- Location
- Oklahoma
Is that a Odogaron? Or something else?
The Galaxy is Flood, Not Food - Century Zero
- Thread starter Jackson Fox
- Start date
- Crossover Novel Sci-Fi
Is that a Odogaron? Or something else?
Do you have a link?
Here ya go,
Dog of War: Clone Wars
Yes, Odogaron. Recently started playing MH wilds, so guess how that's influenced me
@Jackson Fox Btw I found interesting-fun take on daemon and 'Demonology' research from a warhammer 4k AI quest here, hope it give you more ideas. Of course still going to waiting for more of your chapter due to ''Flood shenanigan" and more interesting take for techs ?
TLR. They drawn to 'drama'
Here's where you can actually get to the dangerous stuff - like trying to understand how to directly interact with a demon. To do this, the three of you start from the basics. Demons are ideas come to life. Malicious ideas, to be sure, but still ideas. This means that they do not share the limitations of material beings, but instead have their own set of limitations, often baked into their very being from the concepts that gave them birth.
This is all hinted at by your previous materials - and also your past research. The key is now figuring out how to use that to interact with the demons in various ways. To call them, if you're so inclined, to banish them once you're done with them. And most importantly, to bind them in the meantime.
You saw how the cultists intended to do it - at least the summoning part of it. It doesn't appear to be that difficult, since it's mostly about invoking a concept associated with the demon hard enough they decide it's worth showing up. There's some tricks about making the event meaningful in a significant way. After some experimentation and analysis you can't believe what you find.
Some people would term it symbolism. Others would talk about themes. But there's only one word that seems fitting to you, and you express your frustration to Anexa and Cia. "Drama. Demons are drawn to drama! That summoning aboard the Auric Burden probably wouldn't have worked if we hadn't been actively attacking it at the time. The sheer drama of the cult summoning a demon of bloodshed while shedding their own blood in a frantic defense of the ritual was a substantial addition to the effectiveness of the selfsame ritual!"
Cia looks amused, but Anexa only shrugs. "The warp is dreams and ideas embodied. Is it any surprise that a big way to interact with it is by crafting the appropriate narrative?"
You subside a bit. "No, I suppose not. That's still ridiculous." Then your eyes sharpen. "But it does mean that to bind a demon we just need a narrative of it being bound. Are physical chains too literal?"
"No. I do not think they are." Cia answers.
That insight is enough to crack the process wide open. To summon, bind and banish a demon you need to create the appropriate narrative, through meaningful sigils, shapes and overall ambiance. If you do a meaningful-enough sounding exorcism then there's a good chance it'll work, especially if you use a bunch of symbols that have been associated with that kind of ritual by enough people for long enough, and therefore carry the right kind of metaphyical oomph to get the job done.
There's lots of directions to go with this - you've got a pretty good catalog of meaningful symbols from various artifacts, the inquisitorial handbook and all of the cultist information you have. It's not nearly what you'd call complete, but you search in your databases for more from ancient humanity and test them. To your delight, you find that some of them work - the more famous the better. One of the most effective is something known as the Seal of Solomon, a strange circular sigil full of weird mystical lines and symbols. It's absolutely ancient and has enjoyed countless revivals over the millennia as exactly the sort of "lost and forbidden lore" that got various countercultures excited.
Right up until the age of strife, when those sorts of countercultures started actually summoning demons with that shit. Still, your archives are a gold mine where this kind of thing is involved, and you quickly work out various rituals you could use to summon, bind and banish demons, though it works far better the more you know about the demon in question.
This is all hinted at by your previous materials - and also your past research. The key is now figuring out how to use that to interact with the demons in various ways. To call them, if you're so inclined, to banish them once you're done with them. And most importantly, to bind them in the meantime.
You saw how the cultists intended to do it - at least the summoning part of it. It doesn't appear to be that difficult, since it's mostly about invoking a concept associated with the demon hard enough they decide it's worth showing up. There's some tricks about making the event meaningful in a significant way. After some experimentation and analysis you can't believe what you find.
Some people would term it symbolism. Others would talk about themes. But there's only one word that seems fitting to you, and you express your frustration to Anexa and Cia. "Drama. Demons are drawn to drama! That summoning aboard the Auric Burden probably wouldn't have worked if we hadn't been actively attacking it at the time. The sheer drama of the cult summoning a demon of bloodshed while shedding their own blood in a frantic defense of the ritual was a substantial addition to the effectiveness of the selfsame ritual!"
Cia looks amused, but Anexa only shrugs. "The warp is dreams and ideas embodied. Is it any surprise that a big way to interact with it is by crafting the appropriate narrative?"
You subside a bit. "No, I suppose not. That's still ridiculous." Then your eyes sharpen. "But it does mean that to bind a demon we just need a narrative of it being bound. Are physical chains too literal?"
"No. I do not think they are." Cia answers.
That insight is enough to crack the process wide open. To summon, bind and banish a demon you need to create the appropriate narrative, through meaningful sigils, shapes and overall ambiance. If you do a meaningful-enough sounding exorcism then there's a good chance it'll work, especially if you use a bunch of symbols that have been associated with that kind of ritual by enough people for long enough, and therefore carry the right kind of metaphyical oomph to get the job done.
