Warhammer: Start with a dog

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Honso was now both happy and worried.

This rarely happened to the half-blood Astartes.

A man like him was born in Fabius's experiment and became the last surviving sample in a row of reagent bottles. He was rescued by Lucius and was even taken in by the Iron Warriors. Several others followed. For a chosen person who not only has not died within the century, but can also serve as the war blacksmith of the Iron Warriors and the chief apothecary of a Primarch - in more popular terms, it is equivalent to a thirty-year-old , a mortal young man who was thrown onto the battlefield without any education. With only the fragmented memories in his mind, he became the leader of an entire gang of unjust super soldiers and a genius genetic and bioengineering scientist. The smooth transition between identities - it seems that treating other people as external objects that do not require emotional investment and properly eliminating the influence of emotions in thinking and decision-making are obviously one of the secrets of his survival.

So the way he was pacing back and forth now spoke volumes about his inner conflict:

Fortunately, they got the exact information about their father from Grendel, and he was most likely the same kind and perfect father as he remembered! He clenched his fist and waved it hard in the air. And the information that Grendel brought him about Soltarn having integrated Medlengard was also a good thing - at least if he really couldn't do it, if he took a step back, he could still return to Medlengard and fight with the Second Army. When the company commanders join together, they won't end up on both sides of the Empire and Chaos. Although Hong Suo is absolutely sure that he can survive alone, what's the use of just surviving? He wants to prove that he is no worse than any so-called "pure-blooded" Astartes! No worse than any Iron Warrior! His seed is cunning and powerful, possessing all the best qualities of a descendant of Perturabo!

What's worrying is that, first of all, there are obvious problems in Grendel's narrative. The champion cannot be sure how many warp storms he ate while on the ship after being captured, because the pirate warship that captured him was originally launched in a hurry. The subspace engine, their navigator is even an orc, and the navigation is based on guesswork. According to the research of Honso and Vannes, they believe that since the soul and body travel, it is very possible for time and space to be dislocated. Therefore, if they leave here rashly now, will it cause them to return to the completely real universe? Can't find the new Medlengard after the integration of Soltarn? After all, here, the Great Maelstrom is as far as half a galaxy away from the Eye of Terror in a straight line in the plane system - this means that the distance is at least tens of thousands of light years and the uncontrollability of multiple subspace voyages, and They only have one chance to place their bet.

"Although there is definitely some time difference from the time when our father can be found, I don't think it is too far apart in time."

Honso straightened up from the table and announced.

Grendel obtained the position of chief security officer of the camp after passing some mysterious quick verification, and now he is patrolling outside. It may also be because he also claimed that there are too many words in books and scrolls here. He looks at it and gets a headache, which is detrimental to recovery. , it is better to pick up the ax and go around for good health.

Vannas and Honso are immersed in studying what point in time they are currently at, so that they can better formulate plans to decide what their next move will be and how large-scale the action will be.

"Look." He picked up an old blood-stained note scrawled with gossip about the Blackheart King Huron's past. "It mentions the Star Claw Chapter's Palace of Thorns on Badab. The exact year to escape into the maelstrom after being defeated – that’s a rare thing.”

"Are you sure this year is correct?" Vannas frowned, "The followers of the Corpse Emperor always like to tamper with historical records for personal reasons they think are necessary or for so-called pious purposes. And my experience of being banished from a Chapter has taught me that even in fortresses as old as my original Chapter, the records kept are not entirely trustworthy."

"This document is an original record, from a scribe who previously served Huron's allies, and should not have been tampered with by the Empire. It is sandwiched between another document describing how to praise the true gods of darkness and summon all their minions. It was used as a bookmark in the manuscript with the author's name. The unfortunate guy didn't finish reading the book." Vannes raised his eyebrows, and Honsou raised the book in his hand. There was a mark on it. Holes pierced by elongated weapons or claws would also explain the origin of the blood on the note.

"Okay. How many years is the difference?"

