Time: 7:06 AM Holy Terran Standard
Location: Starship Emperor's Fist.
Purpose: Information
Patron: Inquisitor Maximan. Ordo Hereticus
Begin Transmission
Quote of the day: Lives are the Emperor's currency. Spend them wisely.
Evolved Ossiarch: Undeath comes in many forms. Few however are more disturbing than the skeletal legions of the Ossiarch. Those ancient warriors that did battle centuries if not millennia ago. Their form may not be the most disturbing among the Undead ranks. Even considering that the skeleton is the classical representation of death. Signifying the cold grip of it and the decay it brings. Fitting then that the Dragon would seek to make them far worse.
The ancient leaders of the skeletal legions are many things. They are powerful and deadly to the extreme. They are utterly ruthless in pursuit of their goal. Theirs is a cunning hone over a lifetime and beyond. Not only that they hunger for power. So perhaps it is unsurprising that they would seek greater power for their armies and themselves.
The Evolved Ossiarch are the result of deliberate experimentation by the dark god. As well as the more demented of his Necrotects. Brought about by twisted manipulation of biology and souls themselves. All for the purpose of empowering them to new heights. A goal they have unfortunately succeeded at.
It is well known the Imperium is not lacking for bodies. At the same time the Dragon has no shortage of biological materials. So they decided to exploit that ruthlessly. The method they chose was simple and complex at the same time. At its basis it was simply adding on to what was there.
Bone from multiple sources is added to skeletons. Fused to it in dark forges. Bulking up forms and adding in power. Streamlined like muscle and armor. Becoming more akin to an automaton than a skeleton. Now standing more like a suit of armor with no interior. This happened with countless specimens across the Dragon's domain. The bones of good men used to create greater monsters.
Not only that souls were involved as well. The Dragon deemed one soul was insufficient to power these monstrosities. More would be needed to draw out the full potential of the idea. So great rituals were enacted. Soul gems were created from multiple spirits and embedded within new frames. Runes carved in the surface lit up with fel magic. Eye hollows filled with pale light. New horrors had been born.
Sadly these monstrosities retain the power of their more primitive selves. Namely the seeming inability to be truly destroyed for the most part. Yes you heard that right. The blasted things are cursed with dark magics. If damaged too badly for necromancy to mend them they disappear. Fading back into existence in their old resting place. Remaining there for a short time then emerging whole once again. This effect seems to grow more pronounced with the right Undead facilities in place. Otherwise requiring strong witchcraft or the destruction of their resting place to halt. Thankfully this now takes far longer to occur due to their altered nature.
Each year more of these monsters are created. The Wight lords finding the transformation pleasing with how it eases the dealing of death.
Time: 7:16 AM Holy Terran Standard
Location: Starship Emperor's Fist.
Purpose: Information
Patron: Inquisitor Maximan. Ordo Hereticus
Begin Transmission
Quote of the day: Lives are the Emperor's currency. Spend them wisely.
Mortek Guard: The evolved form of the Ossiarch Skeleton. If the term could be acceptable. For now it is simply used as there is a lack of a better way of putting it. Of course it is just the first and most numerous of the nightmare that bares down on us.
Mortek Guard are enhanced Ossiarch created by fusing dense bone and numerous souls together that form the core of the Evolved Ossiarch Legions. In battle they can either fight as individuals acting on their own instincts or act with unerring synchrony based on the demands of their leader. At the orders of their commander Mortek lines turn and reform in an instant to create whatever formation is needed and they will never break from it unless broken themselves.
While crafted to fight for their lords and the dark god without question or hesitation they are not unthinking automatons and are capable of independent thought but limited to matters of conflict. During the soul-crafting process it is made sure they have total obedience and devotion to the Dragon, but are given sufficient autonomy to ensure that they can fight on skillfully should their leader be destroyed. Though if that happens they are likely to fall back to regroup and wait for their master to revive.
