Dragon's Word Hoard (Snippets, Ideas, & Omakes)

Ideas - AoS Units/Groups

Freeguild

Smithson Ranger Corps

Enxil Riders

Skink Horned One Riders

Thomas's Tank Engines
Ironweld Arsenal, 4 Tanks (Thomas Blue, Henry Green, James Red, Gordon Yellow)
Head Engineer is a bit absent minded

Stormhosts

Daughters of Sigmar

"THE LIVING WE SAVE!"
"THE DEAD WE AVENGE!"

The Daughters were the seventh stormhost created by the God-King Sigmar, and consist entirely of women; great warriors-queens and champions from across the eight realms fighting shoulder-to-shoulder with huntresses who led guerrilla wars on Chaotic forces and wives who took up the weapons of their fallen husbands to defend hearth and home. They, perhaps more than any other Stormhost, are devoted to their memories: those of their families, their subjects, of who they were before. While many Stormcast are content to let their pre-reforging selves be lost, dismissing it as 'a closed chapter of their life'. The Daughters, however, see their memories as precious, and reminders of exactly why they must oppose Chaos. Each of them has a steel plaque in their home in Azyrheim, carved upon which is everything they can remember about who they were before their reforging.
The Daughters are also very protective of mortals, both civilians and allied warriors, and will go to great lengths to ensure their safety. Many are the chaos lords who sought to dishearten the Stormcast through common butchery, only to find their foes attacks redoubled in ferocity as the warrior-women sought vengeance for the murdered innocents

Groups to be used in a Dawnbringer Crusade Quest. Also included Duardin and Aelf Stormcast Hosts, before I realised they wouldn't work.
 
40K/Skyrim (Unused Quest First Post & Concept)
Your head… hurts so much. In all your years fighting the foes of the Imperium, never has your skull pounded in such a way. Nor have you felt such a soul-deep weariness. The rough shaking of your transport does not improve matters… you crack open a single eye, expecting to see the rough metal roof of a Rhino, only to see gray misty sky. And you realize… there's wooden planks beneath you. And the sounds you can hear are the turning of wheels, small hooves and feet on cobbles…

"Hey you there. You're finally awake." With difficulty, neck bones protesting, you turn to look at the speaker. He looks like a feudal worlder; wearing dirty leather and chainmail armor. Beside him, awkwardly pressed against him, is another man wearing little more than sack cloth. By contrast the third man's clothes are near exorbitant, a heavy fur lined cloak. All the men have their hands bound by rope, although the third man is gagged.

You realize you're lying on your side, armourless, in a wooden wagon. Arms bound behind you, you shift uncomfortably, looking around to see you're traveling down a primitive road, surrounded by needle-leaved trees and gray rocks. Your wagon is being driven by a soldier, as is another ahead of you. More men escort you.

"You were trying to cross the border, right?" the blonde man continues. "Got caught up in that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there."

"Damn you Stormcloaks." The second man, the thief? He's angry. "Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been half way to Hammerfell." He turns to you now; "You there. You and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief."

You push the prisoner's talk into the background, idly listening to it as you search your memories. Your mind is still foggy, but you are certain… you were not in a place like this, before. Were you fighting? Where were your brothers, your squad? And your armor and weapons… still the answers elude you.

The road begins to dip, leaving towards a basic stone wall capped by a sheltered walkway. One of the convoy's guards calls out to someone inside the walls.

"Look at him. General Tullius the military governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this."

Elves? You twist your head, earning a sharp crack that makes the thief jump, and catch a glimpse of a… woman? With pale gold skin and pointed ears, angrily discussing something with a gray haired man you can only see the back of. She doesn't look completely like an Eldar… perhaps an Exodite with divergent genetics?

The houses you pass by are simple wood and thatch, alongside the stone walls of a keep. You hear the blonde man; the settlement's name is Helgan.

Finally you reach a open area, filled with more soldiers and some civilians.

