It was a Tuesday in 1981 when the San Francisco police kicked in the door.
Inside the small apartment, they expected to find a hardened criminal. They expected a drug kingpin. They expected resistance.
Instead, they found a 57-year-old waitress in an apron.
The air in the apartment smelled sweet, thick with chocolate and something earthier. On the kitchen counter, cooling on wire racks, were 54 dozen brownies.
The police officers began bagging the evidence. They confiscated nearly 18 pounds of marijuana. They handcuffed the woman, whose name was Mary Jane Rathbun.
She didn't look scared. She didn't look guilty.
She looked at the officers, smoothed her apron, and reportedly said, "I thought you guys were coming."
She was booked into the county jail. The headlines wrote themselves. A grandmother running a pot bakery. It seemed like a joke to the legal system, a quirky local news story about an older woman behaving badly.
But Mary wasn't baking for fun. And she certainly wasn't baking for profit.
To understand why Mary risked her freedom, you have to understand the silence of the early 1980s.
San Francisco was gripping the edge of a cliff. A mysterious illness was sweeping through the city, specifically targeting young men. Later, the world would know it as AIDS. But in those early days, it was just a death sentence that no one wanted to talk about.
Families were disowning their sons. Landlords were evicting tenants. Even doctors and nurses, paralyzed by the fear of the unknown, would sometimes leave food trays outside hospital doors, afraid to breathe the same air as their patients.
Men in their twenties were wasting away in sterile rooms, dying alone.
Mary knew what it felt like to lose a child.
Years earlier, in 1974, her daughter Peggy had been killed in a car accident. Peggy was only 22. The loss had hollowed Mary out, leaving a space in her heart that nothing seemed to fill.
When the judge sentenced Mary for that first arrest, he ordered her to perform 500 hours of community service. He likely thought the manual labor would teach her a lesson.
He sent her to the Shanti Project and San Francisco General Hospital.
It was a mistake that would change American history.
Mary walked into the AIDS wards when others were walking out. She didn't wear a hazmat suit. She didn't hold her breath. She saw rows of young men who looked like ghosts—skeletal, in pain, and terrified.
She saw "her kids."
She began mopping floors and changing sheets. But soon, she noticed something the doctors were missing. The harsh medications the men were taking caused violent nausea. They couldn't eat. They were starving to death as much as they were dying of the virus.
Mary knew a secret about the brownies she had been arrested for.
She knew they settled the stomach. She knew they brought back the appetite. She knew they could help a dying man sleep for a few hours without pain.
So, she made a choice.
She went back to her kitchen. She fired up the oven. She started mixing batter, not to sell, but to save.
Every morning, Mary would bake. She lived on a fixed income, surviving on Social Security checks that barely covered her rent. Yet, she spent nearly every dime on flour, sugar, and butter.
The most expensive ingredient—the cannabis—was donated. Local growers heard what she was doing. They began dropping off pounds of product at her door, free of charge.
She packed the brownies into a basket and took the bus to the hospital.
She walked room to room. She sat by the bedsides of men who hadn't seen their own mothers in years. She held their hands. She told them jokes. And she gave them brownies.
"Here, baby," she would say. "Eat this. It'll help."
And it did.
Nurses watched in amazement as patients who hadn't eaten in days began to ask for food. The constant retching stopped. The mood on the ward shifted from despair to a quiet sort of comfort.
Mary Jane Rathbun became "Brownie Mary."
For over a decade, this was her life. She baked roughly 600 brownies a day. She went through 50 pounds of flour a week. She became the mother to a generation of lost boys.
She washed their pajamas. She attended their funerals. She held them while they took their last breaths.
She did this while the government declared a "War on Drugs."
By the early 1990s, the political climate was hostile. Politicians were competing to see who could be "tougher" on crime. Mandatory minimum sentences were locking people away for decades.
In 1992, at the age of 70, Mary was arrested again.
This time, the stakes were lethal. She was charged with felonies. The district attorney looked at her rap sheet and saw a repeat offender. He threatened to send her to prison.
One prosecutor famously whispered to a colleague that he was going to "kick this old lady's ass."
They underestimated who they were dealing with.
They thought they were prosecuting a drug dealer. In reality, they were attacking the most beloved woman in San Francisco.
When the news broke that Brownie Mary was facing prison, the city erupted.
It wasn't just the activists who were angry. It was the doctors. It was the nurses. It was the parents who had watched Mary care for their dying sons when the government did nothing.
Mary turned her trial into a pulpit.
She arrived at court not as a defendant, but as a grandmother standing her ground. The media swarmed her. Reporters asked if she was afraid of prison. They asked if she would stop baking if they let her go.
Mary looked into the cameras, her voice gravelly and firm.
"If the narcs think I'm gonna stop baking brownies for my kids with AIDS," she said, "they can go fuck themselves in Macy's window."
The quote ran in newspapers across the country.
The court didn't stand a chance.
Testimony poured in. Doctors from San Francisco General Hospital wrote letters explaining that Mary’s brownies were medically necessary. Patients testified that she was an angel of mercy.
The charges were dropped.
Mary walked out of the courthouse a free woman. But she didn't go home to rest. She realized that her personal victory wasn't enough. As long as the law was broken, her "kids" were still in danger.
She needed to change the law.
August 25 was declared "Brownie Mary Day" by the San Francisco Board of Supervisors. It was a nice gesture, but Mary wanted policy, not plaques.
She teamed up with fellow activist Dennis Peron. Together, they opened the San Francisco Cannabis Buyers Club—the first public dispensary in the United States. It was a safe haven where patients could get their medicine without fear of arrest.
But Mary wanted more. She wanted the state of California to acknowledge the truth.
She campaigned for Proposition 215. She traveled the state, despite her failing health. She spoke in her simple, direct way. She didn't talk about liberties or economics. She talked about compassion. She talked about pain.
She forced voters to look at the issue through the eyes of a grandmother.
In 1996, Proposition 215 passed. California became the first state to legalize medical marijuana.
It was a domino effect. Because one woman refused to let her "kids" suffer, the public perception of cannabis shifted. The Economist later noted that Mary was single-handedly responsible for changing the national conversation.
She never got rich.
She had always joked that if legalization ever happened, she would sell her recipe to Betty Crocker and buy a Victorian house for her patients to live in.
She never sold the recipe. She never bought the house.
Mary Jane Rathbun died in 1999, at the age of 77. She passed away in a nursing home, poor in money but rich in legacy.
Today, over 30 states have legalized medical marijuana. Millions of people use it to manage pain, seizures, and nausea.
Most of them have never heard of Mary.
