Mada 'Sybil' Myrkul's Story

Ankle deep
As Myrkul's mind dips toward the lower levels of the planes the tide there rises slightly. The eldritch mind capable of extending its reach down to see the sea of trundling patterns set below all things. Such displacement it finds as the power drains, but of no immediate danger. It looks at a new creature or construction come perhaps to watch or maybe driven by the narrows created by drawing at the baser planes. It did not dwell in the machinery long as the nature of creation took it unkindly.

The gigantic mind first extended to the archmage, "Careful of the shallows you create in the deep places, small unknownkind. Energies taken from the deep well among the engine of reality much abhors a void. Unmoored things flow inward to fill it. Consider the shards that cut to kill a world that perhaps once flowed inward. Take care that the gears do not turn to the same pattern."

As the sisters moved into the space port another vehicle emerged to keep slow pace behind them. Easily two men or more tall the Crassus heavy assault transport was marked with an emblem of the Imperium. Inside a single driver showing to the call to war her charge having left the black storm to seek knowledge. Sybil then freed to seek her position in the wars of Humankind and the Imperium. Heavy treads rolled along toward her goal with a circulating blizzard around its sponson positions as they were replaced with a heavier plates to better protect her constructive assets. Upon each dark metal plate glow hatchmarks shrouded by the airy layer of small flakes. The remainder faithfully recreated. Metal gleams as if fresh from a forge world pulling up the rear to idle quietly as the top-hatched opened to a threadlike filament helmet emerging. An impassive if fair-skinned face of the Mada, Sybil, followed. Clad in heavy silver and teal armor the tall woman listened to Helisma and her words.

Sybil enjoyed them greatly, enthused to be again at true war like in the books of the fallen Emperor, though only her swirling grey metal eyes betrayed their steely gaze with one gleaming tear. It splattered onto the armor solidifying into a permanent marker of the event upon her transport.

A critical forge worker's eye glanced about at those gathered to inspect their arms with a critical eye. Jinhai did their jobs well for the Living Emperor leaving her much to do. Soon she'd built her own armory with what they discovered in Wing City. A small forge well constructed into this tank brought with her to make arms, ammo, or just repair them.

In the lull that followed the Commissar's speech, there was a slow clap, steady and almost sarcastic.

Clap, Clap, Clap....

In a parting of Imperial Guards, there was a group of Aschen, maybe five or six Marines that slowly waded through the guardsmen and their accompanying sisters of battle.

Each Marine clung tightly to their disruptor rifles, keeping them close, hot and at the ready in the event there was an outbreak of violence. Each one of them had bore his scars of war, and many of them looked at the Guardsmen with disdain. However they kept silent, their only task was to protect the Admiral.

Their stark black uniforms contrasted with the colors that the Imperium wore, and each, well disciplined Aschen Marine kept a vigilant eye on the surrounding men.

They made no hostile measures, as Admiral Joshua Steele kept his slow clap up.

"Such an inspiring speech, Commissar; even if we all know exactly what happens when a rag tag force..." He said the words with disdain. "Goes up against a warboss." He said, shrugging and placing his hand on one of the crates, pulling a thin layer of dust from the top.

"It's always been so amusing to watch the Imperium from the safety of our shores, but you're going to need a little more than... this to take on the Orkz."

Holding out his hand, he gestured towards a nearby officer.

"The fleet is mobilized and ready to deploy on your orders, Admiral." The Officer said, offering a crisp salute, while Steele turned his attention to the Imperials.

"Take it or leave it, but I'm going hunting."

With the arrival of the Aschen Soldiers, Commisar Ciaphas raised an eye as he turned to face them. Clearly, they did not like them and the feeling was mutual. Guardsman glared at them but made no moves. Of course he had no idea how the Sisters would react to such disrespect. But for now...

"Aschen...Welcome to Terra. Unfortunately our deployment shall not consist of non-Imperial allies. You are more then welcome to go Greenskin hunting. Orkz are simply a threat for anybody. But is rare for you Aschen to personally come down on foot for a battle. Looking for opportunities to kill some aliens. In any case...We of the Imperium politely refuse the request for aid, but you are more than free to go hunting." Cain spoke keeping things nice and civil.

He just hoped the Sisters did not lose it. He rather deal with the orkz and not a sudden firefight this minute.

