The Fabricated Tales of Alpha Capharius
|Future Alpharius with all upgrades per story.|
This is a piece of fiction and may contain mature and adult themes.
You have been warned - read at your own discretion.
…continued experimental implantation and monitoring of the thus far unused gene-seed… show no sign of degradation or incidence of unwelcome tendencies within the recipients… too valuable to discard… original schema of warriors bred to specific purposes is sound, and should be exploited… remaining eleven… into production… warriors were not at fault… the science was not at fault… their primarchs were…
Date: classified [future timeline]
Location: Tri-umbra 24-Zeta
My meetings with the being that identified itself as Archmagos Belisarius Cawl have been many over the millennia. Not all of them have been amicable, sometimes we have been friends, others enemies but for the most part we treated each other with the wary respect of practitioners of our great art. It was when I was on Tri-umbra 24-Zeta that I met one of his many dolls.
“Greetings Opifex Magus Tempus Ēmeritus , I would say long time no see, but what is time to those like us?”
I was a little startled by the sudden appearance of the doll. It was not one of Cawls usual choice, this one was almost too human in appearance and I wondered what the cagey inhuman was playing at.
“Archmagos? Or what do you go by these days? I heard you were the Hydarxus Overlord of Tide XL5 last, though that was, damn, what is the current imperial date. Oh don’t bother, it is immaterial these days. What is it that you want Cawl? You haven’t tried to kill me, so I assume you want my help on some plan or scheme you have in motion.”
The dolls features, androgynous and almost too beautiful by human standards smiled knowingly.
“Straight to the point as always Alpharius. That is what you call yourself these days isn’t. You’ve dropped all pretext of being what others think you are? I see you have even adopted the colours and emblem that the second chose all those millennia ago. You are so like a machine, so unchanging, yet capable of change.”
“Come on Cawl, stop wasting our time and get to the point.”
A scowl crossed the flawless the face the perfection was marred.
“Oh, you can make me so cross at times you flawed creation. Very well I have a project that needs protecting from Guilliman. I’m sure you remember him, he certainly remembers you.”
Yes I do remember Roboute Guilliman, by all means one of the more decent immortals that currently roam the galaxy. He and I had had an unofficial truce for some time, though publically he supported the Mechanicus’ efforts to hunt me down as a heretek. Yet for all his decency he did have a number of flaws which blinded him when it came to the development and future of humanity. Our last meeting had been heated and I had had to leave suddenly, I’m hoping that eventually he will calm down and see the reason of my argument. Maybe in a century or two I will try again to communicate with him.
“What project is in danger?”
The Cawl doll passed a data package to me which I first scanned for threats, tested and then finally consumed. To say I was stunned by the data is an understatement. What Cawl had provided me was priceless. That he had provided it up front should have alerted me at once.
“As you can see these assets must be protected from the ignorance of the Primarch. I think you are best suited to safe guard these assets for me as I am too closely monitored these days, even my dolls appear to be known to the imperial agents. In the package you will find that I have secured a new home for the assets with all the resources to support them indefinitely.”
I voiced by immediate displeasure at the allocation of some of the resources.
“You know quite well Cawl I do not work with Mechanicus personnel not of my choosing. You have “gifted” me an entire forgeworld of personnel that I can neither screen nor trust. How can you ask me to protect your project if I cannot be sure I can even trust the personnel and assets that are there?”
“Calm down Alpharius, you will do what you always do. Pretend to be what you are not. They will think that they are nothing more than loyal servants of the Imperium reporting as always to a Fabricator General and Archmagos of senior level. All will be well once we have left the sphere of Guillimans influence. Once out of Guillimans influence I can no longer monitor and sustain the operation, however you can. That is where I need you to assist me. If you help me, I can help you in a critical situation that you need solved in the next temporal six hours. If you don’t agree, then you will cease to exist.”
I was alarmed at this. I had charted my multiple timeline anomalies since I had met the roving doctor and discovered from it the technology of manipulating the boundaries of the empyrean where time was involved. Had I somehow missed some vital instance or immutable time point? Even a genius can make an oversight. As if sensing my confusion and delighting in it Cawl gave me the answer.
“It was the Jokaero device in the original native language. It was bobby trapped by the furry aliens so that any who attempted to do what you had inexpertly done, would make themselves a beacon to every chaos entity in existence. Of course you will recall you had just started your new life again as Alpha Capharius, so all the memories of the past had not been returned to you at that point in time. You are in crisis of being removed from history before you can even create it my friend. You need my help. Help me, and I will help you.”
Cawl was right. It was at the point of my new life, I had very little options available to me and he appeared to have a solution readily available for me. This of course also made me very suspicious.
“Very well Cawl, I agree to your terms. What is the solution?”
The Cawl doll smiled at me.
“Why kill yourself of course.”
The being known as Reximus entered his quarters aboard the Inquisitorial battlebarge without a thought there may be nothing amiss. That in itself is not entirely true. A being of its nature is always aware of its surrounding and knowing that his courtesan assassin was waiting within, as well as the many safeguards he had had installed gave him a lowered level of paranoia as opposed to his standard level of threat assessment.
His mind was clouded on matters, and he was not at his best. The constant bickering and political infighting in this new age of mankind was both refreshing and appalling – it reminded him of a dinner party he had attending with Lucrezia Borgia and some select friends of her in the dim past of old earth. So it took him a fraction of a moment to long to realize that something was wrong when he entered his chambers.
The lighting was out, not that did him any hindrance. His chamber door slammed shut and sealed itself behind him. He was confronted by his lover dangling limp in the arms of a power suited giant. His first action was to use his significant psychic powers, but to his dismay found they failed him.
“Be at peace Rex, we are not here as enemies.”
Reximus knew that voice. It had become more human now, not as mechanical as once it had.
“Where is your love Francine? He’s never too far from your lash – forgive me, his leash.”
The giant in power armour lifted the limp body of the courtesan higher in the air and squeezed. The sound of straining internal bones and snapping of hidden augmetics were plain to be heard. The threat in the gesture was obvious.
“Don’t belittle me or my love Rex.”
Two figures entered the main chamber from an adjoining room. One was in power armour with the standard mechanicus style mechandenrite attachments. The other was Alpha Capharius. The power armour figure spoke, it was Alpharius’ voice.
