#oc: cedric

[ryliith]

In truth, the moniker is accurate

But no wolf is always hunting

Hey guys ! This is a snippet of one of my projects called "Warwolf & Mockingbird". It's a medieval fantasy with lots of royalty shenanigans, a side of magic and a bunch of queer characters and romance!

I plan to post stuff like short comics, oc art and illustrations explaining worldbuilding stuff (let me know if you'd be interested in reading about it!)

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

The Light of Truth

Author's note: More of the Primaris Boys in Husbandry. Thank you to @sleepyfan-blog for letting me borrow Pallius, Cedric & Olivar. Thank you to @c-u-c-koo-4-40k for letting me borrow Khopesh. Thank you to @kit-williams for letting me borrow Ghosk.

Warning: Character death. Characters fighting. Bloodshed. Uh. Let me know if I need to add anything.

Summary: Cedric gets a message. A brother is nearly rescued, another is nearly lost. Petras reveals his true colors to more than just Primaris Marines.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @ms--lobotomy , @thevoidscreams, @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

Tagged: @felinisnoctis

Cedric's wrist mounted vox gets a communication ping.

[I am uncertain how much time I have left before I return to the embrace of the Omnissiah.] Castiel sends in his message through agonizing, and coughs blood from his lungs raggedly. There are some spots of blood, mucus and the mechanical fluids used to keep him alive that spatter on his vox. Ugh, despite how much the Mechanicum has enhanced him, he’s still so wretchedly fleshed.

After a few wet ragged coughs Castiel painfully continues, his voice more staticy [but I don't want to die without letting someone know the truth. Embedded in this message is a holo recording of a meeting between Chaplain Mephestil Petras of the Black Templars and a Chaos Marine… as well as his reactions to my queries on the subject. He murdered me. I hope this gets to you. The God Emperor Protects and provides for us all.]

Castiel had also sent the holo recording of Petras going too far in his punishment. When Petras finds and attacks him on Ancient Terra he's able to record some of it, as well as his agonizing cries as he tries to escape, but dies to Petras again. Castiel had managed to have his eyes- which were cybernetic to record Petras’s words and actions- and the recording cuts off after he finishes dying.

He had the message on a delayed sending, hoping that Petras wouldn't notice the vox message. Tied to send when twelve minutes after he flatlined, and he sent coordinates of where he lay dead, or so he hoped. Castiel had wanted to send it to one of his fellow Black Templars primaris Marines.

His last thoughts are Prayers to the Omnissiah that his message will get through to one of them. That Castiel’s death won’t be a waste, that at least someone will have this proof. 

Castiel knew in his hearts that it likely wouldn’t do anything much. Petras has killed Primaris Marines before with only a slap on the wrist. But at least it is something and the First borns will be interested in consorting with Chaos. Even though his life is worthless to them.

~

Cedric reads the written message, his mouth going dry, as a slow-burning fury ignites his hearts once again. He mutes the video, before playing it, as he is currently sitting down in the clinic’s staff cafeteria, and he has little doubt that the sounds of pain and misery will immediately attract the attention of everyone who could hear it.

Two. That’s two, in less than twenty-four hours. While Mattias wasn’t dead, he had been placed in a medically induced coma, to reduce the amount of movement that the young Astartes was capable of doing, as the injury to his spinal column could be operated on and treated, but was very delicate and any movements could potentially permanently render his legs unusable without spinal prosthetics or other augments that would be incredibly difficult to acquire on Ancient and Holy Terra. 

He knows that Anrir and the other Night Lords are incredibly dangerous. Its just for some reason they have decided to drag him protectively under their bat wings, rather than tear him to shreds with their talons. For now at least.

Claude and Khopesh are away from where Ghosk and the others are setting the stage for the ‘fight’ between ‘raven guard’ Anrir (or whatever name he’ll be using) and the Claw will ‘attack’ him.

Claude and Khopesh watch through binoculars as the staged fight happens- and Captain Kasz Kalleran takes the bait and falls for the trap, hook, line and sinker. His Captain did enjoy it when he could be painted as the hero of the stories he tells, regardless of the truth of the matter.

The Claw gets ‘chased off’ by the flock of Ravens who surround the wounded ‘bird’ and help patch him up. Claude closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath. Anrir is far older than he is, and knows what he’s doing. Had chosen to do this- had planned for contingencies and decided on this course of action.

Claude is distracted by a vox text message he gets from Cedric and reads it with a concerned frown on his face.  [You wanted to talk? I’m on lunch break right now. Get Ramiel. This is urgent.]

He sent a message to Claude via vox. [You wanted to talk? I’m on lunch break right now. Get Ramiel. This is urgent.]

[On my way.] Claude responds. [Where do you want to meet?]

Claude frowns, concern churning in his gut as he sends a message to Ramiel about Cedric’s request. Ramiel responds immediately to his message and sends one to Cedric as well.

“I have to go- Cedric needs my help with something,” Claude informs Khopesh.

“Have fun with that,” Khopesh says, “I’ll check on the others, see how they are doing after the ‘fight’ with the Raven Guards.”

Claude nods, “sounds good.”

[The park nearest to The Clinic. We should be able to talk freely there.] Cedric texted both Ramiel and Claude. 

While he waited for them to respond, he walked over to where Olivar was currently sitting, scowling into the bowl of food in front of him. “You know it’s not going to leap out at you and try to murder you. What’s on your mind?”

“You told me that He is on Ancient Terra, too, right? Why the fuck were we sent here, back into his reach? Unless He is from before He started…” Olivar swallowed hard, a low, wordless growl leaving him. “Should we be keeping what The Bastard has done to us a secret? Your mentor did not tolerate his grox-shite, at least when it came to you, no matter what The Shithead said you did, or didn’t do. Surely there’s got to be at least one Firstborn marine you can talk to about all of this shit.”

“... There are a couple I’ve told some of what’s happened to. In M42. They kind of bullied me into telling them, but given what they’re like, I really should have realized that they were going to do so, sooner or later. Do you remember what I told you about Bruders Roland and Arnault?” Cedric asked, rocking back on his heels a little. 

“... Yeah… One’s a battle brother,” Olivar says, “The other’s an Emperor’s Champion… something about Bonding? Bonded?”

“... Trust me, the Bonding and Bonded conversation is for when you are better healed and we aren’t doing emergency scrambling. But I think… If you, Ramiel  and Pallius agree… I think I might ask both of them to help me lodge a formal complaint against Petras, to get some kind of official record as to the grox-shite and cruelty he is capable of being known publicly.”

“That sounds vaguely ominous Ced,” Olivar says, his scowl shifting a little. He scoffs a little, “didn’t we try that before and were told ‘stop being whiny little bitch and take the ‘character building’ lumps and suck it up?’ Why would that change since we’re here?”

“Bonds are wonderful things, I promise! From what I’ve seen, they are good. Also, that was by other firstborn brothers in M42. I told them that Petras killed a dozen primaris marines in M42 and that both of them immediately swore to kill him. I entirely believe that they meant that, too.”

“I mean… you are lovable Ced,” Olivar says slightly teasingly, “And Apothecaries are hard to come by. Of course they want to protect you.”

Cedric huffed a little and shook his head “I don’t think it’s just because I’m an Apothecary. They were furious at the thought of younger brothers being killed for existing. Not that I’m advocating for Chaplain Petras to die, just to… To be brought before a tribunal and made to answer for his crimes.” 

By the god-emperor, does the wounded fury and sorrow howling in his hearts want Petras dead. Not just dead, but killed slowly, painfully. To have the fucker be made to beg and plead for mercy, for an ounce of compassion and be shown exactly as much as he gave Cedric’s Brothers. 

None. 

But that path led towards falling to Khorne, or perhaps Slaanesh, depending on the way he went about it. So formal sanctioning it was. For his own safety, and the safety of others.

“I wonder how Justice and punishment are delivered on Ancient Terra? I think that’s something we should find out, before we do anything or say anything.” Olivar scratches his cheek, “hm… let me think on it. Unless the Bastard does something… Bad here.”

“He’s killed a Primaris Tech marine. I just received Castiel’s dying vox-messages and video-footage of his murder.” Cedric answered, shaking his head a little. “Mattias - another Primaris Marine, is currently under anesthesia and in surgery because of the complications from Petras beating the fuck out of him yesterday.”

“Fucking bastard, you have convinced me, I’ll talk to who ever it is about his discipline and punishment methods.” Olivar hisses, “I remember Cassie- quiet, dutiful and always helped with weapons and armor maintenance. He was so happy to be chosen as a Tech Marine. He loved to talk about a certain kind of cog wheel.”

Cedric nodded, saying “I’m going to check in with Pallius first, then Ramiel. To see how they both feel about going forwards with what we know of petras’ crimes. I will be taking point on this. As the Apothecary of the group… And the one who survived longest in M42 before being sent to Ancient Terra, this is my duty and my burden.” With that he nodded, standing up and heading over to where Pallius was sitting and eating lunch.

~

“Pallius, I’ve run this by Olivar, and I have his vote. I won’t reveal it to you as I don’t want to influence your decision either way. But I… I am asking if you want me to come forward to certain firstborn marines - Brothers Roland and Arnault of the Black Templars, and Captain Ash’val for certain about what Chaplain Petras has done to us. He’s killed at least one Primaris Marine on Ancient Terra. He’s badly wounded Mattias, who is currently in surgery.” Cedric explained, his voice low and quick he gave the other a brief summary of what Castiel had sent to him.

“... If our words and scars can help keep others safe,” Pallius says quietly, “then… then I shall speak of the shameful things.”

“It’s not your shame, what he had done to you, Pallius. It is his. Please, you must remember this.” Cedric urged his brother, his hearts caught in the back of his throat. 

Pallius ducks his head a little at the others words as his eyes become wet and he rubs the grit from his eyes. “I… I’ll try to.”

“Thank you, Pallius. You have Dorn’s own courage.” Cedric murmured, gently pressing his forehead to Pallius’, as an affectionate gesture.

“Keep safe Ced,” Pallius says, closing his eyes and leaning into  Cedric a little, returning the gesture as much as he can. “... You have Dorn’s own courage as well Brother.”

Cedric nodded, walking out of the cafeteria as he read up on what had been sent to his wrist-mounted vox, mind whirling. 

[I got the message from Claude. I’ll be at the park in seven minutes. Do I need to get Catius or Oleandros? Or have them run a Distraction?] Ramiel sends Cedric a text vox message, adding another statement. [Eta five minutes, told Chaplain Bo’shan I was taking my lunch break. He seemed happy about that.]

[I will be there in five minutes.] Claude says a thought occurs to him and he asks [Do you want me to get Jophi?]

[... I  don’t want to involve all of the others just as of yet. Any more of this, and I request that we please speak in person. Neither of you are in trouble.] Cedric vox-texted back, making sure to send the last sentence, so as to not worry them too much. He hoped.

[Wilco.] Ramiel replies. He is worried- just what is going on? He wonders what Cedric has found out or wants to discuss. 

He had to go by Reclusiarch Feldarim’s office to get to where he was going- the other watched him go with a casual glance. But as he didn’t seem too upset, the other let him pass without harassing him. Which gives him a sense of relief, as Chaplain Bo’shan had lightly pressed him for details, and he’d said that he was meeting up with Cedric and Claude for lunch.

He’s able to excuse himself and grabs something to eat. And then ensures to grab enough for Claude and Cedric. Both of them are terrible at remembering to eat. He also grabs some of the homemade ice cream as a sweet treat, just in case the conversation needs such a thing.

Claude replies [Understood- I also have some… interesting information on Justice and Punishment that The Night Lords talked about for Ancient Terra and the Alliance.]

[Good, I have questions about that, which will help in deciding in which way things will go. Whether we go the official route, or take care of trash on our own.] Cedric texted back.

~

He must have one hell of a scowl on his face, because the baseline humans who he passes by all scramble to get the hell out of his way. While normally this would make him feel guilty, especially as the baselines who live on the base are either bonded to one of the marines who lives on base… Or they have nowhere else to live and they work jobs on base in order to pay in kind for housing and food. 

Zariel had heard the whispers and more loud complaints and worried about Fierce Angry Scowling Astarte in black and white scrubs. So he had sent a message to Ash’val, Feldarim, and after a moment’s hesitation, to Hura. Just in case.

“Cedric,” Zariel calls out carefully, “... You know I am here for you, if you need or want to talk about something that’s bothering you. If you want to talk.”

“... I acknowledge this. However, I need to speak with a couple of others. We will decide a few things and then figure out who to reach out to. You are, I will say, on the short list for the… Issue that needs handling.” Cedric responded, falling back on formal wording in order to hopefully get the teal Ultramarine to back off a little. He didn’t have the time to try and shake off a Teal tail. 

“Very well,” Zariel says with a nod, watching the younger Astarte move. “I am honored to have such trust.”

He decides that it would be best not to press him too much. After all- he didn’t want to rile the other and send him into hiding again. The fact that young Claude had managed to teach a Black Templar how to be stealthy and good at it had been… more than a little distressing… As impressed as he’d been after his hearts had stopped feeling like they were going to burst from stress.

Cedric nods brusquely before marching the rest of the way out of the base, still scowling and not in the least bit attempting to hide his expression in the least. 

Zariel also rolls a thought or two in his head. Whatever it was that Cedric had told Roland and Arnault had made the two older Black Templars exceedingly angry.  So he was going to wait before sending a message to the older ones about this… Newest thing.

~

Cedric spotted Ramiel and Claude in one of their favorite spots in the nearby park. The brief stretch of his legs, and outside did help him calm down slightly, though his nerves - and his fury - were still jangling just beneath the surface of his skin. He waved over at the two of them, attempting to smile “Hey… Claude, Ramiel.”

Claude had helped Ramiel set up the basket of food, a blend of baseline human and Astarte food and drinks. They had set it up on one of the wooden benches that was rated for Astartes to sit on safely with the table neatly set out, with a picnic cover neatly tucked around to keep things a bit cleaner.

“Hey Cedric,” Ramiel says, “I thought since it was about lunch time, and you had a Conversation to speak with us, a picnic would help the Look of things. Regardless of what is spoken about.”

“Nice to see you Ced,” Claude says with a grin.

Claude heads to the area specified by Cedric and helps Ramiel set up the picnic that the other had decided to grab. It was a good cover- and they’d get to eat something while they talk about the Urgent matter.

At least on the outset it would look like the three of them were enjoying lunch and a picnic, which would have curious eyes not think anything Suspicious is going on. Not that he thinks that Cedric is doing anything particularly troubling. But it helps throw off any potential watchers, just in case.

 Claude wonders if the Claw is encouraging his paranoia and suspicious tendencies before shaking his head a little and greeting Cedric. He sees the thunderous scowl on the other’s face and suspects that whatever he’s going to say is not going to be great.

He’s proven right as he listens, upset at what Cedric has learned. He goes over the details of what he remembers of the conversation with Khopesh about Justice and Punishments. Ramiel and Cedric agree to speak with Khopesh in public and he sends another message and Khopesh arrives swiftly.

“... A picnic does sound good.” Cedric relented, plopping down next to his Brother, leaning into his familiar warmth. He looked at the spread of food and drinks, deliberately focusing on what he could smell and see before him, in a desperate attempt to calm down, at least a little. 

Ramiel hums one of the prayer hymns that he knows helps Cedric calm down, Claude slowly reaching out and holding one of the Apothecary Apprentic’s hands and lightly squeezing it. Claude joins in on the song, humming the chorus and harmonizing with them, the words whispered in High Gothic.

He hummed along to the hymn, allowing the calming focus to come over him. Anger had it’s place on the battlefield, but too much of it was dangerous. Not only to oneself, but to everyone around the one lost to fury. He squeezed Claude’s hand back gently, managing a rueful smile “I have bad news, worse news, questions, and a proposal, contingent upon the answer to those questions. What do you want to hear first?”

“What’s the worst news?” Claude and Ramiel ask at the same time, bracing themselves.

Claude looks around them glancing at his brothers as he takes some of the bread and spreads jame and nut butter on bread- as well as sprinkling some Astarte nutri-paste and cutting it into thirds for the three of them to eat. 

Claude cast his senses, Warp-related and not to ensure that they weren’t being listened to. Glad that no one was, either through technology or warpy senses he lets go of his crackling humming power and focuses on Cedric’s words. He takes a bite of food to keep the spots of darkness out of his vision.

“Tech-Marine Castiel of the Black Templars was killed earlier today, at the hands of Chaplain Captain Petras. When Tech Marine Castiel became aware that he was going to die, as there was no one to intercede on his behalf, he sent me all of the information he had on the chaplain in question, sending it on a delay to hopefully not arouse suspicion from his murderer.” Cedric revealed, doing his best to keep his voice a low, emotionless monotone. He failed spectacularly, as his voice cracked. He paused, taking a sip from one of the glasses of lemonade before continuing “Brother Mattias of the Black Templars is currently in surgery due to the complications from the beating he received, allegedly from Chaplain Petras, according to the Hydra who brought him into the clinic late last night.”  

“God Emperor curse him,” Ramiel swears softly, before flinching as he realizes the words that had come out of his mouth. “He’s… Perhaps not escalating, but he’s continuing to do what he did back in M42.”

“... He knows he died for Challenging the High Marshal,” Claude says with a frown, his eyes flashing teal as he thinks “... For killing and purging Primaris… and he’s…doing it here when Astartes number far fewer. He’s … not likely to change his ways.”

