- Location
- Somewhere left of nowhere near anywhere
Respect Your Elders v2 - Galactic Boogaloo [Warhammer Lizardmen Quest]
- Thread starter Xantalos
- Start date
- Sci-Fi Fantasy
-
- Tags
- warhammer warhammer 40k fantasy sci-fi science fantasy science-fantasy kitchen sink space fantasy isha kroak (warhammer fantasy) mazdamundi (warhammer fantasy) magic empire quest actions have consequences dinosaurs ia ia kroak fhtagn lasers lizardmen qm likes speculation and questions slann what could possibly go wrong?
BungieONI
Seven gremlins in a trench coat
- Location
- Lickwidget
- Pronouns
- She/Her
We don't know, that's something Xantalos has been explicitly quiet about. The biggest pointer we have is that Slaanesh seems to be missing.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
We can only guess, and yes, there's a chance...in the same vein there's a chance to win the lottery, or be struck by lightning, or spontaneously change gender. It's possible, but really damn unlikely.
This has been asked before. We're not getting a definite answer on something like that.
- Location
- Somewhere left of nowhere near anywhere
I am saddened by this news, but I am hopeful for a Primarch landing, since it would be quite amusing.
Xantalos
Turtle-Speed Writing
This quest is gonna take place in defined arcs for ease of storytelling. This is the first one, and I've got it pretty clearly planned out. You'll find out the answers to the first of those questions sometime this arc, and the second one likely in the second. Maybe, depends on how this one goes.
- Location
- Reno Nv
Including the universe not having a crap ton of Warp storms in it, so we may be in pre age of strife.
- Location
- Canada
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I assume we can still like suggest our own creatures?
...I would like to see that. Not enough to actually do it in this quest, but just a glimpse of the horror that would be the Krork marching side-by-side with fully Monstered, Ascended Lizardmen in a Glorious Crusade to cleans the stars of the affronts to the Old Ones...
It would be Gloruous, in a terrifying, awe-inspiring, nightmare-inducing manner.
Xantalos
Turtle-Speed Writing
Oh aye - I'm not wholly talking about the creatures suggested in omakes, more the ones I tend to throw out in updates in order to make the scenery more interesting. Those are both numerous and not cataloged.
Oh just you wait until you see what monster lizardmen eventually become, that's something for the gizzard to churn over.
- Location
- A pile of cheese
And what kind of text had/ will have The Beast?
Kairos123
Insomniac Extraordinaire
Ha, this kind of thing is so inconsequential to Mazdamundi that it doesn't even have a name.
I'd debate that actually. Consider what we know he's capable. Under the most hostile of circumstances he was able to make a mini-communion, and then when things went from bad to worse he was able to manipulate the energy of a hundred slann against their will, forcing them to teleport. While at the same time instantly teaching them how to teleport. That's kind of insane.
I'd imagine he had some idea of the future (either from divination or understanding The Plan) guiding his actions, but your view is equally valid.
I find it funny that the roles are essentially interchangeable if you think about it. Each race can develop to the point it becomes a superpowered terror. Think Eldar at the height of their empire, the Krork, or even the Lizardmen. Already they're discovering how to create gods. In sixty (?) years, they've managed to basically pull their civilization back from the brink of collapse, start repopulating, and upping their number of elite warbeasts. End game Lizardmen are going to be scary as fuck, yo.
Xantalos
Turtle-Speed Writing
Red Flag-style Beast isn't gonna be a thing in this quest. I might have it present in From A Dead World's space sequel, but for this one having two diverging orkoid paths would conflict too much with the themes of the game.
- Location
- A pile of cheese
- Location
- his hidden lair
I did forget technically Investigator Lord Kroak is one the case.
Xantalos
Turtle-Speed Writing
Go go gadget magic apocalypse
I somehow completely missed this post earlier.
Maybe.
- Location
- A pile of cheese
- Location
- Northern Ireland, UK
So @Xantalos, a question for you.
If we get really lucky with the 3rd Gen. for Turn 7, can you tell me this;
What would be more effective? Them acting in concert with the rest of the Communion in attacking the Fog Demon or working with Mazdamundi on a Geo. Ritual?
