The Prophets of Khorne
It would not be an overstatement to say that the Imperium of Mankind possessed countless worlds, for that was exactly what it possessed: so many planets fell under its domain across such a vast stretch of space with innumerable administrative complications and external factors that to actually know how many it possessed at any given moment was impossible to decipher. Xenos invasions, the appearance of Warp storms, rebellions, rediscovered worlds, expansion, and Human error in administration all conspired with an untold myriad of other phenomena to constantly shift the precise domain of Humanity throughout the stars and so on occasion there were those that would simply slip through the cracks.
In this way a medieval world without technology to reach the greater Imperium fell by the wayside when those who knew of it perished in one of the Imperium's many conflicts, and while some things would fade in time such as the name of their planet others did not like their veneration of the God Emperor of Mankind as dictated by the holy texts which remained upon their world. Its people lived their lives modestly and in what they believed to be the way the Emperor would have wanted them to, and even if their world remained forgotten for centuries such practices continued despite or perhaps because of their lack of technological development.
Upon this inconsequential world there lay a village in the countryside with a meager population that lived their lives as a tight-knit community where each member had a role to play, be it their town blacksmith, his wife who cared for their son and handled household chores, the local priest who preached to the community and helped them live virtuous lives, or be it the hunters who supplemented their food supply cultivated by their farmers. Even the children aided their parents in their everyday tasks, though with such a simple existence there was often plenty of time for them to play like kids tended to except for one boy in particular.
Apart from his peers was an intelligent boy who spent his days reading and pondering questions and complicated studies beyond the comprehension of the other children, never truly fitting in with them for even if perhaps he could have done so with effort he did not care to. He would rather sit in his father's place of work studying than play a simple game outdoors, and these pursuits would further shape the path he would take in the years to come.
At first it started as rumors spread throughout the town about a new religion that had taken root in the capital city of their kingdom, though within weeks such beliefs found their way to even wayward villages such as the boy's. The faith of their community was firm enough that few of their own took to these new beliefs of a so-called 'Primordial Truth' which decried the Emperor they had worshipped for generations, but neighboring communities were not so fortunate. What had begun with whispers from a few agents sent to seed dissent had blossomed into religious conflict, and soon the entire countryside was embroiled in warfare.
Those belonging to the newfound cult ravaged all who stood against them and spread their beliefs by force after effort was made to clamp down on their activities, and escalation rapidly commenced as promises of power enticed many in power to forsake their former religion in favor of the new. Soon the boy who had spent his days indoors heard a commotion in his own village, only vaguely aware of the turmoil of his kingdom thanks to his father's disgusted statements about them after confiscating some materials within the community spreading their belief. It was only natural to chide those who would invite such deleterious texts into their village after they brought conflict to others, and so the boy's father had acted in good faith to try and maintain cohesion among their peaceful commune.
When the first blood was spilled in the village it was an argument between a fervent convert to the rapidly spreading religion who struck down a family member still faithful to the old who refused to abide by the Primordial Truth's teachings. This incident would cause commotion and draw more into the town center, even the boy who was uninterested in such social occasions: the sight of the local weaver beaten to an unrecognizable and bloodied corpse was shocking and drew the attention of all, as did the sight of the murderer being strung up and hung for their heinous crime. Seeing the last light drain from the man's eyes was a formative moment for the boy, unable to forget the dead stare that had seemingly leered at him from beyond the grave.
Eventually converts from other villages would come to visit them and attempt to spread their 'wisdom' only to be rebuffed for their violent teachings that called for bloodshed. Their holy books were left abandoned when they were chased out of town, but they promised to return and force the conversion of the villagers or sacrifice them for refusing. This would begin a chain of small-scale conflicts that saw the village overrun by savage hordes of their once countrymen, but a lack of cohesion and planning on the part of the cultists allowed the village to hold on for some time despite everything.
The boy had been told to stay inside by his father who did what he could to combat the invaders, and he did as told which spared him from the initial purges and attacks on the village. Even so he could witness the bloodshed from his home's windows, and it was only a matter of time until their village fell as their defenders whittled down. Such conditions brought him to act in a way that could preserve his life further even as a behemoth wearing red armor commanded them to surrender by dawn or perish to their mortal hordes.
When dawn came the forces led by the Word Bearer Maliq found no resistance left within the village, instead being greeted by the flayed corpses of the village's adult population ritually strung up across various buildings and posts. Presenting them was a boy no older than ten who had read those texts left behind by previous cultists and learned from them of the god of blood Khorne whose teachings were simple and whose boons were easy to witness in the battles that took place. The Gods worshipped by those invading their once peaceful world were real, and only a fool would deny something they witnessed with their very own eyes in favor of a corpse rotting on a throne far away on some distant world.
Palamedes had long detested his family with their simplicity born of servitude to a false idol, his father's constant preaching to their community made worse by his mother parroting his platitudes at home. He had been brought up to read and write as was befitting the son of a priest, but he never truly believed in what he studied. Rather, he found his own interests sated in 'aiding' his fellow villagers with skinning what they hunted and gutting them.
There was tangible benefit to assisting in such tasks unlike repeating words belonging to some corpse far away, and it gave Palamedes a certain satisfaction, especially when by chance he got his hands on a live animal and was the one to drain its life away. That power held over life and death gave the sensation of being the creature's god for but a moment, a being wholly above it and deciding its fate, and not once did he feel an ounce of pity or mercy towards such prey. Why should he, after all? They were just animals, beneath him and all Humanity, so it was his place to do what he wished with them.
During a scuffle with another boy his age Palamedes once broke their jaw with a well-placed punch, being far quicker than his foe who had size on their side but little else. He had been made to apologize, but even though he had in part instigated the confrontation he felt no guilt over the action. He had seen other boys tumble in the dirt and quarrel like children only to show remorse if the other ended up harmed by it, and yet he felt no such feeling in his soul. Rather all he felt was emptiness, not being like the other children while intelligent enough to recognize the fact.