The Mortek are the refinement of their lesser predecessors. Meaning they are far more effective in the act of killing. Their enhanced forms while comprised of bone are streamlined and extremely tough lacking any vital points. Their strength is more akin to that of an Ogryn than a human. A rather unfortunate fact for the good people of the Imperium.
They are well armored by tireless forges. The metal dyed in the colors of their lords and bedecked in symbols of the Dragon. In their clutches come a variety of weapons. Spears that can shoot limited laser attacks. Plasma throwing devices connected to power packs. Swords enchanted to more easily cut into their targets. More still are being identified over time.
They attack in great cohorts to overwhelm and butcher their foes. Using their durability and unrelenting nature to overwhelm opposition. Responding to changes of strategy at the drop of a hat.
Sadly these monstrosities retain the power of their more primitive selves. Namely the seeming inability to be truly destroyed for the most part. Yes you heard that right. The blasted things are cursed with dark magics. If damaged too badly for necromancy to mend them they disappear. Fading back into existence in their old resting place. Remaining there for a short time then emerging whole once again. This effect seems to grow more pronounced with the right Undead facilities in place. Otherwise requiring strong witchcraft or the destruction of their resting place to halt. Thankfully this now takes far longer to occur due to their altered nature.
Each year more of these monsters are created. The Wight lords finding the transformation pleasing with how it eases the dealing of death.
They marched as one across the corrupted palace, Elves, Men, Dwarf, and Undead, their past grievances forgotten, at least for now, as they dealt with something far worse than any of them combined. For the madness that the Great Enemy brought forth was greater than anything, all of them conjure in its terror.
All of those that tried to stop them were crushed by the weight of their blades, hammers, and bullets, for nothing not even the chosen of the Blood God could stop them from their goal, for the end of the months long conflict would soon be at hand if they had anything to say about it. That is not to say that they did not suffer losses, but each one of those warriors that fell would be remembered, if only by them.
At least to the forces of the living, the Undead didn't care, after all, their losses could be replaced in the blink of an eye. But even they were feeling the building losses. The warriors of Khorne fought with savagery rivaled only by a few and little by little, the forces of order began to be cut down.
But even then they persevered and soon their efforts were met with results as they finally had breached the central plaza of the corrupted palace. The Warriors of Chaos doubled their efforts to stop their charge, but they were all swiftly cut down with righteous fury.
Finally, they entered the throne room from where once a mighty prince of Kislev ruled, now blasphemed into something else. The walls and floors had become soaked with the blood of a thousand innocents, and reshaped into a warped brass color that carried the touch of the God of War. The throne, once something majestic to look at now only brought revulsion as it was now essentially a collection of bones belonging to a dozen different species from a myriad of different places and ages that had been reshaped into a seat for the mightiest mortal champion of the Blood God.
Finally sat upon the skull throne was the warlord who had led his legions to Kislev.
Towering above all present was something that could not even be described as being human. The warlord wore scarlet armor that seemed to drip with blood. On it were the snarling faces of Daemons, and upon his belt and dark cape were hundreds of skulls, heralding from a dozen different species that belonged to the world. His eyes were a baleful red, and his mouth seemed to have fused with his armor, creating a mouth filled with thin needles that served as teeth.
He stared at the hordes of enemies with calm detachment, rarely seen in the servants of the Blood God. The warlord rose from his skull throne and then he moved. In the blink of an eye, he was in the middle of the fight, his twin daemonical axes cutting through plate and flesh (or bone) as easily as butter.
While his warriors continued to fall, the warlord continued to fight, and against all odds he changed the tide, no matter if hundreds or thousands descended upon him. They were cut down like nothing. His charge seemed to be unstoppable. It seemed that not even the mightiest or the most skilled of those present could stop him.
Until he dodged a hammer that glowed with light, and a sword bathed in magical flames. The warlord quickly moved back, retreating for the first time since he entered the battle. He looked at the two warriors in front of him while he absently swung his axe to decapitate a Grave Guard that had tried to stab him in the back. His ax's power caused the magic that made the Undead have his unlife to sputter and die.
