The Galaxy is Flood, Not Food
- Thread starter Jackson Fox
- Start date
- Crossover Sci-Fi Horror
We Just Write
Blatantly Plural
- Location
- New England
- Pronouns
- Plural
J: I mean, Elf Po-
You didn't seriously just fucking off-screen the patriarch, i wanted to see it playing alien isolation as the victim.
- Location
- Euclidean plane
It kinda feels like machine spirits are very very, small, specialized, warp entities. The creator and/or the users venerate a thing and use rituals and that thing just happens to develop quirks over time. Now how helpful the spirits are is a matter of interpretation. I don't recall if any are known to keep items working longer than they normally should. Typically its something needing appeasement.
I refuse to believe everything from the warp is evil... just... the evil things are just overwhelmingly more violent and aggressive.. so it's nearly impossible to find anything sane and uneaten.
I refuse to believe everything from the warp is evil... just... the evil things are just overwhelmingly more violent and aggressive.. so it's nearly impossible to find anything sane and uneaten.
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Winged One
Not the Simurgh
- Location
- definitely the ground
- Pronouns
- They/Them/It
Yeah, I'm thinking the mysterious "tech-priest" is the AI from the space hulk. And since it's joined Chaos, the A really does stand for Abominable.
True, though later versions of the Fallout Power Armour and its frame should be made to not require the pilot be a puppet, so that Altered and normal humans could also use it. After all, the first public debut should be to give it to the Imperial Guard, not the PDF, because if Tide first publicly gives it to the PDF it'd be rather suspicious.
Of course since the first version is a prototype and meant to be to used in the Freezing Wastes, the fact the pilot has to be of flood biomatter doesn't really matter in this case.
Also, "Anchorage Pattern" really fits it, as it'll be the first debut of such power armour, like how the Alaskan Campaign was the debut of the T-45 and later the T-51 power armour.
Here's a video about T-45 power armour by the Templin Institute
Ardion Prosili
An (im)Perfect Cell
LOL Tide did the Distraction Carnifex strategy with that Scarab. Hilariously fitting
- Location
- UK
The Warp reflects reality, so the overwhelming supply of evil in the material universe naturally reflects on the Warp. If things began to stabilise and some actual good began to outweigh the bad, the Warp would become less tumulus. Given enough of that, and assuming that someone doesn't stop it, I suspect that even the God's would begin to be effected, with their more positive aspects coming to the fore.
Arcane Howitzer
Serial Arcanist
- Location
- United States
Peace like that would basically be a long, thorough detox program for those four. And like any true drug addict, they fear this more than anything, and will do whatever it takes to avoid this fate worse than death.
Really, a lot of things about the Big 4 make a lot more sense if you think of them as druggies hopelessly addicted to Suffering and perpetually high off their rocker
CaramelTheMoo
Rat and Cow combined
- Pronouns
- She/Her
So the Land Raider's of the Astartes back in like, 4E, had a rule where the machine spirit could allow them to fire one more gun than their movement allowed and to ignore crew shaken/stunned damage rolls. Lore wise there was a Crimson Fist Land Raider that went on a full rampage against the Ork's when they invaded the CF's homeworld. Without a crew it started itself and tore through the orks for weeks.
"My name is Tide Prime and we are autonomous eldritch beings." - Tide via the avatar of Optimus probably
- Location
- Missouri
So basically a Machine Spirit turning a Land Raider into a tiny, toy-sized version of a Bolo?
Arimai
Curmudgeon
Redundant sentence. You're CAS needs better weapons or heavier payloads. Preferably both.
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- Location
- Australia
You know, I could totally see Vashtorr's "holy" number being a "holy" number set of all prime numbers as most thematically fitting a demigod of technology and enslaving natural forces to one's will for artificial processes.
I think that's likely part of it; that some or many machine spirits are warp manifestations of genuine belief in machine spirits or innate anthromorphising of the machines, devices and tools. Reinforced and developed through rituals, personal and institutional, which are unwittingly (or arguably knowingly, at least in intent if not mechanics) empowered by the souls of believing participants and users, as well as innumerable other poorly understood (and possibly conflicting and/or complementary) environmental factors and exposures (material/physical and warp-based/derived) over time.
Which could help explain why machine spirits seem to developed/evolve specific quirks and abilities in inconsistent/unique patterns and manners, only sharing a loose trend of the chance of machine spirit "awakening", development, divergence, or differentiation increasing the longer the machine's service (possibly also the intensity of service, assuming heightened intensity of operations and heightened emotional states of occupants, operators, repairers, etc., might increase the impact of how physical actions are reflected in the warp? Might be an interesting longer-term study to assign some tech priests to as to better understand the nature, origin and characteristics of machine spirits. There might even be studies already available somewhere assuming that the topic wasn't deemed heretical/heretekcal).
This hypothesis might also explain why machine spirits manufactured by Tide seem relatively docile/obedient - because even if he isn't sceptical of and believes in the existence of machine spirits, he still believes that the machines operate on fundamentally physical principles that don't require the warp nor any other understanding of spirituality and spiritual interaction/appeasement to properly work, which inadvertly (although conveniently) reflects in the machines he's created (which he's also almost entirely operating himself) having machine spirits which need/demand far less (if any) appeasement, faith or ritualistic interaction in order to function as intended.
However this result may be skewed by how "young" his manufactured items are relative to common Imperial machinery which simply has had more time and opportunities for machine spirits to grow over decades, centuries, even millennia of service. Probably one could argue both possibilities are contributing factors.
