if biomancy was all it took to deal with the Flesh change Magnus would have used it and it wouldn't have been such a big deal that forced to the drastic actions he took in cannon
about geneseed , there is no way he should be able to use biomancy on them without the emperor first giving him the relevant documentation on the primarch project to explain the how and why of the primarch DNA first , cause geneseed(which is distilled primarch DNA) doesn't just work on biology it also effects the mind and soul of the implanted subject , it is a series of organs cultured out of primarch DNA which when implanted in a recipient by stages highjack their puberty process to turn them into a mini clone of the primarch , While biomancy can be used to effect the biological functions of geneseed without knowledge of the soul and mind parts it might have dangerous and unforeseen secondary effects ala the cursed founding
if biomancy was all it took to deal with the Flesh change Magnus would have used it and it wouldn't have been such a big deal that forced to the drastic actions he took in cannon
On the other hand, Alekandros is going to be better than Magnus in his chosen path. If Alekandros goes down the path of the biomancer, he should be able to do things that were/are beyond Magnus within that speciality.
On the other hand, Alekandros is going to be better than Magnus in his chosen path. If Alekandros goes down the path of the biomancer, he should be able to do things that were/are beyond Magnus within that speciality.
Magnus was an Omnimancer as in he practiced all the psyker disciplines he could get his hands on , including ones he really shouldn't have
also the Flesh change was a case of Sorcery not merely a psyker effect which makes it whole lot harder to deal with and yes psyker powers and Sorcery are two very different things even if they superficially overlap
And I am the QM and I said Alekandros is a worse Psyker than Magnus in all aspects, except one specific specialisation (current vote) where you can make the red man cry tears of inferiority. I did say fixing the flesh change would not be easy, not even for Biomancer Alek, what more do you want.
Anvarian taught him probably some small things he thought nessesary to do so, but first, he is a an Aeldari walking the Path of the Seer, not the one of the Artisan or Shaper so his expertise in this fields is limited, second, no real way he would give up the full extend of Aeldari secrets to a Human.
On that note since I now have Angron's nails in my head (pun intended) from your earlier post saying that you could remove them with biomancy, would it be possible to use skills gained under way of the artisan to achieve something similar by lessening the effects of the nails by modifying them directly?
Also in relation to my earlier post would it be possible to use our knowledge of psychic artisanship learn about the Asuryani path of shapeing and in turn Bonesinging?
the idea of the quest going way of the renegade space nomads beyond the Astronomicon
the idea is that the cannon fate of Big-E ordering the MC axed is set in stone but since the thread already knew that they planed accordingly
-they set up the legion to not have a homeworld but instead be fleet based as to have an excuse to posses a large fleet and lots of support elements like factory ships
-they build good relations with the Mechanicus by constantly seeking out lost tech to trade with them in order to secure as much of the imperium's still intact pre heresy knowledge and tech base for when its time to go independent , something the imperium will be losing during and after the heresy
-they player made a point of designing a new type of ship early on called a yardship which is able to build new ships including other yardships and maintain existing ones on the move in order to maintain and expand the fleet for when they go renegade since imperial shipyards will be closed them afterwards
-side lined or got rid of those Terren born legionaries who would have sided with big-E over their primarch
all of these culminate in that when the Emperor sends the DogFucker to executioner the MC we make a successful escape out of the imperium beyond the light of the Asronomicon's range were the only way the emperor could peruse would be at the expense of fatally weakening the crusade vie diverting enough assets away to actually comb the territories beyond the borders
from that point forward the quest becomes like a more hard core version of star trek , we manage , protect and grow our nomadic fleet based civ , with each new sector we encounter being its own self contained sandbox with all sorts of stories to tell once explored(giving you as the GM a lot of creative freedom) , with super massive ork empires to fight , evil Lovecraftian aliens like the Khrave to throw down with , space hulks to salvage and explore along with more light hearted stuff like peaceful first contact with human and alien civs with whom we can conduct trade with (and not bloodily conquer in the name of Terra centric rule) , explore ancient ruins uncovering lost history ,tech to R&D to better adapt to our situations and diplomacy with the craftworld eldar without the imperium bothering us
The people of Tenus lived in thight-knit communities in the undergorund- and cave-districts of their cities and villages and condiered him and his Ma as one of them.
Still, they were weary of Psykers and you when taking glimpses of their minds he could see that many harbored suspicions against him, but Ma appeared to serve as a counterbalance.
