-
Going forward, links to content from Twitter (now X) will no longer be embedded. Pre-existing links should not be affected.
A journey into the unknown (A Warhammer40k space hulk quest)
- Thread starter maximillian
- Start date
- Sci-Fi Fantasy Mystery
The Abyss Bridge (V)
maximillian
Civilised Sheep
- Location
- Ranch
Despite its horrendous grasp of Latenarian Gothic, the creature did prove to be a source of information. Not a great one mind you, for you still do not know anything about this vessel or its dwellers, or what manner of sorcery infests it.
"We should kill it, my lady, I would not trust its kind with life." Offered Adelbrecht, eyes alight with eagerness.
You suppose you cannot blame him for such sentiments, he did after all have to dispose of a band of the wretches when their sorcery incapacitated you. And indeed you yourself feel inclined to repay the vermin their hospitality.
"It is no paragon of trust, that much is true, but it still has a role to play" You reply, to which the Ornati's eyes lose some of their sparkle, but he nods his head in acquiescence.
"As for you, Alak Ajay, you will complete your task and guide us to a bridge." The creature for its part, seemed relieved at having been granted a chance at life and proceeded to prostrate itself before you, uttering thanks and prayers to its Ajan.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As the creature led you across the dark pathway, you decided to make use of the time to further question it.
"Where does your kind dwell mutant?" You inquire, with the bored expression of idle curiosity that you were raised to maintain.
"We home in Ajan land!" No small amount of confusion colouring its visage, as if perturbed at the simplicity of your question.
The cretin!
Suppressing the urge to smite it down, you take a breath and ask once more: "Where in Ajan land?"
"You not see! Ajan words make not see! Only Alak and Alake see! Ajanin safe!"
More sorcery then, but how do they maintain it? "Who else lives here?"
"Only Ajanin home! Other not welcome! Guest welcome, but not stay long!" It then looks at you, and smiles uncertainly "Of course you welcome! You welcome, but leave yes!" The creature even flushed in embarrassment!
For an annoying, dimwitted thing cast out of the Emperor's light, you admit the creature is somewhat likeable. No wonder uncle Johan spent so much time in the royal menagerie "How old are you, creature?"
At that, it scratched its face in concentration, the eldritch fire dimming in its eyes. "Three five? No five ten ? Not know words, is not Ajanin speak."
Silence stretched for some time after that, for the creature led you through barriers and gateways, and past deadly pitfalls and traps, all fiendishly concealed by sorcery.
An outsider would not be able to see the doom awaiting him, nor would he even sense its presence, for the magic in this place lies to all the senses and not just the sight.
The effects seem to diminish once you become aware of the deception, but much like the whispers hanging in the air, it looms and swirls around you, laying in wait for the opportunity to pounce upon the wavering or unguarded mind.
It is an impressive thing, you were taught and exposed to a multitude of subjects as expected of your lineage, but only in the fanciful chronicles and tomes of legends was such sorcery wielded. The Champions of Him Upon The Throne, and the great evils that plague His Imperium are capable of that and more, but a mutant witch and its court? Such a thing is unnatural, preposterous.......and admittedly, fascinating.
As you continued to follow the lead of the mutant, you pondered this enigma further, for all that this is beneath you, you cannot help but be intrigued by the mysteries of these Ajanin, what are these runes upon their skin and eyes? How is it that they sustain themselves? How does their facsimile of a society function?
And so Melancholy overtakes you, a heavy smile gracing your lips, for you find yourself in a situation is reminiscent of bygone days engaging in idle pursuits and interests as a Lady of the von Hapensarche, where knowledge of the lesser beings of the galaxy was an acceptable means of amusing one's self.
"Where does your kind come from?" You abruptly ask the creature, providing a distraction from your own thoughts.
Turning to you, it answered in the same pitying yet cheerful tone. "Ajanin come from Ajan!"
Sigh
"You ought to have seen that coming my lady" Supplied Adele, barely suppressing a giggle.
"Don't get presumptuous!" you snap, silver hair swaying as your wrothful gaze centred upon her.
Her face lost some of its lustre, and she quickly lowered her head: "Forgive me, my lady, it was but a slip" The voice was morose and sincere, yet carrying with it a hint of frustration and fear.
An appropriate thing for a servant.... or is it? Why would an Ornati have such emotions? What truly lies in their hearts and minds?
