Let's Read: Warhammer 40,000 Codexes and Star Wars RPG Sourcebooks (Dark Eldar Reviewer)

RiverDelta · Jul 19, 2023

Out of Character: This is not meant to be a definitive "fixing" of Warhammer 40,000, it's more of a reworking of it to suit my tastes. People should be allowed to enjoy whatever version of the setting they like, including the canon one. This work also covers themes of violence and sexuality and is not suitable for those under 18.

In Character: Good evening, everyone. I've got my Terran merlot and the days' combat is complete. My name is Ynathe Azuuza ("Yin-Ath A-zoo-za"), I am a Wych gladiator in Commorragh, I enjoy long walks on the beach and short kills, and you may refer to me as the "Goddess of Pain" if "Ynathe Azuuza" is too tricky.

I have recently come into the possession of a series of manuals for a wargame played on some Imperial worlds. This wargame is seemingly intended to justify the Imperium of Man's policy to the teenage and adult Terrans who enjoy it, and as such I will use my elite education to separate truth from lies.

Surely an empire of blood's propaganda is worth dissecting? This work is the Codex: Drukhari, for the Ninth Edition of the wargame. I do wish to state outright that I do not judge anyone who plays this game, nor do I condemn anyone who may prefer to imagine the universe as a vast expanse full of "only war". To quote a wiser Mon'keigh (affectionate) than most: "If we shadows have offended / Think but this, and all is mended / That you have but slumbered here / While these visions did appear / And this weak and idle theme / no more yielding but a dream".

Whether this world or that one dominated by war is the dream is up to the dreamer.

Let us begin.

Welcome, galactic raider, to Codex: Drukhari. In your hands is a tome to entice and amuse your jaded passions. Inked upon its bound pages are revelations of the cruel drives of a decadent alien aristocracy, the depths to which these sadistic pirates gladly dove to survive and the ways in which they flourish, unhindered, in a fractured and fearful galaxy.

A fine start! Surely this tome will entice and amuse. However, let us look at the word choice. "Cruel drives" and "decadent alien aristocracy" are not objective terms. We Drukhari can be cruel, yes, but are we able to be simply defined as cruel? No, we are as varied and complex as any Terran, and I find it hard to read with a straight face that we Drukhari are so cruel when the Imperium to this day worships a man their own species nailed to a post and left to die. It was humanity, after all, that invented crucifixion.

Still, I do like the rest of this description. It paints us as fearsome villains, which is always fun. I will note, however, that one of the main groups the Imperium likes to paint as fearsome villains are those with non-normative sexual preferences. While the Imperium has little use for discrimination against homosexuals in committed relationships, even the odd-yet-harmless beyond that are treated as gateways to Slaaneshi madness. Terrans often call those who refuse to submit to cowards mad. It is an interesting quirk of the species.

The Drukhari are a degenerate society of the ancient Aeldari xenos race. They are a dark culture of torturers and raiders, striking out at the galaxy's inhabitants from their labyrinthine shadow-realm of Commorragh. Selfish, prideful, arrogant and murderous, the Drukhari area self- serving people. The militant syndicates of their Kabals, the hedonistic gladiatorial cliques known as Wych Cults and the Haemonculus Covens that operate gruesome guilds of arcane alchemists all vie with each other for power and material wealth. The Drukhari's fractured civilisation is held together with fear, intimidation anda horrific trade in pain and torment that feeds their withered souls.

I am sure one can read the drooling contempt in these words. We cannot simply be "ancient" or "storied", we must be "degenerate". We cannot be "confident", we must be "arrogant". We are murderous, but so are most sapient species. We Drukhari are little more violent than most, we simply are honest about the beautiful horror. I will give them this, "hedonistic gladiatorial cliques" does describe our Wych Cults well. The description of the Haemonculi is unenlightened and highlights pulpishness. As for that last sentence, et tu?

The diverse range of Drukhari miniatures offers a fantastic array of options for both veteran hobbyists and newcomers alike. Just as the factions within Commorragh society ally and rupture in shifting collusions, your realspace raiding party on the tabletop might be made up of a mixture of forces. Conversely, they may concentrate solely on one or two armies to represent the warriors of a single, obsessed noble. Perhaps you prefer gang-like cartels made up of Kabalite Warriors and their ruling Archons, supported by attack craft such as Voidraven Bombers or the winged services of mercenary Scourges. Maybe the exotic arena fighters of the Wyches are more your style, leaping into battle from baroque, skimming transports and being accompanied to war by exotic beasts. Or perhaps your raiding party requires the surgical horror of the Haemonculi and their shambling creations, wielding toxin-coated blades.

Shockingly, after the last bits of fascistic bigotry, we get this paragraph. It is almost entirely accurate, save for the choice of words such as "gang-like" and "surgical horror". This does effectively capture the might and beauty of our kind at war. Perhaps some Terrans might see through the nonsense and come join us. We do get Terrans here, of varying moralities.

[This Codex] also contains exciting Crusade content you can use to follow the sadistic careers of your arrogant warriors from one prey-world to the next, as they amass ever more power.

We Drukhari have little use for power. What we want is beauty, thoughtful joy, and self-mastery. Terrans so commonly fantasize that their values are universal. Power is only as useful as it can be exchanged for better things.

To those they leave alive to spread fear of their passing, these arrogant xenos are evil incarnate. While the Drukhari's superior science has mastered a multitude of feats, it ultimately focuses on their victims' misery—how to create it and how to prolong it.

...We would not be where we are if we were so obsessed with cruelty. Species that focus on suffering to that extent simply do not develop societies at all. Oh, and while there is beauty in the misery of others, most Drukhari prefer to appreciate that from the consenting or deserving. The finest misery to sample is one's own, for one knows it most well.

Then again, it's a bit harder to justify extermination when one considers those facts.

The Drukhari exhibit every obsessive and wanton act of cruelty that all Aeldari risk giving into.

"They hate us because they ain't us". We Drukhari engage in our cruelty with knives. The Craftworld Aeldari do it with planet-obliterating orbital bombardment. The Terrans see themselves in our fallen brothers and sisters, and are thus sympathetic to them. Furthermore, the Terrans are quite aware that to be a Drukhari is to be free. It is not our occasional savagery that they object to, not really. It's the idea that someone could be happy and good to others without kneeling and scraping to anyone with a rank. They make specters to scare themselves.

From the depths of their subdimensional realm - the Dark City of Commorragh - raiding parties of sadistic Drukhari gleefully strike out.

So do ships helmed by artists, philosophers, sculptors, and pleasure-ships of every shade. There are raids, though, during war. Why that is abnormal is beyond me.

Little pleases the Drukhari more than the screams of their prey, the sight of horror in their victims' eyes or the feel of flesh parting under their blades. Every nuance of misery that the refined senses of the Aeldari can detect—the sight, sound, and taste of suffering—is a potent narcotic that Drukhari raiders rapaciously consume.

Well, this is exterminationist rhetoric. We are not demons. Some of us are killers—such as myself—and our culture is invested in pain, but there is a good reason we have Wyches. We want to be here. We want to test ourselves, to experience each other's excitement, pain, and bloodlust. We also enjoy our sadism in the form of theatre, public demonstrations, and the like. I promise you, most Drukhari have better things to do than sample the less-than-ethical and entirely boring sensation of yet another screaming human. Besides, is there not some beauty in the embrace of pain? It is inevitable, so why shouldn't suffering be beautiful rather than ugly?

The Drukhari are tall, slender, and graceful in form, with natural athleticism, lithe strength, and perceptive senses. Their long lines are artificially extended by gruesome means, enabling them to devote their piercing intellect across entire epochs to the mastering of singularly depraved obsessions.

Other than the value judgments, this is all surprisingly complimentary. We, as a species, are artists. Not raiders, not torturers, not monsters, not devils, but artists. Pain is not the only art form of ours, but it is common and appreciated. Still, a Terran Sister of Battle is far more likely to enact unwanted pain outside of war than the vast majority of our kind. One might call it pain with a prayer.

Once brought to Commorragh [our Dark City], these unfortunates [captives] are hunted in vast arenas watched by thousands, experimented upon with vile surgeries and drugs, or are used fulfil any of the countless roles by which the Drukhari can profit off of their suffering.

Some captives are, those taken in war, and notably we give them the chance to win their freedom. It's more merciful than an Exterminatus. As for "vile surgeries and drugs", while that is not unheard of most of the time those who come to Commorragh want to be experimented on. Our biosurgery is second to none, and for every unethical Kabal leader testing some sick project there are tens of thousands of Terrans who come to the Dark City to be sculpted into forms befitting them. Some want to be Amazons, others Thors, and many simply wish to be puppygirls or kittenboys taken care of by a loving Drukhari. The pain of the scalpel too can be beautiful, and I mean that for all involved.

All Drukhari desire to sate a gnawing need at their heart to inflict pain whenever possible. If not against the other races of the galaxy, then readily upon other Drukhari within Commorragh.

We can heal as much as we can hurt. Many long to—for a short time—embrace the beauty of being given the blood eagle, only to be patched up later and praised for their sacrifice. Oh, and not all. There are a few of us who are uninterested in misery and pain. They are fine and generally happy, much as you or I might not be interested in sculpture or art. If humanity is so inept at altering the human body, shouldn't they improve rather than assume everyone else must be evil?

As for our ferocity against the Imperium, well, if you back any animal into a corner it will bite rather than flee.

Commorragh is unlike any city of the Imperium. It is a twisted, fractured connection o fsub-dimensions and satellite realms within the shifting webway oflegend. Human captives brought into its environs cannot comprehend even the fraction they can see of the dark and shadowy landscape. A labyrinth of dark spires, crowded slums, starship docks and vast arenas — threaded through with streams of screaming captives and snarling beasts — overlays layers of hidden donjons, oubliettes and secret abodes. The temporal and spatial irregularities within the webway have allowed Commorragh to spread and branch like a tainted, crystalline fungus that reflects the society within. Cunning and powerful factions vie for prominence in a realm where piracy, murder, scheming, and betrayal are facts of everyday life. Only the strong survive in Commorragh, and the Drukhari have had millennia to winnow out the weak.

Even in their daydreams, they can't help but think of a hive city when they imagine a city of sin and murder. Where is the description of the shining temples, the theatres, the houses of craft and the spires of satisfaction? Where is the beauty in this description? Every city has its corpses, but my Commorragh is not some Terran termite's nest.

As for the "Only the strong survive" bit, well, I will admit that strength is valued. However, there is a place for weakness. The strong might be great painters, but no painter is worth anything without his muse. We protect our muses, in most cases. We are no angels, but we Drukhari are no demons either.

Any knowledge of xenos is brutally suppressed within the Imperium. Thus, only a fraction of Mankind's teeming trillions knows anything of the Aeldari's supposed history. Of these, most are high-ranking agents within the shadowy Ordo Xenos of the Inquisition. Some within this group are entrusted by Aeldari contacts with tales that claim to tell of the Fall of their race, yet the natural suspicion of Inquisitors leads them to view such data as disinformation, myth or, at best, apocalyptic metaphor. Nevertheless, they are tales that al Aeldari learn and that different strands of their race treat variously as cautionary tales of hubris, stories of ultimate betrayal and even accounts of the excision of weakness.

The ancient Aeldari empire existed as the most advanced and dominant race in the galaxy many millions of years ago. Through their science they created worlds and extinguished stars, while the unlimited potential of their psychic arts ensured that there was no force that could deny their authority. The technologies at their fingertips meant the Aeldari could livea life of leisure free from concepts of manual labour, able to pursue any diversions their powerful emotions and soaring intellect could conceive. Using the webway, they travelled between the stars of the galaxy in a heartbeat, delving into esoteric studies and unusual passions.

The long lifespan of the Aeldari led many to seek ever more extreme avenues of exploration as they tested the limits of their own psyches. The thoughts and emotions of their race can rise to heights of bliss or plumb dark nadirs of anguish that are unknown to Mankind. These extremes were reached for by many of an arrogant race that increasingly saw itself as far beyond any boundaries of morality.

We will find as we read that the Terrans are often quite critical of their masters. The Emperor cannot see everything. However, Terran supremacy as a narrative is not necessarily based on the Imperium being good, so much as every other species and race being somehow worse. It is true that we as a species were once gods, and that we have fallen far since then. We had, in a phrase, a truly liberated society. How long ago! How foolish we were! Slaanesh was created out of our hubris, not our decadence.

Mankind preaches that She Who Thirsts was born out of some deviance or liberation. It keeps their subjects in line. Rather, Slaanesh was born out of joy. Slaanesh was the final grin of a civilization that had begun to lose itself in joy. There is nothing wrong with joy, but it must come with self-understanding and self-mastery, or simple joy may bind us to its service. We had to step back. We had to turn from that final laughter. We had to know our joy and make it with our skill, not simply to give ourselves to it. That is why we hide in the Dark City, because we do not want to trade self-mastery and self-love for someone else's.

...Or, if you ask the Terrans, it was because we didn't have conventional sexual interactions. I suppose it's up to the individual.

Yet with lax regulation, Commorragh grew ever larger and became a home for every illicit and reprehensible pastime within the empire. The dilettante lords and ladies who headed many of the pleasure cults grew more powerful and, with both their influence and Commorragh's vast flows of shipping and connections, countless shadowy creeds spread to world after world.

It is a large city. All of them are like this.

There were those in the Aeldari empire, among the spiralling insanities and obsessions pervading their people, who foresaw calamity. Some of the first to act were the Exodites, who left the decadent centres of civilisation behind to begin again on wilderness worlds far from
the trappings of indulgence and excess. Much later, after incalculable efforts of psychic engineering, amovement of ascetic puritans departed on delicate planet-sized ships, bearing huge colonies through the void and into the depths of empty space. These were the craftworlds, and among those who fled upon them were many with the seer sight. They prophesied a terrifying and tragic horror ahead that echoed through time. Their warnings were scoffed at or ignored, and some of their number fell foul of the influential pleasure cults before they had chance to escape.

Freed of the appalled and doubting elements that had barely kept it in check, Aeldari society plunged deeper into lascivious decay. Towards the end, the streets of their ancient cities ran with blood. Star-spanning orgies of pleasure and unbridled violence accompanied clashing rhythms, dazzling sights and depraved crimes as the Aeldari tore one another apart in heady displays of cruelty. In truth, their race's decline had taken many millennia to congeal into this grotesque abomination of reality. When the end came, it was ina single, horrifying instant.

...The Imperium, as usual, can't even propagandize for the Exodites and Craftworlders without barely-hidden contempt. The narrative of a "sane, traditional countryside against a decadent and mad city" is also extremely common in Terran rhetoric and has been for quite some time. The word "fascist" has lost all meaning, but the Imperium is a textbook fascist state. Next, the idea our very happiness was a "grotesque abomination of reality" is both sickening and perverse. They would turn our peak and re-examination of ourselves into some simple morality play to justify their genocidal rule.

In their supreme arrogance, they did not cease their quest for excess and selfish fulfilment, not even for a moment. Repentance, atonement, or shame for what they surely must have understood could be traced, in part, to their own actions were unknown concepts to a people who acknowledged no limits on their ambition or power...They had not escaped the Fall of their race, though it was a long time before they realized it. Rather than having their sentient essence consumed by the Chaos God in one great draught, their souls were slowly draining away, drip by drip, into the warp. There, they were swallowed by Slaanesh, the abhorrent warp entity that haunts every Aeldari, and they all know as She Who Thirsts.

...The person who wrote this is a fool and too "arrogant" for their own good. This is a complete misunderstanding of the situation with Slaanesh, and one that only legitimizes Imperial brutality. Our race never Fell, it simply peaked, and our souls are our own. The Terran wants to portray every empire as in decline but their own. Slaanesh's souls aren't being eaten, there are simply those who would abandon life to embrace eternal joy. They aren't souls being siphoned, simply defectors to ouside of the Webway. The passage continues on to describe a species that realized that others could suffer in their stead. This is not why we appreciate the art forms of misery and pain. We appreciate those things because they are reminders that the world is real and that there is beauty and warmth in more than endless joy.

Trust an Imperial to come up with wild justifications for the inherent evil of their "foes".

The most powerful individual in al of Drukhari society has countless epithets: The Lord of Darkness; the Supreme Overlord of Commorragh; the Living Muse; the Upstart Filthling. Asdrubael Vect's is the hand that moves the pieces in the insane geometries of conspiracies, favours and contracts that dominate Commorragh. He is feared, despised, fawned on - and perhaps even revered ~ by the shifting forces that control the city of horrors as he sits at the peak of this hierarchy.

Lord Vect is every single thing described in this passage. He is mighty, brave, brilliant, creative, passionate, and at times ruthless. He commands respect and fear in equal measure. He is not a good man, but he is a great one. He is not the Caligula imagined by some, he is thoroughly a Justinian.

It is said he was merely a warrior-slave when Slaanesh tore its way into being. Once a low-born nothing sold to the pleasure cults for some abominable degradation, now he rules with both an iron fist and a hidden blade — one his detractors only realise is at their throats too late.

Despite Vect's self-asserted position of absolute power, Commorrite society is far from centralised. The Supreme Overlord reigns overa splintered civilisation of self-serving interests. These range from coordinated organisations to warring gangs that roam the fringes of society, and derelicts seeking survival at the Dark City's desolate outskirts. Commorragh remains an incomprehensibly vast webway hub, and within its environs are renegades, criminals and mercenaries from many cultures, not to mention the masses of captives from every corner of the galaxy. All of this writhes under the boot of Vect.

It is true that Vect was a warrior-slave. Slavery, a shameful practice, was practiced out of desperation after the Birth of Slaanesh. The situation was post-apocalyptic, but I will make no excuses for it. It is a practice that is firmly relegated to history. The rest of this is more or less true. Vect has less power than he would like people to think, and our society isn't particularly authoritarian.

Amongst the most powerful institutions of Commorragh are the Kabals, each a kind of militaristic cartel or private army, — such as Vect's own Kabal of the Black Heart. These gang-like societies maintain their power via the realspace raids their ruling Archons launch. The Wych Cults, meanwhile, stage incredible displays of gladiatorial debaucheries within immense arenas, feeding Commorrite society with gory spectacles. In the bowels of the Dark City's pitch-black underworld, the Haemonculi Covens practice their arts of flesh sculpting, soul syphoning and vile regeneration, their costly services always in high demand. Surrounding these three pillarsofCommorragh aremercenaries fulfilling subtler requirements. Through the striking of contracts between these factions, realspace raids often contain uneasy allies — such pacts evaporating once the spoils are divided.

The Kabals are not private armies, they are hosts held by the lords of our city, each Kabal mustered in the name of the defense of the Dark City. One may be confused as to phrases like the Black Heart and Dark City. We are what we are. This is an entirely accurate description of the Wych Cults, though it omits the consenting nature of the warriors and the elements of dance and theatre that are involved in the battles. The fact that most of the pain can be undone medically also evades our author's notice. As for that final sentence, I am insulted by the implication that the Drukhari are anything but trustworthy and respectable people.

In the murderous society of Commorragh, Drukhari with aspirations for enormous power — which is the overwhelming majority — will easily make enemies and draw unwanted attention. This makes them vulnerable, and makes reaching the heights they wish to achieve almost impossible. Thus, most Drukhari wish to join a Kabal, though competition is fierce and the initiation rites extremely bloody. Within a Kabal there is the safety of numbers anda ladder of hierarchy they can climb. An attack on a Warrior of a Kabalite is seen as an attack on them all, and so a modicum of order is maintained — Kabals will not make dangerous enemies unless they see their own position as being strong enough to withstand the potential fallout. This does not mean, however, that particular individuals in a rival Kabal cannot, or should not, be eliminated, i tjust means that the way in which they are removed has to be more subtle. So does this power structure incentivise murder by subterfuge and careful scheming.

All authority comes from force, but no functional society is built on naked force. Kabalites have strict codes of honor and laws they adhere to. They are brave knights, serving their Lord and their people. They are not gangsters, thugs, or pirates. The intrigue within Kabals is also often overstated, typically Kabalites are less interested in the dance of power than most. It attracts Drukhari who prefer rules and discipline. This reminds me of something like the Imperial Infantryman's Primer. It's complete propaganda. I will not dignify the claim that most Drukhari seek only power.

The inherent poise, grace and athleticism of the Drukhari is raised to a high art in the numerous Wych Cults throughout Commorragh. In fearless displays of sublime craft, these gladiatorial institutions entertain the powerful and influential denizens of the Dark City with lurid spectacles, providing a feast of agonies for their hungry-eyed audiences.

Finally, some sense! We are artists, and frankly I'm glad even the servants of the God-Emperor can admit that!

To compare even the least of these arenas to the greatest of Mankind's stadia is to compare a glittering palace to a mud hut.

Even I wouldn't go that far. I do hope someday I find the author of this Codex, I would quite like to teach them how we really do things. I'm sure they'd be a quick learner.

Too far? Perhaps, my apologies. I got excited.

Their terrifyingly graceful warriors typically revolve around a single, extremely deadly Succubus - a star of the arenas celebrated for her murderous skill. Beneath her are lesser Succubi that may lead Circles of several dozen Wyches. Almost every Wych Cult enjoys the patronage of a powerful Archon. This arrangement ensures the Cult rarely runs short of slaves or exotic elixirs, and that the Archon gains the usually reliable allegiance of exceptional blademasters for their raids. When a Wych Cult with a strong reputation stages its own realspace raid, other factions will pay handsomely for the privilege of fighting alongside them.

Yours truly is a Succubus, and many would say a very skilled one. Oh, and the name is not ill-chosen, Succubi as a rule tend to be flirtatious, confident, and desired. It comes from playing to a crowd, and truthfully there are other leadership roles for those not interested in temptation. As for slaves, we have established that accusation as thoroughly untrue.

Haemonculi are wizened monsters, geniuses of insane and unnatural technologies and are universally feared by the rest of Commorragh. Though each pursues their own, dark avenues of unspeakable science, every Haemonculus is a master artisan who offers a wealth of unpleasant services to those who can afford them. They deal in body modification, the distillation of potions and elixirs, and the extraction of screams from their victims and patients alike.

I suppose I should avoid criticism without providing a model for how I might improve this work, so allow me to rephrase this. "Haemonculi are ancient geniuses skilled with modern technology and respected for their ugly but necessary work. They specialize in a variety of fields generally based on personal interest, and are master artisans who offer a wealth of useful and necessary services to both their clients and to those who request their aid but cannot pay. They deal in body modification and the distillation of potions and elixirs."

Now, that is far more accurate. There is a lot of whining about "oubliettes of pain" as well, and that is frankly just silly. So, I've chosen to spare the reader that nonsense.

The Kabal of the Black Heart employs an army of spies and agents to serve at Vect's behest —itsinformers dwelling within every stratum of Commorrite society. Archons claiming to be acting independently have formed agreements with competing Haemonculi to provide the Kabal with information that can be compared and correlated for veracity. From the secrets of excruciated prisoners, to details of the pacts different covens have made and even knowledge of the latest works, there are some ancient Haemonculi who privately worry Vect's minions seek to render their arcane brotherhoods irrelevant.

My, what a fool to think that any organization can be so omnipresent as this fictionalized version of the Kabal of the Black Heart. It must be much easier to make an enemy threatening to those at home when one lies about them. Of course, the readers of this Codex must be far more well-informed about the "xenos" than many of their countrymen.

The Black Heart has even secreted agents intothewiderAeldarirace-aboard craftworlds of the Asuryani, amongst the Ynnari and on Exodite worlds, and some have successfully infiltrated Harlequin masques. Thus, Vect and his Kabalites are always multiple steps ahead of their rivals, and no action against the Black Heart is too small for him to take notice. The Supreme Overlord underestimates no-one, and knows a threat can come from any corner. This colossal spy network also means that any raids carried out in Vect's name by his Archons are done under his scrutiny. Every Archon knows their actions are being judged, and that the Supreme Overlord will have devised contingency plans for every eventuality. On the other hand, should they fail in any way, they will undoubtedly incur his wrath. Knowing that Vect could be displeased is a very powerful motivator for the Archons of the Black Heart. As a result, they carry out their devastating raids with lethal precision and bring back vast numbers of slaves to appease the Supreme Overlord.

This imaginary Lord Vect is omnipotent. The real one is simply a man. They want a target, a singular enemy they can fight. That is fascism in a nutshell.

Asdrubael Vect is what is known in Drukhari society as 'half-born'. Due to the Aeldari race's long gestation period, artificially grown Drukhari are far more commonplace. This process is done by implanting a fertilised egg into one of the amniotic tubes that honeycomb the breeding-walls of the Haemonculi's lairs. Using a repulsive, insectile science developed many millennia ago, the embryo's growth can be hyperaccelerated within these tubes, each newly grown specimen wriggling from its chrysalis-sac in a drizzle of fluids before being taken away by Wrack attendants. These 'half-born' are viewed with contempt by the rarer Trueborn Drukhari, who believe them to be inherently inferior.

Regrettably, we do have prejudice against the half-born. We Drukhari are not perfect, and other than the use of terms like "repulsive" this is essentially accurate. However, we are making progress.

Lady Aurelia Malys leads the Kabal, an intellectual titan whose ability to predict her enemies' manoeuvres borders on the supernatural. She has been at the heart of many of the Dark City's most deadly intrigues, and safely steered her Kabal through the greatest of treacheries. When Vect was 'murdered; his jubilant enemies gathered in a Great Wake to gloat, but Malys saw through the ploy and disappeared into the webway with her Kabal, thereby avoiding Vect's vengeful massacre.

This is mostly true. The Kabal of the Poisoned Tongue are fundamentally, comically untrustworthy liars, and Malys has been good at the kind of politicking required at the highest echelons of our nobility. She, however, is not an "intellectual titan". Perhaps the writer was fooled by her, and was trying to excuse themself. Her intellect is passable at best.

The Drukhari of the Kabal of the Last Hatred are obsessed with forbidden arts. Many observers speculate about their motives, wondering whether they wish to transcend mortality entirely or destroy the Aeldari race, enslaving whatever entity isborn from the remains. Regardless of the truth, their ambition is undeniable, and they will carry out any depraved act to see it realised...The Kabal is famous for its pain-farms and its incredible talent for keeping captives alive far longer than should be possible. Its members strap the still-living bodies of victims to their raiding craft in battle...

Incredibly, our Imperium tale-spinner is utterly and completely correct on the Last Hatred. The Last Hatred is a death cult that needs to be excised from the body politic as soon as possible. It is a group of gangsters, sociopaths, and cultists to strange gods that likely do not exist. They are a disgrace to our kind.

Preferring to raid at sunset, they strike out from their stronghold called the Pinnacle of Disdain, a nigh on impenetrable mountain. Their Overlord, Vorl-Xoelanth, is obsessed with | turning light and hope to darkness and despair. What few — if any — outside the Kabal know, is that the Drukhari of the Dying Son possess ancient fragments of forbidden arcana from the old Aeldari Empire, though the members themselves poorly understand these psychically charged artefacts. With the power to snuff out suns, exterminate sentient races and suck the life force from worlds, the Kabal uses them only as a last resort. Anything could go wrong, and such an act would inevitably draw much unwanted attention.

Conversely, this is entirely incorrect. There is no Kabal of the Dying Sun, or more to the point it has not existed for almost a millennia. It's a scary story, a myth, something to tell to unsettle someone.There isn't "forbidden arcana", the very idea is absurd. As for psychic artifacts, surely we would know if such a Kabal had those. None of this makes sense. It seems far more logical that the Dying Sun simply does not exist, rather than it being so secretive as to be unknown by a notoriously inquisitive species.

Masters of the savagely violent opening act that grips the jaded interest of even its most long-standing detractors, the Cult of Strife is envied and despised across Commorragh for its peerless and agonisingly beauteous performances. The circles of the Cult of Strife are each led by a lesser Succubus, ever watchful of the poise and grace of their mistress, Her Excellence, Lelith Hesperax. Her nigh on supernatural combat skills, incredible sense of occasion and ability to mould her audience's wild emotions with teases and raptures of agony, make Lelith a subject of devotion and ambition. With such a sublime exemplar of the Wych Cults' diverse arts at their head, the Hekatarii of the Cult strive to push themselves to achieve the perfection Lady Hesperax embodies. Lelith cares not that they do so for purely selfish reasons — namely their own advancement. She makes quick and brutal examples of any of the Cult who displease her.

This is character assassination. Lady Hesperax is a showwoman, a true talent, and the idea that she is some sort of imperious bitch is beneath her. Lady Hesperax is intelligent, charming, and at times even caring. She knows how to play to a crowd, how to impress, and she is certainly not some stone-faced killer. She is Puck, not Titus Andronicus.

Lelith has despatched numerous forces of skilled arena fighters to take up arms alongside Yvraine's disciples, the Ynnari. Some see this as the end of her long- standing protection by Vect, for the Supreme Overlord is thought toview the Ynnari with cold contempt. While Lelith's rivals probe the alliance for weaknesses, others wonder whether her apparent support for the Ynnari is all it tseems. Is she truly endorsing what she sees as a way to defeat She Who Thirsts once and for all, as the Ynnari claim? Is she seeking a self-centred route to immortality without the cost of the soul debt? Or could it simply be that she seeks another confrontation with Yvraine, to test herself against the divine power of a god?

This is an open question, and I do hope that Lady Hesperax has a genuine interest in promoting Ynnead, who might defend us from the Mindless Joy. I must point out that the Mindless Joy is not cruel. In fact, it is hard to call hir anything but giving. It is simply an unwanted perspective. We sampled from that plate and found the taste lacking.

In the ancient myths of the Aeldari, the Seventh Woe refers to the destruction of the maiden-god Lileath's hearth-moon at the hands of Kaela Mensha Khaine —a legend resonant with the loss of innocence. Ruled over by a competing triumvirate of Succubi, members of the Cult of the Seventh Woe are mutilators and enders of purity and virtue. Just as its rulers teach those born into their ranks to wield a blade before they can talk, so the Cult sees itself as a teacher to the entire galaxy, of the despair that lies at the heart of al existence.

One might wonder why all of our names are so sanguine and dark, but the truth is that we are simply a melodramatic people. Similarly, we like to tell tall tales, and I assure my readership that the Seventh Woe cult describes itself as a "mutilator of virtue" as one of those tales. It is a legend, a grand story to associate with these furies on the battlefield. It is not some sort of absurd, brooding manifesto. We simply like our legends, especially ones that promote us as fearsome.

