The Mallus Compliance (Space Marines in Warhammer Fantasy - Chapter Master/Empire Building)
- Thread starter FractiousDay
- Start date
- Fantasy
- Location
- United Kingdom
Yea you did get some aspirants from the tithing, so you can work your way through them, but yes, a particularly poor showing this year regarding the various surgeries.
Is this because of the geneseed rejection rate or some scout option that failed?
Edit: I got it. It's from the desert.
Last edited:
16 characters
Sick and tired of being Sick and Tired
- Location
- Alta California
- Pronouns
- They/Them
I genuinely can't tell whether a giant would do such a thing better or worse than a stone colossus.
- Location
- United Kingdom
The admech have these things called 'cranes' lol
- Location
- U.S.
yet they use slave labor to do most of it
Now now, that is a ship of the Imperial Navy. Completely different from Ad Mech vessels. They use autoloaders, which they don't install onto other vessels because fuck you you're not Mechanicus.
Or, instead of menial and slaves, they just use servitors. Personally I think most ship still have auto load systems, but everyone has forgotten that they are there or how to operate them.
- Location
- Norway
Warhammer is a very silly place in the default writing, from Inquisitor Obiwan Sherlock Clouseau to the Space Marines (Now With 3 Extra Spaces!), so there's quite a range for imagining how it could be more sensible. Personally I imagine it's onboard cranes but the cranes are very low-tech and still use significant serf manpower to minimize the amount of complicated logistics needed for crane repair and maintenance.
Turn 6 Results
- Location
- United Kingdom
So an action for you all on this one: How's the story going? Are you enjoying it? Is the narrative compelling and the events or plot interesting? What aspects might be improved, what are you enjoying as they are? If you're playing the quest how are you finding that? Comments on the mechanics welcome on this point as well. Comparably, if you're just reading the story only version on boards other than SV, how are you finding that? Is the story properly established outside the quest format or not?
Turn 6 Results
A steel serpent bites the ground, the Serenkai lands heavily upon the surface of the Hidden Plateau. The ground shakes as heavy equipment, artisan serfs, vehicles and servitors set to work with cutters and blasting charges.
The Apothecarion is first to be established, potable bio-vaults carried into the abandoned fortress and set up in many chambers, small fusion packs used for the moment, thick cables stemming from them like the veins and arteries of a great beast, connecting the medical equipment until a proper Generatorum can be established.
The Celestial Lions sweep through the fortress, unloading more from their Battle Barge. Amra, Pridelord of Elara, strode forth in to a great hall, observing the many carvings on the walls, his ceramite tread splitting the ancient detritus within as he stepped to a great dais and took his place on it's throne. The chair suited him, rough and terrible, the majesty of the savage hero.
"This place was once a great bastion." Amra pronounced.
"It shall be again." Khotan, Master of the Forge, replied.
Over the next year more of the Battle Barge is disassembled, the temporary repairs made to the craft to get it airborne and to the Plateau in the first place are the first to go, the materials from the cruisers Kai'manah and His Wrath given the proper rites before being stacked outside the fortress to be used in further construction.
At the same time, a Manufactorum is established back on the plain-city of Pharos, deep in the bowels of the Adeptus Mechanicus cruiser, Thunderchild. The scraps of metal and silicon which had been gathered from the crash sites over the last few years begin to be fed through the refineries and forges, broken remnants of the various ships turned to new ingots, plates and reams of material.
Beyond the city, the Pharosian Guard drills relentlessly in armoured warfare, using the half dozen armoured vehicles they possess to acclimatise themselves to a way of battle entirely unknown to them.
"They are voidsmen, my lord." Colonel Seluceus of the Macharia 45th reported, "They'll stand and fight, but it's been more difficult to teach them how to make war outside their ships."
Tuthmes Skytalon, Captain of the 4th Company nodded, accepting the report, "And of those remaining, how many might be trained in a similar fashion?"
"We have two regiments now, around ten thousand men. Two more might be raised from the other former voidsmen of the fleet, and perhaps another two from Chapter Serfs with martial training. After that we'll have to train more from scratch though, and at that point it would be better to establish a proper training centre, an officer college, and so on."
Elsewhere more reports came in, that the Land of Assassins had been taken, that a tithe had been raised from the lands under the Chapter, that hundreds of aspirants had been screened from thousands offered, and even now had been ferried to the Lost Plateau to begin their training.
"It was a poor showing from the Arabyans." Thalis, Master of the Apothecarion stated, "The fleet's crew and serfs were good enough, but we must formalise this tithing, we can't rely on extraordinary measures like this, it simply won't supply enough recruits."
"What's our situation?" Amra asked.
"Fifteen scouts dead, various ages, two survived and have become Battle Brothers. In the next two years the last of our previous neophytes will either perish or join us as Battle Brothers, and when that happens we'll be recruiting entirely from the newbloods."
"We must establish the Reclusiam at some point." Amra mused, "I foresee a danger of sin and diversity to us if we induct new marines without the proper care…"
"There are two Chaplains in the 10th." Thalis replied, "And what, eight more in the Reclusiam? I agree with you but I would have thought that would be enough."
"A Chaplain for every twenty recruits." Amra pointed out, "I would rather the ratio be more favourable."
"Well if we want more Chaplains we'll need a Master of Sanctity and a Reclusiarch." Thalis replied.
Amra knew that all too well, the Lions' last Master of Sanctity, their head Chaplain, had perished shortly after their departure through the Warp and in truth there were few suitable candidates. The most obvious would be Natohk, the Chaplain-Captain of the 2nd Company, yet his temperament was ill-suited for such an office and Amra was loath to promote another over him.
