500.M42 - Rouse The Engines
HeroCooky
Unverified Monstergirl
"Rouse the engines," Admiral K-531 calmly spoke, hands clasped in quiet prayer and meditation as their words were relayed to the fleet and the Choirs accompanying the same and through them the rest of the offensive. "Ignite the hearts," they continued, a thrum running through the Libra-Secundus chosen as the flagship for this operation, his heart of burning plasma ignited into the burning cradle of reality-breaking power required to breach the Veil into the Immaterium. "Set course for Brigach," K-531 said, and the fleet lit up like miniature stars within the Warp, Hymnals beginning the Song required to traverse through the Warp unmolested. "Let there be peace among the stars," they ended, and the fleet...vanished.
Operation Enlightened Flame had begun.
"THIS IS MY LIFE'S WORK!" High Archivar Natasur howled, madness crackling at the edge of his eyes as he leveled his laspistol against the soldiers trying to pry him away from his post. His gaunt frame whipped the dangerous weapon around with frantic, twitching, and jerky motions. "I WILL NOT ABANDON IT!"
"Leave the crazy fucker, we gotta go!" One of the soldiers in the back called out, the sound of their boots hitting the ground already echoing in the venerable halls of Archive #11c, silent rows of scrolls and books bearing witness to the rest of the soldiers following piece-meal and uncertain, servo-skulls ignoring the shaking form of the High Archivar as the continued in their duties.
"My lord," one of the Lower Scribes humbly said, flinching as the High Archivar snapped around with frenzied energies coursing through his limbs. "My lord, we have barricaded all entrances," they continued. With our current supplies, we will be able to hold off against the rebels for at least a month.
"Yes, yes...good!" High Archivar Natasur muttered before declaring it, "Continue gathering the documents. We must protect as much history as possible until Marshal Jennus is here to restore order again." Slowly, he put his weapon away and began walking into the halls and archives where acolytes, scribes, servitors, and menials of all ranks and professions had centered around his call to protect their works and lives until the end. Dodging around a small child carrying half her body weight in books with the grace of someone doing so for decades, he walked on, surveying the large barricades put in front of the majority of entrances, the rest either leading deeper into the hidden portions of the Archive or those rooms set aside for storage of supplies or as accommodations for the defenders of history.
"My lord," said the same scribe again, hurrying after their master. "Is it really wise to trust the...the Federation with safeguarding our charges?"
The High Archivar stopped. With closed eyes, he took a breath before continuing his walk as if he hadn't stopped. "The fools burning this world and its holy purpose to the ground for selfish gains are no better than Chaos," he declared, resolute and unwavering. "I would rather deal with the foes willing to offer protection than the ones demanding weapons."
The sky was alight with the fires of plummeting monsters.
The ground was lit by the arcing of electricity slowly coiling around capacitors guarded by Techpriests who had ventured deeply into the Mysteries of the Motive Force.
The in-between quivered like a cable snapped taut.
The world of Zeta could not offer eternal resistance against a fleet providing orbital support, nor against an invasion of the 1st Barbarun System Army Group, its soldiers well-versed in the sabotage and destruction of critical infrastructure elements these defenders would heavily rely upon.
But they would fight, they would fight for years to come, and they would die for an outcome long decided and long calculated. But to give up and let Hereteks defile a world dedicated to the Motive Force was sacrilege beyond knowing.
And so Zeta was lit up by thunder racing skywards, burning thousands from the world in holy fury.
And Zeta shook with luminescent rage as lances of light smashed into the ground destroying cities of transistors and power plants and coils.
Letia shook with rage. Her entire body barely held back from charging into the rotting masses of once-Martyrs now profaned by foulest Chaos Sorceries because she no longer had the legs to move with.
"Sister, please," Alyna spoke gently, her hair blood-soaked, her face caked with grime and sweat, with the armor of the Sister whose name and charge she had taken when she had died in service to the God-Emperor coated with the ashes of a world burning and rotting to nothingness.
