Echo of Choice (A Destiny Plan Quest)
Alright fellow Questers! Now is the time we take advantage of this while helping both North America, and Europe while making sure that Clovis won't try to target us in the process.
Goals for any plan that's willing to be written:
Get started on producing military capable weapons that can target against the Chimera in Russia
Start trying to help Europe with their energy crisis to make profit and possibly a noble peace prize for John in his effort to help all people.
And see to what was Clovis up to if his power grab has anything to do with his plans for targeting Skynet or simply an opportunity to get more of a foothold on the military industry over us.
Goals for any plan that's willing to be written:
Get started on producing military capable weapons that can target against the Chimera in Russia
Start trying to help Europe with their energy crisis to make profit and possibly a noble peace prize for John in his effort to help all people.
And see to what was Clovis up to if his power grab has anything to do with his plans for targeting Skynet or simply an opportunity to get more of a foothold on the military industry over us.
- Pronouns
- Reader
Well shit. Shouldn't there be a roll for Asia?
- Location
- Puerto Rico
Clovis simply moved fast and knew how to play into the Russian companies fears.
Let's face it, if he had not done that, then those companies would have been taken and 'nationalized' by the NAE and those Russians would rather deal with Clovis than let the NAE get their hands on their companies.
Right now they are 'fine'. Just concentrating on the places where are directly influencing.
(That and let's face it, when the Chimera come out, the bulk will be coming from Europe for now)
One thing to note about developing weapons, do remember that before telling this to the government/public, John will trust/test the people in his company first.
He still needs to see how they react to the existence of SOP and S.
Now, I am in the process copying this quest over at QQ so till I finish the copying and putting up the Halloween Y2 omake, don't expect the next entry.
Unless I get hit by a bout of inspiration. (Another roll to the list is to see if we got the Terran Marine armor copyright)
- Pronouns
- Reader
That's fine. I need time to get down the list of European cities for reactors anyway.
- Location
- colombia
i think the energy crysis is gonna be the most important bit here,we are gonna see climate change on a matter of weeks/months
that is gonna paralize logistics and kill a shiton people combined with agricultural failures on mass
is esentially the same effect as nuking a place,no plants = no food
the best thing we could do is to make a massive build up of greenhouses for indoor agriculture,as well push for aritificial meat production,invest on some of that scify shitty slop nutrient paste etc
all needed to allow europe to feed itself
we could likely begin with spain,the almeria region is well know for its fruit production and it has a shiton of greenhousing infrastructure already on place
makes sense to invest on expanding almeria greenhousing
throw a gale generator in there too,so we can ensure they keep pumping fruit even if everything else is frozen
- Location
- Australia
Time for Skynet to become a megacorp.
…….Don't we have a gourmet kitchen supplied via glimmer? So, that is actually a feasible response, while using food investments as a cover for basically magicking it into existence.
I can agree with you, but there is one question that all people and governments would have on their minds
" How is the Skynet Corporation able to produce that much food to feed millions with no greenhouse built"
- Location
- colombia
also there is logistical hurdles,consider the risk of the climate worsening trade routes,we cant feed them if we can pack the food and send it across the sea
giving europe the ability to stand by itself will buy us time
weapons are nice,but logistics are better
portals,teleportation,pocket dimensions,programabble matter,super compact packaging,automatized delivery system,automatized factories etc
the chimera weather control means they will cut off logistics and production
we got a long way to make our logistics inmune to their efforts
- Pronouns
- Reader
Food isn't the problem. The problem is power and difficulty using distant resources of being abandoned communities to supply growing in population cities.
Also, as part of my pre turn planning, I need to check just how many reactors we want to make next turn. Currently, our manufacturing dice let us build 22 of them, but we're also able to build them using pure cash. Is that something we are interested in?
Istanbul, Turkey
Berlin, Germany
Madrid, Spain
Rome, Italy
Baku, Azerbaijan
Veinna, Austria
Hamburg, Germany
Bucharest, Romania
Barcelona, Spain
Budapest, Hungary
Belgrade, Serbia
Munich, Germany
Kharkiv, Ukraine
Prague, Czech Republic
Milan, Italy
Sofia, Bulgaria
Tbilisi, Georgia
Rostov-on-Don, Ukraine
Krasnodar, Ukraine
Birmingham, UK
Yerevan, Armenia
Cologne, Germany
Odesa, Ukraine
The above is a list of 23 of the largest cities in Europe by population living within the cities official limits, all of which are over a million as of some census likely decades prior to quest year. If some degree of Cash for additional reactors were approved, I could add some others to that list.
Thoughts?
Also, as part of my pre turn planning, I need to check just how many reactors we want to make next turn. Currently, our manufacturing dice let us build 22 of them, but we're also able to build them using pure cash. Is that something we are interested in?
Istanbul, Turkey
Berlin, Germany
Madrid, Spain
Rome, Italy
Baku, Azerbaijan
Veinna, Austria
Hamburg, Germany
Bucharest, Romania
Barcelona, Spain
Budapest, Hungary
Belgrade, Serbia
Munich, Germany
Kharkiv, Ukraine
Prague, Czech Republic
Milan, Italy
Sofia, Bulgaria
Tbilisi, Georgia
Rostov-on-Don, Ukraine
Krasnodar, Ukraine
Birmingham, UK
Yerevan, Armenia
Cologne, Germany
Odesa, Ukraine
The above is a list of 23 of the largest cities in Europe by population living within the cities official limits, all of which are over a million as of some census likely decades prior to quest year. If some degree of Cash for additional reactors were approved, I could add some others to that list.
Possibly based on this map.@edboy49
Getting head of issues,i already see snowballing results on battles wich would be anticlimatic
For war rolls that involve portracted campaigns may i suggest degrees of sucess?
(Dc40 throw 7 dices,3 pass the check thats 3 degrees of sucess,the more degrees the better)
It should allow for more results in between "catastophic failure" and "crit sucess"
You can still throw flat rolls (1d100 with single checks) to add spice here and there
Now the flat roll is not much of a issue because is just russia
But when NAE and our (possible PMCs) troops get involved ot would be a pain in the ass to spend multiple turns preparing just to get wiped on a single roll of dice
Degrees of sucess allow for battles to last more than 1 turn and have bloody stalemates
On normal turns,a way to slow down snowball is to introduce pre-requisites (research A needs first to have research B and C completed)
Miniaturization of fusion cores gating scify weapons and vehicles for example
On the update itself: jesus fucking christ russia
You fucked up every turn
Also,how is the mist reaching up to poland?
There still belarus and the baltics on the way are they gone, or is just a mist on kaliningrad?
Or just a case of US geography?
Thoughts?
Travler66
Let her name echo in song!
- Location
- Beyond
The NAE is really filling in the space Russia left with no problems. If the Russia wasn't being attacked by the Chimera, they'd be seething.
With the Chimera terraforming Russia, Europe is feeling the worst of the effects. Thankfully, we'll make sure they get plenty of Gale Reactors.
Clovis doesn't waste an opportunity, which is to be expected. Sucks to be an employee of Hakke Heavy Industries right now, given that Clovis treats them like the dirt underneath his foot.
I sense a shadow war between Skynet and Clovis Bray is on the horizon...
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Meanwhile Across the Galaxy! Part 2-Year 2 (canon) (+15 to an action)
- Location
- California,USA
Meanwhile Across the Galaxy! Part 2 (Year 2)
Know this Madness O Kaidon...
