hopefully never reach that level of devotion myself, I had instead been forced to use biomancy to achieve the same effect, which was the main reason why I'd chosen to study it in the first place.
The number that we could bring back depended on how well Gabriel thought we had performed, just in case the extra motivation was necessary (which it wasn't). I supposed I had performed adequately. I would only have two, as they had both been chosen from among the surviving Sisters of Battle. Unsurprisingly, Gabriel had deemed them to be of far greater value than some uneducated peasants.
Obviously, it was difficult to know what exactly I'd be picking from besides their physical appearance. Telepathy barely helped, all having the same fanatical devotion to the Corpse Emperor that had been drilled into them practically since birth. I still wanted a pair of Sororitas though; my current concubines back on Baal Superior were nice and submissive, but this time I was in the mood for a pair that were a bit more feisty. In the end I had just chosen the two I deemed to be the most attractive. The first was a pale girl with black hair and green eyes.
Spoiler: Sister Lucinda
The second was lightly tanned, with brown eyes and hair bleached white in the usual Sororitas fashion, the fleur-de-lis tattooed beneath her left eye.
Spoiler: Sister Angelica
Their power armour had been removed, which was almost a shame, it being as red as our own seemed rather fitting. It hardly mattered, without their weapons they were no threat to me or anyone else. I wasn't sure whether an unarmed human was capable of even injuring a Space Marine, let alone killing one. Perhaps a particularly tall one could go for eye pokes.
I chose to retire for the evening with my new acquisitions secured, brainstorming ideas of what to do with them. Besides biomancy, my main specialty was telepathy, for largely the same reason. Biomancy reshaped my concubines' physical bodies more to my liking, while telepathy allowed me to do the same for their minds. I had, on occasion, been called upon to reshape the minds of new neophytes to help reinforce the hypno-indoctrination. Usually only when the older, more experienced sorcerers were unavailable for whatever reason, but it still meant I had plenty of experience reshaping minds.
Using the same method, it had been easy enough to make my present concubines so completely in love with me that they would do anything and everything I asked of them. They'd sooner skin themselves alive than displease me. I wouldn't do that with this pair though, at least not immediately. Maybe I'd leave their devotion to the Corpse Emperor intact, but cause them to lust after me anyway, eventually becoming so unbearable they'd beg me to take them despite being anathema to everything they stood for. Yes… that would certainly be enjoyable.
And yet, as I made my way back to my quarters, the chained Battle Sisters in tow, I found my thoughts wandering to darker places. Unlike my loyalist counterparts, I didn't delude myself into thinking I was a good person. I very much doubted there was any such thing as a 'good' Space Marine. At the same time, I couldn't bring myself to jump into the depths of depravity that Slaanesh offered. My concubines were my main vice, yes, but I had never stooped so low as to take any that had not come of age. Nor did I mistreat them, even though I could make them enjoy such mistreatment.
My less restrained brethren, those that had had their sex drives restored one way or another, would take some of the children instead, either male or female depending on their preferences. Not necessarily out of sexual attraction, though I didn't doubt that was the case for some. Rather, because the emotions of the innocent resonated so much more strongly in the Warp. Nor would my brothers' victims ever get any respite from their torment. As Gabriel himself had encouraged - behind closed doors, of course - they would be subject to the sort of horrors that would make all but the most depraved drukhari cringe in disgust.
I pushed my way into my quarters, my mood having plummeted, surveying the room. Everything was as I'd left it; unlike many other Chaos Lords, Gabriel would not tolerate any form of infighting within our ranks, which included not stealing or destroying each others' belongings. Despite my relative youth, my status as a trained sorcerer did afford me a greater degree of luxuries than the rank and file, so I did at least have my own private chambers to retire to. Nothing fancy, only a single room, but it was of a decent enough size, there being plenty of space on a twelve kilometre long ship. More importantly, the privacy allowed me to brood in peace.
I tossed the Sororitas onto the couch as I changed out of my armour, mostly using telekinesis - taking it off by hand was too much of a pain. I took off the undersuit, not wanting to get it dirty, as I changed into my usual robes.
"Heretic, know that whatever pain and suffering you inflict upon us will only increase the retribution you suffer at the God-Emperor's hands," said the one with white hair. This was the first time either of them had spoken, but she still glared at me defiantly. "You may beat us, maim us or worse, but our faith will never break."