Like a bloated, black cyst buried within Commorragh's strata of physical, social and political tissue, the Prophets of Flesh is a Coven with a level of influence that rightly worries many of the most powerful Archons, its anchoring tendrils of infection spreading. This Coven now seems impossible to cut out of the Dark City without repercussions that few are willing to risk. The Prophets of Flesh is led by the Sculptor of Torments himself, Urien Rakarth, and basks in the long-standing patronage of Asdrubael Vect — alongside a clutch of other powerful Overlords. The Coven maintains its seemingly unassailable position through the quality of its breadth of services, supplying Archons, Succubi, fallen nobles, criminal parvenus and anyone who can afford their price. Yet its power is also strengthened through ruthless recoupment of payment, and an infinitely creative menu of excruciating fines to apply to those who attempt to renege. Many of Commorragh's elite also hold inescapable treaties of resurrection with the Prophets of Flesh, and would never dare risk the Coven's ire.

The Prophets of Flesh is amongst the largest of its kind. Though outstripped by some of the Kabals in size, the Coven maintains hundreds of Haemonculi. Each one delves into the horrors of their craft in often solitary pursuits, while suckling at the hub of genius represented by Urien Rakarth, hunched like a spider at the Coven's centre of power. Every Haemonculus surrounds itself with several cells, each comprising dozens of their favoured creations and the twisted servants and apprentices known in some circles as Haemacolytes, but far more often as Wracks — for the changes wrought upon them by their masters. Wracks assist the Haemonculi in the brutal subdual of experimental subjects, and in some of the dissection and flesh modification that their masters consider beneath their rarefied talents. Considered the apogee of the Dark City's underspire hierarchy, the Coven receives more Wrack supplicants than any other. To be a Prophet of Flesh is to be fearfully respected, yet the road to such power is a painful one indeed.

The Prophets of Flesh are very obviously a myth perpetuated by Lord Vect. He created an all-powerful false Coven of Haemonculi with which to threaten his enemies during his rise to power, it worked, and now the elites pretend there really are Prophets of Flesh. No conspiracy lasts forever, and no conspiracy this convoluted exists at all. I suppose I can't blame the Imperials, they are so misinformed. As for Wracks, they are servants of pain and grotesqueries. Is there anything more beautiful than to be a living object of art? I think not.

The wrinkled, unhealthy skin stretched taut across Urien Rakarth's spare frame hides an even fouler soul, one twisted and ripened over millennia of abhorrent practices. Rumour within the Dark City tells of this ancient Haemonculus existing since before the days of the Fall. Rakarth has died and risen countless times, so often in fact that he savours death like a fine wine, and though he no longer returns to beauteous perfection, his toughened flesh heals at a ferocious rate. Rakarth's processes are a carefully concealed secret, but his skill and discretion in the arts of resurrection are beyond question, and his abilities are routinely courted by the most powerful in Commorragh. He is a master fleshcrafter, gene- splicer and a brewer of the most exquisite poisons. His hunch-backed, multi-limbed form is pumped full of the vilest toxins, and he wields dreadful tools with scalpel precision in a potent display of his expertise. Compound spines sprout from Rakarth's back, a leering face — selected from an extensive collection — is pinned to his skull and half-formed limbs poke from a fleshy mass, swaying with semi-sentient purpose. Some rivals think these are corruptions that have crept into his cycles of regrowth, yet in truth, they may merely be insane self- experiments by a mind so jaded that little piques its interest.

There have likely been many Urian Rakarths. I find it unlikely such an infamous man might survive since before the days of the Fall, and while Drukhari can rise from the dead the fact that the Rakarths seem so different in modus operandi (One a fleshcrafter, aanother a brewer of potions, the third a creatore of alleged monsters, and so on) makes me suspect that it is merely a mask.

Among some of these fleshworks and biofoundries, the Prophets' adepts dabble in hormone enrichment, muscle stimulation and hyperactive bone growth.

This is likely an Imperial addition, probably a dig at our methods of gender transition and bone reinforcement.

After this is a long list of various Covens, various nefarious acts, and general rambling about the dangers and vileness of the Dark City. It is not worth any of your time, and I am quite unsure how to respond to it in ways that aren't just "This is all transparent nonsense, and I'm offended you think Imperials will believe this."

The Incubi, dwelling in sacred shrines, dedicate their entire existence to war alone. They are sublimely skilled warriors who spend countless hours perfecting the art of the killing strike. Despite their puritanical and austere way of life, this produces no virtue in them. At the core of their bloodstained souls they desire to kill as many enemies as possible, as often as possible.

The Incubi are the masculine-identifying equivalent of Succubi. Those of some third gender or those lacking a gender identity entirely typically choose whichever school they prefer, though some have succeeded under the name Cubi. Incubi are not Terran Space Marines. The cult of violence is everywhere in Imperial writing.

Such is the importance of klaives [bladed swords]to the Incubi that their leaders — the Klaivex — are named for them. To earn this rank and to be a champion of the elite requires an Incubus to achieve immense mastery of the klaive, regardless of which shrine a Klaivex belongs to. For example, in the Shrine of Naked Hatred, a potential leader must defeat the incumbent in single combat, and then flay the defeated with only four strokes of the blade.

This is an objectifying and simplistic view. The Incubi do not have leaders. They are soldiers only secondarily, they are merely showpeople most of the time. There are "Klaivexes", but that is a construct for the audience, and the gory trials to become one are so much set-dressing for the show. Klaivexes have as much power as a "High Succubus", which is to say they have none at all. That said, some Incubi and Succubi do make a great show of a wild hunt, facing against Space Marines or massive Tyranids for the sake of the art and the display.

Next is the introduction to the Rules section. This is a game, after all.

Welcome to the rules section of Codex: Drukhari. On the following pages you will find al the rules content you need to bring the multifarious Drukhari to life on the tabletop, whether it is the cruel and haughty Kabalites, athletic but murderous Wych Cults, sinister and bizarre Haemonculus Covens or a raiding force of al three. Maybe you're inspired to dive straight into some.open play games, maybe you want to forge your own tales of glory and infamy with narrative play, or perhaps you can't wait to pit yourself against your opponents in nail-biting matched play contests. Whichever appeals to you — even if it's a bit of al three — this section of your Codex provides a modular toolbox that allows you to get the most out of your collection. Of course, there's no need to take it al in at once! Some of the content on the following pages — things like your army's datasheets and the rules for its weapons -will be useful no matter what kind of game youre playing. Others, such as your army's Stratagems, Warlord Traits and Relics, will become relevant once you start playing games with Battle-forged armies.

Then there's content like Lords of Commorragh and Favoured Retinues, which you will unlock by including particular models in your tabletop army. In each case, you can include these new elements at your own pace; whether you're a brand new hobbyist playing your first few games or a veteran general ready to cause carnage, there's plenty here to provide you with countless hours of fresh and exciting gameplay. On top of this, the Drukhari are the only faction in Warhammer 40,000 with access to Power From Pain, which allows your sadistic murderers to draw power and enhance their abilities by feeding on the terror of their victims.

More objectifying and loaded language such as "cruel and haughty" and "athletic but muderous". There is also a lot of self-promotion for whatever Imperial game designer created this nonsense, so I'll skim that. It seems to be selling a simplistic fantasy of being a murderous sadist, which I can't necessarily argue against but wish that that fantasy could be explored in a manner that doesn't demean any other cultures.

Finally, the back of the Codex:

The Drukhari are a decadent race of alien tormentors and raiders. Once part of a galaxy-spanning empire, the Drukhari now indulge in every macabre passion their supreme intelligence can conceive. They consider themselves superior to the galaxy's other races, and suffer a gnawing sickness of the soul which only the suffering of others can fill. The ranks of the Drukhari are filled with fleet and agile warriors, each armed with weaponry designed to inflict maximum pain, and through their innate poise they raise their torturous form of war into a gruesome artform. Launching raids from their vast transdimensional realm of Commorragh, they strike throughout the galaxy, flotillas of anti-grav craft using hidden portals to conduct rapid hit-and-run attacks and procure fresh captives. These raids draw upon- Commorragh's multitudinous factions — cartel-like Kabals, gladiatorial Wych Cults, nightmarish Haemonculus Covens and a host of mercenary gangs that prey upon the galaxy, sowing terror and anguish before them.

...I suppose that speaks for itself.

RiverDelta · Jul 21, 2023

WARNING: This update contains unambiguously inaccurate information, see the comments from Sister Vandire in the next threadmark for details. Ynathe's sources are not ideal.

Good evening, everyone. My name is Ynathe, and I will be your hostess for the time being. When we last read these books, we covered my people. I ask that the readership be civil and respectful to those Imperials who happen to be reading these reviews. They are people too, and their perspectives are valuable and important.

Our current work to explore is Codex: Adeptus Custodes, for the Ninth Edition game. I find it unsatisfactory. I hope my Imperial readers will find my review worthwhile. It is always worth exploring new perspectives.

"Ours is the duty absolute. Ours is the vigil that must never end. Ours is the timeless honour, the willing sacrifice, the penitence enduring. We stand a watch that will never be relieved, and we stand it gladly out of adoration for He who gave us life, and whose life we must, in turn, preserve. We will never earn absolution, for we do not deserve it, but those who believe that would give us pause are fools." - Shield-Captain Tybalus Maxin

This is a deeply noble sentiment. While this work is, of course, Imperial propaganda, it bears noting that the Imperium is not bereft of good men. I am certain that at least some of the Custodes bear this burden and live this truth. It is not my way of life, but I cannot help but respect this attitude. There is beauty in devotion, even to a living corpse.

Welcome, auramite-clad Custodian, to Codex: Adeptus Custodes. Within the hallowed pages of this relic-tome, you will find pages replete with lore on the most ancient and powerful Adeptus Custodes and Sisters of Silence, as well as means to deploy them on the battlefield . Beauteous artwork and glorious photography also lie within , depicting the manifest greatness of the Talons of the Emperor.

...Well, this is a change from talk of "arrogant" and "degenerate" xenos, is it not? A truly noble one does not boast of his nobility, and while I doubt a Custodes wrote this it does seem quite clear that whoever did write it had some pride invested in the depiction of their idols.

This mighty host of warriors have access to the most fearsome weaponry and nigh on impervious armour in the Imperium. The Adeptus Custodes are a highly flexible force with a range of hard- hitting infantry, indomitable combat walkers, lightning-fast jetbikes and thundering battle tanks. Supplemented by the haunting and graceful Sisters of Silence, they are almost invulnerable to the enemy's psychic attacks. Combining all these elements can give you a highly versatile and extraordinarily powerful force on the tabletop - shattering the enemy when on the attack and withstanding enormous punishment in defence.

Sometimes, the propaganda is right. The Adeptus Custodes are true titans of the battlefield...when they can be bothered to fight together. As for the Sisters of Silence, one must be warned. Those blackened souls do not think like most sophonts, and they are the poisoned fruit of the Lord of Order, that most nightmarish deity of them all. The corpse on the Golden Throne is alive, and he hungers.

There is not much that scares a child of blessed, prosperous, ancient Commorragh, but the Sisters of Silence and the Lord of Order calling himself the God-Emperor do.

Using the lore and rules in this volume, you can create a compelling story for what your army's purpose is in the galaxy - whether it serves as part of a Torchbearer fleet, is striking out on a devastating pre-emptive assault against an enemy of the Emperor or is seeking an evil artefact to prevent it from falling into the clutches of an enemy.

Ha! A "pre-emptive assault"? That is some truly absurd nonsense. Talk of seeking out evil artifacts to "prevent it from falling into the clutches of an enemy" is similarly dissolute. The Custodes are no children's heroes.

Thanks to the unique Crusade rules in this book, you can grow and develop your army with each battle you fight, enabling you to write the glorious history of every squad and hero as they slaughter enemies and suffer injuries in the course of their perilous missions.

This isn't very subtle propaganda. The goal is to get the reader to see the Custodes as supermen. They are supermen, of a sort, but their mistakes and their foibles are as grand as their might and ambitions.

In this book, you'll find everything you need to rally a mighty host of your own , ready to eliminate threats to Terra and the Emperor himself. There are datasheets for every model in the range, alongside Warlord Traits, Stratagems, Relics and unique rules for a number of the Adeptus Custodes' shield hosts. With these fabled secrets, you can hone your collection of golden warriors into such a force that even the Emperor's greatest foes will tremble at the thought of facing you.

A common fantasy of these codices is that they give the Imperial player the ability to slaughter "xenos" as some great war leader. I find this unsettling, but I will refrain from commenting further. Fantasy, after all, is harmless.

THEY ARE THE EMPEROR'S BODYGUARD, HIS TEN THOUSAND, THE GOLDEN DEATH. THEY ARE HIS NOBLE EMISSARIES AND HIS PITILESS EXECUTIONERS . BY THEIR HANDS ARE HIS SECRETS PROTECTED AND HIS VAULTS GUARDED . UNSWERVING IN THEIR LOYALTY AND UNSHAKEABLE IN THEIR PURPOSE, THEY ARE THE SYMBOLS OF THE EMPEROR'S UNSTOPPABLE WRATH. FOR TEN THOUSAND YEARS HAVE THEY STOOD SENTINEL OVER THE MASTER OF MANKIND AND DEFENDED HIS GLORIOUS PALACE .

THEY ARE THE FINEST WARRIORS IN THE IMPERIUM , PHYSICALLY AND MENTALLY FASHIONED TO A DESIGN NONE BUT THE EMPEROR HIMSELF CAN EVER TRULY UNDERSTAND . THEY ARE AN ELEVATED ELITE , WHOSE RAW STRENGTH AND WILLPOWER ARE INSURMOUNTABLE. EACH IS HIGHLY INDEPENDENT AND IS AN ARMY UNTO HIMSELF. CLAD IN NIGH ON IMPREGNABLE AURAMITE ARMOUR, IT IS WITH INDIVIDUALLY CRAFTED WEAPONS THAT THE CUSTODES CUT DOWN ANY WHO THREATEN THE EMPEROR...WOE BETIDE THOSE WHO OPPOSE THEM

The message here is obvious: The Custodes are not men, they are gods, gods that walk, gods that fight, and gods that kill. That is an image. The Custodes are more man than anyone. They squabble, they bicker, they fight, and their superhuman ambitions destroy all around them. They are superior in so many ways, but they are imperfect, self-absorbed, and are boxers in a world made of tissue paper.

No student of Imperial history knows how far back in time the Adeptus Custodes can trace their origins. Even the oldest and most fragmentary accounts recovered by Roboute Guilliman's Logos Historica Verita include quotes that refer to the Emperor being escorted by tall and mighty warriors clad in gold. Debate rages as to when the Emperor first crafted the Custodians. Most agree, however, that he would have inherited vast amounts of knowledge on gene forging from numerous scientist-kings and technodemagogues those that ruled over Terra's disparate tribes during Old Night and the dark periods that followed. Legend has it that the Emperor rose around this time, and with his unimaginable intellect was able to make use of accumulated troves of genetomantic lore. It is this, the learned few argue, that allowed the Emperor to make the Custodes. The truth is hidden within crude cave etchings, hieroglyphics, stasis-locked scads of parchment and gene-sealed tomes no living person can open. These fragments speak of trusted bodyguards and advisors, and great victories won against monstrous beings. Some historitors know such texts exist, and are frustrated to no end by the fact that they can never access them. Most are lost or hidden, whether that be on Terra, Mars or a handful of other worlds.

This is simply not the case. The Unification Wars were one of the most well-recorded parts of Terran history. The so-called "techno-barbarians" sought to illuminate their names in history, and so we have elaborate records. The Merican Akashic alone puts the lie to this. The Adeptus Custodes originated as the violent Thunder Warriors, the super-soldiers created so that the Imperium could reunite Earth after the Great Collapse. The historians of the Imperium claim that the brutal, posthuman Thunder Warriors were slain by the Emperor as his last act before proclaiming a United Terra. This is a lie. The Emperor, back then, was only a man, and he cowered before his creations. The Thunder Warriors persist, having ruled the Imperium and dueled over it from then to the ascension of the Lord of Order. Now, only the psionic spirit of the God-Emperor holds sway over his creations. With the Merican Akashic and its copies, we know that the Thunder Warriors persisted. The great Master of Merica Exalted, a scholar-dictator, wrote extensively about the Thunder Warriors. He was haunted by their image.

There is a similar lack of detail about the Custodes' role in the Horus Heresy, that goes even beyond the usual sparsity of apocryphal sources that refer to that dark time. It is thought that the first Custodes leader was a warrior named Constantin Valdor, who disappeared from records after the Horus Heresy. Many scholars with decades of experience - or in some cases more - believe that the Custodes fought against the Thousand Sons on the traitorous Legion's home world of Prospero, and defended the Imperial Palace during Horus' assault against the Throneworld . A handful suggest that the Custodes fought a war parallel to that of the Horus Heresy before the Siege of Terra, one that only they could have won, the details of which are now lost to time.

Again, the detail is censored rather than lost. Constantin Valdor was not the first Custodes leader, though he was the first one to call himself by the name of Custodes rather than the previous name. His disappearance was due to shame. After all, the Thunder Warriors chose to play deity and create the Orks. He erased himself from history rather than admit his mistake. We know this as it is written in the Book of Ursha, which has been dated to the Horus Heresy by credible historians. The "parallel war" they fought was the War in Heaven, attested by period sources. The War in Heaven was a war between factions of the Custodes to determine whether to make more of their kind. It ended with the resolution to turn only the most worthy into Custodes, and to limit their number. The name of the war was well-chosen, it truly was catastrophic and divine.

If the Space Marines are the scions of the Primarchs , then the Custodes are the progeny of the Emperor. His might permeates them, burns in their eyes and flows through their veins as surely as their blood. Potential Custodians are taken in at a very young age to better survive no older than late infancy - and it is a great honour for those of Terran noble houses to submit a son.

This is true. Just as the Emperor is now the Lord of Order, the Primarchs are children of something divine and horrifying. Behind their eyes there is no mercy and the love in their hearts melts planets to slag. Most sons do not survive the Awakening which makes them Custodes. Most minds and bodies simply cannot handle it. All the better, the Thunder Warriors think. They prefer to weed out the weak.

The Adeptus Custodes' inductees are remade at a genetic level, their baser drives rendered inert and their beings turned towards aggression, fulfilment of duty and goal acquisition.

This is not true. The Custodes are not at all remade to be aggressive or dutiful. The great secret of the Thunder Warriors is that while they once valued those goals, only a scant few still do. Custodies are truly made to be ambitious, hyper-intelligent, strategically savvy, entitled, and driven by cold logic and nuclear emotions. Custodes have every trait critical to Terrans, from compassion to heartlessness, just exaggerated a thousand times. These are not Space Marines. These are humanity exaggerated to minor godhood.

What is done to the Custodes inductee is several degrees
more exact and changing than work carried out to create a Space Marine, producing warriors much tougher, faster, stronger and with greater intelligence than the Adeptus Astartes. Some argue that the process even affects a Custodian's soul.

...They have far greater intelligence. The Custodes have an almost supernatural sense of what to do and when to do it. I am certain that the process affects a Custodian's soul. The Dukes of Order are what they are. Truthfully, I find them unsettling.

It is quite possible that the alchemists who create the Custodes do not themselves understand what they are doing, and are simply following procedures passed down
to them by rote.

Most things in the Imperium are done through rote memory, so I would not be surprised if this was the case.

It is not just the body of a Custodian candidate that must change. Their mind must also be forged anew. A Custodian must be totally loyal, remorseless, vigilant, and tireless. Their sense of duty to the Emperor must be all that matters to them, their discipline reaching deeper into their psyche than unconscious desire. A Custodian becomes duty. He becomes discipline. For this to happen, every inductee is mentally indoctrinated—their psyches are rebuilt from the ground up, creating mental architecture as well fortified as the Imperial Palace itself...They must learn diplomacy, statecraft, astrogation, interestellar geography, history, philosophy, art, theosophy, artistry and countless other subjects—all of which they become true masters of. The Emperor once demanded their counsel, and so they have to be versed in any manner of subject that he might consult them on.

Two truths and a lie.The truths are that the Custodians must learn all of these studies, and that the Emperor once did seek the advice of the former Thunder Warriors. The lie is that the Custodians are anything but disciplined. To be a Custodes is to be a superhuman viper, a scheming genius playing games so complex even Tzeentch might be impressed. The Custodians are anything but disciplined, and they have no sense of duty beyond the superficial impression of it. They bicker, they outmaneuver each other, and they in many ways rule the Imperium from the shadows. They are the Thunder Warriors, and they are beyond everything.

Additionally , the threats to the Emperor are so myriad that they may manifest in any way. A Custodian can trace the most innocent-sounding philosophical question to outright treachery, or forsee how a marauding alien force might grow to threaten Terra - even if it currently terrorises a remote system at the edge of the galaxy.

Many of these threats do not exist. A Custodian uses the threat of treachery to advance his interests like a Rogue Trader writ large, he uses the claim of an alien threat to justify his own baronial rule, and of course he uses the legend of his subservience to justify his conquests.

The Custodes are also aware of truths that no one else in the Imperium has ever learned . They know some of the galaxy's gravest secrets, for they must be able to face down and defeat the darkest terrors of the galaxy. They recognise how far Mankind has fallen from the original ideals of the Emperor, of enlightenment and common sense . The inductees learn that many truths cannot be shared, that some would cause wholesale damage to the Emperor's Imperium as corrupted from his original vision as it has become. Some cannot handle this knowledge, or bear the tragedy of what the Human race has descended into since the Horus Heresy - when their forebears failed in their solemn duty. These candidates do not become Custodes, and so through this learning are the unworthy and the weak culled.

This is largely untrue. While the Custodes do generally comport themselves as enlightened and followers of rationality, this is not a secret. Indeed, most who associate with the Custodes are aware that they are largely atheistic rationalists. This is not some dark secret to be hidden, it is simply obvious. The Custodes do not maintain the spiritualist nightmare of the Imperium out of some grave bargain to keep the Imperium alive, they do it because the faith they are apostates of is an excellent way to maintain their power.

The weak, however, are culled from time to time, though typically failed Custodes serve as advisors or subordinates rather than as bodies for the pile.

Those survivors of the induction process that emerge as Custodians are changed in every way imaginable, their minds so altered that they have entirely new personalities. They are rendered physically perfect and their skills with all kinds of weapons are sublime. Custodians even change their names, choosing those of gods, kings or heroes drawn from the most ancient texts. With enormously extended lifespans, they do not grow old as Humans do, but they can be slain in combat. Members of their own families would not recognise them , should they be alive to see what has happened to their son , nephew or cousin - though many would claim they could out of pride.

Again, we see the myth of the Custodes-as-soldier. They are leaders as much as they are soldiers. Still, the rest of this is essentially accurate, and it does display the arrogance to be found among the Thunder Warriors.

Also known as the Pale Scourge, the Soulless Ones, the Eyrine, the Null-Maidens and the Daughters of the Abyss, the Sisters of Silence are highly specialised witch finders. They are experts in hunting down rogue psykers, dangerous warlocks and depraved sorcerers - both Human and alien. Their remit to hunt down magi and witches ensures that they are constantly at war, for these nefarious foes dwell everywhere. Hardened warriors all, they pronounce the Emperor's judgement with bolt, flame and blade.

We have our own names for the Sisters of Silence. We call them the Empresses of Madness, the Vile Ones, or simply the Hatred. They hunt and violate all who they are told. They do not think like humans, they do not act like humans, and where the Custodes seek conquest and empire the Hatred seek only to snuff out the light of those who practice psionics. They are not animals, for animals have the capacity to love.

They are rightfully called Pariahs—soulless in the most literal sense. While the Imperium claims their origins are "shrouded in mystery", the truth is that the Sisters of Silence have a more mundane past than that. They were once T'au. Female T'au, abducted and experimented on, were turned into these abominations through cruel science and dark wizardry, made hulking mutant beasts. Their minds were twisted and shattered beyond repair. They are abominations, as unlike T'au as T'au are like Tyranids. Their creation was evil in the blackest sense, and so are they.

They take the Vow of Tranquillity upon completion of their training, in which they swear eternal duty and silence.

Of course. The last thing the Imperium needs is for its people to realize it has "xenos" fighting for it.

What is clear is that they fell from grace in [the Horus Heresy]'s aftermath . Their numbers were much reduced by the fighting, and many of those that survived were scattered or lost. Without the Emperor to support them, and with the Custodians looking inward after their failure to protect the Master of Mankind, the natural aversion many felt towards Blanks led the Sisters' political enemies to drive them out of positions of influence. With their numbers so depleted and spread out, they lacked the strength to assert themselves against the growing power of the Ecclesiarchy which argued that soulless creatures could not possibly have faith. For years, many of those who had been aware of the Silent Sisterhood's existence believed the order to have been disbanded. They were wrong.

The Horus Heresy was a conflict over the fate of the Imperium between the Emperor's prodigial son and the Emperor himself. It is true that the Ecclesiarchy dislikes the Sisters of Silence, unaware of their true nature. However, rumors do spread, and there are many questionable tales of the origins of the Sisters.

The Talons of the Emperor have permission to access gene-sealed vaults and adamantine-shielded archive bunkers deep beneath the Himalayic Shelf that are closed to all others. To protect them is just one of many responsibilities held by these ancient and esoteric orders. Their duties are varied, specialised and fathomless in their complexity. Should they fail, the consequences for the Imperium would be beyond disastrous. Thus, they are never allowed amomentof laxity or introspection.

There are many sources, and the archive bunkers under the Himalyic Shelf are not the only historical references in the galaxy. They are, however, one of the few completely unedited sources within the Imperium of Man, and as such their value is significant. The truth usually is prized.

The most learned of Imperial historitors cannot even imagine what treasures and horrors are kept within the Imperial Palace's vaults, archives and gaols. There are more chambers and cells than anyone can name, and much of what lies therein is so dreadful that they could bring about the fall of Humanity, or shatter the sanity of any unaugmented Human that learned of them. Relics of the Dark Age of Technology - such as the Lament of Unreason, the Black Periapt of Rai'Then'yl and the hideous Tri-blight Amulet - are kept under psychically charged lock and key, behind metres- thick slabs of gene-sealed adamantine that are covered in runic wards. There are also xenos artefacts, some all that remains of civilisations that became extinct millions of years ago. The vaults not only hold artefacts and relics, however. They also hold beings. It That Craves, Subject XI and One Of The Fell are but a handful of thousands . At times, the Custodes have even had to hold back the horrifying denizens of the rune-locked vaults from breaking free of their imprisonment.

I cannot say for certain whether this is true or false, but I sincerely doubt that it is true. The idea that the Custodes are spending their time preventing abominations and horrors from escaping caves on Terra seems absurd to me. Frankly, they are usually too busy for such trivial matters. This is likely an unintentional falsehood inserted by the Codex writer.

Only the Adeptus Custodes may decide who can have an audience with the Emperor. Such an honour is granted in only the most unusual circumstances. Not one enemy has gained access to his throne room in ten thousand years. This responsibility falls to the Companions - a three-hundred strong force of Custodians who serve as the direct bodyguards of the Emperor. Each is hand -picked by the Captain-General following a painstaking assessment based on the candidate's performance in battle, mental acuity and spiritual fortitude, alongside many other factors. Rank and veteran status have no bearing on selection. For the Custodians, there is no more important duty. When about their duties, the Companions are arranged in ranks around the Golden Throne. They stand completely still, unspeaking and poised on the cusp of readiness. This they do for incredible amounts of time, though they can rotate out of their position for rest.

This is true in a literal sense, but omits that the Companions serve a similar role to the Praetorian Guard of ancient Rome. They do not simply defend the Emperor, they influence him and use their service to him as justification for their own games of power.

The list of duties that fall to the Custodes is long and ever-adapting as new threats emerge. Custodians oversee the soul-bonding ritual, in which thousands of psykers each day are drained of their life force to sustain the Emperor, and thus
the Astronomican.

There are alternate ways to travel. The T'au use Ether Drives, and we use the Webway. Surely if there are alternate means to engage in faster-than-light travel, thousands of murders each day are simply unnecessary?

Known also as the Psyker Cull, the Hunt That Never Ends, the Grand Harvesting and Terra's Due, the Great Tithe is the process by which the Imperium deals with its population's psykers . Every world in the Imperium is required to hand over its psykers when the Black Ships of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica arrive. The Sisters of Silence garrison these dark vessels, their presence ensuring the collected witches cannot use their powers.

Black Ships are cruiser or battle cruiser variants uniquely optimised for gaoling psykers and transporting them. They often travel alone and may encounter worlds in the throes of upheaval of rebellion, so are heavily armed, even carrying exterminatus-grade weaponry. Black Ships are rigged for extended operations and can function for years without resupply. They are outfitted with complex stealth systems which mean they can travel unnoticed by signal and auspex scan. Internally, a Black Ships' structure is interlaced with systems designed to block the psychic powers of those wretched souls held within its cells . It also has cryo-crypts and stasis chambers for the most dangerous prisoners, and many of its systems are automated, so fewer vulnerable Human crew are required.

When a Black Ship is full of prisoners , it returns to Terra, where its captives are handed over to the Scholastica Psykana for processing. Before this, however, many vessels will have their Human cargo processed at any one of numerous secret worlds, anchorages, outposts and collection-node stations, to prevent overcrowding around Terra and also to shield it from additional risk. The Sisters of Silence rule these places and give few outsiders access.

By Ynnead, may they feel blessed agony, as befits their hatred and vice.

No world in the Imperium is better defended than Terra. It is shielded by layer after layer of protections of all kinds, and defended and maintained by all manner of organisations against the endless threats the galaxy holds. Even with all of these in place, however, the Custodes must be eternally vigilant. Dangers and foes continue to lurk in Terra's darkest places.

This is a bad joke. Terra is thoroughly under Imperial control, and it has been for millennia. They continue to invent enemies for themselves so as to justify a permanent war footing. "In the grim darkness, there is only war" is not a statement of fact, it is a mission statement. There is no beauty or loving agony in war, only slaughter.

The Imperial Palace is the largest and most impregnable fortress in the Imperium. Sprawling across an entire mountain range, the circumference of its walls is thousands of miles long. Once it was a structure of incomparable beauty - a testament to Mankind's engineering, architectural and cultural achievements. Since then, necessity as well as devastation inflicted during the Siege of Terra - has made it brutish , ugly and functional, as endless ordnance batteries, bulwarks, towers and other defensive placements were added.

The Imperium is obsessed with the idea of the "fall from grace". They are nostalgics. Everything was better in the past, everything must return to the past, only the Emperor can bring the past back. The idea is simplistic and leads almost inevitably to murderous dissatisfaction with the galaxy as it is. I suppose I am vulnerable to this thinking as well, but I do try and remind myself that the Peak of the Aeldari was merely different to now rather than better.

...Many other Space Marine Chapters also have little idea that some of their serfs report to the Ten Thousand [the Custodes] in secret...The threat of the Genestealer Cults is insidious indeed.

Paranoia is a very efficient means of social control, and it is funny that Thunder Warrior infiltration is treated as benign while Genestealer Cult infiltration is assumed to be a massive problem. In truth, the Genestealers are an overstated problem, and often new religious movements are labeled "Genestealer Cults" simply to justify cracking down on heresy and heathenry.