There's lots of directions to go with this - you've got a pretty good catalog of meaningful symbols from various artifacts, the inquisitorial handbook and all of the cultist information you have. It's not nearly what you'd call complete, but you search in your databases for more from ancient humanity and test them. To your delight, you find that some of them work - the more famous the better. One of the most effective is something known as the Seal of Solomon, a strange circular sigil full of weird mystical lines and symbols. It's absolutely ancient and has enjoyed countless revivals over the millennia as exactly the sort of "lost and forbidden lore" that got various countercultures excited.
Right up until the age of strife, when those sorts of countercultures started actually summoning demons with that shit. Still, your archives are a gold mine where this kind of thing is involved, and you quickly work out various rituals you could use to summon, bind and banish demons, though it works far better the more you know about the demon in question.
R. They drawn to 'drama'
Chapter 8 - Ervak
New
Chapter 8 - Ervak
"Tide, what in the Throne's name is-," Aliciel pinched the bridge of her nose, took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "You're… making daemons now?"
She sat within the hollowed tree, Tide sitting before her, looking somewhat like a child who'd been caught with their hand in the proverbial ration jar, despite the fact that he was a giant man-shaped tree. Purilla was also present, along with Vidriov and Sathar. Finally, the entity itself was sitting quietly in the corner, tapping out a soft musical beat with its fingers.
"Spirits," Purilla corrected. Aliciel stared at her.
"What?"
"It was decided that 'daemons' carries negative connotations," Purilla said. "Names have great importance with dae-, uh, Warp-creatures. Differentiating the ones Tide creates from the ones created 'naturally' helps to ensure they are different on multiple levels."
"I didn't 'create' it per se. It's more like I… guided it into existence."
Aliciel's raised eyebrow conveyed precisely how much that subtle difference meant to her.
"It's still a creature of the Warp."
"It was created from uncorrupted Warp-stuff," Purilla countered. "They're not inherently dangerous."
Both Tide and Aliciel looked at her at that.
"Ok, it's still dangerous, but it isn't inherently malevolent," Purilla admitted.
"Neither is a bolter," Sathar pointed out. "But then, bolters don't feed on emotion."
"Was that what it was doing back there?" Aliciel asked, looking toward Tide. "Have you been letting it feed on the emotions of others?"
" 'Let' is a strong word," Tide said. "I can't actually stop it from doing so while it's in my Domain, at least I haven't found a way to yet. It doesn't choose to grow, it just does for as long as its here. However, I have been able to ensure it does not grow any larger. I've actually been able to gather quite a bit of raw Warpstuff from the process."
'Carni Val' shivered at that. Apparently, that process was not enjoyable. Aliciel had zero pity for the creature, if creature it could be called.
"What was that back there then?" Aliciel asked. "That island and that man?"
"A wayward dreamer," Carni Val answered, standing. "A suffering friend who I brought joy to."
Aliciel refused to look at it. Tide answered instead. "The 'spirit' was interacting with a dreaming human, one who was suffering from a nightmare."
"It feeds off nightmares?" Aliciel was horrified and she wished she had a bolt pistol in her hand.
"No," Tide said firmly. "This one feeds off the joy of others. To that end, it seeks to bring joy to them."
"Which is a positive thing," Purilla pointed out, but Tide shook his head.
"Only in moderation," Tide stated firmly. "All things have to be balanced."
"Then just having this thing around is dangerous," Aiciel said, finally deigning to glare at the entity.
"Don't I get a say in this?" Carni Val asked.
"No," Aliciel and Tide both replied simultaneously.
"The data it could provide on Warp-entities could be highly valuable," Vidriov noted. "Perhaps its power could be harnessed as well."
Carni Val shuddered again and inched away from Vidriov.
"Not happening," Tide stated. "That delves far too close towards sorcery for my liking."
"Well, we can't keep it," Aliciel said. "Tide, just destroy this thing."
Carni Val let out a hiss like escaping steam at that. In an instant, Tide was there, standing over it, hand wrapped around its throat and tightening so much that cracks began to appear along its porcelain-like skin. Rather than fight, the 'spirit' wisely went limp in Tide's grasp. When Tide spoke, the voice did not come from his chosen avatar, but thundered through the Domain itself.
No. Threats.
Carni Val remained still and Tide released it, letting it drop to the ground. The fractures in its neck slowly vanished and it returned to sitting quietly in the corner. The mortals of the room all let out the breath they hadn't known they'd been holding, relaxing slightly as a sudden pressure faded away.
"Apologies," Tide said, returning to his seat, gaze returning to a stunned Aliciel. "I'm afraid destroying this spirit is not an option. At the very least, doing so would only work against us."
Aliciel recovered a bit, crossing her arms, but she couldn't just take Tide's word for it. Not on this. "Why?"
"Carni Val feeds on the joy of the humans connected to my Domain," Tide said, gesturing to the spirit. "To be more precise, it feeds on the emotional energy generated by the souls of those linked to the Domain which aligns with the emotional energy that makes up its being. That is something we have been able to determine through our study of it."
"Which means it will grow stronger as time continues and more joy is brought about," Sathar noted. "Particularly if its allowed to cause joy in others. If it continues to appear in dreams, it may even gain a following."