"Who are you?" The warlord asked the two, his voice sounding more like a daemon than a human, especially since when he spoke, as the metal plates that protected his mouth moved as he opened his mouth to speak.
"I am Tyrion Defender of Ulthuan," The Elven warrior said, his sword bathed in magical flames and his scaled armor glowing thanks to his blade's light.
"And I am Magnus, Warrior Priest of Sigmar," The Priest of the patron god of the Empire said, his hammer glowing with the holy energy that Sigmar granted his Warrior Priests.
The Warrior of Khorne simply saluted them with his weapons, for even if they belonged to rival gods, any warrior that could pose a challenge to him deserved his respect, before he charged at both inhuman speeds.
It impressed the Warrior as both elf and human kept up with his onslaught of blows powerful enough to carve even the scales of a mighty dragon. While he could understand that the elf was the one with more skill than the human and who have naturally greater capabilities, he was surprised that the Priest as well could keep up with him.
The false god's servants had been more than met the eye.
They continued to fight, their duel reaching a fever pitch even as their own forces and allies died all around them. But even with all of Tyrion's and Magnus combined might, they were slowly but surely losing to the leader of the Blood Host that descended upon the cold lands of Kislev.
It was only a matter of time before they would be both struck down by the twin axes that thirsted for their blood and souls.
Until two others joined the battle. The first bore a blade of frost and armor that glowed with magical energies. He was the Tzar of Kislev Adrik Romanoff, and he struck against the Champion of Chaos with all the fury of one who had seen his homeland ravaged could have. The second bore no armor for it would be useless in his quest. On his head was a flaming mohawk, and in his hands a pair of twin axes that were bathed in the blood of both daemon and mortal. He was Gutregg Cinderrage, a Slayer who seeks his glorious doom.
The two turned the tides to the forces of Order, but even then, the mighty warlord of chaos still fought them with such skill and fierceness that none of their blows could land on him while none of his could land on neither of them as it was blocked by one of the four.
What neither of them noticed was the gradual buildup of energy. Khorne saw not the fight but also what his servant had done with only the strength of arms and decided that Alagar, son of Aslog The Breaker, was worthy of the greatest gift Khorne could grant his mortal followers.
It was just as they continued to fight that not only the ones that dueled but also the other forces that fought across the throne room. They all felt a change in the air, like something greater than all of them was now watching the struggle, before the blood spilled across the room flowed and formed currents that headed straight to Alagar.
The blood entered the tiny little cracks in his armor and as it did, Alagar grew stronger and faster. The four that he dueled knew what was happening, and they fought even fiercer than before, for they knew what was happening, and they knew that if they didn't stop this, they were all doomed.
The Chaos Lord continued to fight, faster and faster, his blows raining with the force of a of meteor falling from the heavens, until eventually he lopped off the head of the Tzar of Kislev, and as the torrent of blood exited the wound and entered his armor, Alagar fulfilled the last step necessary and his God granted him his boon.
With a mighty roar that shook the very foundations of the Grand Palace of Praag, a great tornado of both fire and blood large enough to break through the ceiling of the throne room consumed Alagar. And from it, he emerged in a new and terrible form.
"Mortals you were fine warriors, but now it is time to end this," The freshly born Daemon Prince said, his twin daemon axes still gripped in his now titanic hands. They had changed alongside their wielder and were now more gigantic than any man.
All hope seemed lost as the Daemon Prince raised his weapons to lay the last strike against his enemies. Even Tyrion, as he raised his sword, knew that the battle was lost and now everything that they could hope for was a last stand, especially since the influence of the Great Vortex was weak in here and the Daemon Prince was, while not mighty as he should be, still greater than any mortal force. Only the undead tide would have a chance and even then he was sure that they would suffer tremendous casualties, for the Daemon Prince was amongst the Favored of the Blood God.
