The Great Crusade dawns!
Among Giants (AKA, What its like to not be a Primarch in 30k)
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User Total Dapperlad1 4
The Beginning
- Location
- Albania
- Pronouns
- He/Him
It is 798.M30 on the Imperial Calendar. The interior of a great administrative building on Terra provides a residence for many individuals who would soon become of vital importance to an idea so great, even the promise of it was intoxicating.
In a side room, away from the golden giant making grand speeches and promising the galaxy to anyone with bravery enough to follow his command and make journeys into the stars themselves. Three beings commune, already chosen by administrators and commanders of a vastly higher level than them.
The first is a man, young enough for a human, perhaps just now making it to his fourth decade with the first visible signs of greying hair and wrinkling skin. His uniform speaks of impressive service, medals of bravery, excellence in command and skill at arms decorating him. A blade sits on his right hip whilst a pistol hangs in a holster on his left.
He is Galen Helweir, Lord General of the Solar Auxilia and commander of the Expeditionary Fleet that is to set engines burning directly towards the nearest systems and subjugate them for the budding Imperium of Man.
A superlative commander of men, he scores highly on strategic exercises, has proven himself in the later portions of the Unification of Terra and the garrison actions thereafter. Having worked his way up from a field officer position, he is well aware of the realities of war and displays a capacity to spend lives as is needed, but not waste them.
The second is a mass of metal, barely in the shape of a human. Archmagos Lecithe, the primary supporting force of the Expeditionary Fleet. A woman by her word alone, she commands the Adeptus Mechanicus forces in the fleet and is the primary contact between the Lord General and the Mechanicus itself.
She is a genius further enhanced with artificial cogitation, capable of direct command of an entire theatre by way of mental links. She has great history in the Martian unification wars, culling techno-horrors from deep beneath it and smashing apart Hereteks that dared form under the watchful eye of her masters.
The third is an interesting individual, a product of the burgeoning Adeptus Telepathica, a barely existent organization based out of the City of Sight that imprisons and educates the Psykers, as they are known, captured in the Unification wars and surrounding subjugated worlds. Solomon Nahbiz. Attached to the Fleet for the purpose of capturing, categorizing and if judged proper, sending back the psykers captured in the conquered worlds, or killing them outright if not.
He is an expert in many of the developed arts, having trained at the foot of the Sigilite himself to begin with for nearly two centuries. The future is a cloud of mist but piercing that veil is possible in moments, your body is a tapestry showing none of its two centuries of age and even Astartes have found themselves severely wanting in strength when grappled with the telekinetic might of your mind. No true experience in a leadership position of this sort, however, may show itself through.
Each of these individuals holds a great deal of the future's promise in their hands, to conquer the stars in the name of Imperium and faith, whether in a God, an Emperor or a Dream.
Yet, who are you?
[X] Galen Helweir, Lord General Of the Solar Auxilia.
Traits:
Lord General-Your authority is technically total, you can order and demand services as the needs come, no matter if it is a Solar Trooper or an Astartes Brother-Captain. Just need to mind the politics of the matter. Only the Adeptus Mechanicus, technically an allied force, are outside that breadth of control.
[X] Prime Hermeticon Archmagos Tech Priest Dominus Lecithe
Traits-
War Magos-The authority to lead legions of Skitarii or demand war materiel from Forge Worlds rests in your hands. You are simultaneously the support to the army and its logistical backbone. Without you, no munitions flow, no prometheum fuel arrives and no ship flies. In addition, there has not yet been a threat you have been unable to face, current simulations predict 125 Astartes to fell you.
[X] Primaris Psyker Solomon Nahbiz
Primaris Psyker- Your authority extends to the unnatural of the Imperium. Messages sent by Astropaths, route decisions by Navigators and even the base predictions used by Imperial Gunnery from those self-same Astropaths are all yours to determine and release. You are no mere mortal either, rating a high Beta or, at times of severe emotional distress, low Alpha rating, the powers of your mind are vast beyond reckoning, even armies are not safe should you choose to cut loose and damn caution.
In a side room, away from the golden giant making grand speeches and promising the galaxy to anyone with bravery enough to follow his command and make journeys into the stars themselves. Three beings commune, already chosen by administrators and commanders of a vastly higher level than them.
The first is a man, young enough for a human, perhaps just now making it to his fourth decade with the first visible signs of greying hair and wrinkling skin. His uniform speaks of impressive service, medals of bravery, excellence in command and skill at arms decorating him. A blade sits on his right hip whilst a pistol hangs in a holster on his left.
He is Galen Helweir, Lord General of the Solar Auxilia and commander of the Expeditionary Fleet that is to set engines burning directly towards the nearest systems and subjugate them for the budding Imperium of Man.
A superlative commander of men, he scores highly on strategic exercises, has proven himself in the later portions of the Unification of Terra and the garrison actions thereafter. Having worked his way up from a field officer position, he is well aware of the realities of war and displays a capacity to spend lives as is needed, but not waste them.
The second is a mass of metal, barely in the shape of a human. Archmagos Lecithe, the primary supporting force of the Expeditionary Fleet. A woman by her word alone, she commands the Adeptus Mechanicus forces in the fleet and is the primary contact between the Lord General and the Mechanicus itself.
She is a genius further enhanced with artificial cogitation, capable of direct command of an entire theatre by way of mental links. She has great history in the Martian unification wars, culling techno-horrors from deep beneath it and smashing apart Hereteks that dared form under the watchful eye of her masters.
The third is an interesting individual, a product of the burgeoning Adeptus Telepathica, a barely existent organization based out of the City of Sight that imprisons and educates the Psykers, as they are known, captured in the Unification wars and surrounding subjugated worlds. Solomon Nahbiz. Attached to the Fleet for the purpose of capturing, categorizing and if judged proper, sending back the psykers captured in the conquered worlds, or killing them outright if not.
He is an expert in many of the developed arts, having trained at the foot of the Sigilite himself to begin with for nearly two centuries. The future is a cloud of mist but piercing that veil is possible in moments, your body is a tapestry showing none of its two centuries of age and even Astartes have found themselves severely wanting in strength when grappled with the telekinetic might of your mind. No true experience in a leadership position of this sort, however, may show itself through.
Each of these individuals holds a great deal of the future's promise in their hands, to conquer the stars in the name of Imperium and faith, whether in a God, an Emperor or a Dream.
Yet, who are you?
[X] Galen Helweir, Lord General Of the Solar Auxilia.
