Chloe Sullivan
Subdefective
- Location
- 1630 Revello Drive, Sunnydale CA
Canonically DAOT humanity *moved* Terra (well, the whole solar system) in WH40k, so where an imperium human expects Terra to be is nowhere near it's actual location IRL or in BT.
In The Grimdark of Fanfiction -40k
- Thread starter Tasoli
- Start date
- Pronouns
- She/Her
I've never actually managed to find the source for that. I know it was a popular fan theory back in the early 2000s thanks to the galaxy maps then showing Terra in the incorrect location to be irl earth. Which would be as easy to explain away as Terra *not* being irl earth given the other planets in the setting called Terra or some veriant of "New Earth".
Bit odd no one poted this but Roboutian Heresy had a whole new chapter recently detailing the Tau and wow is this thing filled with cosmic horror.Also the POV is really interesting since it makes the Imperium sound more like a cosmic horror story where you have this massive brutal empire that seems to do reallly weird shit that seems to make no sense to everyone else and seem to be split between complete idiodicy or being able to stop your new strategies/tech with 4-d chess with massive guns and technological terrors... all pointed at something else.
forums.spacebattles.com
The Roboutian Heresy - A Warhammer 40K alternate universe
Alternate 40K universe with the Loyalist and Traitor Legions reversed.
forums.spacebattles.com
- Location
- America
Did some looking, this is more a theory based off of galactic maps that were made based off of info from the 80's.
And because GW is, well, GW (as in, they're bad with numbers to a near comical degree), they never bothered to fix it.
Also, even if Sol being moved was a possibility, the guys on the ship should still have a map and stellar charts and be wondering why the hell they aren't hearing or seeing shit despite being in what should be smack dab in the middle of Imperial territory.
EDIT: oh, and I just realized I forget to mention
A: the astronomicon
And B: the fact the giant asscrack in reality that's split the galaxy in twain isn't there. I figured itd make sense to have it be in the 42nd millennium on the 40k side of things.
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IIRC Mars has a "teleport to a different star system" mechanism which is supposedly intact and functional, so even if it's very unlikely it's still possible that some or all of the planets have been moved?
- Location
- America
Just checked and I'm not finding anything about Mars having a potential GTFO button.
You might be thinking of Ullanor which did in fact have a system to teleport it.
Pretty sure Ullanor's thing was unrelated?
I'm not sure where Mar's teleportation capability is brought up, but IIRC it was mentioned as a "in case Mars ever decides that the Imperium is more trouble than they are worth" thing.
edit:
I might have been an in-universe hypothetical?
Oh hey, we have a recommendation for once!
THE MAGISTRATUM MUNDNAUS by the Black Pants Legion. A 40K police procedural role play set in Dark Heresy, that quickly turns from serious to Naked Gun/Police Academy in Warhammer.
Full series available on the BPL podcast found on most podcasting services. The YouTube version is uploading every two days or so.
View: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLR5zhFCFVb9XxluvJzcz8qsqF-Cuc7AJd
THE MAGISTRATUM MUNDNAUS by the Black Pants Legion. A 40K police procedural role play set in Dark Heresy, that quickly turns from serious to Naked Gun/Police Academy in Warhammer.
Full series available on the BPL podcast found on most podcasting services. The YouTube version is uploading every two days or so.
View: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLR5zhFCFVb9XxluvJzcz8qsqF-Cuc7AJd
ShyPerson
Guardian of the dead’s final rest.
- Location
- Sweden
- Pronouns
- Him/He
I have taken the time to look through the the stuff recent editions have added to the Space Marines. I should note that really don't like the whole deal of the Primaris marines or Crawl. Despite that there are still parts here and there that I would pick out and retcon back into the space marines.
The addition of a lieutenant rank was a good idea.
Weapon wise I don't really care for most of it, save for the Auto Bolt Rifle. I think it specifically is a good addition to the arsenal as an in-between of the regular boltgun and heavy bolter.
For the vehicles I don't like most of the, particularly all the hover tanks. That to me is an Eldar and Tau thing, for Space Marines hover vehicles should be limited to the Land Speeder.
Though the Dreadnaught designs have grown on me. Could potentially be a recently adopted designs with differing capabilities from the mk.V Castaferrum. The one thing I like most is the extra leg joint. I have always found walk animations for the mk.V awkward, and seeing the Primaris dreadnoughts legs made it klick as to why; their legs need an extra joint for that extra point of articulation.
The addition of a lieutenant rank was a good idea.
Weapon wise I don't really care for most of it, save for the Auto Bolt Rifle. I think it specifically is a good addition to the arsenal as an in-between of the regular boltgun and heavy bolter.
For the vehicles I don't like most of the, particularly all the hover tanks. That to me is an Eldar and Tau thing, for Space Marines hover vehicles should be limited to the Land Speeder.
Though the Dreadnaught designs have grown on me. Could potentially be a recently adopted designs with differing capabilities from the mk.V Castaferrum. The one thing I like most is the extra leg joint. I have always found walk animations for the mk.V awkward, and seeing the Primaris dreadnoughts legs made it klick as to why; their legs need an extra joint for that extra point of articulation.
If the emperor had a text to speech device (RH AU)
First off I want to thank Nemris for greatly helping me in writing this , well he technically...
forums.spacebattles.com
ShyPerson
Guardian of the dead’s final rest.
- Location
- Sweden
- Pronouns
- Him/He
Currently working on a new idea.
The Chapter Master style quest is more or less it's own sub-genre by this point. But I think some of the concessions in order to make an engaging quest does I think block of potential narrative avenues. Questions like how a new chapters leadership decidides on how recruitment is conducted, what form it's culture takes, how it shifts over subsequent generations and what to prioritize the initial manpower for when just starting out.
With this in mind I am in the progress of writing a first chapter for a story exploring a chapters founding era from the perspectives ranging from the new chapter master to the first wave of neophytes. I think there is narrative potential neither official or fan made material has really dug into regarding this subject.
The Chapter Master style quest is more or less it's own sub-genre by this point. But I think some of the concessions in order to make an engaging quest does I think block of potential narrative avenues. Questions like how a new chapters leadership decidides on how recruitment is conducted, what form it's culture takes, how it shifts over subsequent generations and what to prioritize the initial manpower for when just starting out.
With this in mind I am in the progress of writing a first chapter for a story exploring a chapters founding era from the perspectives ranging from the new chapter master to the first wave of neophytes. I think there is narrative potential neither official or fan made material has really dug into regarding this subject.