Palamedes could convince them readily to do as he pleased when he did speak with them, partially due to his father's station and widespread respect in their community as well as through Palamedes' own confidence and intelligence making him appear correct about whatever he said. Even so he took little pleasure in guiding mere sheep, and so he ignored them for the most part except on the occasions he was forced to spend time with others his age. His brothers and sisters were wholly unlike him, but his younger counterparts looked up to him like an idol thanks to his unmistakable intellect and way with words born of his reading.
It was only when Palamedes read of a god he had never heard of prior, a god of blood and skulls, that his uneventful childhood found meaning. Thanks to his reading skills imparted by his father he was able to decipher everything the cultists spread, and thanks to his father bringing home such texts he had them available whenever his father left home and his mother was busy tending to her gossip and gospel-spreading. Through the knowledge he obtained it was obvious to Palamedes that there was no deterring the tide of red to come, for blood was to be shed as the word of Khorne spread across the land and the only way out was to be the one spilling it from others rather than allowing it to surge from one's own veins.
To make an offering to Khorne too soon would just result in immediate execution like that one fool who killed his own relative, and to do so too late would be to offer almost nothing, so Palamedes continued his studies in his home and waited for the right moment to show what he learned. When he caught sight of one of the so-called 'Word Bearers' leading the invasion Palamedes knew the time had come, as if he played his cards right he would appeal to the direct servants of Khorne rather than the rabble they had recruited on his world. He was different from the others, and he would have that known in short order.
That night Palamedes called to arms the other children of the village he had spread the teachings of Khorne to, using their ignorance and fear of the constant conflict waging outside to bring them to his cause along with his fierce rhetoric and raw charisma. His command was simple, and by the time he made it they were sufficiently brainwashed into following his will that they carried it out without question.
"The true god of our universe, Khorne, demands sacrifice: your parents, those who pray to a corpse-god who has forsaken us, must pay penance! Suffer not the infidel to live, for we shall be the holy crusaders of the Blood God!"
Ritually they each slaughtered their own parents, draining their bodies of every ounce of blood using tricks Palamedes had learned while bleeding out animals, before then setting upon the adults keeping guard outside their homes. Caught off-guard, they stood no chance against the mob of children which rushed them in a mad frenzy, the fervor of these children of Khorne such that they literally tore their foes limb from limb using the strength they obtained through manual labor all their lives to aid those very adults.
Mimicking what he read of Khorne's symbolism, Palamedes made a collection of their skulls before having their bodies hung up in the shape associated with Chaos. His ploy had succeeded, for the offering pleased Maliq who sensed potential in the young boy, recruiting him and his followers directly into his Word Bearer warband the 'Prophets of Khorne'. At the time it was miniscule compared to what it would become, but Palamedes was quickly made an Acolyte of Maliq himself and so could learn firsthand everything from the First Prophet of Khorne.
A capable orator and warrior both, it became obvious early on to Palamedes that Maliq's greatest quality was his unending avarice. He always sought more for himself and his Legion, and while that led to its gradual expansion it also meant he had a weakness that could be exploited. Unable to make use of it as a young teenager, Palamedes found himself graciously gifted by his lord the opportunity to become an Astarte in recognition of his devotion to Khorne.
This occasion came after Palamedes engaged in and led a difficult blood sacrifice utilizing one of his former followers, a young girl who his parents had arranged him to marry. She had been the last of those from his homeworld other than Palamedes still alive, the others slain while serving their dark masters or by them, and Palamedes had not lifted a finger when his own siblings were sacrificed to Khorne by Maliq: for once they had a use to Palamedes, and so he was grateful to them for the first time in his life.
It was freeing to be rid of them, just like it was when he cut his father's heart out in front of his mother and she begged to know why he was doing this. While he could not quite recall what he said to her at the time, he knew that it was something along the lines of 'Why not?' before cutting her to pieces as well. Years of resentment had boiled into that moment and blinded him from his control, and he made certain to keep an even temper ever since lest he make a mistake in his fury. In that way it had been an important lesson, one brought by a slash to his body where his father's struggling had caused Palamedes' own knife to cut him, and it had kept him alive in all the time since despite the many dangers he faced.
His siblings had been sent to aid the others during that time, for Palamedes was uncertain if he could handle them and his parents simultaneously if they sided against him, and he was glad he did: otherwise the eldest ones may have objected to him collecting the small, not yet fully formed skull of an unborn sister from his mother's corpse. For a time he had kept it as a reminder of his past and worn it as an amulet, but it had been lost in the heat of battle in the years after without Palamedes even noticing: he simply did not care for such things the way others, especially those drawn to material possessions like Maliq, did. What mattered to him was the absolute power of God, of servitude towards such a superior entity, and so he carried forward in his bloody crusade with only power and faith to fuel his empty soul.
Despite their brutality the Prophets of Khorne held a deep and sacred brotherhood towards one another as fellow servants of the same almighty being, each of them recognizing the ruinous powers of Chaos as a whole while specifically devoting themselves to Khorne. Where possible they spread their beliefs, and when it faced pushback they would subvert or destroy entire worlds. Either the galaxy would bow and devote themselves to their true lord or their blood would be gifted to him, there was no other alternative.
Whereas some Astartes Legions were known for their paranoia the Word Bearers were masters of building trust, and growing up under their tutelage taught Palamedes those very skills to begin forming a following within their ranks. Between battles they would aid one another in their research and give impassioned sermons about what truths they uncovered, and betrayal in the form of backstabbing was never a consideration: if a disagreement came between them that could not be solved through discussion it was instead solved in a ritualistic duel that spilled blood without seeing one or both of the Astartes involved slain the way World Eater duels tended to.
