[X] Plan: Codex Vulkhari Final Edition.
A Different Breed (Warhammer 29K)
Alectai
Speaks Words of Wisdom... On occasion
Mmm, I don't hate Final Edition but I also aren't really a fan of it either. At least it's not flagrantly xenophobic, though it gets there by buying a big industrial debt and two pacts that draw on our industry too. (Craftworld Engines being busted rather than just damaged feels dangerous, especially in a place worth 4 points), and without the dedicated Bonesinger training spot, I'm not sure if we can keep up with our expectations.
But I don't hate it like I did the one that was all "What if Biel-Tan but more gear" I just disagree with it. That's fine.
But I don't hate it like I did the one that was all "What if Biel-Tan but more gear" I just disagree with it. That's fine.
- Location
- Somewhere Beyond the Sea
The bonesinger choir can be trained up once the game begins, the damage can be repaired and we'll have plenty of bonesingers to last us the immediate short term until we can make the choir, but the seerstone? The psychomaton forge? The sword of vaul? Those could be lost forever if we don't pick them, and true, it's a little more bold than the 3rd edition of the plan, but it also has a decent sized fleet and a very nice looking deterrent.
Also, psychic robots! Doesn't that sound at least a little bit cool?
As for the engines, we'll be dropped into pre-imperial eastern fringes with a battleship that can take on glorianas and win, our legs might be nailed to the ground but we'll also be carrying a knife/gun/nuke big enough to make any invader hesitate or otherwise bring them to the negotiating table.
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- Location
- Somewhere Beyond the Sea
Off topic/slight tangent change but I wanna try and elaborate on a random thought that struck my mind and compare the difference between big stick and final edition; if the Vulkhari plan wins, we'd be able to occupy a comfortable sweet spot in the beginning of the game for the other craftworlders, too strong to be taken on in a direct fight, but not strong enough to directly rival any one of the major craftworlds in a numerical/naval sense, too influential to be ignored, but not influential enough to warrant any further aggression or politicking against us, too radical, (atleast to Biel-Tan), but too tough of a nut for the other craftworlders to consider throwing precious lives away in a meatgrinder.
While big stick is relying upon distance from Biel-Tan to dissuade them from attacking ("Why bother going up into the halo stara when that swordwind could be better used in another theatre of war?"), the Vulkhari plan could be making it so that attacking us is going to result in a disproportionate amount of casualties / deaths which would be enough to let us go to Iyanden, Ulthwe and Saim-Hann and express our concerns that the war is only going to make things worse for both parties and that they need to call off the fight before Biel-Tan tries to test the defenses.
Basically it's two different doctrines and thus have their own merits and flaws to them, but while one relies upon distance and the fleeting interest of Biel-Tan (and a shaky / unstable webway connection in the halo stars to make travel difficult) until we can bolster our naval defenses, the other relies upon making an offensive action against us to be too painful even for Biel-Tan to stomach (not when orks, chaos and Humans are closer to them and actively settling on maiden worlds)
(Also, we can build psychic robots, and that is literally the two coolest words of the English dictionary merged together, sure, we might have a little slower research speed, but when you can build robots that can lighten the demand for manpower, then we can actually support our potential 'Heavy-Infantry/vehicles' doctrine and those guardian squads could retrain to become bonesingers.)
But yeah to cut a long tangent / ramble short, we can repair our heavy damage, we can replace our engines, we can build up a dedicated research lab and regrow our population (however slowly)
But the one thing we can't build, the one thing that is vital to our continued survival, is pre-fall Eldar tech (thanks to that, we posess actual military equipment in the form of starlances and fatecasters!) and passing any of it up feels like we're going against our prerogative as the research/industry craftworld.
And once again, to continue the joke; psychic robots.
While big stick is relying upon distance from Biel-Tan to dissuade them from attacking ("Why bother going up into the halo stara when that swordwind could be better used in another theatre of war?"), the Vulkhari plan could be making it so that attacking us is going to result in a disproportionate amount of casualties / deaths which would be enough to let us go to Iyanden, Ulthwe and Saim-Hann and express our concerns that the war is only going to make things worse for both parties and that they need to call off the fight before Biel-Tan tries to test the defenses.