Choose a name
[] Write in
Choose an age group
[] [Age] Matured Recruit
You have only just adapted to your new body, to your new purpose. Although inexperienced, you are eager to get to grips with the foes of mankind.
Young marine, less skilled than standard, finds it easy to adapt

[] [Age] Skilled Soldier
You have bestrode battlefields across the Imperium, carrying your chapter's colors with pride. Thousands of foes have fallen to you, and thousands more will follow.
Average marine, fully skilled, doubtful of new concepts

[] [Age] Seasoned Veteran
You have partaken in wars and crusades, faced down enemy champions and advised your commanders. Truly you are a legend in your own right.
True veteran marine, heroically skilled, intolerant of new ideas


Choose a chapter
[] [Chapter] Dark Angels
A shadowy and secretive chapter, following the traditions of the Knightly Orders of Caliban, the Primarch Lion El'Jonson's homeworld. They are driven in their goals, standing firm against the enemy, or unrelenting in their pursuit.

[] [Chapter] White Scars
The sons of Jaghatai Khan are born from a savage world, but carry themselves nobly. They are masters of fast attack attack tactics; in many conflicts the first and last thing the enemy knows of an assault is the roar of Assault Bikes.

[] [Chapter] Space Wolves
In their tongue they are the Vlka Fenryka, Wolves of Fenris. The sons of Leman Russ stand apart from other chapters, often seen as bloodthirsty savages. In truth they are noble and honor bound, close to the common citizenry.

[] [Chapter] Imperial Fists
To be an Imperial Fist is to be the final wall, the bastion upon which all foes will break. Following the example of their Primarch Rogal Dorn, the Fists are stoic and unyielding. They are detail focused, and value precision.

[] [Chapter] Blood Angels
The blood-stained sons of Sanguinius excel in close quarters combat, leaping to the fore of the fight. They value perfection, creating their own works of art, often as part of their equipment. Blood Angels wage war with a zeal almost unmatched among chapters.

[] [Chapter] Iron Hands
The sons of Medusa were greatly affected by the loss of their Primarch, Ferrus Manus. They burn with unrelenting hatred, especially for traitors and those they see as weak. They purge their biological weakness with bionics whenever possible.

[] [Chapter] Ultramarines
The scions of Guilliman follow the tenets of his Codex Astartes strictly, without deviation. However this only means they have directives in every situation. Ultramarines hold fast to their honor, and strive to protect the citizenry of the Imperium.

[] [Chapter] Salamanders
The children of Vulkan hold close to their humanity, maintaining familial connections on their homeworld Nocturne. They are noted for their fondness for flame & melta weapons, and are known to forge their own equipment.

[] [Chapter] Raven Guard
From the shadowy moon of Deliverance comes the sons of Corvus Corax. Masters of shadow warfare, it is rare for them to commit fully to a conflict, instead they strike fast at enemy weak points before swiftly disappearing.


"- and I'm -

What do you say?
[] [Action] "certain this is a mistake."
You're not with these Stormcloaks. You don't even remember being captured! Make the captain see sense.

[] [Action] "Leaving."
You are a Space Marine. You don't have to deal with this. You are not beholden to the laws or mortals, or their petty conflicts.

[] [Action] Nothing
Say nothing at all, not even your name, and wait for things to play out. Of course you won't let them just cut off your head…

[] [Action] write in
Do something else


This idea started life a story about a Space Wolf Dovakin. After joining this site and learning about Questing, I adapted it into a general Space Marine Dovakin quest.

The PC would just walk through most combat and challenges (if you wanted to), with the narrative being more important. The stuggle between the Marine's loyalties to the Imperium, and his "role" as the Dragonborn, the fact the Imperium dosn't even seem to exist, the struggle to get home... I was also going to do a vote on romance; none, the SM being blindly oblivious to anyone's affections, or tentative exploration.

There were also going to be other SMs in Skyrim, although this was mostly an idea from when it was a story instead of a quest; A Thousand Son at the Mages college. A Raven Guard in the Thieves Guild. A Night Lord in the Dark Brotherhood. A Blood Angel doing something with the Dawnguard.
 
