Once the crew with Abaddon found the rest of the Justarian everyone headed back to the Vengfull Spirit for preperations. Ashur-Kai came down with over a hundred Rubric Marines.
The gathering took place on the Vengeful Spirit’s command deck, where Horus and his primarch brothers had once stood with the lord-captains of the Space Marine Legions, first presiding over the fate of the Great Crusade, then deciding the fate of the rebellion. Banners depicting old glories hung in rows, some woven as tapestries, others more primitive collections of trophies leashed together and raised as victory standards. Most of the hanging flags commemorated the planetary conquests and fleet engagements of the Luna Wolves during their two hundred years of crusading, before the Emperor offered them the right to change their name in recognition of their honour as Horus’s sons. The more raw and ramshackle icons were battlefield trophies – not from worlds taken but from battles fought with Throne-loyal forces on Horus’s road to Terra. Between these were the ritualistic emblems of the warrior lodges that spread illumination and treason in equal measure throughout the XVI Legion’s ranks.
From every ceiling rafter and wall mounting, the slitted and livid yellow Eye of Horus stared down upon you.
You all stood around the central hololithic table, a handful of warriors standing where armies once stood.
In attendance at this meeting were:
Falkus Kibre, the "Widowmaker," last chieftain of the broken Justaerin and lord of the Duraga kal Esmejhak warband. With him stood Ulasht, Sorcerer of the Sons of Horus, his wings wrapped tight to his back and 20 Justaerin in terminator armor stood behind them.
Telemachon Lyras, sword-captain of the Emperor’s Children. He stood alone the only one of his brothers not fed to the hungry lusts of the eldar. The shadows that darkened the entire command deck were unable to diminish the silver sheen of his rapturous face mask.
Ashur-Kai, the White Seer, sorcerer and sage of the Thousand Sons. He stood with a phalanx of our Rubricae, numbering one hundred and four. Tokugra, his carrion crow, watched proceedings from its perch on his shoulder.
Lheorvine Ukris, known – much to his gall – as Firefist, gunnery-captain of the World Eaters and commander of the Fifteen Fangs. He stood with his Sergeant Draex clutching his always blood drenched axes and their four surviving brothers, each one holding a massive heavy bolter at ease.
Sargon Eregesh, Abaddon’s oracle, a warrior-priest of the Word Bearers’ Brazenhead Chapter. Next to him was the pilgrim Akkad, clad in the faithful red of the XVII Legion, their armour inscribed with Colchisian runes in worn gold leaf.
Menstras, warrior of the Night Lords stood alone clinging to the shadows hands on the hilt of his swords.
Deathraven, fallen son of the Lion stood alone standing close to the table always on alert.
Iskandar Khayon, Sorcerer of the Thousands Sons. At his side was Nefertari, dark of armour and pallid of flesh, with her grey wings closed tightly to her back. She leaned on an ornate spear stolen from a tomb on an eldar crone world, deep in the Eye. Gyre stood at his side, the black wolf’s malignant white eyes ever-watchful.
Abaddon looked over this disparate conclave, and tapped his heart in Cthonian humility.
"We’re a sorry and ragged warband, are we not?"
Aldegun, Legionaire of the Iron Warriors also gathered around the table watching intensely.
"Did your fathers begin their rebellion this way, I wonder? Standing around this very table, looking at each other, wondering who they could trust and who they should beware? Tell us, Abaddon, how we keep from repeating their mistakes in practice as well as ideal."
"Our fathers came together for their own reasons, many legions with many purposes against the monolithic Imperium." He holds out a hand. "Some to take the honor and glory from those who were undeservingly lavished." He raises a finger. "Some to spread the true faith, persecuted by the lies of a pretender god." He raises another finger. "Some to seek proper vengeance against the insults and injustices laid against them." He holds his hand up flat. "Many legions, many purposes, disunited and scattered, and ultimately defeated. If we are to see this through, we must be as one," and he clenches the hand into a fist, slamming it into his chest in an old salute. "I remember when we first walked into this vessel. The fury of this dead world ate away the colors and trappings of our different fathers, and we walked in as if we were a single band of single purpose. If we are to see this through, we must build a compact, walking away from our pasts to form a new legion, brothers of different fathers. Falkus brought us here, and if I may, I would be honored to take the black of the Widowmaker."
Abaddon grins at Akkad touching his fingers to his heart in respect.
"Brother Akkad is correct, our fathers gathered here with their own goals and Horus did not care about any of them or their wishes only to take the throne of Terra for himself. As I said before he would of sold humanity for a moment to sit on that throne. We will not lower ourselves to that standard. We have a goal and we shall accomplish it. The Imperium is ours and we will have it returned to us. But first we must deal with the problem at hand with the possibility of cloning the Emperors Children are playing with."
