#xerxian lore

[highabovethecloudssomewhere]

something something wing AU

[fullmetal-scar-simping]

The desert people in mangahood drive me mad because I actually like that Ishvalans have unique characteristics rarely seen in fantasy (usually white-haired people with unusual eye colours are light-skinned like in Game of Thrones) but also realistically....you would think that there would be a portion of Ishvalans with Xerxesian features because they're the closest neighbours to this lost civilisation, not Amestris, and unless all the people of Xerxes were locked in their city, they would have likely married into the local Ishvalan population as well

Like in my head Ishvalans actually live across the entire desert area (not unlike early decentralised Arab societies) with Ishvalans like Scar being sedentary inhabitants of lands closer to Amestris and those in the heart of the desert being nomads - and you would THINK that because of their closer proximity to Xerxes, there would be gold-eyed Ishvalans but NO because then the Ed wouldn't get to ev a special little descendant of a lost people

Also on a conspiratorial note, I have always wondered whether the reason Ishvalans have a negative attitude towards alchemy is because of Xerxes.

Given the lore in 03 and mangahood! Scar's brother saying that alkahestry's principles has similarities with Ishvalan religious beliefs, I think it's not too outlandish to speculate that Ishvalans practiced alchemy to some extent until they saw their prosperous and powerful neighbour (who were even more into alchemy than themselves) literally die in one night. I'd burn the records too and place a ban on the practice as a safety measure fhsnjd

Now I'm actually incredibly insane because the Ishvalan genocide absolutely did not need to be so bloody. All the other blood seals in the country get away with a riot or a battle, but Ishvalans were systematically exterminated; I saw somebody else in the tag wonder whether Father had personal issues with this desert civilisation that, despite its abandonment of alchemy, might be able to see through his schemes because their knowledge of the craft (lost though it might be) predates Amestrian knowledge - and really he was right because Scar's brother cracked the code years before anybody else!!!!

I just had to share my thoughts with you in light of your recent reblog🙏🏻 And also thank you for always answering your asks so thoughtfully!!!

[The reblog that this ask is in reference to.]

Oh shit, hey cool Miles/Scar anon! Always good to see an ask from ya again! :D

[Reply under the readmore]

Anime has no shortage of darker skinned characters with white hair, but certainly the combination of red eyes is less common. I appreciate that fma as a broad series does also have melanated characters with dark hair as well, so it manages to largely avoid the "singular ambiguous ethnic group, no other dark skin tones with realistic dark hair/eyes anywhere to be seen" trope. But you're not wrong, other types of media, particularly from the West, keeps different hair and eye colours for light skin/white fantasy 'races'.

(To digress a bit, I do prefer 03 having the Ishbalans be diverse in their hair colours, so as not to render them as a visual monolith ala mangahood. Still, white hair + red eyes + brown skin tone makes for a visually striking design choice.)

Absolutely agreed with everything regarding Ishval's connection to the surrounding geography and Xerxes. There should have been some Xerxian traits across some modern Ishvalans. Hell, why weren't there any Ishvalan traits with any of the far-too racially homogeneous (and bizarrely white and blond) Xerxians? The idea of there being agriculturally settled Ishvalans that make up the country we know of, while there are nomadic Ishvalans that call the vast "unamed" desert their home is so good! This helps recontextualize that odd no-man's-land treatment of the landmass between Xing and the eastern borders of Amestris, Drachma, and Aerugo: it's that the Amestrian regime does not recognize that land as peopled, ala a form of Terra Nullus (and thus an Amestrian-styled Manifest Destiny for the regions of the desert that would serve to cement Father's bordered geographical alchemic circle). Unsure if the large nations of Drachma and Aerugo similarly project that same racist, imperial lens on the desert as well, but famously the nation state is not a civilizational model that honours, acknowledges, or respects nomadic lifeways and peoples.

Imagine what other Ishvalan or Ishvalan-connected/derived settlements may exist closer to Xing too! And the traits that cross between travel and immigration to and from these societies. It's interesting to contemplate on!

To get back on track here:

I guess we're meant to see much of this country-less desert as the implied size of Xerxes. That this uninhabited land (because canon has no mention of nomadic peoples) is somehow void of (re-)established human life in the 400 years since its calamity. :/ Meh. I rather headcanon that Xerxes was a sizable empire, sure, but that it wasn't the total size of that massive region. If anything, Xerxes could have extended westward into what would one day be Amestrian/Aerugo/maybe even parts of Eastern Drachman territory. This would further highlight Xerxes as the analog to the ancient Persian empire that it's meant to be (which is such a 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 decision because goddamn, why are they all homogeneously fantasy Northern/Eastern European in appearance?!) It had to have had desert neighbours that weren't swallowed into its empire, as well as a slew of racial and ethnic groups amalgamated into its own domain as a result of its own imperialism, land capture, and slavery system.

(As an aside, imagine if instead of wholly navigating an entire desert on her own, Mei encountered and was given some aid by different Ishvalan nomads!)

From a purely world building standpoint, it would have been so cool to see the cultural drift and offshoots that develop amongst the range of Nomadic Ishvalans! Man, I would love to see the ethnic subgroups within settled Ishval too. It's fertile ground for anyone who wants to expand on these cultures, which could be awesome if handled by people who don't make garbage racist headcanons/fanworks.

Mangahood seems satisfied to leave the Ishvalan rejection of alchemy and alkehestry unexplained. This could be seen as encouraging readers to put the pieces together (that it's because of what befell Xerxes), which I appreciate in stories. For this I'll give Arakawa the benefit of the doubt for now. I don't want to jump to seeing this as intentionally racist without further evidence for this specific gap in the lore. However, it could be given a more faithless read as "They became religious fanatics Just Because [they're brown]." With the manga showing a congregation of Ishvalans blowing themselves up as an ambush against invading Amestrian pigs, from the perspective of those traumatized boots (hooray, the Dangerous Religious Orient caricature), it's hard for me not to glower at this lack of explanation.

To repeat myself, I'll interpret it the way you have: that the Ishvalans of four centuries ago saw the empty wasteland where Xerxes once ruled. No one could miss the evidence of an the alchemic reaction stitched into the fabric of the now flattened land. From there alchemy and alkehestry (or its unique Ishvalan practice along those veins) would come to be reviled. That understandable reaction eventually being codified via cultural changes and entering (perhaps even creating new) religious doctrine.

