Prophesy of the Stars

When the Moon wanes in its light, we will only have the Stars to guide us.

The Moon will wane in its light when the Necklace is found. The Girl will find the Necklace and return it to the Stars and they shall be pleased, but the Moon will not be. The Moon will try to watch the Girl and the Moon will not find her so the Moon will watch the Stars.

The Moon and the Stars will shine their light upon the Forest. The Girl will follow the Light but she will fall and be unable to walk. The Stars will feel sad for the Girl and will help her walk and teach her how to shine like the Stars. The Moon will be angered further by the Stars actions and its light will become scant.

The Moon and the Stars will shine their light upon the Rough Waters, but the Rough Waters will swallow the remains of the Moon's light. The Moon will be cast down from the sky by the Stars and the Girl and the Moon will flounder in the Rough Waters. The Stars and the Girl will hide from the Moon in the Desert so they cannot be watched and they will not be found. The Stars will craft wings for the Girl and she shall ascend as an Angel and the Angel shall watch over what her light touches as the Moon had.

The Stars and the Angel shall reform their Order so their light will no longer be questioned. They will judge what is the Truth and never be wrong.

*1st person in Kauvlosk out of combat, 3rd person in combat
I sit upon my throne of living metal. It molds itself to my ever shifting positions. I am mildly uncomfortable even though it fits me perfectly. I have not seen combat for some time, and my hands are clean of blood. I watch my legion of flayed ones mill about the chambers of my corner of this plane of existence. I wish to be home on my tomb world. The one given to me by my lord Tsara’noga (The Outsider). When I went into stasis many millennia ago, he disappeared. I do not know if he was destroyed like Llandu’gor (The Flayer), the cursed C’tan whose curse has afflicted my people, or if he is out there somewhere hiding. I wish I knew, and I am hunting for him. I once again gaze upon my legion. I am disgusted with the way to wear their trophies over their twisted bodies, but, in the end, I too am one of them. My Overlord Gilutekh approaches me with adorned with his most recent hunt and blood smeared across his stained orange face. If I was capable of cringing, I would have at this moment. Behind him approaches Ilbist, the last lord in the Vazskphores dynasty. I do not remember what Ilbist was before being implanted in her body of living metal, but she has always been stern on being called a “she,” though I do not understand her fascination with the flesh of females. Taking their titles and applying them to herself has always made me feel uncomfortable. It is almost a compliment to the living. I gaze upon her most recent trophy. She had sliced a female officer perfectly down the middle and fashioned a sort of coat out of the unsuspecting imperial.
“M-m-m-my lord,” Gilutekh speaks suddenly, “Ilbist has found… a s-s-s-signal. We do not know if it. It. It is a shard of our l-l-l-lord Tsara’noga, but it. It. It is w-w-worth looking into.” He stutters in his speech, the gore adorned upon his wretched form obviously affecting his sanity and speech.
“Yes… my lord. It seems to be strong, though we can’t be certain,” Ilbist interjects. She was always a little stronger in her resistance to the Flayer Virus than Gilutekh, but she was younger and less experienced than he. Out of all of my legion, only Gilutekh, Ilbist, and I have a resistance to the virus, though once enough gore reaches our path, we too lose our ability to understand.
“Are you sure it is a shard… are you sure Tsara’noga was even split into shards?” I ask in as much of an interrogative tone as I can muster in my metallic shape.
“I… wish I was certain. But it could be a lead as to the whereabouts of our master,” Ilbist trys to dampen what she thinks will be anger.
“P-p-please lord… do n-n-not be harsh on I-I-Ilbist…” Gilutekh tries to suade me.
“Do not worry… I know you cannot be certain. It would be best to investigate this signal we are picking up on. I appreciate your attempts to find our master.” I stare into the dead eyes of Ilbist and swear I see some light flicker, though it was likely the glint of fresh blood. “Gilutekh… I need you to summon the legion here. I need you to gather them and herd them. It is most important.”
“My lord,” Ilbist interjects once again. “I also know that many sources of living are converging on this point. I do not know what it is or why it is there, but something is happening there. Something big.”
“Good. There will be another great culling of life. Many more trophies,” I stop midway through my speech. It is hard for me to finish. “To collect and display. It will be a most… pleasant addition to my palace back home.”
“I hope w-w-we find some t-t-t-tyranids… their carapaces make for g-g-g-great wall mounts…” Gilutekh states. He was always one for finding the best cuts of each hunt and fashioning great displays. I look up on my throne. A hive tyrant’s skull, the gore long since rotted away, hangs above me. A testament to my strength.
