Pyrae Harpe

@ask-the-crimson-king

@arch-magister-khnemu

@askakhenatenimhotep

[Send skulls for dangerous situation]

@thousandsonpyrae

Surprisingly enough, upon waking, Magnus did not have a good recollection of what had happened. Last he remembered before blacking out was hearing something incredibly loud, almost impossibly so, before he was plunged into darkness. In his unconscious state, his mind was not idle, and it went adrift upon the tides of the Great Ocean. 

He saw several visions of things past and yet to come. He only remembered a few of them, as some of the visions of the future were muddled, and he could still hear the shrill cackling that had chased him back to his body.

This Blademaster grasped on a powerful forearm with a tenderness one would find impossible while clad in astartes warplate. Near him, another warrior of his cabal rested marked by the Pavoni feather on his pauldron. 

A wash of relief passed through the air suddenly and out towards the entrance, between them and the thunderous tempest of war between the XVth and the Greenskinned Menace that infect this world was a demi-company of space marines willing and ready to fight and die in protection of their scholar-king. 

“Y-you…’ Aaron’s harsh voice answered, still recovering from the horrid mind-bomb of the Ork Psykers. ‘We barely stopped an insidious tactic from the enemy, my Primarch. The Greenskins used their Psykers so crudely, w-we…didn’t expect such a barbaric move. The ones on the battlefield just overwhelmed themselves in the Ocean’s powers.” 

There was a edge of controlled fury in the Blademaster’s voice behind his jaded calm. “If we didn’t had the familiars of the Great Ocean come to some of us, I…”

His nose had this tick of twitching when beholding the fire of rage that never left him from childhood. “The wisdom of our ancestors and the Emperor watch us this day.” 

He felt unsteady for a few heartbeats, before he steeled himself. He remembered, now. He remembered the assault on his mind that he felt. It completely blindsided him – it blindsided all of them – and he tried to throw up his psychic defenses just a little too late. It was obvious that the greenskins were capable of using the Great Ocean, albeit in a brutish and simplistic manner, but never would he have expected them to be able to perform such a feat. Especially something so… devastating. He had never felt so overwhelmed before. Well… except for once, but that was a tale best left forgotten. For now.

Carefully, he pulled himself back up, nodding at Aaron’s words. “I remember, now.” He still had a residual headache, turning to look to the mouth of the cave as he heard the warcry. “In all my years, I never would have suspected that they could do such a thing.” That surprised him, certainly. But it was not something he would allow to be repeated again. 

With them, the spirit of the present Sons of Prospero roused to the sight of Magnus lifting once more. Shmuel rose with them, “Our Father rises once more! The sun shines scarlet and true!” The demi-company didn’t speak but those with force glaives thumped a unified rhythm in memory to the Tizcan Guardians’ salute to the Kings of Old. 

[Send skulls for dangerous situation]

@thousandsonpyrae

Surprisingly enough, upon waking, Magnus did not have a good recollection of what had happened. Last he remembered before blacking out was hearing something incredibly loud, almost impossibly so, before he was plunged into darkness. In his unconscious state, his mind was not idle, and it went adrift upon the tides of the Great Ocean. 

He saw several visions of things past and yet to come. He only remembered a few of them, as some of the visions of the future were muddled, and he could still hear the shrill cackling that had chased him back to his body.

This Blademaster grasped on a powerful forearm with a tenderness one would find impossible while clad in astartes warplate. Near him, another warrior of his cabal rested marked by the Pavoni feather on his pauldron. 

A wash of relief passed through the air suddenly and out towards the entrance, between them and the thunderous tempest of war between the XVth and the Greenskinned Menace that infect this world was a demi-company of space marines willing and ready to fight and die in protection of their scholar-king. 

“Y-you...’ Aaron’s harsh voice answered, still recovering from the horrid mind-bomb of the Ork Psykers. ‘We barely stopped an insidious tactic from the enemy, my Primarch. The Greenskins used their Psykers so crudely, w-we...didn’t expect such a barbaric move. The ones on the battlefield just overwhelmed themselves in the Ocean’s powers.” 

There was a edge of controlled fury in the Blademaster’s voice behind his jaded calm. “If we didn’t had the familiars of the Great Ocean come to some of us, I...”

His nose had this tick of twitching when beholding the fire of rage that never left him from childhood. “The wisdom of our ancestors and the Emperor watch us this day.” 

[Book Extract - Magnus the Red: Master of Prospero] The Emperor gives Magnus some good advice, then some really bad advice. (taken from Reddit)

Context: Magnus is recovering from a massive sorcerous undertaking he directed with his legion to rescue the civilian population of a world Magnus and Perturabo were attempting to save. After collapsing, and being caught by Perturabo in one of the few brotherly acts I’ve read of him doing, Magnus recovers in an unconscious state only to dream about his last contact with the Emperor.

