Sterbelicht - One Sacrifice At A Time Against The Galaxy (40K)
- Pronouns
- Zack
perhaps it is better to perform this action first[Psykana] Conduct a Melody Song,Protection,Community,Paths,The Void .
and hope it turns out well before [Faith] Preach To We Who Yet Wander?
nah waiting to do 5 different actions to start one action for a group already similar to us and is simply starting is not a good idea. Trying to line everything up perfectly for a action is the doom of many quest
Kufufu
Adequate at best
- Location
- What's it to ya?
I really don't see the point in this vote, it's not our character we are controlling which is already weird, but it's also not like we are about to turn away another free Psyker to join with and power up the choir. Seems distinctly pointless.
[X] Give the Silver-Gold Child to the Humans.
[X] Give the Silver-Gold Child to the Humans.
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HeroCooky
Unverified Monstergirl
Paranoia. The point is paranoia.
You are told, straight up, that the Kil'drabi never, literally never, had a non-corrupted psyker in their entire recorded history.
And now there is one that...isn't? Maybe? Because their skin is...silver-gold. And their parents pray to an Unborn Deity.
So. May I remind you that Tzeentch exists?
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- Pronouns
- Zack
Out of curiosity, how old is the Kil'drabi civilization or how long has their civilization been nomadic fleet?
HeroCooky
Unverified Monstergirl
Around 9k years as spaceborne nomads, and a further unknown time before that on their homeplanet until their sun blew up.
- Location
- Sweden
[X] No matter. No exceptions.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Give the Silver-Gold Child to the Humans.
Well shit. Changing my vote. Hope I'm wrong though.
[X] No matter. No exceptions.
[X] Give the Silver-Gold Child to the Humans.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Give the Silver-Gold Child to the Humans.
Vote closed
Maps of the Sector - 1
HeroCooky
Unverified Monstergirl
Not Pictured: Non-Locations of Import.
Not Pictured: Non-Locations of Import.
Not Pictured: Non-Locations of Import.
Not Pictured: Non-Locations of Import.
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059.M42 - I Had The Bad Dream Again
HeroCooky
Unverified Monstergirl
Lord High Admiral Shiru of House Schischi of the United Fleets of Droma III was a small man, and he was a very angry man.
The last three centuries had not been kind to his House, and the last sixty were among the worst it had ever had to endure, coming closer to extinction than it had been since its founding seven thousand years ago when this world had been brought into the embrace of the Holy God Emperor. Year after year, month after month, news and decisions would come and be reached that saw that little bit of power slip from his grasp that had once been though adamantium-clad and secure within their halls and branches, only to fall to intrigue and hostile schemes of the other Lord Admirals seeking their downfall and their ascension in the tide.
But that was something he could have dealt with; that loss of political power, hard in laws or soft in allies and means, could always be retaken with the right moves and the correct decisions on the journey through treacherous waters. Every law reversed or brought back under their control and now used against other Houses, every ally lost repaid with spilled blood and salty graves when taken by force, or with daggers in the back and their House Fleets rusting on the ocean-ground where none save the Kischka would nip upon their bones and creaking hulks.
He could have dealt with becoming just a minor player as the supposed ruler of this planet, a lure placed by far bigger fish, as that would have given him time and space to plan and enact reversals and meeting out of justice long overdue against those now arrogantly acting like they would always be their betters.
He could have endured that.
He could not endure the humiliation they now heaped upon him with every day and every opportunity. The very thought of the coming days and weeks and what cruel words and malicious snubs they would design in their disdain for him and his once so proud House brought a wave of great anger upon his mind. His hands once more clenched within his bedroom as he stared in the light of the stars out at the seas gently lapping upon the shores of his Palace-Fortress Island and the town nestled within its protective embrace. He could have endured much and would have endured more, but the humiliation had proven to him how little he could stand being looked down upon as a person rather than as a sailor upon the ship of governance.
It had started minor, some snubs that could be very well accidental and always apologized for here, a moment of wait when he visited their islands or city-fleets trawling across the safer waves explained as servants failing in their duties there. But these plays soon escalated with every drop of power slipping from the hands of his House. Snubs turned ever more unexplained, and apologies began to lack when he could not press and condemn. Waits became the norm instead of rare occurrences that greatly shamed those he graced with personal audiences on their fleets as per ancient traditions and customs.