The 2003 anime making it more obvious for audiences to put together that the reason Ishbalan culture and the Ishbala religion condemn alchemy as a dangerous, heretic practice is due to the many life perverting, war-enhancing uses of this magic-science was an excellent choice. That the Grand Arcanum and human transmutation were grievous sources of tragedy and horrors, making what few people who still practice any alchemy into pariahs and exiles. We also are shown alchemy as an analog to European colonists forcibly importing their goods, economic systems, Christianity, and weapons across the world in order to shift the cultures of Indigenous peoples and gradually morph them into a more culturally and economically pliable outpost (further rooting Europe into the land and the people and one day cementing different kingdom's land claims). Alchemy was being touted as this advanced science, a sister to the early industrialism of Amestris. Modern Ishbal is not only alchemy abstaining, but it is also a non-industrial society as well (the fantasy science of alchemy sitting right next to its real world analog for the industrial-colonial system). Amestrian colonizers thought of Ishbalans as reactionary, uncivilized savages (ala the European-supremacist view of the rest of humanity), so when the Ishbalans got fed up of being harangued into displays of the "wonder of alchemy," into adopting the Amestrian way, they firmly reject their would-be colonizers. Amestris responds by armed skirmishes and occupation. All of this only further cements that alchemy is a source of misery and destruction.

Fma 03 does all of this explicit world building because the writers wanted to make it clear that everything we're made to believe about "foreign religious fanatic countries/anti-modern societies", particularly regarding the American invasions into West Asia, is racist propaganda that launders the views of imperial nations and backs their conscription for war. The team didn't want to leave this up to the default, racist assumption that viewers would carry thanks to American dominance.

Sadly, mangahood isn't interested in having this same tact. Why, when mangahood's perspective is instead that Ishval is just as guilty for Amestrian atrocities?

Anyway.

"All the other blood seals in the country get away with a riot or a battle, but Ishvalans were systematically exterminated"

Yes! This! When some people flounder about, claiming that the genocide wasn't racist (HELLO????), I have to wonder if they watched/read the same show/comic. Liorans within the rest of Amestris were not stripped from their place in Amestrian society. They weren't imprisoned and judicially murdered. They weren't thoroughly ethnically cleansed (they get to live on their own land) and genocided. Drachma is a warring imperial nation that Amestris has no hope of full scale invading and exterminating, but we see no evidence that Drachmans in Amestris are slaughtered or imprisoned (I would assume they are generally treated poorly and largely live on the lower rungs of society though). But the Ishvalans are to be fully eradicated. Whatever exceptions exist are being covertly protected by some people with power (Miles under Olivier's protection) or refugees hiding in Amestris' periphery.

It was absolutely racially motivated. It could have just been one locally-contained massacre (which of course would still be an atrocity) and that's it. But no, all of Ishval was occupied, toppled, its people ruthlessly mass slaughtered and transmuted, those within Amestris-proper were mass incarcerated and executed. It's unambiguously fascism and ethnonationalist supremacy.

Interesting theory re: Father going after the Ishvalans due to their historical knowledge of their version of alchemy/alkehestry. I can see that playing some part in his own plotting. Still, the nationalism and racism of Amestrians would not stem solely from one homunculus disseminating propaganda overnight. (Not claiming you're saying this btw!) Those soldiers, cops, members of the judicial and carceral systems, and the civilians themselves who are terrified at the sight of Ishvalans carry a bigotry that has to be rooted more deeply in this society than the last decade or so. Think of white supremacy, which had been formed over 500+ years of global European colonialism.

Father could otherwise then exploit this societal prejudice against the Ishvalans to his benefit. As it seems no other occupied people around Amestris' borders/lands have a history of, or knowledge of, alchemy that is tied to the energy running beneath the planet's mantel, it would behoove him to push Ishval to ruin and encourage further fascist constriction against the remaining Ishvalans.

(Scar Bro big brained moments. Man decodes Amestrian alchemic power and the blood seals in a matter of years of study, leading to the dismantling of the nation's centuries-long alchemic control. Fuck Amestris lol)

-

So sorry for the wait! I'm glad these responses have been enjoyable enough to read. Thanks for sharing your thoughts btw! <3 Your perspective on Ishvalan culture really enhances my appreciation of them under the mangahood continuity, which is desperately needed given canon's indifference towards them.

[aubodied]

just wanna say your (post pd? i think?) ed design is SO full of gender holy shit. he's literally luminescent

HIIIII THANK YOU SO MUCH !!! that IS indeed my post pd design for him !! i've moved into using those colors all the time now to accentuate the xerxian features but with post pd ed it's specifically to accentuate the fact he is quite literally the new "golden being" of xing !!

i still technically haven't finished these refs (they have clothes now, this is an old screenshot) but ed's the new sage of xing in my primary lore stuff !! as such he's just incredibly pretty all of the time, Ever

[empress-of-xerxes]

The Achaemenid Galaxy - Xerxes 2.0

Hello everyone! If you've been following me since the younger days of 40K RP then you would know about the small slice of the galaxy I had built known as the Xerxian Empire, an Independent faction of mankind that lived outside of Imperial rule and away, but never truly immune, from temptations of Chaos. It was here that I had originally centered much of my characters around 40K events, with grand story arcs that had told the story of Seras Kyne the Padishah of the Xerxian Empire and how her origins during the 31st millennia caused echoes to ripple for millennia to come.

Xerxes has always been a passion project and one I built around my love for Warhammer lore and all the characters within it. I met many of my friends from the 40K community and learned so much from all of them. The 40K setting is expansive and yet at the same time claustrophobic when it comes to working around rules and current lore. There was plenty within my world space that did not fit within those boundaries and didn't really make sense for the setting and yet I rolled with it without much trouble.

I was beginning to feel stuck and for a while I went on hiatus and shelved my characters as well as paused trying to develop my story for Xerxes. It hurt as I had been developing the world and it's characters for well over 8 years but I felt that if I continued then it would only lead to complete burnout.

I began to ruminate on the possibility of creating my own universe. My own "space opera" so to speak and with a lot help I began building just that.

The Achaemenid Galaxy.

The Achaemenid Galaxy is comprised of four immense galactic bodies that have collided to form a cluster with the four arms jetting from the center at different angles. This is a story of not just a single empire but dozens of scattered remnants of mankind's many empires and the Three Kinglings that had lead them but who have now disappeared or have been forgotten.