You quickly release your grip upon the Sabre, and for the umpteenth time, you cursed the sorcery seeped in this place; your senses were meticulously engineered, yet you cannot trust them here lest you go mad.
Focus on other things. Like the mutant. "Then where does Ajan come from?"
"Ajan first! When dark come, Ajan give words, make no dark!" It proclaimed with great pride, each word enunciated with wild gestures from its hands.
Delicately sculpted brows twist in a frown, for looking around the lightless path, illuminated only by the variance in the depth of darkness, the words of the creature make no sense. "This place is still dark."
It sighed in frustration: "No no, not dark! dark yes?" Your eyes bore down on the cretin, carrying nought but chill and disdain. It squirms, worry and innocent confusion overtaking it in a rather comical manner.
Seeing as it won't be elaborating on that point, you try a different track.
"Where does your kind get its sustenance?" At that, it simply stared at you slack-jawed.
I am conversing with an imbecile.
"Food and drink, where do you get them?"
Open mouthed and wide-eyed at the revelation, it quickly answered."Oh yes yes, eat! Alak and Alake see worm. Worm food yes!"
"You hunt worms for food?" Expectation laced your voice, for the idea of worms large enough to require hunting is undoubtedly novel!
Shaking its head, the Ajanin replied: "No no, worm live with Ajanin, Ajanin feed worm, worm feed Ajanin!"
A chuckle escaped you at that and soon morphed into mirthful laughter, much to the shock of your servants. After all that has happened, the absurdity of it all has finally gotten to you.
A society of mutant worm ranchers ruled by witch courts, uncle Johan, would be impressed.
You think to yourself, remembering the old Duke's fascination with mutation, and his wife's constant displeasure at his pursuits. For all the casual disregard the two treated the world with, you admit that you're rather fond of your time with them.
Do they know of my demise? You wonder. Do they even care? A darker part of you whispers.
"Bridge here!" The creature's cheerful voice breaks your reverie, letting your eyes focus on what stands ahead of you.
Or rather, the lack of anything ahead of you, for above the abyss stands nothing, a mere void promising the demise of all that step forward, with endless grotesque constructs howling in anticipation of careless travellers to gruesomely decorate their floors.
And yet, the creature Ajay, Ignoring the damnation below, walked steadily towards the void and stood proudly over the chasm.
"Come come! Is bridge yes. Ajan words make see!"
Forming the sign of the Aquila and whisper a prayer: "In the name of Him upon the Throne I go on this journey. May The Master of Mankind be with me, His Light protect me, and his Spirits be by my side. Amen." "Amen" Your two Ornati Sanguine intoned.
And with them by your side, you took a step forward, and then another. Despite the appearance of nothingness, your feet firmly press upon invisible steel, and you can feel its rough and corroded surface even through the layers of footwear.
Yet you walk, steadily and confidently, until you freeze, every instinct natural and synthetic in you howling for you to STOP.
Terror, pure and primordial, disdain and sorrow, hopelessness and despair, acceptance and defiance, rage and shock, confusion and betrayal. You felt them all, nay, you lived them. They were paramount; no other emotion or sensation dared compete. It was overwhelming, so much so that your body would not even collapse, but stood in the perfect stillness of the dead.
Hands you could feel upon your shoulders. Cold things, scarred and skeletal, grasping for pity that shall not be given. Warm things, stained by gore and smoke, clenched in defiance as they sink into blood-soaked mud. Soft things, perfumed and oiled, caressing silken flesh as they lifelessly fall. Hard things, worn by age and labour, long petrified in the shape of their chosen tool.
They were all of that and more, yet they were none of it.
They shifted and turned, flickering shadows refracting an endless variety of shapes and suggestions, each a vision and prophecy: On a war-torn realm a brigade on the brink of annihilation, its men proud and glorious as they make their last stand; an officer yawns as he lazily sifts through piles of reports. An ancient city awoke to the sound of battle, for two armies clashed upon its walls, while its people pleaded with both sovereign and conqueror. In a world ablaze with the flames of industry, great armaments were produced, the ravenous machines devouring men and steel with equal vigour, for supplies where aplenty. In the gilded court of a great lord, was a banquet held, men and women revelled in excess, whilst marks of fealty and fidelity hung upon their coats.