“Sensei, we have need of your ships teleportation station. In less than 24 standard Sol hours, this planet and the entire system will be lost to the warp unless you follow my instructions to the letter.”
“What have you done this time Alpharius? No, no, no, no, no, not two of you please. This is going to trump putting me in stasis? Honestly I thought the Changer of Ways was devious but you, you could almost be his avatar if I didn’t know better.”
“Well old friend, this will please you no end. I have to kill myself…”
+++Encrypted Personal Journal+++
There has been a treaty I read at some point about the fragmentation of the soul. It stated that a being could share out its existence across the many planes of existence, some say even time by shaving a portion of their soul and trapping it within the new body. This new body would to all purposes be identical to the original at the point of creation, but from that point of creation onward, be unique. At some point in time the original soul would then collect the fragmented souls that had been cast out, consume the shards of soul and become truly whole again. If the shard soul should die prior to collection, its fragment becomes an actual shard of precious soul stone, not unlike those of the Eldar. Even in this state the soul continues to learn from the experiences around it, and it in turn has been used by those with the affinity to touch the empyrean. It is an entertaining concept, certainly one that I must examine when I have the time to do so.
+++End Encrypted Personal Journal+++
+++ Continuation of last mission journal+++
The Preaching at Castle Le Roche was starting to spread among the blue skinned barbarians. In the aftermath of the battle the dead were many and the wounds grievous – both mortal and mental. Many had gone mad from the encounter and had to be given the kindness of a quick death. Preacher was taken to his room where he recovered from his ordeal. This was hampered by the constant trickle of the curious who wished to know more of this god emperor that he claimed guided his hand and installed the universe with his wisdom and protection.
In the tradition of the primitive planet a feast of celebration was held. Lady B was happy as a pig in effluent, more food to shovel down her insatiable gullet. I refused to touch any of the food or what passed as alcohol, my insides have been unsettled of late and I confess to feeling out of sorts. This though to everyone else would appear to be me being me acting as normal. They are probably right. Of course by not participating in the “festivities” I incurred the displeasure of the local mutants and they took to avoiding me and Francine for the remainder of the “festivities”.
Elsie was having fun being ignored by all concerned. He couldn’t flag down a waiter, order from the menu, or converse with what passed for charming company. This led him to feel the social outcast he had always been, and he fell back on his old ways. The cries of outrage the next day over lost property are still being noted as unsolved.
Now young Elvis – the exotic in the court of Le Roche hit the cow milk hard, often and without realizing the sharks of Le Roche castle were circling. With alcohol fumed ardor he started with are you lonely tonight, and love me tender. By then the sharks were feeding and the alcohol was being poured down his throat as fast as it could be fetched. He exclaimed “can’t help falling in love” whereupon two besotted women grabbed him – his burning love he vowed would take them to the promised land. Elvis had bewitched the two black widows of Le Roche castle. They were called the most beautiful women to have graced the social calendar of “high society” – sixty years ago. Elvis was certainly going to regret waking up in the morning and finding what was in his bed.
Preacher has “enjoying” the festivities attempting to convert the heathen with limited success. The small print run of Holy Horst memorabilia I had managed to get printed for him was snapped by those who spoke with him. I confess I was amused though at some of the comments I heard from those who passed by my chair as to whether these devotional cards would be collectable one day. Ah the cynical age of commercialism, I love it. Must see the printer about ensuring the devotionals are only released as a limited number and that the pricing matches rarity. I can see the trend here.
Lady B, what can I say about Lady B that has not already been said… Who cares I’ll say it again, food at the trough again, pigging in as if there is no tomorrow. Princess Whale is on her way; looking at her sister I see that the genetic propensity to obesity is genetic. Maybe I should offer another wafer, oh dear, I see the waiting staff have stood in her bucket. I do notice that oddly enough a glazed expression overcomes her face, I took it that she had stuffed one too many Wolf Nipple Chips down her pie hole and she needed to use the privy. I did not at the time think it strange that her leaving the table and not returning unusual. Really, what am I saying? The fact that she did not return to the table with food still being served should have been evidence enough that something was wrong. I’ll remember in future to not be so blasé in my assessment of the mad woman’s behavior.
The evening “festivities” came to a close. I smiled to myself as Elvis was escorted away by the besotted geriatrics of nymphomania. I couldn’t see Elsie, but assumed he was about taunting some poor servant or castle functionary before his nightcap. Horst mumbled a good night and was led off to his chamber by a new convert who chattered nonstop about this new faith Preacher has revealed. Myself I was reluctantly led to a chamber above the stables. The servant thought that this was a wonderful insult to, the fact that we would have to listen to the noise of the animals and to smell the odours of beastial housing. I laughed at this implied insult, thinking this is nothing compared to the forgeworld he knew – this was perfumed airfresher.
It was while Francine and I were preparing for our routine maintenance and strip down I recalled that Preacher had required my services to sort out his power requirements for his new gun - Eliza. Francine pouted as only a machine could at not being given a good hard maintenance strip, but agreed to accompany me to see Preacher. It was just as well that I did, when we knocked at the door there was no reply.
“He is unconscious my love.”
“Yes, it is what we call sleep. Organic life forms for the most part require it.”
“No my love, I understand the concept of sleep. His biosystem has been overloaded and he has been rendered unconscious.”
I was alarmed at this, who would attack us, was I in any immediate danger? A quick scan of the surrounding location did not register any immediate threats – apart from the threat that Preacher was. But Preacher was a friend, a companion, a tool – unconscious he was not an active threat.
Seeing that there were no servants in immediate attendance I picked the primitive lock to his room and entered. Horst lay on his bed, still wearing his armour - didn’t that man ever take it off? Clasped between his legs was the heavily oiled and scented gun Eliza. Just what had Preacher been up to before he had been rendered unconscious. I know he had an unnatural love for guns, but was this taking it too far?
Gently we woke Preacher from his unintended slumber. The look of embarrassment he showed and clearly felt upon seeing us in his room seemed to confirm my fears.
“What have you been doing Horst? Nothing unnatural with that gun I hope?”
“Nnnnoooo, just a disagreement with the gun over my methods of interfacing with it.”