Antikythian Bronze Legion (Diadochus)
Antikythian Bronze Legion

Extract from "The Armies of Anaximander"


For many years, the Bronze Men of Antikythia had been regarded as little more than superstition and hearsay, rather than true fact. A race of men that replaced their flesh with metal replacements was too preposterous, even for the wildest scholar. It was assumed, by most, that the Antikythians simply wore fully covering bronze suits of armor, or painted their skin that color.

During the middle years of his conquests, Anaximander's armies passed close to Antikythia, and he sent a force to scout the mountains for potential threats or allies. While he might have once scoffed at the tales of the Antikythians, as all did, Anaximander had faced many strange things during his life, and would not leave a potential foe at his back while he marched on.

Of the thousand or so men he sent, only a bare handful returned to Anaximander. They passed on tales of what they had seen; metal men, moving like lightning and with the strength of trolls. Of their ability to throw fire a hundred yards, and burn a man inside out. How blades would break against their skin, and even when wounded continued to fight. Knowing now for sure that a threat lay in the mountains, Anaximander split his army; the main continuing their path under the leadership of General Otho, while the Emperor himself led a smaller, but still vast army towards Antikythia.

Anaximander had barely entered the shadows of the mountains when he was met by the Antikythians; but they had not for war, but parley. Members of the Antikythian ruling council, the Motive Gears, had come themselves, for they saw the threat Anaximander represented. They claimed their "lightning-minds" had foreseen what would occur if Anaximander came to them as an enemy; mutual destruction, as Anaximander would die and his Empire shattered before it was truly born, but that the Antikythians would lie broken and their secrets stolen. Wishing to prevent this fate, they instead sought to bargain, and Anaximander was happy to agree.

The Bronze Pact is a topic for another tome, but of importance was that the Motive Gears swore one hundred of their men into the service of Anaximander. Each was worth a hundred men themselves, so the Antikythians claimed. Few that saw the Bronze Legion fight could doubt this

Each man - if they could be called men - of the Bronze Legion bodies covered by the eponymous metal. In some cases it was a mix of armor and replacement; the Antikythian's replaced weak or wounded limbs with better metal ones. For others, it seemed their entire body was made from bronze. Talan The Bull, leader of the Legion, was known for appearing more like a cast statue when still. The larger proportion of their body made metal was proportional to the Antikythian's enhanced strength.

The weapons used by the Legion were as varied as they were strange. Some used simple bronze blades, but they were concealed within the warrior's arms and could be extended. Others used "fire-beems" to cut men in half over long distances, or projected lighting that struck entire phalanxes at the same time. Of no doubt the most fearsome but least understood weapon utilized by the Bronze Legion was their "Net". Through arcane means every member of the Legion were linked together; to speak over vast distances, or see through the eyes of another. Anaximander utilized this last skill a number of times, splitting the Legion apart and embedding them in his other forces, while a single mouthpiece stood beside him to relay orders.

For all their skill at arms, the Bronze Legion were little liked by the other members of Anaximander's armies. They were seen as cold and arrogant at best, or soulless and heresy at worse. The Antikythians did nothing to prevent such negative feelings, making their distaste for flesh known at every opportunity. Still, the Bronze Legion gained many honors during the near decade they served. Should a warrior fall in battle - for they did, eventually, fall - their bodies would be taken back to Antikythia, as was demanded by the Bronze Pact.

It was during the war against the city-state of Black Nulka that the Bronze Legion fell from grace. Many stories had been told of the depravity of the Fleshcrafters in that fell place, and Anaximander had faced their mercenary Slave-Armies before. Thus he was well aware - or so he thought - of what horrors awaited his men, and thus he made the Bronze Legion the vanguard of his approach, believing they would stand best against whatever the Nulka unleashed from their pits.

The Legion, at that point reduced to about fifty in number, marched on the city, crushing the monstrosities that blocked their path. Soon their advance began to outpace Anaximander's other troops, and fearing the Antikythians would become cut-off, or would allow skimisers slip past into his front lines, Anaximander sent orders for the Legion to halt. But he was ignored.

