Echoes of Creation (30k/Exalted)
- Thread starter Yzarc
- Start date
- Crossover
- Location
- Israel
Anyone else here read Out of the Dark?
forums.spacebattles.com
Derain Von Harken said:
Out of the Dark (DAOT remnants in 40K)
Julius Perturabo The Iron Road You who read this now stand before my greatest and most bitter lesson of all. The lesson of how to confront defeat. Glory. Glory is for the soldier. For the civilian. For the Warrior. For the writer of songs. A small reward and a paltry comfort for those who need...
forums.spacebattles.com
- Location
- Africa
Ah The real Perturabo a better paragon to follow I could not think off ,Press F to pay respects , he would be a truly mighty SolarAnyone else here read Out of the Dark?
Out of the Dark (DAOT remnants in 40K)
Julius Perturabo The Iron Road You who read this now stand before my greatest and most bitter lesson of all. The lesson of how to confront defeat. Glory. Glory is for the soldier. For the civilian. For the Warrior. For the writer of songs. A small reward and a paltry comfort for those who need...
- Pronouns
- ImBuda
By that logic, using the charm with Lorgar might not work either.
Turn 4: The Last Test
Yzarc
The Spark of Madness
Colchis - 831.M30
"Oh how clearly you claim to see," You began, your voice cutting through the heavy silence. "Tell me, Daemon, does the view ever mist around the edges, like dew on glass? Does the window shake? Perhaps you think it's a power you do not see. Maybe that's all it is. Tell yourself that. Tell yourself it's not fear in the secret heart of the things you name 'God.'"
Daemon Lorgar's eyes narrowed, his twisted visage contorting in a mix of anger and confusion. You continued, stepping even closer, your voice lowering to a dangerous whisper.
"They fear us," you hissed, talking with the experience of over a thousand lifetimes. "Men have killed gods before. Conjure visions by that if you dare."
For a moment, the Daemon Lorgar hesitated, the certainty in his malevolent gaze wavering. It was the moment that you needed. With a surge of determination, you reached out with your mind, piercing through the layers of corruption and deceit that cloaked the daemon's thoughts.
Inside the Daemon Lorgar's mind, a storm of chaos and malevolence swirled, but amidst the turmoil, the you saw flashes of fear, uncertainty, and doubt.
The world around you fades as your consciousness dives into the depths of Daemon Lorgar's mind. Images and emotions swirl around you, chaotic and intense. You sift through them, looking for the key to his fears, the one thing that he believes could derail his sinister influence over the younger Lorgar.
You feel the fear radiating from Daemon Lorgar's thoughts and he feels his control over the vision be stripped from him. You forced an answer from him and now, under the rules of the vision quest, forced him to show it to all present.
The scene materializes on a battlefield, the ruins of a once-grand city stretching out in every direction. Amidst the devastation, you see Roboute Guilliman and Lorgar standing face-to-face, their auras blazing with the raw power of demigods. Guilliman's eyes are locked onto Lorgar, and the depth of emotion in his gaze is staggering.
In Guilliman's eyes, you saw a wealth of purest, depthless hatred. A hatred not formed from one action and one event, but a chemical cauldron of emotion strong enough to twist even the calmest, most composed demigod in the Imperium. Anger flared in those eyes, of course. More than anger, it was rage. Frustration tainted it further; the desperation of not understanding why this was happening, and the ferocity of one who still believes he might find a way to stop it.
Hurt, somehow, seeing the hurt in Guilliman's eyes was the worst of all. This wasn't the pure rage of Corax, but the fury of a brother betrayed. This fury was saturated into something much harsher and much more complex. It was the pain of a builder, an architect, a loyal son who had done all that was ever asked of him, and had seen his life's work die in foolish, spurious futility.
To this day, the Daemon Primarch felt ashamed of what transpired that day. In his brother's face he had finally seen real hate, and in that moment he learned a lesson that had evaded him previously.
Guilliman had never hated him before.