Helping swell their ranks with converted mortals from campaigns led to Palamedes' meteoric rise through the ranks, his onetime mentor Maliq aiding his rise in order to have a trusted confidant whose intellect was particularly keen for a Khornate. By the time he was a part of the Eight Prophets which led their warband however this relationship had disintegrated on the part of Maliq, the First Prophet wisely noticing that just as there was no end to his own greed there was no end to Palamedes' ambition, and the longer he aided Palamedes in rising in stature the more he aided a potential rival in replacing him when the time came. Neither would betray the other the way many Chaos aligned Astartes would due to their sacred loyalty to Khorne who despised such trickery, but once Palamedes had enough support Maliq could find a challenge for leadership levied at him...and the very day he sought to sideline Palamedes he found himself issued that very duel.
Despite lacking as much experience as Maliq did in battle Palamedes had spent years honing the craft of killing while his lord dedicated himself to capturing trinkets, and so through sheer brutality Palamedes brought Maliq to heel and took his place at the top of their hierarchy. Keeping that position was no easy task as within their ranks existed Daemon Princes who had fallen in favor with Khorne and so had been reduced to servants, and their raw power was enough to seize power if ever he was weak, but Palamedes kept them at bay with the favor of his fellow kin who saw him as the voice of Khorne himself with his intellectual nature matched by his sheer savagery.
To better serve Khorne it had been a growing desire of Palamedes to become a Daemon Prince himself, both to expand his power and secure his reign, and more than any other Astarte before him dedicated to Khorne he believed in his worthiness not out of misplaced arrogance but from the accomplishments he was piling up one after another. A hundred worlds would fall to him in his conquest of bloodshed that saw their ranks swell well beyond the average warband and gained him more and more faith from his underlings, eventually culminating in similar favor earned with Khorne himself whose blessings pushed Palamedes further and further onward towards greatness.
Rumors formed that Palamedes had been born a Psyker and the reason Khorne favored him such was that he had never once used those powers, instead casting them aside in a secret pledge to Khorne, though the originators of such rumors found themselves as a part of a blood sacrifice not long after and so the veracity of the statement remains unknown. What is known however is that Palamedes had pledged the blood of each and every soul upon the planets he carved through, either through killing them outright in combat or through recruitment into the service of Khorne where they would then spill more blood. So many had flocked to their cause that by the end of the campaign the Word Bearers had no room to actually house more mortals upon their vessels, and so they turned to slaughtering the excess cultists on each world when they were done with it.
This campaign was made possible by Palamedes' intellect allowing him to hide out of the view of the Imperium, preying upon worlds that like his would not draw the Imperium's gaze, though this did not mean they were without conflict with the Imperium as a whole: some Astartes detachments had by chance come across them now and again only to be slaughtered by the much larger foe they fought, while the Imperial navy had mysteriously lost vessels to some unknown force believed to be pirates at first glance until further inspection revealed traces of Chaos lingering from the Daemons summoned by the Word Bearers.
The final world he pledged to Khorne in return for ascension was one Palamedes had saved for last: a medieval world that was like his own, one that would serve as a symbolic reprise to his beginning and thus he could ascend from like he had once before risen above being some mere priest's son to a servant of Khorne. He took his time with the conflict, wanting to drag it out to spill as much blood upon the world before his final triumph even as he directly led the efforts to corrupt its population.
It was perfect...and then
they appeared. The Iron Warriors punched a hole in his naval garrison and landed on the planet for some purpose before departing shortly after, as if they had retrieved whatever they had wanted. At first their strip mining of some areas made it appear to be an action taken for necessary supplies, but the truth would become known later after he pieced together what happened at a particular village where some of his followers had attempted to bring an allied Daemon Prince into being to aid in their conquest.
Soon after the departure of the Iron Warriors not a single soul remained upon the planet except for Palamedes himself, and having fulfilled his pledge he was rewarded with the power he sought: Khorne brought to him the power of a Daemon Prince, uniquely granting him a power that could allow Palamedes to continue spilling blood across the known universe. In a metamorphosis of blood, every single drop that had been spilled upon the nameless world entwined with his being and formed his new form, his body becoming one with this mass until all that remained was a being made of literal bloodshed.
It was Palamedes' moment of triumph, the first true step towards divinity that any devout follower could hope for, and yet when the ceremony ended he found himself bound with a new purpose: he could
feel that someone had been taken from the world, that the Iron Warriors had with them a soul he had pledged to Khorne. Billions had fallen to him and yet one escaped...it was obvious that Khorne did not consider it as breaking their deal since the boy's blood and soul had been moved from the planet, but it remained unacceptable to Palamedes himself.
As minute as it might be, so long as that survivor existed then the pledge which granted him his power would never
truly be complete. Perhaps that was Khorne's purpose in granting him power and not punishing him in some way, as it drove Palamedes to further and further conquest to one day achieve the ends he sought. Billions more would perish because one lived, and in that way the Prophets of Khorne blindly moved forward.
It was only when a visitor appeared before them that Palamedes' reckless wrath was replaced with his usual calm, and so their pursuit of the Iron Warriors' heels began.
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It was with admiration rather than disgust that Palamedes looked upon the ruins of Acgeye, walking throughout its ruins and observing all that he could from the most minute of details to the colossal remnants of Acgeye's fallen orbital defenses that now littered the planet. When it came to using equations to cause the most damage with a given tool or weapon there were few more capable than the Iron Warriors, and Palamedes knew who to credit for this display of carnage: the leader of the Iron Legion's fleet, Triarch Tristan Bertrand.
The Astarte's rise through the ranks had been swift, though with enough achievement behind it that none could question that is was earned. At first Palamedes thought of him as nothing more than another Astarte, a mortal who had escaped his grasp once and who would not survive a second opportunity, but he was proven wrong thanks to underestimating him: Tristan had survived near mortal wounds inflicted upon him and kept fighting through the pain until their duel was interrupted, even past the point where Tristan could be considered 'conscious' such was the hatred flowing through him.
