Chapter 1
Vyor
My influence grows!
Vyor: Bit of an experimental 40k thing Nightmare723764 and I are writing. Islay is an SI, if you couldn't tell.
Nightmare723764: Not gonna lie, kinda fun. Makes me think of the Warhammer omake series I was doing on my OPM story.
On a world few could name orbiting a star of no import, there lay a culture taken out of time and worshiping gods none truly remembered. Names like The Dagda, Lugh, Nuada, Aengus, and more graced the halls of worship and blessed the weapons of the powerful.
One name was, however, uttered with greater fear and reverence alike than most others. The Morrigan, The Phantom Queen, a shapeshifting goddess; three in one and greater than the sum of her parts. A killer, deceiver, lover, prophesize, and war goddess; she was the undisputed Queen of the Tuath Dé.
And she was leaning over a young boy upon the ground, waiting for him to wake up like a bird looking for life in carrion. Fitting, for she was a Crow.
With a yawn Islay opened his eyes briefly only to jerk and try to escape deeper into his bed upon seeing this oddly birdish old woman leaning over him. Her eyes seemed to narrow as she inspected him and, when she found what she was looking for, she gave a faint nod, her eyes taking on a gleam of interest that seemed alien in its intensity.
“You are upon the ground, there are no blankets here, little psyker bastard,” She said after a moment, “Name, give it to me.” She snapped under his nose.
“Ah, Islay…” He said as he slowly became more aware of his surroundings, such as the fact that he wasn’t in his apartment, “W-Where am I?” He asked.
“Wait, psyker bastard!?” A pit of dread formed in his stomach, there was only one setting that used that term to the best of his knowledge.
An eye roll, “You know very well where you are, little bastard,” She retorted, “You have the memories, do you not? Oh how your childhood was stressed, knowing you were the son of a king that barely acknowledged you…”
Islay felt his hands clench as memories that weren’t his but were came to him. Life as a bastard son wasn’t one of comfort or anything of the sort. The fact that his own father didn’t even acknowledge his existence burned, while he lavished his ‘legitimate’ children with praise and attention. He used to be so damn jealous, but after so long he just… stopped caring. Or he tried, deep down there was always that bit of him that envied his siblings.
But now? He felt… oddly detached from the situation. Perhaps because of his memories of growing up with a family dulling the edge? Or just as likely he was compartmentalizing like hell due to the on coming existential crisis? Could be either one in all honesty.
The woman laughed, “So much fear. Good, I’d hate to see that my wise council wasn’t needed. Well, it would be needed regardless if you don’t want to be devoured by monsters from the inside out, but…” She slowly shrugged, leaning back as she smiled, “Well, your fear means that you’ll accept my council more readily than some supposed heroes I can name.”
“Who…” Islay trailed off as he stared off for a moment, “... The Morrigan?” He didn’t know if he should be just unnerved or terrified!
She cackled, “Oh yes, she is I and I am she!” She crowed, “Now, sit up, I’m currently draining your power enough so that you won’t rip a hole into the warp, so you best thank me.”
He sat up, his eyes never leaving the old woman, “T-Thank you,” He stammered, still trying to process the fact that barely thirty minutes into being in Warhammer and he already had a daemon talking to him!
At least this one didn’t seem interested in eating his soul, hopefully anyway.
“Good boy,” She stated, reaching out and stroking his head gently, “You have so much to learn, so much power to gain, and you have so little time to do it…” She whispered, “Your father heads to his death as we speak. He refused to listen to my council, and so he shall die.”
Heading to his death? War with another country? Greenskins? Or… was he further back than he thought? Was the Emperor searching the stars for his sons?
“Speak, boy, you’ll need to learn how to do that if you are to be a proper king,” The Morrigan ordered.
“Ah…” Islay cleared his throat, “Is he going to war with another country? Greenskins? Or is the Emperor coming?” He really hoped it wasn’t the last one, he didn’t know as much as he liked about how the Emperor handled things when he conquered planets.
Did he kill off any psykers he found?
“Not yet, not for a few years,” She replied, “No, your father marches against another kingdom, a battle he shall die within.”
“Good, well… not good…” Granted he didn’t have any emotional investment in his father… but he didn’t want to be dragged into any infighting between his siblings over who took the throne, “How should I, we, proceed?”
A vial was in her hands, “This is poison, painlessly lethal. Your siblings shall be feasting tonight and you are scheduled for the taste tester. I can make you immune to this toxin, all you must do is add it to the main dish…”
There was a test in this, there was always a test when The Morrigan offered anything.
Islay looked at the vial, “Is there another way?” He asked, while he didn’t have the best relationship with his siblings he didn’t want to just kill them!
A laugh, “Well, there is the fact none of them know what you are…” The Crone noted, “I could whisk you away for training, hide you from the chaos… your choice,” She offered.
Islay knew what he was going to choose even before The Crone finished her offer, in this galaxy the weak were trod upon by the strong. Even if this wasn’t exactly the hellscape that was the forty-first millennium it still held true. From her words, the Emperor’s Great Crusade would reach this planet sometime in the coming years and he couldn’t risk whatever fate awaited him in the Imperium.
The Crone laughed once more, and just nodded with a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes.
“Take me away to train,” Islay said, “I need strength if I’m to survive this galaxy. And who better than you to teach me how to use my power.”
Though she was shielding him, it didn’t fully stop the whispers in the back of his mind. The words were indecipherable, but all the same Islay understood them for what they were. Promises of power unrelenting, sorceries capable of destroying all, infinite pleasures, and the welcoming acceptance of stagnation.
“Well, there is Scathach; she’d be a wonderful teacher…” She trailed off before her form changed, a younger woman of queenly bearing now, “But I’m unsure where she has gone, so I am the only one available.”
“I will trust your teachings, regardless,” Islay said, “I refuse to be a fool like my father.”
