- Location
- Minnesota
- Pronouns
- She/Her
The Icon of Sin, Gundam Build Diver Re:Rise (and Fighter)/40k AU, Ft Nihilo
- Thread starter Hastar
- Start date
- Mature
Winged One
Not the Simurgh
- Location
- definitely the ground
- Pronouns
- They/Them/It
Does the thing about purusing perfection count as part of excess or is it its own thing? I've never been clear on that.
The kid knows enough lore for the daemonettes to come in a 6 pack, so toss-up if they'll be mad at their grandma for selling their minis or happy they got someone into the hobby.
The ambiance was good, though!
Are they a theme battle team, or a Black Crusade playgroup, or what?
Nihilo
Authorial parasite
- Location
- Catalonia
Nah, those are the modern ones. Ya boy got the actually sexy daemonettes.
It can be, depends on how you're pursuing it. What definitely overlaps is the desire domain. Although, really, desire covers so goddamn much. It's like how Nurgle has stonks everywhere because chaos and anything adjacent to it are suffering balls.
Depends on his opinion on some things. You'll see next chapter.
I think Bob mentioned that, among other things, you can basically play TWW with a bunch of people.The ambiance was good, though!
- Location
- Minnesota
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Image is broken but i think i found the older models in a search. They're definitely some models.Nah, those are the modern ones. Ya boy got the actually sexy daemonettes.
Nihilo
Authorial parasite
- Location
- Catalonia
Hastar
procrastinator extraordinaire
- Location
- Fran*e
yey! that makes the happy chemicals happy!
Especially since for some reason there's like... No one participating in the SB thread. You'd think more people would since there's 40k stuff, but I guess that by not front loading it we lost a lot of interest (pretty sure gundam's not super popular there for some reason)
I'll go over it a bit more later in the fic. But basically what Ni said's correct.The ambiance was good, though!
People can do skirmishes, which is the regular 40k type of play, but some (crazy) people figured a way to make their games into a mix of TWW and the DoW: Dark Crusade campaigns. Where there's a world map, and they roam around in their army, taking over areas to get more resources to bring in more of their troops, with semi-randomly generated battle maps whenever there's fighting to be had.
I'm pretty sure it counts? Like, you're trying to make things absolutely perfect, which is excessive, so you feed She-Who-Thirsts in doing so.
When the time comes for Galatea to be eventually Isekai-ed into Warhammer 40k or Eldora-ed (Build Divers ReRise reference) with her Gunpla and forces of custom-made, she's gonna be terrified of the actual Slaanesh.
Hastar
procrastinator extraordinaire
- Location
- Fran*e
Gonna be totally honest so there's no overexpectations.
While Slaaneshi stuff is gonna feature, 40k is just a game in the fic, Galatea's not gonna get isekai'd into the 40k universe. Eldora will still happen though, but it's gonna be pretty different instead of a series of skirmishes, it'll be a grand strategy campaign for one. With Galatea bringing in at least one of the 40k peeps to serve as the not-giant robot troops
Oh I see, my bad.
I understand and I look forward for your story's direction.
Wow, I must have gotten too used reading fanfics about Gunpla Battlers with customized Gunpla who were Isekai-ed to any world of Gundam (UC, 00 or Seed for example) with their machines becoming real, and they have to fight and survive for their lives or else it's game over for them permanently.
Winged One
Not the Simurgh
- Location
- definitely the ground
- Pronouns
- They/Them/It
Hastar
procrastinator extraordinaire
- Location
- Fran*e
I mean, that's the easiest way to do Gundam Build fanfics. So no surprises that's what you were expecting, honestly Ervoan was gonna be the MC of one of those.
With him getting yeeted into Lancer (the mecha ttrpg), but between not being super happy with some of the narrative i was making
View: https://youtu.be/AtXKbmM3pkM?si=jkxT4ti51uF02VQ9
In less good news, work has been kicking my ass this week, so the chapter might not be posted Saturday, depends on how much more nonsense gets heaped on top of my rapidly shrinking plate.
Edit: posted the proper video
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Yeah, the method of Gundam Build crossover fanfics is through Plavsky Particle shenanigans that would transport the main character and their Gunpla to the dimension of any Gundam show.
I mean there was Reiji being transported from his world of Arian to Earth through the Arista Crystal of Plavsky Particles in Build Fighters where he met Sei Iori and became his best friend and fellow Gunpla Battler before returning home with the same crystal and brought Aila Jyrkiäinen with him.
chapter 7: Down the Drain, a Hive escape part1
Hastar
procrastinator extraordinaire
- Location
- Fran*e
Chapter 7:
On a shadowed stage, a man sits on a stool under a large spotlight.
The clothes he wears are that of a refined military man. A large, well fitted and rather fetching light red greatcoat, fitted with black epaulettes, "The Imperium of Man," He says, a massive aquila rising into view behind him, until it was well above his peaked cap, "A polity where a single world is a simple statistic. And where a single life upon it is a statistic within a statistic, less than a rounding error."
Reaching to the side, he picks up a steaming cup of what appears to be tea from a table that had faded into view, "A regime made cruel by necessity, and kept cruel by apathy and corruption," Taking a sip from his cup, he places it back down, and it soon begins to fade out of view, "Where being different from the norm is enough to be branded a monster and killed in the streets like a dog."
The aquila changes, turning into a burning, golden sphere. Various planets spin around this new sun and into view, before stopping on a specific one, "There is not a day where horrors are not committed in its name. Least of all on this Imperial world," The planet swells in size, and it is… ugly, coloured a sickly, off base brown, with dots of burning red streaking along black veins, connecting various pits of roting off-white, "Today, the imperium is not the protagonist of our tale. Today, the one whose story shall unfurl is a witch, a mutant, a heretic. One of the hated foes of an Imperium that gave them no choice but to become what the hateful rhetoric of a crumbling empire said that she was…"
His speech finished, the spotlight cuts out, leaving the stage in total darkness for a moment. And as light slowly returns, the scene is now of a different sort.
Cold–
Just like always.
Tersia felt cold.
It gnawed at her skin, and she could see parts of it turn brittle and frostbitten. Bringing with them the pain that told her she was still alive, still living a nightmare that never ended… But at the very least it wasn't the sweltering, agonising pain of the priest's brand, of the flesh burning as flames washed over her as they called her a monster and abomination.
She shuddered at the memory, drinking deeper of the ember of power in her chest. It had already washed away the burns, ugly trenches of glistening red smoothing out into milky lilac, so it was fine. It was fine. She needed that warmth, needed that bubbling joy in her blood to keep from sinking into the murk of the underhive.
With a pulse, the world lost some of its dreariness. Colours became sharper, the cold almost a pleasant chill, her skin-tone healthier as relief filled her mind. The dread and soul-draining strain of existing in this world sloughing off of her for a moment…
Maybe– maybe she could do it again?
It was safe. Right? Tersia was– she could control it, the whispers were silent, like they were when she didn't use the ember– so she could do it again?
She couldn't quite help a low groan as her head turned fuzzy and her purple eyes unfocused, the rough edges of reality sanded away as she slumped in relief.
She felt… weird.
Like the horrible things of her life, her pain, her hunger, the people always wanting to kill her, the things that crawled in the pipes, the stench of filth. Like they'd all fallen away.
Well, except the whispers. Their sweet scent tickled her nose as they told her things that the old lady said that she should never hear.
The old woman had been nice… But then the priests burned her. They'd called her a mutant, said that the third arm meant she wasn't human.
So they burned her in the name of the God-Emperor that the old lady had been faithfully praying to every day. The warm light around her when she did had been nice. Not like the choking, dirty, rusted yellow of the priests.
But then– something chased away these feelings. Like a sudden realisation. An instinctual need to flee that filled her instead.
It felt far away. Farther even than the time she'd felt something in the high spires of the hive, back when she had the poor idea to try and sneak out to see the real sky.
