Archive of Our Own ^beta

It started as an idle hobby.

Taylor's father had a small collection of little army men that he collected and painted. 

It was his way of relaxing after a long day or tiring week, sequestering himself away in the study with his faithful brushes, pots of paint and a single army man that he would dedicate a few hours to meticulously bringing to life. As a little girl, she would sit beside him and watch for periods of time as he delicately worked to bring life and expression to the model, researching on correct patterns for insignia to really make them realistic. 

He never did anything with them, apart from letting her line them up and carefully play with them

"Some people use them to recreate historical battles, or fight other people with collections," he once explained, carefully painting the eyes onto a soldier. "But I just like to collect them to be honest."

It was natural that she would give it a go. 

Her first ever model was not an army man, but a dragon that was being sold for cheap in the hobbyist shop.

She was not very good at painting when she first tried, and threw a tantrum when it did not end up how she wanted. Her father patiently put her on his lap and carefully taught and guided her from there, and many hours of father-daughter time were spent with him teaching her about base coats, glosses and colour combinations that turned the bright green dragon into something far more pretty. She loved the way he made the teeth stand out, as if they were real. 

With time, she got better at it.

A lot better, actually.

She was a member of the wargaming squad at Winslow, Emma never really understood the hobby but she would look idly at her miniatures and comment on which ones she thought were pretty or not, so it was nice to be around other people into the hobby. On days when the group met up Taylor would spend time talking about painting or giving tips to other kids, and whilst the others played with the miniatures she would sit nearby working on her painting. 

Although the only real game that the others played and collected was Warhammer, so naturally she started collecting miniatures she liked from that franchise.

She often helped out Greg in particular, whose approach to painting his models was to dunk them in a strong colour and be done with it.

Sometimes she even took commissions, lots of people on the internet were too lazy or did not want to paint their own models, and Taylor collected for the hobby, so earning several times the cost of the miniature to simply paint them was great! Well, except when she dealt with super picky people, or ones who would try to say that she had not done it to their standards, but her father always helped her to resolve those problems. 

When she became a target for bullying, naturally her hobby got brought into it.

Suddenly she was a nerd, her painting was terrible and it was a stupid hobby and whenever she brought in her miniatures to work on they ended up being stolen or broken unless she carried them in her bag. Her foam lined box was stolen, including a lot of her favourites that she had worked on over the years.

When she gained powers in the locker, her power evidently decided to throw her a bone.

Taylor could make her miniatures come to life. 

That was a simplification of her power, perhaps. She needed to have assembled and painted them (that one chaos space marine Lord who appeared with his arms detached had been rather terrifying) but once she had, she could give them life! Maybe starting with her model of Abaddon the Despoiler had been a bad idea, but it had all worked out!

When she used her power, the sized up, animated version of the model would appear where the miniature had been, fully sized and scaled up to how big they should be and with all the powers they should as well. 

And, and!

Most importantly.

They couldn't hurt her.

She found that one out after Abaddon tried to kick her and promptly tripped over and smashed against the ground, his terminator-armour enhanced weight almost punching a hole through her bedroom floor. She had learned from this experience, and was going to be a lot more logical with her next choice to try and speak to. Being insulted and screamed and threatened by her first experiment had been quite annoying, she was glad her father had been out of the house. 

She placed two small figures placed on the floor, and Taylor stepped back a good distance before she pointed at that and activated her power.

Within a few seconds of confused looking around by the animated miniatures, she had a power sword pointed in her face. 

"What the bloody hell is this then," Lord Castellan Ursarkar E. Creed asked, looking around the small suburban home with sharp eyes even as he lit up a cigar and took a deep drag of it. 

"Hello there, sir. My name is Taylor, and I kind of summoned you with my power."

The man pointing the power sword at her growled even as his companion narrows his eyes shrewdly.

"Psyker then..."

"Errr... kinda, but no. But anyway, you are a great commander, right?"

"I dare say I am," the man said neutrally.

"I---"

"You stand in the presence of the Lord Castellan Creed, supreme commander of the Emperor's forces of Cadia! You will identify yourself and return us at once!" boomed Jarran Kreed with a voice that shook the windows. His gigantic standard bearing the proud insignia of Cadia scraped along the ceiling, chipping off paint and causing it to rain down, and the power sword was still pointing at her face, its tip trembling just a little... as if it wanted to run her through but could not.

Taylor swallowed but tried to hold her ground, easier said than done with a sword in your face.

"I can! Just please, let me explain!" 