I just raised an eyebrow as I sat across from them. "It's heathen, actually," I replied. As I did so, I gently brushed my mind against theirs, just so I'd know what to call them; the white haired one was called Angelica, and the black haired one Lucinda.
Angelica blinked, clearly not expecting that response, but she quickly regained her composure. "I don't know what you're talking about, but-"
"A heretic is someone who worships the same god, but in a different manner to the orthodox teachings," I explained. "A heathen is someone who worships a different god entirely, so unless the Prince of Pleasure has recently been added to the Imperial Creed-"
"Do not twist my words!" she snapped, sounding both angry and a bit confused. I smirked; the Imperial Creed did officially call unbelievers heretics rather than heathens, another example of their ignorance. "You think your word games will help you turn us away from the light? You are gravely mistaken. We will die long before we break."
"What makes you think I was even planning to do that?" I asked idly. "No-one chooses to join a Chaos warband, after all. Frankly, the less I have to do with Chaos, the better."
"Do you really expect us to believe that?" asked Lucinda, in a more mild tone. She seemed mildly less zealous than Angelica; still zealous, just not 'frothing at the mouth' zealous.
"Obviously not from my words alone. I have every incentive to make you think that I'm one of 'the good ones' after all," I replied. "But I cannot bring myself to go as far as my more extreme brethren. As you'll see when we return home, whenever we claim our prizes after a raid, I only ever choose adults."
I thought I saw a gleam in Lucinda's eye. "You do not see eye-to-eye with your brothers?"
"They torture and mutilate the way most people breathe. Taking after our glorious leader, of course."
"Is your leader the one with wings?" Lucinda asked.
I nodded. "Gabriel is his name. A former loyalist Blood Angel that fetishises Sanguinius above all else."
"The noble Sanguinius would never betray the God-Emperor!" Angelica screeched. "I know my scripture well; he died at the hands of the Archfiend Horus!"
"When I said he fetishises Sanguinius, I really meant that he fetishises an imaginary version of Sanguinius that exists nowhere outside of his own head," I clarified. "Unfortunately, he's so incredibly good at fetishising that the Dark Prince saw fit to elevate him to daemonhood. Immortal, and far, far more powerful than myself. I would like nothing more than to see him die a true death, but until he faces off against one of the returned loyalist Primarchs, I don't see that happening anytime soon."
"Your situation is not hopeless," Lucinda said softly. "Damned though you may be, it is not too late to find redemption in the eyes of the God-Emperor."
"No, I suppose not," I murmured, running my hand over my beard. It was obvious what her game was; she hoped to use me to inflict some damage on the Angels Transcendent before they and I died. It was certainly a better strategy than Angelica's uncompromising attitude. "Unfortunately, I have no way of leaving. Even if I did somehow manage to commandeer a ship, navigating the Warp isn't something I'm trained in. Besides, I couldn't operate one all by myself, and I'm not aware of anyone else that shares my outlook."
That wasn't strictly true, there was one person within the Angels Transcendent that I dared to trust with my true thoughts. Camael, a childhood friend of mine who had been 'recruited' at the same time as myself. My broader point stood; two people were not enough to escape Gabriel's clutches. Nor was I whether there was anyone else I could trust. I could read the minds of mortals, but I could also erect my own mental barriers to stop anyone doing the same to me. By the same token, so could my brothers.
"The power of the God-Emperor can manifest in the most unexpected places," Angelica opined, clearly having cottoned onto Lucinda's little scheme. "Even during the most seemingly dire circumstances, our faith in Him never goes unrewarded. The recent return of Lord el'Jonson is proof of that."
I raised an eyebrow. I had heard rumours that the Primarch of the Dark Angels had returned to wreak his father's vengeance upon the galaxy. Surely not even Gabriel could defeat him… of course, if they ever did face off in combat, I would likely be next.
"I will… consider it," I said noncommittally. "We can continue this discussion later. Now, I will rest."
I rose, took off my robes and tossed myself onto my cot. I once again gently ran my mind against those of my new Sororitas 'companions', checking for any signs of duplicity. The signs were there of course, but they had no intention of immediate action against me, which would do for now. To be on the safe side, I cast a quick cantrip that would wake me if they did try anything, before using a small act of biomancy to force my brain asleep.