Sybil was frustrated by this new world but understood why Myrkul hadn't been prepared for it. It knew how to capitalize on its native environment but without the Black Storm. Once she'd heard they managed to implode the damned thing due to corruption she started the Jinhai making another under a city they already had some protective forces in. The slumwalks was an older deeper part of the city and displacing some of the moles that tried to set up shop in its forgotten places wasn't hard. The Jinhai scoured all life and air from the places then rebuilt them to her specifications. Construction was still on-going but one couldn't get in without passing through the Way or being a psyker enough to knock on the 'door' so she could let them in through it. Her Way gate was one particularly pernicious to not-itself or things not explicitly recognized by Sybil to pass. At least until she had more forces staged here.

She needed to build another ex libris to get structural psimass where they needed it from Genesis and more of the patterns that tech marine sent down. Quiet things of focused war, those marines. But to build his construction of defenses in far flung locations or parts for his research was constrained to lugging vaults half way across the city at low speeds down to her. As it was there was another Vault making its way across the city as her Vault was already at half-mass making more manifestation beacons for the techmarine.

"Darling," the synthesized voice of Omnia woke Blackheart from his slumber. "My scanners are detecting a large energy signature emanating from The Slumwalks. It might be worth checking out ~" Her sentence ended in a giggle, her avatar raising a gloved hand to her mouth to stifle the would-be giggle. The Captain pulled himself out of his bed on the ship, a bottle of rum falling to the ground and shattering as he did. A nanite swarm cleaned the mess almost as soon as it was made, and the Captain hurriedly threw on his clothes.

The Captain's Frigate, The Bleeding Heart, was docked at port; and generally too large to efficiently maneuver Wing City, so he was instead on a smaller cruiser, escorted by four servitors of varying sizes. The mechanical monstrosities were currently on auto-pilot, being controlled by Omnia, and Blackheart was enjoying exchanging witty banter with her as she pretended to be four different people. "Well boys, let's get to it then. George, how's the wife been?"

The cruiser touched down, and the Way Gate stood before the Captain, two servitors on either side of him. "What are your orders sir?" Their synthesized voices barked in unison. Something about the Gate seemed off, and the ex-Pirate's shadow writhed and coalesced into a dog. "Fufufufu," The Quasi-real shadow dog seemed to laugh. "It might be trapped." Blackheart glared down at it, and with a swift kick to the dog's would-be ribs, the shadow dispersed into it's proper form.

With a casual shove, the Captain shoved a servitor through the portal and watched it violently shudder and explode. "Omnia, there's something shielding this gate, send me another five servitors" Omnia chirped back, via a neural uplink. "Yes, my love ♥"

Blackheart concentrated on the Gate, his shadow writhing and pulsing as he did. A tiny voice in his head, the demon Bezalel, shared an idea. What if we re-create this Way, and pass through that one instead? "You can do that?" The Captain responded in shock, seemingly talking to himself. I am older than the ground you walk on child, I can do many things. With a bit of power, and a little guidance from Bezalel, Blackheart opened a Quasi-real shadow of a Way, and the remaining three servitors took a defensive formation in front of the Captain, and stepped through the Way.

"Yeeellllooo, anyone home? I come, more or less in peace."

The psychoportation network was a passive system and the walls did fracture to the will of the umbralkind. Without a core gate the network hadn't an Id to defend itself with. The main difficulty as it stood was breaking in without being noticed. The tunnels were rarely unoccupied for long or too distant that others would not notice a change in topology. There was a distinct impression of passing two sets of four large swirling grey eyes. None too approving either. The perimeter had several sixteen-many Jinhai organized to carve out and shape extradimensional space for the new psi-forge. They kept the tunnels of the nearby sewers from listing in spacetime while the interior was fabricated to fill the void.

The outer layer was the first built and no void in it but that one stood on dead soil with empty pale trees of carbon structures. Though each looked like one that ought to be quite live with leaves that did breathe they served merely in whole as an apparatus of the interchange. Everything here, as good as a non-euclidean outer layer could define 'here', was an exercise in extra dimensional interfaces. This one designed more aggressive than the last. If one looked up at their tips the sky they joined with those of the opposing floor on the opposing side of the space. There was no sun in the distance but any piercing light from some hundred meters away where a captain looked back at himself in the distance of an insulating monosurface. Only the face was the subtle kind of mirror inversion one's mind would easily notice. Somewhere along that range one would see oneself though not always exact. At his current location he'd the shadows brought with him but shortly away from the quasi-real Way gate they appeared to die entirely within the muted glow.

The 'trees' were branches of a sensory construct that sampled the proxy space surrounding the inner layer. A simple creature easier to writ robust looking for curious abnormalities. None more curious than the captain and his umbralkind. A rustling complain creaked progressively from tilting leaves near him. Haze rising from the soil from the environment. That luminescent fog curls inexorably closer eager to excise a shadowy cancer ignorant of the humankind it was bound to.