That being said, I also suspect that in at least some instances machine spirits emerge from the behaviours of rudimentary and/or fragments of AIs/algorithmitic systems (whether arising from the bare essentials or unintended reminants left from stripped out or damaged/neglected more advanced computational systems during and in the aftermath of the Cynernetic Revolt and the Age of Strife, both in reaction to perceived vulnerabilities in AI systems and due to lacking resources to create and maintain such units and systems), including in much smaller devices one might no expect to find such capabilities as holdovers of smart technology integration (and perhaps neural network style distributed computing) during the Federation/DAoT, which are supernaturally explained by the Mechanius both due to poor understanding of the original technologies in there operation, maintenance and design (machine quirks and eccentricity may well be the result of accumulating errors and glitches, or even the limited adaptations or maladaptions of primative neural networks), as well as providing a satisfactory doctrinal explanation (consciously or unconsciously) for beneficial use of what might otherwise be perceived (rightly or wrongly) as heretical Abominable Intelligence.
Such a possibility might also explain Tide's docile spirits as the result of better understood and more consistent application of the manufacturing and maintenance of machines driven by far more comprehensive and total understanding by the fundamental principles and design than almost any menial labour and even many Mechanius members.
My guess would be that AI/computer and warp spirit "ghosts in the machine" occur and are labelled as machine spirits, quite possibly some combination of both (which could be occurring separately simultaneously and/or as a combined singular entity) to varying degrees and in varying ways across the Imperium and Mechanicum - where the full spectrum of "maybe magic, maybe mundane" possible explanations for machine spirits all occur, which I'd suspect most commonly occur in conjunction or in combination with each other (whether alternating, sequentially, randomly, in respond to different stimuli, persons and situations, together acting as a singular entity or force whether from the beginning or gradually over time, etc.).
I'm not certain, but I think the Patriarch might have been killed in an attempted distraction/diversionary breakthrough attempt, although l could be wrong and Patriarch didn't take part in it (in which case it's fate remains ambiguous). Regardless, considering that the actual genestealer Broodmind (splinter collective concious from the primary Tryanid "Godmind"), which has been a prominent narrative opponent and even prominant PoV character, but has been conspicuously absent in the past few chapters, I heavily suspect the Broodmind has managed to survive, whether by escape, hiding, decoy Patriarch (perhaps a convincing "faux"-decoy to take a page from Tide's book, etc.), uncaptured by Tide and this statement just reflects the fog of war limiting even Tide's knowledge, perception, and judgements.
The Broodmimd is just waiting to reveal itself when the Hive Fleet arrives.
On a somewhat unrelated note, I was wondering if in conjunction with Tide's new Power Frame ground forces he could develop airborne mechanical drones piloted by a Flood biomass "brain" or neural transmitter which could stay out of range of close-to-ground environmental hazards (although atmospheric hazards like strong winds would presumably be as much if not more of an issue) and melee attacks, using mechanical implements to manipulate and interaction with their surrounding environment (opening doors, wielding weapons, collecting samples, etc.)?
It had just occurred to me (and sorry if I missed or forgot this discussion happening earlier) as in some ways Tide Domain seems comparable to the Promethean Domain in the Halo Universe (which while what I understand of the lore seems to suggest wasn't directly taken from the Precursors, it's principles scream something the Precusors would have taught the Prometheans about and/or at very least have their own version of or access to), could it derive some sort of gleaned knowledge, access or connection with that realm (beyond the shared properties/characteristics)?
And lastly, could Tide use his Flood/Precursor memories to recreate Halo Promethean tech (perhaps ironically even anti-Flood tech/combat forms) as he is currently do with Covenant tech (which is mostly after all effectively primitive reverse-engineered Promethean tech).
Apologies for such a long-winded and disjointed post, the ideas just came out thick and fast, so I just wanted to make sure I wrote down and got it out of my head before I went to sleep. Goodnight all and thanks again for the wonderful chapter, @Jackson Fox!
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- Location
- USA
Missing the Chopper, Mongoose, and Falcon. No showings of any of the dropships, nor the Longsword for similar reasons.
The Falcon and Hornet seem like they would shine in Hive warfare. Agile vertically and horizontally, can hover more easily than the Banshee, and small enough wingspans to navigate the complex interiors of a Hive.
It's the same problem as the dark side of the force. Existing in the Warp without a body requires Drive, and the easiest way to achieve that drive is through raw emotion. You can even do it accidentally.
The problem is that every emotion, taken way the fuck too far, becomes an aspect of evil. So when you have a space where simply living requires intense emotion (or willpower that makes Green Lanterns jealous), the easiest way to become stronger is to feed on that same emotion, and the easiest way to feed is to inspire that emotion in mortals, well... Welcome to Hell.
questioningmeme
Just be yourself
- Location
- River of Light
What about the cool giant robot Mantis?
Everyone forget about the cool giant mech.
Arjac
Retreating Backwards
On one hand, Mantis is cool
On the other hand, Mantis is mainly associated with Halos 4 and 5
Strunkriidiisk
THE LEGEND
- Location
- Canada
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Fools, Tide is showing off the Halo 2 vehicles. Obviously the best one, since that one has the Gravemind in it.
questioningmeme
Just be yourself
- Location
- River of Light
Shouldn't he show off more Halo Wars vehicle then? Since those games deal with the Flood way more often.
Chapter 60 - Cold Hearted
Day 56
Fucking.
Daemons.
Within his Domain, Tide crafted a desk, a rather simple thing, and an equally simple body of wood for himself. Then, with all the grace of an Ogryn, he rammed his own head down onto it, repeatedly. Splinters flew as the desk and head of the illusory bodies exploded.
He wanted off this planet.
Wendigos and the Chaos ship were on the backburner for now, that was fine. It would take a while for the tech-priests to finish up their armor designs and even longer for him to actually start producing the things in sufficient numbers.
He hadn't expected the final cities to pose any real threat, to be honest. With the leadership gone, it should have been simple to deal with the confused remnants of the Chaos forces.
But no, apparently they had Warpsmiths! Warpsmiths who could apparently just pull an army of daemon engines out of their-!