Black are the void-lanes where nameless things slither, and deep are the wounds carved into the stars by war. The echoes of shattered empires still drift among the wreckage of ancient worlds, their death cries swallowed by the abyss. From the broken moons of fallen tyrants to the forsaken battlefields where heroes bled and gods were unmade, whispers rise like smoke upon the cosmic winds—whispers of fate, of ruin, of battles yet to come.
The hunters and the hunted stalk one another in the twilight of dying suns. Kings without crowns grasp for dominion over dust. Warriors clad in steel and fire walk the shattered bones of forgotten titans, seeking glory, vengeance, or the final, bitter truth. And in the cold places, where even light dares not tread, something watches.
Across the war-torn expanse of the galaxy, the rumors spread—spoken in hushed tones in the shadowed halls of dying worlds, carved into the wreckage of ghost-ships drifting in the void, sung in the madness of prophets whose eyes have glimpsed the horrors beyond the veil.
Listen well, traveler, for in these whispers lies the promise of war... and the doom of fools.
These are but fragments from the dark places.
--------------------------------
Sangheili (AKA How Are They Doing as a Species?)
D100 => 47
A Never Ending Clash
The Age of Blood, a violent, unceasing symphony of war rages on, drowning the stars in the cries of warriors and the clash of blades. It is an old song, one that has played across the battlefields of Sanghelios and its shattered dominion for thousands of years. But now, it plays louder than ever, its echoes reaching across the ruins of the once-great Sangheili Empire.
The petty warlords, fractured Kaidons, and remnant fleets wage bitter wars, each desperate to carve out a sliver of control in the galactic storm. Their borders, fragile and uncertain, are beset on all sides.
The Kig-Yar Corsairs, ever-opportunistic, descend like vultures, plundering the trade lanes and forgotten strongholds, stripping them bare of anything of value before vanishing into the void.
The Eliksni scouting parties, the vanguard of an uncertain future, move with a purpose yet unknown, slipping through the cracks of Sangheili space like whispers in the dark.
The Cabal Expeditionary Forces, ever the hunters, stalk the ruins of fallen citadels, studying the battlefield, measuring their prey, waiting for the moment to strike.
And through it all, the Sangheili fight. Unceasing. Uncaring. Unrelenting.
It is in their nature. It is their legacy. It is their curse.
The embers of empire still glow dimly within the great halls of their fortresses, but those halls grow ever colder. The shadows of past glories stretch long, but they do not hold the warmth of triumph. The echoes of their ancestors whisper through the ruins, but they carry no wisdom; only the weight of a history drowning in blood.
And yet, in the darkness of the abyss, they scream into the void.
For even as the last embers fade, even as the light of past greatness dims, something stirs.
A defiant ember, burning hot against the encroaching dark.
A final cry of rage and resolve.
For the Sangheili may burn, but they will not go quietly.
Reward: The Age of Blood rages on… and eventually, even the star of hope burns out.
==================================
The Sangheili Warlords: D100 => 81
The Counselor of Clan 'Zadam looked upon the elder with a mixture of bemusement, envy, and quiet dissatisfaction. "Why have you troubled us, O Elder, with dreams and flickers of what may be?"
The Elder Tahu regarded the young warrior-statesman before him, his expression betraying a flicker of disappointment. "You know why I have left my meditative seclusion, Counselor. And you know damn well that such matters do not happen lightly."
The Counselor's irritation barely remained masked. "Another war party for a trinket of great importance somewhere in space, perhaps? Some lost relic to give meaning to an age without purpose?" He exhaled sharply. "I have little time for such things, Elder. The Order may request it, but they are still held to the whims of reality, not dreams."
Tahu's patience thinned. "Quiet your split lips and consider the weight of things greater than yourself. Have you forgotten that the fables you cherish were once more real than the stars in the sky?" His voice was steady but firm. "You may be content to live in this endless symphony of blood and war, but I, and too many others, are not."
The Counselor's mandibles twitched in irritation. "You cannot change the nature of reality, Elder.
Our holds are strong only because of the strength of warriors and the blood they spill. Not because of the dreams of old fools who have not walked the battlefields in years!"
Tahu inhaled deeply, steadying his voice. "Then hear me clearly, whelp. I will have your clan sign this compact… or I will drive it into the dirt alongside the other spineless worms I have suffered in these last two years!"
The Counselor's fists clenched at the insult, his pride demanding a challenge, but before he could speak, another voice cut through the chamber.
"My Kaidon will hear of your insolence, Elder." The Counselor's words were measured, but his tone was laced with venom. "And beyond that, your so-called Compact demands too much. An Arbiter to Lead Us? None are worthy. Even briefly. And to even entertain such a notion would cast the gaze of the Shadow upon us all."
"The Shadow is far from us," Tahu retorted. "And even if we cannot yet choose an Arbiter from our number, the fact that we can stand here without slaughtering each other is a miracle in itself."
"Miracle?" The Counselor scoffed. "It is fear. Nothing more. Fear and hatred keep this fragile alliance intact, and those are weak foundations at best."
A deep, commanding voice silenced the debate.
"I have heard enough."
From the shadows of the chamber, the Kaidon of Clan 'Zadam emerged at last, stepping forward with the weight of one who had long observed in silence. His crimson armor gleamed in the dim light, his eyes unreadable.
"Counselor, your concerns are understood," he said evenly. "But I see this Alliance as something greater. A garden of hope. The only thing stronger than fear… and stronger than the Darkness."
The Counselor stiffened. "But, my Kaidon… this is madness."
"It is better to build a garden together and fail… than to starve alone." The Kaidon's gaze did not waver. "Tell the Alliance Council that Clan 'Zadam will pledge its sword to its banner."
Tahu sighed, his eyes scanning the faces around him. Sixty worlds.
It was still too little.
Sixty. A mere fraction of the former empire.
Sixty. Not even enough to rule a sector, to be a sector in truth, let alone reclaim the legacy of a civilization that had once ruled thousands.
But all great temples begin as mere stones.
And so, the first stones had been placed.
Reward:
The Kaidon Alliance has expanded to 60 worlds, making it the largest post-Imperial Sangheili state in the Age of Blood and the most significant Sangheili polity in recent memory. But whether it will rise to greatness, or collapse under its own weight, remains to be seen.
===============================
Jiralhanae: D100 => 35
"Where my tribe shall tread… the grass of the world will not grow again."
The words were etched into the iron-banded pillars of Ka'Novak, the first great fortress-city of the Jiralhanae's new age. They were words of promise, of dominance, of annihilation.
The First Great Iron Age Empire had risen from the ashes of Doisac's once-fertile crescent lands, where rivers once carved lifelines through the broken plains but now ran red with the blood of conquest.
The war clans had long burned their old ways in the fires of their own hatred, reforging themselves into something new—and something terrifying. The Tribes had given way to Kingdoms, and Kingdoms had given way to Empires, built upon the bones of the weak and the ambition of warlords with sights set far beyond the dying lands of their homeworld.
From the mountainous strongholds of the Throne-Breakers to the iron citadels of the Beast-Kings, the Jiralhanae no longer fought as mindless beasts, but as lords of war. Their warbands marched in lockstep, their chieftains no longer simply the strongest, but the most cunning.