It would appear that in his hatred of Palamedes the boy had trained his body and augmented his armor to survive even a Daemon Prince, something that saved his life yet again just recently when Palamedes used a Vindicator's cannon upon him. Something that could level a building had failed to kill the Iron Warrior and even failed to take him off his feet, though its unexpected nature had left its mark upon Tristan: it drove the Iron Warriors into full retreat in an attempt to both escape the Word Bearer reinforcements and also to save one of their highest ranking members.
Even the greatest armor was not without its weaknesses, and while Tristan would likely augment his suit to better protect from friendly fire now that did not mean Palamedes could not find another avenue to pierce it. At worst he would just have to wear it down, for while Tristan might possess defenses beyond any Palamedes had encountered the Daemon Prince was ultimately better suited to sustained battle. If not slain outright he could regenerate from his own spilled blood and that of those around him, and to kill the Daemon outright was itself a task befitting a Primarch since within him was the blood of an entire planet's population: to spill that much blood before he could reform would be nigh impossible in direct combat.
This power was of course dependent on Khorne's favor and so it was directly tied to the slaughter Palamedes carried out, but that was little issue to a man dedicated to holy slaughter and divine bloodshed. Everywhere he went he spilled blood and so Khorne's favor remained upon him, and so unless a foe managed to strip that favor from him and remove his endless regeneration he was an unstoppable force. One such as Kharn or even Lucius could perhaps outlast Palamedes in a duel and deal enough damage without suffering it in return to turn Khorne's gaze away, but such individuals were a rarity and were almost never encountered on their own: so long as there was war raging around them Palamedes felt confident he could even overcome those infamous champions of Chaos given the blood that would flow.
The thought of combating Kharn was one which Palamedes actually lusted for but wisely kept from indulging, at least yet, as to fail would be to lose their shared lord's favor. Unlike other favored servants of Khorne the Daemon Prince had not been granted any true form of resistance to foul sorcery and so a powerful Psyker such as Ahriman could counter Palamedes' unparalleled endurance with the right power, but combatants who relied on physical means to defeat him would find themselves worn down and overcome if Palamedes did not slay them outright. This did not prevent him from engaging Psykers when possible given his shared distaste for them with other Khornates, but it did mean Palamedes had to be careful since one spell could mean his end.
Fortunately for him there were no Psykers to be found within the ranks of the Iron Legion, and so he was pleased to engage them in direct conflict where possible...but their pragmatism meant that such conflicts were short and Palamedes was unable to truly get the blood flowing to carve his way through them. It had been intelligent of Jarn to isolate him against shielded behemoths known as the Iron Circle that did not bleed and could bolster one another's defenses, as by boxing him in Palamedes had been unable to properly utilize his powers even if he was strong enough to be winning the immediate fight: it kept him from reaching the other Iron Warriors as they retreated, and the Iron Circle continued their battle until the last of their Astartes departed upon which they teleported back to their vessel in varying states of disarray.
Jarn would no doubt have trouble fixing the damnable machines, but he had deprived Palamedes of the opportunity to finish off every Iron Warrior present. If they had foolishly remained he would have had the time to break through the Iron Circle and begin his rampage, but his foes were too smart for that: the moment of his arrival Jarn had set into motion their retreat, and that had ultimately saved them.
It was obvious from an outsider's observation that the Iron Warriors' retreat had been arranged ahead of time, not to mention that it was masterfully orchestrated from every angle. Their troop movements were staggered to provide covering fire for their kin as they boarded their vessels to depart the battlefield, and their vehicles had eschewed equipment or deployments that would deter their own retreat and retrieval. The only losses were the Vindicators deployed too far ahead by Levente's frontal assault to retreat in time, but even they played a role in the retreat of their crew and the Astartes they supported. It was no simple task to arrange for so many cogs to turn just perfectly, and the fact that it had been done through the arrival of enemy reinforcements made it all that much more notable.
Any beauty to be found in the retreat's organization was in its raw efficiency and planning rather than a flourish of movement, for that was all there was to it: the goal was to pull out their forces in as little time as possible while sacrificing as little of their resources as possible even in spite of the natural discord of a battlefield. Anything beyond that was unnecessary and would be a result of personal ego or pride, but that was completely absent here. The Iron Warriors had taken every single one of their fallen brethren they could and all the equipment they could take with them and dispersed without issue, showing discipline not only present in their commanders but also their rank and file who were Astartes at the end of the day and drawn to combat.
If Palamedes had to guess, they had practiced such a maneuver many times over before putting it to use, and therein lay the threat of this particular foe: they did what was efficient and effective and eschewed all else in the pursuit of their goals. They might be siege specialists, but they would just as soon drop down upon their foes from orbit and immediately seize a target if that was the best way to move forward. They would cast aside honor and flee if fighting would not benefit them, and they would only seek retribution for loss if they were able to do so without disturbing other objectives.
And, as the ruined world around him now demonstrated, these Iron Warriors would drop their foes' structures from orbit if it meant destabilizing the defenders down below by permanently destroying much of the planet's surface. How many men had they sent screaming to their deaths as their orbital stations burned upon re-entry? How many millions, perhaps even billions, perished when the planet was forcibly reshaped and beset by natural disasters? The Iron Warriors had never been the sort to care about such aftereffects of their actions, but for Jarn's forces their cutthroat pragmatism was a constant and often necessary element of their deployments to maximize their victory and minimize their losses.
If Palamedes cared for life itself such barbaric actions would reach his heart and soul, but the emotions of such things were lost on him. They were dead, and that was that, and instead of mourning the loss of a world under his control he instead sought knowledge from the endeavor. This showed above all else the lengths his foes would go to, and it would be important to not allow them another opportunity like Acgeye.