At least until someone halted the protective layer's objection to the shadow creature given the offer of the Humankind it lived in. Several small pyramids shot from the ground nearby then raced about the area to take positions. Sybil phased in from the interior with several loud stumps from all directions. Turrets seen creeping forward in the proxy layer as a very tall humanoid figure walked closer. Some pointing toward him from a floor position behind a copse of trees that would otherwise put it out of view if not for the ceiling overlap.

She wore no boots but did wear a heavy blue brigandine apron of some fluidic metal. Auburn hair framing an expressionless burnished face with ratios of beauty arranged to specification by the calculations of an exacting overmind. The sides of her hips at each side of her apron had no evidence of clothing on her faintly bronzed skin though the faint glow marks of hot metal spatters badly losing a war of regeneration on her surface said it little mattered. As she closed the distance trees more small pyramids appeared from foliage and moved entire trees as much as the cooled metal fell away from her too then vanished.

Faint silvery patterns shone on her face as the silvery eyes of the first predator glare, "I do not make peace; I make war against all Aetherkind. What do you want, Humankind? While you are permitted in the fringe the Living Emperor does not take kindly to unknown persons drilling into his forges. Especially not one bound to Umbralkind. If you're looking for the humankind once here we built them a suitable space nearer to the surface."

The shadow might recognize the patterns as true names of strong shadows, demons, undead, and angels alike. The names of their immortal beings now nothing more than a marker. Souls broken and dismantled the hollow names could rise no more.

The man's shadow flared and moved around him, ignorant of prevailing light conditions.Nice place they got here, might make some good servitors out of these... things. Blackheart waved a hand in front of his angular face, as if to dismiss the notion. The demon was always thinking errant thoughts in the Captain's head. "Omnia, are you getting all this?" Static emanated from one of the servitors speakers, a garbled voice coming through. "Yeah, *crackle* it just litt-*crackle* static filled." The servitors were Necromantic abominations, outfitted with cybernetics, and made from many corpses sewed together.

"That's a shame, we'll have to export your personality next time, I think you'd love it in here. A spectacle of Magitech at its finest." The man stepped forward to examine his surroundings more thoroughly, boot-heels crunching slightly on the soil. The light dimming near his way was interesting to note, but he wasn't perfectly sure what to make of it, nor particularly concerned. A different servitor from before chirped out of it's speaker in Omnia's synthesized voice. "Ye-*crackle* taking samples *crackle* can for study." The Captain approached a nearby tree, and ran a black gloved hand over the bark, ignoring the fog that rose from it.

Someone's noticed our presence. They seem... whats the mortal word here... peeved. Ehehehehe... Bezalel's laughter resounded through Blackheart's head and he was slightly disoriented until Omnia's words brought him back to reality. "Oh em gee ~ *crackle* do you se-*crackle*-is? Well wo-*crackle* the trip. Going *crackle* make many advances." A woman phased in, the servitors stood in staggered line, making full use of their recording equipment to capture as much of the spectacle as possible for Omnia back on the Frigate.

A low whistle pierced the lips of the Captain as he admired the Giantess approaching him. The demon sounded in his head, Oh... Oh my... Her tattoos are quite tacky. Though, there's a few good ones on there, ones that deserved their quaint little fate. The demon's host could make out two or three true names of angels but didn't understand what the demon was getting at with 'tacky.' Is she wearing summoning sigils? His idle thought left as quickly as it came, and he re-adjusted his tricorn to look up at the newcomer, and her curious machinery.

The woman's speech pattern was interestingly unfriendly, however it became downright offensive. "Whoa! Wait, wait, wait. I am NOT bound to this FILTH! It's bound to ME!" For emphasis, he slammed a fist against his chest, creating a jingling noise as his concealed weaponry jangled together. "And I'll have you know, that in Wing City, it's traditional to greet your neighbors when they move in! The welcoming committee knocked," he waved an idle hand to the servitors in reference, "and it seemed like the door was open. So I came in, to say hello. Give a little to get a little here Miss! I doubt you bothered to note your presence with the proper authorities, cause i don't know if you know this, but 'The Living Emperor' isn't the proper authority in Wing City. So how about we start over? Hi, I'm Ex-Pirate King Captain Blackheart. You appear to have newly arrived on this... planet?"

Omnia chirped in, her voice coming from each servitor simultaneously creating a choir of a feminine voice. "The second squad of servitors have nearly landed and are ready to join you Captain ♥" To which the Captain responded, "No, no, no. Things aren't going to escalate here. Keep them on standby."