"I'll consider it." the Chapter Master said after a time, "What was your assessment of the Norscans?"
The King of the Bjornlings had been so impressed by his visit that he'd left his daughter behind, as had a number of his warriors and the Chapter found themselves in possession of a score of Chaos worshipping Norscans. The Librarians pronounced them free of taint, and claimed that they didn't worship Chaos solely, which was a relief, but Amra was unsure what to do with them.
Thalis shrugged, "Give the females to the Sororitas, We'll take the males. See if they survive in the first place."
Amra huffed in amusement, yes, that was very much in question given the temperament of the Sisters of Battle, but he gave the order, condemning the Norscans to the tender mercies of the 10th Company and the Order of the Bloody Rose.
"Also," continued Amra, "take a look at the samples taken from the jungles, there are some abnormalities I want examined."
The Chapter Master had taken on one mission himself, going out with his honour guard to the tribes of the jungles of the south. He had visited almost fifty of them, a fraction of the hundreds who inhabited the enormous forests that occupied half the continent. There were perhaps half a million humans across the wide expanse, a savage and primitive folk, but they had acknowledge him as a god quickly and listened to his preaching. While the Arabyans might be uplifted to serve as the main productive workforce of the Imperium-on-Mallus, Amra had considered leaving the jungle folk as they were, their hardships in battling orks and other monsters of the darkness making them worthy aspirants for the Chapter.
Deathspeaker Natohk himself was the next to report, his crozier still stained with the ichor of battle, "The Plateau is taken, the arachnids vanquished. The Whirlwinds made short work of them and the 2nd cleared up the rest."
Indeed, Amra had heard the blasts of the seismic charges from his new quarters in the mountain fortress. It was a relatively small battle, unworthy of his attention, yet he supposed to any other it must have been a magnificent fight, thousands of spiders, some larger than tanks, others merely the size of a grox, chittering across the plain and forests only to be mown down by the bolters of the 2nd Company. Amra had been informed that it would be a century at least before they proved troublesome again.
"Losses?"
"A leaping spider knocked a Land Speeder from the sky. It's been recovered, but two Scouts died."
"They walk with the Emperor now."
The Deathspeaker nodded and Amra knew he would intone the names of the Scouts later. "When do we move next?" the Captain asked.
"Tuthmes leads the 1st and 4th in two days. They'll destroy the gathering army in the north and then take the cities."
"And after that Araby will be ours?"
"The 'Regent of the Djinn', a psyker and a commander of psykers, yet stands against us from the islands to the west." Amra replied.
"'Suffer not the Witch to live.'" and the deathly mask of the Chaplain seemed wreathed in a pale fury as he spoke, "I have heard the reports of these 'Callers', these 'Keepers', but regardless of the Librarians' conclusions, make no mistake, these elementals are nothing more than daemons."
Over the past year Hath-Horeb had been assisted by the Magi of the Mechanicus to further understand the nature of the Warp's anomalies on Mallus. It was a difficult process, for the Immaterium was inherently anomalous and unformed, and seemed to resist investigation. Spirited discussions had filled the halls of the Kingmaker, the great crimson battlecruiser, while the Electo-priests and Cybersmiths of the Mechanicus brotherhoods debated. Dozens of 'magical' artefacts recovered during the conquests of the Arabyan cities had been examined under every instrument and categorised, warp-bound runes of the Dawi had been sampled, lamps holding Immaterial spirits had been sealed in warded caskets and daemonblades had simply been destroyed, their remains launched into the sun. The sheer number of such artefacts had terrified the examiners, for where such maleficent items might be found infrequently, wielded by the Champions of Chaos or powerful sorcerers, here each of the princes of the cities seemed to have a ring that would shine with a wychlight on command, or a sword which would burn at the owners' wish. The Arabyan psykers had mastered the art of binding and sealing the Djinn within various objects, such as an Air Djinn to make a carpet fly for the convenience of the owner.
To the Astartes such creations were revolting. While Hath-Horeb claimed the Djinn weren't actually daemons, Amra had examined one of the 'magic' lamps himself, finding the spirit within projecting images and words into him mind before he crushed the thing is rage, the hypno-learned rejection of such items lending him strength to throttle the daemon within as it tried to escape between his mighty fingers.
"We must continue to retrieve these artefacts." Amra ordered Natohk, "If they're allowed to remain in the hands of the Arabyans, if the Djinnkeepers are allowed to escape, we could see the proliferation of unsanctioned psykery across the world."
The Deathspeaker clashed fist against breast and departed.
Ordinarily Chapters of Astartes might be called to root out covens of psykers or rebellions led by Chaos cultists on various planets, and in many cases the populations were condemned, if not to slaughter, at least to processing by the Emperor's Holy Inquisition. Amra didn't that luxury, but what confused him most was the method of corruption present in Araby. A psyker was dangerous certainly, but never had he heard of one binding daemons into objects for commercial gain. The idea was bizarre, that a person would sell a daemonblade for profit or trade such items as if they were currency. Supposedly Arabyan items were sought across the world, telescopes empowered by spirits of air to show faraway places, cups which would never run dry due to water creatures filling them.
The whole thing was deeply uncomfortable.
The Arabyans clearly acknowledged the danger of psykery and the Warp. They prohibited the trade in Burning Stone, the strange gems of crystallised energy which Hath-Horeb had continued to replicate for his experiments, and some of the Arabyan priests were quite hostile toward the Djinn, but simply the proliferation of the psykery was what confused the Chapter Master.