The Ten Thousand know that it is only a matter of time before the latest threat is uncovered.

Of course, when there are no threats to justify their actions, they'll make one. The Orks are proof of that.

The Sol System's inviolability surpasses that of any other system in the Imperium. An attacking foe would find themselves under near overwhelming assault from the moment of their arrival , and the deeper they plunged into the system , the more intense the response would be . The outer-system is laced with colossal fields of void mines and sentry turrets. The halo-belt boast countless star forts, garrisoned by dedicated Astra Militarum and Militarum Tempestus regiments who drill night and day in counter- invasion manoeuvres. The system is prowled by monitors and vacuum - hardened hunter servitors , as well as squadrons from Battlefleet Solar - such as the 1st Terran Battle Cruiser Armada. Weapons platforms gaze out into space, their augur systems ever searching for targets. Dock- fortresses and fighter bases litter the void , the craft that call them home ready to strike out on a moment's notice.

The Imperium worships their military even more than they worship their Lord of Order, and this sort of gushing monologue only confirms their loathsome conformity.

Theodorik's lips were dry. He tried to lick them, but could not .

Even after a year I'm still not used to it , he thought.

The Custodians had taken his tongue on completion of his fifteen years of scribal training . A precaution in case of capture - one of many to keep the knowledge he had safe . Others were far less visible , and much more painful . He had already learned many things eagerly sought after by the wrong kind of people , or creatures.

Such a Custodes would simply communicate with sign language. These grand gestures of security serve less as actual tactics and more as dramatic "proofs" of sacrifice and obedience, neither of which a Custodes must bow before.

Praise be to Him, Theodorik prayed. Our enemies will know the true meaning of fear when the impaling spear of the auric demigods reaches across the stars to skewer them wherever they are. What can our Imperium not achieve with the Ten Thousand marching abroad en masse? How many false idols will be toppled? How many xenos races put to the spear? How many traitors purged and their foul domains made sacrosanct? The Emperor protects - as threats to his people arise, he reaches out to shield them with his own guard!

...and the Imperials sincerely believe they are feared by their enemies due to their enemies iniquity, rather than their own savagery.

Nonetheless, the Custodes are not an army per se, and are not expected to prosecute war. Instead, their purpose is to utterly dominate any battlezone they fight in. They are a paramilitary force, not a strategic one, created to serve as bodyguards and eliminators of specific threats.

What doublespeak! They are "not an army", but they are meant to "dominate any battlezone"! How silly. The Custodes are not paramilitary nor military. They are heroic, closer to Gilgamesh and Hercules than Napoleon or Gilles de Rais. They are conquerers, kings by their own hand.

The Magisterium Lex Ultima also means that none can give the Custodes orders besides the Emperor himself. Even Guilliman can only request their aid, and it is to the Imperium's great benefit that Valoris agreed that the Custodes should take a more active role in the galaxy. In fact, the Captain-General was more than willing, having already begun preparing his order for greater activity beyond the Sol System.

They are privileged nobility, heroes in the classical sense. For devoted servants of the Imperium they certainly reign far more than they serve. This work is also unsubtle in its bias, with talk of "great benefit" and phrases like "a more active role" to obscure the violence and machinations of the Dukes of Order.

Nothing is spared to ensure that the Custodes have the very best wargear
in the Imperium, in any volume they require. In acquiring their vast arsenal of weaponry, the Custodes have no regard whatsoever for the amount of resources required, nor the rarity of the components necessary. They are armed deliberately to be able to deal with threats both within the realm of Mankind and without - being better equipped in every way imaginable is just one way in which the Custodes assure their superiority.

...I feel as though I am sounding like a "broken voxcaster", as the Terrans say, but this text infuriates me. The superiority of the Thunder Warriors is not some natural gift, it is a structure created by the Custodes and by the Imperium, one that is unjust and earned not by merit but by resource hoarding and naked control.

Every Custodian's weapons are handcrafted especially for him by entire generations of hereditary artisans, whose families have only ever worked for the Custodes . These craftsmen themselves have been gene -forged to enhance
traits of dexterity and extreme patience, which improve their skills even further. Every weapon and piece of wargear is an individual masterwork...

Slaves! You mean their weapons are made by slaves! You can call them "serfs", or "hereditary artisans" or whatever nonsense you wish, but the Adeptus Custodes keeps slaves!

[Primarch Guilliman] remembered the Sisters' value and importance, and knew that with the forces of Chaos being never more powerful, he would need warriors with the Sisters' unique skills.

...The Forces of Chaos fight for compassion, joy, life, and hope. The Vile Ones fight for a corpse that birthed a monster like an egg.

He also appointed Sister Asurma of the convent on the planet Yllax - as Sister-Commander of the entire Silent Sisterhood. She has vowed to grow her ranks, as well as never let her Order's power be weakened by other Imperial bodies. There is much work to be done in this regard, as new prison - fortresses are built for the ever swelling numbers of psykers claimed by the Great Tithe, and old and abandoned keeps that the Sisters once managed are restored. This has not been easy. Even with Guilliman's support , the Sisters' old enemies the Ecclesiarchy to name one have not gone away, and are very concerned with the Silent Sisterhood's sudden renaissance.

I do not often agree with the Ecclesiarchy, but it is a well-known truth that many of those who serve the Lord of Order are genuinely good people. As far as I know from my friend Sister Vandire of the Sororitas (no relation to the infamous Goge Vandire), the Ecclesiarchy is not opposed to the Sisters of Silence on some absurd fascist logic. They are opposed to a sect of superhuman, inhuman monsters preying on the innocent. They recognize the Sisters of Silence for the beasts they are. I hope that the Ecclesiarchy manages to win this struggle.

I have no hatred for those who serve the Lord of Order without engaging in monstrous acts, and there are many who fit that description.

The Sisters of Silence have played a significant role in the Indomitus Crusade, with a portion of their number joining every fleet.

Isn't that interesting? The Sisters of Silence are joining "every fleet", almost as if they are agents of the Emperor and the Thunder Warriors acting in a soft coup against the Ecclesiarchy, who the Lord of Order and the Thunder Warriors are known to dislike on religious grounds.

Still, the Sisters are a relentless force who answer to none but the Golden Throne. They are coldly rational, possess great tactical discipline and are as adept at utilising stealth and counter-surveillance as they are at launching rapid, overlapping assaults of bolter, flamer and blade.

My, I wonder why the Sisters—who are absolutely not mutated T'au—would fight like Fire Warriors? What a mystery.

The equipment the Sisters still have is, as it always was, extremely resource-intensive. The required materials are rare and obscure, and even harder to acquire in quantity since the emergence of the Great Rift. Nonetheless, Asurma has ordered their acquisition to be made a priority, and is backed by Roboute Guilliman.

...Guilliman's Abominations continue to serve him, even in these days where half of the Imperium has lost contact with Terra.

Many claim that Trajann Valoris is the greatest warrior to have ever held the title of Captain-General, one of the most powerful military appointments in the Imperium. Valoris is responsible for the overall defence of the Sol System , Terra, and the Emperor himself. He has stood amongst the ranks of the High Lords of Terra and leads great military campaigns of the Ten Thousand.

Trajann Valoris does not exist. He is a propaganda hero. He is a legend, a story, an old wives' tale. He is a name used by any Imperial leader who wishes for his deeds and his dark actions to remain anonymous. He has been sighted in so many disparate places he could not possibly have been in any of them. He is said to be a slayer of entire Necron tombs, a vanquisher of Alpha Legion cells, a breaker of Ork factories, and so much more. He is said to be an expert at the perfect, devastating strike, but every strike he supposedly makes is done in such disparate ways that the chances they are all one man are slim to none. Allegedly, he even wields the Moment Shackle, a relic from the Age of High Technology (or the "Dark Age of Technology" as the Imperials put it) that can slow time itself. Such a thing is likely not even possible. There probably never was a Trajann Valoris.

Unlike the soldiers of other branches of the Imperial military, the warriors
of the Custodes commonly fight as individuals, rather than in cohesive units . The Adeptus Custodes are more akin to a warrior aristocracy than a hierarchical fighting force like the Astra Militarum or Adeptus Astartes. Custodians operate within a system of meritocracy that sees success and ability afforded great honour, regardless of an individual's experience. This does not bring them disadvantage, however; in battle, it makes every squad - known to the Custodes as a sodality - a highly flexible unit that can be trusted to fulfil a role without overt command and control protocols being in place.

Half-truths. The Custodes do indeed operate in an informal, meritocratic fashion, but this is a detriment as much as an advantage. In fact, it means that their strikes are uncoordinated, their leaders are prone to bickering, and their battle-plans as likely to backfire or succeed only on raw force as they are to succeed on merit.

Over the course of a Custodian's genetically extended lifetime, he will accrue a number of honour-names and titles. These are based on his glorious battlefield deeds, personal characteristics, life history and the given role he currently holds. Many names are derived from those of tyrants and lords from Terran legend. All lend to a culture that harks back to a history deeper than any other Imperial organisation, which separates the Custodes further from the rest of the Imperium and ties them closer to the timeless nature of the Emperor.

It is worth noting that the Custodes often operate as a secret society, and that these names and titles signify rank and place in the often-clandestine group. As for how I know of all of this, I am extrapolating from all I have heard and read, which is no small number of sources. Some more specific guesses on their secret operations may not be completely accurate, but I have done my best.

Dreadnoughts use technology the Imperium can no longer replicate , such as atomantic shields that dispel laser blasts and incoming artillery shells . Auto-repair protocols, motive shrines and auto-sanctified backup systems take the strain should the auramite-clad chassis come under severe trauma. What is strangest of all about these combat walkers are their pilots . Should a warrior be so severely wounded he can no longer fight, he may be interred within a Dreadnought. These Custodians are reduced to nought but their brain and vital organs , placed within an amniotic tank and fused permanently with the Dreadnought's life support systems. From then on , they become one with the Dreadnought and live a twilight existence the robotic body's legs become their legs, its vox emitter becomes their mouth and its sensoria becomes their eyes and ears. There are some tales of unharmed Custodians volunteering to be interred, perhaps as a result of some self-perceived shame, or an act of self -sacrifice to ensure the Ten Thousand always have these engines of destruction.

I pity the men interned in that metal Hell, and I find it darkly amusing that our Wracks are so disdained in the last Codex, but that this utter horror in the name of a vile Lord of Order is something the Codex expects us to see as acceptable and necessary. This is genuinely chilling. What ugly, boring pain.

The next page discusses the Shadowkeepers, the Custodian jailors who allegedly keep horrifying abominations under control.

For ten thousand years the Shadowkeepers have performed their duty, yet the coming of the Great Rift changed everything. With the power of Chaos spilling raw and seething into the spaces between the stars, new abominations have come to light. Worse still are the cells that stand suddenly empty the entities and artefacts once contained within spirited away by some unholy force to curse the galaxy once more. Fearing the consequences of this, the Shadowkeepers have sent more warriors than ever before out into the galaxy. These gaolers must trammel that which should not be, slaughtering all who seek to impede them, before returning their foul prizes to the cells where they belong.

It is true that the Shadowkeepers are jailors, but it is untrue that they are noble heroes keeping ancient horrors from escaping. They are simply jailors for powerful entities, such as Avatars of Khaine or Greater Daemons. These entities are often not any more harmful than any other being, and are kept under lock and key for more mundane concerns. Most importantly, however, the Shadowkeepers jail rogue Custodes, of which there have been many.

The Aquilan Shield are an informal brotherhood laced through the ranks of the Adeptus Custodes. They typically operate in small warrior bands, journeying across the stars to stand watch over their charges wherever they may be. No warning is given, nor permission asked - the warriors of the Aquilan Shield appear as if from nowhere, avatars of the Emperor's will who announce their quarry to be under the protection of the Master of Mankind.

The Aquilan Shield are the most noble of the Custodes, but also the most fearsome. They are associated with true charity and devotion, but also with ruthless extermination of all they find to be a danger to the ones they protect. Such beings are as impressive as they are horrifying in their severity. I fear and hate them, but I cannot understand them, and a rare few are actually compassionate.

The Aquilan Shield fight to ensure such a future comes to pass, guarding their charges from harm until the exact moment the usefulness of the person under their protection is deemed spent. At that point, they depart without a word , leaving those they guarded to look to their own defence. Tragedy often follows, but this is of no concern to the Aquilan Shield - providing it does not jeopardise the safety of the Golden Throne.

Rare compassion, indeed.

I did purge the depraved Aeldari from Bajil, before Aetropas destroyed their bloodstained, spike-walled arenas and heinous torture pits. Each one screamed as they died. I only hope that whatever they suffered equalled what they had inflicted on those we freed. My task is not complete. The tendrils of Leviathan constrict the Segmentum Solar. The Archenemy runs rampant still. The Nachmund Gauntlet burns . The boiling cauldron of Octarius threatens to bubble over and drown sectors in blood. The nightmarish silence of the Pariah Nexus grows ever deeper.

And, of course, when one stares into the abyss, one often finds himself going mad. This quote from a Custodes displays their true face and blackened hearts.

The Dread Host represents a breathtaking concentration of military might. It numbers hundreds of Custodians , organised into multiple shield hosts and transported aboard a trio of pre-heresy warships - the Aetropas, the Clotis and the Lakesis - collectively known as the Moiraides. The nature of this army is simple: it is the deliverer of the Emperor's judgement, his anger and his punishment made manifest.

Rage destroys, and it cannot be controlled for long.

They slaughter the enemy's warriors and reduce their war engines to wreckage. They cast down false idols and set them aflame. They topple their foe's cities, sunder their strongholds, butcher their allies and decimate their followers. The Dread Host makes grisly examples of those who would dare lead such a challenge to the Emperor's dominion, accepting no surrender and foiling all bids at flight.

If these were Night Lords, the Imperium would condemn them. I often get the sense that the Imperium is not opposed to immoral acts so much as it always prefers to be the one doing the deed rather than having it done to them.

Humanity maintains hundreds of strongholds throughout the Sol System . Billions of weapons point menacingly into the dark gulfs of space, ready to unleash spectacular devastation upon any foolish enough to threaten Mankind's seat of power.

Humanity is once unstoppable and in critical danger. How typical of the fascist mindset.

While their authority technically extends to the Red Planet, the Adeptus Custodes are wise enough to maintain cordial relations with the servants of the Omnissiah, and so travel to that world only occasionally. They keep their distance, expecting the Tech-Priests of Mars to censure their own deviants.

This vastly overestimates the cordiality of the relationship between the Custodes and the Mechanicus, which at times resembles a series of terror attacks or even a very low-level civil war.

Amidst the snow-coated ruins of a mountain -top basilica on Sansha XII, Custodes and Sisters of Silence purged a warband of the Word Bearers Traitor Legion. The Heretic Astartes dared to attempt to enact a grave ritual close to the Sol System itself.

Even as the Imperium falsely claims that heresy contributes to evil gods and must be stamped out entirely, the cruelty of its agents against those of other faiths is unparalleled. The ritualists were not Word Bearers, they were civilian Chaos worshippers who the Word Bearers were escorting. "Civilian" in High Gothic translates to "target", ha.

The hotter the forge , the finer the blade, or so they say. The forge of war in which we now find ourselves blazes hotter than anything the Imperium has seen in ten millennia. We of the Adeptus Custodes were built to endure these fires. They will not be our end. Instead, we will be honed to the finest cutting edge, that we may be the bane of even the foulest heretics.

This quote from the alleged Trajann Valoris is a description of what the Custodes would like to be seen as. Here is a quote from Sister Vandire of the Adepta Sororitas, which I believe is more accurate.

"A servant of the God-Emperor of Mankind must balance her mercy with just fury. She must bring fire and death to those who would endanger the innocent or the faith, and bring kindness and care to all else. She must be true in word, spirit, and deed, and she must fear nothing. She must serve the many nearly as devoutly as she serves the One. Above all, she must serve. Not rule, serve. My Fathers in the Custodes who serve are mighty and blessed, but I know the God-Emperor will smite those who seek to parasitize his mantle. May he scourge this blight, and may His will be done."

Her faith may be questionably placed, but her words are true.

RiverDelta · Jul 21, 2023

...Hello, everyone. My name is Sister Felicity Vandire of the Adepta Sororitas, and I am a friend of Ynathe's. Still, the last update was inaccurate in almost every capacity. The idea that the Custodes are powerful, somewhat inhuman, and feudalistic or dominating is in fact true, as is their secrecy. In fact, they are so secret that Ynathe seems to have made up most of what she said.

For example, her subscribing to conspiracy theories about the origin of the Sisters of Silence is foolish, and claims that the Emperor is a "Lord of Order" are simply untrue and poorly-sourced. Similarly, the Thunder Warriors were purged long ago, likely after they had outlived their usefulness. I'm not sure what sources they have in Commorragh, but on this subject they're very lacking.

By the Golden Throne.

I think it's noble that Ynathe is "humanizing" (for lack of a better term) the Xenos species, I just suggest she focus on that. If someone isn't informed on a subject, that someone should probably avoid making definitive statements on it.

Read the update for what truth can be gleaned from it, but be aware that it is far from objective.

RiverDelta · Jul 24, 2023

OOC: Well, this T'au update has gotten much longer than it should have been, so hopefully it'll be worth it. The idea here is a return to form. I'm pretty proud of this update, and the dialogue gives us new perspectives that I think should be really fun. It's definitely jokier, but I feel as though that breaks up the "Everything is propaganda" lens from Ynathe in previous updates.

IC: Well, Sister Vandire spanked me a few times in a manner she assures me was entirely platonic, so hopefully this time I won't make so many errors in reporting the facts. I do not think she realizes that spanking is a reward rather than a punishment for me—if a pedestrian one. I will have to tell her. I'm sure her response will be most amusing. Oh, and this is the Ninth Edition Codex for the T'au Empire.

Bright burns the light of the T'au Empire. Relentless is its advance. They come first with words of friendship, promising enlightenment and strength through unity. Denied, they come again in a sudden storm of fire. Selfless and swift are their warriors. Mighty are their weapons of war. Yet it is their unwavering dedication to the T'au'va, the Greater Good, that is their deadliest weapon of all.

Where have you been all my life? After the absolutely defamatory Drukhari codex and the codswallop about the Custodes (I think it's possible that the Sisters of Silence are just mutated T'au), such a sensitive and culturally respectful opening was not at all what I expected.

Welcome, noble Shas'o. Within the pages of this primer you will find much to aid you in spreading the enlightenment of the T'au'va to a divided and barbaric galaxy: the history of the T'au Empire; its spheres of expansion and ever advancing technologies; its greatest heroes and most dire foes. Read on, for the Ethereals have much to teach you.

...Why are the Imperium so respectful to the T'au in this book? I am frankly jealous. Why should my noble and ancient people be called "arrogant" and "cruel" when the (admittedly seemingly-respectable) T'au get such flattery? Am I not important? Does my blade not strike as true as the suns are bright?

The T'au Empire is young and dynamic compared to the elder powers of the 41st Millennium. Relative newcomers to the galactic stage, this xenos race might appear perilously naive. They are idealists, certainly, believing it is their destiny to bring enlightenment and unity to all. They are strangely compassionate conquerers, achieving peace through diplomacy where possible and showing true sorrow when forced to violent action.

If one really wants to know my opinion on the T'au, it's that they're...fine. They're a well-organized nation based on mostly good principles that is both well-run and lacking in a history of unnecessary brutality. I can't say I truly adore them, as I find their society regimented and conformist. I also find their self-righteousness to be infuriating, and truthfully in my eyes the Imperium and the T'au are two sides of the same coin. I also could stand to know more about them.

(From the Pen of Sister Vandire: What are you talking about? The Tau are materialist, while the Imperium is spiritualist. The Tau are small and centralized, while the Imperium is massive and decentralized. The Tau focus on cutting-edge technology, while the Imperium prefers old and reliable technology. How are the Tau and the Imperium in any way alike? Is this some stupid dig at His empire?)

You're both boring.

Those who refuse the Greater Good are shown the error of their ways through swift and punishing military conquest, while those deemed unable ever to grasp its wonders are sentenced to annihilation. The T'au do not revel in such butchery. Yet they never turn from it either, and their might is so great that their foes stand little help.

My, I wonder why the Imperium would be trying to invent a new enemy to fight now that Chaos has proven itself to be manageable at worst and potentially beneficial for many at best.

(Sister Vandire: It might be that there are genuine tensions between the two states over things like ideology and resources. The Imperium's recognization of civilian humans living under the Tau as "hostages" is also a point of contention. I'd say that "hostages" is more or less accurate, though.)

Why must you be so obedient?

(Sister Vandire: Isn't that what you're for?)

My dear, I am a stone dominant.

(Sister Vandire: I do recall, unfortunately, you moaning something like "Oh, by the Emperor!")

Where more barbarous races favour bludgeoning their enemies at close quarters, T'au Hunter Cadres emphasize overwhelming firepower coupled with the manoeuvrability to swiftly relocate should any given position become untenable. Even the most low-ranking T'au soldies wear advanced protective armor and wield guns that put the specialist wargear of other factions to shame.

Oh, damnations, Unnamed Author, please just kiss a Fire Warrior already!

By the time the hunter cadres of the T'au Empire surge into battle, their commanders already know the surest path to victory. Feral Kroot, cunning Pathfinders, and the eagle-eyed pilots of the Air Caste have mapped every inch of the engagement area. The Foe's every weakness is already exposed.

From the first shot fired, the T'au demonstrate strategic coordination and unity of purpose so powerful that they are weapons in their own right. TY7 Devilfish transports deliver heavily equipped and highly trained warriors precisely where they are needed. Devastating artillery walkers like the KV128 Stormsurge hammer the enemy lines. Nimble combat aircraft fill the skies while alien auxilaries unleash their own unique talents of battlecraft.

(Sister Vandire: ...The effusive praise for the Tau is beginning to get way too grating. This sounds like they're trying to sell war materiel. Or, I suppose, they're trying to sell models.)

By Ynnead, if they were trying to sell models, what was the reason for the clear bigotry towards the Drukhari?

(Sister Vandire: I don't think most Imperials like Drukhari as a general rule.)

Yes, and that is surely to their great detriment!

So have countless worlds fallen to the expansionist armies of the T'au Empire, who do not hesitate to secure ideological acquiescence beneath the muzzle of a gun. Now, in the wake of the Great Rift's opening, more worlds in their path than ever stand cut off and poorly defended. The T'au will gladly see them all brought - willing or otherwise - into their burgeoning empire.

Very true. This author speaks well of their warmongering and imperial ambitions!

(Sister Vandire: This is propaganda. The Tau make a point of working through soft power first. It's why there are many "mixed" planets where Imperial citizens and human citizens of the Tau mingle in relative peace. They're under the notice of the Administratum, of course, but the idea that the Tau are obsessed with spreading their ideals by the sword is an oversimplification. They are in some ways less belligerent than the blessed Imperium.)

That is not particularly hard to be, given that the Imperium of Man is a brutal, xenophobic, autocratic war-state bent on complete galactic conquest.

(Sister Vandire: Many Imperial worlds are the most tolerant places you'll ever find They pay their tithes and the Militarum keeps them safe. I was born on Justinia, raised to defend Mankind by the other nuns. I was not raised to extinguish the Xeno. There are other worlds that taught other things, but the Imperium is vast and it resists being simplified.)

Explain why your primary weapon is for setting people on fire.

(Sister Vandire: Baptismal water cleanses most sins, and flamers burn the most stubborn remainder away.)

The first contact the Imperium had with the Tau is believed to have occurred shortly before the Age of Apostasy. Records of such antiquity are, of course, subject to much degradation. Moreover, becasue this contact was made by the Adeptus Mechanicus, those datalogs that endure are guarded with acquisitive jealousy. For all this, there are those amongst the Ordo Xenos and the Deathwatch who have accessed the blessed records and pieced together disturbing revelations from them. It appears that the world of T'au was surveyed from the void by the Adeptus Mechanicus Explorator ship Land's Vision, and its xenos denizens discovered. At this time, however, the T'au were little more than primitive savages. Their world was marked for purgation and Human resettlement. Before this sentence could be carried out, however, warp storm activity cut T'au off from the imperium. Millennia passed before Humanity and T'au met again, yet not nearly so long as to explain the burgeoning stellar empire into which the aliens had flourised in the intervening time. Such explosive technological and cultural advancement has disquieted Imperial observers deeply. While the T'au might register as little more than an irritant to the Imperium at the moment, if their expansion and development continues at such a rapid pace there is no telling what manner of galactic threat their empire will become.

(Sister Vandire: What absolute crap. The Tau are an irritant. They fight well, and I respect their conduct and their arms, but they're not a galactic threat and they never will be.)

...Well, they're innovating, and innovating faster than anyone. The history of war is innovation leading to success, is it not?

(Sister Vandire: Nothing can beat the Emperor.)

What about superior firepower?

(Sister Vandire: They worship a secular, false god. We worship the Most Holy. Through our faith, we will triumph should they make the mistake of facing us.)

Like you tried to squash them in the cradle?

(Sister Vandire: That wouldn't have been what I'd've preferred.)

[The T'au] developed language, tools, and of course, weapons. What singles their tale out is the speed with which these advances came. The T'au are a short-lived species by Human standadrds, but strive with a dynamism that sees each generation achieve remarkable progress. During their early days, ancestors of the T'au rapidly outpaced their moral growth with their practical and martial development. Inevitable disaster followed...Tribal alliances formed. Wars erupted. So began the Mont'au, a dark time of conflict that looked destined to drive the Tau to extinction.

(Sister Vandire: Technology is a danger as much as it is a tool. We learned that in the Dark Age of Technology, it seems the Tau didn't learn it after their's.)

It is a shadow the modern T'au fear even now, for it speaks of a darkness within their collective psyche whose resurgence they will always dread.

According to T'au myth, the end of the Mont'au was marked by strange lights in the skies. These were first believed to portend the end of days, yet instead they seem to have announced the coming of the Ethereals. With them came destiny. The first documented sighting of this strange new breed of T'au was at Fio't'aun, a place where a mighty fortress lay beseiged. Ethereals walked calmly out of the night and compelled the leaders of both sides to sit down and agree a peace where none had been possible. Legend tells how the Ethereals spoke long with the assembled T'au who, until so recently, had sought one another's deaths. The Ethereals told of a shared destiny. They projected a sense of undeniable authority, and in the light of a new dawn they secured alliance and cooperation between the warring factions....the Ethereals ended the Mont'au and united their species in a single goal...the Tau'va, or Greater Good.

(Sister Vandire: Oh, the False Prophets.)

I...do not know what to think of the Ethereals. I hope to learn more as I read.

From that time onward the breakneck pace ofT'au advancement became one of their race's greatest strengths. Guided by the council of Ethereals, the T'au adopted a rigid caste system that saw the different tribes arranged and valued by their strengths. The Earth Caste were builders and craftsmen and, as ilieir technology base advanced, became engineers and scientists. The Air Caste continued to act as scouts and messengers, serving eventually as their race's pilots and spacefarers. Those tribes who had specialised in mercantile trade or diplomacy became the Water Caste, whose administrative influence flowed through their society and kept the wheels of progress turning. Stubborn and aggressive, the war-like plains dwellers took the longest to embrace the teachings of the Ethereals, yet even they eventually acceded and became the Fire Caste. In time they would graduate from being their race's huntsmen to being their standing military, and it was during these early centuries that they adopted the teachings of the Code of Fire that still regulate their conduct to this day.

I have always found the Greater Good and the Tau caste system to be...restrictive and conformist, uncomfortably so. It all reminds me of a hive more than a nation. I don't like it. I understand some in T'au space are happy, but it seems like a restrictive kind of happiness.

(Sister Vandire: It is the worship of a false, secular god figure.)

Natch.

This unified drive towards progress saw the T'au establish orbital void-cities, and then push outwards to claim new worlds and systems for their own. Such swift advancement also subjected theT'au race to unbelievable stresses and challenges: encountering alien species, many of which proved hostile and had to be fought for survival; the constant push towards progress and territorial expansion that required selfless dedication from every member of T'au society; the burning need for fresh resources to power the endless toil; the burden of believing in their peoples' destiny to save the galaxy from itself. Such stresses have proven too much for many burgeoning empires, even when spread out over far greater periods of time. Yet the T'au almost seem to relish each fresh hurdle. Though they may suffer and bleed, and pay dearly for every forwards step, still in the service of the Greater Good the T'au move ever forward, and they do so gladly.

Please just find a T'au partner and stop bothering us with your insipid simpering!

(Sister Vandire: No comment.)

Oh, you would be aroused by a well-muscled T'au embracing you with talk of the "Greater Good".

(Sister Vandire: No comment!)

The T'au'va can be summed up simply: it is the belief that the individual life of any given member of the T'au Empire is of less importance than the needs of the empire itself. Its adherents gladly expend incredible efforts, endure shocking hardships and lay down their lives without a second thought for the furtherance of this Greater Good.

I've done my research, and this is mere stereotyping. The Greater Good is not so simplistic, and this is largely a similar stereotype to ancient Terran ones of Asian Terrans. It's not a good idea to fetishize those one is attracted to.

(Sister Vandire: Returning to the actual review, the quoted bit is more or less the standard Imperial narrative on the Tau, that they're sort of a mindless blob. It's not really the case, of course. The Greater Good is less about the needs of the empire and more about the needs of the Tau itself as a species as well as their maintaining of a privileged position meant to guide other sophonts. This overlaps heavily with the "T'au Empire", but it isn't exactly the same.)

Ever since the coming ofthe Ethereals, T'au societyhas been focused upon fulfillinga singular destiny. With very few exceptions, every T'au believes wholeheartedly in giving all that they have to the furtherance of the Greater Good. Moreover, they believe that it is their duty and privilege to carry this creed out into the stars and unify every sentient species beneath their secular faith. The T'au put great store in every achievement and personal sacrifice that advances this goal. Those who excel in the service of the Greater Good are lauded, while those rare few who allow personal hubris, vanity or selfishness to come first are vilified.

(Sister Vandire: The Tau are still best understood as individuals in a conformist society, rather than as some faceless horde.)

Hubris, vanity, and selfishness are the point of life, my dear! What's the point of anything if one isn't having fun? What dull, castrated lives the T'au must lead.

(Sister Vandire: It is, in some sense, admirable. Their faith is false, but it's strong.)

The T'au'va has many apparent benefits. Thanks to the instinting efforts of Earth Caste miners, engineers and architects the cities of the T'au septs are clean and orderly. They are technologically advanced places, well protected from hostile environments and enemies alike. Energy shields and vast habitation domes hold indigenous lifeforms and perilous weather systems at bay. Railguns, ion cannons, Fire Caste garrisons and hive-like droneports watch over the habitation zones, science complexes, cultural centres, military academies, Water Caste diplomatic embassies and trade hubs, Air caste spaceports and other bustling centres that fill the cities...Within their bounds, alien races of many sorts rub shoulders in peace, with the T'au moving through them as first amongst equals.