“Ramiel, I have asked Pallius and Olivar, but I will with-hold their votes until you tell me what you want to do. Should we come forward to certain firstborn marines, and tell them about what Petras has done, both in M42, and on Ancient Terra, or would you rather we handle this ourselves?” Cedric asked, his voice shaking a little, but stubborn ferocity beat in his chest. He would deal with this fucker, one way or the other.

Ramiel reaches over- carefully telegraphing his movements as he gives his brother a side hug. Claude is on Cedric’s other side and does the same thing. The three of them gently hugged each other for a moment. Ramiel gathers his thoughts, which is hard because they keep scattering in a thousand-thousand different directions as he thinks over the other’s words. 

“I think,” Ramiel says, his voice cracking a little, he coughs and then takes a sip of the lemonade laced with hydration rations, “I think, we should go to the First borns, see what they do… if it’s … unsatisfactory …. We can… handle him after the fact.”

Cedric side-hugs Ramiel back, trembling a little with the force of the emotions running rampant within him. He focuses on Claude “You mentioned that the Night Lords spoke of how Astartes dealt Justice in this time period? Please explain to the best of your abilities. Your answers will help me decide whether or not I will come forward with the information to whoever I’m supposed to in an official capacity… Or if I just ask Arnault and Roland if he would please help me murder a bastard. They are both already aware of Petras’ crimes in M42 and swore to kill him.” Their vehement and immediate declarations of Murder had been… Cedric swallowed a little. They had been more gratifying than the young Apothecary had wanted to admit.

“So Khopesh and the Claw of Night Lords knows about why certain… First Born Brothers in M42 don’t like us… And they find that reasoning stupid, foolish and wasteful. Claude nods, “That- actually is one method of Justice that the rest of the chapter’s can’t mess with. Justice for crimes done, unless it’s inter-chapter stuff, or there is a request to intercede on the behalf of the victims, is done in-chapter. Unless their crimes are bad enough that an Example needs to be made.”

Claude gathers his thoughts and pulls out the data slate and reads the notes he’d taken, the conversation that he had with Khopesh. He hands the data slate over so they can read about Hunting- and how the worst of the Astarte criminals, like serial killers, are handed over to the Night Lords, which is one of the worst punishments that can happen to a person. How the Hunt is declared- what happens during it, and after.

“There is a precedent,” Claude says, licking his lips a little, “where if an Astarte is killing other Astarte- that their Chapter, at first are the ones to handle them, but if for whatever reason they can’t or won’t… They tend to be handed over to the Night Lords. I… uh… asked some Questions- and Khopesh seemed… excited about the idea of a Hunt. I think… no, I know he reported the conversation we had about Justice and Punishment to the Claw Leader- Anrir, who’s an Apothecary- who’s older than Hura.”

“... Petras wasn’t the only one killing Primaris Marines in M42. Nor was he the only Firstborn Black Templar to be doing so.” Cedric murmured, his voice low and quiet. “As much as I want… As much as I want to raise bolter and blade against the fucker myself, alongside whoever else wants to kill him. I don’t… I don’t think that simply killing Petras will ensure long-term protection of our fellow Primaris Marines. I will ask Arnault and Roland their opinions on this… But…”

“There are other punishments,” Claude says, “They talked about.. Flaying… among other things. Some. Very graphic descriptions that I won’t go into detail about right now, as well as having the people who were hurt by the person, to either participate in the person’s punishment actively, or have a hand in deciding how they are punished. There is, unfortunately, a need to gather evidence and proof of crimes more than verbal witness evidence.”

“Would the recorded audio-visual recordings of a now-murdered marine be enough evidence?” Cedric asked bluntly. 

“... Will you allow me to ask Khopesh that?” Claude says, “I think so- but I’d need his opinion, he’s been here longer, and knows more about Justice and the legal framework that the Astartes have developed here.”

Cedric nodded “Go for it. You’re the one with contact with him.”

Claude sends Khopesh a vox text [Please don't run to Anrir or the others about this quite yet. But hypothetically, if Ced- er someone had Audio/visual proof about Cas- er I mean, someone else, HYPOTHETICALLY being murdered by Pet- er a third someone else, that is currently,  hypothetically on Ancient Terra right now, and has a history of murdering primaris marines, what would happen? And this person that hypothetically nearly murdered Mat- I mean someone else as well.]

Khopesh hears a pinging noise and looks down at his vox, he can’t stop the grin that grows on his face and thinks to himself, ‘Bingo!’

“You seem pleased, something good?” Ghosk notes, lightly pressing the younger member of the Claw for more information if the other wanted to share.

“... Not yet- but soon. Hopefully.” Khopesh says. He’s not going to tell Anrir or the other members of the Claw yet. Per Claude’s request, for now. But finally. He’s glad that Claude is finally trusting them, or at least him more. 

“Alright,” Ghosk replies with a nod. “Keep in mind we can only back you up if we know what’s going on.”

“Yes Ghosk,” Khopesh says with a nod. He does send a message back to Claude. [A Primaris Killer- or an Astarte killer, like the one you texted me about would be setting himself up for execution. Especially if he has a heinous list of crimes and it’s clear that he’s not stopping.]

Claude responds swiftly to the message [Thank you for the information.]

Khopesh sends another message to Claude that [you all can argue for the Primaris killer being an ongoing and unremorseful threat. So they can Hopefully get the maximum punishment of execution by Night Lords. Or depending on the Chapter preferred executioners.]

[Thank you for that- so far as we know, he’s only gone after Black Templars.] Claude responds. [Knowing him… he might escalate to other Primaris if he comes across them. He’s got a nasty temper.]

[But even without that. The chapter the murderer is a part of would be Heavily pressured to either remove their own bad actor, or turn him over so he can be removed.]  Khopesh sends the message to Claude, and he is getting excited.

Khopesh is excited that Claude trusts them more, And that he'll soon be able to talk to Anrir and the others about getting a proper Hunt going. Ghosk waved at the younger Night Lord as he watched the younger one leave, wondering what was going on.

But patience...Patience! Like Anrir always says. He feels like he's vibrating- and is glad that he moved out of where the rest of the Claw are- because they would see the expression on his face and demand to see his communicator to know what’s going on.

A thought suddenly strikes Khopesh and the excitement dims a little and he sends another message- a very Anrir thought as he remembers watching the older Night Lord work and talk to others and sends another message, [I won't tell Anrir without your permission....But I also don't want you and your brothers to be in active danger. I have enough on my rotted conscience, so if things get bad. Please don't make me live with staying quiet. For however terrifying he might be. Anrir wants to help you, Claude. We all do. But we can't Do that unless you Tell us what we need to know. Information Is Warfare isn't it?]

Khopesh hopes he isn’t pushing Claude too much, but this is need to know information, and the fact that the youngest member of his Claw was talking about things in more specific detail was Important. Especially with that fucking bastard of a Raven Captain- that they are helping him handle as well.

[Could you send me a copy of the evidence that you and your brother-cousins have?] Khopesh sends, [The evidence that can be submitted to the Alliance, it will help clinch the Hunt to being declared.]

Khopesh has an excited blood thirsty expression on his face- and he is moving around pacing back and forth. He’s so tempted to try and find out where Claude is to rush over and talk, and see if he can get more answers out of him and the other Primaris Marines.

His excitement cools down and he shakes his head as he rereads one of the messages, [wait- no, if the message gets intercepted, they’d need a backup of it to show the Alliance.]

[Cedric and Ramiel say they want to talk with you in person.] Claude sends, [we are at the park nearby the Loyalist base on Cherry lane and main street. Could you come by and speak with us? Things… might be escalating.]

[I’ll be there as soon as I can] Khopesh responds and tries not to run to where Claude and the others are. He’s. really excited. The Primaris Marines are trusting them with this! And they- hopefully will help get the Primaris Marines to have Justice prevail and have a Hunt. It has been so long since they have been able to Hunt.

Khopesh tries to calm down and sees the way that Claude, Cedric, and Ramiel are sitting around a table, there is a quaint looking picnic- clever, make a serious meeting look like something more innocent, clever, clever boys. After the explanation they give, the video is shown and he watches it in full.

"You have footage of one of your battle brothers murders? Fantastic!” Khopesh says.

Cedric stills for a moment. The sheer visceral excitement radiating off of the Night Lord is off-putting to say the least. He briefly glances at Claude. What the fuck? He thinks particularly loudly at his witch-adjacent Brother-cousin. “... I find the joy you show in the death of another marine to be… Unsettling.”

Ramiel’s jaw clenches and blue eyes spark with rage and his hands clenched into fists and Claude jumps in before either of his cousins could smack the crap out of Khopesh, “ the translation "I'm excited we'll soon get to avenge your fallen and deliver Justice!" Not I’m happy your brother is dead.”

Claude very much understands what the former sounds like, and it had been shocking to hear such things, but he had learned how to understand Night Lords and the way they speak. He especially knows Khopesh better, having interacted with him a lot more than his brother-cousins, to keep them from getting too mad at the First Born Night Lord.

Khopesh calms down a little, realizing how callous that sounded, especially since this person is a threat- likely to them personally, as well as to others and apologies, “Sorry- that came out wrong. It really sucks that your brother is dead. I’m excited to be able to help you with this mess. That video- it’s Key Evidence in getting your tormentor put down, or whatever punishment you think is best.”

Cedric pauses for a moment before sending a copy of Castiel's dying video to the Night Lord. “Here is what he sent me. He timed it so hopefully his murderer wouldn't realize he was being recorded. Given the fact that Petras beat another Primaris marine to the point Mattias is currently in surgery now… The Chaplain must be nearby.”

Khopesh is a mixture of emotions, and his trembling a little as he tucks his hands behind his back as his hands clenched into fists. He’s a mixture of Excitement and Rage. How dare that bastard, Petras, go after the Primaris. 

Claude asks him, “What do you think of it?”

"I'm thinking I'd start with flaying Just the fingers! Then I'd yank the phalanges out one by one, on the right hand.” Khopesh starts, “For the left I'd Act like I was going to do the same, then snap the arm and force him to Bite Off his own fingers so the hands would Match-"

Part of Cedric was mildly Disgusted by Khopesh starting to explain what he would do to The bastard. The rest of him wanted to let the deranged Night Lord continue.

"About this Video as Evidence! Khopesh! How is the quality of the evidence!?" Ramiel interrupts.

"Oh right! Sorry...like I said it's fantastic as evidence. It clearly shows the perpetrator, goes decently in depth about his crimes, includes the bastards own fucking vileness on display and though it may sound tactless. Your deceased brother's testimony is something the Alliance will not be able to ignore. It may seem... disingenuous, but the pain and outrage you feel should be Used. It will show the tribunal that these crimes Must be Answered for, Your brother's lives not spent in Vain!" Khopesh says his eyes blazing with emotion and passion. "You never should have had to seek out this justice. Your elder brothers should have taken you beneath their wings, Like Anrir did for us!"

Cedric shifted a little, feeling the need to defend the firstborn Templar brothers who actually gave a damn about him and his Brothers. “A couple of our older Brothers have taken us in. Arnault and Roland have done their best to care for and protect us. As soon as they became peripherally aware of a threat to us that we hadn't told them about they would try and press for explanations. When… I told them earlier this week about Petras when Mattias was first brought in for treatment. They intended to kill the Chaplain, and said as much.” 

Khopesh paces around the table, prowling as he continues his rant, this explains why Claude and the others could be so stars- damned jumpy. Why Claude was so slow to trust- slow to allow himself Anrir and the other’s protections. 

Afraid of what being put under the protection of an older brother means accepting they have some power over you- and seeing and hearing that his cousins were murdered by shit head- and Claude and others getting beaten… yeah no. He’d be reluctant to give up any freedoms, even if it would help in some ways.

"But that's not the path this...Petras bastard chose. He Chose and by the looks of it continues to Choose to harm his own Battle Brothers, and worst! Those He should be responsible for." Khopesh says. "He is the worst type of Predatory, Vile, Rotten Bastard! And he Deserves to answer for his crimes. Your brothers, your fallen, deserve to have him Answer for his crimes."

"Let Us help you present this evidence Claude. Let the Claw help you and your brothers..." Khopesh doesn't use Your Claw as he feels it might push too hard and cause Claude to retreat. 

Instead Khopesh uses The Claw, still implying that Claude is a part of it, but leaving it up to interpretation. Avoiding Our Claw or My Claw as those could distinctly put Claude outside it, which is not true, and he doesn’t want to have Claude feel alienated, fuck the poor kid has had that done to him back in M42, him and his brothers.

Cedric, Ramiel, and Claude get an urgent text vox message from Jophiel it reads  [I’ve got a wounded Black Templar Primaris Marine. Near the stone outcropping two hours in the forest west of Gannet point. I’m stalling Petras- the fucker is Insane. Please help. Or send help. He’s threatening to kill me and Sariel. He knows about the Alliance rules, he just doesn’t fucking care.]

Cedric stood up, and swore under his breath, looking at Khopesh. “While you’re not the firstborn Brother who I’d choose to ask for help, you’re already here and I don’t know how long we have before the situation gets worse. We just received a call for help from Jophiel, a Primaris marine. He’s trying to keep another Primaris Marine alive and is facing Petras without help. We need Petras restrained now. If you mean your words, come and help us.” With that, Cedric took off at his top speed towards where Jophiel had pinged his location, texting back [I am coming! Delay him as long as you can!]

[I will do my best.] Jophiel responds.

He then messaged Arnault and Roland at the same time [Petras is attacking someone at this location. If you are able and willing, please help me keep him from murdering more Primaris marines.]

He gets an immediate response from both Arnault and Roland. Roland answered first. [On my way.]

Arnault answered [Will be there soon. Stay safe and be smart.]

His hearts drop to his stomach when he sees Jophiel on the ground, wings broken, and Petras standing over him. A Crusade of Black Templars and a dead Primaris Black Templar.

"You bastard!" Claude hears Cedric hiss as he chases after his charging Black Templar Brother cousins.

The closer they get to Petras and his Crusade, Cedric suddenly drops to Jophie's side- realizing the other is alive. "Why did you drug him? Break his wings?"

"He went mad," Petras says, "And he killed the Primaris Black Templar."

"LIAR!" Claude hears Cedric bellow. "Jophie is many things a brother killer, he is not."

"His blade is bloodied, and killed the Black Templar," Petras counteracts, telling the truth.

Khopesh has approached Jophiel and is messing with the younger Space Marine's helmet and lets out a dark chuckle and says, "You fool- Jophiel was recording the conversation he had with you."

"... what?" Petras says, sounding caught off guard.

Khopesh gives him a cruel smile and flips the helmet and projects the truth of the matter- Jophiel confronting Petras- who reveals his true cruelty.

How Jophiel tried to escape Petras at first- and only fought him after he'd broken his wings and made it so that escape wasn't likely. How Petras was the one to kill the Primaris Marine- using Jophiel's own weapon.

The looks of shock and horror and disappointment and disgust on the faces of Petras's Crusade have them circling around Petras- rather than trying to defend him.

Petras scowls, realizing that the jig is up and he taunts, "So- you know I have killed two of your disgusting Abominations."

"We are not abominations," Ramiel says tremulously, shaking, terrified, but wanting to stand against the bastard that murdered him in M42. "You are- you m-murdered me and a dozen of our brothers in M42- and have killed at least two of us here!"

Cedric moves closer to Ramiel, standing so that he is half in front of his terrified Brother, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he glowers at Petras. 

"Ah, so you have only found two of my victims," Petras taunts. "The souls of my other victims will never know peace because the location of their bodies will die with me."

"Who says that we will kill you here and now?" Khopesh says slyly, "After all- death is what you will get, but oh- how you should suffer before you die!"

[sleepyfan-blog]

Five + One

Author’s Note: This is set before Cedric was brought to Ancient Terra! I hope that you enjoy this. Masterlist of BT shenanigans here. Thanks to @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan for allowing me to borrow her OC Jerahmiel!

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @i-am-a-dragon34 @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan 

Warnings: blood, violence, murder, medical terminology, medical practices, please ask me to tag something if I missed it/something bothers you 

Summary: Five times Cedric was able to save injured Brothers and one time he didn’t. 

Ansen limped into the med-tent that Cedric as working in and leaning heavily on Malachai, who had helped him get back to the temporary encampment where injured marines and other Imperial Forces could be tended to. The system they were fighting in was embroiled in a huge border war between The IMperium and the duplicitous forces of a new but irritatingly persistent xeno race.

Cedric looks him over, a small frown appearing on his face as he instructed the pair “Please sit on the exam table, Ansen. Are you injured as well, Mal?”

Malachai shook his head “Not really/ I brought Ansen over due to his fucked up leg. My right hand is damaged, but nothing that an hour or so of letting it heal on it’s own won’t fix. My sqord broke and I need to get a new weapon while this one is being reforged.”

“Alright then. Be sure to stop by the food tent before you leave.” Cedric responded, already starting to look Ansen over.

“Heard. See you both later.” Malachai answered with a cheerful wave as he headed off.

“How’d you get injured? Whatever injured your leg it doesn’t seemed to have cut through your armor at all, somehow. Perhaps some kind of phasing technology? How much feeling do you have in this leg?” Cedric asked as he swiftly removed the other’s leg armor and began to clean, suture and bandage his wounds “These stitches are absorbable, so you need not come back to have them removed. If you notice signs of infection or if one or more of your wounds opens up again, please return for treatment.”