Their blood had been tempered. Their savagery had been honed.
And while the ruins of the past still smoldered beneath them, their hunger remained unsatisfied.
They had conquered much of Doisac, forming an empire of blood and vileness.
Now, they looked to the stars and dreamed of conquering heaven.
Reward:
The Jiralhanae continue their bloody evolution, transitioning from fractured warbands into a brutal, iron-willed empire. Though still violent and aggressive, they have begun to refine their savagery into something more structured, and more dangerous. The days of unchecked chaos may be fading, but the days of Jiralhanae's conquest have only just begun.
================================
Unggoy: D100 => 97
"Only ONE ship stood between Balaho and the invaders… one was enough."
The bridge of the Ironclay's Wrath was dimly lit, the glow of tactical displays reflecting off the weathered masks of its crew. Captain Yapyap Ironclay stood at the center, hands clasped behind his back, staring down the overwhelming odds before them. Twenty enemy vessels.
"Twenty to one?" he muttered.
His First Mate nodded, adjusting his mask with a sharp grunt. "Yes, Captain. They are well-armed, well-organized… but our intelligence intercepts suggest they are quarreling over plunder."
First contact with an alien species. Confirmation that they were not alone in the vastness of the cosmos. And it had to be space pirates.
The universe had a cruel sense of humor.
"So… they're not in a talking mood?" Yapyap asked, though he already knew the answer.
"To them, we are nothing but loot."
Yapyap exhaled slowly, a grin forming beneath his breather mask. "The scientific community will hate us for this."
"I don't give a nipple what those eggheads will think," he growled. "If these aliens are as stupid as they are greedy, then this will be an even fight."
He turned to his crew, voice rising to a roar.
"GENERAL QUARTERS! GET THOSE FOOD NIPPLES OUT OF YOUR MOUTHS! BATTLE STATIONS!"
---------------------------------
The Battle of Tala V (Also known as "The Trial of First Knife")
The battle would be studied for generations, debated in war colleges and whispered in hushed tones among those who preyed on the weak. It should have been a massacre.
A single Unggoy Federation warship, the only one of its kind, against twenty Kig-Yar vessels, raiders, corsairs, and war barques. The pirates had come expecting easy prey, a defenseless species ripe for subjugation or slaughter. They found something else.
Scholars would attribute the Unggoy's shocking victory to three critical factors:
The Unyielding Will of the Crew:The Unggoy aboard Ironclay's Wrath fought not just for survival, but for their people's right to exist. Every station, every gunner, every engineer pushed their limits, refusing to yield an inch.
The Arrogance of the Kig-Yar: Confident in their numerical superiority, the pirates failed to act with the discipline necessary to crush their opponent, dismissing them as nothing more than weak fodder.
Psychological Warfare: The greatest weapon in the Unggoy's arsenal.
For two straight days, Captain Yapyap bombarded the Kig-Yar fleet,not just with weapons, but with insults, taunts, and relentless psychological pressure. He mocked their tactics. He laughed at their blunders. He belittled their honor. He broadcast propaganda onto open channels, spinning stories of Unggoy war traditions, of cursed ships, of horrifying boarding parties that consumed the bones of their enemies.
The Kig-Yar captains began to crack.
Discipline unraveled. Coordination disintegrated. Maintenance on their vessels faltered as crews became too anxious, too paranoid. And then, Yapyap struck.
With a calculated ferocity, Ironclay's Wrath divided and conquered, luring overzealous raiders into traps, exploiting their growing panic, and reducing their numbers one by one.
By the battle's end, only seven Kig-Yar vessels remained. The Unggoy ship, its hull scorched and its systems failing, rammed the pirate mothership. Yapyap led the charge himself, boarding the enemy flagship in brutal melee combat.
The pirates were slaughtered, driven screaming into the void.
And the spoils of war, the shattered remnants of the Kig-Yar fleet;fell into Unggoy hands.
=========================
Aftermath: The Shadow Cast Over the Stars
The Kig-Yar fled, but they did not forget.
A 30-light-year-wide quarantine zone was declared around the Tala system—not to protect the Unggoy, but to contain them. The pirate lords and conclave leaders prayed that the Unggoy would be content with their victory…
That they would stay within their new domain…
That they would never come for the rest of the galaxy.
But deep within their salvaged warships, the Unggoy scientists and engineers worked tirelessly. Reverse-engineering Kig-Yar technology. Improving their ship designs. Strengthening their newfound fleets.
The Unggoy had proven their worth on the battlefield.
They would never be seen as fodder again.
Reward:
The Unggoy shatter the Kig-Yar pirate fleet, securing a massive technological leap from salvaged vessels and forcing the Kig-Yar to establish a 30-light-year quarantine zone around their region of space.
The Kig-Yar fear that one day, the Unggoy will break free… and unleash their vengeance upon the stars.
===================================
Kig-Yar: D100 => 65
"Save… the Tela Debacle."
The Kig-Yar had seen many raiding seasons come and go, each one marked by blood, plunder, and the quiet whispers of stolen secrets. This year was no different, or at least, it shouldn't have been.
The Cabal's patrol routes had proven predictable, their supply lines ripe for the picking. The Sangheili, ever-stubborn but still weakened from their infighting, made for satisfying prey. Their treasure fleets, once heavily defended, now struggled to hold the line against the razor-sharp cunning of the Kig-Yar raiders.
Yes, it had been a prosperous raiding season.
But then came Tela.
The Tela Debacle was not just a failure. It was a spectacle of humiliation, a stain on an otherwise glorious cycle of piracy and plunder.
What should have been a simple raid on an isolated Unggoy research station turned into a disaster when the Kig-Yar miscalculated. Their intelligence suggested the Unggoy defenses would be nonexistent, their ships few and to limited to mount a defence. But the reality?
The Unggoy had learned.
Trap after trap, ambush after ambush, the Kig-Yar found themselves outmaneuvered by a foe they had mocked for years as easy pray. The battle was not just a loss, it was a rout, forcing the once-proud pirates to flee with their tails tucked between their legs.
Worse still, word spread.
The humiliation rippled through the underworld, tales of the Kig-Yar pirates being bested by Unggoy of all species. The Cabal laughed, the Sangheili scoffed, and the other Kig-Yar crews mocked those involved relentlessly.
A stain on their reputation. One they would not forget. One they would have to correct,no matter what it took.
But outside of that?
Outside of Tela?
It had been a good year for the Pirates of the Kig-Yar.
Reward:
The Kig-Yar raiders enjoy a successful season of plunder, striking at Cabal fleets and Sangheili warbands with precision and cunning. However, their overconfidence leads to the Tela Debacle, a humiliating defeat at the hands of the Unggoy, marking a rare but unforgettable blot on their reputation.
===============================
Lekgolo: D100 => 100
The vast gestalt minds of the Lekgolo, entities that thought in ways no singular being could ever comprehend, had turned inward.
Their great writhing forms, once devoted to constructing vast monoliths and devouring derelict ruins in pursuit of knowledge, had grown still. They no longer shaped the world with their endless motion, nor did they seek answers in the forgotten structures of the ancients.
Instead, they waited.
Waited for the Echo in the Void to answer the lingering query that had haunted them for untold cycles.
"What is the Dark? Truly?"
The Lekgolo had encountered it in fragments, in the ancient ruins they consumed, in the whispering void between the stars, in the lingering remnants of things that had once been but were now lost.