The Primarch of the Ultramarines had never undermined his efforts; never hidden his sneers while presenting false indifference; never held a secret joy over humbling Lorgar's religious efforts in Monarchia and the great Crusade beyond.
Guilliman hadn't hated him. Not until that moment.
What you saw was hate. This was hatred in totality, fuelled by a fortune of pathos. This was a hatred deserved, and it was a hatred that would see Lorgar dead if the Ultramarine Primarch had anything to say about it.
You feel the Daemon Primarch's heart ache with a mixture of regret and conviction. You felt his sudden, burning need to explain everything, to justify himself, to tell how this was all necessary, all of it, to enlighten humanity.
The rebellion. The war. The Heresy. The truth of reality was foul but it had to be told. Gods were real, and they needed man. The human race could rise in union and immortality as the favored race of the Pantheon, or die as the Aeldari died centuries before for the sin of ignorance.
As the vision fades, the younger Lorgar trembles beside you, his eyes wide with the weight of what he has seen and felt.
The younger Lorgar's eyes burned with newfound clarity. He had seen enough, experienced enough to come to a profound realization. The Daemon Primarch, once a figure he might have seen as unknowable, now stood exposed, his motives laid bare.
"All this time," the younger Lorgar began, his voice steady but filled with intensity, "you've tried to force me into becoming something I'm not. You wanted me to become a Prophet of the Gods, just like you."
Daemon Lorgar's eyes narrowed, a flicker of irritation passing over his demonic features. "And why shouldn't you? You were born for greatness, to lead humanity to enlightenment through the Gods. It's your destiny."
"My destiny?" The younger Lorgar's voice rose, incredulous. "Or was it your destiny? The path you chose because you couldn't live without the Gods. You needed them, and now you want me to follow the same path, to justify your own choices."
The Daemon Primarch's face twisted into a snarl. "You speak of things you don't understand, boy. The Gods are real. They offer power, purpose, and immortality. Without them, you are nothing."
"Nothing?" The younger Lorgar shook his head. "You think power is everything, but it's not. It's a means to an end, not the end itself. You became a prophet, yes, but at what cost? You sacrificed your humanity, your brothers, everything you once believed in."
The older Lorgar laughed, a cold, mirthless sound. "Believed in? Those beliefs were chains, holding me back from true enlightenment. The Emperor will never appreciate your vision, your faith. He will mock it, tear it down, just like he did with me. The Gods offered me a way to rise above that."
"And in doing so, you became their slave," the younger Lorgar shot back. "You think you've found freedom, but all you've done is trade one master for another. You serve the Gods just as you once served the Emperor. Where is the freedom in that?"
The Daemon Primarch's eyes blazed with a dangerous light. "Freedom? You talk of freedom, yet you know nothing of it. The Gods have given me power beyond imagination. I am a god in my own right!"
"But at what cost?" the younger Lorgar pressed. "Look at what you've become. You are no longer the man who sought to enlighten humanity. You are a monster, driven by the whims of capricious deities. You have lost yourself, and now you want to drag me down the same path."
The older Lorgar's face twisted with rage. "You dare to judge me? I did what I had to do, what you will have to do if you want to survive in this galaxy. The Gods are our only hope, we will serve them or will be consumed by them."
The younger Lorgar's gaze was unyielding. "No, they are not. There is another way. A way that doesn't involve sacrificing our humanity or enslaving ourselves to dark forces. You preach many things but all you bring is chaos and destruction."
"You fool!" the Daemon Primarch roared. "You think you can defy the Gods? They will break you, just as they broke me. You will beg for their power, their guidance, just as I did."
"I won't," the younger Lorgar replied, his voice filled with quiet determination. "I will find my own path, one that honors the true spirit of what I once believed in. I will not be a prophet of ANY God. Nor will I be your puppet or anyone else's."
The older Lorgar's fury seemed to grow, his demonic form pulsating with dark energy. "You are weak. You will fail. Without the Gods, you are nothing but a naive child, grasping at shadows."
