In the dying moments of the 41st millennium, there was no war.
All things retreated to prepare.
To lick their wounds.
To gather their forces.
For the End.
In the last moments of a war torn existence, where death was everywhere, there was peace.
For one, shining moment, there was peace amongst the stars.
Then the Emperor opened his eyes.
The Fleet of Suroh entered realspace from the Eye of Terror.
And the galaxy exploded with war.
Chapter One – The 42nd Millennium; The Birth of the Star Child.
The Emperor was reborn in a psychic storm that slaughtered any and all psykers in the galaxy and the warp. It began at his feet, and like a fire, it swept up his broken form, fixing bones and forming flesh. As the flames reached his head, they licked their way across his skull; his skin was perfectly tanned when the flames finally worked their way to his broken skull.
In the Warp, the after effects of the rebirth of the Emperor screamed through the warp; daemons dissipated from its power, and the very warp shook at it’s passing; all of this was amplified by the death of every psychically conscious being in existence.
After a moment, the galaxy was filled with peace. For the first time in ten thousand years, there was peace in the stars. It was like a breath of fresh air; it may seem insignificant, but in that second, the Imperial Guard’s ranks swelled to an unprecedented number; billions of war machines were pumped out of factories and forges; and for a single second, the God’s of the universe had their supply of souls falter. Their fuel of life lost, even for that one moment, left them extremely weak and recoiling from the terrible loss they had suffered.
Then that fresh air was tainted with the arrival of Suroh’s huge fleet. With a sound like thunder that echoed across the cosmos, the Eye was torn open and over two million vessels, of different makes and sizes, burst through, and it seemed like the very essence of the Gods flowed out into space. The first planet to come under the attack of Chaos’ darkest crusade yet was the bastion of the Northern Imperium; Cadia itself. As two million ships came into orbit over the fortress world, a thousand missile silos on each ship prepared for the worst bombardment that the Imperium had ever seen.
On Terra, the Emperor’s rebirth shook the galaxy with a psychic shockwave that slaughtered any psychic individuals of the Great Cataclysm. The Eldar, however, were safe, locked away in their own private war in Camorragh. The Custodes stationed in the Throne Room looked on in awe, watching their father come back to life. They were awaiting his reaction, poised to rush to Him, should He require aid of any kind.
But He did not move.
He simply stared into space.
Then He did something none of them expected; He screamed.
A shrill, piercing sound, it made the Custodes clutch their heads in unbearable torment, as they fell to their knees in pain. Then there was a flash of brilliantly white light, and when the Custodes looked up at the Throne, their beloved Emperor was gone. The tubes that had fed him with energy now flailed about, gas issuing from their torn ends. They rushed up the steps to the Throne, and were hit with a wave of Psychic energy that threw them back down the stairs. They stared at each other, confused and terrified; where had the Emperor gone? After ten thousand years of vigilance and protection, they had failed...
But they had seen him reborn! Surely that wasn’t for nothing? Surely there was a plan to this...
In the Warp, a great duel was raging.
Khorne swung in a downwards arc, his great axe cleaving through thousands of Daemon-Worlds, millions of Daemons dying in an instant. The Emperor dodged easily, and it was clear that the loss of souls had affected Khorne; he was slow, and sluggish, not the graceful and quick warrior that he was known to be. The Emperor roared a cry of pure hate, and Khorne swung his huge head around to see the Emperor bringing Firelord, his great sword, down on his back. Khorne’s eyes widened and he brought his axe up in time to block the blow; flames flew off in every direction, some licking Khorne’s eyes and burning them; he roared out in pain and covered his eyes with his free hand. Sparks the size of suns flew off of the clashing blades, and they illuminated the Emperor’s perfect features, twisted with wrath and hate; his lip was curled upward, a sneer breaking apart his smooth face. His eyes were alight with malice, and for a moment the saviour of humanity looked as vengeful and hate-filled a God as Khorne was. Then he groaned, and pushed down hard on the sword, putting all of his weight behind it; Khorne was being slowly pushed back, and closer to the roiling mass of hate that was the ground. Beads of blood ran down Khorne’s face, obviously his substitute for sweat, and the Emperor pressed his attack; he broke the lock with Khorne, and then swung the blade down viciously, smashing against Khorne’s axe again and again. Sparks were flying off ferociously, sending daemons that were trying to help reeling back or they were disintegrated.
‘Do you yield, you abomination?’ asked the Emperor coolly, though the strain in his voice was obvious.
‘Never, you false god!’ spat Khorne, blood droplets spearing out of his mouth like daggers, impaling themselves in the Emperor’s face.
The Emperor growled through gritted teeth, and pulled back his sword for one, final stroke. Khorne lay on the shifting ground, bloody tears in his eyes; the Emperor swung downwards, and Khorne’s head rolled away with several thuds.
Another skull for the throne, thought the Emperor. Now for the other ones.
Edited by Skirax, 19 May 2013 - 12:18 PM.