The Bronze Legion of Antikythia stormed the bone gates of Black Nulka, and broke them down under the weight of their combined force. They marched into the city, and it can only be assumed they began destroying everything they could see. When Anaximander arrived the city was already aflame, and it would continue to burn for many days. The Emperor bade his armies surround the city, yet refused to let a single man enter the city after his wayward Auxlia. It was only after three days, when the fires and screams from Black Nulka had long since faded, that Anaximander himself rode into the city, surrounded by his personal bodyguards.

None would ever speak of what they say in the depths of that place, but when Anaximander returned he ordered the city bombarded until his men ran out of stones to launch, or wood to maintain their catapults. Of the Bronze Legion, only five still stood, and while Anaximander would not, perhaps could not, execute them for disobeying his orders, he publicly rebuked them and dismissed them from his service. The last men of the Legion silently gathered their dead, and returned to Antikythia.

Written as an omake for Diadochus - Fantasy Imperial Bureaucrat Quest.

References to parts of the SCP Foundation lore
 
An Alternative Future (MMQ)
An Alternative Future
2304 IC


Things were tense in the command tent. The army of the Empire - the first time soldiers from all the provinces marched under one banner in centuries - was camped on the border between Ostland and Kislev. Soon, the final march would begin.

Magnus von Bildhofen, chosen of the gods, stood beside Teclis, Loremaster of Saphery. The two were discussing the upcoming battles; what they knew from scouts and scrying of the land ahead, how Teclis's new human students might be utilized best, the last known location and strength of the Chaos horde that even now marched south. Both were grim, for they knew the challenge that lay ahead, and what would happen if they did not rise to it. What happened here, and the coming days ahead, would set the course of history… although not in the way anyone would have guessed.

From outside the tent came the sound of marching on muddy snow. Nothing surprising, considering they were in the middle of a military camp, so both ignored it. They raised their heads as the tent's sentries called out a challenge. And they both turned at the voice that responded.

"Name is pleasure and business is Fanriel! Or is it the other way round? Who cares, WOOF!"

Magnus barely had enough time to digest that, and to notice Teclis had turned an interesting shade of pink, when the largest woman he'd ever seen ducked into the tent. So tall, broad and muscular she'd nearly match an ogre, and with an, ah, ample chest to round out her figure. Clad in silver plate, a tall helm in one hand and a… dwarven longsword? in the other. The woman's blue eyes were lit up with joy, and her braided brown hair danced behind her.

"Kohai!" Yelled the woman, bearing down on the frozen Loremaster. Her helmet was tossed to the similarly clad male elf that entered behind her, while her sword was sheathed. "It's been too long!"

"S-Senpai," cried Teclis, backing into the map strewn table. "It's been less than two dec-aaAA!" Magnus watched, bemused, as his ally was bundled up into the woman's arms, his reddening face pressed against her… sizable breastplate. The noble saw that, although the woman was lifting Teclis from his feet to embrace him, she was carefully limiting the pressure upon his emancipated body. "Wh-what are you doing here!"

"HA!" she exclaimed, forceful shout at odds with the careful way she lowered her fellow elf down. As Teclis clutched at his staff for support, she stepped away and placed her hands on her hips, looking the Loremaster up and down. "I heard you'd come east to deal with the ongoing mess, and I said to myself, Fanriel," she dramatically intoned while leaning forwards, arm placed against her chest, "what kind of friend would you be if you didn't offer any aid you could? Now then, is the human I've heard so much about?"

With a start, Magnus realized Fanreil was looking at him now, studying him with a speculative eye. Desperate to gain some control of the situation, he gave a quick bow. "I am Magnus von Bildhofen, of Nuln. May I know your name, and what is your purpose here?"

"HA!" Magnus rocked back on his feet, but it seemed Fanreil was enthusiastic rather than disdainful. "On Ulthuan I was Fanreil Drangleic, Loremaster of Hoeth and Princess of Yvresse. But for the past three years, I've been Fanreil Brightheart! Mercenary Captain, now General! And I'm here to help you give Kul a bloody nose, and send him crying back to his damn gods!"