My primary focus is with that of the Eastern arm where two great empires are on the verge of warring with one another:

The Ionian Federation can trace it's history to that of the Old Empire that controlled the Eastern arm and it's foundations are built upon those ancient bones. They are survivalist who grew stronger after the collapse of the Old Empire and as such are a conglomeration of cultures, planets, and ideals. Their story is one of strife and determination, holding strong to their boundaries and never really knowing true opposition as all they had gathered together was through great force and little to no retaliation. Now Ionia has found that another empire creeps at it's border and the beginnings of those first skirmishes can only escalate further.

The Obsidian Reign is young and ambitious, already forging ahead in a grand spur of reunification with the goal of bringing together humanity under the rule of Amadeus Kyne. The Obsidian Reign is where Xerxes resides as the capitol world for a spread of multiple systems. Xerxian's are at the height of the technical capabilities for this arm of the Achaemenid and their prowess in battle has yet been unmatched. However, it was the events of the Yelian Siege that brought this all to a grinding halt and cost Amadeus all three of his sons as what should have been a simple conquest became two years of unpleasant war eventually leading to the Yelian Warlord's defeat on their core world Yel.

Now, ten years after the victory at Yel, Amadeus once again returns to the forefront of his war fleet leaving Xerxes and it's people in the hands of his daughter and only remaining child, Seras Kyne. Named Shahzada and given authority over her people, Seras seeks nothing more than to keep the Obsidian Reign united even as whispers of calamities and the effects of Amadeus' past actions bring new troubles to home.

This eastern arm of the Achaemenid Galaxy is filled with strife, intrigue and a little bit of wanderlust. But ultimately all roads lead to the same questions:

Who are the Kinglings and where have they gone?

[ophidian-mystic]

“Divinity is often misconstrued as selfishness when the opposite is the truth. Divinity is the key to benefiting the masses, sacrificing your mortality so that others won’t have to.” - The Sixth Hadith of the Ihsan.

Themia Al-Lat, Sheikh of the Ophidian Order

Mysticism/Obscurity/Divinity

Abhuman Xerxian OC

Multi-verse/OC Friendly

Banner art by Ghost HB

[theelrics]

Perhaps we could simply…. Make our own lore….

Power to the people or something idk ill go first: I like to think there was a legend not totally unlike Icarus (you KNOW we love that binch), but instead of it being framed as the consequences of hubris, it is a legend of a boy using his few resources to pull himself from the earth and, for a few precious moments, seeing what lies beyond the sky. When he fell to the ground he spread the word of his adventure, and so children of Xerxes are raised with stories of hope: if they use what little they might have, they can fly among the stars regardless of the echelon they were born into (thinking about how slaves can become scholars, so social mobility was achievable).

I know there are plenty of amazing fanworks that explore Xerxes lore and they all make me go absolutely feral but I am having Thoughts on this Tuesday and I wanted to share them with you please forgive me <3

(Also what if they also had the ‘wow cats are great’ thing that the ancient Egyptians had?)

Oh my gosh YES I love that!!! Icarus, my projectable beloved.....

ok what really gets me about the Xerxians is that, not only do we get little to no information about them, but neither do Ed and Al! I would love for them to learn about the lost traditions and culture Xerxes held: what dishes were made, what holidays celebrated, what gods worshipped (even if they probably wouldn't believe in them lol). What remnants of Xerxian culture are still around, influencing Amestris today?

Maybe this is why I also adore the Ishvalan Ed and Al AUs! The idea of them reconnecting with something that is irrevocably a part of them really just picks at my brain.

Another thing I think about is, while Xerxes is extinct, surely not all Xerxians were in Xerxes when the circle was activated?? Do you think that Ed or Al have ever locked eyes with someone on the street and been shocked to see their same golden color staring back at them?

And what about the language? One of my favorite headcanons is that Ed and Al learned how to read Xerxian when they were young because their main source of reading material was from Hoho's library— and how were they supposed to know that wasn't Amestrian??? Self-conscious explores this concept in really fun way!

while I'm reccing fics lmao I've also been meaning to read My Master Ed which I think Rain suggested a little bit ago. The fic i untie my hair (it unleashes the day) is also a really cute one-shot of Hohenheim teaching Ed how to take care of his hair!

also the xerxians totally loved cats and you can't convince me otherwise

[warp-hath-no-fury]

Creed of the Songbirds

We are Songbirds, We are Sentries, We are Guardians. 

Whether a twinkle in the void or a dust storm in the distance, you’ll know we’re coming

The Ram gives us the Strength. 

We have a message to all who stand in our way.

Pick a God 

Pray

[m0osical]

today on moo rants abt fma: i would actually sell my kidneys if it meant we got more on ed and al learning more about xerxes past the tradegy we learn in canon. or just more on the whole fact now those two are the only ones with xerxian blood in them like I WANNA SEE THEM LEARNING ABT XERXES like what traditions did they have!! etc etc i wanna learn more abt xerxes, and tbh i wanna dig more into like. the corrupt system they had and how that all came to be I NEED MORE LORE

[auricbound]

while going through the colored version of the manga i’ve taken a notice to something very .... specific. namely, that ed’s eyes SEEM TO GLOW in darkened or dramatic panels. this is nearly completely consistent, too !! it’s probably for the dramatic effect of it all but i think differently and love headcannoning shit.

so i am proposing this based on the fact this is a new OFFICIAL piece of media for fma: all xerxians were not just characterized by gold hair and gold eyes, but rather, GLOWING GOLDEN EYES. eyes that shone even in the darkest depths to really emphasize they were a people BORN in the LIGHT.

this is the one thing i’ll allow ANYONE to rb because of the fact its a general hc for edward, but it’ll definitely apply to my boys as i have this applying to all xerxians of my connective lore (goldie, verna, cobalt). 

and some evidence of this under the cut!!

(edward voice) ’m a glowstick, motherfucker

[princess-of-the-corner]

Human After All: I was going through the tag again and would like to know more about A) Lust realizing she cares about the idiots because she kills a creep, B) Lust nearly blowing her cover to rant about cultural appropriation, and C) Lust actually blowing her cover when Ed sneaks into that lab.

Woo! Okay okay okay:

Lust realizing she cares about these idiots:

Slight trigger warning for a grown ass adult flirting with a teenager.Don't worry nothing happens. There is a murder though so also warning for that.