Tide manifested a pillow, remade the wooden puppet's head, then screamed into the fluffy construct.
…
Slowly, Tide pulled his focus away, letting his consciousness drift in his Domain. The emotions he was feeling, powerful enough that even his usual balance between remaining in reality and outside it was not able to keep him level headed, slowly faded away, lost in the background noise of his own existence.
He'd lost that last battle. He might have achieved the objective of preventing further mortal deaths, at least in the immediate, but his forces had been pushed back, barely avoiding total destruction
In the hours since, the daemon engines had appeared in numerous different battlefields, teleporting in and out in rapid strikes that had been difficult to repel. The actual damage was rarely lasting, at least when it came to the infantry. Their biomass was reclaimed and repurposed easily enough, even if they were killed a dozen or more times. However, the constant slaughter of his forces was a hamper in his efforts to capture the hive. More concerning was the equipment he was losing, which was less easy to replace than the biomass. His advance had, essentially, stalled.
He could deal with that. There were other ways of taking the hive, he just needed the time to prepare them. However, the presence of any daemon engines was a grave concern, let alone a horde hundreds strong. Dealing with them, and their maker, was a must.
Responding to the attacks was not as simple as it might seem. He had more vehicles beyond the initial force he'd burned against the daemon engine horde in the first engagement. He'd been hesitant to deploy it, however, given that the enemy had shown it possessed reserves of its own. How many it had was something he needed to learn, but he couldn't do that without risking disaster. The ability to teleport was dangerous, Tide knew that well and he was not inclined towards sending all his tanks off to die while additional hordes of daemon engines assaulted other hives.
His 'borrowed' manufactories were hard at work assembling more warmachines, prioritizing the Imperial designs, with a heavy emphasis on the Leman Russ patterns, over any of the prototypes he'd sent against the daemon engines since their current iterations had proven less than what he desired. He was somewhat disappointed by the scarab's performance, but unsurprised. It was the first iteration of a type of vehicle he, and every tech-priest on the planet, had next to no experience actually designing or creating. That it had been able to move at all was an achievement in and of itself.
The ghosts, at least, had shown some promise, but he didn't have many jetbikes to compare them to at this point. One of the issues with Neural Transit was that it was incapable of teleporting things back. Whatever was being sent had to be within the grasp of a sizable bioform, one that increased with size the larger the object being sent was, in order for it to go anywhere. Such bioforms were not exactly easy to hide on a battlefield and Warp teleportation, which was the only thing Tide could assume the daemon engines were using, allowed for a greater degree of flexibility. If he were to build swarms of ghosts, their speed might be more effective at responding to the strikes than distributing his tanks to every one of his lines.
He could also start producing smaller weapons dedicated towards dealing with armor. The Guard had a number of such weapons, though things as powerful as melta guns were exceedingly rare. Instead, he could produce rockets and stronger grenades. Such weapons would be less effective than an actual tank, but they could be produced a lot faster and for cheaper.
In any case, he'd take some of the troops from the Eris front and send them to supplement those at Ate. He wasn't sure the two hive cities were in cooperation, at least in regards to whoever controlled the daemon engines, but splitting his troops evenly between them should cover any weaknesses, even if it would slow his attack on Eris.
He could use Neural Transit as a means of sending explosives at the daemon engines, but Tide was fairly certain that would do more damage to the surrounding area than the engines themselves, given their daemonic durability. It was a situational method, not something he could rely on to win this war.
Tide's form sighed. The constant warfare was getting to him. He'd only just finished off the genestealers and was still facing setbacks with the damned sorcerer. While the Orks… Well, they were still mucking in the ashen sea about under his careful watch, with various tribes clashing as they tried to figure out who was in charge. Honestly, their fighting was the closest thing to entertainment he had on this rock. As strange as it was to say that about fighting and killing, the Orks were clearly having the time of their lives and he couldn't help but appreciate that about them, even if he was taking measures to ensure they wouldn't be a threat to anyone beyond their fellows.
Combine all that with the daemons, the ongoing operations at Dolus, and whatever those ice creatures were… Tide wasn't sure if he could actually get mentally exhausted anymore. That wasn't quite the right descriptor for what he was feeling. It was more like… He needed to do something else. Something that wasn't to do with bloodshed.
There were plenty of things like that he was doing. Even at that exact moment, he was growing his vines across the walls and ceilings of countless hab blocks, having them produce fruits to ensure no one went hungry. He was messing with the various officials of the hive cities, enjoying the show as they grumbled and groaned about the increasing wellness of the population. Many sent orders to have the fruits destroyed, though Tide always intercepted those orders.
He was also producing all kinds of machines and helping the growing number of tech-priests who were working with him as they designed new devices. Most were for war, but Tide had also looked for individuals among the Cult Mechanicus who were more interested in helping people rather than killing them. Most of the industrial capacity he had currently was being slowly changed to produce tanks and infantry anti-armor weapons, but he had a few smaller facilities dedicated to these things meant to improve the lives of others. Hopefully, he could shift more of his capacity to such things in time.
But, no, neither of those tasks drew the interest of his focus at the moment. Instead, Tide shifted his attention off of Monstrum and away, away even from the Space Hulk. Tide studied the solar system Monstrum itself shared with other worlds.
The Monstrum system held three worlds in total, as well as a pair of asteroid belts. Monstrum was the second planet from the solar system and located between the two belts.
The first planet, the originally named world of Ignis, was a pleasant little firestorm of a world. Its proximity to Monstrum's sun meant it had a temperature roughly similar to the Barren Lands, though it was actually slightly colder than that section of Monstrum. Tide assumed it was because the planet actually rotated as it orbited the star, unlike its neighbor. It was also quite small, barely over two thousand kilometers in diameter. It had an atmosphere, though it was almost wholly argon-based.
