WARHAMMER 40,000: A Thousand Tiny Suns (40k/Exalted Crossover!)

The cheering subsided - and everyone looked at you. The Magos' eyes shone with excitement - though you saw, also, some confusion. You gulped, then shifted on Kit's shoulder. You wondered why they all accepted him so easily. He was a eight foot tall beastman abhuman right now. Maybe they were too tired. Maybe there was something so compelling about his flowery language. Maybe it was just...the energy in the air. It crackled in your mind as you shifted, then got your boots under you. You stood on his shoulder, and everyone tensed, readying.

"You!" you said, pointing at a Cadian NCO. "I need five parallel trenches dug, a meter wide, ten meters long! Use your lasguns to melt the synthsand bags - setting two on constant fire ought to do it. Use those to plug your powerpacks into that." Your thrust your fingers again and again.

The NCO looked at the plasma generatoria you had gestured. He started to jog off.

"That's not-" a tech-priest started to speak.

"The adapters will work well enough! You! You!" you thrust your finger at the tech-priest and his fellow votivite. "Those trenches are going to be used for some large scale, basic smelting projects - nothing too pure will be required for it, but for the macrocircuitry, I need something with a purity of a...oh, uh..." You considered. "Six on the Lanesten-Makk Hagiographic Technosavantry Scale."

"A six!?" The tech-priest you had pointed asked. "With what, we're in artillery support."

You frowned. "Kit. Snap that in half."

You pointed at one of the earthshakers.

He shrugged, then picked you up by putting a paw around your entire waist (don't think about that don't think about that don't think about that) and then set you down next to him. He rolled his shoulders, shifted on his hind paws, bouncing a bit. You noticed that here and now he had somehow contrived to shift his leggings so they bulged around his lips like...very...tight shorts. You started doing math and looked away as he lifted a paw, clenched it into a fist, and punched the earthshaker barrel in half. It fell and as it fell, you slashed out with your own palm - feeling the vibrations in the metal. You caught them and twisted them with a tiny pulse of your fingers through your glove.

The barrel, already somewhat corroded by use, exploded into a thousand fragments. You let the impure ones zip away, some thudding into the mud, some whining past shocked heads. The ones that were suited to your purpose, you yanked from the air, arms blurring. You smashed them together in your hand, clenching your fist. Forge heat blazed as your anima flared, your caste mark blazing on your brow. You dragged the molten metal out into a haft, snatched a discarded auspex, shattered it and rebuilt it, then tied them all together with wire. Your palm swept, passing over it all to leave a perfectly balanced grav-smithy.

You tossed it to the shocked priest.

"That will do," you said, firmly. "Now! I want every scrap of metal, every shard of glass we can have!"

The entire army burst into motion.

The trenches were dug and lined. The spare metal was smelted down, and you got to work. Your gloves burned away and sparks danced along your trench coat, burning holes through it as you focused on purely the work - drawing forth the metal with your bare hands, forging it into chain links, planes, shapes. You tossed off orders - giving specifications down to the smallest decibel if needed, and the Magos and the priests followed you, working their fingers to the brass and the bone. Kit was always by your side, his vast strength somehow filling you with the energy to work and work, despite your aching bones and throbbing joints.

You cast the vast lenses in pits dug in the mud, and sparks flew into the gathering darkness. The thin shell of men around your trenchlines kept watch for enemies - but the shuttles flew into the belly of the great beast you hoped to slay, tiny pinpricks of brilliant light. And all the time, you held the shape of the lance in your mind. It was built into the hill itself, the barrel forming in a few hours, banded into place with chain and steel. The generatoria were expanded, then plugged in as you reached in to grip the condensed hydro-fuel and through a single spark of divine focus, caused them to fuse and yanked your hand back, palm smoking and hissing, face bathed in blue-white glows before you slammed the lids shut and let the generatoria flare and throb with their heat.

Dawn, at last, came, as the flames around you sputtered out and you wobbled, sagged, then fell backwards into Kit's arms.

"You've done enough, 41," he murmured.

"T-There's still calibrations we need doing..." You mumbled under your breath.

His arms snaked around you as the whole world seemed to war - dark and light. The darkness was your eyes closing, the light was the sun rising.

...how had you gotten so tired?

