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The Long Night Part One: Embers in the Dusk: A Planetary Governor Quest (43k) Complete Sequel Up
- Thread starter Durin
- Start date
"Admiral Freyr Wrote That Chapter"
- Location
- Australia
(Edit: This was in large part prompted by looking at the rolls details and seeing just how fucking pear-shaped things went for the fleet between the 2nd and 3rd rolls, and also poking some fun at Imperium bombast)
xxxx
Upon the command deck of a Dark Eldar cruiser which had been preying upon the void lanes back when the Eldar strode the Galaxy, united and implacable, before She-Who-Thirsts, before the Eye of Terror, before the ascension of the Chaos, before all these trillions of mon-keigh infested the galaxy like so many lice on an unwashed pit slave's back hair, a tall Archon sat. She was drumming her fingers upon a part of the upholstery on her command chair that had once gone by the name Magnus, and listening to the sensor reports.
"Repeat the sensor sweep," she said. "And make more sense than your predecessor."
The luckless Kabalite officer glanced down at the dismembered figure at his feet, then back up at his Archon, all glad in black leather and plates of twisted metallurgy. "Right away, master," he replied. Soon after, he came back with the results. "The ... uh, the ... umm ... the prey fleet is ... well, it's what they look like. Mon-Keigh crews, fleet composition is ... basically Imperium norms."
The Archon looked over at her technician with a nonplussed expression, lips pursed sourly. She glanced at her plot board, the casualty lists, then back up at the technicians.
A few minutes later when the fourth technician repeated the same report, she decided there was no point arguing the inarguable and let this one live. There was a battle to knuckle down to, no matter how baffling it was. This Mon-Keigh admiral could made for a junior corsair Archon. It was staggering! She didn't think they lived long enough to do that.
"Humph, well then," she said. "Time to start taking this more seriously. ... and not a word out of you, Dracon. Yes, the first two waves consisted mainly of my political enemies, but even they shouldn't have been bested by this filthy vermin fleet. Very well, let's show them what a true Eldar fleet at war looks like. And intensify the anti-Psyker Wards, I smell witch-work at play here."
xxxx
"Well, that's two waves down, how many more?" asked Admiral Freyr on the bridge of his battleship. The rings of Fjol V wafted past gracefully outside, displayed on giant viewscreens on the bridge.
Ridcully twitched. "I'm ... huh. It's not so clear as the last two times. But there is a third wave coming, prepare yourself. I'm just not sure exactly where..."
"Admiral!" shouted an officer from down among the technicians. "The Grand Cruiser Fist of Piety is exploding, sir!"
Freyr glanced down at the Avernite diviner on his bridge. He pointed towards the sensor display and cocked an eyebrow.
Ridcully coughed into his hand. "Yes, that would most likely be the third wave now."
"Of course, thanks for the timely warning," said Freyr, glowering at the psyker.
"Hey, I bailed you out on the last two waves, can't expect me to get them all," said Ridcully. "Don't worry, I can get you into a great spot for the fourth wave. And on the bright side, I can foretell that when you see the logs of this last ambush you are going to learn some amazing things about ambushes that will really help us in decades to come."
They watched the sensor board in silence, waiting for a pattern to appear that Freyr could intervene in as his subordinate commands redeployed their ships with a drilled precision far beyond that of most Imperium fleets. And it was just as well, as the wave of destruction that washed over them would have utterly annihilated any other Imperium fleet of their size. As it was, the Dark Eldar quickly avenged themselves of the "easy" bloody nose he had given them in the first two waves.
"Say what you will about the Dark Eldar," said Freyr as explosions and fire rippled across the Fist of Piety rhythmically. "They do know how to make things explode artfully. Of course, as for myself, I just want to see foul xenos blown to flinders in as ugly and graceless a manner possible. Do you have my target coordinates yet, Ridcully?"
"I certainly do, Admiral, transmitting now. And brace yourself, this is about to get stressful."
"Oh, right, like the first two waves were as easy as the nobles of Vanaheim."
xxxxxxxx
Ten years from now, in a lecture theatre with a very bored Governor's Daughter.