I actually mentioned this scene in TPWC, about a General getting a little to friendly with Ed and touching his hair, leading to Ed punching the fucker in the face.

In this version, Lust finds out about it and she's honestly pissed. So she breaks into the General's hotel room

We have some bassass moments where the General underestimates Lust, thinking she's a normal person, and tells her that even if she kills him, he's an important person! Surely Fuhrer Bradley wouldn't let his General's murder go unsolved! Lust just laughs in his face and tells him that she'll tell Fuhrer Bradley herself what she did. After all, he's not going to arrest his big sister!

While the dude is still processing that, Lust stabs him. She then steps over him to make a call on his phone and leads to one of my favorite interactions between Lust and Wrath.

Lust: "Hey, remember that General you sent to East City? He was killed in his hotel room."

Wrath: "I haven't heard about it when did he die?"

Lust: "From the rate of blood loss I'd say about eleven seconds into this phone call?"

*sound of Wrath trying to not throw the phone through the wall*.

Afterwards, Lust wonders why she did this whole thing.

Everything she's done relating to Ed or Al or any of Mustang's Team, she's justified as either "keeping her cover as Solaris", or that it would be better for the sake of the whole Promised Day plan (keeping an eye on their Sacrifices so they don't get killed. Making sure they don't discover too much too soon and fuck things up. Figuring out what Hohenheim has been up to the past 400 years, etc).

But this? Ed wasn't in physical danger. Nothing much had happened, and that General would've been put on a tight leash once reports of what happened got back to Central(if the guy wasn't forced into retirement). And a continued threat would justify staging an accident. A murder, which would be given an investigation, isn't helpful.

And it had nothing to do with being Solaris. No one who she needs to be Solaris around will know what she did. And 'Solaris' already showed her outrage at the situation. There was no reason to do it.

Unable to justify it, she has to ask why she did it. And eventually, comes to the conclusion that she does care about Ed and the others. That's why she did it. She cares and wants to protect them and hurt anyone who is any kind of threat. Which... Considering she, herself, is a threat to them....

She's not sure what to do with this information. She should get out now. Before she does something drastic (like Greed did).

But... She is the embodiment of Lust. It's in her very nature to be selfish. So she's going to stay. Enjoy this happiness while she can.

Lust nearly blowing her cover over cultural appropriation:

Oh so someone came up with the initial headcanon and I liked it so I stole the bike and ran. If I can dig up the post I'll link it but like.

Remember the first arc with people in Liore worshiping the Sun God, Leto? The headcanon is that the priest behind the cult was snagging half-truth lore from dead cultures. Specifically, Xerxian culture.

Letoism was a very bastardized version of Xerxes' beliefs. Even worshiping a single god(who was originally genderqueer mind you).

So the Sins Crew have a decent amount of inherent knowledge about Xerxes thanks to Father kinda pre-programming that into them.

She's there during the Liore arc and talking to Rosé. And she just. She's trying to help Ed and Al convinve the girl that it's a cult worshiping a false god and Lust just goes off on a tangent of like "yes Xerxes has a Sun Godess named Leto and yes They were King of the Gods but there were several other Gods and even if you were going to make it monotheistic then at least choose the True Goddess instead of just the King and-"

Yeah she rants a bit too much. Lust manages to get control of the situation because she already set up her cover as a historian who works for museums and analyzes old texts. So obviously she would know what old texts say about a dead culture's religion!

It's.... Believable.

Lust actually blowing her cover:

This is just a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Lust was with Envy doing their typical "report back to Father on what's going on", and they exit through the abandoned lab while Ed is having the fight with the Slicer Brothers (and Al is outside dealing with Barry).

Being seen there, with Envy, talking like they know each other, and Envy having the same Ouroboros tattoo... It's easy to tell she has come connection.

She can't really explain it without coming clean. So it's just about cutting their losses. Lust drags Ed out of the building as it goes down, and just disappears into the night. Going back to the undergroung lair.

And it hurts. But she doesn't let that show.

[empress-of-xerxes]

Seras' character sheet! Took me a LOT longer that I expected to get down but it was a lot of fun and helped me think a little more about her. Also, it's almost impossible to find a sword/spear that I really like that'll fit her style. Also also, I need to commission some more art for her ASAP.

Anyway, enjoy! Template by @cparrisart (Twitter Link)

OC art by @flagcaptainart

[empress-of-xerxes]

Homecoming (Pt. 1)

The Immure pressed from the warp like a fist, shattering reality like glass with tendrils of cascading warp fire echoing out from the center of its re-entry. It was brutalistic, blocky and massive as any modified iconoclast destroyer could be counted to be with endless portals along its hull for modified gun platforms. It shuddered as if breathing in from a long time spent beneath the currents and thrusted forward, not waiting for the rest of the fleet fluttering in behind it. The Immure tasted prey and it's Commander would grant it a feast.

---

Braggart Hal, Arteshtaran of the Perfekt Entropy and Champion of Adrian the Beautiful, stood upon the command dias of the Immure bloated with withheld rage and venting steam from the rents in his armor that bled etheric light. His armor barely contained his soul now and he breathed out a sigh that made reality tremble as his fury became a palpable, mist of red fog billowing around his armored frame. The power field of his fists cackled and spasmed as he flexed its fingers and allowed his rage to burn bright within the weapons machine spirit. Braggart had always been a brute, even in youth. Amongst his Legion he was an outcast for foregoing the beauty and art of combat for more blunt and devastating methods. His enemies were broken not by fanciful sword play but with brutality. Break. Shatter. Ruin. The words echoed in his mind constantly like some echoed mimicry of the World Eaters mantra. He did not wish for blood. Nor skulls. Just ruination in it’s entirety.

"We... are here..." Braggart whispered but the sound came out in threat filled syllables. His chest rumbled in a throaty laugh and he breathed in deep with anticipation. "I will break... the King of Ashes."

He grinned beneath a helm he could never remove as the first alert chimes of weapons and auger lock began to sound out. "Xurok... is mine..."

--- 

"Confirm again." Xurok ordered but already he knew just what had burst forth from that torturous reality into Xerxian space. He had been waiting for it. For several months he and the Vanguard fleet patrolled the edges of the system and maintained key cordons around the Mandeville points in and out of Xerxes. It had been tedious work and all the while he had begun to put together the message left for him by his... lost son. That message had lead him here and it was here that he readied the first line. Twelve ships of the Xerxian Royal Navy waited for the first of the Perfekt Entropy to arrive in system and all twelve reported the same numerical and idents marking the newly arrived iconoclast as none other than the Immure.