“.. One of the xenos cowards managed to sneak up behind me in the bushes while I was taking a piss. Malachai decapitated the motherless bastard while I put my armor back on. It was only after that I realized the blue fuck had managed to stab me several times before it’d been killed.” Ansen huffed. His helmet was on, but Cedric knew the other was blushing.

“That is some shit luck, brother. Keep your weight off of that leg for an hour or so and you’ll be combat ready again… So long as you don’t get stabbed while pissing.” Cedric consoled his brother, just barely able to keep a straight face. He was not going to laugh. Stealthy, cowardly xenos attacks could happen to anyone. “Any other injuries?”

“Other than my pride and reputation? No, not really.” Ansen grumbled.

Cedric patted his fellow Primaris on the shoulder. “Go forth and slay the alien scum in an hour, brother dearest. You’ll be able to reclaim lost honor that way.” 

“... Thanks Cedric.” Ansen sighed as he got up and hobbled out of the med tent.

~

It did not take long before another Brother was brought to Cedric in need of patching up.

Lieutenant Aldenbrech was rushed onto the surgical table by his squadmates. Cedric immediately started an IV drop as the amount of blood gushing out of the nasty wound  along the firstborn’s abdomen and the ashen tint to his skin spoke of a concerning amount of blood loss, even for an Astartes. The second thing he did was swiftly clean the wound and stitch up the major artery that had been pierced, his hands stone-steady.

Cedric then had to suction the blood that had pooled in the lieutenant’s abdominal cavity, battling the other’s own high healing factor to do so thoroughly enough to ensure that no blood remained where it shouldn’t be to cause trouble later.

“Are you certain that you only want mild local anesthetics? This is going to take some time and it won’t be pleasant in the least, sir.” Cedric asked, a medium-high dose of morpha held in one hand, as he continued to tend to the other’s injuries.

“I want to get back into the fight as soon as possible. A large dose of a heavy anesthetic like that will take me out of the fight for longer than I’m willing to wait and recuperate. I must get back onto the battlefield as soon as possible.” Lieutenant Aldenbrech grumbled, shifting just a little on the surgical table.

“Sir you will need to take the next twenty four hours to recover… Ideally, you should take forty-eight hours to recover, but I am well aware of the fact that the xenos scum are showing no signs of stopping the invasion of this world.” Cedric warned the other marine.

“Are my guts back in place?” The lieutenant demanded a heavy scowl on his face as he looked up at Cedric.

“Yes, the wound wasn’t wide enough to spill organs, nor intestines sir. Bit-” Cedric answered, sighing internally at how stubborn the older marine was being.

Aldenbrech interrupted him “Then pull the IV needle out of my arm. I need to be out there now!”  He shifted, as if to get off of the table. He sat up quickly and nearly fell back against the table, his skin going an ashen color “I told you none of the heavy medications!”

“And I obeyed your orders, sir. But you need to wait until the IV has finished at least. You’ve lost several listers of blood on your way to treatment and all that blood needs replacing, or you won’t have the strength to stand, much less fight.” Cedric pointed out, suppressing the annoyed sigh that threatened to escape him. 

“You don’t understand! My apprentice Dylies… He was… He was cut down by one of the xenos commanders. He took a blow meant for me, and I must avenge him!” The lieutenant hisses, eyes flashing with determination and desperation.

“I can increase how much it infuses into you at one time by a certain amount, but you must wait. You can’t avenge Dylies if you’re about to go into the Emperor’s Embrace yourself, sir.  Dylies would want you to take care of yourself before avenging him” Cedric quietly reminded the firstborn marine. He was pushing aside his own grief at the loss of a Primaris Brother. It was likely that more would fall before the xenos threat were driven from this system. His job was to tend to the living.

Lieutenant Aldenbrecht huffed but nodded, still disgruntled but he said “... YOu have a point. How long must I wait?”

“Three hours sir. However the window of time where you need to be monitored by an Apothecary for possible allergic or other negative reactions has passed. SO long as you keep the IV pole with you and allow the infusion to continue as it is currently set, you may walk about the base camp and tend to light duties as you feel capable of doing them, sir.” Cedric  responded, aware that the officer was likely to be needed in the ongoing tactical planning and execution meetings.

“Good. I’ll come back if I start feeling worse, or more likely, when it’s done infusing.” the lieutenant rumbled, nodding as he heaved himself up onto his feet and slowly shuffled out of the tent, followed by his squadmates.

~

Olivar carried Lestras into Cedric’s medical tent, skidding to a halt from the dead sprint that he had galloped into the space with. Lestras had been carried in on Olivar’s back, and their breathing was fast and shallow.

Some of their wounds were immediately apparent to the young Apothecary as he grabbed the wound cleanser and burn ointment “What happened?” cedric asked as his rock-steady hands swiftly took off the rest of Lestras’ ruined chest plate and greaves before he started to clean the other’s extensive and bubbling burn and laceration wounds.

“Xenos bastards implanted bombs in some of the mortal civilians they were tormenting and that our squad had been tasked with rescuing.” Olivar answered bluntly, a slight shudder running through the other Primaris Marine “Lestras spotted the surgical markings on the affected civilians and separated them from the rest of the group… He’d managed to get most of them away from the untainted civilians when the bombs were triggered.”

Lestras looked up at Cedric from where they lay on the table, eyes glassy with shock and pain “Oww…” He mumbles “Everything hurts.”

Cedric’s eyes softened a little as he injected them with a moderate dose of morpha. They were going to need it, as cleaning burn wounds felt truly awful for the patient in question. “Tell me when the pain killer kicks in. You will be able to tell with how much I gave you.”

Lestras let out an agonized laugh through cracked and bleeding lips “That bad, Cedric? We’ve been taught that pain and suffering is good for the body and soul.”

“But excess of anything attracts the attention of the foul despoilers. Burn wound treatment is going to be miserable, even with morpha helping you with the pain. There’s no need to go looking for more Les.” Cedric reminded them kindly.

Lestras nodded, closing their eyes for a couple of moments. Their body relaxed and a soft sigh left them “Ohh… You gave me some of the really good stuff… Big ouch impending then?”

“Yes. There is a lot of wound debridement in your immediate future.” Cedric warned his brother. WIth how fast Primaris Marines healed, for Lestras’ health and safety, ,the first few layers of burned flesh needed to be debrided off in order to encourage even, healthy growth of the other’s injured tissues. Cedric looked over to Olivar “Unless you are injured as well, I would suggest that you head out, Olivar. This is going to be a very unpleasant process.” 

Olivar nodded “I’m going to get something to eat, then find an outgoing squad to keep up the fight. May the god emperor guide and protect you both,”

“Oww…” Lestras sighed as he internally braced himself for the agony that he wos about to endure.

“Tell me when the morpha starts to wear off. This process is going to take hours.” Cedric warned his sibling.

“Okay Cedric, I promise. Give me a few moments to get into a meditative state and I’ll be ready for this trial.” Lestras murmured.

Cedric nodded, watching his sibling and started once they had achieved that internal state.

~

Brother Felixald was brought into Cedric’s medical tent on a stretcher, carried there by his squadmates. All five of the firstborn marines were in varying states of injury, but Felixald was unconscious and barely breathing.

One of his legs was gone from the knee down with a makeshift tourniquet in place to keep him from bleeding out. Cedric immediately began assessing the five older marines, suggesting ”You two should seek immediate help. THose puncture wounds look like they need  immediate assistance… I think you’ve been poisoned, from the way those wounds look and smell.” Cedric was already getting the cauterization tool ready as he assessed the bloody and raw leg stump, in case he needed to cut off more to ensure that the older marine would heal properly.

The two firstborns he suggested to leave did so immediately. The other two marines sat down heavily on the far side of the tent. One of them asked “Do you want us to recount how we got the injuries, or would you rather we stayed quiet while you take care of Feli, and get report when it’s our turn?” Brother Nulik asked.

“His most obvious injury shouldn’t take me long. Sir, I am going to administer a dose of morpha, as cauterization hurts like hell. Injecting now.” Cedric answered, speaking mostly to his barely conscious patient.

“Have… Ontel. Need to share.” Brother Felixald managed out, his grey-brown eyes flittering open as he stared up desperately into Cedric’s face “No morpha! Need a clear… Fuck! I do feel better. The xenos! They.. They are camouflaging themselves. It’s how I got this way.”

“The intel will be shared immediately. What are they pretending to be?” Cedric soothed his patient as he carefully cleaned and sanitized the older marine’s recently exploded or pehrpss cut off leg stump before he applied the cauterization tool. The sizzle of heat against wet and teh unpleasant smell of burning flesh was an eye-watering stench that Cedric had long become used to. He makes a quick note in the other’s file flagging him for an immediate prosthetic fitting.

“Some of them look like Astartes from an unknown chapter… Others took the colors of the ULtramarines. Their duplicity was revealed when the fuckers tried to kill us. God-Emperor damn them!” Brother Felixald growled, his exhaustion and the morpha causing him to slur his words together a little.

Cedric dutifully sent that urgent bit of intel off to his mentor to handle as he continued to batch up the badly injured marine and his two remaining squadmates. “I have informed Apothecary Xonfried, who will ensure that this information is disseminated quickly. Is there anything that you or your squadmates would like to report?”

Nulik and Bekith both shook their heads “No, Apothecary. That’s the relevant part of what happened, other than the numbers of foul xenos we murdered.”

“Alright. You two are free to go, and they’ve got the food-tent up and running.. Brother Felixald, you’ll need to stay for a bit as you’ve lost a significant portion of blood, and I’m going to start you on an infusion to get your volume back up to what it should be.” Cedric murmured.

“Aye, I can tell by how the world spins unpleasantly beneath me.” Felixald answered, laying back on the table and letting Cedric care for him properly as his squadmates headed off to get something to eat.

~

Cedric was carefully re-sanitizing his workspace when he heard the tell-tale sounds of running astartes headed in his direction. The young Apothecary swiftly finished cleaning, the coppery tang of blood and the chemical-bitter scent of stressed Marine hitting Cedric. 

A half-dozen Astartes rushed into his medical tent, carrying Brother-sergeant Jerahmiel between them on a stretcher. The firstborn Marine was very badly hurt, with dozens of armor-piercing wounds inflicted all over his body. To make things worse, the sargent appeared to have lost his helmet during battle, given the extensive new burns all over his head and face.

It did seem as if the older marine’s eyes were still fully functional, despite the awful state they were in, from the way they narrowed at Cedric's approach, a low hiss leaving the sergeant’s ruined lips and broken teeth.

“Honorable Older Brothers.” Cedric began, just loud enough to cover the wordless sounds of protest from the injured marine now on his surgical table, doing his best to protect a sense of concern and urgency “Each of you are also badly injured and I can only tend to one Brother at at im. I urge each of you to seek treatment immediately. I will do what I can to save the honorable brother sergeant.” He did not allow himself to feel anything but concern and determination in this moment.

It worked! The other battered and bleeding first born brothers quickly left to get their own wounds treated without so much as a backwards glance. Aware that if they stayed, Cedric would need to triage all seven of them, and would be forced to leave the brother-sargeant to be treated last, due to his all too tenuous grasp on life at the moment.

Cedric’s hands were steady and his face a mask of calm as he worked to clean, treat and bandage Jerahmiel  wounds, listening to the sounds around the two of them. He also double checked to make sure that the sergeant’s armor was, as he methodically checked over the other’s injuries.

If his hands slipped a little occasionally, pressing too hard ,causing more pain than was necessary… Well that was due to his inexperience and exhaustion. Cedric had been diligently tending to his injured Brothers for weeks with minimal sleep or rest and food. Cedric had yet to administer any pain relievers because he needed to conserve supplies. Suffering was good for the body and soul, after all “Stop struggling. You are under my care nd you will take what I give you, BRothe.” Cedric commented.

THe twitchy, badly injured firstborn marine stilled compeltely as he said those words, his half-ruined yes locking onto Cedric’ss. Dread perfumed the air as the sergeant rasped out with ruined vocal cords, barely able to speak “Wh-what did you just say?” He was clearly familiar with the phrase.

Cedric smiled benignly down at the Brother-Sargeant and answered with “I need you restrained. You are resisting the inevitable and what is necessary. Resistance is not just futile, but heretical.”

The dread intensified and the badly injured bastard attempted to stand up and escape Cedric.

Hah

The firstborn Marine had barely managed to sit up when Cedric raised up one hand and lightly shoved Jerahmiel back down onto the surgical table, pressing against the other’s fractured ribs. It truly was remarkable how badly injured the fucker was. A pity he didn’t qualify for dreadnought entombment. He did not possess the skill and experience to save this astares’ life “If you are free of sin, the god-Emperor will ensure that you survive this trial, Brother.”

“How… Why… Why are you saying that? How do you know what I had told that mouthy abomination I culled under the orders of Chaplain Petras?” THe sergeant wheezed, fear and confusion clear on his face, along with a tremendous amount of pain.

“His armor recorded his last moments, and the proceeding conversation… Sir. Unlike yours, his armor was fully functional at the time of his death. I found the recording of you beating him to death for no good reason.” Cedric answered placidly “He was beaten to death because he was going to report your… Indiscretion with that civilian woman that he witnessed. DId you really think he would’ve confronted you about it without ensuring that should something have happened to him, that you would escape justice? The Emperor’s light shines upon us all equally. As does his judgment.”

“Are you..What are you … You… Agk!” Jerahmiel sputtered, clearly trying to make sense of Cedric’s words, and failing, from his clear confusion.

“The honored Primarch decreed Primaris Marines to be made. He sent us out to help our firstborn Brothers in protecting the Imperium. The high marshal has declared that we are not heretical. So what right do you have to brand us as such, for merely existing? Do you believe yourself more righteous than one of the loyal sons of the Emperor?” Cedrc purred, leaning more of his weight onto the badly injured bastard, helpless before him.

Renewed pain bloomed across the sergeant’s face, along with understanding and a primarl fury “You… Fucker! He hissed, spitting up at him, blood bubbling at the corners of his lips. Hisbreathing labored and uneven. Jerahmiel’s hearts were beating rapidly Cedric could feel them under his hands.

Cedric had injected the other with a paralytic which kept him helpless on the surgical table. The much younger marine grinned boyishly as he avoided the flying and bloody spittle “It’s suchc a shame you were too badly injured for me to save you with the resources I have available, sir. I’m sure your loss will be felt by the Crusade… But the relief that your loss by those who were inflicted by your temper and tyranny far outweigh the sorrow caused by your death.” He keeps increasing the pressure on the other’s broken ribs, feeling them shift.

The jagged, broken bone-shards dig into the bastard’s lungs deeper and deeper. 

Jerahmiel’ glare was scorching.

Cedric was wholly unthreatened by him. He had the upper hand here, not this firstborn bastard.

Cedric laughed, breathing and victorious as he felt the other’s rib bones slide up into the fucker’s hearts. He kept pressing and shoving until the sergeant’s hearts had stopped beating and his body went limp.

Cedric then removed the other’s geneseed, placing it carefully in the appropriate container for viability testing. After that, Cedric removed all viable useful organts, implants and prosthetics. He had the other stripped of his rumor armor and weapons. Everything of value was sent off to their proper places.

After that, Cedric carried the bastard’s cooling body over to the promethium-fueled flaming body pit and tossed the sergeant’s corpse into it. As his body caught fire, Cedric dutifully logged Jerahmiel ‘s injuries and that he was KIA.

The young apothecary returned to his assigned medical tent, carefully cleaning all of his tools and the table, his hearts light and his conscience clear. 

As an Apothecary, two of his jobs were harm reduction and threat nullification. Brother-sargeant Jerahmiel had killed a half-dozen primaris marines with no good cause, and his kills had begun to become more frequent and starting to cluster together. As were the excessive beatings and other acts of cruelty the fucker had visited upon living primaris marines. Cedric took pride in every aspect of being an Apothecary, and would neutralize other threats as the opportunity to do so came up. So long as his curtailing of cruelty did not cause more suffering amongst his fellow Primaris marines, of course.

Cedric hears more running footsteps and greets his next injured Brother-patient with a gentle and concerned smile on his face.

[c-u-c-koo-4-40k]

12 Angry Space Marines or Lullaby's No Good Very Bad Only a Little Good Day - Part 1

First! A big thanks to @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan for helping write this beast of a piece. And to @sleepyfan-blog, @kit-williams and @egrets-not-regrets for use of their various characters.

Previous Chapter Here!

Next Chapter Under Construction Heeeere!

First in the entire series Here

Warning: Talks of violence, a very sore throat, threat of torture near mental breakdown and some mildly sexual talk.

Tags! I Hope you all enjoy!: @kit-williams @sleepyfan-blog @egrets-not-regrets @felinisnoctis @bispecsual

@passionofthesith @beckyninja @bleedingichorhearts @barn-anon @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@jaghatai-khock @virozero @angronsjewelbeetle

Summary:

Lullaby awakens alone, and injured. After everything that has happened the thing they want the least is to be alone. But try as they might they can't seem to get a message through to their loved ones. Meanwhile, the Scouts and the veteran Apothecaries get ready to take a vote on the fate of Stormbreaker, who they now must consider allowing to live if his survival truly is intertwined with Lullaby's.

You feel yourself drifting, swirling in patterns of darkness then back to mild lucidity only to be pulled under again. The same cycle repeats. Voices loud and quiet- demanding- requesting, questioning.