"Maybe," the younger Lorgar conceded. "But I would rather be a naive child with hope and integrity than a corrupted prophet, enslaved by darkness. I will forge my own destiny, free from the chains of the Gods and the lies they feed."
The Daemon Primarch sneered, but there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes. "You will come to see the truth, one way or another. The Gods are inevitable. You cannot escape their influence."
"Perhaps," the younger Lorgar said, his voice softening. "But I will try. I will strive for a future where humanity is free to choose its own path, without the interference of false gods or tyrants. That is the legacy I choose to build."
The tension in the air was palpable as the Daemon Lorgar, his face twisted in a sneer, stepped back, his malevolent gaze fixed on his younger self. The argument had reached its zenith, and the daemon knew that any further attempts to sway the younger Lorgar would be futile.
"I have nothing more to say," the Daemon Lorgar declared, his voice echoing with a sinister finality. "You will walk your path, and I will walk mine. But know this: the Gods are always watching, and they do not forget those who defy them."
With a final, contemptuous glance, the Daemon Lorgar turned and vanished into the shadows, leaving the younger Lorgar standing alone, his heart heavy with the weight of their confrontation.
As the echoes of the Daemon Lorgar's final roar faded into silence, the chamber seemed to settle into an uneasy calm. The younger Lorgar stood alone, his heart still pounding from the intense confrontation. He had barely a moment to gather his thoughts when the air shimmered once more, and a new presence made itself known.
From the shifting shadows, a figure emerged, cloaked in a tapestry of swirling colors and shifting forms. Twin heads, each speaking in turn, betrayed the identity of the newcomer. It was Kairos Fateweaver, the Oracle of Tzeentch, a being of unimaginable power and arcane knowledge.
"Lorgar," the left head began, its voice a serpentine whisper.
"Young and untested," continued the right head, a mocking tone in its words.
"Greetings, young Lorgar," both heads intoned, their voices a haunting harmony of discordant whispers. "With the departure of the Dark Prophet I have come to officiate the last trial, a final test to master your powers and achieve your ultimate potential."
"And what would these tests entail?" Lorgar asked, his voice steady but filled with cautious curiosity.
Kairos Fateweaver's twin heads smiled, each with an unsettling gleam in their eyes.
"The first part," the left head whispered, "is one of knowledge and insight. You must peer into the fabric of reality itself and unravel a truth that has been hidden from you."
"The second part," the right head continued, "is one of power and will. You must confront a force of unimaginable strength and bend it to your will."
Corax, who had been watching the entire exchange with growing concern, stepped forward, his expression a mix of resolve and apprehension. "Lorgar, you cannot trust this creature. The risks are too great. Fateweaver deals in lies and manipulations. Whatever he offers, it will come at a terrible price."
Kairos tilted one of his heads toward Corax, a mocking smile playing on his avian lips. "Ah, the ever-watchful Corax. Your caution is commendable, but this is an offer that cannot be ignored. I present to you, Lorgar, the pure and uncorrupted knowledge of how to create Space Marines, alongside the final mastery of your powers. With this knowledge, you could forge a new era, untainted by the failures of the past."
Lorgar's heart skipped a beat. The knowledge to create Space Marines without the taint of Chaos, a gift that could transform the future of humanity. He turned to Corax, his expression conflicted.
"Lorgar," Corax urged, his voice low and insistent, "consider the cost. Fateweaver is a master of deception. He offers what you desire most, but the price may be more than you can bear."
Kairos spread his wings, the feathers glinting with an unnatural light. "The choice is yours, Lorgar. Accept my trial, and gain the knowledge and power you seek. Or walk away, and forever wonder what might have been. But remember, true mastery comes with understanding and overcoming challenges. This is your final test."
Lorgar looks at you, the question need not be voiced.
