But first, I flicked a throne coin right at Valerian's ear, waking him up from his psyker trance. Valerian might be Finona's son, but not even he was exempt from being respectful.
"Now that we are all paying attention. Direct your eyes above my head. Tell me what you see. You!" I demanded pointing at a teenage girl enrolled for piloting classes.
"... It's the Aquila, Lord Lancefire. The symbol of the Imperium and the Imperial Creed." she answered a bit timidly, seeing the brass ornament but ignoring its meaning, just like nearly everyone.
"Excellent answer, cadet! But wrong. You!" I exclaimed and pointed at another girl. A daughter of mine named Ramona, blonde and pretty as an angel.
"It is the symbol of the Imperium, Lord Lancefire. The Imperial Creed also uses it." Ramona muttered a bit confused.
"Good. There is a great distinction here. If there was just an eagle, it wouldn't matter at all. But this Aquila has two heads. Why?" I asked pointing at another cadet.
The young man, glanced at the eagle and frowned. "It is how the Imperium was formed, sir. The Emperor and the techpriests from Mars, joining together to start the Great Crusade."
I nodded in agreement. "So this Imperial Creed worships Mars and the Emperor then? You!" I asked another cadet.
"No, Sir. Only the Emperor." the asian-looking boy answered calmly and patted his chest where the same Aquila was stamped.
I sighed inward and gestured at the holoscreen behind me.
"You all better remember this clearly. The Imperium is the Emperor and the Forge. Other Imperial institutions that formed afterwards, like the Ecclesiarchy and even the Inquisition, are not meant to be part of the Imperium. Not the Adeptas Sororitas, nor the Officio Assassinorum and the many Imperial Dealth Cults. Those are all vultures, praying on the citizens of the Imperium. Questions?" I asked in a loud voice.
"My lord, the techpriests are heretics! And while the Creed indeed formed after the God-Emperor laid down on the Golden Throne, it is fundamentally important for the salvation of the human race!" A devout believer yelled at me holding his Aquila as a shield.
"Faith is important. Again, a big distinction here, cadet. We know the Emperor protects, and safeguards our souls in the afterlife. Now, does humanity need bishops and cathedrals to be saved? I personally don't need anyone to tell me what to believe, because the blood of Sanguinius flows through my veins. Four times in my life, an Angel sent by the Emperor came to my aid. But perhaps for those with weak souls, and feeble faith, they do need to be led into prayer by a bishop. It is also the only reason I even allow cathedrals and Sisters in my Dynasty. I also allow techpriests. Why?" I asked pointing at Valerian.
"They make ships and tanks. Why else?" Valerian muttered in disgust.
"You say that, and seem displeased, cadet. Are you saying the Emperor was in error to sign the Olympus treaty? What other errors in our Emperor's conduct would you like to point out for your fellow cadets?" I asked rhetorically.
A thousand eyes stared accusingly at the poor boy, although they shared his views even so.
"You!" I demanded pointing at another cadet.
"The Emperor surely had good reasons, sir. But it was possibly a temporary measure, until the galaxy was united..." the boy claimed in a doubtful voice.
"Of course. What other temporary measures then? The Astronomican? The Adeptus Astartes? The Silent Sisters? Shall we just destroy everything the Emperor did, and claim it was merely a temporary measure? Already the High Lords of Terra have exiled the Silent Sisters from the Imperial Palace. Let's turn off the Astronomican next. Correct?" I wondered with a wry voice.
A single month of losing the light of the Astronomican would paralyze the Imperium. Turning it off would be a deathblow.
They all knew it, even here in the Fringe.
I had already pointed the beacon of the Pharos at , while preparing the ground for the next fight. A couple of Tyranid Hive Fleets and Ork Waaghs would cover my own agenda quite nicely.
"No, Sir. And we are also not in the Imperium, not until you decide to create a new Imperial Sector." the cadet answered with a lower voice.
"I like things as they are now, cadet. With my Warrant of Trade, I speak with the Emperor's Voice. Because of that, my words are the law here in the Lancefire domain, and our worlds are not crawling with cultists and criminal gangs like in the Imperium. You will all soon pilot shuttles or starfighters or even become Captains. And when you do, and are sent to trade in the Imperium, you will see the squalor of those worlds. You will beg me to never allow our worlds to join the putrid corruption that is the Imperium right now. Back to techpriests. You!" I pointed at another cadet.
"...Errr. They worship the Machine God and believe the Emperor is their Omnissiah. Don't know much more, Sir." the girl replied anxiously.