"Kell." A single word from his commander, and the Sergeant lowered his sword a few inches, but his eyes did not leave Taylor.

"Thank you. Um, so I summoned you here, I can make models come to life you see," she held up a painted Cadian Shock trooper for them both to see clearly, then put it down. A moment later, a fully armed and armoured trooper had joined them. The man glanced around, saw his commander, and snapped into a salute, despite the evident confusion on his face.

Creed for his part quirked an eyebrow.

"Well I'll be a son of a squig. What's your name, trooper?"

"Sergeant Harris of the 107th Cadian, sir!"

"Make a note of that Kell, when the girl sends us back, I'll be wanting to check on that. Alright, go on."

"And... I was hoping you could help me? The world has a lot of problems and its all going to shit, we have giant monsters that destroy entire cities, rogue people with powers---um... 'psykers'," she clarified. "And frankly, I am sick of it. I can buy models of people from your universe and bring them to life, so I want your help. I mean, I could just... order you admittedly, but I'd rather have your help out of your own free will."

A moment's pause.

"Congratulations, that has to be the worst brief of a situation I have ever received. My daughter is about as old as you and she's already commanding men twice her age."

"I am just a normal girl, you know!" she tried not to sound too defensive.

He just took another puff of his cigar, before he replied.

"And what if I say no?"

"... Um... well, I am sure that there are other models I could paint, there was a cool looking chapter master that my friend wants to get---" she was interrupted by the man raising a hand.

"Pardon, Chapter master?"

"Uh-huh?"

"...As in, a Space marine chapter master?"

"Yeah. My friend collects models of the Blood Angels, he just got 'Commander Dante's'."

"... Would rather have Logan Grimnar on side," he grunted, glancing around the room again. "What planet are we on?"

"Earth."

"... Terra?" he looked out the window. "Trees on Terra? What's the date?

"Err, 2011."

Utter silence.

"By the Emperor," the guardsman looked weak at the knees, only kept standing by the presence of Kell and his commanders’ presence.

Creed removed his cigar and exhaled a cloud of smoke, shrewd eyes searching Taylor's face for any hint of a lie.

"... Alright. You have my interest now."

One week later

Brockton Bay was in a state of warfare.

Pressed into a corner by superior manoeuvring of somebody who actually knew how to conduct urban warfare, the Empire was out in force to try and push back the 'Imperial Guard' who had appeared from nowhere to make war with them. Quite how entire tanks were just appearing from nowhere was an excellent question that a lot of people on PHO were trying to answer, the thread concerning the 'Brockton Bay situation was hundreds of pages long already.

Suddenly, being an expert on Warhammer Lore was a valuable resource to the world. 

Of course, Private Amarr of the 51st Armageddon Regiment knew nothing about PHO.

In the grim darkness of Earth Bet, he only knew war.

Trusty Lasgun in hand, he was far more focused on the current situation, namely the defence of some recently gained ground. This was his second time being summoned to the 'Brockton Front' alongside other members of his squad, currently it was them and some men from the Cadian 107th alongside a number of vehicles and some amount of command structure. 

He barely knew what was going on, but it was a lot easier to fight human rebels than several hundred orks.

The Guardsman looked to the commander in the distance. He was not one of the Cadian’s, actually, and even though the effort to put down a local uprising was frankly a welcome break, he still had to wonder what the plan was, as it was clear that the enemy had psykers. Like that woman who made loud screeches, or the two twins who became as tall as a building!  

"Why does he keep looking towards that bush!?"

The other guardsman, a Cadian trooper smirked.

"Trust me trooper, it is all part of the plan."

"But what is the plan!?" he asked, ducking behind the emplacement to avoid the hail of bullets from the white mutant who kept coming back to life every few seconds. 

"Oh, don't you worry, the Lord Castellan always has a plan, just hold the line!"

Meanwhile, across the battlefield the Empire advanced under the support of its Capes towards the emplacement. 

"We've got them on the ropes!"

Kaiser formed a wall of iron from the floor to provide cover for some of the members of the Empire, the various laser guns of the enemy and their other arms was a constant rain. With the support of Rune to create rubble, and Hookwolf to act as a line breaker they had surged forth and been able to claim a number of small victories here and there, in the last week he had rapidly come to reassess his position in the world. 

Everything had been fine in the empire until an entire regiment of Tinker armed soldiers appeared!

And their commander as well.

Cannot forget the commander.

The man's address to the city would go down in infamy. A simple order, to either leave the city or die.

