True but the Telepathica probably has its own dynastic politics going on in the background.
A school for the cursed: A Psyker Quest. Warhammer 40k quest.
- Thread starter Mayto
- Start date
- Mature Sci-Fi
- Location
- Netherlands
A psyker whose child is also a Psyker isn't the greatest of odds, as is the child being strong enough to control their powers. And many positions in the Astra Telepathica require Psychic powers to have them.
It is hard for there to be Psyker dynasties. Any Psykers who have children are more likely to try and get them squared away somewhere safe with a healthy nest egg. Although there are psychic bloodlines that are carefully cultivated, mostly for the support staff and assistance of the running of the Telepathica.
The vast majority of all Psykers in authority in the Telepathica will have come from various mostly random backgrounds.
Heresy
My Brother’s Keeper
- Location
- nowhere everywhere
Permanently because her chances of dying before doing so went from, reasonably low to: "if you think too hard your head explodes."
Edit: For more context, if she does have any non-psychic children her parents would gladly just take them in make them the family heir by proxy. As it is now Sera can't inherit her father and mother's parishes or titles but her children most definitely can.
If we're thinking on it geography matters far more than genealogy for psykers. A family of blunts closer to a warp storm or the eye of terror will produce far more psykers than a supposed psyker prone lineage.
Last edited:
Heresy
My Brother’s Keeper
- Location
- nowhere everywhere
Hmmm. Couldn't her parents just adopt their own grand children as the successors in that case? I assumed they could do that and just call it a day.
Sir_Travelsalot
Never wakes up tired.
- Location
- At Home
If they wanted to, maybe, but (rather by design) most Imperial authorities' reach doesn't extend much beyond the Sector they're inhabiting. It generally takes being Rogue Trader Dynasty-tier rich to track down any distant relatives beyond that (to find an heir for the Warrant).
So at that point, the question is would they try for that (assuming Sera herself actually has any children down the line at all), instead of just having another child themselves?
Vote closed
New
And yet the Emperor is a Psyker and so were all the Primarchs. Curious...
Thankfully a quick series of random checks for what folks actually voted for seems to indicate that the only thing borked is the labeling. [Think] Telepathica above all: has been mislabeled as [Tell] Telepathica above all. The vote counts are accurate as far as I can tell, it's just the names that are misleading, so we should be good to go.
Dark Abstraction
Infrequent Participant
- Location
- United States
The Emperor and the Primarchs are more immortal god-kings, since the primarchs didn't breed and the sensei (before being retconned) weren't considered the Emperor's heirs, so they aren't really much of a dynasty.And yet the Emperor is a Psyker and so were all the Primarchs. Curious...
- Location
- Netherlands
Imperial noble families tend to be enormous.
And any such adopted children would be tainted in the public eye, by being born from a Psyker.
An explanation and a command.
New
- Location
- Netherlands
2.001.602M41 Primary Terran Calendar.
2.001.702M42 Terran Primary Calendar.
2.001.639M40 Ordo Chronos Calendar. (Revision CLXXIX (Revised on 0.190.251M40 of previous Ordo Chronos Calendar.))
Pain surges through you. You focus, trying to look around you at your surroundings. The walls are made of metallic white. You see portable medicae equipment placed within alcoves. The medicae ward of the Sapphire Keep. A private one, you believe.
A figure in the armour of a Black Sentinel is standing by your bedside. The figure flips up their mask. Captain Alstar Udo is standing next to you. His face mask flipped upwards to look at you. "I repeat. Who am I speaking to right now?"
"Occam Parsimonn." You garble in a roughly passable version of Gothic.
"Trina is still disabled from the explosion. You are the only coherent witness of the event. What happened?"
"Trina's alive?" You ask. Confused by how natural the question comes to your mouth. "Who's Trina?"
"Can you give him another stimulant?" Alstar asks, turning to someone.
"No." A stern voice replies. "He's already up to his neck in opiates. Allow me." A hand is placed on your forehead, and the pain fades. Thought patterns crystallize and coherence is restored to your faculties. You see Astrid standing over you, and feel a pleasant sensation as your pain sensors are temporarily disabled.
"What happened, Occam?" She asks.
The memories return, and you finally remember just what happened. The smell had given you just enough warning to wrap yourself in a Telekine field. The blast had thrown you through the library, and you'd passed out shortly after.