"Confirmed Hazarbad! Every ship confirms. That is the Immure." Reported a deckhand attached to ship to ship communications.

Xurok growled, grip tightening around the haft of his axe as he witnessed the long distance renderings of the long lost Xerxian ship. "It's blighted." The Immure was long past it's original design and was bloated with weapon arrays and arcane technology. A true destroyer that even it's smaller size couldn't mask. Pylons stretched from it's prow and along it's spine and ejected jaggedly from it's back. Arcs of ethereal light danced between the harness points and the destroyer seemed to feast on the residual warp ichor that clung to it's hull from re-entry. Xurok could swear the ship was laughing as he saw that hull lurch and spasm.

"Weapons lock and engage. Now! Full spread." He announced and began the tedious work of commanding a void battle. All around the command deck the Ram personnel began their calculations as more splinters of blighted ships began to cough out of the warp tear made by the Immure. There were twenty now. All old Xerxian patterns and designations.

"Fire at will! Target the lighters first but hammer the Immure with everything else!" Xurok ordered and the Immure answered with a flare of engine discharge as it roared forward.

---

The Epigram burned silently in the void with its hull ruined and torn asunder. It was a victim to the onslaught unleashed by the warp-bloated weaponry employed by the Immure and its death marked the first of many as the iconoclast surged towards Xurok's Mayra. Lance beams, solid sabot rounds, mass accelerated tungsten, and a whole litany of other weapons were filling the void with constant flashes of void shield flares and the occasional trickle or sickly pop as a ship's voids shivered out of existence and the metal of its hull taste the sting of munitions. 

Braggart flexed the fingers of his gauntlet, making a fist and squeezing hard to the groaning of servos. His attention was fading. Vision swimming red with hate. Before him was the weakness of his species laid bare. Complacency and fear, tethered to remain bound to a single system when they could have taken the stars. 

"Adrian's Perfekt... we cull the weak... prepare to board..." He growled across the ship wide vox and echoing out the same transmission to the rest of the fleet. The Perfekt Entropy aboard were already awaiting this moment, weapons primed and combat stimulants awaiting the first sign of neural activation. 

 Three of their ships had fallen to the initial wave of attack from the Xerxian Vanguard but plenty remained and order was remade. They spiraled and danced among the first line of defense, bleeding and setting a path for the Immure to meet with the Mayra. A duel of the strongest of Xerxes' sons. 

"Burn engines at... max... Cleave our path forward..." Braggart hissed as he began to retreat from the command deck. He would reach his prey. He would break Xurok. He would open the way for his brother. He had sworn this to him and if Adrian had simply asked... Braggart would have razed the galaxy in his name.

---

"You will not have to worry about finding him." Said an unusually calm and monotone voice from behind Xurok. The Immortalis commander turned about and his eyes narrowed at the turncoat named Helotes. The former apothecary wore no smug smile, no sneer of arrogance. It was strange to even consider this man once one of sons of Fulgrim when all the mirth and pride was absent and in its place neutrality and bitterness thrived. Helotes wasnt a schemer but there was no denying the man was capable of webbing ideas as fluidly as the rest of the degenerated Emperor's Children. What his true motive was... for the time being... is unclear. 

Helotes' brow raised and he returned Xurok look with the tired, aged gaze of his own. The ashen grey smudges still splotted over his eyelids and the wrinkles and deep frown always set upon his face really spoke to the man's age. But there was still a deeply hidden youthfulness there, glinting in eyes undeserving of the color grey. Stolen, Xurok once pondered, but had since given up wondering on. 

"What is he now?" Xurok ventured. 

 "Divinity." Helotes grumbled sardonically, "Or as close to reaching it as any one can be. I helped him on the path at Adri- I mean the Beautiful's request. We were to guide him and contain his being until the very end. A conduit for the range in his soul. A prison." Helotes rubbed his chin and the Mayra rumbled as its guns unleashed another salvo. 

"It was cruelty to indulge him, but there was no better drug to sate the beast. Sarn devised the numerology. I carved the frame. He whispered as He always did. Soothed the beast as he soothed us all." 

The edge of Xurok's lip twitched and he looked away from the apothecary. He remembered Braggart as a brute but Helotes made him sound like so much more now. A slaughterer. A pawn. A tool. 

"Can we kill him?" Xurok asked with a bite to the intonation.

Helotes thought on this as if it was the first time he'd ever been asked. He rubbed the back of his shaven scalp and shrugged to the groan of armor servos. "Theoretical: Sunder and delay, break apart piece by piece. That would be the best course of action. But Practical..." He snorted, "Nothing short of tossing him into the sun would do the trick." 

Theoretical? Practical? The words had been intoned and Xurok took note of their meaning. He could not remember their use prior to now but they were a familiar rhythm. Pre-Heresy... but did they remain Post? A question for another time.

"Xerxian plasma burns three times as hot as any sun." Xurok growled and Helotes almost smiled then.

"So there is a plan then?" Helotes crossed his arms and the honor guard of the Immortalis Primus shifted with agitation. Xurok nodded but remained silent for a while. He needed to see what Braggart was before he could break him. He needed to know if the path into the mountain crest he had taken and the pain he had endured there would prove enough now. There was only so much the scales of the Shahmaran could do against the degeneracy of the warp but Xurok knew in the fire of his soul that it would have to be enough. Against dev and fae, against even the Thrones themselves, his weapons and his being had proven themselves capable. It was all about balancing the cost of power permitted. 

"He is coming for me, yes?" Xurok asked and Helotes need not confirm. "Then let him. We grant him a path straight to me, slow him only slightly, enough to make sure the rest of his fleet burns in the cinders of his hubris. Once he is on board we must goad him at every turn. Promise him failure." 

Helotes clicked his tongue, "Making him angry isnt what I would suggest..." 

 "But it's what we must do. We have to let him burn himself out. Let him unleash the worst of his rage so that we get that moment to strike. If he is as you say, Divinity climbing, then that is when he is most vulnerable. At the apex of his ascension." 

Helotes chuckled dryly, "You want him to ascend? That can not end the way you see it..." 

