Aranfan
Team Plasma Grunt
His cognition declines as time goes on under the Nails' influence. Making his legion take the nails, IIRC, didn't happen until some decades after he was kidnapped by the Emperor.
No Gods, No Masters (WH30k)
- Thread starter Aranfan
- Start date
His cognition declines as time goes on under the Nails' influence. Making his legion take the nails, IIRC, didn't happen until some decades after he was kidnapped by the Emperor.
Flectarn
Uphold Kali Akuno Thought
- Location
- Queen City of the Ohio
[x] Plan: Your empire is a spook
-[x] Send Goldman the Egoist, the Titan that normally guards Stirner
-[x] Send Men and Material from Kroptkin to Goldman
-[x] Send Goldman the Bolo that normally guards Bookchin
-[x] Send a Beta to Goldman. May be taken up to 4 times
-[x] Send a Beta to Goldman. May be taken up to 4 times
-[x] Send Goldman the Egoist, the Titan that normally guards Stirner
-[x] Send Men and Material from Kroptkin to Goldman
-[x] Send Goldman the Bolo that normally guards Bookchin
-[x] Send a Beta to Goldman. May be taken up to 4 times
-[x] Send a Beta to Goldman. May be taken up to 4 times
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This might actually be worse than not having a primarch, can you imagine how pissed off the Emperor would be to have one of his primarchs abandon him for another nation. This is the kind of thing that causes the Emperor to show up on your doorstep and deal with you personally.
Having a primarch show favor to our worlds is a good thing, having them abandon the Emperor outright would probably result in Proudhon being totally screwed.
But at least we would get to see a Psy-Titan of the Ordo Sinister up close and personal!
The Froggy Ninja
The Blade Will Never Die
Could our designers figure out what ship the Primarch is on and destroy it and all the ones near it? I know we can technically convert them but I have no ideas for that. I wonder how hard it'll be to get around Astarte blackboxing.
The Bird
tEM IS GUD...RITER!
- Location
- In that den of villains and scum, OKLAHOMA
What? No he didn't: the nails were something his legion CHOSE to do, in order to emulate their primarch. Angron didn't force the nails on anyone.
Aranfan
Team Plasma Grunt
It's warhammer, so there are contradictory bits in canon.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
...If we build our own Astronomican, could we aim it right into his face when he shows up?
[/Terrible Ideas]
- Location
- his hidden lair
Or we could accept that our losses in the opening battle of a war are absolutely not definitive and used this priceless opportunity to figure out how the hell void combat works.
Which we evidently did and can actually improve upon. I, mean as we see here we can still ship some men between worlds up to and even our anti-orbital super heavies.
That would end really poorly if we survived the Warlord Sinister(s). Improved Psi-Bolo with Beta pilot anyone?
- Location
- Pilipinas
So, should we build churches or something? What are the anarchist-christians' advice?
Edit: so since war and fighting empowers Khorne, would forgiveness, mercy, and kindness to your fellow man empowers the god of Abraham?
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[x] Holding Out: The Defense of Goldman
-[x] Send Men and Material from Stirner to Goldman.
-[x] Send Men and Material from Kropotkin to Goldman.
-[x] Send Goldman the Bolo that normally guards Bookchin.
-[x] Send Goldman the Bolo that normally guards Bakunin.
-[x] Send a Beta to Goldman. May be taken up to 4 times (chance of refusal each time)
I hope the vote hasn't finished.
-[x] Send Men and Material from Stirner to Goldman.
-[x] Send Men and Material from Kropotkin to Goldman.
-[x] Send Goldman the Bolo that normally guards Bookchin.
-[x] Send Goldman the Bolo that normally guards Bakunin.
-[x] Send a Beta to Goldman. May be taken up to 4 times (chance of refusal each time)
I hope the vote hasn't finished.
Dante 2
Baron Ouroboros
Emerald Leaves and Crimson Petals
- Location
- Vancouver
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Dante sliced and diced and the day hadn't even begun.
"Jackpot." A Titan fell across the street, its freshly bisected form dominating all combatants' eyes-- that is, excepting those crushed underneath its massively ostentatious (and massively unnecessary) bulk.