He looks to everyone before continuing.
"I would like to hear you all out before we continue as brothers."
"What is there to hear Abaddon, we are all to stop the Emperor's Children for whatever different reasons, but in the end it's creating something greater that really brings each one of us to this table and you" as Aldegun puts his helmet on the table "The question is how and what it will be"
Deathraven brought up a list of their assets on the hololith. The numbers were pitifully poor.
"We are woefully outmanned. We have only two ships, and only one of those ships still has a crew. The void-worthiness of the Vengeful Spirit is still a mystery. We have less than 200 marines, a smattering of daemons, and an Eldar of no small skill. Fortunately, one of those marines is now our brother."
Deathraven glances in Telemachon's direction.
"Sword-Captain, you know what we face. What insight will you give?"
Draex slams his axe Crimson onto the table. Staring at deathraven
"You can trust that I will bring so much murder and voilence upon the children of Fulgrim that will turn the blood god's stomach. "
Draex stands back arms crossed but his chains of his axe in his hands. Pondering over his last statement on how he would like to kill his opponent's.
lost in his thoughts of choas
Deathraven bowed slightly to Draex.
"I certainly didn't mean to intimate that you couldn't do this by yourself. Forgive me."
Deathraven looked at Abaddon.
"Perhaps while Draex is razing the Canticle City single-handed, we could go and find a proper distillery for the Vengeful Spirit."
He then glanced at the others, hoping they got his meaning.
"Personally, I think that attacking a force of indeterminate size with the simplistic plan of 'Maim, Kill, Destroy' will end this compact before it has even begun. And it will end in failure."
"Not necessarily, that actually sound plausible" as Aldegund smiles to Draex "Only a small group is really needed to destroy, recover his gene-seed or recover the corpse. The rest of us will create such mayhem and destruction to distract that it will force their attention on us." Aldegun looks at the silver faced man [b]"I am sure he knows where he could be held and I can look into fixing the Vengeful Spirits teleporting capabilities if it has any"{/b]
"We have two ships. One without a crew... Did I fail to mention that? Besides, the Emperor's Children are Space Marines. They will not respond to the incursion of a single ship en masse. They will respond in waves, keeping reserves available to protect the most powerful weapon they could ever hope to have. And make no mistake, they know that is what we are after."
He looks at each group in turn.
"These aren't primitive rabble, or Imperial Guard that we face. These are Legiones Astartes. We gave them a bloody nose when we escaped them before. They will not underestimate us again. I would not."
He focuses on Aldegund at this point.
"I agree that a feint and thrust will be necessary. But in any feinting maneuver, you must target something that your opponent covets in order to convince him the threat is genuine to force him to reinforce it's defenses. What do the Emperor's Children covet besides the Warmaster, and do we have what it takes to truly threaten it?"
You misunderstand, we are also Legion Astartes, I am an Iron Warrior and we do siege warfare better than most. That is why I wish to know" as he turns to face the only emperor's children in the room "What information you have of their defenses, and what valuable things they would truly mount a defense for, there must be something else. Otherwise, we will have to do a spearhead type assault quick and brutal and not give them a chance to react properly and on time. There is one crucial flaw to exploit and that is the common martial hubris, but other than a flaw of character, I hope you can feel in more details to plan a proper operation, or we can argue to eternity the best way to penetrate an unknown fortress, with unknown defenders and unknown assets."
Deathraven chuckles, softly.
"I should get an interpreter servo-skull. I am sure I just said that."
Telemachon looks between Deathraven and Aldegund.
"The Primogentor is no fool. Once we enter space close to Harmony we will be under attack. Teleportation is as unreliable there as anywhere else in the Eye. Planetary assault will only be possible with drop pods."
Abaddon shaks his head. "That won’t be necessary. We’ll win this fight without setting foot on the world itself. We are few and they are many. We will plunge a spear tip through the fortress' heart. You are right Deathraven the Vengful Spirit will not fly with the crew we have now but with Khayon's aid the ship will be able to fly on a skeleton crew."
Abaddon looks to Khayon. "This is a heavy request brother but in order for us to succeed the Anamnesis will need to be transferred to the Vengful Spirit and become it's machine spirit. I will not lie to you, she may not be the same when this happens as the Vengful Spirits Machine Spirit may consume her soul completely and she will not be the sister you once knew as the Anamnesis. You had plans of this already before you even knew I was still alive."
Khayon nods slowly.
"We are going to upgrade the most iconic warship ever built by Mankind. But it will require practically gutting tha Taloc. She will remain here."
He looked at Khayon.
"If we bring her down safely, perhaps we can restore her with a new spirit when this is over. She may yet fly again."
