Part III Rangda Rising

Date- Year 4781 of the Age of Nightmares (local calendar)

Location- Minish: Industrial age human world in the Halo Stars.

The Things first noise was both its birth-cry and its chrysalis death scream. The Host-Beasts final moments of despair and disgust flickered through Its mind as it fully awoke. The Thing had lived for months under the host-beasts skin, feeding on nerve cells and steadily influencing it. During that time it had been non-sentient, just a cluster of Viral-Nerves following pre-weaved orders.

These orders had plucked at the Host-Beasts minds, at first simple intrusive thoughts that steadily grew into obsessions, then actions. It started simple, letting a drop of infected oxygen-carrier fall into the meal it was preparing for its brood. This quickly evolved and magnified as the Things influence increased. Each action worked to spread the Things kindred across the Host-Beasts world.

A collection of Host-Beasts snuck into an H20 plant and dumped chunks of infected offal into the supply. Dissident organizations were joined or formed. Livestock was infected and sacrificed to spread the Things fellows to millions more. After months of this, the signal came. A note sung through the warp, it struck the infant-things across the World and drove them into a frenzy. The time for subtlety was over. Hosts-Beasts rampaged across the world, crippling and infecting it as the Things inside them devoured what was left of their nervous system.

After a month of this anarchy, the first generations of infected were fully consumed and the Things inside them awoke to the world just as the seeders arrived. This particular Thing took its first few moments to examine its Flesh. It was a binary oxygen processor, well-formed thanks to physical labor and good nutrients. It was a good host that would serve the Thing well.

Next, it glanced around its surroundings. It stood within a Crater that had once been a Civilization Center. Broken structures and ruined infrastructure dotted the landscape. Around it was millions of Host-Beasts. Some like it were fully awakened and examining the world. Others were still being consumed and stood in mute agony as their neurons were devoured bit by bit.

The last piece of the surroundings to register was by far the largest and most important. A great fleshy spire stuck out of the Craters center. It reached into the cloud banks and the Thing noticed vents near the top pouring atmosphere adapted virons into the world's water cycle. On some instinctive level, The Thing knew the spire was buried into the planet as far below as it rose into the sky, and that it tainted the soil and aquifer as well.

The silence was broken by a song, a horrific melody that blasted from vehicle sized vocal structures that dotted the spire. It was interwoven with Psychic signals that combined to touch the Things flesh and soul. To its Host-Beast the Psi-Noise would have been a thing of mind-shattering insanity, that would have caused it to gouge its flesh and tear its throat apart screaming. To the Thing, it was the most utterly beautiful thing it had ever experienced and would ever experience.

As one the millions of infected marched towards the Siren Song. The Song was a screaming-whisper on its mind, a soft enchanting rhythm that rewrote Viral-Clusters and started to convey a great saga. The Thing could not understand the tale, no matter how hard it tried it could not fully grasp the Psychic Epic being written into the minds and souls of those who were meant to hear it.

Only two things made it through the cacophony and into the Things mind. First was a command. Enter the Conqueror Worm. The Things still developing neural-equivalent correctly deduced the spire was this Conquering Worm. As it got closer the point of entry also became obvious. Building-sized mooring spikes stabbed out of it into the dirt. They were colossal bone-structures that supported the Worm. Each was hollow and fluted, allowing access points for the newborns to climb into and enter the Worm.

The second decipherable bit was less practically important but reality shaking to the newborn thing. It was an identity, what it was and why it was. The thing was a thing no longer. It was a Rangdan, and it had been born to claim its genesis-right.

The Rangdan along with its millions of siblings clambered into the spike and ascended the ghoulish stairway that comprised the innards of it. Hundreds of thousands of young Rangdans clambered up the spike. Using processes as instinctual to it as flight is to an avian The Rangdan started modifying its host.