“If there is so much life converging… we can be certain more will join. And if there is not, there will always be… another day. We are patient… we can wait, can we not?” I ask Gilutekh.
“Always another d-d-day…” he turns to gather my army. I glare at his trophy again. It is so crude, and yet it holds some morbid beauty.
“Perhaps we should discuss how to take the origin of the signal, my liege.” Ilbist suggests.
“Not yet… I want some scouts sent in to see what we are dealing with, and I want you to personally pick the best ones to do it. I do believe we had some Deathmarks before the Flayer Virus hit us, and I’m sure that you can identify them. They surely will remember their techniques and hunting methods, and they will make for good scouts. That is your task. Go find the flayed ones who used to be Deathmarks and go find out what you can about this signal.”
“I would be… most honored my lord. I will go at once.” Ilbist turns and steps down before disappearing into the ranks of my subjects. I feel something inside of me light up. A passion for death. It always shows up when I know a great hunt is about to begin. I shift slightly to the left, and my throne accommodates me. I hope there is a lead on the whereabouts of Tsara’noga, for finding him will complete my existence. Until then, however, I must satisfy myself by becoming that which I hate most and collect my own trophies. If only the Flayer Virus had not hit my people. I wish them to become normal. I hope Tsara’noga can cure our curse, but even in that I am not sure. I have searched thousands of worlds, and still I have no idea where my C’tan is… though I am almost sure he is out there somewhere just waiting to be found.
With my advisors gone off to complete their tasks, it is only me and my thoughts. I thought back to the days before I would sit with the wretched husks of their former selves. As if they weren’t enough of a husk already. Normally the lesser layers of necrons awake first, though I was an exception due to the AI failing and causing me to be the first to awake on my tomb world, and my advisors awoke shortly after me. I would guess a mere one hundred years after me. They were so different then, and so was I. Before the virus contorted my undying warriors, Gilutekh was so much more fluent in speech. He could craft elaborate speeches, and my warriors hung onto his words with silent eagerness. I swear… when he spoke, I could almost see life in my necron soldiers. He would talk for hours and hours, and I would never tire of him. But… when he was inflicted he lost most his sense of what humor he had, though sometimes he pulled through. What life that energized him was no more. He craved the trophies almost as much as the average lumbering flayed one. It was… hard for me to accept his hands transforming into the great flaying knives that they are now. And Ilbist was once the greatest military genius I could have asked for. Her ability to coordinate assassinations and assaults would awe many of my fellow overlords. Some had even asked to borrow her assistance, but those days are past. Now she lumbers here and there, and she only retains her genius when the trophies adorned upon her body rot away. I too was once different. I once tried to force my legion to new heights. I was strict and hostile. Now that I think about it again, I was a very unpleasant overlord even by necron standards. But now I watch my legion drag their malformed bodies around while I sharpen my fingers. I try to keep my form as clean as I can, for it clears my conscious. It is hard to keep the gore away from yourself when you have a thousand gore adorned minions always moving up and down. They brush against you leaving streaks of blood. I try to forget how this curse came here, but once one of my warriors caught it, everyone around him changed.
Gilutekh returns to me. If I could smell, I might be repulsed right now. “What do you require Gilutekh. I thought you had a task.”
“M-m-my most b-b-beloved lord. The f-f-flayed ones are n-n-not respond-d-ding. They are… most unorthodox.” Gilutekh’s old self shines through his disgusting new form with his last word, but I am most displeased with this news. Ilbist was off scouting whatever it was that was producing this signal, and I expected my warriors to be ready. I think a bit before remembering that they are flayed ones, and they listen when they want to.
“Do not worry Gilutekh. Let them relax and they will listen if they will. If you cannot calm and have them listen, then just let them be.” I tell my assistant. Gilutekh of all people should know how to handle these creatures, but I let it slide.
“Very well m-m-my lord. I will l-l-let let them be for n-n-now.” He turns and walks away. That was a waste of my time, but I have plenty of time to waste. I waste it rambling and throwing my thoughts against the wall. Rambling and thinking like I am now. It comforts me in my distress. The pressure of the flayer virus stresses my body. If I am to lead then I must look a leader, but it is hard to appear the part when your body twists and hunches over. You begin to blend in with your subjects. Ah… it’s been so long since I have tasted what one might call normal. Rambling again I see.