All others knew this as well, and amongst them, many men that hailed from both Kislev and The Empire could not overcome the despair that they felt and fell to the whispers of chaos.
Only one did not despair, only one still held the same fire as he did when he led the forces of the Empire to Kislev to help in their time of need. Magnus did not waver, nor did he feel that the battle was now lost, for he still held his trust in his faith and in his God, a last act that would have been foolish and naïve.
But that foolish act was more than enough.
In his Kingdom in the Realm of Souls, Sigmar reached out to touch the soul of Magnus and infused it with his power. The change in the act was almost immediate. Magnus's body exploded in golden light, temporarily blinding all mortal eyes that gazed upon him.
Stepping out of the light, Magnus emerged reborn under the aegis of his god. His previously human form had been discarded, now he was something far more, a living conduit to Sigmar's power in the mortal world.
He was now clad in a mighty suit of armor, tinged with gold, his face obscured by a Golden Mask that showed no sign of any type of emotion stuck in an expression that expressed only stoicism. Magnus now towered over all except for the Daemon Prince, and his hammer, which had also grown alongside him, now glowed much more brightly than before.
For it was not only Magnus that was fighting now.
Seeing the new state of his enemy, Alagor bellowed a roar of elation before charging at his enemy, for he knew he was not only fighting an empowered mortal, for a part of Sigmar's divine will now lived inside Magnus's body empowering it with the might of a god.
This became clear as they fought. Each blow between the two was like a thunderclap sending shockwaves that cracked the floors and walls, and sent men and rubble flying in all directions. The energies that composed both of them were also clashing, causing explosions that reduced entire contingents of both forces to dust and then less that dust.
Seeing this, the forces of Order all retreated from the throne room, for this was fight was now clearly beyond any mortal, it was rather good thing that they did so because just as they left the entire throne room was destroyed, the ceilings and walls giving away to reveal the bitter and cold air of Kislev.
Even then, they still fought and fought as their own forces and allies battled all around them. But eventually one of them had to give in, and it was not Magnus, for the grand champion of Sigmar with a mighty blow of his holy hammer he shattered one of his enemies axes, and with another he shattered the other one, leaving the Daemon Prince with no weapon.
Not that he minded it as he continued to fight against the risen Champion of Sigmar with only his fists, but daemonic first meet holy hammer only the first received any wounds and cracks in it, before with a blow infused with holy light Magnus pulverized the Daemon Princes right arm.
He did not let go of his assault, fighting on and on like a man possessed. Holy blow after holy blow did he deliver upon the mighty daemon blasting off chunks of his body that caused the Daemon Prince to roar in rage and glee, for this battle was everything that he had ever wanted.
Finally, Magnus delivered the last blow of the fight, infused with the power that now lived inside him, his hammer glowing so brightly that it looked like the sun itself had descended upon the mortal realm. Magnus swung it, a blow that held the might of a god, and it utterly destroyed the prince's form, eliminating any traces of it from the mortal realm.
His essence,on the other hand, survived the blow, for the Blood God does not allow those he calls his favored to die so easily.
Magnus stood tall, the light around him glowing as it never did before, before he fell to his knee and it started parting as if out of breath. Magnus' body was beyond any mortal man, but it was still the body of mortal, and no mortal body could ever hold the will of a god, and Sigmar knew this.
Slowly, Magnus's body, and soul were being crushed into nonexistence. If this continued, he would be reduced to dust, something that his god would not allow.
"You have done good Magnus. When you awake go with my blessing," The Will of Sigmar that resided inside him said before removing itself from his body.
Without the might of his god infusing him with seemly infinite energy, Magnus passed out, and at the same time not only was the last force of the Blood God was purged from the city and its surroundings, but in all of Kislev it seemed like all the forces of the Blood Tide were trapped in a state of confusion as most them withdrew in mass to the north as a voice in it was calling for them.