"I don't intend to allow that," Tide stated. "I carefully select which dreams it is allowed to affect and I am always watching. It understands that deviating from what I allow means an end to its existence."
"It still sounds like this is nothing but one massive risk," Aliciel said.
"I was getting to that," Tide said, nodding. "As I said, Carni Val feeds off the joy of those connected to me. However, what happens to the other emotions people have? What happens to that energy?"
Aliciel didn't like where this was going. "It… dissipates?"
"That's one possibility," Purilla admitted. "Another, which we believe is far more likely, is that energy goes to the Warp. Even connected to the Domain, you and I, the people of Monstrum, every soul connected to Tide… We're all contributing power to the Chaos Gods and the rest of the monsters that inhabit the Warp."
"That's… that's impossible," Aliciel said. "We're not worshippers of Chaos."
"That is not a requirement," Tide said softly. "Every act of bloodlust empowers the Skull Throne. Every act of ambition makes the Changer of Ways stronger. Whether those emotions are found in the most corrupted Chaos Lord or the most fervent worshipper of the Emperor."
Aliciel no longer held to the dogmatic beliefs of the Sisterhood or the Imperial Cult, but even so, hearing such heresy was enough to stun her for a long while.
"That is why, much as I do not like the idea of having to watch over these 'spirits'," Tide said, looking towards Carni Val. "I believe that we should create more. Even if only because to do otherwise would empower our foes even further."
"You… can't be serious," Aliciel said.
"I am," Tide replied. "Of course, they will be under constant supervision and I will ensure that none of them grow out of control. I will also make sure that each of them has a thorough understanding of the rules and the consequences for breaking them."
At that, he turned his leafy head towards Carni Val, who nodded rapidly.
"If…" Aliciel let out a breath. "If you do this… You're inviting catastrophe."
"Yes," Tide said. "But that is nothing new for me. I knew what I would be getting into when I decided to help in a universe that only punishes those who do."
Six ships slipped out of a wretched maelstrom. Light returned to them, systems flickering back online. Bodies began to move, making all preparation for what was to come.
In the distance, a sad, grey world hung in the void, waiting for them.
The One Who Devours Minds stalked into the control-nest, thrallings scattering away at its approach, the diminutive servant caste eager to avoid the blood-red gaze of the Khrave noble. The vessel it dwelled within, whose name was unpronounceable by the human tongue, was one of the seven web-ships the Chthonades had granted.
The One Who Devours Minds flapped its wings and soared up onto the central dais of the dark chamber, which appeared to be crafted as much from a dark metal as from some kind of organic web. The moment it's clawed feet alighted onto the dais, it flattened its ears in the gesture of obeisance.
Sitting cross-legged on the dais, wrapped in webs that linked the root-host to the workings of the ship and the local servant caste, was a human. Rather, it was a thing that had once been a human, but was now occupied by something greater. Its head was a featureless ovoid, like a black egg that sucked up what little light there was in the room. Its hands were long, clawed and it was wrapped in a dark carapace, like armor but grown. The webs dug into its flesh and stuck fast.
'The Imperium has come, at last.' The One Who Devours Minds did not speak aloud, but its thoughts were communicated.
The One Who Sits In Judgement nodded through the root-host that it occupied. It was a human gesture, borrowed from the fragmented mind it dwelled inside.
'They send only six ships. Small, weak things.' The One Who Sits in Judgement stated.
'They underestimate us.'
The One Who Sits in Judgement was silent at that, but The One Who Devours Minds could sense its elder's misgivings.
'Something is wrong?' It asked.
'Their ships… are empty. I sense no minds within them.'
The One Who Devours Minds shook with disgust and anger. 'They send their machine-thralls after us?'
'No. This is something else. Witness.'
The One Who Devours Minds barely had an instant to prepare itself before the link that connected all Khrave, which had been damaged nearly ten thousand years prior, reformed for only moments between the two of them alone. That was all that could be done, ever since the Dark Angel had slain the First, the Autochthonar that bound their species.
The One Who Devours Minds studied the place it found itself in. Invisibile, unfelt, it wandered through corridors of an Imperial warship. Shadows of flesh walked down the corridor, performing their myriad tasks with silent efficiency. In the bowels of the vessel, warriors rested.
No, not rested. They were silent, unmoving in mind and motion. They were empty husks, waiting to be filled.
The One Who Devours Minds felt amusement and reached out to take one, but The One Who Sits in Judgement stopped it.
'Do not possess them. They are Other.'
'But we are Khrave.'
'And you are young. Not even as old as the species that attacks us now.'
'They are nothing.'
'Precisely. The Web-Ships will withdraw. Allow them to land their forces on the surface and kill the mind-slaves and lower castes.'
'... As you wish.'
Darvin sat in the dark. Another feast had passed him by. Had he the ability to feel grateful, he might have felt it then. Then again, he might have felt sorrow too, for it meant the suffering continued.
It would be daytime now. A part of him still knew that.
The lords did not come in the day, being nocturnal creatures by their designed nature. Only the small ones, the caste of servants that feasted on the wounded and sick, those unsuitable to be given to the feast, would remain alongside the mind-slaves who the Khrave did not feed upon. Mind-slaves felt no fear, after all. But these were not things that Darvin knew.