The more I read this, the more unsettlingly perfect it gets. Are the T'au really so...orderly?

(Sister Vandire: Yeah. That's about it.)

Where is the pain, the joy, the experimentation and the tragedy? Where is the beautiful horror? Where is the life?

(Sister Vandire: Probably dismissed as inefficient and a hindrance for the Greater Good by their government.)

What a profoundly artless society.

Of course, all who dwell in these cities have their places within T'au society predetermined by caste and by the orders of the Ethereals.

...By Ynnead, this is nightmarishly oppressive. What a sterile society.

They toil for the Greater Good while surrounded by carefully nuanced propaganda that extolls the glories and victories of their eminently superior empire. The T'au and their allies have very little say in their own personal destinies for, by the command of the Ethereals, these are subsumed into the single great destiny that all must serve...The word of the Ethereals is law, and no true T'au or ally of their empire would seek to contradict it.

...Felicity, the T'au are evil. They are profoundly evil. They are the death of individuality and art. Where the Imperium breaks bodies, the T'au break souls. This is a waking nightmare.

(Sister Vandire: Isn't there something sort of admirable about submitting to a higher calling?)

A righteous Drukhari's true loyalties are to herself, and she is good to others because she respects their selves as equals as precious as her own.

The Greater Good demands the tireless expansion of the T'au Empire. It is not enough to wait for the peoples of the galaxy to come in search of enlightenment. The T'au feel genuine compassion for those races unfortunate enough to still toil in darkness and ignorance. They believe the message of the Greater Good must be brought to all, and everycivilisation ushered into the wonder of its light.

(Sister Vandire: The right idea, sure, but the wrong message.)

There is no one Light, no one Truth! There is only perception and the relationships between ideas and people! Reality is a prism, not a spotlight!

(Sister Vandire: What are you talking about?)

The T'au Empire is wrong. Something is very wrong here.

The warriors of the Fire Caste are many but even still their numbers are stretched thin about the borders of the empire. Moreover, the T'au know their own strengths and weaknesses well, accepting without ego that many aliens possess physical or mental abilities that allow them to serve the Greater Good in ways the T'au themselves cannot.

...Don't you see? The T'au would force the entire galaxy to serve them and their masters! They are a threat to freedom and autonomy themselves, as bad as the Imperium but more unsettling. At least the Imperium simply kills you!

(Sister Vandire: ...Is...Is this how you normally respond to a functioning, organized society? Are you so obsessed with Drukhari superiority that a society that isn't full of scheming and politics is somehow a threat to...free will?)

It is for these reasons, among others, that the T'au make widespread use of alien species to supplement their armies, as well as many other arms of their civilisation. Most ubiquitous amongst all these alien auxiliaries are the mercenary Kroot and to a lesser extent the insectile Vespid, each of which bring their own talents to support the Fire Caste. Yet these are but the tip of a considerable iceberg: there are the Nicassar, possessed of potent psychic abilities that T'au little understand, and a mastery of voidfaring;the Anthrazods, who are put to work mining asteroids for the Greater Good; the Nagi, small, wormlike beings whose talent for mental compulsion has greatly aided more than one difficult Water Caste negotiation; the Vorgh, peaceful until roused and yet so massive and resilient that they can wrestle a super-heavy combat walker and previal; the Phosiab, whose ability to view reality in nine dimensions and slip through the void unharmed is a boon to T'au extra-orbital construction. Even humans have been integrated into the T'au empire, abandoning their oppressive Imperial masters in favour of a new life in the light of the Greater Good.

What kind of slave willingly finds a new master?

(Sister Vandire: Gue'vesa are often fed, clothed, and armed better than their counterparts in the Imperial Guard. Unfortunately, for the desperate, treason is commonplace.)

Drones lead the way out into the void, tinylights streaking through the immensity of space as they broadcast messages of hope and unity. Whenever a drone detects signals from a sentient species it alerts the T'au and beckons their colonisation fleets hence. From this point the T'au observe a specific series of protocols. First contact is always made by ambassadors of the Water Caste, who entreat peaceful negotiations with the newly discovered aliens. Silver tongued and fervently committed to spreading the message ofthe Greater Good, the ambassadors do all they can to convince their hosts of the benefits of becoming part of the T'au Empire. Should the world's inhabitants accept this invitation - even should such acceptance take generations to arrive at - then all is well; T'au colonisation begins at once and often the indigenous peoples are peacefully relocated deeper into the T'au Empire, where they can be educated in the glory of the T'au'va.

Is the author mad? "Peaceful relocation"? "Not cruel"? "Educated in the glory"? This is colonialism, vicious colonialism, and even by the author's own implication we are told that the T'au intend to do this to every civilization they meet! "Colonization begins at once", as well, is obvious doublespeak. I know not whether the T'au are victims of the Ethereals or mad conquerers in their own right, but they are scoundrels either way!

(Sister Vandire: Colonialism, forced relocation, and reeducation are just how societies work. There's nothing inherently wrong with them. That said, reeducation in the name of a false divinity is a problem.)

You're a coward.

(Sister Vandire: Somehow, I'm not that offended by you saying it.)

Regrettably, - from the T'au standpoint, anyway - many races reject these diplomatic advances. Such beings cannot be left to threaten the empire in their ignorance...When the T'au attack, they come suddenly from the firmament with overwhelming speed and firepower...Yet even in victory the T'au are not cruel. They seek to preserve what they can of both the enemy's world and the enemy themselves, for both will be valuable assets to the empire once conquered. As the Ethereals say, it is not the fault of those who are blind that they cannot yet see.

Fight them to the last! Burn their "perfect" cities to cinders, reveal the evil of their Greater Good in exquisite agony! Let their cruel soldiers be charred and displayed as the abominable creatures they are!

(Sister Vandire: ...You sound like your own stereotype of a Space Marine.)

What else am I supposed to say? The T'au are utterly intent on making life boring and the individual worthless. That is the greatest set of sins I can imagine!

(Sister Vandire: I guess I just expected better of you.)

Well, I expected better of the T'au, too, but if this Codex is accurate they are utter scum!

(Sister Vandire: Is the Codex accurate? Did you check?)

Let me check my sources.

(Sister Vandire: Sure.)

...Alright, I've looked into it, and it seems as though this Codex is vastly exaggerating the T'au jackboot. In reality, while they've engaged in several repressive "police actions", they are willing to seek the Greater Good without necessarily subjugating other species and evidence that the Ethereals have created a maniacally expansionist caste dictatorship seem to be exaggerated. I apologize to the T'au for my cultural insensitivity.

(Sister Vandire: They would likely find your gladiatrix career to be wasteful and harmful, though.)

So they are judgmental?

(Sister Vandire: Yeah.)

I have no idea what to think about the T'au. It is deeply infuriating. I find it utterly perplexing how they are regarded either as monstrous tyrants or unblemishe saviors. See here:

As each new Sphere of Expansion has pressed outwards into the darkness, so the boundaries of the T'au Empire have stretched wider and that which was once veiled in shadow has been illuminated by the radiance of the T'au'va. Yet always the unknown and the unenlightened call out to the T'au, drawing them ever further into the shadows beyond.

How accurate is this Codex?

(Sister Vandire: Why should I know? I've never dealt much with the Tau.)

Blast it. I know a T'au Earth Caste member, one who works as a doctor. She wouldn't say anything about the inner workings of the T'au military, but I suppose I can call in a favor or two.

(Vior Or'es: Hi! Ynathe is my friend! Who's this?)

(Sister Vandire: Are you...more enthusiastic than most Earth Caste members?)

(Vior Or'es: Very much so! However, like those of my caste I tend to speak very literally, so please do not use any complex metaphors or analogies. They will not translate well!)

You're very...direct, hm?

(Vior Or'es: Of course! Directness is the most efficient form of communication!)

(Sister Vandire: Well, how do you know this xenos?)

(Vior Or'es: I am Succubus Ynathe's personal doctor!)

(Sister Vandire: "She owes me a favor"?)

Fine, maybe I wanted to pretend that I had a more prestigious personal doctor I could brag about, but out on a raid she sort of clung to me. So, well, now she's here.

(Sister Vandire: Just...clung to you?)

(Vior Or'es: Yes, I am very busy! I was in need of work to do, and Succubus Ynathe gave me work!)

(Sister Vandire: And the Greater Good?)

(Vior Or'es: I am certain that Succubus Ynathe will come to it!)

Please do not expect that to happen.

(Vior Or'es: It'll happen eventually!)

It will not.

(Vior Or'es: I must warn you, it will be very busy for a while, so I may not be able to commentate on subsequent documents after this hateful and bigoted Codex!)

You've read it, then?

(Vior Or'es: Yes, it is deeply hateful in its implication that the T'au Empire is anything but a perfectly ideal society with no problems or questionable implications whatsoever!)

Well, fantastic, I suppose none of us know anything about the Tau?

(Sister Vandire: I think if we read this Codex and put all of our perspectives together, we may get an accurate view of the Tau.)

...Alternatively, none of us will understand anything about them and we'll all be incorrect in different ways.

(Sister Vandire: Pretty much. I'll pray that that doesn't happen.)

So completely have the T'au absorbed the concept of the Greater Good that it has come to shape their entire society, and even their physical and mental makeup. Long now have they been divided into castes, each with its own strictly delineated responsibilities to the empire and the other castes. The T'au caste system transform their society from countless individuals to a coherent whole, comprising four hard-working component elements directed in all things by a fifth. T'au are born into their castes, live their lives by the tenets of that caste, and all hope to eventually pass away having furthered its contribution to the Greater Good. The Ethereals permit no interbreeding between T'au of different castes. They further monitor the development of each as a careful gardener tends to their plants, pairing away weak or recessive shoots while ensuring the healthy limbs are given all they need to thrive.

Well, that sounds entirely healthy. Is this all true?

(Vior Or'es: Yes, this is completely authentic!)

What a nightmarish abomination against individuality.

(Vior Or'es: ...No T'au starves. No T'au bleeds without good cause. No T'au has to worry about being abandoned, or afraid, or unloved. The Ethereals love us, they genuinely love us.)

They love you as objects.

(Vior Or'es: Being a person is hard. A Drukhari or Terran has to worry about dying unloved, about organizing themself, about finding meaning in life. We don't have to worry about any of that! From our creation to our annihilation, we're given love, direction, and meaning! That's what the Greater Good means, the Greater Good of everyone, a society based on worship of beings incapable of doing unjustified harm, beings that genuinely know what's best for everyone and can find a place for anyone! Why would anyone want a flawed, miserable individual life when someone can map out for you a fulfilling one?)

This is the most unsettling thing I've ever heard.

(Sister Vandire: No, she makes a good point. I can see how someone could find that comforting.)

Even within their caste, most T'au have their place marked out for them as need dictates. That said, the T'au Empire is - broadly speaking - a meritocracy in which excellence is recognised with progress.

(Vior Or'es: We have a saying in the T'au Empire: 'The river is great, for it is guided by the banks and the slope. Meanwhile, the pond is stagnant, for it has no reason to move.' We know what we need to accomplish, and we know where our life will begin and end. So we rush forward, faster and faster.)

I thought you Earth Caste members were bad with metaphor.

(Vior Or'es: That is a well-known idiom, and it was explained to me by a Water Caste member.)

...A skilled Earth Caste T'au might be plucked from a more menial role and propelled into a lifetime of scientific or technological experimentation, or the architectural design of grand structures. One might be forgiven for thinking that T'au society would frown upon individuals taking pride in their achievements, but it is not so. Rather, each individual is encouraged to derive the greatest satisfaction from their works, military conquest, new discoveries, or the like, with two crucial caveats. The first is that all such labours are equally as important to the empire and that a humble labourer who finishes raising a wall should be praised just as highly by her fellows as should an ace pilot who shoots down many enemy fighter craft, or a Fire Caste shas'o who conquers a world for the empire. The second is that all such personal glories are won for the empire, not for the individual. This subtle but crucial emphasis ensures that the vast majority of T'au strive their whole lives with willing enthusiasm to achieve all they can for the T'au'va, and goes some way to preventing factionalism or damaging rivalries between the castes.

And you are sure that this extreme collectivism isn't exaggeration or propaganda?

(Vior Or'es: No, this is a remarkably accurate document so far!)

What a bewildering Weltanschauung.

(Vior Or'es: Do you use long words to exert your superiority?)

"Exert"? That's a pretentious word.

(Vior Or'es: I use long words because my thoughts are very specific. Why do you use long words?)

I was educated by some of the finest tutors in the Dark City.

(Sister Vandire: Wait, are you trying to sound smarter than us?)

Not smarter, simply more aristocratic.

(Vior Or'es: "Aristocratic" means 'fancier'?)

(Sister Vandire: Yeah.)

(Vior Or'es: Well, it's never good to look down on others. Everyone is important.)

The T'au have a tendency towards short lives when compared to the average Human. Coupled with their lightning fast evolutionary advances and the rigidity of the caste system, this has led them - over countless brief but bright-burning generations - to diverge into something closer to four interdependent subspecies. All are still recognizably T'au; they are humanoid in form, with hoof-like feet and blue skin whose shade depends on their world's proximity to its nearest star. However, no T'au could ever mistake a member of another caste for their own and indeed even their physiology differs quite markedly. Those who have fought the T'au Empire and become used to the comparatively burly and aggressive Fire Caste would be surprised at the sight of a squat, broad Earth Caste T'au, an elegant and swift-witted trader of the Water Caste or - strangest of all - one of the willowy Air Caste with their etiolated build and gangling limbs.

Perhaps I should get an "elegant" and "swift-witted" Water Caste member in my household.

(Vior Or'es: Oh, no, I would not recommend that!)

How come?

(Vior Or'es: Water Caste T'au are highly intelligent and good at persuasion! You are somewhat dumb, and as such would be vulnerable to manipulation for the T'au'v—Actually, no, you should find one! They would be very helpful and not at all able to persuade you to embrace the T'au'va!)

...You're describing me as "dumb", with that awful attempt at misdirection?

(Vior Or'es: I am bad at persuasion. You are unable to distinguish a Drukhari noble from an Adeptus Custodes. This is a very important difference!)

Bleh.

(Sister Vandire: You know what? I like this xenos.)

Don't you start.

One of the few apparent racial constants that unites all the castes is an absolute lack of sensitivity to the empyrean. There are, seemingly, no psykers amongst the T'au, nor any tendency towards the uncontrolled mutation that the warp's touch brings. It is unclear to what degree the Ethereals know of or comprehend the hellish dimension that roils beneath the skin of realspace, but it is readily apparent that the race they rule understand nothing of it. In many ways, of course, this is a blessing, for the touch of the warp is wholly corrupting. Yet, in others, for a people pushing even further into a dark and violent galaxy where the power of Chaos is on the rise, it is a perilous blind spot.

I suppose that in a sense, we're all dumb. The T'au are too dumb to understand how the Warp works, and I am too dumb to find better sources.

(Vior Or'es: Yes, that is a completely accurate understanding! Truly, there is no end to the dumbness in the universe!)

(Sister Vandire: What do you think "dumbness" is?)

(Vior Or'es: Idiocy, ignorance, or stupidity? Oh, I believe I see the issue! 'Dumbness' does not have an insulting connotation among the T'au! To be accused of it is simply to be accused of being a flawed sophont, as we all are under the Ethereal Caste! There is no shame in a personality's imperfection.)

Through the years, the Fire Caste's desirable traits of strength and physical size have continued to increase, and any weak strains are quickly weeded out.

Weeded out?

(Vior Or'es: Yes. This is typically voluntary. A T'au whose genetics are detrimental to the caste would never willingly breed, and often will seek out sterilization. In rare cases, a rebellious T'au may be sentenced to sterilization, but this is extraordinarily uncommon! We all simply want to help the Empire.)

...This sounds like a cult.

(Sister Vandire: This seems fairly reasonable.)

Aren't you in a cult?

(Sister Vandire: The Sisters of Battle were the result of the fall of a cult, the Emperor's Brides.)

(Vior Or'es: Yes, and there were many cult-like structures among the primitive T'au before the Ethereals saved us from ourselves! It isn't a cult if the leader of the organization is entirely beneficial!)

...Think for yourselves!

(Sister Vandire: You might actually understand if the highest entity in your life wasn't Asdrubael Vect.)

Lord Vect is—Oh, why bother?

The Ethereal Caste stand apart from their people. They rule the T'au as a wise and patient adult might guide spirited, if occasionally wayward youths to realise their truest potential. Sometimes serene and benevolent, other times hard and stern as stone, it is the Ethereals who divine the needs of the Greater Good, and who decree the ways in which the T'au Empire may bring it about.

Wouldn't you rather be treated as adults? Besides, how is patching up my arena wounds serving the Greater Good?

(Vior Or'es: No. I do not want to live a life of terror and anarchy in the name of some abstract concept of freedom. Oh, and that is a good question! The answer is that I am providing an example of the Greater Good within Commorragh, one that other sophonts may follow!)

Great, secular missionaries. Absolutely irreplaceable.

To their own people, the Ethereals are infinitely wise rulers, ruthless when they must be but ultimately altruistic.To outside species they cultivate a more aloof appearance. They do nothing to dissuade more primitive alien races from deifying them, or more recalcitrant peoples from fearing them as all-knowing and perilous to anger.

(Vior Or'es: This is only somewhat true! The Ethereals are known for their kindness and wisdom, and they are only rarely ruthless! They are beings defined by their compassion, from leading great armies in the defense of the Tau'va to petting small household animals and giving great boons to whoever they come across!)

Lack of experimental subjects has not stopped Imperial biologians from speculating upon the mechanisms of Ethereal rule, of course. Discarding as facile the suggestion that theT'au simply believe unswervingly in their xenos creed, such magi have suggested everything from veiled psychic domination or pheromonal control to even more outlandish theories, like mass racial hypnosis or the deployment of invisible organic nanites.

My personal theory is pheromonal control.

(Sister Vandire: Can't they just believe in something?)

That or hypnosis.

I'm sorry, I just find this whole society unsettling!

[The highest Ethereal] Aun'Va has lived countless lifespans, even for an Ethereal. Yet his people accept this as simply yet another facet of his legend. He is to them an icon of longevity, stability and purpose whose mortality could never be countenanced. This is unfortunate, as the true Aun'Va is already dead, slain by an Imperial Assassin during the apocalyptic conclusion of the war beyond the Damocles Gulf. Knowing the cataclysmic impact his death would have upon T'au society, the Ethereals have since employed solid-light technology coupled with AI personality matrices to give the Ethereal Supreme a simulacra of life beyond death that has, thus far, fooled the worshipful masses. Of course, his Honour Guard may now never leave Aun'Va's side, and none may ever be permitted to touch him, for the labrynthine deception must never be revealed.

Bullshit.

(Sister Vandire: Horseshit.)

(Vior Or'es: Kev'atal manure.)

RiverDelta · Jul 28, 2023

Hailing from the proud martial sept of Vior'la, Aun'Shi is the epitome of a warrior Ethereal. Privately he longs for peace. Yet, understanding the necessity of war, he joins the Fire Caste in their rituals, their training and their hardships. Aun'Shi believes absolutely in the T'au'va, and in the manifest destiny of the T'au Empire, and he will not take his rest until he sees the promise of both fulfilled.

This Codex seems very interested in portraying the T'au as an honorable enemy.

(Vior Or'es: Well, I can't imagine how they could portray us otherwise!)

No, no, no, my dear. There is something afoot.

(Sister Vandire: It's probably just meant to leave open the possibility of a tentative alliance with the T'au.)

...Well, it could be an honorable enemy or a subhumanly obedient one. I have been awakened to the implications, here.

If Fire Warriors were all that the Fire caste could bring to bear, then they would already be a powerful, albeit limited military force. However, these are but the line infantry who provide the backbone for the armies of the T'au Empire. Most are borne into battle aboard well armoured gravitic hover-transports that keep the Fire Warriors mobile - and well protected and supported - amidst the perils of the battlefield. Others man fortifications that are themselves grav-capable. Aboard these Fire Warriors can ride, facilitating mobile fortresses that can redeploy at need and carry their own garrisons with them as they go. Some Fire Caste soldiers deploy as elite Pathfinders who scout the foe and mark targets for long-ranged elimination, or spot for teams of deadly MV71 Sniper Drones.

More shameless promotion for models.

Then there are the supporting formations: heavy gunships such as the TX7 Hammerhead or TX78 Skyray; mobile artillery assets like the mighty Stormsurge; a wealth of Air Caste air support ranging from smaller fighter craft to huge tank-hunters like the A-X-5-2 Barracuda and the vast Manta dropship; the plethora of iconic and deadly Battlesuits that so epitomize the technological supremacy of the T'au way of war.

I'm not sure if the idea here is to portray the T'au as cowards leaning on technology to fight their wars for them, or simply to advertise more models.

By far the two most common forms of military tactics used by the T'au are the Mont'ka and the Kauyon. Each method is taught in depth by the great Fire Caste academies, and each has its own adherents amongst the masters. Both styles are based on hunting techniques that date back to the early years of the T'au's evolutionary and social development, each representing one of the two broad approaches to ensnaring and slaying the quarry.

(Vior Or'es: How infuriating! The idea that the Mont'ka and Kauyon are mere extensions of primitive hunting is a grave insult. They are systematized, practiced philosophies, not some Stone Age relic. I am dissatisfied.)

The Kauyon, which roughly translates as 'the patient hunter' is the oldest of the T'au ways of war. This style of combat relies on employing one or more lures to draw the enemy in, before closing the jaws of the trap...

(Vior Or'es: This is simple and describes an encirclement or a feint! The attempt to treat our combat tactics as mystical and primitive is not appreciated! Not at all!)

(Sister Vandire: Yes, I can tell.)

Don't be rude.

(Sister Vandire: My apologies, your grace.)

Ugh.

(Sister Vandire: I can see you blushing.)

The Mont'ka is the other leading T'au military philosophy, and it is both aggressive and risky to execute. Translating as 'the killing blow', this strategy centres around highly mobile attack forces identifying key targets and assailing them with overwhelming force before withdrawing to safety.

I see what Vior Or'es means. This is all deeply trivial, not some grand strategic innovation owing to the inscrutable mind of the "xenos".

Of all the T'au Commanders ever to lead or to teach, the famed Commander Puretide was perhaps the greatest master of the Mont'ka, the Kauyon and of other more unusual philosophies of war. Grievously wounded toward the end of his life, Puretide became a hermit, spending his last years committing his accumulated wisdom and experience to posterity. He wished to pass on his uniquely balanced style of war so that, after his death, others could build on his successes.

(Vior Or'es: A hermit? Commander Puretide was an educator and a philosopher!)

(Sister Vandire: This does seem to be a bad Asian stereotype from ages past superimposed on the Tau.)

Despite his efforts, few - if any - of Puretide's students have grasped the full scope of his balanced enlightenment. Yet names such as O'Shovah, O'Shaserra and the much-feared O'Kais are associated with the old master's tutelage and - while none mastered true balance - each emerged as a savant of their chosen martial philosophy.

...That sounds bigoted, but I'm not sure how.

(Sister Vandire: It's more rewritten pre-Unification Wars prejudice against Asians.)

Much like how anti-Slaanesh propaganda often draws on traditions of cishetbase propaganda going back centuries?

(Sister Vandire: Slaanesh actually is out to get you, that's the difference. Hir influence is...exaggerated, as is hir evil, but zie still is dangerous. Oh, and...Yes.)

There are numerous more specialised types of cadre standardised within the Code of Fire: the Rapid Insertion Cadre, which comprises only battlesuits; the Infiltration Cadre, made up of Pathfinders and Stealth battlesuits; the Auxiliary Reserve Cadre,·which fields only alien auxiliaries; the Armoured Interdiction Cadre, which masses T'au gunships in a devastating direct-strike formation; the list continues and is always growing, for the Fire Caste encourage innovation in the optimal deployment of both new and existing military assets.

The three of us should form a "Rapid Insertion Cadre"!

(Sister Vandire: Very funny.)

(Vior Or'es: While I am very thankful you both have decided to join the Greater Good, I must note that it does take some time before a new citizen is given command of a Hero's Mantle suit. You may need to temper your expectations just a bit!)

I was making a sex joke!

(Vior Or'es: But you said you wanted to form a Rapid Insertion Cadre...)

Yes, I did because it sounded amusing.

(Vior Or'es: I don't get it.)

Then there are those battlesuits that eschew any notion of subtlety. The XV88 Broadside, for example, is a hulking beast that trades jet-assisted flight for armoured resilience and enormous firepower. Toting heavy rail rifles, high-yield missile pods and smart missile systems, Broadside teams unleash salvos capable of shredding squadrons of tanks or swathes of massed infantry.

(Sister Vandire: Those are easy to take out, since they can't fly. Overrated.)

...You've fought one?

(Sister Vandire: One or two, and I thank the Emperor for the chance to slay such a valuable target.)

Until recently, the Ghostkeel Battlesuit was restricted to covert missions, its existence a secret to most of the T'au Empire even though it had been in service for many years. Pilots were chosen from among pre-vetted Stealth Team shas'vre and transported to a secret facility on I'ka'vo Station, on the fringes of the abandoned sept of N'dras. From there, upon the Orders of Aun'Va himself. the first Ghostkeel Battlesuits embarked upon numerous covert operations, from the Vadenfall Station Sabotage to the assassination of Cardinal Bocsh. Only when the hour was judged ripe were these remarkable suits revealed to the wider empire, the freshly renamed 'Ghosts of N'dras' thrust into the limelight for the benefit of T'au morale. Since that day, the suits have gained popularity among the Fire Caste of every sept, while the canny are left to speculate with hushed excitement as to what other marks of deadly and as-yet-classified battlesuits the Ethereals have to reveal.

This doesn't make any sense to me. Why would they use a stealth suit for an assassination or sabotage? That seems quite wasteful. Perhaps the Imperium is attempting to create a cover story for one of their own actions?

(Sister Vandire: Doesn't the Tau killing him just seem simpler? Same with the sabotage.)

Something isn't adding up.

(Vior Or'es: No, Ynathe is correct. This doesn't make sense. The Ghostkeel suit is a weapon of war, not sabotage. May I speculate?)

Please do!

(Sister Vandire: No, thank you.)

(Vior Or'es: Okay!)

On rare occasions - as in the case of the exothermic reactive mantle, the gravitic auto-booster and the now-infamous pulse-field projector - they may prove regrettably hazardous to their user. Should this occur, the designs are not discarded, but are instead returned to the laboratory stage for further improvement

Only an Imperial would treat the existence of a bug-testing phase as some kind of brilliant insight.

The multitracker is a sophisticated firecontrol system mounted in a sensor node, often upon a battlesuit's shoulder. It rapidly generates predictive targeting solutions, allowing multiple weapons to be fired in concert for greatest effect.

...Basic ballistics computing. How very futuristic.

Boasting a multi-spectral sensor package-including several classified energistic wavelengths-this device signals the impending approach or manifestation of enemies, allowing its user to direct punitive fire onto them accordingly.

Oh, and sensors. How novel.

(Sister Vandire: Well, firstly, these are both useful technologies. Second, fuck me you're only picking out the ones you can make fun of. The Target Lock system seems pretty effective, and you didn't quote that.)

Sue me, Sister of Seduction.

(Sister Vandire: Those...illicit films still do not depict the Sisters of Battle accurately! They never will!)

Then why do you watch them?

The T'au are always intrigued, and more than a little disturbed when faced with Mankind's deep-seated and abiding prejudice against such machine intelligences. To them, this attitude is but another example of the backwards, barbaric superstition the empire must strive to overcome.

(Sister Vandire: We have learned from the Iron Men. They haven't.)

What about your vibrator, Sister Cunnilingus?

(Sister Vandire: Emperor protect me.)

Amongst the finest pupils of Commander Puretide, O'Shaserra is the foremost living proponent of Kauyon within the Fire Caste, and amongst the empire's most iconic war heroes. Clad in her highly advanced XV22 Stalker Battlesuit, Commander Shadowsun employs her strategic genius to orchestrate vast and elaborate battle-plans, all while engaging and destroying the enemy's most valuable target assets.

Well, my my, this sounds like a woman I could spend some time with.

(Vior Or'es: She is married to the thrill of victory.)

Even more my type.

(Vior Or'es: Your celebrity crush is noted and discarded.)

I am in the presence of Aun'Va. She had to repeat the thought to herself in an attempt to make it real. I, El'Umeh, am in the presence of the Ethereal Supreme.

He looked upon them with absolute serenity, managing somehow to appear both humble and effortlessly superior. El'Umeh strove to meet that unblinking gaze, but she could not do so for long. Instead, her eyes skipped away to the shadowed alcoves and balconies around the dome's edge.

(Vior Or'es: What a truly insufferable projection of the Emperor onto Aun'Va. There is no single ruler of the T'au, Aun'Va is merely a mouthpiece for the equal collective that is the Ethereal Caste. A T'au does not worship the Ethereals in this slavish, self-loathing manner. Rather, we are to them as draft animals, work animals, or pets are to us. There is no "superiority" in the Ethereals, merely a recognition that they gave us our happy lives and we owe them duty. They are not lords, they are shepherds.)

...Do you find it comforting to be treated like an animal?

(Vior Or'es: Exceptionally so!)

Hm.

(Sister Vandire: Don't you start. Dark Eldar, I swear.)

[We] know now that our dispair at the failure of the Slipstream module was misplaced. We have learned that, in truth, this device grants us a greater reach than ever before to spread the light of the T'au'va.

This caused a traitorous flicker of doubt in El'Umeh's mind. There had been rumors of disaster, and of some shared trauma about which the Fourth Sphere survivors would not speak. Yet under Aun'Va's serene stare, such thoughts seemed cynical and unworthy. She burned with shame even to have thought such things. Her discomfort was not helped when Aun'Va's next words made her feel as though he had sensed her instant of disloyalty.

(Vior Or'es: No T'au would hide such fears. Instead, they would make their worries known, respectfully and with reference to their role in society, and the Ethereal would either reassure them that there was no problem or easily figure out a solution. This sort of double-talk is very contrary to the T'au'va.)

From anyone else, such an allusion to the Mon't'au would have been a ghastly breach of social etiquette. From Aun'Va it was a stern admonition against hesitancy and cowardice. El'Umeh found the fires of determination burning within her. She would not shame the memory of her forebears through such failings.

(Vior Or'es: We are not a shame culture, we are a duty culture, and we discuss the Mon'tau frequently. It is, after all, the reason for our society. We couldn't do it alone. We couldn't take care of ourselves. They saved us. They proved their virtue even as we proved our own evil and cruelty. Most of the above paragraph is decietful stereotyping based on Terran stereotypes.)

