Son Of The Warp Chapter 2

TRAVIS STOLL

Travis was still confused. He had never heard of any god called “Tzeentch”, nor did he recognize the symbol above Joseph’s head. And what exactly was a “Chaos god”, anyway?

Joseph placed his hands on either side of his head, like he was trying to keep his head from exploding. “No. No. This isn’t happening. No. It’s happening. It can’t be true. It’s true. It’s true. It’s true.” He was having a breakdown. A lot of new campers did that. But Joseph’s reaction was one of the worst he had ever seen. Travis watched as Joseph stood, and ran outside. “Joseph!” Chiron called, and wheeled after him. Travis followed without a word.

They found him outside, still muttering to himself. Then, he doubled over, and vomited up his entire breakfast on the ground. Slowly, he stood, wiping his mouth on his shirtsleeve, and turned to Chiron and Travis.

“It’s true,” he repeated, more slowly. “It can’t be true, but it is. My father is Tzeentch. My father is the Changer of Ways.” He panted, and a hint of color had returned to his face.

Chiron rolled up. He wore a confused expression, mingled with concern. “I don’t understand. Who is ‘Tzeentch’?”

Joseph took a deep breath. His mouth twitched, almost like a smile. “He’s from a game. Warhammer. It’s a tabletop strategy game. You take miniatures, and they fight out battles…” His face darkened. “The Chaos gods embody our emotions. Tzeentch is the manifestation of hope – the desire for change.”

Travis quirked an eyebrow. “He doesn’t sound so bad.”

<p class="ecxmsonormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin">Joseph shook his head, grinning. “He’s bad. All the Chaos gods are bad. Their followers bring nothing but death and destruction and torment and mutation. They aren’t remotely human, not like the Olympians.”

<p class="ecxmsonormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin">“If such beings existed,” Mr. D said, “we would know of them.” Travis turned to see him standing in the doorway, sipping his Coke.

<p class="ecxmsonormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin">“Wait,” Chiron raised a hand. “We do know of Chaos – the formless void before creation.” He looked at Joseph. “But you speak of multiple beings of Chaos.”

<p class="ecxmsonormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin">Joseph shrugged. He seemed to have calmed down, or at least become distracted by the puzzle at hand. “What you call ‘Chaos’ likely refers to the Warp – the immaterial realm. ‘Chaos’ refers more to those who inhabit it – gods, daemons, and their human followers. As I said, the Chaos gods are manifestations of our emotions.” His eyes lit up with an idea. “Perhaps the Olympians are what has prevented Chaos from threatening the Earth until now.”

<p class="ecxmsonormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin">“But Tzeentch got through,” Travis said. “He created you.”