"Children of Avernus," barked the instructor at the front of the lecture theatre. "Today we learn about the glorious Naval Battle of Fjol IV, where the blessed forces of the Nine Worlds slaughtered the Dark Eldar xenos and drove him and all his works before the justice that the Emperor would see turned upon all Xenos. ... uh, except for our Quartok friends. Turn your textbooks to page one thousand, five hundred, forty seven."
Syr, looking ever more and more like her mother's younger sister and growing increasingly concerned that if rejuve technology got any better she'd begin to look like Lady Freya's older sister, sat in the back with her regular companions looking bored. "I've been dreading this day," she muttered.
"What? You normally love the lessons about battles?" asked one of her companions.
"I read ahead through the textbook, I know how much the quotations are almost entirely fabricated," said Syr.
"How could you know that?"
"Dad let me listen to the actual logs so I understood what facing a dangerous foe was really like," said Syr. "Like this passage..."
'And lo, the third wave of the foul Xeno assault came bearing destruction in the form of all the vile artifices of their kind. Yet even as the cowardly assault broke upon the shield of the Fleet, less devout hearts quailed. So it was that Solar Admiral Freyr drew his sword and pointed at the enemy cruisers, saying, 'Though the Xenos bring forth fire upon fire, do not despair, for you are the wrath of the Emperor and the Nine Worlds!' And thus the battleships smote the flimsy constructs of the enemy, annihilating in the final exchange before planet fall two insidious Xenos cruisers, for the paltry loss of a Grand Cruiser, nine Battlecruisers, six cruisers and thirteen Light Cruisers.'
"The actual quotation...," said Syr as she dug up a slate and found a document. "Ahem, 'Emperor's Grace, even the explosions are exploding! It's nastier than an Anvernus petting zoo in here. Throne-dammit, you scrotumless dogs, comms, tell Admiral Telemacharite that if doesn't get forward into the teeth of that fight I'll have his guts for garters! By the Emperor, Ridcully, give me targets now or use your divination to figure out where I'm about to stick my fist!'"
"I always figured the standard of classical rhetoric in the history books was suspiciously high," said her friend.
"Also, there's a bit in there about dad exhorting uncle Freyr to stiffen his resolve on the flank, that was actually dad freaking out when an escort next to his transport blew up, and threatening Uncle with the Avernite wildlife Mom was going to send him in the mail if Uncle got him killed."
"Is ... is it heresy to know this stuff?"
"Just perks of being the Governor's brat."
xxxx
Upon the command deck of a Dark Eldar cruiser which had been preying upon the void lanes back when the Eldar strode the Galaxy, united and implacable, before She-Who-Thirsts, before the Eye of Terror, before the ascension of the Chaos, before all these trillions of mon-keigh infested the galaxy like so many lice on an unwashed pit slave's back hair, a tall Archon sat. She was drumming her fingers upon a part of the upholstery on her command chair that had once gone by the name Magnus, and listening to the sensor reports.
"Repeat the sensor sweep," she said. "And make more sense than your predecessor."
The luckless Kabalite officer glanced down at the dismembered figure at his feet, then back up at his Archon, all glad in black leather and plates of twisted metallurgy. "Right away, master," he replied. Soon after, he came back with the results. "The ... uh, the ... umm ... the prey fleet is ... well, it's what they look like. Mon-Keigh crews, fleet composition is ... basically Imperium norms."
The Archon looked over at her technician with a nonplussed expression, lips pursed sourly. She glanced at her plot board, the casualty lists, then back up at the technicians.
A few minutes later when the fourth technician repeated the same report, she decided there was no point arguing the inarguable and let this one live. There was a battle to knuckle down to, no matter how baffling it was. This Mon-Keigh admiral could made for a junior corsair Archon. It was staggering! She didn't think they lived long enough to do that.
"Humph, well then," she said. "Time to start taking this more seriously. ... and not a word out of you, Dracon. Yes, the first two waves consisted mainly of my political enemies, but even they shouldn't have been bested by this filthy vermin fleet. Very well, let's show them what a true Eldar fleet at war looks like. And intensify the anti-Psyker Wards, I smell witch-work at play here."
xxxx
"Well, that's two waves down, how many more?" asked Admiral Freyr on the bridge of his battleship. The rings of Fjol V wafted past gracefully outside, displayed on giant viewscreens on the bridge.