She laughed, primal and violent as her red hair cascaded around elvish features, “Good, now then…” She pulled him to her chest, “We will come back after the others are dead.”
Islay just nodded, he was still terrified, and rightly so. But the eventual fate psykers suffered if they let their powers run wild terrified him even more! He had no desire to become a Chaos Spawn or worse just because the training would be brutal and unforgiving.
He felt himself falling, shadows rising around them- no, not shadows, crows. Thousands upon thousands of crows. And then they were upon a hill, a bloody rock behind them and a river before them.
“Kinda par the course for The Morrigan,” He thought as he looked around.
“Welcome to my home,” She stated, “Walk not to its edge, it’s slowly being devoured thanks to my… other selves having died rather horribly. Or are in the hands of a debatable sentient universal trash bag.”
Islay knew he wasn’t going to even look at that very large metaphorical landmine, if anything he had a good idea as to who the trash bag was. Meaning that The Morrigan was an Eldar goddess of some sort, or something along those lines. Truly he didn’t give it much thought, as he couldn’t really do anything about the situation and he was dealing with the whispers now being slightly louder than before.
They couldn’t take hold of him, The Morrigain wouldn’t allow it, but still they persisted. Perhaps this was a form of… resistance training perhaps? Gradual exposure to build up his resistance and strengthen his will? He doubted he’d ever be as mentally strong and resolute as the Grey Knights but still, he wondered how fair he could go?
“I am a human Goddess,” She noted, “I am made from human legends, human stories, human faith,” The Morrigan explained, “But I am also an Eldar one. Their actions, their pantheon, inspired my own legends, such is the only reason I yet live.”
“Fucking Eldar.” It honestly slipped out before he could stop it, he just looked at The Morrigan with a sheepish grin.
She laughed, “Yes, Isha inspired stories of fae as she sang and tormented her father, Morai Heg inspired thoughts of crows being wise and all knowing…” She shifted into an even younger form, a soft and elvish face. She was painfully cute. “And Lileath inspired stories of young girls that saw far too much, little brother…”
Islay didn’t know much about the Eldar but hearing they inspired the stories of the fae? That honestly tracked in his mind. But hearing this did make him wonder just how much the Eldar influenced humanity during its early history.
“So, little brother,” The much, much younger looking goddess started, “Want to start learning?” She offered.
She was still taller than him. And older than him… in multiple ways.
Islay gulped but refused to look away from her, getting a faint pleased smirk from the goddess, “No, but I’m not going to back down or cower from the pain I know that’s coming,” He said.
The goddess laughed at his words, but he didn’t mistake that pleased glint in her eyes, “Good on you, little brother. If you didn’t show any spine I would’ve been even harder, I appreciate students with a little backbone.”
She flew to the top of the rock as a crow before emerging as a Crone again, “Fetch the blade next to the failure’s corpse and show me what you know of swordsmanship.”
Gulping again as he went over to the corpse and picked the sword up, only looking at the body for a few moments, its guts holding it upright against the stone, before taking a stance that… felt right. He’d never received any official mentorship in the use of the blade, but he had watched his father’s knights train and had picked up some things.
He wouldn’t claim to have gotten all the basics of swordsmanship but he at the very least knew how to hold the sword properly.
“Swing it,” She ordered, “Strike at the stone, break it.”
“Break the stone?” He looked at the large boulder, “Why do I feel like I’m in Demon Slayer suddenly?” Shaking off the admittedly amusing thought he took a steadying breath before using a basic overhead strike with the sword on the boulder.
His blade bounced off, ringing and vibrating painfully in his hands, “Mm, as I thought. Tell me, what is real, Islay?” The Morrigan asked, sitting above him.
Islay mouthed the question for a moment, genuinely confused before he smacked his face. Sighing he looked up at his teacher and took a few moments to figure out how to word his response.
“Reality is how you perceive it?” Islay guessed eventually just giving up on trying to figure out how to phrase it better, “I… lost sight of the fact that I’m a psyker. And well… reality is a suggestion to a sufficiently powerful psyker.”
“Correct, so… break the stone,” She ordered again, “Use the sword, the spear, or something else. Whatever makes you comfortable.” She flitted off the rock, appearing as a young girl once more, “Whenever you are ready.”
Islay nodded and… considered what weapon felt more comfortable to him. In truth though he knew how to hold a sword he wasn’t entirely comfortable with using one, something that will change he has no doubt. What with chainswords and axes being a common weapon type, but still that was for the future.
Being entirely honest with himself, a spear would probably be better. It would have a learning curve, all weapons did, but it would allow him to keep things away from him.
And with a blink his sword shifted into a rather basic looking spear that felt right in his hands. And, after adjusting his stance into what he imagined a proper spear user would use, he looked at the rock and after a few minutes he thrusted forward. Unknowingly channeling some of the warp through his thrust.
The boulder didn’t shatter, however the spear head was firmly buried into it. And with a tug he removed it, feeling rather proud for his accomplishment despite not knowing what he was doing! However he wasn’t foolish enough to let his accomplishment blind him, he had a very long way to go.
“Yay!” The Morrigan cheered, clapping, “Oh, right, you can call me Morrigan, Morgan (I really like that one because it ties into the ocean and Aurthur’s story), Morgana, Badb, Macha, or Anand.” She paused, “Or any of the three Eldar goddesses part of my soul, your choice!”
“Okay, Morgan then,” Islay said, though admittedly he was somewhat thrown by the sudden change, but he welcomed it.
“Great, so, little brother, do that a dozen more times!” She ordered, “Or until you run out of energy, whichever comes first!” Her finger raised, “Just remember… your body is just an extension of your soul, use it as such.”
“Okay,” Islay said as he readied his spear again, “Shonen training montage it is,” He thought with some amusement.