It took a moment to sort through this speech, but Magnus managed. "I see. How many mercenaries have you united under your banner?"

"Oh, only a couple hundred or so. Anyone nearby when I heard the news, and any bands I ran across on the way here."

Quickly making some calculations, Magnus realized an issue. "Ah… we I'm afraid we likely lack the funds to pay for so many-"

"HA!" At this point Magnus was worried for his hearing. "Don't worry about the pay, I've got enough stashed away for a couple Steam Tanks, if I wanted to! Although…" and here Fanreil leaned down so her face was inches from Magnus', a deeply serious look contrasting with the mischief in her eyes, "... there is a certain… ritual, I ask a potential employer to perform sometimes. Just to make sure they have the stamina to keep up with us, understand, hmm?"

Despite having faced down mutant cultists and antagonistic priests, Magnus had never feared for his life more than in that moment. "May I… know what it entails?"

"DRINKING, OFCOURSE!" Suddenly Fanreil's arm was around Magnus' shoulders, and she was pulling him out of the tent, past the stunned Greatswords standing guard. In front of the tent were eleven elves; one of whom was carrying a large barrel, marked XXXXXXX "Don't worry, you don't have to drink all of it, just enough to impress me!"

"Actually," Magnus began, "there is one skill I picked up during my university days that might be of interest to you…"

A few minutes later, after composing himself, Teclis peered outside the tent. He saw Magnus, standing in a circle of Swordmasters, holding a beer barrel above his head and pouring it straight down his throat. While the other elves performed the traditional "Chug, Chug, Chug" chant, Fanreil stood to one side, looking deeply impressed, and more than a little bit interested.

Teclis slipped back into the tent. He was not dealing with that right now.

Written for Mercenary Mage Quest: Asur Dogs of War in Warhammer Fantasy.

First thought of during the quest's character creation, although that was long done by the time I completed it. Inspiration obviously drawn from "Flashheart" from Blackadder. Woof!
 
Saryman Da Rainbuw Weirdboy (Get Ya Krumpers On)
Magos Biologis Durwin's Notes on Orkoid "Kultur" #01
Saryman Da Rainbuw Weirdboy

In Ork "Kultur", certain colours have certain meanings. If Orks are to be believed, applying these colours to technology or Orks themselves can grant varying beneficial effects. The most commonly encountered colour is red, often painted on vehicles, as it apparently makes them move faster. Other colours include blue, which increases luck, yellow, which increases DAKKA, black, which makes Orks tougher, and purple, which makes them sneakier.

An important kultural figure for Orks is "Saryman Da Rainbuw", an Ork Weirdboy. To increase his already considerable powers, Saryman had himself painted with all the colours he could acquire. Logically, for an Ork, he believed having multiple colours on himself would grant himself all the relevant effects. If this is true is unclear, for the first time Saryman attempted to cast a spell he exploded in a Technicolour rainbow. Of course Orks, being Orks, have attempted to replicate this, although none have apparently succeeded in gaining multiple benefits from multiple colours, or even exploding in such a notable manner.

Written for Get Ya Krumpers On (Ork Riot Quest).

Inspired for the thread's discussion of Ork colour theory
 
Ideas - Path of The Necromancer Quest Concept
Necromancy, lure of power, only starting your path, yada yada
  1. You are willingly walking the path of the necromancer. Corruption can work it's way into anyone, but you have thrown open the door, and now it likely can never be shut, unless you die
  2. Necromancy does not have to be a road to vampirism
Skull Points
Each choice will either cost or give you skull points

Background
Birth

Provinces of the Empire
Bretonnia Dukedoms
Kislev
Border Princes
Norsca
Marienburg
Sylvania
Strigany - can't choose noble

Circumstance
Major Noble
Minor Noble
Townfolk
Peasant
Orphan

Early career
Wizard apprentice - which order?
Priest
Witch-hunter
Escape roll

Religion
Faithless
Chaos - Un, Sla or Tzc

Magical ability
Candle - basic human
Torch - wizard level, enough to be noticed
Bonfire- lots of power, draws demons

Why fall?
Item - nook, staff, etc
Loss
Wandering Master - for some reason you have drawn the attention of a wandering necromancer, who offered to take you on as an apprentice.