Traits:
Lord General-Your authority is technically total, you can order and demand services as the needs come, no matter if it is a Solar Trooper or an Astartes Brother-Captain. Just need to mind the politics of the matter. Only the Adeptus Mechanicus, technically an allied force, are outside that breadth of control.
dForces Under Direct Control
The Thirteenth Imperial Army
15X Solar Auxilia Infantry- Men and women of Segmentum Solar, mortals to a one. They are clad in fine void-capable armour and wield effective las weapons with heavy support implemented at the squad level, trained to discipline and superfluous skill, the backbone of the Imperium as of now, assisting the Astartes in the conquest of worlds.
1 Regiment=10,000,000 men
2x Solar Auxilia Armoured- An organized group of massed vehicles, taking the form of tanks, speeders, self-propelled guns and everything in between. This is the primary punch of the Excertus Imperialis, the striking force of any true army in ages past and still very true in the modern day.
1 Regiment-50,000 Armoured Vehicles
2x Solar Auxilia Artillery- The massed gun formations which are the crush of any Imperial Army. They are Basilisks spitting shells, they are Medusa's heavy siege guns and ever stranger platforms that have been picked up and used so long as munitions last.
1 Regiment-25,000 Guns
1x Solar Auxilia Aeronautica- Aircraft galore are necessary to hold any planetary action. Fighter craft, bombers and a thousand other assets all to support and push any army to excellence.
1 Regiment-15,000 Aircraft
Forces Under "Direct" Control
The III Legion
10x Chapters- Collections of Astartes ranging from a paltry 1,000 to a colossal 10,000, they are groupings of nigh-unstoppable post-human killing machines that know no fear and have no doubt. Clad in heavy-powered armour and wielding the most advanced weapons Mars can forge, they are each a battalion, each a force on the battlefield, but together they have seen no equal. Their vehicles, air force and assets are entirely integrated, and not found in separate formations.
1 Chapter-10,000ish
Commanded Primarily by Legion Master Thrallas.
A man of few words and indeed similar experience in the Unification Wars, they are somewhat easy to work with usually, and at least in the logistical phase of the Great Crusade have been amenable to desires and cross-training with the Solar Auxilia.
The Thirteenth Imperial Army
15X Solar Auxilia Infantry- Men and women of Segmentum Solar, mortals to a one. They are clad in fine void-capable armour and wield effective las weapons with heavy support implemented at the squad level, trained to discipline and superfluous skill, the backbone of the Imperium as of now, assisting the Astartes in the conquest of worlds.
1 Regiment=10,000,000 men
2x Solar Auxilia Armoured- An organized group of massed vehicles, taking the form of tanks, speeders, self-propelled guns and everything in between. This is the primary punch of the Excertus Imperialis, the striking force of any true army in ages past and still very true in the modern day.
1 Regiment-50,000 Armoured Vehicles
2x Solar Auxilia Artillery- The massed gun formations which are the crush of any Imperial Army. They are Basilisks spitting shells, they are Medusa's heavy siege guns and ever stranger platforms that have been picked up and used so long as munitions last.
1 Regiment-25,000 Guns
1x Solar Auxilia Aeronautica- Aircraft galore are necessary to hold any planetary action. Fighter craft, bombers and a thousand other assets all to support and push any army to excellence.
1 Regiment-15,000 Aircraft
Forces Under "Direct" Control
The III Legion
10x Chapters- Collections of Astartes ranging from a paltry 1,000 to a colossal 10,000, they are groupings of nigh-unstoppable post-human killing machines that know no fear and have no doubt. Clad in heavy-powered armour and wielding the most advanced weapons Mars can forge, they are each a battalion, each a force on the battlefield, but together they have seen no equal. Their vehicles, air force and assets are entirely integrated, and not found in separate formations.
1 Chapter-10,000ish
Commanded Primarily by Legion Master Thrallas.
A man of few words and indeed similar experience in the Unification Wars, they are somewhat easy to work with usually, and at least in the logistical phase of the Great Crusade have been amenable to desires and cross-training with the Solar Auxilia.
[X] Prime Hermeticon Archmagos Tech Priest Dominus Lecithe
Traits-
War Magos-The authority to lead legions of Skitarii or demand war materiel from Forge Worlds rests in your hands. You are simultaneously the support to the army and its logistical backbone. Without you, no munitions flow, no prometheum fuel arrives and no ship flies. In addition, there has not yet been a threat you have been unable to face, current simulations predict 125 Astartes to fell you.
dForces Under Direct Control
Legio Mu
3x Legio Skitarii- Cybernetically enhanced warriors, the Skitarii are the iron fist of the Mechanicum. Armed with advanced weaponry that not even the Astartes can dream of, they are tireless hunters that maintain constant communication with one another. They can poison the land and kill armoured vehicles.
1 Legio-500,000 Skitarii
1 Legio Cybernetica- The Battle-Automata of the Mechanicum are great semi-intelligent warmachines capable of mounting heavy weapons and moving in terrain simpler machines cannot manage. Typically not deployed alone, with the Legio Mu's status as an attachment to a greater army, it was judged acceptable to do so.
1 Legio-40,000 Battle-Automata
Legio Mu
3x Legio Skitarii- Cybernetically enhanced warriors, the Skitarii are the iron fist of the Mechanicum. Armed with advanced weaponry that not even the Astartes can dream of, they are tireless hunters that maintain constant communication with one another. They can poison the land and kill armoured vehicles.
1 Legio-500,000 Skitarii
1 Legio Cybernetica- The Battle-Automata of the Mechanicum are great semi-intelligent warmachines capable of mounting heavy weapons and moving in terrain simpler machines cannot manage. Typically not deployed alone, with the Legio Mu's status as an attachment to a greater army, it was judged acceptable to do so.
1 Legio-40,000 Battle-Automata
[X] Primaris Psyker Solomon Nahbiz
Primaris Psyker- Your authority extends to the unnatural of the Imperium. Messages sent by Astropaths, route decisions by Navigators and even the base predictions used by Imperial Gunnery from those self-same Astropaths are all yours to determine and release. You are no mere mortal either, rating a high Beta or, at times of severe emotional distress, low Alpha rating, the powers of your mind are vast beyond reckoning, even armies are not safe should you choose to cut loose and damn caution.
dForces Under Direct Control
Astra Telepathica Detachment
3x Wyrdvane Psykers Formation- Novitiates not yet fully in control of their powers and as such not worthy of the title of Primaris, they are still capable of bringing hell to the enemies of the Imperium through a myriad of personal and unique methods that defy classification.
1 Formation=400 Wyrdvanes
1x Battlefield Primaris Psykers Formation- Masters of psychokinetic displays, they can conjure lightning, breathe fire and mangle bodies with telekinetic force. These are the Hammer of the Astra Telepathica, individually as effective as an entire artillery battery. They suffer less from the risk of psychic failure that lesser trained psykers do, but still fear it and thus must be guarded.