The cities of Sargell where connected by underground railroads ardously dug over decades into the hard rockto facilitate trade and connect the various city states together.
one of the few species of planet that thrived in the hostile weather and served as the basis for Tenus sparse ecosystem, providing shelter from wind and weather.
The souls of humans were sparks, embers or small fires, flickering, inconsistent, but this one was a consistent, white-hot glowing piece of metal, smelling like dicipline, control with an somethingalien.
I'm a little surprised that there even are Farseers, the Aeldari should be in the process of working out their path system at the moment, and even if it exists no one should have been traveling the Path of the Seer for long enough to get lost on it yet.
Is Anvarian a time-traveler? Might be a hint as to what Ma is.
"This shall be your first lesson then. Emotions are what attracts the Warp predators. Control them well, steal your mind in iron chains. Follow me outside."
He had physically matured as well. The years having formed his body into a exemplaty specimen of humanity. His body burst with lean, powerful muscles that enabled him to shatter rocks with his bare hands, his physics an expression of the growing strength of mind as well.
's fine, if I didn't think it was good I wouldn't bother to offer corrections. Any comment on the possibility of Anvarian being a time traveler? Or is that spoilers?
's fine, if I didn't think it was good I wouldn't bother to offer corrections. Any comment on the possibility of Anvarian being a time traveler? Or is that spoilers?
This might just be me fucking up the lore around the heresy/Crusade era. He is supposed to be Eldar psy man that teaches Alekandros. If you can suggest a small edit that would fit better in the time period, I would be glad to hear it.
This might just be me fucking up the lore around the heresy/Crusade era. He is supposed to be Eldar psy man that teaches Alekandros. If you can suggest a small edit that would fit better in the time period, I would be glad to hear it.
An expert in psychic powers and the Warp, maybe? There would still be plenty of those from the Dominion days. He'd probably be really hesitant to actually use his powers though, as the Eldar hadn't fully nailed down how to touch the Warp without Slaanesh immediately pressing their claim on said Eldar's soul at that point. (Mostly involves using Runes as a filter IIRC, not something that someone without a Chaos God with an iron-clad claim to their soul needs). Depending on how you want to deal with the timeline (admittedly kind of vague precisely when this all was happening in canon) he might even be calling himself a Seer or a Warlock already.
He's also probably salty as hell that whatever he owes Ma means that he can't be helping finish creating the Seer path back home, though hopefully teaching Alekandros will give him insights that will help him in that.
IIRC that was Dan Abnet's fault. When he wrote Horus Rising he wanted to make Horus a Larger Than Life figure in every possible way, so made him 12 feet tall. Then all the other writers had to one-up him with their own babies.
Prior to that there was no indication in the lore the Primarchs looked any different from a regular Space Marine.
[X]Way of the Artisan
[X]Tall Man (Comparable to Alpharius)
The Moneran Escalation Begins
The journey back towards civilisation symbolized Alexandros growth over the last five years of intense tuition, physically, mentally and psychically. His Improved confidence, abilities and focus enabled them to return to the settlement they had last set foot in all those many years ago. Heat, cold or the challenges of the terrain barely held him back anymore and even from far away he could already feel the logging village, sending a thin tendril of his mind forth to explore, basking in the feeling of being surrounded by other humans. It tickled a nostalgic string in him, although this time was different. He had been able to see the sparks of their souls before, but now he could see so much more. The flow of residual energies connected them all, connecting people and places in an interwoven web of memories, good and bad. Festivities in the town square when spring season began and the weather grew a little more tolerable or upon Unification Day, but also memories of hunger and disease, ailments rampant everywhere on Tenus where people where forced to huddle close together to protect from the elements. There was also a new fear, almost an anxiety, hanging over the town and her people, the specter of nuclear annihilation.
He did not breach the topic with his Ma until they had reached their destination, briefly stopping by in a diner to eat their first real meal in years. Eggs and fried potatoes, it was not much, but he had found a new appreciation for it, finding it interesting what he could gleam from the food via a little use of divination. The cook was a hardworking woman, working day and night to provide for her three children, their father having died in the Great War.
His mother did not share his enthusiasm for the deeper meaning in the food, wolfing it down without much care, listening to the public vox broadcast playing from a speaker.
"Seems like Silimin has their own nuclear weapons now." She stated dryly, ripping Alexandros from his lunch based fascination to listen closer.