With that he stopped to remove his tricorn, the trinkets tied to it rattling as he shook it out and pretended to dust it off. "Therefore, it seems to me, making enemies would be against the wishes of this 'Living Emperor'? These creations of mine are loaded with explosives, just putting that out there. I doubt either of us wants to deal with that kind of, kaboom." His arms splayed wide, in an 'exploding' motion. "Is this Emperor your God? My God is the almighty currency." With that, Blackheart snapped his fingers and the Servitors produced HardLight shields, assuming a defensive posture around their master. "Perhaps we can come to a mutually beneficial agreement here. You seem to have scientific advancements and slash or organics I could use, and I think your little abode here is lacking a certain something." Bezalel giggled manically, a voice that could be heard audibly. "Kekekekekek, making a deal with the devil, are we?"

The gathered dust material was a quasimatter under active control of the demiplane. It reacted badly to containment by exomatter the patterns destabilizing to a luminous sludge and vapor. Luminous fog however actively evaded the prodding glove of a humankind dust of point-patterns circling instead by irritation of umbralkind in vicinity. The bark itself a psionic mirror playing back the tainted patterns of umbralkind it sensed in vicinity in voluminous detail.

Her eyes narrowed as shapes ambled through the trees, "We do not often react with hostility but your creature is bound loosely enough for us to consider you tainted. It will go no further even with your badly rekindled suicidal servants. Your impostor gate must be excised, however. I can see to your sudden egress internally when necessary."

Silver eyes considered him for a moment, "I am Sybil, forgemaster mada of Myrkul's Vein. Jinhai has rekindled enough of the city government they leave us alone and do not seek entrance. Much our limited first batch after breaking the bulwark by a shadow dragon. Then by demons. Then the shadow dragon, again. Then by humankind's internal strife. We do not care to involve ourselves in civil affairs or give out cookies to neighbors. The government's loss of servitors has dropped an order of magnitude since the facilities were constructed and lower infrastructures rebuilt. Myrkul's Vein serves Humankind as a whole not just the Living Emperor."

She looked at the shadow creature walking around as the gate behind them shuddered. Jinhai busily chewed away the vicinity of planar fabric it attached to from outside. Ground searing back together the gate's space warping away in a painful direction. The creeping fog did much the same to animate shadows. A caustic muted light of defensive construction that slowly disjoined eddies of shadow as its parts replicated into all available space. A hunter-seeker artifice that upon an encounter with shadowstuff disjoined and ground it down to vent the resultant digested aether away from the pocket dimension.

Dead eyed glowing celestials and a few slack-faced devils wandered closer to the murky location between trees. They moved fluidly but without their own agency. Just an apparatus for Sybil to control, now.

She raised a hand to halt them, "I'd be happy to give you the knowledge to learn how to excise this umbralkind's free will if you have the means to execute it. Aetherkind can also be made into mindless servitors for Humankind. As they all should be. Seeing as the umbralkind is tethered down it can't very well escape the procedure. Hollow eyes of an aetheric lobotomy would suit it quite well in submission to a humankind."

She gestures to a celestial's face nearby as porcelain in movement as color, "We do not serve deities or demons. Adolefactus dethrones and dismantles their diadem once contained. Nor do we care for money. We have our own resources. Amassing yours implies a preference between you."

The giantess was being, uncooperative to say the least, which was a foreign concept to the ex-Pirate. Usually people feared him enough, or at least were easily enough coerced with a bit of bluster, to make these sorts of dealing easier. He especially wasn't used to being called 'tainted' and the word was slightly upsetting. The way she was protecting the deeper corners of the vault certainly wasn't helping to dissuade him either.

"No cookies? So I came all this way for nothing?" Blackheart barked a laugh, taking his flask out of his inner coat pocket, and taking a long hard swig of the liquor within. "As far as civil affairs go, well.... Here I am. I'm afraid it's too late for you to try to keep out of it all now. The energy signature from this vault is, pardon my french, fucking massive. You're attracting ALOT of attention here."

Bezalel chimed in, out loud, much to the Captain's chagrin. "Shadow dragon? I wonder what would happen should we tear a rift to the Umbra? Do you think there are many umbralkind that bear a grudge against you? The Aether spilling into this Vault would keep your hands full long enough for us to poke around, do you think? Blackheart just sighed, thinking about just how loosely bound the demon was.