"I can still fight!" Letia demanded, more to herself, the chance to continue doing just that. "Please, Sister, do not let me die without a weapon in my hand!" She gritted out between her teeth, a hand balling into a fist as she felt something in her torn-off leg being removed before the stimms administered had a chance to spread their mercies.
"You will not die today," Alyna stated calmly, yet Letia knew it was a lie by the way she worked and by the sounds coming closer by the moment. "We have notified the...them of where we are," she said, not able to speak about the Heretics they had to allow to set foot upon their Holy World to ensure it would not fall even more into the hands of Ruin. The mere thought brought the taste of bile once more into her mouth.
"Do not lie, Sister; give me a weapon. Please," Letia spoke slowly as if to give her Sister the benefit of the doubt of not clearly hearing her. "Their profane machines will not make it here in time; they will not break through the thousands of desecrated corpses risen or the cultists profaning our charges. Give me a weapon. Allow me to die like a Sister ought to," she said again.
And it was true. Though the "Angel Walkers" and "Morrigan" Tanks of the Glimmerlings were able to effectively fight against the undead millions walking the world, the Heretics had only sent two regiments against the foulness pervading their home. The 1st Droman and 1st Itanian may have been valiant fighters for a true purpose once, or their people had been, but she held no illusions. Even if they managed to destroy Chaos upon this world and left, the craters that now adorned millions of mausoleums, if they had not outright shattered and annihilated them, spoke well of what their true intentions were.
The doors to the crypt they had taken temporary shelter in began to crack.
"What's in it for us?" The large, scarred, and heavily augmented Warlord asked, her body bulging with muscle and popping veins typical of those who abused muscle stimulants.
"Your crimes are forgiven, your people will be able to live normal lives, you will no longer have to live in fear of the cruelties of Neon, and supplies will be sent to ensure that you have enough food, civilian goods, clothes, and medicine to become more than a band of prisoners fighting for survival." K-531 offered.
"Shit, you have me at 'Medicine.' You pull through, and my portion of Kriegar Delta is yours, as long as it's under me, as far as I'm concerned!" She laughed, smashing the table with a meaty fist and cracking the metal plate with ease.
"That...was one of the last things I said," K-531 said with confusion in their voice.
"Good thing you said it then, heh?"
Qulach's Forge nearly, very nearly would have devolved into a fight against not only the Dark Priests seeking to turn this world into a profaned forge for their masters but also the Mechanicus present on the world, their ire and fury roused against any and all deviations from their hallowed codes and rituals.
Only by several miracles of oratory logic and several well-timed defeats handed to the local defenders was K-531 able to convince Arch-Magos 2 to allow the 1st Neumidian and 1st Ubrakan System Army Groups, alongside the Order of the Blazing Sun, to land and reinforce their positions.
But that was all he was able to do, the Arch-Magos entirely unwilling to even consider any more Federation forces at the moment, and all with an underlying current of threats made in the understanding that, once the Hereteks over there were dealt with, the Hereteks in the Federation would not find any welcome on the planet.
At least the Lamenters had been able to take the ships and forces of Gathing and Valhidem to crush their assigned front before they began to reinforce Hausen in Grabstein.
"And although a war rages, I now declared this Constitutional Convention open."
Changes to the Constitution/Government/Else?
(6-Hour Moratorium)
[] (Write-In)
Operation Enlightened Flame had begun.
"THIS IS MY LIFE'S WORK!" High Archivar Natasur howled, madness crackling at the edge of his eyes as he leveled his laspistol against the soldiers trying to pry him away from his post. His gaunt frame whipped the dangerous weapon around with frantic, twitching, and jerky motions. "I WILL NOT ABANDON IT!"
"Leave the crazy fucker, we gotta go!" One of the soldiers in the back called out, the sound of their boots hitting the ground already echoing in the venerable halls of Archive #11c, silent rows of scrolls and books bearing witness to the rest of the soldiers following piece-meal and uncertain, servo-skulls ignoring the shaking form of the High Archivar as the continued in their duties.