The Chief Librarian's findings were bizarre, "The touch of Chaos on this world is heavy, yet light, strong, yet weak." Hath-Horeb had reported, "For so many to manifest psychic abilities, this world should have been consumed by a Warp Storm thousands of years ago, yet it has not. Mutation rates are higher than average, daemons and Immaterial spirits can manifest freely, or at least, without as much difficulty as they should, yet when I try to use my own powers I have to exert greater effort. When I do though I feel a torrent of energy flow through me as if unblocking a culvert."
Like the others, the Chief Librarian had adopted the Experiment Theory, lending his own view that the planet Mallus had been altered somehow, whether though ancient psychic manipulation or through technological tampering.
"This much I have discerned," Hath-Horeb said, "Warp energy, 'magic' as the natives call it, is growing, pooling even. I fear a storm, the sudden diffusion of such energy."
"What do you advise?"
"Prayer." the Librarian replied, "And steel…"
Those grave words followed Amra as he accompanied the strike force north toward the Land of Dervishes, the loose confederation of cities on the north coast of Araby. It was the furthest north the Imperial forces had yet journeyed, save for the retrieval of the Rapah's crew years earlier, but the flight was short, and the deployment upon landing swift.
The Chapter Master stepped from the Command Thunderhawk, sword drawn. All around him Transporters landed tanks full of Space Marines, tracks already blurring as they bit into the rough stony soil of the battlefield.
The Army before them were already breaking, even without battle being joined. The ensuing action was a massacre, fifteen thousand Arabyan armsmen killed in under an hour, the tanks of the Chapter breaking skulls and spines between their mighty treads, their golden paintwork stained a dull sanguine and blood dripped from their forms onto the sand from where they'd charged straight through formations of swordsmen.
Five marines were lost, victims of a sorcerous ambush when they'd been drawn into a close engagement in a town, but for the rest of the Chapter they'd barely taken a scratch. Amra had slain alongside the rest of them, ordering that any who fled be left to do so, that they might carry word back to their homes of the Angels' arrival.
In the following days the cities surrendered without battle. Al-Haikk, the ports of Fyrus, and Martek, as well as a dozen other smaller towns all sent emissaries, and Amra ordered them to look to Copher for their commands, thinking the Sultan of that city suitable for such a task.
The only thing missing from the victory was Aghilies himself. The former king of Medes, perhaps the most skilled commander among the Arabyans, had disappeared with the majority of his cavalry. Some claimed he'd been seen heading south into the Great Desert, others that he'd sailed across the sea to plot his vengeance. Amra thought little of it, but Scouts observing the deserts of Nehekara had reported blood on the sand and the ruins of an army, the desert and it's denizens, the eternal guardians and constructs of the Tomb Kings, having done their work.
A double-headed eagle flew over the Southlands. Victory was theirs, and the Lions had won. Now, Amra thought, looking out from a peak in the mountains where he could see his domain stretch out over the horizon, was the time for peace, a time to build and recover. A time for administration, for civilisation.
A time for steel to be put away, for swords to be sheathed.
The Chapter Master took off his helm, setting it beside him. He leant against the mountaintop, watching as the sun set and the moon rose over the desert, glinting over rivers and streams running through the range. Then the sun came up again.
It was a new day.
17 scouts lost, 2 promoted. 4 marines and a veteran killed. 200 aspirants in training.
Araby (with the exception of the Sorcerers' Isles and Nehekara itself) conquered.
Fortmon established.
Scout info regarding Nehekara gathered, Tomb Kings still appear asleep, no significant activity.
Various others events occurred.
Turn 6 Results
A steel serpent bites the ground, the Serenkai lands heavily upon the surface of the Hidden Plateau. The ground shakes as heavy equipment, artisan serfs, vehicles and servitors set to work with cutters and blasting charges.
The Apothecarion is first to be established, potable bio-vaults carried into the abandoned fortress and set up in many chambers, small fusion packs used for the moment, thick cables stemming from them like the veins and arteries of a great beast, connecting the medical equipment until a proper Generatorum can be established.
The Celestial Lions sweep through the fortress, unloading more from their Battle Barge. Amra, Pridelord of Elara, strode forth in to a great hall, observing the many carvings on the walls, his ceramite tread splitting the ancient detritus within as he stepped to a great dais and took his place on it's throne. The chair suited him, rough and terrible, the majesty of the savage hero.
"This place was once a great bastion." Amra pronounced.
"It shall be again." Khotan, Master of the Forge, replied.
Over the next year more of the Battle Barge is disassembled, the temporary repairs made to the craft to get it airborne and to the Plateau in the first place are the first to go, the materials from the cruisers Kai'manah and His Wrath given the proper rites before being stacked outside the fortress to be used in further construction.
At the same time, a Manufactorum is established back on the plain-city of Pharos, deep in the bowels of the Adeptus Mechanicus cruiser, Thunderchild. The scraps of metal and silicon which had been gathered from the crash sites over the last few years begin to be fed through the refineries and forges, broken remnants of the various ships turned to new ingots, plates and reams of material.
Beyond the city, the Pharosian Guard drills relentlessly in armoured warfare, using the half dozen armoured vehicles they possess to acclimatise themselves to a way of battle entirely unknown to them.
"They are voidsmen, my lord." Colonel Seluceus of the Macharia 45th reported, "They'll stand and fight, but it's been more difficult to teach them how to make war outside their ships."
Tuthmes Skytalon, Captain of the 4th Company nodded, accepting the report, "And of those remaining, how many might be trained in a similar fashion?"