See highlighted section below for reason behind my question:
E: or even 4th Gen.
And in what numbers?
If we get really lucky with the 3rd Gen. for Turn 7, can you tell me this;
What would be more effective? Them acting in concert with the rest of the Communion in attacking the Fog Demon or working with Mazdamundi on a Geo. Ritual?
See highlighted section below for reason behind my question:
E: or even 4th Gen.
And in what numbers?
Last edited:
Fezzes
Knight of King Stannis Baratheon
- Location
- Sydney, Australia
Now that's something I'm looking forward to.
Scratch that, this is something I'm looking forward to.
Can someone fill me in on what this is? All I know is The Beast from Warhammer canon, where it was actually six of them or something.
Nix's Warden
Welcome to Hades
- Location
- United States
Think regular orks mixed with Chaos. The Beast gets Orky Demons, even more bullshit that only works because they think it should, and super powers that can crazy shit like turn all orks into super powerful demons and shit.
WinterLantern
Smoked bird
- Location
- North England
Basically an apocalyptic varient of Orks. Instead of going the Krork route, they become more 'Orky' and take that to its galaxy crushing extreme.
Nix's Warden
Welcome to Hades
- Location
- United States
Right, now that I'm actually on my computer, and can put this together without taking forever using my phone, here are some snippets of The Beast in action.
This is a basic Beast Cybork.
An Ork stood before them, or at least something like an Ork, as tall as a Dreadnought and nearly as wide. Only patches of green flesh could still be seen on its body, the rest covered in crude cybernetics that seemed to be fused to the living tissue. A wrecking ball fist seized the last Wraithguard, morphing into a lightning-edged pincer that severed the struggling ghost-warrior into three pieces. Only Illic and one other Ranger had survived, the other Eldar dragging their wounded leader as he flung shots back over his shoulder to distract the monster from the still-working choir.
"Records from the founding of Deathwatch spoke of such monsters." Brother Cassiel of the Blood Angels whispered. "Though truth be told I never imagined I would be able to see one with my own eyes."
"That is how we live now." Shrike replied. "It is an age of monsters."
The trailing guardsmen arrived, staring for a moment in mute shock at the beast as it plodded after the Eldar in half-hearted pursuit. The cybernetic parts of its other hand shifted to form a gun, which it used to fling a few shots in the general direction of its quarry, seeming to take amusement from prolonging their final struggles.
The guardsmen looked to Kor'sarro for direction, their loathing of the Ork warring with their distrust of the duplicitous Eldar. A Webway portal was forming between the cluster of rune-etched stones, but it was not yet big enough for anyone to go through.
"We must make common cause with these Eldar in order to make good our escape." Kor'sarro said. "But there is no such cause to be had with the likes of the Orks."
Kor'sarro raised Moonfang, and leveled its tip it at the Ork.
"Purge the alien!"
A fusillade of las-bolts slashed across the Ork's back, scorching flesh and blasting divots out of its metal attachments. It wheeled about with a roar of delight, its gun-arm morphing again. A barrage of spiraling missiles shrieked through the air, rocking the chamber as the guardsmen leapt into cover.
Cassiel leapt on the Ork with his power sword flashing, driving it deep into its tree-trunk arm. He was thrown to the ground by a wild swing of its fist, but before the Ork could finish him, Kor'sarro was there. Moonfang blurring, he cleft the Ork's chest armor, biting deep into whatever passed for organs inside. Shrike fell from above with Raven's Talons extended, but the Ork managed to twist away at the last moment, taking the hit to its cliff-like shoulder rather than being impaled through the head.
There was a metallic clang as a squad of Catachans crept out from the displays, hurling magnetic charges that clamped onto the Ork behemoth's leg. Kor'sarro and Shrike backed away as the explosion rocked the galleries, mangling the limb and bringing the great beast down to one knee. Kor'sarro emptied his bolt pistol into the Ork's face, blasting it into molten wreckage. Then, with his other hand, he rammed Moonfang up through the beast's open mouth, and tore it free to send the giant toppling to the ground.
"Records from the founding of Deathwatch spoke of such monsters." Brother Cassiel of the Blood Angels whispered. "Though truth be told I never imagined I would be able to see one with my own eyes."