“Is that what you’d like to call it, interfacing, well as long as you don’t pull the trigger you should be fine. I see you’ve used lots of lubricant, that will stop the…”
Preacher got rather angry with me then, the gun Eliza did as well. I decided taunting two bonded killing machines would not be in my best interest. I decided to stop the crisis off at the pass.
“You wanted me to fix your power problem with the gun Eliza connection.”
This defused the situation, allowing me to restore civility to the proceedings. Though I did enjoy myself – aren’t I a wicked man, trust me! For the rest of the time span – I lose time (not really) when I am engrossed in a task, I worked on getting Preachers power plant to provide power to the gun Eliza. The gun Eliza was a most difficult entity to deal with, at one point I triggered a short micro power surge.
“Alpahrius? No you aren’t him, well not him him, but him though…”
Curious I thought at the time, by no more odd than anything else I have had a conversation with over the years. I just put it down to the confused state of the power surge.
The next morning’s dawn was broken by the waking call of nature’s clarion call. Some minutes later the very manly scream accompanied by high pitched feminine ones from a few rooms down heralded with awakening of Elvis. I smiled and wished him a good day and further manly endeavors. The sound of a slamming door, the slapping of bare feet of stone floor announced the arrival of Elvis. He threw the door open (I failed to lock the door when entering) exposing his naked form to one and all, hurled himself inside and as quickly and as quietly as possibly shut the door.
“How the hell did you know this was Horsts room you drunken Casanova – and why aren’t you dressed!”
“I’m psychic you fool, it was easy enough to find where you were. Now hide me from those two old hags.”
Elvis collapsed on the bed, not caring that he was naked and sharing his royal jewels to the viewing public. His hands were pressed tightly to his head as if trying to will away the nightmare he must have witnessed and endured the previous evening. The piteous groan that escaped his lips was almost one worthy of pity, but then I remembered who I was. I laughed out loud, but before I could Francine spoke.
“My love, this man’s reproductive organs are the smallest I have ever seen.”
My Francine, how I love her almost childlike naivety at times. I broke out into greater howls of laughter with this statement. Elvis clutched his head even tighter as though the very sound was tenderizing his brain. Horst took pity and threw a towel over the poor man’s very small exposed privates. Eventually my mirth settled down, and I scanned to see if the area was safe for Elvis to return to his room. He was in luck, his aged paramours had left (apparently to freshen up) and he was able to return to his room and sulk, recover from his milk hangover and vowed never to go near dead women again (still trying to work out the logic there).
We noticed that the castle staff and personnel were more active than usual. There was much rushing about, whispered conversation (pretty useless when I’m around) and a growing tension. Much of what I heard was “where is she”, “have you tried the larder”, ”not in the wine cellar”, “baker hasn’t seen her”, “missed her elevensies”, “the food is going cold”. I can only assume that Lady B is hiding somewhere and is missing her meals. Well I’m sure that once she gets really hungry she will reappear. Oh wait, I’ve had this silly narrative before – DANGER – she has gone and done something stupid, we should go and find her. In reality, nope, its okay, she’ll be back soon, don’t worry, trust me!
I continue to work on Preachers power plant problem. Elsie almost got away with a bit of ten fingered discount, only to find out he could have had it for nothing in the first place. Elvis eventually left the building, followed by his two stalkers in waiting and ordered a nice suit of truesilver armour. The day passed, the growing tension in the castle was no so obvious it was almost akin to a Keystone Cop movie. Guards and staff running around, falling off walls, crashing through glass windows, a right royal Three Stooges moment.
Elvis the dark wizard of necrophilia was in the act of sacrificing one of the pair of troublesome white goats when he was rocked by psychic phenomenon. Stopping his act, he left the aged goats tied to his bed and hurried to the room that I still occupied with Preacher. I was just finishing the job with the power plant when… you guessed it the interruption occurred and a small mishap – happened. I did a bang up job on the power plant for the gun Eliza, however, I reduced the life span of the power plant by half. Elvis’s interruption meant that the warning tone for recharge went from Flight of the Valkyries to Star Spangled Banner. So much for stealth, but then I guess when you are with a BFG stealth may not be the highest of your priorities.
Right Elvis burst in!
“I know where Lady B is!”
To which nobody really gave a hoot, except for the roving bands of castle staff and guards that have been searching for her. A senior guard approaches Elvis.
“Where is our beloved Lady Le Roche, exotic Elvis? She has failed to eat he last eight meals, she must be starving to death by now.”
Elvis explains where Lady B is, sounds very much like a graveyard. The castle staff seems relieved and scared. The say they are forbidden to enter those grounds on pain of death. Only the Le Roche family may enter and then of them only a select few. Ignoring my pleas of “let’s just leave the silly bitch”, the others decided that she had to be rescued. It was a bright and sunlit day when we entered the creepy and forbidding ruins that are forbidden to any normal people. The fact we were allowed to enter made me wonder what else was on the agenda.
Down the stairs of slippery doom the group descended with me bravely leading from the rear. The stairs opened out into a library, and there lying dead for all I hoped was Lady B, her left hand still clutching a glowing book. Elvis, his lust stirred by the sight of such a lovely potential corpse before him rushed to straddle it.
“Elvis, I must warn you that 99.9% of civilized people do not make it a habit to fraternize with the dead. Oh wait. Silly me you are that point one percent. Don’t let me stop you, though I do warn you that you precede at your own peril. Queen Le Roche may be techy.”
As Elvis skidded to a halt, inches away from his desired cadaver, his hips shuddered in sympathy. Damn I thought, almost got rid of the bugger. He takes his time administering aid of a dubious nature, involving lots of sweaty hands and heavy breathing.
It is at this time Preacher has some fall out with the gun Eliza, which promptly shuts down after he utters, rather loudly.
“Who by the sainted left testicle of the god emperor is Abraxis?”
With that a psychic wind of unpleasant dimensions (I think S.I.M.O.N was up to something) unleashed itself on the area.
