Slain by His Own - A 30k AU.

Beneath the Wastes

"It is the 30th Millenium. Mankind has spread across the stars. It has used all it can to prosper and prosper it has. Expanding across the cosmos, it has conquered all it can. However, the foul machinations of the powers at play have split the galaxy asunder. Immaterial fury separates planets and systems. Millions die, unable to receive supplies. Those who survive hold on by threads. None are more separated than the homeworld of Humanity. Ancient Terra. For 30,000 years it has been defaced by violence, war and hubris. It is a brown rotting waste, the little that remains fought over by warlords and savages. It is here, 30,000 years ago, a man was born. It is now however, his years of planning come to fruition. He must unite the lands and ascend to a new title. Emperor of Mankind. He has created warriors just for this task. Adults, gene augmented into super soldiers, turned from mere mortals into superbeings. They are the Legio Cataegis and they have fought for 5,000 years to unify the Earth. However, they are no longer needed. They are unstable, short-lived and the resources to create them grow sparser. New men must be made. "

"In the Himalazias, where the Cataegis were made, lies a palace. One of immense size and stature, golden and regal. However, it is what is under this palace that is most important. Laboratories and Vaults containing priceless information and specimens. It is here the Emperor creates a new force. One to outclass all, they are his finest warriors and destined to save Humanity."

================================================================================

"Historitor, please. I understand that you wish to catalog what is occurring here but I am trying to work!" pleads Jarl, frustrated at the historitor's constant talking and listing. All he wishes is to be left along in his work, finalising the genome modifications necessary for the Emperor's plans to come to fruition. 

He stands at a containment vessel, steely and strange in design. While he is Chief Scientist, he is not the head of this division, not by a long shot. These vessels were hand-made by the Emperor himself, not by his hands and thanks to the Emperor not being a man of many words, he is expected to just monitor the device and use certain pieces, not understand it. He views the contents, a baby. Well, a baby in looks, not in any other measure. It is a Primarch, as He referred to them. Using the gene-seed he and his team created, they have even created "copies" of the Primarchs, referred to as Astartes after one of the Emperor's aides. They are nowhere near as strong, not even to their former works, the Cataegis but are easier to be manufactured and thus allow for millions of super soldiers to be created and used. For what, aside from the war currently above his head, he has no idea.

A writing device's scratching disrupts his focus and stops his thought. Glancing over at the historitor, he gives a look of clarity and annoyance before returning to his duty of finalising the insertion of the "perfect template" their leader has created. As he places a vial into a receptacle in the side of the device, an air-locked door opens behind him and he turns, seeing them slide open, witnessing light breaking as if the God of old himself had just walked into the room. He clears his throat, before speaking to this being. 

"It is done my lord. They are ready."

================================================================================

"Good."

The Emperor stands before the pods. 20 of them, lined up in order of creation. He views the children inside. He looks upon them all, their forms and features He has planned for them not come to fruition, although the traces are there. He hypothesises  that it would take about 15 to 20 years for them to grow to full size and strength once allowed out of the containment units. For now however, they must remain. 

Until the Astartes have been grown to full numbers, they shall stay in their current forms. He thinks upon their creation, and more specifically, the reason. the Thunder Warriors cannot be allowed to live. He sees strands within the warp, if they remain, they shall turn against him. Little does he know how true these words are. Little does he know just what has happened upon the desolate wastes above him. It is here, the Terran Heresy began. It is here, the Emperor dies.