Morgan either heard his thoughts or assumed what he was thinking if her own amused chuckles were any indication.
Islay laid flat on his back and stared up at the ‘sky’ as he tried to bring his breathing and heart back under control. It didn’t change the fact that his arms felt like they were about to fall off, or the fact that his head throbbed like someone took a bat to his head!
“Not quite the shonen you were hoping for, mm?” Morgan asked, looking the part of an impossibly attractive redheaded queen once more, “Come, sit and eat with me; you’ve not yet mastered yourself to the point of feeding on the warp itself, and so you must eat.” There was a spread of food before her, jugs of milk alongside. “You must grow strong.”
“Thank you,” Islay said as he slowly pushed himself up and got up to join her. It smelled divine even for how simple it was. A simple spread of meats, cheeses, and breads.
“I hope you enjoy it, it takes not a small amount of work to create real food out of warp-stuff you know,” She noted, legs crossed underneath her.
Islay smiled, “I am, thank you. Really Morgan,” He said.
“I’m glad,” She replied, bowing her head, “We fae aren’t nearly so mercurial as many once thought, we repay compliments and insults alike… and we repay love, something some fail to show.” Her head tilted, “Your father and oldest sibling are now dead, the rest are pointing fingers.”
As Islay ate and listened; he… honestly didn’t feel too upset over hearing about their deaths. He absentmindedly wondered if that made him a bad person, he didn’t think so. None of them treated him with basic human decency, his father only saw him as a mistake. And his siblings only saw him as a child servant.
“And thus, you understand me,” Morgan noted softly, “Do not worry, their souls will not suffer, they go to me upon death where they eternal slumber.”
“At least they won’t be eaten by a daemon or made into a chaos plaything,” Islay said after a few seconds, “I wouldn’t wish that fate on anyone.”
“Nor I, though I must admit I was worried you’d utter one of Their names for a moment,” She replied, “Please refrain from doing that for as long as you remain in the warp, their predations upon my home need not that door opened for them.” Even referring to them like that made the voices at the back of his mind, faded since he’d exhausted himself, come back stronger than they’d been before.
Islay nodded in understanding, it made sense. In the Warp Names had power, and Names drew attention from entities you don’t want the attention of.
“What will I learn?” Islay asked curiously, “Psyker powers obviously, but anything specific?” He added trying, and failing, not to imagine him learning how to do any of the bullshit associated with Cú Chulainn.
“My expertise revolves around three things,” She started, “The manipulation of life, you know it as biomancy, foresight, and curses,” She explained, “I can not teach you how to be a warrior like the failure was, but…” Her hand waved as the image of a wolf played across her features, “It will be far from useless.”
That certainly wasn’t a skillset to scoff at in the slightest, biomancy alone was enough to make a person functionally immortal, foresight was tricky given how the Reality Tumors liked to fuck with time, and curses well… they promised to be a bad time to whoever was on the receiving end of them.
“I will also teach you how to lead men and how to wield a weapon, though I am no Scathach so you shan’t be able to outfight any true hero,” She continued softly, “Perhaps… yes, perhaps they would teach you…”
“They?” Islay asked curiously, “Other gods?”
“Oh no, unless she ascended at some point and I never met her, no…” She grinned sadistically, “An Eldar, the Queen of Knives shall be her title at some point. Lelith Hesperax.”
He knew the title, admittedly only through a story he read once. He didn’t know if said story was canon or simply taking creative liberties but the Queen of Knives could face off against the C’tan with nothing but her sword. Though what was fact or fiction was the question, and he wasn’t entirely eager to find out honestly.
As he was now he’d be lucky if the Queen of Knives just ignored him instead of killing him out right.
“Ah yes, that look of fear suits you,” Morgan teased, “But she could not fight a C’tan with just any sword… perhaps if she had a Crone Sword she’d stand a chance there, but any other blade would fail quite badly.”
“Well, still doesn’t change the fact that she’s an ancient Eldar with countless millennia of combat experience on anything alive now,” Islay said, “If anything the fact that I’m afraid is more common sense than anything else.”
“True, perhaps you’ll learn enough to feel confidence when facing her next?” She suggested, “Now, take up your blade once more and battle the spirit of the man that slew your father. Don’t worry, you can’t die here.”
He got up and took his spear, “Well, I always heard that pain is the most efficient teacher,” He said, though despite his words that didn’t mean he was looking forward to it.
His father wasn’t a soft man in the slightest, despite his kingly duties he still trained with his knights and soldiers. So whoever killed him was either lucky or even more skilled than his father.
Morgan laughed and waved her hand, the Crone once more, and summoned an armored man thrice Islay’s height. Shield in one hand, spear in the other, and a sword on his hip. He could certainly see how they’d killed his father. “I’ve taken the liberty to give him a little something extra as well, just to ensure you don’t cheat… but that will only come up if you try to cheat.”
“Oh, fuck me…” He squeaked with wide eyes, “What counts as cheating?” He asked warily as he eyed the giant (at least compared to him).
“Using the warp to punch through his armor,” Morgan replied, “Have fun.”
“Ah, shit!” He cursed as he dodged, only barely missing the spear that was thrust at his face!
Morgan just stayed up on the boulder and watched as the young boy and the armored knight fought with a faint amused smile.
“Watch his movements and his stance, learn from him,” She called out, “He is your better, learn from that!”
Islay went to say something only to dodge again and flail to keep balance. Morgan just shook her head and settled in, this was going to take a while. It was a good thing time was subjective in the Sea of Souls…
Another clap and cheer rang out, “You’ve finally done it,” Morgan announced as the man’s body fell and vanished in a flutter of crow feathers, “It only took you fifteen attempts.”