"Correct. Now...to understand the Forge and the techpriests would take decades of study. But I'll give you a short history. Back in the Age of Strife, the advanced human worlds in the galaxy found themselves isolated by Warp Storms, attacked by millions of rogue psykers and demons, while the machines they were used to became savage beasts, shredding the people with metal claws and laser eyes. Very few civilized worlds survived at all, and those became Forge Worlds. There was a motive these worlds survived and not the rest. Those engineers and technicians overseeing the machines learned the operating manuals and the repair protocols by rote, and repeated them to their descendants. In five thousand years, those lessons became prayers and machine canticles, but they also kept the machines working. Adding oils and incense to the rituals helped keep demons away, and thus they survived. And then one day, the Warp Storms cleared and only the Eye of Terror remained, a gateway into the Immaterium and the horrors beyond." I narrated while images scrolled on the holoscreen.
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
"And then, only the techpriests knew how to use machines. Well, them and the Emperor on Terra." Ramona said with a knowing tone.
"Pretty much, yes. And thus the Imperium was born. The Forge and the Emperor working together to unite the galaxy again. And leading the way, were the Rogue Traders, empowered with Warrants of Trade to deal with xenos, acquire navigation routes and pinpoint enemies for the following fleets of the Great Crusade. The Forge kept the monopoly on technology, and took over the surviving Forge Worlds into their domain. The Navis Nobilitae or the Navigator Houses were formed to guide the ships into the Warp, and every religion found was destroyed and obliterated. All religions but one, the Cult Mechanicus. You!" I pointed at another cadet.
"Well...it seems obvious the Emperor did not consider the techpriests to be heretics. Perhaps only annoying?" the boy replied with a question, which was mildly amusing.
"You forget something, cadet. The Emperor did not need to learn machine manuals by rote. He was immortal, and He had lived in the Dark Age of Technology. He also had the brains to understand the complex science behind any machine. For the techpriests, his intellect and knowledge of the machines were amazingly miraculous. Or to put it simply, He was the best techpriest of them all. I believe the Emperor felt pity, not annoyance with his machine-worshiping followers. Imagine looking at clouds, and hearing your naive siblings argue if they form a crown or bird. You know it's only water and feel pity." I concluded and teleported away.
I returned to the Starfort, and opened the galactic map on my cogitator. Decima had been updating my simulations, keeping track of imports and exports and numbers for population growth.
My domain was growing very fast, but not fast enough.
I will need billions of new immigrants and a billion techpriests, if slightly better educated with each generation. The geniuses will be selected for my special research teams, and given the best technical training I could steal from the Tau, and the and any nearby races with advanced technology.
It seemed a new round of heavy trading was needed, sending all available ships and captains to Ultima Segmentum Forge Worlds, and a few just beyond, like Gryphonne IV in the south and Lucius in the north, plus the big Forges like Ryza and Graia.
They could carry Dark Eldar and Necron artifacts, plus few Tau and Eldar weapons. The STC templates would need to be customized for every Forge to make them more attractive and valuable, plus targeting data on nearby Necron or Ork worlds.
Did I shamelessly ask for all-female regiments and any Blanks or Pariah they could provide? I sure did.
Did I ask Forge Ryza for 200 Catachan regiments to pacify the Fringe? Yes, I did.
But I also earmarked a transport of 40000 Armed Sentinels and Tarantula turrets and a billion multi-spectrum vaccines doses to be donated to Catachan's citizens. I may drain their manpower, but I'll not leave them defenseless on that Death World.
Combat Walkers were powerful force multipliers, and medication for an entire planet even more.
I was also pretty sure that Finona and her Catachan husband will be able to induce an immigration drive for my domains, even if it would be only kids and women, sent to the paradise worlds filled with untamed forests and savage Orks in the Eastern Fringe.
Perhaps send a million adamantium swords as well...and flak armor with blackstone armor plates? Sure, why not?
The Catachans were not stupid, even if forced to live in near servitude on a jungle planet where everything could kill you.
Plans made, I raised my eyes to look at Dreadnought Chyron, who just entered my quarters. "Yes, Brother?"
"We have a problem, Chapter Master. A dozen Apothecaries have defected while pretending to search for new herbs. I fear your Blank women escorting them have..." He rumbled in a cold voice.
I sighed inward and stood up. "Come with me then. Any clues on why they would turn traitor?" I asked while heading towards the docking bay.
The Apothecaries and the Sanguinary priests, plus a few techmarines and various support personnel are the remains of the original (cursed) Lamenters, which of course implies all the Chaos fuckery possible. Like a minor plant collection expedition turning traitor when away from their base and my watchful gaze.
"I suspect it was the failures of the Blood Ravens gene-seed, my Lord. Others have also voiced displeasure at using such corrupted gene-seed, that even poisons Blanks." Chyron said in a level voice, possibly agreeing with the defectors then.
"It would happen even with Primarch's Khan or Sanguinius gene-seed, my friend. That's why I demanded test recruits from eleven different fathers, not just my own sons. The three recruits that survived, all have my genes or my children's genes. I am the reason, not the gene-seed." I whispered as we reached the docking bay.