You dared not shift your eyes, dared not even breath. You can feel the Thing behind, and to your side, it does not breathe, but the hot and humid winds of death caress your cheek and the nap of your neck. Each exhalation freezing your spine, for all that it was rich with the warmth of fresh corpses.
The breath terrified you, for it should not be. You can sense the air flowing towards your left as if sucked by a bellow without stop. And yet it is quiet; no sound escapes but for whispers most faint. So muted are they that one would question whether they come from one's own mind or that of others, and both statements would be correct.
The whispers: they scream in agony, howl in pain, cry in desperation and yell in shock, they utter prayers and curses, they beg and plead, rage and defy, consign themselves and meekly accept. They are one voice from a million throats, a cacophony of madness conjoined into a singular will.
A will of compacts broken, of trust betrayed, of sacrifice untold and unasked for, of the discarded and abused, of oaths ringing hollow, of unwitnessed valour and unknown lords.
"Digeb'Rekta'Kom'Pa'Ak" Spoke Alak Ajay, before it promptly fell, having clawed out its own eyes and collapsed.
[] Pray to Him That Sits Upon The Golden Throne, that He delivers you from the Daemon and the machinations of Chaos.
[] Muster your will, and reach for your blade.
[] Close your eyes, steel yourself, and continue to walk.
[] Suppress your turmoil, and ask what it wants of you.
[] Write-in.
The update was a touch late, but hopefully, it was enjoyable.
"We should kill it, my lady, I would not trust its kind with life." Offered Adelbrecht, eyes alight with eagerness.
You suppose you cannot blame him for such sentiments, he did after all have to dispose of a band of the wretches when their sorcery incapacitated you. And indeed you yourself feel inclined to repay the vermin their hospitality.
"It is no paragon of trust, that much is true, but it still has a role to play" You reply, to which the Ornati's eyes lose some of their sparkle, but he nods his head in acquiescence.
"As for you, Alak Ajay, you will complete your task and guide us to a bridge." The creature for its part, seemed relieved at having been granted a chance at life and proceeded to prostrate itself before you, uttering thanks and prayers to its Ajan.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As the creature led you across the dark pathway, you decided to make use of the time to further question it.
"Where does your kind dwell mutant?" You inquire, with the bored expression of idle curiosity that you were raised to maintain.
"We home in Ajan land!" No small amount of confusion colouring its visage, as if perturbed at the simplicity of your question.
The cretin!
Suppressing the urge to smite it down, you take a breath and ask once more: "Where in Ajan land?"
"You not see! Ajan words make not see! Only Alak and Alake see! Ajanin safe!"
More sorcery then, but how do they maintain it? "Who else lives here?"
"Only Ajanin home! Other not welcome! Guest welcome, but not stay long!" It then looks at you, and smiles uncertainly "Of course you welcome! You welcome, but leave yes!" The creature even flushed in embarrassment!
For an annoying, dimwitted thing cast out of the Emperor's light, you admit the creature is somewhat likeable. No wonder uncle Johan spent so much time in the royal menagerie "How old are you, creature?"
At that, it scratched its face in concentration, the eldritch fire dimming in its eyes. "Three five? No five ten ? Not know words, is not Ajanin speak."
Silence stretched for some time after that, for the creature led you through barriers and gateways, and past deadly pitfalls and traps, all fiendishly concealed by sorcery.
An outsider would not be able to see the doom awaiting him, nor would he even sense its presence, for the magic in this place lies to all the senses and not just the sight.
The effects seem to diminish once you become aware of the deception, but much like the whispers hanging in the air, it looms and swirls around you, laying in wait for the opportunity to pounce upon the wavering or unguarded mind.
It is an impressive thing, you were taught and exposed to a multitude of subjects as expected of your lineage, but only in the fanciful chronicles and tomes of legends was such sorcery wielded. The Champions of Him Upon The Throne, and the great evils that plague His Imperium are capable of that and more, but a mutant witch and its court? Such a thing is unnatural, preposterous.......and admittedly, fascinating.
As you continued to follow the lead of the mutant, you pondered this enigma further, for all that this is beneath you, you cannot help but be intrigued by the mysteries of these Ajanin, what are these runes upon their skin and eyes? How is it that they sustain themselves? How does their facsimile of a society function?