There came a noise from outside, an unfamiliar noise. The creatures were screeching, he knew that noise well enough. But there was something else as well. Like muffled thunderclaps. He could hear them, just beyond the door.
He didn't look. He didn't do anything. He just sat there. Eventually, the noise went away.
Then, the door's internals began to whir and hum with movement. It ground open and far more light than he was used to poured into the room. There were a few instinctive gasps as daylight stung at eyes used to the darkness, reactions to sudden pain so ingrained that not even the machines wired into their skulls could suppress them. Darvin's eyes teared and lost focus.
He saw shapes moving, shadows in the daylight. But these were not the diminutive bat-things, nor their towering and horrific lords. These were humans, armed and armored in a garb that felt as though it should stir memories in Darvin. In particular, the heavy coat and striking cap of one woman at the front.
One of the humans doubled over and puked at the sight of their huddled kin, adding a fresh layer to the filth that already stained the floors. Another uttered swears that normally would have had him executed on the spot. But nothing about this was 'normal'.
Darvin blinked away the stinging in his eyes, gaining some focus. The one in the coat at the front had stepped closer to him. He just stared blankly ahead as she lowered herself to kneel beside him. Callused hands reached out and forced his gaze to stare into her own.
"Darvin," someone's voice said. "Darvin, can you hear me? Can you understand me?"
Darvin didn't say anything. He just stared.
The woman lingered for a moment, her hands pressing into his cheeks, fingers digging into his flesh as though the pain might bring him back. Then, she rose and unholstered the laspistol from her belt.
"In the name of He On Terra, I grant you the Emperor's Peace," the someone said as she raised the weapon and planted its barrel and planted it firmly against his skull. "May you continue to serve Him faithfully… even in death."
Darvin just stared up at her. He saw the finger starting to clench, to close around the trigger. Perhaps he knew what it meant. Perhaps that was why what little instincts he had didn't make him struggle.
"Wait."
A voice like thunder rolled. Daylight vanished as a shadow larger than the rest stepped into the doorway, a mechanical giant.
"My lord," the someone said. "Just… look at them."
"I see them. And I see their injuries. They may yet be healed."
"Far be it from me to question you, but… how can such mutilations be fixed but by death?"
"I have spent many years discovering just that. For now, you must get these people out of here. The Khrave will know of our raid. Already, their slave caste approaches."
"Understood," the woman said, holstering her pistol and raising her voice. "Alright, you heard him! Get these people up and moving!"
Darvin felt those same callused hands reach down and hoist him up. More soldiers streamed into the pen, gathering more like him to their sides and guiding them out. At the sight of movement, the rest of the herd of humans rose and began to move, trained by repetition. They walked out into the sunlight and Darvin saw the world around him for the first time in a very, very long time.
And he saw the slaves of the Khrave coming for them, the diminutive bat-creatures. They carried metal rods and whips and daggers and swords. Some of the larger ones carried ranged weapons as well. They hissed and screeched angrily in the sunlight as they rushed forwards.
And he saw the giant standing against them. Clad in battle-plate so scarred by battle that the paint had worn away to reveal raw ceramite. Upon their back sat a strange contraption, with mechadendrites emerging from it, like medicae tools. In their hand was a chain axe, which revved as the approaching horde neared.
Even as he was dragged away, Darvin's gaze never left the giant. Whether it was some genetic fluke, a trick of his soul, or just sheer force of will, he kept looking as the Angel of Death descended.
Chain-axe whirred and split flesh. Plate-armored hand reached out and cracked bone. The horde crashed around the giant and was split down the center as the warrior charged and fought and killed and killed and killed.
Screeches of rage and fury became pain and fear. But the xenos did not relent, did not stop. They threw themselves at the warrior. There were too many for one to overcome, even one as great as the giant.
Fortunate, then, that he was not.
Three more giants descended, chain-axes whirring and cutting and chopping. They fought in silence, they fought without mercy, they fought with calculating precision beyond that of mortals.
And when it was done, Darvin watched as four Space Marines emerged from an emptied battlefield, each of them now adorned in armor the color of fresh blood. And he heard their cry as they raised their weapons to the sky and shouted.
"FOR THE EMPEROR! FOR THE TWELFTH!"
"Tide, what in the Throne's name is-," Aliciel pinched the bridge of her nose, took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "You're… making daemons now?"
She sat within the hollowed tree, Tide sitting before her, looking somewhat like a child who'd been caught with their hand in the proverbial ration jar, despite the fact that he was a giant man-shaped tree. Purilla was also present, along with Vidriov and Sathar. Finally, the entity itself was sitting quietly in the corner, tapping out a soft musical beat with its fingers.
"Spirits," Purilla corrected. Aliciel stared at her.
"What?"
"It was decided that 'daemons' carries negative connotations," Purilla said. "Names have great importance with dae-, uh, Warp-creatures. Differentiating the ones Tide creates from the ones created 'naturally' helps to ensure they are different on multiple levels."
"I didn't 'create' it per se. It's more like I… guided it into existence."
Aliciel's raised eyebrow conveyed precisely how much that subtle difference meant to her.
"It's still a creature of the Warp."
"It was created from uncorrupted Warp-stuff," Purilla countered. "They're not inherently dangerous."