"That is how we live now." Shrike replied. "It is an age of monsters."
The trailing guardsmen arrived, staring for a moment in mute shock at the beast as it plodded after the Eldar in half-hearted pursuit. The cybernetic parts of its other hand shifted to form a gun, which it used to fling a few shots in the general direction of its quarry, seeming to take amusement from prolonging their final struggles.
The guardsmen looked to Kor'sarro for direction, their loathing of the Ork warring with their distrust of the duplicitous Eldar. A Webway portal was forming between the cluster of rune-etched stones, but it was not yet big enough for anyone to go through.
"We must make common cause with these Eldar in order to make good our escape." Kor'sarro said. "But there is no such cause to be had with the likes of the Orks."
Kor'sarro raised Moonfang, and leveled its tip it at the Ork.
"Purge the alien!"
A fusillade of las-bolts slashed across the Ork's back, scorching flesh and blasting divots out of its metal attachments. It wheeled about with a roar of delight, its gun-arm morphing again. A barrage of spiraling missiles shrieked through the air, rocking the chamber as the guardsmen leapt into cover.
Cassiel leapt on the Ork with his power sword flashing, driving it deep into its tree-trunk arm. He was thrown to the ground by a wild swing of its fist, but before the Ork could finish him, Kor'sarro was there. Moonfang blurring, he cleft the Ork's chest armor, biting deep into whatever passed for organs inside. Shrike fell from above with Raven's Talons extended, but the Ork managed to twist away at the last moment, taking the hit to its cliff-like shoulder rather than being impaled through the head.
There was a metallic clang as a squad of Catachans crept out from the displays, hurling magnetic charges that clamped onto the Ork behemoth's leg. Kor'sarro and Shrike backed away as the explosion rocked the galleries, mangling the limb and bringing the great beast down to one knee. Kor'sarro emptied his bolt pistol into the Ork's face, blasting it into molten wreckage. Then, with his other hand, he rammed Moonfang up through the beast's open mouth, and tore it free to send the giant toppling to the ground.
This is what happens when The Beast and Krork cross paths psychically.
The Krork armada rolled northward across Pacificus, its passage cast into real-space as a shuddering gravitational storm. Continental plates rattled and stellar coronas flared in its wake, like fragile rafts being tossed by ocean swells, spawned from the underwater movements of unseen leviathans.
A psychic paroxysm rose to meet the Krork, an impression of thunder and seething flame, growing into a terrible incandescence. The coreworld sectors of northern Pacificus underwent a riotous descent into chaos, as the billions living there experienced the roaring menace unfolding in their minds and beating against the insides of their skulls. Seers across the galactic west recorded portents and signs. Immortal anger. Rage. Fury and alien hatred.
"Oi Skarsnik, ya feel that?" Grimgul said, grinning with a mouthful of teeth like packed sabres. "I think they're happy to see us."
A psychic paroxysm rose to meet the Krork, an impression of thunder and seething flame, growing into a terrible incandescence. The coreworld sectors of northern Pacificus underwent a riotous descent into chaos, as the billions living there experienced the roaring menace unfolding in their minds and beating against the insides of their skulls. Seers across the galactic west recorded portents and signs. Immortal anger. Rage. Fury and alien hatred.
"Oi Skarsnik, ya feel that?" Grimgul said, grinning with a mouthful of teeth like packed sabres. "I think they're happy to see us."
This is what happens when some of The Beasts Superpowers activate and their Gargants are allowed to rampage.
The twin gods called to their monsters. The Orks fed them with violence, and the gods repaid them with the capacity for even greater feats of destruction. They promised more, promised power, power enough to match the scale of their frenzied dreams.
The Orks began to grow. Armor strained against bulging chests, fanged jaws became as wide as their jutting metal guards, limbs expanded to grip with a single green fist weapons that, moments before, had to be wielded by two. Fresh metal erupted from the hulls of armored vehicles, brutally punctured with gun-mounts and turrets. Daemons sprouted extra limbs, spawned additional heads, grew talons and cannons and exaggerated implements of murder from their half-real forms.
