TheMadmanAndre
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Choices, Part 2
🕑 Added 2021-04-03 15:57:20 +0000 UTCInitial release for my Patrons. Part 2 of Choices.
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Deep within her library, the witch sat and waited.
Around her were rows upon rows of bookcases, tomes of knowledge and history from two cycles of man on her world. The true humans that came before the Brothers purged them, and those pale and weak imitations that came after. One whole floor was dedicated to civilizations totally forgotten by Remnant of the current day, the names and deeds and great nations and empires reduced to mere scribbles of ink on parchment. The floor above was newer, a more recent addition. She had needed a new floor constructed after the shelves had all filled up on the first.
Her castle shook, trembled. The rumble of distant explosions, heralding the indefatigable foe that had taken to pitting themselves against her. These Lamenters, so-called sons of ‘Sanguinius’ and servants of the ‘God Emperor,’ whoever they were. A year ago they had descended from the heavens, carving a swath of death through the Grimm. Her first glimpse of them had been the same as the rest, a hasty picture of a giant in pitch black armor, cradling and shielding an injured Faunus girl as they were beset on all sides by Beowolves. The humans viewed them as heroes, veritable Huntsmen from beyond the stars.
The stars. They had arrived on a massive space ship, like something from one of those pulpy fiction books she held a disdain for and refused to contaminate her library with. They were armored better than any huntsman or huntress. They carried powerful and destructive weaponry, the smallest and lightest of which could put down and slay even Alpha Grimm with ease. And behind them marched human soldiers, men and women alien to Remnant, who were seemingly grizzled veterans from a thousand disparate wars.
The Lamenters as they were called had seemed unstoppable, and over the weeks that followed she had learned more and more about them. The warriors in their black armor were merely one small group, one ‘Chapter’ of warriors from a vast and ancient empire that spanned the whole galaxy. It had been disconcerting to her to know that most of the stars in the night sky were seemingly claimed by the ‘Imperium of Man’ that these ‘Space Marines’ hailed from. It had seemed like a work of fiction to her, and a part of her had grown curious as to what the rest of it was like. Were their worlds like hers, full of monsters and so-called heroes that slew them? Were there people like her, that could wield powerful magic with ease?
Ultimately, Salem was forced to construct her plans around them, purely out of necessity. Her attempts to infiltrate their ranks had proven futile, as demonstrated by one of Cinder’s pets. The mute girl had tried to take the form of one of the warriors to blend in, but they had somehow seen through the glamour instantly and had taken her prisoner. Watts’ attempt to subvert the CCTS network to spy on them failed utterly, the attack counteracted by the Lamenters. The man had been killed when the access node he had been using exploded, killing him then and there. Impossibly, they had managed to somehow weaponize the CCTS against him.
Later on, Salem’s attack upon Beacon Academy was likewise thwarted, and Salem had lost yet more of her pawns. Cinder had been slain, but Salem had never learned how. Only that the parasite that tethered the Maiden powers to her was alive one second and dead the next, along with its host. The gentleman thief tagalong had likewise been killed while trying to futilely rescue his mute partner. The green-haired girl, Emerald, had been merely captured by the Huntsmen, a lucky fate compared to the rest. Only the gray haired boy, Mercury, had escaped.
For her it had been a near total loss. The only silver lining was the death of the current host of her long rival Ozma at the hands of Cinder, the Headmaster having been confirmed dead beneath Beacon Academy. But she had lost her Maiden vessel, and most of her pieces worth playing. She’d now been forced to rely on Hazel and Tyrian more than ever, along with whatever scoundrels and outcasts they had gathered. The former was loyal, astute, but the latter was a chained animal on the best of days.
Salem had been forced to accelerate her plans, as at some point the Lamenters had learned of the Relics themselves. Mistral had proven more successful. Hazel and a handful of White Fang remnants managed to infiltrate Haven Academy with the help of its turncoat Headmaster. Said Headmaster and Tyrian had unfortunately perished as the Lamenters sought to stop them, but they had proven their worth in the end by allowing Hazel to escape with the Lamp. At long last, she had finally laid claim to one of the four relics. But Destruction now lay beyond her reach, taken by the Lamenters from Shade up to their spaceship. What was worse, Choice’s location remained obscured to her. Only Creation was still within reach, buried within the floating city of Atlas.