You hesitated, searching for the right words. "The journey you are on is yours alone. You have the strength to make this decision, to weigh the risks and decide if the reward is worth it. I cannot tell you what to do, Son. I can only remind you of the wisdom you have gained and the resolve you have shown."
The younger Lorgar took a deep breath, his mind racing. He could feel the weight of his decisions pressing down on him, the potential for greatness and the fear of falling into the same traps as his older self.
RESOURCES:
Spent 2 Essence and 2 Willpower spent. 10/12 Essence and 8/10 Willpower
LORGAR GAINS:
3 Dots in the following Disciplines
The Prophet Aspect - Lorgar will NEVER get this Aspect under any circumstances
CHOICE
[] Take the final test
–Gain two dots in the above Disciplines, an Aspect, uncorrupted knowledge on how to make Space Marines. Mastery over Psychic Powers, the above now becomes innate and second nature. He will no longer need to spend willpower to use them, though they do take up an action slot and cannot be flurried without a charm/ability.
[] Do not take the final test
–-No further rewards.
"Oh how clearly you claim to see," You began, your voice cutting through the heavy silence. "Tell me, Daemon, does the view ever mist around the edges, like dew on glass? Does the window shake? Perhaps you think it's a power you do not see. Maybe that's all it is. Tell yourself that. Tell yourself it's not fear in the secret heart of the things you name 'God.'"
Daemon Lorgar's eyes narrowed, his twisted visage contorting in a mix of anger and confusion. You continued, stepping even closer, your voice lowering to a dangerous whisper.
"They fear us," you hissed, talking with the experience of over a thousand lifetimes. "Men have killed gods before. Conjure visions by that if you dare."
For a moment, the Daemon Lorgar hesitated, the certainty in his malevolent gaze wavering. It was the moment that you needed. With a surge of determination, you reached out with your mind, piercing through the layers of corruption and deceit that cloaked the daemon's thoughts.
Inside the Daemon Lorgar's mind, a storm of chaos and malevolence swirled, but amidst the turmoil, the you saw flashes of fear, uncertainty, and doubt.
The world around you fades as your consciousness dives into the depths of Daemon Lorgar's mind. Images and emotions swirl around you, chaotic and intense. You sift through them, looking for the key to his fears, the one thing that he believes could derail his sinister influence over the younger Lorgar.
You feel the fear radiating from Daemon Lorgar's thoughts and he feels his control over the vision be stripped from him. You forced an answer from him and now, under the rules of the vision quest, forced him to show it to all present.
The scene materializes on a battlefield, the ruins of a once-grand city stretching out in every direction. Amidst the devastation, you see Roboute Guilliman and Lorgar standing face-to-face, their auras blazing with the raw power of demigods. Guilliman's eyes are locked onto Lorgar, and the depth of emotion in his gaze is staggering.
In Guilliman's eyes, you saw a wealth of purest, depthless hatred. A hatred not formed from one action and one event, but a chemical cauldron of emotion strong enough to twist even the calmest, most composed demigod in the Imperium. Anger flared in those eyes, of course. More than anger, it was rage. Frustration tainted it further; the desperation of not understanding why this was happening, and the ferocity of one who still believes he might find a way to stop it.
Hurt, somehow, seeing the hurt in Guilliman's eyes was the worst of all. This wasn't the pure rage of Corax, but the fury of a brother betrayed. This fury was saturated into something much harsher and much more complex. It was the pain of a builder, an architect, a loyal son who had done all that was ever asked of him, and had seen his life's work die in foolish, spurious futility.
To this day, the Daemon Primarch felt ashamed of what transpired that day. In his brother's face he had finally seen real hate, and in that moment he learned a lesson that had evaded him previously.
Guilliman had never hated him before.
The Primarch of the Ultramarines had never undermined his efforts; never hidden his sneers while presenting false indifference; never held a secret joy over humbling Lorgar's religious efforts in Monarchia and the great Crusade beyond.
Guilliman hadn't hated him. Not until that moment.