Goal
To do good
Revenge
Power
Wealth
Curiosity
Entrapped
Lost One
Secondary or secret one

Learning
How?
Self
Master
College - an almost unprecedented move, collection of apprentices

Where
See above
Vampire Coast

Inspired by Divided Loyalties, lost enthusiasm because I came to the conclusion I didn't have the breadth of lore knowledge to run it.
 
Ideas - Blood Raven Relics (Unused)
Bolter of the Unnamed Bride - Once used by a first generation member of the Adeptus Sororitas - not a former member of the "Brides of the Emperor", but recruited when they became an official Imperial institution. This Battle-Sister martyred herself to save hundreds, with this weapon being the last remnant of her. It is engraved with, or what is believed to be, a likeness of her.

Blue-Stone Aquila - A unique amulet that is rumored to have once belonged to Roboute Guilliman. Supposedly it grants the wearer some level of his tactical prowess.

Silver Tongue - A relic chainsword once owned by an Astartes Chapter that fell to infighting. The weapon is primarily made from an unknown silver alloy, and is powered through unclear means.

Staff of Screaming Death - Carved from the skull of a Suysh Queen, topped by a replication in miniature, this force staff echoes with the denied and impotent Death-Mark that the queen attempted to unleash upon her demise. A canny psyker can draw out this effect, filling the minds of the foe with the death cries of long dead xenos.

Selection of relic ideas for From the Brink : Blood Ravens Quest. Never posted. The first three items are all drawn from different 40K ideas/stories I've had.
 
Inquisitorial Reports - Blood Dragons & Barons (Ciaphas Cain, Warmaster of Chaos)
Inquisitorial Report - Blood Dragons (Protectorate USA Elite Unit)

Name:
Blood Dragons (also; Red Dragons, Blood Drakes, Scions of Abhorash)

Formation Type: Elite Mounted/Infantry

Numbers: Unknown

Introduction: The Blood Dragons are a unit of (suspected) mutants that serve as fast attack elites for the heretical forces of the Cainite Protectorate. Clad in red power armour and mounted upon jet bikes, they charge down their prey and tear them apart, drinking their blood before charging off to find new targets.

Initially encountered by Imperial forces during [REDACTED], they are believed to originate from Cassandron (see; Cassandron Report). Squads known as claws (around ten to twenty individuals) have been deployed alongside Protectorate forces on numerous battlefields, although singular individuals have been seen acting as bodyguards for Cainite commanders. Their deployments, according to captured documents, are chosen by the Blood Dragons themselves - they go where they wish, and fight who they want to.

Reports indicate the formation partakes in heretical blood-rites, both on and off the battlefield - although analysis indicates they are not related to the Blood God. Other hallmarks of their culture include perverse declarations of "honour" and martial prowess. Blood Dragons seek out the greatest opponents - be they human, xeno, deamonic or simple beasts - and prove their might by slaying them. This extended to vehicles such as tanks or Imperial Knights.

It is suspected that the Blood Dragons are all mutants of a unidentified strain - they possess strength, reflexes and endurance beyond any normal human, even ones in power armour. The few times they have been seen out of armour show that they are unnaturally pale and thin, having "burning" red eyes and pronounced canines.

More evidence comes from their recruitment practices. Blood Dragons have approached (unaugmented) humans of remarkable skill and bravery, asking if they wish to "become one with the Blood of Abhorash" and "accept the Blood Kiss". Although it is assumed they recruit mainly from Protectorate forces, they have approached Imperial elements - including those that have taken prisoner, during times of (short term, under duress) truce, or even upon the battlefield. All those that have accepted are known to have reappeared at a later date, bearing the arms and armour of the Blood Dragons and sharing their unnatural abilities.

Former Imperials that have accepted the "Blood Kiss" are regarded as the highest of traitors, and to be killed on sight with full prejudice. It is speculated - although there is little proof - that the Blood Dragons are a strain of Genestealer cult, perhaps bound through sorcery to the Black Commissar's command.