Even now Kaiser could see him, a tall, broad figure with a great coat over his armour and chomping on a huge cigar, like some strange cross between General Patton and Winston Churchill. No doubt he was a cape, a Master with connection who could force people to fight for him? 

Everything was going to plan, though. Night and Fog were coming back to Brockton Bay, and the combination of the two of them would be a major asset in their favour to reclaim lost ground, what would a load of soldiers with laser pointers possibly do when blinded and against something like Night! Oh, he had called a lot of favours with Gesellchraft to get hold of them, he would be making a lot of concessions in days to come but it would be worth it---

Suddenly, the enemy commander made some manner of signal, and everything went to hell. 

Kaiser stared, slack jawed, at the gigantic weapon armed mech (later to be given its proper title, a warhound titan) stepped out from behind the bush, somehow. And then it opened fire. He only had long enough to round on the Commander and scream out a single word, a word that had come to haunt his entire existence that week.

"CREEEEEEEEED!"

Across the battlefield, the Tactical Genius grinned. 

The Simurgh was attacking Canberra.

Explaining to the PRT what her power was, and that she was responsible for the 'Cadian Incursion' had been an exercise in patience and diplomacy. She was pretty sure that she had almost been taken into custody there and then, only held back by her promise that she could help with the Endbringer situation. The Director had quirked an eyebrow, and when Taylor began to explain her plan and the levels of firepower that she could bring to the field, things accelerated.

And on the plus side, she was off the hook for her 'inciting of large-scale urban warfare' so long as she could make a difference!

And thus, she was teleported by Strider to Australia, her first time out of the US.

She expected to immediately be attacked by poisonous spiders or giant bugs, and was a little disappointed that Australia’s supposed deadliness was not all that it was hyped up to be. 

"Why am I here, exactly?" Greg asked, irritable as he glowered up at the sun.

"You are my lore expert, so you can help advise me if I need to deploy more models."

"I still cannot believe you are a Cape... how long until my army suddenly comes to life and they turn me into a Space Marine?"

"I am not sure if you are Space Marine material, Greg."

She ignored his dramatic response to that, and opened up her foam lined case of miniatures. Even if a lot of them had been destroyed by the trio, she still had over a decade of things she had bought, assembled, and painted. She had left a lot of the more... normal things behind, it was not like a random Imperial Guardsman would be able to do much to the Simurgh... but Taylor had bought a lot of varied models over the years. 

And so, she put down her model, ignoring Greg beside her as he began to panic.

"Come, Aza'gorod the Nightbringer!" 

She didn't really need to do that, it was a little over the top but come on, how many times do you really have a good excuse to deploy a Transcendent C'tan!

The great and billowing black robes of the Nightbringer whipped in an invisible wind, plants wilted and died in moments as a great arm extended, the scythe that had once crossed blades with Kaela Mensha Khaine cut through the air and left a strange distortion in its wake. Eyes like black pits at once focused upon them

"WHO DARES!?" came a loud yet whispering voice that put the hairs on the back of one’s neck on end, that caused primal nightmares and recollections of some ancient, antediluvian horror that spanned the stars. Nightmares older than the human race, imprinted onto every living thing came to the fore. 

Taylor put her hands on her hips. 

"Me. I need you to kill the Simurgh," Taylor said, pointing behind it. 

The Nightbringer glanced over its shoulder at the Simurgh. There was a moment's pause as the physical cause for the fear of death in all sapient beings in the galaxy actually looked back at her in something akin to an eldritch incredulity.

"YOU PRESUME TO COMMAND ME!?"

"Yes. Now get to it, chop chop."

Her power would protect her, right?

The Nightbringer’s eyes lit up with the fire of a sun capable of annihilating a planet.

Her power protected her.

That just made the C'tan angrier. The sky darkened; the ground rotted as it hissed. 

"I WILL CONSUME THE SOULS OF EVERY LIVING BEING ON THIS PLANET FOR YOUR IMPERTINENCE---" 

Taylor, using a nearby stick, bopped the Nightbringer on the shin.

"No you won't, now get going and kill the Simurgh."

With a look that could probably eat her soul, the C'tan began flying in the direction of the Simurgh... well, less flying than instantaneously teleporting to its side with transliminal stride whilst an image of it moved in-between. 

"... Errr, Taylor... why did you summon the fucking Nightbringer!"

Greg sounded on the verge of hysteria.

"I like the model."

"I thought you collected Imperial!"