The Darkness was generous. It was patient. And, as history had shown, it always won.
But was it evil? Was it truly the antithesis of life? Or was it simply the soil in which life sprouts,a necessary shadow cast by the presence of existence itself?
The Children of Te debated.
For what seemed an eternity, their countless forms coiled and pulsed in deep, meditative contemplation. Their neural tendrils wove and unwove themselves through tunnels of flesh, exchanging thoughts in frequencies beyond words.
And at long last…
They came to an answer.
"The Darkness is the piece of life all carry. To ignore it is… impossible."
The decision rippled across their gestalt consciousness like a tremor through an ocean. The Dark Shadow, that lingering primal power within them, purred with pride.
At last… clarity.
They did not need to fear it. They did not need to resist it.
For the first time, the Lekgolo understood—and in understanding, they had mastered it.
And across Te, the color green became prominent as strands of green energy covered their bodies, bonding their bodies even more deeper than ever before.
Reward:
The Lekgolo have reached enlightenment on the nature of Darkness, and in doing so, have freed themselves from fear.
The have become the first species in this universe to unlock Strand; and may now wield it as they see fit.
===========================================
The Eliksni: D100 => 99
For generations, the Eliksni had scoured the stars, chasing the echoes of the Great Machine—searching for its light, for some sign of its presence, for the faintest glimmer of its blessing.
Instead, they found shadows.
Ancient ruins lay scattered across forgotten worlds, remnants of a civilization so immense, so unknowable, that even the most learned among them could scarcely grasp the scale of its existence. These were not the scars left behind by the Great Machine but the echoes of a long-dead empire, one that had reigned before their kind had ever crawled from the depths of Riis.
A Precursor species? The thought sent shivers through their kind, not of fear, but of wonder.
What had they seen? What had they built? And what had destroyed them?
Even the most cautious of their kind could not resist the call. This was a joyful mystery; a puzzle left behind in the bones of the galaxy. And so, they threw themselves into the task, not as desperate scavengers, not as warbands seeking plunder, but as explorers and archaeologists, much like the dreamers of their old homeworld.
The glories of the Forerunners filled them with awe.
The tragedy of the Forerunners filled them with dread.
Was this what it had felt like, all those ages ago? When they were young? When they gazed upon the Great Machine and saw endless possibilities stretching before them?
Even if the road ahead was filled with danger, even if ancient horrors lurked beneath the dust of time…
ONWARD!
To adventure! To legend!
Reward:
The Eliksni have embarked on a grand journey of discovery, uncovering the long shadow of the Forerunners. Their race is filled with both wonder and terror at what they have left behind.
=============================
The Hive: D100 => 82
Do They Wake Up?: D100 - 10 => -8
(They do not… Good job, everyone! No Hive… for now.)
SOON.
The Hive had waited for eons, their hunger unending, their patience infinite.
They had slumbered beneath layers of stone, entombed within their dark sanctuaries, waiting for the moment to rise once more. To feast upon the flesh and souls of the living. To grind the bones of a galaxy under the weight of their eternal hunger.
To kill, to conquer, to consume.
And at long last, something moved above them.
========================
The ritual was nearly complete.
A dozen Hive Priests stood in a perfect circle, their chitinous forms wreathed in the sickly green glow of ritualistic sorcery. Their chants wove together in a dreadful symphony, each syllable a dagger thrust into the veil of reality.
Soon… Oryx would awaken.
Soon… the Hive would rise again.
All they needed was one final incantation,one last utterance to break the chains of slumber and unleash their god-king upon the galaxy once more.
The void shuddered in anticipation. The air grew thick with the weight of impending doom. Shadows coiled like serpents at their feet, eager to slither into the waking world.
And then—
Something went wrong.
The dark energies began to writhe, twisting unnaturally, unraveling before their very eyes. The sigils etched into the ground flickered, their power turning upon itself. The once-perfect alignment of the ritual's core fractured, runes burning away like dying embers.
The Hive Priest at the center of the ritual sensed it immediately, a foreign presence. A taint in the incantation. A deliberate, malicious interference.
His many eyes widened in horror.
"SAVATHÛN'S DECEIT!" he shrieked.
A blinding shockwave of arcane backlash tore through the chamber, sending Hive bodies hurtling into the walls. The great altar shattered like fragile bone, ichor and fire spilling in all directions. The very fabric of the ritual collapsed in on itself, consuming everything in a vortex of raw, uncontrolled energy.
The Priest staggered, clutching at his chest, feeling the power of the ritual drain from his body like blood from a mortal wound. His mind reeled.
They had been betrayed.
The ritual had been sabotaged.
Oryx would not awaken.
The Hive would not rise today.
The great darkness that had been moments from surging forth recoiled; sealed away once again.
And across the chamber, hidden among the broken pillars, a single shadowed figure watched in silence before slipping away into the abyss.
Somewhere in the distant void, an unseen force laughed.
==========================
The world shook. The tomb collapsed. The slumbering horror was once again entombed, its moment of return delayed once more.
The Hive felt… cheated.
They had waited one hundred thousand years for their revenge, and now, because of a handful of cowards, they would wait longer still.
They would have their feast one day. They would tear the flesh from a billion corpses, drink deep of their light, and wage war upon existence itself.
But not today.
Not yet.
Reward:They wait… and they hunger.
The ritual to awaken Oryx fails catastrophically due to sabotage. The Hive's plans are thwarted once again, leaving them weakened and disoriented. The Hive now suspects a traitor in their midst, and paranoia festers among them.
===============================
The Cabal: 99
Emperor Calus stood before the grand Celestial Map, a three-dimensional projection of the Orion Arm, each star and world rendered in stunning golden light. He swirled the deep violet wine in his goblet, inhaling its rich aroma, and smiled.
"So ripe, this fruit of conquest," he mused, voice thick with satisfaction. "So ready… so willing… but to seize it now? That would be reckless. No, no, no, conquest must be cultivated, like a fine vintage."
Calus had spent decades ensuring the security of his rule, purging disloyalty, and restructuring the empire to function as he saw fit. He had not expanded out of greed or necessity, but as a matter of pragmatism, to distract the ambitious generals, to scatter the war-hungry legions, and to deprive his political rivals of power.
Now, his empire stretched wider than ever before, yet he desired nothing more than to enjoy it.
He took a sip of his wine, watching the holographic representation of Sanghelios's once great empire, a fractured land ruled by petty warlords, beset by raiders and opportunists and the Darkness.
"The Sangheili have broken themselves, as all arrogant warriors do." He chuckled. "What need is there to hasten their demise when time will do the work for us?"
A soft laugh echoed from the shadows, one of his advisors, standing at a respectful distance. "Wise words, my Emperor. Why waste fine soldiers on a war that will fight itself?"
Calus turned away from the map, stepping onto the golden balcony of his throne room. Below, an endless city stretched toward the horizon, monuments in his honor, banners bearing his crest, and millions of his subjects indulging in the pleasures of his rule.
"Let them scurry in the dark corners of the Orion Arm, waging their petty little wars. Let them believe themselves powerful while they bleed each other dry."
He lifted his goblet toward the stars, a self-satisfied smirk spreading across his face.
"While they squabble, we shall feast. While they burn, we shall bask in splendor. And when the time is right…"
He took another sip, savoring the richness of his empire's Golden Age.