Both Tide and Aliciel looked at her at that.
"Ok, it's still dangerous, but it isn't inherently malevolent," Purilla admitted.
"Neither is a bolter," Sathar pointed out. "But then, bolters don't feed on emotion."
"Was that what it was doing back there?" Aliciel asked, looking toward Tide. "Have you been letting it feed on the emotions of others?"
" 'Let' is a strong word," Tide said. "I can't actually stop it from doing so while it's in my Domain, at least I haven't found a way to yet. It doesn't choose to grow, it just does for as long as its here. However, I have been able to ensure it does not grow any larger. I've actually been able to gather quite a bit of raw Warpstuff from the process."
'Carni Val' shivered at that. Apparently, that process was not enjoyable. Aliciel had zero pity for the creature, if creature it could be called.
"What was that back there then?" Aliciel asked. "That island and that man?"
"A wayward dreamer," Carni Val answered, standing. "A suffering friend who I brought joy to."
Aliciel refused to look at it. Tide answered instead. "The 'spirit' was interacting with a dreaming human, one who was suffering from a nightmare."
"It feeds off nightmares?" Aliciel was horrified and she wished she had a bolt pistol in her hand.
"No," Tide said firmly. "This one feeds off the joy of others. To that end, it seeks to bring joy to them."
"Which is a positive thing," Purilla pointed out, but Tide shook his head.
"Only in moderation," Tide stated firmly. "All things have to be balanced."
"Then just having this thing around is dangerous," Aiciel said, finally deigning to glare at the entity.
"Don't I get a say in this?" Carni Val asked.
"No," Aliciel and Tide both replied simultaneously.
"The data it could provide on Warp-entities could be highly valuable," Vidriov noted. "Perhaps its power could be harnessed as well."
Carni Val shuddered again and inched away from Vidriov.
"Not happening," Tide stated. "That delves far too close towards sorcery for my liking."
"Well, we can't keep it," Aliciel said. "Tide, just destroy this thing."
Carni Val let out a hiss like escaping steam at that. In an instant, Tide was there, standing over it, hand wrapped around its throat and tightening so much that cracks began to appear along its porcelain-like skin. Rather than fight, the 'spirit' wisely went limp in Tide's grasp. When Tide spoke, the voice did not come from his chosen avatar, but thundered through the Domain itself.
No. Threats.
Carni Val remained still and Tide released it, letting it drop to the ground. The fractures in its neck slowly vanished and it returned to sitting quietly in the corner. The mortals of the room all let out the breath they hadn't known they'd been holding, relaxing slightly as a sudden pressure faded away.
"Apologies," Tide said, returning to his seat, gaze returning to a stunned Aliciel. "I'm afraid destroying this spirit is not an option. At the very least, doing so would only work against us."
Aliciel recovered a bit, crossing her arms, but she couldn't just take Tide's word for it. Not on this. "Why?"
"Carni Val feeds on the joy of the humans connected to my Domain," Tide said, gesturing to the spirit. "To be more precise, it feeds on the emotional energy generated by the souls of those linked to the Domain which aligns with the emotional energy that makes up its being. That is something we have been able to determine through our study of it."
"Which means it will grow stronger as time continues and more joy is brought about," Sathar noted. "Particularly if its allowed to cause joy in others. If it continues to appear in dreams, it may even gain a following."
"I don't intend to allow that," Tide stated. "I carefully select which dreams it is allowed to affect and I am always watching. It understands that deviating from what I allow means an end to its existence."
"It still sounds like this is nothing but one massive risk," Aliciel said.
"I was getting to that," Tide said, nodding. "As I said, Carni Val feeds off the joy of those connected to me. However, what happens to the other emotions people have? What happens to that energy?"
Aliciel didn't like where this was going. "It… dissipates?"
"That's one possibility," Purilla admitted. "Another, which we believe is far more likely, is that energy goes to the Warp. Even connected to the Domain, you and I, the people of Monstrum, every soul connected to Tide… We're all contributing power to the Chaos Gods and the rest of the monsters that inhabit the Warp."
"That's… that's impossible," Aliciel said. "We're not worshippers of Chaos."
"That is not a requirement," Tide said softly. "Every act of bloodlust empowers the Skull Throne. Every act of ambition makes the Changer of Ways stronger. Whether those emotions are found in the most corrupted Chaos Lord or the most fervent worshipper of the Emperor."
Aliciel no longer held to the dogmatic beliefs of the Sisterhood or the Imperial Cult, but even so, hearing such heresy was enough to stun her for a long while.
"That is why, much as I do not like the idea of having to watch over these 'spirits'," Tide said, looking towards Carni Val. "I believe that we should create more. Even if only because to do otherwise would empower our foes even further."
"You… can't be serious," Aliciel said.
"I am," Tide replied. "Of course, they will be under constant supervision and I will ensure that none of them grow out of control. I will also make sure that each of them has a thorough understanding of the rules and the consequences for breaking them."
At that, he turned his leafy head towards Carni Val, who nodded rapidly.
"If…" Aliciel let out a breath. "If you do this… You're inviting catastrophe."
"Yes," Tide said. "But that is nothing new for me. I knew what I would be getting into when I decided to help in a universe that only punishes those who do."
