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Vulgate Empty Vulgate

Post by Vulgate on Wed Jun 25, 2014 4:53 am

The world known only as "Plains World" was under the enemies control. As Evening Star walked through the desolate streets he saw evidence of the vile enemy and it's corrupt hold on his world. The warrior lodges had become shadows of their former glory, and the 4-armed idols of the false emperor stood tallest above even the greatest honor totems. Evening Star was one of the last of a dying people, those who once stood for honor and purpose, who thrived on the great plains and vied for the attentions of the Thunderbird and the Sky Warriors. The Hill-Clans and their devilish alliance had brought ruin upon the plains, and where once the great lodges held the tribes, now only this large blasphemous collection of buildings remained. Built by the Invaders, they claimed these large sores of the eye were "The strength of the Imperium" that these vast collections held wealth and power, and that their way was the true word of the Emperor. We had fought them at first, but they had weapons too great, and eventually our people had given in. With our warriors slain, there was nothing left of our people. Surely the Sky Warriors would look down upon us with shame, and even the mighty Deathwing, valiant mount of the immortal Emperor of Man, would not waste it's mighty power to simply end our misery. All had fallen to the invaders; all but one. Evening Star's grandfather, and mentor in the ways of the Shaman, Morning Star had stood long against the oppressors and called down their destruction, seen through his formidable Witching Sight. His grandfather, potent though he was, was an old man now, and in his younger life was turned down in his hopes of joining the Sky Warriors. Now, late in his life, he served to rally what loyal followers he could in utterance of the true faith of the Emperor in the, seemingly futile, hopes that he would return and save his land. 
His Grandfather awoke from slumber that night possessed of spirit, "Go, Evening Star, bring for the sacred unguents, we shall soon be joined by the spirits who walk now upon our land." Evening Star obeyed forthwith, not wishing to anger his Grandfather though he doubted his prophecy. On only his thirteenth summer, Evening Star had been brought before his Grandfather and it was revealed that he too held the Witching Sight, a sign of the shaman deep within. Morning Star was quick to teach the young child, and presented upon him with two things, the first was a tattoo of dark ink, the shape of a winged skull upon his forehead: The telling sign of a shaman. The second was a name akin to his own, to represent the family link and the pride with which he found in his grandson. Whilst Evening Star stalked through the city streets, he watched with disgust as the fattened villagers ate and drank irreverent within their many taverns and bars, caring little for the world around them and only seeking to serve their own gluttonous desires. He had nearly been spotted upon approaching his grandfathers hiding place for the sacred accouterments, one of the bluecoats turned a corner quickly and nearly gazed directly upon Evening Star, and may well have caught him had he slipped for a moment, but the boy was diligent, and gathered quickly to return to his Grandfather.  
Unguents in hand, Evening star quickened his pace as he heard what sounded like a commotion coming from the streets about the hovel at which he lived with his hermit Grandfather. Rounding the corner he saw a group of the bluecoats had his grandfather thrust against a wall, and were thrashing him with hardened batons. The aggressors were accusing the old man of "Heresy against the true Emperor" and were beating him relentlessly. The boy was mere seconds from intervention when he observed another curious sight: A being, similar to him but somehow distant, was approaching the aggressors who had ceased their assault upon the aging shaman. The figures, suddenly surprised at this new arrival, began exchanging threats with the man, who only calmly asked that they depart, or else face death through his wrath. The men attacked, when suddenly the figure beat each of them back without effort. The fight was quick, and he had killed all save two that scattered to the winds. Evening Star watched as the figure embraced his broken grandfather, he could not make out their words but could feel the combined might of these two beings within the spirit realm; the strangers power far overshadowing that of his Grandfather. They spoke a little longer before they both spun about in surprise. Evening Star struggled to make out the figure that greeted them, A fat and addled man who was held aloft by two burly four armed men the size of 2 warriors put together spoke to