"We have two regiments now, around ten thousand men. Two more might be raised from the other former voidsmen of the fleet, and perhaps another two from Chapter Serfs with martial training. After that we'll have to train more from scratch though, and at that point it would be better to establish a proper training centre, an officer college, and so on."
Elsewhere more reports came in, that the Land of Assassins had been taken, that a tithe had been raised from the lands under the Chapter, that hundreds of aspirants had been screened from thousands offered, and even now had been ferried to the Lost Plateau to begin their training.
"It was a poor showing from the Arabyans." Thalis, Master of the Apothecarion stated, "The fleet's crew and serfs were good enough, but we must formalise this tithing, we can't rely on extraordinary measures like this, it simply won't supply enough recruits."
"What's our situation?" Amra asked.
"Fifteen scouts dead, various ages, two survived and have become Battle Brothers. In the next two years the last of our previous neophytes will either perish or join us as Battle Brothers, and when that happens we'll be recruiting entirely from the newbloods."
"We must establish the Reclusiam at some point." Amra mused, "I foresee a danger of sin and diversity to us if we induct new marines without the proper care…"
"There are two Chaplains in the 10th." Thalis replied, "And what, eight more in the Reclusiam? I agree with you but I would have thought that would be enough."
"A Chaplain for every twenty recruits." Amra pointed out, "I would rather the ratio be more favourable."
"Well if we want more Chaplains we'll need a Master of Sanctity and a Reclusiarch." Thalis replied.
Amra knew that all too well, the Lions' last Master of Sanctity, their head Chaplain, had perished shortly after their departure through the Warp and in truth there were few suitable candidates. The most obvious would be Natohk, the Chaplain-Captain of the 2nd Company, yet his temperament was ill-suited for such an office and Amra was loath to promote another over him.
"I'll consider it." the Chapter Master said after a time, "What was your assessment of the Norscans?"
The King of the Bjornlings had been so impressed by his visit that he'd left his daughter behind, as had a number of his warriors and the Chapter found themselves in possession of a score of Chaos worshipping Norscans. The Librarians pronounced them free of taint, and claimed that they didn't worship Chaos solely, which was a relief, but Amra was unsure what to do with them.
Thalis shrugged, "Give the females to the Sororitas, We'll take the males. See if they survive in the first place."
Amra huffed in amusement, yes, that was very much in question given the temperament of the Sisters of Battle, but he gave the order, condemning the Norscans to the tender mercies of the 10th Company and the Order of the Bloody Rose.
"Also," continued Amra, "take a look at the samples taken from the jungles, there are some abnormalities I want examined."
The Chapter Master had taken on one mission himself, going out with his honour guard to the tribes of the jungles of the south. He had visited almost fifty of them, a fraction of the hundreds who inhabited the enormous forests that occupied half the continent. There were perhaps half a million humans across the wide expanse, a savage and primitive folk, but they had acknowledge him as a god quickly and listened to his preaching. While the Arabyans might be uplifted to serve as the main productive workforce of the Imperium-on-Mallus, Amra had considered leaving the jungle folk as they were, their hardships in battling orks and other monsters of the darkness making them worthy aspirants for the Chapter.
Deathspeaker Natohk himself was the next to report, his crozier still stained with the ichor of battle, "The Plateau is taken, the arachnids vanquished. The Whirlwinds made short work of them and the 2nd cleared up the rest."
Indeed, Amra had heard the blasts of the seismic charges from his new quarters in the mountain fortress. It was a relatively small battle, unworthy of his attention, yet he supposed to any other it must have been a magnificent fight, thousands of spiders, some larger than tanks, others merely the size of a grox, chittering across the plain and forests only to be mown down by the bolters of the 2nd Company. Amra had been informed that it would be a century at least before they proved troublesome again.
"Losses?"
"A leaping spider knocked a Land Speeder from the sky. It's been recovered, but two Scouts died."
"They walk with the Emperor now."
The Deathspeaker nodded and Amra knew he would intone the names of the Scouts later. "When do we move next?" the Captain asked.
"Tuthmes leads the 1st and 4th in two days. They'll destroy the gathering army in the north and then take the cities."
"And after that Araby will be ours?"
"The 'Regent of the Djinn', a psyker and a commander of psykers, yet stands against us from the islands to the west." Amra replied.
"'Suffer not the Witch to live.'" and the deathly mask of the Chaplain seemed wreathed in a pale fury as he spoke, "I have heard the reports of these 'Callers', these 'Keepers', but regardless of the Librarians' conclusions, make no mistake, these elementals are nothing more than daemons."
Over the past year Hath-Horeb had been assisted by the Magi of the Mechanicus to further understand the nature of the Warp's anomalies on Mallus. It was a difficult process, for the Immaterium was inherently anomalous and unformed, and seemed to resist investigation. Spirited discussions had filled the halls of the Kingmaker, the great crimson battlecruiser, while the Electo-priests and Cybersmiths of the Mechanicus brotherhoods debated. Dozens of 'magical' artefacts recovered during the conquests of the Arabyan cities had been examined under every instrument and categorised, warp-bound runes of the Dawi had been sampled, lamps holding Immaterial spirits had been sealed in warded caskets and daemonblades had simply been destroyed, their remains launched into the sun. The sheer number of such artefacts had terrified the examiners, for where such maleficent items might be found infrequently, wielded by the Champions of Chaos or powerful sorcerers, here each of the princes of the cities seemed to have a ring that would shine with a wychlight on command, or a sword which would burn at the owners' wish. The Arabyan psykers had mastered the art of binding and sealing the Djinn within various objects, such as an Air Djinn to make a carpet fly for the convenience of the owner.
