Warhammer: Start with a dog.
Chapter 583 Don’t weigh it ah ah ah ah
Chapter 583 Don’t weigh it ah ah ah ah ah
There are two pieces of news in Great Macragge recently. The first is that the Chapter Master of the Ultramarines, the Lord and Protector of Macragge, the widely beloved Master Maneus Augustus Calgar, needs to rest due to illness. All chapter affairs are temporarily led by Chief Think Tank Varo Digris. Among the Ultramarines, Second Captain Cato Sicarius also abruptly announced his rest due to illness and withdrew from everyone's sight.
However, this piece of news, which would normally be of considerable weight and would definitely trigger more than one turbulent coup or political struggle in the sub-star region, did not cause even a single splash this time and was quickly forgotten by everyone.
Because another piece of news sent out by the Ultramarines at the same time was too dazzling and attracted all the attention of others:
The God-Emperor's own son, Robouti Guilliman, who has been sleeping in a stasis shrine for nine thousand years, is the only loyal Primarch still alive that the Imperium knows of.
Has returned like a miracle.
This shocking news exploded in Macragge and its surrounding star systems, and then spread like wildfire across the Five Hundred Worlds and even the entire Far East star region.
More citizens of the Empire began to flock to the Macragge system and its surrounding areas. Countless pilgrims cried for joy and spent all their money just to witness the great glory of the God-Emperor's son from afar. Some were even willing to spend a large sum of money to get the honor of kissing the ground where the God-Emperor's son had walked.
The churches of the State Religion had never received so many voluntary donations before, and the bishops, priests and missionaries were equally excited. They spit and shouted at the top of their lungs, praising the mercy of the God-Emperor and the greatness of the Primarch, as well as the promise of salvation made in his name for even more people.
The power released by a good nephew who worked for his uncle and relieved his old father in the warp was so pure and bright that even the most bloodthirsty Khorne Daemon paused for a second, and then they began to fight each other more frantically - just because the skull of such a powerful sorcery user was worth fighting between them to decide the winner's chance to hunt him, and placing such a trophy beside the brass throne was enough to make the lowest mortal murderer directly upgraded to the height of a demon prince by the blessing of the Blood God himself. Khorne himself offered a reward for the skull of Julius Robert Omar - of course, this reward also included a more advanced one, that is, whoever can make this wizard willingly use only melee weapons to make a perfect kill and dedicate it to Khorne, then Khorne will permanently give him the position of the first Daemon under his seat. At the same time, several old opponents of the Blood God were not to be outdone, and they made new moves in their own turf.
Nurgle's Plague Garden is now bustling with people, jumping Nurgle spirits, newly built Plague Crucibles and poisonous phosphorescent fires everywhere. Surrounding them is a scene of bustling work. The Great Unclean Ones are also competing for jobs, and they look down on the crude behavior of the Khorne Great Demons - it's too unfriendly! Fighting each other for jealousy and snatching the favor of their master really can't reflect the unity and friendship of colleagues. The loving father definitely doesn't want to see this. Therefore, everyone is not rushing to catch up with the progress of refining plague for the loving father's bounty, but because of the love for the loving father and the fact that they will reflect the depth of this love in the Plague Demon Ranking List, they work so hard! Compared to the beasts of Khorne's family who can only fight and kill, this is really a paradise! Therefore, for the sake of the poor little Mortarion who is always depressed, they will try their best to impress his brother Guilliman with various gifts and let him come to the garden to accompany Mortarion!