Basically it's two different doctrines and thus have their own merits and flaws to them, but while one relies upon distance and the fleeting interest of Biel-Tan (and a shaky / unstable webway connection in the halo stars to make travel difficult) until we can bolster our naval defenses, the other relies upon making an offensive action against us to be too painful even for Biel-Tan to stomach (not when orks, chaos and Humans are closer to them and actively settling on maiden worlds)
(Also, we can build psychic robots, and that is literally the two coolest words of the English dictionary merged together, sure, we might have a little slower research speed, but when you can build robots that can lighten the demand for manpower, then we can actually support our potential 'Heavy-Infantry/vehicles' doctrine and those guardian squads could retrain to become bonesingers.)
But yeah to cut a long tangent / ramble short, we can repair our heavy damage, we can replace our engines, we can build up a dedicated research lab and regrow our population (however slowly)
But the one thing we can't build, the one thing that is vital to our continued survival, is pre-fall Eldar tech (thanks to that, we posess actual military equipment in the form of starlances and fatecasters!) and passing any of it up feels like we're going against our prerogative as the research/industry craftworld.
And once again, to continue the joke; psychic robots.
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- Location
- The Cosmos
[X] Plan: Codex Vulkhari Final Edition.
I'll back this plan since mine doesn't seem to be going anywhere.
I'll back this plan since mine doesn't seem to be going anywhere.
Darik29
Verified Delicious
You need to put a [X] before the plan name for the tally counter to work boss.
- Location
- Somewhere Beyond the Sea
I just wanna say uuuuh @Mechanis
*Drops this and runs*
Omake: Exodus.
The Dominion had fallen.
This much was undeniable evidence to the survivors onboard the craftworld as Bonesingers moved through the rubble to repair the damage, deep rents criss-crossed through the entirety of the superstructure like the wounds of some great beast, broken up by the intermittent burns and mottling of the hull.
The Dominion had fallen.
This was much was known to the seers, who had seen beyond sight and whose visions warned them of the calamity unfolding before them, of something slippery and greasy, stinking of perfume crawling into the collective psyche of the Dominion and every Aeldari alive.
The Dominion had fallen.
This was known to the crystal-singers as they worked to distract themselves from the horrors that had almost claimed their craftworld, lights flickering overhead like a painfully obtuse metaphor of the Aeldari people.
A hundred million different souls all came to the same conclusion in their own way, and all of them came to the same thought.
The Dominion had fallen.
It was nothing short of a miracle that the survivors had forseen this possibility, that they had not discarded it as the work of an overactive imagination, that they had stayed behind for as long as they could to save as much as they were able to save - even when other craftworlds had already fled long ago - technology, relics, fragments of culture, wildlife, plant life, religion, people, it was a miracle that the pleasure cults - too insensate to their own depredation - that they had not branded the survivors as traitors, that their security had warded off the worst of the pleasure cultists seeking ripe experiences and new torments to null the ennui, and most of all?
That they had survived in spite of this error, and they had saved some of the Dominion's works, paltry scraps perhaps, but even scrap could be reforged into a work of art given a practised hand.
And considering the damage, they had come out of the fall with relatively few losses.
But the Bonesingers would always find a broken, drained corpse, their eyes rolled back in agony/pleasure/horror and their skin bleached of all life, the lingering remnants of their security detail would always find a still-twitching mass of flesh in need of pruning, and every single one of the survivors could feel it, an itch in the back of their minds, a thirst that could not be quenched, a sensation of something vile and newborn waiting to latch onto their souls and drain them of life.
After the frenzied evacuation from the core worlds of the Dominion, one in ten Aeldari inhabiting their craftworld had perished, some through the maddened cultists boarding the vessel at the twilight of the Calamity, others had been jettisoned into the void when the hull had been breached, and others still simply slumped to the ground, their souls pried out of their bodies and devoured by the monsters their seers had foreseen.
But yet, they had survived. Wounded. Scarred, battered in mind and body, but they had survived.
By the time that the panic had subsided, a new question had to asked:
Now what?