“SHUT UP!” “Fucking LOW BRED WITCH WHORE GOTHIC CURSING GOTHIC cursing-””Who is this Really!?” “The first psycher of the Baseline populace.” … “Their vitals are normal…at they need now is rest…” “I will take them to bed..”

There was the feeling of being swaddled in dark, familiar smelling blankets. The feeling of cool lips pressing to your cheeks and mouth. “I will return soon my darling…”

“..no….please, st…ay…” You tried to reach out but your fingers barely moved. You weren't even sure your throat was making words. You were so tired…so Tired…So Tired…

Khopesh cooed, brushing his hand softly against your cheek as you fight the force pulling you down. He thinks you look cute, while you feel about to cry. 

“Shhhhh, rest now,” He purrs, bringing his face down so he can nuzzle you, he presses another kiss to your lips. You feel momentarily soothed by the purrs rumbling in his chest as it presses to yours. 

“..s..t..ay…” Your lips move a little at least, but Khopesh seems to think you're just trying to kiss him back.

“When I return…I will give you my Full Attention.” He chuckles, allowing himself to indulge for a moment; he presses his tongue softly past your lips. Another kiss, just a small but intimate taste, he tells himself, just to tide him over until his lingering business with the Grey Knight is decided. 

You don't mind the kiss, but you mind what it means as he pulls away. But it's too late, you're already sinking ... 

sinking…

sinking…

A feeling like humming electricity, an overcharge, Grasping so hard onto Jophiel…followed by a scream so sharp it burned like-

M O L T E N  G O L D 

“HUAh! -ACK COUGH cOuGH!” You bolted upright gasping, hacking and coughing as your throat burned. Your eyes could barely parse the darkness but, you knew the bed your were sitting (coughing hacking dying??) At least…

Water, fucking hell I need water!

The typical water bottle you kept at the bedside was pretty much empty. You hobbled down from the bed, feeling along the way until your hand wrapped around a familiar handle. 

You pulled open the door to the Astarte grade mini fridge, grabbed a hydration ration and chugged it. The too cold liquid hurt as it touched your inflamed throat but the relief to your thirst powered you through it. 

Finally the ration was half empty and you pulled off, sucking in air which further irritated your pipes. Lord above what the Hell had you Done to yourself?? Your throat hurts- and the cold makes it harder to drink and you cough, which hurts.

Then the memories caught up with you properly. Ah right. A Bastard in Silver, a battle, your frie-

HOLY SHIT WHAT HAPPENED TO EVERYONE?!

They were all standing at the end, surely they're fine surely, Please Please PLEASE BE OKAY DON'T BE HURT DONT BE DEAD GO-

BREATHE DAMMIT!

You slapped yourself trying to get your mind in order. You glanced around the room that now at least had some Minor illumination from the fridge light. And a dizzying combo of relief and excitement runs through you as you spot your bag hanging where you normally put it when visiting. 

You're glad you can leave the fridge door propped as you scramble over to your bag and dig through it. There are things that you need to make sure you still have your mind going through the list as you grab each item.

Keys, Wallet (not your goal but you're glad it's there), Charger, Hairbrus- PHONE!

Oh thank the lord above! You think, as you frantically open it. 

Missed calls and texts from your parents…Shit. 

Okay okay Breathe, B R E A T H E, Your fingers tremble as you open the messages. 

‘Hey Lullybird, just checking in. When are you going to be home?’ 

45 minutes after the first message. 

‘Lully can you answer the phone??’

‘Bear, please pick up.’

15 minutes after that.

‘I'm starting to get worried! If you don't pick up your phone I'm going to drive to come find you!’

‘Your mother means it Bear, please answer.’

‘LULLY!’

5 Minutes Later 

‘Hey Hun! Khopesh texted to let us know you had too much fun at the picnic yesterday and passed out. So that's why you weren't answering your phone.’

Oh thank God, your Mom and Dad aren't making a panicked rush to the base. And they don't know about your near death experience. So that's two problems off your shoulders at least. 

And if Khopesh could text them that means he's safe. You feel even more relief flooding your system and uncoiling the Awful tension you'd been feeling. 

At least partly, you still didn't know the fate of the Primaris Marines. 

‘Next time please text Before you fall asleep after having too much fun!’ 

‘Yeah, just because you're Bear doesn't mean you get to hibernate for 6 months and not answer your phone.’

You smiled and rolled your eyes. You decided to type a quick response. 

‘Sorry to worry ya'll, I promise next time I'll text you Before I party myself into passing out. You text. ‘I'm okay, the partying hard also left me pretty tired even now, so I'm gonna chill at the base for a while longer. I should be home later today. I also want to check up on the new friends I made yesterday.’

A response was sent quickly from your mother. 

‘Turkey Butt…but I'm glad you're okay. See you later.’

‘Love you Bear Bear, see you later.’

You typed back. ‘Love you Both! See you soon.’

Okay…now to the main issue. You wanted to find the Primaris Marines. Sure if any were badly injured they'd be getting care from Anrir and Hura. Cedric was a fantastic apothecary in his own right but…

Gurgle…

Okay, one of the main issues, even if the Primaris were fine you Wanted to see them. Maybe it was a disconnect in your brain but sometimes you felt the need to see things to be certain of them. 

Like clicking the door lock of your car three times instead of one. Or double checking the stove was off. 

G U R G L e….

Seems your stomach was doing its own double checking; so you'd need to see to that too. You rub your stomach a little, sheepish with how loudly your stomach complained.

Khopesh should have some non-perishable snacks around. He always kept a supply. A memory of your beloved menace floats into your mind.

‘Just incase there's a shortage. I have lived through them before by the skin of my teeth when I was small. I got thin enough to see my ribs, luckily there was always at least a few rats and bugs running around…and a few corpses here and there. They didn't taste very good but Eh, more reason to be prepared!’

Hearing him say this so cheerfully and matter of fact practically broke your heart. It was part of the reason you wanted to make sure your cake was perfect. You want to make sure that he doesn’t have to worry about starvation.

He deserved the best you could give after that kind of life.  

And that Silver Bastard  R U I N E D it!

You feel your skin prickle with rage, a familiar rumbling grows in your ears as your muscles tense and your jaw twitches. 

Bz-zt Zt!

You're startled from your seething when the fridge light flickers violently with a sharp electric sound. Then it returns to normal as if nothing happened.

That…was weird… A bizarre thought comes to your mind, especially given what happened yesterday. Did…you do that?

If your powers could pour out of you as a scream, or travel through Jophiel like a ground rod, who's to say they can't affect electronics? It's all energy at the end of the day, particles traveling on waves or through conduits, and those waves being able to enhance or weaken each other….

Bringing up these topics to Anrir is third on your list, you decide. Food, Check on the Primaris boys, tell Anrir about science wizard shit. Karlsor did say that sometimes imagination, or lack thereof could be a limiter on psyker abilities.

You're still dressed in your clothes from yesterday, save your shoes but those are easy to locate. You sling your bag on your back, finish the hydration ration, and open the cupboard beside the fridge where the snacks are kept-

There are no snacks….What!?

You feel around in the darkness, thinking perhaps they're just pushed back only for your hand to brush against something papery. 

You pick up the slip of paper, and read it by the light of the fridge, and your half charged phone. 

This is what you get when you take things that don't belong to you Fuckface! Stop stealing my fucking sunglasses, and you can have your food back. 

Sincerely, Karlsor 

P.S. Fuck You 

Followed by a crass doodle of Karlsor sticking his tongue out and flipping the bird. You facepalmed with a groan.

Dammit Karlsor, Of all the times to pull a dumb shit Prank!

Oh well you wanted to leave this room anyway, guess you're doing it on an empty stoma- 

The door handle wiggles a bit, but doesn't turn. You jostle it again hoping it was a fluke…but the movement (or lack thereof) stays the same. 

You must be fucking Joking!? A frustrated wordless shriek/growl builds up in your injured throat, as you fruitlessly shake the handle of the electronic door lock. 

Okay new plan. You whip out your phone, and start texting. 

But as you try to send your messages of ‘Why am I locked in here?’ And ‘The fuck is this??’ with a picture of the food note, followed by ‘Hey Claude, Khopesh locked me in his room can you help me get out?’, And finally ‘Your Gremlins have done a fucking mischief please help!’ To Khopesh, Karlsor, Claude and Anrir respectively…you feel a bit of that prior anxiety creeping back in. 

None of the messages send properly. You try resending, deleting and rewriting, closing the message app and trying again, restarting your phone even! But every time the messages seem to hit a brick wall. 

What the Hell!? Your parents miles away from the base could get your messages, but four people Inside the base couldn't!?

Something wasn't right. 

You turn back to the door. 

You don't know what is happening, but you can't stay here. But how are you going to open the door?

Your mind drifts back to the moment with the light in the fridge…maybe? You kneel so you're eye level with the lock. You feel along it with your fingertips. Perhaps… you could try to do something?

You can't see things the way you did yesterday, but as you pull on your power, you notice the faintest…shimmer slide across the lock. As if your mycelium was invisible except for that nearly imperceptible visual feedback. 

And based on what happened yesterday it was pretty much confirmed that only You and others using warp sight could actually see them, even when boosted to near maximum power. You had heard that sometimes pushing past your limits- or near enough can help with a break through, but that doing such things could be dangerous if not properly watched over and the person cared for during and after it happening.

You remember the Silver Space Marine's murderous rage. How it'd felt not just to See the intention on his face, but actually Feel how he wanted to destroy you. The glare you could feel through the blue visor had been chilling.

The anger…the Malice, you stopped yourself, feeling nausea bubble in your empty gut, you needed to focus on the task at hand. 

You aren't certain how much to push, but you knew how to give a zap so… You remember what Karlsor said about Visualizing what you want your roots to do. Feel them reaching out- extending along a path.

Bzzt-ZAP! The lock clicks, and you swiftly turn the handle, and step out into the hallway. 

The Night lord Hallway. The hallways of the base designed for Night Lords, likely by Night Lords, even if they might not have built it…perfect. The darkness and the twisted architecture here hadn't frightened you for a while, but then again…you'd always come here with Khopesh. 

But other Night lords had human companions! You have an uneasy, sinking feeling in your stomach. You shake your head a little bit. Surely you'd be fine just…just follow what Claude said, when you'd asked about the faint green lines that trailed along the floors of these areas. 

‘Those are for navigation, see how they have arrow shapes cut into them. Follow those, and you can get back to the communal base areas.’ Claude helpfully pointed out- showing you the navigation lines. ‘The green was chosen as it could be seen- even by baselines in the more dimly lit areas of the base- without being considered ‘garish’... Also a word of advice? Do. Not. Run. In this area of the base.’

Follow the green lines and arrows. Okay, you can do this. You Can Do This. 

You take your first steps and wince at the sound of your own shoes as they pad across the floor into the dark. Shifting your bag, and holding it tighter to yourself. 

You'll be fine. You'll be fine. You chant to yourself.

You also firmly (try to) ignore the feeling that you were being watched. You don’t see anyone or hear anyone- but you have experience. You will see or hear your watchers precisely when they want to be seen or heard, and not a moment more.

…

Meanwhile in a meeting room on the upper floors of the Base, Anrir and Hura had gathered their Scoutlings for a meeting. Some of them are standing, others are sitting. Once they are all seated the oldest of the gathered marines speaks up.

“I suppose you would all like an answer as to why I've asked you all to come here?” Anrir posits, folding his hands together as he sits at the table. The other seats are occupied by Hura, Cedric, Ramiel, Nanael, Olly (and his rock), Claude, Jophiel, Kerubiel, Thressl, Karlsor, and Khopesh.

“Give us some credit, old man -Oof!” Kerubiel mutters snidely only to be elbowed by Thressl.

Thressl shakes his head when Kerubiel shot him a glare, snark and sass at this point in time would be a dumb idea. The Dark Angel smacks him back, but doesn’t speak for the moment. Things were tense- and they just found out a big secret. Who knows what Anrir or Hura might do to them with knowledge of something like this.

“We can make an educated Guess, it's to do with the Grey Knight correct?” Cedric answers to which both Anrir and Hura nod. 

“Indeed, we will need to decide what his fate shall be for his ahem … transgressions.” Hura explains. 

“There are a number of factors to consider, namely the benefits and consequences of either keeping him alive, or…”

“Killing him, Slowly…” Khopesh says with a grin that is equal parts gleeful anticipation and frustrated Rage. His claw-like nails were on their way to digging trenches into the table.

“Khopesh do not damage the base's property.” Anrir commands sternly. “Here, dig into this, not the table or your skin.” Anrir tosses an astarte grade stress toy to his…exuberant son who catches it easily, and begins squeezing and digging his claws into it as he'd been doing with the table. 

But his focus doesn’t waiver as he addresses his father. “I care not for the bureaucracy of keeping him alive, or his benefit as a psycher. He has committed an unforgivable act. Incurred an unpayable debt for what he did to our Claude, our Scouts and my Lullaby! Allow me to extract his Meager value from his dying screams in retribution! I will even keep his body usable for you.” He promises, switching to Nostraman so the others wouldn't understand that part. “Please father, allow me this. I crave-No! I Must make him Beg for the mercy of the grave-!”

Claude has been learning Nostraman, and caught his words, he keeps his face neutral- at least Khopesh remembers that waste not, want not includes making sure that organs and other useful pieces can still be harvested, if the Silver Bastard is killed.

Anrir holds up one ancient yet unmarred hand to stop his son from continuing. “A compelling argument my son, but it is not only you he has wronged. The Scouts deserve their chance to speak on these matters as well, given they were the ones most hurt by his actions.”

Khopesh huffs, but doesn't argue, simply responding with a, “Yes father.” To which Anrir nods approvingly, then addresses the other Scouts. 

“Khopesh has given a good example as to why I've brought you all here. I encourage you all to speak freely, One at a time of course.” He explains, then gestures to the room. “This room is shielded, no transmission can go In or Out, your words will only be known to those in this room.”

Hura picks up the conversation. “We shall be taking a vote on the fate of the Grey Knight. You will each get a chance to speak your vote, and if you deem it necessary, elaborate upon it.” 

Now Thressl scoffs a bit. “I don't think we need a whole meeting fer this? Let's just gut the Bastard an’ be done with it! I'm sure all of us have got better things to do than sit here.” The Space Wolf insists. 

Claude shifts uncomfortably in his seat as he speaks up. “I…don't think we should be so hasty.”

This actually causes some confusion, the others in the room turning to the adopted Night lord. While he did not want to be merciful- Jophiel’s words- the vision he had made him… reluctant to kill the bastard outright. For not at least.

“Claudy?” Khopesh asks, uncertain and maybe just slightly mildly frustrated, why his little brother who had been so full of righteous fury suddenly seems so much more subdued.

Claude took a deep breath, “Before we take the vote…there's something you all should know.” He states, standing and gesturing to Jophiel to do the same. “Go ahead,” He says, placing a comforting hand on the Blood Angel's shoulder. 

Jophiel also takes a steadying breath, his wings flex and settle with his nerves before he addresses the room. “I…had a vision…after I helped Lullaby ground the overflow of power they experienced.”

“I saw many possibilities; things that might already be, or haven't been yet, or may never be. The uncertainty is…frightening but the clearest of the images was thus.” Jophiel explains. “A monstrous being of gold, awakes from its slumber, it stirs at the ripples that flow outward from the melody. It hungers for b-blood…” Jophiel stammers a bit, but grounds himself with Claude's hand. “It awakens to Strangle the Melody in the cradle, to make it silent once more…”

“And the worst of outcomes are more likely…if Silver tarnishes into rust…”

The room is mostly silent, the Scouts seem confused by Jophiel's riddle speak…all except for Claude, Khopesh and Karlsor. Karlsor starts swearing under his breath while Khopesh's grip on the stress toy had increased with every word Jophiel spoke until-

POP!

The scoutlings look upon the Night Lord who appears like he's about to pop himself. Still gripping the destroyed item in his fist. Ah- visions are always complicated- and sometimes true, sometimes untrue, sometimes only partially true. But could they take the risk of discarding Jophie’s visions?

No one moves. 

At last Anrir clears his throat. “That was the Second reason for the shielded room…I'm afraid your recent incident with the Grey Knight isn't the only…event of consequence we will need to discuss as we take this vote.”

“Tell me…have any of you Scouts ever heard of a being known as, A Custodes?”

…

Walk, just keep walking, just follow the lines on the floor. 

Walk, do not run, running activates the prey drive and you're Dead. 

Walk, keep your head up to not look weak, but not so far up as to imply arrogance. 

Your thoughts swirl around, and around. The feeling of being watched had only increased as you'd followed the green lines. You had to tamp down on the urge to bolt (walkdontrunpreydrivedead), and even more so on the urge to use your powers. 

Would they do you much good in this situation?? A zap could help but then you'd have to be touching whoever was looking at you, and they might be a psycher so then they might realize it wasn't just static electricity- 

You feel your heart pick up speed with excitement as you see the doorway you knew would lead you out of this place. Away from the eyes of those with unknown intentions. 

Walk Do-Not-Run 

And you're close. You grasp the handle to the door and start to pull. 

“Leaving so soon?” 

The gasping scream you would've made is smothered by your sore throat as your other hand is snatched up in an unfightable hold. You're pulled up and back from the door, then swung around roughly till the movement stops and you can gain your bearings.