It had been irksome, and he had charted ways to fortify his position before it sunk too far to become nothing more than a shallow instead of a mountain rising high.
But then the Xenos had come.
He had been content to secure his home against any aggression of theirs, especially when ancient documents had shown this brand of despicable Xenos to be of the lesser offensive ones, which would usually be plied with diplomacy before being wiped out once a sufficient force had been amassed. That this bunch sent minerals to the rulers of the systems they took anchorage within also weighed upon his mind, willing to wait and see before he would give the order to sail out and destroy if they did not pay or acted with hostility. And all the while, his lessers urged him to act, naked greed within their eyes as they argued that the Kil'drabi already had more than enough mineral wealth within their holds to make any loss null and void and that they should not suffer Xenos within a system of the God Emperor.
Their pleading became a moot point when Inquisitor Drilla arrived within the system ahead of a fleet, ordering the SDF to join him in his assault against the Xenos and their no doubt despicable machinations. House Freiwallia had joyously agreed and ordered, above his head, for the fleet to sail out and crush these Xenos, their orders heeded as they had long ago replaced the captains with their choices and picks.
The crushing defeat they had suffered and the loss of all their ships were naturally placed only upon his head rather than the shockingly thorough rot they had introduced to the SDF underneath his and all other Houses' noses.
Humiliation pure and simple, one that the other Houses had eagerly lapped up as truth and fact to use against him, but though it was the most visible form the loss of power and prestige had taken, it was not, in his opinion, the grandest and most cruelest portion the Houses had done.
House Schischi had always been a patron of the unfortunate but talented, be they pure human or abhuman, fostering their talents for the good of the House and to act as a shining beacon of what hard work and dedication could achieve under their just rule. A squad of Ogryn Bone'eads always accompanied the children of the House to safeguard them as the most visible example. At the same time, musicians and artists of all disciplines were sponsored, like a seamstress from Carlo McConnell...or a ratling musician that put all others to shame the most recent acquisition of the House, with hundreds more, abhuman or not, in his employ for their talents and future.
All other Houses knew that, and, with some glee, three had taken to "sponsor the talented" like his House had some seventy years ago. He would have been pleasantly surprised that they acted on more than immediate benefit or to create something better for their children, but those sponsored soon put that thought to an early and brutal grave. It had been just another mockery, as they had bought female beastmen and put them into fine livery or dress to parade around, a clear insult to him and his House.
It enraged him to see an ancient tradition like that be used to mock him, but what enraged him more was that these abhumans quickly were taken up by all other Houses and were used to mock him ever more. But nobles did as nobles do, and he quickly noticed that more Beastmen women joined their ranks when there should be none coming, and their beastly features had receeded. And so when tradition forced him to sail to another fleet, he was made to wait and be "entertained" by empty-eyed, bright-smiling, and mind-broken bastard daughters whose veins thrummed with beastmen and noble blood. He could feel his skin crawl when another generation joined these, too, features receding more. It was abomination, and it was utter humiliation to be made to wait with, and even have the very same, abhuman incest-mistresses be heard before he was "allowed" to enter.
Within his bedroom, where Lord Shiru had stared out at the star-lit sight, he felt his hands tremble in utter fury as his mind recounted every time he had seen their faces, every time he had to endure such disgrace upon his person and the time he had nearly done what would have ended his House right then and there.
Because he had decided nine years ago that this state of things could end in nothing other than with the blood of siblings tinging the ocean red in civil war, where he would rid himself and his world of the useless and the abominable.
But he had been invited and had to heed the call of tradition. So he had appeared for a feast held in honor of the new ships soon to sail the system once more, but he had been made to wait with the empty-eyed husks of bastard daughters born by Felinid blood who had been insistent in their attempts to "entertain" him while they waited.
Were it not for the fact that he knew none of them could have known what he had done...he would have given these broken children the release of death they deserved before purging every member of the Houses he could get his hands on in the feast with digi-flamer, power-sword, and hatred.