Ridcully twitched. "I'm ... huh. It's not so clear as the last two times. But there is a third wave coming, prepare yourself. I'm just not sure exactly where..."
"Admiral!" shouted an officer from down among the technicians. "The Grand Cruiser Fist of Piety is exploding, sir!"
Freyr glanced down at the Avernite diviner on his bridge. He pointed towards the sensor display and cocked an eyebrow.
Ridcully coughed into his hand. "Yes, that would most likely be the third wave now."
"Of course, thanks for the timely warning," said Freyr, glowering at the psyker.
"Hey, I bailed you out on the last two waves, can't expect me to get them all," said Ridcully. "Don't worry, I can get you into a great spot for the fourth wave. And on the bright side, I can foretell that when you see the logs of this last ambush you are going to learn some amazing things about ambushes that will really help us in decades to come."
They watched the sensor board in silence, waiting for a pattern to appear that Freyr could intervene in as his subordinate commands redeployed their ships with a drilled precision far beyond that of most Imperium fleets. And it was just as well, as the wave of destruction that washed over them would have utterly annihilated any other Imperium fleet of their size. As it was, the Dark Eldar quickly avenged themselves of the "easy" bloody nose he had given them in the first two waves.
"Say what you will about the Dark Eldar," said Freyr as explosions and fire rippled across the Fist of Piety rhythmically. "They do know how to make things explode artfully. Of course, as for myself, I just want to see foul xenos blown to flinders in as ugly and graceless a manner possible. Do you have my target coordinates yet, Ridcully?"
"I certainly do, Admiral, transmitting now. And brace yourself, this is about to get stressful."
"Oh, right, like the first two waves were as easy as the nobles of Vanaheim."
xxxxxxxx
Ten years from now, in a lecture theatre with a very bored Governor's Daughter.
"Children of Avernus," barked the instructor at the front of the lecture theatre. "Today we learn about the glorious Naval Battle of Fjol IV, where the blessed forces of the Nine Worlds slaughtered the Dark Eldar xenos and drove him and all his works before the justice that the Emperor would see turned upon all Xenos. ... uh, except for our Quartok friends. Turn your textbooks to page one thousand, five hundred, forty seven."
Syr, looking ever more and more like her mother's younger sister and growing increasingly concerned that if rejuve technology got any better she'd begin to look like Lady Freya's older sister, sat in the back with her regular companions looking bored. "I've been dreading this day," she muttered.
"What? You normally love the lessons about battles?" asked one of her companions.
"I read ahead through the textbook, I know how much the quotations are almost entirely fabricated," said Syr.
"How could you know that?"
"Dad let me listen to the actual logs so I understood what facing a dangerous foe was really like," said Syr. "Like this passage..."
'And lo, the third wave of the foul Xeno assault came bearing destruction in the form of all the vile artifices of their kind. Yet even as the cowardly assault broke upon the shield of the Fleet, less devout hearts quailed. So it was that Solar Admiral Freyr drew his sword and pointed at the enemy cruisers, saying, 'Though the Xenos bring forth fire upon fire, do not despair, for you are the wrath of the Emperor and the Nine Worlds!' And thus the battleships smote the flimsy constructs of the enemy, annihilating in the final exchange before planet fall two insidious Xenos cruisers, for the paltry loss of a Grand Cruiser, nine Battlecruisers, six cruisers and thirteen Light Cruisers.'
"The actual quotation...," said Syr as she dug up a slate and found a document. "Ahem, 'Emperor's Grace, even the explosions are exploding! It's nastier than an Anvernus petting zoo in here. Throne-dammit, you scrotumless dogs, comms, tell Admiral Telemacharite that if doesn't get forward into the teeth of that fight I'll have his guts for garters! By the Emperor, Ridcully, give me targets now or use your divination to figure out where I'm about to stick my fist!'"
"I always figured the standard of classical rhetoric in the history books was suspiciously high," said her friend.
"Also, there's a bit in there about dad exhorting uncle Freyr to stiffen his resolve on the flank, that was actually dad freaking out when an escort next to his transport blew up, and threatening Uncle with the Avernite wildlife Mom was going to send him in the mail if Uncle got him killed."