Orkish Gargants rose up on their junk-laden knuckles, apish and atavistic. Jaw-plates flew apart, metal maws distended to what seemed like impossible widths, and the armored giants raised their arms as if to smash the universe. Armor buckled and broke, like restraints being cast aside, falling around them in showers of shredded metal. New matter erupted forth to fill the resultant fissures, masses of semi-real substrate that was at once flesh and steel and solidified Warp-stuff. They howled at the skies, triumph, mirth and ferocity merging into a thundering crescendo that obliterated the baying of the armies around them. Every gaze was turned upward, greenskin and warpspawn alike intending to jump into the fray if only they could.
The Orks got their wish as the war came to them, delivered across their realm like colossal hammer blows. Spearheads were smashed aside before the advancing Battle Moon and Obliterata, leaving vast tumbling graveyards of broken hulks and boiling plasma strewn across a dozen systems. The cordon of infernal corpseships was shattered by the onslaught of War Hulks and teeming Battleships, bracketed by etched lines of icy light and the relentless pounding of mass-drivers and magma bombs. This left unmonitored corridors through which the Krork armadas passed, before wheeling about to savage the exposed rears and flanks of their foes. Paralyzed by indecision, pulled between competing orders and cloying confusion, the Orkish fleets were systematically dismantled by the brutal precision of the Krork.
Beneath the battling armadas, the Ork-held worlds were ringed with fire. Destruction spread by crashing hives and hulks spilled across land and sky, raining debris and waves of molten rock. Hurricanes of heat and force lashed across sprawling wastelands whose vast stretches of ash and caked glass concealed planetary hordes of Orks and other greenskin life.
The Krork thundered from their transports in marching tides of armored forms, introducing their cousins to the lethal baptism of searing plasma. Gretchin sharpshooters picked out Nobs for massed sniper attacks, while Commando raids set armies upon one another in furious infighting. Worlds burned like embers in the void, the advancing Krork onslaughts traceable by the molten glows of ongoing battles that wound across continents like magmatic serpents.
Coruscations of green energy ripped through the Krork lines, lighting up the landscape with flurries of explosions, carrying with them avalanches of torn-up debris. Moving mountains of iron and claws bulled their way through wreckage and broken buildings, brushing them aside with their bulk. The Beast had finally despatched its Gargants.
The Krork wasted no time on surprise. Small arms and anti-tank cannons poured fire into power fields, sparks of red against the immensity of the new war engines. Titan-killers slammed rounds into their targets, blasting out jagged rents that were re-knit by arcs of green energy. Commandos ducked under shields, teleporting into individual weapon platforms and opening fire on their neighboring engines, setting off battles that saw everything between them reduced to dust. Starships trained their weapons on the largest of the monsters, pummeling them with hypersonic shells and painting the skies with the light of criss-crossing charge beams.
The monstrous Gargants roared with glee, eyes burning like green stars, causing the air to scream and tear into light. Armor was turned inside out, as though invisible hands had ripped them asunder from within. Super-Heavy vehicles were tossed through the air like so many fragile toys, and huge detonations of psychic power left rows of blasted craters like trails of monstrous footsteps. Bellowing throats vomited infernos of green and black fire that devoured armies of friend and foe alike just as surely as the metal jaws of the Gargants themselves. Some smashed into their Krork counterparts, bowling the hulking walkers over, butchering with claws, tearing with teeth, and slamming horned foreheads into armor to send plates spinning off like coins. Plasma cores ruptured, bathing the rampaging monsters in atomic flames, drowning their silhouettes but not their voices as they bellowed in rapturous triumph.
The Orks began to grow. Armor strained against bulging chests, fanged jaws became as wide as their jutting metal guards, limbs expanded to grip with a single green fist weapons that, moments before, had to be wielded by two. Fresh metal erupted from the hulls of armored vehicles, brutally punctured with gun-mounts and turrets. Daemons sprouted extra limbs, spawned additional heads, grew talons and cannons and exaggerated implements of murder from their half-real forms.