"Tensions run high as the Empress defends the stationing of short range ballistic missiles on the island of Moten, putting Coalition cities into nuclear strike range. As a response, the Council has announced a new wave of military investments in the face of…"
"Those who play with the devil's toys will be brought by degrees to wield his sword." She hums and pokes her eggs.
Alek nodde, drawing a minor illusion around them so noone else would listen in too closely. "This is what you were talking about before we left? I could feel it long before we got here. People are tense, afraid." He shook himself slightly. "The threat of destruction haunts them."
"Seems like you returned at an opportune time then." She smiled at him. "A good period to make a name for yourself."
"I fail to see what I can do in this situation short of forcefully controlling all relevant figures in Solimin. But that would be dangerous, they have their own psykers."
"The Sorcery Academy, yes." Ma took a sip of recaff. "None of them are as powerful as you."
"That does not make it less dangerous. If pushed into a corner they could do something desperate like summoning forth demons or worse." He paused, seeking the gaze of her green eyes. "But if you have wisdom I do not have, tell me of it."
"As one chapter of wars close another one opens." She folds her hands in her lap. "A chapter of smaller scale conflicts and proxy wars, of espionage and diplomatic power plays."
Alek stared into his potatoes. "I could do without that. If I could I would return home, see how the district is doing. There is so much I could do for them now with my talents." He meandered on. "I would like to go to university, learn engineering and art, buy some paints, learn how to paint the north lights we saw when the sky was clear and the firmament full of stars."
"If you could?"
He met her gaze, fidgeting with his hands. The fact that his mother was unreadable to him frustrating him. "Maybe together we could-"
"It is sweet of you wanting to include me Alek", she smiles warmly. "But I like to keep a low profile. There are powers out there whose attention I do not want to draw." Her face grows sour. "By adopting you I will already have drawn that of your creator. I am an Outsider, this is not my Way."
"I can protect you."
"I knew you would try." Her smaller hand moves to cup his. Pale skin meeting recaff cream colored brown, warm, reassuring. "But please, trust me. I can only assist you in a way that a mother can."
Alek throws her a grin, turning his hand to give hers a gentle squeeze. "Then, can I have some Talers. I want to buy some things."
She returns it, rummaging through her bags to pull out some stenciled metal bars. "Of course, sweetie."
The train ride back south was uneventful. The yellow lumen above them flickered, while outside in the tunnel the occasional maintenance light zoomed past. The compartment was full with civilian and soldiers in Coalition uniform, the seat he sat on made for someone much smaller than him. If he were any taller he would have come to regret it. Using biomancy hurt like hell and he was glad to stay as he was. Ma was sleeping in the seat next to him, leaned against his shoulder. Or at least he was sure she was sleeping. How exactly his mother worked was an ongoing mystery, but he did not try to dig too deep even if he desired to understand her. She gave him the gift of privacy and it was fair to return it.
Carefully not to wake her, he moved through his bag to take out what he had bought before they had left for the south. One of the better things about living so far north was that paper was much more affordable. Ma had still be slightly mad when he had come back hands empty after buying a single sketchbook and a set of graphite pencils, not wanting to tell her he had given the rest to a homeless veteran living in the public corridors. He had spent a minute talking to the man, who had clutched the Talers, crying and praising Alek in the name of the heavens. A sense of sadness had filled his heart upon hearing his story. Fixing his simple arm prosthesis was easy, requiring nothing more than a few subtle applications of psychic talent. His bad teeth and aching knee wound where harder to deal with, but with what little time he had he had at least been able to close heal cavities and inflammations, while suppressing the mans pain perception while he did what he could. It was far from perfect, but Ma was waiting for him.
He opened up the sketchbook and took ahold of one of the pencils, staring at the blank white paper in front of him. He had never taken an interest in drawing before, but it was a skill he needed to learn. The way of the artisan would be based on being able to draw sketches and plans, develop a comprehensive feeling for bringing ideas to paper and then into reality.
First he tested the pencils, carefully figuring out their hardness, how the lines behaved he could make with them, trying different angles. He let go of emotion and let them all flow into the paper through the pen, the graphite nothing more than an extension of his soul with which he could bring things into reality. He listened carefully to the whispers in the graphite, hard pencils for sketch lines, soft ones for shading, how he needed to move his hands over paper to create perfect lines and circles, covering the entire piece of paper in hundreds of them, observing and examining each for faults, imperfections, before he tried again, opening himself up to feeling how the pencil should be moved. In union, they replicated this over hours, making careful use of each square centimeter of paper real estate, until it all was filled with fine lines of increasingly refined nature.
