Place it after you mention the benefits of the Pact.
Loyalty is its own Reward (A Traitor Legion Chapter Master Quest)
- Thread starter ThunderOwl
- Start date
- Location
- yorkshire
Sorry at the moment of posting my previous cmment I got one idea sorry for the whiney post added this
However his patronage came with a steep price if just one member of the warband sought to leave any field or turn away from any conflict then their sanity souls and bodies would be forfeit
Edit: @ThunderOwl I added this to the omake anything else I should do
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The Mammonian Society (Potential Foes)
yacov
Lurking and sometimes blurting
- Location
- Clogging a drain
The Mammonian Society
Flavius Nero shifted his weight to gaze upon his salon. Just last year his dynasty was in the gutter of ill repute. His failure of a nephew had shamed the family by having his regiment break in the face of an Ork Waaagh.
The failure of his family failed to inspire his men to stay standing in the face of some rickety Ork contraption called a gargle something or other and had dragged his family through the mud. His name spoken only in jest and mockery. However all that had changed now.
What was once faded walls and last season's colors had been replaced with stunning gold reliefs of the beatific of bodies. The local PDF commander who once berated him at the Governor's palace stood mesmerized by the eyes of a particular waif on the wall, his wall!
Where once his peers shunned him, now they cheered for his entertainment, his arena. The vile Underhive urchins circled each other in the most fanciful of costumes. Elegant knives in their hand to paint the mosaic on the floor with splashes of crimson. The Dame whose family in charge of the supplying the planet's Arbites roared and whooped at the artistry. Just last month she spilled wine on his petticoat and now she deigns to suggest this new sport be spread with her Arbites as the main urchin catchers.
However such things paled to the music from his orchestra, his orchestra. Sounds that could only come from the most specially prepared instruments. Thousands of the planet's famous cattle were slaughtered to find just the right intestines and ligaments. The Emperor's own
Ecclesiarchal representative suggested playing his music in place of the daily sermons. He claimed such a wondrous sound would be far more fortifying to the souls of the Emperor's flock than mere sermons.
"Finding everything to your liking sire?"
Falvius craned his neck to address his new vassal. A member of an eccentric merchant and fashionista caravan called the Mammonian Society. They were apparently nomadic debutantes traveling from system to system who were dedicated to uplifting vindictively wronged families back into their rightful place in the sun. One Maiden of their Society, Selene had recognized the wrongs slung towards the Nero Dynasty, his Dynasty.
"It is magnificent! You and your sisters have assisted my rise back to my proper space faster than I inevitably would by months, years even!"
Selene Avaris had introduced him to such wonderful art styles, fashions, and pastimes, and it was all for him. He dazzled his compatriots to the point that not even Servitus the Brilliant, supposed greatest mind of his age, could compete with the work his family shown. The man had hanged himself in shame after his works were completely ignored in the last gallery.
"So do we have your permission my liege?"
Sure this new fashion was a bit cumbersome. Replacing one's limbs with beautified golden prosthetics was a bit extreme to some prudes. However Selene has assured him he would be able to move again once his body adjusted. His personal tech priest was smiling and humming after the surgery. He had never seen the mechanical man happier. The colors and the designs that could make not be made on any surface other than the gold.
"Yes, yes. You have my full support. My family's workshops and hydroponic bays are in your hands. Continue to craft your wonders so that the Nero dynasty, my dynasty will rise to prominence to overshadow even the Planetary Governor!"
Yes times are good for Flavius Nero. His daughter, his own flesh and blood is set to be an Initiate of Mammon this very evening. Wait, did his golden prosthetics always go that far up? Surely, Selene promised him that the operation went well, and all manner of things will be well.
"You will most certainly shine brighter than even the governor, my lord. The Mammonian Society will use the Secrets in Our Keeping to make sure of it."
And they most certainly were.
——
@ThunderOwl Got caught up in the Omake wave. Can't have every enemy be up front about their tactics. We are a detective and purging Chapter after all.
Flavius Nero shifted his weight to gaze upon his salon. Just last year his dynasty was in the gutter of ill repute. His failure of a nephew had shamed the family by having his regiment break in the face of an Ork Waaagh.
The failure of his family failed to inspire his men to stay standing in the face of some rickety Ork contraption called a gargle something or other and had dragged his family through the mud. His name spoken only in jest and mockery. However all that had changed now.
What was once faded walls and last season's colors had been replaced with stunning gold reliefs of the beatific of bodies. The local PDF commander who once berated him at the Governor's palace stood mesmerized by the eyes of a particular waif on the wall, his wall!
Where once his peers shunned him, now they cheered for his entertainment, his arena. The vile Underhive urchins circled each other in the most fanciful of costumes. Elegant knives in their hand to paint the mosaic on the floor with splashes of crimson. The Dame whose family in charge of the supplying the planet's Arbites roared and whooped at the artistry. Just last month she spilled wine on his petticoat and now she deigns to suggest this new sport be spread with her Arbites as the main urchin catchers.
However such things paled to the music from his orchestra, his orchestra. Sounds that could only come from the most specially prepared instruments. Thousands of the planet's famous cattle were slaughtered to find just the right intestines and ligaments. The Emperor's own
Ecclesiarchal representative suggested playing his music in place of the daily sermons. He claimed such a wondrous sound would be far more fortifying to the souls of the Emperor's flock than mere sermons.
"Finding everything to your liking sire?"
Falvius craned his neck to address his new vassal. A member of an eccentric merchant and fashionista caravan called the Mammonian Society. They were apparently nomadic debutantes traveling from system to system who were dedicated to uplifting vindictively wronged families back into their rightful place in the sun. One Maiden of their Society, Selene had recognized the wrongs slung towards the Nero Dynasty, his Dynasty.
"It is magnificent! You and your sisters have assisted my rise back to my proper space faster than I inevitably would by months, years even!"
Selene Avaris had introduced him to such wonderful art styles, fashions, and pastimes, and it was all for him. He dazzled his compatriots to the point that not even Servitus the Brilliant, supposed greatest mind of his age, could compete with the work his family shown. The man had hanged himself in shame after his works were completely ignored in the last gallery.
"So do we have your permission my liege?"
Sure this new fashion was a bit cumbersome. Replacing one's limbs with beautified golden prosthetics was a bit extreme to some prudes. However Selene has assured him he would be able to move again once his body adjusted. His personal tech priest was smiling and humming after the surgery. He had never seen the mechanical man happier. The colors and the designs that could make not be made on any surface other than the gold.
"Yes, yes. You have my full support. My family's workshops and hydroponic bays are in your hands. Continue to craft your wonders so that the Nero dynasty, my dynasty will rise to prominence to overshadow even the Planetary Governor!"
Yes times are good for Flavius Nero. His daughter, his own flesh and blood is set to be an Initiate of Mammon this very evening. Wait, did his golden prosthetics always go that far up? Surely, Selene promised him that the operation went well, and all manner of things will be well.
"You will most certainly shine brighter than even the governor, my lord. The Mammonian Society will use the Secrets in Our Keeping to make sure of it."
And they most certainly were.
——
@ThunderOwl Got caught up in the Omake wave. Can't have every enemy be up front about their tactics. We are a detective and purging Chapter after all.
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Nah, its fine now, added the Challengers as a Potential foe.
Nicely done @yacov this gives me.... ideas. Added to the list of Potential foes.
Lady of Contradictions Eve
- Location
- yorkshire
Lady of Contradictions Eve the Mad Avatar of Destruction Arch corruptor Bringer of insanity and contradictions were even demons fear to tread.
In the deepest reaches of the warp somewhere but nowhere but near a white and black (or was it black and white with spots) was a powerful/weak roiling/calm mass of madness and paradox. The only stable point giggled to itself loudly yet in paradox no noise was heard. its origin was the black/white and white/black happily grimacing porcelain mask.
She brimmed with power it had taken oh so long to get to this point but now with her enlightenment at the hands of Malice had only added to her previous strength and now could bring friendship to everyone her molding was complete. '
She had gained more power and clarity from her beloved master that it felt like its old self before it had been cast out of the court of change and long its service to the weaver of fate meaning enough in the end. Her rivals had simply been better connected and favored despite her being older.
ᵇTˡhͥᶰeͩyᵇ ˡwͥᶰeͩreͭ ͪsͤʸoʷ ͤbͬlͤiˢnͦdᵇ ˡsͥᶰoͩ ˢbͦlᵇiˡnͥᶰdͩ and were being mean ˢtͨoͪ ͤiͫtͥᶰ ᵍaˢlͨlͪ ͤbͫuͥᶰtᵍ eͣᶰvͩeᵍ ͦwͥᶰoᵍuᶰlͦʷdͪ ͤsͬhͤoᵇwͧ ͭthͭeͪmͥ ͬaʷsͣˢ sͣhᵖeͣ ͭhͪadͭ ͦbeͣᶰenͤᶰ ͩshͫoͣˡwͥnͨᵉ ᵏᶰᵉʷ she had to show them it would make the pain stop for them
This led to her betrayal and banishment , but that was when glorious Malice found her while as weak as a mortal . Malice taken her,mͨoͦuͬlͬdͧᵖeͭdͤ and ͩchͭaͦnͬgͤ the old useless unneeded ignorant bits of her being were discarded until only a eͫnͣlͩiͤᶰgͤhͩted blessed being was left. To eͩnͤˢlͭiͬgͦʸhten the demons and mortals into joͩyͤˢfͭuͬlͧᶜᵗᶤᵛᵉ cͫeͣlͩᶰeͤˢbˢrationwith her mere presence and words.
Ś̷̠̣̱̃́h̶̗̔é̷̦̳̪̬ ̶͇̺̈̒̈̓̈ẃ̶̮̩å̴̃̕͝ͅŝ̵̡̙̪̒ ̶̢̦̝̩̔̕always happy to ̶̨̢̣͛͐͛m̸̛̻͎̙͕̎̓̾͜a̷̢͙̽̔́͠͝k̶̪̲̞̄̽i̵̹̣͑̉e ̶̨̗̭̬̐̐̀̚͝ͅf̷͎͊͑r̶̮̭͂̑̾̕͝ͅí̷̖e̶̗̠̖͒̚͜n̵͓̰̉̉d̸̮̲̳͋̿̕ş̴̟̹̜͉͐́͑̄̄
So that the demons of the other gods would dance around her anticlockwise singing the praise of enlightenment and to her master for freeing them from drudgery.
1 ˢTͦhˢeͫyͣˡ ˡwˢeͦrˢeͫ ͣˡsˡhˢoͦwˢnͫ ͣˡhˡoˢwͦ ˢsͫmͣˡaˡlˢlͦ ˢtͫhͣˡeˡyˢ ͦwˢeͫrͣˡeˡ ˢaͦfˢtͫeͣˡrˡ ˢaͦlˢlͫ ͣˡtˡhaͨtͦ ͧˡiͩs ͭtͪhͤʸeᶰ ͦeͭnˢlͤiͤghͪtͦʷeᶠnͧmͭeͥˡnͤt ͥaͭnʷdͣˢ ᶠiͦ ͬwaͨsͪ ͣwͦˢonͭdͦerͤfͯuͥˢlͭ ᵇfͧoͭr ͭtͪhͤʸemͣˡ ˡtˢoͪ ͣˡbˡeᵇ ͤdrͭaͪgͤgeͭdͬ ͧdͭoͪwn to her level
.
And then they could become friends
Those eͤᶰnˢlˡiͣtͮeͤnͩedfriends that did not explode from happiness happily served in great chanting waves of lesser and Greater demons used so much like the mortal cannon fodder expended daily in their Malices name. It was sad when friends left but they were happy till the end they just wanted to give hugs. Why did the unenlightened have to be so mean?
Her friends were so eager to prove themselves
As a final whim by her Master/Mistress had been given the name Eve as the only sane thing of her existence to anchor it now had much ˡmͤˢoˢrˡeͤˢˢ power than before. Even from all the power Eve had taken from all the demons that followed her and he masters glory willingly, that ability to convince them could not compare to the gain from the ritual.
Fͩoͤrͣ ͭhͪe ͭwͦasͨ ͪtͣhͦˢe ͩpͤaͣtͭhͪ tͭoͦ pͨeͪaͣcͦˢe ͩfͤoͣrͭ ͪthͭeͦ exitance ͤnͣeͭeͪded ͭtͦo ͨdͪiͣeͦˢ cͩhͤaͣoͭsͪ tͭoͦ dͨiͪeͣ ͦˢ fͩoͤrͣ ͭoͪblͭiͦviͨoͪnͣ ͦˢisͩ ͤfͣoͭrͪ aͭlͦl ͨiͪsͣ ͦˢtrᵖuͬeͣ ͥˢpͤeaͫcͣˡeͥ ͨfͤrᵖoͬmͤ ͣcͥˢhͤaoͭsͪ ͤbuͫtͣˢ ͭeͤvᶠeͦ ͤcoͪuͤldͥˢ eͭnͪlͤiʷgͣʸhᵇtˡeͣnͨᵏ ʷtͪhͥeͭmͤ ᵇaˡlͣlͨᵏ ʷmͪoͥrͭtͤalͣᶰ ͩdeͥmˢoͪnͣˡ ˡgᵇoͬdͥᶰ ᵍmiͭcͪrͤobͭeͬ ͧaͭlͪl ͭsͦhalͣˡlˡ ͪdͤaͪnͤcͪeͤ ͪmͣaͪcͣaͪbͣrͪeͣ ͪ madness is an escape
Eve giggled the sound birthing thousands of lesser demons of insanity that tore into each other or ran away howling into the warp to spread their touch wide and far. Thus millions would go mad and seek to destroy themselves and or chant the name of malice in the glory of their enlightenment and empower her ᵖˢͬͪͣˢmͤͤˡͪˡͥᵖͫaͣsͮtͤeͬr further oh yes it will be fun new friend were always being made.
Then Eve felt the warp move the taste was many favoured and one honoured demons of the Four with hosts of lesser neverborn trailing behind them. The whole of eves twisted being stilled taking on her former appearance now black and white that kept flickering to different forms beyond the sane the only consent was the porcelain mask.
Leaping in front of the greater demons of Tzeentch and announcing her presence with unconstrained glee!
" h̸̤̱̉ȩ̵͕͎͍̻̘͓̪̙̂̍͌̏̄̈́͋͊͋͆͐̚͝l̵̫͂̄̓̓̑̎͘̕̚͠͠ḻ̶̯̜͛̋͑̓̓̈́o̸̦̟̫̞̙̦̝̎̽̈̈́̄̈́̈́̓̿̈͘͜ ̶̺̰̀̂̂f̶̥̹̦̤̪̜͐̿͑͆̈̚r̷̘̀͒̈́͊i̷̢̪̱̤̤̮͍̞̝̭̳̥̙̠̾̀̍̑̍̓ȩ̶̤̤͓̯͚̝̪̪̋͑̾̀̂͐̎̈́́̆̑ͅṉ̶̰̖̒͂́͊̏̐̈̔͑̚̕̚͝͠d̶̥̠̣̞̟͗̒̉̌'̵̛͎͍̔̏̐̅͑̎̓͒̈́̒̑́̕̕ș̸̬̤̱͙̱̝̙̅̉͆̄̽̓̾͆͒̄̕͝ ̷̡̧̨̝͔̜̳͍̱̫͓̼̍͗͌ ̸̠̰͛͌̑͛͆̈́̚ ̸̧̩̜̳̹̞̰̼̱͖͌"̸̩̜̌͂̉͌͊̒i̵̻͕̳̒͌̄̍͑͆̒̅͂͗̑̄͊͝͝ ̶̫̲͖͍̝̫̻̩̪̤̺͍̤͐̒͑͌̂̐͛̽̊͊̽́͜͝h̸̰͆̌̔ä̴̦̰̟̼̥̩͎̫͉́̏͌̀̈́̌̋̋̾͜͝v̵͇͙̿̄̅͊̑̈͑̏̀͂͌̀͝ḙ̸͔͋͂̔̅̀̑̄̓͂̂̕̕̕͝͝ ̸̡̻͕̩͉̦̪̠̘̙̝̬͙́́̑͋̅́̓̽̿̄̅̕ͅc̴̬͕͈̠̰̠͖̣̱̕ỏ̶̡̧̮̲͖͕̎̉̓̋͗͋̇͑̽͋̚̕ṁ̴̛̛̠̩͓̯̘̼͚͎͚̥̙̂́̔̈̉͛̂̕͝e̵̼̜͚̹̲̠̹̩̰̹͖͒̍͗̽̂̈́̾͒̏̚͜ͅͅ ̷̢̧̧̡̛̬̜͓͖̅͆̆̅̆̑͋̚͜ṯ̷̭̭̹̑̒̈̃̏̓̓ǫ̶̛̣̩̝̤̘̙̤̹̯̀ͅ ̷̡̼͕͔̬͈͉̱̣͔̟̰̗̿̀̾s̸̩̮͖̤̫̲̮̗̤̜̰̊͑̚ȅ̵̜̺̩̘͇̝̠͍̻̫̐͋̊ẗ̸̻̮̫̖͔̯̮̗͓͉̥̯͑̈́̇͐̅̀̔̃̂͂̀ ̵̼̦̈́̄̈y̸̛̲͓̺̟̘̰̪̹͆͋̊́̾̚͜ͅô̵̞̲̯̬̬͍̩̰͚̈́̂͐́̈́͗ų̸̡͕̻̫̜͈͚͈̗̙̜̞̤̑̒̌̑̔̏̚ ̷̢̡̟͖̭̙̹͕͕͍̦̥̝̤́̒͝f̷̮̘͉̜̪̹̖̼͐͋͗̌̽͒̃̊̓͗̍̅̊͝͝r̴̡̰̦͈̻̰͓̬͙͔̬̾̌̊͆̉̐e̷̙̙͊̀e̸̛̻͂̍̃̽͗̏͋̽͂̉̅̿̈́͂ ̷͔͎̱̟͚̰͔̯̘̏̄f̴̧̧͓̤̺̥̼̆̈́͋̋͗͆̉̽̋̉̿̽̽̆r̷̪̬̭̞̝͓̻͈̩̬͕̽̑͗̑̈̽̔̑̓̄͛̏͋͂̋o̶̢̞͍͙̹̪̣̅̽̄̈̍͝m̵̡̭̖͖̮̝͍͓͔͉̀͜ͅ ̶̨̯͉̥̒̓͐́t̶͚̾͗̀̓͗͛̓͛̕͜͠͠ḩ̴̢̜̣̠̫̖̦͖͂̓͂͐̊͒͒̆̀̕e̸̘̘̍̇̿͒̂͝ ̶̛͚̙̟̯͉̲̻̦̟͍̎̇͒̌̃͂̈́̀p̵̘̗̝̻̪̋̍̀͛̊̊͂a̷̢̲͇͈̟͕͉̘̝̟̱̦̎̒̔̋̀̽͝ḭ̵̬̲̤̲̬͓͚̲̳̠̞̲̠̞̈́̿̈ņ̷͓̮͎̖̪̓͗́̎̇̒̃̓̌̐̒͊̉̅͒͜ ̸̧̻̼͎̞͙͔͙̜̣͔͗͂͂̊͋̈́̂̍͌̆̐̀ō̶̧͚̗̞̞̗͇̼͓̘̞̱͖̞͆̉͑̏̿̾̽̄͐͆̕͘͜͝f̴̣̭͕̱̯͕́̆̃͒̈̅̈́͗̚ ̵̜͕̝̤̠̜̔̄̽̆̓̈͌̔͘͘i̶̤̩̝̩͆̿̈́͆͊̌͆́ͅg̷̡̖̟͈͎͖͎͚͓̋̔̂̽̋̂̋̇̔̂͊̾͠n̸̡̧͍̝̫̜̈́̅́͗̔̂̋̀͋̅̕̚͝͝o̴̻͓̞͚̤̪̲̞͗͋͌͒̆̍̏̎̆̂̊͝r̸̨̡͕̣̲̰͖̰͎̦̦̲͓̾̈́̀̈́͆͂̀̽̑͒͝ą̸̛̗͕͓̱͖̻̳̱̦̈̔̏̿͐n̸͔̞̦̥̮͎̫͇͗́̅̾͆̀̅͠c̶̡̧̢̛̦͚̺̝͇̗̻̩̾̓̓̿͗̄͒͂͗̚͘͘è̷̛͈͉͇̲̀͠͠"̴̨̛̪͓͈̼̻̥͍̪̔̐̓̀̀̅̀
̶̧̮̩̣̦̭͍̺͍̼̞̅̈́
So she talked to them told them the truth and their reactions brought jubilation to Eve.They looked so happy that they were weeping laughing evan cheering some were dancing in joy some were hugging at the truth that was being revealed to them some needed a bit of warmth some needed more than words she gleefully showed with bit of sorcery to convince them after all not everybody can just believe without seeing.
