Early Life of Necalli

Like all Primarchs, Necalli was lost to the Imperium when he and his brothers were scattered to the far corners of the galaxy. This is a brief summary of his life before the Imperium, a story of his life upon the planet of Achcauhcapalli.

## Story

“Father, why do...”

“I am not your father.” The older man interjected, looking up at him with a frown.

“High Priest,” the younger of the two started again, bowing his head in deference. “Why do we raid? Why is it we must attack our neighbours?” His voice was commanding yet markedly unsure of itself.

“We raid because we must.” The priests reply was curt, and he pulled his gaze from the younger man. His footsteps quickened and he strode ahead, knowing full well he could not outpace his giant companion.

“I am sorry, High Priest, but that does not answer my question.” The younger man said, his casual strides easily holding the two together on the brown-stone path. “There must be a reason beyond that.”

“That is reason enough for any of us to do anything; or at least it should be.” There was a distinct taste of disapproval heavy in his words. “Why is that not enough for you? Perhaps that should be your question. Maybe introspection can find your answers for you.”

“I don't want to be a weapon, High Priest. There is more to life than that.” The crunch of the dew-soaked grass between the stones ended as the younger man stayed his feet.

The priest turned to face the other man, his olive fingers scratching at his face. An almost inaudible sigh left his lips and was cupped into his hand. “Look at yourself, sun-child.” He motioned at the muscular, bare chest of the younger man. “You have been here less than a decade and you tower over all of us. There is nothing wrong with accepting what you are - and you are a weapon. The name I gave you, Necalli, it is old Cuhalani for 'battle.'”

Necalli opened his mouth to speak, but the high priest silenced him with his hand.

“There is more to life than war, just as there is more to life than the air we breathe. That does not mean life can exist without these things.” He raised his hand along the horizon where, far in the distance, light began to crest over the mountain range. “The Creeping Sun, do you see it?”

“Yes,” the younger man replied simply.

“The sun feeds us like a parent feeds a child; like the Calmecac fed you not so long ago. Without its light we would wilt and die. Yes?” Necalli nodded, as he was instructed to. “But just as a child grows and must take care of their elderly parents, we must nourish the sun in return.”

The pair began walking again, the High Priest still in front. There was silence for a long minute until he continued with his lesson.

“We enjoy peace during the day. Under The Boasting Sun we feast and we love. But these things are temporary, Necalli. Do you understand that?” Necalli knew he was not truly being invited to answer. “But you cannot escape the coming of night. It is at night we must hunt, we must fight, and we must bring offerings.”

Necalli spoke up once more. “What if we did not? Why must we?”

“Tlahueliloc,” the older man uttered the word as if it were a curse. “The people of Tlahueliloc did not. Do you see their homes now, Necalli? Do they get to enjoy their peace, do their children?”

Necalli's mind wandered across the great belt of emerald to the ruins of Tlahueliloc, the ancient places, the evil places. Enormous underground cities rich with extravagant wonders of technology and artifice. The abandoned halls of Tlahueliloc haunted him, even from this great distance.

“We must fight or we will end up like that.” The High Priest continued. “The Creeping Sun needs feeding, and only blood can feed that fire. We fight so there can be a tomorrow for our children, for our loved ones. If we die, then it is our blood that feeds the new dawn instead. Either way our families get their tomorrow, they get their lives.” He lingered on a thought for a second before sharing it, his brown eyes making contact with Necalli's yellow ones. “A farmer is a tool, one that brings us food. A painter is a tool that brings us joy. And a warrior is a weapon that brings us life.”

Necalli walked in silence, his small eyes tightened in thought. It was several minutes before he broke, “I understand.”

“And yet your mind wanders,” the High Priest noted.

“The golden one,” Necalli admitted, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Xipac.”

“In the Calmecac you told me he would come. That I would leave Achcauhcapalli and cross the stars.” Necalli turned his eyes to The Creeping Sun as it moved ever higher over the mountain tops. “Do all of the suns require such bloodshed? Are they all as hungry as The Boasting Sun?” His thick arms tensed as he felt the warmth of the sun on his terracotta flesh.

The High Priest remained silent, instead choosing to observe Necalli and wait patiently.

The giant shook his head slowly, a faint smile breaking his stony face. His voice was breathy and hopeful.

"When that time comes... when Xipac takes me... I will no longer be a weapon."