Obligatory Star Wars vs 40K update for those who are invested.
View: https://youtu.be/byHa9Wqr150?si=o1V_OPxzDGqkbmxx
Palpatine has unlocked an achievement; Horrifying the Horror: Render the Lord Inquisitor speechless, for a moment at least.
Omega reaches the part of Enders Game where she realizes she's not in a simulation.
Saint Lazarus reaches a decision.
The conclusion to Tempered Hands space marines vs Commander Fordo.
Palpatine & Tahr Whyler have a JoJo Stand Battle.
View: https://youtu.be/byHa9Wqr150?si=o1V_OPxzDGqkbmxx
Palpatine has unlocked an achievement; Horrifying the Horror: Render the Lord Inquisitor speechless, for a moment at least.
Omega reaches the part of Enders Game where she realizes she's not in a simulation.
Saint Lazarus reaches a decision.
The conclusion to Tempered Hands space marines vs Commander Fordo.
Palpatine & Tahr Whyler have a JoJo Stand Battle.
Not going to lie but Palpatine saying that one thing to the inquisitor is probably the funniest thing I've seen in a while.
The part where the inquisitor is going on and on about their authority, and Palps just says, "No it's your emperor's." authority.
Only made it to the end of Omega's part but so far so good.
ShyPerson
Guardian of the dead’s final rest.
- Location
- Sweden
- Pronouns
- Him/He
Now one thing I find in regards to Space Marine chapter foundings is that there is no canonical explanation of what new chapters start out with. In regards to manpower or material there is to my knowledge nothing that explains what new Chapter has on day one.
I am putting this as a open question to the thread: what is the starting point of a newly founded chapter? How many members, ships and other material does the chapter master have at his disposal on day one?
I am curious to see how people interpret this gap in the lore.
I am putting this as a open question to the thread: what is the starting point of a newly founded chapter? How many members, ships and other material does the chapter master have at his disposal on day one?
I am curious to see how people interpret this gap in the lore.
- Location
- America
IIRC a lot of their stuff is usually donated in part from their parent chapter.
It's probably why there are so many Ultramarine successors, they've got access to a metric fuckton of material so they can spare the stuff.
- Location
- Buenos Aires
I guess we would see new chapters out of two main reasons: a chapter being successful enough that they have the resources to spare (and more chapters means more Astartes which is always good) or some chapter hero(es) becoming a big enough name by way of a military achievement that the chapter master decides they "deserve" the right to go independent.
In the former case I'd say the parent chapter would give them a number of ships and relics while at the same time the new chapter would try to find their own "sponsors", be a Mechanicus world or whatever and get more. In the latter? They get whatever it's available and pray it is enough while they get established
A recommendation : Getting Warhammerred by Arawn Frostguard on RR. Amazing consistent updates.
In the forgotten annals of the Dark Age of Technology, a dormant bioweapon waits, its existence buried in the shadows of mankind's once-glorious past.
A sinister ritual, shrouded in darkness, now threatens to merge this enigmatic weapon with a soul plucked from a higher dimension and unleash Chaos upon the grimdark future of the 41st millennium.
But can it succeed? Or how soon will it go off the rails on the off chance that it does succeed?
The fate of this perilous venture hinges upon the awakening of the soul, reincarnated into an eldritch form, stranded upon a desolate world where the guiding light of the Astronomican no longer shines, surrounded by naught but the lifeless husk of the planet that stands as the memorial to all those that died to birth this being into existence.
What choices will it make when those who seek the bioweapon within its very being draw near? Will it fall prey to the myriads of predators stalking the stars or will those very same predators tremble in fear at the sight of this monster?
The future teeters on a knife's edge, awaiting the awakening of the unexpected.
At least that's what everyone else is thinking. Everyone who is not the long-dead soul of an average girl from 21st-century Earth obsessed with sci-fi as she had the dubious fortune of being yanked out of her boring afterlife and reincarnated into the body of the previously said bioweapon.
Follow along as she has to wrestle with both her body and soul while the dark undercurrents of the grimdark future threaten to drown this newborn Eldritch monster with a penchant for admiring herself in the mirror.
In the forgotten annals of the Dark Age of Technology, a dormant bioweapon waits, its existence buried in the shadows of mankind's once-glorious past.
A sinister ritual, shrouded in darkness, now threatens to merge this enigmatic weapon with a soul plucked from a higher dimension and unleash Chaos upon the grimdark future of the 41st millennium.
But can it succeed? Or how soon will it go off the rails on the off chance that it does succeed?
The fate of this perilous venture hinges upon the awakening of the soul, reincarnated into an eldritch form, stranded upon a desolate world where the guiding light of the Astronomican no longer shines, surrounded by naught but the lifeless husk of the planet that stands as the memorial to all those that died to birth this being into existence.
What choices will it make when those who seek the bioweapon within its very being draw near? Will it fall prey to the myriads of predators stalking the stars or will those very same predators tremble in fear at the sight of this monster?
The future teeters on a knife's edge, awaiting the awakening of the unexpected.
At least that's what everyone else is thinking. Everyone who is not the long-dead soul of an average girl from 21st-century Earth obsessed with sci-fi as she had the dubious fortune of being yanked out of her boring afterlife and reincarnated into the body of the previously said bioweapon.
Follow along as she has to wrestle with both her body and soul while the dark undercurrents of the grimdark future threaten to drown this newborn Eldritch monster with a penchant for admiring herself in the mirror.
I would imagine the Codex Astartes has a chapter (I'm sorry, didn't see this pun until I was about to post) on this, presenting recommendations on equipment provision by the Adeptus Mechanicus, cadre/instructors from an existing chapter of the Adeptus Astartes, allocation of a suitable world by the Adeptus Administratium, recruitment rights, allocation of geneseed from the vaults on Terra, etc.
ShyPerson
Guardian of the dead’s final rest.
- Location
- Sweden
- Pronouns
- Him/He
To show actual results from my writing, here is the beginning segment of my first chapter for Founding of a Chapter
In the massive orbital gantries of Hive World Calernar, one might at the current time assume the current cacophonies echoing in the red flare quadrants to mark it a nest of chaos and hedonism. With every type of leisure den filled, Ministorum clergy trying (and failing) to shame inebriated void workers for their hedonism and songs echoing to even the most distant station posts, calling it lively would be an understatement. But such an outbreak was a rare affair, coming only after the completion of a long toil of a centuries long project. In this event, it came of the completion of massive orbital mooring station, built separate of the planets already existing orbital infrastructure. With a considerable bonus coming from seeing a project of its scale through to completion, hundreds of thousands of now relieved workers took to their favourite pastimes.
