Capítulo 79: Chapter Twenty-Six: They Came From the Stars (Part II)
Date: 888.M30 (Six Hours Later)
Location: Primarchs Quarters aboard the Righteous Fury. In Orbit of XII-C-XENO-AIV
Primarch Baraca Themistar sat in a secluded meditation chamber at the center of his quarters. Kneeling on a mat of woven fabric in a state of intense focus. In creating his sons the Emperor had given mythotypes flesh. Bringing archetypal figures of a million legends into stark superhuman reality. This came with an ugly cost as all such stories have. The Primarch are gifted with more than just a superhuman body and mind, but emotions beyond mortal scope. Like the demigods and heroes of ancient myth, they were prone to exaggerated bouts of anger, melancholy, joy, and other such grandiose emotions. Both the Emperor and the Assai-Matrari had put significant efforts into teaching the Twenty Brothers to control these overpowering feelings. Now as Baraca faced the impending death of his mother, an event that could shatter a normal mortal's soul. The usual restraints became brittle.
In his personal sanctum, Baraca tried to reforge those chains and restore some semblance of self-control. From his meditation mat he glared down at the pedestal in front of him. On it sat an impossibly ancient cracked skull. A fossil dug up along the banks of a now-forgotten river in Terran antiquity. It had once sat on a similar pedestal in the Emperor's own study in the Palace. Directly across from the rich oaken desk the Master of Mankind used when he needed such a space. The skull had been positioned just so whenever the Emperor looked up from his work, he would stare into the skull's eye sockets. Unlike the countless polished skulls of true bone and precious metal that decorated Imperial style, this one was rather sad and slightly warped. The signs of a hard life apparent even after 40,000 thousand years.
In his youth, Baraca had asked who the skull once was, and more importantly, why did the Emperor keep it so close. In that eternally unknowable fashion of his, Baracas' father answered with a riddle. "It is why you exist, my son."
The Primarch had never gotten a straight answer about the skull, and more curiously he had even been gifted it on the eve of the Great Crusade. The skull felt warm to the touch and resisted all wear and tear. An enigmatic gift that had left a mark of Baraca, both physically and mentally. Upon first touching the skull it had for a lack of better words "burned" the Primarch. A jolt of psychic energy had lanced from it and bit into his hand. Leaving a faint scar on Baraca's left palm. In times of battle, when the fury of war ran hot, the Primarch swore he could feel the scar move. As if something hot and metallic was trying to push its way out of from his skin. In times of turmoil Baraca had taken to meditate on the skull. Rarely he would catch glimpses of psychic energy or even flickers that might be the first part of visions. It took his mind off of things and recently Baraca felt as if he was making progress on whatever eldritch task his father had given him.
Baraca's trance was broken by a voxcoms beep. Something important enough to warrant his attention had happened. Fighting back the flicker of irritation and apprehension the Primarch rose up and exited his meditation room. Passing by the rows of helmets, masks and skulls he kept in it as part decoration, part psychic totem. Moving into his chambers, he quickly dressed in his uniform and opened up the vox channel. "What is it?" he growled in the thunderous voice the Primarchs possess.
"Lady Hidamia requests your presence Lord Primarch," spoke the vox-attendant. For a moment the Primarch's twin hearts seemed to stop. Was this it? Was her death already here? Almost snarling a quick response, Baraca bolted from his quarters. At speeds a Landspeeder would find comfortable the Primarch moved through the flagship. The irrational, panicked emotions of a scared child winning against transhuman intellect and battle-tested willpower. To the callous or foolish it might seem ridiculous a being that could break worlds and rule civilizations might fall into such patterns. In such a case such an observer would not realize it is precisely that power Baraca possessed that he found himself struggling so much. As a man who could change the course of history with ease, whose very existence altered the destiny of a billion worlds and a trillion lives. How distressing must it be to not be able to keep a single mortal living?
Baraca soon burst into the hospice suite his adopted mother resided in. The solid metal door dented by his momentum as he thrust it open. Inside lay Hidamia the Brave. Still at the end of life, but very much alive. Sitting next to her, in rarely worn dress fatigues was Kharn the Breaker. The grizzled legionnaire in deep conversation with the old woman. Both Assasi-Matrari and Astartes looked up at the Primarch. In that single moment, Baracas super-cogitator of a mind fully understood what was occurring. Kharn had been unable to convince his fellow consuls to follow his plan and believed something must be done to move the Primarch to action. So Kharn had sought to enlist the aid of the one person who could reach Baraca and push him where the Breaker believed his father needed to go.
Kharn did not get the opportunity to speak. One moment he sat beside the honored matron of his father. Next, he choked on blood as a lightning-quick blow had struck him square in the chest. Then a colossal hand wrapped around his throat and lifted him up into the air. Kharn's head and shoulders smashed into the hospice suite's ceiling as Baraca launched him into the air. From between gritted teeth, the Primarch seethed: "How dare you! How dare you try and manipulate me with such brazen tricks! You defy your purpose, break your oaths, and besmirch the honors you have been given. Tell me why I should not rip your head off Kharn!?"
Kharn did not answer, because he could not. A mortal's neck would have been reduced to a crimson paste by the force on the Breaker's throat. Instead, Hidamia spoke up in a striking parade-ground bark. "Put him down Baraca. You act the fool and let your emotions run wild like a rapid beast"
Instantly Baraca dropped his Equerry and whirled to look at his mother. "He sought to use you in petty political games! Betraying my trust and exploiting you!"
Even as death fast approached, Hidamia's mind and tongue were razor-sharp. "He did the right thing despite the obvious dangers in doing so. Risking his father's wrath in order to save him. Kharn is right. What kind of Hound shirks his duty and lets monsters skulk past his watch? You are a great man Baraca like your father, but you have the potential to be what he stopped being long ago. You can be a good man. Do not dishonor my memory by retreating into misery and failing to protect those who need your shield and spear! You are the Hound of Humanity, the watcher at the gate and snarling fangs against the dark."
Emotions warred inside Baraca and he spoke with a mixture of confusion and pain: "You would have me leave your deathbed to save Xenos? Override my Father's will to save a worthless species on some matter of honor? Sacrifice my last days with you in some petty conflict I am not needed at?"
Without hesitation, the Assai-Matrari responded: "Yes, of course. These Xeno's doom is because of our actions, your actions. They deserve your protection right up until they prove themselves unworthy of it. I understand why your father acts with such hatred and callousness to the Alien, I also want you to understand that he can be wrong in this regard. The Warhound Legion must be like its namesake. Loyal, honorable, dutiful, but also willing to do what must be done and protect all those it should. Yes, I will die, but only in death does duty end. Honor me, my son, fight for the weak and the innocent no matter who they are."
Baraca stood silently for a moment before softly responding: "Yes, I understand mother. And…. thank you for everything."
Hidamia the Brave smiled a sad smile and touched her son's hand. "It's been wonderful, I am happy to have raised you as my own and my only wish is for you to be the best possible you. I love you Baraca my boy, I'll always be in your memories."
Choking back silent tears the Primarch whispered: "I love you too. You will always be with me."
With that, the Primarch turned and left. A new determination filling his being. Kharn followed behind his father and a momentary glance between the two showed the bonds forged on a hundred worlds and a thousand battles still stood strong. After sharing one final glance at his mother, Baraca Themistar. Lord Protector of the Imperium and Hound of Humanity marched to war.
Status de energia semanal
-- Ranking de
Poder 
-- Pedra de
Poder