"The galaxy shall kneel. In the time of my choosing," He lifted his goblet. "To the Chaos that consumes them. And to my Empires abundance."
Reward:
Emperor Calus is content to lead the Cabal into a new Golden Age of Splendor rather than immediate conquest. The empire consolidates its power, grows wealthier, and indulges in luxury and excess while the rest of the galaxy tears itself apart.
For now.
===================================================
"The Shadow of Sanghelios": D100 => 43
The Shadow of Sanghelios moved through the desolate expanse, his footsteps eerily silent upon the ancient ground. He had followed the old paths, those carved in blood and fire by the warriors of his ancestors. Once, these hunting grounds had been fruitful, brimming with secrets, weapons, and relics of the Ecumene, the old gods of knowledge and destruction.
But now?
Now, the black fleets patrolled ceaselessly, choking out opportunity like a noose tightening around the throat of a dying beast. The Gardener's champions, relentless and unwavering, had scoured the landscape, leaving nothing behind but charred remains and hollowed-out battlefields.
The Shadow stood atop a ridge of stone, overlooking what was once a grand Forerunner citadel; now a graveyard of shattered architecture and scorched ruins.
The great warfields, once teeming with life, conflict, and glory, were now only ashes and silence. The bones of ancient warriors had long since turned to dust, their weapons rusted relics buried beneath layers of decay.
"Damn them all…" the Shadow growled, voice low with frustration.
How was he supposed to find artifacts of the Ecumene in lands so thoroughly pillaged? Every vault was plundered, every site stripped bare, leaving only the ghosts of what once was.
He knelt beside a fallen monolith, brushing aside the dirt to reveal etched markings, their once-luminous script now faded and broken. But even in ruin, the truth was unmistakable.
These were Forerunner ruins.
Not just any ruins, but the remnants of a battlefield, one of the many fronts of the Forerunners' war against the Hive.
The glyphs spoke of desperate battles, of sacrifices beyond measure, of an enemy that could not be reasoned with, only resisted. The towering structures that still stood, broken and blackened, bore the unmistakable scars of the Hive's unholy weapons.
And yet… there were no artifacts, no weapons, no knowledge left to claim.
Every vault had been raided. Every weapon was either destroyed or taken by those who had come before. All that remained was ruin, dust, and echoes of a battle fought long before his time.
The Shadow of Sanghelios rose to his feet, exhaling slowly.
Perhaps he would not find what he had sought.
But these ruins, this battlefield of the lost, were still worthy of respect.
It was a monument to a struggle that had shaped the fate of the galaxy.
And maybe, just maybe, there were still secrets buried beneath the rubble, waiting to be uncovered.
Reward:
The Shadow of Sanghelios searches for Forerunner artifacts, but finds only ruins, the remains of a long-forgotten battle between the Forerunners and the Hive. Though there is nothing left to claim, the site stands as a silent monument to one of the greatest wars the galaxy has ever known.
==================================
Forerunner:
Roll= 77
Protocol ISO activated....searching across the stars for designated Geas as instructed by Librarian.
First location to search....Erde-Tyrene.
Reward:
Old Protocol activated.
AN: Ahh, another year another Galactic Rumor Mill, and everyone, enjoy.
Know this Madness O Kaidon...
Black are the void-lanes where nameless things slither, and deep are the wounds carved into the stars by war. The echoes of shattered empires still drift among the wreckage of ancient worlds, their death cries swallowed by the abyss. From the broken moons of fallen tyrants to the forsaken battlefields where heroes bled and gods were unmade, whispers rise like smoke upon the cosmic winds—whispers of fate, of ruin, of battles yet to come.
The hunters and the hunted stalk one another in the twilight of dying suns. Kings without crowns grasp for dominion over dust. Warriors clad in steel and fire walk the shattered bones of forgotten titans, seeking glory, vengeance, or the final, bitter truth. And in the cold places, where even light dares not tread, something watches.
Across the war-torn expanse of the galaxy, the rumors spread—spoken in hushed tones in the shadowed halls of dying worlds, carved into the wreckage of ghost-ships drifting in the void, sung in the madness of prophets whose eyes have glimpsed the horrors beyond the veil.
Listen well, traveler, for in these whispers lies the promise of war... and the doom of fools.
These are but fragments from the dark places.
--------------------------------
Sangheili (AKA How Are They Doing as a Species?)
D100 => 47
A Never Ending Clash
The Age of Blood, a violent, unceasing symphony of war rages on, drowning the stars in the cries of warriors and the clash of blades. It is an old song, one that has played across the battlefields of Sanghelios and its shattered dominion for thousands of years. But now, it plays louder than ever, its echoes reaching across the ruins of the once-great Sangheili Empire.
The petty warlords, fractured Kaidons, and remnant fleets wage bitter wars, each desperate to carve out a sliver of control in the galactic storm. Their borders, fragile and uncertain, are beset on all sides.
The Kig-Yar Corsairs, ever-opportunistic, descend like vultures, plundering the trade lanes and forgotten strongholds, stripping them bare of anything of value before vanishing into the void.
The Eliksni scouting parties, the vanguard of an uncertain future, move with a purpose yet unknown, slipping through the cracks of Sangheili space like whispers in the dark.
The Cabal Expeditionary Forces, ever the hunters, stalk the ruins of fallen citadels, studying the battlefield, measuring their prey, waiting for the moment to strike.
And through it all, the Sangheili fight. Unceasing. Uncaring. Unrelenting.
It is in their nature. It is their legacy. It is their curse.
The embers of empire still glow dimly within the great halls of their fortresses, but those halls grow ever colder. The shadows of past glories stretch long, but they do not hold the warmth of triumph. The echoes of their ancestors whisper through the ruins, but they carry no wisdom; only the weight of a history drowning in blood.
And yet, in the darkness of the abyss, they scream into the void.
For even as the last embers fade, even as the light of past greatness dims, something stirs.
A defiant ember, burning hot against the encroaching dark.
A final cry of rage and resolve.
For the Sangheili may burn, but they will not go quietly.
Reward: The Age of Blood rages on… and eventually, even the star of hope burns out.
==================================
The Sangheili Warlords: D100 => 81
The Counselor of Clan 'Zadam looked upon the elder with a mixture of bemusement, envy, and quiet dissatisfaction. "Why have you troubled us, O Elder, with dreams and flickers of what may be?"
The Elder Tahu regarded the young warrior-statesman before him, his expression betraying a flicker of disappointment. "You know why I have left my meditative seclusion, Counselor. And you know damn well that such matters do not happen lightly."
The Counselor's irritation barely remained masked. "Another war party for a trinket of great importance somewhere in space, perhaps? Some lost relic to give meaning to an age without purpose?" He exhaled sharply. "I have little time for such things, Elder. The Order may request it, but they are still held to the whims of reality, not dreams."
Tahu's patience thinned. "Quiet your split lips and consider the weight of things greater than yourself. Have you forgotten that the fables you cherish were once more real than the stars in the sky?" His voice was steady but firm. "You may be content to live in this endless symphony of blood and war, but I, and too many others, are not."
The Counselor's mandibles twitched in irritation. "You cannot change the nature of reality, Elder.
Our holds are strong only because of the strength of warriors and the blood they spill. Not because of the dreams of old fools who have not walked the battlefields in years!"