No longer hampered by the need for subtlety The Rangdans Virons spread rapidly through the host-beast. Muscle cells were contaminated and twisted on the molecular level to reach states stronger and more efficient than ever originally possible. Energy careful eased from the inverted tapestry fueled hyper-mitosis and the natural mutagenic effect of that realm was weaponized.

Mutations and Cancers were harvested to provide more material. Hair shrunk into the scalp and prepared to be repurposed. Calluses appeared on flesh and were cultivated and sculpted into dermal armor. Each few-millimeter sized cluster of Rangdan Pseudo-Nerves acted independently of each other and drew from the inverted tapestry the small amount of matter and energy their meta-souls could.

The Rangdan was careful to not synchronize them or draw too much in order to prevent the things that dwelt in that realm from noticing it. Not all of his kin followed that instinct and sought to push beyond, to reach greater heights. A sound that was a mix of tearing flesh, screaming and an electrical hum occansily reverberated through the spine as one of the foolish ones met their fate. One of these failed erupted a dozen meters behind the Rangdan into a mutating hulk of twisted broken flesh that muled for death.

A twinge of annoyance filled the Rangdans mind, he was too far away to enjoy the bounty of flesh provided by the failure. It's closer siblings would feed well upon it. A Rangdan instinctively knew the more organic matter one possessed the more powerful you are. No matter how skilled a crafter is they are still limited by the amount of resources they have to work with.

Eventually, after several hours The Rangdan reached his destination. The Top of Spine where it met the Conqueror Worm. A massive aperture formed of some sort of gel stood before them. The stream of Rangdans slowly but surely entered the gel. The instant they did an unseen current whisked them away to parts unknown. Finally, it came The Rangdans turn. It expected some sort of resistance but instead, it was like walking into a pool of warm water.

Trusting the instinctual pulses that had guided it true so far the Rangdan entered it fully and took a deep breath of the fluid. The semi-solid liquid poured down the Rangdans throat and into its respiratory and digestive system. It was nutrient and oxygen-rich and seemed to independently recycle waste to keep the Rangdan alive and healthy. Giving itself over to the current the Rangdan felt itself pulled along a great capillary-like structure to parts unknown.

The influx of nutrients and sense of safety allowed the Rangdan to allow itself to truly start rebuilding its flesh as it traveled. New ideas and instincts flooded the Rangdan and it began to consume and rebuild the Host-Beasts flesh into something far greater. After months of riding the current, the Rangdan no longer resembled its host beast in any way.

Its sensory organs were improved and expanded upon. Viral-Nerve Clusters were expanded and advanced to increase intellect and memory. Bones reknit into more efficient shapes. The Rangdan's form had been crafted into something far better than what evolution had forged the Host-beast into. Once it felt its body was at the peak efficiency available to it the Rangdan let out a Psycho-Chemical signal.

The current shifted and the Rangdan has pulled away from the Maturation-veins. The song increased in volume in clarity as it flowed into a separate chamber. About a hundred other Rangdans drifted through the Cyst-Chamber. They resembled The Rangdan. Similar adaptations and structures, it knew these beings were its kin. Each born of the same Caste-Virus for the same purpose.

Drifting towards the Chambers center The Rangdan met its guide and the source of the song. It was at least three times its mass and most of that matter was concentrated in its massive cranium. Its skull was a titanic thing, housing millions of nerve-clusters. Its body seemed like an emaciated four upperlimbed version of the Rangdans own. It possessed dozens of light-sensing orbs and the majority locked onto the newcomer.

A Psychic voice echoed in The Rangdans mind: "Greetings Newborn. I am Volg-Goid-Haskysh'ura. Storyweaver of the Clan Goid, subject to the Volg House-Clan. You are a newborn of the Flesh-weaver Caste and Clan Akhon. Also subject to Volg House-Clan. My duty is to show the great history of Rangda to you and your kin."