Omnia's voice crackled through one of the servitor's speakers, "Darl-*crackle* gate close-*crackle* reinforcements?" Soulless husks of Devils and Celestials approached, and the Captain clicked his tongue. "Naah, it's all fine Omnia. If it comes down to it, I think Heaven and Hell would make more suitable reinforcements."

Though Bezalel was unruly and rather annoying, the knowledge of past events, rituals, and secrets that it possessed were invaluable. "Sorry love, my living shadow may be an ass, but he's my ass. I'm afraid I like him with his own independent agency. As for binding extraplanar messes, I have it quite on lock, and find them more useful with their own minds so I've not the need to micro-manage. I'm terrible at that, can barely manage myself really." The Giantess that claimed to serve no deity, but also called herself the Forgemaster of Myrkul's Vein was really starting to cause issues.

The Captain produced a container of silvery flecks, a swarm of medical-grade femtite machines capable of dismantling and re-building matter at a quark level, eyeing them as he spoke. "Sybil... Did you know your name stems from ancient prophets from a world far from here? An Oracle at Delphi or something or other. Divine Counsel, it means... For someone who shuns divinity, you sure seem to be heavily tied to it... It is said Sibyl's only authority comes from God, from a Deity." The swarm buzzed in its cage, reacting to Blackheart's neuralink, as he continued to talk. "Time is money, and my time isn't cheap. I didn't come to this city for my health. I came here because this Vault registers almost throughout the entire gods be damned planet, and I'm not leaving empty-handed."

Sybil shrugged as the immaterium shifted quietly looking about as the misty forest agitated. A bad sign as the machine was more sensitive than herself to warp creatures. They tried to perturb the natural framework of reality just by existing. This synthetic monosurface far more obstinate a machine. The city needed a reinforced locale given how often these umbralkind loosed horrors for minor irritations or just murder for mild amusement.

The creatures stopped their advance as she just stared impassively, "My name was written on my urn. I don't care why the humankind named us that way we serve the Living Emperor by way of our Overbeing. Not the deities of Celestialkind. We're aware of how much this place attracts demonkind from the last one built before I arrived on plane. This time I had them correctly build this layer absent natural dimensional constructs. I leave the reality unconstrained and interfaced for politeness and to not be constantly resolving discontinuities cleanly."

She pointed at the sample, "Like what happens if synthetic planespace under maintained interfaces to natural ones enters the natural in an isolated natural glass vial."

One eyebrow raises at the portal slowly bending out of reality, "Speaking of. Jinhai, just format the remaining gate and vent the natural matter at the other end. There's been a warp shift and those filthy Chaos things aren't getting in. Exponential elemental layer resistance to interface proxies, close all native ingress interfaces, and destroy and reinitialize any altered zones not the current visitors."

A one-sided response to a query she added, "I'm aware of the resulting discontinuity."

The elemental planes iteratively turned bleak and too-smooth as servitors went to work. A short squall of ticking under this reality's nature observed in ceasing its passing of contact to the plane without. Natural energies still came but there was soon a distinct impression of reuse like recycled air's metallic taste coming from the shadow plane now as natural forces were 'reused' from a common pool. The faster one drew the harder it became to draw more as the pool no longer refreshed from without.

The remaining door blinked out of existence its locale in reality replaced in whole from a set image instead. Roughly cut native threads of reality detonate the leeward portal in the sewers a bleeding gash melting the bricks for tens of meters then searing itself shut. Inside such a thing far more regulated as footsteps in the dirt were quietly replaced with the original pattern of reality in a blink of energy at a rough polygonal bounding volume writing an interface. The flickers grew smaller along their path as ever smaller perturbations were unwritten.

Her steel-colored eyes moved but a little more than her face by narrowing them, "Fine, humankind. I have things to do and there's a disturbance in the warp. I don't have access to the Imperium's weaponry designs yet so what do you even want? I don't hold parties or have brunches with guests. I have things older than you and your pup to deal with similarly inclined to pillage, destroy, and maim and a forge that is not done yet even if I can still make some things. I will translocate you and your servitors across the boundary to a suitable location when you leave."

As Primordium left for the Mechanicus to see about enlisting help with a nexus for their transport network Mada Sybil left for the north. Many critical parts she and the servitors would have to make in the psi forge as the Mechanicum could not and that needed a place to deliver them for pickup. As well she bore gifts from long fruitful labor fit to defend a remote place such as this. Perhaps merely to further their endeavors on terra at least.