You explain what you remember. The Servitor and its malfunction, the smell of the paint thinner, the explosion that consumed the room. The flames licking over your Telekine barrier.
"What happened to the Librarian? She was closer to the blast." You feel a hint of concern for Trina.
Astrid chuckles. "She lost her favorite body, but she's alive."
You blink in confusion and Astrid continues with a grin. "Her brain was mounted in the carriage in the ceiling that moved back and forth. The body was just her old one, modified for her duties. She's unconscious from the feedback of losing her primary body, but she'll recover." Her mood darkens. "I'm more concerned about you."
"I don't feel too bad." You look down the bed and see…
Your body is scorched black. A hint of terror awakens and you're about to scream, when all natural responses to the sight of one's own body covered in third degree burns are suppressed. You look at the mass of coaled flesh that is yourself with some amusement.
"I should be a lot more shocked than I am." You say, feeling the hand of Astrid on your scalp. "Am I dead? Is this a Seance?"
She chuckles, amused by your nonchalant reaction. "No. Most of your pain receptors are burned through, and I am stopping your body from going into shock. We're preparing a regenerative treatment for you, as we speak. It should be a full recovery." She pauses. "Unfortunately, your features are rather..."
"Do I want to see a mirror?"
"No." Astrid and the Black Sentinel say in Unison. "But I do have two offers for you." She reaches for a dataslate and holds it in front of you. It shows two people who look a lot like you. "While I'm putting you back together. Do you have any preferences for what you want to look like? I normally wouldn't be quite so aggressive in the changes, but there's a lot of room to work with now.
Choosing the right appearance:
Astrid has presented you with two appearances she can remake for you. The appearances are like yours before, but with subtle changes to jawline, the setting of your eyes, minor plastic surgery, and giving you back your hair.
Choose your appearance.
[] "I like the 'Admiral Spire' on the left.":
This image of you looks like you stepped right off a propaganda poster. The inspiration, Admiral Spire, the legend of the Gothic War, doesn't look half bad. Just looking at the mighty jawline and black hair makes you imagine that this appearance will garner respect.
Gain 1 Dogmatic Renown.
[] "The Inquisitor on the right looks fetching.":
You look like a gentleman of indeterminate age. Fierce but sunken eyes that hint at great knowledge. A strong but not too attention-grabbing jawline. Features that speak of wisdom and danger. It has a very dangerous and timeless aura to it that you approve of.
Gain 1 Telepathica Renown.
[] "Just put me back together as normal":
You look like regular generic 25 year old Occam Parsimonn. Were it not for your cybernetics, you could blend in with any crowd quite easily. But it will not draw much respect or awe, and will just reinforce your current reputation. At least you have your hair back!
Gain 1 Iconoclast Renown.
The Captain puts a hand to the side of her head. "Verispex and Augur readings confirm the bomb. Firefighters are still fighting the blaze. If he says anything useful, inform me. I am taking my squad and joining the full security sweep. Someone is going to die for this."
Astrid nods, and everything goes black.
A week of sleeping in a regeneration tank, and you are relocated to a regular medical bed.
Your regrown skin tingles and it itches all over. The days pass in a haze of opiate dreams. There is a tense mood throughout the Keep, which invades your dreamless slumber and turns them fitful. Martha is with you throughout the recovery, and her presence is very much welcome.
One night, you wake up to the Lord Prefect standing by your bedside. Her mechanical form looming over you. +You deserve an explanation, Prefect.+ She telepathically projects.
"I would think so, Lord Prefect." You somewhat cheekily add. "How can I help you otherwise?"
She makes a gurgling noise you interpret as a laugh. +You will want to know why you were attacked.+ She pauses for a moment.
You lean forward. "Lord Prefect. Just what launched the attack?"
+A group that used backdoors in our cogitator systems to communicate with a Servitor which was covertly introduced into our workforce two centuries ago. One with a hidden personality engram cultivated to hate and loathe Psykers.+ Hoarfrost briefly spreads around one of the metal talons of the Lord Prefect. +Say what is in the forefront of your mind.+
"Lord Prefect. This does not sound like external enemies. No recidivist has that sort of connection."