But what she knew– was that she would die to it. A horrible, painful death.
Tersia stiffened like a ganger caught in the bio-light of an Ambull, legs unsure of if they should spirit her away to the deepest hole in the underhive or turn into jelly. The only thing keeping her coherent was the buzz in her blood, blunting the terror just enough for her to realise that whatever was making her instincts scream had yet to come. She had time, at least a week.
Time to find a way out of not only Latrina Magna, but Cerebi Bombulum Prime too.
"I can help you with that, you know~." One of the whispers, clearer and sharper than any of the others that now began BAYING into her ears, sussured in her ear. It kept the ones demanding the blood of the priests, or telling her that this was fine, or that she needed to grow her ember NOW so that she could survive, at bay.
It sounded kind, like the old lady when she'd swaddled her in a blanket after she'd fallen into a pond. With the cacophony in her head and the greatest terror she'd ever felt looming in the horizon, it was enough for her to do what every instinct in her body and word from the old matron told her not to.
She reached out.
There were no words of thanks. Instead, it felt as if two tiny, velvety hands grasped the one she'd extended. A rush filled her, better, stronger than any of the ones she'd pushed onto herself. For the first time since the old woman's death she felt human, not some half-dead wretch.
Surprise caused her to pull back, but the hands didn't let go– no, despite their softness, their grip was like plasteel, or a cyber-mastiff's jaws, strong and unbreakable.
Just as her fire returned to her, a small, pinkish, hole of nothingness appeared in front of her and– "Waaa-h!" Something incredibly pink tumbled out. It flailed its arms as it fell facefirst towards the rockrete, only to flow like quicksilver, catching itself and striking a small pose, "I am fine!"
The thing looked weird. It barely reached her hip and was absolutely inhuman with its big cat-like ears and giant button-like eyes, pink hair casca– "Hello-Hello there summoner!" Oh, that was a hat.
Not that it made her look any more human, her eyes were far, far too large for that, and her ears much too pointed. But since she looked pretty, she couldn't be a mutant like the old lady, or the weird nose-ridge people that she stole from.
Maybe she would have called her a xeno, but everything about her looked too bright and colourful. Almost like a character from the book that her caretaker would read to her and the other urchins had leaped right out of its pages.
"Cute." Tersia couldn't help but mutter as she took everything in. For a moment she thought that the things on the other side may be friendly, but the scream of hatred in her ear from a blood-reeking one cemented in her mind that this tiny pink thing was an exception.
"Thank you!" The strange being said, smugly putting its hands on its hips, "I worked real hard to look this good you know! Shows what big, dumb Red knows!"
"...Something tells me you don't," It muttered as it looked Tersia up and down, flitting around her, "I mean– Yuuuuck!" Before she knew it, it was floating beside her, pulling on her matted hair. She hadn't had the chance to wash since the crazy nuns started chasing her, so it was oily and caked in muck, "You've got to take care of yourself you know? You can't be your best self if you don't! And those rags–!"
Fussing over her, and lightly berating her like the old lady would whenever she came home covered in mud, it pulled on her clothes– causing a flare of pain, as the outfit had all but fused with her skin during the hell week she'd had.
"Ow, ow, ow!" She whined like when the matron had tugged knots out of her hair, the familiar interaction undoing two years of hard lessons.
"That's it! You're getting a makeover!"
This definitely wasn't one of the monsters that the old woman had told her about. Even if it was spiriting her away to do things to her. Or, well, tugging on her rags until she followed.
It pulled her deeper into the hive, far from the places people went to, and into the ones things wandered, "Come on, come on! First we've got to find a good place, and theeeeeen…"
"Then?" She prompted the strange creature to finish the sentence. She wasn't particularly afraid of this area, all told it was safer for her. Animals left you alone after you broke their noses or filled them with lightning. Humans called you a witch before calling the priests.
"You need to give me your name~!" The little thing said as it stopped and flew right in her face, "Can't give you a proper makeover and let you see the bestest you unless I know your name! It's super important, don't ya know? So gimme, gimmeeee~."
"No, I don't." Tersia had a faint feeling that admitting this was a poor idea, but the old lady had always said honesty was a virtue. She turned over the idea of giving her name in her brain, but she just couldn't see how it may be an issue. Even if the ball of pink fluff was literal and she'd no longer have the name 'Tersia'... so what? It was just something she had fuzzy memories of being called until it stuck. She'd just find a new name and that'd be that.
"Well," It said, puffing out its flat chest, "Now you know that little secret! And Aunty said I'd be a bad Keeper of Secrets, I am nailing this!"
"...." There was a pregnant pause as it thought through its words, gears turning within its mind, "Wait…"
"I mean. You're helping me. The point of keeping something is to use it to help yourself and others." At least that's what she recalled of the matron's lessons on charity and kindness. The memories were foggy from being locked away for so long, they'd hurt too much after she'd been killed. Not anymore, not with the high having the pink thing around kept her in.
"Huh-huh, right-right, right," The little being hurriedly said, looking a bit fainter and washed out? Like it blended a bit with the dreary surroundings, "Well. Giving it to me would really help you right about now… oh, and me too."
"You need it to stay." The mutant stated rather than asked, putting the pieces together. She nodded decisively to herself. This helped another and herself, so it was a good deed that the chairman would approve of. "My name is Tersia. Take it."
"Tersi-," Just as it was about to say the name, it frowned. It was not a pretty one– it was as if its face wasn't. Just a wonderful facade, one that had never been meant to twist in such a way, "Wait. Like– Tersus?... No!"
It shouted at her, pointing accusingly at her, "Nuh-uh! That's dumb! Your name is dumb! You're dumb! That's a bad name! A bad, bad name!" It stomped its feet angrily. Which would have been quite cute, if the air wasn't feeling so, so very cold suddenly, "Galatea!" It shouted at her, "That's your name now! It's a good name! It's a cute name! And it doesn't mean stupid things!"
Tersia– or rather, Galatea now she supposed (it wasn't like there was anyone left to call her Tersia), frowned. Giving her name had been in payment for the makeover and to help it help her. But now she had been gifted a name on top of that. The old lady's lessons said she should repay that and she could give a name easily enough.
"Then you're Ariel now." She stated with a decisive nod. She had faint memories of that name, a character from the storybooks that god sent to help people.
"Oh? Really?!" Ariel's eyes sparkled with excitement and joy, her anger completely gone. Erased like it had never been there to begin with, "Yey! I have a name now! Suck it Red! I have a name, and it's Ariel–! Wait–!"
When she said the word. Ter–Galatea felt something between her and the now frantic Ariel, "No-! Nononononononono-!" Like a rubber band, once stretched almost to the point of breaking, rushing back into shape.
But snagging something as it did, "Aaaaaaaaah!" In this case, Ariel herself…
With what felt like a crisp, powerful snap the slowly dispersing image of Ariel was jolted into focus. She looked more… real than before.
Not by looking any less odd, alien or out of a book. But like some intrinsic part of her had solidified, had been changed from a pile of shaped, but slowly collapsing clay, into a finished product by a flash of Galatea's ember.
She, as there was no doubt that Ariel was a she– odd that until now, she'd been an it, stopped pulling her hair, letting go of her precious locks as she fell to her knees, "Red, Blue and Green are never gonna let me live this doooooown."
Thoroughly confused and more than a bit concerned, Galatea squatted down, rubbing small circles on Ariel's back like she'd used to with the younger kids. "Are you alright?"
She wanted to know what the hell had just happened, but this rather took priority. Besides, she had a few inklings. One, Ariel accepting the name like that was a misstep of some sort. Two, there had been a fraying bond between them, which had strengthened and pulled close. Three, her existence had been solidified by a flare of Galatea's ember of power. Four, something about her perception of Ariel had shifted in the process.
"I'm okaaaaaay…," She wailed, clearly not. Her voice felt more solid too, less like a faint whisper being murmured in her ears, "I wanted to name you, but you named me insteeeeead! So now my friends are gonna make fun of meeeeee!"