Alas, Dante didn't have the chance to admire his handiwork, as a thrown spear flew just then to perforate his chest. Its entry and exit spewed forth viscera and demonic blood across the rubble of the overturned city block. Dante looked down, frowning at the impaled mess that was his chest.
"Ehhh... maybe I should have considered wearing armor."
The thrower, an Astartes sergeant of whose squad was murdered by what appeared to be a giant, seemingly organic cleaver, could only stare in awe as Dante nonchalantly extracted the gleaming polearm from his newly formed chest cavity. A millisecond later, Sergeant Zephyne of the Rainbow Warriors brought forth their bolt-pistol as combat instincts took over-- but this time they were denied. A massive explosion erupted out behind Dante, propelling him and the lance at his possession right at the bewildered Space Marine. No ingrained acrobatics could prevent the inevitable reality of their impalement at massive speed.
The power armor proved no match for said shiny stick of dread impalement; it was the Space Marine's turn to suffer the undesirable fate of the shish-kebab.
Meanwhile, just as Sergeant Zephyne's body was in the process of registering the fact of being stabbed straight through, line and sinker, Dante had to contend with the approaching wall of a mutualist firm building. Centuries worth of experience determined his move-set: Dante unleashed the Devil Arm Lucifer to smash past the concrete barrier with demonically armored fists, punching through in sync with his flight path. Each consecutive wall reduced the demon-slayer's velocity by exponential degrees, whereupon as Dante crashed through into the main hall, he landed on a resident office chair and slid at last to a stop.
Dante reclined, legs folded to the right and arms gripped across his still torn chest. He could see the posthuman warrior drag themselves out of harms way, just before a stray missile from whichever SAM vehicle in Goldman's current Pandemonium caused yet another kaboom. The violence continued. Carefree eyes turned somber.
He sighed, staring past his path of entry to the ruinous battlefield beyond, concurrent explosions, rail-flechette booms, las-hisses, and bolter barks punctuating Dante's sudden despondent turn. As fun as fighting was, the accompanying loss inherent to such destructive acts couldn't be ignored-- not by his heart.
Still looking forth at the escalating devastation, Dante opened his voice comm. "Yeah... this party's gotten crazy, Trish. News from our host, the 11th Son?"
"Jackpot." A Titan fell across the street, its freshly bisected form dominating all combatants' eyes-- that is, excepting those crushed underneath its massively ostentatious (and massively unnecessary) bulk.
Alas, Dante didn't have the chance to admire his handiwork, as a thrown spear flew just then to perforate his chest. Its entry and exit spewed forth viscera and demonic blood across the rubble of the overturned city block. Dante looked down, frowning at the impaled mess that was his chest.
"Ehhh... maybe I should have considered wearing armor."
The thrower, an Astartes sergeant of whose squad was murdered by what appeared to be a giant, seemingly organic cleaver, could only stare in awe as Dante nonchalantly extracted the gleaming polearm from his newly formed chest cavity. A millisecond later, Sergeant Zephyne of the Rainbow Warriors brought forth their bolt-pistol as combat instincts took over-- but this time they were denied. A massive explosion erupted out behind Dante, propelling him and the lance at his possession right at the bewildered Space Marine. No ingrained acrobatics could prevent the inevitable reality of their impalement at massive speed.
The power armor proved no match for said shiny stick of dread impalement; it was the Space Marine's turn to suffer the undesirable fate of the shish-kebab.
Meanwhile, just as Sergeant Zephyne's body was in the process of registering the fact of being stabbed straight through, line and sinker, Dante had to contend with the approaching wall of a mutualist firm building. Centuries worth of experience determined his move-set: Dante unleashed the Devil Arm Lucifer to smash past the concrete barrier with demonically armored fists, punching through in sync with his flight path. Each consecutive wall reduced the demon-slayer's velocity by exponential degrees, whereupon as Dante crashed through into the main hall, he landed on a resident office chair and slid at last to a stop.