To the Astartes such creations were revolting. While Hath-Horeb claimed the Djinn weren't actually daemons, Amra had examined one of the 'magic' lamps himself, finding the spirit within projecting images and words into him mind before he crushed the thing is rage, the hypno-learned rejection of such items lending him strength to throttle the daemon within as it tried to escape between his mighty fingers.
"We must continue to retrieve these artefacts." Amra ordered Natohk, "If they're allowed to remain in the hands of the Arabyans, if the Djinnkeepers are allowed to escape, we could see the proliferation of unsanctioned psykery across the world."
The Deathspeaker clashed fist against breast and departed.
Ordinarily Chapters of Astartes might be called to root out covens of psykers or rebellions led by Chaos cultists on various planets, and in many cases the populations were condemned, if not to slaughter, at least to processing by the Emperor's Holy Inquisition. Amra didn't that luxury, but what confused him most was the method of corruption present in Araby. A psyker was dangerous certainly, but never had he heard of one binding daemons into objects for commercial gain. The idea was bizarre, that a person would sell a daemonblade for profit or trade such items as if they were currency. Supposedly Arabyan items were sought across the world, telescopes empowered by spirits of air to show faraway places, cups which would never run dry due to water creatures filling them.
The whole thing was deeply uncomfortable.
The Arabyans clearly acknowledged the danger of psykery and the Warp. They prohibited the trade in Burning Stone, the strange gems of crystallised energy which Hath-Horeb had continued to replicate for his experiments, and some of the Arabyan priests were quite hostile toward the Djinn, but simply the proliferation of the psykery was what confused the Chapter Master.
The Chief Librarian's findings were bizarre, "The touch of Chaos on this world is heavy, yet light, strong, yet weak." Hath-Horeb had reported, "For so many to manifest psychic abilities, this world should have been consumed by a Warp Storm thousands of years ago, yet it has not. Mutation rates are higher than average, daemons and Immaterial spirits can manifest freely, or at least, without as much difficulty as they should, yet when I try to use my own powers I have to exert greater effort. When I do though I feel a torrent of energy flow through me as if unblocking a culvert."
Like the others, the Chief Librarian had adopted the Experiment Theory, lending his own view that the planet Mallus had been altered somehow, whether though ancient psychic manipulation or through technological tampering.
"This much I have discerned," Hath-Horeb said, "Warp energy, 'magic' as the natives call it, is growing, pooling even. I fear a storm, the sudden diffusion of such energy."
"What do you advise?"
"Prayer." the Librarian replied, "And steel…"
Those grave words followed Amra as he accompanied the strike force north toward the Land of Dervishes, the loose confederation of cities on the north coast of Araby. It was the furthest north the Imperial forces had yet journeyed, save for the retrieval of the Rapah's crew years earlier, but the flight was short, and the deployment upon landing swift.
The Chapter Master stepped from the Command Thunderhawk, sword drawn. All around him Transporters landed tanks full of Space Marines, tracks already blurring as they bit into the rough stony soil of the battlefield.
The Army before them were already breaking, even without battle being joined. The ensuing action was a massacre, fifteen thousand Arabyan armsmen killed in under an hour, the tanks of the Chapter breaking skulls and spines between their mighty treads, their golden paintwork stained a dull sanguine and blood dripped from their forms onto the sand from where they'd charged straight through formations of swordsmen.
Five marines were lost, victims of a sorcerous ambush when they'd been drawn into a close engagement in a town, but for the rest of the Chapter they'd barely taken a scratch. Amra had slain alongside the rest of them, ordering that any who fled be left to do so, that they might carry word back to their homes of the Angels' arrival.
In the following days the cities surrendered without battle. Al-Haikk, the ports of Fyrus, and Martek, as well as a dozen other smaller towns all sent emissaries, and Amra ordered them to look to Copher for their commands, thinking the Sultan of that city suitable for such a task.
The only thing missing from the victory was Aghilies himself. The former king of Medes, perhaps the most skilled commander among the Arabyans, had disappeared with the majority of his cavalry. Some claimed he'd been seen heading south into the Great Desert, others that he'd sailed across the sea to plot his vengeance. Amra thought little of it, but Scouts observing the deserts of Nehekara had reported blood on the sand and the ruins of an army, the desert and it's denizens, the eternal guardians and constructs of the Tomb Kings, having done their work.
A double-headed eagle flew over the Southlands. Victory was theirs, and the Lions had won. Now, Amra thought, looking out from a peak in the mountains where he could see his domain stretch out over the horizon, was the time for peace, a time to build and recover. A time for administration, for civilisation.
A time for steel to be put away, for swords to be sheathed.
The Chapter Master took off his helm, setting it beside him. He leant against the mountaintop, watching as the sun set and the moon rose over the desert, glinting over rivers and streams running through the range. Then the sun came up again.
It was a new day.
17 scouts lost, 2 promoted. 4 marines and a veteran killed. 200 aspirants in training.
Araby (with the exception of the Sorcerers' Isles and Nehekara itself) conquered.
Fortmon established.
Scout info regarding Nehekara gathered, Tomb Kings still appear asleep, no significant activity.
Various others events occurred.
Personally I find this is a compelling way to write your quest. Most quests display the rolls of the actions taken and then write a few paragraphs to convey the results of said rolls. Usually the chapter is also individually divided up amongst the various actions with clear delineations whereas here you write your queat out more like a novel.
I am... concerned that the Lions are so unconcerned about the fact that the Norscans worship Chaos. Sure, they are taint-free according to the Librarians, but normally doing such a thing earns you a blammin' simply as a precautionary measure.