"But I accepted the name, though?" Galatea blinked owlishly. Did it require her to say it word by word? She'd already implied it with her naming of Ariel.
"Yeah, but I took the one you gave me first…" She pouted, sitting down with a grumble, "And because I acknowledged it first. Now I'm bound to you. It's great because I got a name, and names are awesome, they give you powers and stuff that you can't have if you don't have a name– but I bragged to my friends that I'd get a suuuuuu–per cool person in my debt! But instead, I'm in yours! So they'll all make fun of me… Red's gonna talk about how I should have taken what I wanted, Green's gonna say that I shouldn't have tried, because what's the point? And Blue… Blue's gonna be soooooo smug about this. Say that they 'foresaw this fate to pass' or something."
"So I should throw mud at them?" Annoying kids shut up when they got a mouthful of muck, in her experience. "Also, Green's talking out of their ass, you're still better off."
"Green would actively like mud in their face," Ariel sighed, "Especially considering what sort of mud is down here… Wait! The makeover!"
Bolting upright (and floating off the ground), she grabbed Galatea by the lapels, "I totally forgot! I'm so stupid! Almost as stupid as your old name! Alright mistress, take a seat over here, and I'll get started."
"What's so bad about it?" The albino asked as she trudged along with the pull and obliged, morbidly curious what this 'makeover' thing involved.
"It means stupid things!" As Ariel slid behind her and put her hands on her scalp, Galatea felt a tug from the tiny thing, like a gentle pull on her once flickering, but now steadily burning, ember. Her power flowing from her and into the small girl as if they were one and the same, "Like clean and neat. But I could tell that it was given to you with a different belief."
What happened then was… bizarre. As Ariel began running her hands through her hair, she felt as if it were her hands doing the motions, her hands gliding through that mess and untangling simply by brushing past what she knew to be massive knots of hair.
"Whoever named you that wanted you to be prim and proper! Like those crazy nuns that the priests keep around," A musical humming filled not her ears, as Ariel filled them with her voice, but her mind– the small girl's own brushing against her and letting her hear a song that she'd never heard before, its measures and instruments alien to her, "But you're not like those stuck up idiots, so it's a bad name!"
She shuddered at the memory of the screaming women who'd chased her for days and thrown her into that cell reeking of misery. Reflexively, she drew Ariel's mind closer, letting her music drown out the memories.
"Like those, yeah!" She chirped as the music washed over Galatea like a particularly fancy blanket, more players joining into the song as well– some in a… forceful? Way? Like their personal addition was unplanned and somewhat rude.
But as quickly as they came, they tended to vanish, the one directing the music silencing them with a wave of their batton.
She might have been tempted to try participating too, but Ariel pulled on her ember once more, distracting her. This time, as the tiny hands went through her hair, all of the grime, mud, grease, oil, blood and other filth sloughed off, falling off her head in large, foul smelling clumps that bubbled and sputtered, "Hey, do you mind if I take those?" Her hairdresser asked, "Green's always looking for stuff like this– don't ask me why, they're gross and make weird medicines."
"Sure?" She had never needed medicine thanks to her ember, but being in the good graces of a medic couldn't hurt, even if they were gross. Also, maybe it'd keep Green from bullying Galatea's… minion? Friend? She wasn't sure what Ariel counted as.
"Thanks mistress~!" A small portal of swirling purple appeared under her hair, allowing the gross stuff to drip into wherever it led.
It was difficult to tell just how long the brushing took, Galatea losing herself in the music and the repetition of her Ariel's movements.
Lift, brush, let go.
Lift, brush, let go.
Lift, brush, let go.
"And we're done with that!" As the witch was on the verge of falling asleep while feeling content for the first time in years, her friend confidently declared that her self-apointent task was finished, "Take a look!"
Taking a strand of hair, she brought it to Galatea's sight, letting her see how it now looked.
…It wasn't brown-black anymore. Or even the grey that it had been when she'd stayed with the old lady. Instead it was a stark, near perfect, white.
Somehow, it seemed to shimmer and shine in the low light from how clean and silky it was. Through the odd bond, she could feel how it felt to Ariel's hands, and she'd never touched something as soft and wonderful as this.
"Want me to style it?"
"Please." She croaked, voice thick with emotion. It was ridiculous to get so worked up over clean hair of all things, but after the week she'd had, after the priests– It was the first time in a long while she actually felt happy about herself.
The styling took much less time, but was no less pleasant. The odd double feeling of both her hair moving and of the hands moving it in ways hers never could made her shiver while Ariel bunched up the white mass into a loose ponytail, before lifting it behind her head, securing it with something both heavy and metallic.
"There you go mistress! It's not the best, but," Extending her arm, Ariel plucked at her clothes, reminding her of how gross they were, "We've got more makeover to do!"
Suddenly, she was intimately, painfully aware of every slimy and itching spot on her body. Of the filth caked in thick layers over her from days of frenetic scrambling and hiding in the most disgusting holes in the underhive before she was thrown in a cell to stew in her own misery.
A violent twitch was all the warning Ariel got before the witch's power flared and she tore her rags off in a single motion. The only reason her skin wasn't raw from the world's worst depilation was that until the fire in her blood receded, she could've bounced off stubbers.
"Ooookay…" Having scrambled away with a squeak of surprise at the sudden tearing of the clothes, the little woman edged back towards her mistress, "I wasn't expecting this– or that you'd be able to use these sorts of power already…"
Her small hands touched the witch's skin, testing it and finding that it was harder than metal, "Wooooah~," Awe and something creeped into Ariel's thoughts, creeping into Galatea's in the process. The familiar, either unaware, or uncaring, allowed her hands to roam across her mistress' flesh, doing nothing but feeling her up, "It's almost as tough and strong as Red's~!"
Fingers traced her now muscular biceps, following the soft curves of her muscles in an almost sensual way. The grime and dirt that had made her skin a dirty brown flaked away, cracking apart like an eggshell and falling to the floor– whatever magic that Ariel had weaved into her touch spreading to the surroundings, washing away the hive's dirt and grime as more and more of Galatea's prison was removed. This touch soon left the now clean arm for her back, trailing sensations that Galatea had never experienced.
Once again, Ariel cleansed her skin, the flames coursing through the little being scouring Galatea's back of any remnants of her clothes as the imp floated closer than would be tolerable for anyone else to be.
Pink filled her thoughts as an adventurous arm reached around to her front, poking at her navel…
"And now you're sparkling clean mistress~!" Ariel declared with a bright, wide smile. A smidge of slyness and amusement hiding behind the slightly too wide grin, "Did you enjoy it~?"
"Minx." She groaned from where she was sprawled limp on the ground. Then, following whatever had welled up from her to actually snark at the strange creature helping her, she pinched her ass.
"YEOWCH!" Shouting in (fake) pain, the little scamp jumped into the air, hand holding her butt, "Muuuuh–" Rubbing at the aching spot, Ariel cutely pouted down at her mistress, "That's so mean of you mistress! After I washed your every nook and cranny, and gave you cute clothes too!"
If you could call a sheet of purple cloth over her right side and a bunch of pink ribbons woven around the rest 'clothes', anyways. They were soft and somehow managed to keep her warm despite only really covering her hips and one arm, so she wasn't going to complain. What she was going to do, thou–
Galatea's mouth slammed shut as the creeping doom in the sky wailed in her ear, rudely reminding of why she'd summoned the pink goober.
"Oh right. I almost forgot about that…" The little imp said, "But I have a pan! Shoot– I mean plan!"
She grabbed her mistress' hand and tried to pull her to her feet, which wasn't any trouble because the witch was already getting there, "To escape the storm, you've got to get off of this planet! And I know a few ways to do that, but first, we need help!"
"So… summon more like you?" She wasn't sure if she could deal with five more of Ariel.