<p class="ecxmsonormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin">Joseph nodded. “Also, he – or the other gods – may have inspired the creation of the Warhammer games. There are two, actually – Warhammer Fantasy, which is set in a fantasy realm different from our own, and Warhammer 40,000, or ‘40k’ set in the distant future.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">Travis’ brow furrowed. “And you believe we are in the world of Warhammer 40,000?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">Joseph shrugged again. “I don’t know. It could be that neither game is a true reflection of reality, and that we’re really in some sort of ‘Warhammer Modern’ setting. However, both also contain other races which share common traits, such as the elves of Warhammer Fantasy and the Eldar of Warhammer 40,000. It seems most likely that we’re in the past of the 40k universe.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">Mr. D yawned. “Does it really matter? So they made a game, and they produced one half-blood. I really don’t see how this Chaos stuff is important.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">Joseph fixed him with a fierce gaze. For the first time, Travis felt something strange from the kid. Something… wrong. He guessed it was whatever power he possessed. Joseph had been talking for a while about the Chaos powers, but Travis had forgotten that Joseph was also talking about his own father. Travis and the other campers all shared the blood of Olympus. Joseph was a son of the Warp.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">“It’s important,” Joseph said slowly, “because in the 40k universe, you’re dead.” He let the word linger. “Not just you, Lord Dionysus. All of the Olympians. The Titans too. You’re gone. You no longer exist.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">“Joseph,” Chiron responded, “the gods can’t die. Not as long as Western civilization exists, they will always be there.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">“And if it stops existing?” Joseph turned his gaze on Chiron. “If a new regime arises, devoted to different ideals, and crushes out all memory of the Olympian gods? Of Greece itself? What happens then?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">Chiron was silent. Travis had never imagined that Western civilization could die. Even Mr. D seemed to take notice.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">Travis spoke. “What should we do?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">Joseph started pacing. Travis could see the gears turning in his mind. “We need more information. We need to know more about Chaos…” He stopped, and looked at Travis and Chiron, his expression somber. “And I need to know more about who I am. If I’m the son of Tzeentch, I’m probably a psyker. I could take my mind into the Warp…”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">Chiron nodded. “Perhaps. I am unfamiliar with this world.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">Joseph gave him a smirk. “We’ll have to change that. I’ll get my sourcebooks and models from my house…” He stopped speaking. “Oh no. My parents! I left our beach house without telling them!”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">Travis was taken aback by the sudden change in topic. “You did what?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">Joseph turned frantic. “I sensed the Lampads and went after them alone. They were still asleep when I left. They’re probably worried sick about me!” He focused on Travis. “What should I do?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">Travis said nothing. Instead, he looked at Chiron.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">“You’re speaking of your adoptive parents, right? I believe you mentioned that your mortal parent – your mother – was in an insane asylum.” Joseph nodded. Chiron continued, his voice that of a concerned teacher – in other words, normal for Chiron. “If you want to tell them, that is your choice, but it may well put them in danger, especially if you continue to associate with them.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">Joseph said nothing, but he shook his head. Chiron looked grim.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">“I see. Well, frankly, the other option is to simply run away. If your parents are still at their beach house, you might be able to return home and retrieve your possessions before they do. You’d hardly be the first half-blood to do so. Your parents could never find you here, no matter how long they searched. And as they are your adoptive parents… it’s possible they could forget.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">“Forget?” Now Joseph’s voice was tinged with sadness. All talk of gods and Chaos had gone – this was about him, and his family. Travis felt sorry for him.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">Chiron leaned forward slightly. “You remember the video? How it talked about the Mist?” Joseph nodded. “Well, sometimes, it can make mortals forget a person ever existed. I have some ability to manipulate the Mist – I could erase you from their memories. But be warned: if you do this, you will never be able to return home.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">Joseph seemed to think about it. Travis wasn’t stupid enough to think that just because they weren’t his biological parents, he didn’t love them. Unless Joseph was a psychopath, this was going to be one of the hardest decisions he ever made.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">He looked up. “Make them forget. Can you do this to other people?” Chiron nodded. “Do it to my friends, the people at my school. Everyone… except the people at the Games Workshop in Greenwich Village.” He smiled slightly. Chiron cocked his head to one side, confused. Joseph obviously understood the unspoken question. “I’m going to be keeping up the hobby, and I’ll need a place to buy additional models.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">“Are you sure?” Chiron asked. “About everyone?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">Joseph nodded slowly. “It’s for the best. I can’t just tear myself out of their lives. The pain that would put them through… I can’t do that. It’s easier to just take myself out of the world.” He looked at Travis. “Travis, you think you could help me retrieve my stuff? I mean, you are a son of Hermes…”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">Travis couldn’t help but laugh. “Sure, Joseph. I’ll help you. It’ll be a piece of cake!”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">JOSEPH REGENT