They don't know that their legal prescription exists because a waitress in San Francisco decided that the law was wrong and her heart was right.
They don't know about the 600 brownies a day.
They don't know about the thousands of hospital visits.
Mary didn't set out to be a hero. She told the Chicago Tribune years before she died, "I didn't go into this thinking I would be a hero."
She was just a mother who had lost her daughter, trying to help boys who had lost their way.
She proved that authority doesn't always equal morality.
She proved that sometimes, the most patriotic thing a citizen can do is break a bad law.
Every August, a few people in San Francisco still celebrate Brownie Mary Day. But her true memorial isn't a date on a calendar.
It is found in every oncology ward where a patient finds relief. It is found in every dispensary door that opens without fear.
It is found in the simple, quiet courage of anyone who sees suffering and refuses to look away.
Mary taught us that you don't need a law degree to change the world. You don't need millions of dollars. You don't need political office.
Sometimes, all you need is a mixing bowl, an oven, and enough love to tell the world to get out of your way.
Sources: New York Times Obituary (1999), "Brownie Mary" Rathbun. San Francisco Chronicle Archives (1992, 1996). History.com, "The History of Medical Marijuana." Weird Everything, FB december 12, 2025
I'd be only too happy to do that. I was suspicious to start, too. It seemed a bit on the nose to have the weed brownie grandma named "Mary Jane," but also, that's a very common combination in a certain place and time, so I thought it was worth the extra effort.
What I did was find sources that made the claim (in this case, that a woman named Mary Jane was a medicinal marijuana activist in California, USA in the 1980s and 90s.) I checked the dates to get some certainty those sources aren't AI slop, then checked that the sources are generally reliable.
Then I followed useful details about the place and time, and other people involved, to explore it more fully.
The first thing I did was search for "Brownie Mary" and see if that turned anything up at all. It turned up a LOT of results. Predictably, some of them were recipes, but not all of them.
Next up, I checked sources and dates. Wikipedia can be dodgy for academic use, but their policy on LLM-generated input is very clear: they don't want slop. I started by reading that page and then went on to read others.
The Atlas Obscura article is from 2018. I found another one from SFWeekly from 2017.
Both of those are decent sources - Atlas Obscura gets a High factual reporting rate from MediaBiasFactCheck, and while MBFC doesn't have a rating for SFWeekly, the verbiage in that article is very close to what GastroObscura has. (Also to what the post itself has, right down to the choice of pull quote.)
Now, we can stop there and feel pretty confident that articles published before the wide availability of LLMs are not, in fact, LLM generated.
...or we can go deeper, and run this all the way back to source.
I spotted references to a Chicago Tribune imterview of Mary Jane Rathbun, published in 1993.
My search string of "Chicago Tribune 1993 Mary Jane Rathbun" hit it in the top 3 results. That article includes some fun new details: she wore a cannabis leaf shaped pendant to her trial!
She also objected to being portrayed as a cuddly grandma up against The Man, so I must retract my flippant tags, above.
The evidence now strongly points to Brownie Mary being a real woman who really went to court for giving AIDS patients weed brownies. But can we get closer? I've now seen several mentions of a 1980 attempt at convicting her too.
The articles have mentioned Sonoma County and a nonprofit called the Shanti Project, so let's hook onto that and see what we get.
Searching for "Mary Jane Rathbun Sonoma County 1980" gets me an article from a law firm; that mentions the prosecuting attorney by name, and points to a book: Lust for Justice: The Radical Life & Law of J. Tony Serra, by Paulette Frankl. It even has an excerpt!
We can run the book down too, just for fun (now we have a primary source.) My favorite used book site has a copy for $1. Amazon gives a view of the back cover, too:
...wow. I should see if my library has that!
The excerpt on the site has a mention of a candelight vigil held for her death in 1999. It took some hunting past things I'd already read and a bunch of shops giving written tributes, but I found a news report about that, too.
There's a lot of information out there, and it's worth digging into. Otherwise it's altogether too easy to think something real and worth knowing is just another bit of slop.
(Featuring Warden, R'tan, Ostia and Lucelle Haldus from @rowscara)
R'tan could not but help keeping his hammer at the ready, thumb hovering near the activation rune in the haft. This familiar feeling of dread gnawing st the back of his mind as he watches from the sidelines, but his body was still tensed to close the distance at the sign of any trouble.
Why did this dread feeling always return when he was around Knights? Something about the ancient machine spirits maybe? Or was it that Ostia stood upon one of the Knight's shoulder? He knew not.
Warden stood at ease, it's blade and gauntlet hung idle but the low thrum of its reactor exhausts still could be heard and felt in the air. Across from it was Dominion, the Monarche type Knight under the command of Lady Durand. This one seemed,, restless, twitchy even if such a machine could be described as such. It's exhaust rumbled at a higher frequency, as if ready to accelerate it's motive engines for combat.
/We./
The Hanger reverberated from the vox-hailers mounted in Dominion's frame as it finally spoke. Synthetic, Soulless, and not with one voice, sounding more as if dozens of people spoke in perfect unison. Echoes of former Scions along with Lady Neomie's likeness, but hollow, distant, just fragments of the true selves.
R'tan felt his body tense further as he watches the elder machine spoke more at Ostia? Warden? He was unsure who the Knight was trying to adress in it's questioning. He could see Ostia brace herself a little ontop of Warden's shoulder, covering one ear from being in the direct path of the vox-hailers. Once the noise ceased, Ostia rubbing her ear before giving her answer, directed at the ancient Knight.
"We are,, Warden, Ostia, and Lucelle. We hail from House Haldus, from the world of Haldia. Do you know our House? We hold fealty to the God-Emperor of Mankind. We are not your enemy."
There was a short pause as Dominion listened, it's crimson lenses gazing over Ostia and Warden, R'tan almost felt like the machine was thinking of how to respond or something of that order. These Knights were an unknown technology to most Astartes, even the Iron Hands who pride themselves as masters of the Machine Spirits were not privy to this technology.
/House Haldus. Blood Haldia. Known to Dominion. Blood of Lord Gerrard Haldia. Indentured Ally./
R'tan watches as the elder knight seems to relax for a moment, letting his held breath release slowly through his nose. His grasp upon his hammer releases slighty but keeps wary, remembering how volatile Dominion has been upon the battlefield, how protective it was of Lady Durand and her people, it's wroth was unmatched.
Ostia though had a surprised look upon her face, quizzical even as Dominion mentioned Gerrard. Giving a glance down at Warden for a moment before asking the obvious question that came to their mind.
"Gerrard Haldia? He was the founder of our entire family, how do you know him?"