‘I am still alive,’ he said, and his voice was thrown back at him as though he stood in the centre of a great amphitheatre.

Since no vistas were presenting themselves in this void, Magnus would conjure his own. If he was going to spend an eternity in this place, then he would be damned if he’d do it bored.

Memories surged around him, a series of snapshots from his life: the climb into the hills of Prospero where he found the statue whose destruction gave rise to the Fellowships of the Thousand Sons; the inaugural conclave of the First Masters in the Reflecting Cave; taking a knee before his father upon their first meeting in Occullum Square, though in truth they had spoken for many years already.

He conjured them at random, knowing all the while that nothing was every truly random, wondering which memory would come to the fore.

The answer presented itself, as the night he had climbed the Astartes Tower to meet his father on the eve of his departure from Terra swam into focus. It had been a bittersweet moment, for they were both aware it would be many years before they met this way again. The Great Crusade was a vision of supreme ambition, one that would take father and sons to the uttermost corners of the galaxy for decades, perhaps even centuries. Only a fool would entertain any notions of certainty on the commencement of such a singular undertaking.

They had sat upon the highest peak of the slender tower and cast their minds out over the world, flying together one last time. Only then did Magnus understand he was not simply witnessing a memory, but was part of it.

Their bodies of light threaded the deep canyons of the Mid-Atalantic Ridge then circled the arid dust basin of the Mid-Terranean before following the Urals from Kara Oceanica to the Kievan Rus Khaganate. They circled Mount Narodnya, watching the ghosts of Fulgrim and Ferrus Manus as they competed over the labour of twin weapons.

‘So perfect,’ said the Emperor.

‘Which one?’ asked Magnus, but his father just smiled.

Magnus watched his brothers striving to outdo one another, finding their need to prove their superiority faintly ridiculous. What did it matter who could forge the best weapon when a primarch was a weapon unto himself?

‘You are so like me in so many ways,’ said the Emperor. Magnus flushed with pride, but, as always, the Emperor’s words carried multiple meanings. ‘You have a great many of my strengths, but strength magnified to excess eventually becomes a weakness.’

‘How can that be?’

‘Confidence can spill over into arrogance,’ said the Emperor. ‘An obsessive pursuit of perfection can blind you to what it costs to achieve. Attention to detail can become micro-management. Magnus, you have my intellect and my power, but like me you are prone to believing you can do no wrong, that your intellect lifts you above the risk of making petty mistakes or errors based on emotion.’

‘What mistakes have I made?’ asked Magnus, dreading the answer.

‘Only time will tell what is a mistake and what is not, but an inability to believe you can ever make a mistake is dangerous. It leaves a mind open to certainty, and unwavering certainty is our greatest enemy. Always question and always be open to different ways of thinking, other ways of untangling the knot. That is the gift I give to you on this eve of our Crusade.’

‘I do not understand.’

‘You will, my son,’ said the Emperor. ‘Despite all I have just said, you are different enough from me that I can see how you will succeed where I have failed.’

‘Failed? How have you failed?’

‘I do not know yet,’ said the Emperor with a wistful sheen to his subtle body. ‘But I will soon, and I sense you and your favoured son must play a part in rectifying my mistakes.’

‘My favoured son?’ asked Magnus. ‘They are all my sons.’

‘There’s truth in that, yes, but there is one who will bear your ambitions when you need them to travel farther than you could ever dream.’

‘Where in this galaxy can I not travel?’ said Magnus.

He felt his father’s amusement.

‘There are always places a son will travel where his father should not,’ replied the Emperor. ‘Just when you believe there is nothing more to be done, one of your sons will show you how wrong you have been all this time.’

‘This sounds like gloomy advice, father,’ said Magnus. ‘I had hoped for something a little more inspiring as we venture out into the unknown.’

‘What could be more inspiring than to know you have taught your sons to reach greater heights than you? They are your immortality, Magnus.’

No more had been said on the matter, and they had returned to their bodies atop the Astartes Tower to say farewell. His father had taken a seat by the great celestial occullum and the impossibly complex maps detailing His plans for galactic conquest. Though they had shared a sublime moment flying the aether, Magnus knew his time here was at an end. The Emperor turned and extended His hand, and Magnus looked into his father’s eyes, wondering how he had not noticed the wistful look of sadness he now saw in them.

‘Remember this moment,’ said the Emperor.

‘I will,’ promised Magnus.

He took his father’s hand and Magnus gasped in sudden pain as his spirit was wrenched from the memory and hurled back into his body.