+Indeed not. It was members of our very own Imperium that feared us. And thought that -you- were the best target to teach -us- to stay in our place.+ She reaches out with her skeletal organic hand and puts it against your cheek. +A child from the gutter. Blessed by the Emperor with power and control. With a kind heart whose darkening I fear to witness.+ She sends a feeling of warmth and kindness through the hand, and it briefly reminds you of your parents.
+We, the Telepathica, are… different from most imperial organizations. And because of that, many perceive us as a threat. We are not born to ancient lineages. Each of us comes from nothing once we disembark a Black Ship, and we rise higher than many.+
You feel wetness around your organic eye, but the emotion is not yours. It is hers. You catch glimpses of her, a starveling taken from the streets and elevated to greatness. You gently wipe it away.
+But that is just one of the groups who hate us. There is another much greater danger.+
She inclines her head. +I did not wish to tell you so early. But this attack forced my hand. You are clever and ambitious, and would seek out answers if you did not understand the risk.+ She reaches into her robes and takes out a small necklace she shows to you.
Holding out a hand for the signet, compelled by a slight telepathic probe, you have something dropped into your upturned palm. It is an Inquisitorial Rosette. You twitch and drop it out of shock.
+That.+ She taps the Rosette for emphasis. +Was in the possession of an Inquisitorial Acolyte that operated within the lower depths of the Keep.+
"You killed an Inquisitorial Agent?" You ask, horrified. "That's heresy!" Only your conditioning stops you from drawing upon your power out of shock.
A wave of telepathic control asserts itself over you, soothing your impulses and encouraging reasoning and ordered thought.
+Oh, he lives. Yet.+ She picks up the device and crushes it telekinetically. The tiny device bursts into flames as the Lord Prefect unbinds the molecules it is composed off into a puff of flame. +It was an acolyte. I laid him bare and took his secrets. Alas, his memories had been wiped and he was reduced to a savant guided only on 'keeping the witches in their place'+
And so she begins to explain. How the Inquisition is not a single uniform organization, how each Inquisitor might have their own projects and schemes, how there are unspoken rules in the Imperium regarding the termination of Inquisitorial operatives found infiltrating one's organization. Rules she knows to some extent.
+To some Inquisitors, the thought of any Psyker with more rights than an astropath fused into a machine, is a danger. Ones who consider the mere prospect of sanctioned combat Psykers a mistake. Training beyond Terra, a heresy.+ Rage and fury emanate from her, the hoarfrost melting away and turning into steam. +I've had suspicions. They are now confirmed.+
"Suspicions?"
+Gaps in our records. A purge of the astropathic choir due to possession over five centuries ago. Three before I started working here. I had never thought twice of said purge.+ She turns to look at you. +They happen. As much as we might not like it.+ Her telepathic voice softens. +I…I should have looked more deeply into those events.+
The admission of failure takes you by surprise, but you do not press the matter. You instead wait for her to process her thoughts.
+Any of them who do not flash a Rosette in time, are to be killed on sight. They will show us the same deference they give any other Adepta, or pay the price.+
You immediately grasp the legal loophole. It is only heresy to kill an Inquisitorial Agent if they announce their allegiance to the Inquisition. Otherwise, it is just terminating an infiltrator.
The words she speaks sound like the foulest heresy, recidivism of the most disgusting sort. But they are spoken with such certainty, that you find it hard not to believe her.
+This conflict is… beyond you in many ways. But this is a game I have played for two centuries. I have woven many webs of influence, and my skein stretches far.+ A claw is put under your chin to make you look her directly in the eyes. +Do -not- involve yourself if you can help it. Do not tell any other Psykers. If you discover anything, find me.+
She pauses, turning to look at you as she begins to depart the room. +What would you have me do to the infiltrator?+
Your words at the last meeting, combined with the events of the bombing, have seen the Lord Prefect admit that there's complicated matters at play.
You have been told roughly what is happening, and received strict instructions to not involve yourself. Instead you are to warn her if you find the involvement of the Inquisition.
Finding information on this subject will gain you Influence.
[] Servitorize him:
For his destruction of a servitor, he shall become a servitor. A fair punishment.
1 Dogmatic Renown.
[] Kill him:
Kill him and get it over with.
1 Iconoclast Renown
[] Sapient servitorization:
He will be aware until his organic components have decayed fully, all the while, labouring for the people he hated.
A brutal statement against any who would harm the Astra Telepathica.