Dominion titled its helm slowly as it processed the query posed to it, the crimson lenses flickering while it dug through its archives.
/Gerrard Haldia. Aide. Witness the Writ and Crown. Vanquished upon Acadia, Darkend Beasts. Old Ally. Blood Haldia are allies. Blood Durand, Blood DeGalle, Brothers of Blood Haldia. Indentured Ally./
R'tan looked between the two war machines then back up to Ostia. Haldia was an ancient world, centuries of history and even more having been lost. The confusion was apparent in Ostia's expression, even Lucelle reacted, this time she was the one to respond to this revelation, the vox-hailers on Warden crackling to life so the elder sister could ask.
"That's,, that's well over a millennia ago. You witnessed our House being granted the Writ?"
"DeGalle? You've mentioned them now a few times, who are they?"
/Blood Durand, Blood DeGalle. First Sangreal of Karseilles. /
"San,, what now?"
/Sangreal. Blood-Writ. The First of the House. Gerrard poured Heart Blood onto The Writ of Terra. Durand. DeGalle. Haldus. Sangreal. Not many left./
/Rólan Durand. First of First. Proclaim./
The vox-hailers crackle once more but now there was only one voice, unwavering and genuine. No distortion or echoes, pure and unfiltered, captured in a time long gone.
\\I bear the name Rólan Durand, sworn to the House of Charlemagne, Blood of Carolygn. So long as My Blood remains true to the Cradle, my blade will never dull, my flame will never fade. House Durand will always claim Dominion as our Blade and Fire. With my Heart-Blood I do sign this Writ from Terra, and swear upon said Heart-Blood that we will never yield.\\
The voice of an ancient long gone scion, of a man who founded the House Durand that still held true to its vows after these millenia, and was the first pilot to ride Dominion onto the fields of kingdom and war.
/We, are Dominion. Blade and Fire of Durand. Sangreal upon Our Throne. We, will never fall. House Chevallier, Priority One. Karseille, Priority Two. Blood Durand,, Priority One. We Proclaim./
The Knight's arm slowly moves now, letting Noemie hop from the gauntlet onto the weathered back before said gauntlet turns and slowly plants one digit against the closed access hatch on Warden's chassis.
/Proclaim. You are Sangreal. Your Oath. Proclaim. Heart-Blood upon your Throne. Proclaim. Truth of Imperial Terra. No God of Man. Proclaim. Proclaim./
"I already made my oath to the Imperium of Mankind, I -"
/False. Oath of Deity. Oath False. Sangreal have no Gods. Blade. Shield. Tannerite. Brother. Sister. Blood. Honor. Blood Haldus Proclaim. Of Terra and Throne. Of Blood and Blade. Of Truth and Tannerite. Of Honor and Home. Proclaim./
Lucelle reacts to the firm rapping of Dominion's digit against her Hull, tempted to swat away the inistant jabbing but decides against it at the last moment. She does move the chassis back slightly so that Ostia doesn't stumble off from her.
"Easy elder, we heard you clearly. But,, how do we Proclaim this oath? We know not the words of the Sangreal Oath."
Ostia grumbles a little from the sudden motion both from that prodding and Lucelle shifting her weight about. Glancing down at R'tan who had moved closer when he noted the renewed agitation from Dominion but had halted when Ostia waved him back a little. She and Lucelle was still out of harms way for now.
/Oath of Sangreal. Proclaim./
Dominion's engines rumble louder for a few moments, as the ancient atomatic reactors shifted to a different gear. Noemie covered her ears quickly which Ostia hastily mimicked as she recalled how loud Dominion could get. The Hanger resounded deep from the vox hailers, R'tan could feel this one deep within his gut and lungs, his Lyman implant adjusting to the sudden volume increase so he was not impaired.
/We, Blade and Blood of Terra../
"We, Blade and Blood of Terra.."
/With Our Heart-Blood upon the Throne, Proclaim../
/Our Strength and Sovereign Honor will not Falter. Our Truth and Tannerite will not Fail. Our Oath to Emperor and Empire will Endure. Proclaim./
/Sisters And Brothers, by the Sword and by the Fire in our Heart. Our Vigil of His Empire will not End, Our Oath Unbreaking. Proclaim./
/We, Sangreal Haldia, Honored Scion Ostia Haldus, First of Her Name, and Honored Knight Lucelle, Warden of Blade and Thunder. Proclaim. Heart-Blood upon the Throne. No Tyrants stand before Us. Proclaim. No Darkened Beasts gird the field. Proclaim. The Heathens and Tainted burn before our Flames. Proclaim! We. Will. Never. Fall. Proclaim!/
/Stand Tall, Never Kneel, Strike True, Never Falter. We, Are The Knights of Terra. No Indentured Ally. No Gods, No Masters, Proclaim!/
Dominion spoke aloud and true, reciting the ancient oath that the First Knights within the Imperium took millennia ago. The various serfs and House Gaurd that were in the hanger had repeated those same words, hand over their hearts, even R'tan felt something within him as he heard these words, reminding him a little of the Oaths he took when taken in as an aspirant when welcomed into the Salamander chapter. To bear the Hammer and Anvil of Vulkan, the drakescale tabard, and their oath to Nocturne, Terra and the people of the Imperium.
Dominion raised his gauntlet again, gently this time placing it ontop on Warden's pauldron, those gleaming red lights under his helm looking right into Ostia's eyes.
/We, are Sangreal. Oaths Spoken. Blades and Blood are one./
/You, no longer Indentured Ally. Sisters of Terra. Oaths Spoken. Few Left. Priority One:,, /
"Priority One. Haldia."
/Yes. Yes./
"Priority Two. House Haldus."
/Yes. Yes./
"Priority Three. Blood Haldia."
Dominion's helm nodded curtly as Ostia and Lucelle responded to the last questions, before giving the last test if the duo truly understood his words.
(Featuring Warden, R'tan, Ostia and Lucelle Haldus from @rowscara)
R'tan could not but help keeping his hammer at the ready, thumb hovering near the activation rune in the haft. This familiar feeling of dread gnawing st the back of his mind as he watches from the sidelines, but his body was still tensed to close the distance at the sign of any trouble.
Why did this dread feeling always return when he was around Knights? Something about the ancient machine spirits maybe? Or was it that Ostia stood upon one of the Knight's shoulder? He knew not.
Warden stood at ease, it's blade and gauntlet hung idle but the low thrum of its reactor exhausts still could be heard and felt in the air. Across from it was Dominion, the Monarche type Knight under the command of Lady Durand. This one seemed,, restless, twitchy even if such a machine could be described as such. It's exhaust rumbled at a higher frequency, as if ready to accelerate it's motive engines for combat.