The third planet, as originally named as its little brother Ignis, was called Glacies. Literally, fire and ice. He could only assume that either the Imperium or whichever human had discovered this system had been having an off day or just was garbage at naming things.
Glacies, as the name would entail, was a frozen rock. Given recent experiences with the Wastes, and his luck, one might assume it was filled with Wendigos. Fortunately, that did not appear to be the case. He'd sent a few Sentinel bases modified to work in places without atmospheres, just in case, though it was as much for the benefit of having a few Proto-Gravemind bioforms off-planet. While the Space Hulk was good, additional redundancy couldn't hurt. They'd also let him check the planet for any resources he might be able to harvest, likely metals.
Neither of the planets had any moons or anything like that. Monstrum didn't either, unless you counted the Space Hulk.
The asteroid belts weren't overly remarkable either. They didn't have any official names, though plenty of the tech-priests who were dedicated towards astronomy had come up with their own. They did have a large abundance of metal in certain sections, though other areas clearly showed signs of having been fully stripped, likely by the humans who'd originally built the hive cities.
He hadn't been expecting any worlds he might be able to colonize or even just turn into a massive factory. Those types of planets had always already been taken.
Unless…
Tide recalled that the Warp did not permit access to every star system in the galaxy. Beyond just Warp Storms blocking the path, many systems simply didn't show up in the Warp-sight of Navigators. He wasn't sure if that was correct, but he knew there were a lot more star systems in the galaxy than those the Imperium had found and colonized.
The nearest solar system was a little more than five lightyears away. Currently, the largest Keymind Tide possessed, the Whiro Keymind, had a range of around three lightyears in terms of how far out he could send the Star Road or a Flood form and still have control over both.
But he didn't have only one Keymind. He had three, each with similar levels of strength. He hadn't needed to connect them before, so he hadn't, but now… Tide grinned with a million mouths as tendrils the size of train cars slowly began to snake down massive tunnels that connected the three empty hives of Whiro, Enyo, and Limos, making their way towards one another.
Maybe, just maybe, there were some systems that the Imperium, and everyone else, hadn't been able to reach just yet.
The black-cloaked tech-priest stood in a darkened control room, seated in a throne that faced a black display screen. His plating almost seemed to shimmer, though it gave off no light of its own. His hood was drawn closely over his lowered head, his hands lightly gripping the armrests of his seat.
While verbally silent, the Emissary was far from silent. Nor would a tech-priest have been able to listen in on his conversation through the Noosphere, for this was a method of communication of an entirely different sort. One where any would-be spies would quickly find themselves ripping out their own eyes from the madness of the scrapcode encryptions.
"Victory, yes, but not total," were the words the tech-priest transmitted. "Many of its vehicles escaped."
The lights of the control room suddenly activated and flickered with the displeasure of the other end of the communication.
"They were unusual, though hardly outstanding designs," The tech-priest said assuredly. "Nothing compared to our own creations and the Arkifane's."
Another flicker of even greater annoyance and the tech-priest bowed his head lower.
"Apologies," He said. "But the Soul Grinders were quite effective. Purchasing their services in exchange for the souls of this hive's denizens was an ingenious move, master."
The flickering lessened, the lights dimming once more.
"I believe purchasing yet more would further improve our capabilities to combat this entity," The Emissary said. "Once you deliver this world to the Dark Prince, surely you will need aides and adjutants? Not just mortals, but daemons as well. Who better than daemons freed from the Arkifane's entrapments by your graciousness?"
This time, it was the vox-casters that crackled to life, emitting a static-filled sound like the tapping of claws and gnashing of teeth. Had he not heard it before, the Emissary likely wouldn't have realized that it was laughter. As loathe as he was to ruin his master's good mood, he was equally as loathe towards losing this war.
"Additionally, I believe manufacturing more daemon engines of our own will be necessary to defeat our foe," The Emissary said, trying not to flinch as the vox-casters cut to silence. "I understand your… dislike for increasing the debt, but if we are to clear it, we cannot allow this entity to stop us. They have shown themselves to be dangerous opponents. Their experimentation with new kinds of vehicles shows this to be true. Furthermore, their strange method of teleportation is of great concern. It allowed them to deliver a considerable number of vehicles as swiftly as we were. That is something to take into account."
There was no outburst of rage at his logic, which the Emissary felt relief over, but a questioning tone, like the ringing of a silver bell perfectly wrought.
"I do. We sent many of our freshly built and stockpiled forces into that battle, but the numbers our opponent possesses are not so easily known to us," The Emissary said. "This world provides us a substantial harvest of souls to reap. I do not think we need to worry about lacking for payment to all our debts."
Once more, the vox-casters emitted that artificial, horrific laughter. The Emissary's metallic mask shifted, its features transforming into a smile.
The serf named Caleb shivered as they passed down the corridor, the cold seeping through even the four layers of clothes he wore. Given that those layers were the ratty remnants of other gunnery-deck serfs who'd perished in the crash of the Gallow's Eye, it wasn't much protection to begin with. Behind him, four sets of footsteps echoed down the hallway in addition to his own.
"All I'm saying is that we've been down this corridor half-a-dozen times in the last week and all we find are the same corpses," Barrow said, frustration obvious in his tone. He was the loudest of the four cultists and the next in the line behind Caleb. While one might assume Caleb's foremost position in the group's formation meant he was the leader, the reality was that he was little more than a sacrificial pawn in case… something happened. "Whose group was the last to find someone who was still breathing?"
"Indra's," Tharen replied. He was fourth in line. "Three days ago, I think?"
"Nah, it was four. She got frozen three days ago," Urien, the third in line, clarified.
"Serves her right, she was hoarding rations," Kaine, the rearmost in their group, announced as he spat a glob of venom, one of his gifts, which landed with a sizzle on the metal floor.