"Mm...warm..."

You muttered softly.

"Remember, um, the lance...mm, pulls left slightly...motonic frequencies should be...nine eight...something..."

Kit knelt beside the bed, and watched as the slender Krieger slept.

He shook his head slowly.

"How can someone so small..."

HHGNNNGKK...SNZZsshhhh...

HG...GL...GUGK...ZZZHGNN...

"...snore so...frakking loud," he muttered, his teeth flashing in a wry smile. His paw reached down - hovered over her mask. Then he simply adjusted it, to lay more comfortably, before drawing a blanket over her body. He stepped outside, while 41-22 slept. Once he was outside, the tech-priests all remained, their faces concerned. Or, at least, they smelled concerned.

"Is she-" one of them started.

"The Natural Magos, she was exposed to more radiation flux than any mortal could ever survive!" Kappa said, his voice concerned, his hands wringing. "The Omnisiah...has...has she sacrificed herself, as J.E-201 did in the fires of Pyrwenn?"

"No!" Kit said, crossing his arms over his chest, his voice harsher than such sillness required. But the idea of 41 being in danger squeezed his heart and twisted his soul. He forced himself to calm. "She just needs rest."

"We shall get every Magos Biologis here, to ensure-" Kappa started.

"She just needs rest. And maybe kaff once she's awake," Kit said, nodding. "Prepare to fire the gun."

"Lance."

"Whatever," Kit said, rolling his eyes.

Tech-Priests.

The rain was pouring onto your head in sheeting masses. You clutched the spear to your chest - slender and tipped with moonsilver. The rain felt odd...and you realized, to your horror, it was cascading down a face without a mask. You looked around, wildly. YOu were in a vast dark forest - next to a road, with a road maker on it. The sign was not in Low Gothic - but it clearly read to you.

LOOKSHY
41 Leagues
North

In the vast distance, you could see embers drifting into the sky from a holocaust, just over the horizon.

A horse stood beside you - bare faced, hooved, but she had the same pale white fur as Gitta. Her nose bumped against your shoulder and you felt Gitta's familiar assertiveness. "I-I don't know either-" you said, quietly.

A horse came down the road. A man clung to its back, dressed with a metal breastplate, a short sword at his hip. He saw you and pulled back, hard. His horse skidded slightly in the pouring rain, rearing and kicking. As he settled, he called down. "At last! Ten fangs have been sent, searching for you my lady!" he exclaimed. "You must return - the news..." He looked grave. "T-The Commander bids me to tell you - the enemy general...she...she's..." He licked his lips.

"W-What?" you asked.

"She's the Roseblack," he said.

"...what!?" you asked, even more confused.

"I don't know why either, but it- oh hells!" He snapped his head around. "They're coming!"

Screeching sounds in the air. Laughter on the wind. Dark shapes overhead.

"My lady! Fly! I will hold them off!" the man drew his blade - and it flashed green. Swirling light glowed around him. "Go! Now!"

You swung onto Gitta, heart hammering.

"For the Realm! For the Empress!" the man shouted, swirling his sword around him. The trees themselves seemed to bend to his will and the rain exploded away from him with a flash. Rose petals bloomed and you kneed Gitta into motion, rushing away, leaving behind his crackling anima banner. You looked back - and saw shapes, unspeakable and vile, dropping from the sky, cackling and laughing. Then Gitta rounded a bend to the north, and you saw nothing but driving rain.

A shadow crept after you as you rode.

It laughed and laughed and laughed - slithering, snakelike and swift.

Your dreams cannot chain me...

You have returned as a spark.

But I am free! Mars burns and I am free!

The laughter chased you and chased you - and you jerked upright, gasping, heart hammering. Your hands were numb and your chest throbbed. Your gas mask felt like it was choking you.

---
[ ] Rip it off.
[ ] Stay calm. Stay calm. Breathe carefully. Slowly.
[ ] Scream for Kit.
[ ] Write In



STATS
Health: Fine
Anima: Dim
Willpower: 5/5
Personal Motes: 13/13 | Peripheral Motes: 28/28
Limit: 1/10 (Trigger: Being stymied by indulges around her)
XP: 2 | Solar XP: 4
Major Projects: 0/5
SXP: 46 | GXP: 15 | WXP: 3