"I want him to become the pawn, not for Adrian, but for the things that echo in the Windsong. That is when he loses Adrian's favor and with it his protection." 

Helotes did not understand, not fully and Xurok could not blame him for such. This insight was only possible through the knowledge that mother Xerxes could provide. Through the whispers of the Scales and the burden of blood. 

[empress-of-xerxes]

Homecoming (Pt. 2)

Braggart growled through a vox grille ruined with time and his every expanding form. A patina of discoloration trimmed every nook and curve of the giants warplate, if the armor could even be called such now. Jagged rents marked where bone and hellish crags tore through the war plate and seeped with the infernal energies barely withheld within. Braggart stilted breath caused the chest piece to rise and fall as if it were his very skin now. 

"Divinity... and I mean this sincerely... what the fuck are you doing here..." He cursed with a litany of pain laced in the intonation. His words were directed and they slammed against the small woman that stood in his path daring to bar him from reaching his boarding torpedo. The woman sneered and a giddy lilt left her lips as she placed her hands on her hips. 

 +You are not to leave the ship. So ordered by the King of Snakes.+ Lyttle, the Throne of Courage, giggled at the absurdity of both the title and the request from Adrian. Even she knew that containing the Fiend of Zahr-Tann was impossible despite countless souls attempting such. 

"He... is not here... He will not witness..." Braggart shuddered and Lyttle felt the murderous intent press against her like tidal fronts against the shoreline.

+A true assessment. What he doesnt see cant hurt him, right? I applaud you on your logic.+ She bows patronizingly and then quickly presses herself back with invisible force just in time to narrowly dodge the precise blow that would have caved her skull in. Braggart surged forward, adjusting with a brute's instinctive ease and narrowly missing Lyttle by another few inches. The Throne of Courage dashed and dove, deftly outmaneuvering Braggart's monstrous blows as the Beast pressed forward wordlessly. 

+What... did I... say?+ Lyttle teased as she moved, finding little time to pause as the beast pressed the assault. Braggart was focused chaos, destruction honed and refined to a murderous, if blunt, fist. Even through the bloodlust, Lyttle could see the small calculations the brute was making to place the Throne where he needed in order to deliver the killing blow. A delicate dance Braggart had honed killing both the swordsman of his former Legion and the lithe weapon-dancers of the Aeldari.

The beast barrelled forward, shoulder first as Lyttle cartwheeled away like some court jester. He collided with a bulkhead, sending corruscating jags of energy spindling out from the impact sight. The metal yawned and groaned almost pained sounding and as Braggart pulled himself free the bulkhead wobbled as if it was a loose sheet of paper in the wind and barely held itself firm in the material plane. 

Lyttle was flustered now from the chase, a slight trickle of drool trailing down her chin as she licked her lips. Braggart stood motionless before her, helm lenses glaring at her with seething hatred. Lyttle chortled merrily, extending her left arm and making a pulling motion. The action sent a shrill note through the recycled air as the Throne pulled her mace free from it’s warp prison. The tetsubo like bat was oily black with 4 leering oni-faced grins serving as its head. She gave it a twirl and pointed it at the beast with a sly grin. 

+Okay! I see now I cant change your mind. That's fair. So what do you say, dog? Why don't we both go over to that ship now?+ 

"He isn't... here to soothe me over... with honeyed words..." Braggart hissed. "He isn't here... to keep me from... shattering your soul..." 

Lyttle sighed dramatically, +Don't press your luck. I've been entertained so far, but if you continue down this path...+ Her eyes widened then as she felt the pressure of movement from behind her. There was something there, moving in with jaws ready for the bite. But if she turned from Braggart she would definitely be ruined. Hesitation, in the end, cost her and the beast struck from both sides.

Lyttle braced with a maddened grin as her mace met with Braggart's power fist and the force normally reserved for the movement of earthen plates reverberated out from the collision sending a wave of pain blooming out from the epicenter. The Throne had barely had time to react and deeming Braggart the greater threat she endured the coming pain from behind. 

She felt a stinging wetness pierce through the first layer of defense that was the reactive force shield of her mind. Then the jarring pain as a dagger slid into the small of her back. It bit deep, pressed into place expertly to connect with the bone of her spine. It was supposed to be a crippling blow and if Lyttle had been anything less she would have been sundered. But she was a Throne of Xerxes and even this far from the planet's influence she had much power to spare.  

+F-filth! How dare you...+She growled but was quickly silenced by the violent twisting of the knife against her spine. She felt every inch of it pressured against the bone and scrape with agonizing bliss. Her eyes wavered for a momentary ecstasy and she could only rely on instinct to guide her mace to counter the obvious follow up blow from Braggart. The weapons met once again and Lyttle fell to one knee and twisted around to see her other attacker. Refractive plating blurred her vision with only the faintest outline of the warrior beneath the modified armor. But she knew the raven's soul as intimately as Adrian’s and she felt the eternal agony of a schizophrenic mind and enraptured body. Nia's entire existence was a painful monument of the Third Legion's experiments into stimuli and even the softest brush of a lovers hand could not sooth the Raven from the excruciating agony of a rewired body. 

"Pitter-Patter."

Nia muttered a litany of annoyed rhyme as his precise attack had proven to be nothing more than a jarring discomfort for the Throne of Courage. He released his knife as the daeva broke away from the brutal blows of Braggart to swing her mace around in a deftly spun arc. The mace narrowly missed the raven and Nia grimaced as he rolled, the desensitizing pads of his armor pressed against his flesh numbly. Lyttle was gaining composure quickly, reaching behind her and quickly removing Nia's knife to send it skidding across the deck. 

Braggart did not relent pressing forward to bullrush Lyttle and beginning to trade blows anew. A wicked backswing was met with the skilled counter of the daeva weapon, bashing aside Braggart's assault only to place the beast in a more opportune position. Braggart hissed steam from the many vents of his armor and his power fist rippled with contained energy as it met the flat ended head of Lyttle's mace. Both of them snarled in unison. 

Nia watched on, his element of surprise gone and what should have been the fatal blow nothing more than a distraction. He took a few steps back as the daeva and Adrian's favored clashed in percussive bouts of maddened rage. He was studying the display, both amazed and slightly disgusted by the closeness in skill between the two. One was flesh and blood close to ascendance, and the other was immaterial wearing a stolen form in mimicry to mankind.