Suddenly, Caleb halted, his ears prickling as he listened hard. His stop was fast enough that Barrow nearly tumbled into him. Angrily, the cultist cuffed the serf over the head, hard.
"What are you doing?!?" The man demanded.
"I-I thought I heard something, l-lord!" Caleb explained quickly, cowering before the man. "Some kind of… scraping."
"Is that right?" Barrow asked, still annoyed, but not slightly wary. "Well, keep moving then. Eyes front, and all that." With that, he shoved Caleb forward and the serf quickly moved on, keeping his gaze fixed forward. Five sets of footsteps followed behind him.
"Damn fool's jumping at shadows," Kaine muttered, easily loud enough that Caleb could hear him. Nervously, the serf crossed his arms, rubbing his hands against them. His fingers tapped out a quiet beat, something he barely realized he was doing. Tap-tp-tp. Tap-tp-tp. It was the same rhythm as the one his mother would tap out when singing him to sleep. Even all these years later it brought him comfort.
"Even shadows can have claws, Kaine," Urien said half in warning, half in mocking. Kaine said nothing to that, unusual for a man with so violent a temper. While all here were servants of Tzeentch, some thought Kaine had chosen the wrong god to serve. Urien, in particular, enjoyed needling the other cultist. He gave a quiet sigh of disappointment when Kaine refused to rise to the bait.
Tap-tp-tp. Tap-tp-tp.
"Perhaps we should head back?" Urien asked, more out of boredom than anything else. "We could just say we didn't find anyone. Again."
"You mean lie to Lord Uirus?" Barrow snorted derisively. "Might as well take a stroll outside."
"I could do it," Tharen said confidently.
"Did the Architect grant you a gift in the head, Tharen?" Barrow asked, snickering. "And how do you imagine you could lie to a son of the Crimson King?"
Tharen too fell silent at the mockery and the other two cultists snorted.
"Thought so," Barrow said.
Tap-tp-tp. Tap-tp-tp.
"I don't suppose the Crimson King might send someone else out to look for his wayward sons, do you think?" Urien asked.
"He has a thousand of them, I doubt he cares all that much about these two," Barrow replied. "Even if he does, I doubt we're high on his list of priorities."
"Speak for yourself, I've got a mighty destiny ahead of me," Urien said. "The Architect of Fate has plans for me."
"The Architect has plans for everyone and everything," Barrow countered. "That's kind of his whole thing."
Urien too, was quiet at that.
Tap-tp-tp. Tap-tp-tp.
"Is that you?" Barrow suddenly demanded. "What's that tapping noise?"
Caleb went still, keeping his gaze fixed on the ground. "S-sorry, I… I do it when I get nervous."
"Well stop it!" Barrow barked and Caleb forced his hand to remain still. "Get moving!" The cultist gave him another shove and they continued on their way.
However, it did not take Caleb long before he realized… There were no longer any footsteps echoing behind him.
Caleb turned around and found nothing but an empty corridor, devoid of anything but debris. "L-lords?"
Had they left him? Decided to play some kind of sick joke and abandon him to the cold? Caleb hurried back down the hall. Once more, his hand began tapping out the beat, something he didn't even notice. And then, all of a sudden, he halted.
He heard footsteps again.
Behind him.
The footsteps were close. Caleb didn't dare turn around, listening to the sound of a strange tread against the metal floor, like softly crackling ice. Closer and closer they drew, until finally…
They stopped. Someone, something was behind him. He could feel their presence. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and the air felt dangerously cold. Despite the frigid temperature, dropping rapidly, Caleb felt sweat running down his face and soaking through the too-thin clothes he wore. Yet, despite their proximity, despite the fact that he knew if he so much as tilted backwards he'd push against them, he felt no breath. He stared at the white clouds that left his mouth, felt the cold creeping into him, slowly.
Shuk-shk-shk.
He heard a sound like the scraping of ice against itself and he nearly collapsed then and there. It was so close, almost in his ears. What had made that noise?
Shuk-shk-shk
It sounded again, almost seeming more insistent this time. Caleb squeezed his eyes shut as tightly as he could. His tears froze against his cheeks as he whispered barely audible pleas between choked sobs.
Shuk-shk-shk
It was loud, right next to his ears. As the fear took hold, Caleb's trembling hands that were barely able to be directed at all finally beat a slow reply.
Tap… tp… tp…
There was a moment of silence as Caleb waited for death to come, for whatever monster that had been hunting them all to finally take him as well.
And yet, the blow never came. Death never came.
He did not open his eyes, even when he felt the cold leave and a tiny bit of warmth finally seep back into his bones. He did nothing when he heard the footsteps growing more and more distant before finally disappearing. He did not dare to look even when he heard four more sets of footsteps walk past him with an unsteady rhythm to follow the first set.
It could have been minutes or hours later before he finally found the will to open his eyes, and a significant amount of time after that before he could even take a step back towards the warmth of the reactor. In comparison, the journey back was short and he collapsed in relief as the final door slid shut behind him once more, drawing stares as he wept openly in gratitude.
He heard a familiar, dreadful gait then and looked up to see Lord Uirus standing above him, helmet's gaze pointed squarely upon him.
"Where is your squad, serf?"
Fucking.
Daemons.
Within his Domain, Tide crafted a desk, a rather simple thing, and an equally simple body of wood for himself. Then, with all the grace of an Ogryn, he rammed his own head down onto it, repeatedly. Splinters flew as the desk and head of the illusory bodies exploded.
He wanted off this planet.
Wendigos and the Chaos ship were on the backburner for now, that was fine. It would take a while for the tech-priests to finish up their armor designs and even longer for him to actually start producing the things in sufficient numbers.
He hadn't expected the final cities to pose any real threat, to be honest. With the leadership gone, it should have been simple to deal with the confused remnants of the Chaos forces.