Some had insisted that the Dominion was only fractured, that to throw their lot in with the surviving craftworlds and to rebuild their Dominion was not only preferable, but ideal to them. Others still had fallen into a sense of nihilism, throwing themselves into their work in an attempt to distract their minds from the horrors unfolding around them.
Eventually, the seers stepped forward, their robes tattered and stained with soot and smoke, their helmets cracked and crystalised under the strain of their work in the evacuation.
They had secured a relic, a seerstone, a repository of knowledge pertaining to matters of the sea of souls, what the younger races had named 'The Warp', and they had discovered a solution - or so they claimed.
"The Old Ways are dead." The lead Seer among them had preached. "Gone, never to return, and for us to retread that path is to doom ourselves to the ceaseless wheel of extinction and revival, of calamity and reconstruction, of rust and gleaming silver."
The Seer extended their arms to their kin, the ever pervasive smell of smoke having made itself known long after the atmospheric conditions had stabilised and only intensifying in the presence of the seers.
"We have forseen it, to follow the other kin is to march happily into extinction, so few are our numbers, to obey their paths is to chain ourselves to our anvil, and to persist in this state is to be treated as cattle by our sins personified."
The Aeldari around them hesitated, this gathering of craftsmen, artists and scholars had known well what the pleasure cults had done to the free-thinkers of their race.
"No, we have forseen a solution." The Seer began as they scanned the crowd, before they looked down at their wraithbone prosthetic, clenching and unclenching their hand several times as they did so.
"We had begun our existence as tools, weapons to be forged by our creators long-dead for war against the ancient enemy, but if we can be forged, then can we not be reforged?"
The Seer raised their finger and gestured to the black tower of wraithbone behind them, an orange energy radiating and flickering in patterns and sequences off of it at set intervals as the crowd followed their finger.
"Utilising the repository of knowledge within this Seerstone, and with our hands, it may be possible to reforge our souls, sever ourselves from the thirsting parasite hanging over us and carve our own path in this uncertain time, but we cannot forsee the consequences of such an action, it is... murky, difficult to discern possibilities from the chaos of the Othersea."
Several of the craftworlders shared nervous glances with eachother, their eyes - baggy and exhausted after constant, frenetic labour - shining with a mix of hesitation and hope.
To do this was to commit to an action tantamount to heresy to modify one's soul to such an extent, and even if it worked... could they even be called Aeldari once their souls had been reforged? Did the Seers even know what they were about to do? That others could see this reforging and label it as nothing short of mutilation?
But what other options did they have? Untold scores of their people were dead, their craftworld damaged within and without, the survivors harried by the slavering, thirsting jaws of the Othersea roiling and churning against them.
The silence that hung in the halls of the Craftworld was deafening, enough that one could strain and still hear the snarling and the rasping of teeth against the hull, or their hearts hammering in their chests like a smith to soft iron.
The decision was made.
The crowd stepped forward, some stragglers hesitated, their body-language broadcasting unease and dread at the prospect, but eventually, even they stepped forward.
In response, the Seer simply nodded his head and motioned for the crowd to follow him up, up into the black tower and to the Seerstone within.
The Dominion had fallen.
But the Vulkhari will rise.
(Wanted to try my hand at writing my interpretation of the Vulkhari at this moment and to hopefully convince more people to consider Codex Vulkhari a little bit more, sorry if this isn't high quality, since I've pretty much neglected using third person for a long time, it might be a bit scuffed)
*Drops this and runs*
Omake: Exodus.
The Dominion had fallen.
This much was undeniable evidence to the survivors onboard the craftworld as Bonesingers moved through the rubble to repair the damage, deep rents criss-crossed through the entirety of the superstructure like the wounds of some great beast, broken up by the intermittent burns and mottling of the hull.
The Dominion had fallen.
This was much was known to the seers, who had seen beyond sight and whose visions warned them of the calamity unfolding before them, of something slippery and greasy, stinking of perfume crawling into the collective psyche of the Dominion and every Aeldari alive.
The Dominion had fallen.
This was known to the crystal-singers as they worked to distract themselves from the horrors that had almost claimed their craftworld, lights flickering overhead like a painfully obtuse metaphor of the Aeldari people.
A hundred million different souls all came to the same conclusion in their own way, and all of them came to the same thought.
The Dominion had fallen.