Combat Doctrine: As stated above, the Blood Dragons are designated as fast attack units. Although they commonly assault flanks and create breakthrough points for other Protectorate forces, their preferred battlefield tactic is to attack the elites of the opposing force; for Imperial forces, this can include Tempestus Scions, Space Marine Veterans, and Celestians. The heretics also target command squads and positions, beheading the enemies' leadership.

Their preferred form of attack is lightning charges, aiming to skewer their enemies on power lances. Failing that, the Blood Dragons dismount and assault with more conventional power weapons. They are known to demand - and honour - duels. Upon defeating those they term "worthy adversaries", Blood Dragons may offer them the "Blood Kiss". If refused, they will proceed to consume the blood of their victim. The exception comes from those the Blood Dragons consider unworthy, primarily cowards or braggards, who are left impaled, suffering long, painful deaths.

The Blood Dragons are aggressive to the extreme, always preferring to attack, even when holding advantageous defensive positions. This is not to say they are reckless, for the mutants are skilled tacticians. On occasion they have been known to lead standard USA troops into combat.

Wargear: Each Blood Dragon enters battle on a jetbike of an unknown, but likely heretical, pattern. Faster than a standard assault bike, these vehicles allow for rapid movement over all terrain, allowing their riders to attack from any angle. Each is equipped with currently unknown las-weapon technology that can switch from las-cannon blasts to rapid-fire, making the Blood Dragons a menace for heavy vehicles and infantry formations both.

Blood Dragons have access to a number of power weapons. Most famously are their power lances - when at speed, they are able to tear through the armour of a Baneblade, and can skewer a Space Marine. Blood Dragons also utilize power swords and shields as melee armaments, although some prefer powered axes, fists or claws. Some are known to use chain weapons.

Although they are rarely used, Blood Dragons are also equipped with sidearms such as las- or plasma pistols.

Addendum 1: Repeated references to "Abhorash" have been made by Blood Dragons - they are believed to be some founding member of their group, or perhaps the primogenitor of their mutant strain. Their status and location are unknown.

Addendum 2: In recent naval conflicts with the Cainite Protectorate, formations of fighter elites identified as "Blood Barons" have been recorded. Their relationship to Blood Dragons are currently under investigation.

Addendum 3: Blood Dragons have a animosity with the Blood Angels & their descendants - or perhaps vice versa. When facing each other on the battlefield, the two groups engage in combat with little concern for the wider situation.

Inquisitorial Report - Blood Barons (Protectorate PUN Elite Unit)

Name:
Blood Barons (also; Blood Drakes, Bloodgheists, Wings of Abhorash)

Formation Type: Elite Space/Air Superiority Fighters

Introduction: An apparent offshoot of the USA's mutant elite Blood Dragons, Blood Barons are a formation of elite pilots, flying highly advanced and heretical attack craft, sworn to the Cainite Protectorate United Navies.

Similar to Blood Dragons, it seems the Red Barons operate outside the PUN's usual deployment schemes, instead choosing what fleets or campaigns they will join. Once they do, they swear apparently binding oaths to the force's leadership.

Blood Barons prefer to engage those they see as "worthy" opponents - Space Marine Stormraven, Eldar Crimson Hunters, Tau Razorshark, etc. Although they primarily fly in squadrons - known as "claws" - once a Blood Baron has chosen their target their fellows will peel off, seeking their own prey.

Bizarrely, despite flying fighter craft, some Blood Barons have been known to attempt to bring down entire starships. Such attempts are foolish, and prove the madness of the mutant, as no small, one-man fighter can down a battleship on their own.

Pilot: Initially it could only be speculated - based on the similar names & motifs - that the Blood Barons were indeed related to the USA's Blood Dragons. However this was confirmed by an incident involving a troop transport - the Morris, a troop transport carrying Praetorian Guard. During a traitorous ambush by the PUN, brave aces of the Imperial Navy managed to damage the propulsion systems of a Cainwing V fighter, forcing it's crash landing into the Morris. Naval armsmen and maintenance crews deployed to the crash site found that, despite the attack craft taking critical damage on landing, it's pilot was alive.