I looked at the airlock door, to find Hestia and Fidelia already armed for war.
"They have the right to avenge their Sisters, Captain." I heard Rafen murmur on the Manifold.
Allright! The more the merrier. Plus I could use the Sisters to relax on the way to the Pharos. Damn crazy universe!
How it is to be a real Lamenter. Btw their Chapter sigil is a red heart, so it fits perfectly with Lord Pef's style.
- Founded during the Cursed Founding, earning them distrust among fellow Space Marines. Being a fleet-based chapter, they decide wisely to depart to the fringes of the Imperium to crusade against the xenos and the enemy without, rather than be mired in conflicts within.
- Were eventually recalled to the interior of the Imperium by the .
- Tasked by the High Lords of Terra to partake in the defense against 's 9th . They were abandoned by the chapter in the defense of Corillia due to their origins. Being the heroic fuckers that they are, they decided to stay and fight anyways, and try to save the innocent people. Outnumbered as they were facing numerous combined Traitor forces, only 200 Lamenters were left 'standing' after the and finally gave enough of a shit to come in to reinforce them.
- The 200 survivors were subsequently lost in the warp after a freakish warp storm appeared. In a rare show of good luck for them, they did return afterwards, after fighting the whole way out. Which, of course, just made other Space Marines trust them even less. It is speculated Tzeentch only changed his plans at the last minute (!??!!) *BLAM* Heresy! so he could screw them over more.
- Joined the Corinth Crusade with 300 Marines (all they had on hand at the time) in order to repay the Ultramarines for when they saved them on Corillia. (Because a debt of honour is a debt of honour, even the Chapter dying out doesn't get in the way of being bros!) In a decisive battle against an Ork slave mining world nicknamed "Slaughterhouse III", they liberated the 3 million human prisoners on the planet, who they decided to rescue (they did this alone, mind you - Calgar could not risk jeopardizing the entire crusade by attacking a planet that would most likely tie up their entire battleforce). Just a few moments after the victory, however, an Ork reinforcement fleet came over Slaughterhouse III. While everyone on the ground tried to evacuate as many people as they could, using their own ships and any planetside slaver ships that were still operational, the Lamenters realized they didn't have the time or resources to get everyone off-planet before being overrun, but decided to fight on to the last regardless. The remaining prisoners, though, wanting to spare their saviors from death and volunteered to be left to die so that the Lamenters could escape and deny the orks the planet. Reluctantly agreeing, the Lamenters detonated the seismic charges they had planted deep in the planet's mines and performed on the rest of the planet, utterly making sure the orks couldn't get anything valuable off it quickly and/or use it as a staging ground. (give Orks enough time and they'll loot/strip-mine/... a dead planet just fine; but Calgar & co didn't grant them the time.)
- After the Crusade, wanted to award them with by giving them an , but due to the losses (both theirs and civilians) . Despite how this was a case of manly tears, most some Space Marines instead took it as an insult to , so everyone hated the Lamenters even MORE. Although, turning down an item that would help them better save more people was pretty foolish. Calgar himself told the naysayers to shut the fuck up and was a good bro.
- Asked to partake in and to defend the area around the along with the and the after they got back to strength. For once, their fellow warriors the Astral Claws and the Mantis Warriors actually cared about them and the Lamenters had finally found true, believing friends. Then decided to instigate what would become the with the Imperium because the Imperium ignored his pleas for launching a crusade into the Maelstrom. Understanding a trend here yet? When he does, the Lamenters and Mantis Warriors are drawn into the conflict as well out of bro ties to the Astral Claws — there is no way they are going to abandon their first genuine friends and only people in the Imperium who didn't treat them like shit. (And on top of that, from an outsider's point of view, it really seemed like the Imperium was bullying the Astral Claws pointlessly.)
- Reluctant to attack fellow Space Marines the Lamenters managed, for a time, to win conflicts with loyalists indirectly via their numbers, cunning maneuvers and effective shows of force causing ultimately little damage on both sides. This is known as excellence according to the Art of War and is basically the ultimate form of a mastery of warfare. But this strategy abruptly fell apart when the sent the into the fray, who were much less inclined to pull their punches. The Minotaurs discovered and ambushed the Lamenter's and so began a brutal 17 hour siege with heavy losses on both sides where the Lamenters ultimately came out the worse. Outnumbered and outgunned by the infamously ruthless and well equipped Minotaurs (who are known for fighting en masse at nothing less than full Chapter strength and specializing in taking on other Astartes) the Lamenters were forced to surrender having been (once again) reduced to only 300, mostly wounded, Marines. Adding insult to injury, as recompense for their losses and just generally being poor winners, the kleptomaniac Minotaurs saw fit to pillage much of the Lamenters best equipment and even stole/were GIFTED a bunch of their ships, like a , which they would eventually crash. Cherry on top, it was then the Lamenters learned that Huron and the Astral Claws had fallen to and that they'd ultimately been fighting for the wrong side.