1 Telepathica Renown
Little plan vote to bide the time.
4 Hour Moratorium.
2.001.702M42 Terran Primary Calendar.
2.001.639M40 Ordo Chronos Calendar. (Revision CLXXIX (Revised on 0.190.251M40 of previous Ordo Chronos Calendar.))
Pain surges through you. You focus, trying to look around you at your surroundings. The walls are made of metallic white. You see portable medicae equipment placed within alcoves. The medicae ward of the Sapphire Keep. A private one, you believe.
A figure in the armour of a Black Sentinel is standing by your bedside. The figure flips up their mask. Captain Alstar Udo is standing next to you. His face mask flipped upwards to look at you. "I repeat. Who am I speaking to right now?"
"Occam Parsimonn." You garble in a roughly passable version of Gothic.
"Trina is still disabled from the explosion. You are the only coherent witness of the event. What happened?"
"Trina's alive?" You ask. Confused by how natural the question comes to your mouth. "Who's Trina?"
"Can you give him another stimulant?" Alstar asks, turning to someone.
"No." A stern voice replies. "He's already up to his neck in opiates. Allow me." A hand is placed on your forehead, and the pain fades. Thought patterns crystallize and coherence is restored to your faculties. You see Astrid standing over you, and feel a pleasant sensation as your pain sensors are temporarily disabled.
"What happened, Occam?" She asks.
The memories return, and you finally remember just what happened. The smell had given you just enough warning to wrap yourself in a Telekine field. The blast had thrown you through the library, and you'd passed out shortly after.
You explain what you remember. The Servitor and its malfunction, the smell of the paint thinner, the explosion that consumed the room. The flames licking over your Telekine barrier.
"What happened to the Librarian? She was closer to the blast." You feel a hint of concern for Trina.
Astrid chuckles. "She lost her favorite body, but she's alive."
You blink in confusion and Astrid continues with a grin. "Her brain was mounted in the carriage in the ceiling that moved back and forth. The body was just her old one, modified for her duties. She's unconscious from the feedback of losing her primary body, but she'll recover." Her mood darkens. "I'm more concerned about you."
"I don't feel too bad." You look down the bed and see…
Your body is scorched black. A hint of terror awakens and you're about to scream, when all natural responses to the sight of one's own body covered in third degree burns are suppressed. You look at the mass of coaled flesh that is yourself with some amusement.
"I should be a lot more shocked than I am." You say, feeling the hand of Astrid on your scalp. "Am I dead? Is this a Seance?"
She chuckles, amused by your nonchalant reaction. "No. Most of your pain receptors are burned through, and I am stopping your body from going into shock. We're preparing a regenerative treatment for you, as we speak. It should be a full recovery." She pauses. "Unfortunately, your features are rather..."
"Do I want to see a mirror?"
"No." Astrid and the Black Sentinel say in Unison. "But I do have two offers for you." She reaches for a dataslate and holds it in front of you. It shows two people who look a lot like you. "While I'm putting you back together. Do you have any preferences for what you want to look like? I normally wouldn't be quite so aggressive in the changes, but there's a lot of room to work with now.
Choosing the right appearance:
Astrid has presented you with two appearances she can remake for you. The appearances are like yours before, but with subtle changes to jawline, the setting of your eyes, minor plastic surgery, and giving you back your hair.
Choose your appearance.
[] "I like the 'Admiral Spire' on the left.":
This image of you looks like you stepped right off a propaganda poster. The inspiration, Admiral Spire, the legend of the Gothic War, doesn't look half bad. Just looking at the mighty jawline and black hair makes you imagine that this appearance will garner respect.
Gain 1 Dogmatic Renown.
[] "The Inquisitor on the right looks fetching.":
You look like a gentleman of indeterminate age. Fierce but sunken eyes that hint at great knowledge. A strong but not too attention-grabbing jawline. Features that speak of wisdom and danger. It has a very dangerous and timeless aura to it that you approve of.
Gain 1 Telepathica Renown.
[] "Just put me back together as normal":
You look like regular generic 25 year old Occam Parsimonn. Were it not for your cybernetics, you could blend in with any crowd quite easily. But it will not draw much respect or awe, and will just reinforce your current reputation. At least you have your hair back!
Gain 1 Iconoclast Renown.