Atlas was where she struck next, personally and with the full weight of a Grimm horde at her back. The Lamenters responded in kind, the armored giants defending the city and holding the Grimm back. Their war machines took to the streets, midnight black tanks and vehicles fighting the Grimm on equal terms. There in the sky above Atlas, a strike force had hunted her down. A dozen of their finest warriors, armed with their best weapons and armor had come to end her life. In the end it had not been her to die but all of them, their broken bodies tossed off of Monstra.
But her triumph had been short lived. The heavens had broken open, and a great beam of glowing light descended from the heavens, unmaking the Great Grimm in its entirety. Salem had been unmade as well, for far longer than she had ever been killed before. While the Lamenters’ brothers had been slain, their vengeance had been swift and total. Her greatest Work thus far destroyed, her horde utterly broken and repulsed. In truth, Salem had been humbled in a way. Never before had she been so thoroughly defeated. She had returned to her remote fortress, to contemplate her mistakes and how to rectify them.
And then the Lamenters had found her, and the heavens rained down with renewed fury.
Her magic wards had barely held against the barrage, what must have been great meteors falling from the skies to pummel her home. The mountains around her castle had been rendered down into hills, the hills beneath them rendered flat while the low valleys filled with craters. The barriers held, barely, as the bombardment ceased and the surrounding landscape lay forever changed.
The Lamenters had grown desperate and angry, she realized, And now they massed against her. Her suspicions confirmed as she saw through her Grimm the veritable armada of airships sailing her way, no doubt guided by the offworlders above. Let them come, had been her immediate and salient reaction. She was Salem, the last queen of Evernight, the Queen of the Grimm. She would outlast all of them, break them down and make them beg for her mercy before ending their pitiful existences. And then…
And then…
It had been a long time since she dreamed, since she aspired toward a goal that didn’t involve tearing down all that Ozma had built. There were other worlds beyond this one, beyond Ozma’s reach. If these Lamenters had a way to reach those worlds, some chariot to carry them across the stars? Well, she would lay claim to it, and go see the stars and the worlds that spun around them for herself.
Ozma could have this world. All the pain and suffering, toil over countless lifetimes with nothing to show for it. Let him have Remnant.
She would claim the galaxy.
But first, she had the rest of these annoyances and pests to deal with.
“Hazel,” Salem spoke.
The man in question knelt behind her, waiting for his orders. “My Queen.”
“Gather your little group. Go deal with these Lamenters,” She said, the disdain for the last word leaking into her tone. “Give them something to lament while I prepare.”
“Of course, my Queen.” With that he rose and turned, leaving her library. They both knew he would likely die, as would the few remaining humans she had so far turned to her side. In the end, it was all to buy time. Time for Salem to learn all she could about who or what these Space Marines were.
Salem turned to the gold and blue object resting on its pedestal at the center of the library. Around it were tables covered with tomes and books from dates all throughout history. She’d had all the time in the world since Haven, and she’d spent it well. And finally she’d gotten lucky. Salem had found what she had long searched for, buried deep within a tome. A single word from a forgotten fairy tale, penned by a long dead poet who was once a dear friend of a past incarnation of her rival.
“Jinn,” Salem asked, “I have questions for you.”
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The Lamenters’ plan was an exceedingly simple one.
In essence, a joint assault between the Lamenters, Guardsmen, Remnant’s PDF equivalent and a substantial independent fighting force referred to as ‘Huntsmen.’ The Lamenters would act as the spear, driving into the heart of the arch-heretic’s bastion. Meanwhile, the contingent of Astra Militarum and their Remnant allies would act as the shield, holding the line until the Lamenters could slay the witch and end her reign of terror. All in all, a simple and straightforward plan, easy to change on the fly and less prone to failure.
The world the Lamenters had made their last stand upon was a curious one, Ankelion decided. It was littered with terms and phrases that were unfamiliar to him, with implications that were far-reaching. Aura, Semblance, Dust, just to name a few. Huntsmen and Huntresses were skilled and independent warriors, possessing all three in abundance. In their own words, aura and semblances were the physical manifestations of a user’s soul. An aura manifested as a glowing shield of light around its host, enveloping them in a protective barrier. Semblances on the other hand were a further physical effect that reflected a Huntsman’s personality or innate nature. Manipulating the elements, transforming into a cloud of flower petals, controlling glowing glyphs of light or even teleportation were all known examples.