...You're really happier to be a pet or a work animal rather than a person?

(Sister Vandire: What cowardice.)

(Vior Or'es: We are loved, we are safe, we are given purpose and joy. What else could anyone want? Feralism is overrated.)

What's wrong with you?

(Vior Or'es: I am genuinely happy, Ynathe. I don't want to be feral. Most of us don't. The people who do, T'au or non-T'au, they typically leave. We've engineered happy lives for every citizen of the T'au Empire. Joy is a science and purpose is kindness.)

This is utterly, completely, truly disconcerting.

(Vior Or'es: Why do you submit to Sister Vandire?)

...What?

(Vior Or'es: In your servile games, why do you do what she says? Don't you like "freedom"?)

It's a game, a charade!

(Vior Or'es: What if it were real? What if you were hers, and she loved you? What if she loved you so much she made your life heaven? Would that be so bad?)

I...I suppose not. But it would be my choice, would it not? You never had a choice.

(Vior Or'es: I do. I could leave the T'au Empire at any time. I could settle on some distant world. You know the statistics. Few flee the T'au Empire, but many emigrate there.)

...Doesn't it cost money to leave?

(Vior Or'es: Yes, but were that best for that specific citizen the Ethereals would pay it gladly. However, they work hard to ensure everyone here is happy and able to contribute to the T'au'va. They fix lives. I was depressed, they gave me medication. I was clumsy, they gave me enhancements. I was slobbish, they gave me achievable goals for keeping my hab clean along with rewards. Most of this was indirect, through Earth Caste superiors, but you get the idea.)

...Is that true?

(Sister Vandire: It is. You can see the appeal?)

I...I suppose I can.

(Vior Or'es: You have pain in your soul, don't you? All of these shows, these exhibitions, the violence, the spectacle, playing to the crowd...You crave it, don't you? You need it.)

I do.

(Vior Or'es: That's what you love. You love making people happy, but the lonely life of an intellectual black sheep from a corrupt old family eats you away. The Drukhari are often hedonistic, but your hedonism comes from sadness. You seek new experiences, new loves, and new connections to fill the hole in your heart from a society that's large, vast, and atomized. Is that accurate?)

...It is. Are you sure you aren't Water Caste.

(Vior Or'es: I am not. Did you know that the T'au Empire has combat sports? We use safer weapons, there's less blood, but entertainment serves the Greater Good like anything else. Don't you want to feel safe, to feel loved, to finally be among people who value you rather than just as a fuck or a friend? Don't you want to be loved by everyone you know?)

...Oh, by Ynnead. Sister Vandire, what do you think?

(Sister Vandire: ...I would miss you.)

(Vior Or'es: You can be loved too.)

...My life's here.

My pain's here.

My pain is beautiful.

(Vior Or'es: Pain is a byproduct of life, not its end goal.)

(Sister Vandire: I could never abandon His glory.)

(Vior Or'es: He'll never love you. Why would you bother waiting?)

(Sister Vandire: I guess that's faith.)

I never knew the T'au was so...strange.

(Vior Or'es: Isn't it beautiful?)

It...It is.

Your lives are art.

(Sister Vandire: At least think on this. Don't just uproot your life because some xenos told you some happy stories. Didn't you say it was unsettling?)

It is unsettling, just for reasons different from I initially thought. I'll think about it, I suppose. By the burning arms of the galaxy.

T'au pushed forces across the mysterious Damocles Gulf, and there they encountered the Imperium for the first time.

Oh, the Damocles Crusade, what a marvelous massacre that was!

(Sister Vandire: Are you sure you of all people should be serving "The Greater Good"?)

Hush, have you forgotten the slaughter and torment that the Sword of Damocles bore?

So began the Great War of Confederacy, during which Aun'Va, now Ethereal Supreme, brought the entire T'au Empire together as a unified war engine to first halt and then defeat the greenskins.

Even I know by now that they're heavily exaggerating Aun'Va's power.

At a word from their supreme commander, the armada engaged their slipstream drives as one. The empyrian cataclysm that followed, was beyond the understanding of the T'au, but it swallowed the expansion fleet whole and left a chwrning vortex of unreality in its wake.

The fleet was believed lost. Worse, the T'au Empire now found itself under constant assault, as though the Great Rift had driven the rest of the galaxy to madness. For the first time in millennia, hope within the empire faltered. Then came a solitary signal, relayed from a single drome exploring beyond the Zone of Silence. Upon investigating, the T'au were amazed to find that drone orbiting a spiralling wormhole and transmitting ident codes...Someone, it seemed, had survived.

The Fourth Sphere Expansion fiasco was truly a mess, and one even I am aware of. The prejudices displayed by the Fourth Sphere T'au, up to and including violence towards Kroot and other alien helpers were exceptional and abberant. I can only conclude that in isolation, the Fourth Sphere has become something very different to and notably crueler than the rest of the T'au. Thankfully, things are improving on that front.

(Vior Or'es: Frankly, we are unsure of what to do with the renegades, who profess support for the T'au'va but who act against it. This problem will be solved.)

At any rate, there has been much conflict over the Zone of Silence created by the slipspace experiment. It's all very tragic.

Unlike Humanity, the T'au pride themselves on possessing the wisdom and restraint not to have overrun their birth world or its neighbouring planets. Not for nothing are the folk of this sept considered especially wise and cultured.

(Vior Or'es: I'm from there!)

(Sister Vandire: ...Xenos are way too arrogant for their own good, sometimes.)

...Hey, Felicity?

(Sister Vandire: Yeah?)

Have you ever been to the T'au Empire?

(Sister Vandire: I'd never be allowed to go. I can't even visit you now that I'm no longer stationed near Dark Eldar territory.)

What if you ran away?

(Sister Vandire: And desert the Emperor?)

Damn the Emperor. What does Felicity Vandire want?

(Sister Vandire: Felicity Vandire wants some basic respect right about now.)

A popular proverb throughout the empire can be roughly translated as follows: 'The walls of T'au Sept are fashioned not from stone, but instead are wrought of Fire!'

(Sister Vandire: Very cute.)

(Vior Or'es: Do you think so? I find it unnecessarily militaristic, and I find that this Codex over-exaggerates T'au militarism outside of the Fourth Sphere Expansion fleet. Speaking of the Fourth Sphere, our allies in the T'au'va who have regained contact with T'au Sept are typically regretful of their actions. It is the renegades, hardened by endless conflict with the Imperium and the threats of the Immaterium and loyal only to their local superiors who are a problem.)

...What do you believe should be done?

(Vior Or'es: The half-domesticated should be re-domesticated, and the ferals should be domesticated thoroughly. That is my opinion, but it is a prevailing one among those who know what is best.)

...I'm not even scared by the phrase "domesticated", anymore.

(Vior Or'es: It just means never having to watch your back.)

The name Vior'la can be translated as meaning 'hot-blooded' - this is certainly a fitting description for the T'au who hail from this sept...

This whole page seems like stereotyping, is that accurate?

(Vior Or'es: Oh, it goes on like that, yes. There is much discussion of risk-taking and the like. It's all very simplistic.)

[T]he Sa'cean training domes incorporate entire subterranean facilities, within which are simulated the urban sprawls of enemy races. Imperial hives are replicated in miles-wide swathes, their finer details consulted upon by those Gue'vesa who can bear to look back upon the gothic nightmare they have left behind. Ork shanty-camps and scrap forts, twisted Tyranid bioscapes and even replica Necron tombs are amongst the hostile alien cityscapes simulated for the use of the Sa'cean Fire Caste.

(Vior Or'es: The rest of this is stereotyping for the Sa'cean Sept, but this is at least true. Gue'vesa, especially, often report trauma symptoms due to their time in the Imperium.)

(Sister Vandire: Thank you, Little Miss Perfect.)

(Vior Or'es: Pardon?)

(Sister Vandire: I mean that you're obviously a propagandist, that most of what you're saying about the Fourth Sphere and T'au society are probably lies, and that you're probably either brainwashed or some kind of spy.)

...Please, Felicity.

(Vior Or'es: I am simply telling what I know.)

(Sister Vandire: Well, what you know is one form of bullshit or the other. No society that totalitarian is that happy, and I know because I live in one!)

(Vior Or'es: It's optimally arranged, especially compared to the Imperium.)

(Sister Vandire: Tell us about the dark secrets of the T'au, the really dark things. If they're a real society and not some fantasy, where are the crimes and the horrors?)

(Vior Or'es: There aren't any.)

(Sister Vandire: Bullshit! What about Farsight?)

(Vior Or'es: Farsight's project is doomed.)

At the end of the Second Sphere Expansion, O'Shovah [Farsight] led a force across the Damocles Gulf, his mission to reclaim those T'au colony worlds lost to Imperial aggression. Initially, Commander Farsight's dynamic leadership saw world after world taken back from the Humans, who had been forced to turn their attention to other threats. Then came Arthas Moloch, and disaster....O'Shovah's forces cut deep into the Ork invasion, chasing the ruling Warboss to a nearby artefact world. This was a forlorn place long abandoned by the Imperium. Its name was Arthas Moloch, and there Farsight's forces were engaged by a savage and yet unidentified enemy...Little was reported from the battle, save that all of the Ethereals who had accompanied O'Shovah's coalition were slain...The T'au Empire sent many desperate messages via their chain of communications beacons...No response came back...the expedition was deemed lost...It appeared that Farsight yet lived and and had established his own colonies on the far side of the Damocles Gulf...The fact remains that the so-called Farsight Enclaves continue to thrive. They are, in effect, their own extended sept that has declared independence from the T'au Empire. Their caste factions still aid one another according to the tenets of the T'au'va, and they have not slipped back into the barbarism of the Mon't'au. Yet they live without Ethereal oversight and refuse any intrusion by the fifth caste.

They seem noble. I've heard that the Ethereals are willing to encourage their experiment so long as it doesn't devolve into selfishness or cruelty.

(Vior Or'es: Well, yes, many of them are, but without the Ethereals the feralists will succumb to their baser instincts. I know that.)

(Sister Vandire: Now you think you know better than the Ethereals?)

(Vior Or'es: ...I...I am simply going by what I know.)

(Sister Vandire: Are you afraid of freedom, even more afraid than your masters? Wow, you really are a pathetic society.)

Sister Vandire, please stop, won't you?

(Sister Vandire: She has no faith in the Greater Good, huh? Or does that mean something other than whatever the Ethereals say it is?)

(Vior Or'es: Please stop!)

(Sister Vandire: Or what? What are you going to do, Or'es? Do you trust your masters when they say they support Farsight self-government, or do you worship them as ideals but only when it fits with what you already want?)

(Vior Or'es: Stop!)

For all this, the most disturbing aspect of the Farsight Enclaves, from the point of view of the Ethereal Council, is the appearance amongst their forces of battlesuit and weapons technologies developed by the empire after their departure. Perhaps this is due to spy-craft or theft, yet the fear remains: what if factions within loyal septs are aiding the enclaves?

I doubt this is true, though I suppose the Ethereals could be conflicted on whether or not to support the Farsight project. I also think the emphasis to be found in this Codex on Farsight displays a certain need for a strong, singular leader to mythologize on the part of the Imperium, and much ink is wasted on describing his character.

The Kroot are by far the most common alien auxiliaries serving in the Fire Caste's armies, with many billions of their kind armed for war and assigned to Hunter Cadres of nearly every sept. Although their primitive aggression is viewed with distaste by the T'au, such inherent savagery makes them particularly effective shock troops.

...Hm, knowing the T'au them being nakedly xenophobic outside of a situation like the Fourth Sphere seems deeply unlikely. In many ways, this Codex intends to convince readers that the T'au are simply a bad copy of the Imperium.

The Kroot are first and foremost a mercenary species. Their ethics are, in some ways, enormously divergent from those of the T'au, yet somehow the two races have found more common ground than they have differences...Kroot live in kindreds...led by one or more Kroot Shapers. None outside of the Kroot themselves know how a Shaper is appointed..The Kroot of their kindred follow them with fierce loyalty.

Even I know this is a vast oversimplification of a species with many varying and often quite nuanced tribal cultures. Many people know quite well how a Shaper is appointed, and many Kroot have culturally had to fill a mercenary role. That is not some inherent trait of them.

Welcome to the rules section of Codex: T'au Empire. On the following pages you will find all the rules content you need to bring every aspect of the T'au people to life on your tabletop battlefields...You will find everything you need on the following pages...not to mention bespoke content for your T'au Empire force, including a ruleset allowing you to conquer entire star systems!

Vior Or'es, are you doing passably?

(Vior Or'es: I'm holding my head in my hands and dry-heaving.)

Poor dear.

(Sister Vandire: Emperor, protect me.)

No!

No, no, no, no, no! I just got into a bout with a Gue'vesa, but I've been trying to understand and respect all peoples! I wish you could simply give up your religious disdain for one simple moment! Why are you so unable to respect others' cultures? Whether it's trying to turn people to your Emperor or shouting an autistic T'au into a breakdown, you always seem to put feeling superior over being kind, every single time!

(Sister Vandire: I don't know what you expected when you befriended an Adepta Sororitas.)

...I guess I expected you to not be such a cockerel all the time!

(Sister Vandire: Do you want a hug?)

Thank you for the sarcasm. It's very witty.

(Sister Vandire: That wasn't sarcasm. Do you think you could ask someone for a hug?)

...I suppose that could be nice. I would like to visit T'au space, before I decide to defect. Would that be doable, Vior Or'es?

(Vior Or'es: Very!)

(Sister Vandire: Are you sure you want to give up your life of hedonism? It seems like going from individualism to altruism is going to be a hassle.)

I can do it, if you come with me, my dear.

(Sister Vandire: Me?)

You thrive on hierarchy, don't you? Surely you could help me stay...obedient.

(Sister Vandire: There's only one man I'm in love with.)

I'm not a man. Besides, you could call it scouting out the enemy. I can forge the orders for you. It won't take long.

(Sister Vandire: You do need someone there to keep you from doing stupid things. Promise me you'll make the right choice?)

I promise.

(Vior Or'es: Yay! Friends!)

RiverDelta · Aug 2, 2023

OOC: Hey, if there are any Grey Knights fans in the audience, I do not hate the Grey Knights. I think they're cool Space Marines and I encourage those who enjoy the Grey Knights to continue enjoying the Grey Knights. This Codex review is going to kind of shit on the Grey Knights. This is not a statement on the Imperium, which is a nuanced and heavily flawed society that does have good people and is more ethical ITTL than in canon.

IC:

(Sister Vandire: Are we really talking about them?)

Why would we not?

(Sister Vandire: "The Grey Knights are monsters" is well-agreed upon. In fact, it is so well agreed-upon, that a nearly-autonomous section of the Chapter exists for the sake of being less monstrous. Is this going to be some anti-Imperial rant like the Custodes review? What is even the point of talking about the most shameful Astartes to remain in the Imperium?)

Well, there is no point, really. We just have to get through all of these Codexes, and this was the next one on the list.

(Sister Vandire: There is no reason to talk about these people. All it does is makes xenos states look better, as if the Fourth Sphere Expansion Fleet or the Kabal of the Last Hatred aren't equally horrible. Every country has its monsters.)

My dear, I'm afraid as usual you're missing the void for the asteroids. If there were a Codex about the Last Hatred or the Fourth Sphere that talked of them as the brigands they are, there would be no need to discuss it. However, if there were a work that praised the scoundrels, it would need to be dissected. How about this? Why don't we allow you to take the lead? Surely a devoted Sister of Battle would never taint her Imperium with a broad brush dipped in Grey ink?

(Sister Vandire: Fine. Works for me.)

By the will of these few is mankind shielded from true darkness. They wield the secret fire that purifies corruption. Their minds are barred against pride, armed against diabolic deception. With anointed blades they banish infernal nightmares made flesh. They are the Emperor's final boon to humanity - a gift mankind will never be allowed to fathom.

(Sister Vandire: By the Thrice-Praised Savior, this is the most disguisting bit of revisionism I've ever read!)

Oh?

(Sister Vandire: Not even Imperial agitprop is close to this level of hateful grox shit. The Grey Knights are corrupt, violent, sociopathic cowards who butchered Sisters of Battle to protect themselves against Daemons!)

Oh, dear.

Fear the daemon no longer, for herein lies the secrets to its banishment! Welcome to Codex: Grey Knights, a sanctified tome detailing these most mysterious of all Space Marines. Within these pages, you will discover the brotherhoods of these daemon-hunting psychic warriors, examples of their noble heraldries and all the rules needed to wield an army of them in battle.

(Sister Vandire: Fuck you! Fuck you, you sanctimonious, supplicating shits! There is nothing holy or heavenly about the Knights of Khorne, other than their lies! Burn! Burn this book! No more review!)

...I believe we should read it.

The Grey Knights are the most elite Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes. Forged in secret ten thousand years ago, they form humanity's greatest weapon against its direst threat: daemons, murderous sentiences squeezed from the stuff of Chaos.

(Sister Vandire: Elite? This dares to call the Grey Rogues the most elite? What about when the Space Wolves stopped them from turning on their own Sisters of Battle? What about when they lost catastrophically in the Damocles Gulf? What about when the Ultramarines—and yes, they are mighty—defended an entire hive city from their rapacious eyes with ease?)

In the Grey Knights' sequestered fortress on the moon of titan, omens of demonic incursions are sifted from the warp. With this foreknowledge, they despatch strike forces of Daemon-hunting Space Marines, battle tanks, and hulking combat walkers. Each genetically enhanced warrior wears sigil-wrought armor that wards against the warp energies of their pray. They wield arcane blades and hammers, as anathema to the otherworldly flesh of demons as to the mortal frames of the malfeasant, the deluded or the merely ignorant. A Grey Knight's greatest weapon, however, is his mind, for with it he resists corruption and blasts his foes with empyric fire.

(Sister Vandire: Oh, well, krak! the Grey Knights only seem to butcher the undeluded, educated, and moral! Oh, and their ridiculous baby-carrier walkers are far less effective than even a xenos Broadside mech could be!)

Grey Knights offer established players and newcomers to the hobby alike the chance to field a potent combination of post-human might and sanctified psychic assaults on the tabletop.

I'm afraid I'm quite confused. I thought psykers weren't allowed among the Imperials.

(Sister Vandire: No, Space Marines often have among them Librarians able to wield that power. They are above suspicion.)

They represent some of the most powerful unites in the Warhammer 40,000 game; as an elite faction, even a small number of models make for an incredibly formidable force. With volleys of blistering firepower, a raft of potent psychic powers and unique empyric weaponry, your Grey Knights will cut down swaths of lighter foes, out-think and outmanoeuvre your enemy's force and topple the deadliest units your opponent can throw at them. Powerful battle tanks provide mobile bastions for your force as agile gunships and warp-shunting Interceptors outflank your opponent's warriors. All the while, your teleport strikes allow the capture of distant and vital objectives.

(Sister Vandire: They're shilling the Space Marines' hated War Crime Divison just to sell models, aren't they?)

That seems to be the case. These Games Workshop people must be utterly desperate.

(Sister Vandire: Well, I'll have to send in a complaint.)

There are few more stirring sights than an entire army of Grey Knights.

(Sister Vandire: That anyone could say such lies about the Arch-Heretics demands immediate rectification!)

Please avoid killing people.

(Sister Vandire: I'm just frustrated that people would defame the Emperor's will by lionizing those people.)

Humanity is best by countless evils. Against many, armies can be raised, hatred can be stoked, vigilince for that which is not Human can be maintained. Not so the daemon, the lie made flesh, for eto even know of such creatures is to risk one's essence.

The soul of the Grey Knights is sancrosant and their purity is incorruptible.

(Sister Vandire: Kaldor Draigo should be erased from existence!)

Could we tone down the anger?

(Sister Vandire: Imagine if there was a Codex on the Kabal of the Last Hatred. Wouldn't you be mad if it was written like this?)

I just feel as though you blow up at people.

(Sister Vandire: Well, I'm not blowing up at you, am I?)

You truly need some wine and Soma.

(Sister Vandire: Maybe.)

Their blades shine with the inner light of their sanctity, for each of these Space Marines is a psychic warrior, in empyric communion with his battle-brothers.

(Sister Vandire: Much of the reason Psykers are treated so poorly on many worlds—not the half-truths about Chaos influence, the real reason—is because of these "battle-brothers".)

I do not know if it can be distilled down to one enemy, my dear.

(Sister Vandire: The Grey Knights scare people.)

Empowered by minds constantly on-guard, they can cut steel with bare hands, their eyes blaze with fire and even the power of their words flays the otherworldly skin of daemons.

(Sister Vandire: ...They always find daemons just happening to be wherever they've butchered and looted last.)

In shadow do these Knights of Titan fight - from the underbelly of teeming worlds full of mortal pawns, to mutating planets slick with the taint of the empyrean, where lesser warriors' sanity would not survive. They are the Imperium's surest defense against that which the Emperor foresaw would be its greatest threat. The Grey Knights are Humanity's blade against the daemon, and only they offer Mankind of anything more than hollow victories.

(Sister Vandire: Emperor protect me. I can't do this without wanting to break someone's nose. I need a break. Get one of your guest reviewers.)

...Well, alright, I suppose, if you must.

(Medicus Viola: Good evening, everyone.)

Good evening, Viola!

(Medicus Viola: Well, hey, great to be here.)

None now alive can claim to know the origins of the Grey Knights with certainty. The chapter themselves have a single written account of their founding, housed in their fortress monastery - the Citadel of Titan. From this and other legendary sources known to very few, a story of dire perl, a priceless gift and the concealment of soul-shattering knowledge can be pieced together.

It was during the final days of the Horus Heresy, so it is said, that the founders of the Grey Knights were first convened. Even as the Emperor, his generals and advisors prepared Terra for the onslaught of his wayward son, the Arch-traitor Horus, the Master of Mankind contemplated threats even greater. Certain myths of that distant age hint that the Emperor alone foresaw the danger posed by Chaos and the immaterium's denizens: its daemons and gods.

What a crock of pot. The Grey Knights weren't some legendary force, they're merely decievers and lie-spinners.

(Medicus Viola: Nah. The story of the Grey Knights is a hell of a lot more complicated than that. Sadder, too. You ever wonder why there are so many Platinum Knights who reject the cruelty of the Grey Knights and are trying to fight for the truth? You ever wonder what happens when people get exposed to the fuckin' darker incarnations of the Chaos Gods? I know they ain't all night terrors and bloody murder, but no god was ever fully good.)

What do you mean?

(Medicus Viola: Look. You're a person, right? Imagine all of your darkest thoughts. Maybe you fantasize about killin' a coworker. Maybe you feel like that guy you like would be hot if you just took him. Maybe you see a Tyranid and think "hot". Maybe you're down and out and you need money, and your first thought's to rob somewhere. You don't act on those thoughts, right?)

Yes?

(Medicus Viola: Well, the Chaos Gods have those parts of them too, and when you're a being of spiritual energy sometimes that stuff leaks. When you have the urge to kill yer annoying coworker, you get into a bloody daydream. When Khorne gets that fantasy, other people get that daydream and it's more real than real. The Grey Knights aren't just assholes to be dirtwads. They're assholes because when you deal with the repressed darker sides of Chaos, you go nuts. It rubs off on ya. So Platinum Knights are the ones who got out of the game, and Grey Knights are the ones that kept going until it made 'em monsters. You got that acquaintance who worships Slaanesh, right? Well, imagine being exposed to Slaanesh's darkest parts, the stuff zie would never normally show, the stuff zie holds in, the stuff that sometimes gets out. That's why the Grey Knights are the most infamous Chapter in the galaxy: they're not thinkin' straight. Most of the time, they don't even know that real shit is real. They think they're in a big daydream, a big violent daydream where nothin' really matters.)

My word.

(Medicus Viola: Look, I might just be a mad scientist, flesh-sculptor, and genestealer "cultist", but I know crazy. I know crazy real well. Ain't nobody's crazy just to be crazy.)

...Why do you put quotation marks around the word "cultist"?

(Medicus Viola: I don't worship the Nids. I just find 'em fascinating. I think there's a lot we can learn about 'em. They're perfect survivors, adaptable. Me and my, uh, friends, we do lots of...Well, I'm a lot more Nid than I am a lotta things, I'll tell ya that.)

What if they devour your world?

(Medicus Viola: They're animals. You gotta think of Nids like a stampede. They go somewhere, crush everything below them, and move on. They're not full of hate or anything, they just wanna eat. So you nudge 'em out of the way, get the ones that aren't as homicidal. Ya ever studied ecology?)

Perhaps we should return to the Grey Knights.

(Medicus Viola: Sure.)

Among those Maldacor [the Emperor's most trusted servant] eventually presented to the Emperor, it is thought that there were eight Space Marines. Peerless in their dedication to the Imperim, aware of the warp's threat and potent in their esoteric abilities, each of the eight were approved and the Emperor tasked Malcador with the next stage.

(Medicus Viola: Here's a tip. They weren't chosen just for their dedication, though obviously that was a lot of it. They were chosen for mental strength, for knowing reality. Trips deep into the Warp are trips into the Chaos Gods' mindscape. You gotta know what's just the mind. You gotta know your mind.)

...Have you ever had sex with a Tyranid? Can they consent?

(Medicus Viola: ...What? You're a real freak, Ynathe.)

I would never participate in bestiality! I just wasn't sure if there were any sapient ones!

(Medicus Viola: What are you, a monster-fucker?)

Perhaps...

(Medicus Viola: Nice.)

Malcador took the group of Space Marines to Titan, a frigid moon of Saturn. Through means now unknown, the Sigilite [Malcador] had hidden the Emperor's works on Titan from traitors and loyalists alike. According to one electro-tapestry, Malcador revealed a fortress monastery, established in desperate secrecy. Inside it were the means to found a chapter - one not descended from the Legions that still fought, but forged anew with gene-seed wrought by the Emperor in isolation.

Well, this sounds like a just-so story to me.

(Medicus Viola: I'm skeptical about them being made from the Emperor's gene-seed, but I buy the rest of it. Big Emps is a melodramatic guy.)

What happened next has slipped even from the true understanding of the Grey Knights. With Terra herself braced to face the heretical Legions of Horus, a sorcerous enchantment of unprecedented power loosened Titan from reality's grip.The moon vanished from its orbit, sliding into the warp. Time and bloodshed overtook the Sol System. Titan endured, anchored somehow in the Empyrean. Those upon it, unaware of the Heresy's tragic conclusion, toiled to bring the Emperor's gift to Humanity to fruition while titanic energies strove to protect the world from the Warp's rolling embrace.

(Medicus Viola: That's insanity: being disconnected from reality. People think insanity makes you evil, or violent. Ain't true. Most insane people are dangerous only to themselves. Most Chaos cultists are a little insane, and many of them are the most ethical people you'll meet. Most people who are disconnected from reality think that people are out to get them or that they've got nothin' to live for, not that they oughta butcher some people. Space Marines ain't most people. They're weapons, made to fight. So, when they go nuts, they fight things that aren't there, or the wrong kindsa things, or for the wrong reasons.

Years passed in realspace - and who knows how many within the timeless warp - before Titan reappeared. When it did so, it was during the confusion and aanrchy of the Second Founding. The growing Inquisition, it is whispered, had a hand in much of that endeavor's work. It is in records of the Second Founding that the Grey Knights first appear, enshrined as the 666th Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes....As a fighting force, only they could face the daemon without fear of taint.

(Medicus Viola: Another secret. This one's a li'l dark. The Imperium don't really care about the Grey Knights' butcherin'. If people know the Grey Knights as the violent lunatics, they don't know 'em for their real job. It's a cover.)

Well, that's horrifying.

(Medicus Viola: Sure, but it kept Sister Vandire off the scent, huh? Doubt she thinks they even fight demons no more.)

How do you know all this?

(Medicus Viola: I knew a Platinum Knight. I gave him legs. I healed his broken body. I watched him mutate into a Nid. Told me a lot before he got overgrown by his Nid parts.)

And you...grafted Tyranid parts to you, after that?

(Medicus Viola: For science, right?)

You are mad.

(Medicus Viola: All science is about breakin' norms.)

[The Ordo Malleus's] diverse members investigate traces of Chaos, the daemonic and anything tainted by the warp. Nowhere and no one is beneath or beyond their gimlet gaze. To root out solitary miners tainted by long-buried artefacts, mutant bordellos among heaving hive cities weakening the warp's barriers with debaucheries, even daemonic possession of those at the highest levels, an Inquisitor has near-limitless power and few qualms about its application...they work most closely with the Grey Knights.

...This sounds like some sort of infernal secret police, over-exaggerating the Daemonic threat.

(Medicus Viola: Yep.)

The Sanctum Sanctorum's towering shelves of tomes, crumbling scrolls, data-crystals and info-wafers hold the Chapter's forbidden knowledge. The names of proscribed cults and doomed xenos races can be found here alongside the forge-secrets of Nemesis force weapons.

(Medicus Viola: Ain't none of that gonna make someone rational.)

...Pardon me, but it seems as though everyone else exists in some grand space opera tale, while these Grey Knights live in a cosmic horror story? If you'll permit the literary allusions, of course.

(Medicus Viola: Yep. Only war. Wouldn't you go a li'l mad?)

"Praise the Emperor for His sacrifice, as He endures so shall we. We who are hunters of Daemons shall strive in His name eternally. We, the Order of the Hammer, shall delve into dark shadows, We shall seek out the tainted, we shall pursue the vilest evil. It is we who stand guard, our eternal watch shall not fail, For we are the Ordo Malleus!

We Grey Knights are the hammers, we slay the darkness without fear. Founded in great mystery were we, Chapter Six Hundred and Sixty Six. Though on Titan we be hidden, yet our eyes encompass the Galaxy. No Devil shall elude our gaze, no Daemon shall avoid its fate. We shall be the Keepers Immortal, all secrets shall be our knowledge. We are the Guardians of Mankind!

Caution and secrecy are our code, watchfulness and patience are our way. Hidden from the Eyes of Chaos, we strike without warning or dread. Though we find ourselves in shadows, no blackness will enter our hearts. No treachery will touch our souls, no pride will sully our thoughts. We shall be pure amongst impurity, we shall be innocence amongst guilt. We are the Imperium`s hidden saviours!

We are spread across the Heavens, our watch is untiring and ceaseless. The Emperor shall guard our souls, as we guard those of others. Our will shall be our weapon, our faith shall be our armour. Our minds will be secure fortresses, no temptation will weaken our resolve. Though unnumbered lurking perils await us, our blades will ever be ready. For we are the Emperor`s Vengeance!

Masters of all weapons are we, no defence exists against our wrath. With the Nemesis shall we fight, with an Aegis to shield us. In bloodshed shall we save Mankind, death shall be our everlasting creed. War unending shall be our fate, in battle shall we be steeled. We shall be unstinting in hatred, we shall hunger for holy war. For we are Swords of Justice!

