Disclaimer: All creative writes to Buffy and its characters belong to Joss Whedon. Warhammer 40,000 and all of the creative ideas associated with it belong to Games Workshop. I do this for my own humor not for profit.
A/N: I just finished up some Horus Heresy novels and thought to myself, “how awesome would it be if a Primarch landed himself in Buffy’s universe”. This will most likely be a Crackfic curbstomp because, lets face, a Primarch could kill everything with ease. So if you don’t like that you probably should not read this. Also this will probably be a one shot or a series of one shots based off of different Primarchs. I am not an English major so bear with me and just let me know if something is glaringly bad.
He pulled himself up slowly, his entire body ached. The last thing he remembered was fighting with his sons on Istvaan and an immense explosion. Istvaan, it brought forth a fire of anger into his chest just to think about what his other brothers had done, especially The Warmaster. He could no longer call him by his name, the hurt and betrayal too deep, too raw. Use the fire to temper the hatred
, he thought to himself as he rose to his feet.
Looking around he noticed that the wasteland that was the Urgall Depression was gone. Instead, he stood in the middle of a thoroughfare surrounded by hab-blocks, at night. They were of no design that he had seen, but many worlds had yet to be rediscovered. And many will remain that way
, he thought to himself. After an instant his gene-enhanced mind took in everything around him. Some sort of rebellion or riot had occurred; fires were raging, people screaming near and far, and the sound of sirens all gave credence to his thoughts.
While he was thinking of what to do a pack of things
entered his field of view. It brought back visions of the fight he had just recently departed. The armor was that of an Astartes Word Bearer, dark grey with iconography. That is where the similarities to an Astartes ended. The armor no longer fit, as if the Astartes had mutated beyond what was normal. The armor now clung to flesh that was as red as the blood it spilled. Its flesh bulged and rippled as if it did not want to stay in one place. Its head was the most hideous part. The skull and helm seemed to become one, its mouth grill cut in two filled with teeth and a tongue from a serpent. Green eyes rolled in its sockets while it killed without mercy
. He shook the thoughts from his mind as he watched the beasts chase a human women and her child. He did not know where he was, but his duty to his father, The Imperium, and himself urged him to help the humans.
In three loping strides he stood between the beasts as the woman and her child continued to flee. The creatures paused in there chase and looked at him with unreserved anger, consumed with its blood lust.
“Get out of my way filthy human, or I shall feast on you instead!” The animal leader snarled in a butchered parody of Gothic.
He laughed at the abominations, to think they could best him
, a son of The Emperor! The lead monster flared its nostrils as this, albeit large, human dressed as a knight laughed at him. The roar the beast bellowed out was loud, and if it were not for his superior technology he would have had to cover his ears. As it was, his helms auto-senses brought to roar to a manageable level before the thing had taken his first step to charge the Primarch. It moved quickly, easily as fast as his sons, but he was a Primarch. In a single bound he closed the distance and backhanded the leader across the face. There was a brief moment of surprise on the creatures face before his hand impacted and its head was torn from its body in a fountain of blood. The other two of its pack roared in fury and charged the Primarch from opposite directions. For one of his sons it may have been difficult, but he was tempered from birth to be above all others. By the time they had halved the distance to the Primarch he had already thought of six different ways to end the skirmish. He reached to his back and drew Thunderhead
when they were almost upon him. With a backhand swing the beast on the right was greeted with the head of his hammer. The unending storms in its head released and the creature was turned in red mist with a CLAP
of thunder that sent the second beast tumbling and broke the glass of nearby hab-blocks. Not pausing, the Primarch rushed forward and stomped on the beast, with all his strength, in the chest. His tempered anger towards his brothers fueled his kick and with a wet tearing sound the beast split in two; organs and blood fell from the beast as it slowly died.
He looked down at the body and saw bubbles beginning to form and skin start to fall from its body. A sneer of disgust marked his face under his helm as the body began to dissolve.
He closed his eyes to re-balance his humours before continuing. Looking around the surrounding area he saw a human male in his mid- life staring at him in awe from across the thoroughfare. He suppressed his annoyance, knowing that normal citizens often had this reaction to seeing a Primarch. He returned his hammer to his back, adjusted his cloak, turned, and walked toward the man slowly. The closer he got to the man the more his eyes opened. When he was within reach of the human his eyes and mouth were wide.
“Citizen, what planet is this? I have urgent news that needs to be relayed to The Emperor or Lord Dorn”, he said as his vox-caster distorted the voice to a growl.
The man flinched back and reached into his coat pocket quickly bringing forth a metal cross and a half foot of sharpened wood. Under his helm he frowned. He understood it was a defensive reaction, but what type of person considered a cross and piece of wood weapons?
Slowly, as to not frighten the man, he reached up to undo the magnetic locks on his gorget. He slowly removed his ornate helm and placed it in the crook of his left arm. He looked down at the man with, what he hoped, was a kind face.
“I do not intent to harm you”, he said softly while bringing his right hand to the shoulder of the man.
“Wha-What are you?” The man asked in a strange accent as the Primarch slowly lowered his weapon bearing arm. The language was barely understandable. Almost like a world that had not been brought to compliance. A knot of unease began to form in the Primarchs stomach.
“I am Vulkan, Primarch of the XVIII Legion, Lord of Nocturne. Now please, what planet is this, and where is the nearest Astropath. I have urgent news for The Emperor”, Vulkan replied, placing a tone of authority and urgency into his voice.
“I, I don’t know what you mean. This is Earth, what other planet would it be? And what is an Astropath?” The man answered with his brow furrowed.
Vulkan frowned, the knot of unease in his stomach increasing. He looked around again, noticing the same ancient hab-blocks and lum-globes that brought light to the street. Vehicles were on the side of the thoroughfare, but they were unlike any he had seen. He looked up into the dark night and his frown deepened on his face.
He had only been to Terra a few times, but he remembered each of them as clearly as if they had happened yesterday. The natural satellite of this planet was eerily familiar. The problem was that there were no sprawling defense structures or shipyards. He looked at the stars surrounding the satellite and his apprehension continued to swell. He turned back to the man and asked, “Does your planet have any other names!”
“I, I, believe so”, the man replied, nervous at the sheer authority the man exuded.
“Well! What are they, speak quickly!” Vulkan ordered his tone tense.
“Um, well, there is Gaia, Blue Planet, Terra and of course,”
“What did you say!” Vulkan nearly shouted at the human.
“I, well, that is to say Terra. You see it is from ancient Latin and means,” he never got to finish as Vulkan interrupted him once again.
“And the date, what is the date!” The man grimaced as Vulkans grip began to slowly get stronger with his urgent demand. Vulkan saw this and eased his grip on the human.
“My apologies, I did not mean to harm you. But please what is the date,” Vulkan asked more relaxed. He released his grip on the man and took a step back, should his urgency surface again.
“It is November the first, 1998,” the man responded with confused frown on his face.
Vulkan sank to his knees, his thoughts going a mile a minute. He was on Terra 28,000 years before the founding of The Imperium and the rise of his father. What was he to do?