When it was done he returned into reality from his deep, artistic meditation, relaxed and exhausted at the same time, feeling contradiction emotions of frustration and delight as his progress. He could feel the emotion in the lines he had brought to paper, the contradicting emotions flown into his practise sheet making it all look disjointed and wrong.
He sharpened his pencils and tried again, flipping to an empty page of virgin potential. The tip of the graphite hovered over the paper while he closed his eyes and pondered what he would try now. Images flipped through his mind, until one of his Ma came to the forefront. He furrowed his brows, browsing his memory for still impressions of his mother. Her gentle eyes, her warm smile, her friendly face, the eyebrows she could wiggle in a way that had made him laugh when he was younger.
The pencil moved, partly conscious effort, partly going with the flow. He tried to keep his emotions steady, coherent, pure, an expression of the love he felt for her. His pencil strokes grew quicker as he grew in confidence, using small movements to bring out the subtle details of her face. He could feel himself on the edge of deeply relaxed state of stoic creationism, peaceful, harmonic, nothing mattering but himself and the sheet of paper in front of him, frustratingly pushing onwards towards the edge, wanting to get there.
He faltered, missing a step somewhere as he pushed too hard, emotions boiling over in frustration as he made a small mistake, the pencil tip breaking off as his psychic flow state flickered. He could feel himself falling, panicking, being drawn deep by a whirlpool of energies focused on the image of his mother. Suddenly he was somewhere else, a tear in reality high above his heads as endless armies of machines fought a never ending battle in the shadow of a Black Sun.
He felt himself be pulled back as icy coldness enclosed his being, siphoning energy from his soul, the familiar feeling of teeth and daggers at the back of his mind. He gasped, looking at the drawing of Ma ruined by the small imperfection, before turning his gaze down towards her. There was a glow in her eyes and the lumen in the carriage flickered ominously. She blinked and everything returned to normal, her face furious as she looked up at him. "Don't ever do that again. She hissed quietly. "There are things I am not telling you for a reason. Do not attempt to use Divination on me again. Some knowledge is dangerous."
He swallowed, quickly falling into the familiar patterns to calm his emotions and steel his mind, smothering the flames of his soul. "I was not-I was trying to." He showed her the sketch and her anger disappeared immediately. "Alek, this is perfect. I didn't know you hid artistic talents this amazing from me all these years."
"It is not perfect", he quickly corrected her, examining his creations. "It's experimentation. The lines are still not right and the shading could be better."
She hummed in agreement, before growing serious again. "More seriously, please be careful in the future."
"I will." He hastily closed the sketchbook and it and the pencils away. "I promise."
The way home was cut short in Lengington, the last change of tram before they would have finally reached home. Alek was currently engaged in sweet talking the tram officers when an emergency message played through the underground tram stations vox speakers.
"Breaking News: After months of buildup and posturing, the Kingdom of Merunia has begun an offensive into the territory of the Principality of Monera. The Coalition and our allies have called out this act of aggression as a further step of escalation in the ongoing Moten-crisis. The Empress of Solimin has yet to comment, but Empire spokespersons claimed they were supporting the territorial rights of their ally, but would not directly involve themselves. The Council is assembling at this very moment to formulate an answer to this illegal act of aggression."
In that moment he felt a hunch, a strange pull forcing him into actions. He apologized to the officer and begun searching for his Ma, cursing her soulless nature, for it made finding her in crowds excessively difficult. For once his height was more useful than his psykers powers.
"You heard that," he asked as soon as he had found and reached her, trying to figure out the look on her face.
"Did you see something?" She tilted her head.
"Felt, I think…I think I need to go." He swallowed, expecting resistance. His ma just smiled and moved a hand to caress his cheek.
"Write me regularly, allright?"
"That's it?" He frowned in confusion. "No be careful?."
"You are powerful. I do not expect something to happen to you."
He chuckled and moved in to embrace her. "Something every ten year old wishes to hear from his mother."
"You are a very special ten year old." She kissed him softly on top of his head. "Do you need some money for wherever it is you need to go."
"Yes please", he laughed, worming out of her arms. "I might need it."