- In another rare show of things, they were actually granted a pardon along with the Mantis Warriors. But again continuing this theme of getting fucked over, they had to do a penitent crusade for a hundred years without being able to replace losses or recruit new Marines (i.e. their fate would be in the Emperor's Hands now, and theirs alone). Their tattered banner was given to the for them to repair and re-sanctify. The Sororitas wept as they wove the Banner Of Tears, as they contemplated the life of the Chapter, and how these glorious bastards refused to stop believing in their fellow Man, despite everything they had went through.
- They again wisely decided to crusade on the borders of the Imperium and against , lest they wind up getting fucked over in another internal squabble. But continuing this getting fucked over theme, in their first crusade action, they happened to encounter the . With only less than 400 marines on hand, they hold out to try to allow as many people as possible to escape whenever the Hive Fleet gets its OM NOM NOM'ing on.
- Just to make their shitty situation of repetitive forlorn hope rearguards even shittier, the returned, meaning that the cure was a bust. So now the Lamenters have to form a and lose valuable battle-brothers that way... while still being unable to recruit (of course).
In the Lamenters get an apparent offhand mention in the "Echoes of Awakening" (lore preview) section. Some prison has secluded prisoners who are "going strange" into solitary confinement; these strange prisoners repel others, "even the strongest guards couldn't bear to go near them." A force of Space Marines "in yellow armor, bleeding hearts on their shoulders" came and took all of the prisoners, including the strange ones. Why the Lamenters would be collecting (if not recruiting) criminal psychics (if not blanks) is unknown.
Daily Rituals
04:00 - Wakeup: The Lamenters awake and assemble their wargear. Sometimes, they fall out of their beds.
05:00 - Morning Prayer: The Lamenters show their gratitude for having survived the penitent crusade and having received reinforcements. They ask the Emperor for strength to quietly bear their curse so that others don't have to.
06:00 - Morning Firing Rites: The Lamenters hone in their firing skills. Occasionally the target Servitors accidently turn out to be Loyal Marines from another Chapter.
07:00 - Battle Practice: The Lamenters engage in practice battles. By the end, the medicae is filled to the brim with injured marines.
11:00 - Physical checkup: the injured Marines are tended to and prayers of thanks are given that no one was seriously hurt.
12:00 - Midday Prayer: The Sanguinary Priests lead the Marines in prayers of restraint as they all struggle with the resurgent Red Thirst and Black Rage. Some Marines sadly gaze upon the stasis field containing the delusional and bloodthirsty forms of those who have fallen to the Black Rage and who were unfortunate enough to not die in a suicidal charge and the devolved monsters afflicted by the last stages of the Red Thirst, turning them into beasts moving on all fours like the gorillas of ancient Terra with little in mind but slaughter.
13:00 - Midday Meal: Chapter Serfs prepare the meal, though sometimes it gets lost in transit and the Lamenters have to go without.
13:15 - Tactical Indoctrination: The Lamenters go over the latest tactics for fighting in the general galactic stalemate following the Indomitus Crusade and the Plague Wars. Meticulous preparations are made to minimize casualties on all allied forces and civilians and extreme search and rescue training is also conducted so that the enemy never gets another Slaughterhouse III.
15:00 - Battle Practice: The Lamenters again engage in practice battles. Knowing that their prowess is quite possibly the only thing standing between the citizens of the Imperium and the horrors of the Galaxy; they bear the pains and go through the drills meticulously for if they make a single mistake, they know it may cost the life of a person.
20:00 - Evening Prayer: The Lamenters give thanks to the Emperor and the Primarch for granting them the will to make it through one more day and keeping them able to help others at any cost.
21:00 - Evening Meal: A feast is provided by the Chapter Serfs. This time, an escort of armed serfs guarantees the food makes it to the table.
21:20 - Night Firing Exercises: The Lamenters hone their skills further in their ship's firing ranges.
22:20 - Maintenance Rituals: The Lamenters work on their weapons and armor, as befits the Sons of Sanguinius. Occasionally, their equipment will spontaneously combust.
23:00 - Free Time. Some Marines gather around the view ports of their ships, gazing into the void of space, contemplating why their chapter has such a terrible fortune. Others visit Chapter Serfs and express their gratitude for their service. Others take the time to indulge in the arts and literature as their Primarch would have done, for they know each day protecting Mankind is an honor beyond their worth and this helps them stay grounded in reality.
00:00 - Rest Period. The Lamenters go back to sleep, silently expressing gratitude as they made it through another day.
01:45 - Nightmares start. Most people are harmed or terrified in their nightmares. The Lamenters see others get harmed in the nightmares, unable to do anything.
02:30 - Wake up from nightmares. They say a prayer of gratitude that no one was actually harmed, and go back to sleep.