1x Formation=15 Psykers
1x Support Primaris Psykers Formation- Masters of divination, warp-manipulation and biomancy, these men and women can whisper omens in the ears of commanders, ease the burden of entire field hospitals and, if needed, can even wrench battalions through the warp, tossing them free inside enemy fortresses.
1x Formation=15 Psykers
1x Astropathic Choir- A choir of psykers gifted with the ritual of Soul-Binding to the Emperor himself, they are capable of projecting messages across the vast and ineffable gulf of space and, sometimes, time, giving messages to comrades far away. This represents the only form of communication that is not a messenger in the current millennium, and they are yours to command.
1 Choir=50 Astropaths
Navis Nobilite Detachment
1 Navigator House Levy-Men and women born with the unnatural ability to navigate the warp with preternatural skill, they present a third eye genetically as a mark of ability. Not much is known about them, not even to you.
1 Levy=100 Navigators
Commanded by Sylvolme van Grimm, Third of Her Name, She Who Holds The Sight, Gifter of Ways, Maker of Maps
She is headstrong, of exceptional belief in her own superiority to all others due to circumstances of birth and generally useless in an actual emergency. However, she is without equal as far as you have seen for the creation of warp-routes and has given the smoothest, calmest jumps you have ever had to enjoy, free of terrible whispers and twisting dreams.
Astra Telepathica Detachment
3x Wyrdvane Psykers Formation- Novitiates not yet fully in control of their powers and as such not worthy of the title of Primaris, they are still capable of bringing hell to the enemies of the Imperium through a myriad of personal and unique methods that defy classification.
1 Formation=400 Wyrdvanes
1x Battlefield Primaris Psykers Formation- Masters of psychokinetic displays, they can conjure lightning, breathe fire and mangle bodies with telekinetic force. These are the Hammer of the Astra Telepathica, individually as effective as an entire artillery battery. They suffer less from the risk of psychic failure that lesser trained psykers do, but still fear it and thus must be guarded.
1x Formation=15 Psykers
1x Support Primaris Psykers Formation- Masters of divination, warp-manipulation and biomancy, these men and women can whisper omens in the ears of commanders, ease the burden of entire field hospitals and, if needed, can even wrench battalions through the warp, tossing them free inside enemy fortresses.
1x Formation=15 Psykers
1x Astropathic Choir- A choir of psykers gifted with the ritual of Soul-Binding to the Emperor himself, they are capable of projecting messages across the vast and ineffable gulf of space and, sometimes, time, giving messages to comrades far away. This represents the only form of communication that is not a messenger in the current millennium, and they are yours to command.
1 Choir=50 Astropaths
Navis Nobilite Detachment
1 Navigator House Levy-Men and women born with the unnatural ability to navigate the warp with preternatural skill, they present a third eye genetically as a mark of ability. Not much is known about them, not even to you.
1 Levy=100 Navigators
Commanded by Sylvolme van Grimm, Third of Her Name, She Who Holds The Sight, Gifter of Ways, Maker of Maps
She is headstrong, of exceptional belief in her own superiority to all others due to circumstances of birth and generally useless in an actual emergency. However, she is without equal as far as you have seen for the creation of warp-routes and has given the smoothest, calmest jumps you have ever had to enjoy, free of terrible whispers and twisting dreams.
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Directly Controlled Force
- Location
- Albania
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Forces Under Direct Control
Astra Telepathica Detachment
5x Wyrdvane Psykers Formation- Novitiates not yet fully in control of their powers and as such not worthy of the title of Primaris, they are still capable of bringing hell to the enemies of the Imperium through a myriad of personal and unique methods that defy classification.
1 Formation=400 Wyrdvanes
1x Battlefield Primaris Psykers Formation- Masters of psychokinetic displays, they can conjure lightning, breathe fire and mangle bodies with telekinetic force. These are the Hammer of the Astra Telepathica, individually as effective as an entire artillery battery. They suffer less from the risk of psychic failure that lesser trained psykers do, but still fear it and thus must be guarded.
1x Formation=15 Psykers
1x Support Primaris Psykers Formation- Masters of divination, warp-manipulation and biomancy, these men and women can whisper omens in the ears of commanders, ease the burden of entire field hospitals and, if needed, can even wrench battalions through the warp, tossing them free inside enemy fortresses.
1x Formation=15 Psykers
1x Astropathic Choir- A choir of psykers gifted with the ritual of Soul-Binding to the Emperor himself, they are capable of projecting messages across the vast and ineffable gulf of space and, sometimes, time, giving messages to comrades far away. This represents the only form of communication that is not a messenger in the current millennium, and they are yours to command.
1 Choir=50 Astropaths
Navis Nobilite Detachment
1 Navigator House Levy-Men and women born with the unnatural ability to navigate the warp with preternatural skill, they present a third eye genetically as a mark of ability. Not much is known about them, not even to you.
1 Levy=100 Navigators
Commanded by Sylvolme van Grimm, Third of Her Name, She Who Holds The Sight, Gifter of Ways, Maker of Maps
She is headstrong, of exceptional belief in her own superiority to all others due to circumstances of birth and generally useless in an actual emergency. However, she is without equal as far as you have seen for the creation of warp-routes and has given the smoothest, calmest jumps you have ever had to enjoy, free of terrible whispers and twisting dreams.
Astra Telepathica Detachment
5x Wyrdvane Psykers Formation- Novitiates not yet fully in control of their powers and as such not worthy of the title of Primaris, they are still capable of bringing hell to the enemies of the Imperium through a myriad of personal and unique methods that defy classification.
1 Formation=400 Wyrdvanes
1x Battlefield Primaris Psykers Formation- Masters of psychokinetic displays, they can conjure lightning, breathe fire and mangle bodies with telekinetic force. These are the Hammer of the Astra Telepathica, individually as effective as an entire artillery battery. They suffer less from the risk of psychic failure that lesser trained psykers do, but still fear it and thus must be guarded.
1x Formation=15 Psykers
1x Support Primaris Psykers Formation- Masters of divination, warp-manipulation and biomancy, these men and women can whisper omens in the ears of commanders, ease the burden of entire field hospitals and, if needed, can even wrench battalions through the warp, tossing them free inside enemy fortresses.
1x Formation=15 Psykers
1x Astropathic Choir- A choir of psykers gifted with the ritual of Soul-Binding to the Emperor himself, they are capable of projecting messages across the vast and ineffable gulf of space and, sometimes, time, giving messages to comrades far away. This represents the only form of communication that is not a messenger in the current millennium, and they are yours to command.