A deep navy blue ceremite clad hand is holding your arm, leaving you dangling like a child holding a teddy by the arm, only your toes are touching the floor. You glance back to see a short haired Nightlord with criss crossing facial scars grinning and chuckling in a way that makes your stomach ice over. 

You look forward and see two more shapes come into focus from the darkness. Two more Nightlords, one has his helmet on, the other looks…almost stately in appearance with well groomed stark white hair, and seemingly unblemished skin. 

“My my Myyyy, it seems you're even more…homely in appearance up close.” The white haired Nightlord purrs, going as far to pinch your Nose between his gauntleted fingers! 

He was actually pinching with a decent amount of force, enough to sting. And as he shifted his grip it actually felt like he might try to break it, before tutting at the pained whines you tried to hold back. “Oh come now Pet, don't take it so personally…homely can be Charming after all…in its own way.” He chuckled, releasing your nose, and straightening his posture.

“They Are Cute! Tiiiiiny and fragile,” The Night lord holding you up purrs sickeningly, bringing his face next to yours so you're forced to inhale his breathe, you try not to breathe in so much. “Whatcha wanna do with ‘em Faust?”

Faust hums, and drums his fingers on his chin fucking casually. “Well…there are just so many options. But I Think I know what I want to do First…” He states, and brings his hand to your face again. This time he snatches your cheeks into a little  too tight hold, forcing you to look him in the black, eyes. 

“A question…Why were you such a Rude little human?” You blinked, clearly confused but Faust did elaborate. “I Know you felt us watching, yet you didn't run. You denied us our Chase. And then you have the nerve to not even Scream, when dear Mephis snatched you up? You're either incredibly Dense or Incredibly Stupid.” 

Didn't those mean the same thing??? But Faust went on “So tell me, What is going through your empty little head?”

You were flabbergasted, but before you could even attempt to open your mouth, the other Nightlord who hadn't spoken once finally sighed. He sounded bored and exasperated. “Really Faust?”

“SHUT UP CHIROP!” Faust's voice turning from posh yet sadistic to full on snarling bile actually startles you…though maybe not just you if the twitch you felt from Mephis was anything to go by. Chirop seems to hesitate, before glancing away. Faust turns his attention back to you, and the stately gentlemen act comes back over him. “Well? We're waiting…”

You're not even sure what's trying to come out of your mouth, maybe a Huh? Or a What? But your sore throat chokes ot to nothing, leaving you flailing like a fish on a line, wincing and grasping your throat.

Now it’s the Night Lords turn to look confused. “Are you Mute as well as stupid?” Faust askes with a slight sneer.

Okay, fuck you bastard, you thought but shake your head. You bring your hand up to your throat and press your fingers to the sore spots from the outside. 

“You got Choked?” Mephis asks, confused.

Okay fair misinterpretation, you shake your head again. You bring your hand up and make a scratching motion at your throat.

“Oo! OO! I got it! Your neck is itchy?” Mephis puts forth before…bringing his other hand up, and…scratching at the back of your neck??

It was a bit roughly done, but actually didn't feel too bad. Still no though, you shake your head again. What other motions could you make to get the idea across?

Chirop sighs then growls. “For Curze's sake their throat is injured! Like Scratchy? That's why they can't talk!”

“Oh…” Mephis nods with understanding…still scratching the back of your neck. “That makes sense.”

Faust seems a little miffed by the explanation, and let's out a huff. “Well…that's disappointing…” Then a new look comes over his face, one that brings back the curdling dread in your stomach. “But…it also means no one Else will be able to hear you Scream…” He brings his grinning face full of bright sharp teeth down to your eye level. 

It's at this point Mephis stops scratching your neck. “Well yeah…they just explained they literally can't scream.”

“MEPHIS YOU ARE A BRAIN DEAD IDIOT! BE SILENT” The snarling bile came back, and this time you notice how Mephis flinches more obviously when the white haired Nightlord turns his vitriol on him. Faust huffs then brushes his hair back as if trying to compose himself. You notice how the third less chatty member of the group had flexed his claws, and leaned forward when Faust chastised Mephis. 

Interesting…and you actually Almost feel sorry for him when the Nightlord holding you mumbles out a quiet. “Sorry Faust…”

Faust seems to notice Mephis's unhappiness, and lets out a sigh. “You know I adore how…charmingly direct you are Mephis dear.” He cooes, now saccharine in his wording. 

It makes you want to vomit with how clearly Fake it was. 

“But it Can also be…tedious, and you Know how I feel about tedium, don't you?” More sweet empty cooing, you're third wheeling your own shakedown…Great…

You glance to the other third wheel with a look of confusion. He just shakes his head, and you figure he's rolling his eyes. His fists were still clenching and unclenching though.

“So…why not break up the tedium by…playing with a new toy? Would that make you feel better, my big strong lunk head?”

Okay now the dread comes back, and you did Not like how Mephis's expression changed to one of excitement. 

Chirop speaks up again. “Faust, you know who this one belongs to...”

Faust scoffs. “I don't see a tattoo anywhere, do you Chirop? Is the tattoo in the room with us?” He remarks snidely. “Or maybe that's just the opinion of yours that I didn't ask for. Besides…”

“I doubt one of Anrir's lap dog bastard sons would care if we batted around his current sex toy for a bit. He doesn't even care enough to mark them, so they can't be That important…”

You ears fill with rumbling again like before, causing This Smarmy Fuckers words to trail off into background noise. 

First he calls Your Khopesh a lap dog bastard son, then has the Nerve to insinuate that Khopesh doesn't Love You?

The man who threatened to fight the literal reason for your trauma? (Even if you'd convinced him not to.) Who gave you love and affection and banter and made you feel beautiful inside, outside, in bed, in life, introduced and integrated you into his Family for fucks SAKE.

“Hell they'd probably spread their legs for anyone who offered them safety, If they were even smart enough to think of doing so that is.”

Honestly you thought this fucker had found the straw that broke the camel's back? BUT DAMN he just keeps finding more!

You're done, you are Done with this bullshit. You've shot straight past fear and now you are going to make them-

P A Y...

Mephis you can tackle through the hand still held in his grasp but the others…

(!) And that's when it hits you. You feel your toes touching the floor, almost as if you were dancing en point. You focus, pulling on your power, and pushing it through your legs. 

As the two Nightlords continue their chatting about all the awful things they might do to you, you watch the shimmer and shift of the air as you feel the mycelium spread. 

You suppress a determined smile when you feel the subtle change in sensation of it making contact with the Nightlords. The shimmers crawl up their armor and you imagine your mycelium grasping and tangling around their Necks.

They're not psychers, you can feel how low their warp power is.

So you'll just have to drain their life force instead. If giving energy causes a boost of Vitality, draining it must do the opposite. And you weren't going to lie, the thought of these bastards dropping like flies in front of you sounded Very Appealing right now. 

You'd still need to be careful, pulling too fast could cause a zap, which might give you away. That you could not risk. It’s working. You think to yourself, pleased.

You do allow yourself a light grin seeing the shimmer on your roots become slightly more visible. You also notice how the conversation of the Night Lords has changed again. 

Namely that it's trailed off, Faust (bastardfuckfacedeadmanwalking-) swivels his head around suddenly. 

“Did you two…hear something?” He asks, actually sounding a little worried. 

Mephis looks around as well, you can feel his grip loosening as he loses focus. “Hear what?”

“Maybe it's Another opinion you didn't want to hear.” Chirop growls, more tersely, perhaps his response to your roots draining him is more anger than Fear. 

“Will you Shut your Stupid FUCKING MOUTH CHIROP I'M TRYING TO LISTEN!” 

“Is the sound in the room with us right now Faust? BECAUSE ALL I'M HEARING IS YOUR ANNOYING FUCKING VOICE!”

Mephis actually seems very distressed by this outcome. “Stop it! Both of you! We're not supposed to fight each other!”

“SHUT UP MEPHIS!” “NOT NOW MEPHIS!”

“DO NOT, GIVE HIM ORDERS!”

“OH BECAUSE THE ONLY ONE ALLOWED TO GIVE ORDERS IS YOU RIGHT!? CURZE'S SAKE I SHOULD'VE-”

“LIKE YOU HAVE EVEN A SHRED OF WHAT IT TAKES! IT’S NO PICNIC MANAGING YOU TWO IDIOTS! YOU'RE LUCKY TO HAVE SOMEONE AS CAPABLE AS ME TO KEEP YOU BOTH ALIVE AND FED!”

“PLEASE!” 

“SHUT UP!” “MEPHIS!”

Bingo, the other two were at each other's throats and the third was steadily becoming more upset which would hopefully lead to him dropping y-

“Shut UP I'M TRYING TO THINK!” 

“But I didn't say anything Fau”-

SMACK! 

Your world falls for a moment as your feet hit the concrete floor, with the rest of your body following. You roll scramble back to standing as soon as you can. Claude and you had practiced how to roll and fall properly so that you didn’t hurt yourself.

Just in case some asshole might try to grab you- from Astartes height-. Your jaw however stays fallen open as you realize what just happened. Faust actually struck Mephis across the face, who's now doubled over covering himself while Faust continues to berate him. 

“I said SHUT UP! AND QUIET YOUR INCESSANT WHINING IT'S GRATING ON MY NERVES YOU DOLT!”

“Sorry Faust…” Mephis whimpers. 

That…he can't be… If Any of the Nightlords you knew pulled something like that…Any of the Astartes you knew even! The one in Mephis's position wouldn't be apologizing! He'd be throwing hands!

Or someone would be throwing them on his behalf!

You glance back at the other Night lord who does look ready to KILL the white haired Asshole, but you notice the way he hesitates. 

Mephis briefly looks at him, and shakes his head, which seems to be the only thing holding Chirop back from committing a good old fashioned homicide. 

What the fuck kind of dynamic had you walked (been dragged) into? As much as you would love to break the prissy platinum blond bitch's nose you knew you didn't stand a chance, even one to one, but if you go for the door now, they'd probably snatch you again before you made it three steps.

For now, you had managed to keep your focus even while being dropped, so you keep draining. But you are Primarily focused on Faust.

Could anyone blame you? 

The white haired Night Lord seems to grow more paranoid by the second whipping back and forth until…his eyes land on you. 

You freeze, half from fear and the other half you still feel that bubbling seething rage in your very Soul. 

“Stop it- Stop Staring at me you little Freak!!” He snarls, maybe he can subconsciously sense what you're doing. You don't stop though.

You Like seeing the FEAR in his eyes.

Faust actually starts laughing, without humor and without breaking eye contact. “Oh OhHO little whore iS DEFIANT EY?” He giggles, and you scramble backwards as he advances. “TIME FOR YOU TO LEARN, WHAT DEFIANCE GETS YOU-” Faust shouts while winding up his arm for a back hand. 

SLAM-M-M!

A huge dark shape interrupts Faust by Crashing down from above in front of you. The entry is followed by a piercing guttural snarl and the sound of flapping bat wings. 

“SHIT IT'S THE NIGHT HAUNTER! RUN! SCATTER!!!” Mephis cries, and scrambles away into the dark with Chirop not far behind. 

“YOU IDIOTS IT'S NOT THE NIGHT HAUNTER IT'S JUST-,” 

“Just…What exactly…?” A familiar voice breathes through the ghoulish looking raptor helm. 

Faust shuts his stupid fucking mouth, before having the Gall to bring out the polite voice again. “Ahh…Ghosk, what a surprise…”

“5….”

“I'm sorry what?”

“4…”

“Now wait just a minute this is All a misunderstanding!”

“3…”

“Which has already offended you so I'll just be on my way…”

“2-1…”

“FUCKING HELL YOU IDIOTS WAIT FOR ME!” Faust cries as Ghosk chases him back into the darkness, snarling and slashing claws practically at his heels until the younger Nightlord vanishes from your sight. 

You let out a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding. Holy shit that was scary. 

But it was also Satisfying. Fuck those assholes! 

Ghosk huffs into the dark, before turning back to you. You'd met this particular Nightlord and his human. Like you'd said before, Khopesh wanted to integrate you into his family. 

He was Oooold like Anrir, but a bit more crass like Karlsor. His jokes made you snort on more than one occasion. But right now he seemed far less jovial. 

Not like you couldn't guess why…

“This is no place for squishy little humans to be walking Alone. What in Curze's name were you Thinking?” He growled in a voice that was both exasperated and Tired. 

You open your mouth to respond, but only a bit of weezy air comes out as you try to speak. 

Shit that still hurt!

You fumbled around in your bag for your phone and typed a quick message. 

'Shit popped off yesterday, ask Anrir.' 

'Throat got fucked up, not in the fun way. Literally can't talk.'

'Got locked in a room without food.' You show the picture of Karlsor's note which causes Ghosk to actually laugh slightly followed by tired mutter of “Of course he fucking did that, for fuck's sake…”

'Need to eat And I need to find the Primaris boys, especially Jophiel, have you seen them??'

Ghosk shakes his head. “Sorry kid, haven't seen any of them since this morning. Just saw Anrir being tight lipped as usual, he was with Claude though. And I haven't seen the fluffy duckling in a long while.”

Ghosk notes the way your shoulders sagged in disappointment, before an itch hits your throat causing you to hack and cough like you had tuberculosis. 

He chuckles patting you on the back as your neck throbs from the air forced through it. “Come on little human. Let's get you to the medbay.”

THuMP! 

Another loud sound similar to when Ghosk had plummeted to your aid rings out. You whip your head in the direction, and Ghosk instantly goes into another defensive stance, a snarl is building on his lips until-

“What the heck is all the ruckus down here for??” Another familiar voice comes out of another familiar helmet. This one you recognize as a Chaplain, and the voice…

Ghosk sighs heavily. “Shatterwing…”

The Chaplain whom you'd met in passing holds his clawed gauntlets up plaintively. “Hey man, I just got here- Oh!” His eyes lock onto you, and he swoops in curiously. “Khopesh's little squeeze! But not a Khopesh in sight, what's up with you? You two have a fight?”

You open your mouth, but again nothing comes out. You point to your throat, and shake your head. 

“You didn't have a fight…you just can't talk?” Shatterwing asks, cocking his head. 

Damn you're tired. You finally decide fuck it, open your mouth as wide as you can, and even hook your fingers into your cheeks. You take one hand and point down your throat to emphasize that Shatter should look Inside. Which to his credit he does. 

“HOLY DAMNED WHORE MOTHER OF CURZE WHAT DID HE DO TO YOU!?!?”

The Chaplain shrieks causing you to startle a bit, ah well ... you certainly hadn't expected that reaction, lord above. 

“The hell are you yapping about now!?” Ghosk demands. 

Shatterwing points a trembling hand at you. “Their throat is redder than a tech priest taking a mud bath on Mars! What the hell did you and Khopesh do last night?? Were you trying to do something kinky and went too far or was this expected!?-” 

Thwack! “Don't ask them that you dumb fucking slut!” Ghosk growls after delivering a quick hit to the rambling chaplain. It was much less violent than the one you saw Faust give Mephis.

The Chaplain hisses back at the older Nightlord, you just…you just shake your head. 

“Wait, that's not what happened?” Shatter asks. “Then what did?”

You open your mouth, but then close it. You can't…really tell him. So you just shake your head again. 

“Oooooh I see…too embarrassed to tell me?” Shatter posits. You feel an embarrassed blush erupting over your face at the implications. “No worries little human, you don't have to give me details. Though I certainly wouldn't be opposed. I'd be impressed to find a partner who could leave my throat like that after a night of Passion.”

You facepalm, pulling your hand down your cheeks in exasperation. You're not escaping the freak allegations today it seems. Maybe better he thinks you're just into weird stuff, saves you the trouble of making up a proper lie. 

Ghosk just sighs tiredly again before telling Shatter to either be quiet or Scram, because he's taking you to the med bay. 

The Chaplain acquiesces to the former, but you can't escape the feeling of him eyeing you smugly as the three of you make your way there. 

Lord above it's not even 11 AM and the day is already exhausting…Lucky You!

[orquidborgo]

Well, I'm getting a fever and with a lot of ideas, so I'm going to write them here because I don't have anything better to do!

This are concepts/writing ideas I got that I have more or less the story made in my head but I never wrote it down because I don't have the confidence to publish anything (haha self esteem issues are so funny), so here they are:

Jake Muller, professional B.O.Wsitter

* I got this idea while reading a modern fantasy resident evil fanfic (where the wound drips venom from your soul), basically:

After the events of resident evil VI, Jake only accepted jobs that allowed him to fight B.O.W and protect people BUT that didn't get him a lot of money, with Sherry's birthday approaching he is thinking about taking a mercenary jobs that pays very well until he receives a call from Chris Redfield, go to the middle of nowhere in Nebraska(? I'm thinking about changing the location) on a mansion with everything paid to take care of 5 B.O.Ws, just not the way he though he would.

Perfect paintings

* I got this idea from reading a really short story from space marine husbandry (I think it was from @kit-williams, is a story about a custodes, idk I forgot, it was so long ago) but I never got the confidence to write it because I don't think I will write a good mystery piece that'll comply with my expectations:

Detective Arad Yilmaz approached the scene, this is the 4th murder this month, the murders follow a pattern: All of them were strangled to death, had long black hair, honey/light brown eyes, middle eastern heritage and where last seen interacting with a really tall astartes.

The location of the corpses leave a trail as if the murderer have been moving constantly, following the same movement as the chaos warbands path, now with this corpse being found by a Dark Angel the astartes want to take this matter in their own hands.

