coming of the gods
Coming of the Gods.
Listen my children and listen well to what I tell for it will teach you all you know about the gods and their favoured sons.
There was a time before, when the favoured sons of the gods walked with others like them. When the host that fought in the heavens fought as one force and the scattered husks of humanity was but a memory.
It was then that the lord of mankind decreed that all should be found, all cradles of man should become one, under one leadership and one ideal. To rule the stars, the planets and let no aliens survive.
The lord of mankind proclaimed “Let there be light” and so there was. However, deep in the tendrils of long night its own blackness had spawned its own children and how they suffered under the inquisitor god and in those long gone days the heavens and the skies were ablaze with his wrath.
His sons rode the heavens with their sons and their luminance seared the endless oceans of stars like Greek fire and struck the old ways like a mighty battering ram struck straight from heaven like a juggernaut.
In the earliest days, before the coming of his sons he cast the children of darkness down from heaven the offspring’s of the night fell from their places of power like comets wreathed in holy flame.
The weakest of whom struck the heavens and were reduced to blackened husks, their powers gone and yet three remained strong, strong enough to seek refuge in the great split in the sky that they called the Eye of Terror.
From there he cast his gaze upon his world, a dream of uniting it all away from the wars and the horror that had blighted it all to a rock of wasteland, its beauty long gone and from this hard fought victory he proclaimed that there was no such thing as gods.
He never forgot the darkness he had defeated and made sure that they would never be known and never be spoken about in case their names were to be reborn in a wave of terror and destruction that would place the galaxy in a never-ending war of flame and death.
The survivors of the great battle, weakened by their journey to the great eye finally succumbed to their weariness and with their followers; those that had lost their forms but remained loyal to them entered a slumber that would heal their wounds.
However, during this great slumber their forms changed, their dreams became twisted cycles of what they had always believed to be true. No longer beings of light and beauty they became mutated into mighty beings full of envy and hate.
One became a great bloated beast dripping disease, plague and pestilence among his followers, his dreams of destroying the worlds of the inquisitor god with the agony of disease.
Another became a great feathered serpent, his mastery over the arcane making him able to see many futures, many twisting winding roads of destiny, in his slumber he smiled for this he had foreseen and this made him the most powerful.
The third unable to contain his anger at his fall, his rage at being cast aside for having a different approach to the world that this powerful being ruled with an iron hand slept the sleep of a volcano and when he awoke he would awake with a roar that spoke of eternal war and eternal blood. The universe would flow with blood in his name and his name alone.
As time went on humanity was forced to bow to the will of the narcissistic god, to accept his rule without question, they never knew of the hallowed seas that they were to sail when old night befell their worlds cutting them free from the unyielding power of their god, the three woke with a roar to be joined by another.
This other was forced into existence upon the base desires of another race, all he saw was an eternity of pleasure and pain which brought him into odds with the third god their god of war who saw pleasure and pain as nothing more then a waste of a true warriors need.
Humanity settled on worlds thinking they were doing the best that they could for their race unknowing of the true reasons behind their decisions to land on certain worlds the never-ending ocean of life.
Like flies drawn to the smell of decay or moths to the flame they settled these worlds, built cities over the graves of the fallen and temples and alters to powers that they neither knew nor understood but felt moved by the darkness they contained.
The menacing god created offspring of his own and in an act of pure arrogance he placed them where he believed they would be safe, but the gods had the last laugh. In revenge for their fall at his hands they took his precious offspring scattering them across the universe, landing them on worlds where in their young states the exiled powers whispered to them in their dreams.
Adapted them to the worlds they were to call and made them more then their father would ever wish them to be but more then that they placed a chink in their superhuman structure that would later come back to destroy the brothers and the father, they would have their revenge.
The god set forth in his ships of war to begin his great crusade not knowing what he and the giants of war he had created and would wrought in the images of his lost sons would find.
He was joyous when he found one of his sons. The one named Horus Lupercal, the one who would become the rising star in the gods’ affections and the one that would ultimately destroy him. This son would carve his own legacy paving the way for the favoured sons to ride the stars.
One by one he found them all, the noble angel, the one they called Sanguinius who’s mighty wings made him look like the gods brothers of old and brought back many memories for the man that now called himself only the Emperor.
But oh the angel of the blood had a darker side to him, for in the heat of battle he would draw blood and the smell would move him to greater heights of destruction but the gods of the eye were unable to penetrate his iron clad soul completley, unable to place the seeds of dissent that they could in others.
The one they called Rogal Dorn, the great builder and also the Emperors Champion. The one who’s defences were harder to penetrate just like his soul and so the changer decieded to leave this one for there was nothing in his future that suggsted anything but complete obdience to the Emperor.
The dark gods were frustrated at their lack of reaping,. So far only one had the signs of being anything but the sum of all fears. Roboute Gulliman, Ferras Mannus, Corax, Vulkan, Lemun Russ these were men who were gods that were in the image of the original host, the icons of those that in those scarlet passed millennia who had forced them from the world they knew to the one they had come to know.