Islay just leaned against his spear as he tried to catch his breath, though he did nod to Morgan. Honestly as painful as the entire thing was he did learn, he eventually learned how to handle his spear better amongst other things. But the one thing he was especially proud of was how he figured out how to use the warp to refresh himself when he’d started to flag. And since it wasn’t used to break the man’s armor, it wasn’t against the rules Morgan had laid down.
And as he stood there, he used the warp to ease his soreness and exhaustion. He imagined that this was sort of like “Baby’s First Biomancy” or something of the sort.
“Wonderful, though such is quite unsafe to do,” Morgan noted, “Tell me, what do you feel as you pull upon its fabric? As you pull its turbulence into yourself?”
Feel, what did he feel? During the fight he didn’t have the time to pay attention, but now that he did he focused. It felt… indescribable really? Like he was being stretched somehow? It was really hard to figure out how to describe the sensation, but now the whispers were really gnawing at him.
“Like I’m being… stretched?” Islay shocked his head, “Honestly it’s hard to really describe the sensation.” He admitted as he stopped channeling the warp, deciding that he had risked it long enough.
“In a way, you are being so. You are spreading your soul out into the warp and passively gathering power that way,” She explained, “This… is a very stupid way of doing it, but it is the one beginners often reach towards. It’s instinctual, like reaching your hand out to grasp something. It is also why so many psykers turn into warp spawn.”
Islay nodded, it made sense to him.
“Note to self: Cultivating warp stuff is a very bad idea,” He thought as he had finally caught his breath, though his body was still sore he felt like he should just tough it out.
“The proper way of doing it is closer to breathing,” Morgan continued, “Or, perhaps, swallowing would be a better example. Just as your stomach cleanses many a pathogen from food you eat, your soul can do the same if you take that energy into yourself properly. I will teach you how to do this.” She grinned viciously, “How to become a predator of the very beings that wish to use you up.”
Islay blinked at that before he started to grin himself, maybe that whole cultivation thought wasn’t just an idle thought on his part. Though he doubted he’d be eating the Reality Tumors anytime soon, the thought amused him regardless.
“For now, of course, you must learn how to passively gather and filter power,” Morgan said, landing in front of him in her youngest form once more, “Which means, little brother, you’re going to use me as a dowsing rod.”
“Ah, I’m going to need a little context,” Islay said, “Dowsing rod?”
“You will use me to seek out and draw in loose power,” She replied, “It’s a rather simple concept, how have you never run into it before? What rock did you live under? It wasn’t that one over there, I’m sure!” She even pointed towards the corpse laden boulder.
“No, I understand the idea.” Islay said, “But this won’t hurt you or anything will it?”
“I am a goddess, of course not,” She replied, “Not when I’m already feeding on your soul to keep you from going insane.” Morgan paused, “And to keep me corporeal.”
“Fair enough.” He really didn’t want to know the specifics of their relationship, “So… I just use you to draw in loose power then? Sounds… pretty straight forward enough,” He said scratching his cheek, “Actually, how will eating warp stuff affect me anyway?”
“It will affect you in the exact way you want it to affect you, if you filter it properly,” She replied, dainty hand going out to him, “Let me show you how.”
Islay just nodded and took it into his own, “Well, take the lead, Morgan,” He said with a faint smile.
“Good,” She replied, closing her eyes.
He felt ghostly fingers trailing across his body, across his soul, as his vision opened up. He Saw the churning warp for what it was, Saw Morgan for what she was, and Saw the daemons clawing at her barriers for their flesh.
But he also saw other things, saw bubbles of power waiting to be tapped, “Minor daemons,” She whispered into his ear, “Tear them to pieces,” Morgan instructed, showing him how to move to grasp upon them, destroy them, devour them. “How do you feel?” She asked, voice soft and gentle.
“Oddly… full,” Islay said as he scratched his nose, “And I have this odd aftertaste in my mouth. Like I sucked on a rusty penny.”
“That’s the blood dripping from your nose, don’t worry, you’ll get used to that,” Morgan replied, “Now, take that power you just ate… and let it fill your body and soul, use it to change yourself, to make yourself better.”
“Huh, okay,” Islay said as he closed his eyes and concentrated and after a few moments he found the warp stuff and slowly spread it out.
After a few moments he decided that what he needed was more efficiency, but without compromising his body. Altering his physical growth, or spiking his metabolism to unsustainable levels. Only a couple times did the stuff nearly slip his grip but he managed to get everything back on track.
The sensation of his body fundamentally altering was a perplexing and mildly unpleasant sensation.
He also felt Morgan feeding him knowledge and understanding, letting him know exactly what he was changing and how he was changing it. The drawbacks, the upsides, all of it. He knew he wasn’t fully human anymore too; bits of bird, eldar, wolf, shrimp, and more were integrated into his genetics and implemented in his body.
He was pretty sure he could see more colors now than before.
“How do you feel, little brother?” Morgan asked, stepping back from him.
“A little off balance. But I’m not sure if that’s due to the information dump or if I gained a few inches of height,” Islay said honestly as he looked at Morgan, “Pretty.” It slipped out before he could do anything.
She smiled, eyes twinkling a touch, “Thank you for the compliment,” Morgan said with a curtsy, “And you only gained an inch, I didn’t teach you how to change your age yet; such is a terrible idea with so few years of life.”
“Yeah, I can agree with that,” Islay said as he stretched and moved his arms around.
“But did you really mean I was pretty?” She asked, slowly shifting on the balls of her feet.
“Yeah,” Islay said, “Easily the prettiest I’ve seen in my life.”
“I appreciate that,” She replied, “But…” She vanished, appearing upon the rock as the Crone once more, “Are you ready for more training?” She asked, eyes twinkling, “Let us see how much you’ve improved now that you’ve learned how to properly strengthen your own flesh.”
She snapped and the knight from before appeared in front of him, blade and shield raised.
“Once more unto the breach,” He said with a chuckle as he grabbed his spear and readied it.