Now he looked at Abaddon, his gaze suddenly narrowing.
"How will we ensure that they haven't moved Horus by the time we strike?"
"That is the other thing Khayon will need to sacrifice in order for this to work." Abaddon said. "The Taloc will be the spear tip that strikes the fortress heart."
He pauses a moment.
"Khayon and Ulasht powers will be able to pull the Taloc along side the Vengful Spirit and they will have the honor of striking first by launching the ship into the Canticle City."
"The Canticle City is the safest place for them to do their work and where Fabius would have access to the most he requires. I would not make sense for them to bring the remains anyplace else. And if he is not there we will find out where it is from someone there." Abaddon replies to Deathraven grinning.
"So, we transfer the crew and the Anamnesis to the Vengeful Spirit, turning the Taloc into a giant bomb and drop it on the Canticle City. Does anyone have an objection to this plan?"
He looked to Khayon and Ashur-Kai first. They had both the most to lose and the most to gain with this endeavour.
Lheor grunts "The plans so crazy it may just work."
Deathraven nodded at Lheor.
"Even if it doesn't, every warband and petty warlord in the galaxy will know that we are not a group to be trifled with. I say we should do it for that benefit alone, if nothing else."
"If it doesn't work, we shall probably all die. These things happen. We do not have other options. Our time is limited, and we would not be able to muster a force to match them nor infiltrate their citadel. We me be able to find a catspaw to distract them while we strike, but either way, our fate is death or glory."
"Hahahahah! now your talking. Just rush right in and punch them in the face. Upclose and so very personal."
Draex nods his head very pleased with their approach. Its simple, no trickery, rush in and killor be killed. How war is meant to be.
The nail's pressure eased up from the brink of irrevocable madness to mind splitting headache at the announcement of war and for all those watching sees Draex shoulders relax a degree or two. Which one might mistake for world eaters being calm. Still insanity reads across his face with his fingers twitching, but in all he is still in a good mood. This counsel has his interest
I was considering hauling a meteor or several smaller ones, but I guess this works also."
Abaddon grinned.
"We will strike without warning, with overwhelming force. The Canticle City does not matter, nor does the enemy fleet. All we need to concern ourselves with were the cloning facilities and the fleshcrafters who laboured at their arcane science within the halls. No protracted engagements. No running battles. We strike, we kill, we pull back."
"When this is over brothers, you all have a place aboard the Vengful Spirit if you desire it. We will forge a new legion forged as we desire it, not slaves to the Emperor's will and cast in the image of his flawed Primarchs. Bound together by loyalty and ambition, not nostalgia and desperation. Untainted by the past. No longer the sons of failed fathers."
"Khayon, what do you need to move the Anamnesis?"
"My tech-adepts will handle the rituals and movement of the Anamesis." Khayon replied to Deathraven.
Deathraven nodded.
"Then you should get them started. The sooner we can make our move, the better our odds of success."
He turned and addressed Abaddon at that point.
"What else needs done?"
"A viable plan but one that we can only attempt once. Let us confirm the target's presence before we commit folly."
Menstras locks his eyes on Abaddon.
"You said others were coming. Let us take a small group under their banner and verify the target."
“High Chieftan. When we sailed through the Webway and through the Avernus breach to the Radiant Worlds we encountered a remnant of the Emperor, it named itself Imperious, the Avatar of the Astronomican. You claimed to have pondered the Astronomican for some time before seeking us out. You have not shared what it said to you but I will share what it said to us, it asked us to turn back, claiming that we were a threat to the Singer. When we refused we were told that the Song’s next verse would be fire and fury, not wisdom and mercy. That it would come in time and in force. That the Fate we sought to engineer cannot be allowed to come to pass. It asked if we would be the instruments of destruction and the Damnation of Mankind. Finally before Lheor quieted the wretch with his Bolter it called us the death of empires. Claiming that we would be the end of the Imperium”.
Ulasht pauses for a moment to let the words sink in then continues. “Imperious was correct, I would be the death of the Imperium though I seek salvation of man from what we have wrought upon him not his damnation”.
“One thing that the Imperious stated has given me pause and I wonder, what is the Singer? Do you know what the Singer is High Chieftan? This may be a strange time to ask such a question but if such a being, whatever it may be, could in any way interfere in our plans we must take its existence into consideration as we prepare all that we have for one strike on Fulgrim’s Children, a blow that I am more than happy to deliver".
"We do not have time to wait for the others, we have who and what we need now to move forward. I do not believe the III Legion is close to completing the progress which would probably take decades if not centuries but we must be sure it's stopped sooner rather than later." Abaddon replied to Menstras.