Tahu inhaled deeply, steadying his voice. "Then hear me clearly, whelp. I will have your clan sign this compact… or I will drive it into the dirt alongside the other spineless worms I have suffered in these last two years!"
The Counselor's fists clenched at the insult, his pride demanding a challenge, but before he could speak, another voice cut through the chamber.
"My Kaidon will hear of your insolence, Elder." The Counselor's words were measured, but his tone was laced with venom. "And beyond that, your so-called Compact demands too much. An Arbiter to Lead Us? None are worthy. Even briefly. And to even entertain such a notion would cast the gaze of the Shadow upon us all."
"The Shadow is far from us," Tahu retorted. "And even if we cannot yet choose an Arbiter from our number, the fact that we can stand here without slaughtering each other is a miracle in itself."
"Miracle?" The Counselor scoffed. "It is fear. Nothing more. Fear and hatred keep this fragile alliance intact, and those are weak foundations at best."
A deep, commanding voice silenced the debate.
"I have heard enough."
From the shadows of the chamber, the Kaidon of Clan 'Zadam emerged at last, stepping forward with the weight of one who had long observed in silence. His crimson armor gleamed in the dim light, his eyes unreadable.
"Counselor, your concerns are understood," he said evenly. "But I see this Alliance as something greater. A garden of hope. The only thing stronger than fear… and stronger than the Darkness."
The Counselor stiffened. "But, my Kaidon… this is madness."
"It is better to build a garden together and fail… than to starve alone." The Kaidon's gaze did not waver. "Tell the Alliance Council that Clan 'Zadam will pledge its sword to its banner."
Tahu sighed, his eyes scanning the faces around him. Sixty worlds.
It was still too little.
Sixty. A mere fraction of the former empire.
Sixty. Not even enough to rule a sector, to be a sector in truth, let alone reclaim the legacy of a civilization that had once ruled thousands.
But all great temples begin as mere stones.
And so, the first stones had been placed.
Reward:
The Kaidon Alliance has expanded to 60 worlds, making it the largest post-Imperial Sangheili state in the Age of Blood and the most significant Sangheili polity in recent memory. But whether it will rise to greatness, or collapse under its own weight, remains to be seen.
===============================
Jiralhanae: D100 => 35
"Where my tribe shall tread… the grass of the world will not grow again."
The words were etched into the iron-banded pillars of Ka'Novak, the first great fortress-city of the Jiralhanae's new age. They were words of promise, of dominance, of annihilation.
The First Great Iron Age Empire had risen from the ashes of Doisac's once-fertile crescent lands, where rivers once carved lifelines through the broken plains but now ran red with the blood of conquest.
The war clans had long burned their old ways in the fires of their own hatred, reforging themselves into something new—and something terrifying. The Tribes had given way to Kingdoms, and Kingdoms had given way to Empires, built upon the bones of the weak and the ambition of warlords with sights set far beyond the dying lands of their homeworld.
From the mountainous strongholds of the Throne-Breakers to the iron citadels of the Beast-Kings, the Jiralhanae no longer fought as mindless beasts, but as lords of war. Their warbands marched in lockstep, their chieftains no longer simply the strongest, but the most cunning.
Their blood had been tempered. Their savagery had been honed.
And while the ruins of the past still smoldered beneath them, their hunger remained unsatisfied.
They had conquered much of Doisac, forming an empire of blood and vileness.
Now, they looked to the stars and dreamed of conquering heaven.
Reward:
The Jiralhanae continue their bloody evolution, transitioning from fractured warbands into a brutal, iron-willed empire. Though still violent and aggressive, they have begun to refine their savagery into something more structured, and more dangerous. The days of unchecked chaos may be fading, but the days of Jiralhanae's conquest have only just begun.
================================
Unggoy: D100 => 97
"Only ONE ship stood between Balaho and the invaders… one was enough."
The bridge of the Ironclay's Wrath was dimly lit, the glow of tactical displays reflecting off the weathered masks of its crew. Captain Yapyap Ironclay stood at the center, hands clasped behind his back, staring down the overwhelming odds before them. Twenty enemy vessels.
"Twenty to one?" he muttered.
His First Mate nodded, adjusting his mask with a sharp grunt. "Yes, Captain. They are well-armed, well-organized… but our intelligence intercepts suggest they are quarreling over plunder."
First contact with an alien species. Confirmation that they were not alone in the vastness of the cosmos. And it had to be space pirates.
The universe had a cruel sense of humor.
"So… they're not in a talking mood?" Yapyap asked, though he already knew the answer.
"To them, we are nothing but loot."
Yapyap exhaled slowly, a grin forming beneath his breather mask. "The scientific community will hate us for this."
"I don't give a nipple what those eggheads will think," he growled. "If these aliens are as stupid as they are greedy, then this will be an even fight."
He turned to his crew, voice rising to a roar.
"GENERAL QUARTERS! GET THOSE FOOD NIPPLES OUT OF YOUR MOUTHS! BATTLE STATIONS!"
---------------------------------
The Battle of Tala V (Also known as "The Trial of First Knife")
The battle would be studied for generations, debated in war colleges and whispered in hushed tones among those who preyed on the weak. It should have been a massacre.
A single Unggoy Federation warship, the only one of its kind, against twenty Kig-Yar vessels, raiders, corsairs, and war barques. The pirates had come expecting easy prey, a defenseless species ripe for subjugation or slaughter. They found something else.
Scholars would attribute the Unggoy's shocking victory to three critical factors:
The Unyielding Will of the Crew:The Unggoy aboard Ironclay's Wrath fought not just for survival, but for their people's right to exist. Every station, every gunner, every engineer pushed their limits, refusing to yield an inch.
The Arrogance of the Kig-Yar: Confident in their numerical superiority, the pirates failed to act with the discipline necessary to crush their opponent, dismissing them as nothing more than weak fodder.
Psychological Warfare: The greatest weapon in the Unggoy's arsenal.
For two straight days, Captain Yapyap bombarded the Kig-Yar fleet,not just with weapons, but with insults, taunts, and relentless psychological pressure. He mocked their tactics. He laughed at their blunders. He belittled their honor. He broadcast propaganda onto open channels, spinning stories of Unggoy war traditions, of cursed ships, of horrifying boarding parties that consumed the bones of their enemies.
The Kig-Yar captains began to crack.
Discipline unraveled. Coordination disintegrated. Maintenance on their vessels faltered as crews became too anxious, too paranoid. And then, Yapyap struck.
With a calculated ferocity, Ironclay's Wrath divided and conquered, luring overzealous raiders into traps, exploiting their growing panic, and reducing their numbers one by one.
By the battle's end, only seven Kig-Yar vessels remained. The Unggoy ship, its hull scorched and its systems failing, rammed the pirate mothership. Yapyap led the charge himself, boarding the enemy flagship in brutal melee combat.
The pirates were slaughtered, driven screaming into the void.
And the spoils of war, the shattered remnants of the Kig-Yar fleet;fell into Unggoy hands.
=========================
Aftermath: The Shadow Cast Over the Stars
The Kig-Yar fled, but they did not forget.
A 30-light-year-wide quarantine zone was declared around the Tala system—not to protect the Unggoy, but to contain them. The pirate lords and conclave leaders prayed that the Unggoy would be content with their victory…
That they would stay within their new domain…
That they would never come for the rest of the galaxy.