/We./
The Hanger reverberated from the vox-hailers mounted in Dominion's frame as it finally spoke. Synthetic, Soulless, and not with one voice, sounding more as if dozens of people spoke in perfect unison. Echoes of former Scions along with Lady Neomie's likeness, but hollow, distant, just fragments of the true selves.
R'tan felt his body tense further as he watches the elder machine spoke more at Ostia? Warden? He was unsure who the Knight was trying to adress in it's questioning. He could see Ostia brace herself a little ontop of Warden's shoulder, covering one ear from being in the direct path of the vox-hailers. Once the noise ceased, Ostia rubbing her ear before giving her answer, directed at the ancient Knight.
"We are,, Warden, Ostia, and Lucelle. We hail from House Haldus, from the world of Haldia. Do you know our House? We hold fealty to the God-Emperor of Mankind. We are not your enemy."
There was a short pause as Dominion listened, it's crimson lenses gazing over Ostia and Warden, R'tan almost felt like the machine was thinking of how to respond or something of that order. These Knights were an unknown technology to most Astartes, even the Iron Hands who pride themselves as masters of the Machine Spirits were not privy to this technology.
/House Haldus. Blood Haldia. Known to Dominion. Blood of Lord Gerrard Haldia. Indentured Ally./
R'tan watches as the elder knight seems to relax for a moment, letting his held breath release slowly through his nose. His grasp upon his hammer releases slighty but keeps wary, remembering how volatile Dominion has been upon the battlefield, how protective it was of Lady Durand and her people, it's wroth was unmatched.
Ostia though had a surprised look upon her face, quizzical even as Dominion mentioned Gerrard. Giving a glance down at Warden for a moment before asking the obvious question that came to their mind.
"Gerrard Haldia? He was the founder of our entire family, how do you know him?"
Dominion titled its helm slowly as it processed the query posed to it, the crimson lenses flickering while it dug through its archives.
/Gerrard Haldia. Aide. Witness the Writ and Crown. Vanquished upon Acadia, Darkend Beasts. Old Ally. Blood Haldia are allies. Blood Durand, Blood DeGalle, Brothers of Blood Haldia. Indentured Ally./
R'tan looked between the two war machines then back up to Ostia. Haldia was an ancient world, centuries of history and even more having been lost. The confusion was apparent in Ostia's expression, even Lucelle reacted, this time she was the one to respond to this revelation, the vox-hailers on Warden crackling to life so the elder sister could ask.
"That's,, that's well over a millennia ago. You witnessed our House being granted the Writ?"
"DeGalle? You've mentioned them now a few times, who are they?"
/Blood Durand, Blood DeGalle. First Sangreal of Karseilles. /
"San,, what now?"
/Sangreal. Blood-Writ. The First of the House. Gerrard poured Heart Blood onto The Writ of Terra. Durand. DeGalle. Haldus. Sangreal. Not many left./
/Rólan Durand. First of First. Proclaim./
The vox-hailers crackle once more but now there was only one voice, unwavering and genuine. No distortion or echoes, pure and unfiltered, captured in a time long gone.
\\I bear the name Rólan Durand, sworn to the House of Charlemagne, Blood of Carolygn. So long as My Blood remains true to the Cradle, my blade will never dull, my flame will never fade. House Durand will always claim Dominion as our Blade and Fire. With my Heart-Blood I do sign this Writ from Terra, and swear upon said Heart-Blood that we will never yield.\\
The voice of an ancient long gone scion, of a man who founded the House Durand that still held true to its vows after these millenia, and was the first pilot to ride Dominion onto the fields of kingdom and war.
/We, are Dominion. Blade and Fire of Durand. Sangreal upon Our Throne. We, will never fall. House Chevallier, Priority One. Karseille, Priority Two. Blood Durand,, Priority One. We Proclaim./
The Knight's arm slowly moves now, letting Noemie hop from the gauntlet onto the weathered back before said gauntlet turns and slowly plants one digit against the closed access hatch on Warden's chassis.
/Proclaim. You are Sangreal. Your Oath. Proclaim. Heart-Blood upon your Throne. Proclaim. Truth of Imperial Terra. No God of Man. Proclaim. Proclaim./
"I already made my oath to the Imperium of Mankind, I -"
/False. Oath of Deity. Oath False. Sangreal have no Gods. Blade. Shield. Tannerite. Brother. Sister. Blood. Honor. Blood Haldus Proclaim. Of Terra and Throne. Of Blood and Blade. Of Truth and Tannerite. Of Honor and Home. Proclaim./
Lucelle reacts to the firm rapping of Dominion's digit against her Hull, tempted to swat away the inistant jabbing but decides against it at the last moment. She does move the chassis back slightly so that Ostia doesn't stumble off from her.
"Easy elder, we heard you clearly. But,, how do we Proclaim this oath? We know not the words of the Sangreal Oath."
Ostia grumbles a little from the sudden motion both from that prodding and Lucelle shifting her weight about. Glancing down at R'tan who had moved closer when he noted the renewed agitation from Dominion but had halted when Ostia waved him back a little. She and Lucelle was still out of harms way for now.
/Oath of Sangreal. Proclaim./
Dominion's engines rumble louder for a few moments, as the ancient atomatic reactors shifted to a different gear. Noemie covered her ears quickly which Ostia hastily mimicked as she recalled how loud Dominion could get. The Hanger resounded deep from the vox hailers, R'tan could feel this one deep within his gut and lungs, his Lyman implant adjusting to the sudden volume increase so he was not impaired.
/We, Blade and Blood of Terra../
"We, Blade and Blood of Terra.."
/With Our Heart-Blood upon the Throne, Proclaim../
/Our Strength and Sovereign Honor will not Falter. Our Truth and Tannerite will not Fail. Our Oath to Emperor and Empire will Endure. Proclaim./
/Sisters And Brothers, by the Sword and by the Fire in our Heart. Our Vigil of His Empire will not End, Our Oath Unbreaking. Proclaim./
/We, Sangreal Haldia, Honored Scion Ostia Haldus, First of Her Name, and Honored Knight Lucelle, Warden of Blade and Thunder. Proclaim. Heart-Blood upon the Throne. No Tyrants stand before Us. Proclaim. No Darkened Beasts gird the field. Proclaim. The Heathens and Tainted burn before our Flames. Proclaim! We. Will. Never. Fall. Proclaim!/
/Stand Tall, Never Kneel, Strike True, Never Falter. We, Are The Knights of Terra. No Indentured Ally. No Gods, No Masters, Proclaim!/
Dominion spoke aloud and true, reciting the ancient oath that the First Knights within the Imperium took millennia ago. The various serfs and House Gaurd that were in the hanger had repeated those same words, hand over their hearts, even R'tan felt something within him as he heard these words, reminding him a little of the Oaths he took when taken in as an aspirant when welcomed into the Salamander chapter. To bear the Hammer and Anvil of Vulkan, the drakescale tabard, and their oath to Nocturne, Terra and the people of the Imperium.
