[ Just as Eridanus draws the comparison within his own thoughts, Lucius too thinks of an Astartes cowed beneath the awesome presence of his primarch. There is a blasphemy in the thought, that he could place himself on a level equal to Fulgrim's even within the eyes of his besotted consortโbut that is precisely why it shudders through him with such an excruciating ecstasy, Eridanus' continued sulking barely a thought within his mind. His fingers tighten in their grip around his scalp, and for a moment, he nearly feels as though his fingertips do hold the power to kill a man as easily as he blinks once more. ]
Lord Commander Eidolon, [ he begins, the words an intoxicated sigh from his thin lips, ] led the Emperor's Children loyal to our primarch in purging those of us deemed Imperial loyalists. First, the Warmaster himself granted us the honor of bringing the Emperor's wrath to a civilization fallen beyond redemption โ and knowing no better, we jumped for a taste of that glory. Then, in the moment we had purged Isstvan III's Choral City of life in His name...
[ Lucius trails off, and he laughs at the irony left behind in implication. ]
Well, when an orbital bombing failed to kill those of us marked for death, the primarch of the World Eaters decided he would take our skulls with his own two hands. [ His lips split wider with grim humor. ] You see, dear Archmage, our little loyalist resistance was doomed from the start. All we could hope to accomplish against the combined fury of our kinsmen and the three primarchs that stood along with them was the killing of time. We would die as martyrs, nobly sacrificing ourselves so news of Horus' betrayal had time to reach the Emperor's ears!
[ Again, he laughs, the whole story nothing more than a grand farce in the face of ten-thousand years of hindsight. Suddenly, the space between them feels far too small; there is no room for Lucius to move in the sweeping gestures such comedy deserves. He draws back, cool air flooding the space between their chests in the place of body heat, simply so that Lucius may move. ]
Oh, but we did waste their time. We barricaded ourselves within the very same Precentor's Palace we had taken just minutes before we were to be cast aside, and we held it. Imagine the frustration of the poor Warmaster, unable to stomp out this little knot of loyalists for no reason other than the space we huddled in! Why, imagine how a commander would be lauded, all the glory and accolades that would be heaped upon his shoulders, if only he found a way inside and stomped out our pathetic band of survivors before we could muster against him...
[ His voice drops low, conspiratorial and suggestive, and as his gleaming eyes regard Eridanus below him, he clearly expects him to have caught onto the turn this story is about to take. ]
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Lord Commander Eidolon, [ he begins, the words an intoxicated sigh from his thin lips, ] led the Emperor's Children loyal to our primarch in purging those of us deemed Imperial loyalists. First, the Warmaster himself granted us the honor of bringing the Emperor's wrath to a civilization fallen beyond redemption โ and knowing no better, we jumped for a taste of that glory. Then, in the moment we had purged Isstvan III's Choral City of life in His name...
[ Lucius trails off, and he laughs at the irony left behind in implication. ]
Well, when an orbital bombing failed to kill those of us marked for death, the primarch of the World Eaters decided he would take our skulls with his own two hands. [ His lips split wider with grim humor. ] You see, dear Archmage, our little loyalist resistance was doomed from the start. All we could hope to accomplish against the combined fury of our kinsmen and the three primarchs that stood along with them was the killing of time. We would die as martyrs, nobly sacrificing ourselves so news of Horus' betrayal had time to reach the Emperor's ears!
[ Again, he laughs, the whole story nothing more than a grand farce in the face of ten-thousand years of hindsight. Suddenly, the space between them feels far too small; there is no room for Lucius to move in the sweeping gestures such comedy deserves. He draws back, cool air flooding the space between their chests in the place of body heat, simply so that Lucius may move. ]
Oh, but we did waste their time. We barricaded ourselves within the very same Precentor's Palace we had taken just minutes before we were to be cast aside, and we held it. Imagine the frustration of the poor Warmaster, unable to stomp out this little knot of loyalists for no reason other than the space we huddled in! Why, imagine how a commander would be lauded, all the glory and accolades that would be heaped upon his shoulders, if only he found a way inside and stomped out our pathetic band of survivors before we could muster against him...
[ His voice drops low, conspiratorial and suggestive, and as his gleaming eyes regard Eridanus below him, he clearly expects him to have caught onto the turn this story is about to take. ]