"Is ... is it heresy to know this stuff?"
"Just perks of being the Governor's brat."
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- Location
- Australia
KleverKil'Vanya
Ortillery Operator
So... we lost 10% troops before even reaching orbit, fuck this shit for an exterminatus, who fucking cares about the fucking planet, at this rate we will lose and 10%-30% in the landing phase alone and then be too combat ineffective to actually assault anything.
- Location
- Australia
Take your UN Blue Beret off and put your Commissar's Cap back on
Losing a couple dozen million is a just bad day at the office. Nine Worlds soldiers are a renewable resource. Planets aren't.
- Location
- Australia
Ships aren't as easily replaced, though.
No, they aren't, but if the Dark Eldar are left here they will raid us regularly and they will kill ships while doing so. And ships are still more replaceable than planets.
- Location
- Australia
It goes something like this:
Planets > Hero Chars > Major Resource Sources > Capital Ships > Major NPCs > Resources > Our Pride and Dignity > Syr's Future Pet Carniflower 'Rosie' > Forty Million Grunts
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I'm pretty sure your forgetting the dirt and the worms in the dirty somewhere in there.
Doubt
Omake - Doubt
Headmaster Ridcully sighed contentedly, as he settled into his oh so comfy office chair. They would be heading for Fjol soon, and the last minute battle training had strained even his not insignificant mentoring skills. Several of the Diviners very nearly had to be given the Emperor's Peace, reduced to gibbering messes, as they gazed too far, trying to push their limits for the battle to come. Thankfully, he mused, he had managed to convince Rotbart to bring him along. The survival of the Nine Worlds, might very well be determined at Fjol. Somewhat more morosely now, he considered that even if the assault on Fjol was successful, it was very likely that it would be a most bloody Pyrrhic Victory. Leaving planets, now deprived of their brave defenders, wide open for the enemies of Man to do as they pleased. His mood darkening, he recalled Warlord Garkill and his proclamation that he would be back for more. And the numerous other threats that frustratingly remained at the edges of his vision. Ominous portents, without the reality, tauntingly eluding his grasp. Not for the first time, he wished he was as capable as the Eldar Farseers, able to guide entire Craftworlds, navigating the skeins of reality and threads of fate masterfully. Truly, he was a mere dabbler, compared to them.
A knock on the door cut off his train of thought. "Headmaster, may I come in?" He shook his head and sighed, young Xavier had never quite managed to overcome his awe of him, despite his own numerous accomplishments. Still calling him Mentor and Headmaster, despite having long left his tutelage. "Of course, Xavier, my door is always open to you."
He looked absolutely ragged, the weight of the world on his shoulders, as he sat. Immediately cutting through the pleasantries, "What do you see, Headmaster?" With a weary look and grimace, "I have been much troubled of late in my sleep, Xavier. Even more so than usual. Visions of death and destruction. Hope and heroism. I have been unable to see the end, although I hold some confidence that we will at least make it through the orbitals." More urgently, Xavier almost pleading, "What of afterwards? We have many enemies still, even if we beat the thrice accursed Dark Eldar." With a pained look, he simply said "I do not know, Xavier. I wish I did." His own dark look now mirrored by Xavier, "Is there any hope then? We do not even have the Emperor now. The Emperor no longer protects." He found himself temporarily unable to answer. He had great faith in the Emperor, but it was undeniable that until he was reborn, Man would be left alone, in the dark. The Nine Worlds had not even the Sons of the Emperor, the heroic Astartes to rely on.
Instead, he merely said "Would you join me in the Observatory?" And with grim determination, they cast their minds out once again, into the Warp, hoping against all hope, to find the barest hint, to tear the merest secret from the Immaterium's grasp.
A/N The idea was to take a glimpse at the toll that Fjol would take even on heroes. They are still human after all, with their hopes, and doubts. I presume that they prepared some sort of special room to gaze upon the Abomination, and they reused it here. I had no idea what to call the special room, so I just called it the Observatory. I know, its pretty short, but I dont write stuff normally. If anyone wants to take what Ive written and expand on it, feel free to do so.