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">The camp van raced along the roads leading to Camp Half-Blood. While Travis pored over the Chaos Space Marines codex, Joseph was examining a program for the latest Broadway production of Phantom of the Opera. His adoptive father, Eric Regent, was the director. Joseph had been there on opening night, sitting next to Andrew Lloyd Webber himself.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">It hadn’t been easy. Joseph had elected to take everything in his room but the furniture. His books. His clothes. His computer. He’d even taken the blankets off of his bed. Joseph knew that anything he left behind would be gone for good. The program was one of several he’d kept in his desk – souvenirs of his dad’s work.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">Joseph had spent three minutes sitting on the stripped bed, considering whether or not he should take a last walk through their house. Eventually, he’d decided to do so. He thought of it as saying goodbye – an important way to give himself closure. He’d hit every room in the house, particularly that of his adoptive sister Denise. He’d miss her terribly. Well, without Joseph around his parents should have no problem paying her college tuition, unless of course she actually ended up at the Naval Academy. Denise Regent was 16 years old, a monster on the lacrosse field, and harbored ambitions to join the Marine Corps. Clarisse kind of reminded him of her.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">The pain of leaving his family behind would linger for a long time. But Joseph had always been more logical than emotional. This was for the best. Travis had explained to him that monsters would smell out half-bloods, and hunt them down. Joseph couldn’t put them at risk. And he wouldn’t have to live a double life.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">Joseph glanced back at the bags and boxes filling the back of the van. His eyes narrowed as he considered what to do with it all. There was no room in the Hermes cabin for any of it. And how would he do the studies he planned? He needed space.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">When they returned to the camp, Chiron was waiting. He raised an eyebrow at how much Joseph had brought with him. “I see you decided to take everything,” he quipped.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">“Yeah, you know we can’t fit all this in the cabin,” Travis grunted under the weight of three bags of clothes. “You’ll have to put it in the Attic.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">“I’ve been thinking about that,” Joseph said. “And… I think I might need my own cabin.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">Chiron shook his head. “Sorry. Children of minor gods stay with Hermes. Camp rules.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">Joseph frowned. “I think my father would take issue with being called a ‘minor god’.” Actually, Joseph figured that Tzeentch was more powerful than any individual Olympian, though not obviously more powerful than all of them combined.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">Dionysus did not seem amused. “There is no precedent. There have always been twelve cabins, and twelve cabins will there be.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">“I am without precedent,” Joseph gave a humorless smile. A thought crossed his mind. “I’m not the son of an Olympian god at all. My father is of the Warp. I owe no allegiance to Olympus. However, I do intend to help you. My cabin would be like an embassy, or a military base of a foreign ally in your territory.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">Chiron considered this for a moment. Joseph brought up his other barb.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">“Also, I intend to conduct… experiments with regards to my powers. I will require a dedicated space for these activities.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">Travis looked concerned. “What sort of activities?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">“Summoning daemons,” Joseph replied without missing a beat. Travis, who had spent much of the ride back reading up on Chaos lore, went pale, and turned to Chiron. He took a deep breath.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">“As counselor for the Hermes cabin, I think that Joseph’s proposed activities would pose an… unacceptable risk to my cabin, so long as he stays there. I… heartily endorse his proposal for a separate cabin.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">Joseph smiled, and turned to Dionysus. “You can choose the location. I have no intention of offering offense to Olympus, so feel free to stick me somewhere out of the way.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">Dionysus and Chiron exchanged glances. “Will those activities pose a risk to the camp?” Chiron asked warily.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">Joseph thought about it. “A slight risk. But nothing more serious than what you do when you summon monsters into camp to challenge the campers. I intend to take every precaution. And the benefits could be immeasurable.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">“Benefits?” Dionysus looked skeptical. “What sort of benefits could dealing with those malevolent powers bring us?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">Joseph hesitated for a moment. Dealing with Chaos was dangerous – very dangerous. The Imperium was only as fanatical as it was because the threat of Chaos was so real. But there were those within the Imperium who used Chaos powers. And Joseph wasn’t human – he was the son of Tzeentch. That made him part daemon, didn’t it? Shouldn’t that give him some advantage?

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">“There’s a reason why the Chaos gods attract followers,” he explained. “For those who follow them, Chaos offers a path to great power. You mentioned earlier that the Titans are making a comeback. Well, I imagine having at least one of the Ruinous Powers on our side could be useful.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">“How do you even know that your father is on our side?” Dionysus asked.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">“I don’t,” Joseph replied. “But it seems more likely than not. My arrival here cannot be a coincidence. My father wants me to help you. And I have to assume that being the son of Tzeentch would grant me power over his daemons. For the moment, at least, the survival of Olympus serves his interests. And I believe that building a dedicated cabin to him would help to curry his favor.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">Chiron sighed. “I think your request is reasonable. With the camp in peril, we may need all the help we can get. Mr. D?” He glanced at the god, whose expression of suspicion had given way to his usual boredom.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">“I suppose.” He yawned. “You may build your embassy, Jose.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">Joseph was irritated by Dionysus’ habit of getting campers’ names wrong, but he didn’t let that show. He had just gotten permission to build his own cabin – the first new cabin at Camp Half-Blood. Instead, he gave a small bow.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;">“Thank you, Lord Dionysus. I will have a design for you within an hour.”