When all flee in hideous disarray, strong and sound shall we stand. Cowardice is wholly unknown to us, our courage comes from the Emperor. Unbowed and unshaken against all foes, we shall claim victory with blood. Steady and surely we hunt them, those that dare oppose our wrath. Death stalks us in many forms, the grotesque and the utterly inhuman. We are Bringers of Hope!

Bloody battles unending constantly await us, redemption the reward for our vigilance. When possession rears its unspeakable head, ours is the blade that descends. When empyrean horrors invade our realm, our exorcisms shall hurl them back. There is no chaos spawned horror which can resist our indomitable anger. With undaunted courage we shall prevail, no arcane magicks shall overcome us. We are the Bearers of Victory!

No corruption shall blemish our Galaxy, no immatricial fiend shall be spared. No malevolent spirit will oppose us, no creation of sin shall survive. No unholy deed shall go unpunished, all blasphemous acts shall be atoned. No spawn of misrule avoid us, all are banished to the void. Nothing shall evade our cleansing fire, not Daemon or Spawn or Renegade, For we are Mankind`s Divine Blade!

Heavenly blessings are laid upon us, the Warp is ours to tame. Though sorceries shall be against us, no witchcraft will bring our doom. Though spell or incarnation blocks us, the Emperor shall see us victorious. No hex can overcome our determination, our resolve is strong as steel. Sigils and wards watch over us, prayers shall serve as our guide. For we are the Emperor`s Chosen!

There is much darkness awaiting us, yet the Emperor lights our path. Falsehood surrounds us at every turn, yet no traitor shall confound us. No despicable trickery will thwart us, no damnation shall bring us low. There is no peace for us, for an eternity we will strive. Though mere mortals in His service, everlasting shall be our true duty.

Et Imperator Invocato Diabolus Daemonica Exorcism!"

I strongly suspect that half the reason for their violence is their fanaticism, rather than their dances with the maddest parts of the Chaos deities' souls.

(Medicus Viola: Six of one, half a dozen of the other.)

Oh, I do like eggplants! Ancient humans used to eat those in dozens, yes?

(Medicus Viola: Yep.)

Daeomons are not creatures of flesh and blood. They are beings of the darkest myth and madness.

Well, this isn't true. Daemons are creatures of ideas, emotions, concepts, and feelings, but they are not simply "dark". They are unlike other sophonts, of course, but they are not merely evil.

Emanating from each Grey Knights soul, [the Aegis "halo"] weaves through enchanged sigils and silver circuitry in his armor, radiating as a nimbus of purity that makes his presence anathema to daemonkind. So armoured, Grey Knights can withstand the forbidden powers they must employ to destroy the daemon.

(Medicus Viola: Sure, but armor breaks, cracks, fragments, and rusts. Things get in.)

That certainly doesn't justify the cruelty.

Though recorded as a Second Founding Chapter, the Grey Knights do not follow the Codex Astartes the great work whose edicts underpinned the creation of those brotherhoods. Instead, the secretive Grey Knights follow the tenets of structure they believe were handed down by Maldacor the Sigillite, tenets born of the unique demands of their war against the dark gods.

...They seem more like a death squad or secret police than noble knights.

(Medicus Viola: Not gonna dispute that.)

The Grey Knights maintain a strength of approximately a thousand battle-brothers. This does not include officers or specialists, and, like all Space Marine Chapters, the small army of mostly mortal serfs and cybernetic, unthinking servitors that attend the Chapter.

...Slavery is wrong.

(Medicus Viola: Sure, but being a Space Marine serf is one of the less bad kinds of slavery in the Imperium. Still don't justify it, though.)

The bulk of the Grey Knights' battle-brothers are organized into eight grand brotherhoods...The breakdown of squad type in a given situation is determined by the brotherhood's Grand Master and Brother-Captain. It has long been proven, however, that a balance of Terminator and Strike Squads, supported by Interceptors and Purgation Squads, is by far the most effective combination.

...This was "proven" by whom?

Each Grand Master also holds sway over one of the Chapter's constituent bodies, such as its Armoury or Librarius. Each institution is nominally held to form part of his brotherhood, though he despatches elements of these organizations to undertake extended duties with others. This authority, only partly ceremonial, is tied to the command of a particular brotherhood, and over time the association has informed their fighting style and tactics...The Grey Knights maintain two further fighting bodies and other honored positions. Answerable only to the Chapter Council, they accompany forces at the request of the Grand Masters. The Order of Purifiers rarely numbers more than fifty, and is a cloistered brotherhood with its own traditions whose spiritually pure warriors are led by Knights of the Flame. The Paladins are the Chapter's martial elite, a company of some hundred or so of the most skilled warriors, from whose ranks is elected the Grey Knight's most honoured Ancient.

The Order is merely ceremonial, and the Paladins mostly political as far as I know, and both are made up of Platinum Knights and Grey Knights.

The Swordbearers were last reported across six war zones in Segmentum Tempestus, hunting dark magi and their warp forges in sectors adjacent to the Siren's Storm. These infernal factorums churn out daemon engines and far worse, but the brotherhood's armoured strikes have already exorcised three of these sites.

...They lay a trail of destruction, brutality, and butchery in their path across those five war zones and one city.

In other chapters, Terminator armor is a rare and precious resource, restricted to their elite. It is a measure of the Grey Knights' vital duty that they maintain enough suits to equip their entire Chapter should they wish. Secure in suits of bonded ceramite and hardened exoskeleton, Terminator Squads have been known to fight for weeks on end against daemonic hordes.

(Medicus Viola: Yeah, that'll rip an army apart.)

It is from the Chamber of Trials that the Company of Gatherers set out across the galaxy in search of recruits. The Gatherers are Grey Knights whose great age or crippling injuries no longer permit them to undertake the primary work of the Chapter, but whose keen minds can winnow out the most suitable aspirants. From among the throngs of prospective candidates their recruitment harvests trawl, the Gatherers select those whose potential is strongest. There are few limits to the Harvester's remit; in their long hunts, they scour many likely sources of recruits: barbaric worlds with no ken of the Imperium, the Black Ships that collect tithes of psykers, civilized worlds of billions where they work via emissaries ignorant of the Grey Knights; even the recruiting worlds of other Space Marine Chapters - commonly without their knowledge...barely one in a thousand survives the first rite of passage...

What an absurd and cult-like exaltation of idiotic notions of masculinity.

(Medicus Viola: Translate?)

It sounds like a psychopathic fraternity.

The 3rd Brotherhood of the Grey Knights have won triumphant victories in some of the most dire episodes ever withheld from Imperial records. The breadth of forbidden knowledge they maintain has aided the banishment of the deadliest daemons, and the brotherhood's ancient association with the chapter's librarians sees the wardmakers boast more erudition than any other.

That seems about accurate to my sources, though the Resurrection of Jay Effkay would seem to indicate that not all of the knowledge the Grey Knights are aware of would be beneficial.

(Medicus Viola: What?)

Nothing, pet.

(Medicus Viola: ...Is this just how Dark Eldar talk?)

...Well, I thought I was getting the sense that you needed a...matriarcha dominans, as you Imperials say.

(Medicus Viola: I ain't interested in your dominant mommy shenanigans.)

You aren't a lesbian?

(Medicus Viola: I'm sexually attracted to Tyranids, patriarchs, and women in denim short shorts.)

...Tyranids?

(Medicus Viola: Yeah, the smart ones you can have a chat with if you know how. Hive Tyrants. I ain't no sex pervert.)

Have you lain with a Hive Tyrant?

(Medicus Viola: You gotta be creative.)

I was not asking that, but now I know!

As every Grand Master has an equal voice within the Chapter Council, so every brotherhood is equal; though their associations and methods may differ, none his held above another. It is without doubt, however, that the Wardmakers have been pivotal in defeating the forces of Chaos in countless terrible events. Had one of these hidden battles been lost, Mankind's future may have been far darker.

(Medicus Viola: ...Gotta respect that.)

What kind of Powerful Person with Proclivities for Painful Picks and Preferences nonsense is this? Making the "hard decisions" does not make one strong or admirable. It simply means one is willing to be cruel for what might be some necessity. That said, it is rarely that necessary. This narrative of hyper-masculine secret warriors smacks of masculinity to me, and I want no part of it. Perhaps their deeds are shameful and cruel no matter what the cause.

(Medicus Viola: ...Yeah, you could be right, I guess. Huh.)

[Aldrik Voldus's] elevation to the vaunted position of Grand Master of the 3rd Brotherhood came during the onset of the Great Rift's apocalyptic emergence. Though his ennoblement came from the lips of Lord Kaldor Draigo himself in the wake of their combined banishment of a Tzeentchian daemonic lord, it is one that sits heavily with Voldus. He sees himself a s humble warrior who sought no greater advancement than a position from which to slay the hated daemon. Yet he swore Lord Draigo an oath to live up to the honour, and on Macragge, on Gathalamor Prime, on Luna and Holy Terra itself among many others, Aldrik Voldus has proven - at least to others - his supreme ability, strength, and will....As well as commanding a brotherhood of the most elite Space Marines, Voldus is Warden of the Librarius.

I still don't think that these people are the "elite" of anything. Your PPPPPP logic can not dull all my doubts.

Every Grey Knight is a psyker, a bearer of a mutation that sets him as much apart from other Space Marines as his genetically enhanced body sets him apart from Humanity. But few of the Chapter's battle-brothers exercise this power with free rein - even for a Grey Knight this would offer a way into the mateiral realm for insatiable daemons. It is the Librarians who train their brothers to focus their psychic gifts in concert with others of their squad.
...
Members of the Prescient Brethren often have the ability to sense danger before it materialises, and they use this to stalk their enemy relentlessly and to devise highly effective ambushes in which to snare their foe. Such abilities are of the utmost value when combatting daemons - creatures whose timeless and unnatural existences allow many to manipulate the strands of fate - as well as races such as the meddlesome Aeldari.

Well, there's the casual bigotry. What a complete shock.

The Inquisition and the Grey Knights were founded, according to some sources, around the same time. Though created to act independently of one another, many goals of the two orders broadly align. The Exactors [the Seventh Brotherhood] have a long history of acting upon information supplied by the Ordo Malleus, occasionally alongside them; as a result, respected Inquisitors are often able to call upon them for aid. It is through the Grand Master, as Representative to the Inquisition, that contact usuallly flows. In return, the Exactors expect the Inquisition to provide watchful eyes throughout the Imperium, and to supply them with auxiliary forces whenever and wherever they request them.

So they're violent, authoritarian thugs. How uncommon for the Imperium. They really are a secret police in that way.

The Chambers of Purity are thought to be the oldest part of the Citadel of Titan. They lie deep, buried like a secret in the dark and cold far beneath the moon's surface. Though the Chambers of Purity and their sanctified guardians are hidden away, it is to ensure the security of something deeper and darker, a secret they are placed there to guard...The Chapter's legends tell that a great evil lies entombed amongst the roots of Mount Anarch, the great peak at whose base the Grey Knights' fortress-monastery sits....Not even the Grand Masters know the full truth...Only the Iron Grimoire is believed to disclose the truth. Within its bindings of screaming warp-metal, this tome is said to liken the bedrock of Titan to a graven tomb, and the Chambers of Purity to that tomb's capstone. Thus the Chambers are less of a prison and more of the prison's lock and key.

I find it highly unlikely such an "evil" is true. It's probably an old story, a folk legend.

This evil, though perhaps the greatest on Titan, is far from the only one kept safe by the Chambers of Purity. Whithin fortified oubliettes, stasis donjons and refraction prisons - all part of the Chambers' lattice of secure sanctums - lie the daemonic relics kept by the Chapter.

What is with Imperials and their stories of secret prisons and sanctums? I suppose it's a means of covertly threatening the populace into accepting their rule.

(Medicus Viola: The truth is usually a mix of most perspectives.)

The [Black Blade of Antwyr] whispers, cajoles, and screams constantly, promising undreamt power and threatening vile abasement in a voice only [Castellan Crowe] can hear.

It seems more likely that Crowe's war against the darkest aspects of the Warp would simply have psychotic effects.

(Medicus Viola: I could see that.)

Among rows of iron-bound basalt columns rising to vaunted arches far above the central Hall of Champions hang the standards and trophies of the Grey Knights. Dark statues stare down, their stern countenances underlit by consecrated candles. Along with subsidiary chancels and council chambers, the Hall forms the Chapter's martial and spirituai heart.

(Medicus Viola: What's a chancel?)

It's the part of a house of worship in which the preacher stands along with the choir and such.

Chapter Lord Kaldor Draigo, the Supreme Grand Master, passed beyond the sight of the Chapter on the world of Acralem. Two hundred years earlier, Draigo defeated the demon M'kar the Reborn there, and the creature had sworn its revenge...Screeching a curse two centuries in the making, M'kar's taloned claws dragged Lord Draigo into the warp with it.

The Butcher of the Sisterhood, the Tyrant of a Thousand Worlds, the Eater of Lies, the King of the Smoke, The Whisper in the Warp, the Monster, the Undertow King, Lord Nautilus, the Daemon Sanctified, these are all names of that great hydra Draigo, the Daemon Prince formed out of a Grey Knight, the one who the Platinum Knights in their faithful ignorance refuse to acknowledge. It was he who slaughtered the Sororitas who accompanied him, it was he who became a dark creature of sea and ink, it was he who embraced the Fetid Eel.

(Medicus Viola: ...You don't seriously believe that even a scum-sucker like Kaldor Draigo would be a Daemon Prince in death, do you?)

Oh, I completely believe it. He delved into the darkest sides of the Warp in his holy war.

(Medicus Viola: Is this some kinda Dark Eldar thing where you assume everyone is as self-centered and ambitious as y'all are?)

Well, I spoke to Sister Vandire, and she was the one who told me. He is the Lord of Coldest Ocean.

(Medicus Viola: Sister Vandire, who we know hates the Grey Knights and pro'lly hates Draigo most of all for being their leader.)

Vior Or'es also thought it sounded likely.

(Medicus Viola: The warp-blind xenos from a culture mostly removed from the Grey Knights, who'd have no accurate sources. That Vior Or'es?)

Yes, precisely.

(Medicus Viola: Well, consider me outvoted!)

He is, I know it. The rest of us know it, why won't you?

(Medicus Viola: I dunno, maybe he just don't seem like the type? I swear to the Hive, he's just fuckin' around there in the warp, killin' shit. That's what he does.)

How dreadfully pedestrian.

(Medicus Viola: Ya really only care about what sounds good, huh? Ya see some absolutely fuckin' buck-wild kriffshit and decide "Well, that's narratively fascinatin'! I'm gonna decide this whacko conspiracy theory is my new reality!)

...Please be nice.

(Medicus Viola: ...Yeah, you're right. Maybe Kaldor Draigo really is a Daemon Prince.

You will find everything you need on the following pages to include these in your games of Warhammer 40,000, not to mention bespoke content for your Grey Knights Crusade force. Included in the latter is an exciting system allowing your Grey Knights characters to track down and banish their daemonic nemesis, that malevolent force that dogs them throughout their lifetime as one of the Emperor's elite daemon hunters.

Another book of propaganda and lies defeated by Ynathe Azuuza.

(Medicus Viola: Hey, Ynathe. Sorry I got mad, but ya gotta realize that not everyone who lives in the Imperium is too stupid or evil to leave. Fuck, I'm willin' to toy with powers beyond my comprehension, but even I get that sometimes you wanna go to Church or read from a library with real paper.)

I don't think everyone in the Imperium are stupid or evil.

(Medicus Viola: Just most of 'em?)

You aren't stupid, just charmingly backwoods!

(Medicus Viola: Ya know, I thought talkin' to a Dark Eldar would be like talkin' to some kinda torture queen. Turns out yer more like those goofily ignorant upper-crust weirdos from the vox-plays. I don't mean that as an insult.)

Well, I feel a bit insulted.

(Medicus Viola: Nobody's sayin' you're some kinda evil monster, but if ya keep lookin' down your damn nose ya might never be able to see someone else's face.)

That was a very well-composed metaphor for a rustic type.

(Medicus Viola: I have three degrees. I just also have an accent.)

...You have three degrees? I didn't think the Imperium had schools other than Church feudalism.

(Medicus Viola: Well, we have universities, and when ya think of the Imperium less as a giant evil empire and more as a buncha linked principalities, ya'll pro'lly understand it better. Get some rest, Ynathe.)

Thank you, Viola. Genuinely.

RiverDelta · Aug 2, 2023

Simon_Jester said:
ALL FIRMLY OOC:

Hm. I get why you made this artistic choice, but it bears in mind that you're basically doing "I reject your reality and substitute my own" entirely on the Grey Knights here, for the sake of making a set of points.

To be fair, at least one of them (the institutional trauma of being veterans of the psychic wars) is something you really couldn't have made by doing this to a normal Space Marine chapter everyone hates like the Minotaurs, Iron Fists, or Marines Malevolent.

Since your Grey Knights are barely recognizable as the canonical Grey Knights, I am hereby going to call them Vantablack Knights. Vantablack mixes with (traditionally 'white') platinum to produce Grey, so we have effectively split the Grey Knights of canon into two organizations, one light side and one dark side!

Honestly, I think you'd have been better off not keeping this specific singular atrocity, or anything that flows naturally out of it having happened, unless you mean to imply that this is a routine occurrence that the Vantablack Knights do all the time. Because kept as-is, the atrocity becomes an identifying marker that implies that "yes, I intend these to be the canonical Grey Knights viewed through a different lens," when in reality you are doing a search-and-replace and swapping them out for "Vantablack Knights."

It's, as yet, interestingly unclear here whether you're preserving the basic premise that all psykers aboard the Black Ships who test for being suitable for Space Marine conversion are sent off to Titan to be made into Grey Knights or die in the process. I'll see if that clears up.

That's... actually a very interesting take on Chaos.

Of course, it also explains why most conventional sophonts really, really do not like them, because when your worst thoughts consistently spill out into reality with little restraint, and some of those thoughts are capable of boiling worlds, you make a lot of enemies pretty fast.

But it also explains why people who make themselves over as constant full-time Chaos fighters tend to be pretty unhinged themselves. Because they're spending a lot, a LOT, of time seeking out the bad acid trips of a cosmic entity and trying to blow them up from inside.

See, the thing is, I'm thinking as I read this, is that if they kept that firm grip on reality, they presumably wouldn't be the vicious Vantablack-Knightly maniacs they are presented as in this Let's Read and its continuity.

Note that if the exact words are "gene-seed forged by the Emperor in isolation," that's not quite the same as "from the Emperor directly." It just means the Emperor spent actual significant time messing with the gene sequences that would go into the Grey Knights' posthuman enhancements, as in, he did the work himself. Which isn't much of a stretch if he also did the work on the primarchs.

Of course, you'd really, really, REALLY expect this to apply to Chaos Marines in general, as a logical consequence, so I'd hope to see this thread recur when we get to codices that talk about Chaos Marines. Because it's not like Abbadon the Despoiler doesn't match this description of a living weapon posthuman exposed to the crazy of the Warp and likely to lash out accordingly.

That is literally their canonical job, it's just that canon allows a historically illiterate person the option of taking them at face value.

On the other hand, it sounds like the kind of daemons that spill out onto other people's metaphorical lawns do tend to be the "cosmic bad acid trip" entities that would come closer to matching this description.

Honestly, I feel like we have so little information on what being a Space Marine 'serf' means that it's not even clear what restrictions they face. Are they forbidden to leave the planet? Are they even actually enslaved? I genuinely do not know, like, literally have no information on this. Probably varies from chapter to chapter.

In real life the thing that makes a serf a serf is that they're legally required to remain on the land they live on and can't leave.

In fairness this might well be the result of something like a reasonably rigorous study of combat effectiveness, at least in theory?

I mean, "fraternity" isn't really the word in English, since it connotes a sort of partying unseriousness and I'm pretty sure even the Vantablack Knights are very, very serious emotionally. On the other hand, the viewpoint character here is a Dark Eldar, and their idea of a fraternity may be different.

More generally, of course, yes, the "only one in a thousand survives our ultra-rigorous trials" crap is a perfect example of the concept of military training being grossly misunderstood, distorted, and turned into insane bullshit by the ideas of sour-masculinity-gone-toxic.

...Is this a back-reference to that stupid conspiracy theory thing that Our Reviewer got suckered into?

Without actually having read this codex, I can't be sure, but if they're specifically talking about the "Brotherhood of Wardmakers," it is at least conceivable that they're on the level. The guys who make the anti-Chaos deflector shields might legit say "yeah, if we weren't doing our jobs, a lot of bad stuff would have happened."

Also, the bolded sentence is an interesting reflection of IC/OOC authorial choice, I don't exactly know which words to use and I don't have a cohesive thing to say about it, it just caught the eye.

Wellllll, Aeldari are pretty darn meddlesome. Anyone with farseers would be meddlesome, because the temptation to indulge in hilarious temporal shenanigans would be irresistible. As adjectives go, I think it's pretty fair.

I think they're too small to be effective as a secret police force, really. There's not that many of them, and it's a big galaxy. There's multiple overlocking Imperial institutions that serve the function of "secret police," and the Grey Knights are at most the brute squad that gets called in to act as muscle on very rare and specific occasions by the more prevalent Imperial secret police.

But it's not like you'll ever see a Grey Knight infiltrating a rebel secret society or something. That's not their function. They're not the Space Stasi.

Well, if the Vantablack Knights actually do exist in a cosmic horror setting, you'd expect some sealed super-beings to exist, and for many of these super-beings to be potentially hostile to, well, most things that are recognizably a person.

Well, at least this time you're pre-emptively calling yourself out on the tendency to replace canon stuff with lurid conspiracy theory stuff.

Though it also makes just using the name "Kaldor Draigo" kind of pointless, because you're literally just erasing the guy and replacing him with an original character intended to be an evil opposite.

I like it.

After all, we just observed that an entity constructed to be a living weapon (namely, a Space Marine) and then marinated in the nastier parts of the Warp will tend to become violently insane.

Wouldn't a living weapon made from the nastier parts of the Warp be just as insane, if not more so? That's just the same process, only cutting out the middleman.

OOC:

Hey, lots of good points here, so I think I have a lot I need to clarify. This isn't actually a Custodes situation where I messed up big-time with my weird twists. The deliberate POV here was that Sister Vandire openly hates the Grey Knights and will believe anything about them no matter how absurd if it makes them look bad, Ynathe dislikes the Grey Knights and is willing to buy into bullshit because she's a bit of a conspiracy theorist and way too Eldar-chauvinist for her own good, and that Medicus Viola is actually sympathetic to the Grey Knights.

The introduction to this update is a bit weirdly written, because originally I was going to make the Vantablack Knights and the Platinum Knights, but then as I wrote it I realized that was too simplistic and didn't fit the themes of the fanfic at all. So the introduction very much pushes this idea of the Vantablack Knights, but that's because I tried to edit it into something after and apparently I didn't do a good enough job. There's the Platinum Knights, who are generally good but mostly serve as those who got out of the kitchen because they couldn't stand the heat, and the Grey Knights, who are certainly Black Knights but intended to be less over-the-top villains and more broken warriors.

We often see in the update that Ynathe will doubt any good thing the Grey Knights might be doing, and that's meant to show that Ynathe isn't an objective source. Even the ending is meant to call that out, with Medicus Viola basically telling Ynathe (and the reader) that Ynathe's idea of a Grimdark Imperium is kind of bullshit. Medicus Viola's perspective is meant to be the most accurate, and she's looking at the Grey Knights with pity, rather than hate. The truth is that the Grey Knights are doing their job, and they do serve an important purpose.

They aren't as special or badass as the Codex makes them out to be in Review Canon, but they also don't really work as the Dirlewanger Brigade. The introduction and a few other parts of the update tend to treat them like that, though with the other parts of the update that's more Ynathe and especially Vandire's biases. There was a bit of a jarring shift as I wrote it in my own head.

On the subject of the Sisters of Battle murders, Ynathe is getting the evidence of that from Vandire. I do think it probably did happen, Review Canon, but it wasn't some absurd act of evil. It was a desperate act of deeply delusional, homicidal super-soldiers who weren't thinking rationally at all. In my head, I think of the Grey Knights as people who are in a psychotic episode that lasts their entire adult life and gets worse and worse.

Thank you for the compliment on the take on Chaos. The thing is that they don't keep that grip on reality. To be a Grey Knight in this continuity is basically to be a suicide-soldier. You go out, you do as much work as you can, and then over time your grip on everything gets worse and worse until you can't function anymore.

Oh, and Chaos Marines will come in time, but you're right that if fighting daemons in the warp does this it seems like being an agent of the Chaos Gods (even ones whose worst qualities are more leaking intrusive thoughts than maniacal evil) would really mess you up. I'd also say that being mentally ill or psychotic doesn't necessarily make you violent, even when you're a supersoldier.

Oh, and Ynathe is specifically referring to an unserious, partying fraternity. Remember, her conception of everything is from a Drukhari performer-gladiatrix's perspective. She imagines Space Marine Chapters as being little more than gangs of rich thugs who go out doing crimes while drunk. The Jay Effkay joke is a reference, yeah. I don't know if it was a funny joke, but I found it amusing enough to work in.

As far as Kaldor Draigo goes, I actually really like the idea that he's a Daemon Prince. I tried to keep it ambiguous (up to and including Medicus Viola pointing out how nonsensical it is and how everyone in-story who believes it would be specifically credulous because it is kind of stupid), but on a death-of-the-author level I like the idea.

That said, I encourage most readers to view it as bullshit, because it's like writing a Harry Potter Let's Read where Umbridge is a Weasley.

Balmung1 said:
IC: Not to mention the work of the mighty Custodes who protect the imperial palace from murder-tourists(yes those exist, combine the worst aspects of a tourist, a serial killer and a Kabal of Last Hatred member) ,invaders and the High Lords incompetence(the invader issue can usually be solved by a quick deployment of a Custodes or two, the others recquire constant vigilance and heavy artillery).
IC:That's partially why Terra's so unstable and deamons are such a issue.It isn't just the worst parts of a Chaos God's Subconscious but the conscious part of Khorn/Slaaneesh/Nurgle/Tzeentch wanting to murder the fuck out of the Astronomican and everything associated with that bleeding out into reality unrestrained.It wasn't as bad when we had enough of what could callously be called extra strength psyker ductape to patch the whole planet over but now we don't have enough psykers due to the 'drought' in Black Ship collection efforts and the Throne had rotted to the point it even of ot was at full psyker sacrifce power it wouldn't work as well as it used to.
For me the High Lords live in some politial opera tale combined with unironic raunchy satire while the palace is approximately 50% cosmic horror and 50% slice of life with oiled custodians,very high Lucifer Blacks and quite a large amount of Custodian/Sister Of Silence bonding.
I mean you don't need to be deamony to be around in the warp.The Left Hand can stride in and out of the warp like a massive Warp Spider(I wouldn't advise being around it though since it will require a lot of anti depressants and tranquilizers).I also believe that it makes total sense for a space marine to go murderhoboing their way through the warp.
Playing contrarian it could be possible he actually acquired a genuinely deamonic sword(who aren't exactly the sanest of all deamons) and caused a feedback loop of the deamon getting insane fro Crowe and Crowe getting crazier from the insane deamon.

IC:

Why must we continue to discuss the silliness of the Custodes? So I failed to understand the finer points of some irrelevant human society! What a gargantuan krakking deal we have here! Oh, Ynathe is so silly, not understanding the Imperium! Well, my understanding of this is completely accurate, and in fact Sister Vandire has informed me of all sorts of wholly intentioned and morally culpable crimes on the part of the Grey Knights!

...Ahem.

I do like raunchy satire.

FreePeriphery said:
IC: There is something I have considered the Foundation of Chapter is done in large groupings of chapters for instance Second, Fourth, Twenty Eighth and so on. It in many instances required either the participation a "Parent" Chapter that is donating personnel and equipment authorized by the Chapter Master and then authorized again by the High Lords of Terra. Granted some chapters fall through the cracks for instance the Carcharodons whom only reappeared during the Badab War and were instrumental in the Imperium winning the conflict but it seems to be that their records did come back although confused in what they where. The reason I bring this up is two fold the Grey Knights seem to be not cast-offs left to their own devices with little beyond the bare necessity. Rather if there is any truth in the articles of these codex they appear to be given a great deal of resources. A fief within the Sol System it's self, how much does the Inquisition and the Ordo Malleus know of their personal Astartes actions. Chapters are not known for taking pain to inform outsiders of their actions.

Unrelated what is an eggplant, I have been eating more then nutrient paste recently and have been looking to expand my diet. Do they still exist what would one have to do to acquire an eggplant.

I will not dispute that serfdom practiced by the Chapters is a bad thing in many cases. I will say though that the how it is done tends to vary some do in fact simply take those they have decided are suitable, to simply recruiting directly in which the Master of Scouts will simply walk amongst the civilians making inquires with the local government/or directly to civilians on volunteers. Others tend to only pull from the population they directly protect that being from their recruiting world exclusively.

On the Tyranids an older battle-brother whom had severed with the Deathwatch once described the it's as more a InterLinked Biosphere rather than a series of organism. He found them quite fascinating as well having read treaties penned by Inquisitor Fidus Kryptman -yes the Butcher of Ultima, Fidus Kryptman- who he found had some interesting insights into the nature of the Tyranids I grant I have now idea how true they are but he did make quite the body work before his excommunication. Although it should be stated that his answer in Octarius was dangerously flawed to put it mildly at least that is the current opinion of most looking into the matter.

OOC: liked this codex entry and its exploration of the wider AU beyond simply the actions of the Grey Knights. I'm also really enjoying how the world is coming together through them. I am also interested to see how the Chaos Astartes compare having also be exposed to the Warp in different but similar ways to the Grey Knights.

OOC:

Thank you!

IC:

They are very much an interlinked biosphere, yes. Oh, and an eggplant is a delightful Terran food, one that I can only recommend. I believe it comes from chickens. You know someone in the Deathwatch?

RiverDelta · Aug 4, 2023

OOC: If any of you want to ask questions of the guest characters like Ashlee or Vior Or'es, feel free! Otherwise, here's an update for Part 1 of the Nids. Lots of dialogue, hence why we're breaking it up.

(Medicus Viola: Howdy. Nice to start things off. As usual, I'm Ashlee, and I'll be here to explain the details.)

...You have a first name? I thought your first name was Viola.

(Ashlee: Y'all thought my first name was a string instrument?)

Why are you using "y'all", does that not mean more than one person?

(Ashlee: I'm speakin' to the readership.)