"Heh," The flying imp chuckled as she kept pulling, her face turning redder and redder from the exertion even as her mistress got to her feet, "Ngh-Ngho, I can't fight at all! I'm a muse, we help people like you– what we want is a few neverborns, I know a few that can help."
Oh, so the things on the other side were called neverborns. It was better than calling them creatures or monsters. She didn't want to be rude if they were helping her. "Okay, so you call them and I pull them through like I did with you?"
"Yes, but not yet," With her mistress now standing, Ariel wiped her brow of sweat, "First, we've got to find a place to use as our base of operations! It's not gonna be easy to leave, no matter what we do, so having a place to live and plan our missions out of is super important… And I think I can sense the perfect place to make our nest not far from here!"
Galatea had never been in this particular stretch of the underhive, so she let her muse show her the way.
The path forwards had been meandering and twisting. Sometimes in ways that felt distinctly impossible, yet mundane. Eventually, the two travellers arrived at their destination– or close to it at least, "Wait a second mistress," Ariel whispered low, lifting an arm in front of Galatea, "We're right next to the spot I sensed, but I'm feeling… someone, or something else there? I don't think we're alone."
Creeping forwards, Galatea caught sight of what Ariel had felt could be home. It was… a sewer.
More specifically, one of the ancient, massive chambers that dotted the system. From what she'd heard from the people making their home there, they were meant to collect all of the refuse and used waters of the upper levels, serving as a collection point where people would collect said refuse and either burn it for warmth, or bundle the scraps of useable materials that the local robber gangs would collect for a pittance.
What they did with it was unknown. The more pious ones thought that they passed it onto the Machine-Priests– or what few there were this deep in the hive, for them to recycle. Others, with a more grounded mind, were pretty sure that they recycled it all themselves to make their scrap weapons and ammunition.
This one was a bit smaller than the usual, only being as large as two of the priest's churches put together, and not so big that it took almost twenty minutes to walk from one end to the other. The other thing that made it different was that while there were plenty of channels along the floors and sewer tunnels connecting it to the rest of the system, there was barely a trickle of dirty water passing through.
Further observations could wait, as she also spied what Ariel had sensed. On the central platform, three men–
BANG
…Two men stood, having shot the one that had been wounded on the floor in the head. They were the sort of hive scum that she'd seen day in and day out, the kind that would pull a gun on her and try to kill her or do other things to her.
The sort that anyone that travelled through the underhive, even just a tiny bit, had killed plenty of. Whole reason she had learned how to become bulletproof.
Around them were more corpses, some human, but most belonged to a blind-dog colony. They were fresh enough to be actually pleasant to eat, too.
Her breath whistled inaudibly as she drew the sewer air deep into her core, the swell of her chest guiding the fire of her ember to fill her. It was so much easier now she had a muse, power flowing pure and clean instead of struggling against her like a caught rat, layering her enhancements without issue.
Milky lilac skin became purple leather, filled with slim steel cables as her muscles swole, veins rising from it like pipes as her heart thundered. Her breath came out as steam, dispersing in slow motion as her brain accelerated.
She held for a second, letting her grip on the ember loosen now that the flow was self-sustaining. When all it did was remain a steady thrum underneath her skin, she flashed Ariel a smile.
Then the rockrete cracked under her ribbon-clad foot, her face twisted into a rictus grin as she all but flew at the pipe rats.
"Wuh?" Her jump was like a shot, a loud booming sound as she sprang into motion, the two scumheaps stopping their looting of their fellow to look towards her.
It was only a long (they looked about twenty years old, which was quite old for scum like them) life in the underhive that allowed them to get a few shots off as air roared in her ears.
A few rounds of the stubber in the hands of the one that had been looting the body slammed into her, jolting pain racing through her as they did. It was no worse than getting kicked in the ribs by a grumpy enforcer. It hurt, but there would be no true damage.
She kept her kills clean from long habit. Blood didn't only risk drawing in something legitimately dangerous, but it also bred disease. Her ember would burn away any infection if it even managed to get its hooks into her in the first place, but that would leave her hungry and without her powers for a time.
More importantly, she didn't want to get dirty again, she'd just been washed and clothed.
A chop to the unarmed goon's throat made sure he wouldn't get the chance to pull something on her, then a shove at the second's skull that made his head bounce off his back. Then she was free to go back to the first and put him out of his misery by the expedient method of grabbing him by the neck and shaking him like a blind-dog may a bone. It was tricky not to break skin with her muscles full of fire like this.
"Well, that was fast," Ariel said as she floated to Galatea's side just as the scum's neck let go with a *snap*, leaving them as the only living things in a pile of corpses, "And you didn't blow yourself up! Hooray!"
She groaned out a plume of steam as she let the fire recede back into her ember, skin and veins fading to normal like whitened knuckles regaining their colour, "Don't remind me, regrowing hands is a pain. Eyes at least only take a night."
"Wait, hold up what?" The imp squeaked to herself, "What did I get bound to?!– Right, so! Uuuh, just– get those bodies together off on that platform over there," Raising her voice so the rest of her words could be heard, Ariel pointed to the central area, "We'll need all the human ones, but not all the dogs. While you do that, I'll work on the altar!"
What was her muse going on about? Every witch in the underhive blew themselves up at least a little even if they tried to never use their powers, just from getting panicked enough at some point for them to act up. Galatea just had the benefit of her ember healing her on its own.
At least that gave her something to think on while she got to work on the rote task of hauling corpses. They were even more malnourished than her, so it was no real problem. She did have to call up a bit of lightning to burn dry any dripping bits, but that was about it. It was nice, how now this came as naturally as reaching out with her hand.
"I'm done!" Turning back to her muse, Galatea was surprised by what she saw.
Out of seemingly nowhere, Ariel had formed a bunch of metal poles. Each was wreathed in beautiful, curving steel that brought to mind flowers, or sensual wings, and topped by a symbol formed from shimmering pink flames.
At the centre of that collection, stood a bed of some sort– or maybe a seat? That overlooked the rest of her new home, its satin sheets beckoning her to enter them and taste their decadence…
"Now we need to make the Eight-Pointed Star around the corpses~." Humming, Ariel floated towards her mistress, tiny versions of the poles in her arms.
Galatea got the faint impression that Ariel had been preparing for her job for a long while. Still, she put down the last of the dead bodies on the pile and stepped back to let her muse work. "So, what are these neverborn like?"
"Depends, but the ones I can call on can be really annoying. Especially their leader," Going around the pile, the muse slowly stabbed the various mini-poles into the ground, forming a small forest that was almost as tall as she was, "But she's a good girl for the most part– you just need to get a good grip on her!"
"Like I got a grip on you?" Galatea asked with an arched eyebrow. And her single sleeve covering up her blush at the memory that comment brought, once her brain caught up with her mouth.
"Hm? Oh no," Ariel answered without paying any attention to the words that had been said, "You need to grip her a lot harder. Probably with some ropes and candles too~!" …Or the ones she was saying.
Still better than the things screaming for blood. Trying to keep those happy would get everyone gunning for her. Plus, Ariel probably had those candles and ropes, although she had no idea what the former would be needed for.
"Okay, I'm done with the circle," Lifting away from the floor, Ariel took a seat on the witch's shoulder, "Can you please add a few drops of your blood to complete it, mistress?"
A small mental nudge told her the rest, guiding her to pricking her finger on one of the ringing spikes. She kept it there for six heartbeats, letting a small trickle of blood run down before the wound sealed as fast as metal left her flesh.
The blood flowed along the rod's curves in impossible ways that hurt to think of– and in far greater quantities than the small pinprick ought to have caused too.
It flowed off of the first spike, both pooling at its foot and flowing to the next, then the ones after it– blood from the pile, as if drawn in by a magnetic force crawled to join the ever expanding sanguine circle.