"My lord," one of the Lower Scribes humbly said, flinching as the High Archivar snapped around with frenzied energies coursing through his limbs. "My lord, we have barricaded all entrances," they continued. With our current supplies, we will be able to hold off against the rebels for at least a month.
"Yes, yes...good!" High Archivar Natasur muttered before declaring it, "Continue gathering the documents. We must protect as much history as possible until Marshal Jennus is here to restore order again." Slowly, he put his weapon away and began walking into the halls and archives where acolytes, scribes, servitors, and menials of all ranks and professions had centered around his call to protect their works and lives until the end. Dodging around a small child carrying half her body weight in books with the grace of someone doing so for decades, he walked on, surveying the large barricades put in front of the majority of entrances, the rest either leading deeper into the hidden portions of the Archive or those rooms set aside for storage of supplies or as accommodations for the defenders of history.
"My lord," said the same scribe again, hurrying after their master. "Is it really wise to trust the...the Federation with safeguarding our charges?"
The High Archivar stopped. With closed eyes, he took a breath before continuing his walk as if he hadn't stopped. "The fools burning this world and its holy purpose to the ground for selfish gains are no better than Chaos," he declared, resolute and unwavering. "I would rather deal with the foes willing to offer protection than the ones demanding weapons."
The sky was alight with the fires of plummeting monsters.
The ground was lit by the arcing of electricity slowly coiling around capacitors guarded by Techpriests who had ventured deeply into the Mysteries of the Motive Force.
The in-between quivered like a cable snapped taut.
The world of Zeta could not offer eternal resistance against a fleet providing orbital support, nor against an invasion of the 1st Barbarun System Army Group, its soldiers well-versed in the sabotage and destruction of critical infrastructure elements these defenders would heavily rely upon.
But they would fight, they would fight for years to come, and they would die for an outcome long decided and long calculated. But to give up and let Hereteks defile a world dedicated to the Motive Force was sacrilege beyond knowing.
And so Zeta was lit up by thunder racing skywards, burning thousands from the world in holy fury.
And Zeta shook with luminescent rage as lances of light smashed into the ground destroying cities of transistors and power plants and coils.
Letia shook with rage. Her entire body barely held back from charging into the rotting masses of once-Martyrs now profaned by foulest Chaos Sorceries because she no longer had the legs to move with.
"Sister, please," Alyna spoke gently, her hair blood-soaked, her face caked with grime and sweat, with the armor of the Sister whose name and charge she had taken when she had died in service to the God-Emperor coated with the ashes of a world burning and rotting to nothingness.
"I can still fight!" Letia demanded, more to herself, the chance to continue doing just that. "Please, Sister, do not let me die without a weapon in my hand!" She gritted out between her teeth, a hand balling into a fist as she felt something in her torn-off leg being removed before the stimms administered had a chance to spread their mercies.
"You will not die today," Alyna stated calmly, yet Letia knew it was a lie by the way she worked and by the sounds coming closer by the moment. "We have notified the...them of where we are," she said, not able to speak about the Heretics they had to allow to set foot upon their Holy World to ensure it would not fall even more into the hands of Ruin. The mere thought brought the taste of bile once more into her mouth.
"Do not lie, Sister; give me a weapon. Please," Letia spoke slowly as if to give her Sister the benefit of the doubt of not clearly hearing her. "Their profane machines will not make it here in time; they will not break through the thousands of desecrated corpses risen or the cultists profaning our charges. Give me a weapon. Allow me to die like a Sister ought to," she said again.
And it was true. Though the "Angel Walkers" and "Morrigan" Tanks of the Glimmerlings were able to effectively fight against the undead millions walking the world, the Heretics had only sent two regiments against the foulness pervading their home. The 1st Droman and 1st Itanian may have been valiant fighters for a true purpose once, or their people had been, but she held no illusions. Even if they managed to destroy Chaos upon this world and left, the craters that now adorned millions of mausoleums, if they had not outright shattered and annihilated them, spoke well of what their true intentions were.
The doors to the crypt they had taken temporary shelter in began to crack.