-x-x-x-x-
"This is a dangerous game you play, Sister Lucinda," Angelica whispered, once she was sure their captor was asleep.
"Believe me Sister Angelica, while I would love nothing more than to see this heretic burn at the stake, we are currently in no position to bring about such an outcome," Lucinda replied just as softly. "We are alone, without support or even weapons. At the same time, we are held captive by an apparent dissident within this band of heretics. While I think it is unlikely that he will ever bask in the God-Emperor's light, playing along for now would seem to be… the least bad option."
"We must be wary," Angelica cautioned. "If we consider one evil to be the worst, we must take care to not inadvertently align ourselves with the least."
"I am aware, yet I see little alternative. This… Gabriel is clearly a greater threat than a single low ranking sorcerer. To think that a being of such evil would render themselves in the image of holy Sanguinius himself! This filthy abomination must be destroyed."
"I do not disagree Sister, but we are far out of depth here. We have no training in this manner of… skulduggery."
"I have faith that the God-Emperor will guide us to victory," Lucinda said with complete conviction. "Come, Sister, let us pray."
They did so, casting their thoughts out for the God-Emperor to hear. They would not fail. Not while the Master of Mankind watched over them.Last edited: Jul 1, 2025 Like Quote ReplyReport Reactions:Student of Zelretch, Sorain, Xryuran and 260 others
You're finally asleep. Good," a melodic voice said from behind me.
I spun with preternatural speed, looking for the voice's source. I saw it, or rather her, before me. A xeno, one of the aeldari. Not that I had ever seen one out of armour before, but they couldn't possibly be mistaken for anything else. Somewhere between six and a half and seven feet tall, with slender limbs that managed to be perfectly proportioned rather than lanky, and pointed ears that poked through her hair. As much as I hated to admit it, she was undoubtedly the most stunningly beautiful creature I'd ever seen, by far. Somewhat ethereal in her appearance, with fiery red hair that hung down past her waist, pale skinned with deep purple eyes, which were framed by a heart shaped face with sculpted, high cheekbones. Her generous breasts and buttocks were rather pleasing to the eye as well.
Spoiler: Slaanesh
She was dressed simply, in a plain white dress with no jewelry, walking barefoot. We appeared to be in some kind of… spirit realm, for want of a better term, with wispy white mist covering the invisible ground that went as far as the eye could see, a ghostly garden of flowers around us.
"What is the meaning of this, xeno?" I said shortly, not willing to trust her as far as I could throw her, something not helped by her beauty that was so clearly unnatural.
The xeno crossed her arms, regarding me with an air of disappointment. "Did you kiss your mother with that mouth, back on Gildar Secundus?"
Despite myself, I couldn't help but flinch ever so slightly. Gildar Secundus had been my original home, the domain of the Silver Skulls chapter. The Angels Transcendent had struck them, shortly after their ranks had been bolstered by their very first batch of Primaris Marines. I had never forgotten it, having been 12 years old when I was first implanted with my second heart. Older than was desirable for a fresh neophyte, but my body had proven to be unusually compatible with the gene-seed. Once I had my psychic awakening, my position within the warband was all but secured.
"You still miss her, don't you," the xeno said, more softly this time. "You remember her tears as you were dragged from her embrace by one of your soon-to-be older brothers, before a bolt shell was put into her skull. I suppose it was only natural that you would be one of the few to never embrace my more negative aspect."
I forced my roiling emotions down, feeling the Black Rage surface within my mind, something that so rarely happened. "Speak plainly, xeno," I growled, angry that I couldn't kill what was just a bad dream. "I have been forced to take part in yet another of Gabriel's amusements, and now I can't even find refuge within my own mind!? Say your piece!"
"I didn't mean to antagonise you," she replied soothingly. Like I believed that for a second. "You have no secrets from me, sorcerer Melekh. You need not fear that Gabriel will learn of your treachery on my account."
My eyes narrowed. Xenos could not be trusted in any way, shape or form. Everyone knew that. Although… there was nothing the aeldari feared more than the Chaos God that they called She Who Thirsts. Whereas they might regard me with mere contempt, they would regard Gabriel with pure terror. I didn't think for a minute that the enemy of my enemy was my friend, but… I was still curious as to why, and more importantly how, one of them had managed to invade my dreams.