Alek confidently strode trough the Coalition naval port, clad in the multi-weather combat uniform and carrying his gear and M16 autogun over his shoulders. Around him in the roofed over loading dock, armored vehicles, supplies and soldiers were loaded onto the titanic landing craft that would set course towards Monera within a few hours time. He had psychically scanned the various officers around the space shouting orders for the specific one he needed to talk to, but playing dumb never hurt.
"Excuse me", He politely approached Colonel Harskin, putting on his most charismatic smile. "I am looking for Colonel Harskin."
Harskin, a surprisingly stout man with a scar across his temple looked up at him with an expression on intrigued confusion. "Heavens boy, what did your Ma put in your lunch. If you're looking for Harskin, that's me."
"I have these transfer orders." Alek handed him the small sheet of paper which he had talked, and psychically nudged, a very nice military administration woman to make for him, which Harskin read carefully. "You're late, Private Bourgh." He finally said after a minute of careful examination. "The 5th Armored Regiment is leaving harbor shortly. Get your ass in gear and get onto that beauty there." He pointed at the leviathan landing craft, face serious before grinning and slapping a beefy hand on Aleks shoulder. "Welcome to the 5th, Private, you look like someone I would want to anchor myself in a storm. Now go, find Sergeant Higgus. I need to make sure none of the idiots in logistics hurts themselves."
Alek mirrored the grin and saluted the man with a "Yes sir," before moving on. The Leviathan was a massive landing craft, its belly full of gear, supplies and soldiers frollocking around. Some of which turned their head to oogle the new arrival, but Alek projected a mild field of unimportance. He just wanted to find Higgus. Following the line of surface reads of peoples minds and simply asking politely, he eventually found the man and froze.
He knew that specific Bor Higgus.
Bor had already turned around and spotted Alek, the spark of recognition firing wildly within his mind. He could just smother that spark with some psychic pressure, but he would need to do it again and again and didn't particularly care for rewriting the mind of one of his childhood friend's brother's.
"Alek" Bor said confused, half question, half statement. He decided to roll with it. Smiling and striding forward to meet him. "Bor, ey, as if fate wanted to bring us together?"
"Someone you know Sarge", one the soldiers he had talked to before asked, mustering Alek top to bottom.
"We come from the same district." Bor explained drily, eyeing someone who he remembered as playing dirtball with his younger brother, someone who now towered over him. "Make yourself useful. I want to catch up to him in private."
Murmured complaints came from the men as the scrammed off, Alek never breaking the friendly act the whole time. As soon as they were out of earshot range, Bor pounced on him.
"Alek, what happened you and your Ma are suddenly swallowed by the elements and then you return and like-" He motioned helplessly up the young primarchs body. "What are you, fourteen."
"Ten."
"Heavens", Bor massaged his temple. "Five years ago I watched over you playing in the dirt with the kids and now-" He repeated the helpless gesturing.
Alek waited for as long as possible with answering, until the ships internals began to rumble and the leviathan left the dock, then he turned to the Sergeant, face serious.
"Okay, Bor, we can do this two ways."
"What are you talking about?" He sat down on a crate of ration bars, looking exhausted.
"One, you keep this little secret for yourself and I make sure nothing happens to you." There were things he'd rather not do than tell his friend, no matter how far apart they were by now, that his older brother was dead. "Two, you try to get me thrown out. I know my paperwork is in order. Claiming I am ten years old will only get you in trouble."
He smiled, wide and with teeth. "Do we understand ourselves, Sergeant?"
Bor threw death glares at him from his sitting position. "I am going to be sign your name in for so many maintenance shifts, Private." He spat but with no harshness in his tone.
"Good that we understand ourselves. Now, I need somewhere to bunk."
The weeks of ocean travel were uneventful. Storms shook and rocked the leviathan, but Tenusians were a hardy people, accustomed to the harsh elements of their home planet. As threatened, Bor took special care to punish Aleks presence with as many maintenance shifts as he could get away with without drawing suspicion. He did not mind. It was easy to push the mechanics into giving him a rundown of how things worked and he swallowed it all up like a sponge. Whatever item was put into his lap was taken apart, cleaned, oiled and put together again the full attention and focus of his mind, heart and soul. He could practically feel the journey the parts had taken to be here and now, ore mined deep in the bowels of Tenus, refined and forged in impossibly hot foundries, assembled in factories with workers taking sometimes more, sometimes less pride in their work. The little residual touches of maintenance personnel could be felt all over each item, giving it a unique story and personality. Listening to them was easy, mending their ires as well. They were not alive, not conscious, far from it, but he wondered wether or not if a machine was maintained and repaired long enough, wether the countless touches by countless people would embude it with a machine spirit that was more than a lingering suggestion. It took sometimes more, sometimes less nudging with his mind to return broken parts to service and he made sure to return each item in as perfect a condition as he could manage to. When he went to rest after his shifts, after having cleaned forearms and hands of grease and oil, he would take out his sketchbook and let his mind wonder. By now his autogun has been taken apart and put together again so many times that each of the parts were like an old friend for him. He would then draw sketches of his own creation for guns, support equipment even an armored transport, plans for how to make one himself one day.