But deep within their salvaged warships, the Unggoy scientists and engineers worked tirelessly. Reverse-engineering Kig-Yar technology. Improving their ship designs. Strengthening their newfound fleets.
The Unggoy had proven their worth on the battlefield.
They would never be seen as fodder again.
Reward:
The Unggoy shatter the Kig-Yar pirate fleet, securing a massive technological leap from salvaged vessels and forcing the Kig-Yar to establish a 30-light-year quarantine zone around their region of space.
The Kig-Yar fear that one day, the Unggoy will break free… and unleash their vengeance upon the stars.
===================================
Kig-Yar: D100 => 65
"Save… the Tela Debacle."
The Kig-Yar had seen many raiding seasons come and go, each one marked by blood, plunder, and the quiet whispers of stolen secrets. This year was no different, or at least, it shouldn't have been.
The Cabal's patrol routes had proven predictable, their supply lines ripe for the picking. The Sangheili, ever-stubborn but still weakened from their infighting, made for satisfying prey. Their treasure fleets, once heavily defended, now struggled to hold the line against the razor-sharp cunning of the Kig-Yar raiders.
Yes, it had been a prosperous raiding season.
But then came Tela.
The Tela Debacle was not just a failure. It was a spectacle of humiliation, a stain on an otherwise glorious cycle of piracy and plunder.
What should have been a simple raid on an isolated Unggoy research station turned into a disaster when the Kig-Yar miscalculated. Their intelligence suggested the Unggoy defenses would be nonexistent, their ships few and to limited to mount a defence. But the reality?
The Unggoy had learned.
Trap after trap, ambush after ambush, the Kig-Yar found themselves outmaneuvered by a foe they had mocked for years as easy pray. The battle was not just a loss, it was a rout, forcing the once-proud pirates to flee with their tails tucked between their legs.
Worse still, word spread.
The humiliation rippled through the underworld, tales of the Kig-Yar pirates being bested by Unggoy of all species. The Cabal laughed, the Sangheili scoffed, and the other Kig-Yar crews mocked those involved relentlessly.
A stain on their reputation. One they would not forget. One they would have to correct,no matter what it took.
But outside of that?
Outside of Tela?
It had been a good year for the Pirates of the Kig-Yar.
Reward:
The Kig-Yar raiders enjoy a successful season of plunder, striking at Cabal fleets and Sangheili warbands with precision and cunning. However, their overconfidence leads to the Tela Debacle, a humiliating defeat at the hands of the Unggoy, marking a rare but unforgettable blot on their reputation.
===============================
Lekgolo: D100 => 100
The vast gestalt minds of the Lekgolo, entities that thought in ways no singular being could ever comprehend, had turned inward.
Their great writhing forms, once devoted to constructing vast monoliths and devouring derelict ruins in pursuit of knowledge, had grown still. They no longer shaped the world with their endless motion, nor did they seek answers in the forgotten structures of the ancients.
Instead, they waited.
Waited for the Echo in the Void to answer the lingering query that had haunted them for untold cycles.
"What is the Dark? Truly?"
The Lekgolo had encountered it in fragments, in the ancient ruins they consumed, in the whispering void between the stars, in the lingering remnants of things that had once been but were now lost.
The Darkness was generous. It was patient. And, as history had shown, it always won.
But was it evil? Was it truly the antithesis of life? Or was it simply the soil in which life sprouts,a necessary shadow cast by the presence of existence itself?
The Children of Te debated.
For what seemed an eternity, their countless forms coiled and pulsed in deep, meditative contemplation. Their neural tendrils wove and unwove themselves through tunnels of flesh, exchanging thoughts in frequencies beyond words.
And at long last…
They came to an answer.
"The Darkness is the piece of life all carry. To ignore it is… impossible."
The decision rippled across their gestalt consciousness like a tremor through an ocean. The Dark Shadow, that lingering primal power within them, purred with pride.
At last… clarity.
They did not need to fear it. They did not need to resist it.
For the first time, the Lekgolo understood—and in understanding, they had mastered it.
And across Te, the color green became prominent as strands of green energy covered their bodies, bonding their bodies even more deeper than ever before.
Reward:
The Lekgolo have reached enlightenment on the nature of Darkness, and in doing so, have freed themselves from fear.
The have become the first species in this universe to unlock Strand; and may now wield it as they see fit.
===========================================
The Eliksni: D100 => 99
For generations, the Eliksni had scoured the stars, chasing the echoes of the Great Machine—searching for its light, for some sign of its presence, for the faintest glimmer of its blessing.
Instead, they found shadows.
Ancient ruins lay scattered across forgotten worlds, remnants of a civilization so immense, so unknowable, that even the most learned among them could scarcely grasp the scale of its existence. These were not the scars left behind by the Great Machine but the echoes of a long-dead empire, one that had reigned before their kind had ever crawled from the depths of Riis.
A Precursor species? The thought sent shivers through their kind, not of fear, but of wonder.
What had they seen? What had they built? And what had destroyed them?
Even the most cautious of their kind could not resist the call. This was a joyful mystery; a puzzle left behind in the bones of the galaxy. And so, they threw themselves into the task, not as desperate scavengers, not as warbands seeking plunder, but as explorers and archaeologists, much like the dreamers of their old homeworld.
The glories of the Forerunners filled them with awe.
The tragedy of the Forerunners filled them with dread.
Was this what it had felt like, all those ages ago? When they were young? When they gazed upon the Great Machine and saw endless possibilities stretching before them?
Even if the road ahead was filled with danger, even if ancient horrors lurked beneath the dust of time…
ONWARD!
To adventure! To legend!
Reward:
The Eliksni have embarked on a grand journey of discovery, uncovering the long shadow of the Forerunners. Their race is filled with both wonder and terror at what they have left behind.
=============================
The Hive: D100 => 82
Do They Wake Up?: D100 - 10 => -8
(They do not… Good job, everyone! No Hive… for now.)
SOON.
The Hive had waited for eons, their hunger unending, their patience infinite.
They had slumbered beneath layers of stone, entombed within their dark sanctuaries, waiting for the moment to rise once more. To feast upon the flesh and souls of the living. To grind the bones of a galaxy under the weight of their eternal hunger.
To kill, to conquer, to consume.
And at long last, something moved above them.
========================
The ritual was nearly complete.
A dozen Hive Priests stood in a perfect circle, their chitinous forms wreathed in the sickly green glow of ritualistic sorcery. Their chants wove together in a dreadful symphony, each syllable a dagger thrust into the veil of reality.
Soon… Oryx would awaken.
Soon… the Hive would rise again.
All they needed was one final incantation,one last utterance to break the chains of slumber and unleash their god-king upon the galaxy once more.
The void shuddered in anticipation. The air grew thick with the weight of impending doom. Shadows coiled like serpents at their feet, eager to slither into the waking world.
And then—
Something went wrong.
The dark energies began to writhe, twisting unnaturally, unraveling before their very eyes. The sigils etched into the ground flickered, their power turning upon itself. The once-perfect alignment of the ritual's core fractured, runes burning away like dying embers.
The Hive Priest at the center of the ritual sensed it immediately, a foreign presence. A taint in the incantation. A deliberate, malicious interference.
His many eyes widened in horror.
"SAVATHÛN'S DECEIT!" he shrieked.