“You’re worthless.” I tell myself. “Why are you here?” I would have sighed right now if I was capable, but my form does not allow me to. It doesn’t not allow me to do many things like quench my bloodlust. “This situation I have is… most… vile.” I shift again as my throne slowly adapts to my body. Waiting for those around me is most… boring. I sit and wait… and I sit. And I wait more. I slowly watch my brothers’ trophies rot until they leave in search of more…. gore. I am most tired, but I do not tire. I lay awake forever watching. I have seen many days go by. Years even. As the time passes I wait for Ilbist to return from her mission. I truly desire to know if the signal is a shard or a clue to the potential whereabouts of my lord. A figure passes me. I stand, though I look hunched and ancient. I have not worn a skin in years, so my twisted plates of ornate symbolic armor glisten in the odd lightings of this plane. The deep orange figure approaches me, and it is hard to tell whether or not it is Ilbist or not, but she speaks.
“My lord. I have confirmed not what the place is, but that the signal is most important. If it is not a shard or clue, it is something of equal importance that I have not discovered yet.” Ilbist does what bow she can in her legs double jointed legs. It flatters me a little, but I must know what has happened.
“Did you find anything of… importance other than the signal, and how many flayed ones did we lose?”
“Nothing else, just a lot of living to cull and trophies to be had. And we lost no flayed ones. The flayed ones that used to be deathmarks were superb in stealth, and we were undetected.
“Good. I am pleased with your work Ilbist. Prepare for a great harvest.”
“With pleasure my lord… I am most thrilled.” I would have laughed at this point. Ilbist knows I would have too. She has a knack for that sort of thing. She has a gift for understanding things that most could only dream of. “Perhaps we should plan something?” She is eager. I know she is. She wanted to find a pretty pretty officer to carve up and fashion some disgusting new coat. I know that once battle came, I’d probably find myself wearing some random man whose face looked decent. I feel my body twist a little in what probably replaced a shudder. I decide to humor her.
“I suppose we should.” I walk over to a table like object that has nothing on it. It is clean and fresh and ready for planning. “What have you learned?”
“I learned that a second necron force is there... though what and why is beyond me. I know they are there. I know that there are three places of possible conflict. That is all.” Ilbist would have smiled. I know it. She is always proud of herself.
“I see. I think we should postpone any actual planning until we know a little more? I know you are eager, but we need to know more about this place until we arrive. Flayed ones have little regard for safety, so we must be careful.” Ilbist stares at me with her cold dead eyes.
“Yes my lord… I. I see.” She is disappointed as she should be. I know she saw a target while she was out scouting for me. She doesn’t press the issue any further. She knows my word is final. I pity her. If only she knew.
“Worry not Ilbist. Your time will come. First we need Gilutekh to round up our army.” Ilbist perks up at the word army. She was my military advisor after all. She is very intelligent, though sometimes she forgets that.
“Should I check on Gilutekh my lord?” Ilbist almost pleads it seems.
“I suppose you should. Gilutekh should be among the rest of the flayed ones, though you might not find him. His trophy is just as crude as the rest.” I wave her off, and she goes off to complete the mundane task I gave her. She’s a special one, I will give her that. I try to sigh again, though after a millennia of being awake, I should know that I am not able to. Gilutekh approaches me and tries to bow. “Do not worry Gilutekh. Let’s talk.”
“Yes m-m-m-m-my lord?” Gilutekh utters. I notice he has a fresh trophy again. He can’t go very long without new trophies. I know that as a truth. “What d-do you n-n-need from m-m-m-me?”
“I just want t-” I feel my mind rattle a little as blood from Gilutekh’s fresh trophy puddles at my feet. “I want to talk to you. I want to see if you can still speak like so long ago.” I know he can’t, but it is entertaining to see him try. I know he wants to go back to the good old days.
“Well m-my lord if y-y-you insi-si-sist.” I heard a rattle in his metal ribcage to mimic something of clearing his throat. “G-g-go on y-y-you t-t-tin cans. The C-C-C’tan didn’t b-b-less you with immortality for n-n-n-no reason. Fight you f-f-filthy scrap. Y-y-you disgust me you vermin.” He starts to point his knife-like fingers towards me to mimic pointing at his troops and giving orders. His body starts to quake under the pressure of him trying to think too hard.
“You can stop Gilutekh. It was most pleasing. You have not lost your touch too much.” Once he stops, his body calms down. He returns to his normal state. “It appears that a great battle is about to happen, and I want in on this.” I say to my advisors. “It is going to happen, and I hope you’re both ready.” I look at the table like object. “Now… here is what we are going to do…”