In one establishment, a liquor den catering to void construction workers named The Flea Hole, one group of workers were playing dice on a table with portions of their pay as collateral. Amidst subdued celebrations over mid-priced spirits of questionable providence and air hazy with some from burning tobacco derivatives, said group debated the great question the new construction sparked.
"So, what do you make of it. What do you think they are doing with those gantries." Asked Yakin, Rivet-man Second Grade as he began shaking the dice. "Not a chance all that shit is just for the tips joyrides." Then threw them.
Brada, Welder Grade Two sipped a mug of station hootch contemplating her answer. "It's got to be Navy. They got all the big ships, and word from the void-rats is that a Crusade is happening, so they need more docks here."
Gerashgan, who drove cargo Sentinels, took the dice while considering the question. "It ain't Navy. Remember my cousins sain they worked on a big fort planet side. Must be the spooks, since that place is built out in nowhere-ground and why the new gantries are separate. Don't want anyone wandering in. Might be they got ship loads of heretics servered-up."
The next to take the dice was wire-wrangler Tibles. "Not a chance. Why would the spooks set up on a Hive Planet of all things. To close to everything." She shook and tossed the dice. "It has to be the Emperor botherers. Duct-talk is that they are setting the new ground build up as new cathedral. That or a Sisters Convent. Might be what the new gantries are for".
Before the conversation could continue, a rising commotion at the exterior window started catching the gamblers notice. "Hey! Keep it down you deck lice!" shouted Brada.
Yakin stood and pushed his way through the crowd that gathered around the window, curious to see what the hubbub was about. And then hurried back to the table. "You have got to see this."
When the group pushed their way to the window, the sight made the risk of losing their table perhaps worthwhile. Those who worked on the orbitals developed a familiarity with the differing types of ships by virtue of proximity. The ships the gathered crowd observed were a type none present had ever seen in person. But the innumerable screen-vid shows, comics and Ministorum icons that proliferated their lives meant every one present know who the ships belonged to.
A host of escorts flew cover a half-dozen cruisers and a single behemoth ship. The bold colours and hammer shaped prows made the vessels instantly recognizable to even the layman. The Angles of Death had arrived. Slowly the connections between the works in orbit and planeside were made. Amidst silent awe, whispered prayers and hushed expressions of disbelief, some began to find their voices.
Breda glanced at her tankard. "Didn't think the swill was that strong".
"I don't think we had enough for this." said Gerashgan.
In one establishment, a liquor den catering to void construction workers named The Flea Hole, one group of workers were playing dice on a table with portions of their pay as collateral. Amidst subdued celebrations over mid-priced spirits of questionable providence and air hazy with some from burning tobacco derivatives, said group debated the great question the new construction sparked.
"So, what do you make of it. What do you think they are doing with those gantries." Asked Yakin, Rivet-man Second Grade as he began shaking the dice. "Not a chance all that shit is just for the tips joyrides." Then threw them.
Brada, Welder Grade Two sipped a mug of station hootch contemplating her answer. "It's got to be Navy. They got all the big ships, and word from the void-rats is that a Crusade is happening, so they need more docks here."
Gerashgan, who drove cargo Sentinels, took the dice while considering the question. "It ain't Navy. Remember my cousins sain they worked on a big fort planet side. Must be the spooks, since that place is built out in nowhere-ground and why the new gantries are separate. Don't want anyone wandering in. Might be they got ship loads of heretics servered-up."
The next to take the dice was wire-wrangler Tibles. "Not a chance. Why would the spooks set up on a Hive Planet of all things. To close to everything." She shook and tossed the dice. "It has to be the Emperor botherers. Duct-talk is that they are setting the new ground build up as new cathedral. That or a Sisters Convent. Might be what the new gantries are for".
Before the conversation could continue, a rising commotion at the exterior window started catching the gamblers notice. "Hey! Keep it down you deck lice!" shouted Brada.
Yakin stood and pushed his way through the crowd that gathered around the window, curious to see what the hubbub was about. And then hurried back to the table. "You have got to see this."
When the group pushed their way to the window, the sight made the risk of losing their table perhaps worthwhile. Those who worked on the orbitals developed a familiarity with the differing types of ships by virtue of proximity. The ships the gathered crowd observed were a type none present had ever seen in person. But the innumerable screen-vid shows, comics and Ministorum icons that proliferated their lives meant every one present know who the ships belonged to.
A host of escorts flew cover a half-dozen cruisers and a single behemoth ship. The bold colours and hammer shaped prows made the vessels instantly recognizable to even the layman. The Angles of Death had arrived. Slowly the connections between the works in orbit and planeside were made. Amidst silent awe, whispered prayers and hushed expressions of disbelief, some began to find their voices.
Breda glanced at her tankard. "Didn't think the swill was that strong".
"I don't think we had enough for this." said Gerashgan.
Blatantly stealing someone else's idea and posting it here:
Ciaphas lands on some agri-world, meets a friendly young guard captain, and starts helping him to clear it of rebels and xenos. But as the war drags on seemingly interminably, the bright young captain grows steadily more unhinged. with the execution of the wounded, Cain becomes truly worried for what the captain will do next. This erratic leadership will surely bring the campaign to ruin. It ends with Cain attempting to relieve the captain of duty, only for the captain to unload on him, frothing at the mouth about how Cain is a traitor too, and Cain has to decapitate him and take command in the final assault.
- atreides213
There is also a sub-plot about a group of traitors within the imperial ranks, who have defected to T'au and sabotaged most of the human ammunition, making it next to useless.
- SilverMontegiu
View: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=CClwM9_wMJE
Ciaphas lands on some agri-world, meets a friendly young guard captain, and starts helping him to clear it of rebels and xenos. But as the war drags on seemingly interminably, the bright young captain grows steadily more unhinged. with the execution of the wounded, Cain becomes truly worried for what the captain will do next. This erratic leadership will surely bring the campaign to ruin. It ends with Cain attempting to relieve the captain of duty, only for the captain to unload on him, frothing at the mouth about how Cain is a traitor too, and Cain has to decapitate him and take command in the final assault.