Will Arad be able to find the murderer, bring them to justice and avoid an all out war between astartes before is too late? The clock is ticking.

There is no home like the one your bonded is:

* After reading Cedric's story in space marine husbandry (I also forgot to say that Cedric belongs to @sleepyfan-blog, sorry) and watching the movie "Bolt" I got thinking, what happens when a space marine grows a bond with a human that lives in another country and is only visiting? So here it is:

Guillermo Testarossa is visiting the U.S.A for his winter vacation, following his aunt's advice to stave off boredom he ventures into the local astartes hospital with his aunt's bonded apothecary. There he meets an injured space wolf, the rest of his vacation he spends it talking and having fun with this astartes but not everything last forever and he has to comeback to his home country Argentina, saying his goodbyes and promising to comeback next year.

Unbeknownst to him, this space wolf will not wait an entire year, using a joke his brother-captain made as motivation, with a camera, a notepad and supplies on his back he embarks on a adventure walking from the U.S to Buenos Aires - Argentina to find his bonded, taking photos and recording everything he encounters in his journey. The only thing he knows is that his bonded lives in San Telmo, works in a coffee shop with private tango shows and studies electronic engineering.

Save us from ourselves

* I seriously need to read Magnus primarch novel because there is no way you are telling me a whole planet of highly trained psykers (this mfs have magic, mind you) with space travel technology didn't have a plan B to evacuate civilians in case of a invasion, and I also like Arknights a LOT so, this is kind of a crossover between 40k and arknights:

Rhode Island is an humanitarian/pharmaceutical organization that travels across space with the mission of saving psykers, protecting those infected with flesh change and find the cure of said illness, right know they have treatment and have developed technology to protect/stabilize psykers with it so they can live a normal life.

Marckus Ahriman is a young 16 year old field operator with signs of mutation and a big heart who wishes for a world where all psykers are free and flesh change is finally cured. In a fateful operation battling against a chaos incursion he finds a soul shard that "calls" to him, upon touching it he remembers: he Magnus the Red, primarch of the Thousand Sons and son of the Emperor of Mankind, or well... A shard of him.

My big... Primarch?: Friendship is Magic (this is a temporary title)

* I watched a few episodes of my little pony so this is a crack fic, don't mind it that much:

During her fight against Starlight Glimmer through timelines; Twilight Sparkle gets "knocked out", but when she wakes up again to try and stop Starlight, she ends up in Magnus's body as a baby. So is basically her dealing with 40k insanity, family issues and trying to go back to her home.

She would try to understand why the other primarchs are so apprehensive of magic and would try to befriend them: She would try and not use magic in front of Mortarion after knowing his trauma and help him through it the best she can, would cure Angron of his nails, Leman would finally like her because she gets tired of his bullshit and start throwing hands and things like that.

Magnus's regular day

* With how pridefull is Magnus about magic, I'm surprised he hasn't gotten in a lot of psychic shenanigans in "regular show" style, every chapter would be Magnus getting into a crazy adventure, sometimes pulling his brothers, any of his sons or a unfortunate custodes along the ride.

The Emperor, Malcador and Constantin are just... Done with his magical bullshit at some point and just let him be because they know that he'll somehow fix it at the end.

So... Yep. This is all I got.

[kit-williams]

Weight of the Worlds

Thank you for @sleepyfan-blog for letting me use Cedric and @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan for letting me use Ramiel; Roland, Arnault, and Angela are my own ocs;

Husbandry Tag list:

@egrets-not-regrets @liar-anubiass-blog @barn-anon @bleedingichorhearts

@ms--lobotomy @nekotaetae

Summary: Cedric and Ramiel meet Angela (Quilterin) and Backerin

Cedric was bouncing slightly as Arnault and Roland had told him that they were going to meet. Ramiel sighed just looking at his fellow Primaris. "It's nothing to be anxious about."

"I'm not anxious I'm excited! I mean getting time to spend with a future Emperor's Champion and Brother Roland always makes me excited." Cedric says as since meeting the pair he's come out of his shell a bit more.

"Careful to not gloat too much about Arnault's achievements." Ramiel had gotten the distinctive feeling the Arnault does not know his eventual fate.

"Oh there you are." A woman's voice chimes in as they turn to look down at the human female just grinning up at them. "Roland was right you boys are sure big." The woman smelt like bread... she smelt like warmth... she smelt like what Roland kept describing. "I would have brought more bread." She looks up at Ramiel, "But I was told that we'd only be meeting one of you today."

Ramiel felt the heat go to his ears, "I see then I'll excuse-"

"Too late!" She declared grinning up at him as she passes him some bread. "Anyway Cedric I brought some more breads to try with some jams and some other things... if Roland isn't eating most of it... ROLAND!" She barks seeing the older Black Templar with some bread sticking out of his mouth. The Primaris marines were surprised at how sheepish he looked. "Bread Addict!" She said exasperated.

Roland walked over holding a large, now opened, container of treats from her shop, "Hallo Ramiel! I thought you were busy today?" Roland says trying to remember the younger Primaris' schedule.

"That was earlier in the day."

"Ah es tut mir leid then we were going to introduce you to our bonded another day but I suppose it can't be helped."

"Arnault I can carry it." A soft voice says.

"Nein." The distinct voice of Arnault says in a tone much softer than Cedric or Ramiel has heard.

"Why not?"

"Because it is too heavy for you."

"Arnault... you're too heavy for me."

Arnault's chuckle reaches the three causing Roland to roll his eyes as the innuendo is lost upon the younger two marines.

They finally see Arnault's bonded carrying a heavy bag. She had downturned eyes giving her a look that she was tired or perhaps docile and meek would be better descriptions. Her blonde hair was in half curls down to her shoulders as she came up to the middle of Arnault's stomach. Her brown eyes looked at Ramiel with surprise as she looks up at Arnault before he takes the bag and the two finally approach.

"This one is Cedric and this one is Ramiel." Arnault points to each marine.

"Hello." She says softly before pushing the bag Arnault is holding to Cedric. She turns to Ramiel, "I'll get started on yours right away then."

"On what?" Ramiel says while Arnault gets Cedric to open up his gift.

Her gaze turns away from him to Cedric as he looks at the quilted blanket. A large black cross in the center of the off white, patterned, background. "It's weighted. First time doing a weighted quilt but... I think I did a good job." She says smiling at Cedric's owlish look. She looks up at Arnault as he leans over as she whispers something to him.

Roland elbows Cedric, "You going to say something?"

Cedric's ears are red as he realized he was lost in looking it over, "Oh thank you! I'll use it tonight!"

Angela smiles at Cedric before Roland chimes in, "You go put your new blanket in your room and we'll get the food set up for you to try. Ramiel you're free to stay."

"And once meine engel has finished your quilt we will have another day like this for you." Arnault says.

"I look forward to it." Ramiel says with a soft smile.

[egrets-not-regrets]

Other People's OCs

Cedric the cooking apothecary (Cedric from Husbandry AU @sleepyfan-blog)

[silverformymonsters]

Cedric | High Elf | Rogue | Criminal

[sabin1108]

FF14 and DnD OCs: Cedric (FF14 - Dragoon HL Hyur), Fannar (DnD - Sorcerer Dragonborn) and Zuri (DnD - Artificer Human)

A Dragon enthusiast dragoon, Food enthusiast sorcerer and Machine enthusiast artificer

Practicing more art with them :)

[articskele]

If someone were interested in hearing about Cloud and/or your other OCs, is there a tag to look at?

YEAHHH :D!!!!! I have SO MUCH lore and little tidbits of information hidden around in the tags-

If you're looking for Cloud stuff in particular, these three posts should be the most helpful!! (That first one is a bit of an old ref, but it still works!)

And I've put all of my OCs down in the tags for easy access!!

[jesterjamz]

sal has new buddies with them now!

[ryliith]

I saw a template of OC symbolism on Pinterest and decided to do it with Cedric, my OC from one of my projects (it's called "Warwolf & Mockingbird". I posted a short comic about it already if you guys would like to see just go on the tag!)

Based on this :

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Second Chances Don't come Twice

Author’s note: Atlas in Husbandry. Thank you to @sleepyfan-blog for letting me borrow Joth and Cedric.

Summary: Atlas remembers fighting demons on the ship- that had gotten lost in the warp and remembered the pain of getting torn apart by demons. He wakes up, he's in too much pain to be dead... But how is he alive? Where is he? Oh great- a Berserker Chaos Marine- A Khornate World Eater. Welp. He's gonna die. Again. and this time he's not able to move arms or legs. Shit.

Warnings: Let me know if I need to add anything else

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @ms--lobotomy , @thevoidscreams, @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

Atlas had been fighting aboard the ship- they had gotten lost in the warp, and their gellar field had partially fallen. He and his brothers had been fighting against the Demonic incursion, trying their best to survive and wrest themselves free of the storm and the demons. 

He had spotted one of his brothers about to get dragged out of the group by some demons and pushed him back deeper into the group. Unfortunately that meant that the demons were able to grab him with their claws and taunting cackling.

He gave as good as he got- his brothers fighting their hardest to free him from their grasp. He saw Catius and Oleandros call out for him- arms outstretched as they tried to reach him.

That thought warmed him- before the unending pain and agony of demons trying to tear him apart had him scream, despite his best efforts not to.

Things go Loud. Things go quiet.

He feels and hears a wet, wrenching sound of bones breaking. A voice- he dimly realizes is his, which he can’t stop hollers out in soul breaking agony.

He hears the cackling of mad gods. He hears the roaring of something golden.

The Pain

A flash of light

A flash of darkness

Unconsciousness

Atlas opens his eyes. That in and of itself causes great confusion. He had been in a pitched battle on the ship. He and his brothers were trying to fight off demons who’d breached the ship. He is surprised to be able to open them again. 

He had thought that the way he’d been caught by the demons that he’d die, horribly brutally in front of his brothers. He is not surprised that he is in complete agony and his many wounds on his body are complaining.

He smells the tang of blood and suffering. His mind fogs and hazes as he stares up at the blue cloudy sky. He frowns a little, the effort to think as he stares at the sky. Sky. He had been on a ship in the warp. This is. This ground he’s laying down upon is ground. He is on a planet.

That  does not make sense. He was on a ship in the Warp. He continues to stare up at the sky and struggle to breath as his thoughts are slow and his brain is full of panicked jabbering half formed thoughts as he’s consumed by the utter agony he’s in.

‘How am I on a planet?’ is a thought that forms in his mind. ‘Is this a trick? An illusion? why?’

He continues to breathe, a task that seems monumental at the moment. Something of a great struggle. He hears the sound of something, and slowly turns his head to look and sees some… animals.

Farm animals started to approach him. Some herbivores that are used for meat, milk, and the fibers of their fur can be used to make clothing and other things.

Some of the creatures with horns bleat at him and one of them boldly comes over and bleats in his face. He flinches a little at the sound. But that movement sends waves of unending agony through him. 

Ow. He shouldn’t have tried moving. That hurt. That had really badly hurt. Part of him wonders if he’ll survive this. Or if he’ll die surrounded by farm animals.

As soon as he thought that part of him recoiled at that thought. While another part of him felt comforted that at least his body will feed the worms and other creatures of a planet, rather than the cackling maddened creatures of the Warp.

He hears more movement and a barking noise- and sees a trio of four legged creatures with fur- guardian dogs as they herded the herbivores away from the Strange Giant Metal Bleeding creature. The oldest of the Guardian canids snuffles and growls and barks and howls.

Atlas merely wishes the creature would stop being so loud. It’s not like he can do anything to get away from the creature. Or harm the canids charges. Oh- his head is ringing from how loud it is.

He hears the tromp and tread of something large headed his way and his hearts sink. He knows the stomp of Ceramite upon many different surfaces. With effort- far too much effort he shifted his head- trying to see who was coming towards him.

He hears a voice rumble out, and his hearts sink further. The dual toned almost staticky sounding tones of a Chaos Marine- the canid, blessedly stops barking and runs towards the Chaos Marine.

Atlas’s hearts sink further- he can’t do anything but watch as the canid heads towards the fuck he’s so fucked. The Khornate Berserker World Eater.

Instead of slaughtering the creature- the Chaos Marine does a gesture and says a phrase- it seems like a coded phrase as it has the trio of canids off to a different part of the … farm that he’s on.

Oh. He’s so fucking dead. Deader than dead. His skull and blood shall be used in a twisted Khornate ritual. And he can’t even put up a fight to try and get away form the Chaos Marine.

He wonders if the Khornate Chaos Marine will kill him, or just sneer down at him and watch as he dies, too weak, to pathetic for the mercy of a quick death.

Joth had heard the Guardian Dogs bay- in that particular way that meant they were trying to scare something, or someone off. And whatever it was, wasn't backing off.

With swift movement he heads in the direction of the dogs- and sees a ceramite covered form- lying on the ground and the iron tang of blood and pain scent the air.

As he comes closer- he realizes the fellow Space Marine- who he had readied to growled at was wearing Ultramarine colors- and was severely wounded and a Baby.

Joth approaches the likely severely hurt, and likely going to be skittish as fuck baby who looked like he was drifting in and out of wakefulness.

The baby manages to squint up at him and try very hilariously to growl at him, but was in too much pain to do that and merely made raspy whimpering noises.

"Not gonna hurt you Scoutling," Joth croons, at the very suspicious and heavily wounded baby. Who- to his credit, attempted to growl at him again.

Joth watched the way the younglings limbs twitch, but not move much. That. could be really bad. He sends a message to the local Astarte clinic about a heavily wounded baby needing immediate help, as well as not being stable enough to move.

He gets a swift response as he crouches down next to the youngster, "I know that you won't believe me, but I am not going to hurt you. Help is coming- some brothers are going to patch you up."

Joth is talking to the baby and grabs one of his hands gently, the baby seems to be hovering between wakefulness and passing out from the pain he's in.

"Keep awake little cousin," Joth rumbles, gently squeezing his hand. He smells the stench of Chaos on his wounds. Poor kid got on the wrong side of a fight with some demons.

Joth's ears prick as he says, "Your brothers are coming- we will get you fixed up, stay awake little Scout."

Zariel and Cedric are running towards them with urgent battle care kits as well as a team with a stretcher just minutes behind him. The Baby Black Templar lets out a growly noise at Joth, before his eyes snap to the blue and gold clad Scout.

"Atlas!" Cedric calls out as he runs to Catius and Oleandros's squad lead and fellow Primaris Ultramarine's side as he and Zariel assess and patch up Atlas.

[sleepyfan-blog]

Runneth Over

This is the next part in Cedric’s adventures in the Astartes Husbandry AU, and specifically the Introducing New Primaris Black Templars arc. For other adventures click here and here. First. Previous. Next.  

Tagged:  @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @i-am-a-dragon34 @undeaddream @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

Warnings: Misconceptions, physical violence, poor coping mechanisms

Summary: Cedric and Melinth have a conversation. 

“... I had plans for the day, Chief Apothecary Melinth. Is there a particular reason why you called me into your office today?” Cedric asked, doing his best to project a mask of calm, even as resentment and frustration boiled inside of his hearts, threatening to cause problems if he let them. He would not lose his temper again. 

“I have several questions to ask of you, and they are important. Sit.” Melinth ordered, pointing at one of the chairs.

The younger apothecary obeyed wordlessly, suppressing the desire to grind his teeth in frustration, or cross his arms over his chest and scowl. “And these questions cannot wait until I have completed what I wanted to get done for the day?”

“Correct. As you may already be aware, I have been studying the gene-seed that was implanted in your two dead brothers. In part to see whether or not the Mechanicus somehow altered the structure of the organ itself, among other reasons.” The older Apothecary explained. “While the technology available to mortals and created by them in this time period are… Crude to say the least, we have been able to recreate certain much better technologies within a select number of bases, this being one of them.”

“... Is there a point to this, sir?” Cedric asked, trying to resist the temptation to roll his eyes as the other droned on. “As I told you earlier, the Mecnanicus did tell us Primaris Marines that we all have hybrid gene-seed. In order to try and reduce the likelihood of us developing or having certain gene-seed defects. We were told that our geneseed stock came from loyalist primarchs, as using traitor gene-seed, even stock from before they turned traitor, is heretical.”

“So you have said. DId you know that the Mechanicus are not the only ones who were working on trying to improve the astartes blueprint, and had access to different kinds of gene-seed stocks?” Melinth asks, as he seemed to be attempting to stare holes through Cedric’s body by the force of his eyeballs alone.

“I did not, though that doesn’t surprise me. Is there a particular reason why you are telling me this?” Cedric asked, realizing that he’d slipped a little in not addressing the other properly “... Sir?”

“Both… Malachai and Lestras, was it? Both of their gene-seed is sixty-percent  of the line of Dorn, which is what we were expecting. Do you know what the remaining 40% is? Any guesses or suspicions at all?” Melinth asked, leaning forward a little in his chair.

“Given that about sixty percent of all loyalist chapters are sons of Guilliman in part or full in M42… I’d hazard that the answer to that is probably Primarch Guilliman?” Cedric answered with a slight shrug of his shoulders. 

“That’s not - wait, what?” Melinth asked, startled “How? That makes no sense. There were seven loyalist Primarchs who survived the heresy. That is a fact. So how did Primarch Guilliman’s Gene-seed spread so far?”

