The Discordant Duet
An Emperor’s Children warband. They did not come here to escape.
The silence as canvas
Long before the Great Rift tore the galaxy in two, the core worlds enjoyed the steady, blinding roar of the Astronomican and reliable warp lanes. The Aeldari have their Webway. But the Emperor’s Children view the universe through the lens of sensory extremity, and to them the Imperium’s reliance on the Astronomican — and the Aeldari’s on the Webway — is a form of deafening, unimaginative monotony.
When the veil dropped on the Sundered Reach and the routes closed, this distant sector was plunged into psychic silence. Most within it were overcome with terror. Communication, supply, contact with Holy Terra, contact with any other fringe sector — all gone.
The Discordant Duet saw it differently.
To them, sensory deprivation and the absence of warp energy create the ultimate canvas. The psychic silence is not a curse but a pristine, unblemished ground on which to compose the ultimate sensory experience.
The twins have roved the fringes of the galaxy for several millennia — as far as possible from the roar of the Astronomican — seeking the most extreme sensory experiences and the opportunity to create perfect art in tribute to Slaanesh. When the veil fell, an opportunity that occurs once in ten thousand years manifested. Not since the Great Crusade has there been such a chance to test their psychic bond, their martial synchronisation, and the devotion of their followers.
What they want
They do not want the Astronomican restored, and they have no interest in saving the Imperium.
They regard the relics scattered across the Ten as tuning forks — the instruments that caused this magnificent silence. They believe the artefacts hold the frequency of the void itself.
Their intent is to gather the full set and orchestrate a cataclysmic, sector-wide ritual: to play the relics like a grand instrument, broadcasting a deafening shockwave of pure, unadulterated Slaanesh-infused agony that will permanently shatter the silence, deafen any surviving mortals, and remake the Reach into a private, soundproof theatre of eternal excess.
What they think of everyone else
The World Eaters — crude, uncouth barbarians with no appreciation of the art of the kill, nor of the beauty possible within a psychic void. The fear they create is commendable. Their reliance on the Butcher’s Nails is a simplistic and backward method.
House Crosius — staid, monotone rule-followers, constrained by the restrictive edicts of the Imperium.
The Aeldari — beneath contempt. Their race created Slaanesh, and yet they refuse to give themselves over to the highest of the Chaos Gods.
Dramatis Personae
In the halcyon days of Chemos and the Great Crusade, the twin brothers Kaelen and Sylas were the dual prodigies of the Third Legion — virtuosos who fought, duelled and, as they fell, mutilated as a single terrifyingly synchronised organism. They viewed warfare not as slaughter but as a complex, four-handed concerto of blades and bolter.
Lord Exultant Kaelen, “The Right Hand of Excess”
Older by minutes, and he never lets his brother forget it. Impeccably groomed, armour immaculate and trimmed in black and pink. He fights with a master-crafted power spear, at times wielded like a duelling foil.
Where his brother relies on kinetic devastation, Kaelen is obsessed with the grace of the kill — the exact micro-second an opponent realises they are outmatched. In the psychic silence he feels a chilling, pristine focus.
He regards the chemical dependencies of his warband, and of his twin, with quiet aristocratic contempt. True perfection of the blade must come from unclouded, natural focus. He lives straight-edge to ensure it.
Lord Exultant Sylas, “The Left Hand of Agony”
His brother’s mirror, warped by volatile energy. Where Kaelen obsesses over form, Sylas obsesses over volume and rupture. Heavily modified power armour adorned with weeping conduits of synthetic stimulants; a massive two-handed sonic mace that hums at bone-shaking frequencies.
He leads the assault forces, smashing open the vaults where the relics are kept, and takes a perverse joy in the way local populations scream when they realise no warp-god or astropath can hear their prayers.
Across ten thousand years Sylas has become dependent on chemical stimulants and battle enhancers, to the point where he cannot function in battle or out of it without vast quantities of arcane concoctions. Increasing numbers of the warband are following him down that road, to the disgust of the straight-edge faction.
The twins share a deep, telepathic and profoundly co-dependent rivalry. They finish each other’s sentences on the battlefield and spend hours afterwards critiquing one another’s execution.
Lord Kakophonist Malakor, “The Void-Tuner”
A twisted virtuoso of sonic weaponry. His body has been extensively modified with internal organ-pipes, vocal resonators and amplification matrices grafted directly into his nervous system. He relies on a daily cocktail of stimulants and arcane compounds to stop his augmentations being rejected — and the supply is running short.
Trapped in the dead zone, he serves as the twins’ technical maestro. Armed with screamer pistols and leading a twisted orchestra of Noise Marines, he presents a fatal sonic challenge on the battlefield.
He intends to analyse the structural integrity of the relics. He acts as arbiter between the twin lords, translating their artistic demands into practical engineering for the warband’s ultimate symphony.
Obsessionist Varis, “The Scalpel of Agony”
Leads a unit of elite Infractors — close-quarters executioners dedicated to breaking enemy lines with blinding speed and needle-point precision.
A virtuoso of the Rapture Lash, obsessed with the precision and artistry of the wounds it leaves on the faces of unworthy opponents. His own face is scarred into a serene, unblinking visage, the result of centuries of micro-dosing synthetic speed-enhancers and nerve-deadening elixirs before every engagement — the same regimen that allows his Infractors their impossible twitch-reflex precision.
He goes to war without a helmet, to display his confidence and to sharpen his joy in the kill.
Open threads
- The supply is finite. Malakor’s augmentations will reject without compounds nobody in the Reach can synthesise. The warband’s most valuable asset has a clock on him.
- The warband is splitting. Kaelen’s straight-edge faction against Sylas’s chemists. Two Lord Exultants, one telepathic bond, and an argument that has been running for ten thousand years.
- Verux ascended by killing Emperor’s Children. The Red Knights and the Duet hold each other in mutual, specific contempt. First flashpoint.
- They want the silence kept. Where every other power in the Reach wants out, the Duet want the door welded shut and repainted.