And when all 66 spikes were linked, the earth bubbled and steamed as the vital essence burst into pink flames, charring, burning, carving an
Not that Galatea took notice, as her every sense was being entranced by the rush of power that the ritual exuded. Ghostly, sensual touches, tastes, sights and sounds pushed down on her. Threatening to wash her away– but… a song, soft and near silent, touched her ears.
A simple humming, lesser than all she could feel and experience at this time, that came from Ariel as the little imp leaned against the head of her mistress. She clutched it tight, grounding herself like she had when mastering her lightning.
The sounds of bones cracking and flesh tearing filled the air, overpowering the temptations of the whispers. Slowly, but surely, all of the energy that had been released by the ritual was sucked back in as the pile shrunk in on itself, until it formed a small, smooth, crimson sphere.
It hovered in the air before sinking down to the ground– and then past the ground, as it bent and recoiled, as if reality itself desperately wished to avoid any contact with it. Once nestled deep into the earth, a deep, rich, pink-purple liquid began weeping out of it, quickly filling up the 'well' it had formed around it.
Now she had to deal with a completely different mental test. The writhing of the sludge was exactly like larva-lobsters in the mud and that rush of feelings had reminded her of how hungry she was. Hopefully these neverborn wouldn't look particularly edible, she didn't want to send the wrong message.
"Snrk!"
"Shush, you." Galatea grumbled, hiding her blushing face behind her sleeve. She really had to learn how to keep her muse from listening in to her every thought. At least she couldn't feel anything in the goop, it was just a gate she had to reach out through.
Her ember flared, fire racing down her arm and out the finger she'd pricked, a thin line of purple-white like her skin sinking into the morass.
"Right, so," Hopping off her shoulders, Ariel ran towards the well, "I'm gonna be right back and bring the Alluress I'm thinking of! Don't move from here!" And grabbed the line as she dived into the 'waters'.
Absolutely nothing happened for the longest time, the thread casting gentle ripples as it sat in place.
Time passed, passed and passed. Forcing the witch to consider, even for just a moment, that perhaps her muse was a fleeting being. That she had already abandoned her– moved to newer, more interesting, projects and people…
A thread of doubt that her ember burned away as it hissed, curling jealously around the thread of pink smoke that had made it so much greater. It remained just as steadfast and eager to please as when it'd snuck itself into her soul. Hah, as if the tiny thing jumping in joy over a name and the chance to guide a witch would run away.
…It may be that one of her friends was picking on her to bother them both. She'd need to figure out how much lightning was equivalent to a mud slap for a neverborn, if so.
Such thoughts kept her busy until ripples formed in the well. She barely had time to brace herself before something pulled on the line, threatening to drag her into its embrace. The only reason she didn't sever the purposefully thin thread of light was that she could feel Ariel coming upwards. All she could do was struggle frantically, filling her body with as much fire as it could bear and still being drawn inch by agonising inch…
Until a hand, dripping with ichor birthed forth from the liquid and took hold of the line. With a powerful heave that made even Galatea's enhanced body buckle, a gigantic mass of sludge and molasses tore itself out of the well with a tall jump that carried it next to the altar-bed. A cacophonous, sonorous laughter filling the entirety of the cavernous room– enhanced by the shrill cry of panic of her muse, her small body tucked under an arm and once more wearing her large hat over her face.
"So this is the materium~?" The being holding Ariel asked. Its twin sets of eyes scanning its surroundings as more sludge sloughed off its form, the material bubbling and dissipating into sweet smelling smoke as it touched the ground, "What a fitting place to call your domain, little imp~. It's a dump~!"
"Ueeeeeh~" Poor Ariel teared up when an arm poked her in the cheek, its shape pulling itself out of the mass and causing an even greater amount of clumps to fall down. Revealing that rather than a massive blob, it was formed of two 'spires' sitting on an elongated body.
"And she is your 'master'?," With a haughty huff, the beast turned towards Galatea. Its eyes studied her with inscrutable intent, before dismissing her completely. That was all she needed, the way she curled up like a toe-popper mistaken as cowering and bowing, "A low class master, for a low class imp. But, she will do, I suppose. Hear me, little witch! I, La'muorte'ndr, alluress of the great Architect of Pleasures, claim this small sliver as my own!"
Galatea had led an urchin gang, once. Even before learning how to coax her ember, it'd made her stronger and bigger than the other pipe rats. Faster, with a sixth sense for threats and a nose for lies.
She'd dealt, then, with her fair share of adult gangers who thought a few strong words and a loom were enough to cow them into line. To use them as meatshields in their petty wars and worse things besides.
Not one of hers had been lost, not until they burned alongside the old lady who'd taken them in.
The being lifted the sad looking muse by the back of her outfit, dangling her in the air, "And through it, I claim you as well. You will be my herald in this world. Perform your role adequately, and I shall return this little wretc-!"
Neverborn chins, Galatea found, crunched nicely. Up there with the scaly noses, especially with how its head hadn't outright exploded and instead deformed around her fist in slow motion. The moment seemed to last for an eternity before time reasserted itself, the neverborn achieving the miracle of flight as it left half of its mass and a pair of eyes behind, shedding the goo that covered it by spinning madly through the air.
"You alright?" She asked as she caught her falling familiar, careful to use her right arm. Her left, bleeding steam as black faded to purple, wasn't any good for holding friends. Not when last time she'd thrown an Ambull-punch, the water around it had hissed.
"Awawawawawawawa!"
Cute.
The lower half of the thing she'd punched dashed away, towards its rider, almost all of the goo sloughing off of it– her, rather.
"Am ogay…" Meanwhile, Ariel looked absolutely entranced by Galatea's bulging muscles. Running a hand over the arm holding her with a brilliant blush that threatened to take over her entire body, "sho big"
The witch flashed her an equally bright smile. "Glad to hear."
"Behold sister," A perfectly flat voice came from the well, "Our summoner has taught our leader her place."
"So I see brother," A second one, identical to the first, immediately responded, "But watch. She has begun seducing her poor familiar."
There were now two people next to the pit of muck, both carefully picking out globs of the stuff out of their fur. The two looked absolutely identical in every way, from their three eyes, their horns, the amount of fur on their bodies– the only thing that set them apart being the colour of said attributes.
"What a ravenous being." "Quite." "How very fitting for a servant of our god." "Indubitably." "Perhaps we should fear for our virtues?"
"With a smile such as that one?" The 'brother' said, "I fear for much more than our simple virtues."
Quietly deciding to prove them right (and bully her muse a bit more), Galatea wrapped the blushing bundle of pink fluff in both her arms before jumping over to the goat twins' side.
"Hello, I am Galatea." She greeted with an open, honest smile and an extended hand.
"Sister. Help." The brother fake-whispered, "I am scared."
Oh, she liked these goobers.
"Fear not brother," The sister said as she stepped forward, kneeling in front of Galatea with an arm across her chest, "I shall protect you. Oh summoner, we are Phyr'oue't and Al'oue't. And on this day, we swear servitude to you."
"Happy to have you." Galatea replied without missing a beat, stooping down to gently cradle the goat woman's hand and tug her to her feet– and nose to nose with her.
"Nooooooooooo," Al'oue't wailed with the flatest face and intonation, "Siiiiiiiiiiiiisteeeeeeer…"
"Pray for me dear brother," Phyr'oue't whispered as she faced her 'doom' head on, gazing deep in Galatea's eyes with her own, squeezing the witch's hand with her own, "I have been chosen."
"Nooooooooo, someone saaaave heeeeeeer." "Hm?" The desperate (?) call for help drew Ariel's attention away from the powerful, tight and secure arm that was wrapped around her still long enough for her to stop rubbing her face against it, "Hm." But with a quick look around, she shrugged and returned to what she had been doing.
"Anyone?"
"No." Out of the pit crawled a fifth neverborn. This one was a woman as well– were all neverborns women, or was it just those? But unlike the twins or Ariel, she was not human in the least.