His skill went not unnoticed and soon soldiers from the 5th would seek him out with scraps of paper from everywhere, to draw them or, his more favorite trick, have them describe someone close to them: a wife, a girlfriend, parent, child, sibling, and then draw a perfect rendition of their face based on their description and the psychic resonance carried in their soul and words. Some would even come to him with more special requests and occasionally would oblige them, enjoying the giddy look on their face.
They had thrown anchor somewhere close to Monera and Colonel Harskin has assembled as many soldiers as possible in the big utility room, but as usual kept the men under his command waiting for a litte. 'Letting them cook' he had heard him say it once.
"Ey Bourgh, whose that?" Wechsler spied into Aleks lap as he was drawing in his sketchbook. "Damn, she's hot. Girlfriend, wife or sister?"
Bor huffed from a row in front of them. "That's his Ma, Wechsler."
The wiry man scrambled backwards in mock fear. "Please don't eat me, Bourgh. I swear I had noble intentions."
Alek grinned, closing his sketchbook and putting one of his large hands on Wrecklsers head. "I promise I wont, if you damn well make sure write your Ma once the higher ups let us."
"We got a deal." He cackled and lightly punched Aleks side.
"ATTENTION", Harskin bellowed, marching on stage. "We have our OOOOOOOOORDERS."
He waited for the murmurs to die down before continuing. "As you all know, the weather cursed Imperials think they can do whatever they want now that they have nukes. Problem for them is, we have them as well." The lights went out and a flickering map of Monera was projected onto a screen. "Damn Merunians have pushed back our allies almost all the way back to the shore. We can't have that obviously. Command in their wisdom will do something the Empire bootlickers will never suspect and launch an naval invasion to take the port of Nuzia, all the way up here. The city is a critical relay point for supplies so taking it will be of highest importance. For the next part, everyone put on their raincoats please."
The map shown changed. Alek took great care in memorizing every single detail, while the Colonel continued.
"We will wait for a raining period in the weather and then attack. The Bootlickers wont know whats coming for them. Coalition soldiers are not afraid to get a little wet, are we?"
Laughter came from around them. "Coalition soldiers fight in every wind and weather", someone howled and the room begun to cheer, Alek joining into the commotion, excited to do his part for the communal psychic spirit in the air.
"Intel suspects the weather will shift in our favor in the next few hours. The 5th will be part of the second wave. More detailed orders will be given to your superior officers, I expect everyone to be ready within twenty minutes, is that clear."
"Yes, Sir." The room bellowed back and Harskin smirked.
The atmosphere in the the armored transport was tense. Everyone's repertoire of jokes was used up and now all that was left was listening to the groans of the landing leviathan around them and the distant sound of the Coalition battleships flattening Merunian positions. Alek was in the back, psychically scanning the shore. Coalition marines had done a good job creating a landing spot, but by now royal forces were reorganizing and were starting to put up a resistance. If he interpreted the psychic shatter around him correctly, the second wave would begin soon.
"Prepare yourself", he warned them. Bot huffed, but checked his weapon, as did the others in the squad. Moments later the order came.
"Alright gents", Bor grinned, while the leviathan groaned louder as its massive engines forced it forward towards the shore. "Lets show those bootlickers why we won the Great War and they did not."
Tension built until there was a sudden shock forward and the forward ramp of the leviathan opened its maw. The driver immediately pushed onto the gas and the transport jumped out of the belly of the beast and onto the shore, gravel and stone cracking under the threads of the armored transport.
Alek could read the enemies trap the moment the armored regiment rolled forward to support the marines, the heavy rain doing nothing to impede his psychic might. "halt immediately", he shouted. "The shore is littered with anti-tank mines."