the pair of Shaman's and with a motion his bodyguards sprung upon them. With a flash of light and a roaring of sound, the mysterious figure, that had come to his Grandfathers aid, was suddenly reborn in and imagine of black fury: His simple cloth had become a twice bulked suit of armor, and within his hand held a weapon that spat a torrent of fury as a storm of bolt-lighting spat from it's barrels. One of the bodyguard-thing's burst apart as each hit from the weapon ripped it to pieces, while the other was simply too fast, and too the horror of Evening Star, his Grandfather leapt in front of the stranger to save him from the beast and was slaughtered by it's savage claws. The stranger retorted with a great axe, that cut the beast down, and then quickly rounded to deal a deathblow to the fat man that had caused this pain. Fear gripped Evening Star, as he cowered behind the hovel of which he had peaked out of. He was ashamed, and his heart told him to join the fray, but he was only a boy and could do nothing to save this stranger; no matter how great his armor was, or how sharp his axe may be. Hearing a commotion, he peaked around the corner once more searching high and low for the stranger who had quickly taken flight. He ran to his Grandfather's corpse and offered one final Death-chant (in hopes that the Thunderbird may carry the spirit of Morning Star to be with the Emperor eternal) and then sped off in the stranger's direction. He heard the furies of gunfire sounding more and more, and then suddenly heard a great war call: In the distance he saw the mighty warrior thrust himself into a fray of no less than seven figures, much like the four armed monsters only bigger and more ferocious. He had become a whirlwind of death, but could not defeat them all: the melee eventually resolved as the remaining greater beasts cleared the fighting and heaved upon themselves his massive figure and began carrying him away. The monsters soon scattered back to their dens, and the boy was quick to investigate the sight of the battle. It was there that found the warriors weapon, still stuck in carapace of the largest creature that now lay dead. Evening Star quickly attempted to pull the blade of the axe from the beast, but it was stuck tight within and would not budge; Try though he might, he could not wrench it from it's resting place. The boy could feel his anger rising, these beasts had infected his home and killed his mentor and Grandfather, he had long ago lost his birth father (A mighty warrior of the tribe who had first risen against the hated foe) and this stranger now represented his final hope of salvation and even HE was being taken from him. The boy's rage overcame him, and he felt the handle of the axe begin to resonate with heat. In one final feat of strength, the axe sprung alive with electric energy that blasted the corpse of the beast and and hurled the boy to the ground; the axe landed gently near him, and he could feel it's great weight diminish through exertion of his Shaman's gift. Straining his tearing muscles, the boy heaved the axe with both hands, and set off to save his new found hero. When before he took his first step, a sound to his rear stirred him backwards, one of the four armed creatures, smaller than those that had attacked the warrior, now rounded upon him with it's terrible claws and teeth bared at him. It would upon him within moments, and the boy would die to it. Panic was about to set in, when the boy simply let loose his mind upon the creature; His arms moving with a grace unknown to him, he felt the blade being guided by his mind, an extension of his hand, straight into the path of the creature. With a loud and satisfying crash of energy, the being that would have only a moment before killed him, burst into a mixture of blood and psionic energy. The boy had killed an invader. But the sound it created could wake the ancient Spirits, and the boy wasted no time in racing after the owner of this magnificent axe. 
The journey took Evening Star to the depths of the land of which his people dare not tread, a giant and broken subterranean vessel: A relic hulk of a star that had crashed through the heavens, the very means of the invaders travel to the Plains World. Evening Star grew weary of the axe, as his mind strained to simply hold it, he refused to think of the strain which might be placed upon him should he be required to swing the axe itself. Slinking behind the creatures that held the massive ironed warrior, Evening Star kept to the shadows and offered no sounds to give himself away. The deeper he followed, however, a greater sense of dread began to grip him: Something terrible lurked at the end of this path the creatures took. Something evil waited to devour the souls of all who inhabited this planet, starting with his hero. 