The growing disquiet in my armoured midriff was growing. I know it could not be an upset stomach as I no longer had one. I was registering an increase in the amount of data being cogitated in Jokaero device I had incorporated into my systems. Was this the source of the disquiet? I am drawn to a section of the wall that reminds me of – damn lost it, I almost had it then. The closer I am drawn to the wall the greater the agitation grows. The engravings on the walls are astrogation charts and planetary bodies have been marked. Damn why was this work looking so bloody familiar, I’m sure I’ve seen this style of handiwork before. If I knew otherwise I’d have sworn it was my work, but that’s just silly. Yet I see a striking symbol at the centre of the chart, I zoom in for minute details. Can I say I was gob smacked at the discovery! I was looking at a perfectly rendered miniature caricature of myself. Wait a moment; it also had my seal of machining. How could this be the case? I reached out to touch the caricature and what happened next stunned me as over my neural net I heard my own voice.
“[sound of tapping of a microphone] Testing, testing, one, two, three, testing, testing. Cawl, are you sure this bloody thing is working. [Indistinct sounds reply] Okay, here goes then.
Hi me, it’s me! Well future me talking to past me, who hasn’t yet got to be me if you understand what I mean. Look I know this is all rather sudden and probably confusing, but I know you’ll bounce through this like a dose of shit in a recycling system. Damn I remember being here, oh, do you want some hints what to do [squeal of static] … come on Cawl, let me help the poor bastard out, he was such a dick back then [more static]… what do you mean I’m still one today, how dare you – you – you – tin man. [static squeal intensifies] Sorry me, got of topic, Cawl is a tyrant about certain things being made known to me at this stage. Bahahahahaha. Good one Cawl, as if. Right I am on an epic journey to save the universe – again. Apparently this is my job description these days; the Eldar have dropped the ball I rather stupidly picked it up. Okay, remember that, save the universe – job number one. Next, don’t trust for one moment any of those blue skinned freaks from that planet I virus bomb in twelve hours from now. They will do nothing but cause you grief and misery until the day they die on your dissection table in [static squeal]… of come on Cawl, at least give me something to be happy about. Bloody metal freak from hell, still the only decent ally I can rely on when he’s not trying to kill me. [static squeal] Yes yes I’ll hurry it up. NOW only trust me, I mean you – oh sod it, you know what I mean. Do not pick up the red gem under any circumstances, especially [static squeal]… oh come on Cawl, do you know how many bloody red gems there are out there in this universe. [static squeal] Bastard!!!! Next don’t hold Francine back, she’s still here now. Create a personality memory crystal from the Jokaero device, I have more than enough material and power internally to do that now, so hop to it. Immediately back up my memories to the crystal and give it to Francine. Trust me! You’ll need it. Lastly when you get the chance, cut off my - I mean your left hand and see what happens, what, fuck you Cawl. What have you done… [static squeal]”
A new voice enters the recorded message, low menacing and very much the voice you’d associate with one given over to the machine spirit.
“May the god emperor guide you and bless you… oh and don’t kill yourself!”
I was then jolted back into the present by the combined and riotous laughter of me and this entity called Cawl. What in the name of all sciences creations had I done? Damn I was going to enjoy the future. With the message left to me by me, and feeling rather smug I went about the task set by me that only I could do. Ah, it’s nice to know that god exists.
Time had meanwhile reestablished itself with Elvis at Lady B, whereupon she awoke. Looked into up and uttered the words.
These words excited Elvis no end, I could just see his mouth forming the word sausage. This was not going to end well for the silly corpse sniffing wally. I’d better intervene, I do have a destiny to achieve, and there may be a timeline.
“Not this time Lady B, leave the toy boy alone. He only likes deadies, so unless you want to do me a favour and join your cursed ancestors then let’s get these books and leave – as per our job assignment.”
It was then that I saw the extent of the library and scanned the titles that filled the shelves. Books is a poor reflection of what was there. Yes there were the standard book which many people are familiar with, but there were also many alien and exotic storage devices. What content could be here was overwhelming and I had to be restrained by Preacher and Francine to stop myself from filling every pocket I had with books and devices.
Elsie had disappeared from our sensors and it took a while to locate the holofield which hid the stairs leading down further into the “crypt”. Elsie had fell through them, though he tells everyone he knew exactly what he was doing and where he was going. Fat chance that, the lying bugger. Francine and I were the only ones not to be befuddled by the field or lose our steps descending. The stairs lead to a hallway or series of corridors. The bodies of the dead line the way. They are armoured with truesilver and a mixture of “modern” and archaic weaponry. Their bodies show a violent death, their armour rent from the inside out. My augmetics tell me that the age of the dead are roughly four thousand years old, give or take considering this warp cursed planet. My scans do pick up nonstandard material which I identify as Eldar in nature. This is perplexing.
We all now realize that Lady B has still got the glowing book clutched in her claw like left hand. It appears to us that the book has an unnatural control over her, or she has found some new deviltry to play with. I think a little of both, and all the more reason to put her down before she gets us all killed. Sadly Preacher seems to have taken an impartial view to these blue skinned heretic mutants; I’ll have to cure him of that given enough time.
Elsie has wandered off in search of, well to be honest no idea but I’m sure its trouble in the making. The gun Eliza has communicated to Preacher who then informs me (and indirectly the others).
“She tells me she can’t do this again. This group is not strong enough. We are not prepared.”
Right, well that was enough motivation for me to turn around and leave. Then Lady B decided to play her card of fate.
“The Book tells me we have a destiny to fulfill. We must continue on and complete this mission.”
Mission I thought, what bloody mission. It was to collect those books and hop it off this planet. Come on Lady B I’m the only one in this group who gets to interpret destiny and where we go. You just go back to binge feeding and playing with the servants. Leave the destiny of the universe to a real hero! Then – well, Francine had to put her twopence worth in.
“My love I am picking up a very strong and familiar reading coming from the passageway to the right. My system is registering that I must take you there at all costs, I have some overriding imperative to do so.”
“By who’s authority do you act?”
“By your authority my love. We must go.”
Of the entire arguments only one would sway me to consider a change in plan. Elsie was called back from his advance mission, and sent ahead to our new destination. It was not that far ahead, and the passageway opened out into a large chamber containing many crypts and two stasis chambers, one of which was still occupied. While Francine had been adamant that we go to this chamber we hung back, ready to flee at the slightly set back. That library was, in my mind, the primary prize. Francine connected a mechandrite cable to me, something she would not normally do without asking.
“Forgive me, my love I need to ensure that the memory crystal has been properly synchronized. Your orders were specific, I cannot disregard them.”