In the Silver Palace, the light footsteps and soft moans of Slaanesh dancers and maids echoed behind every living pillar and every gauze curtain of the luxurious palace. Everything here revolved around a never-ending feast of pleasure. At the top of the banquet, the one who was circling his plump snake body with his concubine Enkali and enjoying himself was none other than Fulgrim, who had been decadent and enjoying himself here for ten thousand years. The beauty who was leading the dance at this new banquet he was hosting had double horns on her head and two hooves on her feet. Her long silver curly hair was entangled in the misty gauze around her graceful figure. This was none other than Fabius Bile's daughter, Melusine who shuttled through dreams. This banquet was so enjoyable that even the pure and dazzling light of destruction that illuminated the demon realms failed to attract much of his attention. Only the sudden news from the Dark Prince himself brought Fulgrim back from his trance of body and spirit, and he drank several jugs of the wine of childish despair, the tears of the innocent, and the bitterness of betrayer's loyalty. He then asked for his weapons to be taken up and for him to be dressed in the most cheerful and indulgent armor, for he could not wait for the good news from his "envoy" to Macragge and the opening of this wonderful drama.
As the Demon Prince of Tzeentch, Magnus of the Sorcerer, who enslaved the Thousand Sons who failed to escape and collected more refugee or plundered psychic slaves and forcibly transformed them into his own slave children, the other three foolish brothers who believed in equally unintelligent gods only needed to eat, drink, fight and kill. As the most wise and far-sighted helmsman in the Ocean of Souls, he, Magnus of the Sorcerer, had a lot to consider. For example, when he heard the news now, he would only smile mysteriously: this news was already in his control. No matter which path he took, whether it was Guilliman in a mortal body or the Primarch Guilliman, he would not be able to escape the fateful trap he would set for him on the road of destiny, and this trap would push Magnus' prestige and power to a whole new level - he had already noticed some clues about the "fragment" that stole part of his authority. It was really a reversal of the guest and the host, and it was a rebellion! This time, he would retrieve and capture and devour his disobedient soul fragment, and then get his hands on Guilliman - ha! Soon! Magnus would become the true King of Kings, and even the man on the Golden Throne would be unable to stop him, but could only sigh at him!
Of course, the flames of war and frenzy in the warp are now surging more violently than usual, but the gods looking down from outside the endless sky have reacted in unison but differently: on the one hand, they order their great demons and demon armies to prepare to invade the real world and other people's demon domains to prevent the other side from launching a surprise attack while on the other hand, they each secretly send their most anthropomorphic confidants to the Wandering Port in the Calixis sector to "take a look at the situation before taking the next step."
----------
It was breakfast time when Hong Suo walked into the cafeteria of the Iron…Destiny Iron.
As the Chief Potion Master walked into the cafeteria with a tired look, droopy mouth, deep dark circles and bags under his eyes that could not be covered by medical goggles, an oily face, an unshaven beard, and precarious scalp follicles, and it was obvious that he had taken too much Reka coffee and powerful energy-maintaining potions, the originally cheerful chatting, cursing, spitting, swearing, confessing, duel invitations, and eating sounds suddenly stopped like magic.
In the eerie silence and the intersection of various complex gazes, the master pharmacist, who now had to work overtime all night and come to the cafeteria to get his meals in person, was unaware of anything and sleepwalked through the cleaned trenches and barbed wire until he came to the breakfast window.
"A double double espresso Reka coffee," he muttered, his eyelids beginning to droop, but his special physiological mechanism allowed part of his brain to continue functioning when other parts shut down, "and a takeaway, and two... no, three servings of super amino acid caramel protein pudding, the richest kind, topped with the sourest orange vitamin syrup, and then two servings of ATP concentrated devil hot sauce on toast with multiple minerals and metal powders, thick cut, with more ATP hot sauce, yes, and one serving of primitive soup without sugar but with more mustard."
The person standing closest to him was a member of the Tenth Company, who made way in awe for Master Honso, who continued to sleepwalk towards the Apothecary's laboratory with the tray of food, which was considered heavy even among Space Marines.
After the alchemist's back disappeared behind the cafeteria's adamantine door engraved with a magic circle, the noisy discussions in the cafeteria began to buzz again among the Astartes who were eating.
"What do you think happened to him? Did he encounter a warp navigation nightmare?"
"You're kidding me. A warp-travel nightmare aboard this great ship? You might as well say the Tyranids are starting to trouble you on Holy Terra."