With that, a psychic tendril reached out and let the Young Rangdan decipher the song. It was the story of its people, the story of a faith and civilization older than any other still living. The Song/Saga started like so many of its kind across the galaxy "In the Beginning"

The Rangdan did not know how much of it was words and how much memories. It could only float in the chamber like it's kin experiencing the same as the Psychic song washed over them. "In the beginning there was nothing. The universe was a great cold empty void where Stars lived and died along and untouched for eons. Until it came!"

A sense of joy and peace overcame the young one as its vision of the ancient void was changed by a Presence. "The Weaver of Strands entered the galaxy like it had done so many others. It found the void lacking and sought to create the ultimate art to fill it. Each galaxy became a beautiful tapestry of life and ours was destined to be the greatest!"

Dead worlds slowly turned green as nebulous clouds of energy traveled the galaxy, seeding and preparing to be gardened. "Life sprang into being across the universe and eventually sentients developed. Two species, in particular, were selected to serve the Weaver of Strands. One too gathers material for the tapestry being woven. Another to assist in the weaving.

"We the children of Rangda were chosen to travel the galaxy gathering strands of life to be used. The other were the Slaathion, they helped weave life into being and guide it to its appropriate place in the tapestry. For eons, the twin races served the Weaver and all was well."

Darkness started to seep into the vision, a hungering mass of chitin and teeth crawled between the stars and sought to slake its never-ending thirst. It was greater and more horrific than anything the Rangdan could ever imagine. "Then the Hungering Entropy came. It sought to unravel and feast upon the galaxy like it had so many others. Not wanting to lose yet another creation to its ancient enemy the Weaver of Strands left the Galaxy in its favored two's care while it battled the Entropy."

"For millennia we did our duty and cared for the growing Galaxy. Pruning unwanted species and shaping life into our creator's vision. The Weaver and the Entropy were evenly matched. The thing from between the stars could not be driven away nor consume the greatest artist. This stasis lasted an age before the Slaathion betrayed everything they stood for. Their great sages sought new weapons to battle the Entropy but discovered only folly."

The Vision shifted to a conclave of ancient Reptilians atop strange pyramid-temples reaching out with their minds into an unknown domain. "They were the first to touch the Inverted Tapestry. A domain where strands of life both real and imagined dwelled. Reaching farther and farther into this impossible realm they and drank from the Well of Eternity. In that terrible moment, the Slaathion broke their oaths and betrayed us and their creator."

"In their hubris, they declared the Weaver of Strands a false god and their sacred duties to guide and cull life as our Creator saw fit was wrong. Harnessing the powers of the Inverted Tapestry they battled us in a horrible rebellion. We fought with every ounce of our strength but it was not enough to overcome those ancients and the false-strands they empowered themselves with."

A new sight filled the Rangdans mind. Weapons of flesh and bone battled against armies of witch-forms across burning worlds. "On our sacred world of Old Rangda our Eldest of Elders were forced to kneel and we were banished to the farthest reaches of the galaxy as punishment for refusing to betray our oaths. The Great Worm-Engine gifted to us by the Weaver was broken into three and our ancient Crown-Worlds were wiped clean of life."

"For countless eons we watched our betrayers rule the galaxy and shape it in ways abhorrent to the Weavers wishes. The greatest of its art was undone and corrupted. Eventually, we discovered the truth of why the Slaathion had banished to the far reaches. Their visions into the Inverted Strands had told them of the greatest threat to the galaxy, and the ultimate evidence of our failure."

The distant tendrils of hungering darkness poured from the Void towards the galaxy. "The Weaver of Strands had turned its back on us, the destruction of its work and theft of its tools had caused it to leave us. Now the Hungering Entropy sought to feed. It may have been weakened and scattered into countless tendrils by our benefactor's efforts but it still sought to feed."

"Despair set in among our people, entire cities ended themselves, for oblivion was better than knowing we had been abandoned utterly. At our darkest moment, our greatest hero emerged. The Sage Nyarl was born of a Slaathion host-beast and had stolen their powers. Nyarl peered into the Inverted Strands and discovered the Truth."