- atreides213
There is also a sub-plot about a group of traitors within the imperial ranks, who have defected to T'au and sabotaged most of the human ammunition, making it next to useless.
- SilverMontegiu
View: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=CClwM9_wMJE
Mustapha Mond
World Controller, Western Europe
So, I've been thinking for a while on what sort of good guy faction from another setting would make the best foil for the Imperium, and I realized, it's the Terran Federation from Starship Troopers (the book, not the movie). Superficially, they seem pretty similar, very militaristic societies full of hard men making hard choices, etc., but scratch the surface, and you quickly find some fundamental differences.
The thing about the book, is that (aside from the weird libertarian militarism thing), it's basically an extended discourse on the interplay between liberty and responsibility. The reason people in the Federation have to earn the franchise is because they have to prove that they are someone who is willing to put the good of the group above their own good. Now, what does this have to do with 40k?
In 40k, mankind exists on a precipice, surrounded by threats on all sides, the Imperium resorts to the most heinous tactics, because it feels it is the only way to survive, all the while they also undermine themselves and their own humanity. There's a large emphasis on how the brutal reality of mankind's situation doesn't allow for perfect morality, and people of dubious moral character are often pushed to the fore for the sake of the 'cause.
Now, Starship Troopers also reflects on the brutal realities of life and war, but the response is different. Instead of throwing morality out the window because it's inconvenient, there's actually an incredibly strong emphasis on ethics and morality, and understanding why certain things have to be done for certain reasons, and the burden of making moral choices. Ethics is actually a required class for all students. So, the Federation's response to the grimdark future would be markedly different.
Aesthetically they're also different. They both may have powerful militaries, but outside the military the Imperium is a hellhole, while the civilian sector in the Federation is actually noted to be incredibly prosperous. So much so in fact, that most people outside of wartime don't even join the civil service, and focus on private enterprise instead.
TL;DR:
The Imperium says: "Life is tough, so we need to make tough decisions."
To which the Federation responds: "Yes, but that means we need to be more ethically conscious, not less."
Anyhow, that's why I think the Terran Federation would make a good foil to the Imperium.
The thing about the book, is that (aside from the weird libertarian militarism thing), it's basically an extended discourse on the interplay between liberty and responsibility. The reason people in the Federation have to earn the franchise is because they have to prove that they are someone who is willing to put the good of the group above their own good. Now, what does this have to do with 40k?
In 40k, mankind exists on a precipice, surrounded by threats on all sides, the Imperium resorts to the most heinous tactics, because it feels it is the only way to survive, all the while they also undermine themselves and their own humanity. There's a large emphasis on how the brutal reality of mankind's situation doesn't allow for perfect morality, and people of dubious moral character are often pushed to the fore for the sake of the 'cause.
Now, Starship Troopers also reflects on the brutal realities of life and war, but the response is different. Instead of throwing morality out the window because it's inconvenient, there's actually an incredibly strong emphasis on ethics and morality, and understanding why certain things have to be done for certain reasons, and the burden of making moral choices. Ethics is actually a required class for all students. So, the Federation's response to the grimdark future would be markedly different.
Aesthetically they're also different. They both may have powerful militaries, but outside the military the Imperium is a hellhole, while the civilian sector in the Federation is actually noted to be incredibly prosperous. So much so in fact, that most people outside of wartime don't even join the civil service, and focus on private enterprise instead.
TL;DR:
The Imperium says: "Life is tough, so we need to make tough decisions."
To which the Federation responds: "Yes, but that means we need to be more ethically conscious, not less."
Anyhow, that's why I think the Terran Federation would make a good foil to the Imperium.
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So, I'm starting on the July NaNoWriMo, and I hope to use it to get back into my Less Than Infinite story. I have written something for a an up-coming arc that I think works well enough on its own.
Felt like posting it here, and I hope to update the main story by next Monday.
Felt like posting it here, and I hope to update the main story by next Monday.
The Astartes stood and waited, a quiet dignity even with his massive frame. He shouldn't be surprised, really, but he'd never seen one of the Emperor's Angels in person. He had a vague idea that they were massive, a vague idea that they were no clumsy brutes, but it was one thing to have some concept of it, another to have seen anything that size slip through a doorway more than a foot shorter than itself and still make it seem casually graceful.
And the gentle smile on his face as he accepted a mug of recaf that one of my apprentices had reflexively offered him (with the Angel's good humor I'd only have him punished with ten, no, five lashes, I was in a good mood), holding the tiny mug in his massive hands without it looking like a joke.
"Your hospitality is appreciated, Dominic."
"Of course, of course my Lord." Some would be whipped to the bone for referring to him without his title, but an Astartes was obviously exempt, if he even had a whip or servant that would survive such an attempt.
A Chaos warband was coming, and while Gelgarde's PDF was willing to hold the ground, their numbers were depleted by the recent Tithe payment, and the cowards of the commonly masses would barely slow them down.
Whatever loyalties the nobles might hope their mercies would inspire were clearly lacking, as many of militias refused to leave the outlying villages and fortify the capital. Even in the event of their victory they'd have to preform a thorough purge of the treacherous wretches in the outskirts. Perhaps a Decimation would work.
"This broadcasting equipment, I confess I am no techmarine, but it looks to have received exceptional care." The Astartes looked at the machinery, brushing a finger over one of the recording devices.
"Thank you, my lord. Motivating the serfs to keep it up to these exacting standards isn't always easy, but one does what one must!" As the fourth son of the Gardel family, he had needed some domain, and he'd always had a fascination for machines, despite the cogboys saying that he had an ill-temperament for priesthood. One of them visited from time to time, to deal technical issues beyond what a layperson was permitted to deal with, but he hadn't had much chance to interact with one. They always said they were busy with the higher mysteries and had little time to talk, no matter how helpful he tried to be.
But maintaining the only radio station of the planet, broadcasting sermons of the faith and the new ordinances for the people to follow was a worthy occupation, and one that fit his passions well. The only thing that could have made it better was praise from one of the Emperor's Angels, and now-
"They need additional motivation?" The Angel asked with a mild tilt of the head. "Their faith is not motivation enough?"
Dominic scowled. "As much as it would be good to rely purely on faith, the common people's devotion needs a certain amount of reinforcement when it comes to delicate work."
"A tragic state of affairs indeed. I've seen some of the magnificent temples present, it surprises me that the people's faith is so lacking."