But no, apparently they had Warpsmiths! Warpsmiths who could apparently just pull an army of daemon engines out of their-!
Tide manifested a pillow, remade the wooden puppet's head, then screamed into the fluffy construct.
…
Slowly, Tide pulled his focus away, letting his consciousness drift in his Domain. The emotions he was feeling, powerful enough that even his usual balance between remaining in reality and outside it was not able to keep him level headed, slowly faded away, lost in the background noise of his own existence.
He'd lost that last battle. He might have achieved the objective of preventing further mortal deaths, at least in the immediate, but his forces had been pushed back, barely avoiding total destruction
In the hours since, the daemon engines had appeared in numerous different battlefields, teleporting in and out in rapid strikes that had been difficult to repel. The actual damage was rarely lasting, at least when it came to the infantry. Their biomass was reclaimed and repurposed easily enough, even if they were killed a dozen or more times. However, the constant slaughter of his forces was a hamper in his efforts to capture the hive. More concerning was the equipment he was losing, which was less easy to replace than the biomass. His advance had, essentially, stalled.
He could deal with that. There were other ways of taking the hive, he just needed the time to prepare them. However, the presence of any daemon engines was a grave concern, let alone a horde hundreds strong. Dealing with them, and their maker, was a must.
Responding to the attacks was not as simple as it might seem. He had more vehicles beyond the initial force he'd burned against the daemon engine horde in the first engagement. He'd been hesitant to deploy it, however, given that the enemy had shown it possessed reserves of its own. How many it had was something he needed to learn, but he couldn't do that without risking disaster. The ability to teleport was dangerous, Tide knew that well and he was not inclined towards sending all his tanks off to die while additional hordes of daemon engines assaulted other hives.
His 'borrowed' manufactories were hard at work assembling more warmachines, prioritizing the Imperial designs, with a heavy emphasis on the Leman Russ patterns, over any of the prototypes he'd sent against the daemon engines since their current iterations had proven less than what he desired. He was somewhat disappointed by the scarab's performance, but unsurprised. It was the first iteration of a type of vehicle he, and every tech-priest on the planet, had next to no experience actually designing or creating. That it had been able to move at all was an achievement in and of itself.
The ghosts, at least, had shown some promise, but he didn't have many jetbikes to compare them to at this point. One of the issues with Neural Transit was that it was incapable of teleporting things back. Whatever was being sent had to be within the grasp of a sizable bioform, one that increased with size the larger the object being sent was, in order for it to go anywhere. Such bioforms were not exactly easy to hide on a battlefield and Warp teleportation, which was the only thing Tide could assume the daemon engines were using, allowed for a greater degree of flexibility. If he were to build swarms of ghosts, their speed might be more effective at responding to the strikes than distributing his tanks to every one of his lines.
He could also start producing smaller weapons dedicated towards dealing with armor. The Guard had a number of such weapons, though things as powerful as melta guns were exceedingly rare. Instead, he could produce rockets and stronger grenades. Such weapons would be less effective than an actual tank, but they could be produced a lot faster and for cheaper.
In any case, he'd take some of the troops from the Eris front and send them to supplement those at Ate. He wasn't sure the two hive cities were in cooperation, at least in regards to whoever controlled the daemon engines, but splitting his troops evenly between them should cover any weaknesses, even if it would slow his attack on Eris.
He could use Neural Transit as a means of sending explosives at the daemon engines, but Tide was fairly certain that would do more damage to the surrounding area than the engines themselves, given their daemonic durability. It was a situational method, not something he could rely on to win this war.
Tide's form sighed. The constant warfare was getting to him. He'd only just finished off the genestealers and was still facing setbacks with the damned sorcerer. While the Orks… Well, they were still mucking in the ashen sea about under his careful watch, with various tribes clashing as they tried to figure out who was in charge. Honestly, their fighting was the closest thing to entertainment he had on this rock. As strange as it was to say that about fighting and killing, the Orks were clearly having the time of their lives and he couldn't help but appreciate that about them, even if he was taking measures to ensure they wouldn't be a threat to anyone beyond their fellows.
Combine all that with the daemons, the ongoing operations at Dolus, and whatever those ice creatures were… Tide wasn't sure if he could actually get mentally exhausted anymore. That wasn't quite the right descriptor for what he was feeling. It was more like… He needed to do something else. Something that wasn't to do with bloodshed.
There were plenty of things like that he was doing. Even at that exact moment, he was growing his vines across the walls and ceilings of countless hab blocks, having them produce fruits to ensure no one went hungry. He was messing with the various officials of the hive cities, enjoying the show as they grumbled and groaned about the increasing wellness of the population. Many sent orders to have the fruits destroyed, though Tide always intercepted those orders.
He was also producing all kinds of machines and helping the growing number of tech-priests who were working with him as they designed new devices. Most were for war, but Tide had also looked for individuals among the Cult Mechanicus who were more interested in helping people rather than killing them. Most of the industrial capacity he had currently was being slowly changed to produce tanks and infantry anti-armor weapons, but he had a few smaller facilities dedicated to these things meant to improve the lives of others. Hopefully, he could shift more of his capacity to such things in time.
But, no, neither of those tasks drew the interest of his focus at the moment. Instead, Tide shifted his attention off of Monstrum and away, away even from the Space Hulk. Tide studied the solar system Monstrum itself shared with other worlds.
The Monstrum system held three worlds in total, as well as a pair of asteroid belts. Monstrum was the second planet from the solar system and located between the two belts.
The first planet, the originally named world of Ignis, was a pleasant little firestorm of a world. Its proximity to Monstrum's sun meant it had a temperature roughly similar to the Barren Lands, though it was actually slightly colder than that section of Monstrum. Tide assumed it was because the planet actually rotated as it orbited the star, unlike its neighbor. It was also quite small, barely over two thousand kilometers in diameter. It had an atmosphere, though it was almost wholly argon-based.