1 Choir=50 Astropaths
Navis Nobilite Detachment
1 Navigator House Levy-Men and women born with the unnatural ability to navigate the warp with preternatural skill, they present a third eye genetically as a mark of ability. Not much is known about them, not even to you.
1 Levy=100 Navigators
Commanded by Sylvolme van Grimm, Third of Her Name, She Who Holds The Sight, Gifter of Ways, Maker of Maps
She is headstrong, of exceptional belief in her own superiority to all others due to circumstances of birth and generally useless in an actual emergency. However, she is without equal as far as you have seen for the creation of warp-routes and has given the smoothest, calmest jumps you have ever had to enjoy, free of terrible whispers and twisting dreams.
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To The Stars
- Location
- Albania
- Pronouns
- He/Him
"We currently have just a hair over one hundred and sixty million men at arms, with one-hundred thousand Astartes as well. This is a greater force than can be scarcely imagined." Lord General Helweir speaks, his tone directing belief to great confidence and utter assuredness in action. The opened doorways of his mind speak differently, his fears at the logistical issues, the sheer gulf of space being covered, the processes of reinforcement.
His worries about the stability of his Astartes comrades, one of which is merely three rooms away, attending to his commanders and preparing them for duty, as well as having his own thoughts on the matter of leadership, are founded in some fact. The post-humans are growing to despise the leadership of those that are so very lesser to them.
"I provide the Legio Mu, an additional one million, five hundred thousand combatants, as well as onboard manufactoriums in my vessels to ease the stress of campaign." The machine woman speaks in a vox-staccato, the providence of the Adeptus Mechanicus. Her thoughts are more clouded, hidden behind firewalls of code and cogitator and encoded in a language not found in anything made primarily of flesh.
Light hisses of machinery echo from her as every small movement in the inhuman frame she commands make the floor groan. Their thoughts turn to you, affording you the moment to speak. Finally opening your eyes to observe the material with flesh rather than your soul, words come free. "A choir of Astropaths, a hair over one thousand combat-capable Sanctioned Psykers, exactly thirty Primaris Psykers and one hundred Navigators from House Van Grimm, of Terra."
Their minds speak to a lack of understanding of your terms, save of course for the Astropaths and Navigators. "I trust they are all…under control, Primaris Nahbiz?" The Lord General delicately asks, prodding at you for any worries whilst in his own mind remembering the terrors of techno-barbarians driven mad by their talents. "If they were not, Lord General, you would notice."
An acerbic reply to an ill-conceived question.
His mind hisses at the reply, but does not react rashly, Archmagos Lecithe indeed does not react. Dismissing your words as merely that whilst her mind races at speeds you cannot track, disconnecting from the thought speed of mere flesh.
The meeting and distribution of assets continue apace, and after it, all of you must go to your respective stations as you prepare to board, finally, and emerge into the greatest effort humanity has had in millenia. The Great Crusade, as it is known in whispered rumours amongst the careless citizenry.
You escape the room, to go commune with another of import. The hallways are traversed at a slow pace, taking the time to breathe in the thoughts of the complement as a whole, feeling the nervous energy, fanaticism, fear and a thousand other emotions from the gathered.
And of course, your true target. A guarded mind with significant walls that would be impenetrable to most others. Gliding through her maze and tapping into her mind as you near is not very difficult.
Sylvolme Van Grimm, your lead Navigator of some decade of experience in true interstellar travel, heading trading ships far and wide to systems in Segmentum Solar as it is known. She is currently lounging in a plush, luxurious seating with two men on leashes laying beneath her naked frame.
"Solomon!" She squeals as she sees you, smiling broadly, "Welcome! Please, have a drink and your choice of the servants." The wine, some ancient vine having survived the endless millennia of war on Terra, is intoxicating to even scent. A drunk Psyker, however, is ill-advised at the best of times.
"No, Navigator Van Grimm, I have come to ascertain your readiness. We leave within the day." You speak clearly, piercing the haze of drunkenness that you notice on her mind, having dismissed it as drowsiness in error beforehand. Her grin widens, "I'll be perfectly fine Solo-What is a good way to shorten your name?" She cuts herself off mid-thought, considering. "Perhaps Mon? That's not particularly flattering, though."
Rolling your eyes at the theatrics, you turn to walk away, only to freeze "Perhaps I'll call you Sol, like the star which bathes great Terra!" Her third eye gazing open, sending the servants turning away and shutting their eyes tight, is a pulse in the Beyond, sending currents skittering all around. "You are certainly radiant enough for it."
"Close your eye, Navigator, you are too lenient with your gift." You hiss, bringing shields to bear fully across your mind, "Nay, Sol, it is you who is in the wrong, through the vagaries of birth, you are truly capable in the ways of the Warp yet reject that inherent strength." She rises from the pile, her presence an open beacon in the Beyond.
"Enough." You enunciate clearly, gripping her eye and forcing it shut, she lets off noises of pain, stumbling back as you twist, gripping her tightly with your mind, "Know your place, Navigator, your houses are to be decadent and wealthy, given to great pleasures at the behest of our Emperor and his Imperium's need." Growling the last line, you suddenly tighten further, bruising her in places instantly, "But even that has limits, and the limits for mutants are much more strained than you seem to think."
Releasing her to the ground, she drops yet even through the light bleeding staining teeth, eyes shut with pain, she at least has the energy to submit, "Yes… Primaris Nahbiz." With that issue handled, you turn away, storming to the doorway and slamming it shut behind you.
Sighing deeply, you count in your mind to calm yourself. Finally, you can meet one more, hopefully, reasonable individual. The dark halls and flow of adepts pass, keeping a wide berth from your robed self through some inner instinct of self-preservation.
The small chamber, spartan in appearance, houses Legion Master Thrallas and his sub-commanders. Each man is a giant well above your height and thrice as wide. But, as their thoughts are pried open by your presence, it is not the comfortable superiority they enjoy over the mortals they regularly encounter, but rather worry, nerves and the all-to-human emotions they claim to be above.
"Legion Master Thrallas, I have come merely to ascertain your readiness." You ease him with your words, staring at the fine, noble features and gleaming clothing which showcases great wealth and exquisite taste. "We leave within the solar day." The monotone of your voice shakes him free of the last nerves, "Yes, Primaris Nahbiz, I have made my preparations and my Legion is now loading the last of the equipment onto our vessels." His voice is deep, roiling and rich with texture, a practised speaker that has only been improved by his gift.
"Perhaps, with luck, we will not have to spend overly long in the warp. My warriors are distasteful of such journeys." He affably speaks, doing everything correctly in terms of expression and tone even as his mind carefully manages itself, projecting his intent to be an ally and nothing much else, impressive.