Instead, she was formed of a human torso with the lower body of a lower pit feeder… if slightly smaller than those she'd seen, "If the summoner desires your sister, then your sister she can have." She said without much emotion, but not without glancing at Galatea to gauge her reaction.
The witch simply gave her a respectful nod, not willing to play around with a being reminiscent of a pit feeder unless they started it. Damn things could and would leave Ambulls short of an arm.
It was nice to be around women even stranger than her, though, she mused as an idle finger traced the curve of Phyr's right horn. She could only surmise mutations (although they may not count as such for neverborn) were a mark of good character, given how she and the old lady acted. The priests claiming they were evil and wanting to burn them was just more confirmation, really. "Speaking of desires, I would like to know your name."
"You may call me M'llpa't, summoner." The neverborn said as Phyr's eyes widened, her body shivering as she rubbed her legs together, "Just as my brethren have, I swear servitude to you… in matters of battle at least."
"I will gladly take you on." Galatea replied without missing a beat. Earning an eyebrow waggle from Al'oue't– who was observing what she was doing to her sister with interest, and a groan from M'llpa't.
"Ara, ara~", Yet another new voice said. Though, this one, she recognised immediately… "So forward dear summoner~. Already making such strides towards the devotion of your soldiers~."
Well, not quite.
The tone, the cadence and the way it draped itself over her ears like a warm, fluffy blanket, was the same as the old lady's. But the sounds for it were different, deeper and dripping with amusement, rather than the light, airy and sunny way that
She was glad for it. It would have made things entirely too awkward if she sounded identical. The memories didn't hurt like an infected wound anymore, but she would've had a lot of conflicted feelings if she saw the old lady every time this neverborn spoke.
"Aid me." Phyr said with actual emotions, her third eye darting around in search of someone willing to provide help, "I am in danger."
"Let go of my miniiiiiiion!" A small missile threw itself at Galatea's back.
It got its wish, the witch letting go of the goat she was abusing and tossing Ariel up in the air as she twirled around to intercept the ballistic neverborn.
Said neverborn passed by her, the spin meaning that her lunge missed the witch and made her stumble forward, just in time for Galatea to slip her hands under her armpits and lift the small body off the ground at arms length.
Silence fell on the eight individuals in the large room as they all took in the sight before them.
The first neverborn that had appeared, free of the muck that had been covering her form, held in Galatea's clutches. Her little clawed and scaled feet dangled in the air, an unreadable expression on her face as her arms were forced perpendicular to the floor, a shimmering blade held in one hand.
Slooooowly, the daemon turned to look at Galatea. The growing welt on her face turned her expression into a pout.
"Ara~. Ara~." The pause as all this unfolded gave the summoner to see just what sort of thing had crawled out of the pit. She was rather similar to M'llpa't, being that she was a human torso on top of a non-human body.
But that was where the similarities ended, as the hiver couldn't figure out what sort of being that lower body was supposed to belong to. Or how something with scales could have such a fluffy looking tail attached to it. (She wanted to touch it.)
Also, she was wearing something that could actually be construed as clothes, hiding her rather ample bosom under a large flap of fabric, and her eyes under a heavy-looking mask designed to resemble a massive eye.
Raising an arm to hide its smirking mouth revealed it was also inhuman, a mutation having covered the forearm in downy fluff, her hand in scales and turned her fingernails into claws. By folding the other arm under her tracts of land, she made it rather obvious that the other one shared the same 'deformities'.
"I see you have no trouble getting a handle on our leader, dear summoner~," The masked thing purred at Galatea. The leader– Lamu, she said her name was? Of course, tried to wriggle out of the witch's grasp. "Be sure to keep a firm grip on her~."
"Will do." The witch said as she rode through the wiggles with the practice of a long suffering older sister. Honestly, if it wasn't for all the scaly bits, she could've mistaken Lamu for one of the brattier kids who she had to bully into bathing. "Do any of you have rope? Ariel recommended it."
"WHAT!?" The little brat shouted, trying to escape even harder, "That little–"
"Neighehehehe," An odd whiny laugh came from the direction that Lamu had tried to jump her from. The clopping sound of hoofs underlying the chuckles and causing the little leader's anger to explode.
"Don't you laugh at me, you fat flanked bimbo! HELP MEEEEEEE!" The witch was so, so tempted to give Lamu a jolt of lightning. But that'd only make the bratling louder, she'd bet.
"Hello there!" Galatea greeted, having to raise her voice to a near-shout to be heard over the screaming lizard. At least she was fairly sure scaly things were called lizards. "What's your name?"
The 'new' arrival was yet another non-humanoid neverborn. But instead of a slithering, or crawling, lower body, she had one with four legs and a long, bushy tail at the very end of her lower part. Something about her niggled at the witch's mind. Like she knew what animal that was supposed to be, but she couldn't ever recall seeing such a beast in the hive.
Rather than answer Galatea's question, she wrung her own hands together, glancing at the various daemons that had been summoned and looking very unsure of herself.
"My name is J'pa'idée," The motherly one said with a smile. Her sinuous body sliding over the rockcrete while her human half bowed towards the witch, "And she…"
Lamu was about to shout again but a fluffy tail shoved in her face gagged her. Angry, muffled screams being the only thing that could be heard coming from her.
'Thank you.' Galatea mouthed at the feathery lizard.
"Uuhm… I– uh–" The last unknown hesitated. Looking almost like she'd never spit the words out…
"Eeeeeeh!" Ariel chose this moment to return to solid ground. Well, almost, as she fell on the nameless woman, startling her. As the neverborn reared up in surprise, the imp didn't have a choice other than to grab hold of the woman's twin horns…
Which caused her to immediately lay herself as flat on the floor as she could– and Lamu to thrash around some more. A vein in Galatea's brow twitched dangerously, her hands darkening to a glossy black as she gripped the girl's shoulders hard enough a human's would've splattered like mud.
"Hey–" Ariel began to whisper to her, her eyes glazed over and distant, "Listen…"
Even through their bond, the witch couldn't tell what was said.
But knowing or not, the result was the same, "M-my name is G'andec'et…" The woman eventually said, hiding her burning face behind her hands as best she could (which was badly).
"Pleasure to have you, J'pa'idée, G'andec'et." Galatea beamed, having taken a few seconds to work the pronunciation through her brain. And lifted a few pointers from Ariel's besides.
The muffled angry shouts of Lamu as she said that were music to her ears~.
► AssMasterOfCalais (Wounded Ape)
Behold! Games Workshop's approved Slaanesh depiction.
► TheSpookiestSkeleton (Boner Lord)
► ModernPygmalion (Galatea My Beloved)
Player of Galatea here. I didn't find out that the demon girl minis I found in a yard sale were daemonettes (or that Warhammer existed) until a week ago. And I got them for practice sculpting. And, uh, I got a little carried away.
Although I hear them not looking like standard daemonettes is canon compliant? Apparently daemons can look like whatever they fucking want.
As for the found family, blame Cheese. I let him name and build the personality of all of them sans Ariel for it to be a surprise. And even so he threw me a fair few curveballs with the pink cotton floss.
► OnlinePotato (Mash 'em, Boil 'em)
Someone call the Black Templars, we have furries again.
► Iri-chan (Fuwa Fuwa Fae)
I have SO MANY questions.