FROM THE DARKNESS BETWEEN THE STARS THEY FLOW, A TIDE OF LIVING NIGHTMARES. THEIR SHADOW IS THE FUNERAL SHROUD OF CIVILISATIONS. THEIR HUNGER IS THE DEATH OF WORLDS. THEY KNOW NOT HATE, FEAR OR COMPASSION, ONLY THE DESIRE TO HUNT AND TO DEVOUR. THEY ARE THE SWARM. THEY ARE THE TENDRIL AND THE TALON. THEY ARE THE TYRANIDS, AND TO STAND AGAINST THEM IN BATTLE IS TO KILL OR BE CONSUMED.

(Ashlee: VLO (Vocalizing Laughter Openly)! The Nids hunt each other even more than they hunt other stuff, and "living nightmares"? A Nid vermin's pretty cute. You can keep 'em as pets, do all sorts of experiments on 'em! This is so glubbin' over the top, lemme tell ya.)

...I can't believe it is actually in full-capitalization.

Welcome to the tome of ineffable horrors that is Codex: Tyranids. What follows is an account of this most alien and iminical of races, from the Tyranids' nature and ways of war to to tales of bloody encounters with their ravenous swarms, and descriptions of their myriad monstrous bioforms. Read on to learn more of the Hive Mind and its numberless, hungering brood.

(Ashlee: Well, this ain't right. The Nids are pretty cute, and Genestealers often have a lot to say.)

Do the Genestealers not damn planets?

(Ashlee: Sure, but they ain't rude, and the damning planets is less often than you'd think. They're spies, not agents of eternal chaos. They're the most "normal" sophont of the Nids, along with the Hive Tyrants.)

The Tyranids are a seemingly infinite race of extragalactic life forms that exist to hunt, kill, and devour all organic life. Be it the warriors of enemy armies or the biospheres of verdant worlds, all are simply biomass to be consumed by the swarm. This raw material is then used to spawn yet more Tyranid war beasts to invade fresh worlds, and so the cycle continues.

(Ashlee: They ain't an army, just an expandin' biosphere with varyin' levels of shared consciousness. Imperium thinks everything's a gaddamed war.)

Your command of Low Gothic is...improving!

(Ashlee: Thanks.)

Like the questing tendrils of some impossibly vast monster, the Tyranids' hive fleets push deeper into the galaxy with every passing day. For every swarm destroyed by desperate defenders, another three drift into the light of beleagured stars, ready to do battle. The Tyranids cannot be bought off, reasoned with, or put to flight. They can only be fought or fled from.

(Ashlee: Natty, thought experiment.)

Is...Is that what "Ynathe" is in your planet's tongue?

(Ashlee: Didn't I just say I was speakin' Low Gothic? We're all speakin' Low Gothic!)

What about "Natty"?

(Ashlee: So I've got some quirks comin' from Bluebonnet, but it's either the Bluebonnet consanguinity or me talkin' about how to vivisect a Hive Tyrant for proper reverence.)

Please tell me about that.

(Ashlee: Not unless ya ask nicely.)

Please, Miss, please tell me about what vivisecting a Hive Tyrant to revere it is like!

(Ashlee: I thought I told ya to stop callin' me yer servile game names.)

It's a hard habit to get out of with people more mature than me.

(Ashlee: Don't Eldar live some eight-hundred years?)

Well, yes, but your lifespan is shorter, so you're proportionally more mature than I am.

(Ashlee: And what's that supposed to mean?)

You have this chaotic sort of genius energy that I find deeply appealing.

(Ashlee: Well, uh, yer mild stupidity's arousin'.)

I thought you said you were only interested in Tyranids, patriarchs, and women in denim short shorts.

(Ashlee: I just imagined you in denim short shorts.)

I'd rather die.

Amassing a Tyranid army is unlike any other collecting and gaming experience in Warhammer 40,000. It places the biological might of the Hive Fleets at your disposal, from numberless tides of lesser war-beasts and mindless shoals of living bombs, to towering chitinous monsters whose raw might and resilience are the match for the most formidable war engines of the foe. Sky-darkening flocks of winged predators; lumbering artillery-beasts; subterranean horrors; toxin-spewing abominations;cunning synaptic leader-beasts and devastating psychic bioforms - the sheer variety of Tyranid creatures available to a hobbyist is remarkable, and truly offers the opportunity to tailor your swarm to the precise way in which you prefer to hunt your prey.

(Ashlee: Yeah, Nids are cool, huh?)

Moreover, taking command of a Tyranid swarm allows you to take on the role of the Hive Mind. This vast gestalt consciousness is what drives the Tyranids on, and donning its mantle gives you access to an impressive array of tabletop psychic abilities, cunning Stratagems and deadly tactics to help you forge your force into a living weapon of war.

(Ashlee: Yep, this is accurate. Tyranids are pretty fuckin' great.)

I truly expected more "debunking".

(Ashlee: Hey, you ever bunked?)

Tyranid fucker, tyranid fucker, tyranid fucker!

(Ashlee: Yep, and proud. Science demands taking risks)

Not those kinds of risks!

BEYOND THE HUMAN GALAXY, BEYOND THE RANGE OF MAN-MADE SPACECRAFT AND ASTROTELEPATHY LIES THE UNSPEAKABLE COLD OF THE INTERGALACTIC VOID. FEW HAVE VENTURED INTO THIS REALM AND NONE HAVE EVER RETURNED. IT IS THE GREAT BARRIER THAT DIVIDES GALAXY FROM GALAXY, A PLACE WHERE TIME AND SPACE CONSPIRE TO HOLD THE WORLDS APART WITH INCONCEIVABLE DISTANCES.

YET THE VOID IS NO LONGER EMPTY. AN IMMEASURABLY ANCIENT AND IMPLACABLE INTELLIGENCE MOVES THROUGH THE COLD AND THE DARKNESS, ITS MANY EYES FIXED ON THE DISTANT GLITTERING LIGHTS OF OUR GALAXY. THE GREAT DEVOURER MOVES BETWEEN THE STARS AND HUNGERS FOR THE FLESH OF ALL WHO LIE BEFORE IT. THIS GREAT ORGANISM, THIS MONSTROUS ENTITY, IS KNOWN AS THE TYRANID RACE.

EVEN BY NAMING THE GREAT DEVOURER CIVILISATIONS BETRAY THEIR IGNORANCE. EVERY THOUGHT AND ACTION, EVERY SPARK OF LIFE IN THE TYRANID RACE IS BOUND AND INTERLINKED INTO A SINGLE MIND, A SINGLE GREAT ENTITY THAT STRETCHES OVER LIGHT YEARS OF SPACE AND IS CONTROLLED BY THE IMMORTAL HIVE MIND. A BILLION TIMES A BILLION TYRANIDS STAND AT THE RIM OF THE GALAXY, YET EACH ONE IS NO MORE THAN A SINGLE CELL IN THE LIVING BODY OF THE HIVE MIND, THE DEVOURER OF WORLDS.

(Ashlee: Oh my kraking gourd. This is just so over-the-top! Listen to this, it's prose so purple I can taste the grape!)

You know what I think of this? I think you aren't doing your job with the utmost seriousness! This is very important work, rebutting Imperial propaganda, and you are being lazy and shiftless as one would expect from a low-born country bumpkin redneck like yourself!

(Ashlee: ...I'll get Vior Or'es on to help be my counterpoint, then, okay? You can go back, wallowing in your own excess, and I'll do your job for you.)

...Hey, you do not have to make me feel bad!

(Ashlee: I know you gotta look down on everyone or else you'll realize yer wastin' away, doin' nothin', havin' fun in a big ol' party in the Webway while everyone moves on, but can't ya just be nice?)

Well, you're a large-sized jerk in a small-sized plastic cup!

(Ashlee: That was even funnier than the three-paragraphs of bad ghost story.)

An extra-large-sized jerk!

(Ashlee: Am I a cola or a lemon-lime soda?)

You're a vanilla cola.

(Ashlee: Damn, that actually wounded me.)

Well, I suppose we're even, now. Should I summon the T'au?

(Ashlee: Sure, boss.)

The Tyranids are a race of alien predators that are invading the galaxy from the void beyond its edges. Like swarming insects falling upon precious crops, they devour all before them - consuming all live upon each world in their path, and leaving nothing but airless rocks in their wake. They are a threat to every sentient species in the galaxy, and their numbers are evergrowing.

(Ashlee: Well, that just ain't true, none of it. Besides, there are prey Nids, too. Not enough prey Nids, but some. And they don't kill everything, just make Nid worlds with Nid life.)

(Vior Or'es: I suppose, but I do fear that you may have too favorable a view of the Tyranids. To you, they may be...zoology, but to us Tau they are a savage and dire threat that cannot be underestimated nor romanticized.)

(Ashlee: Why didn't ya just ask 'em to find somewhere else to graze?)

(Vior Or'es: We painstakingly tried to communicate with the local leadership, only to find that they saw our doctrine of the Greater Good as "an imposition of civilization by prey animals that had forgotten what flight from danger was like". At least, that's what the Genestealer representative of the biome said. Hive Fleet Gorgon is a very ruthless adversary, one that is not compatible with other sophont societies.)

(Ashlee: That ain't true. I've seen Genestealers find their way in the Dark City. It's just that they're about Darwinism, an' there ain't no Darwinism in the Tau. They're just another kinda nature, but self-aware.)

For centuries now, the Magi Biologis and Ordo Xenos of the Imperium have sought to make sense of the Tyranid threat. It speaks volumes that - with the galaxy now in the grip of the Third Tyrannic War, and with Humanity having fought more battles against these rapacious aliens than can be tallied - these luminaries remain bewildered and horrified in equal measure.

(Vior Or'es: I was stationed on a distant world. I heard the gurgling, the choking, the dancing of the things. I heard their sick, tedious laughter, their cries of excitement, and I saw them drool. I clutched my weapon, I hid behind my Fire Caste guards, but I could hear it stomp like an earthquake's force. They are madness, they are not of this life, they are broken and monstrous and ever-changing, and may the T'au'va guide me to safety from the nightmares they put into me.)

(Ashlee: Eh, you just were dealin' with the predators. Get ya a prey one, or one who can get in yer head a li'l, and yer good.)

(Vior Or'es: No, you do not understand! They aren't just animals! They're wrong, twisted and fake. They will hunt you, dying, screaming, crying, and they will make more of them out of you.)

(Ashlee: Ya really got no idea what yer talkin' about. They're just gaddamned animals. I got a pet dwarf Hormagaunt named Wire.)

(Vior Or'es: I was hunted by them at Coldfront Base! The artificial monsters picked off the toughest Fire Caste members I'd ever known to turn them into their own kind! They harvest people!)

(Ashlee: Well, uh, sure, but so do lions an' bears an' shit. Nature ain't always nice.)

(Vior Or'es: They are not nature! Something made them!)

(Ashlee: They seem "natural" enough. You listenin' to Ynathe again?)

(Vior Or'es: The Custodes, they must have made them!)

(Ashlee: ...Ynathe is a conspiracy theorist. You wanna know what made the Nids? Evolution. That's it. Not everything's a conspiracy by the Imps.)

(Vior Or'es: Then why would they be so violently and utterly hostile towards the Greater Good?)

(Ashlee: Because the Greater Good's a bad joke. It ain't right. In nature, it's all about survival. Yer Greater Good is about makin' a herd, an' makin' it big enough that ain't nobody gonna fuck with it. That's all it is. Now, that's a valid evolutionary strategy, but most of the Nids don't work that way, so when they see somethin' tryin' to out-compete 'em, they band together and strike back. Nature ain't a garden. Nature ain't an aquarium tank. Nature is who can stay alive to breed the most. Lemme tell you what the Nids think of the Tau. They don't see 'civilization' or 'progress'. They see an invasive species tryin' to crowd 'em out.)

(Vior Or'es: Then they do not understand anything of the Greater Good.)

(Ashlee: Oh, they understand it well. Pro'lly better than any of you.)

(Vior Or'es: Why must you be such a big, stupid turnip?)

(Ashlee: Oh, I'm just bein' honest. Yer cute when yer flustered.)

(Vior Or'es: I would never want to mate with you. Besides, that isn't under my control.)

(Ashlee: Right, yeah. Tau are domesticated, Nids are wild.)

It is clear that the Tyranids' technology is entirely biological, and far in advance of anything humanity has encountered in all its long millennia of conquest. Their war-beasts are armoured in chitinous plates, or possessed of natural defences such as chameleonic abilities or veiling clouds of exhaled spores. Tyranid guns, blades, transport craft, even void ships all are living beings, many taking the form of grotesque symbiotes grafted to their host creature for use in battle. The ammunition fired by Tyranid weapons is similarly organic, be it voracious chitin-armoured beetles, gouts of concentrated acids or bio-plasma, armour-piercing shard-beasts or eruptions of bioelectricity.

(Ashlee: Beautiful.)

(Vior Or'es: If they are not an army, why do they act like one?)

(Ashlee: They ain't an army. They're a state, darwinistic, anarchic, and perfect.)

As far as the Magi Biologis can determine, it is the Hive Mind that drives the Tyranid swarms ever onwards towards the galactic core. Through the synaptic control web generated by node-beasts amidst the Tyranid ranks, the influence of the Hive Mind sstretches across battlefields, worlds, and even the vastness of the void itself. Wherever the grotesque bio-ships of the hive fleets swarm to attack, the presence of the Hive Mind moves with them and allows them to hunt and fight with supernatural synchronicity. What precisely the Hive Mind is Mankind remains ignorant to...the truth is that the Hive Mind is as far beyond the understanding of the galaxy's sentient races as they are beyond the comprehension of the cattle they farm and butcher.

(Ashlee: That's beauty. Perfect meritocracy. Self-improvement.)

(Vior Or'es: What made you like this?)

(Ashlee: What?)

(Vior Or'es: It could not have been the Imperium, as you seem perfectly fine with them. What caused a thinking, sapient sophont to become this callous and heartless entity?)

(Ashlee: Well, if you're mad I made fun of yer traumatic event, I'm sorry. Kinda realized that wasn't the right thing to say.)

(Vior Or'es: Do you wish you were not human?)

(Ashlee: Like, do I wish I was a Tau? Not really.)

(Vior Or'es: No, I am asking if you wish you were...unencumbered by complex emotions, by civilized life. Is that why you are turning yourself into this half-Tyranid creature? Do you want to be savage? Why must you be so savage, so strong? Why must you be a survivor?)

(Ashlee: I don't think I like you.)

(Vior Or'es: Who exploited your weakness, Ashlee Viola?)

(Ashlee: They are better than us, you know. The Nids, I mean.)

(Vior Or'es: What happened?)

(Ashlee: The Tau took Bluebonnet. They got a ton of Gue'vesa. My siblin' became one of 'em. Ze tried to convince me, tried to get me to give in. I kept putting it off, kept trying to avoid judgment from all the good little humans, kept tryin' to get my siblin' an' mommy an' daddy back. They turned hir into a pet. That's what the Ethereals do.)

(Vior Or'es: They know best for all of us. Is it so wrong to listen?)

(Ashlee: Yer right. They do know best, or at least what the kindest thing to do is. The problem is that kindness creates dependency, and I'd rather be savage and free than happy and listening to my owners.)

(Vior Or'es: What prevented you from coming to hir conclusions?)

(Ashlee: The Nids came. They overran Bluebonnet, massacred the Tau and everyone else. I was studying in the Tau-run university, then. A Zoanthrope blasted the wall, made a whole. It detonated the heads of two Water Caste historians. I screamed at it to go so I could get the hell out of this worthless planet. Ya know what it said? Not in words, in thoughts jammed into my head.)

(Vior Or'es: ...What did it say?)

(Ashlee: "I admire your honesty and drive". It didn't say it in its own words, though. It said it emotions and broken memories. I felt pride, compassion, an' strength, like a little babe impala that a lion had allowed to curl up next to it. I told it I just didn't want to submit. It said: "That is rare for your species, and submission would be acceptable were you not in our grazing-grounds." Hearin' it was hearin' feelin's of respect an' the stitched together voices of Imperial commissars and Water Caste propagandists it had heard an' slaughtered. It was an impression burned into my mind. It told me that the Tau were a complacent species, an' that it could tell I sought advancement and to be tested. It said I deserved to hear the Hive Mind, an' that it hoped I would find it someday. We understood each other, and the Zoanthrope marked me. I left Bluebonnet on an old Imperial ship, an' made my way to Aeneas. The Nids let me go. It was beautiful.)

(Vior Or'es: I see. So, would you say that the T'au took your sibling away, and that it was the Tyranids who showed you hir mistake and your inner strength?)

(Ashlee: I learned strength was everythin'.)

(Vior Or'es: Perhaps we can find you some therapy?)

It is difficult to say with any degree of certainty when Humanity first encountered the Tyranid menace. Some records suggest that Humanity - and also the Aeldari of Craftworld Iyanden - discovered a bizarre Tyranid megastructure in the Tiamet System, on the jungle world of Ziaphoria, as early as M35. This edifice is said to have spawned a continent, and to have projected from its mass of chtin and encephalitic tissue a horrifically powerful psychic signal that drew the Aeldari into fatal seizures...The first clue of the horror soon to fall on Tyran Primus was discovered by Imperial explorators. In performing a census of the worlds near to the far-flung outpost of Tyran Primus, they discovered entire planets scoured of all biological life. Not even the simplest bacteria survived on these denuded rocks.

(Vior Or'es: I cannot imagine the horrors of Iyanden.)

(Ashlee: Well, uh, Tyran Primus was full of life under the Nids. The Imperium wants to believe that world is dead so they don't feel obligated to go back, but was a paradise for our kind until the Nids there used up all the resources.)

(Vior Or'es: ...Our kind?)

(Ashlee: Sorry, "their kind". My point is that these people don't get that Nid life is still life. The Codex goes on to talk about the war, but it was really more of a stampede an' terraformin' kinda invasion. Nids ain't troops. They get direction from the Hive Mind, but they don't wanna hold territory. They just wanna live an' push out everythin' else. Sometimest they get too peckish and eat everythin' on a planet.)

An hour later the Tyran outpost was as good as lost. The bastions were overrun or destroyed, the defence lasers silent. Even the Guardsmen of Catachan, men and women who had reckoned themselves amongst the most stalwart of warriors, abandoned their posts and fled into the driving rain in search of an escape that did not exist.

(Ashlee: Ha! Serves 'em right. Damn big an' strong hard-ass fighters. Glad someone knocked 'em down a few pegs.)

Each hive fleet...displays distinctive hunting patterns and strategies, almost as though eah were an attempt by the Hive Mind to refine different methods of predating the galaxy's sentient life forms. The warrior organisms of Hive Fleet Jormungandr, for example, favour subterranean assault and deploy immense swarms of tunnelling, serpentine bioforms to strike at their victims from below. Hive Fleet Gorgon, by comparison, is infamous for the toxic spore clouds and biowarfare agents it unleashes in battle...Other hive fleets have been observed deploying ground-shaking masses of living tanks, sky-darkening swarms fo winged monsters, elusive broods of chameleonic apex predators, endless tides of expendable war-beasts and countlessother strategic permutations.

(Vior Or'es: We are...too familiar with Gorgon's "death clouds", yes.)

(Ashlee: ...You know what?)

(Vior Or'es: What?)

(Ashlee: Maybe I was a li'l hard on you before. Sounds like you've been through some shit. Well, sorry I was a real ass to ya. Agree to disagree?)

(Vior Or'es: Not very Tyranid of you.)

(Ashlee: I'll get there.)

(Vior Or'es: I would appreciate that. Might I ask a question?)

(Ashlee: Of course!)

(Vior Or'es: What might happen if the linked Tyranid biosphere develops a tool-using sapient species?)

(Ashlee: Well, it has, Genestealers, Hive Tyrants, Zoanthropes...)

(Vior Or'es: No, I mean one that the Hive Mind does not keep artificially limited for its own savage purposes. I am thinking of a sophont, one that could develop a civilization. If the Tyranids overrun the galaxy, could they simply create whole new polities through similar processes to those that created Humanity and the T'au?)

(Ashlee: That would require bandin' together, right? Ain't survivalist.)

(Vior Or'es: Well, yes, but Tyranid species can hunt in packs. It is possible, is it not?)

(Ashlee: I dunno. The idea of a Tyranid civilization just don't feel right.)

RiverDelta · Aug 6, 2023

Settling like a vast and terrible pall across countless worlds, the Shadow in the Warp heralds the coming of the Tyranid hive fleets. It is a nightmarish phenomenon that - whether by accident or design - has proved a cripplingly effective weapon against many of the galaxy's sentient races.

The warp is a strange dimension of ever-shifting energies that lies behind the skin of realspace. It is a churning and mysterious infinity amidst whose currents the passions, obsessions, sorrows and joys of all living things find reflection. The warp has been both boon and bane to the galaxy's sentient races. It is a source of near-limitless power for those who can harness it; it is the ocean from which flows the gifts of all Psykers. It is also the means by which Humanity spread out across the stars, and by which the...

(Ashlee Viola: Gaddammit, I'm here to learn about what the Imps think of the Nids, not to get this Basic Fuckin' Guide to Imperium Bullshit.)

(Vior Or'es: May I change the subject?)

(Ashlee Viola: Sure.)

(Vior Or'es: Have you ever read the Sophont Domestication Guide books?)

(Ashlee Viola: I've given one a look, yeah.)

(Vior Or'es: Oh, how lovely! I find them to be both reassuring and wholesome tales of various sophonts finding a proper home under the eyes of the Ethereals! Their tales of poor sophonts struggling to take care of themselves being given a place and happiness are some of my favorite comfort stories!)

(Ashlee Viola: Ain't those servile game fetish stories?)

(Vior Or'es: ...Humans are aroused by the thought of having wise, all-knowing, comforting authority figures dictate their lives for their own good?)

(Ashlee Viola: Ain't you always wondered why the Ethereals in those are "mommy" types?)

(Vior Or'es: We generally see Ethereals as nurturing figures, that is not out of the ordinary.)

(Ashlee Viola: So, uh, anyway, the Shadow in the Warp is a kinda psychic entity created by the Tyranid Hive Mind, one that fucks with Psykers an' shit.)

Or'es? You also read Sophont Domestication Guide?

(Vior Or'es: Oh, yes, Ynathe! It is a very good series of books! Every author who has worked on them are supremely talented and worthy of much praise!)

Oh, yes, they are very good, even if they're a bit formulaic.

(Vior Or'es: I like the formula, as I find it comforting. It is nice to know that the rebellious sophont will always find ways to overcome their dysfunction and fear with the T'au'va.)

It is amongst psychically attuned beings, however, that the Shadow in the Warp is felt the worst. Human psykers, Ork Weirdboyz, and virtually the entire Aeldari race are amongst such unfortunates, their psychic sensitivity rendering them dangerously vulnerable to the Shadow's insidious effects.

For me, it feels as though the world ceases to exist for a moment. I see color but the world is painted in black and white, and I feel this disconnect as though my brain has been severed from my body. It was a passing if painful sensation the few times it happened, but that complete and unreal isolation was dreadful nonetheless. Ever since Ashlee Viola began to modify herself, I've tried to keep our correspondences distant. Otherwise, I feel it.

Only truly psychically inactive races, such as the T'au or Necrons, have less to fear from the Shadow, but even then the insidious Hive Mind has weapons by which it can weaponise its gestalt will against them to claim victory...

(Ashlee: "Insidious". Tarnation, what crap. It's beautiful, a masterful survivor, an apex predator.)

(Vior Or'es: Might is not necessarily beautiful, only might used in service of a righteous cause can be it. Besides, might is not right, might must be used for right.)

Behemoth was the first hive fleet recognized by the Imperium of Man. After annihilating the outpost at Tyran Primus, it thundered on through settled space, carving a direct line towards the Ultramarines' stellar empire of Ultramar. Driven on by a primal hunger it seemed unable to fully control, the hive fleet appeared as unstoppable as it was bestially unsubtle.

(Ashlee: Ya want my opinion? The Blue Baby Boys deserved it. Smug Ultramarine cockbites.)

...I find your eagerness to cheer on the deaths of others deeply uncomfortable.

(Ashlee: Hey, they wanted to be "genetically superior"? Well, that's a privilege, not a right. They better earn it.)

...Why am I friends with you?

(Ashlee: Because ya've got good taste?)

(Vior Or'es: Ynathe, I would suggest trying to find some personal strength. Those with harmful ideas are often best kept out of one's life.)

I suppose.

...it was at Macragge itself that the fate of the First Tyrannic War would be decided. Here, Chapter Master Marneus Calgar led his warriors in a masterful campaign...Calgar himself was sorely wounded by the monstrous bioform known as the Swarmlord during the battle of Cold Steel Ridge...the Tyranid swarms were finally defeated by the unyielding resistance of the Ultramarines.

(Ashlee: Ah, what bullcrap. Sick of Imps rantin' on about the honor of battle.)

(Vior Or'es: I am unsure as to the difference between the glory of battle and the glory of survival.)

(Ashlee: Well, uh, shut up.)

Lictors and Genestealers act as saboteurs and assassins, disrupting command channels and supply chains with their attacks or spreading terror amongst the prey populace. At the same time, waves of biological invasion craft rain down from. on high. Many are inevitably shot down by battery fire and combat aircraft, but more hit the planet's surface and split open to disgorge expendable invasion swarms. Driven on by synapse creatures such as Tyranid Warriors, Tervigons and Hive Tyrants, chitinous tides of Termagants and Hormagaunts fling themselves at the enemy's defences.

What resistance they can overwhelm they do, tearing apart armoured columns fleeing for safety and butchering garrisons trapped behind their own defence lines. Yet this is not the primary purpose of the first waves. Supported from above by thousands-strong flocks of Gargoyles, the first waves allow the Hive Mind to corral the prey, to exhaust their ammunition and spirit, and to test where their defences are staunchest. With battle lines firmly drawn, the nature of the next invasion swarms adapts dependant on the resistance the Hive Mind has met thus far.

If the prey hide within fortified compounds or have taken to subterranean complexes, the follow-up waves include vast tunnelling swarms of Raveners, Trygons and Mawlocs. They may also see an upsurge in the numbers of living-tank analogues, such as Carnifexes or Exocrines, ready to pummel especially formidable defences into ruin. Should the prey prove resistant in the air, the Hive Mind hurls in flocks of Harpies, Hive Crones and monstrous Harridans to smash the foe from the skies. Prey who seek to fight a more metaphysical war may be met with waves of Neurothropes and monstrous Maleceptors, while those able to shrug off more direct assaults may be undermined by the toxic emanations of Venomthropes and Toxicrenes.

(Vior Or'es: How anyone could believe the Ugly Monsters are anything but evil is anyone's guess. Wait...Do the smart Ugly Monsters always think like this? Are there dissident Ugly Monsters?)

(Ashlee: ...Kinda, but even the ones with the most autonomy and the most human-ness are still sympathetic to the Swarm. They might spare someone or come to believe in some cause, but it's very rare and they have the Hive Mind in 'em keepin' 'em on the right track.)

(Vior Or'es: So...Would it be possible to cut a Tyranid off from the Hive Mind? Perhaps even the Tyranids could be brought to the Greater Good this way?)

(Ashlee: Good luck.)

Tyranid weaponry and wargear is entirely organic. Some examples such as heavy carapaces of chitinous armour, chameleonic flesh or spore-spewing gas bladders are integral to the warrior organisms that employ them on the hunt. The rest appear to be grown in the churning innards of the hive ships and symbiotically grafted to the bioforms that will wield them.

(Vior Or'es: I think I hate you.)

(Ashlee: Go on, puppy. Hate away! Hate me in your little collar as you sit in your crate and eat the kibble the real sophonts give you.)

(Vior Or'es: I really hate you.)

(Ashlee: We established that. Ya know what? I dunno if I like you much either! Yer an uppity li'l shit who ain't earned a damn thing in her entire life!)

(Vior Or'es: Oh? Well, then, what are you going to do, Viola? Eat me?)

(Ashlee: I ain't makin' any threats.)

(Vior Or'es: Your entire "natural selection" Tyranid Ugly Monster ideology is one large threat!)

(Ashlee: ...What?)

(Vior Or'es: By following that, you are threatening the entire galaxy! It is a declaration that you will kill anyone if you think it will keep you alive! I know you do not believe in anything, and that your entire ideology is one big self-justification to be a selfish weirdo trying to murder the part of herself that still cares for her family, but you are pathetic! You are turning yourself into vermin, into one of the Ugly Monsters, and nobody will ever love you for it! Keep regressing into an animal, Ashlee, you're already not human anymore!)

(Ashlee: This is the last thing I'll ever say to you, puppy. I wanna see what yer skin tastes like.)

...Um...Is everything alright?

(Vior Or'es: No. It is not.)

"As I looked into its dead black eyes, I saw the terrible sentience it had in place of a soul. Behind that was the steel will of its leader. Further still, I could feel its primogenitor coldly assessing me from the void. And looking back from the deepest recesses of the alien's mind, I perceived what I can only describe as an immortal hunger. We can slay the Tyranids on our worlds, blast their fleets from space, grind their armies to tom and ruined fragments. But their hunger? That is beyond our ability to slay."

Ashlee, are you okay?

(Ashlee: How could she say that to me?)

...I think she was just agitated.

(Ashlee: It was cruel.)

You...You said you wanted to eat her skin.

(Ashlee: That's nature.)

Just because something's natural, it doesn't make it good.

(Ashlee: What?)

She's...She's right. You're jerking off to this caveman fantasy.

(Ashlee: You too?)

I hope you aren't too far gone. I hope you can undo what you've done to yourself. I hope you can be a person again and not a monster. I hope you can be happy with what you have.

(Ashlee: ...Yer a moral coward too. Back me up, Vandire.)

(Sister Vandire: No. Your ideas are circular and just a big, dumb fantasy. People are good because they survive, and surviving is good because good entities do it. You can be stuck in prehistory with your evolutionary crap. The rest of us have civilizations to build.)

(Ashlee: Look, yer gonna want me for the other Codexes. I've experimented on an Ork or two, an' yer gonna need me for the Genestealer Cult Codex at the very least.)

...I know, but...You need to get better, or I'll find someone else. We're here to debunk bias, not to insert it, and you're more biased than the Codex writers sometimes.

Following the defeat of Hive Fleet Behemoth, some Imperial observers believed the Tyranid threat over. Humanity has outlived countless such xenos threats, they pointed out, each destructive in their own right yet ultimately minor in the grand scheme of the wider Imperium. Several centuries passed before this assumption was proved the worst sort of foolish optimism.

(Ashlee Viola: ...Hey, y'all. It's been a few hours later, an' I talked to the Water Caste guy that someone in the comments mentioned. I'm...a lil uncomfortable with how persuasive he was, but returnin' to the Codex review I'll say that this Tyranids codex is painfully Imperium-centric.)

(Vior Or'es: ...Was it like a Sophont Domestication Guide novel?)

(Ashlee Viola: Well, first, those books are fiction an' the Tau Empire's a cult.)

(Vior Or'es: Was it like a platonic and non-questionable Sophont Domestication Guide novel?)