Just make it extra hard for them when recruiting them with more purity tests.
- Location
- St. Petersburg
Is there a way to examine "stable psykery" in more detail? Hath-Horeb doesn't think the Djinn demons, so it may be possible to shift the perceptions of the Chapter if an alternate explanation is offered. It seems wasteful to refuse enchantments, even though our current tech level allows us to ignore their utility.
- Location
- yorkshire
well i like this quest because its Warhammer and your narrative style is interesting also showing dice rolls really add to it makes me want to know what happened next
16 characters
Sick and tired of being Sick and Tired
- Location
- Alta California
- Pronouns
- They/Them
@FractiousDay
On Requested Feedback: I think the story is going very well and indeed am enjoying it and the games narrative focus. To quote UR-025 '''The narrative format works well and helps with immersion.'''I also think the story works decently even without reading about the quest mechanics. Although without doing so I worry some new readers will be confused about some of the character's jobs and responsibilities.
In terms of light suggestions, I have some. Personally, I would like a little more crunch (not a lot needed) for keeping track of supplies(beyond military gear) and I'd be fine with that being separate as with the staff page and the force composition page. Such would help with understanding both how the quality of life is changing in our territories, which could be a factor in keeping track of contentment/unrest.
If you're looking for suggestions on narratives: I'd love to see what all these years of strife and growth look like to the mini imperium ''civilians''.
You know high-ranking chapter serfs, Mid ranking mechanicus peoples, Galaxia staff beyond the sisters, people who might have a picture of things but are not really in charge of the larger efforts any more than the Arabyans are in their own way.
@rx915 @Talon TigerDino
Re: Chaos Worshipping initiates; I don't think we need to be too much more worried about them than anything else, most norscans are not like commonly summing beasts out of the ether or praying for six arms, some do but last I checked nothing close to the overwhelming majority, for many the big four I think are just a part of their panetheons. Further the way they view them as animalistic figures shows some distinction from simply praying for wanton destruction or invoking true names or anything.
The norsii or at least most of them are not alike to the Tong. There is a reason they are a different faction from warriors of chaos in TWW.
On Requested Feedback: I think the story is going very well and indeed am enjoying it and the games narrative focus. To quote UR-025 '''The narrative format works well and helps with immersion.'''I also think the story works decently even without reading about the quest mechanics. Although without doing so I worry some new readers will be confused about some of the character's jobs and responsibilities.
In terms of light suggestions, I have some. Personally, I would like a little more crunch (not a lot needed) for keeping track of supplies(beyond military gear) and I'd be fine with that being separate as with the staff page and the force composition page. Such would help with understanding both how the quality of life is changing in our territories, which could be a factor in keeping track of contentment/unrest.
If you're looking for suggestions on narratives: I'd love to see what all these years of strife and growth look like to the mini imperium ''civilians''.
You know high-ranking chapter serfs, Mid ranking mechanicus peoples, Galaxia staff beyond the sisters, people who might have a picture of things but are not really in charge of the larger efforts any more than the Arabyans are in their own way.
@rx915 @Talon TigerDino
Re: Chaos Worshipping initiates; I don't think we need to be too much more worried about them than anything else, most norscans are not like commonly summing beasts out of the ether or praying for six arms, some do but last I checked nothing close to the overwhelming majority, for many the big four I think are just a part of their panetheons. Further the way they view them as animalistic figures shows some distinction from simply praying for wanton destruction or invoking true names or anything.
The norsii or at least most of them are not alike to the Tong. There is a reason they are a different faction from warriors of chaos in TWW.
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They vary. Their special history has it they've been interacting with Chaos much like their ancestors.
Of course if the Big E's power is suitably demonstrated they who respect strength can just as easily convert if they're convinced......
They would like what they hear if the golden men mention the Great Crusade and the Unification Wars all that slaughter and death.
And if it's a holy war the marines must demonstrate as to whose god is superior they shall gladly oblige.
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Elves lol
16 characters
Sick and tired of being Sick and Tired
- Location
- Alta California
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Re: More Norsii Discussion, look the fact that there are already converts and that strength has already been demonstrated is reassuring to me at least, I'm not sure where the issue is with how things are going on that front. It is not as if more demonstrations cannot be made as needed. Also, I never said they didn't vary nor dismiss that such history existed it's just not very relevant if they are going to continue to submit themselves like this.
On a very different note here is nonsense my brain cooked up and wouldn't let me sleep on. Please don't take this as an accurate vision of the future or a good understanding of anything. Just a writing exercise for myself that I thought wasn't my worst idea.
I hope there might be some good and inspiring ideas that made it through the junkheap of this brainstorm.
EDIT 1: Edited for the initial terrible spelling grammar and other really weird sentence artifacts, overall structure kept, no sentences added or removed. I am glad this amused at least the GM although I hope it was the nature of the tale and not it's poor execution that was amusing.
EDIT 2: Amathema means approximately ''godly-mortals'' in the elf language from Dwarf-Fortress if I understand the examples used there well enough, I couldn't find any words in Eltharian that got close to describing what I was looking for.
EDIT 3: Further clarity, commas and hyphens added, corn replaced with Maize. Elven steeds clarified as inferior ;-)
On a very different note here is nonsense my brain cooked up and wouldn't let me sleep on. Please don't take this as an accurate vision of the future or a good understanding of anything. Just a writing exercise for myself that I thought wasn't my worst idea.
I hope there might be some good and inspiring ideas that made it through the junkheap of this brainstorm.