Clad in bright blue and yellow four air-inhaling engines threw bright plasma instead of gases. Its inner substructure of adamantine replaced with a unified ferroplasm layer. This made the ship itself a force weapon upon which one could also make a sanctuary. Though dangerous it may be to sit upon that gilded seat within the bridge and employ it such without preparation. A Mada a forge master as tall as any Astartes clad in her own armor sat upon it now. Her will its purging force to banish immaterium from its frame. As well to enter through it.

On the distant reaches of the location, a radar shadow appeared in a grey flare as it exited the warp. Engines in-atmosphere flare brightly as it propelled toward a new installation. Primarch Guilliman's edict to improve the Thunderhawks sparked curiosity in Myrkul's forge master and set to improving one as well. Unchained by Mechanicus doctrine but segmented from many of their secrets forced to improvise or reverse engineer broken husks observed by Jinhai. Instead to employ their own structures with growing understanding of the Imperium technology. The craft as whole perhaps complex to build a thing uniquely strong for its task to stand against Aetherkind.

She nodded to black suited space marines clad in crimson aquilla and navy fringes. They began a landing approach. These the Adeptus Interitus, of which were enough, but still very few. Plinth found those chaos marines taken unwillfully their souls judged redeemable. Though their passage one fraught with peril and the pain of her censer pounding out the Emperyan. Replaced with the light of the Living Emperor and calling forth the strength of rightful flesh. As their interim superior in lieu of the Emperor's word she served as their Primarch. The power armor rebuilt by her person and for some the only link to their humanity they had left. Until they earned back their chapter's right they bore no mark upon their shoulders.

A console at her side she opened a vox-channel seeking air control, "Imperium air control, this is Mada Sybil. Requesting landing permission we bear armory supplies from my forge. Praise the Living Emperor."

The continent of Lohap had been reinforced and newly fortified by the Imperium, what was once a small base surrounded by sandbags soon developed into a massive complex of fortresses all under the watchful eye of the Imperial Fists. This entire fortified continent could even resist an orbital bombardment with orbital defensive structures and entire defensive lines brimming with weaponry.

For the Guardsman on the ground, they picked up auspex reading of a ship coming in for landing, the codes read correct. It was Imperial in Origin. And it would seem Mechanicus in nature. “Attention Mada Sybil, this is Imperial Air Control. You are cleared for landing, Grace be upon the Emperor for your safe landing.” A Guardsman responded to the Vox Communicae as Guardsman near the landing pad began to stand at attention.

The craft proved larger than a Thunderhawk but a more aerodynamic design than much of that older stock. Retro-thrusters fired as it approached the pad landing gear seeming to deform its way through craters by slits in the armored fuselage. Legs struck concrete the shock common to it abated by what seemed solid metal spars flexing in purple sheen. No hydraulics to be seen but for the main lifting arm and hinges shown by their stiff ceramite layer.

Servos clicked and vreed as the front bolters quantified all targets nearby. Its auspex gear smooth and plentiful armored cameras attendant on all angles. If any present observant to such things something with witch-sight laid an emotionless eye upon them. The whole of the ship radiating a grey light a beacon darting to inspect nearby objects. Greyish foggy aura lessened as Sybil rose from her chair to leave. Still some remained a slight ticking left in the ear now that her aura no longer drowned it out.

The rear cargo door much the same as the landing gear opened with barely a whine and quite quickly for its thickness. Within crammed with as many crates as could possibly fit many of similar size. As the tall woman entered with visage as steely as her armor she grasped a single untethered crate. Samples of varied description and illustrative things she'd packed in particular. The plasma engines whine down as she leaves the ramp. The glow abated with a squip and spark that fused their armored thrust skirt together as if solid. Only the swirl pattern of angled ceramite tile indicated what it once was.

She stepped from the ramp said at the fortress view as Adeptus Interitus looked on, "Good, This place does well. The gate's parts must be well kept. Wing City is too problematic to keep them there for long."

Taller than the Guardsmen by far a face stern but unblemished spoke to a guard as she approached, "Humankind Guardsman, I require one qualified to receive weapons for the Adeptus Astartes. Also..."

Case heavier than four men could carry Sybil placed with ease to release the clamps with a clang. Within were assortments of small tripods writ with low gothic, weapons, an even a few elaborate-looking books. As well as several clips more suitable for the guardsmen's weapons than an Astartes. She picked up a folder of gilded mineral papers from a pocket in the lid among many others.

Flowing steel eyes focused on the same guardsman, "And enough for each page should demonstrations be required. They must be able to speak these short litanies in high gothic. Only one paper a person some minor practice may be needed to do more."