The third planet, as originally named as its little brother Ignis, was called Glacies. Literally, fire and ice. He could only assume that either the Imperium or whichever human had discovered this system had been having an off day or just was garbage at naming things.
Glacies, as the name would entail, was a frozen rock. Given recent experiences with the Wastes, and his luck, one might assume it was filled with Wendigos. Fortunately, that did not appear to be the case. He'd sent a few Sentinel bases modified to work in places without atmospheres, just in case, though it was as much for the benefit of having a few Proto-Gravemind bioforms off-planet. While the Space Hulk was good, additional redundancy couldn't hurt. They'd also let him check the planet for any resources he might be able to harvest, likely metals.
Neither of the planets had any moons or anything like that. Monstrum didn't either, unless you counted the Space Hulk.
The asteroid belts weren't overly remarkable either. They didn't have any official names, though plenty of the tech-priests who were dedicated towards astronomy had come up with their own. They did have a large abundance of metal in certain sections, though other areas clearly showed signs of having been fully stripped, likely by the humans who'd originally built the hive cities.
He hadn't been expecting any worlds he might be able to colonize or even just turn into a massive factory. Those types of planets had always already been taken.
Unless…
Tide recalled that the Warp did not permit access to every star system in the galaxy. Beyond just Warp Storms blocking the path, many systems simply didn't show up in the Warp-sight of Navigators. He wasn't sure if that was correct, but he knew there were a lot more star systems in the galaxy than those the Imperium had found and colonized.
The nearest solar system was a little more than five lightyears away. Currently, the largest Keymind Tide possessed, the Whiro Keymind, had a range of around three lightyears in terms of how far out he could send the Star Road or a Flood form and still have control over both.
But he didn't have only one Keymind. He had three, each with similar levels of strength. He hadn't needed to connect them before, so he hadn't, but now… Tide grinned with a million mouths as tendrils the size of train cars slowly began to snake down massive tunnels that connected the three empty hives of Whiro, Enyo, and Limos, making their way towards one another.
Maybe, just maybe, there were some systems that the Imperium, and everyone else, hadn't been able to reach just yet.
The black-cloaked tech-priest stood in a darkened control room, seated in a throne that faced a black display screen. His plating almost seemed to shimmer, though it gave off no light of its own. His hood was drawn closely over his lowered head, his hands lightly gripping the armrests of his seat.
While verbally silent, the Emissary was far from silent. Nor would a tech-priest have been able to listen in on his conversation through the Noosphere, for this was a method of communication of an entirely different sort. One where any would-be spies would quickly find themselves ripping out their own eyes from the madness of the scrapcode encryptions.
"Victory, yes, but not total," were the words the tech-priest transmitted. "Many of its vehicles escaped."
The lights of the control room suddenly activated and flickered with the displeasure of the other end of the communication.
"They were unusual, though hardly outstanding designs," The tech-priest said assuredly. "Nothing compared to our own creations and the Arkifane's."
Another flicker of even greater annoyance and the tech-priest bowed his head lower.
"Apologies," He said. "But the Soul Grinders were quite effective. Purchasing their services in exchange for the souls of this hive's denizens was an ingenious move, master."
The flickering lessened, the lights dimming once more.
"I believe purchasing yet more would further improve our capabilities to combat this entity," The Emissary said. "Once you deliver this world to the Dark Prince, surely you will need aides and adjutants? Not just mortals, but daemons as well. Who better than daemons freed from the Arkifane's entrapments by your graciousness?"
This time, it was the vox-casters that crackled to life, emitting a static-filled sound like the tapping of claws and gnashing of teeth. Had he not heard it before, the Emissary likely wouldn't have realized that it was laughter. As loathe as he was to ruin his master's good mood, he was equally as loathe towards losing this war.
"Additionally, I believe manufacturing more daemon engines of our own will be necessary to defeat our foe," The Emissary said, trying not to flinch as the vox-casters cut to silence. "I understand your… dislike for increasing the debt, but if we are to clear it, we cannot allow this entity to stop us. They have shown themselves to be dangerous opponents. Their experimentation with new kinds of vehicles shows this to be true. Furthermore, their strange method of teleportation is of great concern. It allowed them to deliver a considerable number of vehicles as swiftly as we were. That is something to take into account."
There was no outburst of rage at his logic, which the Emissary felt relief over, but a questioning tone, like the ringing of a silver bell perfectly wrought.
"I do. We sent many of our freshly built and stockpiled forces into that battle, but the numbers our opponent possesses are not so easily known to us," The Emissary said. "This world provides us a substantial harvest of souls to reap. I do not think we need to worry about lacking for payment to all our debts."
Once more, the vox-casters emitted that artificial, horrific laughter. The Emissary's metallic mask shifted, its features transforming into a smile.
The serf named Caleb shivered as they passed down the corridor, the cold seeping through even the four layers of clothes he wore. Given that those layers were the ratty remnants of other gunnery-deck serfs who'd perished in the crash of the Gallow's Eye, it wasn't much protection to begin with. Behind him, four sets of footsteps echoed down the hallway in addition to his own.
"All I'm saying is that we've been down this corridor half-a-dozen times in the last week and all we find are the same corpses," Barrow said, frustration obvious in his tone. He was the loudest of the four cultists and the next in the line behind Caleb. While one might assume Caleb's foremost position in the group's formation meant he was the leader, the reality was that he was little more than a sacrificial pawn in case… something happened. "Whose group was the last to find someone who was still breathing?"
"Indra's," Tharen replied. He was fourth in line. "Three days ago, I think?"
"Nah, it was four. She got frozen three days ago," Urien, the third in line, clarified.
"Serves her right, she was hoarding rations," Kaine, the rearmost in their group, announced as he spat a glob of venom, one of his gifts, which landed with a sizzle on the metal floor.