"The Conductor of Strands could forgive us! We could be taken back into our Master's fold if we completed the work. The Inverted Strands were another part of the Weaver's work. The reverse side of the great tapestry of life and by misusing its power the Slaathion threatened to unravel it and all life. Only by collecting and weaving together every thread could the tapestry be completed. Every strand of gene-code must be compiled, every soul unified under us."

Next, in the vision, the dark tendrils were attacked by a glowing sorcerer-sage at the head of Rangdan armies welding mythological flesh-forms. "Unified under Nyarl's teaching we battled the Hungering Entropy like our creator and turned its own flesh into fodder for our growing race! Pale shadows of the original Great Worm Engine allowed us to burrow through the Inverted Tapestry and find new worlds."

"With each tendril consumed, we grew in power. The Great Volaticus Stream formed from Nyarls own fluids remembered every monster we consumed and added its power to our own. For eons, this war inherited from our creator continued. It only ended when reality ripped open within the greatest Elder-Citadel-House of Rangda-in-Exile. The Slaathion had returned."

Pulled from the war against Void-born horrors the Rangdan watched Old-Sages upon hovering palanquins exit a hole in space into the heart of their growing Empire. "They came bearing gifts of Genes never imagined and host beasts engineered perfectly for us. At first, we suspected trickery but the offer of peace was genuine. They offered an end to our exile in exchange for assistance against the greatest foe."

"In the millions of solar orbits since our banishment, the Slaathion had spread life throughout the galaxy and twisted races into equals of them. Our humble skill in weaving the Inverted Strands was nothing compared to the betrayer's dominance of it. They had teased the Weavers secrets from the shattered Worm Engine and fused them with their new powers to create an ever-growing labyrinth located both in the Material and Immaterial."

"Yet for all these abominations and unholy powers, they had found a foe beyond them. Another aspect of the Hungering Entropy had been found by a weak-willed race of ghouls. Not cloaked in shadow and flesh but metal and stolen star-light. We saw the threat and offered our help to purge this evil from the galaxy."

"Millions of years of exile had not taught us a simple lesson. Never trust a betrayer. We assumed they wanted our War-Forms and numbers to fight this conflict. How very wrong we were. The things we met were not Slaathion but their children are known as the Slaani. For the Slaathion along with their most prized creations had ascended past the limits of flesh and blood into pure Energy. They had become living conduits into the inverted realms and a prized meal for the Star-Eaters."

"These broken beings sought not flesh to fight their wars, they had plenty in the haughty Crystal-Children or Spore-born Beasts. What they sought was our very Inverted-threads. To fight false-gods forged of metal they had created false-gods formed of interwoven inverted-threads. Great abominations had been formed all ready to fight this war. The Eternal-Winged Flame, The Twin Headed War, Serpents made of Starlight, And countless others. Now they bound our souls together as one into a horrific thing, and thus the False-Weaver was born"

Billions of Rangdans had their Souls/Inverted Threads bound together into a colossal corpulent mass of rotting flesh. "This abomination was the first of its kind, not born of a single aspect of a species but an aspect of all species. We were the anchor point for it, considered disposable if it failed."

"For millions of cycles False-Gods battled with armies forged/born solely to kill their foes. Just as we feared the once peaceful if twisted Inverted Tapestry was tainted and started to unravel. False-Gods became True-Monsters and reality itself started to buckle from the horrors of the First War. The Material was collapsing under the strain of the Star-Eaters power and the Immaterial under the insanity of eternal-war along with the growing pantheon of madness."

"In a final desperate attempt to save both sides of the tapestry the Slaathion decided to unleash the greatest and worst weapon ever devised by them. Before it was unleashed millions of those "chosen" by them were herded into the Labyrinth and shut away. The Great Ancients including our Lineage-Lord Volg were rewarded by the betrayers and sealed away also while the weapon was unleashed."