“His is the most stable, of all of the Primarchs, including the First. Lords Russ, Khan, and Corax all vanished into the warp, to return when the Imperium’s need was at it’s highest. Lords Vulcan was brutally killed and lost - though the Salamanders and their successor chapters hope to one day find him. Lord…” Cedric hesitates for a moment, trying to remember if he’d ever been told when, exactly Melinth was from. Did he hail from a time before…? If so, this was an unfortunate time to reveal to the Imperial Fist that his Lord Father was Probably Dead. “Lord Dorn has been lost to us for a long time as well. He vanished one day during a bloody battle, with only one of his powerfists - arm included - to be found. The lord of the first is rumored to have once again been seen walking in Imperium Nihilus, accompanied by his sons- both those who were always loyal to the Imperium and those who had forsaken their vows after Lord Johnson vanished, presumed killed by his treacherous second in command.”

There was a flash of… Something across Melinth’s face as the older Apothecary listened to his words. The other stood as Cedric finished speaking and stalked around his desk towards him. “I don’t know how much of anything you, or the other allegedly Loyalist Alternate Marines I can trust, if anything. Did you know that Fabius Bile of the Emperor’s Children has been creating clones and astartes for thousands of years? That mad butcher is amongst the most skilled geneticists alive in any time period that has him in it. The remaining 40% of your dead Brothers’ gene-seed are of traitor legions. Specifically a twenty-twenty split of World Eater and Word Bearer. Both of their genetics indicate that they were cloned, rather than made naturally and taken to become Astartes.”

Cedric was on his feet and part of him wanted to back away as the older Apothecary got in his face. Fury at being called a liar swelled in his chest and he hissed back “I have been truthful as far as I know to every question you and the other firstborn marines have asked me, as much as my vows as an Apothecary allow me to be! Speak plainly, rather than dancing around the point like a throne-damned Alpha Legionnaire!”

“Fine, then. I suspect that none of you were created by Loyalists. What I think is that the group of you were actually created by Fabius Bile in order to infiltrate loyalist chapters. Whether or not you know that and are purposefully working to weaken those chapters or gather intelligence… Or you are sleeper agents, planted in those chapters and unknowing of your true purpose and you genuinely believe the things you say… I cannot tell at this time.”

“And what gave you that idea?” Cedric asked, his voice dropping into a low growl, furiously insulted at the accusation “You’re completely wrong on all counts, but please. Enlighten me as to what your thought processes is, so I can help you know the truth.”

“You and your alleged Primaris Marine brothers are incredibly skittish of older marines. Loyalist, renegade, chaos, it does not matter. All of you are wary of us, despite none of us having ever done anything to hurt you. While I understand wariness towards traitors of varying stripes, if you were created by loyalists, you would not fear us, the way you do.” Melinth states, voice hard and accusatory. “However, if you were created by Bile, deep down you would have an instinctive wariness of all factions, given that Chaos uses Bile’s creations as cannon fodder for the most part. Renegades would either kill you or force you to work for them, and us Loyalists would likely mercy-kill you to put you out of your misery and to keep you from falling into the hands of our enemies.”

Mercy kill. Mercy kill. Mercy kill. That phrase rang over and over in Cedric’s head as the older Apothecary continued to rant and blather on at him. Fury and anxiety warred for dominance in his hearts, and when the other gestured particularly sharply at him, Cedric’s body automatically flinched and took a half-step back, to avoid being struck by the Angry Firstborn Marine. “I’m not one of Bile’s creations. None of us are. We were created by the Mechanicus, as for the reasons why we are wary of all firstborn marines… We have ample reason to be, from our experiences in M42.”

“... That. That kind of reaction right there. The way that your body is still tense but hunched, like you’re expecting me to strike you. Have I ever once shown that I would strike a fellow loyalist out of anger?” Melinth growled, stalking closer to Cedric, or rather he tried to.

Cedric’s body automatically backed up, towards the door to the office as his mind scrambled to find something, anything to say. His dumb-fuck mouth decided to blurt something out before his brain to mouth filter could alter it “Just because none of you in this time have hurt me, doesn’t mean that was true in M42! You wouldn’t be the first firstborn son of Dorn who beat me because you were angry! Not even the first Apothecary to do so.” His mentor had been furious when he’d found Apothecary Alinciet physically training him in such a way, and forbade the bastard from ever coming near him ever again. He still had some of the scars of that physical altercation on his arms, though.

“... Explain to me what you mean by that. Right now.” Melinth ordered Cedric, voice thundering loudly in his ears, echoing off of the walls of his office.

“... No.” Cedric breathed out, barely louder than the rapid beating of his hearts in his ears.

“What do you mean by no?” The older apothecary growled, stalking towards Cedric again “I have you a direct order, Astartes. You will answer my fucking question. Who. Hurt. You?”

“Why should I tell you? It’s not as if firsborn Marines are in danger, which is the only thing you fucking care about!” Cedric hissed back, his eyes going blurry as tears threatened to fall from his eyes. He really needed to figure out why he was crying so fucking much. “And don’t spew grox-shit about actually giving a fuck about me or my brothers! You just accused us of being some of Bile’s creations, seconds ago! All of whom you would happily kill to be rid of!”

“Hold on, that’s not what I-” Melinth started to lie.

Cedric did not want to hear empty platitudes or lying grox-shit anymore. Which was why he committed the sin of interrupting a superior officer by hissing “LIAR! I am not the liar of the two of us, it is you! You don’t give two shits if I or my brothers live or die! If you did, you would not have handed our primary care over to a fucking Hydra and a chaos-corrupted death guard! Do not stand there and pretend to be pure of heart and standing in good faith when you long ago washed your hands of those of us among the living. When your only interest in Primaris comes from what you can learn from carving up our dead.” 

Melinth was up in his face, hands moving to grab at him and Cedric’s body reacted on instinct to defend himself as the other was not dressed in the black and white of a Black Templar, nor the robes of an off-duty Older Brother. Which is why Cedric ducked his grab, rolling to one side and kicking the bastard in the back of his weaker knee with lightning speed and devastating force.

Melinth cursed as he started to fall, twisting his body and going into a combat roll, grabbing something from under his desk.

Cedric did not give the older and more experienced Astartes time to recover, launching himself at the bastard, slamming into the other’s chest shoulder first and sending the other bodily into the nearest wall. 

Books and knick-knacks flew off of the bookshelf that Melinth landed heavily next to. He grunted in pain and growled “Stand down marine!” 

“No! You do not get to call me a twisted abomination meant to break my chapter and then try and take it back! You’re just like THEM! Simply more subtle and all the more insidious for it!” Cedric hissed, hauling the smaller marine up by his shirt before lifting and throwing him through the air at the other wall.

There was a satisfyingly visceral crunch as the older marine hit the second wall. He wheezed and scrambled towards the panic-button in his room “What… Like who, do you accuse me of being?” His breathing was shallower, and there was a bit of blood on his lips, where they had split.

A wicked, cruel thought occurred to Cedric. A dark vicious part of him nearly shivered in delight at such a thought, before he balked at his own dark desires. He would not beat this miserable shithead into his deathbed, like certain Firstborn bastards had done to countless of his brothers. He had to be better than that, or he would never be able to look any of them in the eye ever again. And he would prove Petras and the other detractors right. “You’re a primaris Killer. You may not be from M42, but you let Malachai die on that surgical table. I know you did. You’re far too skilled an apothecary and were too well provisioned to have not been able to… To save him. You gave us away to Chaos and renegade Astartes. It is only their curiosity and desire to see us willingly come to their side, along with the treaty that stays their hands from murdering us.”

“Primaris… Killer?” Melinth wheezed as he pushed his way back up the wall with his hands, staggering towards the panic button.

Cedric thought about stopping the other from getting it, but a wave of bitterness and lethargy locked his limbs in place, despite the rage pulsing through his body that nearly robbed him of his senses “Primaris Killers are a shorthand way for us to refer to loyalist firstborn marines who have killed more than one Primaris Marine because they wanted to, or in a fit of murderous rage. Not because the Primaris Marine was showing signs of heresy, not because they needed to be culled for medical reasons either.”

“I did not. Let Malachai die. I tried to save him. He was. Very badly injured. Even if we had a spare Dreadnaught to put him in, that would not have saved him.” Melinth answered, the hand that reached out for the “please help me” button shaking a little. 

“So you claim.” Cedric spat out “I have precious little reason to trust any firstborn marines with myself, much less my brothers. Some of whom I’ve had to watch die twice from the same wounds that they were given by-” His voice cracks, breaks, falters. He cannot, will not, volunteer this information without checking with those who had been killed by The Fucker and getting their permission to do so. He will not expose such a weakness without them agreeing to such beforehand. “-by a Primaris killer. If you think we are Bile’s creations, ask that Night Lord Apothecary if we are or not. He should be able to tell you, if he’s who I think he is.”

With that, Cedric turned on his heel and left Melinth’s office, slamming the door behind him. He stormed down the hallway, intending to head to the bakery that Roland’s bonded ran and worked in. Maybe they’d let him knead some of the dough? It would help him work out the fury boiling in his system without causing more destruction.

Instead he nearly physically ran into a green and gold blur that turned into Captain Ash’val. “Ah, there you are Cedric! I was wondering if-” The Salamander began to ask, starting to reach out to Cedric as he spoke.

The young Apothecary, who would normally be quite content to help the other with whatever he wanted, or allow the very tactile Astartes to hug him when the other wanted, deliberately stepped out of the other’s immediate grabbing range and interrupted him “I don’t have time for idle chatter today. I am helping Ramiel arrange the funerals for Malachai and Lestras, ideally everything should be ready to go by the end of the week. That way the temptation for you firstborns to carve them into little pieces and study them is removed. So that, at least in death, they will have a measure of dignity and respect afforded to them.” 

Ash’val made a small choking sound, as if someone had just slit his throat.

They hadn’t, because Cedric briefly looked him over. He was physically whole and intact, and therefore Not His Problem to deal with right now. The young Apothecary darted around the stone-still Salamander, moving swiftly out of the base and ignoring anyone who wasn’t an actual Brother of his when they called his name. 

Someone was following him, so Cedric dipped into the cross-training that Claude had absolutely insisted that all of them learn on how to be stealthy. He managed to shake the Firstborn who’d been following after him in the densely crowded streets of the mortal city before making his way to his favorite bakery, and to one of the few firstborn marines he genuinely and deeply trusted with both of his hearts. 

[c-u-c-koo-4-40k]

The Silver Dragon Cometh - Part 2

Summary: A chance to relax and make new friends has turned into a battle for life and death. Lullaby must push to the Limit if they want to have a chance of saving their Primaris psychers from being forced under the thumb of Stormbreaker.

This be a second part! Read this previous part first! Here!

Next Fic in the Series (Under Construction)

What started it all! Here!

Tags: Second part of an amazing fic in a series of amazing fic with amazing contributions from @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan Characters from @kit-williams and @sleepyfan-blog make an appearance as well. (If I've forgotten to mention you and used your character just dm me I'll get that added)

@felinisnoctis @bleedingichorhearts @egrets-not-regrets @passionofthesith @bispecsual @barn-anon

Warning: More Fighting, description of injuries, blood, cursing, mental breakdown, and visions of what Could be.

It's like your eyes have finally been opened. Remnants of Silver Tinted magic cover the ground, eagerly being sucked up by your roots. The more they absorb the more clearly you see. 

They don't grow straight, instead they grow in a circle; spreading around you. Above the roots is a dome of similar color and glow, it reminds you of a mushroom cap, of which you would be the stem. And In the dome you see…your friends. 

You don't know how, but as you look at the colors, and that your roots are touching them…you know who is who in an Instant. 

Jophiel's glow is red, Thressel an icy blue, Kerubiel is dark green, and Naneal seems to have an uneven mix of red and Blue. You glance over to the others, and when your roots touch them you let out a deep breath of relief. 

They're alive, you can see and feel it. They're duller, marking them as non psychers but they're Alive. Khopesh is dark blue, Ramiel is purple, Olly is regular blue and Cedric…Cedric has a deep purple that is slightly more red. Not what you expected but you're just so happy they're alive! 

And you're Not going to stand by any longer! You zero in on the large Silver Glow, and the silver remnants that seem to be clinging to your friends, and you tell your roots to Pull! And Push!

Claude blinks, he…he can suddenly think clearly. Above him Storm Breaker is still going on about how Inevitable his defeat is, how he should Stop resisting, how Pathetic him and his friends Are for causing this worthless struggl-

“SHUT UP!” Claude snarls lunging with speed and ferocity he didn't know he had. In fact, he suddenly feels like he's Bursting with energy! Like he can do anything!

And Anything includes landing a Solid fucking hit on Storm Breaker's dumb motherfucking silver face!

S-MASH! CHUNK! The Gray Knight actually staggers back at the impact. What the hell?! He's still exerting his psychic power. He Shouldn't be able to do that. “SCOUT! STAND DOWN I ORDER YOU TO-!”

“Do you Ever, STOP FUCKIN YAPPIN?!” Thressel snarled, he doesn't understand Why he can stand but he's not going to pass up this opportunity. He bolts for the Silver Bastard. 

Draco scans his head back and forth, seeing all the Scouts can suddenly stand. 

“Impossible! STAND DOWN!” He commands, unknowing that with every word spoken his psychery feeds your roots And your friends. None of it even reaches your Space Marines…not in the way Draco intends anyway. 

Nanael and Jophiel take to the air, you carefully control the size of your dome so it covers them. It seems just being in the dome is giving them access to the power pulled by your roots. 

Draco begins to lose ground, backing up as he's assaulted by Thressel, Claude and Kerubiel on the ground, and Nanael and Jophiel swooping down like birds of prey. He barely manages to fend off their blows, which are Unnaturally forceful, and any psychic barking he continues to try falls on deaf ears. 

Behind him you see the others stir, Khopesh places his hands to the ground and forces himself up, grinning like a vengeful predator. Cedric and Ramiel feel their armor loosen and they stand as well. 

You look to Olly, waiting with baited breath, and then you see him stir. He raises to his full height. 

“Yes!” You cry joyfully, but you can't move due to the strain of using your power. You're also starting to feel nauseous, you've never absorbed this much before. 

You have to control the flow so it doesn't zap your comrades. But that means a lot more is sitting inside you and your mycelium than it normally would. But you push through! You won't lose focus! You can't lose focus!

Khopesh, Ramiel, Cedric, Claude, Olly Thressel, Jophiel, Nanael, and Kerubiel all turn their empowered attacks on Draco, now severely outclassed and outmatched. 

Fuck! He isn't sure how this could happen, he'll have to retreat again. How humiliating! A lightning claw slashes across his helmeted face, and he sees the awful grinning gaze of one of Curze's spawn looking at him through the helmet he wears. 

Shit! But, he might be able to let out one more psychic blast. It would give him cover to escape!

Nothing…

He tries to focus his power again…but it slips away. No. NO! IT CANNOT END LIKE THIS!

“RAAAAAAAAAAA!” A familiar weight Rams into his side and he finds himself pinned beneath the Dumb Gutsy Ultramarine!

The others descend like Vultures, his left arm and his legs are impaled, only his right arm is free. 

And it's here pressed to the ground he feels it. That same faint presence he'd sensed before, could this be…the reason for his undoing?

Draco musters up the Last of his psychic power, and opens his eyes to his warp sight. And what he sees makes his stomach turn. 

Writhing over him like Maggots are hundreds…no Thousands, of roots. He realizes the subtle pull he felt before was his Power being drained, and he can even see the blips of silver leaving him, and going into the scouts above him, making their auras flare brighter.

But this cannot be their doing! So Draco focuses, staving off his failing consciousness, sending his sense along the roots to find their source. 

And then he sees it…a small, fragile, Insignificant soul, the same color of the roots, and at their epicenter. Aaaaall the way across the clearing…it's not the soul of a space marine…it's the soul of a Human. 

An average, normal, Pathetic Baseline is the reason for his failure!? He won't, he won't Tolerate this! 

He wrenches his Right hand up and snags his Demon's Bane blade, slashing at the heretical psychery pinning him down with the mighty psychic fury given to him by the Emperor of Mankind. Only to recoil in Horror as the roots grow more fiercely, fed by his attempt to destroy them. 

He truly has no more left to give, yet he still snarls and tries to attack- but for some reason it’s like everything has slowed down- he looks around sharply and snarls at the young Chaplain, “You- dare?!”

Ramiel is finally able to activate his Tempormortis- knowing that he’d only have one chance to use- it to slow down time in a bubble around him- in a very small area, but it would be enough to help keep the bastard down. 

“Time dilation is active!” Ramiel barks out- the glowing large hourglass whirling and humming in his grasp. “I don’t know how long it’ll last against a Gray Knight- GO! We can pin him!”

Cedric pulls out from his med kit that he always keeps on him a fast-acting knockout drug a wrenches off Captain Storm Breaker’s helmet and jabs it into his neck and the drug hits his veins quickly- and the draining effect of Lullaby’s Mycelium network, as well as the fight is rendering the Silver Bastard Unconscious in seconds.

He manages one Final defiant gasp towards the reason for his failure, you feel his murderous rage through your roots.  “Y-you!”

You grit your teeth against the urge to vomit, wrap your control as Tight around your power as you can muster though your vision vaivers and Yank! the last bit of consciousness from Draco's desperate hands with one final shout.

“SHUT the FUCK UP! And GO the FUCK TO SLEEP!!!”

Ramiel gasps sharply and bows his head, murmuring silent prayers to the God Emperor as the Tempormortis takes it’s toll from him.