The Captain puts a hand to the side of her head. "Verispex and Augur readings confirm the bomb. Firefighters are still fighting the blaze. If he says anything useful, inform me. I am taking my squad and joining the full security sweep. Someone is going to die for this."
Astrid nods, and everything goes black.
A week of sleeping in a regeneration tank, and you are relocated to a regular medical bed.
Your regrown skin tingles and it itches all over. The days pass in a haze of opiate dreams. There is a tense mood throughout the Keep, which invades your dreamless slumber and turns them fitful. Martha is with you throughout the recovery, and her presence is very much welcome.
One night, you wake up to the Lord Prefect standing by your bedside. Her mechanical form looming over you. +You deserve an explanation, Prefect.+ She telepathically projects.
"I would think so, Lord Prefect." You somewhat cheekily add. "How can I help you otherwise?"
She makes a gurgling noise you interpret as a laugh. +You will want to know why you were attacked.+ She pauses for a moment.
You lean forward. "Lord Prefect. Just what launched the attack?"
+A group that used backdoors in our cogitator systems to communicate with a Servitor which was covertly introduced into our workforce two centuries ago. One with a hidden personality engram cultivated to hate and loathe Psykers.+ Hoarfrost briefly spreads around one of the metal talons of the Lord Prefect. +Say what is in the forefront of your mind.+
"Lord Prefect. This does not sound like external enemies. No recidivist has that sort of connection."
+Indeed not. It was members of our very own Imperium that feared us. And thought that -you- were the best target to teach -us- to stay in our place.+ She reaches out with her skeletal organic hand and puts it against your cheek. +A child from the gutter. Blessed by the Emperor with power and control. With a kind heart whose darkening I fear to witness.+ She sends a feeling of warmth and kindness through the hand, and it briefly reminds you of your parents.
+We, the Telepathica, are… different from most imperial organizations. And because of that, many perceive us as a threat. We are not born to ancient lineages. Each of us comes from nothing once we disembark a Black Ship, and we rise higher than many.+
You feel wetness around your organic eye, but the emotion is not yours. It is hers. You catch glimpses of her, a starveling taken from the streets and elevated to greatness. You gently wipe it away.
+But that is just one of the groups who hate us. There is another much greater danger.+
She inclines her head. +I did not wish to tell you so early. But this attack forced my hand. You are clever and ambitious, and would seek out answers if you did not understand the risk.+ She reaches into her robes and takes out a small necklace she shows to you.
Holding out a hand for the signet, compelled by a slight telepathic probe, you have something dropped into your upturned palm. It is an Inquisitorial Rosette. You twitch and drop it out of shock.
+That.+ She taps the Rosette for emphasis. +Was in the possession of an Inquisitorial Acolyte that operated within the lower depths of the Keep.+
"You killed an Inquisitorial Agent?" You ask, horrified. "That's heresy!" Only your conditioning stops you from drawing upon your power out of shock.
A wave of telepathic control asserts itself over you, soothing your impulses and encouraging reasoning and ordered thought.
+Oh, he lives. Yet.+ She picks up the device and crushes it telekinetically. The tiny device bursts into flames as the Lord Prefect unbinds the molecules it is composed off into a puff of flame. +It was an acolyte. I laid him bare and took his secrets. Alas, his memories had been wiped and he was reduced to a savant guided only on 'keeping the witches in their place'+
And so she begins to explain. How the Inquisition is not a single uniform organization, how each Inquisitor might have their own projects and schemes, how there are unspoken rules in the Imperium regarding the termination of Inquisitorial operatives found infiltrating one's organization. Rules she knows to some extent.
+To some Inquisitors, the thought of any Psyker with more rights than an astropath fused into a machine, is a danger. Ones who consider the mere prospect of sanctioned combat Psykers a mistake. Training beyond Terra, a heresy.+ Rage and fury emanate from her, the hoarfrost melting away and turning into steam. +I've had suspicions. They are now confirmed.+
"Suspicions?"
+Gaps in our records. A purge of the astropathic choir due to possession over five centuries ago. Three before I started working here. I had never thought twice of said purge.+ She turns to look at you. +They happen. As much as we might not like it.+ Her telepathic voice softens. +I…I should have looked more deeply into those events.+
The admission of failure takes you by surprise, but you do not press the matter. You instead wait for her to process her thoughts.