Suddenly, Caleb halted, his ears prickling as he listened hard. His stop was fast enough that Barrow nearly tumbled into him. Angrily, the cultist cuffed the serf over the head, hard.
"What are you doing?!?" The man demanded.
"I-I thought I heard something, l-lord!" Caleb explained quickly, cowering before the man. "Some kind of… scraping."
"Is that right?" Barrow asked, still annoyed, but not slightly wary. "Well, keep moving then. Eyes front, and all that." With that, he shoved Caleb forward and the serf quickly moved on, keeping his gaze fixed forward. Five sets of footsteps followed behind him.
"Damn fool's jumping at shadows," Kaine muttered, easily loud enough that Caleb could hear him. Nervously, the serf crossed his arms, rubbing his hands against them. His fingers tapped out a quiet beat, something he barely realized he was doing. Tap-tp-tp. Tap-tp-tp. It was the same rhythm as the one his mother would tap out when singing him to sleep. Even all these years later it brought him comfort.
"Even shadows can have claws, Kaine," Urien said half in warning, half in mocking. Kaine said nothing to that, unusual for a man with so violent a temper. While all here were servants of Tzeentch, some thought Kaine had chosen the wrong god to serve. Urien, in particular, enjoyed needling the other cultist. He gave a quiet sigh of disappointment when Kaine refused to rise to the bait.
Tap-tp-tp. Tap-tp-tp.
"Perhaps we should head back?" Urien asked, more out of boredom than anything else. "We could just say we didn't find anyone. Again."
"You mean lie to Lord Uirus?" Barrow snorted derisively. "Might as well take a stroll outside."
"I could do it," Tharen said confidently.
"Did the Architect grant you a gift in the head, Tharen?" Barrow asked, snickering. "And how do you imagine you could lie to a son of the Crimson King?"
Tharen too fell silent at the mockery and the other two cultists snorted.
"Thought so," Barrow said.
Tap-tp-tp. Tap-tp-tp.
"I don't suppose the Crimson King might send someone else out to look for his wayward sons, do you think?" Urien asked.
"He has a thousand of them, I doubt he cares all that much about these two," Barrow replied. "Even if he does, I doubt we're high on his list of priorities."
"Speak for yourself, I've got a mighty destiny ahead of me," Urien said. "The Architect of Fate has plans for me."
"The Architect has plans for everyone and everything," Barrow countered. "That's kind of his whole thing."
Urien too, was quiet at that.
Tap-tp-tp. Tap-tp-tp.
"Is that you?" Barrow suddenly demanded. "What's that tapping noise?"
Caleb went still, keeping his gaze fixed on the ground. "S-sorry, I… I do it when I get nervous."
"Well stop it!" Barrow barked and Caleb forced his hand to remain still. "Get moving!" The cultist gave him another shove and they continued on their way.
However, it did not take Caleb long before he realized… There were no longer any footsteps echoing behind him.
Caleb turned around and found nothing but an empty corridor, devoid of anything but debris. "L-lords?"
Had they left him? Decided to play some kind of sick joke and abandon him to the cold? Caleb hurried back down the hall. Once more, his hand began tapping out the beat, something he didn't even notice. And then, all of a sudden, he halted.
He heard footsteps again.
Behind him.
The footsteps were close. Caleb didn't dare turn around, listening to the sound of a strange tread against the metal floor, like softly crackling ice. Closer and closer they drew, until finally…
They stopped. Someone, something was behind him. He could feel their presence. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and the air felt dangerously cold. Despite the frigid temperature, dropping rapidly, Caleb felt sweat running down his face and soaking through the too-thin clothes he wore. Yet, despite their proximity, despite the fact that he knew if he so much as tilted backwards he'd push against them, he felt no breath. He stared at the white clouds that left his mouth, felt the cold creeping into him, slowly.
Shuk-shk-shk.
He heard a sound like the scraping of ice against itself and he nearly collapsed then and there. It was so close, almost in his ears. What had made that noise?
Shuk-shk-shk
It sounded again, almost seeming more insistent this time. Caleb squeezed his eyes shut as tightly as he could. His tears froze against his cheeks as he whispered barely audible pleas between choked sobs.
Shuk-shk-shk
It was loud, right next to his ears. As the fear took hold, Caleb's trembling hands that were barely able to be directed at all finally beat a slow reply.
Tap… tp… tp…
There was a moment of silence as Caleb waited for death to come, for whatever monster that had been hunting them all to finally take him as well.
And yet, the blow never came. Death never came.
He did not open his eyes, even when he felt the cold leave and a tiny bit of warmth finally seep back into his bones. He did nothing when he heard the footsteps growing more and more distant before finally disappearing. He did not dare to look even when he heard four more sets of footsteps walk past him with an unsteady rhythm to follow the first set.
It could have been minutes or hours later before he finally found the will to open his eyes, and a significant amount of time after that before he could even take a step back towards the warmth of the reactor. In comparison, the journey back was short and he collapsed in relief as the final door slid shut behind him once more, drawing stares as he wept openly in gratitude.
He heard a familiar, dreadful gait then and looked up to see Lord Uirus standing above him, helmet's gaze pointed squarely upon him.
"Where is your squad, serf?"
They are good names Mr. Tentacle monster
Right..... Sure..... Totally.....
- Location
- England
The Architect of Fate has plans for everyone. Sometimes three different plans before breakfast. I mean, very very very few of the plans involve things like "and then he goes on to live happily for a very long time before dying peacefully in bed" rather more have stuff like "and then warp feedback from the unstable ritual melts his brain into rainbow coloured sludge".
On one hand, Tide might be going to another system! On the other, I don't understand why he hasn't finished exploring the rest of the space hulk. Previously he didn't bother as he didn't want to remove his only orbital foothold, but he has teleportation as well as mundane transports to get up there.