The Word Bearers themselves had sought to destroy the homeworld of the Ultramarine Legion during the Horus Heresy by first annihilating a nearby moon and then mobilizing the fragments as weapons to drop, so such tactics were not unheard of, they just showed the underhanded nature of the beholder. In the case of the Word Bearers their plan only failed due to the destruction of the
Furious Abyss, a vessel so powerful and large that only the likes of the
Phalanx and the Emperor's own personal vessels could perhaps match it in open combat...making it all the more appalling that they allowed a boarding team to destroy the ship from the inside by using its own powerful systems against it.
As Palamedes strolled through the ruined field and ashes fell from the heavens he found himself compelled to stop before a crater where a single Earthshaker round had eliminated an entire squad of advancing Word Bearers. The crater left behind was littered with the mangled remains of Palamedes' kin, and while he did not mourn them as individuals he did acknowledge the loss of his brethren who were slain in the cowardly art of artillery warfare. The carnage itself was respectable and paid Khorne the blood he was owed, but it was far less honorable than a direct battle between two armies where might reigned above all.
The damage done by the Iron Warriors' artillery in such short order was perhaps even more impressive objectively than their organized retreat. Unlike the personal warfare which was preferred by Palamedes and his kind, artillery warfare was largely a battle of numbers, prediction, and calculation concerning them. In the amount of time their attack took place the Iron Warriors' destruction had far exceeded even Palamedes' predictions, so much so that to dare rebuild on Acgeye would now take too long to be worth the effort. The Imperium were already casting their gaze towards them and the ruination brought to the Prophets' captured world was too severe compared to just conquering another unprepared world and slaying the unworthy upon it.
Still, one thing was for certain: the one known as Bertrand had proven himself in numerous ways, and Palamedes was quite impressed that his prey had grown beyond a young boy who escaped the slaughter of his world and become someone worthy of battle. When left to his own devices to just think and calculate Tristan was a powerful force multiplier, for his grasp of artillery bombardment was unlike any Palamedes had encountered thus far: every single strike was made to count, every calculation made precise to account for the enemy's movements, and redundant fire making certain that each target was taken care of while also not being so overlapping in their fields of fire that other foes went ignored.
If Palamedes had risen to his station as a genius orator and devout servant of the Dark Gods, then Tristan was his opposite with a genius intellect devoted to technology and its practical applications. Upon their first meeting Palamedes had only been impressed by the young Astarte's height and endurance, but in the time since he had grown to ponder if there was no way to turn such an individual to their side...
Ultimately, however, it was no doubt a lost cause to even try: what he had learned of Tristan was that the man was immovable when it came to persuasion against his beliefs and was entirely devoted to his Warsmith's whims and wills. If Bertrand was certain he was right about something nothing would deter that belief except Trahaearn Jarn himself, and for all one could claim such willpower and an intractable personality were positive qualities, it also meant that Tristan could be considered foolhardy and without a will of his own in most matters.
Without the Warsmith just what would Tristan have left to drive him? His vendetta against the Word Bearers who destroyed his home? That was certainly an interesting possibility, and one which Palamedes would consider bringing about through first killing the Warsmith. It would be all that much more pleasing a sacrifice to Khorne if Tristan was further pushed down the path of vengeance and bloodshed, driving him to ultimately combat the one responsible for all his woes...but such an outcome was unlikely it pained Palamedes to admit.
The Iron Warrior known as Trahaearn Jarn was perhaps one of the few foes Palamedes had come to respect on the battlefield, as while the Warsmith was lacking in finesse and relative speed his natural strength was indisputable. It was a shame that the man blamed the fall of his Legion on Chaos, even if the Word Bearers
had engineered the circumstances on Olympia to achieve that end, as one could only imagine the power Jarn might possess if he was bolstered by the True Gods.
Instead he stood as a wayward son of the Emperor's misplaced ideals, but that also made him a known quantity easy to understand: Jarn's distaste for Chaos that was shared by his kin meant that given the opportunity he would attempt to damage the operations of its servants even if it meant risking his own life and that of his men, and that had allowed Palamedes to lay in wait to wage a counter-offensive.
While some of his servants had fallen to the insane bloodlust of Khorne the mind of Palamedes had remained more or less intact ever since he first pledged fealty to his God, perhaps driven in part by his natural sociopathy leaving little within him to twist. He could provide Khorne more bloodshed through careful planning than a never ending fugue of blood, and so little posed a threat to him now that Palamedes almost always possessed a sense of eerie calm...up until things turned against him, but even then it was more frustration at obstacles in his way than panic born of the fear of death. Others underestimated him thanks to his allegiance, but they did so at their peril.
That made it all the more important to not underestimate them in turn: Palamedes did not intend to blindly walk into his next battle with the Iron Warriors, nor would he waste a moment more than necessary to put them down. He wished to play with a worthy foe like Tristan or Jarn more, but he risked losing favor with Khorne if he let them escape again.
Their next battle would be their last, he would see to that, even if he had to deploy every Word Bearer under his command to see to it.
"Lord Prophet, Imperial vessels have been spotted!"
Palamedes turned his attention down to a communication device he brought with him, its form meant for Human operation but still within the realms of his ability to manipulate. The blood form Khorne granted Palamedes took time to master, but he had come to possess complete control over it so he could partake in even more dexterous actions than an Astarte could with their Black Carapace.
"Let them through. I will handle this myself."
While Khorne detested using magical powers in battle, rituals and such powers were of course acceptable because otherwise his Daemons would be unable to be summoned into the materium and enact his will. One such blood ritual had given Palamedes a glimpse of what he sought, a fight to the death against Tristan Bertrand, with none to interfere them. Around them was a frozen wasteland and so Palamedes had sought out his destiny upon such a world at first, believing it to be Khorne's will, but he soon recognized that Tristan was avoiding such a confrontation due to Palamedes mentioning its destined nature in their first meeting.