"They would have blown the Marine support vehicles to hell." Bor rolled his eyes, but Alek did not care much, easily wrestling the vox from Wrechslers small frame. "5th Regiment halt, the shore is trapped. I repeat, the shore is trapped." He put as much psychic authority into his voice as he could and the entire regiment ground to a halt. Harskin was for a moment taken aback as well, before he could collect his wits and shout into the vox to continue advance again.
A single APC followed his order and blew itself up twenty meters further.
"Heavens dammit", the Colonel cursed. "All squads disembark we will do this one on foot from here."
Wrechsler rubbed his wrists. "How did the Marine support-"
"Variable pressure-" Alek explains, moving towards the back of the APC. "The Marine support vehicles are not heavy enough to set them off."
"Shit", he grumbled, correcting the position of the vox unit on his back.
"Doesn't matter now, out." Bor ordered and they disembarked the vehicle and went out into the rain.
In truth it did not really rain as much as the sky emptied itself, adding to it winds that resulted in a 45 degree angle for the direction of the fall. Great streams of water run down from the soldiers raincapes and helmets as they pushed forward from the shore and onto the sparsely populated land. Visibility was almost zero for them, but also for the enemy…unless. Alek carefully eyes the thick curtain of rain in front of them.
"Almost no cover." Bor shouted over the rain, leading the squad forward. "Wish we had the protection of the transports."
"Wish we them to protect us from the rain." One of the others bellowed.
"Afraid to get a little wet?" Alek joked.
"In your dreams Bourgh." came as an answer.
The navies bombardement at least had punched a lot of craters into the flat landscape, allowing them to advance somewhat undisturbed. When they had reached the roadway, the turned right and advanced onwards into Nuzia."
The fighting at the edge of the city was hellish.
"We are fucking stuck here." The Marine sergeant spit some water onto the ground. "Bootlicks have stubbers everywhere at the port and we don't know where. Where are the APCs?"
"Stuck, because of mines until the corps has cleared the beach."
"Damn", he cursed and leaned against the wall that hard served them well as cover, the occasional bullet causing a small splash of pulverized rock. "Anyone have ideas."
"Give me all your guys grenades." Alek ordered, already forming an idea in his head. "I will take them out from afar."
"Bourgh, you look like you can throw me over an APC, but be realistic." Wechsler shouted, flinching each time an explosion or shot came close to them, but handed Alek the two frags he carried with him.
He took them without comment, reached out to the stubber crews defending the port entrances, confused their minds with a few pulls and pushes and then threw six grenades one after the other. The throws would have been impossible, even with his enhanced physique, violating all laws of ballistic arcs by using his mind to guide them where they should go. When they exploded, taking the stubbers with them, he put a little extra oomph into the explosion just to make sure. The suppression fire ended and he motioned the soldiers to move forward. The marines were first to accept his authority, his own squad taking a second longer get going. The stubbers destroyed, royal troops were streaming out of their holes to take over the firing positions that now layed silent, but Alek would not let them. He killed the first seven before they had even spotted him, using his psychic powers to guide his aim, the third he threw against a wall so hard he died then and there, his spine pulverized under the impact, the last one he simply gave a psychic command to sleep, moving ever onwards. Besides him the Marines and the 5th did as he did, falling upon the unprepared fire positions out of the rain, cleaning them out in a matter of minutes. Ever moving, Bor advanced was next to Wechseler, shouting into the voc receiver that the western gate had just been taken. From here they entered the city proper, all subsurface, narrow corridors. Normally they would wait for armor infantry to come and advance through there, but Alek had studied the maps of the city well and an idea formed in his head.
"What do you think of taking out their command staff?"
Of course they followed him. Alek wove simple illusions to keep the way free as much as possible, making sure they were in good positions to jump upon enemy groups where conflict was unavoidable, as they worked their way through the inner city past one beautiful, now war-torn, arcades, shopping streets and public spaces until hey had reached what was tentatively used by the local Colonels as a command post.
They never had a chance.
Caught unaware and unprepared the Coalition troops engaged them from point blank range, water still dripping of their coats. Merunian officers drew their tunnel swords, but engaging Alek in close combat was as fruitless as doing so from afar. He was a whirlwind of destruction, moving, weaving simple illusions to keep the upper hand, shooting when he thought he had a good target, an punching them to death with the butt of his rifle once ammunition had run out.
When the dust had settled they had killed or heavily wounded all but the highest ranking officers, Alek's rifle was broken in two, much to his dismay. Wechsler had been wounded, a flesh wound from a stray shot only, but the man complained like he would die any minute. The Marine medic treating him was rolling his eyes.