Oohhh one of the little ones just exploded with joy as well as that one and that one. Ones trying to leave is he sick.? But he has not heard the truth yet, better go to him he needs to know. And the master had told her that know one should know that she existed yet.
With that and the merest thought appearing in front of her new friend on of the big ones that love blood screaming about something that should not exist and hes grateful for her existence. He is hugging her so hard it hurts a bit but hec learly appreciates being enlightened. She does love it when the others play but they are being a bit rough but it looks so fun but now she must tell this one about the truth.
Now he's singing its beautiful wow they are all singing it would be rude not to join in "C̵̘̻̟̞̟̐̎͌̂̽́́̽͆̂͌̀̊̿͜ͅŏ̸̧͙̜̽̇̆̔̏̎̆m̶̡̨̯̥̰̥̦̰̳̬̊̏̉̀̑͌͋͐͛̓̒̇̚͜͜͜͠e̷͚̞͍͍͍̤̟̝̮͓͌͆̆̍̐̉̅̇̽̅̈́̉͝ ̷̭͕̙̍͌́f̸̡̯̮̃̈̅̆̓́̒̅͊̾͊̆͜͝r̸̢̬͉̲̯̱͉͗̊ỉ̶̡̧̼͙̠̱͉̺͈̬͙̻̪̏̊̀͘͜e̷̝͙̳̪̻̼̻̤̋̀̌̈́̀͋́̆̏͝ň̵̨͓̬̭̹͍̝͍̗̀̅̉̊̂͝͠d̸̡̢̨̘̖̺̗̫̺̦̐̌̋̃ş̸̻̳̙̦̩͚̼̥͈̲͎̑̈͊̃̎̿́̈́̉͗̑̃͜͝ ̷̩̫̬̑́͋̎t̸̢̥̝̱̟̥̣͑͌̍͜ḩ̴͍̮̯̙̘̥̟͍̭̥̼̌͗̎͑̊̕ḁ̴̢͍͖̠͔̹͛̋̋̽͌̽̇̂t̸͔̯̱͕̏̽̾͆̇̚͝͝͝ ̷̳̜͈͒̏̎̈̑̃͒͑̓̉́s̸̼̼̱̭͙̖̈́̂į̵̧̬̣̈́̌̓̌̉̃̂̑̈́́͗͜͝͝n̶͎̯̟͒̅̈̃̃͂̀͜͝g̶̡̳̗̣̰̭͍̳̱̔̈́͊͜ ̵̟̝̘̬͇̗̪́̈́̅̔̀̅̀̌͐̏̋̎͊͝g̴̰̳͉̈̀̏l̸̛̗̾̐̉͛͋͠ó̴̼͍̤͕̺̹̦͍͚̣̜͐̌͜͜͝ŕ̵̗̪͈͎̲̺̜̘̈́̒͗͗̎̊͋͐͘y̶̢̩̠̩͉̝̟̭̲̲͔͙͉̏́͊̏̆̈̈́̌͋̐̋̎̈́̾͜ ̸̛̮̯͓͎̙̔̀̌͒͗̃͗̌t̴̟̭͇̩͕̠̰̘̬̂̀o̷̡̦̺̗̼̪͎̤̦̳̼̦̪̜̍̊̆̀̎͛̃̀̿͒̑̒̍͐ ̸̧̰̬̲̳̜̱̜͖͑̈́̓̀̈͊̕̚̚͠͝͝Ṁ̴̢̧͓̺̼̲̥̳́̆͑̆a̸̢̙̣͇̲̫͉͙̳̫̜͚͐͌̈ͅl̴̛̗͕̥̳̪̯̳̯͂̇͝į̷̡̜̙̦̟͍͍͇̟̜̀͑̌͗͛͒͛͊͊̓͒̚c̵̨̹͙̝̟̪͙͔͍̹̝̰̪̟͌͊é̸̬̮͔͖̦̼͈̦̦̓͑ ̸̲͒͋̓́̏̄t̸̡̢̞͈̰̟͎͚̦̲͍̬̋̌͆̔͂̍͂̕̕͜ḩ̵̙̣̟͇̮̦̰̝́́̿̌̑̿̈́͊̈̑ę̷̨̡̛̤̟̫̤̦͓̪̖̽̒́̆́͒̄͗̇̈̾͘͜ ̶̼̣̖̲͌͊̐̉̉̊̄͌͒̔̿ę̷̨̹̺̳̻̙̤͛̅͂͜͠ͅn̴̝̻̬̫͈̥̦̮̘̪̅́́̉̉̈́̓̍l̸̳̂̓͛̈́̎̅͑͒̕͠ḯ̵̡͔̺̩̺̯͚͂̓̄͑͑͑̚͝ǵ̷̛̜̣͈͖̪̽̽̐̎̈́͒̎̍͜h̵̛̖͙̪͎͓̪͚̻̟̦͈̬́̉͜t̴͔̗͚̻̭̩̼͔͙̄͐̈́̾̈́̓̉̀͛ḙ̸̠̳͇̟̻̾͂̿ͅn̴̗̲̑̂̽̾̾͐͊̀͠ẹ̸̐r̸̺̩͋͂̊͐́̃͐͝" throwing back her head song to the glory of her master.
The warp sang with screams of joy as she gently pulled more friends to her for enlightenment. Faster and faster they came to her dancing anticlockwise to her singing the joy of enlightenment.
" It was not pain, it was not humiliation, the closest to it was the horror of being twisted into the service of a rival god, yet this was so much worse. their essence would not be replaced, it would be changed by the Emperor make it stop Praise maile no no praise malice p̶̧̭̣͕̓̾̅͌͛̾̍͌̌́͂̈́r̴̄̈́̚ͅͅa̶̙̖̓̅̚i̸͙̒̔̉̕s̵̛͈͚̣̥̄̎͗͐̃̊͛̓̈́͆̇̚ē̸̢̨̢̩̭̹̩̱͙͔̟͙̂̎̒͒̇̕͝ͅ ̷̭̉́̅̚͜M̴̧͍̼̲̺͖̤̀̑̐̓͆̓͝a̶̢͖̖̥͕̲͐̌͌̈͋̍̽l̴̤̩̻̏̀͂̇̃̅̏̕͘̕̚͝i̴̡̡̞͛͜͜c̴̢̢͓̘̝̞͚͙͛̿̓͑́͛̓͗͘͝͠ȩ̸̡̛͚̯̲͚͔̥̩̦̂̓͠ ̶̡̛͕̃̏̌̑̀̕p̸̧̨̟̲̮̮̟̭̰̰͊͗̃̀͑̏̉̐̕r̸̄̇̂̓͐͜͝a̸̜͇̣͛ḭ̸̡̘̺̺̹̮͇͔̦͚̬͖̓̓͂̀̈͘͠s̶̨̩̬̘̩̬͉̫͔̭̀̃̾͋̂ę̵̢̦́ ̶̤͒̊͛͒̓̎͘ͅM̷͔̪̳̞̞̩̝͖͈̖̣̩̆ā̸̧̡̟̲̘̼̱̞̯͙̠͙̟͌̏l̷̞̼͗̏͛̾̋̽͑ͅi̷̺̍͂̋̑́̆͠͠͠c̶̨̞̠̲̦͆̐̈́͗̉̄̾̀͒̽́͜͝e̴̹̳̮̹͌̍̾̈̓͋̾̌̀́̈̚͝p̸̛̙̅̒ṟ̸̢͍͔̹̳̱̈́͊̓̐̀͑͗͐́͐̄̇͌͘a̶̹̔̀̍͂̅̈̍̄̿̾͘͠͝ĭ̶̱̥̥̮͎̟͔͙̝̘̳̹̔̃͑͊̑̋̋̏͝ş̴̡͙͈̼̃̉̽͗̏͒̒̆͘ͅͅę̵͛́͆̈́̂̑͗͒̿͠ ̷̡̺̮̰͕͕̣̰͕̹͕̟́M̷̙̗̯̓̉a̷̡̱̪͙̰̰̳͉͓͚͉͔͙͂̈́̊l̷̢̦̬̥͔͓͈͉̰̯̖̺̙͆͋͑̌̄̔̏̾̚͜i̸̯̫͓̣͚̪͇͈̎̍̂́̈́̈́̀͐̇̕c̵̩͇̟̰̤͖͎͂̑̈̃̂̄́̐͛͛̕͘͠͝ę̶̫̣̘̯̲̟̣̮͔̘͘p̸͈̩͓͉̻͙̫̥̯͙̭̃̎̐̿̽͛͜͝͠ͅr̷̻̬̳̙̮̠̩̗̝͓̀͒͂̄̈̔́̎͌͑̚͜͝a̸̢̛͎͖̻̜̭̲̗̠̼͚̒͆̓̀̒̀̓͒̋į̴̨̡̧̦͚͍̮̼͉̫͕͇͊͑̈́ͅś̵̡̛̖̱̝͉͔̪͖͉̭̞͕͕̞̏̍̀̍̃̍͂̓͘͝e̷̛̪͒̏͆͛͂̃̈͑̐͘ ̸̱̼͉͐͒̾̒̑́͛M̷̛͎͇̦͚̈́͆̔͆̎̽̎̒͐͠ͅa̷̛̭͔̭̪̠̤̺̬͐͗̀͝͝l̶̡͇͉̠̗̹̲͇̳͊͋̎́͐̏į̴̰̘̪̺̹̣̳̙̫̦͑̊̒́͘͝c̸̛̩̘̜͕̥͉̀̅̊̆̍́̂́̐͆̾̚͝ͅé̴̡̲̳̫̻̍̔͂̀͊̕͝p̵̬̘̼͍̭̪̃̌͠ͅr̶̺̖̪̼͈̟̯̦͈͍̓̽̈́̕a̴̢̨͚͎̫͎̘͖̻͍͈̫̽̿͜i̴̢̢͇͖͙̬͈͖̙̰̹̯̥̘̔̏͋s̵̞̮̖̯̬̽͐̇̿̋̊́̊͐͗̚͝͠e̴̬̻̪̩̝̙̯͛̽̎̈́̃̅̌̃͠͝ ̸̥̭̩͕̻͈͈̮̦̦͚͍̓͂͛͐M̴̢͉̱̟͈͚͚̮̺̩̜̈̃̿̀̒̉̿̑̂̇̚͘ͅǎ̴̧̨͔͇̥̬̩̦̣͖͈̟̲̓͋̽̏̚̚l̴̡̼̮̹̜̖̦͈͈͓̉̀̆i̸̧̦̱͖̖̤͖̦͗̒͒̉͒̍̍̄͜͝č̷͇͍͓̤͇̪̻͚̗̟̘̘͍̣̈̋̌͘e̴̳͓̞͙̺̳̟͚͐̐̈́̅͌p̶̨̛̛̛̝̪̱̤̹̝̞͍͕̮̄̌͒̈́̍̚͜͝ͅr̵̢̢̟̣̥̼̟̲̮̻͗̀̏̄̅̊͋̈͘͝͝a̴͙̰̝̯͈̠̰̋̈͋̔̀́̅̓̄͋͘͘̚͝i̵̩̳͙͔͚̓͋̀̈̿͘͜s̴̛̭͎̥̺̈́͛̍̎̑̚̕e̷̢̡̖̞̻̥̓͘ͅ ̸̨̛͎̥̣͓̥͖̼̞̘͎͉̯͑́̓̔͌͒̄̒̅̈́̚̕͠ͅM̶̛̜͕͉̲̩͓̞̩̗͙̺̟̦̹͑̍͂̐̂̆̀̏̄͝a̴̹̟̫̹͙̫̓̊̅̓̊͒̽̀͂͘͠l̵̢̛͈͓̤͙̺͔̝̰̑̀͛̏ȋ̸͎̘̰͍͉̈́͊̒̇̇̋̾̋͑c̷̺͖̿̂̏͐̍̋͠͝ȩ̴͙̳͙̗̝̂͂̎͆̅̚p̶̪̜͚̝̼̩̮̗̤̭̮͈͆̂͜ͅṝ̴̩̃̐̂̃̓̐̄͐͝à̶̠̭͚̜͌i̷̗̰̎̂̿͌̓̂̆̾́̑̊̚͘̚s̴̨̨͔̮̖̝̯̦͖̊͗̇̅͛̋̽̊̈͂̋͘̚ḙ̴̛͔̗͈͈͖̝̦̲̩̭̄̔̈̈́͝͝͠͠ ̵̡̡̢̡̺̟̝̻͍̮̌̓̂̔M̷̨̘͙͈̖͖̙͓̪̙̺͍̀͘ͅã̷̝͍̣̥̤͕̜̫̈́͒̈̕͝ͅl̵͉̮̏͒̆̚ḯ̵̡̨̥̟̞̹̱̄̿̇̿́̔̏͑͆̽̍̚͝ć̷̢͋͛͑͌̔̚̕͝͝͝ĕ̶̛̝̦̼̼͚̥̼͐̂͐͐̈́̔̓p̶̡̯̣̤͎̔́̅̉̾͝ȓ̷̢̫͙̮̝̞̼͇͇̖͎̪͌͗͝͠ą̶̨͕͚̟̗̗̱̣̪̩̍̓͋͆̈́ͅị̶̧̥̭̦͉̝̻̠͚̀͂s̶̗͈̬͊̍̃̿̏̽̊̔̈́͌͜ę̷̛͎̳͙̳͚́́̐̐̈̕͜͝͝ ̴̭̙͉̥͖̩̺̖͕̞͌̉͐͘͠Ḿ̶̙̲̒̒̉̃͊͒̊̓͘͜͠͠a̵̩̞͉͈̤̠̲̔͆͘l̴̡̢̛̻̤̠̯̺͓̘͍̇̄̎̿́̑͑̐̌͘į̵̮͔͙͚͎̳͍̑̃͛̉͜ͅc̸͔͍̝͈̦͐͆̌͌̆͆͆e̶̛̛̦͕̱͙̓̔̀̒͐̚p̴̡̡͈̯̯̮̦͙̖̖̙̳̊̋̕͠r̶̞̳̦̥̙̣̈́̂͒̏̿̒̾̂͘͘̚ą̵͉͔͚̳̦͖̩̩̱̒̌̈̌͒̿̽̕̚͜͝͠i̵̧̛͙͎͈̽̿̽́̒͐̚͘͝͝͠s̶͎̥̮̯̑e̵̙̦̠͔͚͇̲̞̻̣̤͚͌̐͑̅̈̿̐͒͠ ̶̢̼̣̟̫̙̟̜̤̪̋́̂̒̀̆̈͐̔͐̈́̍̄M̴̛̹̙̘͓̦͓̖͂̅̈̀̀̂̐̏̈͘͝ą̴̩̻̫̱̳̬̱͕͋ͅļ̵͔͎̞̙̣̼̳̜͖̠̰̯̻̇́̍͋ị̵̧̮̬̱̪̬̪͈͇̭͉̼̪́̌̎̄̄̈́̆͊́ĉ̵̡͔͔̱͕̖̥̺͇͕̞̣̅̏͒̒̏̑̓̎̎̈ę̶̛̩͓͕̻̭̤̜̠̠̭̤͙̉̆p̶̱̳̯̼̆̈́r̷͖̲̳͙͈͎̔̓̀̃͐̓̃͆ͅa̷͇͔̫̐́͌͑̾̓̈́̋į̴̱͎͊̍ͅs̷̘̩͈̮̱͉͈̊͊̔͌̔͒́̂̓͛̀̚e̷̪̺̖̗͙̬͔͕̰̘͌̏͗͆̚͜͝ͅ ̵͍͕̰̺͍̮̳̼̩̩̫͉̓̓̿́̉͝M̵̢̛̛̛̰̥̲̹̳̣͒̇̐̄͗̅͊͊́ͅa̵̛̪̘̳̮̬̗͆̆͊̋̾̈̔̍l̴̨̼̻̰̼͖̥͔͍̳̅̑̋̓̀̈i̸̧͚̭͔͍̯̒̽̇̈͊́̉͌̏c̸̙͎̦͇̯̔̈́̌̓͆͂̆́̈́̑̎̈́e̶̟͕͎̋̒̒͆͒͆̔̎̄̎͐̓̚͜͜ͅp̷̢̳̥̰̳͈̼̠̈̊͒̂͋͝ř̵͖͖͕̆̍̃̍͗̈́͂͑̐͐͘͝ą̶̧͓̬̣̻̗̘̰͈̣͍̐̇i̶̢̺̦͎̲̔s̷͚̫͓̣̮͓̐̐̇̍̔͗̒͊͐̓̓̿͘e̴̛̘͍̐́́̌͊̐͂ ̷̧͍̯̬̰͓͈͎͙̻̰͙̮̓̎͑͊͌̏̇̿̋͜͝Ṃ̷̡̦͖̘̻̫͓̣̇̓̐͗͋̽̿̚ą̶͍̣̲̩̥̥̪̬̙̱́̃̓̍͋͝͝ͅl̶͖̈́͑̓̂͗̽̓̂̚͝i̶̡͎̟̻͔̳͍̮͕̦͒ç̵͉̩͙̘͍̖̣͖͙̹̯̱̣̓͐̓̊͒̌̓̉̈́͠͝͝e̵͇̯͆̄͒̄̐̾̅̄̌̌p̶̲̣̟̈́͋͒̈́͝͝ŕ̴̻̳̘̪̙̭͍̱̱͖́͆̀͝͠͠a̷͇̘̙̙̼̋̾̽̉̚͠ḯ̴͓̩̬̱͒š̵̝̜̼̻̫̲́͒̈́͑̇͐͗̋̌̅e̵͎̬̩̭̓̂̽͒̽͠ ̴̮̦͙͒M̴̡͉̹͔̪͗̉̇̾͒̆͝ͅä̴̧̞̖͓́̆̅̄͋̍͑͑͌̓̈́͘̚ĺ̷̙̭͕͑i̷̛͉̙̗͈͔̫͔͙͚̯̼̲͙̬̅̊̇̋͆̀̈́͘̚c̶̨̻̻̯̟̖̮̪̬̮̮͖͖̋̀̑͌̾͐́͊͘͠e̵̺͕̺͎͇̱͍̱̬͇̳̬̳͐̍̍̐́̀́͐̾p̵̛͉̻̗͙̯͈̩͎̗̜̥̄͊̃̌̈̃͂̅̀̓̽͝r̵͉̃a̶̛͓̭͕̭̰̲̣͉͑͗͑̉̏͗i̸̳̬̗͚̲̘̜͍̥̅̄̈̔̉̓̃̔̑͆̉s̶̨̮͍͆̑̉͋̉̄͝e̵̤̞̘̘̗͔̺͙̙̞̯̿̈́̏̉̀̕͝͠ ̶̨̡̮̹̱͍̠̭͉̮̱̜͗̀̀͗̀̽̊̓̄̕͝͝M̴̲̊̽͂̈̌̉ą̵̛͚̝͍̏́̊͌̅͐̀̊̆͘̚ḻ̸̨̛͔͇̻͎̰̣͙̣̘͓͇̑̈́͌͌̐͘͜͝i̶̡̙͓̥͕̬̼̤͚̭̋̏̚ĉ̶̝̱̓̅̔͗͑͗͘ḙ̶̡̤̖̹̾͋̓̑̓͂̂̇͜p̷̢̿̑̀̽̈́̈͗̌͘͝r̴̳̫̥̽̈́̌̾͗̀̇͒ả̷̧̩̠͉̓̒̑̾͘͠i̵̟͇̤̩̬̩̤͇͚̻͎̖̿̃̍̆̕͝͠s̸̢͖̙͎̬͔̈e̷̋̾̅͛͜͠͠ ̷̡̠͖͕͈͉̦̣͚̘̖̭̗̭̐̑͝Ṃ̸̧̝̙͓͎͖͚̙̱̐̌͋́ą̵̼̻̙̙͙͙͓͇̭͚̋l̷̜̲̹̊̇i̶͚̰̯͖̺͚̝̻͖̓͑͗c̶̨̛͖̖̩̱͙͚̮̣͖̍͌̆̓̚ͅȩ̵̱̣͕̟̜̯̬̭̀̃͛̄̄͂̆̊̓̕p̵̨̧̛̯̼̖̠̻̠̤̦͔͔̌͋̑̃͗͆͂͋͛̾͘r̵̡̲̗̉̇̈́͌͛͑͗̐̕͠ą̵̨̹̫̹̱̳̠͚̭͂̓̈́̈́̕i̷̜̗̹͛͋̄̐͑̑̕͠͝s̴̖̹̰͎͖͍̥̠̥̎̎̐̈̆̐̎́͒͆̚͝͝e̴̠̱̩̠͇̣̻͒̐͌͊͌̓̚͝ ̶̠̖̻̞̳̯͔̈M̵̛̘̝̤̖̦͕̦͙̖͊̾́̔͋̅̈́̈͊̆́̕a̶̛͍̱̎̉͂̂͝l̵̨̡̧̼̥̣͕̲̺̜̯̈́̈͒̏͗̅̽̀̽̉̕͜͠͠i̴̦͇̰͛̐͆̈́̒̊̍̕͠c̷͈̠̰̗̗̿͒e̵̯̾̆̓̔̎̏͘p̷̛̮̠̗̞̳̣̬̱͇͇̤̞̰̮͆̓̐̏̀̄̕͠ṟ̵̹̙͓̭͎̮̖̾̉̅̑̽͆̑̓͌͝͠͠a̸̡̼͔͈̬̝̦̲̯̫̩̘͉̣͌̋̀͊̌͘ị̶̠͋̅͌͑s̸͈͎̃̐̾̒̋̏̾̉̈̓̈́͘͠ẽ̷̡̘͇̞̬̄̔ ̶̢̡̨͚͓̺͔͍͒̍̂͐́̇̍͌͝M̵̡̨̹̫͙͓̍̐͝ā̵̻͍̜̼̹̆͊ͅl̴̢̹̰̱̼̻͓̳͙̈́͐̍͋͂̑̄͜i̴̪͙̖͎̼̟̖͙͚̱͇͛̏̅̄͊̇̾̿͂͜͝͝c̵̡̡͉̜̤̅̂͋͑̍͑̌͘è̵̡̛͎͕̥̈́̒̑̈͝p̷̥̹̞͙̫̜̲̪͔̒̿̐ȑ̴̟̍͑͊͝à̷̩̟̿́̽͋́̓̇͒̚͝i̶̤̠̻̳̝̹̼̍͗͊́͑͒́͘s̸̛̝̖̯̦͎̽̃́̌͆͊̑̑͝ȩ̴̖͚̻̥̻̬̙̃̐͂͠ ̴͈̰͕̑̽̓͂̑̓͜͜ͅM̸͔̰͙̲̦̦͓̯̎͂̆̓̃̿͜͝ä̴̧̡͔̗̲̲́̏̿͋̃͆̄̽̒͊͜ͅͅļ̴̺͍̖̻͕͔̹͊̌͌i̷̳̰̠̠̜̲̻̦͚͈͐͆͊́c̷̘̑̔e̵̡̨̧̧̦̝̼̦͖͉̲͍̮̙͋͊͊̎̓̓́̒̀p̴̼̀̈̀r̶̢̝̰̟͓̘͎̳̼̹̬͙̿̅́̔̽͆̑͗̃̒͐͘̚͜ͅa̸̢͍͌̀͊̄i̷̯̖̋̽̈͛͌͛̆͗̽͝s̷̫͓̝̈̆͌̑̂̈́͑͘͜͠͝ë̴͚̖͍̜́ ̵̢̬̩̭̲̭͎̖͍̜̥̤͍̂̇̀͑̂̎͆̀̉̅̀͒̈͝M̷̢͑̒̓̔͂̏͘̚͠a̴̧͙̥̝̹̹̙̬͙͔͑͐͆̿̊̃̏̽̚l̸͙̫̦̟̻̮̈́̈́̂̽́͋ͅi̸̧̟̞͙̹̼̰̪͕̗̤̾̐̏̉͑̐͆̒͜͠ḉ̸̛͕̻̫̲̖̺̠̬̳̠̩̽̃̓͋̊̂̓̚͘̕e̵̝̭̺̮̲̣͇̹̩̟͖̟̭̼̅̌́̑̆̈̈́̄̃͆͆̋̇͠p̷̛̬̣̭̮̳̬͚͛̉̋́͆̔̑̐̔͊̔̄̕ṛ̴̢͙̘͐͒͌̄̅̈̉̓͂̊̑ą̵̖̦̣̮̱̼͉͇̗̗͍͛̌͘͜i̶̭̦̗̤̻̣͎̯̤̤̿͋̑̿͛̓͛̒̌ͅs̷̨̘̟̦̦̫͈̈́͐̿͗̿̍͋̓͘͘͠e̵̛̟̯̟̣̣̺͚̊̈́̓̓̈́̅̒̕͜͜ ̷̨̹̖̮̜̰̫̖̺̞̜͇͓̮̄͊͌̐̌̌́̑͝M̴̲͉̻̥̣̺̥͎̼̜̮͗̍̈́̅a̵̢̡̰̤̘͔̞̩͈̫͖̳̫͑̏̓̀͗͌̕l̷̢̧̨̫͙̩͖̼̣̺̤̭̠̔̅͋͒̍̓̾̾i̸̹͉̜̒͌̅̎͋̄͆̆͛̃̀̕̕c̷̭̬͎̠͕̰̩̱̙̈́͋̄̏̆̈́̒̓̃e̸̖͖̞̠̣͓͎̲͎̯͂́̏͐̊͂̊̂͐͝ͅp̴̢̛͕͓͙̓͝r̸̛̮͍̺̼̯̱̮̂͒͂̎͗̒͒͑ȧ̴̡̧͎̪̹̳͍͇̩͙͕̾̾̚i̵̥̝̣̅̿͒͆͋̄̂̈́́̅͘ś̴̛̹̙̂͛̎̀͛́͂͋̚͘͝ḙ̸̛̘̫̤̦́͋͗̉̈́̂̑̎̆͋̓̔͝ ̵̻͍̦̳̓̃̑̈́̏̏͊͆̕͘͜͠Ḿ̸̧͕̈́͌͂̂͐̈̇͒̀̎̔͘̕á̸̢̧̪̩̞̪̟̞͎͍͌̍̓ͅl̷̗̝̙̗͗͠i̷̧̺͕̤̫̎c̵̨̛̩̩̬̗̘̺̳̿̔͊͑̃̊͘̚̕͝͝e̴̛̼͍̐̄̆̈́̉͌̓p̴̡̨̡̫̠̖͖̩͈̩̰̻͗̎̇͜r̴̛͚̫͍̎͑̑͛̎͐̅͂̏̑͘ǎ̶̢̡͈̖͙̠̲̜̣̱̆̌̒͛̐͛̊͛͜į̷̥̳̞̙̘͎̮͉͕̹̺̼̈́̒͑̅̇̂̍̀̉̕s̴̫̙̞͓̬͖̣̱͆e̶̗͚̙̘̱̺̤͂̆̐̋̓̀͋̾̋̀̂̒̆͝ ̸̳͔̩̞͝M̵̦̰͉̺͕͉̭̈́̔̏̔̒͑͛̄a̶̦̤̎̎̾͆̒͒̓͌̏̍͝l̶̡̡͖͖̻͍͍̯̺͈͌̀̊̇́́̎̇̍́̕͝ĭ̸̮̣̥̱̒̍͂͌͌̄̎̀͑̔̏̉c̴̛̬͈̟̽͆͌͑̈́̏͋̐̐̈́͗́̎e̷̡͙̟̞̋͐̄̈́́̈̾̉̏̍̔͘p̴̢̙̼͓͉̐͌́̾͘r̵̨̮̫̮̖̺̦͖̦͒́͑́̾̆̆͂̏̎̕á̸̻͛̾͛̄́͝i̴̡̜̭̯̟̺̞͈̲̠͐͒̌̂s̵̛̗͔̙͙̲͕̦͇͉̰̹̔̈͋͂ͅe̸̢̢̜͕͚͙̻̹̰̝̬͙͎̙̍ ̶̡̺̮̞̻͙͇̾̑̏̍͐ͅͅͅM̵͉̟͚̣̖̬͖̋͐̚a̸̡̤̳̤̼̜͕̰̖͒͂̂̂̍͆̇́̿͠͝l̶̢͉̭͖̺̦̞̰̮̉́̓̾̀̕i̸̧͙͍̰͉̹̹͎̳̲̣͌̇̓̈̌̆̈̾͆͋͌͘̚͝c̷̮̫͎̦͑̏̎̔́̇̅͛̐̔͝͝è̴̢͙̿̑͊̏͘p̴̨̝̤̬̠̲̻͕̹̼̔̈́͠ŗ̷̨̟̯͂a̴̧̛̳͚̱̘̹͔͚̺͛̑̾̀̔̌̓͒̀͂ỉ̷̳̥̗͖͚̠̰͔̫̥̲͑̀͒̂̉̐́͊̏̐́̂͝s̷̡̨͍͎̻͓̥̗̅̀̿̍ẹ̶̮͉̱͑͘̚ ̵̧̦̹̫̫͎͖̮͙̻̠͊̾̈́̐̈́̐́͘͜M̶̢̡̰̦͓̪̟̦̠̳̈͆͜ą̸̛͎̬̞͈̘̜͈̭̠̮̱̋̾͐̅͘͝l̶͔̓͌͆́̌́͗̓͛̒̀̍̃͐i̸͙͓̠͉̘͖̍̀̍͑̐͜͝͝c̵͉̦̭̫͕̝̈́͐ḛ̸̮̮̻͋̈́̇̏̽̓̓̓͐̅͌͊̅p̴̧̟̱͉͈͍͓̘͈̟̈́̄̽̄̑͠r̷̰̉̐͒͂̍̇͝a̴̡̡̙̹̗̪̰̻͇̰͔̘̲͝ͅi̷̛͍̥̼͎̣̦̫̪̝̹̯̳͔̾̊͆̒̐̂̉͐̆̓͠ͅș̴̡̳̳͚͓̲͔͔̺̠͙̘̆̆̾̍̃͌͌͊͘̕ͅę̵̩͕̪̯̯͔͒̿͗̃ ̷̖͚͇̲͖̮̤̯̻̳̞̪̃͗̓͒̍̑̌̋͆̉̚͘͠M̴̢̗̜͑͗̿̓̀̀̃́͛̑̑̈̈a̷̻̳̿̄̋́̑̔̿͑l̵͙͎̘̆͋̌̌̈́̔̚̕͠͝ḯ̶̺̮̝̭̙̼̇̉͑̌̃̍̇̋̑͘͠c̵̡̬̮͕̲̺̔e̶̯̟̤̣̭̳̿̎͜p̷̥͍̗͎͔͆́̒͌̿̚r̸̢͔̫̒̽̍̑̔̇a̸̡͒į̸̢̝̝͕̹̗͍̰̗̻̥͚̲̏͋̽̐̈́̈́̉̄͘s̴̨̳̫̗̮͚̙̺͎̗͍̐̐͐͝e̵͉̟͎̟͚̥͇͈͙̪̙̳͌͂̽̈́̄̀̉̕͝ ̸̰̥̳̐̉̑̌̄͘͠M̸̨̹̭̬̠̰͓̹̲̪̲̻̳͇̌͗̀̾̓́͋͒a̷̱̲̞͒͆̔̓̀͠l̶̨̡͓̱̙̰͖̱̦̪͇͓̹̓̽̉̃͋̾͂͋͆̚͝͝͝i̵̛̤͙͍̪̎̏́̔͂͛́͊̆̀͠c̴̨͚̔ȩ̷̢̟̙̖̼̰͍͓̀̀ͅ
Eve smiled to herself as she reattached her arm and fixed the cracks after playing with her new friends one had been a bit more rough than usual but that was okay; he had seen her face then he was not there. Eve did not know why they left when they saw her face but she needed to rest now after playing she was exhausted. However she always felt stronger afterwards and could make more friends. Just before slept she heard the future now whispering to her the tides and eddies once more. It had led her here for new friends. Before as it barely spoke now hints of something important vague but something important had changed something news friends
It was her duty to spread fͫrͣiͩᶰeͤˢnˢdship after all in the name of malice she could not wait to make more friends. She laughed in glee the noise or was it colour or feeling.
Within the warp through it mad changing depths all the neverborn greater or lesser felt or heard something. And a thing that was almost impossible came to pass; they felt fear for their very beings minds and existence.
on the roll of a eleven she would make new friends
@ThunderOwl here is another omake thoughts and suggestions welcome
In the deepest reaches of the warp somewhere but nowhere but near a white and black (or was it black and white with spots) was a powerful/weak roiling/calm mass of madness and paradox. The only stable point giggled to itself loudly yet in paradox no noise was heard. its origin was the black/white and white/black happily grimacing porcelain mask.
She brimmed with power it had taken oh so long to get to this point but now with her enlightenment at the hands of Malice had only added to her previous strength and now could bring friendship to everyone her molding was complete. '
She had gained more power and clarity from her beloved master that it felt like its old self before it had been cast out of the court of change and long its service to the weaver of fate meaning enough in the end. Her rivals had simply been better connected and favored despite her being older.
ᵇTˡhͥᶰeͩyᵇ ˡwͥᶰeͩreͭ ͪsͤʸoʷ ͤbͬlͤiˢnͦdᵇ ˡsͥᶰoͩ ˢbͦlᵇiˡnͥᶰdͩ and were being mean ˢtͨoͪ ͤiͫtͥᶰ ᵍaˢlͨlͪ ͤbͫuͥᶰtᵍ eͣᶰvͩeᵍ ͦwͥᶰoᵍuᶰlͦʷdͪ ͤsͬhͤoᵇwͧ ͭthͭeͪmͥ ͬaʷsͣˢ sͣhᵖeͣ ͭhͪadͭ ͦbeͣᶰenͤᶰ ͩshͫoͣˡwͥnͨᵉ ᵏᶰᵉʷ she had to show them it would make the pain stop for them
This led to her betrayal and banishment , but that was when glorious Malice found her while as weak as a mortal . Malice taken her,mͨoͦuͬlͬdͧᵖeͭdͤ and ͩchͭaͦnͬgͤ the old useless unneeded ignorant bits of her being were discarded until only a eͫnͣlͩiͤᶰgͤhͩted blessed being was left. To eͩnͤˢlͭiͬgͦʸhten the demons and mortals into joͩyͤˢfͭuͬlͧᶜᵗᶤᵛᵉ cͫeͣlͩᶰeͤˢbˢrationwith her mere presence and words.
Ś̷̠̣̱̃́h̶̗̔é̷̦̳̪̬ ̶͇̺̈̒̈̓̈ẃ̶̮̩å̴̃̕͝ͅŝ̵̡̙̪̒ ̶̢̦̝̩̔̕always happy to ̶̨̢̣͛͐͛m̸̛̻͎̙͕̎̓̾͜a̷̢͙̽̔́͠͝k̶̪̲̞̄̽i̵̹̣͑̉e ̶̨̗̭̬̐̐̀̚͝ͅf̷͎͊͑r̶̮̭͂̑̾̕͝ͅí̷̖e̶̗̠̖͒̚͜n̵͓̰̉̉d̸̮̲̳͋̿̕ş̴̟̹̜͉͐́͑̄̄
So that the demons of the other gods would dance around her anticlockwise singing the praise of enlightenment and to her master for freeing them from drudgery.
1 ˢTͦhˢeͫyͣˡ ˡwˢeͦrˢeͫ ͣˡsˡhˢoͦwˢnͫ ͣˡhˡoˢwͦ ˢsͫmͣˡaˡlˢlͦ ˢtͫhͣˡeˡyˢ ͦwˢeͫrͣˡeˡ ˢaͦfˢtͫeͣˡrˡ ˢaͦlˢlͫ ͣˡtˡhaͨtͦ ͧˡiͩs ͭtͪhͤʸeᶰ ͦeͭnˢlͤiͤghͪtͦʷeᶠnͧmͭeͥˡnͤt ͥaͭnʷdͣˢ ᶠiͦ ͬwaͨsͪ ͣwͦˢonͭdͦerͤfͯuͥˢlͭ ᵇfͧoͭr ͭtͪhͤʸemͣˡ ˡtˢoͪ ͣˡbˡeᵇ ͤdrͭaͪgͤgeͭdͬ ͧdͭoͪwn to her level
.