So he had instead laid a trap on a world with the right circumstances only for that to be foiled as well...it would seem that it was not an issue to be forced, but one he would come across when the time came.
For now though, to reach that future, Palamedes would have to deal with the Imperium forces that had been drawing ever closer to his operations. The larger his forces grew the harder it became to remain in the shadows, and despite their efforts their time had run out. Full-blown confrontation with the Imperium was unavoidable at this point, but Palamedes was not worried about the immediate force sent to end his war-mongering ways: the reports he received from his agents revealed that they had assembled an entire battlefleet of 75 vessels of varying sizes to confront him assisted by the far smaller fleet of an Astarte chapter that had send their entire force together to face this fearsome threat.
The battlefleet was led by Lord Admiral Denstah, a mousy coward of a man whose personal wealth and connections had seen his rise through the ranks rather than his personal accomplishments, but those very same connections meant his battlefleet was large and well-equipped. His personality was notable only so far as it diminished the morale of his men, but he did have a wit to him that had seen him survive as long as he had despite being out of his depth in terms of tactical acumen. He would only deploy like this if he was certain of the outcome, and at first glance it would appear that the Word Bearers fleet half their size would be in trouble...but despite their reservations they held back and did not engage the Imperial navy, displaying a more restrained quality to them thanks to the reliable Fourth Prophet Yarost who was in control of the Word Bearer fleet while Palamedes was on-world.
The Astartes were of the Silver Scorpion chapter, a descendent of the Ultramarines that while highly reverent of their Primarch diverged from his Codex in a few notable ways. Even so they were proud successors of the sons of Guilliman and carried themselves as such ever since their founding in the 38th Millennium, and while not as notable as other successors did not let glory cloud their eyes when they still had a duty to carry out towards the Imperium. Their armor was nigh identical to the Ultramarines they descended from except with silver trim to mark them separately from their kin, and notably they carried more banners into battle to announce their undying loyalty to the Primarch.
Much like the notorious Minotaurs who served the High Lords of Terra the Silver Scorpions brought their full chapter to bear when they entered conflict: they traveled as a cohesive unit and deployed every tool at their disposal to secure victory swiftly and before their foes could mount a proper defense, a tactic which had seen their Astartes bond beyond the typical brotherhood of the Angels of Death. Decades and centuries of combat not only alongside their individual squads but alongside their full chapter had granted them both loyalty and efficiency that returned to the roots of the Astartes Legions of the Great Crusade.
This nature of theirs was both admirable and honorable, for they held nothing back from either friend or foe, dedicating all towards their cause and granting no quarter to those who opposed the Imperium. Their rapid victories had left them without longstanding rivalries with other species or the forces of Chaos, but it was no issue to the Silver Scorpions: they only sought to carry out the Emperor's will and to protect his holy Imperium from those who would threaten it.
If one of their number had to sacrifice for the sake of another among the Silver Scorpions they would do so without question or hesitation, for to do so would slow their onslaught and would mean questioning one's worth over their brother. Every death would be repaid a thousand-fold, with Imperial records noting that when one of their number fell that their Battle Brothers would rally and inflict devastating retribution upon those guilty of the act. They shared a sacred trust and partnership and that very bond saw them through even the most grisly of conflicts they were tasked with.
Until today, that was.
The Imperial fleet began unilateral bombardment of the planet given that its defenses were previously destroyed by the Iron Warriors and Palamedes' own fleet was holding back from engaging them yet, and as the world around him erupted in imprecise fire from Battleships Palamedes felt himself grinning. He knew a thing or two about these threats coming his way and had planned accordingly, and when this initial bombardment ended he knew the Silver Scorpions would deploy in full to eliminate him.
Elsewhere Third Prophet Trolos, Fifth Prophet Icar, Sixth Prophet Laxevo, and Eighth Prophet Arven were busy preparing their forces for the departure of the fallen world and protecting what they could from the Imperial Navy. Rohkeus and Maliq were sidelined for the moment due to their injuries and their failure, and Palamedes would have to figure out how to handle his brethren who were wounded in both body and pride. First though he would deal with these interlopers who would be the first of many.
Despite a few strikes of the bombardment striking Palamedes it was like a papercut to someone whose constitution was comprised of the blood of millions, his consolidated form hiding well his true nature even if his heavy footsteps could give it away to a keen eye. Whatever blood erupted from his body flowed right back to him, and so by the time a bombardment that could have wiped out a company of soldiers finished there was not a scratch upon him: the Imperials would have to try far harder than that to slay him.
Immediately following this was the arrival of the Astartes, Drop Pods and landing ships hurtling down from orbit all to form around where Palamedes stood. He had been waiting for this moment ever since he began chasing the Iron Warriors, the Word Bearers' actions erasing their fellow Legion's tracks and leaving their own in return, and he would have been a fool to think he could just run around without ever facing pushback. The Imperium might be slow, but its power came from the wealth of numbers it had on its side, and in this case that meant a force that overall dwarfed Palamedes' own that would wipe the Word Bearers out in a direct conflict.
Fortunately that was unnecessary, and so as the first Silver Scorpion charged out of their drop pod with chainsword drawn Palamedes whipped an outstretched hand across him: the razor-like blood formed ripped through their Power Armor and ended the Astartes' life instantly as well as those of the four Space Marines nearest to him.
Palamedes might not have the raw might of some of his Daemon Prince peers, but what he did possess was an unparalleled vitality and control of the blood that it was comprised of. In a vacuum this made him a difficult foe to defeat one on one, but an impossible beast to overcome the larger a battle became. With blood flowing all around him Palamedes could twist it as an extension of his own body and will, and so he tore his way across battlefields leaving no survivors in his wake. Even the blood of his own allies could be used to such an end, so killing his comrades only empowered him more, leaving Palamedes as a surprise to foes who were used to just hitting a target hard to overcome it: for him they would have to put far greater effort to undo the blessing of Khorne, and such was the First Prophet's true potential.