"Perhaps, Legion Master. I shall be present when we launch, good day." With that, you once again leave the presence of an ally, seeking your own Black Ship some kilometre away. The thoughts behind you are those of mild confusion at your behaviour and worry that they may have offended you.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The ships launch free of their mountings on and around Terra. Burning to meet the Mechanicus complement which adds to its size. The admiral in charge of the fleet is not someone you've yet had the pleasure of meeting as he is in another vessel from yours.
However, in the time before warp jumps, Lord General Helweir sends a vox-cast, it is a request to meet and discuss training with your complement of men and his own. Additionally, Archmagos Lecithe has herself sent a message, this one in text, requesting that you find time to meet her, as she has questions as to the exact purpose of some designs she is being asked to make. She suggests clearing at least twelve hours, preferably thirty to discuss this fully.
Whilst already trying to schedule this into your calendar, another call comes from the Astra Telepathica, through your astropaths. They are re-iterating your goals of acquiring and handling the wild psykers found deep in the galaxy as well as investigating if you have space for another shipment of Wyrdvane's, as a graduating class has achieved enough skill to be sent away.
When you think you've received the last of your worries, another vox-cast from the Legion Master Thrallas, this one inquiring if you are open to conversation and perhaps a drink whilst you consider the role of Psykers within his legion in a tactical and strategic sense.
Looking at your schedule, with the regular checkups on your complement and the testing of integrity for the prisons in your bay holds, you cannot attend every one of them.
Focus Points-2
Pursuing any of the actions below costs a full focus point. Vote via plan.
[X] Lord General Helweir's Training Efforts.
[X] Archmagos Lecithe's Interrogation.
[X] Astra Telepathica Request.
[X] Legion Master Thrallas's Conversation.
His worries about the stability of his Astartes comrades, one of which is merely three rooms away, attending to his commanders and preparing them for duty, as well as having his own thoughts on the matter of leadership, are founded in some fact. The post-humans are growing to despise the leadership of those that are so very lesser to them.
"I provide the Legio Mu, an additional one million, five hundred thousand combatants, as well as onboard manufactoriums in my vessels to ease the stress of campaign." The machine woman speaks in a vox-staccato, the providence of the Adeptus Mechanicus. Her thoughts are more clouded, hidden behind firewalls of code and cogitator and encoded in a language not found in anything made primarily of flesh.
Light hisses of machinery echo from her as every small movement in the inhuman frame she commands make the floor groan. Their thoughts turn to you, affording you the moment to speak. Finally opening your eyes to observe the material with flesh rather than your soul, words come free. "A choir of Astropaths, a hair over one thousand combat-capable Sanctioned Psykers, exactly thirty Primaris Psykers and one hundred Navigators from House Van Grimm, of Terra."
Their minds speak to a lack of understanding of your terms, save of course for the Astropaths and Navigators. "I trust they are all…under control, Primaris Nahbiz?" The Lord General delicately asks, prodding at you for any worries whilst in his own mind remembering the terrors of techno-barbarians driven mad by their talents. "If they were not, Lord General, you would notice."
An acerbic reply to an ill-conceived question.
His mind hisses at the reply, but does not react rashly, Archmagos Lecithe indeed does not react. Dismissing your words as merely that whilst her mind races at speeds you cannot track, disconnecting from the thought speed of mere flesh.
The meeting and distribution of assets continue apace, and after it, all of you must go to your respective stations as you prepare to board, finally, and emerge into the greatest effort humanity has had in millenia. The Great Crusade, as it is known in whispered rumours amongst the careless citizenry.
You escape the room, to go commune with another of import. The hallways are traversed at a slow pace, taking the time to breathe in the thoughts of the complement as a whole, feeling the nervous energy, fanaticism, fear and a thousand other emotions from the gathered.
And of course, your true target. A guarded mind with significant walls that would be impenetrable to most others. Gliding through her maze and tapping into her mind as you near is not very difficult.
Sylvolme Van Grimm, your lead Navigator of some decade of experience in true interstellar travel, heading trading ships far and wide to systems in Segmentum Solar as it is known. She is currently lounging in a plush, luxurious seating with two men on leashes laying beneath her naked frame.
"Solomon!" She squeals as she sees you, smiling broadly, "Welcome! Please, have a drink and your choice of the servants." The wine, some ancient vine having survived the endless millennia of war on Terra, is intoxicating to even scent. A drunk Psyker, however, is ill-advised at the best of times.
"No, Navigator Van Grimm, I have come to ascertain your readiness. We leave within the day." You speak clearly, piercing the haze of drunkenness that you notice on her mind, having dismissed it as drowsiness in error beforehand. Her grin widens, "I'll be perfectly fine Solo-What is a good way to shorten your name?" She cuts herself off mid-thought, considering. "Perhaps Mon? That's not particularly flattering, though."
Rolling your eyes at the theatrics, you turn to walk away, only to freeze "Perhaps I'll call you Sol, like the star which bathes great Terra!" Her third eye gazing open, sending the servants turning away and shutting their eyes tight, is a pulse in the Beyond, sending currents skittering all around. "You are certainly radiant enough for it."
"Close your eye, Navigator, you are too lenient with your gift." You hiss, bringing shields to bear fully across your mind, "Nay, Sol, it is you who is in the wrong, through the vagaries of birth, you are truly capable in the ways of the Warp yet reject that inherent strength." She rises from the pile, her presence an open beacon in the Beyond.
"Enough." You enunciate clearly, gripping her eye and forcing it shut, she lets off noises of pain, stumbling back as you twist, gripping her tightly with your mind, "Know your place, Navigator, your houses are to be decadent and wealthy, given to great pleasures at the behest of our Emperor and his Imperium's need." Growling the last line, you suddenly tighten further, bruising her in places instantly, "But even that has limits, and the limits for mutants are much more strained than you seem to think."
Releasing her to the ground, she drops yet even through the light bleeding staining teeth, eyes shut with pain, she at least has the energy to submit, "Yes… Primaris Nahbiz." With that issue handled, you turn away, storming to the doorway and slamming it shut behind you.
Sighing deeply, you count in your mind to calm yourself. Finally, you can meet one more, hopefully, reasonable individual. The dark halls and flow of adepts pass, keeping a wide berth from your robed self through some inner instinct of self-preservation.
The small chamber, spartan in appearance, houses Legion Master Thrallas and his sub-commanders. Each man is a giant well above your height and thrice as wide. But, as their thoughts are pried open by your presence, it is not the comfortable superiority they enjoy over the mortals they regularly encounter, but rather worry, nerves and the all-to-human emotions they claim to be above.