Six ships slipped out of a wretched maelstrom. Light returned to them, systems flickering back online. Bodies began to move, making all preparation for what was to come.
In the distance, a sad, grey world hung in the void, waiting for them.
The One Who Devours Minds stalked into the control-nest, thrallings scattering away at its approach, the diminutive servant caste eager to avoid the blood-red gaze of the Khrave noble. The vessel it dwelled within, whose name was unpronounceable by the human tongue, was one of the seven web-ships the Chthonades had granted.
The One Who Devours Minds flapped its wings and soared up onto the central dais of the dark chamber, which appeared to be crafted as much from a dark metal as from some kind of organic web. The moment it's clawed feet alighted onto the dais, it flattened its ears in the gesture of obeisance.
Sitting cross-legged on the dais, wrapped in webs that linked the root-host to the workings of the ship and the local servant caste, was a human. Rather, it was a thing that had once been a human, but was now occupied by something greater. Its head was a featureless ovoid, like a black egg that sucked up what little light there was in the room. Its hands were long, clawed and it was wrapped in a dark carapace, like armor but grown. The webs dug into its flesh and stuck fast.
'The Imperium has come, at last.' The One Who Devours Minds did not speak aloud, but its thoughts were communicated.
The One Who Sits In Judgement nodded through the root-host that it occupied. It was a human gesture, borrowed from the fragmented mind it dwelled inside.
'They send only six ships. Small, weak things.' The One Who Sits in Judgement stated.
'They underestimate us.'
The One Who Sits in Judgement was silent at that, but The One Who Devours Minds could sense its elder's misgivings.
'Something is wrong?' It asked.
'Their ships… are empty. I sense no minds within them.'
The One Who Devours Minds shook with disgust and anger. 'They send their machine-thralls after us?'
'No. This is something else. Witness.'
The One Who Devours Minds barely had an instant to prepare itself before the link that connected all Khrave, which had been damaged nearly ten thousand years prior, reformed for only moments between the two of them alone. That was all that could be done, ever since the Dark Angel had slain the First, the Autochthonar that bound their species.
The One Who Devours Minds studied the place it found itself in. Invisibile, unfelt, it wandered through corridors of an Imperial warship. Shadows of flesh walked down the corridor, performing their myriad tasks with silent efficiency. In the bowels of the vessel, warriors rested.
No, not rested. They were silent, unmoving in mind and motion. They were empty husks, waiting to be filled.
The One Who Devours Minds felt amusement and reached out to take one, but The One Who Sits in Judgement stopped it.
'Do not possess them. They are Other.'
'But we are Khrave.'
'And you are young. Not even as old as the species that attacks us now.'
'They are nothing.'
'Precisely. The Web-Ships will withdraw. Allow them to land their forces on the surface and kill the mind-slaves and lower castes.'
'... As you wish.'
Darvin sat in the dark. Another feast had passed him by. Had he the ability to feel grateful, he might have felt it then. Then again, he might have felt sorrow too, for it meant the suffering continued.
It would be daytime now. A part of him still knew that.
The lords did not come in the day, being nocturnal creatures by their designed nature. Only the small ones, the caste of servants that feasted on the wounded and sick, those unsuitable to be given to the feast, would remain alongside the mind-slaves who the Khrave did not feed upon. Mind-slaves felt no fear, after all. But these were not things that Darvin knew.
There came a noise from outside, an unfamiliar noise. The creatures were screeching, he knew that noise well enough. But there was something else as well. Like muffled thunderclaps. He could hear them, just beyond the door.
He didn't look. He didn't do anything. He just sat there. Eventually, the noise went away.
Then, the door's internals began to whir and hum with movement. It ground open and far more light than he was used to poured into the room. There were a few instinctive gasps as daylight stung at eyes used to the darkness, reactions to sudden pain so ingrained that not even the machines wired into their skulls could suppress them. Darvin's eyes teared and lost focus.
He saw shapes moving, shadows in the daylight. But these were not the diminutive bat-things, nor their towering and horrific lords. These were humans, armed and armored in a garb that felt as though it should stir memories in Darvin. In particular, the heavy coat and striking cap of one woman at the front.
One of the humans doubled over and puked at the sight of their huddled kin, adding a fresh layer to the filth that already stained the floors. Another uttered swears that normally would have had him executed on the spot. But nothing about this was 'normal'.
Darvin blinked away the stinging in his eyes, gaining some focus. The one in the coat at the front had stepped closer to him. He just stared blankly ahead as she lowered herself to kneel beside him. Callused hands reached out and forced his gaze to stare into her own.
"Darvin," someone's voice said. "Darvin, can you hear me? Can you understand me?"
Darvin didn't say anything. He just stared.
The woman lingered for a moment, her hands pressing into his cheeks, fingers digging into his flesh as though the pain might bring him back. Then, she rose and unholstered the laspistol from her belt.
"In the name of He On Terra, I grant you the Emperor's Peace," the someone said as she raised the weapon and planted its barrel and planted it firmly against his skull. "May you continue to serve Him faithfully… even in death."
Darvin just stared up at her. He saw the finger starting to clench, to close around the trigger. Perhaps he knew what it meant. Perhaps that was why what little instincts he had didn't make him struggle.
"Wait."