"Do not worry, my dear Battle Brothers sworn to false idols: your sacrifice will help bring others to the Primordial Truth that you were denied. Hundreds more shall rise in your place, your Gene-Seed granting them the strength necessary to reshape the cosmos in Khorne's image. I grant you what the Corpse Emperor never could, a purpose in death."
Using the blood spilled by his victims Palamedes arced it into a series of spikes that impaled the other squadmembers in the drop pod right through their necks and skulls. Bolter shells impacted his body as more arrived and opened fire, but they were so trivial a threat that Palamedes continued tearing the first squad apart before setting his sights on the ones daring to fire on him. Now surrounded by a pool of blood Palamedes summoned it forward as an extension of himself and impaled each of them with a thick tendril of the red liquid, having tested it on Power Armor enough times to know just how he had to form and strike with the hardened blood of millions to punch holes through Astartes foes.
What they knew of Palamedes was that he was a Khornate Daemon Prince belonging to the Word Bearer legion...and thanks to deliberate false intel were wholly unaware as to the existence of his regenerative properties. They would be fully committed by the time they realized, but by then it would be too late.
Unlike his own blood there was a limit to how much he could do with the blood spilled around him, but it did allow Palamedes to use it as a resource rather than tapping into the blood which comprised his being. Just as Khorne granted fiery blood or other such boons to his other followers Palamedes had a deadly tool in his arsenal and through his own effort he had mastered it by spilling the blood of many foes.
Within moments a thousand Astartes, their entire chapter's supply of Predator Tanks, Whirlwind artillery, Dreadnoughts, Land Speeders, Thunderfire Cannons, Rhinos, Razorbacks, Vindicators, and every other tool in their arsenal was deployed around him...but the mistake had been made, and Palamedes rushed into the fray to spill more blood. A foolish Captain moved to combat him only for their Thunder Hammer to never reach Palamedes before a blade summoned from blood cut him down from three times the reach. His enraged brethren charged, but with a swing of the very same blade Palamedes tore through their torsos one after the other, one movement slowed by each body it cut through but never stopping until the last lay dead.
Tapping into their blood, Palamedes took control of Khorne's blessed substance and erupted it outwards to coat other nearby Astartes who then felt their armor begin to creak as Palamedes crushed them with it like the coat of blood was his gripping fist. Unlike the typical form of a Daemon Prince his body
was blood and little more, and so he could twist its freed form like a Human could breathe air. Using his blood to spill blood to then tear his foes apart and further spill blood pleased Khorne, as demonstrated by the power he invested in Palamedes, and so the slaughter began to exponentially grow.
If they had sent only their top Astartes aided by their tanks perhaps the Silver Scorpions would have stood a chance, but as Palamedes surged as a pool of blood through the battlefield to suddenly strike down their Chapter Master and the Chief Librarian accompanying him the sons of Guilliman sworn to their brotherhood had no choice but to fight. They brought to bear every weapon at their disposal, every marine, but by keeping close to them as their sole target Palamedes prevented their heavier weapons from truly targeting him and continued his rampage from one squad to another.
A typical Daemon Prince would have crumbled to such overwhelming force directed at them all at once, but their powers might allow them to defeat greater foes than Palamedes could on his own...but upon a battlefield such as this with a thousand foes and nothing in his way Palamedes reigned supreme. Kharn may have defeated thousands upon thousands upon Terra according to legend, but there now was another champion of Khorne seeking to etch his name upon the annals of history.
"Blood for the Blood God!"
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When the battle was noticed to be the one-sided slaughter that it was the Imperial Fleet had panicked, as the Silver Scorpions had been held in awe by them for possessing a full chapter in cohesion which was an unlikely sight in these times. Too often chapters were scattered to the winds, fighting countless battles with minimal numbers, but here stood a thousand Astartes who they would only be in the way of down on the ground when the operation commenced.
Had they been there every Imperial Guardsmen deployed would have been slaughtered in but an instant, only hastening the growth of the tidal wave of blood Palamedes was throwing at his foes. Denstah had no idea how to respond at first except to open fire in the hopes of burying Palamedes with the combined firepower of his fleet...but that action drew the ire of the Silver Scorpion Battle Barges in orbit with them, for their men still were fighting down there even as a thousand quickly became nine hundred, and then seven hundred, and so on and so forth.
This inter-service contention stalled Denstah's hand long enough for Palamedes to finish cleaning up, and when he tore the head off of a valiant Captain who kept fighting him to the end Palamedes lifted the man's helmet up to use it for himself.
"Imperial fleet, you are addressed by the First of the Eight Prophets of Khorne, Palamedes of the Word Bearers. In the name of Erebus, Lorgar, and the Master of the Brazen Throne I humbly herald their will so that all might learn of the truth!"
Silence reigned in return, but he could tell he was reaching the fleet in orbit thanks to the open communication line the Silver Scorpions used for their tactics.
"Now hear this: there is no peace, only war. That there is no honor or nobility, only power. That there is nothing to hold you back from seizing your destiny, only the will to act! You have seen what I am capable of with the power I have taken for myself! An entire Chapter of your Astartes has fallen to my hand alone, blinded by their indoctrination and misguided ideals into believing their righteousness would see to their victory. That zeal which saw them employ their full force against one foe was their downfall, and so I ask you: do you believe that you would fare better? Who among you has the strength to overcome one blessed by a true god, rather than a corpse forever immobile upon their throne?"
The Word Bearers fleet led by Yarost moved into position to engage if necessary, following Palamedes' orders from before the battle to the letter. They would intercede on his behalf if necessary, and a blood ritual had been done to summon him back to the fleet while the others finished departing the fallen world, but until then the Word Bearers remained on standby for their leader to prove himself as an herald of both Chaos and Khorne.