Dante reclined, legs folded to the right and arms gripped across his still torn chest. He could see the posthuman warrior drag themselves out of harms way, just before a stray missile from whichever SAM vehicle in Goldman's current Pandemonium caused yet another kaboom. The violence continued. Carefree eyes turned somber.
He sighed, staring past his path of entry to the ruinous battlefield beyond, concurrent explosions, rail-flechette booms, las-hisses, and bolter barks punctuating Dante's sudden despondent turn. As fun as fighting was, the accompanying loss inherent to such destructive acts couldn't be ignored-- not by his heart.
Still looking forth at the escalating devastation, Dante opened his voice comm. "Yeah... this party's gotten crazy, Trish. News from our host, the 11th Son?"
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Witness
- Location
- Wörms, the half continent
Witness
The cell was honestly fairly cramped, the bed and washbasin taking up half the avalible space. There was a small shelf at about waist height at the head of the bed - presumably it was a desk, but she had nothing to use it for. Sweat dropped from their hair, loosely hanging around their face as Briar kept up the frankly punishing exercise regime they'd set themselves in the time since their capture. They'd been only lightly wounded in the battle - an abrasion across their left arm, scabbed over now - but had been forced to evacuate their ship, bailing at one of the last moments. Briar suspected they got a concussion at some point as well, most of their memory of the battle and the evacuation was a blur, but they were in hardly any position to see their medical records at the moment.
A clanging sound rang through the hallway in front of the cell, and Briar sat up, using their pillow to quickly mop at their face. The long, ponderous steps were only for effect, they were sure, and were well used to the pattern after what they thought were almost two weeks since the battle and the daily visits.
The gaoler stopped in front of the open bars of the cell, a large folding chair in one arm, which he carefully set down. Unusual. Having done that, they stepped right up against the cell.
"Listen here you obstinate little shit. I don't know why, but the Lord Bahu wishes to see you. You will keep a civil tongue in your head at all times, and answer the man as best you can."
Spittle flew from the mans face as he hissed his instructions towards Briar, before turning to the hallway they guessed extended to the left.
"He is ready to receive you, my lord."
One, two, three, four, five steps echoed down the corridor and an absolute behemoth of a man stepped into view. Nodding at the gaoler, he set himself down in the chair, his head still probably higher than mine, even sat down.
"Thank you, Sargent Orren. You can resume your station."
"As you request, my lord."
The obsequious little man scurried out of view, and Bahu Ser turned his attention towards me. For a man as ranked as he was, he wore a deceptively simple outfit - a grey uniform much like the gaolers, with diffrent badges on it. Trimmed in cloth-of-gold at the wrists, I could see, but nothing deliberately ostentatious.
"So, our quiet little fleet commander. Mister Briar Patrovoski."
My face twisted, as it always did.
"Is this your Imperium's policy, then? Deliberate and calculated rudeness to prisoners of war? If you're here now, you've surely read what I've told that little sycophant every day for the last fifteen."
The man's face flickered, for a second, before settling in an expression of presumable faked concern.
"I'm afraid I haven't read anything of the sort. I came here of my own curiosity, although I did read the reports before I came. Most of them spoke of your 'delusional tendencies' and 'selfsame stubbornness'. I don't suppose you could clarify for me?"
Briar snorted, pushing themselves further back against the bunk, a few short inches until the wall behind them met their spine.
"As my gaoler did not see fit to report, I am not, as you seem to think, a man."
"Your beard could deceive me, Briar."
They tucked their knees under their chin as the giant leaned forwards, face intent.
"It would vanish as fast as you could hand me a razor, Ser."
"The medical report would also seem to indicate-"
Briar snorted, again.
"As if that's all there is to gender. For all your superior force, your civilisation lags behind something fierce, Imperialist. I am agender. I do not possess a male gender, nor a female one. And I would very much appreciate it if you could funish me with a razor and a binder both, unless it's common policy to deny prisoners their hygiene!"
The cell felt quiet as Briar suddenly sat down again, slumped against the sheets.
"What a curious culture you peoples have. I have been led to believe you have no concept of property, and now this."
Briar blinked, once, twice. Fifteen days with the bare minimum of social contact had some something fierce to their self control and poise, and they sat for a moment in silence.