Magnus would be found nearly an hour later by the forces of Kislev and safely escorted to his own forces.
~~~~
Asavar Kul The Everchosen looked at the desolate lands in front of him in absolute silence. For some, this would be considered an act that would betray one's rage, but Alagar knew that this was actually a sign of contentedness from his lord.
"I see you succeed in your quest, my Lord," Alagar said, looking at the new items and mount that the Everchosen had in him.
The Armor of Morkar, the Eye of Sheerian, and Doghar The Steed of The Apocalypse.
"Not yet, there are still two left, and only them can my true plan begin," Asavar said, still looking at the desolate wastelands in front of him.
Only the Chaos Gods knew what he was planning, and in a rare moment of union, all of them agreed he would succeed even if they didn't intervene.
"Oh, and I almost forgot, did those Dragon Ogres arrive in time?"
Warning: Unauthorized reading of this document will be punished with immediate execution.
Time: 7:25 AM Holy Terran Standard
Location: Starship Emperor's Fist.
Purpose: Information
Patron: Inquisitor Maximan. Ordo Hereticus
Begin Transmission
Quote of the day: Lives are the Emperor's currency. Spend them wisely.
Vulcan the Burning One: The Dark Dragon is many things. An abomination against all that is good. An unholy affront against the Emperor himself. A dark creature that seduces many to its side one way or another. This is usually done through some form of corruption or manipulation. A slow and insidious method that almost always seizes the unwary. This is the dark gods preferred method of doing things so as to make the most use of them. However the monster also understands the necessity for blunt force at times. As such it created a new monster to fill that role.
A new greater daemon of Dracul had been sighted. The following is the information I have been able to gather on it. Once again there is no guarantee this information is the full extent of it or even fully accurate.
Vulcan is simplistic yet terrible at the same time. A small seemingly harmless form that rapidly grows monstrous. It appears as a ball of lava that flows out of itself infinitely, melting nearby material and using it as a body. Generally trends towards a humanoid torso and flexible liquid lower body to connect to the ground and keep its balance. Forming a massive upright form with gaping holes in it. Great black spikes of hardened material covering its back. Arms ending in gaping holes to spray forth more of the lava. The central hole shows the core yet serves as the primary channel for the lava pouring down and outward. I believe this beast to be an apex form of the dark magic known as Aqysh. That heretical discipline is in line with flame after all.
Vulcan melts nearly any kind of solid matter and absorbs it into its body. Quickly growing into a massive monster upon being summoned. Its body is extremely hot, such that even removed from its core, stone can be melted with little issue. Its only vulnerability is it core, which is seemingly invulnerable to physical attacks of any kind and may, at most, be moved around through powerful impacts.
It can also 'spit' forth large balls of lava. Using its excretions as a ranged attack in a great hose of destruction.To make matters worse the longer it is on the field the rate of assimilation is increased such that its entire body can take in more material to grow with. Unless stopped, it can consume entire hives at a time.
I have seen this daemon at work and it terrifies me. Nothing short of orbital bombardment seems to even phase it really. Barring that the likes of an Astartes champion if they can protect themselves or a blessed Saint is required to stop it. Thankfully it is only summoned to deal with very tough nuts or the enemy does not care about loss of potential resources.
Our enemy truly grows worse with every passing year.
Warning: Unauthorized reading of this document will be punished with immediate execution.
Time: 7:37 AM Holy Terran Standard
Location: Starship Emperor's Fist.
Purpose: Information
Patron: Inquisitor Maximan. Ordo Hereticus
Begin Transmission
Quote of the day: Lives are the Emperor's currency. Spend them wisely.
Alera the Queen of Thorns: I have said it before a thousand times and I shall say it again. Evil is not always an obvious thing. You can not always tell a monster by its twisted form. Using masks of fine features to lure in those who have not armored themselves in suspicion. Such as the servants of the Dark Prince. Beautiful beyond words on the surface yet reeking of malice and evil on the inside. The Dragon once again has opted to make use of such an ideology.