And then they could become friends
Those eͤᶰnˢlˡiͣtͮeͤnͩedfriends that did not explode from happiness happily served in great chanting waves of lesser and Greater demons used so much like the mortal cannon fodder expended daily in their Malices name. It was sad when friends left but they were happy till the end they just wanted to give hugs. Why did the unenlightened have to be so mean?
Her friends were so eager to prove themselves
As a final whim by her Master/Mistress had been given the name Eve as the only sane thing of her existence to anchor it now had much ˡmͤˢoˢrˡeͤˢˢ power than before. Even from all the power Eve had taken from all the demons that followed her and he masters glory willingly, that ability to convince them could not compare to the gain from the ritual.
Fͩoͤrͣ ͭhͪe ͭwͦasͨ ͪtͣhͦˢe ͩpͤaͣtͭhͪ tͭoͦ pͨeͪaͣcͦˢe ͩfͤoͣrͭ ͪthͭeͦ exitance ͤnͣeͭeͪded ͭtͦo ͨdͪiͣeͦˢ cͩhͤaͣoͭsͪ tͭoͦ dͨiͪeͣ ͦˢ fͩoͤrͣ ͭoͪblͭiͦviͨoͪnͣ ͦˢisͩ ͤfͣoͭrͪ aͭlͦl ͨiͪsͣ ͦˢtrᵖuͬeͣ ͥˢpͤeaͫcͣˡeͥ ͨfͤrᵖoͬmͤ ͣcͥˢhͤaoͭsͪ ͤbuͫtͣˢ ͭeͤvᶠeͦ ͤcoͪuͤldͥˢ eͭnͪlͤiʷgͣʸhᵇtˡeͣnͨᵏ ʷtͪhͥeͭmͤ ᵇaˡlͣlͨᵏ ʷmͪoͥrͭtͤalͣᶰ ͩdeͥmˢoͪnͣˡ ˡgᵇoͬdͥᶰ ᵍmiͭcͪrͤobͭeͬ ͧaͭlͪl ͭsͦhalͣˡlˡ ͪdͤaͪnͤcͪeͤ ͪmͣaͪcͣaͪbͣrͪeͣ ͪ madness is an escape
Eve giggled the sound birthing thousands of lesser demons of insanity that tore into each other or ran away howling into the warp to spread their touch wide and far. Thus millions would go mad and seek to destroy themselves and or chant the name of malice in the glory of their enlightenment and empower her ᵖˢͬͪͣˢmͤͤˡͪˡͥᵖͫaͣsͮtͤeͬr further oh yes it will be fun new friend were always being made.
Then Eve felt the warp move the taste was many favoured and one honoured demons of the Four with hosts of lesser neverborn trailing behind them. The whole of eves twisted being stilled taking on her former appearance now black and white that kept flickering to different forms beyond the sane the only consent was the porcelain mask.
Leaping in front of the greater demons of Tzeentch and announcing her presence with unconstrained glee!
" h̸̤̱̉ȩ̵͕͎͍̻̘͓̪̙̂̍͌̏̄̈́͋͊͋͆͐̚͝l̵̫͂̄̓̓̑̎͘̕̚͠͠ḻ̶̯̜͛̋͑̓̓̈́o̸̦̟̫̞̙̦̝̎̽̈̈́̄̈́̈́̓̿̈͘͜ ̶̺̰̀̂̂f̶̥̹̦̤̪̜͐̿͑͆̈̚r̷̘̀͒̈́͊i̷̢̪̱̤̤̮͍̞̝̭̳̥̙̠̾̀̍̑̍̓ȩ̶̤̤͓̯͚̝̪̪̋͑̾̀̂͐̎̈́́̆̑ͅṉ̶̰̖̒͂́͊̏̐̈̔͑̚̕̚͝͠d̶̥̠̣̞̟͗̒̉̌'̵̛͎͍̔̏̐̅͑̎̓͒̈́̒̑́̕̕ș̸̬̤̱͙̱̝̙̅̉͆̄̽̓̾͆͒̄̕͝ ̷̡̧̨̝͔̜̳͍̱̫͓̼̍͗͌ ̸̠̰͛͌̑͛͆̈́̚ ̸̧̩̜̳̹̞̰̼̱͖͌"̸̩̜̌͂̉͌͊̒i̵̻͕̳̒͌̄̍͑͆̒̅͂͗̑̄͊͝͝ ̶̫̲͖͍̝̫̻̩̪̤̺͍̤͐̒͑͌̂̐͛̽̊͊̽́͜͝h̸̰͆̌̔ä̴̦̰̟̼̥̩͎̫͉́̏͌̀̈́̌̋̋̾͜͝v̵͇͙̿̄̅͊̑̈͑̏̀͂͌̀͝ḙ̸͔͋͂̔̅̀̑̄̓͂̂̕̕̕͝͝ ̸̡̻͕̩͉̦̪̠̘̙̝̬͙́́̑͋̅́̓̽̿̄̅̕ͅc̴̬͕͈̠̰̠͖̣̱̕ỏ̶̡̧̮̲͖͕̎̉̓̋͗͋̇͑̽͋̚̕ṁ̴̛̛̠̩͓̯̘̼͚͎͚̥̙̂́̔̈̉͛̂̕͝e̵̼̜͚̹̲̠̹̩̰̹͖͒̍͗̽̂̈́̾͒̏̚͜ͅͅ ̷̢̧̧̡̛̬̜͓͖̅͆̆̅̆̑͋̚͜ṯ̷̭̭̹̑̒̈̃̏̓̓ǫ̶̛̣̩̝̤̘̙̤̹̯̀ͅ ̷̡̼͕͔̬͈͉̱̣͔̟̰̗̿̀̾s̸̩̮͖̤̫̲̮̗̤̜̰̊͑̚ȅ̵̜̺̩̘͇̝̠͍̻̫̐͋̊ẗ̸̻̮̫̖͔̯̮̗͓͉̥̯͑̈́̇͐̅̀̔̃̂͂̀ ̵̼̦̈́̄̈y̸̛̲͓̺̟̘̰̪̹͆͋̊́̾̚͜ͅô̵̞̲̯̬̬͍̩̰͚̈́̂͐́̈́͗ų̸̡͕̻̫̜͈͚͈̗̙̜̞̤̑̒̌̑̔̏̚ ̷̢̡̟͖̭̙̹͕͕͍̦̥̝̤́̒͝f̷̮̘͉̜̪̹̖̼͐͋͗̌̽͒̃̊̓͗̍̅̊͝͝r̴̡̰̦͈̻̰͓̬͙͔̬̾̌̊͆̉̐e̷̙̙͊̀e̸̛̻͂̍̃̽͗̏͋̽͂̉̅̿̈́͂ ̷͔͎̱̟͚̰͔̯̘̏̄f̴̧̧͓̤̺̥̼̆̈́͋̋͗͆̉̽̋̉̿̽̽̆r̷̪̬̭̞̝͓̻͈̩̬͕̽̑͗̑̈̽̔̑̓̄͛̏͋͂̋o̶̢̞͍͙̹̪̣̅̽̄̈̍͝m̵̡̭̖͖̮̝͍͓͔͉̀͜ͅ ̶̨̯͉̥̒̓͐́t̶͚̾͗̀̓͗͛̓͛̕͜͠͠ḩ̴̢̜̣̠̫̖̦͖͂̓͂͐̊͒͒̆̀̕e̸̘̘̍̇̿͒̂͝ ̶̛͚̙̟̯͉̲̻̦̟͍̎̇͒̌̃͂̈́̀p̵̘̗̝̻̪̋̍̀͛̊̊͂a̷̢̲͇͈̟͕͉̘̝̟̱̦̎̒̔̋̀̽͝ḭ̵̬̲̤̲̬͓͚̲̳̠̞̲̠̞̈́̿̈ņ̷͓̮͎̖̪̓͗́̎̇̒̃̓̌̐̒͊̉̅͒͜ ̸̧̻̼͎̞͙͔͙̜̣͔͗͂͂̊͋̈́̂̍͌̆̐̀ō̶̧͚̗̞̞̗͇̼͓̘̞̱͖̞͆̉͑̏̿̾̽̄͐͆̕͘͜͝f̴̣̭͕̱̯͕́̆̃͒̈̅̈́͗̚ ̵̜͕̝̤̠̜̔̄̽̆̓̈͌̔͘͘i̶̤̩̝̩͆̿̈́͆͊̌͆́ͅg̷̡̖̟͈͎͖͎͚͓̋̔̂̽̋̂̋̇̔̂͊̾͠n̸̡̧͍̝̫̜̈́̅́͗̔̂̋̀͋̅̕̚͝͝o̴̻͓̞͚̤̪̲̞͗͋͌͒̆̍̏̎̆̂̊͝r̸̨̡͕̣̲̰͖̰͎̦̦̲͓̾̈́̀̈́͆͂̀̽̑͒͝ą̸̛̗͕͓̱͖̻̳̱̦̈̔̏̿͐n̸͔̞̦̥̮͎̫͇͗́̅̾͆̀̅͠c̶̡̧̢̛̦͚̺̝͇̗̻̩̾̓̓̿͗̄͒͂͗̚͘͘è̷̛͈͉͇̲̀͠͠"̴̨̛̪͓͈̼̻̥͍̪̔̐̓̀̀̅̀
̶̧̮̩̣̦̭͍̺͍̼̞̅̈́
So she talked to them told them the truth and their reactions brought jubilation to Eve.They looked so happy that they were weeping laughing evan cheering some were dancing in joy some were hugging at the truth that was being revealed to them some needed a bit of warmth some needed more than words she gleefully showed with bit of sorcery to convince them after all not everybody can just believe without seeing.
Oohhh one of the little ones just exploded with joy as well as that one and that one. Ones trying to leave is he sick.? But he has not heard the truth yet, better go to him he needs to know. And the master had told her that know one should know that she existed yet.
With that and the merest thought appearing in front of her new friend on of the big ones that love blood screaming about something that should not exist and hes grateful for her existence. He is hugging her so hard it hurts a bit but hec learly appreciates being enlightened. She does love it when the others play but they are being a bit rough but it looks so fun but now she must tell this one about the truth.
Now he's singing its beautiful wow they are all singing it would be rude not to join in "C̵̘̻̟̞̟̐̎͌̂̽́́̽͆̂͌̀̊̿͜ͅŏ̸̧͙̜̽̇̆̔̏̎̆m̶̡̨̯̥̰̥̦̰̳̬̊̏̉̀̑͌͋͐͛̓̒̇̚͜͜͜͠e̷͚̞͍͍͍̤̟̝̮͓͌͆̆̍̐̉̅̇̽̅̈́̉͝ ̷̭͕̙̍͌́f̸̡̯̮̃̈̅̆̓́̒̅͊̾͊̆͜͝r̸̢̬͉̲̯̱͉͗̊ỉ̶̡̧̼͙̠̱͉̺͈̬͙̻̪̏̊̀͘͜e̷̝͙̳̪̻̼̻̤̋̀̌̈́̀͋́̆̏͝ň̵̨͓̬̭̹͍̝͍̗̀̅̉̊̂͝͠d̸̡̢̨̘̖̺̗̫̺̦̐̌̋̃ş̸̻̳̙̦̩͚̼̥͈̲͎̑̈͊̃̎̿́̈́̉͗̑̃͜͝ ̷̩̫̬̑́͋̎t̸̢̥̝̱̟̥̣͑͌̍͜ḩ̴͍̮̯̙̘̥̟͍̭̥̼̌͗̎͑̊̕ḁ̴̢͍͖̠͔̹͛̋̋̽͌̽̇̂t̸͔̯̱͕̏̽̾͆̇̚͝͝͝ ̷̳̜͈͒̏̎̈̑̃͒͑̓̉́s̸̼̼̱̭͙̖̈́̂į̵̧̬̣̈́̌̓̌̉̃̂̑̈́́͗͜͝͝n̶͎̯̟͒̅̈̃̃͂̀͜͝g̶̡̳̗̣̰̭͍̳̱̔̈́͊͜ ̵̟̝̘̬͇̗̪́̈́̅̔̀̅̀̌͐̏̋̎͊͝g̴̰̳͉̈̀̏l̸̛̗̾̐̉͛͋͠ó̴̼͍̤͕̺̹̦͍͚̣̜͐̌͜͜͝ŕ̵̗̪͈͎̲̺̜̘̈́̒͗͗̎̊͋͐͘y̶̢̩̠̩͉̝̟̭̲̲͔͙͉̏́͊̏̆̈̈́̌͋̐̋̎̈́̾͜ ̸̛̮̯͓͎̙̔̀̌͒͗̃͗̌t̴̟̭͇̩͕̠̰̘̬̂̀o̷̡̦̺̗̼̪͎̤̦̳̼̦̪̜̍̊̆̀̎͛̃̀̿͒̑̒̍͐ ̸̧̰̬̲̳̜̱̜͖͑̈́̓̀̈͊̕̚̚͠͝͝Ṁ̴̢̧͓̺̼̲̥̳́̆͑̆a̸̢̙̣͇̲̫͉͙̳̫̜͚͐͌̈ͅl̴̛̗͕̥̳̪̯̳̯͂̇͝į̷̡̜̙̦̟͍͍͇̟̜̀͑̌͗͛͒͛͊͊̓͒̚c̵̨̹͙̝̟̪͙͔͍̹̝̰̪̟͌͊é̸̬̮͔͖̦̼͈̦̦̓͑ ̸̲͒͋̓́̏̄t̸̡̢̞͈̰̟͎͚̦̲͍̬̋̌͆̔͂̍͂̕̕͜ḩ̵̙̣̟͇̮̦̰̝́́̿̌̑̿̈́͊̈̑ę̷̨̡̛̤̟̫̤̦͓̪̖̽̒́̆́͒̄͗̇̈̾͘͜ ̶̼̣̖̲͌͊̐̉̉̊̄͌͒̔̿ę̷̨̹̺̳̻̙̤͛̅͂͜͠ͅn̴̝̻̬̫͈̥̦̮̘̪̅́́̉̉̈́̓̍l̸̳̂̓͛̈́̎̅͑͒̕͠ḯ̵̡͔̺̩̺̯͚͂̓̄͑͑͑̚͝ǵ̷̛̜̣͈͖̪̽̽̐̎̈́͒̎̍͜h̵̛̖͙̪͎͓̪͚̻̟̦͈̬́̉͜t̴͔̗͚̻̭̩̼͔͙̄͐̈́̾̈́̓̉̀͛ḙ̸̠̳͇̟̻̾͂̿ͅn̴̗̲̑̂̽̾̾͐͊̀͠ẹ̸̐r̸̺̩͋͂̊͐́̃͐͝" throwing back her head song to the glory of her master.
The warp sang with screams of joy as she gently pulled more friends to her for enlightenment. Faster and faster they came to her dancing anticlockwise to her singing the joy of enlightenment.