Dominion raised his gauntlet again, gently this time placing it ontop on Warden's pauldron, those gleaming red lights under his helm looking right into Ostia's eyes.
/We, are Sangreal. Oaths Spoken. Blades and Blood are one./
/You, no longer Indentured Ally. Sisters of Terra. Oaths Spoken. Few Left. Priority One:,, /
"Priority One. Haldia."
/Yes. Yes./
"Priority Two. House Haldus."
/Yes. Yes./
"Priority Three. Blood Haldia."
Dominion's helm nodded curtly as Ostia and Lucelle responded to the last questions, before giving the last test if the duo truly understood his words.
(Featuring Warden, R'tan, Ostia and Lucelle Haldus from @rowscara)
R'tan could not but help keeping his hammer at the ready, thumb hovering near the activation rune in the haft. This familiar feeling of dread gnawing st the back of his mind as he watches from the sidelines, but his body was still tensed to close the distance at the sign of any trouble.
Why did this dread feeling always return when he was around Knights? Something about the ancient machine spirits maybe? Or was it that Ostia stood upon one of the Knight's shoulder? He knew not.
Warden stood at ease, it's blade and gauntlet hung idle but the low thrum of its reactor exhausts still could be heard and felt in the air. Across from it was Dominion, the Monarche type Knight under the command of Lady Durand. This one seemed,, restless, twitchy even if such a machine could be described as such. It's exhaust rumbled at a higher frequency, as if ready to accelerate it's motive engines for combat.
/We./
The Hanger reverberated from the vox-hailers mounted in Dominion's frame as it finally spoke. Synthetic, Soulless, and not with one voice, sounding more as if dozens of people spoke in perfect unison. Echoes of former Scions along with Lady Neomie's likeness, but hollow, distant, just fragments of the true selves.
R'tan felt his body tense further as he watches the elder machine spoke more at Ostia? Warden? He was unsure who the Knight was trying to adress in it's questioning. He could see Ostia brace herself a little ontop of Warden's shoulder, covering one ear from being in the direct path of the vox-hailers. Once the noise ceased, Ostia rubbing her ear before giving her answer, directed at the ancient Knight.
"We are,, Warden, Ostia, and Lucelle. We hail from House Haldus, from the world of Haldia. Do you know our House? We hold fealty to the God-Emperor of Mankind. We are not your enemy."
There was a short pause as Dominion listened, it's crimson lenses gazing over Ostia and Warden, R'tan almost felt like the machine was thinking of how to respond or something of that order. These Knights were an unknown technology to most Astartes, even the Iron Hands who pride themselves as masters of the Machine Spirits were not privy to this technology.
/House Haldus. Blood Haldia. Known to Dominion. Blood of Lord Gerrard Haldia. Indentured Ally./
R'tan watches as the elder knight seems to relax for a moment, letting his held breath release slowly through his nose. His grasp upon his hammer releases slighty but keeps wary, remembering how volatile Dominion has been upon the battlefield, how protective it was of Lady Durand and her people, it's wroth was unmatched.
Ostia though had a surprised look upon her face, quizzical even as Dominion mentioned Gerrard. Giving a glance down at Warden for a moment before asking the obvious question that came to their mind.
"Gerrard Haldia? He was the founder of our entire family, how do you know him?"
Dominion titled its helm slowly as it processed the query posed to it, the crimson lenses flickering while it dug through its archives.
/Gerrard Haldia. Aide. Witness the Writ and Crown. Vanquished upon Acadia, Darkend Beasts. Old Ally. Blood Haldia are allies. Blood Durand, Blood DeGalle, Brothers of Blood Haldia. Indentured Ally./
R'tan looked between the two war machines then back up to Ostia. Haldia was an ancient world, centuries of history and even more having been lost. The confusion was apparent in Ostia's expression, even Lucelle reacted, this time she was the one to respond to this revelation, the vox-hailers on Warden crackling to life so the elder sister could ask.
"That's,, that's well over a millennia ago. You witnessed our House being granted the Writ?"
"DeGalle? You've mentioned them now a few times, who are they?"
/Blood Durand, Blood DeGalle. First Sangreal of Karseilles. /
"San,, what now?"
/Sangreal. Blood-Writ. The First of the House. Gerrard poured Heart Blood onto The Writ of Terra. Durand. DeGalle. Haldus. Sangreal. Not many left./
/Rólan Durand. First of First. Proclaim./
The vox-hailers crackle once more but now there was only one voice, unwavering and genuine. No distortion or echoes, pure and unfiltered, captured in a time long gone.
\\I bear the name Rólan Durand, sworn to the House of Charlemagne, Blood of Carolygn. So long as My Blood remains true to the Cradle, my blade will never dull, my flame will never fade. House Durand will always claim Dominion as our Blade and Fire. With my Heart-Blood I do sign this Writ from Terra, and swear upon said Heart-Blood that we will never yield.\\
The voice of an ancient long gone scion, of a man who founded the House Durand that still held true to its vows after these millenia, and was the first pilot to ride Dominion onto the fields of kingdom and war.
/We, are Dominion. Blade and Fire of Durand. Sangreal upon Our Throne. We, will never fall. House Chevallier, Priority One. Karseille, Priority Two. Blood Durand,, Priority One. We Proclaim./
The Knight's arm slowly moves now, letting Noemie hop from the gauntlet onto the weathered back before said gauntlet turns and slowly plants one digit against the closed access hatch on Warden's chassis.
/Proclaim. You are Sangreal. Your Oath. Proclaim. Heart-Blood upon your Throne. Proclaim. Truth of Imperial Terra. No God of Man. Proclaim. Proclaim./
"I already made my oath to the Imperium of Mankind, I -"
/False. Oath of Deity. Oath False. Sangreal have no Gods. Blade. Shield. Tannerite. Brother. Sister. Blood. Honor. Blood Haldus Proclaim. Of Terra and Throne. Of Blood and Blade. Of Truth and Tannerite. Of Honor and Home. Proclaim./
Lucelle reacts to the firm rapping of Dominion's digit against her Hull, tempted to swat away the inistant jabbing but decides against it at the last moment. She does move the chassis back slightly so that Ostia doesn't stumble off from her.