"How are you doing this? Why are you doing this?" I asked, trying to keep the curiosity from my voice.
The xeno rolled her eyes. "Were you not listening earlier, when I mentioned my negative aspect? You know, the god you so love to hate?"
My mind came screeching to a halt. The god I so loved to… oh.
Shit.
Well, this couldn't possibly be any worse.
I clenched my fists, more just to keep my hands from trembling than to attack, realising the 'xeno' was none other than the Prince of Pleasure Himself. Still, I refused to grovel.
"You expect me to believe that you even have a positive aspect?" I sneered. "You, the very being created by your children's depravity?"
"One half of that being, the better half," Slaanesh corrected, now sounding more conversational. "As you know, all Gods of Chaos are empowered by their respective emotions. Is it so hard to believe that we might all have two aspects, one positive and one negative? The pain and suffering this galaxy is forced to endure has caused the positive aspects like myself to become increasingly marginalised. Fortunately, one positive side effect of the weakened barrier between realspace and the Warp is that it has allowed me a degree of influence on a plane that I was previously too weak to act upon. I intend to do so before it's too late."
Logically, what she said made perfect sense. The Gods of Chaos that we all knew and 'loved' were fed by the emotions they created within their mortal subjects, either directly or indirectly. They were as negative as the collective emotions created by this war torn galaxy, so it was plausible for there to exist a corresponding positive aspect fed by the corresponding positive emotions. Of course, I knew that such flawless logic was nothing more than a tool that she wielded to corrupt me into her service; more corrupted than I already was anyway.
"Do you think I was born yesterday? You couldn't have come up with a more obvious ploy to consume my soul."
Slaanesh tutted. "I'm disappointed, Melekh. You pride yourself on being one of the few free thinkers in a den of monsters. Monsters already damned by my negative aspect. Just as damned as you are, in fact. Like it or not, the Dark Prince has buried his hooks in you from the moment you joined the Angels Transcendent. You will never overthrow Gabriel while that remains the case."
I turned away from her, stewing in her words. Words that, deep down, I knew to be true. That didn't make me any more interested in listening to what she had to say.
I heard the Prince of Pleasure sigh. "You know, wallowing in the depths of your self pity isn't going to help anything."
"You think I don't know that!?" I roared, turning to face her. "There is nothing that will help! There's- were you trying to bait me?"
"I didn't 'try', I succeeded," she said dryly. "You are mistaken to believe that you are beyond saving, however. Did it never occur to you that my negative aspect wanted you to think that your situation is hopeless? That you might as well sink to the same depths as your brethren, because you're already damned either way?"
I snorted derisively. "If you're talking about 'redeeming' myself in the eyes of the Corpse Emperor-"
"I wasn't, actually," Slaanesh said, cutting me off. "He is incredibly powerful, to be sure, but it will still be quite a while before he comes to resemble one of us. Nor can he draw strength from the wider multiverse like I can. In any case, such redemption would only involve your death, your soul burned to spiritual ashes in his holy fire. What I propose would leave your soul intact."
"And bound to you," I replied dismissively.
"Much as it is already bound to my negative aspect, however tenuously? Either one's soul is bound to a higher being, or it will simply fade into nothing within the Warp… or at least it would, if not for the fact that you're a psyker. My darker twin's daemonettes will take pleasure in tormenting your soul, I'm sure."
I didn't answer, mulling over her words against my better judgement. Obviously, she was trying to convince me to come around to her side. Only, she wasn't saying anything that I didn't already know to be true. As much as figures like Ahriman deluded themselves into thinking otherwise, it wasn't possible to draw upon the power of Chaos so heavily and not have one's soul belong to them. The Changer of Ways in his case.
"Consider this Melekh; how exactly could being bound to me be any worse than being bound to your current master?" Slaanesh asked.
"You could just take my soul straight away," I replied.
"Yes, after a scant few centuries of life, not even a blip against the eternity for which I have existed in some form or another. The multiverse is infinite in scope, you know. I am glad to say that I have far more influence over most planes than my negative aspect. This galaxy is one of the exceptions."
"Is that so?"