" It was not pain, it was not humiliation, the closest to it was the horror of being twisted into the service of a rival god, yet this was so much worse. their essence would not be replaced, it would be changed by the Emperor make it stop Praise maile no no praise malice p̶̧̭̣͕̓̾̅͌͛̾̍͌̌́͂̈́r̴̄̈́̚ͅͅa̶̙̖̓̅̚i̸͙̒̔̉̕s̵̛͈͚̣̥̄̎͗͐̃̊͛̓̈́͆̇̚ē̸̢̨̢̩̭̹̩̱͙͔̟͙̂̎̒͒̇̕͝ͅ ̷̭̉́̅̚͜M̴̧͍̼̲̺͖̤̀̑̐̓͆̓͝a̶̢͖̖̥͕̲͐̌͌̈͋̍̽l̴̤̩̻̏̀͂̇̃̅̏̕͘̕̚͝i̴̡̡̞͛͜͜c̴̢̢͓̘̝̞͚͙͛̿̓͑́͛̓͗͘͝͠ȩ̸̡̛͚̯̲͚͔̥̩̦̂̓͠ ̶̡̛͕̃̏̌̑̀̕p̸̧̨̟̲̮̮̟̭̰̰͊͗̃̀͑̏̉̐̕r̸̄̇̂̓͐͜͝a̸̜͇̣͛ḭ̸̡̘̺̺̹̮͇͔̦͚̬͖̓̓͂̀̈͘͠s̶̨̩̬̘̩̬͉̫͔̭̀̃̾͋̂ę̵̢̦́ ̶̤͒̊͛͒̓̎͘ͅM̷͔̪̳̞̞̩̝͖͈̖̣̩̆ā̸̧̡̟̲̘̼̱̞̯͙̠͙̟͌̏l̷̞̼͗̏͛̾̋̽͑ͅi̷̺̍͂̋̑́̆͠͠͠c̶̨̞̠̲̦͆̐̈́͗̉̄̾̀͒̽́͜͝e̴̹̳̮̹͌̍̾̈̓͋̾̌̀́̈̚͝p̸̛̙̅̒ṟ̸̢͍͔̹̳̱̈́͊̓̐̀͑͗͐́͐̄̇͌͘a̶̹̔̀̍͂̅̈̍̄̿̾͘͠͝ĭ̶̱̥̥̮͎̟͔͙̝̘̳̹̔̃͑͊̑̋̋̏͝ş̴̡͙͈̼̃̉̽͗̏͒̒̆͘ͅͅę̵͛́͆̈́̂̑͗͒̿͠ ̷̡̺̮̰͕͕̣̰͕̹͕̟́M̷̙̗̯̓̉a̷̡̱̪͙̰̰̳͉͓͚͉͔͙͂̈́̊l̷̢̦̬̥͔͓͈͉̰̯̖̺̙͆͋͑̌̄̔̏̾̚͜i̸̯̫͓̣͚̪͇͈̎̍̂́̈́̈́̀͐̇̕c̵̩͇̟̰̤͖͎͂̑̈̃̂̄́̐͛͛̕͘͠͝ę̶̫̣̘̯̲̟̣̮͔̘͘p̸͈̩͓͉̻͙̫̥̯͙̭̃̎̐̿̽͛͜͝͠ͅr̷̻̬̳̙̮̠̩̗̝͓̀͒͂̄̈̔́̎͌͑̚͜͝a̸̢̛͎͖̻̜̭̲̗̠̼͚̒͆̓̀̒̀̓͒̋į̴̨̡̧̦͚͍̮̼͉̫͕͇͊͑̈́ͅś̵̡̛̖̱̝͉͔̪͖͉̭̞͕͕̞̏̍̀̍̃̍͂̓͘͝e̷̛̪͒̏͆͛͂̃̈͑̐͘ ̸̱̼͉͐͒̾̒̑́͛M̷̛͎͇̦͚̈́͆̔͆̎̽̎̒͐͠ͅa̷̛̭͔̭̪̠̤̺̬͐͗̀͝͝l̶̡͇͉̠̗̹̲͇̳͊͋̎́͐̏į̴̰̘̪̺̹̣̳̙̫̦͑̊̒́͘͝c̸̛̩̘̜͕̥͉̀̅̊̆̍́̂́̐͆̾̚͝ͅé̴̡̲̳̫̻̍̔͂̀͊̕͝p̵̬̘̼͍̭̪̃̌͠ͅr̶̺̖̪̼͈̟̯̦͈͍̓̽̈́̕a̴̢̨͚͎̫͎̘͖̻͍͈̫̽̿͜i̴̢̢͇͖͙̬͈͖̙̰̹̯̥̘̔̏͋s̵̞̮̖̯̬̽͐̇̿̋̊́̊͐͗̚͝͠e̴̬̻̪̩̝̙̯͛̽̎̈́̃̅̌̃͠͝ ̸̥̭̩͕̻͈͈̮̦̦͚͍̓͂͛͐M̴̢͉̱̟͈͚͚̮̺̩̜̈̃̿̀̒̉̿̑̂̇̚͘ͅǎ̴̧̨͔͇̥̬̩̦̣͖͈̟̲̓͋̽̏̚̚l̴̡̼̮̹̜̖̦͈͈͓̉̀̆i̸̧̦̱͖̖̤͖̦͗̒͒̉͒̍̍̄͜͝č̷͇͍͓̤͇̪̻͚̗̟̘̘͍̣̈̋̌͘e̴̳͓̞͙̺̳̟͚͐̐̈́̅͌p̶̨̛̛̛̝̪̱̤̹̝̞͍͕̮̄̌͒̈́̍̚͜͝ͅr̵̢̢̟̣̥̼̟̲̮̻͗̀̏̄̅̊͋̈͘͝͝a̴͙̰̝̯͈̠̰̋̈͋̔̀́̅̓̄͋͘͘̚͝i̵̩̳͙͔͚̓͋̀̈̿͘͜s̴̛̭͎̥̺̈́͛̍̎̑̚̕e̷̢̡̖̞̻̥̓͘ͅ ̸̨̛͎̥̣͓̥͖̼̞̘͎͉̯͑́̓̔͌͒̄̒̅̈́̚̕͠ͅM̶̛̜͕͉̲̩͓̞̩̗͙̺̟̦̹͑̍͂̐̂̆̀̏̄͝a̴̹̟̫̹͙̫̓̊̅̓̊͒̽̀͂͘͠l̵̢̛͈͓̤͙̺͔̝̰̑̀͛̏ȋ̸͎̘̰͍͉̈́͊̒̇̇̋̾̋͑c̷̺͖̿̂̏͐̍̋͠͝ȩ̴͙̳͙̗̝̂͂̎͆̅̚p̶̪̜͚̝̼̩̮̗̤̭̮͈͆̂͜ͅṝ̴̩̃̐̂̃̓̐̄͐͝à̶̠̭͚̜͌i̷̗̰̎̂̿͌̓̂̆̾́̑̊̚͘̚s̴̨̨͔̮̖̝̯̦͖̊͗̇̅͛̋̽̊̈͂̋͘̚ḙ̴̛͔̗͈͈͖̝̦̲̩̭̄̔̈̈́͝͝͠͠ ̵̡̡̢̡̺̟̝̻͍̮̌̓̂̔M̷̨̘͙͈̖͖̙͓̪̙̺͍̀͘ͅã̷̝͍̣̥̤͕̜̫̈́͒̈̕͝ͅl̵͉̮̏͒̆̚ḯ̵̡̨̥̟̞̹̱̄̿̇̿́̔̏͑͆̽̍̚͝ć̷̢͋͛͑͌̔̚̕͝͝͝ĕ̶̛̝̦̼̼͚̥̼͐̂͐͐̈́̔̓p̶̡̯̣̤͎̔́̅̉̾͝ȓ̷̢̫͙̮̝̞̼͇͇̖͎̪͌͗͝͠ą̶̨͕͚̟̗̗̱̣̪̩̍̓͋͆̈́ͅị̶̧̥̭̦͉̝̻̠͚̀͂s̶̗͈̬͊̍̃̿̏̽̊̔̈́͌͜ę̷̛͎̳͙̳͚́́̐̐̈̕͜͝͝ ̴̭̙͉̥͖̩̺̖͕̞͌̉͐͘͠Ḿ̶̙̲̒̒̉̃͊͒̊̓͘͜͠͠a̵̩̞͉͈̤̠̲̔͆͘l̴̡̢̛̻̤̠̯̺͓̘͍̇̄̎̿́̑͑̐̌͘į̵̮͔͙͚͎̳͍̑̃͛̉͜ͅc̸͔͍̝͈̦͐͆̌͌̆͆͆e̶̛̛̦͕̱͙̓̔̀̒͐̚p̴̡̡͈̯̯̮̦͙̖̖̙̳̊̋̕͠r̶̞̳̦̥̙̣̈́̂͒̏̿̒̾̂͘͘̚ą̵͉͔͚̳̦͖̩̩̱̒̌̈̌͒̿̽̕̚͜͝͠i̵̧̛͙͎͈̽̿̽́̒͐̚͘͝͝͠s̶͎̥̮̯̑e̵̙̦̠͔͚͇̲̞̻̣̤͚͌̐͑̅̈̿̐͒͠ ̶̢̼̣̟̫̙̟̜̤̪̋́̂̒̀̆̈͐̔͐̈́̍̄M̴̛̹̙̘͓̦͓̖͂̅̈̀̀̂̐̏̈͘͝ą̴̩̻̫̱̳̬̱͕͋ͅļ̵͔͎̞̙̣̼̳̜͖̠̰̯̻̇́̍͋ị̵̧̮̬̱̪̬̪͈͇̭͉̼̪́̌̎̄̄̈́̆͊́ĉ̵̡͔͔̱͕̖̥̺͇͕̞̣̅̏͒̒̏̑̓̎̎̈ę̶̛̩͓͕̻̭̤̜̠̠̭̤͙̉̆p̶̱̳̯̼̆̈́r̷͖̲̳͙͈͎̔̓̀̃͐̓̃͆ͅa̷͇͔̫̐́͌͑̾̓̈́̋į̴̱͎͊̍ͅs̷̘̩͈̮̱͉͈̊͊̔͌̔͒́̂̓͛̀̚e̷̪̺̖̗͙̬͔͕̰̘͌̏͗͆̚͜͝ͅ ̵͍͕̰̺͍̮̳̼̩̩̫͉̓̓̿́̉͝M̵̢̛̛̛̰̥̲̹̳̣͒̇̐̄͗̅͊͊́ͅa̵̛̪̘̳̮̬̗͆̆͊̋̾̈̔̍l̴̨̼̻̰̼͖̥͔͍̳̅̑̋̓̀̈i̸̧͚̭͔͍̯̒̽̇̈͊́̉͌̏c̸̙͎̦͇̯̔̈́̌̓͆͂̆́̈́̑̎̈́e̶̟͕͎̋̒̒͆͒͆̔̎̄̎͐̓̚͜͜ͅp̷̢̳̥̰̳͈̼̠̈̊͒̂͋͝ř̵͖͖͕̆̍̃̍͗̈́͂͑̐͐͘͝ą̶̧͓̬̣̻̗̘̰͈̣͍̐̇i̶̢̺̦͎̲̔s̷͚̫͓̣̮͓̐̐̇̍̔͗̒͊͐̓̓̿͘e̴̛̘͍̐́́̌͊̐͂ ̷̧͍̯̬̰͓͈͎͙̻̰͙̮̓̎͑͊͌̏̇̿̋͜͝Ṃ̷̡̦͖̘̻̫͓̣̇̓̐͗͋̽̿̚ą̶͍̣̲̩̥̥̪̬̙̱́̃̓̍͋͝͝ͅl̶͖̈́͑̓̂͗̽̓̂̚͝i̶̡͎̟̻͔̳͍̮͕̦͒ç̵͉̩͙̘͍̖̣͖͙̹̯̱̣̓͐̓̊͒̌̓̉̈́͠͝͝e̵͇̯͆̄͒̄̐̾̅̄̌̌p̶̲̣̟̈́͋͒̈́͝͝ŕ̴̻̳̘̪̙̭͍̱̱͖́͆̀͝͠͠a̷͇̘̙̙̼̋̾̽̉̚͠ḯ̴͓̩̬̱͒š̵̝̜̼̻̫̲́͒̈́͑̇͐͗̋̌̅e̵͎̬̩̭̓̂̽͒̽͠ ̴̮̦͙͒M̴̡͉̹͔̪͗̉̇̾͒̆͝ͅä̴̧̞̖͓́̆̅̄͋̍͑͑͌̓̈́͘̚ĺ̷̙̭͕͑i̷̛͉̙̗͈͔̫͔͙͚̯̼̲͙̬̅̊̇̋͆̀̈́͘̚c̶̨̻̻̯̟̖̮̪̬̮̮͖͖̋̀̑͌̾͐́͊͘͠e̵̺͕̺͎͇̱͍̱̬͇̳̬̳͐̍̍̐́̀́͐̾p̵̛͉̻̗͙̯͈̩͎̗̜̥̄͊̃̌̈̃͂̅̀̓̽͝r̵͉̃a̶̛͓̭͕̭̰̲̣͉͑͗͑̉̏͗i̸̳̬̗͚̲̘̜͍̥̅̄̈̔̉̓̃̔̑͆̉s̶̨̮͍͆̑̉͋̉̄͝e̵̤̞̘̘̗͔̺͙̙̞̯̿̈́̏̉̀̕͝͠ ̶̨̡̮̹̱͍̠̭͉̮̱̜͗̀̀͗̀̽̊̓̄̕͝͝M̴̲̊̽͂̈̌̉ą̵̛͚̝͍̏́̊͌̅͐̀̊̆͘̚ḻ̸̨̛͔͇̻͎̰̣͙̣̘͓͇̑̈́͌͌̐͘͜͝i̶̡̙͓̥͕̬̼̤͚̭̋̏̚ĉ̶̝̱̓̅̔͗͑͗͘ḙ̶̡̤̖̹̾͋̓̑̓͂̂̇͜p̷̢̿̑̀̽̈́̈͗̌͘͝r̴̳̫̥̽̈́̌̾͗̀̇͒ả̷̧̩̠͉̓̒̑̾͘͠i̵̟͇̤̩̬̩̤͇͚̻͎̖̿̃̍̆̕͝͠s̸̢͖̙͎̬͔̈e̷̋̾̅͛͜͠͠ ̷̡̠͖͕͈͉̦̣͚̘̖̭̗̭̐̑͝Ṃ̸̧̝̙͓͎͖͚̙̱̐̌͋́ą̵̼̻̙̙͙͙͓͇̭͚̋l̷̜̲̹̊̇i̶͚̰̯͖̺͚̝̻͖̓͑͗c̶̨̛͖̖̩̱͙͚̮̣͖̍͌̆̓̚ͅȩ̵̱̣͕̟̜̯̬̭̀̃͛̄̄͂̆̊̓̕p̵̨̧̛̯̼̖̠̻̠̤̦͔͔̌͋̑̃͗͆͂͋͛̾͘r̵̡̲̗̉̇̈́͌͛͑͗̐̕͠ą̵̨̹̫̹̱̳̠͚̭͂̓̈́̈́̕i̷̜̗̹͛͋̄̐͑̑̕͠͝s̴̖̹̰͎͖͍̥̠̥̎̎̐̈̆̐̎́͒͆̚͝͝e̴̠̱̩̠͇̣̻͒̐͌͊͌̓̚͝ ̶̠̖̻̞̳̯͔̈M̵̛̘̝̤̖̦͕̦͙̖͊̾́̔͋̅̈́̈͊̆́̕a̶̛͍̱̎̉͂̂͝l̵̨̡̧̼̥̣͕̲̺̜̯̈́̈͒̏͗̅̽̀̽̉̕͜͠͠i̴̦͇̰͛̐͆̈́̒̊̍̕͠c̷͈̠̰̗̗̿͒e̵̯̾̆̓̔̎̏͘p̷̛̮̠̗̞̳̣̬̱͇͇̤̞̰̮͆̓̐̏̀̄̕͠ṟ̵̹̙͓̭͎̮̖̾̉̅̑̽͆̑̓͌͝͠͠a̸̡̼͔͈̬̝̦̲̯̫̩̘͉̣͌̋̀͊̌͘ị̶̠͋̅͌͑s̸͈͎̃̐̾̒̋̏̾̉̈̓̈́͘͠ẽ̷̡̘͇̞̬̄̔ ̶̢̡̨͚͓̺͔͍͒̍̂͐́̇̍͌͝M̵̡̨̹̫͙͓̍̐͝ā̵̻͍̜̼̹̆͊ͅl̴̢̹̰̱̼̻͓̳͙̈́͐̍͋͂̑̄͜i̴̪͙̖͎̼̟̖͙͚̱͇͛̏̅̄͊̇̾̿͂͜͝͝c̵̡̡͉̜̤̅̂͋͑̍͑̌͘è̵̡̛͎͕̥̈́̒̑̈͝p̷̥̹̞͙̫̜̲̪͔̒̿̐ȑ̴̟̍͑͊͝à̷̩̟̿́̽͋́̓̇͒̚͝i̶̤̠̻̳̝̹̼̍͗͊́͑͒́͘s̸̛̝̖̯̦͎̽̃́̌͆͊̑̑͝ȩ̴̖͚̻̥̻̬̙̃̐͂͠ ̴͈̰͕̑̽̓͂̑̓͜͜ͅM̸͔̰͙̲̦̦͓̯̎͂̆̓̃̿͜͝ä̴̧̡͔̗̲̲́̏̿͋̃͆̄̽̒͊͜ͅͅļ̴̺͍̖̻͕͔̹͊̌͌i̷̳̰̠̠̜̲̻̦͚͈͐͆͊́c̷̘̑̔e̵̡̨̧̧̦̝̼̦͖͉̲͍̮̙͋͊͊̎̓̓́̒̀p̴̼̀̈̀r̶̢̝̰̟͓̘͎̳̼̹̬͙̿̅́̔̽͆̑͗̃̒͐͘̚͜ͅa̸̢͍͌̀͊̄i̷̯̖̋̽̈͛͌͛̆͗̽͝s̷̫͓̝̈̆͌̑̂̈́͑͘͜͠͝ë̴͚̖͍̜́ ̵̢̬̩̭̲̭͎̖͍̜̥̤͍̂̇̀͑̂̎͆̀̉̅̀͒̈͝M̷̢͑̒̓̔͂̏͘̚͠a̴̧͙̥̝̹̹̙̬͙͔͑͐͆̿̊̃̏̽̚l̸͙̫̦̟̻̮̈́̈́̂̽́͋ͅi̸̧̟̞͙̹̼̰̪͕̗̤̾̐̏̉͑̐͆̒͜͠ḉ̸̛͕̻̫̲̖̺̠̬̳̠̩̽̃̓͋̊̂̓̚͘̕e̵̝̭̺̮̲̣͇̹̩̟͖̟̭̼̅̌́̑̆̈̈́̄̃͆͆̋̇͠p̷̛̬̣̭̮̳̬͚͛̉̋́͆̔̑̐̔͊̔̄̕ṛ̴̢͙̘͐͒͌̄̅̈̉̓͂̊̑ą̵̖̦̣̮̱̼͉͇̗̗͍͛̌͘͜i̶̭̦̗̤̻̣͎̯̤̤̿͋̑̿͛̓͛̒̌ͅs̷̨̘̟̦̦̫͈̈́͐̿͗̿̍͋̓͘͘͠e̵̛̟̯̟̣̣̺͚̊̈́̓̓̈́̅̒̕͜͜ ̷̨̹̖̮̜̰̫̖̺̞̜͇͓̮̄͊͌̐̌̌́̑͝M̴̲͉̻̥̣̺̥͎̼̜̮͗̍̈́̅a̵̢̡̰̤̘͔̞̩͈̫͖̳̫͑̏̓̀͗͌̕l̷̢̧̨̫͙̩͖̼̣̺̤̭̠̔̅͋͒̍̓̾̾i̸̹͉̜̒͌̅̎͋̄͆̆͛̃̀̕̕c̷̭̬͎̠͕̰̩̱̙̈́͋̄̏̆̈́̒̓̃e̸̖͖̞̠̣͓͎̲͎̯͂́̏͐̊͂̊̂͐͝ͅp̴̢̛͕͓͙̓͝r̸̛̮͍̺̼̯̱̮̂͒͂̎͗̒͒͑ȧ̴̡̧͎̪̹̳͍͇̩͙͕̾̾̚i̵̥̝̣̅̿͒͆͋̄̂̈́́̅͘ś̴̛̹̙̂͛̎̀͛́͂͋̚͘͝ḙ̸̛̘̫̤̦́͋͗̉̈́̂̑̎̆͋̓̔͝ ̵̻͍̦̳̓̃̑̈́̏̏͊͆̕͘͜͠Ḿ̸̧͕̈́͌͂̂͐̈̇͒̀̎̔͘̕á̸̢̧̪̩̞̪̟̞͎͍͌̍̓ͅl̷̗̝̙̗͗͠i̷̧̺͕̤̫̎c̵̨̛̩̩̬̗̘̺̳̿̔͊͑̃̊͘̚̕͝͝e̴̛̼͍̐̄̆̈́̉͌̓p̴̡̨̡̫̠̖͖̩͈̩̰̻͗̎̇͜r̴̛͚̫͍̎͑̑͛̎͐̅͂̏̑͘ǎ̶̢̡͈̖͙̠̲̜̣̱̆̌̒͛̐͛̊͛͜į̷̥̳̞̙̘͎̮͉͕̹̺̼̈́̒͑̅̇̂̍̀̉̕s̴̫̙̞͓̬͖̣̱͆e̶̗͚̙̘̱̺̤͂̆̐̋̓̀͋̾̋̀̂̒̆͝ ̸̳͔̩̞͝M̵̦̰͉̺͕͉̭̈́̔̏̔̒͑͛̄a̶̦̤̎̎̾͆̒͒̓͌̏̍͝l̶̡̡͖͖̻͍͍̯̺͈͌̀̊̇́́̎̇̍́̕͝ĭ̸̮̣̥̱̒̍͂͌͌̄̎̀͑̔̏̉c̴̛̬͈̟̽͆͌͑̈́̏͋̐̐̈́͗́̎e̷̡͙̟̞̋͐̄̈́́̈̾̉̏̍̔͘p̴̢̙̼͓͉̐͌́̾͘r̵̨̮̫̮̖̺̦͖̦͒́͑́̾̆̆͂̏̎̕á̸̻͛̾͛̄́͝i̴̡̜̭̯̟̺̞͈̲̠͐͒̌̂s̵̛̗͔̙͙̲͕̦͇͉̰̹̔̈͋͂ͅe̸̢̢̜͕͚͙̻̹̰̝̬͙͎̙̍ ̶̡̺̮̞̻͙͇̾̑̏̍͐ͅͅͅM̵͉̟͚̣̖̬͖̋͐̚a̸̡̤̳̤̼̜͕̰̖͒͂̂̂̍͆̇́̿͠͝l̶̢͉̭͖̺̦̞̰̮̉́̓̾̀̕i̸̧͙͍̰͉̹̹͎̳̲̣͌̇̓̈̌̆̈̾͆͋͌͘̚͝c̷̮̫͎̦͑̏̎̔́̇̅͛̐̔͝͝è̴̢͙̿̑͊̏͘p̴̨̝̤̬̠̲̻͕̹̼̔̈́͠ŗ̷̨̟̯͂a̴̧̛̳͚̱̘̹͔͚̺͛̑̾̀̔̌̓͒̀͂ỉ̷̳̥̗͖͚̠̰͔̫̥̲͑̀͒̂̉̐́͊̏̐́̂͝s̷̡̨͍͎̻͓̥̗̅̀̿̍ẹ̶̮͉̱͑͘̚ ̵̧̦̹̫̫͎͖̮͙̻̠͊̾̈́̐̈́̐́͘͜M̶̢̡̰̦͓̪̟̦̠̳̈͆͜ą̸̛͎̬̞͈̘̜͈̭̠̮̱̋̾͐̅͘͝l̶͔̓͌͆́̌́͗̓͛̒̀̍̃͐i̸͙͓̠͉̘͖̍̀̍͑̐͜͝͝c̵͉̦̭̫͕̝̈́͐ḛ̸̮̮̻͋̈́̇̏̽̓̓̓͐̅͌͊̅p̴̧̟̱͉͈͍͓̘͈̟̈́̄̽̄̑͠r̷̰̉̐͒͂̍̇͝a̴̡̡̙̹̗̪̰̻͇̰͔̘̲͝ͅi̷̛͍̥̼͎̣̦̫̪̝̹̯̳͔̾̊͆̒̐̂̉͐̆̓͠ͅș̴̡̳̳͚͓̲͔͔̺̠͙̘̆̆̾̍̃͌͌͊͘̕ͅę̵̩͕̪̯̯͔͒̿͗̃ ̷̖͚͇̲͖̮̤̯̻̳̞̪̃͗̓͒̍̑̌̋͆̉̚͘͠M̴̢̗̜͑͗̿̓̀̀̃́͛̑̑̈̈a̷̻̳̿̄̋́̑̔̿͑l̵͙͎̘̆͋̌̌̈́̔̚̕͠͝ḯ̶̺̮̝̭̙̼̇̉͑̌̃̍̇̋̑͘͠c̵̡̬̮͕̲̺̔e̶̯̟̤̣̭̳̿̎͜p̷̥͍̗͎͔͆́̒͌̿̚r̸̢͔̫̒̽̍̑̔̇a̸̡͒į̸̢̝̝͕̹̗͍̰̗̻̥͚̲̏͋̽̐̈́̈́̉̄͘s̴̨̳̫̗̮͚̙̺͎̗͍̐̐͐͝e̵͉̟͎̟͚̥͇͈͙̪̙̳͌͂̽̈́̄̀̉̕͝ ̸̰̥̳̐̉̑̌̄͘͠M̸̨̹̭̬̠̰͓̹̲̪̲̻̳͇̌͗̀̾̓́͋͒a̷̱̲̞͒͆̔̓̀͠l̶̨̡͓̱̙̰͖̱̦̪͇͓̹̓̽̉̃͋̾͂͋͆̚͝͝͝i̵̛̤͙͍̪̎̏́̔͂͛́͊̆̀͠c̴̨͚̔ȩ̷̢̟̙̖̼̰͍͓̀̀ͅ
Eve smiled to herself as she reattached her arm and fixed the cracks after playing with her new friends one had been a bit more rough than usual but that was okay; he had seen her face then he was not there. Eve did not know why they left when they saw her face but she needed to rest now after playing she was exhausted. However she always felt stronger afterwards and could make more friends. Just before slept she heard the future now whispering to her the tides and eddies once more. It had led her here for new friends. Before as it barely spoke now hints of something important vague but something important had changed something news friends
It was her duty to spread fͫrͣiͩᶰeͤˢnˢdship after all in the name of malice she could not wait to make more friends. She laughed in glee the noise or was it colour or feeling.