And so Melancholy overtakes you, a heavy smile gracing your lips, for you find yourself in a situation is reminiscent of bygone days engaging in idle pursuits and interests as a Lady of the von Hapensarche, where knowledge of the lesser beings of the galaxy was an acceptable means of amusing one's self.
"Where does your kind come from?" You abruptly ask the creature, providing a distraction from your own thoughts.
Turning to you, it answered in the same pitying yet cheerful tone. "Ajanin come from Ajan!"
Sigh
"You ought to have seen that coming my lady" Supplied Adele, barely suppressing a giggle.
"Don't get presumptuous!" you snap, silver hair swaying as your wrothful gaze centred upon her.
Her face lost some of its lustre, and she quickly lowered her head: "Forgive me, my lady, it was but a slip" The voice was morose and sincere, yet carrying with it a hint of frustration and fear.
An appropriate thing for a servant.... or is it? Why would an Ornati have such emotions? What truly lies in their hearts and minds?
You quickly release your grip upon the Sabre, and for the umpteenth time, you cursed the sorcery seeped in this place; your senses were meticulously engineered, yet you cannot trust them here lest you go mad.
Focus on other things. Like the mutant. "Then where does Ajan come from?"
"Ajan first! When dark come, Ajan give words, make no dark!" It proclaimed with great pride, each word enunciated with wild gestures from its hands.
Delicately sculpted brows twist in a frown, for looking around the lightless path, illuminated only by the variance in the depth of darkness, the words of the creature make no sense. "This place is still dark."
It sighed in frustration: "No no, not dark! dark yes?" Your eyes bore down on the cretin, carrying nought but chill and disdain. It squirms, worry and innocent confusion overtaking it in a rather comical manner.
Seeing as it won't be elaborating on that point, you try a different track.
"Where does your kind get its sustenance?" At that, it simply stared at you slack-jawed.
I am conversing with an imbecile.
"Food and drink, where do you get them?"
Open mouthed and wide-eyed at the revelation, it quickly answered."Oh yes yes, eat! Alak and Alake see worm. Worm food yes!"
"You hunt worms for food?" Expectation laced your voice, for the idea of worms large enough to require hunting is undoubtedly novel!
Shaking its head, the Ajanin replied: "No no, worm live with Ajanin, Ajanin feed worm, worm feed Ajanin!"
A chuckle escaped you at that and soon morphed into mirthful laughter, much to the shock of your servants. After all that has happened, the absurdity of it all has finally gotten to you.
A society of mutant worm ranchers ruled by witch courts, uncle Johan, would be impressed.
You think to yourself, remembering the old Duke's fascination with mutation, and his wife's constant displeasure at his pursuits. For all the casual disregard the two treated the world with, you admit that you're rather fond of your time with them.
Do they know of my demise? You wonder. Do they even care? A darker part of you whispers.
"Bridge here!" The creature's cheerful voice breaks your reverie, letting your eyes focus on what stands ahead of you.
Or rather, the lack of anything ahead of you, for above the abyss stands nothing, a mere void promising the demise of all that step forward, with endless grotesque constructs howling in anticipation of careless travellers to gruesomely decorate their floors.
And yet, the creature Ajay, Ignoring the damnation below, walked steadily towards the void and stood proudly over the chasm.
"Come come! Is bridge yes. Ajan words make see!"
Forming the sign of the Aquila and whisper a prayer: "In the name of Him upon the Throne I go on this journey. May The Master of Mankind be with me, His Light protect me, and his Spirits be by my side. Amen." "Amen" Your two Ornati Sanguine intoned.
And with them by your side, you took a step forward, and then another. Despite the appearance of nothingness, your feet firmly press upon invisible steel, and you can feel its rough and corroded surface even through the layers of footwear.
Yet you walk, steadily and confidently, until you freeze, every instinct natural and synthetic in you howling for you to STOP.
Terror, pure and primordial, disdain and sorrow, hopelessness and despair, acceptance and defiance, rage and shock, confusion and betrayal. You felt them all, nay, you lived them. They were paramount; no other emotion or sensation dared compete. It was overwhelming, so much so that your body would not even collapse, but stood in the perfect stillness of the dead.