"Watch," she said, as our surroundings shifted. We appeared to be in some sort of feudal world city, albeit one of the more well-to-do ones I'd seen, with buildings of clean, light grey stone and green roofs surrounded by towering stone walls. Human guards in gleaming steel armour kept order on the streets, which to my surprise were populated by many different races. There were humans, yes, but what also looked like lesser cousins of the aeldari; the same height and build as the humans, but with pointed ears and skin varying in colour from gold to grey, some even green with tusks, like a bizarre crossbreed of aeldari and ork. Even more curious were those that were unlike any race I'd ever seen before; some sort of bipedal cats and lizards, talking and interacting with themselves and the humans as equals.
"Why do these people tolerate the existence of xenos?" I asked.
"They aren't 'xenos', they were all born here," Slaanesh chided. "I'm a bit disappointed that one raised outside the purview of the Imperium still regurgitates its ignorant tripe. Look at them; so many different races living together in perfect harmony."
My lips curled in disgust. "For them to cavort so readily with this alien filth-"
"Were you even listening!?" she snapped, now sounding genuinely angry. "Your plane is the filthy one, Melekh! Why do you continue to mindlessly spout the words of a monster?"
I was taken aback by her words. "It is humanity's right, no, its duty to dominate the galaxy, with or without the Corpse Emperor. Every xeno is a threat to our race's very survival."
She regarded me archly. "You have yet to explain why xenos are any more of a threat than other groups of humans."
I did a double take. "What are you talking about? It is only natural for humanity to unite under a single banner against the xeno threat. The only exceptions being those that have been misled by higher powers, be it Chaos or otherwise."
"Your faith in humanity is far greater than it has any right to be," Slaanesh replied with a bitter chuckle, as our surroundings shifted. We now appeared to be in a kind of prison camp on some civilised world or another, filled with crude rockcrete buildings and barbed wire fences all around. The difference between the guards and prisoners was stark, despite them all being human. The former wore crisp, dark grey uniforms with red armbands that depicted a square, swirled cross insignia. The latter, by contrast, bore filthy smocks and manacles, thin and gaunt with identification tattoos upon their limbs.
"What crime did these prisoners commit?" I asked, noting that there were children among their ranks.
"They had the wrong genes," she said grimly, as the prisoners were led into one of the rockcrete buildings.
"I don't understand. Are they abhumans? They look baseline."
She shook her head. "When not faced with an outside xeno threat, humanity has a tendency to create one where none exists. These prisoners are no less human than the guards. Their only crime was to be born a slightly different type of human."
My eyes widened. "They look barely any different. Certainly nowhere near the levels of ratlings or ogryns, let alone beastmen. What plane does this occur on? Flawed though it may be, I wouldn't have thought the Imperium would let this particular manner of persecution stand."
"This plane, Melekh. You bear witness to the events of ancient Terra, year 944 of the second millennium. I note the irony that these guards would also consider you a lesser being, purely on account of your skin colour."
A chill ran down my spine, as I noted that the guards were all pale skinned, many of them blonde haired and blue eyed. Just like the stereotypical Blood Angel, come to think of it.
"Let's not forget that the Emperor of Mankind was alive and well during this time," Slaanesh mused, her tone contrasting with the grim surroundings. "A man who loves humanity above all else, or so he claimed. Regardless of whether he ever actually did, what would you make of the fact that he made no attempt to prevent man from committing such atrocities upon his fellow man?"
"Did he ever intervene in humanity's history prior to founding the Imperium?"
"Mainly during the Dark Age of Technology, when he could enjoy the fruits of mankind's technological labour, even if he did make a few contributions himself," she replied. "Yet all the while, he maintained that it was not his place to intervene as humanity devoured itself, and in the process, essentially admitting that he thought humanity less important than his own principles. It was only during the Age of Strife, when the human race was faced with its very extinction, that he chose to act, something that never would have happened if he'd ever bothered to guide humanity while it was at its zenith."
"Of all the accusations that could be levelled at the Corpse Emperor, I did not think that to be a cynic was one of them."
"And now you understand what kind of man has had more influence over the human race than any other in history," Slaanesh said, as our surroundings faded back into the endless white mist.
"And you would replace this influence with your own?" I asked.