A new greater daemon of Dracul had been sighted. The following is the information I have been able to gather on it. Once again there is no guarantee this information is the full extent of it or even fully accurate.
Alera is a tall woman standing at ten feet in height. I assure you what she lacks in size she makes up for elsewhere. She is the embodiment of the rose beautiful yet holds deadly thorns. Her skin is fair like snow and her hair matches it finely falling down to her back tucked behind pointed ears. A wrapping of black embroidered with gold wraps around her hourglass figure. A high collar fanning out behind her head. Falling down into finely crafted boots under a long dress that sweeps to the sides. Emerald shines against pitch black in her eyes. A cupid bow mouth and finely shaped nose completes her features. A pair of black gloves reach up to her forearms. Upon her head a crown of wicked briars sits. All of her attire decorated with sharp spikes.
Alera is not a direct threat in her own right. She boasts no great claws of fangs to tear through armor. She does not rise up to smash apart titans with her body. Her power comes from manipulating the environment. Where she goes great vines covered in jagged blades rise up and destroy all around her. Smashing tanks and mutilating regiments as they go. Fortifications are uprooted and torn open for the enemy. Expanding in number and size as they feed on the blood spilled. Worse is the fate of those caught in them. Their life force is drained so as to make them living batteries. A wall of screaming souls too weak to escape and even if they did it would likely kill them from the smaller thorns digging in. Great thorn bushes filled with skeletons are not uncommon in her wake.
Alera devastates everything in her path on both hive and feudal worlds. The former due to the blood and life force available to her. The latter from the clean natural environment she can build off of. She creates many varieties of her work. Great fruits that explode with deadly acid, fanged jaws opening wide, and roots tearing into support structures.
Alera is truly a monstrous force on the field. I have seen her topple hives at a time.
Warning: Unauthorized reading of this document will be punished with immediate execution.
Time: 7:45 AM Holy Terran Standard
Location: Starship Emperor's Fist.
Purpose: Information
Patron: Inquisitor Maximan. Ordo Hereticus
Begin Transmission
Quote of the day: Lives are the Emperor's currency. Spend them wisely.
Mobile Factories: One of the biggest issues of waging war on a large scale in the modern era is the sheer length that your supply chains often end up being, and all the problems that come with that. This is often reduced by a mix of massive stores and naval production, but both solutions have their problems. This is especially true when forces are far from any available planet with the necessary production power. Another reason that the forge worlds of the Mechanicus are so important to the Imperium.
Unfortunately the Undead are keenly aware of this problem as well. They feel it even more keenly than we do in some ways. Their armies due to their nature frequently advance faster than their living counterparts. Being both tireless and needless as they are either dead or mechanical driven forward by sorcery as much as physics. The same however can not be said for their weapons and other such tools. Even the restorative powers of necromancy has its limits. Especially as they move farther from their established territory and infrastructure. Forcing them to rely more on individual sources. Their expansion being too time consuming to truly keep pace. So they developed a work around for it.
Mobile factories that can easily be set up close to the front line, and picked up and moved when the front gets closer. This allows for a steady supply of munitions to reach the front, without overly exposing industrial production to damage. These facilities also function as recycling centers to make the most use of available material. They are also supported by designed attendants to keep them constantly supplied. There are two varieties those being terrestrial and void based.
The former operates as massive moving facilities. Crawling along on vast treads across planets. Their numbers and attendant craft being more like a small city on wheels. Producing everything from guns to armor for infantry to tanks as needed by their forces. They also aid in setting up barebones infrastructure for the Undead to make use of before they move on. These facilities appear to be largely constructed on site from modular parts as a basis. Otherwise being transported by larger Undead ships as needed.