This was getting to be worrisome. What was going to happen in this room, I was feeling less and less inclined to enter. The feeling I had in my central abdomen was now a very serious problem. I could feel that my system had started to become problematic the moment Francine had disconnected the cabling. What the hell was going on, what was happening to me.
The other members of the group, that is the blue skinned beasts, had no problems with entering the room once they found that no alarms or traps had been activated. The crypts contained unique and individual knights in STC power armour of truesilver. The weapons had all lost their power over the millennia and failed to activate when thumbed to the on switch. What attracted everyones attention was the figure in power armour and the techno harness of a mechanicus. I did not like this at all.
Lady B now comes clean about her Book of Revelations. It would appear to be some device that has psychically recorded events from time and made them available to the gene-coded family of Le Roche. She tells us that the Book reveals a great battle between the daemons and the founding people of this planet. The individual before us in stasis had a Rod of such making that he could drive the daemons off. Each of the cities acted as an anchor point for his techno-wizardry. However a daemonic gateway erupted allowing a giant daemon to enter the mortal realm. This warrior killed it, this act then brought forth an even greater daemon. To save the people and the world, this warrior generated a dome of power that spread out across the land, the planet and finally the system. The light it generated was bluish purple and what it touched from the warp it reduced to nothingness, no banishment back to the warp but a true death. The daemons fled the deadly light. A side effect that was marveled at was the rain of silver, where it fell on the daemons they burned, if the daemons walked on the nearly fallen silver fields, they would also burn. This is the source of the truesilver that the planet has an abundance of, and the individual in stasis is the one responsible for it. Once the battle was over, he saw that the Rod must be kept safe for a time in the future where it would be needed again. To this end the Rod was broken into several pieces and scattered. As to where they have been sent, she has no idea. They may not even be on this planet at all according to the book. Though she admits the book is cryptic in its provision of details, it’s almost as though the author doesn’t like her?
Curious but still doubtful over all this I find that I’ve been encouraged to examine the figure in stasis more closely. The worksmanship is impeccable, of high standard, and wait – no it can’t be, that’s my…
At that point the gun Eliza wakes up and alerts Preacher that she knows who the individual in the stasis field is.
Somebody deactivates the stasis, and confusion reigns supreme.
The armour figure does not even seem to be phased by the temporal change from the stasis field being shut off. He chuckles, then laughs at seeing who is before him. I know that laugh, the others are just getting an inkling of who the individual is. Lady B demands to know who the individual is and is shocked to her core when she hears my voice replying.
“Hello Lady B, as imperious as ever I see. That attitude will get you shot multiple times throughout your rather short life span. Word of advice, stop eating the sweat meats, if you don’t you’ll exceed your mothers weight by a factor of thirty.”
“Cardinal Horst so good to see you alive and kicking. I’d forgotten how healthy you are here and now, not that skeletally thin cadaver I currently know? Mind you, you’re always a good sport and give me a warning before you try and shoot me now.”
“Elsie, I see the darkness hasn’t swallowed you yet. I’d ditch EMMA quickly if I was you, troubles coming and it likes nuts.”
“Elvis my boy so hale and hearty, the ladies man. Another piece of judicious advice, stay away from the necrotic women of Deros Twelve, you’ll pick you a rather virulent case of the clap that no one can cure.”
“Francine my love you look so young. Continue to look after me as I do you.”
“Finally, hello me!”
I didn’t like the sound of this, I knew me quite well. I also felt the direct communication between us that none of the others could hear.
“I’m sorry it has come to this, but I really didn’t anticipate this setback when I set all my plans in motion. You have done as I asked me to do?”
“Yes, but what the hell is going on? Are you me? Silly question, of course you are. There is no way the universe would tolerate more than one of me.”
“Ah, well you’re wrong there old man, as of my current timeframe I know of at least six me’s at different time points within this universe alone. I’m apparently quite busy, saving the universe – again, takes up a lot of my time. Between that and having high tea with the god emperor, he is a tedious bore, though S.I.M.O.N. is far more entertaining and at least he provides fairy cakes.”
“Okay, so am I God!”
“Sigh, I knew I was going to go down that rabbit hole eventually. Right do you still have that Jokaero device implanted in you?
“Why yes, it’s in the safest place in the…”
Back in the real world the group saw the power armoured Alpharius activate one of his mechandrites which shot a beam of disintegrating energy at his younger self. The “original” Alpharius was gone; all that remained was a pile of material which Francine immediately stood guard over. This action brought shock, then joy to the blue skinned primitives of the planet. They thought at last the devil Alpharius was dead, and by his own hand no less.
Of course to make matters worse an identical me now appear and takes up the story. Readers must be really confused over the style of story writing, it must appear as if a mad hamster with diarrhea is banging away at an old style typewriter while a deranged simian with schizophrenia narrates gobblegook. Trust me, it gets better!
Right, I’m back in the harness, sorry saddle. Mustn’t let this lot think I’ve dropped the ball and given up my leadership role. Oddly enough they seem confused, which alerted me to prepare for danger. In other words the group was going to do something stupid! Nothing unusual, just standard fall back tactics when their brains fail to function and they cannot think of an immediate solution – just shoot it and hope the problem goes away. The shots again me, tempus clad, did nothing. The shots hit an extremely efficient power field that absorbed the energy.
Francine had approached the newly arrived me and began the transference of the memory core. Now I was truly back in charge. People were still pointing guns at me; people even fired them at me. To my gratification my original power field had returned to full function, plus some. Did I not mention I’m a genius! Genius yes, displacement field – I’ll have to work on that. Bloody Elsie and the squirrel are doing nothing but tossing harmless “missiles” at me to activate and “blink” me around the room. It is fast becoming tiresome.
Future ME (I like that title) had a few parting words to the confused group. Me, I was taking it all in stride, basking in the knowledge that god really does have a perverse sense of humour when it goes me to save to universe.
“Well I’d love to stay and chat but I’ve been idle for far too long. I’ll [gestures to me] fill in any holes you might not understand; then again temporal mathematics is a bit beyond your understanding so let’s leave it at that – the fact that things are a little wibbly wobbly at the moment. Oh and me, Fabius is looking for me, I perfected his cloning technique and he’s peeved, as well as curious.”
Without another word future ME left the room, exiting through a sealed door which opened at his approach and through which he then vanished or perhaps just faded into the distance.