But that was the day he knew that death was how this all would end, and death he would give them all, as he had one advantage the others did not: he knew about the station in the heart of the stars. A hateful grin split his face, hands gripping the balustrade, as he recalled the lucky find thanks to his family's ancestral artifacts guarded well and the conversations he had listened to from the ships stealthily crossing the system in search of salvage and materials. As well as the fact that there were Angels of the Emperor on the station, and they valued their secrecy. He would swear an oath to them to uphold that secrecy...provided they would aid him in ripping apart these KARKI-
"Grandpa?" A small voice suddenly spoke up behind Lord Shiru, and he whipped around, adrenaline coursing through his veins as his heart beat the drums within his ears.
Breath caught in his throat.
Eyes trembled as he beheld a nightmare deeper than any others he held.
His brain screamed.
Then his granddaughter stepped from the shadows of the entrance with her plush in her tiny arms, the large sharpuktu grinning viciously in contrast to her sniffling face and her tussled hair.
Hair. Not ears.
He let out a breath, his mind steading itself as truth reasserted itself over primal fear. His wife had been scrubbed of her heritage, and his daughter once again of all that could potentially have slipped through. His granddaughter was safe. She was safe.
"I had the bad dream again," she said, walking closer to him and looking down at the floor in shame. "I do not want to sleep alone," she continued, a tremble in her voice.
His heart nearly broke, and he closed the few steps between them in a second before he kneeled gently and hugged her, letting her cry. "The drowning again?" She could only nod in his embrace.
He opened his mouth:
[] I will watch over you.
(Lord Shiru reveals his trait: Heart of Gold. The coming civil war will be far bloodier.)
[] I know it's scary. But fears are meant to be overcome.
(Lord Shiru reveals his trait: Patriarch. You make a little girl cry bitter tears of fear for many nigths to come.)
The last three centuries had not been kind to his House, and the last sixty were among the worst it had ever had to endure, coming closer to extinction than it had been since its founding seven thousand years ago when this world had been brought into the embrace of the Holy God Emperor. Year after year, month after month, news and decisions would come and be reached that saw that little bit of power slip from his grasp that had once been though adamantium-clad and secure within their halls and branches, only to fall to intrigue and hostile schemes of the other Lord Admirals seeking their downfall and their ascension in the tide.
But that was something he could have dealt with; that loss of political power, hard in laws or soft in allies and means, could always be retaken with the right moves and the correct decisions on the journey through treacherous waters. Every law reversed or brought back under their control and now used against other Houses, every ally lost repaid with spilled blood and salty graves when taken by force, or with daggers in the back and their House Fleets rusting on the ocean-ground where none save the Kischka would nip upon their bones and creaking hulks.
He could have dealt with becoming just a minor player as the supposed ruler of this planet, a lure placed by far bigger fish, as that would have given him time and space to plan and enact reversals and meeting out of justice long overdue against those now arrogantly acting like they would always be their betters.
He could have endured that.
He could not endure the humiliation they now heaped upon him with every day and every opportunity. The very thought of the coming days and weeks and what cruel words and malicious snubs they would design in their disdain for him and his once so proud House brought a wave of great anger upon his mind. His hands once more clenched within his bedroom as he stared in the light of the stars out at the seas gently lapping upon the shores of his Palace-Fortress Island and the town nestled within its protective embrace. He could have endured much and would have endured more, but the humiliation had proven to him how little he could stand being looked down upon as a person rather than as a sailor upon the ship of governance.
It had started minor, some snubs that could be very well accidental and always apologized for here, a moment of wait when he visited their islands or city-fleets trawling across the safer waves explained as servants failing in their duties there. But these plays soon escalated with every drop of power slipping from the hands of his House. Snubs turned ever more unexplained, and apologies began to lack when he could not press and condemn. Waits became the norm instead of rare occurrences that greatly shamed those he graced with personal audiences on their fleets as per ancient traditions and customs.
It had been irksome, and he had charted ways to fortify his position before it sunk too far to become nothing more than a shallow instead of a mountain rising high.
But then the Xenos had come.
He had been content to secure his home against any aggression of theirs, especially when ancient documents had shown this brand of despicable Xenos to be of the lesser offensive ones, which would usually be plied with diplomacy before being wiped out once a sufficient force had been amassed. That this bunch sent minerals to the rulers of the systems they took anchorage within also weighed upon his mind, willing to wait and see before he would give the order to sail out and destroy if they did not pay or acted with hostility. And all the while, his lessers urged him to act, naked greed within their eyes as they argued that the Kil'drabi already had more than enough mineral wealth within their holds to make any loss null and void and that they should not suffer Xenos within a system of the God Emperor.