Orkish Gargants rose up on their junk-laden knuckles, apish and atavistic. Jaw-plates flew apart, metal maws distended to what seemed like impossible widths, and the armored giants raised their arms as if to smash the universe. Armor buckled and broke, like restraints being cast aside, falling around them in showers of shredded metal. New matter erupted forth to fill the resultant fissures, masses of semi-real substrate that was at once flesh and steel and solidified Warp-stuff. They howled at the skies, triumph, mirth and ferocity merging into a thundering crescendo that obliterated the baying of the armies around them. Every gaze was turned upward, greenskin and warpspawn alike intending to jump into the fray if only they could.
The Orks got their wish as the war came to them, delivered across their realm like colossal hammer blows. Spearheads were smashed aside before the advancing Battle Moon and Obliterata, leaving vast tumbling graveyards of broken hulks and boiling plasma strewn across a dozen systems. The cordon of infernal corpseships was shattered by the onslaught of War Hulks and teeming Battleships, bracketed by etched lines of icy light and the relentless pounding of mass-drivers and magma bombs. This left unmonitored corridors through which the Krork armadas passed, before wheeling about to savage the exposed rears and flanks of their foes. Paralyzed by indecision, pulled between competing orders and cloying confusion, the Orkish fleets were systematically dismantled by the brutal precision of the Krork.
Beneath the battling armadas, the Ork-held worlds were ringed with fire. Destruction spread by crashing hives and hulks spilled across land and sky, raining debris and waves of molten rock. Hurricanes of heat and force lashed across sprawling wastelands whose vast stretches of ash and caked glass concealed planetary hordes of Orks and other greenskin life.
The Krork thundered from their transports in marching tides of armored forms, introducing their cousins to the lethal baptism of searing plasma. Gretchin sharpshooters picked out Nobs for massed sniper attacks, while Commando raids set armies upon one another in furious infighting. Worlds burned like embers in the void, the advancing Krork onslaughts traceable by the molten glows of ongoing battles that wound across continents like magmatic serpents.
Coruscations of green energy ripped through the Krork lines, lighting up the landscape with flurries of explosions, carrying with them avalanches of torn-up debris. Moving mountains of iron and claws bulled their way through wreckage and broken buildings, brushing them aside with their bulk. The Beast had finally despatched its Gargants.
The Krork wasted no time on surprise. Small arms and anti-tank cannons poured fire into power fields, sparks of red against the immensity of the new war engines. Titan-killers slammed rounds into their targets, blasting out jagged rents that were re-knit by arcs of green energy. Commandos ducked under shields, teleporting into individual weapon platforms and opening fire on their neighboring engines, setting off battles that saw everything between them reduced to dust. Starships trained their weapons on the largest of the monsters, pummeling them with hypersonic shells and painting the skies with the light of criss-crossing charge beams.
The monstrous Gargants roared with glee, eyes burning like green stars, causing the air to scream and tear into light. Armor was turned inside out, as though invisible hands had ripped them asunder from within. Super-Heavy vehicles were tossed through the air like so many fragile toys, and huge detonations of psychic power left rows of blasted craters like trails of monstrous footsteps. Bellowing throats vomited infernos of green and black fire that devoured armies of friend and foe alike just as surely as the metal jaws of the Gargants themselves. Some smashed into their Krork counterparts, bowling the hulking walkers over, butchering with claws, tearing with teeth, and slamming horned foreheads into armor to send plates spinning off like coins. Plasma cores ruptured, bathing the rampaging monsters in atomic flames, drowning their silhouettes but not their voices as they bellowed in rapturous triumph.
This is what happens when The Beast reaches Level 10 and arises to the Apex of its might.
Mini-Lude: The Beast Set Loose
"Bet da galaksie outside 'az been a zoggin' bore wivvout me innit." Tuska said.
The flesh planet writhed and roared with impotent rage. Its crimson-black skies parted as striped columns of emerald lightning lashed across its surface, carving fissures into its flesh-textured surface. Jagged beasts of brass and rage emerged from its weeping wounds, crashing into ranks of Orkoid Daemons of scrap and bulging sinew. The blood-stained void around it was shot through with veins of green, and space bulged and rippled like water, as if the gods themselves were battling unseen beneath the thin veil of reality.
With a final furious roar the flesh planet was scoured, tendrils of violent Waaagh! energy winding around it like the limbs of some leviathan beast. The energies continued to build, then erupted outward in a single terrible instant, like a deep howl of exultation from a throat as big as a world. Across the galaxy, the sensitive shivered as they felt the Beast's hot breath on the backs of their necks, and seers cowered before the visions of its jaws opening wide, wide enough to swallow stars and snap down and devour everything.