► ninjagamer7777 (God Bless You) (user is banned: reason, botting)
Loved the video. Keep up the great work. Don't call things Holy that aren't Holy its blasphemy which is sin. Don't swear or sudo swear its sinful. Don't say or laugh at inappropriate things its sinful. Luck doesn't exist its blessings from the Good Lord Jesus Christ. Don't say the Good Lord Jesus Christs Holy name in vein its blasphemy which is a sin. Only the Good Lord Jesus Christ is the one true God no one else can compare to Him. The Good Lord Jesus Christ is the only good person. The Good Lord Jesus Christ is Lord or Lords and King of Kings. He is the only true Lord and the only True King. Trust in the Good Lord Jesus Christ not yourself. Amen. God Send. God Bless You All. Amen. God Send. Please if you haven't already repent of your sins and trust in Jesus Christ As Lord And Savior. Praise The Good Lord. Please Get Saved. Please repent of your sins and trust in Jesus Christ As Lord And Savior. John 3:16 For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son and whosoever believeth in Him shall not perish, but have everlasting life. Love you guys. God Bless You All. Amen. God Send. 1 Corinthians 6:9-10 9Do you not know that the wicked will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: Neither the sexually immoral nor idolaters nor adulterers nor male prostitutes nor homosexual offenders 10nor thieves nor the greedy nor drunkards nor slanderers nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God. God Bless You All. Amen. God Send.
► Arkos (World's Tiniest Dragon)
First up, fuck off bot, no one gives a shit about your preaching, especially not my gae ass. Secondly. When is she getting a Mash-face to protect that smile and shield bash what I assume was probably a Inqustior or such to death?
► AddmoreMemes (Peddler of Vintage Wares)
@OnlinePotato First of all, pretty sure they are not a furry, just a monsterfucker.
Second of all, that muse is small, smug, and bulliable. perfection.
► Ervoan (Lord of a 1000 Cheeeeeese)
@TheSpookiestSkeleton less found family, and more trying to look nice and innocent so they can corrupt her…
Also, I had a long discussion with The Boys™ on how to characterise them. It boiled down to: regular Slaneesh depiction is fine, but also the most boring of shit. When horrible excess is the norm, the true excess is found in the little things we think aren't.
Or something. IDK, I thought it'd be funi.
@Iri-chan and I am reasonably certain I have no answers! Feel free to ask tho.
@Arkos it was just a regular ass priest 9f the emperor. You know, the sort that are honestly worshipping chaos more than Him on Terra with their actions. As for a Mashface? Prolly never, she's on my army, and no one can have her!
Except my wife.
@AddmoreMemes this was, in fact, my goal. I mean just look at the description of a muse in the book we dragged her out of:
Muse
Imps of Slaanesh are appealing, taking the form of beautiful young women with perfect nubile bodies and long hair of scintillating colours. They are tiny, no taller than three feet, but despite their size, they have power over men, stealing their souls, and draining away the capacity for sensation. But they are also inspiring, urging their victims to new heights, always pushing further and further to attain the glory they seek.
THREE. FEETS… or for people using real units of measure: 91. CENTIMETRES.
A literal crotch gobbo.
► EatinThemToeBeans (Lickety-Lick)
Three feets?
SNNNNNIIIIIIIIFFFF
► Moldybones (Swamp Gooch)
Fungus.
AN: Alright. Well, now you people see why this chapter took a while to post!
Its a chunker at 7k+ words last I looked. We could have separated it into two smaller chapters, but that felt really meh to do. So we didn't.
this chapter is basically an in universe narrative video/combat report regarding Galatea's first 40k adventure. And so will the next few chapters.
Which brings us to the thing we mentioned a while ago: the idea that this thread (outside of the stuff that doesn't make sense to be) happens in universe too (keep in mind its a brighter timelime where things like covid, the war in Ukraine or China being a growing mess aren't happening/boiling over). So feel free to react to this chapter in the manner of a YouTube comment, or forum goer. Me and Ni will react in character to them
(we'll put everything into a spoiler or some such so people don't have to trawl the entire thread for those bits)What's this?
A chaos depiction that's not just endless brutality and excess, with over the top violence, grotesque relations, and bottomless cruelty?
That's downright fuckin' novel for 40k.
Galatea's some nonsense, but compared to other bullshit that comes along, she's not that remarkable. Opening segment was fun, and could honestly be a good way to open stories for 40k in general. As a framing device, it's pretty open ended. Then again, host talks about thing before introducing story is hardly a new format. But VR recording and plavsky bullshit means that you got easier access, I guess.
Makes me wonder if anyone's tried to shoot a full movie or serial in GBO before.
A chaos depiction that's not just endless brutality and excess, with over the top violence, grotesque relations, and bottomless cruelty?
That's downright fuckin' novel for 40k.
Galatea's some nonsense, but compared to other bullshit that comes along, she's not that remarkable. Opening segment was fun, and could honestly be a good way to open stories for 40k in general. As a framing device, it's pretty open ended. Then again, host talks about thing before introducing story is hardly a new format. But VR recording and plavsky bullshit means that you got easier access, I guess.
Makes me wonder if anyone's tried to shoot a full movie or serial in GBO before.
Nihilo
Authorial parasite
- Location
- Catalonia
► ModernPygmalion (Galatea My Beloved)
I'm all for playing the villain (and in fact, the first draft for Galatea had her already fallen long ago to Slaanesh and engaging in some good ol cannibalism. She would've been constantly peppy from being mildly high 24/7 through biomancy dopamine floods), but there's something to be said for doing things in measure and depicting a slow slide into uh oh shit instead of swan diving into the deep end.
Plus, I've been told some pretty interesting deep lore/headcanons for daemons in general and slaanesh in particular. Say the word if you want to hear, don't want to infodump you more than I already am.
And yeah, I talked with Cheese and some of his Warhammer friends to fine tune Gala's potential. We settled on something notable enough for low end Chaos to pay attention and consider her an investment (instead of using her as a pump and dump warp rift), without being insane bullshit. Hence a psyker with a natural aptitude for biomancy that gives her a healing factor on par with space marines, if slower acting. This meant that she could practice her powers with far less fear, allowing her to get a solid grip on two buffs and biolightning.
If this were tabletop, she'd be a mastery level 2 psyker with Ironarm and Warp Speed, getting Biolightning as a freebie for specializing in biomancy. Her muse makes her really unfair by giving a Bo2 on all psychic tests, which in GBNO is translated as her being able to safely stack both buffs or use biolightning at maximum power or do things by halves (one buff and bio-lightning at half-strength). Pushing beyond that has her gamble with backlash.
Oh, right, almost forgot. Cheese said that the intro was based off of something G Gundam did. Let me get the video.
View: https://youtu.be/nFRVcKotAgU
Chapter 1
Chapter 3
All your other links seem to be purged of sin already but I may be wrong
Broken link, have to remove the /revision/latest stuff for them to work
Chapter 3
Same here
All your other links seem to be purged of sin already but I may be wrong
Winged One
Not the Simurgh
- Location
- definitely the ground
- Pronouns
- They/Them/It
Cute! Anyone who wants to burn her just 'cause she's a witch can fuck off and die. I hope she can make them keep up the nice act, though...
I'd let them corrupt me, that's for sure.
Sounds fun.
"Not exploding" is the most important ability a psyker can get.
She's a fucking hive worlder, that's not even heresy.
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chaos deep lore
Nihilo
Authorial parasite
- Location
- Catalonia
[If you want a visual, look up Barbariank's lich]
► ModernPygmalion (Galatea My Beloved)
Ariel is going to stay nice, because-
Okay, this gets into the deep lore. Basically, chaos shit is literally made from suffering, and what god it belongs to is the response to that suffering. Actually, let me just post here what the resident conspiracy theorist told us.