"I would spill the blood of each and every one of you if you so wish to stand in our way, but I offer you a better path: those of you who would seize your destiny with your own two hands, wrest control of your vessels from any who would dare remain loyal to your false idol! Pledge your fealty to the Eight Prophets of Khorne, take your fate into your hands and prove your worth by cleansing your souls in the blood of those who would deny your rise to power! Destroy the remnants of the Silver Scorpions, capture their Battle Barges for the service of Khorne, and you shall have salvation!"
Despite his monstrous nature his words played upon the growing dread and fear of the Imperial fleet, their morale already weakened by the leadership of a craven man, and their spirit still reeling in shock at the complete annihilation of an entire Astarte chapter. In less than a couple hours these mighty servants of the Emperor had been cut down to the last, their mighty vehicles and stalwart heroes nothing in the face of a tide of blood.
"No ambition is out of reach, so for those of you who have the will and strength this is your opportunity to become something greater than a mere thrall of an uncaring Emperor! Join our brotherhood and together we shall carve a path through all who would deny our potential!"
Palamedes could not truly see the exact fleet movements above from his position, but soon on the very same communications line he heard screams as soldier fought soldier, officer fought officer, and Battleship fought Battle Barge in a sudden frenzy wrought by his words and actions both. Content, Palamedes returned to his flagship
The King's Gambit, and was greeted by the uproarious celebration of his slaughter by its crew.
Most interesting of those aboard the bridge was an envoy from another Legion however, someone whose face betrayed no fear or hesitation of dealing with such a powerful entity. For this Palamedes was willing to parley with the Astarte of the Emperor's Children, for even if the man was far more blunt and direct than his brethren he had proven reliable when providing information about Trahaearn Jarn and his forces.
Their alliance was one of convenience: the Word Bearers sought to repay the Iron Warriors for their actions and for the opportunity to slay Tristan Bertrand, and the Emperor's Children wished them dead but were deployed in another corner of space. Palamedes did not trust the sons of Fulgrim and their ways and so always tested the waters with the information he was granted lest he be lead to ruination: such hesitation was perhaps why the Iron Warriors, while always tailed by the Word Bearers, had not yet been fully overrun by them. As-is they possessed a mutually beneficial bond ironically with the Iron Warriors finding resources that the Word Bearers could then pilfer, and the Word Bearers cleaning up after both of their trails to prevent Imperial intervention.
Despite his power Palamedes knew that all it would take was one poorly chosen fight, one where his talents were unable to be brought to bear, for him to fall and so he chose his battles carefully. Even still, he enjoyed the occasions where he was visited by Verdoven of the Emperor's Children for he was one of so few who could keep from shivering in fear before him these days.
"I have the coordinates of where an Imperial Fleet allied with the Iron Warriors will arrive at a specific time. In return for this knowledge Lord Phrixus would ask of you what you would already do with it: to kill every last one of the men within their fleet before they can meet with the Iron Warriors," the fearless Emperor's Children envoy spoke calmly even as the bridge around them remained in an uproar. Outside the bridge one could see the Imperial Navy blowing the Battle Barges out of the sky, the last remnants of the Silver Scorpions falling down to Acgeye below as if to further damn the planet's surface.
"And tell me, just why would the sons of Trahaearn Jarn align themselves with the Imperium they so malign?" Palamedes questioned skeptically, not believing anything said by someone outside his brotherhood at face value.
"Because they are the displaced sons of his homeworld, Kimara: he knows not of it yet, but every male capable of conscription has been forcibly drafted by their government to serve against a Tyranid fleet. It is unlikely the Tyranids will destroy them entirely, so we intend to see to it that none return home where they pose a threat to our operations. We have set the stage: we only ask that you indulge in your desire for slaughter."
Palamedes paused for a moment, mulling over what had been said before coming to a conclusion the Emperor's Children should find acceptable.
"Grant me the data and I will see to it that they are dealt with on my terms. Our interests are aligned on this front, but I still cannot promise you the head of Trahaearn Jarn: should he confront me I will spill his blood with my own hands."
Verdoven handed over the information he carried with him impassively, once again not impressed by Palamedes' words the way so many others were, "It is pre-ordained that he battle with my Lord over the fate of their world, so act as you please: you cannot kill a man whose soul belongs to another. Similarly your own quarry you have pledged to Khorne awaits, and when the time comes we would gladly aid you once again in disposing of this 'Bertrand'."
Without another word Palamedes dismissed the envoy and tended to the aftermath of his battles, his mind twisting and turning as he thought of how to best use this information now granted to him without trusting it entirely. That Maliq and Rohkeus were reporting to him directly as further reports came in of the surrender of all seventy remaining Imperial ships to the Word Bearers solved his pondering in a single stroke.
"Second Prophet Maliq, Fourth Prophet Yarost, and Seventh Prophet Rohkeus: there is an Imperial Fleet we have received reports of that is allied to the Iron Warriors which engaged us in battle. For your failures upon Acgeye I am placing both Brother Maliq and Rohkeus under the command of Yarost for this operation where you will lead thirty of our armada and the now surrendered Imperial Fleet against them."
Yarost was the first to speak back, seemingly hesitant about trusting their new recruits, "And what if they turn upon us?"
"Consider this an exercise in their loyalty, morale, and capabilities. They may be but mere mortals, but so were we once upon a time: they will prove themselves against their former comrades, or they will perish trying. Oversee them with the navy I impart to you and ensure their newfound faith is pure. By now they must know they have no way back, so further them down the path of damnation and eliminate those who would stand in our way."
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A/N: Hope you enjoyed this unique chapter in celebration of Khorne day a week ago (8/8), and that you will leave me your thoughts in the comments below!