Hands you could feel upon your shoulders. Cold things, scarred and skeletal, grasping for pity that shall not be given. Warm things, stained by gore and smoke, clenched in defiance as they sink into blood-soaked mud. Soft things, perfumed and oiled, caressing silken flesh as they lifelessly fall. Hard things, worn by age and labour, long petrified in the shape of their chosen tool.
They were all of that and more, yet they were none of it.
They shifted and turned, flickering shadows refracting an endless variety of shapes and suggestions, each a vision and prophecy: On a war-torn realm a brigade on the brink of annihilation, its men proud and glorious as they make their last stand; an officer yawns as he lazily sifts through piles of reports. An ancient city awoke to the sound of battle, for two armies clashed upon its walls, while its people pleaded with both sovereign and conqueror. In a world ablaze with the flames of industry, great armaments were produced, the ravenous machines devouring men and steel with equal vigour, for supplies where aplenty. In the gilded court of a great lord, was a banquet held, men and women revelled in excess, whilst marks of fealty and fidelity hung upon their coats.
You dared not shift your eyes, dared not even breath. You can feel the Thing behind, and to your side, it does not breathe, but the hot and humid winds of death caress your cheek and the nap of your neck. Each exhalation freezing your spine, for all that it was rich with the warmth of fresh corpses.
The breath terrified you, for it should not be. You can sense the air flowing towards your left as if sucked by a bellow without stop. And yet it is quiet; no sound escapes but for whispers most faint. So muted are they that one would question whether they come from one's own mind or that of others, and both statements would be correct.
The whispers: they scream in agony, howl in pain, cry in desperation and yell in shock, they utter prayers and curses, they beg and plead, rage and defy, consign themselves and meekly accept. They are one voice from a million throats, a cacophony of madness conjoined into a singular will.
A will of compacts broken, of trust betrayed, of sacrifice untold and unasked for, of the discarded and abused, of oaths ringing hollow, of unwitnessed valour and unknown lords.
"Digeb'Rekta'Kom'Pa'Ak" Spoke Alak Ajay, before it promptly fell, having clawed out its own eyes and collapsed.
[] Pray to Him That Sits Upon The Golden Throne, that He delivers you from the Daemon and the machinations of Chaos.
[] Muster your will, and reach for your blade.
[] Close your eyes, steel yourself, and continue to walk.
[] Suppress your turmoil, and ask what it wants of you.
[] Write-in.
The update was a touch late, but hopefully, it was enjoyable.
Last edited:
[X] Muster your will, and reach for your blade.
Lore post (The History of The Donum Infernum)
maximillian
Civilised Sheep
- Location
- Ranch
The Donum Infernum is an ancient and venerable behemoth that traveled the stars since time immemorial. It is home to peoples, objects, fauna and flora from every speck of the galaxy. It was both witness and facilitator to the rise and fall of dynasties, and its histories are rife with horror and wonder.
The Donum Infernum first came into contact with the rising Imperium of man in 831.M30, encountering the 433th Expeditionary Fleet as it existed the warp. It was dubbed Iter Exitium, and while the first confirmed encounter, information about the hulk would have abounded prior to that, as the vessel's journey through the galaxy had a fixed rotation.
The discovery is credited to the 433th, but it was the 489th Expeditionary Fleet that was the first to board the vessel in 908.M30, seven decades after the first encounter.
The 489th Expeditionary Fleet later participated in the Compliance of Ateran in 921.M30, but the outcome of the boarding action onto the hulk remains lost to the mists of time.
A century after this mysterious boarding, the Arch Traitor Horus proclaimed the great heresy. And in those cataclysmic times that would shape the fate of the galaxy, a terran rouge trader flotilla was lost in the warp. When the turbulent tides of the great sea receded at last, the Oblitus Gloria, flagship of the von Hapensarche dynastic fleet was but one component amongst thousands in the structure of the Iter Exitium.
As the flames of heresy and righteous vengeance brought the galaxy to its knees, the von Hapensarche wasted little time in asserting their dominion over the hulk, which they renamed Donum Infernum. For two centuries the noble family waged war within, and upon the vessel, calling upon every resource in their disposal to subjugate, coerce and exterminate all who would defy them.
Xeno savages, remnants of fallen civilizations, mutants, witches, alien diseases and parasites, deadly infestations, petty kingdoms, roving clans, scavengers, techno principalities, refugees from the heresy and scouring, agents of nefarious powers and even horrors from the depth of the great sea. All that and more the von Hapensarche faced, and after a grueling two hundred years, they emerged as masters of the Donum Infernum.