"What's in it for us?" The large, scarred, and heavily augmented Warlord asked, her body bulging with muscle and popping veins typical of those who abused muscle stimulants.
"Your crimes are forgiven, your people will be able to live normal lives, you will no longer have to live in fear of the cruelties of Neon, and supplies will be sent to ensure that you have enough food, civilian goods, clothes, and medicine to become more than a band of prisoners fighting for survival." K-531 offered.
"Shit, you have me at 'Medicine.' You pull through, and my portion of Kriegar Delta is yours, as long as it's under me, as far as I'm concerned!" She laughed, smashing the table with a meaty fist and cracking the metal plate with ease.
"That...was one of the last things I said," K-531 said with confusion in their voice.
"Good thing you said it then, heh?"
Qulach's Forge nearly, very nearly would have devolved into a fight against not only the Dark Priests seeking to turn this world into a profaned forge for their masters but also the Mechanicus present on the world, their ire and fury roused against any and all deviations from their hallowed codes and rituals.
Only by several miracles of oratory logic and several well-timed defeats handed to the local defenders was K-531 able to convince Arch-Magos 2 to allow the 1st Neumidian and 1st Ubrakan System Army Groups, alongside the Order of the Blazing Sun, to land and reinforce their positions.
But that was all he was able to do, the Arch-Magos entirely unwilling to even consider any more Federation forces at the moment, and all with an underlying current of threats made in the understanding that, once the Hereteks over there were dealt with, the Hereteks in the Federation would not find any welcome on the planet.
At least the Lamenters had been able to take the ships and forces of Gathing and Valhidem to crush their assigned front before they began to reinforce Hausen in Grabstein.
"And although a war rages, I now declared this Constitutional Convention open."
Changes to the Constitution/Government/Else?
(6-Hour Moratorium)
[] (Write-In)
I Drew This For You
When a child went missing in one of the forests of Ground, the local Yeeni searchers never imagined that they would be reinforced by a company of Space Marines led by the Master of Recruits Delta. One of the said recruits, who had found the child in this training exercise before beginning a no-supply march across a nearby mountain range, also never imagined that he would be found and approached by the same Yeeni child before leaving the world again, a hand-drawn picture in their hands.
(Reward: Warm fuzzy feelings.)
Charge of the War Pack
The fighting on Qulach's Forge is as brutal as it is messy, with lines not always drawn neatly or on a single plane. Yet, this fight was. On one side stood the gathered forces of the Order of the Blazing Sun and the Mechanicum Loyalists and their War Walkers; on the other, a prepared position and well-dug-in defenders backed up by the horrific might of the Crucible Stars. There was only one path to tread: forward unto doom and glory.
(Reward: The Order of the Blazing Sun takes a strategically important location.)
Undead Go Crunch
On one side, millions of corpses. On the other, a soldier in a well-armored, well-stocked Angel Medium Walker with four autocannons. Let's do this.
(Reward: Thin out the hordes on Saget VII a little.)
When a child went missing in one of the forests of Ground, the local Yeeni searchers never imagined that they would be reinforced by a company of Space Marines led by the Master of Recruits Delta. One of the said recruits, who had found the child in this training exercise before beginning a no-supply march across a nearby mountain range, also never imagined that he would be found and approached by the same Yeeni child before leaving the world again, a hand-drawn picture in their hands.
(Reward: Warm fuzzy feelings.)
Charge of the War Pack
The fighting on Qulach's Forge is as brutal as it is messy, with lines not always drawn neatly or on a single plane. Yet, this fight was. On one side stood the gathered forces of the Order of the Blazing Sun and the Mechanicum Loyalists and their War Walkers; on the other, a prepared position and well-dug-in defenders backed up by the horrific might of the Crucible Stars. There was only one path to tread: forward unto doom and glory.
(Reward: The Order of the Blazing Sun takes a strategically important location.)
Undead Go Crunch
On one side, millions of corpses. On the other, a soldier in a well-armored, well-stocked Angel Medium Walker with four autocannons. Let's do this.
(Reward: Thin out the hordes on Saget VII a little.)