Void variants are much the same except on a larger scale. Being somewhere between mobile space stations and Mechanicus arks. They produce smaller star ships along with other things. Primarily being Undead fighter craft and parts for the existing vessels. They also function as mobile repair yards being able to attend to multiple smaller vessels at a time. Their attendants are large scale and almost entirely automated mining vessels designed to crack apart asteroids and planetoids as needed. Given time they can strip mine entire moons to fuel their masters. Thankfully these are fewer in number due to cost.
Given time one of these could make another of itself thankfully that is rare in active engagement areas.
Warning: Unauthorized reading of this document will be punished with immediate execution.
Time: 7:56 AM Holy Terran Standard
Location: Starship Emperor's Fist.
Purpose: Information
Patron: Inquisitor Maximan. Ordo Hereticus
Begin Transmission
Quote of the day: Lives are the Emperor's currency. Spend them wisely.
Autonomous Automated Escorts: This is one of the most significant technologies of the Undead in regards to their navy. Though it is largely confined to their more purpose built vessels. Those being the ones they crafted from scratch in their shipyards. It is the culmination of the Undead's various technologies involving autonomous technology. Only instead of in a factory overseeing production this one is dedicated to warfare.
Dubbed as golem craft by the Undead these are to put it simply exactly as their name implies. Advances in their heretical automation and control have allowed for the creation of fully automated frigates. With no crew to protect or lose, these vessels are extremely deadly. Additionally, this extends to all forms of fighter, bomber, and drone craft. These vessels are completely without any form of crew on board. How they function is largely a mystery, but they are very effective.
What I do know is that they are effectively slabs of technology of all kinds. They are essentially just one giant machine. Their lack of crew having made such entirely possible. All of those pieces normally required have no place on such a vessel. There are no corridors or staircases. No barracks or resting facilities. Of course no life support systems of any kind. All of that space is instead turned over to other things.
Additional systems are embedded into the frame instead. Or rather existing ones are expanded to make use of it. Reactors are expanded upon or have whole new smaller ones added in. Shields are expanded upon and assigned more power. Weapons are directly connected to ammunition storage as needed. Cogitators are expanded to be the size of tanks to help manage it all. Scanners constantly working to study the space around them. Sorcerous systems are embedded throughout the hull. Runework and sorcerous crystals being a good portion of this. The only thing organic on board is shaped biomass here and there to help control the vessel.
These vessels are controlled in much the same way as the Ebony Steel Legions. Networks of sorcery and data intertwined with other systems to help manage them. The vessels being driven forward by the will of the commanding officer. Otherwise falling back on embedded programming to make any decisions. If left alone they will simply go looking for the nearest Undead stronghold to rejoin a fleet. Alternatively it will hurl itself at the nearest enemy stronghold to cause as much damage as possible before being destroyed.
Thankfully the space faring vessels have one major flaw. They are incapable of independent Warp travel. For that they must rely on their superiors to do. Following them closely like scavengers follow close to a predator for meaningful travel.
These vessels are extremely dangerous do not underestimate them.
Dracul watched as the onslaught of Daemons that attacked his realm stopped, as the legions of Tzeentch were called back by their master back to their own realm in the Realm of Souls. He did not give out any sigh of relief, not yet. He knew that every time the Changer gave up; it was actually a cover to hide its true intentions.
He was proven right when instead of the Lies and Change; it was Blood and War that attacked him. It seemed like the Blood God did not like the fact that one of his Exalted had been killed in both body and spirit, or Khorne and his legions thought he was a worthy opponent and decided to fight him in mass because of it. For all he knew, it could even be a combination of both.
But it didn't matter the defenses of his realm would hold them back, and since they were only focused on the Realm of Souls, he carefully withdrew the might that he put in strengthening the barrier that separated Wallachia from the Warp allowing his gaze into other more important things.
Such as the fact that Sigmar now has his own Divine Champion.
He scoffed as he looked at the Golden Light that shone so brightly even he could see from his realm of shadow. It was nothing compared to his own light, but it was still irritating to look at, as the part of him that was a creature of the night hated the light. But it was necessary, as he needed to look at Kislev to assess the situation. And considering how he could feel that he was not the only one, it was more than necessary.