After what seemed like hours of walking to the depths of this cavern made of metal, the creatures entered into a room that held a great throne. The boy could feel something terrible upon that throne, he could feel that it's own preoccupation was all that kept him from being instantly eviscerated by it's mental power. Evening Star took cover in the doorway, preparing to face his ultimate destruction. The creatures within were easily four times his size, and their vile master could kill him without moving a muscle. He dared one final look before his charge, he saw the armored figure, now recognized as a fabled Sky Warrior, a Dark Angel of furious vengeance, was thrust into the arms of the great beast, sitting half a length larger than the beasts that had carried him here. What happened next could not be explained by Evening Star. His vision suddenly became not his own, and he felt himself within the warrior clutched by the great beast. He saw through the Sky Warrior's eyes and stared into the empty pools of the being he suddenly knew to be a Patriarch. The world then went black, and quickly reappeared in a vision of roiling energy. The boy was thrust on his back, and saw that the Warrior stood above him. "You should not have come, boy." the figure spoke through pained breath "This monstrosity will be the end of the Plains World unless I can end it here." Evening Star tried to speak, but his mouth would not open, and even if it could he knew his words would fall helpless before ever leaving his mouth. "I am Two Heads Talking, or rather I was..I am now Brother Lucian of the Dark Angels. You are Evening Star, a shaman-child. I must admit, I am impressed with your resilience; Most with the Psychic gift would be long dead by now, being so near to this creature." Evening Star realized that he was no longer in control of his own mind, as the force of the Psychic dual between these two individuals had sucked his mind into Two Heads Talking. All of this happening within the scope of an instant, but the time within the realm seemed endless. He tried to ask the Sky Warrior so many questions, but his mind was not strong enough to speak (Only strong enough to keep himself alive within the presence, and even then only with the help of this potent psyker.) So instead, Two Heads Talking spoke both of their minds. He described the nature of the invasion that had claimed this planet, the Genestealers that had herded the Warrior-Lodges into that ugly city to be fed upon and to churn out more xenos spawn. He told Evening Star of the Dark Angels, and the perilous return of the 1st Company to this, their primary recruiting world, and the nature of their mission as astartes and their service to The Emperor. He spoke on and on for what seemed like millennia, identifying the role of a Librarian, and the mission of the Dark Angels; He described the Horus Heresy and the many years of strife that followed it. He confessed to the boy more than one mind could learn in a lifetime, and yet not even a moment had passed since the dual began, but time was fast approaching, as the standstill of psychic energy would soon be broken. The Patriarch was terrifyingly strong, and a great deal stronger than Two Heads Talking, who expressed his sorrows to Evening Star "I cannot fight him, boy. His power surpasses me..and yet to fail is to doom this entire world, nay, our entire chapter. I have come here with the 1st Company of the Dark Angels to save your world, boy. I was wondering the streets as a fool when I was caught by the Genestealers. My Brothers alone will die cleansing this planet, but we fear it may not be enough. But you...why did you follow me? You are grand son of Morning Star, the Shaman that was slain. He threw himself upon these enemies knowing he could do nothing, hoping only to bring both it and himself to oblivion before harm would befall me; And so shall I unto this monstrosity. I offer to you one final sacrifice, then, in return for he that would die for a stranger. But you must help me, child. When this creature comes, I will need all of your energy. You must strain and give all that you can at the final pivotal moment, You shall know when it....". The psykers words were broken by a mind piercing scream that shattered all thought. Their plane of psychic existence that once had held serene was now a nightmare of tentacles and teeth. The thing's mind was a voracious hunger, preparing to devour them both in one swift strike. Evening Star could feel that the Patriarch had pierced Two Heads Talking's mind, and was now within it. With him. With every passing second his mind was flooded with images and memories of past slaughters and feasts, all the systems that this creature had laid low Evening Star could see as clear as if he had been there himself; He was filled with an insatiable hatred of this creature, and wished only to aid Two Heads Talking in killing it, though he knew himself to be powerless to it's assault. "Fresssssssssssssssh meaaaaaaaaaaaaaat" The Patriarch hissed within shared mind of the Shaman's that stood before it, and terrible clawed hands stretched around the armored bulk of Two Heads Talking's terminator armor. The tendrils reached and clawed and hoped to quickly feast on the boy before enjoying it's final victory. "YOU SHALL NOT HAVE HIM!" roared Two Heads Talking, a thunderous cry that pierced the creatures concentration; Within that one moment, the Librarian had found the strength to make one final assault at the creature, it's mind now melded with his he merely made one final attempt at control, an attempt that saw him claim momentary control of their grapple and buy him the time needed. The Creature shrieked and clawed at the warrior, rending him limb from limb, but knew it was far too late. "NOW EVENING STAR, NOW!" And with that, the boy searched his very soul for a the full his energy, tapping into what best he could find, he transferred all that he could to Two Heads Talking, who in turn thrust the boy from his consciousness, and threw every last ounce of his power to the darkest abyss of the warp, bringing the Patriarch screaming along with him: Their minds eternally shackled together, and lost forever. The moment ended as Evening Star crumpled to the floor, looking up in time to see the Patriarch collapse onto the Librarian, both figures completely devoid of life. The two Purestrain that had carried the Librarian let out a final pained scream before ripping themselves limb from limb out of madness at the psionic backlash that had been created. The boy collapsed into his own mind and felt all light leave him. 