Several thoughts warred in Dominic's mind at that moment. To defend the Ecclesiarchy's efforts, to join the Angel in commiserating about the lacking nature of the common peoples, and to take joy in the praise he'd offered to the holy structures of Gelgrade.
In the end, the clashing desires warred within his body to the point where he gave a somewhat awkward, "Of course, sir," and fell silent.
The silence continued somewhat awkwardly as the Astartes continued to examine the equipment, giving considering nods from time to time.
Even with that unfortunate moment, Dominic was pleased with the day. Some of the conversations he'd heard his father have with his other sons had indicated that things would be bloodier than the reports Dominic had been broadcasting, from the size of the fleet, though obviously there was no need to worry.
And then a band of Astartes had arrived, on an entirely unrelated expedition, but chose to stand and defend the faithful of this world. Not only that, but they had specifically chosen to speak with him, so that their Captain could give an announcement rallying the people of Gelgarde.
See his brothers beat that with their military service.
And of course the Astartes would want to speak; he didn't recognize their chapter, but the Astartes had generously forgiven him of that. He had mentioned that they were descended from a different chapter, the Word Bearers, and while that name had only loosely rung a bell for Dominic, he'd hidden his lack of recognition better. But their name seemed fairly self-explanatory. Divine warriors who fought with a holy book in one hand and a bolter in the other, litanies of faith on their lips as they butchered the feckless heretics. Worthy of song indeed.
"And with these settings, the broadcast will be distributed to the entire world, yes?"
"Yes, my lord. Impossible to interrupt without destroying this central station, and into every household on the planet! Though I can't imagine why anyone would refuse to hear your words, the radios in the common people's households and the town squares don't even have an off switch!" Sure, they could be broken, but, that would set off an alert, and the Mechanicus always needed more servitors.
"Excellent," the Astartes nodded, and Dominic beamed with pride. "Your faith and your service to us will not go forgotten. Perhaps I might even mention you and your family's willing and eager assistance in my broadcast."
This was possibly the best day of Dominic's life, "Oh, I wouldn't go that far, my lord. Unless you truly want to."
"A shame. Perhaps not, in that case."
Ah. Too much humility. A mistake he wouldn't repeat.
The Astartes stood in the broadcasting booth, making a few adjustments that Dominic didn't even know was possible to bring the microphone higher, enough to be at head-level even for the giant.
"Sit down in the observer's booth, Lord Dominic. Enjoy the speech."
People of Gelgarde.
I am Captain Eldresse, an Astartes, one of the Emperor's Angels.
As you know, a Chaos warband approaches this world. A small one. Perhaps inconsequential, in the grand scheme of things.
But that is not why I speak to you today.
I am no preacher of Salvation, as I prefer to leave those lies to the Ecclesiarchy, as this world is doomed.
Yes, doomed. You did indeed hear my words correctly.
I am here instead to preach to you of hate.
Yes, hatred.
I see the state of this world, of a spoiled nobility playing at being rulers. They do not hate you, not truly. You might think they do, they might think they hate you, but this is naught but a comforting lie.
They do not hate you. To hate is a virulent thing, to know someone or something intimately, to turn the broken mirror and hate every single facet, every new angle it reveals. It fills the heart, a painful, toxic sensation, to feel that every shred of happiness they experience is a blow to your own heart.
No, the nobility of this world, who would butcher your families for stealing a loaf of bread, demanding that you maintain the same level of workplace productivity even as you starve and grieve, they do not hate you. The priests, who would tear down entire city blocks to construct their newest cathedrals, uncaring of where those who so generously "gifted" their land might be forced to live, for all of the cruelties they inflict, they do not hate you.
They do not think of you at all.
You have all suffered tragedies at their hands, but do you, in your heart of hearts, think they remember your names? A friend, a cousin, a grandmother, a husband, a daughter, taken from you unjustly, and do you think they exist as anything but a number on a spreadsheet?
They might not even care to record their deaths to the census, and if those dead fail to pay their taxes, the family is forced to pay those taxes. If they cannot afford to pay, no matter how hard they work or how strong their faith, for your Lords that is simply another number on the spreadsheet for them. For yourselves, it is another quiet funeral held out of sight of the cathedrals, for to mourn a heretic is heresy in of itself.
For all that they preach the virtues of hate, to hate the xeno, to hate the mutant, to hate the Heretic, they cannot spare even a speck of that hatred for you, for you are irrelevant. You are unsightly trash, not their enemies, their need to govern you a necessary evil, and they cannot even spare you the courtesy of enjoying your suffering, to give it some meaning beyond callous disregard.
But you?
You hate. You hate them. You try to hide it to yourselves, but we know the truth. You try to tell yourself all the litanies you've been raised with, to remind yourself that these lords and priests were ordained by the Emperor, and that any suffering they inflict is so terribly necessary.
They argue the necessity, that they need these measures to stand tall against the cruelties of the galaxy, and yet, they've failed. I stand here, on your world. In but a few months my fleet will come for this world. There is nothing you, the nobility, or the Ecclesiarchy can do to prevent your fate.
The resistance offered will be forgotten and made irrelevant, and the planet's existence will be considered a footnote in the ledgers of the Administratum.
All of your sacrifices, all of those little moments where you buried your hatred under faith, a desire to protect your families, that desperate desire to live one more miserable day? Irrelevant.
Those who stand above you, those nobles, those cruel oppressors? They have already chosen to abandon you, all in a desperate attempt to prolong their deaths. But, I phrased that poorly. To say they chose to abandon you is to give weight to a decision that they never bothered considering, for their decision was predictable to all involved. If they had survived, they would have opened their larders, had a grand celebration, and took account of all of your deaths with little but a nod and excuses already made to send when it comes time for the next Tithe.
You are forgotten wretches. Your masters will not sacrifice even a single gilded fork for your sakes. The Black Bell will not toll for your deaths, and the Emperor will shed no tears for this world. No help is coming, for the Imperium is vast, and its foes many.
Is it not infuriating?
No. I am not here to preach of salvation, but of hatred.
Your masters will die without ever knowing who they sacrificed. They will bear you no hatred. Even as you batter at their gates begging for shelter, their only feeling towards you would be contempt that your deaths failed to earn them even one more minute of life.
But I, Eldresse, leader of the Warband of the Slave's Dagger, offer you an opportunity. Earn their hatred. Make them acknowledge you, make them know of your existence. Be known as individuals.