"Not quite. We understand personal property. Clothes, toothbrushes, mementos and other personal items. We just don't believe in the existance of private property. Capital goods, housing, and the like. It's owned communally, if you must think of it that way. But I'm not an economist, Bahu, and you knew that."
The Primarch sat there, hands folded, a patient look on their face.
"As you say. I have come to ask if you will not provide information on Goldman's defences. Your fleet could not beat us, and your army will fare likewise. Everything you tell us will save the lives of your countrymen, and will prevent devastation."
Briar stood again, fist clenched at their sides.
"I will not."
Bahu stood, nodding sadly.
"As you have it. I will have the quartermaster sent down to provide a 'binder', if we have such a thing. And a facial razor. It was a pleasure meeting you, mist- how would you then say it?"
"Myx is the convention."
"It was a pleasure meeting you, Myx Patrovoski. I hope, when this is all said and done, you might sit at the same table as I. You were skilled, I must say that."
Briar looked at the man, all twelve foot of him, stood quietly, a subtle sadness cast across his features.
"You are either one of the greatest liars I have ever met, or too kind by half for this work."
He chuckled at that.
"Neither, I would say. Although, this could all have been prevented, you know."
Briar matched his stare, standing as tall as they could.
"That it could. Mister Bahu."
He took the rebuke for what it was, and grabbed the steel framed chair in one hand.
"Myx Patrovoski."
His steps clanged off into the distance, and Briar laid down, eyes open, the plain grey ceiling above holding no answers. This would be a long war, and all the longer for being on the sidelines.
A clanging sound rang through the hallway in front of the cell, and Briar sat up, using their pillow to quickly mop at their face. The long, ponderous steps were only for effect, they were sure, and were well used to the pattern after what they thought were almost two weeks since the battle and the daily visits.
The gaoler stopped in front of the open bars of the cell, a large folding chair in one arm, which he carefully set down. Unusual. Having done that, they stepped right up against the cell.
"Listen here you obstinate little shit. I don't know why, but the Lord Bahu wishes to see you. You will keep a civil tongue in your head at all times, and answer the man as best you can."
Spittle flew from the mans face as he hissed his instructions towards Briar, before turning to the hallway they guessed extended to the left.
"He is ready to receive you, my lord."
One, two, three, four, five steps echoed down the corridor and an absolute behemoth of a man stepped into view. Nodding at the gaoler, he set himself down in the chair, his head still probably higher than mine, even sat down.
"Thank you, Sargent Orren. You can resume your station."
"As you request, my lord."
The obsequious little man scurried out of view, and Bahu Ser turned his attention towards me. For a man as ranked as he was, he wore a deceptively simple outfit - a grey uniform much like the gaolers, with diffrent badges on it. Trimmed in cloth-of-gold at the wrists, I could see, but nothing deliberately ostentatious.
"So, our quiet little fleet commander. Mister Briar Patrovoski."
My face twisted, as it always did.
"Is this your Imperium's policy, then? Deliberate and calculated rudeness to prisoners of war? If you're here now, you've surely read what I've told that little sycophant every day for the last fifteen."
The man's face flickered, for a second, before settling in an expression of presumable faked concern.
"I'm afraid I haven't read anything of the sort. I came here of my own curiosity, although I did read the reports before I came. Most of them spoke of your 'delusional tendencies' and 'selfsame stubbornness'. I don't suppose you could clarify for me?"
Briar snorted, pushing themselves further back against the bunk, a few short inches until the wall behind them met their spine.
"As my gaoler did not see fit to report, I am not, as you seem to think, a man."
"Your beard could deceive me, Briar."
They tucked their knees under their chin as the giant leaned forwards, face intent.
"It would vanish as fast as you could hand me a razor, Ser."
"The medical report would also seem to indicate-"
Briar snorted, again.
"As if that's all there is to gender. For all your superior force, your civilisation lags behind something fierce, Imperialist. I am agender. I do not possess a male gender, nor a female one. And I would very much appreciate it if you could funish me with a razor and a binder both, unless it's common policy to deny prisoners their hygiene!"