The enemy Colonel, who was wearing a uniform totally unfit for combat in Tenus weather, looked at Alek with a measure of fear and disdain as he walked close. The Young Primarch towered over him, carefully and with a smile on his face putting a vox receiver into his hand. "Tell your forces to surrender." He said carefully, loading the words up with as much suggestion as he could draw from the warp. The Colonel deflated, the words working.
Harskin was looking very pleased with himself as he walked into what had only a few hours ago been the office of his equivalent on the enemy side. "Heavens be damned, Bourgh", he addressed him. Alek was standing straight to attention, Bor throwing him angry glares from his position standing next to him. "What you did was crazy, reckless and should not have worked, but-" He ignited a victory lho stick from the enemies stash, taking a deep pull. "-It worked and we took the port and the city with minimal casualties, thanks to the stunt you pulled. And you are missing a Platoon Lieutenant after the previous one got himself offed." Harskin yeeted the rank insignia onto the table before him. "See it as a temporary promotion. If you can prove this was not a one off, you will make it far in the Coalition forces. Now scram off and let me celebrate with this high quality lho sticks confiscated from enemy combatants."
They saluted and left the Colonels office, on their way to visit Wechsler in the infirmary with the others guys.
"You are impossible." Bor groaned.
"You are impossible, Lieutenant." Alek teased him. "Want to become my second in command?"
"Do you even know what that is."
"No", Alek admitted, jumping away from a kick that was so heavily telegraphed a Leviathan battleship could evade it. "But I assume you do."
"I remember disinfecting a scrape on your knee you big child. What would you ever do without me. starting tomorrow we will have some lessons on what being Lieutenant actually means."
What Weapon does Alek craft to replace his broken rifle? (Vote for one)
[]Artisanal Double Swords While useless in a firefight, in the tight environments of Tenus cities double swords would enable him to become a close range nightmare.
[]Artisanal Sword and Autopistol Trading one sword for an autopistol replaces some close combat capacity for a simple ranged option.
[]Artisanal Autogun Autoguns are simple, versatile, precise and not too heavy. The ultimate weapon for the war at hand.
[]Artisanal Heavy Stubber A heavy stubber can let loose a hailstorm of bullets. Normally a heavy weapon for a team, Alexandros incredible strength would allow him to use one like a rifle.
[]Artisanal Autocannon An autocannon is a heavy auto-weapon for use against lightly heavy infantry and light vehicles. Normally a heavy weapon for a team, Alexandros incredible strength would allow him to use one like a heavy rifle.
[]Artisanal (Write-in Ask me First)
How do Alekandros Bourgh and his platoon distinguish themselves during the Monera Escalation? (Vote for one)
[]They broke a encirclement trapping hundreds of Coalition soldiers
[]They held an important position against impossible odds
[]They freed thousands of Moneran prisoners of war.
[]Not a single act of valor, but an unbroken record of excellent service.
Thanks for participating. I reserve myself the right to disregard, interpret, change and add to WH40k and 30k lore as I see fit to support the narrative. Comments and feedback sustain my soul.
[X]Artisanal Sword and Autopistol Trading one sword for an autopistol replaces some close combat capacity for a simple ranged option.
[X]Not a single act of valor, but an unbroken record of excellent service.
The thing is as a primarch, he very much can be good at everything. Also i think consistency is important.
[X]Artisanal Write-In: Artisanal Shotgun Anyone who survives the spread of its shells will have to contend with its hefty stock.
[X]Artisanal Heavy Stubber A heavy stubber can let loose a hailstorm of bullets. Normally a heavy weapon for a team, Alexandros incredible strength would allow him to use one like a rifle.
[X]Artisanal Autocannon An autocannon is a heavy auto-weapon for use against lightly heavy infantry and light vehicles. Normally a heavy weapon for a team, Alexandros incredible strength would allow him to use one like a heavy rifle.
[X]Not a single act of valor, but an unbroken record of excellent service.
There is an unspoken merit in consistent results.
(Hope the write-in works, BOT!)
Right now, you are not a genius engineer, you are a genius artisan. The difference is for that you need a resource from which to learn how to make X, be it a sample of X for study, a person or a book. Lascarbine is vetoed.
Just watching katana creation in youtube. It's creation reminds me of the way he is drawing in paper. It seem so Zen. Is Longsword term or something else ok with you? I am trying to indicate type of sword after all.