The pauper, diseased and filthy, spitting on gilded shoes, knowing that it will cost him his life but unable to hold his hatred any longer.
The slave, a sliver of glass in his hand, watching his master laugh and finding that honest joy intolerable.
The soldier, abused and broken to be made a more useful tool, quietly pulling the pin on his grenade, judging his life a worthy price for that single moment of shock and horror.
The whore, painted nails freshly anointed in crimson, a nobleman who thought payment unnecessary for one of his stature standing above her in fury as she finally defends herself.
These individuals, these "wastes" of society, they were not forgotten, and their masters knew their names, while in your own faith and loyalty, your own names remain unspoken. There is a beauty in this defiance, even as they were broken and abused for these small and petty ways to declare that their lives had meaning.
And so I come in secrecy to this world, to walk among you before my warriors darken the skies, to give you an offer.
Hate.
Hate and finally be hated in turn. Burn everything they used you to build to ashes, all of their glories built upon your broken bodies brought down to ruin. Let them know that it was not this fleet from the stars, that it was not by my hand that they were thrown down, but yours. That it was the cruelty they inflicted upon you that brought them to their ruin.
I ask you to hunt your masters down. Make them look you in the eyes as you take their lives. Take from them heads and etch your names into their skulls, and I guarantee you this: they will never be allowed to forget you.
Rejoice, oh people of Gelgarde, for the hour of your hatred is at hand.
Eldresse resisted the urge to stretch as he stood away from the microphone, flipping a switch to have the message repeat. He idly wondered if it was some ancient urge from his days as a human or simply because it seemed the thing one ought to do, but to obey such urges was still beneath him.
While a part of him was tempted to stay, the mechanisms here allowed him to potentially take on callers and he couldn't help but find the idea amusing, unfortunately he would need to abandon the area. Eldresse was a touch surprised that no PDF forces had arrived to storm the radio station yet. It could be explained that people were more receptive to his sermon than even his more optimistic projections, but more likely it was a demonstration of the typical competency levels of the PDF.
He exited the room to find a curious sight.
Lord Dominic was slumped on the ground, and one of the assistants was standing over him, bloodied wires in hand.
"Ah, uhm. My Lord." The assistant was terrified, Eldresse noted. Perspiration, shakes, even a wetting of the pants, but still she stood.
"What happened here?" He asked, his voice gentle and curious.
"Dominic, ah, tried to stop the broadcast, my lord. So I, stopped him." The woman looked down at the body and quickly looked away. She was surprised by what she had done. Had likely not even thought it through. An impulsive act of adrenaline.
Hm. He hadn't thought Dominic would have had the nerve. He had planned on indulging himself with a touch of tasteful gloating while he waited to see if he needed to follow up on his efforts, but this was even better.
He approached the assistant, and his hand closed over his. "An improvised garrote?"
"I- ah- um, yes, my lord?" She likely wasn't sure what a garrote was, but was agreeing anyway, and Eldresse could see the question numbing the adrenaline in the woman's stance. "Yes, my lord." She said, still shaky.
"You hated him, didn't you?" The tone was soft and gentle.
"Ye- um. He- he would," the slight clench of her fists, the way her head turned in shame, the way her body closed in on itself, they told a simple story, but a worthy one nonetheless.
"There is no need to tell me. Your reasons are your own."
"Th- thank you, my lord." There was a hint of surprise- ah, a superior acknowledging her privacy was likely a strange experience for her.
Still, there was a need to move on. "Most people inexperienced in battle," he noted gently, "underestimate what a person can survive."
"Sir?" She asked, before her gaze shot down to Dominic, whose breathing was shallow enough that he wouldn't have blamed someone without his augmentations for not noticing.
"Open your hand and hold it out to me." She did so with a tremble.
He drew his own dagger, itself a relic centuries of battle, and placed it in her grip, where it looked more like a sword, gently closing her fingers around it before pulling his hands away.
The woman looked up at him, even looking him in the eyes, back to the dagger, and finally back to Dominic.
In that moment of resolve, her spine straightened, her eyes narrowed, and her grip turned white on the blade's handle, a sword in her hands.
He could always get a new dagger.
This one was hers now.
And the gentle smile on his face as he accepted a mug of recaf that one of my apprentices had reflexively offered him (with the Angel's good humor I'd only have him punished with ten, no, five lashes, I was in a good mood), holding the tiny mug in his massive hands without it looking like a joke.
"Your hospitality is appreciated, Dominic."
"Of course, of course my Lord." Some would be whipped to the bone for referring to him without his title, but an Astartes was obviously exempt, if he even had a whip or servant that would survive such an attempt.
A Chaos warband was coming, and while Gelgarde's PDF was willing to hold the ground, their numbers were depleted by the recent Tithe payment, and the cowards of the commonly masses would barely slow them down.
Whatever loyalties the nobles might hope their mercies would inspire were clearly lacking, as many of militias refused to leave the outlying villages and fortify the capital. Even in the event of their victory they'd have to preform a thorough purge of the treacherous wretches in the outskirts. Perhaps a Decimation would work.
"This broadcasting equipment, I confess I am no techmarine, but it looks to have received exceptional care." The Astartes looked at the machinery, brushing a finger over one of the recording devices.
"Thank you, my lord. Motivating the serfs to keep it up to these exacting standards isn't always easy, but one does what one must!" As the fourth son of the Gardel family, he had needed some domain, and he'd always had a fascination for machines, despite the cogboys saying that he had an ill-temperament for priesthood. One of them visited from time to time, to deal technical issues beyond what a layperson was permitted to deal with, but he hadn't had much chance to interact with one. They always said they were busy with the higher mysteries and had little time to talk, no matter how helpful he tried to be.
But maintaining the only radio station of the planet, broadcasting sermons of the faith and the new ordinances for the people to follow was a worthy occupation, and one that fit his passions well. The only thing that could have made it better was praise from one of the Emperor's Angels, and now-
"They need additional motivation?" The Angel asked with a mild tilt of the head. "Their faith is not motivation enough?"
Dominic scowled. "As much as it would be good to rely purely on faith, the common people's devotion needs a certain amount of reinforcement when it comes to delicate work."
"A tragic state of affairs indeed. I've seen some of the magnificent temples present, it surprises me that the people's faith is so lacking."