What you saw was hate. This was hatred in totality, fuelled by a fortune of pathos. This was a hatred deserved, and it was a hatred that would see Lorgar dead if the Ultramarine Primarch had anything to say about it.
You feel the Daemon Primarch's heart ache with a mixture of regret and conviction. You felt his sudden, burning need to explain everything, to justify himself, to tell how this was all necessary, all of it, to enlighten humanity.
The rebellion. The war. The Heresy. The truth of reality was foul but it had to be told. Gods were real, and they needed man. The human race could rise in union and immortality as the favored race of the Pantheon, or die as the Aeldari died centuries before for the sin of ignorance.
As the vision fades, the younger Lorgar trembles beside you, his eyes wide with the weight of what he has seen and felt.
The younger Lorgar's eyes burned with newfound clarity. He had seen enough, experienced enough to come to a profound realization. The Daemon Primarch, once a figure he might have seen as unknowable, now stood exposed, his motives laid bare.
"All this time," the younger Lorgar began, his voice steady but filled with intensity, "you've tried to force me into becoming something I'm not. You wanted me to become a Prophet of the Gods, just like you."
Daemon Lorgar's eyes narrowed, a flicker of irritation passing over his demonic features. "And why shouldn't you? You were born for greatness, to lead humanity to enlightenment through the Gods. It's your destiny."
"My destiny?" The younger Lorgar's voice rose, incredulous. "Or was it your destiny? The path you chose because you couldn't live without the Gods. You needed them, and now you want me to follow the same path, to justify your own choices."
The Daemon Primarch's face twisted into a snarl. "You speak of things you don't understand, boy. The Gods are real. They offer power, purpose, and immortality. Without them, you are nothing."
"Nothing?" The younger Lorgar shook his head. "You think power is everything, but it's not. It's a means to an end, not the end itself. You became a prophet, yes, but at what cost? You sacrificed your humanity, your brothers, everything you once believed in."
The older Lorgar laughed, a cold, mirthless sound. "Believed in? Those beliefs were chains, holding me back from true enlightenment. The Emperor will never appreciate your vision, your faith. He will mock it, tear it down, just like he did with me. The Gods offered me a way to rise above that."
"And in doing so, you became their slave," the younger Lorgar shot back. "You think you've found freedom, but all you've done is trade one master for another. You serve the Gods just as you once served the Emperor. Where is the freedom in that?"
The Daemon Primarch's eyes blazed with a dangerous light. "Freedom? You talk of freedom, yet you know nothing of it. The Gods have given me power beyond imagination. I am a god in my own right!"
"But at what cost?" the younger Lorgar pressed. "Look at what you've become. You are no longer the man who sought to enlighten humanity. You are a monster, driven by the whims of capricious deities. You have lost yourself, and now you want to drag me down the same path."
The older Lorgar's face twisted with rage. "You dare to judge me? I did what I had to do, what you will have to do if you want to survive in this galaxy. The Gods are our only hope, we will serve them or will be consumed by them."
The younger Lorgar's gaze was unyielding. "No, they are not. There is another way. A way that doesn't involve sacrificing our humanity or enslaving ourselves to dark forces. You preach many things but all you bring is chaos and destruction."
"You fool!" the Daemon Primarch roared. "You think you can defy the Gods? They will break you, just as they broke me. You will beg for their power, their guidance, just as I did."
"I won't," the younger Lorgar replied, his voice filled with quiet determination. "I will find my own path, one that honors the true spirit of what I once believed in. I will not be a prophet of ANY God. Nor will I be your puppet or anyone else's."
The older Lorgar's fury seemed to grow, his demonic form pulsating with dark energy. "You are weak. You will fail. Without the Gods, you are nothing but a naive child, grasping at shadows."
"Maybe," the younger Lorgar conceded. "But I would rather be a naive child with hope and integrity than a corrupted prophet, enslaved by darkness. I will forge my own destiny, free from the chains of the Gods and the lies they feed."