"Legion Master Thrallas, I have come merely to ascertain your readiness." You ease him with your words, staring at the fine, noble features and gleaming clothing which showcases great wealth and exquisite taste. "We leave within the solar day." The monotone of your voice shakes him free of the last nerves, "Yes, Primaris Nahbiz, I have made my preparations and my Legion is now loading the last of the equipment onto our vessels." His voice is deep, roiling and rich with texture, a practised speaker that has only been improved by his gift.
"Perhaps, with luck, we will not have to spend overly long in the warp. My warriors are distasteful of such journeys." He affably speaks, doing everything correctly in terms of expression and tone even as his mind carefully manages itself, projecting his intent to be an ally and nothing much else, impressive.
"Perhaps, Legion Master. I shall be present when we launch, good day." With that, you once again leave the presence of an ally, seeking your own Black Ship some kilometre away. The thoughts behind you are those of mild confusion at your behaviour and worry that they may have offended you.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The ships launch free of their mountings on and around Terra. Burning to meet the Mechanicus complement which adds to its size. The admiral in charge of the fleet is not someone you've yet had the pleasure of meeting as he is in another vessel from yours.
However, in the time before warp jumps, Lord General Helweir sends a vox-cast, it is a request to meet and discuss training with your complement of men and his own. Additionally, Archmagos Lecithe has herself sent a message, this one in text, requesting that you find time to meet her, as she has questions as to the exact purpose of some designs she is being asked to make. She suggests clearing at least twelve hours, preferably thirty to discuss this fully.
Whilst already trying to schedule this into your calendar, another call comes from the Astra Telepathica, through your astropaths. They are re-iterating your goals of acquiring and handling the wild psykers found deep in the galaxy as well as investigating if you have space for another shipment of Wyrdvane's, as a graduating class has achieved enough skill to be sent away.
When you think you've received the last of your worries, another vox-cast from the Legion Master Thrallas, this one inquiring if you are open to conversation and perhaps a drink whilst you consider the role of Psykers within his legion in a tactical and strategic sense.
Looking at your schedule, with the regular checkups on your complement and the testing of integrity for the prisons in your bay holds, you cannot attend every one of them.
Focus Points-2
Pursuing any of the actions below costs a full focus point. Vote via plan.
[X] Lord General Helweir's Training Efforts.
[X] Archmagos Lecithe's Interrogation.
[X] Astra Telepathica Request.
[X] Legion Master Thrallas's Conversation.
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The First
- Location
- Albania
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Pencilling in the Telepathica and the Archmagos, you send the Lord General and the Legion Master a message of apology, professing as to your tight and uncompromising schedule.
However, first, you must assess the status of the Black Ship and its holds.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Standing in the colossal holds, the atmosphere is significantly darker than you would like to endure. Hexagrammatic wardings and warp-workings set the eddies stilling and making the usage of psyker abilities near-impossible.
Of course, as you press against them, they are ever so fragile compared to your power, but it would take at least a few minutes to overcome, plenty of times for guards to gun you down. Inside the cells lie no souls yet, your own Wyrdvanes in far more comfortable holding areas, protected against their rampant abilities but at the very least having beds.
The ship shudders as the long burn to the stars begins, nearly a week to the exterior system. However, the thought process is cut short as, from deeper in the ship, a small telepathic message requests your presence, never a quiet moment.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Arriving at the centre of the choir, the Astropaths link your mind and the Astra Telepathica's envoy across the vast gulf of space between both of you. The world fades away into an endless colour-filled void before you are in a small, comfortable chamber.
Leaning back into the wood-backed chair as a subtle aroma of incense drifts through your nose. A fireplace cracked, piercing the room through with the pleasant sting of smoke, across from you sits a man, robed similarly and carrying a Force Stave openly, an officiate.
"Primaris Nahbiz, let us be brief, we both have important tasks to handle." His voice is low, yet soft. Carefully concocted in this dream realm to be as inoffensive as possible, the artificiality sets you ill at ease, it suggests a telepath of significant experience.
"Of course, Envoy Kalasmos. A graduating class was spoken of?" Yet, his strength is lacking. Weaving past his mental barriers, you get his name, images of his location, the taste of liquor on his tongue, "Y-yes, Primaris Nahbiz, just a hair over eight hundred of them." He breaks out into sweats as you take control of the realm subtly.
"Of course, you will handle transport I hope? I am not of many means in that respect, Envoy Kalasmos." Standing up to enjoy the heat of the fire more closely, you twist your head, hood revealing nothing but the glint of warp-touched eyes
"Of course, Primaris Nahbiz, I-I would be more than glad to help!" He begs more than acquiesces, terrified of being so easily overcome. A bureaucrat with delusions of grandeur and years of practice, but still weak. "Excellent, Envoy Kalasmos, and please, in the future, dry your tongue from the touch of liquor, it is unseemly and dangerous on multiple levels." His eyes widen at the knowledge you display.
Cutting apart his attempted dominance over you as well as the bare attempt by the Telepathica to exercise authority it simply does not have, you sip at the glass of a juice you have only enjoyed once in the Materium, created from something called a citrus fruit on Terra.
"And as per my duty to collect psykers as we find them, the holding bays in my vessel are perfectly functional. I do not need reminders of basic tasks." You turn towards him once again at that, waving a hand idly to shatter the entire dream realm to its base components and awaken in the centre of your choir.
"Excellent work, Astropaths, the method of visualizing our communication was novel. Practise it further for future use." Complimenting their ingenuity in giving you an easy advantage, you twist on your heel and make your way to the next matter at hand.
Two additional formations of Sanctioned Wyrdvanes added. Astra Telepathica sufficiently cowed.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Taking a shuttle between vessels is always an interesting experience. Being reduced to a tiny mote of steel floating in the void between lingering giants that move so quickly they seem to stand still enlightens one as to their role in the universe.
Perhaps such is why others dislike them. However, it is a short trip as both your vessel and the Mechanicum fabricator hulks are near one another, in the centre of the fleet formation to hide away from any probing enemy strikes.
Landing in their hangars is an experience, gripped by strange magnetic beams and gently lowered rather than trusting in your piloting skill. You press the switch to open your rear door and quickly lower yourself out.
The environment is extremely clean, not even the grease stains so common on naval ships anywhere to be seen and the servitors, cybernetically lobotomized undesirables, nearby do not have a thought to pick from ruined minds and twisted frames.
"Primaris Psyker Solomon Nahbiz, follow this frame." The servitor nearest to you, evidently a woman in life, requests your attention. Seeing no reason to distrust this, you follow through darkened corridors and halls, light levels perfect for the augmented, but near-pitch black for someone less changed.
It takes mere minutes to arrive where it is needed, inside a large workshop where the Archmagos Lecithe seems to be working on some personal project. Her dozen mechadendrites retract back into her frame as she ceases, turning to face you with her gleaming metallic lenses.