"In my memory, before that weird subspace storm blew up, the last time I was on the Destiny Steel, I was drinking tea and chatting about some anecdotes with several noble highnesses (sigh of regret). So I There should be no problem with the time point of the log recorded by the built-in recorder at that time. It was the 999th year of the 41st millennium, and the note said 'It is the summer of 912.M41'. The recorder heard that the Corpse King's warriors launched the final attack on the Thorn Palace. It seems that the time it took for Huron to manage this place so prosperously was shorter than I estimated."

"The 'Black Heart King' is indeed very skillful." Vannas nodded, "To put it bluntly, from the establishment of New Badab to the present, it may have only been a few decades in the outer real universe. In the interstellar world, There is not a long time difference in scale travel. It seems that the several subspace storms Grendel encountered caused his time to drift - it is meaningless to discuss time scales inside the Eye of Terror and the Maelstrom. Maybe Two Astartes on the same ship can perceive time differently by a hundred years. However, in a few decades, even if we go to the real universe now, it will naturally advance to the end of the 41st millennium. Years, my life span is enough, what’s next?”

"Since Huron can do all this in decades," a smile appeared on the War Blacksmith's face, "Huron can do it, of course I can too. There is no doubt that by making good use of the gifts from my father and your highnesses, I can achieve It's an unusual undertaking, and it will definitely be of great benefit to my father's mood and my qualifications. Vanas, I want to stay here to do some things, and then go to the Obscure Star Territory to see my father after the Great Rift opens. This way, the timeline will be seamless and we won’t have to think too much about any time paradoxes.”

Vannas was about to agree with this, but he caught a glimpse of the deep ambition reflected in Honso's eyes. From a certain angle, it looks like his eyes, which he inherited from the Iron Warriors, even have a very faint hint of cornflower blue pigment.

For a moment the Son of Krax's hair stood on end: part of the warsmith who had once so coldly counted everyone and everything around him and himself as a perfectly rational resource seemed to come to life in the soul of the Astartes before him.

"Well, Honso, I've been meaning to ask since the beginning." Adalic said cautiously.

And when the war blacksmith turned his face sideways, he looked so professional, cold, arrogant and confident.

"What?"

"Why are you so confident that you will be able to achieve the same feat as Huron? Even the leader of the Black Legion, the Great Reaver Abaddon, cannot ignore Huron, and he is a full 10,000 years older than Huron. Year."

"This sounds very much like a hint that Abaddon is not good. Vanus, has anyone ever told you that your crow's beak sometimes looks like an alien with pointed ears?"

"Not really, but I probably do deal with them a little too much sometimes."

"Don't deal with them." Honso reminded. "The people here are the Dark Eldar pirates. The place they live in is called Commorragh, and there is a kind of people called the Haemonculi among the Dark Elda. 'You don't want to be their guinea pig."

"I've only heard about it a little bit, but why do you know so much about the alien race?"

"The professionalism of a Primarch's Chief Apothecary," Honso added. "I think that although these guys have average taste and deserve to be used as experimental material more than any Eldar, some of their actual examples of surgery are It can provide a lot of ideas for future generations and reduce the time for experiments. I really miss Master Ma'atla's salon and his magical library. It is so convenient to find any books there."

"Speaking of this..."

Vannas's words were interrupted by the sound of hurried footsteps and the subsequent knock on the door.

"What's going on?! Come in!"

Grendel strode into the room, "There is a group of people seeking death outside."

he said shortly.

"Is this worth your hurry to come here?"

"Oh. It's not worth it for those people who were obsessed with blood to die." The Iron Warriors champion replied, his ax was not even stained with much blood. "I even had to send them on their way myself. This is too boring. , these cultists have no intention of returning alive. They come to sacrifice themselves for their gods and masters. Why should I waste my energy to help them? Although there is a dark night caused by witchcraft to help them, it is of no use. They have all been walled up. The cross fire network of the defense turned it into a big puddle of meat at the door, and it flowed everywhere. "

"A cultist from the Blood God Sect?" Honso and Vannas exchanged glances, and then the son of Krax spoke, "I guess it was brought by the war gang champion of Pushtok Uluvente whom you killed. A certain way of declaring war. Uruvent himself is a loyal believer in the Eightfold Way of Killing, and so are his warbands and mortals."

"Okay, although I don't see what other benefits this action has besides wasting their own human resources and making their gods happier. What else is there?"