"Easy elder, we heard you clearly. But,, how do we Proclaim this oath? We know not the words of the Sangreal Oath."
Ostia grumbles a little from the sudden motion both from that prodding and Lucelle shifting her weight about. Glancing down at R'tan who had moved closer when he noted the renewed agitation from Dominion but had halted when Ostia waved him back a little. She and Lucelle was still out of harms way for now.
/Oath of Sangreal. Proclaim./
Dominion's engines rumble louder for a few moments, as the ancient atomatic reactors shifted to a different gear. Noemie covered her ears quickly which Ostia hastily mimicked as she recalled how loud Dominion could get. The Hanger resounded deep from the vox hailers, R'tan could feel this one deep within his gut and lungs, his Lyman implant adjusting to the sudden volume increase so he was not impaired.
/We, Blade and Blood of Terra../
"We, Blade and Blood of Terra.."
/With Our Heart-Blood upon the Throne, Proclaim../
/Our Strength and Sovereign Honor will not Falter. Our Truth and Tannerite will not Fail. Our Oath to Emperor and Empire will Endure. Proclaim./
/Sisters And Brothers, by the Sword and by the Fire in our Heart. Our Vigil of His Empire will not End, Our Oath Unbreaking. Proclaim./
/We, Sangreal Haldia, Honored Scion Ostia Haldus, First of Her Name, and Honored Knight Lucelle, Warden of Blade and Thunder. Proclaim. Heart-Blood upon the Throne. No Tyrants stand before Us. Proclaim. No Darkened Beasts gird the field. Proclaim. The Heathens and Tainted burn before our Flames. Proclaim! We. Will. Never. Fall. Proclaim!/
/Stand Tall, Never Kneel, Strike True, Never Falter. We, Are The Knights of Terra. No Indentured Ally. No Gods, No Masters, Proclaim!/
Dominion spoke aloud and true, reciting the ancient oath that the First Knights within the Imperium took millennia ago. The various serfs and House Gaurd that were in the hanger had repeated those same words, hand over their hearts, even R'tan felt something within him as he heard these words, reminding him a little of the Oaths he took when taken in as an aspirant when welcomed into the Salamander chapter. To bear the Hammer and Anvil of Vulkan, the drakescale tabard, and their oath to Nocturne, Terra and the people of the Imperium.
Dominion raised his gauntlet again, gently this time placing it ontop on Warden's pauldron, those gleaming red lights under his helm looking right into Ostia's eyes.
/We, are Sangreal. Oaths Spoken. Blades and Blood are one./
/You, no longer Indentured Ally. Sisters of Terra. Oaths Spoken. Few Left. Priority One:,, /
"Priority One. Haldia."
/Yes. Yes./
"Priority Two. House Haldus."
/Yes. Yes./
"Priority Three. Blood Haldia."
Dominion's helm nodded curtly as Ostia and Lucelle responded to the last questions, before giving the last test if the duo truly understood his words.
(Featuring Warden, R'tan, Ostia and Lucelle Haldus from @rowscara)
R'tan could not but help keeping his hammer at the ready, thumb hovering near the activation rune in the haft. This familiar feeling of dread gnawing st the back of his mind as he watches from the sidelines, but his body was still tensed to close the distance at the sign of any trouble.
Why did this dread feeling always return when he was around Knights? Something about the ancient machine spirits maybe? Or was it that Ostia stood upon one of the Knight's shoulder? He knew not.
Warden stood at ease, it's blade and gauntlet hung idle but the low thrum of its reactor exhausts still could be heard and felt in the air. Across from it was Dominion, the Monarche type Knight under the command of Lady Durand. This one seemed,, restless, twitchy even if such a machine could be described as such. It's exhaust rumbled at a higher frequency, as if ready to accelerate it's motive engines for combat.
/We./
The Hanger reverberated from the vox-hailers mounted in Dominion's frame as it finally spoke. Synthetic, Soulless, and not with one voice, sounding more as if dozens of people spoke in perfect unison. Echoes of former Scions along with Lady Neomie's likeness, but hollow, distant, just fragments of the true selves.
R'tan felt his body tense further as he watches the elder machine spoke more at Ostia? Warden? He was unsure who the Knight was trying to adress in it's questioning. He could see Ostia brace herself a little ontop of Warden's shoulder, covering one ear from being in the direct path of the vox-hailers. Once the noise ceased, Ostia rubbing her ear before giving her answer, directed at the ancient Knight.
"We are,, Warden, Ostia, and Lucelle. We hail from House Haldus, from the world of Haldia. Do you know our House? We hold fealty to the God-Emperor of Mankind. We are not your enemy."
There was a short pause as Dominion listened, it's crimson lenses gazing over Ostia and Warden, R'tan almost felt like the machine was thinking of how to respond or something of that order. These Knights were an unknown technology to most Astartes, even the Iron Hands who pride themselves as masters of the Machine Spirits were not privy to this technology.
/House Haldus. Blood Haldia. Known to Dominion. Blood of Lord Gerrard Haldia. Indentured Ally./
R'tan watches as the elder knight seems to relax for a moment, letting his held breath release slowly through his nose. His grasp upon his hammer releases slighty but keeps wary, remembering how volatile Dominion has been upon the battlefield, how protective it was of Lady Durand and her people, it's wroth was unmatched.
Ostia though had a surprised look upon her face, quizzical even as Dominion mentioned Gerrard. Giving a glance down at Warden for a moment before asking the obvious question that came to their mind.
"Gerrard Haldia? He was the founder of our entire family, how do you know him?"
Dominion titled its helm slowly as it processed the query posed to it, the crimson lenses flickering while it dug through its archives.
/Gerrard Haldia. Aide. Witness the Writ and Crown. Vanquished upon Acadia, Darkend Beasts. Old Ally. Blood Haldia are allies. Blood Durand, Blood DeGalle, Brothers of Blood Haldia. Indentured Ally./
R'tan looked between the two war machines then back up to Ostia. Haldia was an ancient world, centuries of history and even more having been lost. The confusion was apparent in Ostia's expression, even Lucelle reacted, this time she was the one to respond to this revelation, the vox-hailers on Warden crackling to life so the elder sister could ask.
"That's,, that's well over a millennia ago. You witnessed our House being granted the Writ?"
"DeGalle? You've mentioned them now a few times, who are they?"
/Blood Durand, Blood DeGalle. First Sangreal of Karseilles. /
"San,, what now?"