Pict-captures and numerous eye-witness accounts correlate that the pilot was the same kind of pale-skinned and red-eye mutant as the Blood Dragons. Fleeing it's crash, doubtlessly wounded and disorientated, the mutant proceeded to carve a bloody swathe through the crew of the Morris. Despite the Praetorian Guard valiantly deploying to reinforce, the heretic was able to sneak past and reach the hanger decks. There they stole a Arvus Lighter and fled back into space, re-joining the space combat. IFF tracking confirmed that the landing craft returned to the PUN's carrier following the Imperial's tactical redeployment.

Cainwing V: The majority of our knowledge of the Cainwing V variant - aside from reports of them in combat - comes from the example that crashed into the Morris. Salvaged by Mechanicum adepts, it was handed into Inquisitorial custody following negotiations.

Visually the Cainwing V is visual differentiated from other Cainwing variants by their full red colouring, as well as larger upper wings granting the craft a more spike-like appearance. The armament is mostly unchanged, if lacking in defensive measures. Apparently the mutants put their faith in inhuman reflexes to keep them safe.

The main alteration to the Blood Barons' craft is in the cockpit - it seems the Blood Barons go into battle quite literally swimming in blood, their cockpits filled via pumps with warm vitae. One shudders to think how gallons of the stuff may be sourced, for each fighter, but it is kept fresh using a advanced refrigeration & purification system - the latter is known to incorporate chemicals found within the Panacea technology. It is speculated that not only do the Blood Dragons drink this blood mid-flight, but being suspended in liquid reduces the affect of g-forces.

World flavouring created for the excellent Zahariel excellent Ciaphas Cain, Warmaster of Chaos, over on Space Battles.

Ideas from others included
 
Homo Sapiens Sanguis/Space Vampires (Story Blurb)
For over a 100 generations humanity have flung themselves across the galaxy, propelled by culture conflicts and cheap FTL technology. Newly independent colonies squat on wild fringe worlds, while the abused inner worlds crack under mass over crowding. United only by fading memories of their distant homeworld, mankind follows the same rules it always has - Control. Reproduce. Expand.

But now another child-race of Earth seeks to break this dominance. From the sunless worlds of Newman's Dyke, an infection is seeping across the stars. Derelicts hide slumbering infiltrators, while remote planets come under the shadow of monolithic coffin-ships. An ancient predator has decided it's time is now, and too much has been forgotten to stop them.

In gap space a salvage crew finds an impossible yet lucrative mystery. A newly promoted CEO learns her megacorp has more unnatural secrets than she expected. And a bitter soldier is given the offer of a lifetime - and the end of it.

Homo sapiens sapiens has had it's time in the sun. Now homo sapiens sanguis shall rule among the stars.

Related to the previous post, which gave me a Space Vampire Brain Worm.
 
A Misunderstanding (Loyalty is its own Reward)
As methods of human communication go, a side-eye and a nod are both quite versatile. You can say a lot with either, that can lead to some confusion. For example, Gallienus's subtle look meant;

Brother, the devious Inquisitor has brought a pet witch - no offense to yourself. Tell me, how does their power compare to your own? Could you best them, should it come to it?

And as far as he was concerned, the Librarian's response was;

Of course brother. My innate psychic potential was boosted by my ascension to Astartes, and refined by my time in the Deathwatch. Compared to myself, this bound psyker would be an ant.

Whereas to Grigori, his superior's look had been to say;

Aw piss it's this asshole. Hey, wanna go find some drinks after this shitshow of a meeting ends?

To which Grigori responded with;

Sure, could do with a brew. The guardsmen might have some good stuff.

Truely, human non-verbal communication is fascinating. If prone to misunderstanding.

Written for Loyalty is its own Reward (A Traitor Legion Chapter Master Quest)

Grigori isn't so Aussie in-quest. I blame my brother who was living there
 
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