The Daemon Primarch sneered, but there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes. "You will come to see the truth, one way or another. The Gods are inevitable. You cannot escape their influence."
"Perhaps," the younger Lorgar said, his voice softening. "But I will try. I will strive for a future where humanity is free to choose its own path, without the interference of false gods or tyrants. That is the legacy I choose to build."
The tension in the air was palpable as the Daemon Lorgar, his face twisted in a sneer, stepped back, his malevolent gaze fixed on his younger self. The argument had reached its zenith, and the daemon knew that any further attempts to sway the younger Lorgar would be futile.
"I have nothing more to say," the Daemon Lorgar declared, his voice echoing with a sinister finality. "You will walk your path, and I will walk mine. But know this: the Gods are always watching, and they do not forget those who defy them."
With a final, contemptuous glance, the Daemon Lorgar turned and vanished into the shadows, leaving the younger Lorgar standing alone, his heart heavy with the weight of their confrontation.
As the echoes of the Daemon Lorgar's final roar faded into silence, the chamber seemed to settle into an uneasy calm. The younger Lorgar stood alone, his heart still pounding from the intense confrontation. He had barely a moment to gather his thoughts when the air shimmered once more, and a new presence made itself known.
From the shifting shadows, a figure emerged, cloaked in a tapestry of swirling colors and shifting forms. Twin heads, each speaking in turn, betrayed the identity of the newcomer. It was Kairos Fateweaver, the Oracle of Tzeentch, a being of unimaginable power and arcane knowledge.
"Lorgar," the left head began, its voice a serpentine whisper.
"Young and untested," continued the right head, a mocking tone in its words.
"Greetings, young Lorgar," both heads intoned, their voices a haunting harmony of discordant whispers. "With the departure of the Dark Prophet I have come to officiate the last trial, a final test to master your powers and achieve your ultimate potential."
"And what would these tests entail?" Lorgar asked, his voice steady but filled with cautious curiosity.
Kairos Fateweaver's twin heads smiled, each with an unsettling gleam in their eyes.
"The first part," the left head whispered, "is one of knowledge and insight. You must peer into the fabric of reality itself and unravel a truth that has been hidden from you."
"The second part," the right head continued, "is one of power and will. You must confront a force of unimaginable strength and bend it to your will."
Corax, who had been watching the entire exchange with growing concern, stepped forward, his expression a mix of resolve and apprehension. "Lorgar, you cannot trust this creature. The risks are too great. Fateweaver deals in lies and manipulations. Whatever he offers, it will come at a terrible price."
Kairos tilted one of his heads toward Corax, a mocking smile playing on his avian lips. "Ah, the ever-watchful Corax. Your caution is commendable, but this is an offer that cannot be ignored. I present to you, Lorgar, the pure and uncorrupted knowledge of how to create Space Marines, alongside the final mastery of your powers. With this knowledge, you could forge a new era, untainted by the failures of the past."
Lorgar's heart skipped a beat. The knowledge to create Space Marines without the taint of Chaos, a gift that could transform the future of humanity. He turned to Corax, his expression conflicted.
"Lorgar," Corax urged, his voice low and insistent, "consider the cost. Fateweaver is a master of deception. He offers what you desire most, but the price may be more than you can bear."
Kairos spread his wings, the feathers glinting with an unnatural light. "The choice is yours, Lorgar. Accept my trial, and gain the knowledge and power you seek. Or walk away, and forever wonder what might have been. But remember, true mastery comes with understanding and overcoming challenges. This is your final test."
Lorgar looks at you, the question need not be voiced.
You hesitated, searching for the right words. "The journey you are on is yours alone. You have the strength to make this decision, to weigh the risks and decide if the reward is worth it. I cannot tell you what to do, Son. I can only remind you of the wisdom you have gained and the resolve you have shown."
The younger Lorgar took a deep breath, his mind racing. He could feel the weight of his decisions pressing down on him, the potential for greatness and the fear of falling into the same traps as his older self.