"Greetings Primaris Psyker Solomon Nahbiz. Be seated before you build up lactic acid." Her voice is still that same scream of electronic might, but the request is sound so you find a nearby bench and settle onto it, "Of course Archmagos, what is it you wished to speak of?" Her mind is yet much too fast to read, not quite lowered to merely human levels.
"The designs I have been given from your ship's stores, they appear to serve no mechanical purpose, explain." The words clarify the situation, "Of course Archmagos, I see the issue at hand." You gesture to the terminal in the room, presumably placed there for this exact purpose.
The next two hours are the most mind-numbing experience you have ever had to engage in. Hexagrammatic ward after ward explained, force stave psycho-reactive crystal matrixes and a thousand crucial pieces of psychic technology, you stop.
"Archmagos, perhaps we can make this simpler." Your words cause the hulk to twist its lenses towards you, not moving the rest of her body. "Explain, Primaris Psyker Solomon Nahbiz." She requests as calmly as you believe she can manage.
"The powers available to me extend towards the transmission of thoughts Archmagos, perhaps I could simply engage with your mind directly as if we were linked via a Mind Impulse Unit." Couching it in terms familiar to her eases her worries about psychic abilities and the promise of immediate knowledge is sufficient to mollify her fully.
"Your explanation is accepted, utilize your curse Primaris Psyker Solomon Nahbiz." The words would be insulting from another, but she has no heat in them. Reaching out with tendrils of power, you bond to her ever-so-strange mind, swirling past iron-clad neurons and connecting to the little flesh that remains.
In the process, you must brace yourself. Any telepathic bond of this informational density is two-way. Whilst you feed her a base understanding of the purpose of every item, flickers of memory filter through to you.
Images of deep tunnels, horrific displays of warp-gifted power and the slaughter of mutant psykers in the dark bowels of Mars are what is borne by your mental contact, the thoughts at the forefront of her consciousness.
Easing the mental bridge as you reach the last of the information, you disconnect and allow her to recover. "Are you alright, Archmagos Lecithe?" The question is cold in tone, but there is some worry in it. Some are quite fragile when exposed to mental workings.
"Yes, Primaris Psyker Solomon Nahbiz." Her voice is unchanged as she pulls to her full, Astartes eclipsing height. "Your enlightenment is appreciated." They turn away from you, going to their work table and disgorging their mechadendrite swarm to continue work.
Nodding, you turn away as you flicker through her thoughts, but once again find them lightning fast and beyond your reach.
Quality of psyker aides increased, hexagrammatic warding precision improved.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The ships reach the edge of the system and, with a great shudder, tear into the Warp. The Gellar field comes to life, blocking out the terrible presence of the raw chaotic force inherent in such a realm whilst engines push your vessel forward in strange, illogical space. You are the central guiding ship as you contain the best Navigator, capable of twisting through the ineffable Warp eddies and flows.
Ensconcing yourself in your meditation chamber to block out the whispers, the weeks of travel sink away into nothing but discipline and recurrent thought.
Emerging into the real awakens you immediately. Gellar fields are lowered, warp engines unspooled and proper Void shielding raised in response to a few targeting arrays locking on. The system is a single star, nearly a complete copy of Sol in structure. A few primitive atomic-driven ships are floating at speeds best described as sluggish, using similarly primitive systems to acquire locks through the shields.
Immediately a pict-call is started, revealing the Lord General, the Legion Master and Archmagos Lecithe. Immediately, the Lord General speaks.
"We have arrived at the first world, the first possible conquest. This is a monumental moment, let us do it right." Leaning into his command throne, he continues, "They appear to be primitives, the obvious answer would be to engage in some form of diplomacy and demand their surrender. Any suggestions?"
Thrallas speaks, once again displaying the rich baritone that is growing to be familiar. "Quite, I could head negotiations? The sight of one such as I would be both intimidating and alluring to have as a protector, but I also may be too frightening to accomplish a peaceful surrender."
Archmagos Lecithe cuts in as soon as Thrallas ceases to speak, "I have prepared a biological agent in the event they do not surrender, from my readings of their ships, they are human-standard physiology." A chilling piece of information, but useful to keep in mind for the future.
Afterwards, they all look to you, requesting your input on the matter.
[X] "Diplomacy would be a reasonable course of action. I believe we should send-"
-[X] Lord General Helweir
-[X] Legion Master Thrallas
-[X] Archmagos Lecithe
-[X] Myself
[X] "We should begin with a show of force, annihilate their orbital fleet and demand surrender."
[X] Something Else?
However, first, you must assess the status of the Black Ship and its holds.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Standing in the colossal holds, the atmosphere is significantly darker than you would like to endure. Hexagrammatic wardings and warp-workings set the eddies stilling and making the usage of psyker abilities near-impossible.
Of course, as you press against them, they are ever so fragile compared to your power, but it would take at least a few minutes to overcome, plenty of times for guards to gun you down. Inside the cells lie no souls yet, your own Wyrdvanes in far more comfortable holding areas, protected against their rampant abilities but at the very least having beds.
The ship shudders as the long burn to the stars begins, nearly a week to the exterior system. However, the thought process is cut short as, from deeper in the ship, a small telepathic message requests your presence, never a quiet moment.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Arriving at the centre of the choir, the Astropaths link your mind and the Astra Telepathica's envoy across the vast gulf of space between both of you. The world fades away into an endless colour-filled void before you are in a small, comfortable chamber.
Leaning back into the wood-backed chair as a subtle aroma of incense drifts through your nose. A fireplace cracked, piercing the room through with the pleasant sting of smoke, across from you sits a man, robed similarly and carrying a Force Stave openly, an officiate.
"Primaris Nahbiz, let us be brief, we both have important tasks to handle." His voice is low, yet soft. Carefully concocted in this dream realm to be as inoffensive as possible, the artificiality sets you ill at ease, it suggests a telepath of significant experience.
"Of course, Envoy Kalasmos. A graduating class was spoken of?" Yet, his strength is lacking. Weaving past his mental barriers, you get his name, images of his location, the taste of liquor on his tongue, "Y-yes, Primaris Nahbiz, just a hair over eight hundred of them." He breaks out into sweats as you take control of the realm subtly.
"Of course, you will handle transport I hope? I am not of many means in that respect, Envoy Kalasmos." Standing up to enjoy the heat of the fire more closely, you twist your head, hood revealing nothing but the glint of warp-touched eyes
"Of course, Primaris Nahbiz, I-I would be more than glad to help!" He begs more than acquiesces, terrified of being so easily overcome. A bureaucrat with delusions of grandeur and years of practice, but still weak. "Excellent, Envoy Kalasmos, and please, in the future, dry your tongue from the touch of liquor, it is unseemly and dangerous on multiple levels." His eyes widen at the knowledge you display.
