The Song of the Warp

The Fedelitas Lex hurtled through the warp. The screaming souls of the damned reached out with unreal hands, causing the Geller field to flicker and spit desperately. Daemons swam through the sea of emotions that was the hell behind reality, the immaterium, the warp. Within the mighty ship, white faced serfs clenched their fists in nervousness and fear. At any moment, the fields could fail, and their souls would be torn screaming from their bodies by the madness of chaos.

Nightmares seized those that slept, driving them to finding means of keeping themselves awake, anything to avoid the blood soaked visions of the “night”. Time ceased to exist as a concept. What was time in madness? They could emerge from the warp ten millennia in the future, and only a week would have passed for them.

Argel Tal, the broken son, strode through the empty halls of the Lex. The daemon wrapped around his soul slept peacefully. Argel Tal could never rest. He had seen the hell behind reality, and such knowledge had split his soul in half. Now, he was a monster. He had failed and betrayed his brothers, and lost the only mortal he had ever cared for. All he had was a madman with a pain engine in his skull, and the daemon that called his body home. He was forsaken, the only pure Gal Vorbak left within the ranks of the seventeenth legion, the Word Bearers. The rest were all half breeds, barely worthy of the name. He was blessed by the gods, and they were not.

Argel Tal rarely left his chambers. There was nothing worth leaving his chamber for. He was content to sit and meditate. To be left alone in silence, resigned to his fate. He would die at Terra. That was what Raum, the daemon, had told him. He would die beneath the shadow of great wings. He would be felled by the blade of Sanguinius. Did it matter? In the face of the warp, did anything truly matter? All mortals could hope for was to live until death, some entertainment for the laughter of mad gods. Nothing mattered.

Lorgar, primarch and father of the seventeenth legion, had summoned him. Argel Tal was loyal, and would never disobey. Thus, he left his chamber for the first time in weeks, and strode through the halls of the floating fortress. He made his way to Lorgar’s chamber. Lorgar, likewise almost never left his chambers, save for battle. Rather, he would sit and study the warp, learn more about the pantheon and focus upon how the Emperor had betrayed them all. The Emperor, denying the existence of gods in a universe filled with them. Such deceit! Such heresy!

Lorgar’s chamber was circular. Its roof was a clear dome that gave him full view to the madness and glory of the warp. Argel Tal took some time to observe it. It was a sea of faces. Screaming, weeping, laughing in madness, twisted with rage. Hands clawed at the dome, twitching as if in agony. Massive shapes of behemoth daemons, malignant creatures of pure energy prowled the sea of souls. Nightmarish, decayed colors of red and purple danced with a malignant light. To look upon it was to invite madness and sickness. It did not matter to Argel Tal. He was already mad.

Dabbed upon the walls and floors of the chamber were strange an alien symbols of the pantheon. Eight pointed stars seemed to glow with dark energy. The all seeing eye of Tzeentch seemed to follow all movement, boring into the souls of those it alighted upon. The mark of Khorne seemed to radiate hatred and blood thirst. The sigil of Slaneesh seemed to give off pleasure in its barest and most primal, sickening form. Nurgle’s mark gave off the scent of plague and decay. All reeked of madness.

In the center of it all stood Lorgar Aurelian, his head tilted to stare into the warp in all of its insane glory. Lorgar mirrored the Emperor like a statue mirrors the man that it is based on. His golden, patrician features were interlaced with tattooed words and scriptures. Once used to worship the Emperor, who Lorgar had once viewed as a god, the words were now directed in worship to the pantheon. His black eyes were wide open, and he appeared serene. If he were not standing, Argel Tal would think him to be dead.

“Father…?” Argel Tal’s voice echoed unnaturally through the chamber, highlighted with a strange duality that was owed to the daemon.

“Ah, Argel Tal, my son, it is good to see you,” Lorgar sighed before turning to Argel Tal.

“You summoned me father?” Argel Tal cut straight to the chase. His primary voice held confusion, the daemonic undertone only held suspicion.

“Yes, my son, I did. Are you aware of the song of the warp?”

“You have told me much regarding it father, but I have never heard it myself,” Argel Tal blinked. This was not what he had been expecting.

“Ah,” Lorgar breathed softly, “I see. The song of the warp describes the entire existence of the immaterium. Everything has its place, everything must fall into the harmony of chaos. This may seem a contradiction to you, but even in chaos, everything has its place.”

“You have told me such many times, father.”

“Indeed. Every life that ends or is brought into being is part of the music. Every world is part of the choir. There is one world that troubles me. It does not fall into the rhythm. It is too peaceful, too innocent, unlighted. This disturbs the song, renders the choir impotent. For our crusade against the Imperium to succeed, the song must be perfect. This world must be made to sing. There are two ways to bring this about. We can corrupt the world, or we can kill it. Either will work.”

“What do you wish me to do, father?” Argel Tal’s biological voice held obedience, the daemon sounded eager to kill.

“At this point, Argel Tal, I will leave this up to you. We will be pulling out of the warp soon.”
As if on cue, the monotone, metallic voice of a servitor rang through the bowels of the ship, “Warp breach in ten seconds. All crew members brace.”

Over a planet known simply as Epona, a portal of sickly red and purple light opened. It bathed the world in a necrotic glow, sickening all who gazed upon. As one, hundreds of the world’s psykers screamed out in agony as the madness of the warp entered their minds. The Fedelitas Lex emerged from this massive tear in the fabric of reality, trailed by the insane laughter of the warp’s denizens.

Lorgar smiled, “Go, Argel Tal, my greatest son. Make the song whole again.”