The papers displayed a ritualized depiction of equipment, vehicles, emplacements, or weapons containers. It was a thing of mechanics and logical understanding but for the human mind not the cogitator. As well a common litany for these things found suitable. Her pylons required a trigger to ensure enemies of the imperium could not easily summon them. Something easy to make familiar. The papers observed imparted a sense of approval or disapproval by observation and contact. The ferroplasm at their edges an active critical ear.

With the ships occupants leaving the modified Thunderhawk, the Guardsman would note that they were of course not Space Marines. But they did not seem to appear Machanicus in nature, but the things she was delivering and the correct litanies and rituals to appease the machine spirit for the gear they obtained...That was Mechanicum in nature.


With a nod, the commanding officer in charge of the Guardsman as he motioned for the quartermaster to begin loading the equipment on an awaiting loader. "Of course, consider each task done. And we will take proper care of the equipment you have given us noble Mechanicum." The commanding officer replied making the symbol of the Aquila and then the symbol of the cog as a sign of respect.

"My thanks for the supplies, we have not gotten a new route opened up to have supplies delivered given our current situation. However with your appearance we can finally contact segmentum command about sending supplies. A lot of ancient vehicles are still in service, but they certainly need tech priests to do the maintenance rituals."

Much of the crates taken away were full of beacons of various length. Others more complex things difficult to fabricate such as missiles and bombs. A few huge poles the lifters carried away in triads the size of a single long chest. One a small tapered edifice holes akin to many kinds of the Imperium's wrath. Spooled power cables and other sections clad in gearwork and white psistone. Parts of a whole assembly. All serialized according to their contents the book contained within her trunk.

Sybil nodded pointing at Gaurdsmen moving the apparatus parts, "My forge is not the the whole of Mars but it is not small. I can supply you as I am able from Wing city with what I brought with me. Should you need Jinhai servitors for simple repairs then breach the white urns. They can assemble the ammo lathe."

A finger tap to the bound book within her trunk looked down at the eclectic mix considering her options. She pulled out a set of large poles inscribed like the many being unloaded. A square bundle of five rows of five it picked up by handles on its spine. Set on its side removed one of the poles by lifing rows. Offered it to the guardsman the beacon came to his shoulder.

Book removed with her other hand stood up with the offered white beacon only to her hips, "I have seen the many ailing machine spirits, however. Some of which I can hear cry out. My creations are more empathic in nature than the demanding machine spirits with Cogitors."

Book in hand gestured to an open spot large enough, "You shall be the first to call a new Salamander then. I would test these first myself. Pull the base to deploy the legs and unlock the top to turn at the split a half-rotation. Soft chimes and glow show it as armed."

An eyebrow rose eyed the guardsman remembering Nuria's chiding to force a smile, "Then back away and cover your ears. A manifestation this size will be reasonably loud."

"Of course..." The Guardsman officer replied with a ting of confusion as he voxed the request for a Salamander for the Mechanicus use before stepping back and covering his ears as instructed. Leave it to the Mechanicum...They were wise, and knew how to operate and repair these machines like nothing, but of course they were always a strange bunch.

However, with the deliveries being moved out and a salamander arriving at the landing pad. "Sir, the Salamander you requested." The driver reported with a salute before quickly moving away to return to his duties.

Sybil raised an eyebrow and leaned the beacon back looking at the salamander as it arrived. It wasn't quite what she'd asked for but they'd hardy seen anything new in ages. Such was to be expected.

A critical steel eye goes over the Salamander a cursory inspection of its parts. Track rollers slightly angled, seals sounding compressed, And a strange sag in its frame as if something landed on it at some point. Perhaps repeated attachment to something. A sturdy thing she nodded at it then the officer.

Calmly she choked up on the beacon with one hand to say with no furrow in her brow, "Not what I intended, officer, but of my later interest and due comparison. Observe."

Beacon in a firm gauntlet grip racked the legs down folding out a tripod from faint seams in its construction. Book moved to under one arm for a moment to twist the beacon's ladder of plates concealing a operating head. Spiral torsion removed the litany aligned along flexing metal plates. Each now rigid folded out pairs at a half split. Brass clockwork exposed whirs and clinks in time. Along in time to the noise sparking electric glow pours from within. As it met the pattern remained solid.

The beacon armed but not yet deployed left a distant bass thrum in the ear. A tune in concert to the litany she'd encoded for it. Pointing to it she took one foot forward and hurled it near an open spot where no other machines lay. Book opened to just the right page placed her gauntlet upon the page. In it inscribed a litany in high gothic. The beacon quietly righted itself just before landing with a clank of each footing.