Greg sounded on the verge of a panic attack.

"I collect whatever I like the look of, Greg. But you play space marines so we normally just talk about that. I also have a full Harlequin army back home, but I didn't want to deal with trying to speak with a Solitaire," she shrugged. 

In the background, the third Endbringer rapidly fucked around and found out just why the image of a grim reaper was the archetypal form of death throughout the galaxy. Even as Taylor glanced over the Nightbringer’s mere presence was warping the world around it, rendering buildings down to dust, the Simurgh withering and ageing even as its distant screams filled the air. The Nightbringer was taking its time to enjoy the meal it seemed, frankly Taylor thought that the darkly clad C'tan rather resembled a cat playing with a mouse, torturing it, almost releasing it only to then immediately hurt and capture it again.

But it was the Simurgh, so she didn't feel bad.

"Man, I love making a difference in the morning."

"Taylor please stick to Imperials in future, fuck, never collect Tyranids, please!"

"Nah, I hate bugs."

Later, whilst meeting other Capes, Greg had conniptions when she introduced herself by her cape name of Warmaster. She was not quite sure why.

"Warmaster."

"Direct Piggot."

"How are you today?" the woman looked just a little tense, watching Taylor from over her hands. Taylor rather felt like a small fly that had been placed beneath a microscope, but she nodded.

"Not too bad. It was nice to see Australia but I am glad to be home, all the interrogations got quite annoying... you know?"

"I imagine. Well then, I won't keep you too long, but I wanted to speak to you about something that is both a PRT matter... and also a personal one." She began briskly. It rather reminded Taylor of Creed's no-nonsense way of approaching things. "You might be aware of the town of Ellisburg---" who didn't know about that place! Taylor was pretty sure that stories about it were used to keep naughty children in line... especially fitting seeing the origin of Nilbog's name. "---but are you aware of my personal history with it?"

"I am not, no."

"Well, I was a PRT Trooper when it fell, part of the response team sent in. I was one of the two survivors," the woman looked very still, and her fingers were just a little white. "And frankly, I want to see that bastard killed and that entire town razed to the ground, but the risk of Nilbog escaping or escalating has been deemed as being too high in terms of the risk of loss of life..."

She sounded bitter about it.

Taylor could emphasise.

"... The PRT is interested in what tactical approaches you could offer to deal with the problem, seeing how efficiently that Lord Castellan of yours is dealing with the problems in Eagleton." Creed certainly seemed to be enjoying the experience, from when she last spoke to him, and he had put through a request that she paint up a number of 'Adeptus Mechanicus' models for some support and research purposes. "However, my superiors also want to be very clear that there will be limits on what you can order, frankly you seem to pose a severe security risk to the planet."

... Okay, but could they really stop her?Probably best not to speculate on that, before she started getting delusions of grandeur.

She was having too much fun turning her hobby into something that could actually help the world.

"Okay, what are the limits?"

Piggot took out a paper with a long list on it.

"No 'superheavy weapons' platforms, no Orks, no Necrons, No Tyranids---" the list went on, and on, and on. By the end she was pursing her lips.

"... So basically you want me to solve a problem with about 1% of the tools actually available to me?" she asked.

"Yes."

The Director had clearly not been informed of the lore of the game, because there were a lot of very potent options missing in that list. 

"Okay then. I can work with that. I presume I can send the bill for the models to the PRT?"

"Yes. A thousand dollars had been set aside for you---"

A thousand bucks!?

She would make sure to spend every damn penny. 

"Okay then, Director. I can think of one or two things that could help."

Later that day...

"Man... all the Primarch's have such badass models, even if they cost a lot, I really want to paint one."

"You should totally get Guilliman! Or hell, get all the loyalist ones if the PRT is footing the bill!"

"... But he's boring, and I want to finish my Assassinorum and Harlequin collection first, and I got a full selection of new paints as well."

"He's not boring! There was this totally cool moment during the Great Crusade when he totally---" Taylor activated her mental 'Greg verbal diarrhoea filter' to pick out the most essential parts of what he was saying as she continued to peruse the selection of models. So many cool options... she really considered Magnus for a while, his model was so pretty that she could really flex her painting talents with him. Or Alpharius (or was it Omegon?), that pose was so cool.

"---Or what about the Lion! He---"

After a good half an hour of tuning in and out of Gregs rambling, Taylor sighed. 