It was nothing short of a miracle that the survivors had forseen this possibility, that they had not discarded it as the work of an overactive imagination, that they had stayed behind for as long as they could to save as much as they were able to save - even when other craftworlds had already fled long ago - technology, relics, fragments of culture, wildlife, plant life, religion, people, it was a miracle that the pleasure cults - too insensate to their own depredation - that they had not branded the survivors as traitors, that their security had warded off the worst of the pleasure cultists seeking ripe experiences and new torments to null the ennui, and most of all?
That they had survived in spite of this error, and they had saved some of the Dominion's works, paltry scraps perhaps, but even scrap could be reforged into a work of art given a practised hand.
And considering the damage, they had come out of the fall with relatively few losses.
But the Bonesingers would always find a broken, drained corpse, their eyes rolled back in agony/pleasure/horror and their skin bleached of all life, the lingering remnants of their security detail would always find a still-twitching mass of flesh in need of pruning, and every single one of the survivors could feel it, an itch in the back of their minds, a thirst that could not be quenched, a sensation of something vile and newborn waiting to latch onto their souls and drain them of life.
After the frenzied evacuation from the core worlds of the Dominion, one in ten Aeldari inhabiting their craftworld had perished, some through the maddened cultists boarding the vessel at the twilight of the Calamity, others had been jettisoned into the void when the hull had been breached, and others still simply slumped to the ground, their souls pried out of their bodies and devoured by the monsters their seers had foreseen.
But yet, they had survived. Wounded. Scarred, battered in mind and body, but they had survived.
By the time that the panic had subsided, a new question had to asked:
Now what?
Some had insisted that the Dominion was only fractured, that to throw their lot in with the surviving craftworlds and to rebuild their Dominion was not only preferable, but ideal to them. Others still had fallen into a sense of nihilism, throwing themselves into their work in an attempt to distract their minds from the horrors unfolding around them.
Eventually, the seers stepped forward, their robes tattered and stained with soot and smoke, their helmets cracked and crystalised under the strain of their work in the evacuation.
They had secured a relic, a seerstone, a repository of knowledge pertaining to matters of the sea of souls, what the younger races had named 'The Warp', and they had discovered a solution - or so they claimed.
"The Old Ways are dead." The lead Seer among them had preached. "Gone, never to return, and for us to retread that path is to doom ourselves to the ceaseless wheel of extinction and revival, of calamity and reconstruction, of rust and gleaming silver."
The Seer extended their arms to their kin, the ever pervasive smell of smoke having made itself known long after the atmospheric conditions had stabilised and only intensifying in the presence of the seers.
"We have forseen it, to follow the other kin is to march happily into extinction, so few are our numbers, to obey their paths is to chain ourselves to our anvil, and to persist in this state is to be treated as cattle by our sins personified."
The Aeldari around them hesitated, this gathering of craftsmen, artists and scholars had known well what the pleasure cults had done to the free-thinkers of their race.
"No, we have forseen a solution." The Seer began as they scanned the crowd, before they looked down at their wraithbone prosthetic, clenching and unclenching their hand several times as they did so.
"We had begun our existence as tools, weapons to be forged by our creators long-dead for war against the ancient enemy, but if we can be forged, then can we not be reforged?"
The Seer raised their finger and gestured to the black tower of wraithbone behind them, an orange energy radiating and flickering in patterns and sequences off of it at set intervals as the crowd followed their finger.
"Utilising the repository of knowledge within this Seerstone, and with our hands, it may be possible to reforge our souls, sever ourselves from the thirsting parasite hanging over us and carve our own path in this uncertain time, but we cannot forsee the consequences of such an action, it is... murky, difficult to discern possibilities from the chaos of the Othersea."
Several of the craftworlders shared nervous glances with eachother, their eyes - baggy and exhausted after constant, frenetic labour - shining with a mix of hesitation and hope.
To do this was to commit to an action tantamount to heresy to modify one's soul to such an extent, and even if it worked... could they even be called Aeldari once their souls had been reforged? Did the Seers even know what they were about to do? That others could see this reforging and label it as nothing short of mutilation?