Rather than the harsh notes of the tech-priest's voice Sybil's a deep and cold sea enunciated High Gothic by pounding tides, {We are the ones that send the first rays of light. We are the ones that show our enemies to the Emperor's eye. Send us protection unto the darkest fields, our Emperor. May we lay thine eyes upon the enemy even if our dying breath; that your armies soon ensure it ever be the dark's turn to die.}

As she called out the litany in the old tongue the ground rumbled as a way gate formed. Unable to transit existing mass they'd decided on a more energetic option. Debris orbiting and hurling away the breezes swelled from gravitic stress an orbit growing to fit a Salamader. Pebbles scatter rocks hurl growing until she reached the last line. Psychic anchor of an individual having served its purpose.

Several inches from the landing pad a blink of an eye loosed a thunderclap and light on nearby ears. One of her newly manufactured manifolds instantly materialized on the target area. With some safeguards in place it would simply move any humankind obstructing metal to inside the new vehicle. Dumped midair to closest floor.

By the Emperor...Did that just happen? After the tech priest began her prayer, she summoned some type of thing from a bright flash of light and a loud crash of noise. The officer took his hands off his ears before speaking. "Well...I will return to the troops. Emperors blessings." He stated as he decided to get a move on leaving the normal guardsman to assist if needed.


That was rather unexpected, but for now he was going to let the Machanicum do what the Mechanicum did. And that was just go to work and do what they did.

Sybil nodded at the man saying simply, "I will leave the book here. Guardsmen may use the beacons they unload anywhere on Terra. The Interitus will train while we wait. No one is to cross their circle unless prepared to meet the wracked within the First Machine."

Book of litanies returned to the chest left it open as guard would watch it well enough. The spectacle about to come more a function of the name laid upon her by aetherkind, the Iron Maiden. Little to do with her form than her purpose far from combat. A being of fair power like Nuria had other functions than the purity of construction. A destroyer and warden of names.

A short vox to the ship said curtly, 'It will be some time before they empty both holds. I do not think these guardsmen are quite the fit to test this craft. It appears the worthy need drawing out.'

A voice responded from the bridge obedient if only respectful. Absent rank they obeyed only that she provided the possiblity for them to rejoin service to the Emperor. Primarchs as well busy with the diplomatic avenue she could not yet seek audience on their behalf. All eager to prove themselves capable rose to gather bolters and weapons racked within the bridge. Their power weapons gleaming with new manufacture.

The calm voice of an Astartes came in reply, 'As it should be, Sybil. Then we will arrive shortly."

Sybil closed her eyes hair drifting behind her as the air swelled around an outstretched fist. Spear materialized from the air took chalk from the trunk. Two lines of five Interitus soon dodge moving loaders to walk down the ramp. Foot set on land only by her direct invitation. She calmly knelt near an open area drawing a sigil for the center of the circle. As with it the egress wide enough the first machine could reach through. A warden creating a prison for its impassive interest to fold from the black storm. A tesseract for the damned with mouths that could not scream.

Stood to her feet raised her spear to slam it haft first at the center of the ward and called, "First machine, by right as warden to the broken I permit humankind to enter and to leave. The broken denied corruption or sickness to otherwise fight as they ought. By entrant failure known shall humankind be ejected whole their conquered rejoined."

The first machine an impassive thing fueling the black storm honored her word. Gears sprout from the circle a gunmetal brass as if frosted earth. Spreading in geodes of errant gears and spars cables without aim flail until connected. As the base grew a dusty deep grey ink erupted from the sigil immersing her hand whirling in place. A candle flame that curled and evaded her arm. Turning brass gears and assemblies a momentary flotsam in the grey ink. Sybil removed her hand leaving her spear to point from its tip far above. Tapering grey flame smoothed about the spear as gate revealed inner space. A craggy undercroft of sandy brickwork and holes with trundling gears far too deep. Passages nearby appear as if a piston could pull back brick work. Far beyond dark starless skies instead lit by buildings rising to flare electric stars instead.

Emotionless machination would prevent harm to humankind should they fail to prove their mettle. The pocket dimension a small thing compared to its larger calculation. Though she thought it likely to make any grossly unfit known. The first machine did not appreciate... incompatibility with purposes of wrath. Evaluating new parts of the Living Emperor was something it took to with rapid priority. An impassive quantification worked to ensure worthy odds. While as asked of it would not permit death the pain of injury, however, something different entirely. Those parts of wrath unfit to continue by dismemberment or bleeding ejected whole before they could die. Swords or claws of demons stopped just before beheading. A faint numb line of blue ectoplasm would ring the neck as flesh reappeared.