Misery and pain are
Weird for chaos
Ontologically, those are within the realm of Nurgle
however at the same time, misery, pain, envy, greed, suffering? All avenues for ALL of the chaos gods to get their foot into the door
So I suggest thus: most small end daemonic creatures are formed in their core as motes of suffering, given form
the
aspectation of these creatures
what makes them them
is how they define the reaction to the suffering
So a man is in pain 24/7, he has options
He becomes a psychopath obsessed with puzzles and attaining a higher position of power (Tzeentch)
He accepts the pain and simply stagnates, refusing to move forward from the snapshot of annihilation he is in, putrefying in what is a self destructive happiness and acceptance (Nurgle)
He gets fuckass angry about it (Khorne)
He drowns the pain and masks whatever's causing it with new things, new sensations, new something, just to stave off the doldrums (Slaanesh)
So in this case, Cuckquean is a response to the suffering by taking charge and directing Cauliflower Brain towards luxury and artistry, sort of cleaning her up and giving her a direction towards self improvement
Now you might be saying "wow that sounds like it's genuinely a healty relationship"
that's the kicker
She's such a tiny individual that the suffering she represents and the aspectation into the corrupting influence of chaos is so small that it can be a vector of improving oneself
the issue is that, as you proceed down that path, it goes from something giving you support, it becomes a self-feeding, self-referencing crutch
Weird for chaos
Ontologically, those are within the realm of Nurgle
however at the same time, misery, pain, envy, greed, suffering? All avenues for ALL of the chaos gods to get their foot into the door
So I suggest thus: most small end daemonic creatures are formed in their core as motes of suffering, given form
the
aspectation of these creatures
what makes them them
is how they define the reaction to the suffering
So a man is in pain 24/7, he has options
He becomes a psychopath obsessed with puzzles and attaining a higher position of power (Tzeentch)
He accepts the pain and simply stagnates, refusing to move forward from the snapshot of annihilation he is in, putrefying in what is a self destructive happiness and acceptance (Nurgle)
He gets fuckass angry about it (Khorne)
He drowns the pain and masks whatever's causing it with new things, new sensations, new something, just to stave off the doldrums (Slaanesh)
So in this case, Cuckquean is a response to the suffering by taking charge and directing Cauliflower Brain towards luxury and artistry, sort of cleaning her up and giving her a direction towards self improvement
Now you might be saying "wow that sounds like it's genuinely a healty relationship"
that's the kicker
She's such a tiny individual that the suffering she represents and the aspectation into the corrupting influence of chaos is so small that it can be a vector of improving oneself
the issue is that, as you proceed down that path, it goes from something giving you support, it becomes a self-feeding, self-referencing crutch
Want me to also dump the data on how slaaneshi treat pain?
I don't know exactly what possessed me (other than FGO brainrot. Check out Habetrot's lore for some funny parallels, by the by) while scultping the girls. But. Yeah.
Galatea is in danger.
At least I didn't make any of them patterned after dogs or the jokes would be endless. It's bad enough we have a horse, dragon and two goats.
Pretty much, yeah. Her talent was mainly in "I don't explode more than I can recover from". And even so she risked starvation a fair few times because regrowing fingers/hands/eyes plus whatever violently broke down inside her from the buffs took a toll on her metabolism.
At the same time, she could get food easier than most thanks to her powers.
Lmao. From what I've been told, it's an issue if you're eating that stuff fresh. Instead of pounding away some corpse starch bars.
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Winged One
Not the Simurgh
- Location
- definitely the ground
- Pronouns
- They/Them/It
Isn't it just another sensation to enjoy, for the heavily-corrupted?
Slaneesh deep lore
Nihilo
Authorial parasite
- Location
- Catalonia
► ModernPygmalion (Galatea My Beloved)
It's fucking gauche and only nurglites like quaffing that shit, apparently. Partly because as previously stated, all chaos shit is constructed from it at the most base level, so it is a bit like chewing your own tongue.
Partly because of this:
Slaanesh hates pain as a sensation
Why?
It's literally the easiest thing for the body to spam
It'll happen when the body doesn't know what the hell is going on
and is the basis for phantom pain
Body isn't getting nervous feedback from missing limb, this is a problem in the basic circuitry of the human body. A response has to come back as SOON AS POSSIBLE, so in order to basically "keep the line open" so that immediate feedback can be returned once whatever has deadened the nerves stops doing that
This can be overcome by putting your good limb (assuming you have one) in front of a mirror
and then looking at the reflection
the brain goes "I see two legs"
and that overrides the whole "no feedback" issue
thus shutting the pain down
Lmao
Slaneesh doesn't like pain because it's gauche
That would explain why it has Feel No Pain a lot
It's very literal
"There is pain, pain is boring, no boredom allowed"
It's not even good fast food
it's shitty fast food
this also would actually make the numbing torture be entirely a pump fake from Slaaneshis
"oh no, ohh noooo you make me feel NOTHING"
>this is actually better than pain
this also harvests better emotional reactions from the torturers
really playing higher end slaaneshi fuck fuck games
the answer is obviously to take a rusty pair of pliers and make the torture as physically painful as possible so slaanesh gets bored
Arguably Slaanesh would also prefer positive emotions over negative emotions
anger feeds khorne, envy and desire feeds tzeentch, nihilism, depression and hopelessness feeds nurgle
negative emotions are also extreme but often short lived
You can also feel like shit for exploding for a while which is also a point TOWARDS going for "if you're gonna do bad shit, do it so bad you ruin someone's MONTH"
but good emotions can last for nearly as long with less density
Why?
It's literally the easiest thing for the body to spam
It'll happen when the body doesn't know what the hell is going on
and is the basis for phantom pain
Body isn't getting nervous feedback from missing limb, this is a problem in the basic circuitry of the human body. A response has to come back as SOON AS POSSIBLE, so in order to basically "keep the line open" so that immediate feedback can be returned once whatever has deadened the nerves stops doing that
This can be overcome by putting your good limb (assuming you have one) in front of a mirror
and then looking at the reflection
the brain goes "I see two legs"
and that overrides the whole "no feedback" issue
thus shutting the pain down
Lmao
Slaneesh doesn't like pain because it's gauche
That would explain why it has Feel No Pain a lot
It's very literal
"There is pain, pain is boring, no boredom allowed"
It's not even good fast food
it's shitty fast food
this also would actually make the numbing torture be entirely a pump fake from Slaaneshis
"oh no, ohh noooo you make me feel NOTHING"
>this is actually better than pain
this also harvests better emotional reactions from the torturers
really playing higher end slaaneshi fuck fuck games
the answer is obviously to take a rusty pair of pliers and make the torture as physically painful as possible so slaanesh gets bored
Arguably Slaanesh would also prefer positive emotions over negative emotions
anger feeds khorne, envy and desire feeds tzeentch, nihilism, depression and hopelessness feeds nurgle
negative emotions are also extreme but often short lived
You can also feel like shit for exploding for a while which is also a point TOWARDS going for "if you're gonna do bad shit, do it so bad you ruin someone's MONTH"
but good emotions can last for nearly as long with less density
It's funky, but I like weird deep lore like this. Plus "torture forever nyehehehe" is kinda... trite. More interesting if someone's busting the doujinshi nonsense where someone's in so much pleasure it's warping their nervous system. Possibly while being digested.
(Look, I played Monster Girl Quest and I didn't know there was a toggle for the vore content)
Oh, right, someone also had the galaxy brain thought that this means the Deldar use their pain farming to make themselves too bland for Slaanesh to bother. One hell of an introduction to how the edgy elves do, let me tell you.
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Nihilo
Authorial parasite
- Location
- Catalonia
[Fixed, and glad to hear. Even if seeing we missed two links on the purgation made me feel like a xianxia protag spitting blood]
Winged One
Not the Simurgh
- Location
- definitely the ground
- Pronouns
- They/Them/It
/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_asset/file/6438793/this-is-fine.jpg)
Lol yeah, at least you got all but two of the links. That's like 97% or some shit. And hey, you can now officially say that all the links are peer-reviewed free of annoying wikia bs
Nihilo
Authorial parasite
- Location
- Catalonia
[Between wikia doing that nonsense with their links and insisting on turning everything into webp it's truly a trial to do anything with their pics.]
► ModernPygmalion (Galatea My Beloved)
That's literally how Nurgle was explained to me.
If this were tabletop, I may've been tempted to play them. Because I love myself some unkillable bastards and body horror (I main Nidus, enough said). But while GBNO nearly nulls pain, it sure as shit doesn't do anything about smell, touch or taste. Fuck experiencing Nurgle's shit first hand, much less when there's no warp mindwhammy to make it feel anything other than revolting.