But what other options did they have? Untold scores of their people were dead, their craftworld damaged within and without, the survivors harried by the slavering, thirsting jaws of the Othersea roiling and churning against them.
The silence that hung in the halls of the Craftworld was deafening, enough that one could strain and still hear the snarling and the rasping of teeth against the hull, or their hearts hammering in their chests like a smith to soft iron.
The decision was made.
The crowd stepped forward, some stragglers hesitated, their body-language broadcasting unease and dread at the prospect, but eventually, even they stepped forward.
In response, the Seer simply nodded his head and motioned for the crowd to follow him up, up into the black tower and to the Seerstone within.
The Dominion had fallen.
But the Vulkhari will rise.
(Wanted to try my hand at writing my interpretation of the Vulkhari at this moment and to hopefully convince more people to consider Codex Vulkhari a little bit more, sorry if this isn't high quality, since I've pretty much neglected using third person for a long time, it might be a bit scuffed)
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Honestly the Vote has run surprisingly long for Char Gen, but we've had a fair bit of discussion.
- Location
- Somewhere Beyond the Sea
Yeah, but it is also one of the more important char gen votes because it's the one that'll determine how we'll be roleplaying from this point onwards and - most importantly - our options in the future.
(Whatever the cost may be, I WILL be advocating for getting the psychomatons, because COME ON, they're psychic robots! Don't you guys think that's a cool and unique spin on the Eldar as a faction?)
Also, huh, that art looks super unique, Mechanis, like our ships and general design aesthetic feel like a mix between the two different Eldar factions with our own unique spin on things.
The Vulkhari armour specifically looks unique too, some kind of bodysuit and the armour worn on top of it maybe? Or is it a dress uniform that the civilians wear and the armour is what we wear? (Honestly it kind of reminds me of like a hazmat suit, that boxy thing on their chest looks important, our way of stopping Slaanesh?)
(And speaking of the armour, it does look like we have some kind of antennae for wireless communication on our helmet, maybe we have better armour on average than the guardian squads?)
Honestly I have no idea lmao, but those look REALLY good, Mechanis!
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I to would like a explanation for the picture please?
[X] Plan: Codex Vulkhari Final Edition.
Not sure if voted for you before but your argument for psychic robots has convinced me
Not sure if voted for you before but your argument for psychic robots has convinced me
- Location
- Somewhere Beyond the Sea
It's the only arguement that matters, it's literally the coolest combination of words in any language!
But yeah I have a horrible sinking feeling that if we don't grab them now, we might not be able to get them later, and that'd be a big chunk of our manpower, economy and military could've been automated, but won't be because of this.
Sure, maybe we reinvent them later, maybe we find one lying around in our relic vault or as a museum piece and reverse engineer the means to producing them, but there's an equal chance that we can't, and I don't want to try gambling on that / tempting RNG.
RandomTechPriest
He Who Steals Toasters
[X] Plan: Codex Vulkhari Final Edition.
Alectai
Speaks Words of Wisdom... On occasion
It's the only arguement that matters, it's literally the coolest combination of words in any language!
But yeah I have a horrible sinking feeling that if we don't grab them now, we might not be able to get them later, and that'd be a big chunk of our manpower, economy and military could've been automated, but won't be because of this.
Sure, maybe we reinvent them later, maybe we find one lying around in our relic vault or as a museum piece and reverse engineer the means to producing them, but there's an equal chance that we can't, and I don't want to try gambling on that / tempting RNG.
I still feel that the only things that we could "Never get again" are things from the first post. I also doubt failing to take Psychomatrons here means we'll never have access to psychic robots ever.
But you do you.
There is a chance that we either ally craftworld that has it or most likely we will find an not purged one in the webway and will need to fight to get it under control
Vote Result: Creation 2 of 2
Mechanis
Confirmed Extremely Screwed
- Location
- Absconding with Alacrity
Right. Right. RIGHT.
(it'll still be a couple more days/until the weekend before the actual post is ready, but I'm now at the point where I need this stuff determined.)
(can't do Detachments until I know what you're getting for Special Units for example.)
(it'll still be a couple more days/until the weekend before the actual post is ready, but I'm now at the point where I need this stuff determined.)
(can't do Detachments until I know what you're getting for Special Units for example.)