A blinding shockwave of arcane backlash tore through the chamber, sending Hive bodies hurtling into the walls. The great altar shattered like fragile bone, ichor and fire spilling in all directions. The very fabric of the ritual collapsed in on itself, consuming everything in a vortex of raw, uncontrolled energy.
The Priest staggered, clutching at his chest, feeling the power of the ritual drain from his body like blood from a mortal wound. His mind reeled.
They had been betrayed.
The ritual had been sabotaged.
Oryx would not awaken.
The Hive would not rise today.
The great darkness that had been moments from surging forth recoiled; sealed away once again.
And across the chamber, hidden among the broken pillars, a single shadowed figure watched in silence before slipping away into the abyss.
Somewhere in the distant void, an unseen force laughed.
==========================
The world shook. The tomb collapsed. The slumbering horror was once again entombed, its moment of return delayed once more.
The Hive felt… cheated.
They had waited one hundred thousand years for their revenge, and now, because of a handful of cowards, they would wait longer still.
They would have their feast one day. They would tear the flesh from a billion corpses, drink deep of their light, and wage war upon existence itself.
But not today.
Not yet.
Reward:They wait… and they hunger.
The ritual to awaken Oryx fails catastrophically due to sabotage. The Hive's plans are thwarted once again, leaving them weakened and disoriented. The Hive now suspects a traitor in their midst, and paranoia festers among them.
===============================
The Cabal: 99
Emperor Calus stood before the grand Celestial Map, a three-dimensional projection of the Orion Arm, each star and world rendered in stunning golden light. He swirled the deep violet wine in his goblet, inhaling its rich aroma, and smiled.
"So ripe, this fruit of conquest," he mused, voice thick with satisfaction. "So ready… so willing… but to seize it now? That would be reckless. No, no, no, conquest must be cultivated, like a fine vintage."
Calus had spent decades ensuring the security of his rule, purging disloyalty, and restructuring the empire to function as he saw fit. He had not expanded out of greed or necessity, but as a matter of pragmatism, to distract the ambitious generals, to scatter the war-hungry legions, and to deprive his political rivals of power.
Now, his empire stretched wider than ever before, yet he desired nothing more than to enjoy it.
He took a sip of his wine, watching the holographic representation of Sanghelios's once great empire, a fractured land ruled by petty warlords, beset by raiders and opportunists and the Darkness.
"The Sangheili have broken themselves, as all arrogant warriors do." He chuckled. "What need is there to hasten their demise when time will do the work for us?"
A soft laugh echoed from the shadows, one of his advisors, standing at a respectful distance. "Wise words, my Emperor. Why waste fine soldiers on a war that will fight itself?"
Calus turned away from the map, stepping onto the golden balcony of his throne room. Below, an endless city stretched toward the horizon, monuments in his honor, banners bearing his crest, and millions of his subjects indulging in the pleasures of his rule.
"Let them scurry in the dark corners of the Orion Arm, waging their petty little wars. Let them believe themselves powerful while they bleed each other dry."
He lifted his goblet toward the stars, a self-satisfied smirk spreading across his face.
"While they squabble, we shall feast. While they burn, we shall bask in splendor. And when the time is right…"
He took another sip, savoring the richness of his empire's Golden Age.
"The galaxy shall kneel. In the time of my choosing," He lifted his goblet. "To the Chaos that consumes them. And to my Empires abundance."
Reward:
Emperor Calus is content to lead the Cabal into a new Golden Age of Splendor rather than immediate conquest. The empire consolidates its power, grows wealthier, and indulges in luxury and excess while the rest of the galaxy tears itself apart.
For now.
===================================================
"The Shadow of Sanghelios": D100 => 43
The Shadow of Sanghelios moved through the desolate expanse, his footsteps eerily silent upon the ancient ground. He had followed the old paths, those carved in blood and fire by the warriors of his ancestors. Once, these hunting grounds had been fruitful, brimming with secrets, weapons, and relics of the Ecumene, the old gods of knowledge and destruction.
But now?
Now, the black fleets patrolled ceaselessly, choking out opportunity like a noose tightening around the throat of a dying beast. The Gardener's champions, relentless and unwavering, had scoured the landscape, leaving nothing behind but charred remains and hollowed-out battlefields.
The Shadow stood atop a ridge of stone, overlooking what was once a grand Forerunner citadel; now a graveyard of shattered architecture and scorched ruins.
The great warfields, once teeming with life, conflict, and glory, were now only ashes and silence. The bones of ancient warriors had long since turned to dust, their weapons rusted relics buried beneath layers of decay.
"Damn them all…" the Shadow growled, voice low with frustration.
How was he supposed to find artifacts of the Ecumene in lands so thoroughly pillaged? Every vault was plundered, every site stripped bare, leaving only the ghosts of what once was.
He knelt beside a fallen monolith, brushing aside the dirt to reveal etched markings, their once-luminous script now faded and broken. But even in ruin, the truth was unmistakable.
These were Forerunner ruins.
Not just any ruins, but the remnants of a battlefield, one of the many fronts of the Forerunners' war against the Hive.
The glyphs spoke of desperate battles, of sacrifices beyond measure, of an enemy that could not be reasoned with, only resisted. The towering structures that still stood, broken and blackened, bore the unmistakable scars of the Hive's unholy weapons.
And yet… there were no artifacts, no weapons, no knowledge left to claim.
Every vault had been raided. Every weapon was either destroyed or taken by those who had come before. All that remained was ruin, dust, and echoes of a battle fought long before his time.
The Shadow of Sanghelios rose to his feet, exhaling slowly.
Perhaps he would not find what he had sought.
But these ruins, this battlefield of the lost, were still worthy of respect.
It was a monument to a struggle that had shaped the fate of the galaxy.
And maybe, just maybe, there were still secrets buried beneath the rubble, waiting to be uncovered.
Reward:
The Shadow of Sanghelios searches for Forerunner artifacts, but finds only ruins, the remains of a long-forgotten battle between the Forerunners and the Hive. Though there is nothing left to claim, the site stands as a silent monument to one of the greatest wars the galaxy has ever known.
==================================
Forerunner:
Roll= 77
Protocol ISO activated....searching across the stars for designated Geas as instructed by Librarian.
First location to search....Erde-Tyrene.
Reward:
Old Protocol activated.
AN: Ahh, another year another Galactic Rumor Mill, and everyone, enjoy.
Hey something good for the galaxy actually happened.
That's nice.
- Location
- California,USA
The Eliksni are playing tomb raider
And the Grunts are playing some cool empire builder game.
- Pronouns
- Reader
But then whose playing borderlands?
- Location
- California,USA
Don't know
- Pronouns
- Reader
Lol. It's john. He's offering up resources to a weird horse and receiving powerful yet strange weapons, not knowing what he'll get until after he spends. The horse is actually based on the borderlands mascot character, butt stallion.
- Location
- Puerto Rico
Awesome omake.
Canon.
Now for reward, choose one of the following:
a. +15 to an action
b. +2 Rerolls
c. Write In (subject to veto)
- Location
- California,USA
HERE SIR HERE!
- Location
- colombia
please use on john qualifications
a +15 in a 2k project is less than 1%
a +15 on the 1d100 could actually make it pass
- Pronouns
- Reader
Put it on that damn stubborn check your qualifications action, in the name of all that's decent and awesome.
- Location
- California,USA
Put it on John's Qualifiers.