The cell felt quiet as Briar suddenly sat down again, slumped against the sheets.
"What a curious culture you peoples have. I have been led to believe you have no concept of property, and now this."
Briar blinked, once, twice. Fifteen days with the bare minimum of social contact had some something fierce to their self control and poise, and they sat for a moment in silence.
"Not quite. We understand personal property. Clothes, toothbrushes, mementos and other personal items. We just don't believe in the existance of private property. Capital goods, housing, and the like. It's owned communally, if you must think of it that way. But I'm not an economist, Bahu, and you knew that."
The Primarch sat there, hands folded, a patient look on their face.
"As you say. I have come to ask if you will not provide information on Goldman's defences. Your fleet could not beat us, and your army will fare likewise. Everything you tell us will save the lives of your countrymen, and will prevent devastation."
Briar stood again, fist clenched at their sides.
"I will not."
Bahu stood, nodding sadly.
"As you have it. I will have the quartermaster sent down to provide a 'binder', if we have such a thing. And a facial razor. It was a pleasure meeting you, mist- how would you then say it?"
"Myx is the convention."
"It was a pleasure meeting you, Myx Patrovoski. I hope, when this is all said and done, you might sit at the same table as I. You were skilled, I must say that."
Briar looked at the man, all twelve foot of him, stood quietly, a subtle sadness cast across his features.
"You are either one of the greatest liars I have ever met, or too kind by half for this work."
He chuckled at that.
"Neither, I would say. Although, this could all have been prevented, you know."
Briar matched his stare, standing as tall as they could.
"That it could. Mister Bahu."
He took the rebuke for what it was, and grabbed the steel framed chair in one hand.
"Myx Patrovoski."
His steps clanged off into the distance, and Briar laid down, eyes open, the plain grey ceiling above holding no answers. This would be a long war, and all the longer for being on the sidelines.
Xantalos
Turtle-Speed Writing
Hmm, so those are our three primarchs we can subvert - Bahu Ser for social progressiveness, Angron for fixing his brain, and Magnus for letting him do warp fuckery (though I suspect our people will have to give him a huge lecture on not being an arrogant idiot with regards to the Warp first). All with pretty legit grievances against the Imperium when they're vulnerable to subversion. So, which other Primarchs have that issue?
...
Perturabo is the most obvious example I can think of, depending on Aranfan's interpretation of his personality - he might just be too much of a dick for us to accept him. Uuuuuh... Konrad Curze could possibly be helped by our psykers with his future visions and insanity, though I don't see that turning out so well in most cases. Can't think of any others right now, but I'm sure there's plausibility in some cases.
...
Perturabo is the most obvious example I can think of, depending on Aranfan's interpretation of his personality - he might just be too much of a dick for us to accept him. Uuuuuh... Konrad Curze could possibly be helped by our psykers with his future visions and insanity, though I don't see that turning out so well in most cases. Can't think of any others right now, but I'm sure there's plausibility in some cases.
- Location
- United Kingdom
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Corax, maybe?
Xantalos
Turtle-Speed Writing
Most of the canon loyalist Primarchs stayed loyal because they didn't really have a problem with the Imperium's way of operating, so I kinda doubt they'd defect to us unless we really appeal to them personally somehow.
What I'm really curious about is the 2nd Primarch, the other purged one. What's he like, is he dead/deleted/whatever yet, etc. An unknown, but a potent one.
KnightofTempest
The Man who would be King
- Location
- Chicago
So on carriers. Unlike in naval warfare, Attack Craft dont have enough punch to destroy a voidcraft. That's before you get into the fact that you cant really strategic bomb with the warp being a thing and the carriers will have to be at the battle site to be useful. . .
Turn 20 War Turns April
Aranfan
Team Plasma Grunt
[x] Send Men and Material from Stirner to Goldman.
[x] Send Men and Material from Kropotkin to Goldman.
Approximately half a million men arrive in the massive portal rituals.
[x] Send Goldman the Bolo that normally guards Bookchin.
[x] Send Goldman the Bolo that normally guards Bakunin.