Their pleading became a moot point when Inquisitor Drilla arrived within the system ahead of a fleet, ordering the SDF to join him in his assault against the Xenos and their no doubt despicable machinations. House Freiwallia had joyously agreed and ordered, above his head, for the fleet to sail out and crush these Xenos, their orders heeded as they had long ago replaced the captains with their choices and picks.
The crushing defeat they had suffered and the loss of all their ships were naturally placed only upon his head rather than the shockingly thorough rot they had introduced to the SDF underneath his and all other Houses' noses.
Humiliation pure and simple, one that the other Houses had eagerly lapped up as truth and fact to use against him, but though it was the most visible form the loss of power and prestige had taken, it was not, in his opinion, the grandest and most cruelest portion the Houses had done.
House Schischi had always been a patron of the unfortunate but talented, be they pure human or abhuman, fostering their talents for the good of the House and to act as a shining beacon of what hard work and dedication could achieve under their just rule. A squad of Ogryn Bone'eads always accompanied the children of the House to safeguard them as the most visible example. At the same time, musicians and artists of all disciplines were sponsored, like a seamstress from Carlo McConnell...or a ratling musician that put all others to shame the most recent acquisition of the House, with hundreds more, abhuman or not, in his employ for their talents and future.
All other Houses knew that, and, with some glee, three had taken to "sponsor the talented" like his House had some seventy years ago. He would have been pleasantly surprised that they acted on more than immediate benefit or to create something better for their children, but those sponsored soon put that thought to an early and brutal grave. It had been just another mockery, as they had bought female beastmen and put them into fine livery or dress to parade around, a clear insult to him and his House.
It enraged him to see an ancient tradition like that be used to mock him, but what enraged him more was that these abhumans quickly were taken up by all other Houses and were used to mock him ever more. But nobles did as nobles do, and he quickly noticed that more Beastmen women joined their ranks when there should be none coming, and their beastly features had receeded. And so when tradition forced him to sail to another fleet, he was made to wait and be "entertained" by empty-eyed, bright-smiling, and mind-broken bastard daughters whose veins thrummed with beastmen and noble blood. He could feel his skin crawl when another generation joined these, too, features receding more. It was abomination, and it was utter humiliation to be made to wait with, and even have the very same, abhuman incest-mistresses be heard before he was "allowed" to enter.
Within his bedroom, where Lord Shiru had stared out at the star-lit sight, he felt his hands tremble in utter fury as his mind recounted every time he had seen their faces, every time he had to endure such disgrace upon his person and the time he had nearly done what would have ended his House right then and there.
Because he had decided nine years ago that this state of things could end in nothing other than with the blood of siblings tinging the ocean red in civil war, where he would rid himself and his world of the useless and the abominable.
But he had been invited and had to heed the call of tradition. So he had appeared for a feast held in honor of the new ships soon to sail the system once more, but he had been made to wait with the empty-eyed husks of bastard daughters born by Felinid blood who had been insistent in their attempts to "entertain" him while they waited.
Were it not for the fact that he knew none of them could have known what he had done...he would have given these broken children the release of death they deserved before purging every member of the Houses he could get his hands on in the feast with digi-flamer, power-sword, and hatred.
But that was the day he knew that death was how this all would end, and death he would give them all, as he had one advantage the others did not: he knew about the station in the heart of the stars. A hateful grin split his face, hands gripping the balustrade, as he recalled the lucky find thanks to his family's ancestral artifacts guarded well and the conversations he had listened to from the ships stealthily crossing the system in search of salvage and materials. As well as the fact that there were Angels of the Emperor on the station, and they valued their secrecy. He would swear an oath to them to uphold that secrecy...provided they would aid him in ripping apart these KARKI-
"Grandpa?" A small voice suddenly spoke up behind Lord Shiru, and he whipped around, adrenaline coursing through his veins as his heart beat the drums within his ears.
Breath caught in his throat.