Under the auspices of the von Hapensarche rule, the holy leviathan asserted itself as a galactic hallmark and a formidable seat of power for the dynasty. Every stop it made attracted flotillas and caravans from entire sectors; guilds and industrialist flocked to it, mining corporations and scavenging fraternities established bases upon it, religious orders by the hundred each competed for supremacy within it, and the wealth of an empire flowed through its byzantine halls.
The vessel was a hub of trade and industry, its rotation across the galaxy and relative stability within the warp providing risks and opportunities most rare and irresistible.
Thus it was no great surprise that the von Hapensarche dominion began recede as the hulk prospered. The dynasty faced increasing resistance in the unstable and marginal sections of the hulk which only grew with every warp jump and every immigrant wave. But more significantly it began to face concentrated competition from rival dynasties and opportunistic nobles.
Armies would be smuggled in, vassals bribed or blackmailed, ships and outposts attacked, planetary markets cornered, imperial contacts coerced and Adepta links cut off. It was the ambition of a single dynasty against that of hundreds.
A particularly grievous period was the 34th millennium, as the vile Autokratological heresies spread unto the hulk and ignited a chaotic and bitter war that would last six centuries, and end with a hollow and fragile victory for orthodoxy, culminating in the the appointment of H.E Celestino of The Vigilia Paenitentiae as Cardinal of the Donum Infernum
The killing blow however, was struck in 711.M35, when a great armada under the command of Qarmut El-Sawlajani supported by elements of the local Imperial Navy, cornered the hulk and forced the von Hapensarche to share the venerable throne of the Rex Navem.
Following the Partitioning of Qarmut, the great coalition against the ancient dynasty collapsed unto itself, and in time the Donum Infernum returned to being a realm of hundreds of petty kingdoms and localities.
There are now three Rex Navem Majoris, Lords of the vessel who hold sufficient might and influence to be considered far above any other, and who most often occupy the sacred Throne of the Donum Infernum as Rex Navis Regem. They are the von Hapensarche, the El-Sawlajani and the Kawachi clan.
Then there are twelve Rex Navem Minoris, the lessers of the three, but greater than the other lordlings of the hulk, they are recognized powers, and may in rare occasions hold the sacred throne, but only by the acknowledgement of their betters.
At last there are dozens of not hundreds of self proclaimed Rex Navem, petty Lords who hold minute territory and think themselves powers of note.
Certain elements of the hulk, such as the Martian Orders, the Ecclesiarchy contingents, and the agents of the varied Imperial Adepta, exist in a state of official neutrality and independence.
As such, they are significant players in the games of power and influence and deeply tied in the local webs of intrigue.
The Donum Infernum first came into contact with the rising Imperium of man in 831.M30, encountering the 433th Expeditionary Fleet as it existed the warp. It was dubbed Iter Exitium, and while the first confirmed encounter, information about the hulk would have abounded prior to that, as the vessel's journey through the galaxy had a fixed rotation.
The discovery is credited to the 433th, but it was the 489th Expeditionary Fleet that was the first to board the vessel in 908.M30, seven decades after the first encounter.
The 489th Expeditionary Fleet later participated in the Compliance of Ateran in 921.M30, but the outcome of the boarding action onto the hulk remains lost to the mists of time.
A century after this mysterious boarding, the Arch Traitor Horus proclaimed the great heresy. And in those cataclysmic times that would shape the fate of the galaxy, a terran rouge trader flotilla was lost in the warp. When the turbulent tides of the great sea receded at last, the Oblitus Gloria, flagship of the von Hapensarche dynastic fleet was but one component amongst thousands in the structure of the Iter Exitium.
As the flames of heresy and righteous vengeance brought the galaxy to its knees, the von Hapensarche wasted little time in asserting their dominion over the hulk, which they renamed Donum Infernum. For two centuries the noble family waged war within, and upon the vessel, calling upon every resource in their disposal to subjugate, coerce and exterminate all who would defy them.
Xeno savages, remnants of fallen civilizations, mutants, witches, alien diseases and parasites, deadly infestations, petty kingdoms, roving clans, scavengers, techno principalities, refugees from the heresy and scouring, agents of nefarious powers and even horrors from the depth of the great sea. All that and more the von Hapensarche faced, and after a grueling two hundred years, they emerged as masters of the Donum Infernum.