A beat passes, where otherwise nobody moves…

Claude speaks to Cedric without moving a muscle from where he's holding Stormbreaker. “Is he Truly down?”

Cedric nods. “Yes…now we must restrain him. That drug is meant to down Normal Astartes, I have no idea how long it will last on…Him.”

Khopesh sneers a bit. “I'd say why bother with restraint? We should simply kill him.” He growls. “Then again…killing him Slowly…yes we should find a way to keep him still.”

Cedric doesn't respond…but he doesn't disagree either. 

“He’s a bastard… but he’s a Loyalist,” One of the other Primaris Marines murmurs- as they strip Storm Breaker out of his armor and fling his weapons, carefully to the side. You can’t tell which of them said it. You can't…you can't really focus well on-anything…at the moment…

“As much as his death would be… satisfying,” Kerubiel says, and means it, as he pulls out Astartes Grade Restraints- and slaps a Psyker blocking collar on Stormbreaker’s neck- making sure to have it almost cutting off the bastard’s airway with how tight is, “The fucker is a powerful Pskyer- and that’s an, unfortunate rarity here.”

You dropped your power the moment you heard Cedric say he was out. And now that the danger has passed you…you Really didn't feel good. Jophiel’s head snaps over to Lullaby- a flash of insight has him bolting over to their side.

“G-guys I-ne-need- Help-p!” You could still see and worse Feel the power surging in your roots all over your body, too much, It's T-Too Much! 

Jophiel hesitates for a moment before carefully grasping your hands- try and help absorb the excess power. “Let go- use me as a grounding rod. Push it into the ground.”

You tremble, but you nod. Push, push, push push Push! “U-ulp! AhAH-AHHHHHHHH!”

Some of the power goes through Jophiel, but it's not enough for the overflow as it forces its way out of your hands And your mouth! 

The waves of the psychic scream ring deafeningly in the air and the force bends your neck up to the sky. The rest crackles through Jophiel into the ground. You're practically blown off your feet by your own sound waves, and any part of the picnic that wasn't already destroyed in the fight is thrown aside and over. 

You slump to your knees, and pass out. Jophiel catches you and curls around you protectively as his knees buckle, all that is heard from him is a muffled, “ow.”

Khopesh was already running over the moment he saw Jophiel move, and he was only stopped for a moment by the scream. He frantically claws and scrambles toward your passed out form. 

“Lullaby is alive,” Jophiel says, gently shoving their unconscious body into Khopesh’s arms, “m’brain is … floaty.”

Khopesh feels tears, literal tears coming to his eyes, fuck! He shouldn't cry in front of a Scout, and he Knows it will be hell to explain what just happened with Lullaby to the others, but he's so happy and grateful his Lullaby is alive he, as Karlsor would say, DOESN'T GIVE A FUCK. Without thinking he pulls the Scout in and Knocks their foreheads together, gently. In his urgency he swaps to Nostraman. “Thank you, Younger brother. I owe you a debt of 50 million lifetimes.” 

Jophiel accepts the touch with a nuzzle- little flickers of spectral light sparking in his eyes can be seen, even by non-psykers before he closes his eyes.

“W’come,” Jophiel says, flopping back on the ground, feeling very… sparkly. His feathers are very fluffed out- as is his hair. As if he’d stuck a metal fork into an electric socket. Or well, the Psychic version of one anyways.

Cedric runs over and begins to check the two over. Olly, though battered with a developing black eye, says the obvious. 

“We have a better methods of treatment at the Base, if they're stable, let's move them.” He says. 

Thressel agrees with a “Keru and I can handle carrying the big silver witch bitch…but what do we do if he starts wakin?”

Olly squares his shoulders, leans down and wrenches a cinder block sized rock from the earth near his feet. “I will do what I Must.”

Khopesh is stunned but laughs in delight. “Now That, is proper intimidation, good Work Brother!”

Olly nods solemnly. “Thank you…I will Do what I Must.”

Nanael looks at him. “...You want to hit him with the rock right now don't you?”

Olly nods. “Yes,”

Thressl barks out a delighted laugh at that. “Oh- I understand that want.” His eyes glitter with a mean sort of humor as his eyes sharply assess the Silver Uber Witch Bastard. His skin color is rippling red, and lightly tanned, and his eyes are changing colors. “Anyone else still feel super charged or what?”

“It will recalibrate his thinking,” Olly says innocuous. It’s that tone that Khopesh, as an older brother knows that Little brother is trying to pull some fuck-shit. “Mental recalibration is good for a person, after all. It’s in the Codex Astartes… somewhere.”

“It’ll give him a concussion,” Cedric says, trying not to laugh. “A Psyker with a concussion is suboptimal.” 

Claude snarls, “A psycher with his Personality is suboptimal. I've sent a vox to Hura and Anrir. Let us not delay further.” Claude says, he approaches Khopesh who's holding you. You're stable, he can hear your heartbeat and breathing, but the thought that he'd be taken away from Khopesh and you…from his Claw…that you and his brothers could be Hurt. 

He suppressed another snarl, and elects to leave the destroyed picnic to be cleaned up later. Your group and their captive make their way back to the base. 

Nanael, Kerubiel, Thressl and Cedric are carrying Stormbreaker- Ramiel has packed up the bastard’s armor and weapons and is carrying it. Olly is watching the bastard for one wrong movement as he’s got the hefty rock in one hand, and the bastard’s head in the other.

They are met halfway to Rot Bone base- Karlsor and Hura meeting them- a trauma kit- and worried expressions on their faces. 

“What happened?!” Hura asks, as he heads to check up on Lullaby, “Follow me- I’ll show you a less monitored entrance to bring Lullaby- the armor- and whoever that is in.”

“Who the fuck is that?!” Karlsor asks them as he reels back, “Fucking silver glowing shit head. Curze damn. He’s strong.”

Khopesh grinned, still shaken and coming down from the adrenaline high. “Indeed, but we achieved victory!” He's so taken up with it, he doesn't notice Kerubiel giving him a side eye. 

“Well done boys!” Karlsor says with a proud, vicious grin, “Does that fucker need one of the special cells?”

Karlsor’s smile fades as he does a head count, “Where is Jophiel?”

He’d spotted only one set of fluffy wings.

Jophiel staggers after them- feeling off kilter- and like someone rearranged his brain. Ogh. He’s never felt that much power get channeled through his body. Ow. His bones. His brain. His Psyker ‘muscles’. Oogh. 

He’s just gonna. Sit back down. “I’ll… clean up the mess.” Jophiel tells the others, hoping that his speech doesn’t sound as slow and slurred as it does to his ears. 

There were Laws against making messes- now if his eyes would stop crossing and giving him overlapping images- as his brain starts to whirl and he feels the prickle-murmur feeling as he’s consumed by Visions of What Could Be, What Might Be, and What Was.

He barely managed to grab one of the cups before unconsciousness claims him.

Back at the base, You stir, dizzy and still exhausted. “Jophie? Where's Jophie?” You slur, and suddenly you feel a rush of pained sadness overcome you. “O-olly! Clauuude! W-where's Jophie! s’Not s-safe. Need't'be here, where's safe! Evry'bdy nee's to be Safe!” You hear Khopesh cooing, trying to soothe your frantic but loopy mind. You can tell you're being held by him at least. 

“He was right- behind… us…” Olly says turning towards where he’d last noticed Jophiel, “Shit. He’s likely back at the Picnic site, taking a nap.”

“We’ll get him,” Claude says soothingly, dropping his section of Draco with only minimal warning to the other’s carrying the bastard. “I’ll grab him.”

“Everyone, sh-should be here! Silver bastard ruined it! Ruined our p-picnic!” Much like the psychery that had blasted out of you, you now couldn't stop your emotional breakdown from pouring out of you. “He ried to-take them ‘way, he H-hurt Olly! Hurt eve’ry’body! He ruined my c-cake!” Indeed during the fight or your scream Everything got ruined you sniffle and hiccup. “I worked Hours g-getting it j-just right and you- non’o You got to Have a p-ie-iece!” You sob into Khopesh's embrace, who strokes your back, and continues to coo. 

“We can make another cake, together,” Cedric offers, soothingly, he can tell that part of this is the reaction to the shock of the danger that you had been in, as well as the over-use of psykery can cause emotional dysregulation. Also adrenaline and coming down from it can be a bitch to handle.

While you sob, another individual is stirring. Not like he can do anything about it, but he does wake enough to see…clinical white walls, the Bratlings and- “Y-you…Witch!” He rasps. 

Your sobbing turns to rage, and it seems you've got One last little bit of extra psychery left to expel. You don't even mean to, you just shout. “SHUT UP!!!”

The blast wave is smaller, but it hits, causing the silver bastard real back and start cursing. As promised Olly raises his rock. 

Only for Anrir to weave in before he can swing down and administer another dose of ‘go the fuck to sleep’ juice, right into Stormbreaker’s neck. 

“Aw… I wanted to do some manual mental recalibration with a blunt instrument,” Olly said with a slight pout on his face as he puts his arm back down that had the rock. He’d had an almost manic gleeful look on his face when he spotted Stormbreaker start to wake up and lunged for him with the Rock.

Anrir returns the syringe to its place calmly. “I admire your Enthusiasm scout, but Patience first…” He turns to the room as a whole. “What. Happened.” He asks, leaving no room for debate. 

No one says a word at first. Eventually Kerubiel speaks up, he actually seems to be in indignant disbelief. “What happened?! What Happened is that We find out This! Is what you all have been hiding from Us!?” He snarls sharply at his fellow Primaris as he points to You. Khopesh shifts you protectively. “Did you Really think we'd just…let that go?! That you wouldn't be questioned when a Human Baseline let off a psychic scream loud enough to deafen the surrounding area!?”

“What the hell are you Playing at!? Who is this Really?!” He demands. 

Anrir regards the Scout, looking almost bored with his display. He turns back to Kalrsor and speaks in Nostraman. 

Khopesh perks up when he hears. “No we can't make him disappear,” in the conversation, which causes Anrir to sigh. 

Anrir turns back to Kerubiel. “I've heard you Dark Angels are excellent at keeping secrets…and given what you've seen today I hope that's true of All present in this room.” He says striding over to Khopesh. “This,” He says, gently tapping your head as you slump against Khopesh, “Is possibly the First recorded psycher of the Baseline populace in this instance of ancient terra.”

“Their abilities are exceptionally unique, and I say you owe them All a debt of thanks for aiding you in your battle with this…specimen.” Anrir's lip curls with barely contained disgust. He has neither forgotten nor forgiven what happened last time. 

Thressl seems shocked. “Wait…so the boost we felt was…from them??” 

Anrir nods, “Indeed! And the weakening of your Enemy was from them as well. For that is the essence of their power! To draw and redistribute the power of the warp!” He says with a frightening glee. “I will be taking statements for my studies of this bond from all of you! So do not move a muscle…”

“Ah, except you three, please follow Apothecary Hura to the containment room with our…guest. I will get your statements after. And of course I Heavily advise keeping this matter Quiet. For your Own health and Wellness.”

The ones that were told to go off with Hura go, and those that were told to stay, are staying. They know better than to argue with Apothecaries, especially with top secret shit that they shouldn’t know about, but got involved in accidentally.

“We need to find Jophiel- he was part of this- and tried to��� ground? Lullaby, or something when they got super charged on Silver Fucker’s psykery.” Kerubiel points out. “And who knows what sort of state he’s in.”

He’s calmer now, he understands why secrets must be kept. Even though he Loathes it when secrets are kept from him. This fight had been a wild ride- and one that had kept getting more and more unexpected the longer it went on.

“It’s safer, the fewer who know,” Nanael is quiet, in what he says. His words were almost drowned out by louder voices.

He hadn’t really known much about Lullaby, other than what he’s been told. And he gets why the others that knew about their ability kept it quiet. The fewer people who know a secret, the less likely it’s to come out. Through loose lips, or by force.

Anrir briefly thinks over if they've got one of their special cells open, just in case. They will need to make a decision about their newest… Guest. Hura is also eyeing their newest… acquisition and resource.

“Boys, the armor should be kept in a locked- separate place from the normal Armory and weapons lock up. The Distinctive Armor of the Grey Knights might cause a…” Hura pauses over the words, “At least for the Chaos Marines that know of the Grey Knights might cause a hm. Panic.”

And a blood bath as people fought each other over the fucking amazing techno-psykery that is the weapons and armor of a Gray Knight. Hura can tell- hovering a hand near the armor- but not touching it- that it’s already causing pain and damage to his dermis, due to him by a Chaos Marine, blessed by Grandfather Nurgle.

“I have a… discrete area to contain such… holy sacraments.” Hura continues to say, “Taking that all the way to Stone Flame base will be… too noticeable boys. Even if you tried to sneak it in, in pieces.”

Hura says that as he notices that some of the boys start to look like they want to protest, after all, they and Khopesh, with Lullaby’s help, took down the Giant Silver Git. “The fewer that know that there is a Gray Knight… somewhere Near Gannet Point the better. Unfortunately due to their power, we run on Custodes Rules for Gray Knights, to a slightly lesser degree, because they are only slightly less powerful.”

In the meantime Anrir sets out to give a barely conscious you a proper check over, and when it is determined they're well enough for release he sends them and Khopesh to bed. 

Khopesh is more protective than usual, and immediately carts you off to his room. Good, he should be proactive in protecting the things he loves, much like Anrir with his Draga. 

After all of the boys had given their statements and been assessed for any changes- or differences in things for After Battle- and the Supercharging effect that they’d received from Lullaby. (They’d speak with and assess Lullaby more thoroughly, after they had recovered.)

“So, what do you want to do to Stormbreaker?” Nanael asks Cedric.

“I think killing him would be a good idea,” Cedric says, blue eyes glittering darkly.

“Killing him, while satisfying, might be short sighted,” Kerubiel says, “he’s a powerful psyker.”

“If we did kill him,” Hura offers, “we’d be able to do a post mortem on him- see what kind of changes they might have made to make Gray Knights so… impressive. Test the Gene-seed of the Gray knights and get some answers about those Silver Nightmares.”

“I want him dead, yesterday,” Khopesh chimes in darkly, he'd rejoined the group after putting his Lullaby to bed. He wanted to have this matter settled (be allowed to torture Storm Breaker later) and return to you soon. 

“His organs- would be very useful, in brothers, in experimentation,” Anrir says his eyes glittering with thoughts of what they could do to the Silver Witch’s dying and dead body.

“However,” Hura says, “A Psyker of his power level, training, and stability, despite his… flawed…Deeply flawed, personality is… not something to be culled lightly, as much as I’m loathe to say it.”

____________

Jophiel feels almost feverish- and feels like a piece of flotsam in the sea. He’s riding a wave- a psychic wave that rolls from the area out- and away- the ripples, become a tidal wave- and it crashes. The sounds- the reverberations, almost none heard.

Almost none.

Something big. Something Gold. Something Predatory. Something that was, is, will be, waiting. Is, will be, was Sleeping. Is, was, will be waking. That which was, will be, and is Hunting- strides once more, will be, has been.

Jophiel wakes up with a gasp- and trying not to scream- tears falling down his face- as his visions flicker dizzyingly. Warningly. A crystal clear image comes into focus. Blood stained hands of a Custodes with its hands around the neck of— 

SOMETHING IS COMING. IT HUNTS TO END THE MELODY. STRANGLE THE SONG AND SMOTHER IT IN THE CRADLE. ONCE MORE. 

“Lullaby!” Jophiel chokes out and tries to get up, but his head aches and pounds and almost collapses face first, blood dripping from his nose, mouth, eyes, and ears. “H-have to… warn…”

And he is unconscious once more. A small puddle of blood forming around his head like a twisted halo. Several minutes later Jophiel wakes up- a wicked Psyker backlash headache waking him up and he lets out a small whimper as he cradles his head in his hands.

After the world stops spinning so much he slowly gets up. He- the vision! He needs to get to the others- and warn them- Warn Lullaby of the Monster in Gold. He slowly gets up and staggers in the direction of Rot Bone Base, where the others had headed to. That he’d been headed to- before he’d taken a… pause.

Claude had been allowed to go retrieve Jophiel and sees his brother-cousin staring blankly and bleeding out of several orifices.  “Jophie… you here or Elswhere, brother?”

“I- gotta- warn,” Jophiel says staggering towards Claude as the other grabs his arms as Jophiel swayed and staggered dangerously, “Gold- danger- Lullaby- vision!”

“Okay, we’ll talk to Lullaby- after you get looked over. And we can talk about the vision with Karlsor, okay?” Claude says soothingly.

“Shockwave of pskery spreading from the mycelium.” Jophiel murmurs feverishly, “The Golden one awakens. To hunt- to stalk. To kill. Again. He comes. To strangle the melody, to make their song silent once more.”

“Well… that’s not good,” Claude says as he tugs Jophiel into the shadows of a tree and uses the shadow-teleportation to get them to the nearest shadow next to Karlsor, Anrir and Hura and almost falls on his face with a still babbling, bleeding, and wild eyed Jophiel.

“Help, he’s Vision-boggled.” Claude informs Karlsor. “And not making much sense.”

“The Gold- it hungers- and craves Their Death, of creeping mycelium.” Jophiel babbles, “The Golden One comes. Worse outcomes are more assured if Silver tarnishes and rusts into dust. Strangled and smothered the melody. Golden Death approaches. Lost.”

[husband-steve-cortez]

Muscles