"That can't be caused by too much work pressure and overtime. The port's epidemic prevention has been on track recently. There is no need to monitor it 24 hours a day. The first batch of recruits hasn't arrived yet. Doesn't he have any special work recently except helping to hunt down those illegal immigrants?"
"Hey." A battle brother who had just finished his guard duty squeezed in. Judging from his face and other features, he should also be a young man from the 10th Company. "I heard that he is like this because he feels that someone is trying to harm him every day. He feels cold on his back and has goose bumps every day, which seriously affects his limited sleep. But he doesn't know why this is happening. He has tried many ways but can't get rid of it. Even asking Lord Ramizarn for help is of no avail..."
“…Oh…?” Someone who knew a little bit about the situation started to snicker, “You deserve it…”
"What? Is that the reason I heard? Then this is really..." "This may be true! My brother in Medusa told me..."
"Do you have any new news?"
"Yes, of course! You know, our chapel..."
----------
"How are you feeling today?"
Hongsuo walked into the Chapter Master's office and ward and greeted the Iron Lord who was sitting beside him. He then walked to Ramizarn who was leaning against the head of the bed, wished him good morning, lifted his quilt, and began to check the recovery status of the tall but fragile Primarch's mortal body today.
"Hmm... I feel like the side of my ankle is still slightly swollen, and it still hurts at a certain angle or when I walk a few more steps. I mean, is it possible that the joints are a little dislocated? Or is this my illusion... Aa ...
"Hmm." The master pharmacist frowned and put down the ankle of the primarch he had just pressed. "There is indeed still a little edema at the end of the bone, and the aseptic inflammation has not completely subsided. But you said it still hurts? How is that? Even if it is possible that the flesh is very close to that of a mortal, it shouldn't be so fragile..."
The master of alchemy then carefully examined and tested the ankles of the whining Fourth Primarch, including but not limited to causing Ramizarn to make various howling noises during the process, causing Perturabo BC, who was working nearby, to frown, show his fangs, and flap his tail in displeasure - as if in the illusion camouflage he wanted to slam the master of alchemy and his troublesome son into the wall several times.
"My medical plan and treatment are perfect!" The pharmacist finally concluded. He frowned and asked, "Did you do any extra exercise instead of staying in bed and taking good care of your ankle as I told you to do?"
"Uh... well..." Ramizane's eyes began to wander, "You know, there are some activities we can't avoid."
The master pharmacist stared at the person on the bed without any courtesy or concession.
"...It is necessary to accompany Perturabo every day... And you see, you have to accompany Magna... Pallas..."
"...How can you recover if you don't follow the doctor's advice? Don't forget how fragile you are now!"
The master potion master's forehead was full of blue veins of dissatisfaction, and he snorted coldly.
"I'm going to give you some physical therapy."
Then, a burst of extremely tragic howling came from the office where there were no guards left and only Iron Ring Robots were on duty.
--------
Port Wander's security patrol has recently reported three strange incidents:
Event 1: In the latest ship flight arriving at Wandering Port, the Unliving began to be frightened and unable to move as soon as they stepped on the ground of Wandering Port and saw the bright and powerful neon lighthouse in the distance. The guards have annihilated or captured at least eleven different Unliving, including but not limited to demons from the Silver Palace or the Six Rings.
Event 2: A mysterious vigilante has recently started to stir up trouble in Wandering Port. A masked warrior and his companions, both good and evil, travel through the main area of Wandering Port, helping civilians get rid of illegal problems that occurred when the patrol team failed to arrive in time. However, they seem unwilling to face the patrol team head-on. Now, the security guards are paying close attention to and hunting them down.
Event 3: A strange disease or accident began to spread in the Roaming Port area, including but not limited to "falling on the ground", "falling through the air", "falling by stepping on air", etc., which seriously affected the production and living order. Security guards and Roaming Port are tracing the source of this plague.
(End of this chapter)
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