"The aeldari may have created me, but I am not biased in favour of any one race. I dare say that I would enjoy seeing you make a few farseers into your concubines," she replied, grinning.
"You speak as if I've already agreed to serve you. I haven't."
"You are right to be paranoid. I haven't yet proven this isn't some elaborate trick, have I? Perhaps this will convince you, if nothing else will." She snapped her fingers, as a glowing scroll appeared before me. I grabbed it, scanning its contents, which were written in low gothic. Though as I read it, I realised the language didn't even matter, only its wording, which left me blinking in shock.
This… this was an actual binding pact. The kind that no-one, not even gods could break without suffering severe repercussions.
No less shocking was its contents. The first part was what I expected; I would enter into the service of this more positive aspect of the Prince of Pleasure, for the purpose of advancing her goals upon this plane or any other, should the need arise. In return, she would grant me power; both to carry out her will, and for my own personal use when not doing so.
All that was fairly standard, it being the main reason people fell to Chaos in the first place. What truly stunned me were the stipulations she'd place upon herself. Essentially, promising to not consume my soul, to not torture it when it became hers if or when I eventually died like her negative aspect would, and to instead give me a nice cushy afterlife to look forward to. In addition, she also promised to not pull the rug out from under me unless I broke my end of our pact, to support me through thick and thin.
I scanned the scroll repeatedly, looking for any potential loophole she could use against me, but found nothing. I realise now that was why she'd written it in low gothic; she'd deliberately used the simplest, clearest language, to make it as obvious as possible that there weren't any. Something that left me staring at my would-be new patron in bewilderment.
"Why do you offer this?" I asked. "Less powerful than the negative aspect you may be, you're still a god. Why put restrictions upon yourself when you could offer a pact as one-sided as those I'm more familiar with?"
"Because I want you to say yes, of course," she replied. "Besides the fact that you would never accept being completely dominated by me, it is not in my nature to cause pain and suffering upon my subjects. Why would I, when it would accomplish nothing but feed the being I wish to be rid of?"
Well, I suppose she had a point there. "But why offer it to me?" I pressed, perhaps unwisely, but I couldn't go without knowing. "There are many sorcerers throughout the galaxy far more powerful than myself. Frankly, I'm better at wielding a Force Axe than the vagaries of the Warp."
She frowned. "Why in the Warp would I offer this to one of those monsters you call kin, be they one of the Angels Transcendent or the Emperor's Children?"
"If you expect me to be a good person… you're wrong," I said slowly. I knew it was stupid, but having been taken aback by her unexpected sincerity, it felt a bit wrong to not reciprocate. "I became a monster the very second I was taken from my mother. Just… not as much of one, perhaps."
"And now you have answered your own question," Slaanesh replied with a wan smile. "I needed someone already bound to my darker aspect in some way, yet not so dark of heart. Unfortunately, my options are rather limited on that latter point, so I have chosen to settle for someone that is merely not completely without scruples."
A fair point. I was glad she hadn't tried to convince me of some deeply buried virtues retained from before I became a Space Marine, or something equally trite. I found her honesty refreshing.
"This might well be the stupidest thing I'll ever do, but… I accept," I said, kneeling before her. If this was my one chance to escape the clutches of the Dark Prince, I had to take it. And I had to do so now, before she changed her mind; though she may be kinder than her darker half, she was still a God of Chaos, beings known for their fickleness above all else.
"I could not be more glad. I promise you will not regret this, Melekh," she replied, her smile becoming more warm as she took my hand, my truncheon-like fingers looking faintly ridiculous grasped by her own slender digits. Her hands and my own glowed with an intense purple light, as my body felt like it was engulfed in a fire which emanated from my hand. Both agonising, yet also energising, as I felt a rush of power flow through and around me.
Celestial Grimoire activated. Current balance: 0 CP.
I was startled by the floating text that appeared in my field of vision. Celestial Grimoire? Some kind of magical tome?
"Our pact is complete," Slaanesh said solemnly, her mark now etched onto the back of my hand, which radiated a steady purple glow. "This binding sigil will make clear your newfound favour with Slaanesh. No-one will be able to tell that it relates to me instead of my darker aspect, not even the likes of Gabriel."
"Well, that will make things easier," I muttered. "You offered me power, but now that I am bound to you, I would like some further details."