"I am da Profet uv Gork an' Mork." Ghazghkull said as he stood face to face with Tuska. Flames wreathed his elephantine fists, and his adamantium skull crackled with power, casting all around him into impenetrable shadow.
"Dis place is stomped gud, just one uv da many wurlds dat burns in my bootprints. Come wiv me, an' we'll bring da Waaagh!!! to da whole ooniverse."
"Bet da galaksie outside 'az been a zoggin' bore wivvout me innit." Tuska said.
The flesh planet writhed and roared with impotent rage. Its crimson-black skies parted as striped columns of emerald lightning lashed across its surface, carving fissures into its flesh-textured surface. Jagged beasts of brass and rage emerged from its weeping wounds, crashing into ranks of Orkoid Daemons of scrap and bulging sinew. The blood-stained void around it was shot through with veins of green, and space bulged and rippled like water, as if the gods themselves were battling unseen beneath the thin veil of reality.
With a final furious roar the flesh planet was scoured, tendrils of violent Waaagh! energy winding around it like the limbs of some leviathan beast. The energies continued to build, then erupted outward in a single terrible instant, like a deep howl of exultation from a throat as big as a world. Across the galaxy, the sensitive shivered as they felt the Beast's hot breath on the backs of their necks, and seers cowered before the visions of its jaws opening wide, wide enough to swallow stars and snap down and devour everything.
"I am da Profet uv Gork an' Mork." Ghazghkull said as he stood face to face with Tuska. Flames wreathed his elephantine fists, and his adamantium skull crackled with power, casting all around him into impenetrable shadow.
"Dis place is stomped gud, just one uv da many wurlds dat burns in my bootprints. Come wiv me, an' we'll bring da Waaagh!!! to da whole ooniverse."
And this is The Beast activating his Second Strongest Superpower.
The worlds of Segmentum Solar burned, every continent overturned into oceans of murdered earth and caked glass. Every sky was choked with ash and embers, riven with jagged arcs of emerald lightning and shot through with meteor streaks of blizzarding debris.
Beyond the palls of black destruction, the void was consumed with searing light and fire. Semi-mechanical nightmares grappled with vast corpse-ships, and rad-spewing reaverhulks welded together from the wreckage of a thousand celestial graveyards poured munitions into rigid formations of featureless golden hulls. A Megaforme exploded, split down the middle by a shaft of annihilating light, sending gargantuan fragments spraying out across its victim world to hammer its continental expanses.
Every combatant could feel the tumescence building, even if they did not understand. They could feel it in their minds, feel its thrashing upon their souls, like a surging river of power threatening to overtop its banks and drown the world entire.
Then, anarchy.
The legions of the Beast howled as a tide of power rushed over them. Weapons fused with their owners, one barrel becoming three, then five, then ten. Bellowing Gargants reaped armies with typhoons of lightning-edged talons, and warships bristled with fresh instruments of destruction that seared the void green with their calamitous discharges. Titanic weapon clusters bulged and erupted from heaving hulls, new barrels and mounts smothering and cannibalizing the old in unending cycles of expansion and destruction, furious only that they did not have even more.
A new sound boomed through the choral command stations of the Tyrant's featureless ships. It rattled the ever-shifting sensory organs of the New Devourer, and blasted its way into the sealed helmets of the Krork like a surge of white-hot current. It was a noise beyond noise that obliterated the droning cant of the Lord of Dominion's adoring thrall-herds, and eclipsed even the storms and psychic static that raged within the Warp.
"I AM SLAUGHTER! I AM SLAUGHTER!"
Beyond the palls of black destruction, the void was consumed with searing light and fire. Semi-mechanical nightmares grappled with vast corpse-ships, and rad-spewing reaverhulks welded together from the wreckage of a thousand celestial graveyards poured munitions into rigid formations of featureless golden hulls. A Megaforme exploded, split down the middle by a shaft of annihilating light, sending gargantuan fragments spraying out across its victim world to hammer its continental expanses.
