Join Date: May 2010
Location: Folkestone Kent UK
Constantine Valdor walked the former Himalayasian Peaks. He did this whenever he needed time to think. The commander of the Custodes, the Dread Guardians of the Emperor themselves and his most staunch protectors,
However, with the death of Hussar he had been hearing the disquiet amongst the other Custodes. As the Chief Custode he had served the Emperor far longer then any other of the Leigio Custodes.
With over 932 names to his honour he considered the Emperor his friend as well as his master. It was rare for him to be away from the Emperors side but just for moment he needed the air of the mountains to clear his confused mind.
Valdor was not a man to follow any man blindly but the actions over the last few months of not just the Emperor but also his chosen sons was cause for concern to him. Lorgar now spent more time in the company of the Emperor then even himself or the Sigilitte.
He had respected Lorgar as a learned man and a skilful Orator but damn Colchisan theological obsessions. The Emperor was never a god, a very long-lived and skilled man, but never a god.
He sat on the ground ignoring the awe struck looks of the people as they made their way under him and hurried off. It was humbling to see a Primarch but to see a lone Custode was a rare sight indeed and one that not many were keen on seeing.
Now Lorgar was his voice, proclaiming his religious doctrine with all the zeal of ancient Popes and the like. Rogal Dorn…now of all the Primarchs with perhaps the exceptions of Horus and Sanguineous, he respected Dorn.
He genuinely liked Dorn and he had thought that if any of them he would see that that this was turning everything upside down on its head. Like himself and his Leigio the Primarchs were independent of thought.
They had their own ways of doing things and thus their sons were modelled in the same way, however unlike the Custodes, the Astartes had a brotherhood and he would have thought that Dorn would have fallen on that brotherhood and not followed the others into this – road to ruin.
To kill an entire world for the sake of a relic that was not something of goodness but of degradation amongst other things. If The Praetorian had even thought twice about his fathers’ actions, with the creation of the Black Templars under the zealot Sigismund any doubt was long gone.
He removed his helm and ran his hand over his mohicaned hair, his blue eyes surveying the world around him.
Fulgrim, The Phoenician was always a bit – effeminate in his tastes but that made him no less a fighter, forever seeking his fathers approval and striving to reach the height of perfection in war and knowledge that he could never truly attain.
As perfect as the sons were crafted they would not and never could be on the same level as their father. Anyone who told the lord of Chemos that though was subjected to the petulant ranting of a spoilt child who had his favourite toy taken away.
He was a Primarch but he had his goals and his aspirations and it was always a source of pride to him that his legion was allowed to bear the Emperors standard on their armour.
Angron.... ah now there was one who Valdor truly believed was rage incarnate. Whenever the Red Angel warred it was bend over and kiss your arse goodbye. Valdor could always see the simmering rage that was sat deep behind the War Hounds eyes. It was a drug to him and the more blood he spilt the happier he was.
Sometimes Valdor wondered if Angron was as sane as he made out. The Emperor had told him once to not make anymore of his World Eaters enhanced through those damn psychological implants, before he went to war alongside Vulkan the Emperor told him to continue with it.
Never had Valdor seen Angron so pleased with his fathers’ choices and that had scarred the hell out of Valdor and not much in any lifetime did that.
The Lion, Valdor shifted his position a little causing some snow to dislodge and make its way down what was left of the ancient top of the world peaks. Lion El’Johnnson was indeed an enigma.
Several days ago he had sent the majority of his Terran born sons back to Caliban under the auspice of helping future recruits from Caliban but he had also had some of his Caliban sons sent back as well as his surrogate father Luther.
There was something not right there and Valdor could not put his finger on it but if any man was capable of keeping his cards close to his chest it was the Lord of Caliban. The Emperor had been a little bit annoyed when the Lion had returned with news that Perturabo would not be following any other direction other then that set out for him.
He was also a bit miffed that the Lion had stepped on Perturabos shoes on a battlefield, especially when he knew that this particular warfare, siege craft was Perturabos speciality.
The Gorgon had been a surprise, he had always done as was expected of him, but his close links with the Mechanicum had ensured that he would be chosen as one of the inner circle.
Even now Ferrus was on his way to Mars with his Legion under the words of Lorgar and the Emperor. Valdor shook his head and stroked his beard Mars would not like this new turn of events, essentially as it made the treaty null and void and by sending the Iron Hands, the Emperor was letting them know that he knew their secrets.
The there was Curze. Even Valdor shivered at the mention of the Master of Night, The chief Custode pitied Curze as much as felt uneasy around him, his debilitating visions made him Lorgars vision pool but his need to sow the seeds of terror wherever he struck made him unpredictable.
Valdor knew that as soon as Curze had been brought on board that the madmen had been let out of the asylum. Somehow, someway he had to let Horus know what was going on and indeed what had befallen Vulkan and the Salamanders.
Vulkan was like a dead man walking, whatever had taken his soul into the power of the warp entities had left him with no light in his eyes, just a darkness that seemed to encompass him and control him.
He had taken it upon himself to fight the Eldar, dark or otherwise wherever they may be and the Emperor had allowed it, for none knew their ways better then the scion of Nocturne and his sons.
Valdor looked back towards the palace walls. Once he had been able to be open with his old friend, now he had to guard even his own thoughts and against one that he once trusted and who was in the most powerful psyker in the human race, it was not an easy thing to accomplish.
The dream was over it was just none of the other sons knew it yet. With a heavy heart he got to his feet and began his long and lonely trek back to the palace. Unsure of what he was going to do or, even how he was going to achieve it.