I was now the center of attention. It was nice, though rather disconcerting – still too many guns being pointed at me. Questions were being hurled at me from all directions, more precisely I was being hurled in all directions as EMMA was flinging pellets of hardened oil at me and watching me bounce around the room. Tedious and it took the threat from Francine to stop the malicious anarchist from perpetuating it reign of indignation. In the end my answers did little to solve the riddle of time paradoxes. They appeared happy to trust the “original” me, now the trampled ash on the floor, rather than the one standing before them.
In the end I have to activate the recorded device that Reximus had given to me. A holo-projection of Reximus appeared in front of me, taking up a larger area than I thought it would. His voiced boomed with power and displeasure.
“Right you lot. You appear to think that this is not the real Alpharius, well I’m the bearer of bad news. It really is him, at least one of six I know of. He is no different from the one you knew, if anything he is probably an even bigger dick than he was before as his ego has probably inflated exponentially. No Lady B you can’t ask questions this is a recording you silly bint. After you left for the planet I had his future self visit with a blank clone which I was to deliver at the time point you have now passed. Your mission parameters have now changed slightly. I still want that library first and foremost. Secondly unless you can remake the Rod which Lady B has witnessed within the specified time parameter then I will have no choice but to virus bomb this planet as per Alpharius’ original request. Oh don’t look so smug you prick, I know you’ve wanted to do that since day one. So get the Rod completed and whole, save the universe and as a consolation prize maybe Alpharius and I get to virus bomb the planet together in the end. Reximus out!”
Well I was pleased. The blue skinned buggers looked mutinous and unhappy. Preacher was nonplussed, his gun Eliza was clearly whispering sweet nothings into his mind.
Eventually the novelty of the new me wore thin and they wandered off into the room that the future ME had entered. It contained rotting tapestries of no great consequence, just event that heralded my many past glories. Now that everyone knew that the past hero was me, they were less inclined to be impressed by the events. Lady B found a tapestry that was made of a metallic mesh that was an astrogation chart, not that she knew it. For her it was all wibbly wobbly lines that were meaningless squiggles. Of course when she touched the tapestry and these same sibbly wobbly lines transferred themselves to her armour she became far more concerned. I just told her to shut up and give me her arm, at the shoulder would be fine. She shut up after that and didn’t complain about the wibbly wobbly lines. Damn I’m good.
At this stage I felt no need to continue on, yes there may have been other areas of this complex but the library and discovering future ME are the only factors I thought worthy of note. Still Lady B continued to harp on about her destiny and waving that glowing witch Book around like it was some warp possessed bug zapper. Reluctantly I followed the band of hell bent looters deeper into the chambers. There we found a chamber with four suits of STC power armour and a range of archeotech weapons. I examined the cache and it did not surprise me to find that they all bore my machine mark. Clearly I had been a very busy boy in the past, so much so that I had even crafted a suit of Francine. Cloaked in the anonymity of the power armour, none would know that a machine lurked within. It was the perfect cover for my greatest ally and friend. She now had the physique of that of an adeptus astartes, I’ll have to ponder a suitable legion colour for her. Why am I thinking the IVth Legion would be the best?
Each member of the group with the exception of Lady B acquired a suit of STC power armour and a selection of weapons. In my brilliance I had even adapted a suit to deal with the oddity of Elsie, I’m still trying to work out why?
Lady B is drawn again by her Book of devilry and witchcraft to a section of wall which reveals itself to be a webway portal. Its activation sealed the door to the room, trapping us inside and leaving us with no other way of exit. The Jokaero Orb that is always with me opens a small section of its smooth surface and excretes a gelatinous goo which plops to the floor revealing a green gem. Thankfully my Orb is not damaged or degraded in any way by the function. Lady B gets all excited and grabs the gem and excitedly gabbles on about seven parts, five gems, two bits and a rod. Was she talking about some new sex toy? No it was something to do with the Rod, and this room was where it was originally held. Hmm, memo to future self – choose better help in the past.
Well, all the other were eager to enter the webway, I was not. Was I to part ways with everyone and seem them die to the dangers of the warp? Well yes. Then Francine took my hand and dragged me to the open gateway and I realized that I really had no choice in the matter, fate had already decided what was going to happen.
My knowledge of webway travel is limited to what little I drew from treaties I read. The exact shape and form of the Webway has been envisioned by mortal minds in myriad ways. Some describe it as a galactic tapestry of shimmering strands, others a maze of glowing tunnels, or the veins of some vast living entity. All such accounts fall short of the truth, for the Webway defies neat categorisation. It is an elegantly crafted realm located between realspace and the Warp, analogous to the surface of a still, dark pool, or a fine silk veil drawn across something foul. Each member saw a different tunnel, and it was best that none of us were separated. Not far in a corpse of a Dark Eldar was found, freshly slain. When Lady B touched the corpse looking for spare ammunition for her gun she or most precisely her armour morphed – taking on the properties of the corpse before if it. Preachers reaction to this was immediate and vocal.
“Change for now of god emperor help me the gun will kill you.”
We all knew that it had a sentience, and that this sentience had a deep seated hatred for the alien that lay on the ground. Lady B immediately (and perversely) morphed into a copy of me. It may have fooled the others as to who was who, but Francine was not fooled in the least. Preacher tells us that the gun Eliza is not dealing with the crisis of these aliens at all. He fears that he will have minimal ability to control the gun and himself should a combat situation arise.
Taking this advice we proceed with caution. Yet out of our eyes, and flitting in and out of our perception we see forms. A chase starts, who starts it I’m unsure (really) but the results are predictable – combat with the dark elder. Preacher finds that the flamer option of his gun is most efficacious in dealing with the highly agile Eldar. The battle escalates and I am drawn in with Francine at my side. The look of shock, and fear (oh I savoured that look) when I gave the unlock protocol.
“Francine, no restrictions, destroy the enemy.”
The pure pleasure I felt over the neural net at this command being given was almost euphoric.
“This is what I am my love, thank you.”