/Sangreal. Blood-Writ. The First of the House. Gerrard poured Heart Blood onto The Writ of Terra. Durand. DeGalle. Haldus. Sangreal. Not many left./
/Rólan Durand. First of First. Proclaim./
The vox-hailers crackle once more but now there was only one voice, unwavering and genuine. No distortion or echoes, pure and unfiltered, captured in a time long gone.
\\I bear the name Rólan Durand, sworn to the House of Charlemagne, Blood of Carolygn. So long as My Blood remains true to the Cradle, my blade will never dull, my flame will never fade. House Durand will always claim Dominion as our Blade and Fire. With my Heart-Blood I do sign this Writ from Terra, and swear upon said Heart-Blood that we will never yield.\\
The voice of an ancient long gone scion, of a man who founded the House Durand that still held true to its vows after these millenia, and was the first pilot to ride Dominion onto the fields of kingdom and war.
/We, are Dominion. Blade and Fire of Durand. Sangreal upon Our Throne. We, will never fall. House Chevallier, Priority One. Karseille, Priority Two. Blood Durand,, Priority One. We Proclaim./
The Knight's arm slowly moves now, letting Noemie hop from the gauntlet onto the weathered back before said gauntlet turns and slowly plants one digit against the closed access hatch on Warden's chassis.
/Proclaim. You are Sangreal. Your Oath. Proclaim. Heart-Blood upon your Throne. Proclaim. Truth of Imperial Terra. No God of Man. Proclaim. Proclaim./
"I already made my oath to the Imperium of Mankind, I -"
/False. Oath of Deity. Oath False. Sangreal have no Gods. Blade. Shield. Tannerite. Brother. Sister. Blood. Honor. Blood Haldus Proclaim. Of Terra and Throne. Of Blood and Blade. Of Truth and Tannerite. Of Honor and Home. Proclaim./
Lucelle reacts to the firm rapping of Dominion's digit against her Hull, tempted to swat away the inistant jabbing but decides against it at the last moment. She does move the chassis back slightly so that Ostia doesn't stumble off from her.
"Easy elder, we heard you clearly. But,, how do we Proclaim this oath? We know not the words of the Sangreal Oath."
Ostia grumbles a little from the sudden motion both from that prodding and Lucelle shifting her weight about. Glancing down at R'tan who had moved closer when he noted the renewed agitation from Dominion but had halted when Ostia waved him back a little. She and Lucelle was still out of harms way for now.
/Oath of Sangreal. Proclaim./
Dominion's engines rumble louder for a few moments, as the ancient atomatic reactors shifted to a different gear. Noemie covered her ears quickly which Ostia hastily mimicked as she recalled how loud Dominion could get. The Hanger resounded deep from the vox hailers, R'tan could feel this one deep within his gut and lungs, his Lyman implant adjusting to the sudden volume increase so he was not impaired.
/We, Blade and Blood of Terra../
"We, Blade and Blood of Terra.."
/With Our Heart-Blood upon the Throne, Proclaim../
/Our Strength and Sovereign Honor will not Falter. Our Truth and Tannerite will not Fail. Our Oath to Emperor and Empire will Endure. Proclaim./
/Sisters And Brothers, by the Sword and by the Fire in our Heart. Our Vigil of His Empire will not End, Our Oath Unbreaking. Proclaim./
/We, Sangreal Haldia, Honored Scion Ostia Haldus, First of Her Name, and Honored Knight Lucelle, Warden of Blade and Thunder. Proclaim. Heart-Blood upon the Throne. No Tyrants stand before Us. Proclaim. No Darkened Beasts gird the field. Proclaim. The Heathens and Tainted burn before our Flames. Proclaim! We. Will. Never. Fall. Proclaim!/
/Stand Tall, Never Kneel, Strike True, Never Falter. We, Are The Knights of Terra. No Indentured Ally. No Gods, No Masters, Proclaim!/
Dominion spoke aloud and true, reciting the ancient oath that the First Knights within the Imperium took millennia ago. The various serfs and House Gaurd that were in the hanger had repeated those same words, hand over their hearts, even R'tan felt something within him as he heard these words, reminding him a little of the Oaths he took when taken in as an aspirant when welcomed into the Salamander chapter. To bear the Hammer and Anvil of Vulkan, the drakescale tabard, and their oath to Nocturne, Terra and the people of the Imperium.
Dominion raised his gauntlet again, gently this time placing it ontop on Warden's pauldron, those gleaming red lights under his helm looking right into Ostia's eyes.
/We, are Sangreal. Oaths Spoken. Blades and Blood are one./
/You, no longer Indentured Ally. Sisters of Terra. Oaths Spoken. Few Left. Priority One:,, /
"Priority One. Haldia."
/Yes. Yes./
"Priority Two. House Haldus."
/Yes. Yes./
"Priority Three. Blood Haldia."
Dominion's helm nodded curtly as Ostia and Lucelle responded to the last questions, before giving the last test if the duo truly understood his words.
it sucks that the overwhelming majority of medical messaging around salt/sodium is "evil poisonous substance that you're definitely already eating way too much of," because like. you do still need it. (trust me, as a POTS-haver, I've had to completely rewire my own brain about salt.) and you need more salt when the entire northern hemisphere is hot enough to fry an egg on. ever tried sucking down the recommended 64oz of hydration per day entirely as water, only to find you're peeing constantly without any of the purported benefits of being "hydrated"? assuming you don't have another medical condition that causes frequent urination, your body probably needed more salt/electrolytes to be able to hold onto that water and make use of it. if there was ever a time to keep a sports drink/pedialyte/etc within constant reach, it's when the heat index is 110°F/43°C.
He didn't steal 10 million dollars. They made that number up as a loss, they never fucking had it. Rockstar has spent more than a billion fucking dollars on GTA VI and will likely make billions more when it gets released.
Uber is a fucking shell game of a company designed to leech investor capital and output bootleg cabs.
Nvidia posted a profit in 2023 of $4.37 billion. This is like someone stealing less than a penny from me.
And they lock this kid in a prison hospital for LIFE?
What with GTA VI going up for pre-order i'd just like to remind everyone that rockstar conspired with the UK government to lock an 18-year-old away for life for hacking them.
I know times are tough so I will not make a big long post. If you like my work, if you want to see more of it or if you want to help me make more of it, consider signing up for my patreon or kofi.
Every little bit does make a difference for me, but I'm able to keep working while looking for extra work to help even the scales. However please, take care of yourselves first and foremost.
I know people do like the sauce though, last month was a lucky pull, two voted smut pieces. They are both up on patreon now to enjoy (if you join through kofi just make sure your discord is linked for viewing)
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(guest appearance of Lord Adrian Malek from @the-perfect-entropy)
[Jorrun, a moment when available.]