With the dawning of a new age came new possibilities, and of course, the first to see these were ever impressionable Umgi, the youngest and most flexible race or so the old wisdom held. This was one of the very few pieces of such old wisdom to persist. For it was revealed to my parents that most of what they knew were many lies that were shamefully planted by foul Xenos from the furthest corners of the firmament. Such far-removed manipulators we learned fed upon the pain of all around them such that they would never naturally die, such that no one near them could truly live.
The truth was a hard pill for them to swallow, and yet to look at them now running the largest nutrient paste facility in all of Herminas-Loren one can hardly fault them for their initial confusion.
Of our folk the first to embrace the imperial creed, the first to be able to take any step towards unshackling our people were those who already faced lies and deception daily without letting it destroy them.
The youths of Nagarathye and Arnheim were the first to learn of how the Emperors' earliest and most venerated saints were made mockeries, made into false gods dreamed up to forever hamper and control us.
It was not long before exiles of the Eonir and the children of the most feral Shades were to join this growing coalition of New Elves.
A vast harvester machine crawls across the former hills of Ellyrion, the soil has remained rich here, and never before seen hybrids of the most nutritious and variable sorts of maize and wheat now grow lush upon the land to feed the smaller children of the Omnissiah changes to the land were required of the hearty new young elven colonists. Over the whole horizon of inland Cothique stretch, vast towers of light and beneath them equally immense groves of fruiting trees, true apples, ploins, and even the occasional apple-peach. These orchards and the grox herds of Chrace stand ready to feed the newly raised fleets of golden rocs and the crews of the newly minted merwyrm-class undersea boats.
This is not to say that the traditional roles of the Amathemas were gone. Indeed within the reclaimed shifting isles, now known as New Avelorn there graze herds of horse and pegasi well suited to war. These equines are not the indigenous steeds of this land. Even if one were to look past the metal pinions and gravity-altering augmetics the sheen of roiling air around the beasts would betray their heritage as from distant Araby. So too it goes for both the heavy cavalry and the new working ponies of the island for hairless bodies, cloven hooves and glowing red eyes were indeed not hallmarks of the original inferior elven steeds of the land.
Of the White Lions, only their namesake beasts remain, blessed to serve the lions that walk above the stars. At any rate, few choose to recall a time when any served the old of the monarchs of our kind. Those who swore themselves to fools with a proclivity for burning themselves. Fools who had not even the means to measure the contents of their own supposedly important blood!
Joahannah Maximus Jovianus needed to recall little of this history though as she slowly descended down a shaft that had long since stopped being noted on official maps of the Leonavis. Upon finally reaching light far below the instruments in her rounded helmet adjusted themselves and she looked upon herself through a reflective dish in the ship's corridor.
In her Aquila stamped helmet, heavy shoulder guards and bulky sleeves she felt more satisfied than she had in most of a good 200 years, she felt even more so looking upon her thick sleaves bedecked not only in Jet and Onyx fragments but with knots of spider silk forming the Aquilla upon each one. Even the soles of her slightly pointed boots imprinted the Aquilla upon any terrain she traveled and such was good.
She felt for the chain upon her neck and was relieved to still find the tooth of tuhtrah the second ulthuani to be posthumously sainted but still the first she had met, however briefly. Surely his guidance and grace would be with her as she found her target in this cramped maintenance space. She was also relieved to find her stone of rebirth, marked well with a winged skull still upon her neck, it reminded her of the soritas sponsored training camps on the ever-rising Isle of Rebirth.
Of course, when she first arrived there her thoughts were of a distinctly less enthused nature, but she was still a sharp-eared fool then. The nature of shared hardships and shared branding brought all the women of the island together no matter from which tribe or strain they had clung too before, those that were chosen to survive by the Skyfather of humanity at any rate.
She was finally disturbed from another one of her reveries by a soft plinking noise and the scent of vaporized metal. A look to her crystal-encased auspex confirmed the direction of the movement and thus did she rush forward, her steady jog not at all muffled by the molds that had covered the long-neglected bowels of the ship.
When her bionic eye locked with the dark glittering pools in the face of the Aeldari she could feel little but the urge to efficiently dismember the foe. Distracting thoughts of disgust were pushed away by the MIU's in her helmet which focused her attuned senses on the one task required of her. Within another second her gromril and Ilthimar chainsword screamed to life as this reborn imperial elf leaped wordlessly across the rest of the gap between them.
Sorry, I am not good at renaming things, or writing much of anything creatively. I know ulthuan really would not remain named Ulthuan in this scenario but wasn't sure what it might be more appropriately called.
Island Of Rebirth staying the same was intentional though.
Also again this is not very serious, t'is just a bunch of vignettes and ideas formed around the core of imagining what integrating elves could eventually look like. Such formed scenes that simply would not leave me until I gave them form. The idea is that all of this is set about 300 years from where we are now.
I could have perhaps done more but I am at least satisfied that this will bother my brain no longer and might give a smile to another.
The truth was a hard pill for them to swallow, and yet to look at them now running the largest nutrient paste facility in all of Herminas-Loren one can hardly fault them for their initial confusion.
Of our folk the first to embrace the imperial creed, the first to be able to take any step towards unshackling our people were those who already faced lies and deception daily without letting it destroy them.
The youths of Nagarathye and Arnheim were the first to learn of how the Emperors' earliest and most venerated saints were made mockeries, made into false gods dreamed up to forever hamper and control us.
It was not long before exiles of the Eonir and the children of the most feral Shades were to join this growing coalition of New Elves.