(Ashlee Viola: It was sorta like that, yeah. He told me that I was under the impression that they wanted to subjugate me, like an animal in a zoo. It...It ain't like that, he said. I thought about what Vandire said, what y'all said about me bein' like an animal. This Water Caste guy, he said that the Greater Good's more like...a survival mechanism. It ain't like bein' a workin' dog, or, at least, that ain't how it is for the people who don't find that nice. It's like bein' an ant or a bee, all workin' together to make a big anthill so everyone gets to survive. He told me somethin' I knew but hadn't really thought about, that ants had existed before tigers an' savage wolves and they'll pro'lly exist after. Survival isn't about bein' the biggest predator, it's about buildin' structures. It seems like...Well, I'm already a cultist. It seems like a better cult. Maybe total freedom just ain't optimal for survival.)

(Vior Or'es: Oh my! That's wonderful!)

(Ashlee Viola: Yeah, I guess I just saw that Ynathe's friends—an' I do respect Ynathe—couldn't stand me, so I started to think about it. There were, uh, some conditions. First, I gotta have an Ethereal look over me directly to "ensure my integration into the Tau'va". She's just a young Ethereal, the kind you'd find on a village council. They were, uh...concerned about me, my mind, my body, my whole dubious shit life. I'm...I'm movin' in near my siblin', too. Not in, near. Basically, they just don't see me as a human, they see me as a weird hybrid Nid thing that's gotta be handled...special.)

The onset of the second Tyranid invasion - which would subsequently be named Hive Fleet Kraken - was subtle and insidious. This new hive fleet divided its strength amongst many separate tendrils. This allowed Kraken to assail many planetary systems at once, and also spread the Shadow in the Warp across a much wider area of space. As a result, it took a long while for word of the invasion to reach Imperial authorities. Many worlds were devoured during that delay.

Once the Imperial counter-attack began and the Second Tyrannic War was officially declared, Humanity discovered the true nature of this new threat. Hive Fleet Kraken was a wily ambush predator that sought ever to encircle, outflank, and surprise its prey....A number of Space Marine Chapters sprung to the fore during this desperate fighting retreat. Their valour was undeniable, as was their success in wounding and slowing the advancing threat of the hive fleet.

(Ashlee Viola: I swear to the fuckin' Emperor, everythin's about battlefield valour an' mythmakin' ta these fuckin' Codex bullshit books.)

Yet their defiance cost the Space Marines dear. The Scythes of the Emperor and the Lamenters were both mauled terribly, driven to the brink of extinction, while the Knights of Eternity Chapter was wiped out altogether.

Well, I suppose we had to learn about what happened to the Space Marines in this Tyranid Codex. Are all Imperial citizens so reverent of them?

(Ashlee Viola: I ain't.)

(Sister Vandire: Most of them are noble people, unstoppable in their virtue.)

...it was Chapter Master Marneus Calgar who led the fight-back, arriving on Ichar IV at the head of a mighty Ultramarines force and coordinating a masterful defence that finally saw the xenos scoured from the planet's surface and the surrounding void. Hive Fleet Kraken had been decisively defeated...yet with dozens of splinter fleets and lesser tendrils still scattered, it was far from a spent force.

(Sister Vandire: I don't get the hatred for the Ultramarines. They're good people who use necessary force to solve real problems. They make an effort to follow the laws of war, and faith's important to them.)

(Ashlee Viola: They're gaddamn borin', all sacred duty and heroic martial valor.)

(Sister Vandire: Right. You don't feel duty for anything. The only reason you're turning to the Tau is because they convinced you it was good for you.)

(Ashlee Viola: Hey, I'm honest.)

My lady Inquisitor, when many months ago you set me to this endeavor I truly believed it to be a rare honour. And yet as I come at least to deliver my findings to you I must question how I so angered you as to be assigned this duty. So unnatural, so enigmatic and unclean are the mysteries of this Tyranid that I consider both my faith and, yes, even my sanity to have been sorely tried. You ask me to provide you with insights that you might exploit in the slaying of these creatures, but I tell you I have precious few to offer. These so-called 'Parasites' appear to diverge almost wilfully from each archetype we attempt to fit to them. As to the matter of genealogical speculations upon subspecies linkage and the implicit weaknesses therein, like so many before me, my lady, I am at an utter loss. One might posit counter-empyric measures as being at least partially efficacious; perhaps all-enclosing personal protective equipment the better to prevent parasitization? But frankly, as Humanity has done since first these xenoform abominations set themselves against us, I would counsel the use of overwhelming firepower coupled with staunch faith in the God-Emeperor almighty. In short, their weakness could best be described as 'bullets', and in that field, my lady, you are far more the expert than I.

(Ashlee Viola: Rank amateur. When ya don't understand somethin' you run more tests. Ya don't give in an' cry about it.)

Only years after the defeat of Hive Fleet Kraken at Ichar IV, Hive Fleet Leviathan drove its tendrils up through the galactic plane. The largest and most widespread hive fleet to date, Leviathan showed clear signs of having learnt from the fates of Behemoth and Kraken. Its swarms continue to pose an all-pervading threat to the galaxy.

(Ashlee Viola: ...Ain't ya gonna tell us about other nations gettin' pulverized by the Nids?)

Amongst the first Imperial war-leaders to take the fight to Hive Fleet Leviathan was Inquisitor Kryptman. Believing the ends justified any means, the aged Inquisitor employed every resource he had amassed in his long and bloody career. He unleashed a wave of Exterminatus strikes upon worlds in the path of Leviathan's tendrils.

(Sister Vandire: He was a butcher.)

He was a monster.

(Vior Or'es: He had no right.)

(Ashlee Viola: He knew what he was doing. Lives are cheap. Spend 'em early so you don't gotta spend more later.)

(Vior Or'es: ...You really are a sociopath, aren't you?)

(Ashlee Viola: You don't gotta be a sociopath to get that calculus. If anything, I'm a low-empathy narcissist or somethin'. I dunno, I ain't a psychologist.)

Kryptman reasoned that, if enough planets could be rendered lifeless in the path of the swarm, the Tyranids would be starved and their onslaught slowed. His horrific methods met with some success, but they were too much even for his Machiavellian peers. Trillions of Imperial lives had been lost to Kryptman's purge. He was accused of heretical arrogance and declared Excommunicate Traitoris.

Yet Kryptman was not done. He next engineered the release of a brood of captured Genestealers within the bounds of the Ork empire of Octarius. Sure enough, a tendril of Hive Fleet Leviathan was drawn after the synaptic signal of the brood, ploughing into the greenskins' empire and igniting a ferocious war. Kryptman had hoped the xenos would annihilate one another; however, he was mistaken. Untold numbers of greenskins provided the Tyranids with a nigh-inexhaustible supply of biomass that saw their swarms grow daily. The Orks, meanwhile, thrive upon battle. In the Tyranids they found the fight of their lives. Larger and more belligerent greenskins were reported all the time by the outmatched Imperial forces caught up amidst the alien war. Soon enough, the fighting in the Octarian Empire threatened to spill out across neighbouring Imperial sectors.

(Ashlee: Ah, so he wasn't makin' the hard calls. He just was a fuckin' idiot!)

...What horrible, bloody, stupid ignorance. What an avoidable catastrophe. What was wrong with him?

(Sister Vandire: Heresy.)

Battlefleet Ultima lost more ships than they could afford during the Battle of Bloodstar, their captains discovering too late that the Hive Mind had learned much of ambush tactics since last they had battled its swarms. The mighty forge world of Gryphonne IV also fell to the tendrils of Hive Fleet Leviathan, al of its precious knowledge lost to the devouring maws of unthinking beasts. The systems of Pyrehaven, Ninth Gift, Josmire's Rest and Abdralla al fell silent and dark, their last cries warning of Tyranids attacking from the far reaches...

(Ashlee Viola: I still find that beautiful, though, uh...I guess my beliefs are changin' a bit. Lots of things are beautiful. The ocean's beautiful. The T'au'va's beautiful. The human heart is beautiful. Mutations are beautiful. That kinda thing.)

...How did you manage to phrase my own beliefs in a way that even I find unsettling?

No other hive fleet has been documented to possess the swift and insidious adaptability of Hive Fleet Gorgon. Its broods have been observed to hyperadapt even between one attack wave and the next, outwitting and outpacing even the most strategicially flexible prey to their eventual, hideous doom.

(Ashlee Viola: I gotta lay my cards on the table. I...don't see other people as being people. I never have, I was born like this. I've always been totally unable to, uh, see other people as being complicated and real in the same way I can. Yer all, like, comic book characters to me. For me, me has always been the most important thing. So, Vior, can I ask ya a favor? What was facin' Hive Fleet Gorgon like, but can ya describe it in the second person?)

(Vior Or'es: ...I admire your willingness to strive for others even if you clearly don't understand them except as extensions of you. That said, I do not want to regurgitate my trauma at being hunted by a rapid-changing threat of murderous horrors and spores.)

(Ashlee Viola: Aw, I get that. You OK?)

(Sister Vandire: Why do you care?)

(Ashlee Viola: I can't, but I'm tryin' to be nice.)

(Vior Or'es: Well, I do care. I care about everyone, all of the time, and I care so much for them that it hurts even if I don't really show that I do.)

(Ashlee Viola: You've got your species' version of autism, right? Makes sense. It's different.)

(Vior Or'es: Anyway, they used plagues and bioweapons. Imagine a quarantine where you are also being hunted, and that is if you are lucky.)

...I am very familiar with quarantine. We Drukhari enjoy our poisons and diseases.

Hive Fleet Jormungandr, sometimes referred to as simply the Great Serpent, hunts in a most unusual fashion. Favouring subterranean movement and sudden, shocking assaults, it stays out of sight and keeps its prey guessing. Many are the armed hosts that believed Hive Fleet Jormungandr defeated, shortly before they were swallowed up from below.

(Ashlee Viola: Shir B'kak, the local Ethereal who has made contact with me while the Water Caste member organizes things, has informed me that the fact that the Tyranid hive fleets each use only one strategy is a failure of adaptability and shows 'em as imperfect survivors unable to strategize for distinct means. That kinda thing. I might've been projectin' a li'l on them, I'll cop to that. Still, I ain't changed my mind, just evolved it.)

Faced with the sudden upsurge in daemonic incursions caused by the Great Rift, the Hive Mind has been forced to adapt swiftly. Hive Fleet Kronos is an example of its newly refined strategy for doing battle with ethereal enemies that provide no biomass to replenish that expended in driving them back...The swarms of Hive Fleet Kronos fight with unusual strategic caution...Kronos' Shadow actively drains the life from psychically capable prey, syphoning their energies to fortify the swarm, leaving them as nothing but crumbling husks...Kronos' tendrils have slowly worked their way along the fringes of the Great Rift, focusing on Chaos-corrupted systems with the potential to threaten the progress of other hive fleets.

...May I never encounter a creature from that fleet. Ashlee, what sort of Tyranid are you?

(Ashlee: I'm half-Tyranid, but most of my parts come from Leviathan.)

You grafted them on?

(Ashlee: Hey, survival of the basest, right?)

I do not think that is how the saying goes.

At first glance, Hive Fleet Hydra presents as amongst the smaller and less perilous of its kind. This impression is only reinforced by its hive ships' seeming contentment to lurk in the wake of larger swarms and feed on their scraps. It is only when Hydra surgers suddenly forward to attack that the illusion is shattered.

Oh, yes, this is the fleet that creates entire experienced armies out of thin-air, isn't it? Something about retaining sense-memories and storing up biomass?

(Ashlee: That's the one.)

Hive Fleet Tiamet is heavily adapted for defensive warfare. This alone has been enough to draw puzzled and alarmed scrutiny from many prey races, for the fleet's behavior seems atypical of the usual, never-ending predatory onslaught. The more that groups like Humanity's Ordo Xenos or the seers of Craftworld Iyanden learn of Tiamet, the deeper grows their dread...At least one faction within the Ordo Xenos has come to believe that Tiamet's vanguard organisms may have been present in the galaxy from as early as M35 and that - working slowly and steadily - these Tyranids have been labouring to fashion some dreadful bioconstruct ever since.
...
Tales abound of a Genestealer Cult calling itself the Choir of the Void, whose adherents have arisen on many worlds only to take ship en masse once their uprisings have succeeded. The Choir leave abandoned worlds in their wake, sailing unmolested into the heart of Tiamet territory and bringing great feasts of biomass to their supposed dieties. Meanwhile, records resurface of a terrible biostructure upon the world of Ziaphoria in the Tiamet system. As more and more psykers complain of a building psychic scream emanating from that world, those in power begin to ask what fell purpose the Tyranids' biostructure might serve, and what nightmare might befall the galaxy should it reach completion.

(Ashlee: I didn't know there was a Fleet Tiamat. I didn't know it was doing that. I hadn't heard of any of this.)

Well, I have, and it's all very real.

(Ashlee: What could it possibly want? This ain't Nid.)

(Vior Or'es: ...Civilization. It is advancing beyond animalistic life, just as the Eldar and the humans and the Tau did. It is building structures, stockpiling biomass, evolving into a living empire.)

(Ashlee: How do ya know?)

(Vior Or'es: It seemed inevitable that at least one of the fleets would seek to compete with sophonts on their own terms. This seems the most likely one.)

(Ashlee: Well, that...that kinda kicks the shit out of "survival of the fittest", huh?)

(Vior Or'es: Eusociality wins. I might even speculate that this is the nucleus of a second stage of Tyranid development.)

Does that not seem a bit...presumptive? Perhaps you are imposing your own ideals on the creatures.

(Vior Or'es: Maybe, but I want to think I know the Ugly Monsters.)

The swarms of Hive Fleet Ouroboris bring death on dark wings. Striking swiftly and in great numbers, their warrior organisms fill the skies of the prey world and descend with piercing shrieks to rend and tear.

Ah, even I know that the Legion of Ouroboris is the oldest and simplest of its kind. They are also one of the weaker hive fleets, as shown by their frequent defeats by Orks. They are a living fossil, nothing more.

(Ashlee: Well, maybe the T'au'll let me study one of theirs. Doubt it, though.)

Welcome to the rules section of Codex: Tyranids. On the following pages you will find all the rules content you need to bring every aspect of the Tyranids hive fleets on your tabletop battlefields...On top of this, the Tyranids are the only faction in Warhammer 40,000 with access to the Synaptic Imperative and Synaptic Link rules, through which you can adapt and overcome your foes using the powers of the Hive Mind. You will find everything you need on the following pages to include these rules in your games of Warhammer 40,000, not to mention bespoke content for your Tyranids force, including a system allowing you to devour the worlds of the galaxy one by one!

I must say, I do not think the term "bespoke" can apply to rules for a miniatures wargame. It reminds me of a well-tailored suit or a zero-grav dress, not some game of plastic toys.

(Vior Or'es: Thank you, Ashlee.)

(Ashlee: For what?)

(Vior Or'es: For allowing yourself to improve.)

RiverDelta · Aug 7, 2023

OOC:

Hey, let's explore a very new addition to the Warhammer 40,000 universe, the Leagues of Votann. Personally, I think they're pretty awesome, and I know just the triad to explore it. Also, there are some blue jokes here, so be warned.

IC:

(The Right Vainglorious Mx. Antimony Aphrodite-Thor Dangereux: Well, ladies, gentlemen, and those of us who know better, it's an honor to spend some time working on these reviews. I, of course, stand tall above these reviews, the mythic nature of my deeds obvious to anyone who has even so much as been informed that outer space as a concept exists.)

Oh, yes, we're currently about to talk about the Leagues of Votann, an under-explored part of the Milky Way! I am so thankful to have such a noble and well-traveled companion on this literary journey!

(Antimony: Naturally. Hopefully my rapier wit will be as useful in this endeavor as my chain-rapier. It is pleasant to be with someone such as yourself. I understand you are quite poor, do you need me to donate you a moon?)

A moon? Good heavens, no, thank you for your most generous offer but that will not be necessary.

(Sister Vandire: Ugh, Rogue Traders.)

(Antimony: Ah, Felicity, your sour tongue tastes of lemons and perfume.)

(Sister Vandire: What does that mean?)

(Antimony: Your barbed tongue reminds me of a younger, more feminine version of myself, and quite the androgynous amazon-Theseus I was. Someday you must spend your time on my ship, the Alpha Polecat Nine. The beds are made of anti-gravity. Why, I get my best thoughts done on those. There was this one time that a malevolent Last Hatred offshoot controlled a poor planet, and so I had to create a masterful plot on those beds. Then again, a bed can be used for many things.)

(Sister Vandire: Are you asking me out?)

(Antimony: No, no, no, I know you're married to the God-Emperor. Unless you'd like to try a polycule?)

(Sister Vandire: ...Damn, that was pretty good.)

(Antimony: I kid, I don't think that's much of a thing among the Sisters of Battle. I really do need to send you a bottle of platinum-infused silk-wine sometime, I got an entire cask when I saved Sebastian V from a war-fleet of space pirates.)

(Sister Vandire: I don't know whether I want to fuck you or slap you.)

(Antimony: Why not both?)

(Sister Vandire: I like both.)

No, Antimony, please don't steal my future girlfriend!

(Sister Vandire: Your what?)

...Oh, erm, that slipped out.

(Sister Vandire: In text?)

Yes????

(Sister Vandire: Oh, I think I get it. You're a dork.)

Possibly. Maybe.

(Sister Vandire: You know, I think I'll leave my options on the table, but I'm not ruling anyone out.)

(Antimony: A clever choice!)

Oh, thank Ynnead.

By the mysteries of the crucible are they given form and strength. By the molten fires and pounding pistons of the forge are they armed and armoured. By the Votann and by the Fane are they given wisdom and purpose. And by the searing wrath of the hearth are they filled with the fury to overcome any foe.

Erm, I can be suave! Look at this! There are words! How about that, Wordy O'Wordingtonshire?

(Antimony: I like you, you have vim.)

Welcome to Codex: Leagues of Votann. The data-tome you hold is replete with lore concerning the race who call themselves the Kin. Their long history; their many Leagues; their indomitable Kinhosts; all is recorded within. Read on to learn more, then make ready to muster your Oathband. There is a galaxy of perils to be overcome, and the Ancestors are watching.

(Antimony: Actually, I've found their Kinhosts quite dominable. In fact, I daresay that they are able to be dommed.)

Oh, by Ynnead, did you actually say that?

(Antimony: Yes? Is this a poor person faux pas I'm too wealthy to understand?)

Well, erm, to "dom" someone means to engage in servile games with them, so you were saying that you wanted to play servile games with the entirety of the Kinhosts.

(Antimony: Oh, dear, that was not my intent. Let me buy you a star yacht.)

Thank you very much for the offer, but I don't need a star yacht, and it is a bit much...

(Antimony: It really is trifling, barely an apology for my accidental lewdness. I should be at least considering getting you a megayacht.)

Few races in the galaxy are as redoubtable, courageous or determined as the Kin who make up the Leagues of Votann. Nor are many as ruthless when it comes to the risk-and-reward calculus of war. To face them in battle is to stand before an armoured avalanche that crushes all in its path. It is to be appraised and then brusquely dealt with by attackers who see you as little more than an obstruction, or else as a hated nemesis whose annhilation is worth any cost.

This strikes me as the usual bigotry, intended to demonize the Kin. In reality, the Kin are a full and complex species, one whose members vary in personality almost as much as Terrans.

To those they fight alongside or trade with, the Kin are invaluable allies. However, those they deem a risk to their peoples' survival they destroy with the same relentless rigour that the Kin apply to harvesting accretion discs, manufacturing their incredible technologies or, indeed, anything else they set their minds to.

These Codexes often describe the positives and negatives of various species from an Imperial point of view, but they rarely allow for any complexity or nuance. This all has the tone of some pulp adventure.

The Leagues of Votann are huge and formidable stellar empires, united by shared kinship and - as the emergence of the Great Rift sends ripples of upheaval through the galactic core and beyond - they are coming into violent collision with the other sentient races more than ever before.

Must these books focus so much on war?

(Antimony: It is a wargame, and a very fun one! I know I enjoy painting, articulating, and roboticizing my Flash Gits Ork army!)

You actually play this prejudiced game?

(Antimony: Well, yes, I need something to bet torso-sized diamonds and rifles from the Dark Age of Technology on.)

You gamble?

(Antimony: Oh, I've courted, dated, and pleasantly romanced Lady Luck many times in my day!)

Collecting a Leagues of Votann army for Warhammer 40,000 provides unique and exciting challenges. On the gaming table they are an army that combines massed armoured transportation, formidable close-range firepower and immense resilience - both physical and psychological - to close with the foe and then blast them into submission. Their advance is relentless and, thanks to technologies such as massed teleportation and magna-coil vehicles, the Kin have the ability to strike where and when they want with meticulous precision.

Well, this is odd. The Codex is claiming here that the Kin have higher technology than the Imperium, and seeming to glorify it. Was this Codex written by an Imperial?

(Sister Vandire: It says here this was written by "Yymm Ork Bane". That sounds like a Kinnish name to me.)

Well, then I think we can treat "mass teleportation" as being a bit of an exaggeration.

(Sister Vandire: It does seem unlikely.)

(Antimony: Oh, the truth is stranger than you'd think, and the strangers are truer than you'd fear!)

What does that mean?

(Antimony: Perhaps this Codex just got...Kinconclusive.)

What does that mean?

(Antimony: It sounds like this skald-told epic has just developed a twist.)

I don't think that's actual wordplay!

(Sister Vandire: It sounds like a joke to me. Maybe even a pun.)

(Vior Or'es: What is a pun?)

Within are the rules you'll need to transform your collection into an Oathband or Prospect fit to strike out into far-space, and claim the stars from those who no longer deserve them.

(Vior Or'es: These Kin seem like they should be more respectful of other cultures.)

(Sister Vandire: They should be more respectful of my culture, specifically.)

(Antimony: Ah, leave it to a military woman to become a jingoist.)

(Sister Vandire: Leave it to a Rogue Trader to lord xyr ill-gotten wealth over everyone.)

(Antimony: You're sure you don't want the parfait?)

(Sister Vandire: I'll stick to my prepackaged meals.)

(Antimony: We both know you're just saying that.)

(Sister Vandire: I am, but how about you get off my dick?)

(Antimony: Well, I have my own dick, and it's made of solid gold. We should fence, sometime.)

(Sister Vandire: It's a figure of speech!)

(Antimony: I'm genuinely sorry, I didn't know.)

(Sister Vandire: It's...fine. Wait, were you talking about dick-fencing?)

(Antimony: Yes, the fine and storied sport of mechanical penis fencing. It has a host of symbolic meanings, and there have been great poems about the twist of the wrist.)

(Sister Vandire: Emperor protect me.)

Skies darken as the immense void ships of the Kin settle into orbit. Dark shapes streak groundwards as a rain of military landers and dropships bear the Kinhost to war.

Their armoured spearheads strike hard and true. Hekaton land fortresses smash through barricades and over obstructions as enemy fire rebounds harmlessly from their hulls. Lighter vehicles race alongside them, swinging around the flanks or focusing heavy weapons on enemy strongpoints to strip away the outer defences. As teleport signatures flare and hatches slam open, the Kinhost's infantry surge into the fight and the storm of fire redoubles.

Moving with unity of purpose, the Kin assess and eliminate threats. Searing beams of energy bore through fortifications and vehicle hulls. Squads of Hearthkyn advance relentlessly, hammering bolt rounds and plasma blasts into anyone foolish enough to bar their path. Cthonian beserks and heavily armoured Hearthguard storm in to finish their foes at close quarters. Soon enough, nothing remains but the prize that the Kin came to claim, and the scattered bodies of those who sought to stop them.

Well, this is blatant war fetishization on the part of the author.

(Antimony: It is worth noting that the Kin have a tradition known in Low Gothic as talespinning, a sort of culturally-accepted bragging. You've never had a good day until you've dueled a Kin pirate with your chain-rapier, talespinning self-praise back and forth over a pool of molten red-hot metal.)

(Sister Vandire: I could do that if I wanted to.)

For thousands of years the Leagues of Votann have exploited the riches of the galactic core and overcome the perils of that tomultuous region. Over the millennia they have battled many of the galaxy's races, and sometimes traded with or fought as mercenaries for others. Now, as the galaxy convulses in the grip of the Great Rift, they face new challenges, and new wars.

The Kin are squat, powerfully built humanoids. They dwell in vast numbers within the galactic core, being not so populous as the teeming humans, but far better established than the nascent T'au or dwindling Aeldari.

The Aeldari are certainly not dwindling.

(Vior Or'es: Yes, and the T'au are far from nascent! Both are established powers, underreported by the Imperium!)

(Antimony: Merely talespinning!)

...Well, I feel offended.

They are a clone race; each generation emerges from machines known as crucibles, which draw upon vast banks of genomic data to produce a stable and varied populace. Their numbers are further augmented by the Ironkin, machine intelligences clad in mechanical bodies that are dedicated to aiding their flesh-and-blood fellows. To the Kin, the Ironkin are equal and valuable members of their starfaring society, both in times of peace and war.

(Sister Vandire: If you ever wanted proof that the Kin are trying to make the same mistakes as Dark Age Humanity, there it is. They've made Men of Iron.)

(Antimony: Besides, abuse of Ironkin is a problem.)

(Sister Vandire: ...Well, when the Ironkin rise up and try to exterminate organic life, don't say I didn't warn you.)

(Antimony: That sounds like you're saying a robot rebellion could steel be a problem.)

(Sister Vandire: How about you suck my dick?)

(Antimony: Do Sisters of Battle normally bring up their dicks this often?)

(Sister Vandire: I didn't say I had one, it's also a figure of speech!)

(Antimony: Do you want a dick?)

(Sister Vandire: I don't know, it changes based on my mood!)

(Antimony: You can't just get yourself a two-phase gold-plated vagina-cock transforming implant?)

(Sister Vandire: Emperor, grant me the strength to persist in this temple of sin.)

From painful experience has emerged the rugged survivalist culture of the Kin, who find strength and unity in the endless quest to acquire the resources their Kindreds need to endure. It is this apparent acquisitiveness that has caused many other species to judge the kin - often harshly - as selfish hoarders.

(Sister Vandire: Greedy planet pillagers. They are selfish hoarders trying to maintain an unethical and self-destructive pre-Fall of Man lifestyle.)

That seems a bit harsh. I never understood the Imperium's obsession with strict technological control.

(Sister Vandire: I mean this in the nicest way possible, but I don't think it's something you'd be able to wrap your head around.)

Is this a "hard decisions" thing?

(Antimony: It always is with the Imperium's people-at-arms. Dreadfully beastly.)

All Kin - barring only rare outcasts - belong to a Kindred. These are groupings somewhere between extended families and close-knit nations, and vary in size from a few dozens of Kin up to many thousands or even millions! All Kin in a Kindred have sprung from its crucibles, and thus share a genetic bond stronger than allegiance to any flag.

I do think that this focus on genetic loyalty is making me distinctly uncomfortable.

(Antimony: Well, the thing you need to realize about the Kin is that they're ethnocentric.)

That isn't a good thing, surely?

(Antimony: It's not, no. That said, the Codex does exaggerate it, likely because the author is an ideological ethnocentric. We should avoid taking this Codex's words uncritically, as Yymm Ork Bane is known to be...well, a bit of a gene in the rear.)

(Sister Vandire: That isn't even a pun! Why was I ever into you?)

(Antimony: You were into me?)

(Sister Vandire: No!)

(Antimony: I think we flirted once?)

(Sister Vandire: Just once!)

The Kin habitually load apparently simple terms such as 'Hold' with nuanced meaning, being disinclined to even waste words. Thus, while the term is used throughout the Leagues of Votann, it can refer to wildly different structures and locations. Some Holds are fusions of fortification, city, industrial complex and strip mine, the largest of which may sprawl across or honeycomb beneath much of a world's surface. Others may be heavily armed void stations, chains of domes scattered through asteroid belts, nomadic harvesting fleets, syphoning plants riding the fringes of black holes, or even stranger marvels of technology.

(Antimony: As they say in the Leagues of Votann, "Let loose the war-arrow and bring about the dawning day.")

What does that mean?

(Antimony: I have no idea!)

It sounds questionable.

(Antimony: It's a quote from Yymm Ork Bane.)

A Kindred can be a commanding force. Its Hold may boast bustling cityscapes, industrial and military powerhouses, and many massive void ships. Yet greater stil are the Leagues of Votann. Nearly all Kindreds are part of one or another League, proudly displaying their colours and emblems while sharing trade, military support, Guild tarifs and so on. Many Leagues have existed for millennia. 'The Greater Thurian League, the Ymyr Conglomerate, the Urani-Surtr Regulates, the Typhon-Styx Protectorate and others are established and ancient power blocs. Some, such as the ill-fated Kapellan League, have declined over the centuries, while others - like the Kronus Hegemony or the Seran-Tok Mercantile Leagues - are more recently established.

At the heart of every League lies at least one Votann, also known as Ancestor Cores. The Kin believe these venerable thinking machines were created in a lost age of myth, and departed their home world aboard the first Kin mining flets. The Votann were sent into the void alongside the Kin to provide them with al the wisdom and aid they would require. The nodes through which that wisdom flowed have now become the Fanes that lie within all Kindred Holds. 'The Votann areof incalculable value and importance to the Kin. The millennia have wrought strange changes in these machine-intelligences, rendering them ponderous and senescent, yet they remain all-knowing repositories oflore and treasured links to the Ancestors of untold centuries. Kin who can commune with the Votann are known as the Grimnyr, or sometimes Living Ancestors, and are universally respected.

The Votann, of course, are relics from the Age of High Technology, ones that used to be far more capable and efficient than they are now. Even in their vastly reduced state, they are mighty computers.

(Antimony: I've heard tales that there might be ways for them to regain some or even all of their former potential!)

(Sister Vandire: Everything in this galaxy declines. I doubt it.)

(Antimony: Oh, no, just as sure as the Imperium is falling, many things will be rising again!)

Such as the Drukhari or the T'au?

(Antimony: Absolutely.)

(Sister Vandire: You'll miss us when we're gone. You'll wish you had us keeping you safe.)

(Antimony: Felicity, haven't you ever wanted more than just to be a nun-soldier?)

(Sister Vandire: What?)

(Antimony: Perhaps someday you might fly with me on my treasure fleets, carving a new empire out of the husk of the God-Emperor's.)

(Sister Vandire: What, so you're a traitor?)

(Antimony: Oh, no! Just a merchant! I don't plan to betray anything! I'll serve the Imperium loyally until there isn't an Imperium, and then my true legend will be forged!)

(Sister Vandire: Well, at least you don't have a thing for Tyranids.)

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Let's Read: Warhammer 40,000 Codexes and Star Wars RPG Sourcebooks (Dark Eldar Reviewer)

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