Under the auspices of the von Hapensarche rule, the holy leviathan asserted itself as a galactic hallmark and a formidable seat of power for the dynasty. Every stop it made attracted flotillas and caravans from entire sectors; guilds and industrialist flocked to it, mining corporations and scavenging fraternities established bases upon it, religious orders by the hundred each competed for supremacy within it, and the wealth of an empire flowed through its byzantine halls.
The vessel was a hub of trade and industry, its rotation across the galaxy and relative stability within the warp providing risks and opportunities most rare and irresistible.
Thus it was no great surprise that the von Hapensarche dominion began recede as the hulk prospered. The dynasty faced increasing resistance in the unstable and marginal sections of the hulk which only grew with every warp jump and every immigrant wave. But more significantly it began to face concentrated competition from rival dynasties and opportunistic nobles.
Armies would be smuggled in, vassals bribed or blackmailed, ships and outposts attacked, planetary markets cornered, imperial contacts coerced and Adepta links cut off. It was the ambition of a single dynasty against that of hundreds.
A particularly grievous period was the 34th millennium, as the vile Autokratological heresies spread unto the hulk and ignited a chaotic and bitter war that would last six centuries, and end with a hollow and fragile victory for orthodoxy, culminating in the the appointment of H.E Celestino of The Vigilia Paenitentiae as Cardinal of the Donum Infernum
The killing blow however, was struck in 711.M35, when a great armada under the command of Qarmut El-Sawlajani supported by elements of the local Imperial Navy, cornered the hulk and forced the von Hapensarche to share the venerable throne of the Rex Navem.
Following the Partitioning of Qarmut, the great coalition against the ancient dynasty collapsed unto itself, and in time the Donum Infernum returned to being a realm of hundreds of petty kingdoms and localities.
There are now three Rex Navem Majoris, Lords of the vessel who hold sufficient might and influence to be considered far above any other, and who most often occupy the sacred Throne of the Donum Infernum as Rex Navis Regem. They are the von Hapensarche, the El-Sawlajani and the Kawachi clan.
Then there are twelve Rex Navem Minoris, the lessers of the three, but greater than the other lordlings of the hulk, they are recognized powers, and may in rare occasions hold the sacred throne, but only by the acknowledgement of their betters.
At last there are dozens of not hundreds of self proclaimed Rex Navem, petty Lords who hold minute territory and think themselves powers of note.
Certain elements of the hulk, such as the Martian Orders, the Ecclesiarchy contingents, and the agents of the varied Imperial Adepta, exist in a state of official neutrality and independence.
As such, they are significant players in the games of power and influence and deeply tied in the local webs of intrigue.
BungieONI
Seven gremlins in a trench coat
- Location
- Lickwidget
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[X] Pray to Him That Sits Upon The Golden Throne, that He delivers you from the Daemon and the machinations of Chaos.
Now see here demon. Fuck Off.
So, considering this nasty thing has it's metaphorical hands around our literal and metaphorical throat I think it best to not try and futilely stab it and essentially light our soul on fire by praying to the Emperor. That should do the trick.
Now see here demon. Fuck Off.
So, considering this nasty thing has it's metaphorical hands around our literal and metaphorical throat I think it best to not try and futilely stab it and essentially light our soul on fire by praying to the Emperor. That should do the trick.
maximillian
Civilised Sheep
- Location
- Ranch
It's a Daemon, not a psychic manifestation.
The Nature of the daemon can be gleaned from the update, I wasn't very subtle with it. I hope so at least.
Even hinted at it in prior updates.
A cookie to whoever gets the hints or figures out what kind of deamon this is!
Last edited:
That is if we have the faith we us and the emperor is seeing us, is not like a superpower after all.
[x] Muster your will, and reach for your blade.
BungieONI
Seven gremlins in a trench coat
- Location
- Lickwidget
- Pronouns
- She/Her
I can't actually parse what you're saying.
maximillian
Civilised Sheep
- Location
- Ranch
That is if we have the required zeal in us and the emperor graces us with his blessings, it is not like acts of faith are a superpower that is activated on demand afterall.
I assume that's the intended meaning of the sentence?