Some faceclaims:
Nightmare723764: Not gonna lie, kinda fun. Makes me think of the Warhammer omake series I was doing on my OPM story.
A Boy and His Daemon
Chapter 1: Training Montage!
<<<Islay>>>
Chapter 1: Training Montage!
<<<Islay>>>
On a world few could name orbiting a star of no import, there lay a culture taken out of time and worshiping gods none truly remembered. Names like The Dagda, Lugh, Nuada, Aengus, and more graced the halls of worship and blessed the weapons of the powerful.
One name was, however, uttered with greater fear and reverence alike than most others. The Morrigan, The Phantom Queen, a shapeshifting goddess; three in one and greater than the sum of her parts. A killer, deceiver, lover, prophesize, and war goddess; she was the undisputed Queen of the Tuath Dé.
And she was leaning over a young boy upon the ground, waiting for him to wake up like a bird looking for life in carrion. Fitting, for she was a Crow.
With a yawn Islay opened his eyes briefly only to jerk and try to escape deeper into his bed upon seeing this oddly birdish old woman leaning over him. Her eyes seemed to narrow as she inspected him and, when she found what she was looking for, she gave a faint nod, her eyes taking on a gleam of interest that seemed alien in its intensity.
“You are upon the ground, there are no blankets here, little psyker bastard,” She said after a moment, “Name, give it to me.” She snapped under his nose.
“Ah, Islay…” He said as he slowly became more aware of his surroundings, such as the fact that he wasn’t in his apartment, “W-Where am I?” He asked.
“Wait, psyker bastard!?” A pit of dread formed in his stomach, there was only one setting that used that term to the best of his knowledge.
An eye roll, “You know very well where you are, little bastard,” She retorted, “You have the memories, do you not? Oh how your childhood was stressed, knowing you were the son of a king that barely acknowledged you…”
Islay felt his hands clench as memories that weren’t his but were came to him. Life as a bastard son wasn’t one of comfort or anything of the sort. The fact that his own father didn’t even acknowledge his existence burned, while he lavished his ‘legitimate’ children with praise and attention. He used to be so damn jealous, but after so long he just… stopped caring. Or he tried, deep down there was always that bit of him that envied his siblings.
But now? He felt… oddly detached from the situation. Perhaps because of his memories of growing up with a family dulling the edge? Or just as likely he was compartmentalizing like hell due to the on coming existential crisis? Could be either one in all honesty.
The woman laughed, “So much fear. Good, I’d hate to see that my wise council wasn’t needed. Well, it would be needed regardless if you don’t want to be devoured by monsters from the inside out, but…” She slowly shrugged, leaning back as she smiled, “Well, your fear means that you’ll accept my council more readily than some supposed heroes I can name.”
“Who…” Islay trailed off as he stared off for a moment, “... The Morrigan?” He didn’t know if he should be just unnerved or terrified!
She cackled, “Oh yes, she is I and I am she!” She crowed, “Now, sit up, I’m currently draining your power enough so that you won’t rip a hole into the warp, so you best thank me.”
He sat up, his eyes never leaving the old woman, “T-Thank you,” He stammered, still trying to process the fact that barely thirty minutes into being in Warhammer and he already had a daemon talking to him!
At least this one didn’t seem interested in eating his soul, hopefully anyway.
“Good boy,” She stated, reaching out and stroking his head gently, “You have so much to learn, so much power to gain, and you have so little time to do it…” She whispered, “Your father heads to his death as we speak. He refused to listen to my council, and so he shall die.”
Heading to his death? War with another country? Greenskins? Or… was he further back than he thought? Was the Emperor searching the stars for his sons?
“Speak, boy, you’ll need to learn how to do that if you are to be a proper king,” The Morrigan ordered.
“Ah…” Islay cleared his throat, “Is he going to war with another country? Greenskins? Or is the Emperor coming?” He really hoped it wasn’t the last one, he didn’t know as much as he liked about how the Emperor handled things when he conquered planets.
Did he kill off any psykers he found?
“Not yet, not for a few years,” She replied, “No, your father marches against another kingdom, a battle he shall die within.”
“Good, well… not good…” Granted he didn’t have any emotional investment in his father… but he didn’t want to be dragged into any infighting between his siblings over who took the throne, “How should I, we, proceed?”
A vial was in her hands, “This is poison, painlessly lethal. Your siblings shall be feasting tonight and you are scheduled for the taste tester. I can make you immune to this toxin, all you must do is add it to the main dish…”
There was a test in this, there was always a test when The Morrigan offered anything.
Islay looked at the vial, “Is there another way?” He asked, while he didn’t have the best relationship with his siblings he didn’t want to just kill them!
A laugh, “Well, there is the fact none of them know what you are…” The Crone noted, “I could whisk you away for training, hide you from the chaos… your choice,” She offered.
Islay knew what he was going to choose even before The Crone finished her offer, in this galaxy the weak were trod upon by the strong. Even if this wasn’t exactly the hellscape that was the forty-first millennium it still held true. From her words, the Emperor’s Great Crusade would reach this planet sometime in the coming years and he couldn’t risk whatever fate awaited him in the Imperium.
The Crone laughed once more, and just nodded with a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes.
“Take me away to train,” Islay said, “I need strength if I’m to survive this galaxy. And who better than you to teach me how to use my power.”
Though she was shielding him, it didn’t fully stop the whispers in the back of his mind. The words were indecipherable, but all the same Islay understood them for what they were. Promises of power unrelenting, sorceries capable of destroying all, infinite pleasures, and the welcoming acceptance of stagnation.
“Well, there is Scathach; she’d be a wonderful teacher…” She trailed off before her form changed, a younger woman of queenly bearing now, “But I’m unsure where she has gone, so I am the only one available.”
“I will trust your teachings, regardless,” Islay said, “I refuse to be a fool like my father.”