A voice like thunder rolled. Daylight vanished as a shadow larger than the rest stepped into the doorway, a mechanical giant.
"My lord," the someone said. "Just… look at them."
"I see them. And I see their injuries. They may yet be healed."
"Far be it from me to question you, but… how can such mutilations be fixed but by death?"
"I have spent many years discovering just that. For now, you must get these people out of here. The Khrave will know of our raid. Already, their slave caste approaches."
"Understood," the woman said, holstering her pistol and raising her voice. "Alright, you heard him! Get these people up and moving!"
Darvin felt those same callused hands reach down and hoist him up. More soldiers streamed into the pen, gathering more like him to their sides and guiding them out. At the sight of movement, the rest of the herd of humans rose and began to move, trained by repetition. They walked out into the sunlight and Darvin saw the world around him for the first time in a very, very long time.
And he saw the slaves of the Khrave coming for them, the diminutive bat-creatures. They carried metal rods and whips and daggers and swords. Some of the larger ones carried ranged weapons as well. They hissed and screeched angrily in the sunlight as they rushed forwards.
And he saw the giant standing against them. Clad in battle-plate so scarred by battle that the paint had worn away to reveal raw ceramite. Upon their back sat a strange contraption, with mechadendrites emerging from it, like medicae tools. In their hand was a chain axe, which revved as the approaching horde neared.
Even as he was dragged away, Darvin's gaze never left the giant. Whether it was some genetic fluke, a trick of his soul, or just sheer force of will, he kept looking as the Angel of Death descended.
Chain-axe whirred and split flesh. Plate-armored hand reached out and cracked bone. The horde crashed around the giant and was split down the center as the warrior charged and fought and killed and killed and killed.
Screeches of rage and fury became pain and fear. But the xenos did not relent, did not stop. They threw themselves at the warrior. There were too many for one to overcome, even one as great as the giant.
Fortunate, then, that he was not.
Three more giants descended, chain-axes whirring and cutting and chopping. They fought in silence, they fought without mercy, they fought with calculating precision beyond that of mortals.
And when it was done, Darvin watched as four Space Marines emerged from an emptied battlefield, each of them now adorned in armor the color of fresh blood. And he heard their cry as they raised their weapons to the sky and shouted.
"FOR THE EMPEROR! FOR THE TWELFTH!"
Drunk Hierophant
Aspirant Archailect
- Pronouns
- He
Thanks for the cha
Edit: woops, mixed up the XIIth Legion with one of the lost ones
Edit 2: what the hell happened to those khornates
wait WHAT
Edit: woops, mixed up the XIIth Legion with one of the lost ones
Edit 2: what the hell happened to those khornates
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Is this a Roboutian Heresy universe?!
Suprisingly calm reaction
Not with this attitude
Funny xD
No shit Ali.
Yup
As bad as fucking Drukhari with those names.
Good. Fuck those bat pieces of shit
Loyalist World Eater? HELL YEAH!
A imperial fleet returned from the warp? Were is the Slaneeshy trap?
Drunk Hierophant
Aspirant Archailect
- Pronouns
- He
DocMatoi
Theoretical Lover of Girls
- Location
- within 2 hours of the White House
- Pronouns
- They/Them
I don't think they're "loyalist", per se- didn't tide capture some chaos marines in year zero? Besides ahsael and uirius, I mean.
These are blatantly tidal forces, the six ships replacing Inquisitor Dendrik's task force- note the "no minds, flesh husks" thing
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The only Chaos Marines Tide captured were Ahsael and Uirus (and the Rubric Marine, if you want to count a pile of dust). The rest of the Chaos worshippers were baseline humans and mutants.
Neruz
Rogue Spiderbanana
- Location
- The Land of Fire and Poison
I had assumed it was Tide too based on the empty husks, but I cannot for the life of me imagine why Tide would pretend to be War Hounds Legion Space Marines.
But if they were time-traveling 12th Legion (which is not unheard of) I wouldn't expect them to show up as 'empty husks' to Khrave psychic senses.
So color me confused. I'm not at all sure what is going on here.
But if they were time-traveling 12th Legion (which is not unheard of) I wouldn't expect them to show up as 'empty husks' to Khrave psychic senses.
So color me confused. I'm not at all sure what is going on here.
CaramelTheMoo
Rat and Cow combined
- Pronouns
- She/Her
These dont sound like Tide's forces. And those are loyalist world eaters...things are getting interesting.
Strunkriidiisk
THE LEGEND
- Location
- Canada
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Blackshields, possibly. It would be... unlikely, but not impossible for some bands to still exist. Though that would still beg the question of what they're doing here, and where they came from.
Of course this might be Tide doing some kind of obfuscation - though for what purpose, I don't know.
Of course this might be Tide doing some kind of obfuscation - though for what purpose, I don't know.
By the way, what happened to them, if it is not a plot secret?
Are their souls connected to the collective Tide?
or was there too little to save? or maybe a newborn level of soul left?
Let me dream 😭
Within the Domain there is a box. And inside that box is another box. And inside that box is a package whose contents are another box. Inside of that box is a pile of dust that Tide is looking and occasionally poking with the metaphysical equivalent of a stick.