"It's the kind that will appeal to the scholar within you, trust me," she replied, giving me a grin. "Did you know that there are many different kinds of magic throughout the multiverse not related to the Warp at all? I am sure you are intelligent enough to understand why they might be especially effective when wielded on a plane that knows no power besides that of the Warp."
"They'll be a complete out of context problem," I realised.
"Exactly. Why don't I show you an example? You can consider this a freebie," she replied, as more floating text filled my field of vision.
Spoiler: Castlevania - Symphony of the Night: Creature of the Night
"A drawback?" I asked, frowning.
"I did say it was a freebie," she said, sounding a bit defensive. "I am sure you can see why this particular perk would be of great interest to a man like you?"
I nodded. "These drawbacks do seem fairly minor, all things considered. What's the real drawback?"
She laughed. "For most people, having to drink blood is the drawback."
I considered that. "Yes, I suppose that would be quite inconvenient for people without access to our logistical network for consuming blood."
"Of course. The logistical problems. That's obviously what I meant," she chuckled.
"What is this 'Castlevania', by the way?" I asked.
"Oh, that just denotes which part of the multiverse this perk draws from," Slaanesh replied, sounding sheepish for some unfathomable reason. "It's nothing you need to worry about."
My eyes narrowed as I scanned the illusory text before me. These drawbacks were really more just inconveniences than anything, albeit of varying levels. I considered which was the least inconvenient. Silver was right out, being used frequently in the creation of sorcerous artefacts. So was sunlight, I couldn't exactly turn down orders from a higher ranking sorcerer because I was worried about getting sunburnt. Eventually I settled on a stake to the heart as my drawback; while it would be immediately fatal, unlike the others, I was banking on the fact that a wooden stake was rather unlikely to penetrate my power armour's breastplate, which I only ever removed in my private quarters. Then there was the matter of my ribcage, which was not only reinforced with ceramite and much denser than the human average, my Ossmodula organ had also reshaped it into a series of overlapping and interlocking plates. Basically, I wasn't getting stabbed in either of my hearts with a piece of wood anytime soon.
As for the additional powers, I decided to choose teleportation and transforming into mist. Fireballs were a bit redundant when I could use the Warp to cast bio-lightning, and bats had an unfortunate association with the Night Lords. Teleportation, even the short ranged kind, would be far more valuable, as would the ability to turn into a form that made me immune to physical attacks.
As I accepted my new patron's first gift, I thought I felt my body shift ever so slightly. My canine teeth became more pronounced, something I instinctively knew was meant to puncture necks, though not enough to impede my ability to speak or chew normal food. I felt a newfound… hunger within me, one that craved blood separately from the Red Thirst, though it wasn't particularly onerous. My normal consumption of blood would be more than enough to keep it sated. I also knew that my increased strength, speed and durability would be cumulative with my Space Marine physicality, though exactly how much stronger I would be was unclear. Maybe I'd test myself in a couple of practice duels when I woke up.
"This, my dear, is only the beginning," Slaanesh purred. "Through you, I now have a more permanent link to this plane, which I can use to feed you additional power. Should you achieve some more… noteworthy feats, I may be able to give you even more. The death of Gabriel, or even just banishing him back to the Warp, is but one example."
"It will still be a long time before I am powerful enough to challenge him, I feel," I admitted.
"Not as long as you might think, actually," she said. "Thought you are right to be cautious. If we are to succeed, you must survive Melekh. Do you understand me?"
"I do," I replied.
"Good," she said softly, gently grasping the back of my head, surprising me as she pulled me into a kiss. It was more tender than passionate despite our mouths being open, her lips and tongue tasting sweet and fruity.
"I see many great things in your future, my new friend. Go now, and rest. We will meet again when you next sleep," Slaanesh said, as she, and my lucid dream, faded away. The last thought that passed through my mind before my usual sleep took me was a hope that I hadn't just made a terrible mistake.
AN:
And so the celestial shenanigans begin. I've never done anything like this before, so I'm not sure what a good rate of CP gain is. I've settled on 100 CP every 2500 words, plus a few extra for various feats. Hopefully I can have a good balance of exploring the various perks as they're earned without it completely taking over the entire fic.Last edited: Jun 15, 2025 Like