Every combatant could feel the tumescence building, even if they did not understand. They could feel it in their minds, feel its thrashing upon their souls, like a surging river of power threatening to overtop its banks and drown the world entire.
Then, anarchy.
The legions of the Beast howled as a tide of power rushed over them. Weapons fused with their owners, one barrel becoming three, then five, then ten. Bellowing Gargants reaped armies with typhoons of lightning-edged talons, and warships bristled with fresh instruments of destruction that seared the void green with their calamitous discharges. Titanic weapon clusters bulged and erupted from heaving hulls, new barrels and mounts smothering and cannibalizing the old in unending cycles of expansion and destruction, furious only that they did not have even more.
A new sound boomed through the choral command stations of the Tyrant's featureless ships. It rattled the ever-shifting sensory organs of the New Devourer, and blasted its way into the sealed helmets of the Krork like a surge of white-hot current. It was a noise beyond noise that obliterated the droning cant of the Lord of Dominion's adoring thrall-herds, and eclipsed even the storms and psychic static that raged within the Warp.
"I AM SLAUGHTER! I AM SLAUGHTER!"
So yeah. Maximum Chaos + Maximum Orkiness + Maximum Bullshit + Maximum Stupidity is The Beast.
Xantalos
Turtle-Speed Writing
Incredibly. They achieved immortality in a time when Warp-powered methods of life extension weren't a thing, and were advanced enough that despite being a relatively low-population species they were able to curbstomp the Necrontyr, who were at that time about equal to Dark Age of Technology humans in strength. They created the Eldar, they created the Krork and the K'nib and the Jokearo and many many others during the war in heaven, all of which are frighteningly effective species at the tasks they were made for, and most importantly they made the Webway as it originally was. The Eldar changed it a great deal when they inherited it, but the original construction was by Old One hands. So they were very intelligent. Didn't really forestall their (canon) doom, though.
Working with the rest of the communion - that note only applies to mag 1 rituals, the rest of them basically work like a god creation - there's a meter that the slann fill with their concentration, and when it's full the ritual can fire. More slann makes the meter fill faster.
As others have elaborated, Red Flag's Beast faction is basically the escalating nature of the orks meeting the conceptually broad and powerful nature of Chaos. Gork and Mork catalyze themselves as gods at the heart of the Beast's Waaagh!!! field, and gain the ability to grant their followers both daemons, which act exactly the same as orks, and mutations, which are always beneficial to the ork in question because there's no need to corrupt or twist an ork into doing what Gork/Mork want like the Chaos Gods have to do. All orks naturally want to smash and kill anyway, so they form a sort of feedback loop with their gods, where the gods grant them powers and the orks use them to destroy things, generating more power for the gods, who grant them more power and daemons, which the orks use to kill yet more things, and so on unto infinity. There's no cap on the power of the Beast save for the intensity of their battles, so they seek out the toughest opponents and fight them in massive crusades that can burn entire Segmentums to the bedrock.
They aren't appearing this quest both because the Krork I have in mind fit the themes of the game better and because the Beast versus you at a comparable level of strength is a grossly unfair fight in your favor.
Nix's Warden
Welcome to Hades
- Location
- United States
Question Xantalos. If we had Mazdamundi join the basic Dispel team next turn, instead of firing off a Mag 3 Ritual, would we still be able to kill the Mind Fog that turn?
I ask, because we've had him Ritual the Mind Fog for two turns now, so its getting a little bit samey, and I like the story aspect of Mazdamundi personally freeing his spawning brothers in the Second Generation, and his elders in the First Generation, especially the soul of his teacher Lord Koark.
I ask, because we've had him Ritual the Mind Fog for two turns now, so its getting a little bit samey, and I like the story aspect of Mazdamundi personally freeing his spawning brothers in the Second Generation, and his elders in the First Generation, especially the soul of his teacher Lord Koark.
Xantalos
Turtle-Speed Writing
Yeah, or at the least whatever path you take you'll be able to beat it to the decision point where you get to vote on whether to just sever its quasireal ties to the dead slann in the 2nd and 1st gens, kill it outright for a little more effort, or repurpose it in some fashion (sotek eating it, turn it into a godseed, etc).