Goldman shall have 3 Bolos to defend it.
[x] Send a Beta to Goldman. May be taken up to 4 times (chance of refusal each time)
Cynthia walks through a tear in time and space, armed and armored with your finest equipment.
-
The three bolos on Goldman manage to take down ten capital ships before being destroyed by the orbiting fleet.
The landing is brutal, and quick. Against such a concentrated force there was nothing that could be done to stop them. Reports are appalling. The factories have been seized at gunpoint and people forced to work 70 hour weeks in the factories supplying the invaders with food and material, mostly trucks and other such logistical implements. Thankfully the lasrifle factory was blown up by it's firm during the landing.
Still, the war now begins in earnest.
-
There are 20 Million enemy soldiers and 85 Thousand enemy super soldiers. You have 50 Million Militia, 2.5 Million Soldiers, a Beta Psyker, and an Alpha Psyker.
The Beta, properly supported, is approximately as effective as 1 million of your soldiers. The Alpha, Alicia, if properly supported is approximately as effective as five million of your soldiers. However, the psykers are significantly less effective at defending territory than at attacking it.
There are seven large geographical areas that need to be defended, Goldman falls when all seven are in enemy hands. Aside from the first, each is approximately the size of China or the USA on earth.
Area 1: Emma is the founding settlement on Goldman and in itself contains about half a billion people. This sprawling metropolis is not an arcology, but rather a city that extends for miles around.
Area 2: Berkman Federation is a geographic area containing approximately a billion people.
Area 3: Saco River Watershed is a geographic region containing approximately a billion people. It is also the site of the enemy landing.
Area 4: Tolstoy Federated Territories is a geographic region containing approximately a billion people.
Area 5: Jerem Expanse is a geographic region containing approximately half a billion people, but it also contains the majority of the militarily significant heavy industry on the moon. Area 4 is between it and Area 3.
Area 6: Tamrath Continent is separated from the mainland by an ocean, but contains about two billion people.
Area 7: Narmtha Subcontinent is attached to the mainland by a thin strip of land approximately a mile across. It borders area 2. It contains approximately a billion people
The other two billion people are distributed among the remaining landmass less densely than the other areas.
You may assign .5 Million soldiers to an area to stiffen their militia into a force that is probably able to hold it's own. You may assign 1 Million or more soldiers to an area to hold off an invader or attack it. Your diviners have failed to determine the enemy's plans. Cynthia (Beta) and Alicia (Alpha) are supported by their own squads, and are to be assigned separately.
[] Write in how to distribute your soldiers and assets.
Secondly, you have special forces availiable, pick one option:
[] Attempt to steal intel in an area.
[] Attempt to assinate enemy leadership in an area.
[] Attempt to capture enemy leadership in an area.
[] Attempt to cripple enemy logistic in an area.
Additionally, you have 4 Grand Rituals available this month.
[] Attempt to blow up one of their capships. May be taken multiple times.
[] Send Men and Material from Bakunin to Goldman.
[] Send Men and Material from Stirner to Goldman.
[] Send Men and Material from Kropotkin to Goldman.
[] Send Men and Material from Bookchin to Goldman.
[] Send Goldman the Bolo that normally guards Kropotkin.
[] Send Goldman the Egoist, the Titan that normally guards Stirner.
[] Send a Beta to Goldman. May be taken up to 3 times (chance of refusal each time)
Edit: 1 hour moratorium
[x] Send Men and Material from Kropotkin to Goldman.
Approximately half a million men arrive in the massive portal rituals.
[x] Send Goldman the Bolo that normally guards Bookchin.
[x] Send Goldman the Bolo that normally guards Bakunin.
Goldman shall have 3 Bolos to defend it.
[x] Send a Beta to Goldman. May be taken up to 4 times (chance of refusal each time)
Cynthia walks through a tear in time and space, armed and armored with your finest equipment.
-
The three bolos on Goldman manage to take down ten capital ships before being destroyed by the orbiting fleet.