"A messenger came. Not long after I ordered them to beat all these people who were sent to death into pieces." Grendel smacked his lips, "It was as if he had been waiting for this moment for a long time and needed to do something special. It’s the same as showing off the drama and leaving a deep impression on the person being visited.”

"Being able to see this means that your brain...well, your body has indeed recovered well, Kadalasi. Congratulations." Honso looked at his champion, while writing this observation log in his own memo, and decided Next time, he will mix some injection solution into the veteran's potion to see if the experimental materials will develop more in the direction he wants.

The latter shrugged upon hearing this, "Then do you want to see this mortal? Or let me bring him in?"

"No," said Honsou, "let us go out and meet this messenger. I can probably guess who he represents."

Moments later, they met the emissary at the camp's open gate, which smelled of blood.

What slightly surprised them was that this messenger was not a Chaos Astartes, nor even any physically enhanced human or mutant, but just a thin mortal wearing a worn-out scribe's robe. The ebony box he is holding is decorated with golden thorns, indicating that he and the documents inside do indeed represent the will of the Blackheart King, and nothing else.

"It seems that the owner of the palace really doesn't care about us and our little possessions. He is also extremely confident in his own power and power."

"In New Badab, he has the capital to defy."

If the Warsmith was ambivalent about this, he didn't show it.

In the distance that the messenger's naked eyes can see, he has adjusted the subtle muscle expressions on his face to make them look more in line with his current character setting: a man who is eager to find opportunities to prove himself and is ambitious. The new war blacksmith of the Iron Warriors, who is energetic but slightly hidden about his own strength, is calm, bold and careful but has a sense of all-or-nothing.

He took out the letter paper from the wooden box, but he could hardly help but smile: it was not a piece of human skin paper that can be seen everywhere here, nor was it the parchment paper that the empire loved to use to write official documents, but a piece of parchment paper used for the most common administrative documents. Ordinary white paper with a few lines of words written on it.

Honso read the ten lines at a glance, then nodded and ordered Grendel to guard the camp while they left for the palace. Then he asked Vannas to join him and set off with the envoy who led the way.

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Although the peak and its crown-like palace and fortress appear to be very close at first glance, in fact the vertical climbing distance is often far greater than people imagine when measured with two legs.

Although they were mortals and extremely skinny, they all found that the messenger's speed was not slower than those who had been genetically modified and strengthened and wore power armor. He walked up step by step, walking so skillfully and dexterously on any ground. On the unprotected slippery steps carved out of the stone at the edge of the abyss, or on the chain bridge made of iron cables swaying in the high-altitude fog, or on the dangerous trenches full of barbs that are about to be crossed. A large area of ​​wire suddenly led them into an inconspicuous tunnel, and then emerged from the other side.

They climbed and climbed. Hong Suo thought that he had climbed to a height that was difficult for mortals to reach, and had walked through at least three winding mountain roads, three angle tunnels and three chain bridges. However, the scribe who led the way was still wearing his simple clothes. Strappy sandals go fast.

The blood carried in Honso's genes is boiling in his veins. In the eyes of outsiders, this palace may only be tall, huge and gorgeous, and at most they will only admire the terrifyingness of those defensive turrets. But in Honso's eyes, The designers of this palace and fortress exercised the greatest malice toward others that an architect can achieve, from a different direction than their father.

This is no longer built purely for the purpose of killing enemies or for defense. This palace reflects part of its owner - who specifically designed it to need to climb such a steep, slippery and long staircase without handrails! ! ! ! It is simply full of malice and intimidation! Hong Suo felt that if he continued to climb in circles like this, he might not be able to control his expression well when he came to the audience.

Fortunately, as they climbed higher and higher and were about to approach the top, the clouds and mist surrounding the bottom of the mountain dispersed for a while. When Hongsuo looked down, he saw many sparkling bonfires and lights. Just like the large and small pearls surrounding the neck of the mountain, bonfires, life, and human beings mean countless people and the possibilities behind them.

Honsou paused on the last platform for a few seconds, chewing on what was delivered to him in the human firelight below, and then realized that this new experience was empowering for him.