Then came those that would be all they could for the powers withing the great eye. Angron the angry red giant who felt betrayed by his fathers insitance that he leave those he had sworn to die with, to look after and protect, leaving him with a scar that burned deep into his soul as the man he was told was his father was nothing more then an oathbreaker.
It was easy for Khorne to watch over this one and his violent sons easy to whisper into his maddening mind as the years went on.
Magnus, the one eyes red skinned son who’se mastery over the arcane made him feared by all incliuding his own father so when as a dutiful son he took his warnings to his father he was betrayed by the man he loved and forced to fight the brother whom trusted him less sending him into the arms of the changer.
Perturabo, a son who believed that he had been left to do nothing but siege warfare, the best he was there was often a joke that if the Imperial Fists, the sons of Dorn built a bastion it would hold, if the Iron Warriors lay siege to it there would be a never ending war of artricain.
Perturabo was sullen, moody and felt overlooked by the majority of his brothers and so all gods whispered to him, it was easy to do when a man was at that low an ebb, was merely pushing the tide a little furthur.
Konrad Curze, the Night Haunter a man who was plagued by precognative dreams of his fathers coming and his own demise who was perhaps already insane when hios father came and who was distrusted by the likes of Dron whom he attacked to be betrayed by the one whom he trusted most.
Mortarion, the lord of death led into the worship of Nurgle and Nurgle alone by the machinations of his own first captain the mighty herald of Nurgle. His resistance to disease made his sons and himself the perfect carriers of the plagues that the great grandfather wanted to bring to the world of men.
Fulgrim the prince of arrogance and pride, who thought to be the greatest amongst primarchs and was deemed to be one worthy to carry the aquilla acros their chests. His arrogance ran through him like a shionong light and his pride was like a lighthouse that shone to Slannesh, that told the eldar god that there was one for him and him alone.
Alpharius Omegron, twins although not known outside the leigon, most secretive of the legions and one had to wonder if the emperor knew that they would be the ones to join the betrayers side, did he wish that for them?
Finally there was Lorgar, the Urizen, the pride of Colchis and the most devout follower of the gods. A son spurned by the man he worshiped as a god and made to feel next to nothing in the eyes of his father compared to another leigon all the gods spoke to him and through him they worked their way into the hearts of thiose they knew.
One, one son remained an enigma. The one they called the Lion, Lion El Johnson not even the gods knew what side he would take. His heart unreadable to those who had spent darkclad centuries planning the downfall of the emperor and all he held dear.
The dark sleepers had awoken to full force, they had taken superstions of ancioent man and made them real and took the souls of the greatest created turning them into everything they had once been at the dawn of time.
The children of the gods brought the renegade god to his knees, brother fought brother in a war that engulfed the entire universe in searing flame and fire. Horus sacrificed those of his sons who would not follow him, as did his brothers.
Horus believed that he was the only one betrayed by his father, left alone to fight a war that his father had started, his melancholy and betrayal focussed on the others and heightened it.
Fulgrim, that proud and arrogant Phoenician lord chopped the head from his most loved brother Ferrus and gave his soul to Slannesh but that is what they would have you believe for Fulgrim had changed in more ways then any would ever know,
These warrior tribes grew in strength as they turned planet against planet, warrior against warrior, Mechanicum against Mechanicum and titan against titan. Horus was at his peak as the great warriors of the gods assaulted the foul gods palace, victory in his grasp but he withered in spirit.
With the blood of his beloved brother the angel on his hands the gods hold on him perished with him and through him the attack perished. His sons and brothers retreated.
Such was the power of failure there was no place for them to go but to the eye of terror where they made their homes. The Primarchs were awarded demonic princedom they were no longer contained by the sheer magnetic force of will that was Horus and many of them all except one split into war bands becoming shadows of their former selves.
Abaddon the first of Horus destroyed his fathers’ body and changed his legions name over ten thousand war drenched bloody centuries he has become the new Warmaster, the favoured of the gods.
One legion, one band of sons stayed true to their ideals, worshipping all the gods not just one, now under many guises of various mystery cults have served the faceless and ever hungry entities for many generations.
They have taken power without ever compromising their survival, as other legions waxed powerful then faded they remained constant. The beleaguered and downtrodden came to them seeing them as priests of the true gods, mighty seers who were to be believed for they did not rot their souls in the service to a god that was dying.
They also brought their worship and abuse of the Imperiums power to the cities of mankind but they masked it so well that entire cities, worlds even star systems turned to their way of thinking without even realising they had done so until the time was right.
When these sons were at war they made sacrifice with prisoners and slaves, when they were are peace they made sacrifices with prisoners and those that were not worthy to join the ranks.
The sacrifices were eviscerated their blood collected in ceremonial bowls to bless the warriors their organs were reverently removed and read for augury to ensure the success of their mission or if the gods told them not to go.
These warriors my children ate the warriors that we have become. Those warriors are our masters and our forefathers.
The renegade god is dead only the true gods live.
In the name of blessed Lorgar we pave the way for the final war of wars when the rightful gods will take their place on their throne of skulls, corridors of corruption, blood of death and changing fortunes, we will herald a new day.