Eyes trembled as he beheld a nightmare deeper than any others he held.
His brain screamed.
Then his granddaughter stepped from the shadows of the entrance with her plush in her tiny arms, the large sharpuktu grinning viciously in contrast to her sniffling face and her tussled hair.
Hair. Not ears.
He let out a breath, his mind steading itself as truth reasserted itself over primal fear. His wife had been scrubbed of her heritage, and his daughter once again of all that could potentially have slipped through. His granddaughter was safe. She was safe.
"I had the bad dream again," she said, walking closer to him and looking down at the floor in shame. "I do not want to sleep alone," she continued, a tremble in her voice.
His heart nearly broke, and he closed the few steps between them in a second before he kneeled gently and hugged her, letting her cry. "The drowning again?" She could only nod in his embrace.
He opened his mouth:
[] I will watch over you.
(Lord Shiru reveals his trait: Heart of Gold. The coming civil war will be far bloodier.)
[] I know it's scary. But fears are meant to be overcome.
(Lord Shiru reveals his trait: Patriarch. You make a little girl cry bitter tears of fear for many nigths to come.)
Alectai
Speaks Words of Wisdom... On occasion
It amuses me that he thinks that we have space marines, and not a bunch of up jumped poorly armed Lamenters. Or, for that matter, that the space station had always been there from the beginning.
[X] I know it's scary. But fears are meant to be overcome.
Objectively the correct truth, trying to comfort someone is good, but that's only so they can get over their fear, not keep being afraid and expected to be comforted by everyone around them.
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- Pronouns
- Zack
[X] I know it's scary. But fears are meant to be overcome.
- Location
- France
[X] I know it's scary. But fears are meant to be overcome
Alectai
Speaks Words of Wisdom... On occasion
Man, I don't even know what's going on here right now.
Broadly, I think this is the governor of... Presumably this insane fuckfest of a system, who's a massive purist on the one hand, but he backs that with Actual Competence and a willingness not to buy more trouble than he needs to, but he's being fucked around with by what's presumably burgeoning Chaos Influence what with the whole "We're making basically braindead abhumans mistresses just to mock you" sort of thing going on, which is... Not okay and also way out of the Imperial Line--and as we just saw, they had prepped a coup that accidentally ended up getting flummoxed by the Inquisitor rolling in and conscripting the SDF to do a Xeno Purge (And thus, the orbitals weren't actually seized because they had command of the entire SDF).
But apparently, the option that makes him nicer to his children somehow makes the civil war even bloodier. And presumably the child is a nascent Psyker who will not cope well with being Patriarch'd, or else this would probably be a no brainer.
And more importantly, what option is actually better for our interests? A bloodier civil war just benefits Chaos (Which we know had what was apparently a major station here, we're living in it!) But it also keeps the Imperial presence at each other's throats, which gives us room to move, and we know he's coming to us either way, and he's a pragmatist before all else.
[X] I will watch over you
Still, I will never say no to the option that shows humanity in the most inhumane of settings. Even if this somehow makes things worse.
Broadly, I think this is the governor of... Presumably this insane fuckfest of a system, who's a massive purist on the one hand, but he backs that with Actual Competence and a willingness not to buy more trouble than he needs to, but he's being fucked around with by what's presumably burgeoning Chaos Influence what with the whole "We're making basically braindead abhumans mistresses just to mock you" sort of thing going on, which is... Not okay and also way out of the Imperial Line--and as we just saw, they had prepped a coup that accidentally ended up getting flummoxed by the Inquisitor rolling in and conscripting the SDF to do a Xeno Purge (And thus, the orbitals weren't actually seized because they had command of the entire SDF).
But apparently, the option that makes him nicer to his children somehow makes the civil war even bloodier. And presumably the child is a nascent Psyker who will not cope well with being Patriarch'd, or else this would probably be a no brainer.
And more importantly, what option is actually better for our interests? A bloodier civil war just benefits Chaos (Which we know had what was apparently a major station here, we're living in it!) But it also keeps the Imperial presence at each other's throats, which gives us room to move, and we know he's coming to us either way, and he's a pragmatist before all else.
[X] I will watch over you
Still, I will never say no to the option that shows humanity in the most inhumane of settings. Even if this somehow makes things worse.
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