The forces that he sent towards Kislev were bloodied but not broken, even if they faced enormous casualties, and even then, it did not affect his legions that much. They still number in their hundreds of millions a force that could easily fight and conquer the entire world, not that he would do that even if he considered it.
Kislev itself would take centuries before they could say that they had recovered. The sheer loss of life had attorned to that, entire landscapes are now completely barren of all human life that does not adhere to Chaos, and many cities that gave many goods to the Kislevite economy would need to be destroyed thanks to the corruptive touch of chaos. Not even telling of the few handouts of the Chaos Host that would plague them for decades at the very least.
But even that pales to the fact that the Tzar died. His heir is hard and unyielding, but some of his ideas clash with some of the noble's own ideas, and so unrest will come. And he has a younger brother who is friends with those same nobles. Dracul wants to say that they will not be dumb enough to cause a civil war just after they faced such odds, but he long since gave up on that.
The smell of charred flesh fills him with horror as he watched his wife and parents burn in front of him. The horror gave way to sorrow so deep that the whispers that plagued him recently almost succeed in making him break. Before he noticed how the screams had gone silent, his sorrow and despair were forgotten and substituted by hatred, his sight was filled with gold and then─
Humanity was an ugly thing like that.
Dracul was about to make his move when he felt the Warp shift once again. It was not the feeling that the Four gave off. For one, it was much weaker, and did not give the feeling of danger. Even then, he grew ready for an attack.
Three Gods appeared before him. The first and their apparent leader was a great bear. His fur was white and his eyes shone a fierce but empathetic light reminiscent of a caring but hard parental figure. The second is a muscled, square-jawed warrior with a massive axe on his hands that crackled with electricity. The third one is a handsome youth with long flowing hair and wreathed in fire that seemed to shine like the sun itself.
Dracul who they were, the three great gods of Kislev: Ursun, Tor, and Dazh.
"What do you want, Gods of Kislev?" He asked them.
"We want to make a deal with you," Ursun said.
"Kislev has grown weak thanks to the attacks of the servants of the Hound and it will only grow worse from here on," Tor spoke next, citing the same issues that Dracul saw.
"Change is coming, good and bad, and our own influence only goes so far." Dazh spoke, the light around him growing dimmer.
Their assessments confused Dracul, especially by the one made by the God of The Sun, before he remembered another highly important God of Kislev. Not all agreed with their decision to come meet with him. And the new Tzar seemed to make quite the ruckus himself. But that was beside the point.
"What manner of deal do you three want with me?" Dracul questioned, making the three gods spoke.
They wanted for the forces of Wallachia already there to stay for a little while longer to cleanse some of the more fierce holdouts of the Chaos Host before they returned and they also asked for some economical or humanitarian aid to Kislev such as providing food or other amount of resources.
In the end, Dracul thought of all the possibilities before he spoke that he would...
[] Provide Help ─ The part of his army that is in Kislev will destroy the greatest Holdouts of forces of chaos and he will provide economical and humanitarian aid to Kislev with Dracul having all the power on the amount sent towards Kislev.
[] Don't Provide Help ─ The part of his army shall be taken out of Kislev and he shall not order for any help to be sent to the northern kingdom.
Scheduled vote count started by Alucard Vampiry on Sep 17, 2022 at 1:02 PM, finished with 34 posts and 30 votes.
[X] Provide Help ─ The part of his army that is in Kislev will destroy the greatest Holdouts of forces of chaos and he will provide economical and humanitarian aid to Kislev with Dracul having all the power on the amount sent towards Kislev.
[X] Provide Help ─ The part of his army that is in Kislev will destroy the greatest Holdouts of forces of chaos and he will provide economical and humanitarian aid to Kislev with Dracul having all the power on the amount sent towards Kislev.
-[X] With the added bonus of becoming one of kislev Gods