Evening Star was unaware of his rise from the floor. In truth, he was unaware of any event of the past thirteen of his years in life, and certainly did not recall his travel from the depths of the vessel that contained the Patriarch. He did not recall the combats that consumed him as stragglers of the defeated genestealers charged into his path. The forces of the Dark Angels had only just arrived upon Plains World, and were briefing the surviving terminators that had, the entire night prior, fought to purge the planet of infestation after the Death of their Patriarch. Of the many that had once stood to defend the planet, only 6 remained. Their terminator armor was turned the color of bone, rubbed with ceremonial ash in a sign that those who would face this infestation were already dead, and thus, could lose nothing more. 
1st Captain Ezekiel(no relation) surveyed the scene, and began communing with the warriors that now only called themselves "Deathwing" messengers of the Emperor, and redeemers of their Plains World. As Ezekiel's forces set out to finish reclamation of the planet, he turned to see a boy in tattered robes, dragging a weapon as tall as himself. The boys eyes were alive with energy, and the axe he drug crackled with dried blood. The boy uttered one final message, in a voice not his own, before collapsing in a death-like state. "I AM BECOME ONE WITH THE SPIRITS, BROTHERS. REMEMBER WELL THE PLAINS WORLD, AND THE SACRIFICE OF THOSE THAT WOULD BRING JUSTICE TO OUR HOME.". 
The boy was brought at once to The Rock, leaving far behind the Plains of his birth, and casting off forever his mortal shackles. The Chaplaincy spent many long hours scanning the boys unconscious for any signs of heresy, and only the work of the Chapter's Epistolary's could eventually wake him to undergo the ordered Geneseed implantation; This decision came from the order of the Supreme Grand Master of the Dark Angels himself, who upon being told of the dramatic story, and sacrifice of his 1st Company, named the boy Vulgate, or "Dreamer of Waking Torments" in ancient Calabanite tongue. The boy was to be held as a ward of the Librarius until a time at which his mental state was deemed truly ready to take the field of battle as a Brother Librarian. The Axe he bore, was named "Lucian's Might" after the great Librarian who gave his life to slay the Patriarch, and locked deep within the Relic vaults of The Rock. The story of Plains World, however, was not to be remembered as truth; It's story twisted and fictionalized to better present a story of caution to newly initiated space marines: A story of warriors that returned to their home planet only to be attacked by dark forces. It's survivors were left to raise new populations, and the newly reformed 1st Company of the Dark Angels adopted the terminator armor of their predecessors on Plains World, bone white as the day of their sacrifice, and called themselves the "Deathwing", the name itself an old Calabanite legend that was brought to Plains World in it's earliest days, and turned to the most important task of hunting the Fallen. 
Vulgate would sit within the Librarius for several hundred years after his implantation in stasis, constantly being tested and observed by each new Grand Master of Librarians before eventually being thrust into the ranks of the Dark Angels. 
One curious thing, however; The first Grand Master of Librarians that thrust his mind into that of this Vulgate, found an all too familiar presence within the Astartes mind, fleeting though it was. For the slightest of moments, the Librarian swore he heard the voice of Two Heads Talking, speaking once again to the boy he had inadvertently come to recruit, and offering a final word of advice before finally taking his place at the Emperor's side.
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