Indeed, sorry for my faulty english but indeed im saying that this is not like D&D were and act of faith just sort of active because we have the right class for it, we are not sister of battle after all.
Yes, this is the case, sorry for not being clear.
Lore post (Temporal Anomalies)
maximillian
Civilised Sheep
- Location
- Ranch
Many a strange and mysterious phenomenon occurs in space hulks.
From strange lights and sounds, to erratic machine spirits, to twisted geometry and impossible alterations between time and space.
For hulks are amalgamations, bearing the lost and discarded fruit of countless civilisations, and the floating debris of a galaxy. Inhuman sciences and cultures have carved their marks upon them, conjoining with the wonders of nature, and the ethereal touch of the great sea.
The latter is the element most significant, for every warp jump is an eternity in the immaterium, where the very essence of that realm seeps into the hapless vessels.
Thus it is that the works of man and nature, by the machinations and mere presence of the empyrean, transform into something other, into domains of wonder and awe, and of depravity and blackest terror.
The Donum Infernum is no exception, the venerable vessel being both infamous and renowned for it's many anomalies and colourful phenomenon, chief amongst them being the temporal instabilities.
The most sought after and benign of those are the Venas Auri, hallways and tunnels that connect the myriad sections of the hulk. Unlike mundane passages, these bear the touch of the great sea, and time and space merely nod to the dictates of the physical realm, rather than being bound to it.
For example: the distance between two segments can be several days journey, but if one where to travel through the Venas Auri, the journey would not exceed an hour.
The Perdidit Viam, however, are the opposite, they are areas where the flow of time is miniscule or the expanse of space is immense; a room can be five square meters, yet a luckless adventurer can walk dozens of kilometers before reaching its walls.
Particularly arduous treks through the warp can cause the geometry of the hulk to shift, thus a well inhabited section on the northernmost edges, can one day find itself somewhere in the southern depths of the vessel. A ship previously buried in solid rock and metal may suddenly have a pathway connecting to its center.
Then of course there are the occasions where new additions to the hulk are made as it navigates the currents of the immaterium. Where such additions are placed, what they bear and for what purpose is anyone's guess.
And lastly, there are places in the Donum Infernum where the material have long bowed down in submission to the empyrean. Kingdoms where, by artifice or twist of faith, the warp reigns, and great danger awaits any would be explorer.
And needless to say; great opportunity.
From strange lights and sounds, to erratic machine spirits, to twisted geometry and impossible alterations between time and space.
For hulks are amalgamations, bearing the lost and discarded fruit of countless civilisations, and the floating debris of a galaxy. Inhuman sciences and cultures have carved their marks upon them, conjoining with the wonders of nature, and the ethereal touch of the great sea.
The latter is the element most significant, for every warp jump is an eternity in the immaterium, where the very essence of that realm seeps into the hapless vessels.
Thus it is that the works of man and nature, by the machinations and mere presence of the empyrean, transform into something other, into domains of wonder and awe, and of depravity and blackest terror.
The Donum Infernum is no exception, the venerable vessel being both infamous and renowned for it's many anomalies and colourful phenomenon, chief amongst them being the temporal instabilities.
The most sought after and benign of those are the Venas Auri, hallways and tunnels that connect the myriad sections of the hulk. Unlike mundane passages, these bear the touch of the great sea, and time and space merely nod to the dictates of the physical realm, rather than being bound to it.
For example: the distance between two segments can be several days journey, but if one where to travel through the Venas Auri, the journey would not exceed an hour.
The Perdidit Viam, however, are the opposite, they are areas where the flow of time is miniscule or the expanse of space is immense; a room can be five square meters, yet a luckless adventurer can walk dozens of kilometers before reaching its walls.
Particularly arduous treks through the warp can cause the geometry of the hulk to shift, thus a well inhabited section on the northernmost edges, can one day find itself somewhere in the southern depths of the vessel. A ship previously buried in solid rock and metal may suddenly have a pathway connecting to its center.
Then of course there are the occasions where new additions to the hulk are made as it navigates the currents of the immaterium. Where such additions are placed, what they bear and for what purpose is anyone's guess.
And lastly, there are places in the Donum Infernum where the material have long bowed down in submission to the empyrean. Kingdoms where, by artifice or twist of faith, the warp reigns, and great danger awaits any would be explorer.
And needless to say; great opportunity.