Within the warp through it mad changing depths all the neverborn greater or lesser felt or heard something. And a thing that was almost impossible came to pass; they felt fear for their very beings minds and existence.
on the roll of a eleven she would make new friends
@ThunderOwl here is another omake thoughts and suggestions welcome
fishsicles
ate a calculator to gain its power
- Location
- Alexander Horned Earth
- Pronouns
- They/Them
40k Patreon has amended its TOS it seems
Okay, this one is... curious. So for what I understand, it is a Daemon Princess of Malice that corrupts other Daemons to being Daemons of Malice, while making lesser Daemons explode?
- Location
- yorkshire
Pretty much but it does corrupt lesser demons faster the exploding is random also if a 11 is roll something is going to happen idk eve could just show up or nothing happens
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Okay, so while I think it is a cool concept, and the omake itself is a mindscrew, I can´t make it canon. Not only is the Daemon Princess kinda overpowered, especially for a minor warp entity like Malice, but the whole "converting" daemons is impossible. Daemons are after all a minuscule fragment of the Gods themselves, and cannot be separated from them. The greatest example of a Daemon going against its God is Skarbrand and it is still a Greater Daemons of Khorne.
As such, this Omake goes to Apocrypha, and gives a bonus of +1 to the dice rolls of regular marines in their next deployment against Chaos Daemons.
Sunderer Bolt Rounds
- Location
- yorkshire
Sunderer bolt round
the sunderer bolt round was developed during the time of the Horus Heresy, when the galaxy was torn apart by the most destructive conflict it had ever known. It was designed to be used against the traitor legions' most heavily armoured units, such as terminators or to simply obliterate enemy Astarte's leaving little for the for recovery .
to facilitate this destructive power the sunderer bolt round was designed with a micro melta charge warhead, allowing it to penetrate even the most heavily armoured targets with ease. The micro melta charge was developed using the principles behind melta bombs however instead of manual arming the bolt round would arm its micro melta charge upon impact with a target. The bolt round itself contained a more energetic pyrum-petrol as the regular pyrum-petrol used in testing did not produce the desired effect of the project . The use of this more energetic pyrum-petrol in the bolt round allowed for it to penetrate up to 5 inches of adamantium vie a stream of super heated gas at a singular point of impact, thus fulfilling its intended function.
the logic behind the development of the sunderer bolt round was while melta weapons were more then capable of performing the tasks the round did the ones the Astarte's use were short ranged and slow firing something a bolt round was not
as such it was envisage that the sunderer bolt round would be fired in a three round burst so even if the first round failed to penetrate the target the second and third round would ensure the now softened target was destroyed
however there were issues with the round the pyrum-petrol used in its creation was difficult to manufacture as it was difficult to produce a consistent grade of the chemical compound, leading to failed batches .making mass production of the rounds difficult. This issue still had not been overcome before the facility had to be evacuated and the ship the tech priests evacuated
unfortunately as was often the case in the heresy their ship the candlelight of knowledge never arrived at its destination and it disappearance was never recorded as the heresy destroyed all mention of the ship and the facility it came from and what was being developed there was lost.
@ThunderOwl here another omake thoughts and suggestions welcome
the sunderer bolt round was developed during the time of the Horus Heresy, when the galaxy was torn apart by the most destructive conflict it had ever known. It was designed to be used against the traitor legions' most heavily armoured units, such as terminators or to simply obliterate enemy Astarte's leaving little for the for recovery .
to facilitate this destructive power the sunderer bolt round was designed with a micro melta charge warhead, allowing it to penetrate even the most heavily armoured targets with ease. The micro melta charge was developed using the principles behind melta bombs however instead of manual arming the bolt round would arm its micro melta charge upon impact with a target. The bolt round itself contained a more energetic pyrum-petrol as the regular pyrum-petrol used in testing did not produce the desired effect of the project . The use of this more energetic pyrum-petrol in the bolt round allowed for it to penetrate up to 5 inches of adamantium vie a stream of super heated gas at a singular point of impact, thus fulfilling its intended function.
the logic behind the development of the sunderer bolt round was while melta weapons were more then capable of performing the tasks the round did the ones the Astarte's use were short ranged and slow firing something a bolt round was not
as such it was envisage that the sunderer bolt round would be fired in a three round burst so even if the first round failed to penetrate the target the second and third round would ensure the now softened target was destroyed
however there were issues with the round the pyrum-petrol used in its creation was difficult to manufacture as it was difficult to produce a consistent grade of the chemical compound, leading to failed batches .making mass production of the rounds difficult. This issue still had not been overcome before the facility had to be evacuated and the ship the tech priests evacuated
unfortunately as was often the case in the heresy their ship the candlelight of knowledge never arrived at its destination and it disappearance was never recorded as the heresy destroyed all mention of the ship and the facility it came from and what was being developed there was lost.
@ThunderOwl here another omake thoughts and suggestions welcome
Claws in the Dark
- Location
- Pilipinas
Alright got a bit of my muse back, posting a short story of a lone Night Lord, please read it like a first person detective Noir with clip notes, haven't elaborated much though i would add slight details from time to time...
Claws in the Dark
The hive city of Necrominus Prime reeked of desperation thicker than the smog that choked its sky. I, Valgaast, was a long way from the Nostraman gutters where the Night Lords were born. I am of the Claws of the Eclipse, a warband notorious not for grand crusades of terror, but for cold precision. Think of us as the Legion's scalpel, if such a thing even exists amongst the VIIIth.
The case was dropped into my lap as a sort of "ironic justice", who better to solve an unusual murder than a creature who committed uncountable secret murders. Deals had been struck in the shadowy courts of the upper spires, debts of blood and favors. Hence, I was sent by my lonesome to "resolve" the issue. A sector-wide trade magnate lay sprawled in a pool of his own blood amidst his opulent penthouse. Signs of struggle, nothing stolen. The usual dance of personal affairs – scorned mistresses, debtors in his pocket, underlings hungry for power. All usual suspects, none fit the bill.
Word reached me through our network of informants and indebted lowlifes in transit routes. I arrived aboard the "Vox Maledictus", an ancient strike cruiser disguised as a decrepit grain barge that wheezed more than it roared into orbit. Our reputation for... discretion had preceded us.
My serrated chainclaws, the signature weapon of my warband, hung heavy against my leg; a crude tool with twin blades that can easily fit my gauntlets, yet sometimes a detective needs more than sharp eyes. The victim's face... twisted not with the fear I was used to dishing out, but an awful knowing.
Each "interview" was a dive into filth – jealous lovers, hired thugs... The scent of fear lingered, but none of it the heady, intoxicating fear a Night Lord instilled. This... this was a colder sort. Then, came the whispers. Tales of a figure flitting through the shadows, a thing of blades whispered to be a rival magnate's enforcer. But something was off – the killings I was used to were loud, meant to be seen. This was clean, precise. Efficient.
It clicked as I stood on a rain-slicked rooftop, looking down at the hive's endless sprawl. This wasn't about vengeance or greed or any common, mortal sin. It was about... refinement. An offering, perhaps? To what, I wasn't sure. But there's only one place in a hive riddled with corruption where that kind of twisted perfectionism can survive – the cults.
My investigation into the underhive cult wasn't glamorous. It was a slow, murky descent into the bowels of Necrominus Prime, a place where whispers carried more weight than facts. Here's how I pieced it together:
Following the Blood: The initial investigation was standard Night Lord fare - intimidation and interrogation. From lowlifes and informants, I gleaned whispers of a "shadow harvester" and a hidden temple deep below. Each gruesome detail, each terrified account, added a brushstroke to the morbid portrait of this unseen killer.
The Scents of Heresy: As I delved deeper, the whispers morphed into rumors of heretical rituals and unnatural technology. I contacted a rogue psyker, a scavenger who bartered stolen knowledge for protection. He spoke of a "twisted machine god" worshipped by a hidden sect, their offerings "sacrifices of the opulent." It was a dark connection, a macabre explanation for the precise, targeted killings.
Trading Secrets: Cultists themselves were tight-lipped, their fanaticism a wall against outsiders. But desperation is a universal language. I found myself bartering with a disgraced enforcer – a brute expelled from his guild for excessive brutality. Rumors of a "Flesh-eater" within the cult, a cybernetic monstrosity, had reached his ears. This, along with the promise of revenge against a rival guild who'd wronged him, became my leverage.
Tracing the Threads: The enforcer's information, combined with the knowledge gleaned from the rogue psyker, led me to a hidden network of tunnels used by smugglers and rogue traders. This network became my map, leading me ever deeper into the underhive's labyrinthine sprawl.
The Ritual Unveiled: Finally, after days of following leads and navigating treacherous tunnels, I stumbled upon a hidden entrance – a makeshift door covered in blasphemous symbols. Inside, the air crackled with a strange energy, and the cacophony of chanting voices bounced off damp walls. I witnessed the macabre culmination of my investigation – the tech-priest offering another trade magnate's lifeless body to his "machine god," while the cybernetic monstrosity stood guard, a grotesque testament to their deranged faith.
The investigation wasn't a clear-cut affair. It was a grim tapestry woven from whispers, desperation, and fleeting glimpses into a world hidden from the light. It was this darkness, this constant dance on the edge of the abyss, that bound me to the role of a reluctant protector, a Night Lord clad in the cloak of a detective, playing a game where the lines between duty and damnation were forever blurred.
Finding the cult wasn't the hard part; it was being invited in. I traded on our reputation for brutality cloaked in shadow. They were a secretive lot, hidden deep in the underhive, their rituals fueled by stolen tech and desperate souls. I played the part – a disillusioned Astartes, craving a purpose beyond the stale dictates of my warband.
Finally, I was ushered into their sanctum – a cavernous hall reeking of motor oil and ozone. Here resided the cult's leader, a grotesque parody of a tech-priest. His robes, once deep red, were now a patchwork of grease-stained fabric and cybernetic implants. His flesh, sallow and stretched, was interfaced directly with arcane machinery, his eyes glowing with a sickly green luminescence. He saw through my charade instantly, yet a twisted smile played on his lips. He saw potential, a darkness he could exploit. A "willing" sacrifice.
The temple itself was a monument to profanity. Twisted metal pipes snaked across the cavern walls, their ends pulsing with an unnatural light. Cogs, gears, and pistons whirred in a chaotic symphony, their purpose as obscure as the guttural chants echoing from unseen corners. Here, flesh and machine melded in unholy union, forming blasphemous contraptions that defied comprehension. Incense burners, fueled by some unknown substance, spewed forth plumes of acrid smoke that stung the eyes and twisted the senses. In the center of this techno-religious nightmare, upon a raised dais, lay the "enforcer" - the answer to the trade magnate's demise.
This creature was no mere assassin. It was a bio-engineered monstrosity, its body a grotesque patchwork of cybernetics and augmented muscle. Its eyes, devoid of any pupil or iris, glowed with a cold, reptilian intensity. It was a predator, a perfectly honed instrument of silent death, crafted to serve the deranged whims of the heretical tech-priest.
The tech-priest, his voice a rasping chorus distorted by his cybernetic implants, cackled as he activated the enforcer. The monstrosity whirred to life, its augmented muscles rippling beneath a skin stretched taut over its metallic frame. Its eyes, cold and reptilian, locked onto me.
I don my chainclaw, the long serrated steel glinting in the dim light. The stench of ozone and burnt flesh filled the air as the enforcer charged, its inhuman limbs propelling it across the cavern floor with unnatural speed. It swung a massive cybernetic claw, the air singing as it cleaved through the air. I sidestepped the blow, the monstrous claw embedding itself deep into the pulsating metal wall, showering me with sparks.
Reacting with the honed reflexes of a Space Marine, I lunged forward, my chainclaws spinning with a deadly hum. The metallic clang echoed through the cavern as the enforcer parried my blow with its forearm, augmented plates deflecting the serrated teeth. We locked in a brutal dance, the enforcer's strength pushing me back with each clash. Its other claw, dripping with some unknown lubricant, lashed out, narrowly missing my helm.
The tech-priest, cackling with manic glee, unleashed a barrage of energy from his staff, the crackling bolts exploding harmlessly against my power armor. I knew taking the enforcer head-on wouldn't work. I needed to exploit its size and its reliance on brute force.
Feigning a retreat, I lured the enforcer towards a cluster of warped machinery. It lunged, its bulk momentarily snagged on the tangled mess of wires and pistons. Seizing the opportunity, I rolled towards the tech-priest, my weapons singing a deadly song.
He raised his staff in a desperate attempt to block, but the serrated teeth tore through the metal with ease. The impact sent him staggering back, his manic laughter cut short by a strangled cry. Before he could recover, I lunged again, driving the blades deep into his chest cavity. The unholy machinery within sputtered and died, and the tech-priest slumped lifeless to the ground.
The enforcer, freed from the machinery, roared in fury. It lunged, but its rage was clouded by the loss of its master's control signal. With a swift movement, I aimed and fired my bolt pistol. The round, blessed by the Dark Mechanicum with an unknown purpose, struck true, detonating within the enforcer's cybernetic core. The monstrosity twitched once, then collapsed in a heap of twisted metal and twitching flesh.
The battle was won, but amidst the smoke and the stench of burnt flesh, a hollow victory hung heavy in the air. This night, I, Valgaast, had played the part of a protector, eliminating a threat most wouldn't even acknowledge. But the line between duty and something far darker remained blurred, a constant reminder of the darkness I walked in - a darkness as insidious and pervasive as the machinations of the very enemies I had just slain.
Justice, in my line of work, was a fleeting thing. The tech-priest died screaming amidst his blasphemous creations. The cult would scatter, hunted down in time. The trade magnate's murder would remain officially unsolved.
The Vox Maledictus groaned back into the void as I departed Necrominus Prime. The deal was done. Our payment wouldn't be in thrones, but in favors bartered and debts owed further out on the fringes. As I stared at the dwindling lights of the hive, I felt more alien than any mutant the cult had engineered. Sometimes, to hunt true monsters, you must wear the mask of a man.
Claws in the Dark
The hive city of Necrominus Prime reeked of desperation thicker than the smog that choked its sky. I, Valgaast, was a long way from the Nostraman gutters where the Night Lords were born. I am of the Claws of the Eclipse, a warband notorious not for grand crusades of terror, but for cold precision. Think of us as the Legion's scalpel, if such a thing even exists amongst the VIIIth.
The case was dropped into my lap as a sort of "ironic justice", who better to solve an unusual murder than a creature who committed uncountable secret murders. Deals had been struck in the shadowy courts of the upper spires, debts of blood and favors. Hence, I was sent by my lonesome to "resolve" the issue. A sector-wide trade magnate lay sprawled in a pool of his own blood amidst his opulent penthouse. Signs of struggle, nothing stolen. The usual dance of personal affairs – scorned mistresses, debtors in his pocket, underlings hungry for power. All usual suspects, none fit the bill.