Lyttle bared her teeth in feral appreciation for the animosity directed at her. She often took great joy in being hated and it was in these moments that the attention threatened to overwhelm her as she felt herself begin to drool. She wiped her lips in a brief moment of respite before having to raise her mace to bat away Braggarts devastating blows. Her robes rippled around her as she danced with the beast, the dark grey feathers of her folded wings beginning to shudder with annoyance. 

 "Should have... snuffed that mongrel soul of yours... ages ago..." Braggart hissed through his vox, feigning a series of blows but not feeling the pattern of this bout reaching a climax anytime soon. Many times he had pressed her into opportune strike paths only to be met with her inhuman deftness. The daeva could twist and contort at will and with a swiftness that should have shattered bone and torn muscle. Yet Braggart could feel his ire worming it's way into the daeva. Anger was contagious when directed so finely. 

Nia blinked behind his helm. His tuned senses could make out the infernal heartbeats in Braggarts chest, could hear the subtle creak as the armor yearned to give and unleash the barely contained beast within. Nia often wondered what the outcome of such an action would have. Could the Infernus Cage of Sarn be opened? What was the man within even like? He chittered joyfully at this line of thought but remained an impassive watcher of the duel of death.

Lyttle was a lithe dancer that disobeyed the laws of real space to weave her own melodic strut. Braggart's calculated grandeur was all but muffled by the decadence and sublimity of the Throne's movements, always shying just inches away from calamity but teasing the giant on as if daring it to land that fatal blow. Her dress fluttered out as loose feathers trailed in her wake from wings that itched to take flight but were grounded by the confines of a ships walls. She wore a harpys grin and sneered at every jest. Braggart would never hit her. 

+Divinity... am I...+ She taunted as she leaned away from a concussive fist, tapping out with her feet to kick away from her tormentor. +To even fathom touching this body of mine... you must break away those suffocating shackles.+ She chittered and spun, drifting through the air as if gravity was non-existent. Braggart followed on, snarling and barking pained intonements of savagery.

[empress-of-xerxes]

The Pentacle of the Snake and the Aspect of Ophidian both representing an order and sub-order of the Xerxian hierarchy respectively.

Big thanks to a good friend for these! Would tag her but she's no longer on Tumblr xD

[ophidian-mystic]

Visionary, Act 1.

“A productive day is one that finds everything reach a finality. Everything reaches closure. It begins with a catalyst. A catalyst incites action. Action causes reaction. Reaction becomes result and the result becomes the finality.” - Fifth Adviser Gregor Lytal at founding of the Obsidian Reign.

Life for Themia Al-Lāt was a simple one. She was not rich, no never that. Wealth came and flowed through her fingers with relative ease but never did she once hoard it and accumulate enough to raise herself out of the simple one bedroom apartment that she now called home. No, she had been given many opportunities to relocate and the most recent would have found her taking residence within the Obsidian Palace itself, sequestered away somewhere deep within that labyrinthine fortress of black stone and silky marbled columns. Forever embraced by the strangeness of the Xerxian seat of power and forever within whispering distance of the Padishah. 

She could never live with that sort of power. It was intoxicating after all.

No, she much preferred the simplicity of her small little slice of hab. She cooked modest meals, storing away excess for later consumption. She stretched and performed her required workout regime upon an old rug with decorative basalt columns threaded on the designs face and used what minimal weights she could to maintain at least some semblance of strength. 

As far as appearances went she was relatively unassuming. Tall, thin and slender body with modest muscle and carrying with her an air of anonymity born from an existence kept away from social engagement. Her shoulders were broad, back straight and unharmed from years at a desk, and her stance was always one of intrigue or curiosity. Wavy jet black hair flowed down behind her ears, wrapped in a neat red ponytail and threaded with several Cohort approved jewelry strands. All of this cloaked in a uniform of tan regalia, crimson stripped and pointed at her shoulders. On top of this rested an auburn half-robe or occasionally a grey poncho, tattered with damage and wear. Then of course was her hood, a standard veil complete with a headdress with comfortably thin backing to let her head breath. 

She passed easily enough as a standard run of the mill Cohort member and Themia loved to keep it that way. It was a great sock factor when she delivered her title before an unassuming rank and file or among nobility. Rumors and hearsay painted a very pretty picture of the Ophidian Order’s dealings and that could be more than enough to negate a mark’s intent to assault.

Themia Al-Lāt was of the Ophidia. No, it is more correct to say the Ophidia were born from Themia Al-Lāt. Her dedication to her craft and to the neo-beliefs of Xerxian mysticism birthed an entire sub-order within the Pentacle of the Snake. Sub-orders themselves aren’t rare occurrences but to credit the creation of one to a single person is without a doubt unique. As such, Themia’s pitch for it’s creation was deemed something worthy enough for the Padishah herself to voice her approval and set about the creation of such an esoteric order among her beloved Pentacles. 

But what is life if not a gaggle of mystery?

“A puppet on strings. Strings to be cut and severed. We are not the puppet nor the master. We are the thinness between. We are the severed of ties.” Themia grins now as she whispers her final focusing chant. Her eyes blink and the slits of their hetero-chromatic abnormality flashes between light green and gold to gold and light green. The order was named after it’s master and Themia carried with her the feral, prideful understanding of the Serpeant in both mind and in appearance. She was an abhuman, a daeva, and with all the best cloaks and covers all that set her apart from the standard human masses were her strange eyes and the fangs glistening behind her lips.

She set off as she normally did, moving through her hab-complex with relative normality. She waved and signed hello to the usual occupants, giving her thanks and blessings for the day to a couple who had recently given her a set of plates after finding out Themia only used disposable ones. This had been a particularly thoughtful gift and as such Themia instead displayed them on a shelf rather than deeming to use them. Sentimentality mattered in those tiny moments and already she felt the ripples of ‘friendship’ begin to scurry out. She would have to offer something in return later, perhaps food or an embellished pastry.

She mused on this as she hummed and moved down the last steps and out into the open air of Xerxes proper. A cold, brisk wind bit at her cloaks and she shivered reflexively, pulling the cover closer to her body. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the cold, no there was actually much to love about it. But it did upset somethings when it really began to bite and Themia could taste the beginnings of a storm at the back of her throat. Increase in moisture, the tang of coastal air, and the missing stars all seemed to prove her point. The tiny details.