Several thoughts warred in Dominic's mind at that moment. To defend the Ecclesiarchy's efforts, to join the Angel in commiserating about the lacking nature of the common peoples, and to take joy in the praise he'd offered to the holy structures of Gelgrade.
In the end, the clashing desires warred within his body to the point where he gave a somewhat awkward, "Of course, sir," and fell silent.
The silence continued somewhat awkwardly as the Astartes continued to examine the equipment, giving considering nods from time to time.
Even with that unfortunate moment, Dominic was pleased with the day. Some of the conversations he'd heard his father have with his other sons had indicated that things would be bloodier than the reports Dominic had been broadcasting, from the size of the fleet, though obviously there was no need to worry.
And then a band of Astartes had arrived, on an entirely unrelated expedition, but chose to stand and defend the faithful of this world. Not only that, but they had specifically chosen to speak with him, so that their Captain could give an announcement rallying the people of Gelgarde.
See his brothers beat that with their military service.
And of course the Astartes would want to speak; he didn't recognize their chapter, but the Astartes had generously forgiven him of that. He had mentioned that they were descended from a different chapter, the Word Bearers, and while that name had only loosely rung a bell for Dominic, he'd hidden his lack of recognition better. But their name seemed fairly self-explanatory. Divine warriors who fought with a holy book in one hand and a bolter in the other, litanies of faith on their lips as they butchered the feckless heretics. Worthy of song indeed.
"And with these settings, the broadcast will be distributed to the entire world, yes?"
"Yes, my lord. Impossible to interrupt without destroying this central station, and into every household on the planet! Though I can't imagine why anyone would refuse to hear your words, the radios in the common people's households and the town squares don't even have an off switch!" Sure, they could be broken, but, that would set off an alert, and the Mechanicus always needed more servitors.
"Excellent," the Astartes nodded, and Dominic beamed with pride. "Your faith and your service to us will not go forgotten. Perhaps I might even mention you and your family's willing and eager assistance in my broadcast."
This was possibly the best day of Dominic's life, "Oh, I wouldn't go that far, my lord. Unless you truly want to."
"A shame. Perhaps not, in that case."
Ah. Too much humility. A mistake he wouldn't repeat.
The Astartes stood in the broadcasting booth, making a few adjustments that Dominic didn't even know was possible to bring the microphone higher, enough to be at head-level even for the giant.
"Sit down in the observer's booth, Lord Dominic. Enjoy the speech."
People of Gelgarde.
I am Captain Eldresse, an Astartes, one of the Emperor's Angels.
As you know, a Chaos warband approaches this world. A small one. Perhaps inconsequential, in the grand scheme of things.
But that is not why I speak to you today.
I am no preacher of Salvation, as I prefer to leave those lies to the Ecclesiarchy, as this world is doomed.
Yes, doomed. You did indeed hear my words correctly.
I am here instead to preach to you of hate.
Yes, hatred.
I see the state of this world, of a spoiled nobility playing at being rulers. They do not hate you, not truly. You might think they do, they might think they hate you, but this is naught but a comforting lie.
They do not hate you. To hate is a virulent thing, to know someone or something intimately, to turn the broken mirror and hate every single facet, every new angle it reveals. It fills the heart, a painful, toxic sensation, to feel that every shred of happiness they experience is a blow to your own heart.
No, the nobility of this world, who would butcher your families for stealing a loaf of bread, demanding that you maintain the same level of workplace productivity even as you starve and grieve, they do not hate you. The priests, who would tear down entire city blocks to construct their newest cathedrals, uncaring of where those who so generously "gifted" their land might be forced to live, for all of the cruelties they inflict, they do not hate you.
They do not think of you at all.
You have all suffered tragedies at their hands, but do you, in your heart of hearts, think they remember your names? A friend, a cousin, a grandmother, a husband, a daughter, taken from you unjustly, and do you think they exist as anything but a number on a spreadsheet?
They might not even care to record their deaths to the census, and if those dead fail to pay their taxes, the family is forced to pay those taxes. If they cannot afford to pay, no matter how hard they work or how strong their faith, for your Lords that is simply another number on the spreadsheet for them. For yourselves, it is another quiet funeral held out of sight of the cathedrals, for to mourn a heretic is heresy in of itself.
For all that they preach the virtues of hate, to hate the xeno, to hate the mutant, to hate the Heretic, they cannot spare even a speck of that hatred for you, for you are irrelevant. You are unsightly trash, not their enemies, their need to govern you a necessary evil, and they cannot even spare you the courtesy of enjoying your suffering, to give it some meaning beyond callous disregard.
But you?
You hate. You hate them. You try to hide it to yourselves, but we know the truth. You try to tell yourself all the litanies you've been raised with, to remind yourself that these lords and priests were ordained by the Emperor, and that any suffering they inflict is so terribly necessary.
They argue the necessity, that they need these measures to stand tall against the cruelties of the galaxy, and yet, they've failed. I stand here, on your world. In but a few months my fleet will come for this world. There is nothing you, the nobility, or the Ecclesiarchy can do to prevent your fate.
The resistance offered will be forgotten and made irrelevant, and the planet's existence will be considered a footnote in the ledgers of the Administratum.
All of your sacrifices, all of those little moments where you buried your hatred under faith, a desire to protect your families, that desperate desire to live one more miserable day? Irrelevant.
Those who stand above you, those nobles, those cruel oppressors? They have already chosen to abandon you, all in a desperate attempt to prolong their deaths. But, I phrased that poorly. To say they chose to abandon you is to give weight to a decision that they never bothered considering, for their decision was predictable to all involved. If they had survived, they would have opened their larders, had a grand celebration, and took account of all of your deaths with little but a nod and excuses already made to send when it comes time for the next Tithe.
You are forgotten wretches. Your masters will not sacrifice even a single gilded fork for your sakes. The Black Bell will not toll for your deaths, and the Emperor will shed no tears for this world. No help is coming, for the Imperium is vast, and its foes many.
Is it not infuriating?
No. I am not here to preach of salvation, but of hatred.
Your masters will die without ever knowing who they sacrificed. They will bear you no hatred. Even as you batter at their gates begging for shelter, their only feeling towards you would be contempt that your deaths failed to earn them even one more minute of life.
But I, Eldresse, leader of the Warband of the Slave's Dagger, offer you an opportunity. Earn their hatred. Make them acknowledge you, make them know of your existence. Be known as individuals.
The pauper, diseased and filthy, spitting on gilded shoes, knowing that it will cost him his life but unable to hold his hatred any longer.