"Okay, you know what, I can't decide which one I want to buy, so I'll roll a dice! Whichever one it falls on, the PRT will be paying for that model"

"Err, okay... you know you should really go for somebody like the Lion still---"

Wordlessly, she took up a twenty-sided dice and cast it, watching the numbers dance as it span. It settled, and they consulted the list of Primarch, based on when they were discovered by the Imperium. Taylor read the name and glanced up at Greg to see his response. He was as white as a sheet.

"..."

"..."

"Taylor, this is literally one of the worst possible options."

"We made an agreement, so I can and will be having that model!" she slammed her fist against the table... not very hard but she still did it to emphasise the point. She had no idea just who this Primarch was or what they did, but how bad could it be? They all had to obey her commands anyway!

A few days later...

Quarantine Site-4 was a dreary place. The giant walls were visible from hundreds of metres away, the military and PRT presence from even further. Taylor had been bundled into an armoured car for the journey, which was a bit much, but it had given her plenty of time to read the latest Codex. She had never really looked at the Custodes too much, but she kind of liked the over-the-top designs of their armour. 

Even if Greg had been complaining for ages about their balancing.

She brought with her a model carry case, which seemed to be her stable equipment now, and which contained a selection of her new models bought at the PRT expense. Even if she only intended to make use of one, she had to justify the PRT footing the bill somehow.

She was met by the head of Site, a man with status equal to a PRT Director, but only when it came to the Quarantine Site.

"Well then, Warmaster... you promised that you had something that could deal with this problem?"

"Yes, sir. Frankly it's a shame that everyone said no to using the Nightbringer, it would clear out this place easily."

"... I am sure, but a good portion of Canberra is nothing but dust since you summoned that thing."

"Most of it was destroyed before I got involved, you know!" she said, trying not to be snipy. Honestly, you unleash one fragment of a star-devouring god upon the world and suddenly nobody will let you forget it! 

"Well anyway, yeah, I took the money you gave me and got a new model, I think it can help!" she held up her latest work, painted mostly in gold and red. It was relatively big, but it was hardly a titan or anything like that, so it had only set the PRT back one hundred and fift, it was a steal!

"I see, and you will be in full control of it?"

"Well, I can give him commands he cannot violate, sure."

"That is very much not the same, Warmaster."

"It'll be fine, I managed to dismiss the Nightbringer, after all."

The gates into the Quarantine-Site opened, and she set down her little miniature within the archway they occupied. Retreating a safe distance, Taylor pointed dramatically into Ellisburg.

"Go gettem, Angron!"

Even before she had finished speaking the loud sounds of machinery filled the air as the Primarch of the War Hound's Legion jumped down from the wall surrounding Ellisburg with a battle cry that shattered the early morning silence. Hundreds of kilograms of metal, muscle and fury charged into Ellisburg, Taylor had never even told him exactly what he would be fighting... but he did not really seem to care too much about that, only that he had a direction and the knowledge that there was something to kill.

So whilst he took care of the issue, she sat back and waited with the various PRT members at the solitary gate into the town, twiddling her thumbs patiently.

"Are you sure that he will be alright?"

"He'll probably be fine. Apparently he is really strong---" within Ellisburg came a hideous, bestial scream... and a building collapsed. "---According to my friend, he once stopped the foot of a titan from crushing his brother by literally holding it up."

"Wait... like the titan you summoned in Brockton Bay?"

"Yeah, same sort actually."

Within half an hour, it was over.

Taylor was sat waiting with the rest of the PRT members when Angron came bursting out of the line of houses in a flash, all ten-foot of Primarch wearing enough metal to build a car crossing the distance from the town to them in just seconds even as panicked screams filled the air.

Fortunately, before he could rip them all apart, Taylor had turned him back into a model.

"Well, that's that," she declared, happily, turning around to see the pale faces of the PRT troopers and Site Director.

"... I feel like the folk upstairs really need to establish more limits on what models you can buy, Warmaster."

EXTRA SCENE

"Hey, Taylor?"

"Huh? Yes Greg?"

"... I am definitely gonna get in trouble for this but... you ever heard of Battlefleet Gothic?"

"I have not, what's it about?"

"It's an older system, mostly discontinued but---"

One day later

"---And this is the bridge, which concludes the tour. The Apocalypse Class Battleship Regnum Dei awaits your orders, Admiral Hebert."

In another dimension, a certain Queen Administrator shard was metaphorically curled up in the foetal position as it was bombarded with complaints and questions from the rest of the Shard network. It was all too late now; the entire cycle was ruined and it was all their fault!