+Any of them who do not flash a Rosette in time, are to be killed on sight. They will show us the same deference they give any other Adepta, or pay the price.+
You immediately grasp the legal loophole. It is only heresy to kill an Inquisitorial Agent if they announce their allegiance to the Inquisition. Otherwise, it is just terminating an infiltrator.
The words she speaks sound like the foulest heresy, recidivism of the most disgusting sort. But they are spoken with such certainty, that you find it hard not to believe her.
+This conflict is… beyond you in many ways. But this is a game I have played for two centuries. I have woven many webs of influence, and my skein stretches far.+ A claw is put under your chin to make you look her directly in the eyes. +Do -not- involve yourself if you can help it. Do not tell any other Psykers. If you discover anything, find me.+
She pauses, turning to look at you as she begins to depart the room. +What would you have me do to the infiltrator?+
Your words at the last meeting, combined with the events of the bombing, have seen the Lord Prefect admit that there's complicated matters at play.
You have been told roughly what is happening, and received strict instructions to not involve yourself. Instead you are to warn her if you find the involvement of the Inquisition.
Finding information on this subject will gain you Influence.
[] Servitorize him:
For his destruction of a servitor, he shall become a servitor. A fair punishment.
1 Dogmatic Renown.
[] Kill him:
Kill him and get it over with.
1 Iconoclast Renown
[] Sapient servitorization:
He will be aware until his organic components have decayed fully, all the while, labouring for the people he hated.
A brutal statement against any who would harm the Astra Telepathica.
1 Telepathica Renown
Little plan vote to bide the time.
4 Hour Moratorium.
Last edited:
Holy shit, well i think that our old face and servitor the fucker
- Location
- Netherlands
First example of how the renown system throws a wrench into the usual choices you might consider making.
A brutal example of the Acolyte would help to affirm your belief in 'traditional justice', helping reinforce a dogmatic persona as a cover, or make it clear you don't tolerate anyone intruding in your space.
While safely getting rid of the body and all the evidence, would reaffirm the belief that you're a bit 'soft' and therefore an iconoclast.
A brutal example of the Acolyte would help to affirm your belief in 'traditional justice', helping reinforce a dogmatic persona as a cover, or make it clear you don't tolerate anyone intruding in your space.
While safely getting rid of the body and all the evidence, would reaffirm the belief that you're a bit 'soft' and therefore an iconoclast.
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- Location
- Your pantry
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I'm thinking of just going with the iconoclast options? I don't really like the thought of replacing Occam's face with someone else's, nor do I want to torture the idiot behind all of this, regardless of the statement that would produce.
- Location
- Poland
- Pronouns
- He/Him
While servitorization is not a pleassant fate, the fully sentient option is 1000% worse.
Also, we need to get some Dogmatic Reputation. It's our social shield, in a way.
Also, we need to get some Dogmatic Reputation. It's our social shield, in a way.
- Location
- Netherlands
Its still your face.
Its just slightly changed to accentuate parts for the sake of shaping early impressions. Stuff like fierce and deadly looking eyes, or an almost haunted but wise glint to your features.
Last edited:
Heresy
My Brother’s Keeper
- Location
- nowhere everywhere
I say we go for the spire look and the immediate execution. It plays into us being outwardly Dogmatic but internally Iconclastic.
If we want to actually enact anything we need power and influence which means playing into people's perceptions of what looks like a proper imperial figure.
Again the shock trooper plan is all about glory and prestige, the leader/founder of a unit that's creation is predicated on building reputation should look the part.
People want a square jawed, wide shouldered barrel chested Commissar Caiphas Cane or Commissar-Colonel Gaunt superman leading strike force units, not a frumpy nerd or street rat.
If we want to actually enact anything we need power and influence which means playing into people's perceptions of what looks like a proper imperial figure.
Again the shock trooper plan is all about glory and prestige, the leader/founder of a unit that's creation is predicated on building reputation should look the part.
People want a square jawed, wide shouldered barrel chested Commissar Caiphas Cane or Commissar-Colonel Gaunt superman leading strike force units, not a frumpy nerd or street rat.
[] "I like the 'Admiral Spire' on the left.":
[] Servitorize him:
Thinking dogmatic here after the iconoclast and Telepathica choices last turn.
[] Servitorize him:
Thinking dogmatic here after the iconoclast and Telepathica choices last turn.