The slave, a sliver of glass in his hand, watching his master laugh and finding that honest joy intolerable.
The soldier, abused and broken to be made a more useful tool, quietly pulling the pin on his grenade, judging his life a worthy price for that single moment of shock and horror.
The whore, painted nails freshly anointed in crimson, a nobleman who thought payment unnecessary for one of his stature standing above her in fury as she finally defends herself.
These individuals, these "wastes" of society, they were not forgotten, and their masters knew their names, while in your own faith and loyalty, your own names remain unspoken. There is a beauty in this defiance, even as they were broken and abused for these small and petty ways to declare that their lives had meaning.
And so I come in secrecy to this world, to walk among you before my warriors darken the skies, to give you an offer.
Hate.
Hate and finally be hated in turn. Burn everything they used you to build to ashes, all of their glories built upon your broken bodies brought down to ruin. Let them know that it was not this fleet from the stars, that it was not by my hand that they were thrown down, but yours. That it was the cruelty they inflicted upon you that brought them to their ruin.
I ask you to hunt your masters down. Make them look you in the eyes as you take their lives. Take from them heads and etch your names into their skulls, and I guarantee you this: they will never be allowed to forget you.
Rejoice, oh people of Gelgarde, for the hour of your hatred is at hand.
Eldresse resisted the urge to stretch as he stood away from the microphone, flipping a switch to have the message repeat. He idly wondered if it was some ancient urge from his days as a human or simply because it seemed the thing one ought to do, but to obey such urges was still beneath him.
While a part of him was tempted to stay, the mechanisms here allowed him to potentially take on callers and he couldn't help but find the idea amusing, unfortunately he would need to abandon the area. Eldresse was a touch surprised that no PDF forces had arrived to storm the radio station yet. It could be explained that people were more receptive to his sermon than even his more optimistic projections, but more likely it was a demonstration of the typical competency levels of the PDF.
He exited the room to find a curious sight.
Lord Dominic was slumped on the ground, and one of the assistants was standing over him, bloodied wires in hand.
"Ah, uhm. My Lord." The assistant was terrified, Eldresse noted. Perspiration, shakes, even a wetting of the pants, but still she stood.
"What happened here?" He asked, his voice gentle and curious.
"Dominic, ah, tried to stop the broadcast, my lord. So I, stopped him." The woman looked down at the body and quickly looked away. She was surprised by what she had done. Had likely not even thought it through. An impulsive act of adrenaline.
Hm. He hadn't thought Dominic would have had the nerve. He had planned on indulging himself with a touch of tasteful gloating while he waited to see if he needed to follow up on his efforts, but this was even better.
He approached the assistant, and his hand closed over his. "An improvised garrote?"
"I- ah- um, yes, my lord?" She likely wasn't sure what a garrote was, but was agreeing anyway, and Eldresse could see the question numbing the adrenaline in the woman's stance. "Yes, my lord." She said, still shaky.
"You hated him, didn't you?" The tone was soft and gentle.
"Ye- um. He- he would," the slight clench of her fists, the way her head turned in shame, the way her body closed in on itself, they told a simple story, but a worthy one nonetheless.
"There is no need to tell me. Your reasons are your own."
"Th- thank you, my lord." There was a hint of surprise- ah, a superior acknowledging her privacy was likely a strange experience for her.
Still, there was a need to move on. "Most people inexperienced in battle," he noted gently, "underestimate what a person can survive."
"Sir?" She asked, before her gaze shot down to Dominic, whose breathing was shallow enough that he wouldn't have blamed someone without his augmentations for not noticing.
"Open your hand and hold it out to me." She did so with a tremble.
He drew his own dagger, itself a relic centuries of battle, and placed it in her grip, where it looked more like a sword, gently closing her fingers around it before pulling his hands away.
The woman looked up at him, even looking him in the eyes, back to the dagger, and finally back to Dominic.
In that moment of resolve, her spine straightened, her eyes narrowed, and her grip turned white on the blade's handle, a sword in her hands.
He could always get a new dagger.
This one was hers now.
- Location
- The End of Glory
Now that's some charisma his Genesire will be proud of. No wonder the XVIIth the Legion of demagogues
Thank you.
Yeah, it's always been a bit of a question for me as to why people would willingly sign up with some of the more obvious, "Kill, Maim, Burn!" factions of Chaos.
But, you know, the Imperium does provide a lot of very valid reasons to hate it, so anyone offering people a chance to take their pound of flesh could be mighty tempting, even if all they are preaching is the value of hatred and have slightly more than the Imperially Mandated Standard for decorating with skulls. (And writing true believers is kind of fun.)
- Location
- America
A self indulgent build for a cogboy SI.
Magos Explorator Sierra 314
Age: 477 years
Captain of the MV Joshua Harkens
Former student to an Magos Explorator, starting at tech intern and working his way up. Not the most orthodox of cogboys, but he has racked up enough knowledge and accomplishments that he managed to slip up the ranks anyway. Now a proper Magos Explorator in his own right though exactly what he's exploring is kept close to his chest. Having decided to go his own way, his operations are entirely self sustaining. Tells other people to refer to him by He/Him for convenience's sake but actually has male and female bodies running around and doing stuff. His primary original body presents as male.
While his colleagues have replaced all of their human emotions with a little box of screws, he views emotions as an important part of the human experience. After all, the Omnissiah is also the Emperor of Mankind, and why would he take on a human form, have human emotions, and all that if these were not important parts of being human.
As a good and proper cogboy however, he's still chromed to hell and back. It's just that he makes it so that he still looks human as to ease interactions with other people.
While his mentor was originally an explorator and he originally was going to be an explorator but as a result of his activities technically reclassifies as a Magos Dominus.
Hobbies include but are not limited to: recording his hard earned knowledge on to books of technical notes or as lectures on a series of optical disks, arguing with the ship's machine spirit, singing on stage at the food court on Deck 33, theological discussion with Canoness Vivian of the Order of Enduring Freedom, and augmenting various people that he has taken a liking to.
The Order of Enduring Freedom is hated and despised by other Sisters of Battle orders for the fact that they view the Omnissiah as a perfectly valid representation and extension of the God Emperor of Mankind. The god emperor literally descended to mars and declared that yes he was the Omnissiah and if other sisters want to go ahead and contradict the literal god emperor of mankind's direct words than they can feel free to do so.
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