+++DATA EMBARGOED BY INQUISITORIAL ORDER+++
+++INQUISITOR CAULDER, ORDO HERETICUS +++
+++TRANSMISSION INTERCEPTED ON ROUTINE SWEEP+++
+++MAGOS STEIN+++ADEPTUS MECHANICUS LISTENING STATION LAPIS PROXIMA+++
Hwaet* my kin for this, is the first slate of the Dammaz Kron** carved anew in the fire of betrayal and tempered in the cold fury of our endurance. Listen and remember.
+++ * TRANSLATES FROM ARCHAIC AS ‘LISTEN & ATTEND’ +++
+++** TRANSLATION UNAVAILABLE, DEVIANT DIALECT SUSPECTED +++
Once, our people came to the core in search of worlds to colonise and found great wealth and hardship bound together like ore bound into stone, but we adapted and endured. Sundered from the ancient homeworld, we prospered despite the attacks of the Ork and the duplicity of the Eldar until the Imperium came. As kin long sundered and returned beyond hope, we embraced them with open arms.
That embrace was one sided as the Aquila took our wealth and levied our youth for their armies with promises of protection and fellowship but always there were the slurs. Stunty. Abhuman. Rotundus. Squat. They thought us less than them, little better than mutants, only spared the purges of the Inquisition because of our wealth and isolation.
When the time came to defend our worlds, where were the Imperium? Where were the Imperial Guard who had drafted our kin? Where were the Astartes sworn to protect? Where were the warships of the Imperial Navy who had been so keen to take deliveries of our ores and gems?
When the Hive Fleet came and their spores filled our skies, the Imperium did not answer our calls. They left us to die.
However, we did not die. Our Strongholds endured the Tyranid attack but without relief, there was not hope against that tide. As the holds fell one by one, a hero rose to save our kind and reforge us in the heat of adversity.
The hold known as Grimnirsheim was on the brink of collapse when one warrior, named Varyn decided that they did not want to die like a cur, like a slinking rodent hiding in tunnels. Instead, they resolved to strike out, to try to break free of the Tyranid net that had closed around them and seek safety beyond the xenos alien reach. Through deeds of heroism unknown and past sacrifices beyond reckoning, Varyn led their kin away from the fallen hold and sought refuge in a new kind of world, overlooked by the Great Devourer and unvalued by any other race.
Not content with saving his own hold, Varyn sought out the few holds who endured and showed what remained of our race the way to safety. It is said that they stood, axe in hand at the door of the final Stronghold, stemming the tide of Tyranid filth as the last of our kin escaped, before detonating their power pack to bring down the cavern on the horde. A hero’s death which shall be remembered as long as we endure.
Once we mined the mineral rich worlds of the core, but now we inhabit the gas giants. We mine their moons and set our sentinels amongst their rings while taking refuge in the clouds so that never again shall our kin be vulnerable. Our technology, unhindered by the superstition of the Mechanicum has adapted to the clouds in ways that the stagnant and backwards Imperium never could and our cloud-ships are every bit as potent as once the Land Trains were.
Our new holds are safe, our strength is renewed and now the Imperium calls for aid as the void scar tears the galaxy asunder. We will go forth into this new universe and all grudges will be paid in full.
No more rotundus, we are become grim.
No more abhuman, we are those who endured.
No more Squat, we are reforged by a hero into a new race. The Varyngyr.
Honour the ancestors. Remember Varyn. Bear the grudges. Endure.
+++ANY UNAUTHORISED POSSESSION OR AWARENESS OF THIS DATA WILL MEET TERMINAL INQUISITORIAL CENSURE+++
+++THE EMPEROR PROTECTS+++
This is fan fiction based on the Warhammer 40’000 universe, all rights belonging to Games Workshop.