Longtime Dakkanaut
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Greetings, here's a little fluff contribution. This takes a slightly different road to some of the other stories concerning the lost Primarchs but I believe it to be a good story. Obviously it is non-canon and just an idea. any C&C welcome.
The Lost Primarchs.
Names: Bellephon and Telekon
Respective legions: The Olympic Lions and The Rampant Tigers. [Subsumed into the under strength Emperors Children and used to replace casualties from Most notably the World Eaters, Iron hands and Imperial Fists.]
The aide Marcus Encephaline stepped hurriedly to keep pace with the tracked Scrivener, his master was prone to talk at vast length while he briskly strolled the great halls of the imperial palace, especially after the cocktail of stimms he was prone to indulging in. As the lord came to the conclusion of yet another diatribe concerning the heretics of the Damocles Gulf the entourage reached the great temple of the Primarchs. The young aide could not help but crane his neck and gaze upon the likenesses of the mythical demi-gods of war. The marble path was Arcaded by 18 plinths each one holding a facsimile, in stone, of the sons of the Emperor. The young aide ignored those of the 18 that had been veiled in black as it was regarded bad luck to acknowledge the traitors. Whenever the party came to the end of this corridor of power Marcus could never help noticing a 19th smaller, empty, plinth set in an alcove just beyond, all he could ever gather from his hurried glances were the numbers 2 and 11...
Marcus was a shadow of his former self, years in the furthest stretches of the Imperium and consorting with the worst of folk had took their toll but now he would finally find the answers he sought. When the sorcerous libraries of Prospero were torched by the ever vigilant Leman Russ some portion of it's foul contents escaped. It was one such tome that the once imperial servant held.
Finally able to translate Marcus started to read from one of the books of Horus....
+++Though I was not present at the meeting that occurred between my Father and his two forgotten sons I have gathered together a fair account of the tragic tale. The ordeal had clearly left a mark on the conscious of my Father and I had to know for myself what transpired.
The world of Ayesha was an ancient colony of mankind surrounded by derelict space stations and vast crippled battleships from the dark-age of technology [This is curious as it appears no alien incursions have occurred in this system, however some of the ships are of an unknown design -H.]. Though by no means a paradise the hardy folk of Ayesha lived an honest existence untroubled by the forgotten wars that once ravaged their system. It was here on this Planet of little ambition that not one but two of the Primarchs landed.
The people of Ayesha were used to debris falling from the sky and would often secure materials for trade from what they found. It was also common that escape pods would land, having hung in the system for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. To chance upon one of these pods was a more sombre occasion, and dutifully the humble humans of this insignificant world would bury the terrified frost-eaten corpses of those they contained. A husband and wife thought they were about to do just this when they spied two capsules on the edge of their homestead, imagine their surprise when on prising them open they found two infants looking up at them with pleading eyes. Being childless the couple happily adopted the babes and set about raising them as their own.
As the boys accelerated growth kicked in the couple realised with heavy hearts that these children were meant for something more. The lads were christened Bellophon, which means 'Son of the Mother', and Telekon which meant 'Son of the Father'. The boy they named Bellophon grew into a loving empathic son who also had an affinity with the beasts of burden which they grazed on the meagre pastures, the other, Telekon, was altogether different. Often when sent to the market towns to sell their wares Telekon would return with vast quantities of Currency. These he had won in Pit fights and ridding other Homesteads of the Metal beasts that still occasionally attacked the farmers [These 'metal beasts' seem to crop up again and again in tales from the lost colonies -H.]. Although the couple were grateful for the money they were always quick to warn Telekon that violence was not the answer to all problems and that using his obvious advantages for profit was wrong. The young men had obvious differences but still loved each other as had been taught by their proud foster parents.
When a strange traveller moved from town to town searching for a great hero all those he asked spoke of Telekon and his amazing feats, how he had bested twelve Cyber-gladiators at once and drunk 5 barrels of grain alcohol in one sitting. When tales of the strange traveller reached the couple they knew that their sons were to leave them soon, Bellophon, sensing his parents sadness asked them what was troubling them, they told him the truth that they were merely loving guardians and always new their sons would one day leave them. Bellophon understood perfectly and embraced his foster parents, the family then resolved to break the news to Telekon, but as fate would have it, the Stranger suddenly appeared outside their dwelling.
With a booming voice he requested the presence of the one named Telekon. The family assembled outside, immediately the foreigner and Telekon recognised each other. To test his son in single combat, the Stranger issued a challenge, 'Prove Yourself worthy to claim your destiny!'. In response to this Telekon did something not even the Emperor of Mankind had expected, from his clothes he pulled a gun and shot his two parents dead, 'You held me back you wretches! You never told me the truth of my inheritance!'. Witnessing this Bellophon leapt upon his brother, it is rare for the Emperor to be surprised twice in a year let alone twice in as many minutes, so imagine his shock as he gazed, transfixed, on a teary eyed Bellophon throttling his superhuman brother to death. Still paralysed by the shocking events that had just unfolded the Emperor watched the sobbing young man crawl towards the corpses of his parents. As the lad gathered his parent's remains in a loving embrace the Emperor Recognised another of his sons. [And now I see why my father did not want this tale known to the rest of us, In a way I do not resent his decision]+++
The apocryphal histories had spoke of the fate that had befallen the lost two being worse than those of the Excommunicate Tratoris. Having read this entry Marcus could see why, no whispers of corruption had tainted or lust for power transformed these men. Marcus resolved himself to complete this mission that had so far claimed his life...
The grey planet loomed large in the vis-screen of the Arvus Lighter. The LHGT457 system was not often visited being of little strategic or resource importance. Marcus was glad to be in the lander, the astropath and navigator's incessant crying of the last few hours had become unbearable. The retro-thrusters started to whine as the ship entered the lower atmosphere. There was a familiar thud as the Arvus made planet fall. Within minutes Marcus was treading on the soil of what was once known as Ayesha, the Auspex showed that he was less than two kilometres from the Psychic Locus. He treaded carefully, Marcus felt as if he was stepping on hallowed ground, considering this planet's importance in his life this was not innaccurate. Within minutes he started to hear the low tortured sobbing. The noise cut through the storm winds and sounded clear in the enviro-suit. He stopped navigating by the Auspex and continued on by ear.
The source of the sorrow was eventually revealed, a kneeling human, as Marcus Encephaline moved closer to the emaciated shape he started to less hear the crying than feel it. The last few steps were horrendously difficult as Marcus felt the weight of sorrows that were foreign to him as keenly as his own. With one last effort Marcus crumpled next to the wizened form and reached out to grab it's hand, after what seemed like a miserable forever, the being took the out stretched hand.
No words just understanding, no communication just knowing. 'You are right Marcus, 10,000 years is long enough to grieve, There is much that needs to be done'...
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