And then there was the subject of Dust. More energy dense than promethium, the material powered the world’s civilization. Dust came in a wide variety of forms, each with its own unique effect. Some forms could be used as a fuel source, while others could be integrated into weapons and armor to boost their capabilities. There were no materials truly analogous to it in the wider Imperium. Perhaps the closest was lorelei, the extremely rare psychoactive mineral found only on a minute handful of worlds.
To Shield-Captain Ankelion, such strange powers and materials at first glance reeked of the ruinous powers and of warpcraft. And yet upon further examination, no trace of either could be found upon the world and its population by either the Lamenters themselves or the sanctioned psykers accompanying the fleet. To the contrary, the Warp was unnaturally calm in the space surrounding the system hosting Remnant. Ultimately, the nature of the world’s people and their technology was an enigma that could wait.
There was a battle to join.
Ankelion had allowed the Lamenters their battle, with two important caveats. The Greyshields would accompany them, no exceptions. If not into the breach of Salem’s bastion, then as a welcomed part of their defense line to purchase their Brothers further time to complete their objective. That way, these Greyshields would get a taste of the foe their firstborn brothers had long become acquainted with. As well, Ankelion’s shield company would join the Lamenters on the ground as the very tip of their spear, a decision that would put his shield company amongst the worst of the fighting. It was something Ankelion anticipated, to test his skill at fighting the first truly unique opponent he’d had in millenia.
Turbulence jostled the Shield-Captain from his thoughts. Around him, his brothers were lost in their own battle meditations, preparing for the coming fight. Their golden Orion Dropship cut a path through Remnant’s atmosphere, at the head of a veritable swarm of slate grey Thunderhawks and myriad other strike craft. Against a pitiful smattering of heretics and traitors, such a display of force would have counted as sheer overkill. But this heretic was no mere traitor, but something much more dangerous. Unvoiced by anyone, yet widely acknowledged by the Lamenters and their human allies was the possibility of these Grimm and their Queen escaping offworld, to wreak destruction across the wider Imperium and galaxy. It was a sentiment that the Shield-Captain shared.
“Shield-Captain Ankelion, we are closing in on the Lamenters’ strike force,” Shield-Brother Laccramas spoke. “Their initial strike teams have landed at the fortress and are encountering stiff resistance.”
“Our allies?”
“The planet’s defenders have also touched down and are establishing a perimeter. They too face the same.”
Brother-Captain Theosius had come to the conclusion that the Grimm Queen would quite literally mass all of her forces on the continent in defense of her redoubt. Thus, an overwhelming strike force to oppose it would be required. Practically all of the world’s fighting forces were massed in this single attack, including the new arrivals. Dozens of the local warships, thousands upon thousands of soldiers, including those Huntsmen. And the newcomers, a further half-Chapter’s worth of Astartes and their auxiliaries with the Custodians and Sisters at their head.
The Orion shuddered, its cannons discharging fury at unseen enemies. The data-feed in Ankelion’s helm indicated that their force was now engaging their foe, flying Grimm dubbed ‘nevermores’ by the locals. The dropship’s weaponry opened fire on the beasts, carving a path of death before their craft. The squadrons of fighters and bombers broke away, their own targets and objectives plotted. The Thunderhawks followed, their contingents of Greyshields ready for battle.
“Brothers,” the Shield Captain began, sensing that battle was nigh. “Know this: Our Master may not be here with us, but he smiles upon us from the Golden Throne. For he knows the undertaking we are about to carry out in His name. A foul evil has permeated this world, and it falls upon us to cleanse it. Fight without pity or remorse, for these creatures and their traitor Queen know neither themselves.”
The Orion landed heavily, its landing gear crushing into the flagstone of the bastion’s courtyard. Around the dropship, further craft touched down, midnight black Thunderhawks carrying the bulk of the Lamenters’ Chapter. Among them were a smattering of Valkyries carrying the Sister of Silence and their other mortal auxiliaries. “Let them all come! Let them darken the ground and the sky, we will cut them down all the same! For his people, for his sons and daughters!” The Shield-Captain shouted. “For the Emperor!”
The Orion’s hatch dropped, and Ankelion’s shield company charged out, rushing through the maw and into the waiting host of their enemy.