"The Volaticus Stream's memories do not contain the truth of what happened. The Last message from the Slaathion simply said: "To save all life we must first Enslave It." Time passes wrong within the Labyrinth so we know not how long we were sealed away. Eventually, it's great crystal gates opened and we entered a galaxy much changed. The Star-Eaters and their metal-bone slaves were gone and all sentient life had been wiped from the galaxy, save for the last few Slaathion who were utterly broken by what had occurred."

"The insane survivors guided us back to our home worlds, where nothing remained except for ruins. From their they abandoned us. Some say they still seek to Change the Ways of the Galaxy, others whisper they Linger, a few say they created a world that would be, while the mad insist something stole their knowledge and power away to light a beacon of sanity."

"It took little time for the Crystal-Children to become prouder and crueler than their creators. Once again we were banished to the farthest reaches of the galaxy to guide against tendrils of hungering flesh that never came. Many times we sought to reclaim our place as master of the galaxy and begin the Great Weaving of all life in the galaxy together. Each Time the False-Gods and their legions of worshiping Crystal-Witches struck us down."

"So another age of exile began as the Inverted Tapestry slowly started to unravel again. Without the betrayer's guiding the weaving the galaxy had died to achieve started to break down as new unruly host-beasts to-be stained the fabric of unreality. Soon ancient things that slumbered since the end of the First War started to awaken. We knew once the Broken-Flesh King awoke the False-Weaver would soon stir."

"To prevent falling under the abominations sway we scoured our souls and changed the very nature of The Rangda. Much was lost and will ever be but we were safe from it. Safe from the Stains upon the inverted tapestry and ignored by the bastard-heirs to usurpers we waited. Flesh-Beasts crafted to watch and rot tended the galaxy for us in our exile. The Worms that Walk would tell us when fate had been woven for us."

"It took an age but we had waited longer for less. The folly of the Crystal-Children violated the Materium as they birthed their youngest god anew. Empire both young and old crumbled as the Inverted Tapestry was shredded apart by the Storm of Chaos. The time was right the galaxy rots around us and we can arise from its corpse and take it back for our Master! The Time has come for Rangda to Rise!"

"Yet we are not alone in such ambitions. The Four reborn are greater and more terrible than ever before. They seek to make the Galaxy Burn in their name. Newborn and reborn Empires seek to claim our place. Something great and terrible burns through the warp. We shall strike them all down and weave them mind, body, and thread into our Tapestry. None can stand against The Rangdan Empire!"

With that, the visions ended. The Rangdan did not know how long it had been in the chamber, the occupants had changed, but it now knew its purpose. History filled its mind and it left the chamber and rode the current to the destination it was meant for. The Rangdan entered a great Flesh-Womb. Where Millions of gestation chambers were tended to by similar looking kin.

Each grew a Flesh-Form of varying purpose to the Rangda species. It was the Young Rangdans duty to craft these tools. Slowly it moved through the fluid towards the great neural-structure in the center of the chamber. The Rangdan knew what it was, a connection to The Volaticus Stream. A nexus where organically encoded copies of every life-thread or flesh structure encountered by the Rangdan Empire was stored.

With tentative digits, it reached out to it and felt its mind and inverted-thread link with the great flesh-form. In gene-code it asked it a simple question "Name?"

Without hesitation, the Rangdan replied with the title it knew belonged to it since the end of the song/saga. "I am Volg-Akhon-Urath. Newborn Fleshcrafter of House-Clan Volg, and servant of Rangda Rising"

Electrical pulses exchanged between the Stream and Urath and after a moment knowledge both fresh and ancient entered the newborn's mind and it got to work crafting weapons of war to help consume the next world and complete the Great Weaving.

Months later once the population of Minish was fully consumed and its biosphere fully tainted the Conquering Worms titanic maw would open wide and bite a hole into the Warp. Like a parasite crawling into an open wound, the Hive sized Worm wriggled into the Warp and onto the next world ready to add itself to the glory of Rangda Rising.

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