"My dear brother Ulasht. The singer he referred to was the Emperor and he is correct we will be his downfall. Horus reborn poses a threat to the 9 legions. If the Emperors Children are successful and win the 9 legion wars then all is lost and we will have no chance of ever uniting and striking back at the Imperium, this is why it must be stopped."
"If there are no other questions or concerns I suggest we all assist Khayon with the burden of getting his ships content transported to the Vengful Spirit."
Abaddon stands tapping his fingers 3 times to his heart.
Dethraven bowed before turning.
"I'll prep the transport for immediate launch to take those who need to go back to the Taloc."
Ulasht shakes his head, "As you say High Chieftan".
Ulasht taps his chest 3 times as well saluting the High Chieftan in return.
As the gathered begin to drift away t their appointed tasks Ulasht seeks out Ashur Kai waiting for him to acknowledge Ulasht's presence.
Ashur-Kai looks to Ulasht as he approaches and the Rubric Marines make their way out of the meeting room.
"Yes?" he says in his raspy voice.
"You and I have gotten off on the wrong foot. I would like to discuss with you, your thoughts on Abaddon's plans".
Ulasht:
Ashur-Kai eyes Ulasht. "You don't trust your Captain?"
"I trust the High Captain in all military matters. I wonder if you agree with his interpretation of what the Singer is. My gut tells me the Imperious was referring to something other than the Emperor. As perhaps one of the wisest and most clear sighted amongst us, I wondered about your thoughts on the matter."
Ulasht:
"The fire tide was not created by the Emperor but he does guide it. It's much like a psychic scream except on a level far beyond any of us could ever imagine. I believe he is right in that the Emperor is the singer since he guides the choir's voice."
Everyone:
Transports are provided back and forth to the Taloc and Vengful Spirit moving as much stuff as needed as well as slaves and crew. Many of the war heads are kept on the Taloc to assist with the impact of the spear when it is tossed into Harmony.
While your group is aboard the Taloc Khayon vanishes for some time during the preparations. You all receive a strange request from the ships vox command channels to come down to the core where you were previously never allowed to enter.
Deathraven reports as requested.
Aldegund reports in wondering what has changed to allow them entry to such area. "It is complicated to decipher this Anamesis, but I'm getting plenty of information to try and duplicate it"
Ashur Kai
"Very well. Perhaps I am being overly cautious but based on the losses my Legion, or I suppose former Legion, have suffered in these past few years I think my caution is warranted".
Taloc
Ulasht heads to the core as Khayon has requested.
Draex makes himself present taking himself away from his studies and practices of combat training in the fighting methods of the sons of horus. Before leaving the vengueful spirit draex had copied and stored via data slate their battle methods and tactics.
"You summoned "
As you make your way into the core through the corridors you pass many sentry points with guns you realize could easy tear you apart if they were activated to kill you. The Taloc has extremely heavy defenses down here and you all know why due to the nature of the Machine Spirit of this ship.
Blast doors open and close as you walk deeper and deeper into the area known as the core of the ship and you all eventually meet up with each other before actually entering the main chamber.
Ulasht nods to his Brothers but says nothing further waiting to see for what purpose they have all been asked to come.
The final blast doors open before you and you walk into the large chamber. Before you Khayon sits on the ground his head slumped a bit as if looking at the ground with his back against a large fluid filled tank. Nefertari is at his side and Gayr stalks around the other side of the tank. There are tech-adepts scurrying around in their red robes not paying you any attention.
Inside the tank is what surprises you most. From what you know of machine spirits they are usually just bits and pieces of what were once human parts but this young beautiful woman was almost whole, floating nude in her wide, talk tank of aqua vitriol. Her shaven head was connected to the chamber’s hundreds of machines by a gorgon’s crown of thick cables implanted into her skull. Her skin, in sunlight, had been the colour of caramel. In this chamber, and inside her liquid tomb, time had paled her flesh considerably.
Secondary brains – some synthetically engineered, others taken by force from the still-living bodies of their unwilling donors – were cradled in seed-like generator housings, attached like leeches to the sides of her containment tank.
Purifiers hummed beneath her cradle of reinforced glass, cleansing and replenishing her cold fluid. She was, for all intents and purposes, a young adult female locked in an artificial womb, trading true life for immortality in icy fluid.
The Anamnesis floated to the front of her tank, looking out at you all with dead eyes.
Khayon stood up in shock as if he was not expecting you or that the Anamesis even let anyone else in here.
"Brothers," Khayon greeted you. "What are you doing here?"
Deathraven looks up at the tank.
"She invited us, brother. We are here at her behest, if not yours."
He stepped forward and addressed the tank directly, but respectfully.
"We have come. What would you ask of us?"