RESOURCES:
Spent 2 Essence and 2 Willpower spent. 10/12 Essence and 8/10 Willpower
LORGAR GAINS:
3 Dots in the following Disciplines
- Biocontrol
- Precognition
- Psychic Healing
- Psychic Hypnosis
- Psychokinesis
- Pyrokinesis
- Telepathy
The Prophet Aspect - Lorgar will NEVER get this Aspect under any circumstances
CHOICE
[] Take the final test
–Gain two dots in the above Disciplines, an Aspect, uncorrupted knowledge on how to make Space Marines. Mastery over Psychic Powers, the above now becomes innate and second nature. He will no longer need to spend willpower to use them, though they do take up an action slot and cannot be flurried without a charm/ability.
[] Do not take the final test
–-No further rewards.
Welp looks like plan 'Apply Ebon Dragon to problem until it is no longer problem' worked. Do we want to double down? I am quite tempted by that Space Marine insight. That would be a hell of a thing to show the Emperor. At that point he might not like us, but he pretty much has to respect us.
Can we check what he says with F?
Alectai
Speaks Words of Wisdom... On occasion
... Here's the problem.
Kairos Fateweaver must always tell a truth and a lie, and whichever is the case isn't clear until after the fact because it's Quantum Mechanics nonsense and until the waveform collapses it's impossible to tell which is which.
This is not Kairos Fateweaver, because he only said one thing and it didn't contradict himself as part of that discussion.
[X] Do not take the final test
Get Out, now, this is a fucking trap. At the very least, whoever is offering this is very much not Kairos Fateweaver, and that means anything is on the table, up to and including Tzeentch Himself. We can't beat a Chaos God head on if we let them set the terms of the contest. We got what we're here for, get the fuck out, we'll Find Another Way.
Kairos Fateweaver must always tell a truth and a lie, and whichever is the case isn't clear until after the fact because it's Quantum Mechanics nonsense and until the waveform collapses it's impossible to tell which is which.
This is not Kairos Fateweaver, because he only said one thing and it didn't contradict himself as part of that discussion.
[X] Do not take the final test
Get Out, now, this is a fucking trap. At the very least, whoever is offering this is very much not Kairos Fateweaver, and that means anything is on the table, up to and including Tzeentch Himself. We can't beat a Chaos God head on if we let them set the terms of the contest. We got what we're here for, get the fuck out, we'll Find Another Way.
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Yzarc
The Spark of Madness
He is being honest in the rewards. The "Trap" is in the test.
No comment here.
It would be very funny to be able to add to the List of Worrying Things(TM) the Colchisians Do: Extracted pure knowledge of how to make Space Marines out of Chaos. 
...but I am not sure it's worth it, we have so many other avenues of growth.
...but I am not sure it's worth it, we have so many other avenues of growth.
- Pronouns
- Zack
[X] Do not take the final test
[X] Do not take the final test
I think we have done enough greed for one arc. Remember the only reason we are even here is that we decided to Awaken his Essence instead of gifting him a solution to the visions.
I think we have done enough greed for one arc. Remember the only reason we are even here is that we decided to Awaken his Essence instead of gifting him a solution to the visions.
- Location
- Finland
[X] Do not take the final test
Because growth is a thing that exists. Chaos at least in this grand abstract scale is static, we are not. I'd feel a lot more comfortable voting for the test if we had more than one solitary social charm, that we did not even take for that reason.
- Location
- USA
... Here is the thing Alectai DragonParadox I don't think this may be chaos .... at least not in the same way it should be. Given the charms we used, what do you think the chances are a certain shadow may be around?
[X] Do not take the final test
That would in some ways be worse. The Ebon Dragon is a dick, he is conceptually a dick, he is the Grand High Poobah of all Dick-in-Being. The Ebon Dragon would screw Lorgar over for fun, even if it is in his interest not to because Lorgar is compassionate and valorous.