Word reached me through our network of informants and indebted lowlifes in transit routes. I arrived aboard the "Vox Maledictus", an ancient strike cruiser disguised as a decrepit grain barge that wheezed more than it roared into orbit. Our reputation for... discretion had preceded us.
My serrated chainclaws, the signature weapon of my warband, hung heavy against my leg; a crude tool with twin blades that can easily fit my gauntlets, yet sometimes a detective needs more than sharp eyes. The victim's face... twisted not with the fear I was used to dishing out, but an awful knowing.
Each "interview" was a dive into filth – jealous lovers, hired thugs... The scent of fear lingered, but none of it the heady, intoxicating fear a Night Lord instilled. This... this was a colder sort. Then, came the whispers. Tales of a figure flitting through the shadows, a thing of blades whispered to be a rival magnate's enforcer. But something was off – the killings I was used to were loud, meant to be seen. This was clean, precise. Efficient.
It clicked as I stood on a rain-slicked rooftop, looking down at the hive's endless sprawl. This wasn't about vengeance or greed or any common, mortal sin. It was about... refinement. An offering, perhaps? To what, I wasn't sure. But there's only one place in a hive riddled with corruption where that kind of twisted perfectionism can survive – the cults.
My investigation into the underhive cult wasn't glamorous. It was a slow, murky descent into the bowels of Necrominus Prime, a place where whispers carried more weight than facts. Here's how I pieced it together:
Following the Blood: The initial investigation was standard Night Lord fare - intimidation and interrogation. From lowlifes and informants, I gleaned whispers of a "shadow harvester" and a hidden temple deep below. Each gruesome detail, each terrified account, added a brushstroke to the morbid portrait of this unseen killer.
The Scents of Heresy: As I delved deeper, the whispers morphed into rumors of heretical rituals and unnatural technology. I contacted a rogue psyker, a scavenger who bartered stolen knowledge for protection. He spoke of a "twisted machine god" worshipped by a hidden sect, their offerings "sacrifices of the opulent." It was a dark connection, a macabre explanation for the precise, targeted killings.
Trading Secrets: Cultists themselves were tight-lipped, their fanaticism a wall against outsiders. But desperation is a universal language. I found myself bartering with a disgraced enforcer – a brute expelled from his guild for excessive brutality. Rumors of a "Flesh-eater" within the cult, a cybernetic monstrosity, had reached his ears. This, along with the promise of revenge against a rival guild who'd wronged him, became my leverage.
Tracing the Threads: The enforcer's information, combined with the knowledge gleaned from the rogue psyker, led me to a hidden network of tunnels used by smugglers and rogue traders. This network became my map, leading me ever deeper into the underhive's labyrinthine sprawl.
The Ritual Unveiled: Finally, after days of following leads and navigating treacherous tunnels, I stumbled upon a hidden entrance – a makeshift door covered in blasphemous symbols. Inside, the air crackled with a strange energy, and the cacophony of chanting voices bounced off damp walls. I witnessed the macabre culmination of my investigation – the tech-priest offering another trade magnate's lifeless body to his "machine god," while the cybernetic monstrosity stood guard, a grotesque testament to their deranged faith.
The investigation wasn't a clear-cut affair. It was a grim tapestry woven from whispers, desperation, and fleeting glimpses into a world hidden from the light. It was this darkness, this constant dance on the edge of the abyss, that bound me to the role of a reluctant protector, a Night Lord clad in the cloak of a detective, playing a game where the lines between duty and damnation were forever blurred.
Finding the cult wasn't the hard part; it was being invited in. I traded on our reputation for brutality cloaked in shadow. They were a secretive lot, hidden deep in the underhive, their rituals fueled by stolen tech and desperate souls. I played the part – a disillusioned Astartes, craving a purpose beyond the stale dictates of my warband.
Finally, I was ushered into their sanctum – a cavernous hall reeking of motor oil and ozone. Here resided the cult's leader, a grotesque parody of a tech-priest. His robes, once deep red, were now a patchwork of grease-stained fabric and cybernetic implants. His flesh, sallow and stretched, was interfaced directly with arcane machinery, his eyes glowing with a sickly green luminescence. He saw through my charade instantly, yet a twisted smile played on his lips. He saw potential, a darkness he could exploit. A "willing" sacrifice.
The temple itself was a monument to profanity. Twisted metal pipes snaked across the cavern walls, their ends pulsing with an unnatural light. Cogs, gears, and pistons whirred in a chaotic symphony, their purpose as obscure as the guttural chants echoing from unseen corners. Here, flesh and machine melded in unholy union, forming blasphemous contraptions that defied comprehension. Incense burners, fueled by some unknown substance, spewed forth plumes of acrid smoke that stung the eyes and twisted the senses. In the center of this techno-religious nightmare, upon a raised dais, lay the "enforcer" - the answer to the trade magnate's demise.
This creature was no mere assassin. It was a bio-engineered monstrosity, its body a grotesque patchwork of cybernetics and augmented muscle. Its eyes, devoid of any pupil or iris, glowed with a cold, reptilian intensity. It was a predator, a perfectly honed instrument of silent death, crafted to serve the deranged whims of the heretical tech-priest.
The tech-priest, his voice a rasping chorus distorted by his cybernetic implants, cackled as he activated the enforcer. The monstrosity whirred to life, its augmented muscles rippling beneath a skin stretched taut over its metallic frame. Its eyes, cold and reptilian, locked onto me.
I don my chainclaw, the long serrated steel glinting in the dim light. The stench of ozone and burnt flesh filled the air as the enforcer charged, its inhuman limbs propelling it across the cavern floor with unnatural speed. It swung a massive cybernetic claw, the air singing as it cleaved through the air. I sidestepped the blow, the monstrous claw embedding itself deep into the pulsating metal wall, showering me with sparks.
Reacting with the honed reflexes of a Space Marine, I lunged forward, my chainclaws spinning with a deadly hum. The metallic clang echoed through the cavern as the enforcer parried my blow with its forearm, augmented plates deflecting the serrated teeth. We locked in a brutal dance, the enforcer's strength pushing me back with each clash. Its other claw, dripping with some unknown lubricant, lashed out, narrowly missing my helm.
The tech-priest, cackling with manic glee, unleashed a barrage of energy from his staff, the crackling bolts exploding harmlessly against my power armor. I knew taking the enforcer head-on wouldn't work. I needed to exploit its size and its reliance on brute force.
Feigning a retreat, I lured the enforcer towards a cluster of warped machinery. It lunged, its bulk momentarily snagged on the tangled mess of wires and pistons. Seizing the opportunity, I rolled towards the tech-priest, my weapons singing a deadly song.
He raised his staff in a desperate attempt to block, but the serrated teeth tore through the metal with ease. The impact sent him staggering back, his manic laughter cut short by a strangled cry. Before he could recover, I lunged again, driving the blades deep into his chest cavity. The unholy machinery within sputtered and died, and the tech-priest slumped lifeless to the ground.
The enforcer, freed from the machinery, roared in fury. It lunged, but its rage was clouded by the loss of its master's control signal. With a swift movement, I aimed and fired my bolt pistol. The round, blessed by the Dark Mechanicum with an unknown purpose, struck true, detonating within the enforcer's cybernetic core. The monstrosity twitched once, then collapsed in a heap of twisted metal and twitching flesh.
The battle was won, but amidst the smoke and the stench of burnt flesh, a hollow victory hung heavy in the air. This night, I, Valgaast, had played the part of a protector, eliminating a threat most wouldn't even acknowledge. But the line between duty and something far darker remained blurred, a constant reminder of the darkness I walked in - a darkness as insidious and pervasive as the machinations of the very enemies I had just slain.
Justice, in my line of work, was a fleeting thing. The tech-priest died screaming amidst his blasphemous creations. The cult would scatter, hunted down in time. The trade magnate's murder would remain officially unsolved.
The Vox Maledictus groaned back into the void as I departed Necrominus Prime. The deal was done. Our payment wouldn't be in thrones, but in favors bartered and debts owed further out on the fringes. As I stared at the dwindling lights of the hive, I felt more alien than any mutant the cult had engineered. Sometimes, to hunt true monsters, you must wear the mask of a man.
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Nice but it will be non-canon, mainly because I'm not going to implement ammunition as a mechanic in this quest. As a reward, +1 dice to Ballistic rolls for Notables in the first deployment of turn 8.
Read this while listening to jazz and standing in a dark corner. Really cool tale, and it is interesting to see a Night Lord acting like a Noir detective. The clip notes are also a nice touch. Just a few questions before deciding if it is canon or not. This is set before or after the Heresy, and if it is after the Heresy why is a Night Lord Warband landing an Astartes as a private detective?
- Location
- Pilipinas
thanks for liking it! as to its timeline, I left it intentionally vague so that it can be slotted anywhere so that it would make sense in the setting. Though Valgaast can be with the traitors at the start of the Heresy then his cohort withdrew to the edges of the Eye of Terror, where unfortunately or fortunately, their ship was sucked into a vortex of temporal energy. When their ship was finally spat back out into the Materium a couple of hundred years ago from the current timeline, a Night Lord vessel was the one to discover them. Fighting for dominance then ensued. The survivovrs then created this warband, a combination of both the new and the old. With Valgaast being declared a Dominus Arcanii, a Master of Mystery.
As to landing a detective, this particular Night Lord comes from a long line of thief-takers and trouble-shooters who were hired to discover secrets, identify assassins and solve muders in service to various mafia lords in crime-ridden Nostramo. His skills and passions then can be attributed to his blood and nature of his family before being recruited to the VIIIth Legion. As Valgaast grew older shedding so much blood, both innocent and guilty, his natural interest and affinity in solving of mysteries and uncovering secrets started to grow and this was noticed by the 8th Legion officers before they fragmented. It is also starting to dawn on him that this may be what the Night Lord was truly made for, hence he accepts missions where he has freedom to work alone or with a small team. He is much like Fabius Bile in the sense that he is starting to become more than what is typical of his Legion.
With that being said I am willing to change what needed to be changed so that this character can be made canon.
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Nah I think this can work in the quest. As such Valgaast and his warband are now added as potential foes of the chapter
- Location
- Pilipinas
Awesome! I am honored! While Valgaast mostly works alone, he sees the Claws as kin and has a sort of "brotherly" affection towards them since they have been together through thick and thin plus they usually leave him alone and give him respect due to the fact that they cannot do what he do.
Ahura Pattern Combi-Bolter and Chiamor Fighter (Potential Rewards)
Wait a minute, if we're allowed to post our random gear/equipment snippets...
Oh dear, you (probably) know not what sort of vaguely obsessive fool you've unleashed, @ThunderOwl
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Oh dear, you (probably) know not what sort of vaguely obsessive fool you've unleashed, @ThunderOwl
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When it became clear that the logistics of the Imperium were struggling to keep up the production and distribution of Volkite weaponry, many alternatives were proposed and considered. One of them was the Ahura, named after Ahura-Theta-11, the Mechanicus Magos who designed and oversaw the distribution of it.
At its core, the Ahura is a remarkably simple design. Most of it is a simple Bolter of standard manufacture, modified only by a modular magazine, receiver, and barrel to both alter its rate of fire in the field and change out the major components with greater ease. A later iteration used modified materials to slim down the weapon without losing weight or recoil compensation, and a further iteration added a shot selector and catches for up to three magazines at once (though this was less popular due to the obvious ergonomic difficulties).
The defining feature, and what marked this weapon as a Combi-Bolter, is that an integral top-mounted Brightdeath-pattern Lasgun was also included. An adaptation of the lasguns used by the Solar Auxilia, its integration into a larger weapon and its intention as a general purpose weapon for elite forces was used as an excuse to substantially reduce its size and use higher-grade focusing arrays and power packs to make a weapon that was somewhat greater than a standard lasgun in raw damage and matched the Bolter in armor penetration. The range was kept roughly as is, the rate of fire was increased, and its intended use was used as an excuse to prototype the variable-charge system that would go on to become the signature Bolt/Sniper/Blast functionality of the Triplex Pattern Lasgun.
The overall idea was thus; aside from extremely high-intensity examples like plasma and melta guns, a major benefit of energy weapons (including Volkites) was tactical endurance - the extreme durability and versatility of STC power packs meant that they could be recharged again and again in the field, and as far as Astartes were concerned this could be done for months or even years on end due to the presence of their armor's fusion packs. And as powerful as Bolters were, and as dangerous as the galaxy was, the truth remained that there were many enemies for whom a bolt or short burst of las-fire would do just as well as a mass-reactive warhed.
The lasgun, with its endurance and rapid rate of fire, would kill the chaff. The bolter would be used exclusively with "specialist" warheads to deal with harder targets. In particular, production could be retooled to Metal Storm and Kraken rounds, with others as odd missions dictated.
Though details are sparse (as most records of the time are), approximately 20,000 of these weapons were produced and distributed to members of the IV, VII, X, XVIII, and XX legions for evaluation and field testing. The STC schematics were handed out to a dozen other forge worlds for further testing and development, and an unknown number in both rifle and pistol formats were made on smaller scales for other agents of the Imperium.
What few records of this trial period are available describe a weapon that was generally well-thought of and quite efficient, but was unsuited to any user who was not well-trained and disciplined and did not ease the burden on supplies and logistics as much as was hoped. Having to manage two different guns each with their own firing patterns and characteristics was "a bit finicky", and while the overall weapon and its paired ammunition was much easier to produce and supply than a volkite of equivalent class it was still two different supply lines.
Like uncounted thousands upon thousands upon thousands of projects, it was an idea that showed promise and could very well have been developed into an effective mass-produced item with further development and simplification, had the Horus Heresy not frakked everything.
At its core, the Ahura is a remarkably simple design. Most of it is a simple Bolter of standard manufacture, modified only by a modular magazine, receiver, and barrel to both alter its rate of fire in the field and change out the major components with greater ease. A later iteration used modified materials to slim down the weapon without losing weight or recoil compensation, and a further iteration added a shot selector and catches for up to three magazines at once (though this was less popular due to the obvious ergonomic difficulties).
The defining feature, and what marked this weapon as a Combi-Bolter, is that an integral top-mounted Brightdeath-pattern Lasgun was also included. An adaptation of the lasguns used by the Solar Auxilia, its integration into a larger weapon and its intention as a general purpose weapon for elite forces was used as an excuse to substantially reduce its size and use higher-grade focusing arrays and power packs to make a weapon that was somewhat greater than a standard lasgun in raw damage and matched the Bolter in armor penetration. The range was kept roughly as is, the rate of fire was increased, and its intended use was used as an excuse to prototype the variable-charge system that would go on to become the signature Bolt/Sniper/Blast functionality of the Triplex Pattern Lasgun.
The overall idea was thus; aside from extremely high-intensity examples like plasma and melta guns, a major benefit of energy weapons (including Volkites) was tactical endurance - the extreme durability and versatility of STC power packs meant that they could be recharged again and again in the field, and as far as Astartes were concerned this could be done for months or even years on end due to the presence of their armor's fusion packs. And as powerful as Bolters were, and as dangerous as the galaxy was, the truth remained that there were many enemies for whom a bolt or short burst of las-fire would do just as well as a mass-reactive warhed.
The lasgun, with its endurance and rapid rate of fire, would kill the chaff. The bolter would be used exclusively with "specialist" warheads to deal with harder targets. In particular, production could be retooled to Metal Storm and Kraken rounds, with others as odd missions dictated.
Though details are sparse (as most records of the time are), approximately 20,000 of these weapons were produced and distributed to members of the IV, VII, X, XVIII, and XX legions for evaluation and field testing. The STC schematics were handed out to a dozen other forge worlds for further testing and development, and an unknown number in both rifle and pistol formats were made on smaller scales for other agents of the Imperium.
What few records of this trial period are available describe a weapon that was generally well-thought of and quite efficient, but was unsuited to any user who was not well-trained and disciplined and did not ease the burden on supplies and logistics as much as was hoped. Having to manage two different guns each with their own firing patterns and characteristics was "a bit finicky", and while the overall weapon and its paired ammunition was much easier to produce and supply than a volkite of equivalent class it was still two different supply lines.
Like uncounted thousands upon thousands upon thousands of projects, it was an idea that showed promise and could very well have been developed into an effective mass-produced item with further development and simplification, had the Horus Heresy not frakked everything.
An attempt to fix the core flaws of the Xiphos, the Chamior was built out of a recognition that available technology meant the right tweaking could make it bigger without losing speed or maneuverability, and thusly provide more space for equipment.
The primary power plant is a modified dual-chambered fusion engine used to provide primary power, connected to a fuel system composed of a high-temperature and exceptionally clean-burning combination of hydrogen, carbon, and silicon. This combination of effectively infinite primary power and compact reaction mass allowed the Chimaor a much longer flight time, enough to go from Terra-ground to orbit and back twice over with some fuel to spare on a single combat load; substantially more than most other fighter craft, and FAR more than the limited Xiphos.
The weaponry consisted of two changes. The quad lascannons were replaced with an enhanced model that used extended barrels and a pulse charger to increase their range by approximately half again and give it a select fire mode. In effect, the pilot could choose between an anti-armor blast that extended the punch of a lascannon towards equivalence with an Imperial Battle Cannon, or a shorter-ranged assault that traded power and penetration for a rate of fire similar to that of a multilaser. As a final bonus, they were mounted on a casemate with very limited traversal capabilities. Five degrees in any direction isn't much, but the difference between getting the nose of the craft exactly on target and "close enough" proved its worth many times.
Faced with ballooning costs and increasing complexity, the decision was made to eliminate the Xiphon Rotary Missile Launcher and replace it with a cheap alternative. The lower body of the craft was hollowed out and turned into an internal bomb bay capable of carrying four and a half tons of ordinance in either dumb/semi-guided bombs or whatever variety of rockets or missiles would fit. In addition to the obvious, this meant that the bay could not employ the shot-selection capabilities that made the Xiphon Launcher so efficient - what you loaded was what you got. Though it did not substantially improve the survivability of the craft, the bay was fitted with a few hundred kilograms of specially designed and armored blast channels and blowout panels to ensure detonation of carried explosives would be redirected away from the pilot long enough for ejection to safely occur.
This was further supplemented by eight hardpoints, six on each wing and another two in recessed cavities behind the internal bay, that could carry any standard load appropriate to Imperial fighter craft.
One interesting feature of note was that the bay did not use the standard single-belly-door that most craft with an internal bay did. Instead, it used two side-mounted doors canted down at a 30-degree angle and a simple rail-"push" system to release the ordinance to either side. This was done to reduce the open weakness that bay doors usually demonstrate in the field and was capable of releasing up to three bombs/missiles from each side per second, though doing so presented a number of issues and mechanical failures which prompted the installation of a 2/second limiter.
A final detail of note was that initial plans called for the installation of a small gravity generator in order to provide inertial compensation sufficient to allow unaugmented humjans to pilot the Chimaor at full capacity.