And with that she shredded and ripped apart the Eldar, their splinter ammunition was not even expended at her. The Eldar were too busy with Elvis, Lady B and Preacher. The battle was terrifying to watch, the sheer agility of the alien negated most attempts to hit them. In the end they were terminated only to then see the real threat appear, a leader and its two bodyguards. Terror was palpable amongst the group, here was a real threat. For Preacher it was evident for all to see the struggle taking place with his gun arm and the weapon being unable to take a single form, constantly morphing. Elvis attempt at psychic jiggery pokery had some cosmic calamity, but not that anyone could see. I felt as if someone had walked on my grave. Feeling that he had contributed so little Elvis fired his rail gun at the group with a spectacular result. The Eldar are pulped as is the rest of the warrior behind them. Much of the tunnel has collapsed as a result of the blast and the very nature of the warp has begun to bleed into the tunnel. This is not good.
I looked into the warp, and the warp looked back.
“Hello Alpharius, when are you coming to tea? I put in an order of fairy cake with Papa the other moment ago. Please tell me its soon, I do so miss our conversations…”
I quickly closed my mind and forced the image of the leering entity of S.I.M.O.N. out of my mind, yet the temptation of those fairy cakes… Damn it I’m sounding like Lady B now. No I will not weaken, I will send her instead, she can go and stand in Nurgles bucket of puss and enjoy… hang on when did that memory come from?
Back in the real world a Dark Eldar raider vessel was seen moored at station within easy reach of one of our group. As we examined the vessel it was seen that only one guard remained and that there was a trophy kill spiked to the front hull. My sensors found that what all initially took as a corpse was still alive, barely. I thought a mercy killing was the best choice, why brave the peril of the warp to rescue an unknown “prisoner”. Lady B went on again about her destiny and waved her bloody holy Book in the air. I’m thinking it’s time Lady B had a change in vocation and found religion. I noticed she always did this with her left hand, and her left arm had the astrogation charts and webway portal map – a plan was beginning to simmer…
So who was this prisoner impaled on the hull. My scan showed a human female, age indeterminate, augmented, genetically modified and oh no – genetic matched bloodline to Lady B. This does not bode well, no wonder Lady B was on a bender to rescue this woman according to this Book of Revelations. The lone guard is dispatched with ridiculous ease and with some reluctance I release Francine to jump over collect and return the “prisoner” to our “care”.
Francine administers stimms to stabilize her condition while I assess her condition and prepare for serious surgery. As I work on her injuries I notice one of my pieces of handiwork hidden within her vital organs. I also notice that someone has also attempted to tamper with the device, whether or not they were successful I cannot determine. The device is functioning and when I activate the primary node two things happen. First Preacher grunts in pain as he reels from the neural feedback of the sudden disengagement of the connection he had with the gun Eliza. Then the device demolecularised into its constituent particles - the subatomic particles soaking into the surrounding tissue and bloodstream. The patients lifesigns stablised and after a short period entered torpor, it appeared that the body had some form of self healing system in place. I had done all the hard work, it was now up to the woman to complete the rest.
Preacher though was not prepared to wait and administered one of our precious nano-healing balls on the woman. She woke, kissed him and surveys her surroundings. With the aid of Preacher she gets to her feet and is introduced to the group. I already had a feeling about her from the way she looked at me when she surveyed the group. On reaching me, she hit me with a mighty right hook, though being prepared I rolled with the punch and pretended looking hurt.
“You bastard Alpharius, why? Why did you do it? Do you know how long I languished in that hell hole and this dual existence?”
Well when you have to bluff, go for all in.
“Of course Eliza. How else could I have saved you? But I think its best you tell the others what they don’t know. They don’t appreciate hearing my ego at work.”
Hook, line and sinker!
“Ego, oh yes after all these years that never changes. Still a dick as ever. Yes I will save these brave and clearly more heroic people from enduring one of your epic speeches.”
She turns to the audience, excluding me. That’s fine, the details I won’t miss I’ve worked it all out from the device I had implanted in her.
“My name is Eliza Le Roche, also known as the Ghost Queen [Lady B gasps at this name and pales to a very pale blue, almost white colour]. I was captured millennia ago by the Dark Eldar on a mission given to me by Alpharius here. At the time he had been experimenting with the concept of dual personality sharing. He’d been using knowledge gained from the Jokaero homeworld and with the help of Ch’ch’mm he had perfected it for a human trial. I was the trial “guinea pig”, the initial success was beyond his wildest dreams. When the split personality was placed in the dial-a-gun, the near instantaneous ability to create new weapon types for combat situations was enormous.
It was while I was on returning from a mission to collect one of Alpharius’ precious soul shards that I and his shard were captured. The gun I had thought lost in battle along with the rest of my company, but it would appear Alpharius the magpie found it and returned it to a place to be found at the time most ripe for opportunity. What was that name Lord Percival called you in those days when he was drunk and his guard was down – Merlin? We all laughed at that one didn’t we Alpharius.
So there I was a prisoner of the Dark Eldar. I was fed to the arena at first and only kept myself alive through my skills as a warrior. The years passed and I survived, that was the problem, I hadn’t died like all the other humans. I then got passed to the haemonculi and that’s when I found out what real pain and terror is. It is thanks to that device you had implanted in me that I was able to survive. My mind shattered in two and in such a state I was able to cope with the regular tortures the aliens inflicted on me – hourly, daily, weekly it went on and on until one day I found myself staked to hull of that vessel.
Alpharius I must warn you that your little toy was examined by Urien Rakarth and I think he has taken the knowledge and used it to his own advantage. He is a twisted individual Alpharius, do not allow yourself to be known by him if you fall into the Dark Eldars hand. He has set an incredible bounty on your head. If I could find a use for what he offers I would collect it myself. More importantly old “friend” your Rod is in Commorragh, the Dark City. I fear it is critical that it not remain in the hands of these foul aliens.
Now Alpharius who or what are these blue skinned humanoids?”
Ah, now comes the tricky part. I don’t think she’s going to like what’s happened to her people since she’s been gone, especially the mutation part. Especially the part that the mutation was in part a side effect of me saving her planet. Well you can’t make an omelet without breaking some eggs.
Before I could explain who people were, they decided to do so themselves. The look of horror that passed Eliza’s face was plain for all to see. I pitied her for what her people had devolved into, and it had been indirectly my fault. To save them, I had damned them and in the end the dreams of being free will see they die by my own actions. Perhaps I’ll get it right the next time, maybe…
In the end all Eliza can do is weep. Everything that the original colonists had set out to do had been perverted and corrupted. What had been good intentions had led to unexpected and undesired outcomes. Exploitation was all that was to be seen no matter what angle you looked at this situation in history. Wiping away her tears she glared at me.
