Warhammer: Start with a dog

In this day and age, no one even knows that even the colonists who have lived here for more than four centuries know that there was once a castle on the North Pole of Tessaguarsa that exceeded any cruel and dark imagination of the world.

It was a hell hall created by the pain, hallucinations and corruption of Konrad Curze in his final days by those from the highest heaven and himself, and the Eighth Legion's faithful execution of the ravings of their genetic father. .

But the foundations and tiles of flesh and blood, the human beings solidified in pain, the corridors and carpets that were always howling alive in pain, the steps and halls with living eyes and teeth and tongues, these things are in the thousands. Annihilated in the ruthless and long-lasting obsidian sandstorm for years, together with the memories and soldiers of the Eighth Legion thousands of years ago.

Dissolved in the wind of time.

But Talos remembered, Talos knew that Talos had watched them - the last members of the Broken Eagles of the Night Lords who followed the teachings of the Primarch, come to an end here, and the death scenes of everyone, including his own. The genetic seeds of the Eighth Legion's prophets bear this curse from God and the Father.

Now, just as Talos had seen in his fever and nightmares, they were once again standing in front of the ruins of this castle that had collapsed to only a few ruins. There was just one more thing that was often played in his image ball, but But the figure never appeared in his second sight.

"There is no need to let the mortals here know about this place for the time being."

Lamizane turned around.

Behind him was a cluster of midnight and scarlet battle armor, as well as more believers of the Cult of Mechanicus who presented the Ohm Messiah to the Lord of the Night through the "friendly academic exchange" that Dietrian had with them. war machinery.

——Although in the opinion of Lamizane, who was invited to watch the rare "friendly" academic exchange process of the Mechanicus, Bishop Dietrian relied on his being Chaos to study anything and dare to use it, so he came alone. Kicked away from the rigid ethos of the gym-priests of the Origin Chapter.

(*...I don’t know what you are describing, but it feels like something incompatible with this place, so I won’t ask any more questions.)

"You are getting smarter and know where the boundaries are, which is touching, but becoming less lovable is a side effect. Oh, oh, the cubs will always grow up, and when they become handsome, they will lose something. Very cute.”

(*...You'd better not do this, I guarantee you will regret it.)

If the Night Lords had any horror at hearing their genetic father muttering to himself in this very ominous place, they didn't show it in their body language.

They just marched in silence and entered the catacombs of the castle one by one.

"I must say that although the term catacombs is not appropriate, it can describe the state here. - Markarian?"

The high-power servo voice of the Dreadnought roared from behind, "My Lord." A searchlight on the head of the Dreadnought was always turned on in this completely dark tomb passage, mainly for people outside the Night Lord sequence, and the War Philosopher himself said There are so many treasures here that they can even point out the original function of each room thousands of years later, which makes their progress and arrangement very easy.

"How is Talos doing?"

"Still in a coma. The body temperature is quite high, and the antipyretic drugs have no effect. It is a high fever caused by overactive psychic energy and cells. Valier reported that Talos has been unwilling to cooperate with him in treatment, and his coma and fever are so severe. Fast and hard."

Markarian paused, "His ravings and writings... were very numerous and specific."

"I've seen it, I've seen it too." The Lord of the Night, who was holding a data pad and asking the Mechanic-Priests to dig a huge shaft, cover it with cloth and spray-paint it, replied. "Do you believe the future will be changed? Markarian?"

"My Lord." The War Philosopher was silent for a while, and then moved on. "You...have indeed changed a lot."

(*More than just a change! None of you noticed! Markarian!)

"So what do you think?"

"I feel sorry for the brothers who are not here at the moment - Sevita, Shen, Malek... Maybe I should stop picking on Dietrian when the battle is over. After all, strictly speaking, it was his obedience that made me After meeting you, I can fight with you again.”

(*...Some people deserve to live, and some people deserve to die.)

"Ha. Then you might as well allow him to continue painting outside your amniotic fluid chamber. He must be very, very happy."

Fearless made a metal friction sound like the sound of reloading, "This may not be feasible, my lord, but I can allow him to polish the armor for me."

Just now, he led them through a distance of several hundred meters and suddenly arrived at the remaining cones on the ground through a secret passage that they didn't know about. However, he suddenly reached the deep part of the tomb through a collapsed tunnel. At the bottom, he sometimes stopped for a moment, and then began to direct his descendants to do some strange things, including but not limited to pulling out some iron rods from a gap in a wall that they didn't know about and laying them across the ground at the required angle. , or the Midnight Ghost asked them to push several heavy stone bars and stone beams to the positions he designated and place them strictly.

The workers of the Origin Chapter were obviously not as confident as the Night Lords, especially when they found that they might have been separated from their brothers, and were driven into a semi-abandoned place seemingly randomly in groups of three or six. When the room or a secret passage collapsed, these strange heretics still exposed their true face of evil. The voice of making them into a new flesh and blood foundation spread among the crowd. After getting them, they would take back their weapons and prepare to fight. After the directive, speculation about sacrilegious rituals began to take hold again.

There are many doubts, but it doesn't matter, they are all Space Marines, and they will know what to do when they see the appearance of the enemy they will face.

"That's it." When they stuffed the last designated waste cable into a broken push rod on the city wall - no one knew what kind of push rod it was. It looked like it had not been used for at least decades. been used.

"What shall we do next? My Lord."

"Next...just wait and wait."

——————

In the sacred and solemn Chapel of Mandulis on Titan, someone is waiting for visitors.

The breath of holy incense slowly flows out from the incense burners hidden in various niches. The servitors are busy patrolling, constantly lighting the flickering and extinguished candles here, and the little flames surround the battle group in the smoke of incense. Sculptures of heroes slowly spiral upward.

"Is it done?" The waiter who spoke first was wearing a silver-gray Terminator armor. The azure eyepieces shone brightly on the visor of his Crusader-style helmet. His armor was etched with so many memories from the past. Achievements and glory, so heavy that these historical records cover the entire surface of the power armor.

"Yes." The visitor replied. He was also wearing silver-gray armor, with the Nemesis Power Sword hanging on his waist. "Completed and confirmed to be sent."

"The ending at Xingyuting?"

"Make sure no one finds out."

"Where's the fortune teller?"

"After getting the results again, I have personally sealed him into the secret room."

"Very good." The waiter nodded slightly, "We have been waiting for such a short and long time. So much so that sometimes I almost feel in a daze that maybe this is our reality."

He turned around and looked at the reflection of the gold on the altar's uneven surface reflected by the candlelight. It was an unknown masterpiece carefully decorated by the technical slaves of the Chapter half a century ago. It represented the Emperor's The image before the Horus Heresy - the laurel-crowned Emperor tilted his head, as if beginning to realize the disaster, heavy damage and death that the heresy in the near future would bring to him, his heirs and the Imperium.

The azure eyepiece slowly moved down, scanning the vivid and exquisite images of the kneeling knights surrounded by the standing tall emperor - there was no heroic posture in battle, only pure piety.

It was a gift from the Council of Terra and the Inquisition, and an implicit admonition of sorts, reminding them that no matter how powerful they were, humility and obedience to the will of the Emperor were the highest virtues of the Chapter.

The visitor sees this too, he reminds the other person.

"endure."

"Yes." The other party murmured, "Patience."