“Cloud coverage? Forecast has been wrong three days in a row now.” She scoffed and then laughed it off as her more reputable sources had already confirmed this. She moved through steadily populating streets watching as Xerxian’s from all walks of life woke for their morning rituals. Most were on their way to work as she was. Others out to do some early shopping or to catch up with needed chores. Themia took in all the details that her mind would allow, constructing routines and theory-crafting stories about those around her as if she were a narrator introducing characters upon a stage. She drummed up occupations from their stances, easily denoted lifestyle by the outfits they wore, and took greater joy in figuring out age if she could. A Xerxian’s life span was a long one and age did not mean the same thing as it did in Imperial space. Xerxes was set on it’s axis and days were measured in hours per the norm, but night was near perpetual for the hive-city. As such Xerxian Standard was close to twice Terran.

Themia broke away from her stray thoughts and focused back into reality. She could get lost in the act if she let herself and that was dangerous. The Ishan needed her and there was so much yet to do so that the great game could continue.

[empress-of-xerxes]

3) a deck of cards, unfamiliar coins, a train ride

The frost of Mount Atomica flurried outside the windows of the swiftly moving rail-lighter as it wound it’s way through the many faces and tunnels that burrowed endlessly through the mountain. The ride was smooth but for the occasional jostle as the rail-lighter passed over a junction and was fed further energy to keep the massive train like vehicle propelling onward. It was late into Frostfall now and with a little more time, the passage would become completely impossible to traverse by vehicle or on foot, locked away till the Xerxian spring brought the much need days of sunlight and melted away the path free again. For Seras, this was her second time taking this journey deeper through the crescent ring that Mount Atomica curled around the Xerxian Hive and her reluctance to return to her current destination was fueled by old superstition and the memory of the taste of dried blood.

She sat silently watching out as the rail-lighter churned on, her legs crossed and her focus drifting in and out of reverie and reality. She wore one of the reverent robes of the Anusiya, a half-cloak of Simurgh feathers draped over one shoulder dancing with the iridescent scene that gave the terror-bird it’s advantage. Every individual feather swarmed with vibrant colors, never settling except when Seras moved subtly and only staying steady for moments before swirling once more. It had been a gift to her from a friend to honor Seras’ soon to come union. That her friend had parted with such a prized cloak…

Seras smiled and the feathers settled into a bright display of crimson, holding this color as she rubbed at her eyes and rolled her stiff shoulders. This was day two of her journey and already the pain of stagnation was eating at her. Another day was needed and at the thought she groaned, rubbed the bridge of her nose before running a hand through her wavy, silver hair and sighing with agitation. In a swift motion she stood and stretched her aching limbs.

“How much longer?” She muttered into her personal vox, depressing the bead in her ear and beginning to open the door out of her cabin. The hallway was surprisingly empty and a quick check of her chrono confirmed that the night cycle had just begun. Seras waited a few moments for a reply from the other Anusiya and shook her head when none came. Putting her hands on her hips, she looked down one side of the corridor then the other. With finality, she left her cabin and began the trek toward an open air side corridor. 

Her footfalls thudded pleasantly against the soft carpet beneath and the muffled pressure did some good for her need for sensation. Getting up was what she needed and some fresh air would help clear her wandering mind.

A jade with alabaster token, a medal of a phoenix with a snake entwined, and five mirror coins were among several items nestled in the pocket that lined the inside of her cloak. The token had been a necklace of many once worn by a former Captain whose death had started an chain of events within the Ishan that now appeared favorable. That he had to accept his own demise ate at Seras and so the token was a reminder of his sacrifice for the good of her people. As for the phoenix medal, that was another of many gifts to her from a man unlike any other. A warlord of sorts. A demi-god in all but name. It was a promise as much as a secret and someday she would have to cash in this oath to that man with all the pain that would warrant. She hoped that day would never come.

The mirror coins... were another blight all together. A stain on her rule and proof that perfection even by the standards of the Ishan was but a fractured concept to be grasped and reached for but never attained. They were unknowable but filled with seeded memory pressed into their surface by a mind not so unlike her own. They too were a promise. Adrian was coming home.

She brought these items so that she could cast them away at her destination. As if by being rid of them she could move forward with renewed purpose. If she had the courage and strength to do so. She chuckled softly to herself as she made her way to one of the open air corridors and slide the door open to greet the Xerxian air with her presence. She smiled blissfully as it enveloped her, familiarity wisping its way through the bitter bite of the wind. She stepped out and gripped the hand rail as the rail-lighter wound around a turn that gave her a pleasant view of the Xerxian hive below. 

Home was beautiful at this distance. It made her delight in all she had accomplished and made her all the more reluctant to return the the tedium that came with it. Ruling offered little in the way of respite. The weight of her people was bane and boon, an endless quest for fulfillment with every misstep weighed against her. Was this all worth it? She had contemplated time and time again in her millennia of existence. Was the end necessary? Only her love for Xerxes and desire to uplift mankind could have kept her going. Against the loss of friends and loved ones. Against the bitterness of time passing and the sting of stagnation. 

She would triumph.

Seras closed her eyes and let the wind carry her doubts away. She breathed in deeply and let the cold air fill her lungs. She exhaled and took a long look at her Xerxes. This was always were she needed to be and this view gave her hope that this journey was the right choice.

“Padishah?” Came a voice laden with vox distortion. One of her Anusiya stood at the doorway to the open air corridor, clutching their crimson cloak to their cold form as they shivered slightly. “Come inside you’ll catch a cold.” 

She turned to them with a knowing nod and smiled. “The cold is our friend, Annalise. You should try to welcome it more often.”

The Anusiya shook their head but chuckled lightly, “No thank you, Padishah. There is cold and there is the mountain air freezing my limbs rigid. I’ll take the former any day.”

Seras smirked and joined the Anusiya back inside the roofed section of the lighter. She took one final look out as the Hive fleeted away and the darkness of a tunnel enclosed the rail-lighter before she closed the door. Turning to the other, she motioned for them to lead the way back to her cabin. They did not speak again until Seras was in her cabin once more. They traded pleasantries, the guard suggesting Seras join them for a game of cards, and Seras’ kind refusal. There was still many memories to cherish and anguish over and plenty of time till they reached their destination. The Anusiya departed and Seras sat back down as she had been seated before. She crossed her legs, resting her head on her fist and she closed her eyes. 

She would triumph in the end. No matter the cost.