Sounds very..... Tzeentchian. Indecesive Mollusk approves xD
War Hounds? I've no doubt some loyalist elements managed to persist but I would assume they'd be one of the myriad 'successor' Chapters that have few traits in common with their progenitors.
To be openly of the XII Legion, strange, either someone's trick or a very extreme case of time displacement.
They likely haven't been in storage for that time, even Astartes would be worse for ware after so long and I'm not sure a stasis field large enough to perfectly preserve a fleet's worth of people even exists in the modern age outside of Trazyn's gallery.
To be openly of the XII Legion, strange, either someone's trick or a very extreme case of time displacement.
They likely haven't been in storage for that time, even Astartes would be worse for ware after so long and I'm not sure a stasis field large enough to perfectly preserve a fleet's worth of people even exists in the modern age outside of Trazyn's gallery.
- Location
- A never ending hell of Myoukous
Well that's unexpected! I think this might be a two-pronged situation. While we certainly have the Khrave commander appear to be observing Tide's forces, I suspect the passage with Darvin's perspective either happens at the same time or a different location. That is to say, Tide arrived just as a smaller force of these War Hound Marines did.
In addition to my above belief, I think these might just be an actual blackshield band. While it's rare for them to have survived so long, a crusade fleet of loyalist World Eaters that was far afield when Istvaan happened could very well just have vanished into the ghoul stars. Given the mission of a crusade fleet, they would have likely been self sustaining to some degree, which would include the tools and facilities to generate new Marines and maintain equipment.
As for why? I think this is a pretty good hint.
It seems that maybe this blackshield warband hated the Nails and once they went blackshield, they must have had someone; likely a chief apothecary, research how to remove them. It would explain the mess of mechandrites in the backpack, as that's how nails look like at the back; but the fact they're bundled suggests they have been successfuly severed or removed. Given how difficult it is to remove them, this has likely been the work of countless lifetimes and apothecaries.
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yacov
Lurking and sometimes blurting
- Location
- Clogging a drain
Chaos-darn Black Legion. Always making things worse for Humanity any way possible. Unless it was the True Sons warband, which are a distinctly different, yet still awful.
Yeah these astartes or Tidestartes are definitely not trying to look "in good standing" with the Imperium. Being so battle worn and far from reliable repair that the ceramite starts showing usually signals traitor or renegade.
The only contact Tide had with the XIIth before this was those old dreadnought suits on Decrepa in the first chapter. At least what is currently written before.
It is possible that some of those War Hound souls in those suits stuck around for 10,000 years. We've seen things like Titans and Knights having "fragments" of its previous pilots hanging around in their systems. Tide could have given those souls a second (third?) chance at life.
Then again, maybe Decrepa was a recruiting/salvaging world for this War Hound warband and they linked up with Tide when they stopped by to check on their humans.
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A Space Reddit Post by Jackson Fox
New
'Am I the Asshole?' A Space Reddit Post by Jackson Fox
I'm-Flood-Not-Food: AITAH for not wanting my Warp-creatures to be aggressive towards others?
Not-God-Emperor-Supreme: Not the asshole. Its perfectly reasonable to use violence to keep your kids in line. They need to learn to obey.
Grandpappy-Plague: Definitely the asshole. A child should never be harmed. Unless they're a shitstain like my adopted son.
Maim-Kill-Burn: Who cares. Punt the little bastard into the sun.
Lord-of-Pleasure: Not the asshole. I've done way worse to my kids. SCPS agents always make great snacks too.
Lord-of-Bazingas: *Link to a 2.4 trillion terabyte zip bomb* Sexy singles in your area, just click here.
Indecisive-Mollusk: Possibly the asshole.
Feeling-Malicious: Hey, why haven't you been responding to my text messages?
His-Holy-Inquisition: On route to your location.
I'm-Flood-Not-Food: AITAH for not wanting my Warp-creatures to be aggressive towards others?
- I strangled my Warp-based creation today because it was acting out of line and hissed at someone saying I should kill it. Now, my psyker friend is threatening to call Space Child Protection Services on me. Am I the Asshole?
Not-God-Emperor-Supreme: Not the asshole. Its perfectly reasonable to use violence to keep your kids in line. They need to learn to obey.
Grandpappy-Plague: Definitely the asshole. A child should never be harmed. Unless they're a shitstain like my adopted son.
Maim-Kill-Burn: Who cares. Punt the little bastard into the sun.
Lord-of-Pleasure: Not the asshole. I've done way worse to my kids. SCPS agents always make great snacks too.
Lord-of-Bazingas: *Link to a 2.4 trillion terabyte zip bomb* Sexy singles in your area, just click here.
Indecisive-Mollusk: Possibly the asshole.
Feeling-Malicious: Hey, why haven't you been responding to my text messages?
His-Holy-Inquisition: On route to your location.
Could be a group of loyalists that stay away from the rest of the imperium out of fear. Perhaps they were able to remove the nails, hence the marines insistence that those people can be healed?
You mean spacebook (TTS) right?
.....By Nocturne, Tide's not planning to make four New Chaos gods, each representing a positive emotion to kill the four Tumors, is he?
probably a good idea to keep the Joy Daemon- er, Spirit, away from any Eldar Tide meets.
probably a good idea to keep the Joy Daemon- er, Spirit, away from any Eldar Tide meets.
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