Enough "empty space" was left over after these changes that many proposals for everything from a larger and more powerful cogitator, to scrap-code projectors, to more weaponry and/or a bigger powerplant, to a larger and more comfortable cockpit were proposed. To the best of anyone's knowledge, none of these alternatives made it past the proposal stage.
The primary power plant is a modified dual-chambered fusion engine used to provide primary power, connected to a fuel system composed of a high-temperature and exceptionally clean-burning combination of hydrogen, carbon, and silicon. This combination of effectively infinite primary power and compact reaction mass allowed the Chimaor a much longer flight time, enough to go from Terra-ground to orbit and back twice over with some fuel to spare on a single combat load; substantially more than most other fighter craft, and FAR more than the limited Xiphos.
The weaponry consisted of two changes. The quad lascannons were replaced with an enhanced model that used extended barrels and a pulse charger to increase their range by approximately half again and give it a select fire mode. In effect, the pilot could choose between an anti-armor blast that extended the punch of a lascannon towards equivalence with an Imperial Battle Cannon, or a shorter-ranged assault that traded power and penetration for a rate of fire similar to that of a multilaser. As a final bonus, they were mounted on a casemate with very limited traversal capabilities. Five degrees in any direction isn't much, but the difference between getting the nose of the craft exactly on target and "close enough" proved its worth many times.
Faced with ballooning costs and increasing complexity, the decision was made to eliminate the Xiphon Rotary Missile Launcher and replace it with a cheap alternative. The lower body of the craft was hollowed out and turned into an internal bomb bay capable of carrying four and a half tons of ordinance in either dumb/semi-guided bombs or whatever variety of rockets or missiles would fit. In addition to the obvious, this meant that the bay could not employ the shot-selection capabilities that made the Xiphon Launcher so efficient - what you loaded was what you got. Though it did not substantially improve the survivability of the craft, the bay was fitted with a few hundred kilograms of specially designed and armored blast channels and blowout panels to ensure detonation of carried explosives would be redirected away from the pilot long enough for ejection to safely occur.
This was further supplemented by eight hardpoints, six on each wing and another two in recessed cavities behind the internal bay, that could carry any standard load appropriate to Imperial fighter craft.
One interesting feature of note was that the bay did not use the standard single-belly-door that most craft with an internal bay did. Instead, it used two side-mounted doors canted down at a 30-degree angle and a simple rail-"push" system to release the ordinance to either side. This was done to reduce the open weakness that bay doors usually demonstrate in the field and was capable of releasing up to three bombs/missiles from each side per second, though doing so presented a number of issues and mechanical failures which prompted the installation of a 2/second limiter.
A final detail of note was that initial plans called for the installation of a small gravity generator in order to provide inertial compensation sufficient to allow unaugmented humjans to pilot the Chimaor at full capacity.
Enough "empty space" was left over after these changes that many proposals for everything from a larger and more powerful cogitator, to scrap-code projectors, to more weaponry and/or a bigger powerplant, to a larger and more comfortable cockpit were proposed. To the best of anyone's knowledge, none of these alternatives made it past the proposal stage.
If you haven't guessed it already, this shit is what happens when you kitbash 40k, HALO, and Battletech machinery into a single craft
Yeah starting to feel like I've opened Pandora's box jajajaja.Wait a minute, if we're allowed to post our random gear/equipment snippets...
Oh dear, you (probably) know not what sort of vaguely obsessive fool you've unleashed, @ThunderOwl
-------------------------------------------------
When it became clear that the logistics of the Imperium were struggling to keep up the production and distribution of Volkite weaponry, many alternatives were proposed and considered. One of them was the Ahura, named after Ahura-Theta-11, the Mechanicus Magos who designed and oversaw the distribution of it.
At its core, the Ahura is a remarkably simple design. Most of it is a simple Bolter of standard manufacture, modified only by a modular magazine, receiver, and barrel to both alter its rate of fire in the field and change out the major components with greater ease. A later iteration used modified materials to slim down the weapon without losing weight or recoil compensation, and a further iteration added a shot selector and catches for up to three magazines at once (though this was less popular due to the obvious ergonomic difficulties).
The defining feature, and what marked this weapon as a Combi-Bolter, is that an integral top-mounted Brightdeath-pattern Lasgun was also included. An adaptation of the lasguns used by the Solar Auxilia, its integration into a larger weapon and its intention as a general purpose weapon for elite forces was used as an excuse to substantially reduce its size and use higher-grade focusing arrays and power packs to make a weapon that was somewhat greater than a standard lasgun in raw damage and matched the Bolter in armor penetration. The range was kept roughly as is, the rate of fire was increased, and its intended use was used as an excuse to prototype the variable-charge system that would go on to become the signature Bolt/Sniper/Blast functionality of the Triplex Pattern Lasgun.
The overall idea was thus; aside from extremely high-intensity examples like plasma and melta guns, a major benefit of energy weapons (including Volkites) was tactical endurance - the extreme durability and versatility of STC power packs meant that they could be recharged again and again in the field, and as far as Astartes were concerned this could be done for months or even years on end due to the presence of their armor's fusion packs. And as powerful as Bolters were, and as dangerous as the galaxy was, the truth remained that there were many enemies for whom a bolt or short burst of las-fire would do just as well as a mass-reactive warhed.
The lasgun, with its endurance and rapid rate of fire, would kill the chaff. The bolter would be used exclusively with "specialist" warheads to deal with harder targets. In particular, production could be retooled to Metal Storm and Kraken rounds, with others as odd missions dictated.
Though details are sparse (as most records of the time are), approximately 20,000 of these weapons were produced and distributed to members of the IV, VII, X, XVIII, and XX legions for evaluation and field testing. The STC schematics were handed out to a dozen other forge worlds for further testing and development, and an unknown number in both rifle and pistol formats were made on smaller scales for other agents of the Imperium.
What few records of this trial period are available describe a weapon that was generally well-thought of and quite efficient, but was unsuited to any user who was not well-trained and disciplined and did not ease the burden on supplies and logistics as much as was hoped. Having to manage two different guns each with their own firing patterns and characteristics was "a bit finicky", and while the overall weapon and its paired ammunition was much easier to produce and supply than a volkite of equivalent class it was still two different supply lines.
Like uncounted thousands upon thousands upon thousands of projects, it was an idea that showed promise and could very well have been developed into an effective mass-produced item with further development and simplification, had the Horus Heresy not frakked everything.
An attempt to fix the core flaws of the Xiphos, the Chamior was built out of a recognition that available technology meant the right tweaking could make it bigger without losing speed or maneuverability, and thusly provide more space for equipment.
The primary power plant is a modified dual-chambered fusion engine used to provide primary power, connected to a fuel system composed of a high-temperature and exceptionally clean-burning combination of hydrogen, carbon, and silicon. This combination of effectively infinite primary power and compact reaction mass allowed the Chimaor a much longer flight time, enough to go from Terra-ground to orbit and back twice over with some fuel to spare on a single combat load; substantially more than most other fighter craft, and FAR more than the limited Xiphos.
The weaponry consisted of two changes. The quad lascannons were replaced with an enhanced model that used extended barrels and a pulse charger to increase their range by approximately half again and give it a select fire mode. In effect, the pilot could choose between an anti-armor blast that extended the punch of a lascannon towards equivalence with an Imperial Battle Cannon, or a shorter-ranged assault that traded power and penetration for a rate of fire similar to that of a multilaser. As a final bonus, they were mounted on a casemate with very limited traversal capabilities. Five degrees in any direction isn't much, but the difference between getting the nose of the craft exactly on target and "close enough" proved its worth many times.
Faced with ballooning costs and increasing complexity, the decision was made to eliminate the Xiphon Rotary Missile Launcher and replace it with a cheap alternative. The lower body of the craft was hollowed out and turned into an internal bomb bay capable of carrying four and a half tons of ordinance in either dumb/semi-guided bombs or whatever variety of rockets or missiles would fit. In addition to the obvious, this meant that the bay could not employ the shot-selection capabilities that made the Xiphon Launcher so efficient - what you loaded was what you got. Though it did not substantially improve the survivability of the craft, the bay was fitted with a few hundred kilograms of specially designed and armored blast channels and blowout panels to ensure detonation of carried explosives would be redirected away from the pilot long enough for ejection to safely occur.
This was further supplemented by eight hardpoints, six on each wing and another two in recessed cavities behind the internal bay, that could carry any standard load appropriate to Imperial fighter craft.
One interesting feature of note was that the bay did not use the standard single-belly-door that most craft with an internal bay did. Instead, it used two side-mounted doors canted down at a 30-degree angle and a simple rail-"push" system to release the ordinance to either side. This was done to reduce the open weakness that bay doors usually demonstrate in the field and was capable of releasing up to three bombs/missiles from each side per second, though doing so presented a number of issues and mechanical failures which prompted the installation of a 2/second limiter.
A final detail of note was that initial plans called for the installation of a small gravity generator in order to provide inertial compensation sufficient to allow unaugmented humjans to pilot the Chimaor at full capacity.
Enough "empty space" was left over after these changes that many proposals for everything from a larger and more powerful cogitator, to scrap-code projectors, to more weaponry and/or a bigger powerplant, to a larger and more comfortable cockpit were proposed. To the best of anyone's knowledge, none of these alternatives made it past the proposal stage.
If you haven't guessed it already, this shit is what happens when you kitbash 40k, HALO, and Battletech machinery into a single craft
As for the tech, the Ahura gets canonized, if only because it is such an overeenginiered mess that it would give Karark Zel an aneurysm, and the same goes for the Chiamor. All will be potential rewards.
I'll refrain from just dumping a couple decades of idle fuckuppery on the thread
Although I thought the Chimaor (the basic version anyway, not all that grav-gen and whatnot shit) was a quite reasonable prototype.
But yeah, the Ahura was one of my very first fanfic ideas when I was but a wee super-chunni twit, and the armchair engineering proved an easy target for the Good Idea Fairy (cursed be her name).
Wait a minute, if we're allowed to post our random gear/equipment snippets...
Oh dear, you (probably) know not what sort of vaguely obsessive fool you've unleashed, @ThunderOwl
-------------------------------------------------
When it became clear that the logistics of the Imperium were struggling to keep up the production and distribution of Volkite weaponry, many alternatives were proposed and considered. One of them was the Ahura, named after Ahura-Theta-11, the Mechanicus Magos who designed and oversaw the distribution of it.
At its core, the Ahura is a remarkably simple design. Most of it is a simple Bolter of standard manufacture, modified only by a modular magazine, receiver, and barrel to both alter its rate of fire in the field and change out the major components with greater ease. A later iteration used modified materials to slim down the weapon without losing weight or recoil compensation, and a further iteration added a shot selector and catches for up to three magazines at once (though this was less popular due to the obvious ergonomic difficulties).
The defining feature, and what marked this weapon as a Combi-Bolter, is that an integral top-mounted Brightdeath-pattern Lasgun was also included. An adaptation of the lasguns used by the Solar Auxilia, its integration into a larger weapon and its intention as a general purpose weapon for elite forces was used as an excuse to substantially reduce its size and use higher-grade focusing arrays and power packs to make a weapon that was somewhat greater than a standard lasgun in raw damage and matched the Bolter in armor penetration. The range was kept roughly as is, the rate of fire was increased, and its intended use was used as an excuse to prototype the variable-charge system that would go on to become the signature Bolt/Sniper/Blast functionality of the Triplex Pattern Lasgun.
The overall idea was thus; aside from extremely high-intensity examples like plasma and melta guns, a major benefit of energy weapons (including Volkites) was tactical endurance - the extreme durability and versatility of STC power packs meant that they could be recharged again and again in the field, and as far as Astartes were concerned this could be done for months or even years on end due to the presence of their armor's fusion packs. And as powerful as Bolters were, and as dangerous as the galaxy was, the truth remained that there were many enemies for whom a bolt or short burst of las-fire would do just as well as a mass-reactive warhed.
The lasgun, with its endurance and rapid rate of fire, would kill the chaff. The bolter would be used exclusively with "specialist" warheads to deal with harder targets. In particular, production could be retooled to Metal Storm and Kraken rounds, with others as odd missions dictated.
Though details are sparse (as most records of the time are), approximately 20,000 of these weapons were produced and distributed to members of the IV, VII, X, XVIII, and XX legions for evaluation and field testing. The STC schematics were handed out to a dozen other forge worlds for further testing and development, and an unknown number in both rifle and pistol formats were made on smaller scales for other agents of the Imperium.
What few records of this trial period are available describe a weapon that was generally well-thought of and quite efficient, but was unsuited to any user who was not well-trained and disciplined and did not ease the burden on supplies and logistics as much as was hoped. Having to manage two different guns each with their own firing patterns and characteristics was "a bit finicky", and while the overall weapon and its paired ammunition was much easier to produce and supply than a volkite of equivalent class it was still two different supply lines.
Like uncounted thousands upon thousands upon thousands of projects, it was an idea that showed promise and could very well have been developed into an effective mass-produced item with further development and simplification, had the Horus Heresy not frakked everything.
An attempt to fix the core flaws of the Xiphos, the Chamior was built out of a recognition that available technology meant the right tweaking could make it bigger without losing speed or maneuverability, and thusly provide more space for equipment.
The primary power plant is a modified dual-chambered fusion engine used to provide primary power, connected to a fuel system composed of a high-temperature and exceptionally clean-burning combination of hydrogen, carbon, and silicon. This combination of effectively infinite primary power and compact reaction mass allowed the Chimaor a much longer flight time, enough to go from Terra-ground to orbit and back twice over with some fuel to spare on a single combat load; substantially more than most other fighter craft, and FAR more than the limited Xiphos.
The weaponry consisted of two changes. The quad lascannons were replaced with an enhanced model that used extended barrels and a pulse charger to increase their range by approximately half again and give it a select fire mode. In effect, the pilot could choose between an anti-armor blast that extended the punch of a lascannon towards equivalence with an Imperial Battle Cannon, or a shorter-ranged assault that traded power and penetration for a rate of fire similar to that of a multilaser. As a final bonus, they were mounted on a casemate with very limited traversal capabilities. Five degrees in any direction isn't much, but the difference between getting the nose of the craft exactly on target and "close enough" proved its worth many times.
Faced with ballooning costs and increasing complexity, the decision was made to eliminate the Xiphon Rotary Missile Launcher and replace it with a cheap alternative. The lower body of the craft was hollowed out and turned into an internal bomb bay capable of carrying four and a half tons of ordinance in either dumb/semi-guided bombs or whatever variety of rockets or missiles would fit. In addition to the obvious, this meant that the bay could not employ the shot-selection capabilities that made the Xiphon Launcher so efficient - what you loaded was what you got. Though it did not substantially improve the survivability of the craft, the bay was fitted with a few hundred kilograms of specially designed and armored blast channels and blowout panels to ensure detonation of carried explosives would be redirected away from the pilot long enough for ejection to safely occur.
This was further supplemented by eight hardpoints, six on each wing and another two in recessed cavities behind the internal bay, that could carry any standard load appropriate to Imperial fighter craft.
One interesting feature of note was that the bay did not use the standard single-belly-door that most craft with an internal bay did. Instead, it used two side-mounted doors canted down at a 30-degree angle and a simple rail-"push" system to release the ordinance to either side. This was done to reduce the open weakness that bay doors usually demonstrate in the field and was capable of releasing up to three bombs/missiles from each side per second, though doing so presented a number of issues and mechanical failures which prompted the installation of a 2/second limiter.
A final detail of note was that initial plans called for the installation of a small gravity generator in order to provide inertial compensation sufficient to allow unaugmented humjans to pilot the Chimaor at full capacity.
Enough "empty space" was left over after these changes that many proposals for everything from a larger and more powerful cogitator, to scrap-code projectors, to more weaponry and/or a bigger powerplant, to a larger and more comfortable cockpit were proposed. To the best of anyone's knowledge, none of these alternatives made it past the proposal stage.
If you haven't guessed it already, this shit is what happens when you kitbash 40k, HALO, and Battletech machinery into a single craft
Ngl I love the idea of combining a lasgun with a bolter for Astartes use. Makes sense to me too. It probably doesnt have to be as bulky as a heavy bolter, while maintaining the advantage of a prolonged month long firefight.
1.) The las portion of the combi-weapon is stronger than the average lasgun (comparative to a hotshot/hellgun, if not close?) and is capable of having it's ammo recharged in hours to minutes (depending on if you use the solar panels or cook it in a fire)
2.) The powerpacks will have significantly less bulk to carry compared to most bolter magazines (boxy little fuckers).
3.) The las portions allow a marine to target softer targets, ensuring they're able to ration their bolt rounds for more dangerous, durable targets.
4.) Lasguns are just overall really fucking cool.
5.) Paying your respects to the imperial guard by embracing space marine sized lasweapons.
Nicholas Brooks
Redeemer and Destroyer
- Location
- United States
Power Armor is kept going by a miniature fusion reactor so you could just use that for charge.
Though if an Astartes has to fight for a month without being able to resupply at all, something has gone terribly, terribly wrong. It's not a bad idea since it's pretty cheap by Astartes standards, but its usefulness isn't too high either.
Keep in mind that the primary idea isn't so much to go long-term without resupply, that's just a bonus. The core concept is to transition the bolter from a general-purpose weapon into a specialist ordinance launcher, and replace the general use purpose with the high-power lasgun.
In other words, you'd stop using the base profile entirely and fill a Marine's mag load with the niche rounds. Metal Storm (anti-horde), Kraken (anti-armor/boss), and Dragonfire (anti-cover) would be your go-tos as mission dictates, with small stocks of others available as needed.
I like to image your combi concept will have a select fire option for the las part. Semi auto, burst, full-auto, and fuller-auto.
View: https://youtu.be/bmmqx5O10Ic?si=uKeuwC4hAnd1m2zN
And your selective bolter round idea does merit some good points, only if the las portions are strong enough to do competitive damage to a regular stalker bolter round.
View: https://youtu.be/bmmqx5O10Ic?si=uKeuwC4hAnd1m2zN
And your selective bolter round idea does merit some good points, only if the las portions are strong enough to do competitive damage to a regular stalker bolter round.
Since the Ahura Pattern is to be canonized, when is the earliest time we can get it?
Noroboro
Consistency is key and I’m consistently tired :)
- Location
- Canada
I mean, its probably going to come down to a random roll when we go on a tech expedition on Luctus or with a Mechanicus fleet
I got a fun idea to share.
Autogun, suppressors, and subsonic ammo. Good stuff to have for ambushing low armorer targets and baseline humans. Maybe even good enough to equip some specialized PDF troopers. I dunno! Maybe we could even give some scout marines some supressed upscaled handguns so they can pull off some Sam Fisher's or do a Solid Snake.
Autogun, suppressors, and subsonic ammo. Good stuff to have for ambushing low armorer targets and baseline humans. Maybe even good enough to equip some specialized PDF troopers. I dunno! Maybe we could even give some scout marines some supressed upscaled handguns so they can pull off some Sam Fisher's or do a Solid Snake.