She laughed, primal and violent as her red hair cascaded around elvish features, “Good, now then…” She pulled him to her chest, “We will come back after the others are dead.”
Islay just nodded, he was still terrified, and rightly so. But the eventual fate psykers suffered if they let their powers run wild terrified him even more! He had no desire to become a Chaos Spawn or worse just because the training would be brutal and unforgiving.
He felt himself falling, shadows rising around them- no, not shadows, crows. Thousands upon thousands of crows. And then they were upon a hill, a bloody rock behind them and a river before them.
“Kinda par the course for The Morrigan,” He thought as he looked around.
“Welcome to my home,” She stated, “Walk not to its edge, it’s slowly being devoured thanks to my… other selves having died rather horribly. Or are in the hands of a debatable sentient universal trash bag.”
Islay knew he wasn’t going to even look at that very large metaphorical landmine, if anything he had a good idea as to who the trash bag was. Meaning that The Morrigan was an Eldar goddess of some sort, or something along those lines. Truly he didn’t give it much thought, as he couldn’t really do anything about the situation and he was dealing with the whispers now being slightly louder than before.
They couldn’t take hold of him, The Morrigain wouldn’t allow it, but still they persisted. Perhaps this was a form of… resistance training perhaps? Gradual exposure to build up his resistance and strengthen his will? He doubted he’d ever be as mentally strong and resolute as the Grey Knights but still, he wondered how fair he could go?
“I am a human Goddess,” She noted, “I am made from human legends, human stories, human faith,” The Morrigan explained, “But I am also an Eldar one. Their actions, their pantheon, inspired my own legends, such is the only reason I yet live.”
“Fucking Eldar.” It honestly slipped out before he could stop it, he just looked at The Morrigan with a sheepish grin.
She laughed, “Yes, Isha inspired stories of fae as she sang and tormented her father, Morai Heg inspired thoughts of crows being wise and all knowing…” She shifted into an even younger form, a soft and elvish face. She was painfully cute. “And Lileath inspired stories of young girls that saw far too much, little brother…”
Islay didn’t know much about the Eldar but hearing they inspired the stories of the fae? That honestly tracked in his mind. But hearing this did make him wonder just how much the Eldar influenced humanity during its early history.
“So, little brother,” The much, much younger looking goddess started, “Want to start learning?” She offered.
She was still taller than him. And older than him… in multiple ways.
Islay gulped but refused to look away from her, getting a faint pleased smirk from the goddess, “No, but I’m not going to back down or cower from the pain I know that’s coming,” He said.
The goddess laughed at his words, but he didn’t mistake that pleased glint in her eyes, “Good on you, little brother. If you didn’t show any spine I would’ve been even harder, I appreciate students with a little backbone.”
She flew to the top of the rock as a crow before emerging as a Crone again, “Fetch the blade next to the failure’s corpse and show me what you know of swordsmanship.”
Gulping again as he went over to the corpse and picked the sword up, only looking at the body for a few moments, its guts holding it upright against the stone, before taking a stance that… felt right. He’d never received any official mentorship in the use of the blade, but he had watched his father’s knights train and had picked up some things.
He wouldn’t claim to have gotten all the basics of swordsmanship but he at the very least knew how to hold the sword properly.
“Swing it,” She ordered, “Strike at the stone, break it.”
“Break the stone?” He looked at the large boulder, “Why do I feel like I’m in Demon Slayer suddenly?” Shaking off the admittedly amusing thought he took a steadying breath before using a basic overhead strike with the sword on the boulder.
His blade bounced off, ringing and vibrating painfully in his hands, “Mm, as I thought. Tell me, what is real, Islay?” The Morrigan asked, sitting above him.
Islay mouthed the question for a moment, genuinely confused before he smacked his face. Sighing he looked up at his teacher and took a few moments to figure out how to word his response.
“Reality is how you perceive it?” Islay guessed eventually just giving up on trying to figure out how to phrase it better, “I… lost sight of the fact that I’m a psyker. And well… reality is a suggestion to a sufficiently powerful psyker.”
“Correct, so… break the stone,” She ordered again, “Use the sword, the spear, or something else. Whatever makes you comfortable.” She flitted off the rock, appearing as a young girl once more, “Whenever you are ready.”
Islay nodded and… considered what weapon felt more comfortable to him. In truth though he knew how to hold a sword he wasn’t entirely comfortable with using one, something that will change he has no doubt. What with chainswords and axes being a common weapon type, but still that was for the future.
Being entirely honest with himself, a spear would probably be better. It would have a learning curve, all weapons did, but it would allow him to keep things away from him.
And with a blink his sword shifted into a rather basic looking spear that felt right in his hands. And, after adjusting his stance into what he imagined a proper spear user would use, he looked at the rock and after a few minutes he thrusted forward. Unknowingly channeling some of the warp through his thrust.
The boulder didn’t shatter, however the spear head was firmly buried into it. And with a tug he removed it, feeling rather proud for his accomplishment despite not knowing what he was doing! However he wasn’t foolish enough to let his accomplishment blind him, he had a very long way to go.
“Yay!” The Morrigan cheered, clapping, “Oh, right, you can call me Morrigan, Morgan (I really like that one because it ties into the ocean and Aurthur’s story), Morgana, Badb, Macha, or Anand.” She paused, “Or any of the three Eldar goddesses part of my soul, your choice!”
“Okay, Morgan then,” Islay said, though admittedly he was somewhat thrown by the sudden change, but he welcomed it.
“Great, so, little brother, do that a dozen more times!” She ordered, “Or until you run out of energy, whichever comes first!” Her finger raised, “Just remember… your body is just an extension of your soul, use it as such.”
“Okay,” Islay said as he readied his spear again, “Shonen training montage it is,” He thought with some amusement.