The man could not help but flinch as he heard Tenebris' voice in his combead, looking over his opposite shoulder in anticipation of catching a glimpse of his master in some hidden corner of his peripheral vision. But no avail, either He was already gone or never truly around this part of the vessel.
Jorrun felt the eyes of his Third, a child of Caliban if believed, waiting expectantly on him. "Sire?"
"Nothing Gwain, think nothing of it. What were you speaking of just now?"
Gwain's emerald gaze was unwavering, tapping a soft rhythm on his dataplate with his free hand.
"Hmmph, I'll try. Again, Sire, I'm talking of the reports from our outposts close to the Sol Sub-sector. There has been an increase of patrols, as well as sightings of more Inquisition Acolytes,,"
"And for every Acolyte they have seen, there's surely half a dozen they haven't seen. They will be rattled, spook easily if we are uncareful. Send an encrypted ping back, start working back to their fall-back positions, ensure there is no trace of their movements."
Gwain taps a few keys onto the slate as Jorrun spoke, the deep emerald hues dancing over the screen while Gwain's superior waited to see the results.
" I will see to it that the message is sent through the proper channels. And before you ask, no, I haven't seen Korul, not since breaking fast. Anything else, Sire?"
Jorrun chuckles drly with a shake of his head, crossing his arms behind his back "Nothing else Gwain, thank you."
"May the boughs offer you shade on your journey."
With a soft smile and a great deal of practice Jorrun responds to the elden parting words to Gwain. "And may the spring waters offer you relief on your journey."
The Caliban native offers a curt bow of his head, before turning heel and trotting away.
----
"Jorrun! We meet yet again my fellow Vanquisher of the Mechanicum!"
"Lord Commander Malek, I see that you survived that little expedition. You fare well my lord?"
Jorrun does his outmost to not clench his teeth nor glare at the extravagant attire the Son of Xerxes was clad in. The amount of finely woven silk (Jorrun thinks it might not even be Synth-Silk) and gaudy baubels adoring the tall warrior was no doubt eye-wateringly expensive, but it was not all for vanity.
The choice of colors and patterns could herald one's province of birth on Xerxes, the style of rings might suggest a higher status among the hierarchy of nobles, the head scarf folded in a certain manner, even the cut of leather for which the traditional kaftans were made from might tell another Xerxian something about Lord Malek. Yes, The Dark Prince Slannesh adores vanity and pride and beauty it all things, but Malek still felt a need to be clad in his ancestors garb, plus, twas a truly special occasion: Lord Adrian Malek was to meet Jorrun's Master.
*Tenebris Rex.*
"Oh I tell you this, I fare quite well this day. My Warband are well fed, we were welcomed warmly by your fellow Warhost leaders, and I get to meet His Mightyness Tenebris Rex. Oh this has been a great day~"
Jorrun need not be a Psyker to taste the slight against his Master from Lord Malek's words. He knew full well that Malek had only a select few in his eyes as truly worthy of calling someone by their Titles. And Tenebris was maybe not among them.
"Then let us not keep my Master waiting then. Please, this way, His chambers."
Malek made a soft nod with his covered head before padding past Jorrun and the wide bulkhead doors.
The usual noise of a running vessel abruptly quietens when passing the threshold into Tenebris Rex's personal quarters. It's an eerie stillness that He has asked for, and it is unnerving for all who experienced it. Jorrun has grown fairly accustomed to this quiet but it's never truly something you an ever ignore. At first it feels as if the room was unoccupied save for Jorrun and Malek's presence, then they notice the heavy Terminator armor sat to the side of the chamber, surrounded by the flickering candles and fragrance of lit incense.
[Aah, my greetings to you, Son of Xerxes. I do hope that my own Sons have been accommodating to you and your Warband. We are oddities even among the myriad of Excommunicate Traitoris.]
Tenebris' voice seems to simply appear in the air, both emitting from the vox-hailer in the armour and inside Malek's and Jorrun's head.
"They have been warm in their welcome, Lord Tenebris. Though I did sense that a few among them were not subtle in their dislike of our more,, warp-gifted."
[This is to be expected of them, for our tenets see the uncontrolled maledictions and mutations from these so called gifts by The Dark Pantheon as hindrances to what we Astartes could attain by the will of our souls, and the purity of our bones. Those few of us given a link to the Empyrean are the exception, not the norm. I do hope you will be understanding in this, Anusiya?]
Jorrun can sense that His Master is testing, perhaps teasing Lord Malek slightly to try and gauge how he will respond to these words while being a guest aboard Tenebris' ship. Adrian did his outmost not to flinch at the casual drop of his old title he held during his time on Xerxes.
"Strange indeed are your followers, but effective. Lord Jorrun and his cohort were excellent examples of this, showing great skill and control for the whole time. It would be a great day indeed were we to fight side by side again."
It seems that Malek could take the verbal blow with grace, not rising up to the challenge. Malek was still speaking directly at the unmoving Armour, but Jorrun suddenly felt a presence to his left, a familiar presence,,
{And what if you were to fight by My side then, Paszar ol Xurok?}
Adrian Malek's eyes widened before snapping round, reaching for his blade, his eyes flashing with killing intent as the man sought out the origin of this new voice. But he barely touched the hilt of his sword when he froze in motion,, the edge of a simple dagger resting featherlight on the artery of his neck, held by a golden tanned hand.
Adrian's eyes slowly turned up, the giant before him clad in soft colored silks and crimson linens, black carapace ports jutting out from the perfectly toned flesh,, and those golden eyes that has beheld eternity, and never blinked.
"What,, what are you?"
{I, am what Terra will deny the very thought of. I am the greatest weapon to wield that Abbadon or Vashtorr will never claim. I am the Abyssal Royarch that Constantin Valdor created during the darkest hour of the Thunder Warriors.}
Adrian Malek's eyes finally beheld the sight before him. As beautiful and terrifying as the Dawn and the Night. Fair as the Sun, the Sea and the Snow upon the Mountains. Dreadful as the Storms and the Lightning that cracks the skies. All would love Him, and Obey.
Jorrun stood idly by, he too was once at the receiving end of Tenebris' overwhelming presence and the almost blinding light of the man's soul. He had no desire to feel the weight of such wroth, or to try and rescue Malek from his fate.
{I bear the name of Tribune, Companion of the Hetaeron Gaurd, Slayer of Khuresh and Thunder-Breaker of Mount Arreat. I have borne witness to the many faces of Neoth, and lived.}
{I. Am. Gilgamesh.}
Here, we stride forward. @marcusmettalus - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