The landing is brutal, and quick. Against such a concentrated force there was nothing that could be done to stop them. Reports are appalling. The factories have been seized at gunpoint and people forced to work 70 hour weeks in the factories supplying the invaders with food and material, mostly trucks and other such logistical implements. Thankfully the lasrifle factory was blown up by it's firm during the landing.
Still, the war now begins in earnest.
-
There are 20 Million enemy soldiers and 85 Thousand enemy super soldiers. You have 50 Million Militia, 2.5 Million Soldiers, a Beta Psyker, and an Alpha Psyker.
The Beta, properly supported, is approximately as effective as 1 million of your soldiers. The Alpha, Alicia, if properly supported is approximately as effective as five million of your soldiers. However, the psykers are significantly less effective at defending territory than at attacking it.
There are seven large geographical areas that need to be defended, Goldman falls when all seven are in enemy hands. Aside from the first, each is approximately the size of China or the USA on earth.
Area 1: Emma is the founding settlement on Goldman and in itself contains about half a billion people. This sprawling metropolis is not an arcology, but rather a city that extends for miles around.
Area 2: Berkman Federation is a geographic area containing approximately a billion people.
Area 3: Saco River Watershed is a geographic region containing approximately a billion people. It is also the site of the enemy landing.
Area 4: Tolstoy Federated Territories is a geographic region containing approximately a billion people.
Area 5: Jerem Expanse is a geographic region containing approximately half a billion people, but it also contains the majority of the militarily significant heavy industry on the moon. Area 4 is between it and Area 3.
Area 6: Tamrath Continent is separated from the mainland by an ocean, but contains about two billion people.
Area 7: Narmtha Subcontinent is attached to the mainland by a thin strip of land approximately a mile across. It borders area 2. It contains approximately a billion people
The other two billion people are distributed among the remaining landmass less densely than the other areas.
You may assign .5 Million soldiers to an area to stiffen their militia into a force that is probably able to hold it's own. You may assign 1 Million or more soldiers to an area to hold off an invader or attack it. Your diviners have failed to determine the enemy's plans. Cynthia (Beta) and Alicia (Alpha) are supported by their own squads, and are to be assigned separately.
[] Write in how to distribute your soldiers and assets.
Secondly, you have special forces availiable, pick one option:
[] Attempt to steal intel in an area.
[] Attempt to assinate enemy leadership in an area.
[] Attempt to capture enemy leadership in an area.
[] Attempt to cripple enemy logistic in an area.
Additionally, you have 4 Grand Rituals available this month.
[] Attempt to blow up one of their capships. May be taken multiple times.
[] Send Men and Material from Bakunin to Goldman.
[] Send Men and Material from Stirner to Goldman.
[] Send Men and Material from Kropotkin to Goldman.
[] Send Men and Material from Bookchin to Goldman.
[] Send Goldman the Bolo that normally guards Kropotkin.
[] Send Goldman the Egoist, the Titan that normally guards Stirner.
[] Send a Beta to Goldman. May be taken up to 3 times (chance of refusal each time)
Edit: 1 hour moratorium
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- Location
- his hidden lair
Keep in mind I'm pretty sure Imperial bombers are pretty damn massive attack craft for their size, and their plasma warheads (read fusion) are plenty effective from what we've seen.
But yes, big gun ships tend to have a doctrinal advantage, I'm pretty sure one naval base fought a small civil war over that. With our range, turning rate, and superior speed an emphasis on heavy spinal weapons is probably ideal. Weaker broadsides in exhange for carrier bays or superior torpedo volleys would probably mesh well with that.
During the Crusade era the Imperium was generally all about leveraging their tonnage advantage and reducing battles to close quarter slugging matches if the Avenger Grand Cruiser is anything to go off of.
Baron Ouroboros
Emerald Leaves and Crimson Petals
- Location
- Vancouver
- Pronouns
- He/Him
They're down to 14 capital ships from their original 30.
Do you think it'd be good to send the last bolo in?
Do you think it'd be good to send the last bolo in?
- Location
- Wörms, the half continent
At present they only have one area. Fortify the militas around it, and then send literally everything else into a counter attack. This plays to the strengths of our psykers, and we have done a number on their orbital lift capacity, I imagine.