Morgan either heard his thoughts or assumed what he was thinking if her own amused chuckles were any indication.
Islay laid flat on his back and stared up at the ‘sky’ as he tried to bring his breathing and heart back under control. It didn’t change the fact that his arms felt like they were about to fall off, or the fact that his head throbbed like someone took a bat to his head!
“Not quite the shonen you were hoping for, mm?” Morgan asked, looking the part of an impossibly attractive redheaded queen once more, “Come, sit and eat with me; you’ve not yet mastered yourself to the point of feeding on the warp itself, and so you must eat.” There was a spread of food before her, jugs of milk alongside. “You must grow strong.”
“Thank you,” Islay said as he slowly pushed himself up and got up to join her. It smelled divine even for how simple it was. A simple spread of meats, cheeses, and breads.
“I hope you enjoy it, it takes not a small amount of work to create real food out of warp-stuff you know,” She noted, legs crossed underneath her.
Islay smiled, “I am, thank you. Really Morgan,” He said.
“I’m glad,” She replied, bowing her head, “We fae aren’t nearly so mercurial as many once thought, we repay compliments and insults alike… and we repay love, something some fail to show.” Her head tilted, “Your father and oldest sibling are now dead, the rest are pointing fingers.”
As Islay ate and listened; he… honestly didn’t feel too upset over hearing about their deaths. He absentmindedly wondered if that made him a bad person, he didn’t think so. None of them treated him with basic human decency, his father only saw him as a mistake. And his siblings only saw him as a child servant.
“And thus, you understand me,” Morgan noted softly, “Do not worry, their souls will not suffer, they go to me upon death where they eternal slumber.”
“At least they won’t be eaten by a daemon or made into a chaos plaything,” Islay said after a few seconds, “I wouldn’t wish that fate on anyone.”
“Nor I, though I must admit I was worried you’d utter one of Their names for a moment,” She replied, “Please refrain from doing that for as long as you remain in the warp, their predations upon my home need not that door opened for them.” Even referring to them like that made the voices at the back of his mind, faded since he’d exhausted himself, come back stronger than they’d been before.
Islay nodded in understanding, it made sense. In the Warp Names had power, and Names drew attention from entities you don’t want the attention of.
“What will I learn?” Islay asked curiously, “Psyker powers obviously, but anything specific?” He added trying, and failing, not to imagine him learning how to do any of the bullshit associated with Cú Chulainn.
“My expertise revolves around three things,” She started, “The manipulation of life, you know it as biomancy, foresight, and curses,” She explained, “I can not teach you how to be a warrior like the failure was, but…” Her hand waved as the image of a wolf played across her features, “It will be far from useless.”
That certainly wasn’t a skillset to scoff at in the slightest, biomancy alone was enough to make a person functionally immortal, foresight was tricky given how the Reality Tumors liked to fuck with time, and curses well… they promised to be a bad time to whoever was on the receiving end of them.
“I will also teach you how to lead men and how to wield a weapon, though I am no Scathach so you shan’t be able to outfight any true hero,” She continued softly, “Perhaps… yes, perhaps they would teach you…”
“They?” Islay asked curiously, “Other gods?”
“Oh no, unless she ascended at some point and I never met her, no…” She grinned sadistically, “An Eldar, the Queen of Knives shall be her title at some point. Lelith Hesperax.”
He knew the title, admittedly only through a story he read once. He didn’t know if said story was canon or simply taking creative liberties but the Queen of Knives could face off against the C’tan with nothing but her sword. Though what was fact or fiction was the question, and he wasn’t entirely eager to find out honestly.
As he was now he’d be lucky if the Queen of Knives just ignored him instead of killing him out right.
“Ah yes, that look of fear suits you,” Morgan teased, “But she could not fight a C’tan with just any sword… perhaps if she had a Crone Sword she’d stand a chance there, but any other blade would fail quite badly.”
“Well, still doesn’t change the fact that she’s an ancient Eldar with countless millennia of combat experience on anything alive now,” Islay said, “If anything the fact that I’m afraid is more common sense than anything else.”
“True, perhaps you’ll learn enough to feel confidence when facing her next?” She suggested, “Now, take up your blade once more and battle the spirit of the man that slew your father. Don’t worry, you can’t die here.”
He got up and took his spear, “Well, I always heard that pain is the most efficient teacher,” He said, though despite his words that didn’t mean he was looking forward to it.
His father wasn’t a soft man in the slightest, despite his kingly duties he still trained with his knights and soldiers. So whoever killed him was either lucky or even more skilled than his father.
Morgan laughed and waved her hand, the Crone once more, and summoned an armored man thrice Islay’s height. Shield in one hand, spear in the other, and a sword on his hip. He could certainly see how they’d killed his father. “I’ve taken the liberty to give him a little something extra as well, just to ensure you don’t cheat… but that will only come up if you try to cheat.”
“Oh, fuck me…” He squeaked with wide eyes, “What counts as cheating?” He asked warily as he eyed the giant (at least compared to him).
“Using the warp to punch through his armor,” Morgan replied, “Have fun.”
“Ah, shit!” He cursed as he dodged, only barely missing the spear that was thrust at his face!
Morgan just stayed up on the boulder and watched as the young boy and the armored knight fought with a faint amused smile.
“Watch his movements and his stance, learn from him,” She called out, “He is your better, learn from that!”
Islay went to say something only to dodge again and flail to keep balance. Morgan just shook her head and settled in, this was going to take a while. It was a good thing time was subjective in the Sea of Souls…
Another clap and cheer rang out, “You’ve finally done it,” Morgan announced as the man’s body fell and vanished in a flutter of crow feathers, “It only took you fifteen attempts.”