A vast harvester machine crawls across the former hills of Ellyrion, the soil has remained rich here, and never before seen hybrids of the most nutritious and variable sorts of maize and wheat now grow lush upon the land to feed the smaller children of the Omnissiah changes to the land were required of the hearty new young elven colonists. Over the whole horizon of inland Cothique stretch, vast towers of light and beneath them equally immense groves of fruiting trees, true apples, ploins, and even the occasional apple-peach. These orchards and the grox herds of Chrace stand ready to feed the newly raised fleets of golden rocs and the crews of the newly minted merwyrm-class undersea boats.
This is not to say that the traditional roles of the Amathemas were gone. Indeed within the reclaimed shifting isles, now known as New Avelorn there graze herds of horse and pegasi well suited to war. These equines are not the indigenous steeds of this land. Even if one were to look past the metal pinions and gravity-altering augmetics the sheen of roiling air around the beasts would betray their heritage as from distant Araby. So too it goes for both the heavy cavalry and the new working ponies of the island for hairless bodies, cloven hooves and glowing red eyes were indeed not hallmarks of the original inferior elven steeds of the land.
Of the White Lions, only their namesake beasts remain, blessed to serve the lions that walk above the stars. At any rate, few choose to recall a time when any served the old of the monarchs of our kind. Those who swore themselves to fools with a proclivity for burning themselves. Fools who had not even the means to measure the contents of their own supposedly important blood!
Joahannah Maximus Jovianus needed to recall little of this history though as she slowly descended down a shaft that had long since stopped being noted on official maps of the Leonavis. Upon finally reaching light far below the instruments in her rounded helmet adjusted themselves and she looked upon herself through a reflective dish in the ship's corridor.
In her Aquila stamped helmet, heavy shoulder guards and bulky sleeves she felt more satisfied than she had in most of a good 200 years, she felt even more so looking upon her thick sleaves bedecked not only in Jet and Onyx fragments but with knots of spider silk forming the Aquilla upon each one. Even the soles of her slightly pointed boots imprinted the Aquilla upon any terrain she traveled and such was good.
She felt for the chain upon her neck and was relieved to still find the tooth of tuhtrah the second ulthuani to be posthumously sainted but still the first she had met, however briefly. Surely his guidance and grace would be with her as she found her target in this cramped maintenance space. She was also relieved to find her stone of rebirth, marked well with a winged skull still upon her neck, it reminded her of the soritas sponsored training camps on the ever-rising Isle of Rebirth.
Of course, when she first arrived there her thoughts were of a distinctly less enthused nature, but she was still a sharp-eared fool then. The nature of shared hardships and shared branding brought all the women of the island together no matter from which tribe or strain they had clung too before, those that were chosen to survive by the Skyfather of humanity at any rate.
She was finally disturbed from another one of her reveries by a soft plinking noise and the scent of vaporized metal. A look to her crystal-encased auspex confirmed the direction of the movement and thus did she rush forward, her steady jog not at all muffled by the molds that had covered the long-neglected bowels of the ship.
When her bionic eye locked with the dark glittering pools in the face of the Aeldari she could feel little but the urge to efficiently dismember the foe. Distracting thoughts of disgust were pushed away by the MIU's in her helmet which focused her attuned senses on the one task required of her. Within another second her gromril and Ilthimar chainsword screamed to life as this reborn imperial elf leaped wordlessly across the rest of the gap between them.
Sorry, I am not good at renaming things, or writing much of anything creatively. I know ulthuan really would not remain named Ulthuan in this scenario but wasn't sure what it might be more appropriately called.
Island Of Rebirth staying the same was intentional though.
Also again this is not very serious, t'is just a bunch of vignettes and ideas formed around the core of imagining what integrating elves could eventually look like. Such formed scenes that simply would not leave me until I gave them form. The idea is that all of this is set about 300 years from where we are now.
I could have perhaps done more but I am at least satisfied that this will bother my brain no longer and might give a smile to another.
EDIT 1: Edited for the initial terrible spelling grammar and other really weird sentence artifacts, overall structure kept, no sentences added or removed. I am glad this amused at least the GM although I hope it was the nature of the tale and not it's poor execution that was amusing.
EDIT 2: Amathema means approximately ''godly-mortals'' in the elf language from Dwarf-Fortress if I understand the examples used there well enough, I couldn't find any words in Eltharian that got close to describing what I was looking for.
EDIT 3: Further clarity, commas and hyphens added, corn replaced with Maize. Elven steeds clarified as inferior ;-)
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The marines can only poke at them and find out.
You know what they say about being good for the goose if the elves aren't actually elves but humans genetically engineered to look like elves....
- Location
- Norway
I'm enjoying it greatly. One improvement I'd like to see is that the "Informative" threadmarks are getting to be many (22 currently) and includes both discussion stuff that came up, and mechanical stuff we should be checking to track the stats and progress of our Space Marines. Maybe split one of these things into another category of threadmark? I must admit I've been somewhat ignoring the mechanics and figuring they'll work out if I vote for reasonable actions.
I think there's precedent in Eldar Wraithbone, a material created by psykery which is not Chaos-tainted, which the Eldar use on such a large scale that the Space Marine leadership would know about it. The Imperium has stable human psykers soulbound to the Emperor, who haven't been able to create Wraithbone because it takes centuries to learn properly, but human psykers might be able to copy the human-made stuff we're finding here on Mallus.
- Location
- United Kingdom
I won't deny the possibility that they can change their minds about it, indeed there's a divergence of opinion presented in the previous chapter, but keep in mind if you're holding a magic item and it's clearly warpy every impulse the marine has is going 'destroydestroydestroy'. Unlike chapters like the Relictors, there's also no experts on this, no Malleus inquisitors to direct them etc.