Cutting apart his attempted dominance over you as well as the bare attempt by the Telepathica to exercise authority it simply does not have, you sip at the glass of a juice you have only enjoyed once in the Materium, created from something called a citrus fruit on Terra.
"And as per my duty to collect psykers as we find them, the holding bays in my vessel are perfectly functional. I do not need reminders of basic tasks." You turn towards him once again at that, waving a hand idly to shatter the entire dream realm to its base components and awaken in the centre of your choir.
"Excellent work, Astropaths, the method of visualizing our communication was novel. Practise it further for future use." Complimenting their ingenuity in giving you an easy advantage, you twist on your heel and make your way to the next matter at hand.
Two additional formations of Sanctioned Wyrdvanes added. Astra Telepathica sufficiently cowed.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Taking a shuttle between vessels is always an interesting experience. Being reduced to a tiny mote of steel floating in the void between lingering giants that move so quickly they seem to stand still enlightens one as to their role in the universe.
Perhaps such is why others dislike them. However, it is a short trip as both your vessel and the Mechanicum fabricator hulks are near one another, in the centre of the fleet formation to hide away from any probing enemy strikes.
Landing in their hangars is an experience, gripped by strange magnetic beams and gently lowered rather than trusting in your piloting skill. You press the switch to open your rear door and quickly lower yourself out.
The environment is extremely clean, not even the grease stains so common on naval ships anywhere to be seen and the servitors, cybernetically lobotomized undesirables, nearby do not have a thought to pick from ruined minds and twisted frames.
"Primaris Psyker Solomon Nahbiz, follow this frame." The servitor nearest to you, evidently a woman in life, requests your attention. Seeing no reason to distrust this, you follow through darkened corridors and halls, light levels perfect for the augmented, but near-pitch black for someone less changed.
It takes mere minutes to arrive where it is needed, inside a large workshop where the Archmagos Lecithe seems to be working on some personal project. Her dozen mechadendrites retract back into her frame as she ceases, turning to face you with her gleaming metallic lenses.
"Greetings Primaris Psyker Solomon Nahbiz. Be seated before you build up lactic acid." Her voice is still that same scream of electronic might, but the request is sound so you find a nearby bench and settle onto it, "Of course Archmagos, what is it you wished to speak of?" Her mind is yet much too fast to read, not quite lowered to merely human levels.
"The designs I have been given from your ship's stores, they appear to serve no mechanical purpose, explain." The words clarify the situation, "Of course Archmagos, I see the issue at hand." You gesture to the terminal in the room, presumably placed there for this exact purpose.
The next two hours are the most mind-numbing experience you have ever had to engage in. Hexagrammatic ward after ward explained, force stave psycho-reactive crystal matrixes and a thousand crucial pieces of psychic technology, you stop.
"Archmagos, perhaps we can make this simpler." Your words cause the hulk to twist its lenses towards you, not moving the rest of her body. "Explain, Primaris Psyker Solomon Nahbiz." She requests as calmly as you believe she can manage.
"The powers available to me extend towards the transmission of thoughts Archmagos, perhaps I could simply engage with your mind directly as if we were linked via a Mind Impulse Unit." Couching it in terms familiar to her eases her worries about psychic abilities and the promise of immediate knowledge is sufficient to mollify her fully.
"Your explanation is accepted, utilize your curse Primaris Psyker Solomon Nahbiz." The words would be insulting from another, but she has no heat in them. Reaching out with tendrils of power, you bond to her ever-so-strange mind, swirling past iron-clad neurons and connecting to the little flesh that remains.
In the process, you must brace yourself. Any telepathic bond of this informational density is two-way. Whilst you feed her a base understanding of the purpose of every item, flickers of memory filter through to you.
Images of deep tunnels, horrific displays of warp-gifted power and the slaughter of mutant psykers in the dark bowels of Mars are what is borne by your mental contact, the thoughts at the forefront of her consciousness.
Easing the mental bridge as you reach the last of the information, you disconnect and allow her to recover. "Are you alright, Archmagos Lecithe?" The question is cold in tone, but there is some worry in it. Some are quite fragile when exposed to mental workings.
"Yes, Primaris Psyker Solomon Nahbiz." Her voice is unchanged as she pulls to her full, Astartes eclipsing height. "Your enlightenment is appreciated." They turn away from you, going to their work table and disgorging their mechadendrite swarm to continue work.
Nodding, you turn away as you flicker through her thoughts, but once again find them lightning fast and beyond your reach.
Quality of psyker aides increased, hexagrammatic warding precision improved.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The ships reach the edge of the system and, with a great shudder, tear into the Warp. The Gellar field comes to life, blocking out the terrible presence of the raw chaotic force inherent in such a realm whilst engines push your vessel forward in strange, illogical space. You are the central guiding ship as you contain the best Navigator, capable of twisting through the ineffable Warp eddies and flows.
Ensconcing yourself in your meditation chamber to block out the whispers, the weeks of travel sink away into nothing but discipline and recurrent thought.
Emerging into the real awakens you immediately. Gellar fields are lowered, warp engines unspooled and proper Void shielding raised in response to a few targeting arrays locking on. The system is a single star, nearly a complete copy of Sol in structure. A few primitive atomic-driven ships are floating at speeds best described as sluggish, using similarly primitive systems to acquire locks through the shields.
Immediately a pict-call is started, revealing the Lord General, the Legion Master and Archmagos Lecithe. Immediately, the Lord General speaks.
"We have arrived at the first world, the first possible conquest. This is a monumental moment, let us do it right." Leaning into his command throne, he continues, "They appear to be primitives, the obvious answer would be to engage in some form of diplomacy and demand their surrender. Any suggestions?"
Thrallas speaks, once again displaying the rich baritone that is growing to be familiar. "Quite, I could head negotiations? The sight of one such as I would be both intimidating and alluring to have as a protector, but I also may be too frightening to accomplish a peaceful surrender."
Archmagos Lecithe cuts in as soon as Thrallas ceases to speak, "I have prepared a biological agent in the event they do not surrender, from my readings of their ships, they are human-standard physiology." A chilling piece of information, but useful to keep in mind for the future.
Afterwards, they all look to you, requesting your input on the matter.
[X] "Diplomacy would be a reasonable course of action. I believe we should send-"
-[X] Lord General Helweir
-[X] Legion Master Thrallas
-[X] Archmagos Lecithe
-[X] Myself
[X] "We should begin with a show of force, annihilate their orbital fleet and demand surrender."
[X] Something Else?
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