“Well Alpharius lets go get this Rod of yours. This mutant descendant of mine seems to be the only one that can lead us to the desired parts to reassemble your trinket. Rumors I heard while captured has it that one part is in a treasure museum of the Kabal of the Black Rose which is a blessing for you. It is in the mercenary district Sec Maegra otherwise known as Null City, a place permanently in a civil war. It’s roughly a nation sized shanty town with a permanent thick mist of cordite-scented pollution rising above the levels of its roofs. We should be fine to a degree as xenos mercenaries come there to ply their trade. I see my mutant bitch of a descendant has the webway map tattooed on her as backup in case you are lost, good. We’ve got the astrogation chart on here as well, excellent. Now all we need is a hell of a lot of luck.”
+++Unknown pocket dimension+++
“Well “Cawl” it all went as you expected. Though that was a nasty trick you pulled on Alpharius and getting him to cut his own hand off. I bet it will be the last time he reads from a script you prepare AND not read it in advance, thank you very much.”
“Yes he may have averted this crisis point, but he does have a habit of creating so many. I think he almost enjoys creating chaos in a sea of chaos just to upset us primordial beings. I think I heard S.I.M.O.N mention at the last Tupperware met that Tzeentch was having fits of sanity trying to work ways around that beings twisted mind. Why he refused ascension like the rest of his creations I can’t understand. Too attached to these things he creates. Doesn’t he know he can still do that from this realm?”
“Well you know he’s never one to take his own advice… no matter what name he takes.”
“So when is the next Council of Multiple Existence’s?”
“Oh hardly anyone goes anymore, it’s only attending by him and his other selves for the most part. I think Mondar the Pandimensional Being still attends, but then there is only ever one of him in this universe. Quadralax Narl only goes in the hope that it can score; fat chance of that – Francine would reassign its gender on the spot if it tried. I think the Terran god emperor pops in every now and then to wave the flag, but to be honest no one sees it. After all who’s interested in a white flag these days? Oh and I almost forgot Magnus turns up every third session in one, hoping that Alpharius will crack open Terra and release his remaining soul shard. So I guess the Council is pretty light on interesting entities. I guess there is nothing worse than listening to the greatest ego in the universe coming together to expend hot air.”
+++Closing to sounds of a tea trolley being rolled round+++
Inventory Session 2
STC Archeotech Power Armour (4 suits – Elsie, Elvis, Alpharius & Francine)
AR:12, Truesilver, Sanctified, No negatives to Agility, Built in auspects and stimms, Leadership +10, +10 BS, +10 STR, +10 PER, Autostabilised.
Rail Gun (Power suit mounted only) (4 suits – Elsie, Elvis, Alpharius & Francine)
Range: 1km, RoF: 1 (every 2), Clip: 5, Dam: 5d10+10, Pen: 10, Proven 6, Accurate, Reliable, Short Range Blast Profile dependent on targets AR. Master crafted.
Volkite Pistol (Alpharius, Francine)
Range: 30m, RoF: 1 (every 2), Clip:30, Dam: 1d10+5, Pen: 3, Reliable, Proven 3, Felling 4. Damage modifier: AR 5 or less x 4 factor, AR 6 – 10 is x 2 factor, AR 11 + is x1 factor.
Power Sword x 1 (Elvis)
Thunder Hammer (Francine)
Dam: 2d10+2, Pen: 10, Energy, Power field, Shocking, Recharge, Adds twice the wielders strength bonus to damage.
Storm Shield x 4 (Elsie, Elvis, Alpharius & Francine)
Negate Power Weapon, Shocking, Power field, 50% Parry
 Dark Imperium, Guy Haley, pages 167-168
 The roving doctor is a curious alien that I had encountered on Sol. Often referred to as Old Earth or Terra, this alien liked to call the planet which was the home of humanity Sol. Its home was always in a different location each time we met, but it was always behind a peculiar bi-valved blue door that had an old fashioned communication device that allowed visitors to communicate with the alien inside. I was always amazed at the spacious and weirdly proportioned architecture within the building, yet it had not one window.
 Yes dear reader - that was my plan which Rex agreed to. I placed him in stasis aboard the Tear of Lost Dreams. He was the First Knight of the benighted planet we circled. It’s a long story, and it has yet to happen, so I’ll leave it as a footnote to remind everyone of my awesomeness.
 Cow milk is hardly a fitting drink for saluting the dearly departed.
 Elsie has only one way, be they old or new. If someone is not immediately using something, then they clearly have no immediate use for it. Therefore it would be best that he keep it safe, and use it where needed. After all he would be a better judge of this than a person who has things on them that they aren’t immediately using...
 Are You Lonely Tonight, Love Me Tender, Can’t Help Falling in Love, Burning Love and Promised Land are songs written and performed by Elvis Presley.
 Us. I tend to think of any attack on any other member of my team as an attack on me, thus the inclusion of me in thinking this way.
 Not too sure about my time reference here. Is that from my time of hearing the recording, or from my future self and his point in timeline? Either way, good riddance to a useless people I don’t care what the Inquisition think.
 Ah yes, it’s future me here. This little compulsive acquisition led to the destruction and loss of some highly prized knowledge. Thankfully though only that which the witches of the Le Roche family keenly wished preserved.
 Apparently Francine was fabricated in Albion on old earth. Hence she still likes to use old and decent money units.
 It has been debated for some time as to which “version” of Alpharius was the “original”, no one knows. The original does and he’s not telling anyone – or has he?
 I have always been partial to the history of the warriors from the IV. The records I accessed that Reximus unsealed for me were invaluable. I think I shall inscribe on the armour: "From iron cometh strength! From strength cometh will! From will cometh faith! From faith cometh honour! From honour cometh iron!"
— Unbreakable Litany of the Iron Warriors Traitor Legion
 Source: http://warhammer40k.wikia.com/wiki/Webway
 Hello it’s future ME here. I’ll have to tell you a little bit about the Council of Multiple Existences or Councils of ME, seeing I’m the primary attendee. Think of it like the old Earth TV Series that had a Council of Ricks, think of that, think of ME!