Islay just leaned against his spear as he tried to catch his breath, though he did nod to Morgan. Honestly as painful as the entire thing was he did learn, he eventually learned how to handle his spear better amongst other things. But the one thing he was especially proud of was how he figured out how to use the warp to refresh himself when he’d started to flag. And since it wasn’t used to break the man’s armor, it wasn’t against the rules Morgan had laid down.
And as he stood there, he used the warp to ease his soreness and exhaustion. He imagined that this was sort of like “Baby’s First Biomancy” or something of the sort.
“Wonderful, though such is quite unsafe to do,” Morgan noted, “Tell me, what do you feel as you pull upon its fabric? As you pull its turbulence into yourself?”
Feel, what did he feel? During the fight he didn’t have the time to pay attention, but now that he did he focused. It felt… indescribable really? Like he was being stretched somehow? It was really hard to figure out how to describe the sensation, but now the whispers were really gnawing at him.
“Like I’m being… stretched?” Islay shocked his head, “Honestly it’s hard to really describe the sensation.” He admitted as he stopped channeling the warp, deciding that he had risked it long enough.
“In a way, you are being so. You are spreading your soul out into the warp and passively gathering power that way,” She explained, “This… is a very stupid way of doing it, but it is the one beginners often reach towards. It’s instinctual, like reaching your hand out to grasp something. It is also why so many psykers turn into warp spawn.”
Islay nodded, it made sense to him.
“Note to self: Cultivating warp stuff is a very bad idea,” He thought as he had finally caught his breath, though his body was still sore he felt like he should just tough it out.
“The proper way of doing it is closer to breathing,” Morgan continued, “Or, perhaps, swallowing would be a better example. Just as your stomach cleanses many a pathogen from food you eat, your soul can do the same if you take that energy into yourself properly. I will teach you how to do this.” She grinned viciously, “How to become a predator of the very beings that wish to use you up.”
Islay blinked at that before he started to grin himself, maybe that whole cultivation thought wasn’t just an idle thought on his part. Though he doubted he’d be eating the Reality Tumors anytime soon, the thought amused him regardless.
“For now, of course, you must learn how to passively gather and filter power,” Morgan said, landing in front of him in her youngest form once more, “Which means, little brother, you’re going to use me as a dowsing rod.”
“Ah, I’m going to need a little context,” Islay said, “Dowsing rod?”
“You will use me to seek out and draw in loose power,” She replied, “It’s a rather simple concept, how have you never run into it before? What rock did you live under? It wasn’t that one over there, I’m sure!” She even pointed towards the corpse laden boulder.
“No, I understand the idea.” Islay said, “But this won’t hurt you or anything will it?”
“I am a goddess, of course not,” She replied, “Not when I’m already feeding on your soul to keep you from going insane.” Morgan paused, “And to keep me corporeal.”
“Fair enough.” He really didn’t want to know the specifics of their relationship, “So… I just use you to draw in loose power then? Sounds… pretty straight forward enough,” He said scratching his cheek, “Actually, how will eating warp stuff affect me anyway?”
“It will affect you in the exact way you want it to affect you, if you filter it properly,” She replied, dainty hand going out to him, “Let me show you how.”
Islay just nodded and took it into his own, “Well, take the lead, Morgan,” He said with a faint smile.
“Good,” She replied, closing her eyes.
He felt ghostly fingers trailing across his body, across his soul, as his vision opened up. He Saw the churning warp for what it was, Saw Morgan for what she was, and Saw the daemons clawing at her barriers for their flesh.
But he also saw other things, saw bubbles of power waiting to be tapped, “Minor daemons,” She whispered into his ear, “Tear them to pieces,” Morgan instructed, showing him how to move to grasp upon them, destroy them, devour them. “How do you feel?” She asked, voice soft and gentle.
“Oddly… full,” Islay said as he scratched his nose, “And I have this odd aftertaste in my mouth. Like I sucked on a rusty penny.”
“That’s the blood dripping from your nose, don’t worry, you’ll get used to that,” Morgan replied, “Now, take that power you just ate… and let it fill your body and soul, use it to change yourself, to make yourself better.”
“Huh, okay,” Islay said as he closed his eyes and concentrated and after a few moments he found the warp stuff and slowly spread it out.
After a few moments he decided that what he needed was more efficiency, but without compromising his body. Altering his physical growth, or spiking his metabolism to unsustainable levels. Only a couple times did the stuff nearly slip his grip but he managed to get everything back on track.
The sensation of his body fundamentally altering was a perplexing and mildly unpleasant sensation.
He also felt Morgan feeding him knowledge and understanding, letting him know exactly what he was changing and how he was changing it. The drawbacks, the upsides, all of it. He knew he wasn’t fully human anymore too; bits of bird, eldar, wolf, shrimp, and more were integrated into his genetics and implemented in his body.
He was pretty sure he could see more colors now than before.
“How do you feel, little brother?” Morgan asked, stepping back from him.
“A little off balance. But I’m not sure if that’s due to the information dump or if I gained a few inches of height,” Islay said honestly as he looked at Morgan, “Pretty.” It slipped out before he could do anything.
She smiled, eyes twinkling a touch, “Thank you for the compliment,” Morgan said with a curtsy, “And you only gained an inch, I didn’t teach you how to change your age yet; such is a terrible idea with so few years of life.”
“Yeah, I can agree with that,” Islay said as he stretched and moved his arms around.
“But did you really mean I was pretty?” She asked, slowly shifting on the balls of her feet.
“Yeah,” Islay said, “Easily the prettiest I’ve seen in my life.”
“I appreciate that,” She replied, “But…” She vanished, appearing upon the rock as the Crone once more, “Are you ready for more training?” She asked, eyes twinkling, “Let us see how much you’ve improved now that you’ve learned how to properly strengthen your own flesh.”
She snapped and the knight from before appeared in front of him, blade and shield raised.
“Once more unto the breach,” He said with a chuckle as he grabbed his spear and readied it.
Some faceclaims:
