will byers stan first human second
trying on a metaphor
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Xuebing Du
Not today Justin
bliss lane
Claire Keane
Misplaced Lens Cap
we're not kids anymore.
No title available
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
KIROKAZE
Keni
Today's Document
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
noise dept.
No title available
Noah Kahan
Origami Around
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Argentina
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Romania
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Uzbekistan
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Bangladesh
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Türkiye
seen from Mexico
seen from Malaysia
@caspiel-jaeggun
looking back, while I love Cas' design, it's so... bright.
the on the bio is kinda old for me now so i think I'll probably do a new one and adjust the design's colour palette so it's a bit darker and grittier and maybe make it more elaborate ✨✨✨
okay i was right. the darker/more desaturated colours look so much better and this design fits him more for sure.
looking back, while I love Cas' design, it's so... bright.
the on the bio is kinda old for me now so i think I'll probably do a new one and adjust the design's colour palette so it's a bit darker and grittier and maybe make it more elaborate ✨✨✨
"History can be both objective and subjective. Yet somehow some people seem to think that their opinion is an objective fact."
"If there's anything I hate more than arrogance it's people who believe they're always right."
Ask my character "How do you feel about ______?" Can be an idea, person(s), place, or thing, and they'll have to answer honestly.
Ⓦ
Leave an object in my ask and my muse will react to it being given to them.
"I hate space travel. Every part of it sucks. Why did I become a rememberancer again?"
Open starter
// open to anyone! <3
Caspiel stood, looking at the piece of history before him with a completely blank expression. Most people would be in awe at such an important place, but his expression gave no such indicator of any awe, or any feeling for that matter.
He was carefully observing it, watching, as if he were waiting for something to happen. Of course, nothing was going to, but in all honesty did anyone really know what was going through his head?
He stood for a further few minutes, before his cold, blunt voice echoed.
"And you are?"
Jenny just stayed in her hiding place. Scared she might get hurt.
"It is generally considered rude to not answer a question." The blue-haired man did not turn around.
"Stop hiding and identify yourself."
Jenny: eep!
Jenny stumbles out of her hiding spot.
Jenny; I-I'm Jenny, daughter of a imperial guard here. Please don't hurt me!
".... Why would I do that?" *He turned around to face Jenny.* "You do realize I am no soldier?"
Open starter
// open to anyone! <3
Caspiel stood, looking at the piece of history before him with a completely blank expression. Most people would be in awe at such an important place, but his expression gave no such indicator of any awe, or any feeling for that matter.
He was carefully observing it, watching, as if he were waiting for something to happen. Of course, nothing was going to, but in all honesty did anyone really know what was going through his head?
He stood for a further few minutes, before his cold, blunt voice echoed.
"And you are?"
Jenny just stayed in her hiding place. Scared she might get hurt.
"It is generally considered rude to not answer a question." The blue-haired man did not turn around.
"Stop hiding and identify yourself."
Open starter
// open to anyone! <3
Caspiel stood, looking at the piece of history before him with a completely blank expression. Most people would be in awe at such an important place, but his expression gave no such indicator of any awe, or any feeling for that matter.
He was carefully observing it, watching, as if he were waiting for something to happen. Of course, nothing was going to, but in all honesty did anyone really know what was going through his head?
He stood for a further few minutes, before his cold, blunt voice echoed.
"And you are?"
The silence was deafening after those words had faded, lost in the stone, metal, and glass of the ancient chapel. It was like many other places in the imperium that were dedicated to the worship of the god emperor, stained glass depicting imperial saints and heroes, statues of worn but lovingly maintained stone, the air thick with incense.
After what seemed like an eternity the figure who stood before the remembrancer turned to face the human.
The scale of the figure was beyond that of even the elevated space marines and Demi-god like Custodian guard.
Tall and imposing as the statues that glared down at the benches where worshippers would spend hours whispering prayers yet made of flesh and bone that was covered in simple but elegant robes.
“I am Dabriel Apri Domitor.” The man spoke, his voice soft yet able to be clearly heard. “I am the Eleventh son.”
Were the primarch not standing right in front of him, he wouldn't have believed it. But considering the man's towering height, he was inclined to believe him.
"Is that so?" He frowned, turning away from Dabriel to observe a small relic on the ground. "Pray tell, what is the Eleventh Primarch doing in an abandoned chapel?" He looked up again, a cold, unfeeling stare.
“I was waiting for you.” The Primarch said simply as he observed the muted reaction of the man infront of him. The primarch believed It was a good sign, nearly all mortals in this day and age fell into some sort of religious rapture in his or his brother’s presence. It was quite vexing.
“I require an Rembrancer for myself and my legion. To make a accurate record of our existence in this galaxy besides simple battlefield records and the ravings of fanatics.”
He hummed softly, eyebrows furrowing more. "You knew I'd come here...?" He wondered how, or rather how long he'd tracking his movements.
He walked off in a random direction, picking up a relic off the floor with his metal arm, holding it with a delicateness of a mother holding her newborn. After some silence, he turned back, eye's piercing once more. "I'm not even sure you can find simple battlefield records anymore. Tell me, why are people so insistent on erasing you from history?"
A small smile curled at the primarch’s lips as he observed the man. “If one knows where to look, has enough patience, and a higher authority than the inquisition then yes, there are still battlefield reports, material and supply requests.” He said, clasping his hands behind his back.
“But the reason I will tell you, is that an enemy does not expect a spear to come from where one does not exist.” He said, his posture remaining relaxed and causal as he spoke, despite the fact that his uttering of those words could very well damn the entire hive city they were currently in.
He raised an eyebrow. "... Interesting." He turned back to the relic, placing it in a small bag around his waist. He flexed his metal arm a little, before moving on to the next object in his interest.
"Although, i would be wary of choosing someone like me. I do not.... hold my tongue so to speak. Unless that's what you're looking for."
Dabriel let out a laugh that echoed around the interior of the church. “Let me ask you something.” He said once his mirth audibly faded.
“Do you know how many individuals in this hive alone who have skills similar to yours? The same? Greater even? Hundreds. And out of those hundreds I chose to wait here in this place of worship for you.”
The primarch stepped closer to the Rembrancer. “The decision lies upon your shoulders. Come with me and tell the tale of the Eleventh as they set upon the enemies of humanity or you can wake up in your bed tomorrow morning with no memory of this meeting.”
He offered no joking look, no smile, no joy at all in his expression. "The skill of being a rememberancer is easy to find, yes. But to find a rememberancer like me? Very difficult." He frowned.
"I do not mean to sound... as arrogant as that came across. What I simply mean is its difficult to find someone who is willing to be as.... brutally honest as I am. Most remembrancers wish to only capture the glory of the primarchs and their sons.... I do not. I wish to capture them wholly."
He clacked his metal fingers together. "I will not save your ego. I say my feelings; if i think someone is arrogant, i say so.... If i think someone is cowardly, i say so. That is what I mean."
"Regardless.... I hate the idea that someone out there wishes to erase and hide vital parts of history...." He held out his hand, his human one. "Consider me convinced."
“Perhaps If there were more people like you then the events of the heresy might have been avoided. Your honesty will be appreciated, though I hope you will look at the larger picture before you formulate an opinion.” The Primarch said, extending his own hand and shaking Caspiel’s.
“Do you need to retrieve anything from your Hab-block before departing?” He asked once the handshake was over and the deal made.
Caspiel finally offered a small smile. "Ah, if only. your brothers would have actually listened to what I had to say, perhaps it would have been avoided."
"I never keep anything I need in a hab-block. Too easy to rob; too easy for the inquisition to find anything they'd believe incriminating. Let's depart."
Dabriel nodded and moved down the aisle, removing a device from the folds of his cloak and pressing a button on it.
At the signal ten space marines in scout armor with Camoline cloaks stepped from the shadows, each one carrying a large caliber auto gun with a bolt pistol on their hips.
They silently fell into formation around the Primarch and their new Rembrancer in a escort formation, weapons lowered but at the ready.
Admittedly, he was taken aback by space marines appearing out of nowhere, but he assured himself there was an explanation somewhere. He noted to himself to recollect this first meeting in writing later, when he had time to. For now, he was content to follow the primarch and his marines, letting silence fall. Silences usually provoked the truest of honesty, after all.
The group exited the empty cathedral and made it’s way through the winding alleys to a decrepit looking storage warehouse. It was like many of it’s kind, abandoned in the bureaucratic mess that was the administratum and claimed by the local gangers until they were pushed out by either another gang, an Arbites sweep, or until it rotted around them.
This one however was empty save for a single Stormraven gunship. There was barely enough room for it to fit inside the structure, showing the skill of the pilot inside.
At the arrival of the group the boarding hatch opened with a soft hiss, admitting them entry.
Dabriel walked up to it and entered without a word as the Astartes spread out and began planting explosive charges in key areas in the warehouse.
He followed, pulling out a small pen, beginning to scribble on the small screen on the back of his metal hand. Clearly, the silence was not being filled, so he might as well note down what was happening in the moment, so he could properly record it later.
He smiled a little. He was going to enjoy this. Very interesting.
Dabriel was speaking softly into a vox unit in a unknown language. It was clearly of human origin but seemingly removed from high or low gothic entirely.
When the marines finished their duties they boarded the stormraven and quickly secured themselves and their equipment. The venerable vehicle vibrated as the engines spun up, the ramp closing.
The Primarch stepped close to Caspiel, placing a arm around the smaller human and picking him up like one would a child. “I apologize for this but we do not have any restraint thrones for mortals onboard.” He explained, anchoring himself to the bulkhead by one of the reinforced handles along with planting his feet firmly against the metal grate. “And I doubt the cargo netting would provide a comfortable experience.”
The vehicle lifted off and hovered above the previously dusty floor before carefully maneuvering to angle up so it’s nose pointed through a hole in the roof of the building before blasting off into the smog filled sky above the hive city. The backwash was enough to trigger the explosives which caused the warehouse to collapse in on itself, destroying any evident of the legionaries being there.
He squeaked when the primarch picked him up, not expecting any contact, nevermind getting suddenly picked up. "I-It's fine. No problem." He trusted Dabriel. Mostly.
As the ship moved, he clung onto Dabriel, squeaking again. He wasn't very accustomed to being on most flight based vehicles, never mind one not for the standard man.
“I promise this will not happen again.” Dabriel said as he felt the Rembrancer cling to his robes as the Stormraven climbed through the atmosphere just under the speed where it would be seriously uncomfortable for any unaugmented human aboard.
Once the craft was free from the atmosphere and fully in the void it angled towards a low orbiting vessel, cloaked from the auspexs and scanners of the defense stations and patrolling battle groups by means mundane and esoteric.
The Stormraven’s pilot sent a encrypted code along a secure channel and the voidship powered up it’s thrusters, angling for a intercept course to cut down on the travel time. That of course gave away it’s position but the transmitting of its identification as a ship of the Imperial inquisition kept all eyes purposely off of it and it’s course.
He clung a little harder. "It's alright, really."
It would be embarrassing later, but he wasn't particularly thinking about that right now. He had never really enjoyed any vehicles that involved flight, but alas it was just another part of his job.
"Do you always travel this secretly?"
“Yes. I do…obscured even from my remaining brother.” Dabriel said with a soft sigh. “The only time I travel openly is on the field of combat…when my legion is the only imperial force in the system. That is when I can feel the sun on my face and go where I please without having to worry about an innocent being silenced by blade or gun just for the crime of seeing me.” He explained as the dropship drew closer to the voidship.
"Ah." He looked down for a moment, mulling this over in his head. "To- To clarify... the imperium are aware you are still alive? And your brothers are unaware....?"
Open starter
// open to anyone! <3
Caspiel stood, looking at the piece of history before him with a completely blank expression. Most people would be in awe at such an important place, but his expression gave no such indicator of any awe, or any feeling for that matter.
He was carefully observing it, watching, as if he were waiting for something to happen. Of course, nothing was going to, but in all honesty did anyone really know what was going through his head?
He stood for a further few minutes, before his cold, blunt voice echoed.
"And you are?"
"Apostle Ans'ar," returned a much calmer, warmer voice, "of the 17th Host of Word Bearers. Wonderful piece, isn't it?"
Although he was armored, his head was bare, his helm held in the crook of his arm. "I remember learning about this. It is much more wonderful in the flesh." A look of true admiration was plain on his features, which were left looking somewhat youthful, albeit tired. He took a few more steps forward, his heavy footfalls echoing around them.
"I came alone here, if you were wondering. My brothers are elsewhere. I just wanted to see if this still persisted."
He looked him square in the eye, unblinking. "It certainly is an interesting place." He raised an eyebrow. "Most man made buildings persist long periods of time... Far longer than any man, no matter how hard they try to live."
"Though.... what brings the Word Bearers here?"
"Such a place holds much significance, and that fact alone means it holds power. My Legion and I have understood this very simple truth. It is what drives many things, after all." He chuckled softly. "Humanity is a sentimental species. The Empyrean reflects this." A wry smile lingered on his face.
"I was here when this place was being constructed," he said. "I had just been elevated to the status of a Chaplain. My Chapter was still mostly Terran-born at the time, and I almost felt overshadowed by the veterans I was around. I held the rite that would consecrate this place. A marvel that it stands. I had thought most of our old trappings destroyed ages ago."
"Sentimentality...... such a wonderful thing, i think." He gave a small smile. "It's what drives a person like me. It why people preserve historical monuments like this, and other varieties of objects of importance...."
He clacked his fingers, a metallic clang rattling through the air. His metal hand was clunky, unlike the rest of him. It almost felt out of place, or would were it not for the piercing, blue orb he called a right eye.
"I find that, despite the fact they were made to be warriors and nothing else, the Primarchs and their sons are the most sentimental.... no? The objects they keep are so odd sometimes. I believe there is a space wolf somewhere with a weapon that once belonged to Lion.... What an odd thing to keep, i think.... "
"It can indeed. It is why I came here. Such feelings, such intentions can hold power. Much more than people realize, I think," Ans'ar said thoughtfully. He hummed quietly, his arms loosely crossed. "Even misplaced, those intentions and feelings remain with what we create..."
"I agree. We can be quite sentimental and keep the strangest little... keepsakes," he said with a small nod. "My own Host has kept a number of odds and ends from all different Legions in the past."
"Odd.... Primarchs are meant to be the furthest from humans.... demigods, even.... yet they tend to be the most human, the most flawed.... In a beautiful way, of course."
"They can be kind... sentimental.... but they can be arrogant, rude too."
"Though you've caught my interest. What is it you keep, exactly?"
"They are flawed as any of us, only magnified to a greater degree, as they are in all things," the Apostle replied. "My own primarch especially."
He tilted his head, looking up at nothing in particular. "Whatever sort of trophies deemed to have some sort of worth to them. For example, we keep a book of Fenrisian sagas that was taken from the Space Wolves ages ago. Our primarch had some affinity for Leman Russ, so we decided it wise to study Fenrisian culture to understand our cousins better. Now, it can serve as a potent conduit for a few select rituals, if the need arise."
"Aah...." He hummed, content- or even amused - by the answer. "An affinity, eh? For Russ especially... hm."
"Though.... I would not expect you to use it for your own rituals. That is rather odd."
sorry for being gone lads i flicker in and out of this fandom like the emperor flicking in and out of his sons lives
Open starter
// open to anyone! <3
Caspiel stood, looking at the piece of history before him with a completely blank expression. Most people would be in awe at such an important place, but his expression gave no such indicator of any awe, or any feeling for that matter.
He was carefully observing it, watching, as if he were waiting for something to happen. Of course, nothing was going to, but in all honesty did anyone really know what was going through his head?
He stood for a further few minutes, before his cold, blunt voice echoed.
"And you are?"
"Apostle Ans'ar," returned a much calmer, warmer voice, "of the 17th Host of Word Bearers. Wonderful piece, isn't it?"
Although he was armored, his head was bare, his helm held in the crook of his arm. "I remember learning about this. It is much more wonderful in the flesh." A look of true admiration was plain on his features, which were left looking somewhat youthful, albeit tired. He took a few more steps forward, his heavy footfalls echoing around them.
"I came alone here, if you were wondering. My brothers are elsewhere. I just wanted to see if this still persisted."
He looked him square in the eye, unblinking. "It certainly is an interesting place." He raised an eyebrow. "Most man made buildings persist long periods of time... Far longer than any man, no matter how hard they try to live."
"Though.... what brings the Word Bearers here?"
"Such a place holds much significance, and that fact alone means it holds power. My Legion and I have understood this very simple truth. It is what drives many things, after all." He chuckled softly. "Humanity is a sentimental species. The Empyrean reflects this." A wry smile lingered on his face.
"I was here when this place was being constructed," he said. "I had just been elevated to the status of a Chaplain. My Chapter was still mostly Terran-born at the time, and I almost felt overshadowed by the veterans I was around. I held the rite that would consecrate this place. A marvel that it stands. I had thought most of our old trappings destroyed ages ago."
"Sentimentality...... such a wonderful thing, i think." He gave a small smile. "It's what drives a person like me. It why people preserve historical monuments like this, and other varieties of objects of importance...."
He clacked his fingers, a metallic clang rattling through the air. His metal hand was clunky, unlike the rest of him. It almost felt out of place, or would were it not for the piercing, blue orb he called a right eye.
"I find that, despite the fact they were made to be warriors and nothing else, the Primarchs and their sons are the most sentimental.... no? The objects they keep are so odd sometimes. I believe there is a space wolf somewhere with a weapon that once belonged to Lion.... What an odd thing to keep, i think.... "
"It can indeed. It is why I came here. Such feelings, such intentions can hold power. Much more than people realize, I think," Ans'ar said thoughtfully. He hummed quietly, his arms loosely crossed. "Even misplaced, those intentions and feelings remain with what we create..."
"I agree. We can be quite sentimental and keep the strangest little... keepsakes," he said with a small nod. "My own Host has kept a number of odds and ends from all different Legions in the past."
"Odd.... Primarchs are meant to be the furthest from humans.... demigods, even.... yet they tend to be the most human, the most flawed.... In a beautiful way, of course."
"They can be kind... sentimental.... but they can be arrogant, rude too."
"Though you've caught my interest. What is it you keep, exactly?"
Open starter
// open to anyone! <3
Caspiel stood, looking at the piece of history before him with a completely blank expression. Most people would be in awe at such an important place, but his expression gave no such indicator of any awe, or any feeling for that matter.
He was carefully observing it, watching, as if he were waiting for something to happen. Of course, nothing was going to, but in all honesty did anyone really know what was going through his head?
He stood for a further few minutes, before his cold, blunt voice echoed.
"And you are?"
The silence was deafening after those words had faded, lost in the stone, metal, and glass of the ancient chapel. It was like many other places in the imperium that were dedicated to the worship of the god emperor, stained glass depicting imperial saints and heroes, statues of worn but lovingly maintained stone, the air thick with incense.
After what seemed like an eternity the figure who stood before the remembrancer turned to face the human.
The scale of the figure was beyond that of even the elevated space marines and Demi-god like Custodian guard.
Tall and imposing as the statues that glared down at the benches where worshippers would spend hours whispering prayers yet made of flesh and bone that was covered in simple but elegant robes.
“I am Dabriel Apri Domitor.” The man spoke, his voice soft yet able to be clearly heard. “I am the Eleventh son.”
Were the primarch not standing right in front of him, he wouldn't have believed it. But considering the man's towering height, he was inclined to believe him.
"Is that so?" He frowned, turning away from Dabriel to observe a small relic on the ground. "Pray tell, what is the Eleventh Primarch doing in an abandoned chapel?" He looked up again, a cold, unfeeling stare.
“I was waiting for you.” The Primarch said simply as he observed the muted reaction of the man infront of him. The primarch believed It was a good sign, nearly all mortals in this day and age fell into some sort of religious rapture in his or his brother’s presence. It was quite vexing.
“I require an Rembrancer for myself and my legion. To make a accurate record of our existence in this galaxy besides simple battlefield records and the ravings of fanatics.”
He hummed softly, eyebrows furrowing more. "You knew I'd come here...?" He wondered how, or rather how long he'd tracking his movements.
He walked off in a random direction, picking up a relic off the floor with his metal arm, holding it with a delicateness of a mother holding her newborn. After some silence, he turned back, eye's piercing once more. "I'm not even sure you can find simple battlefield records anymore. Tell me, why are people so insistent on erasing you from history?"
A small smile curled at the primarch’s lips as he observed the man. “If one knows where to look, has enough patience, and a higher authority than the inquisition then yes, there are still battlefield reports, material and supply requests.” He said, clasping his hands behind his back.
“But the reason I will tell you, is that an enemy does not expect a spear to come from where one does not exist.” He said, his posture remaining relaxed and causal as he spoke, despite the fact that his uttering of those words could very well damn the entire hive city they were currently in.
He raised an eyebrow. "... Interesting." He turned back to the relic, placing it in a small bag around his waist. He flexed his metal arm a little, before moving on to the next object in his interest.
"Although, i would be wary of choosing someone like me. I do not.... hold my tongue so to speak. Unless that's what you're looking for."
Dabriel let out a laugh that echoed around the interior of the church. “Let me ask you something.” He said once his mirth audibly faded.
“Do you know how many individuals in this hive alone who have skills similar to yours? The same? Greater even? Hundreds. And out of those hundreds I chose to wait here in this place of worship for you.”
The primarch stepped closer to the Rembrancer. “The decision lies upon your shoulders. Come with me and tell the tale of the Eleventh as they set upon the enemies of humanity or you can wake up in your bed tomorrow morning with no memory of this meeting.”
He offered no joking look, no smile, no joy at all in his expression. "The skill of being a rememberancer is easy to find, yes. But to find a rememberancer like me? Very difficult." He frowned.
"I do not mean to sound... as arrogant as that came across. What I simply mean is its difficult to find someone who is willing to be as.... brutally honest as I am. Most remembrancers wish to only capture the glory of the primarchs and their sons.... I do not. I wish to capture them wholly."
He clacked his metal fingers together. "I will not save your ego. I say my feelings; if i think someone is arrogant, i say so.... If i think someone is cowardly, i say so. That is what I mean."
"Regardless.... I hate the idea that someone out there wishes to erase and hide vital parts of history...." He held out his hand, his human one. "Consider me convinced."
“Perhaps If there were more people like you then the events of the heresy might have been avoided. Your honesty will be appreciated, though I hope you will look at the larger picture before you formulate an opinion.” The Primarch said, extending his own hand and shaking Caspiel’s.
“Do you need to retrieve anything from your Hab-block before departing?” He asked once the handshake was over and the deal made.
Caspiel finally offered a small smile. "Ah, if only. your brothers would have actually listened to what I had to say, perhaps it would have been avoided."
"I never keep anything I need in a hab-block. Too easy to rob; too easy for the inquisition to find anything they'd believe incriminating. Let's depart."
Dabriel nodded and moved down the aisle, removing a device from the folds of his cloak and pressing a button on it.
At the signal ten space marines in scout armor with Camoline cloaks stepped from the shadows, each one carrying a large caliber auto gun with a bolt pistol on their hips.
They silently fell into formation around the Primarch and their new Rembrancer in a escort formation, weapons lowered but at the ready.
Admittedly, he was taken aback by space marines appearing out of nowhere, but he assured himself there was an explanation somewhere. He noted to himself to recollect this first meeting in writing later, when he had time to. For now, he was content to follow the primarch and his marines, letting silence fall. Silences usually provoked the truest of honesty, after all.
The group exited the empty cathedral and made it’s way through the winding alleys to a decrepit looking storage warehouse. It was like many of it’s kind, abandoned in the bureaucratic mess that was the administratum and claimed by the local gangers until they were pushed out by either another gang, an Arbites sweep, or until it rotted around them.
This one however was empty save for a single Stormraven gunship. There was barely enough room for it to fit inside the structure, showing the skill of the pilot inside.
At the arrival of the group the boarding hatch opened with a soft hiss, admitting them entry.
Dabriel walked up to it and entered without a word as the Astartes spread out and began planting explosive charges in key areas in the warehouse.
He followed, pulling out a small pen, beginning to scribble on the small screen on the back of his metal hand. Clearly, the silence was not being filled, so he might as well note down what was happening in the moment, so he could properly record it later.
He smiled a little. He was going to enjoy this. Very interesting.
Dabriel was speaking softly into a vox unit in a unknown language. It was clearly of human origin but seemingly removed from high or low gothic entirely.
When the marines finished their duties they boarded the stormraven and quickly secured themselves and their equipment. The venerable vehicle vibrated as the engines spun up, the ramp closing.
The Primarch stepped close to Caspiel, placing a arm around the smaller human and picking him up like one would a child. “I apologize for this but we do not have any restraint thrones for mortals onboard.” He explained, anchoring himself to the bulkhead by one of the reinforced handles along with planting his feet firmly against the metal grate. “And I doubt the cargo netting would provide a comfortable experience.”
The vehicle lifted off and hovered above the previously dusty floor before carefully maneuvering to angle up so it’s nose pointed through a hole in the roof of the building before blasting off into the smog filled sky above the hive city. The backwash was enough to trigger the explosives which caused the warehouse to collapse in on itself, destroying any evident of the legionaries being there.
He squeaked when the primarch picked him up, not expecting any contact, nevermind getting suddenly picked up. "I-It's fine. No problem." He trusted Dabriel. Mostly.
As the ship moved, he clung onto Dabriel, squeaking again. He wasn't very accustomed to being on most flight based vehicles, never mind one not for the standard man.
“I promise this will not happen again.” Dabriel said as he felt the Rembrancer cling to his robes as the Stormraven climbed through the atmosphere just under the speed where it would be seriously uncomfortable for any unaugmented human aboard.
Once the craft was free from the atmosphere and fully in the void it angled towards a low orbiting vessel, cloaked from the auspexs and scanners of the defense stations and patrolling battle groups by means mundane and esoteric.
The Stormraven’s pilot sent a encrypted code along a secure channel and the voidship powered up it’s thrusters, angling for a intercept course to cut down on the travel time. That of course gave away it’s position but the transmitting of its identification as a ship of the Imperial inquisition kept all eyes purposely off of it and it’s course.
He clung a little harder. "It's alright, really."
It would be embarrassing later, but he wasn't particularly thinking about that right now. He had never really enjoyed any vehicles that involved flight, but alas it was just another part of his job.
"Do you always travel this secretly?"
Send me a fandom and I’ll tell you my:
blorbo (favorite character, character I think about the most)
scrunkly (my “baby”, character that gives me cuteness aggression, character that is So Shaped)
scrimblo bimblo (underrated/underappreciated fave)
glup shitto (obscure fave, character that can appear in the background for 0.2 seconds and I won’t shut up about it for a week)
poor little meow meow (“problematic”/unpopular/controversial/otherwise pathetic fave)
horse plinko (character I would torment for fun, for whatever reason)
eeby deeby (character I would send to superhell)
WAIT BLORBO/SKRUNKLY HAS DEFINITION??
Open starter
// open to anyone! <3
Caspiel stood, looking at the piece of history before him with a completely blank expression. Most people would be in awe at such an important place, but his expression gave no such indicator of any awe, or any feeling for that matter.
He was carefully observing it, watching, as if he were waiting for something to happen. Of course, nothing was going to, but in all honesty did anyone really know what was going through his head?
He stood for a further few minutes, before his cold, blunt voice echoed.
"And you are?"
"Apostle Ans'ar," returned a much calmer, warmer voice, "of the 17th Host of Word Bearers. Wonderful piece, isn't it?"
Although he was armored, his head was bare, his helm held in the crook of his arm. "I remember learning about this. It is much more wonderful in the flesh." A look of true admiration was plain on his features, which were left looking somewhat youthful, albeit tired. He took a few more steps forward, his heavy footfalls echoing around them.
"I came alone here, if you were wondering. My brothers are elsewhere. I just wanted to see if this still persisted."
He looked him square in the eye, unblinking. "It certainly is an interesting place." He raised an eyebrow. "Most man made buildings persist long periods of time... Far longer than any man, no matter how hard they try to live."
"Though.... what brings the Word Bearers here?"
"Such a place holds much significance, and that fact alone means it holds power. My Legion and I have understood this very simple truth. It is what drives many things, after all." He chuckled softly. "Humanity is a sentimental species. The Empyrean reflects this." A wry smile lingered on his face.
"I was here when this place was being constructed," he said. "I had just been elevated to the status of a Chaplain. My Chapter was still mostly Terran-born at the time, and I almost felt overshadowed by the veterans I was around. I held the rite that would consecrate this place. A marvel that it stands. I had thought most of our old trappings destroyed ages ago."
"Sentimentality...... such a wonderful thing, i think." He gave a small smile. "It's what drives a person like me. It why people preserve historical monuments like this, and other varieties of objects of importance...."
He clacked his fingers, a metallic clang rattling through the air. His metal hand was clunky, unlike the rest of him. It almost felt out of place, or would were it not for the piercing, blue orb he called a right eye.
"I find that, despite the fact they were made to be warriors and nothing else, the Primarchs and their sons are the most sentimental.... no? The objects they keep are so odd sometimes. I believe there is a space wolf somewhere with a weapon that once belonged to Lion.... What an odd thing to keep, i think.... "
Open starter
// open to anyone! <3
Caspiel stood, looking at the piece of history before him with a completely blank expression. Most people would be in awe at such an important place, but his expression gave no such indicator of any awe, or any feeling for that matter.
He was carefully observing it, watching, as if he were waiting for something to happen. Of course, nothing was going to, but in all honesty did anyone really know what was going through his head?
He stood for a further few minutes, before his cold, blunt voice echoed.
"And you are?"
"Apostle Ans'ar," returned a much calmer, warmer voice, "of the 17th Host of Word Bearers. Wonderful piece, isn't it?"
Although he was armored, his head was bare, his helm held in the crook of his arm. "I remember learning about this. It is much more wonderful in the flesh." A look of true admiration was plain on his features, which were left looking somewhat youthful, albeit tired. He took a few more steps forward, his heavy footfalls echoing around them.
"I came alone here, if you were wondering. My brothers are elsewhere. I just wanted to see if this still persisted."
He looked him square in the eye, unblinking. "It certainly is an interesting place." He raised an eyebrow. "Most man made buildings persist long periods of time... Far longer than any man, no matter how hard they try to live."
"Though.... what brings the Word Bearers here?"
Open starter
// open to anyone! <3
Caspiel stood, looking at the piece of history before him with a completely blank expression. Most people would be in awe at such an important place, but his expression gave no such indicator of any awe, or any feeling for that matter.
He was carefully observing it, watching, as if he were waiting for something to happen. Of course, nothing was going to, but in all honesty did anyone really know what was going through his head?
He stood for a further few minutes, before his cold, blunt voice echoed.
"And you are?"
The silence was deafening after those words had faded, lost in the stone, metal, and glass of the ancient chapel. It was like many other places in the imperium that were dedicated to the worship of the god emperor, stained glass depicting imperial saints and heroes, statues of worn but lovingly maintained stone, the air thick with incense.
After what seemed like an eternity the figure who stood before the remembrancer turned to face the human.
The scale of the figure was beyond that of even the elevated space marines and Demi-god like Custodian guard.
Tall and imposing as the statues that glared down at the benches where worshippers would spend hours whispering prayers yet made of flesh and bone that was covered in simple but elegant robes.
“I am Dabriel Apri Domitor.” The man spoke, his voice soft yet able to be clearly heard. “I am the Eleventh son.”
Were the primarch not standing right in front of him, he wouldn't have believed it. But considering the man's towering height, he was inclined to believe him.
"Is that so?" He frowned, turning away from Dabriel to observe a small relic on the ground. "Pray tell, what is the Eleventh Primarch doing in an abandoned chapel?" He looked up again, a cold, unfeeling stare.
“I was waiting for you.” The Primarch said simply as he observed the muted reaction of the man infront of him. The primarch believed It was a good sign, nearly all mortals in this day and age fell into some sort of religious rapture in his or his brother’s presence. It was quite vexing.
“I require an Rembrancer for myself and my legion. To make a accurate record of our existence in this galaxy besides simple battlefield records and the ravings of fanatics.”
He hummed softly, eyebrows furrowing more. "You knew I'd come here...?" He wondered how, or rather how long he'd tracking his movements.
He walked off in a random direction, picking up a relic off the floor with his metal arm, holding it with a delicateness of a mother holding her newborn. After some silence, he turned back, eye's piercing once more. "I'm not even sure you can find simple battlefield records anymore. Tell me, why are people so insistent on erasing you from history?"
A small smile curled at the primarch’s lips as he observed the man. “If one knows where to look, has enough patience, and a higher authority than the inquisition then yes, there are still battlefield reports, material and supply requests.” He said, clasping his hands behind his back.
“But the reason I will tell you, is that an enemy does not expect a spear to come from where one does not exist.” He said, his posture remaining relaxed and causal as he spoke, despite the fact that his uttering of those words could very well damn the entire hive city they were currently in.
He raised an eyebrow. "... Interesting." He turned back to the relic, placing it in a small bag around his waist. He flexed his metal arm a little, before moving on to the next object in his interest.
"Although, i would be wary of choosing someone like me. I do not.... hold my tongue so to speak. Unless that's what you're looking for."
Dabriel let out a laugh that echoed around the interior of the church. “Let me ask you something.” He said once his mirth audibly faded.
“Do you know how many individuals in this hive alone who have skills similar to yours? The same? Greater even? Hundreds. And out of those hundreds I chose to wait here in this place of worship for you.”
The primarch stepped closer to the Rembrancer. “The decision lies upon your shoulders. Come with me and tell the tale of the Eleventh as they set upon the enemies of humanity or you can wake up in your bed tomorrow morning with no memory of this meeting.”
He offered no joking look, no smile, no joy at all in his expression. "The skill of being a rememberancer is easy to find, yes. But to find a rememberancer like me? Very difficult." He frowned.
"I do not mean to sound... as arrogant as that came across. What I simply mean is its difficult to find someone who is willing to be as.... brutally honest as I am. Most remembrancers wish to only capture the glory of the primarchs and their sons.... I do not. I wish to capture them wholly."
He clacked his metal fingers together. "I will not save your ego. I say my feelings; if i think someone is arrogant, i say so.... If i think someone is cowardly, i say so. That is what I mean."
"Regardless.... I hate the idea that someone out there wishes to erase and hide vital parts of history...." He held out his hand, his human one. "Consider me convinced."
“Perhaps If there were more people like you then the events of the heresy might have been avoided. Your honesty will be appreciated, though I hope you will look at the larger picture before you formulate an opinion.” The Primarch said, extending his own hand and shaking Caspiel’s.
“Do you need to retrieve anything from your Hab-block before departing?” He asked once the handshake was over and the deal made.
Caspiel finally offered a small smile. "Ah, if only. your brothers would have actually listened to what I had to say, perhaps it would have been avoided."
"I never keep anything I need in a hab-block. Too easy to rob; too easy for the inquisition to find anything they'd believe incriminating. Let's depart."
Dabriel nodded and moved down the aisle, removing a device from the folds of his cloak and pressing a button on it.
At the signal ten space marines in scout armor with Camoline cloaks stepped from the shadows, each one carrying a large caliber auto gun with a bolt pistol on their hips.
They silently fell into formation around the Primarch and their new Rembrancer in a escort formation, weapons lowered but at the ready.
Admittedly, he was taken aback by space marines appearing out of nowhere, but he assured himself there was an explanation somewhere. He noted to himself to recollect this first meeting in writing later, when he had time to. For now, he was content to follow the primarch and his marines, letting silence fall. Silences usually provoked the truest of honesty, after all.
The group exited the empty cathedral and made it’s way through the winding alleys to a decrepit looking storage warehouse. It was like many of it’s kind, abandoned in the bureaucratic mess that was the administratum and claimed by the local gangers until they were pushed out by either another gang, an Arbites sweep, or until it rotted around them.
This one however was empty save for a single Stormraven gunship. There was barely enough room for it to fit inside the structure, showing the skill of the pilot inside.
At the arrival of the group the boarding hatch opened with a soft hiss, admitting them entry.
Dabriel walked up to it and entered without a word as the Astartes spread out and began planting explosive charges in key areas in the warehouse.
He followed, pulling out a small pen, beginning to scribble on the small screen on the back of his metal hand. Clearly, the silence was not being filled, so he might as well note down what was happening in the moment, so he could properly record it later.
He smiled a little. He was going to enjoy this. Very interesting.
Dabriel was speaking softly into a vox unit in a unknown language. It was clearly of human origin but seemingly removed from high or low gothic entirely.
When the marines finished their duties they boarded the stormraven and quickly secured themselves and their equipment. The venerable vehicle vibrated as the engines spun up, the ramp closing.
The Primarch stepped close to Caspiel, placing a arm around the smaller human and picking him up like one would a child. “I apologize for this but we do not have any restraint thrones for mortals onboard.” He explained, anchoring himself to the bulkhead by one of the reinforced handles along with planting his feet firmly against the metal grate. “And I doubt the cargo netting would provide a comfortable experience.”
The vehicle lifted off and hovered above the previously dusty floor before carefully maneuvering to angle up so it’s nose pointed through a hole in the roof of the building before blasting off into the smog filled sky above the hive city. The backwash was enough to trigger the explosives which caused the warehouse to collapse in on itself, destroying any evident of the legionaries being there.
He squeaked when the primarch picked him up, not expecting any contact, nevermind getting suddenly picked up. "I-It's fine. No problem." He trusted Dabriel. Mostly.
As the ship moved, he clung onto Dabriel, squeaking again. He wasn't very accustomed to being on most flight based vehicles, never mind one not for the standard man.