Headmaster Ridcully sighed contentedly, as he settled into his oh so comfy office chair. They would be heading for Fjol soon, and the last minute battle training had strained even his not insignificant mentoring skills. Several of the Diviners very nearly had to be given the Emperor's Peace, reduced to gibbering messes, as they gazed too far, trying to push their limits for the battle to come. Thankfully, he mused, he had managed to convince Rotbart to bring him along. The survival of the Nine Worlds, might very well be determined at Fjol. Somewhat more morosely now, he considered that even if the assault on Fjol was successful, it was very likely that it would be a most bloody Pyrrhic Victory. Leaving planets, now deprived of their brave defenders, wide open for the enemies of Man to do as they pleased. His mood darkening, he recalled Warlord Garkill and his proclamation that he would be back for more. And the numerous other threats that frustratingly remained at the edges of his vision. Ominous portents, without the reality, tauntingly eluding his grasp. Not for the first time, he wished he was as capable as the Eldar Farseers, able to guide entire Craftworlds, navigating the skeins of reality and threads of fate masterfully. Truly, he was a mere dabbler, compared to them.
A knock on the door cut off his train of thought. "Headmaster, may I come in?" He shook his head and sighed, young Xavier had never quite managed to overcome his awe of him, despite his own numerous accomplishments. Still calling him Mentor and Headmaster, despite having long left his tutelage. "Of course, Xavier, my door is always open to you."
He looked absolutely ragged, the weight of the world on his shoulders, as he sat. Immediately cutting through the pleasantries, "What do you see, Headmaster?" With a weary look and grimace, "I have been much troubled of late in my sleep, Xavier. Even more so than usual. Visions of death and destruction. Hope and heroism. I have been unable to see the end, although I hold some confidence that we will at least make it through the orbitals." More urgently, Xavier almost pleading, "What of afterwards? We have many enemies still, even if we beat the thrice accursed Dark Eldar." With a pained look, he simply said "I do not know, Xavier. I wish I did." His own dark look now mirrored by Xavier, "Is there any hope then? We do not even have the Emperor now. The Emperor no longer protects." He found himself temporarily unable to answer. He had great faith in the Emperor, but it was undeniable that until he was reborn, Man would be left alone, in the dark. The Nine Worlds had not even the Sons of the Emperor, the heroic Astartes to rely on.
Instead, he merely said "Would you join me in the Observatory?" And with grim determination, they cast their minds out once again, into the Warp, hoping against all hope, to find the barest hint, to tear the merest secret from the Immaterium's grasp.
A/N The idea was to take a glimpse at the toll that Fjol would take even on heroes. They are still human after all, with their hopes, and doubts. I presume that they prepared some sort of special room to gaze upon the Abomination, and they reused it here. I had no idea what to call the special room, so I just called it the Observatory. I know, its pretty short, but I dont write stuff normally. If anyone wants to take what Ive written and expand on it, feel free to do so.
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Raising to the top, Failing to the bottom.
- Location
- not telling
(My very first omake, please be gentle senpai )
Admiral Freyr was concerned with the Eldars Fleets movements. Only a few Cruisers and Escorts were protecting the Defence Station Headmaster Ridcully and his Diviners had point out as holding his opponent among the Dark Eldar but the majority retreated out of range and only protected the other Station for no reason he could see. Some of his subordinates believed it to be a trap, to lure him in and close it with their fleet as the stationary defense hammered them or to make a run on the transports as he fought the Stations. But as long as he had a open shot at that Defence Station he could decapitate their leadership and a majority of their stationary defenses before their mobile assets could entrap his forces. A risk, but if it worked it could change the course of the battle. A risk, but maybe, just maybe also a golden opportunity as well.
Ar'usmea smirked as she saw the Station buckle under the combined firepower of the mon-keigh Battleships. Leaving her former leader to his fate she brought her forces around to attack the transports as their defenders were busy with the stationary defense. Slowing to kill more lightly armored and unarmed ships she could only smile at the pathetic attempt to disgorge their passengers as shuttles frantically left their carriers only to frown as a number of them rather than turning planet side turned to face her fleet. Ordering a better scan of the shuttles the frown turned to panic as it was revealed that rather than planetary assault shuttles she was facing waves of Vanaheim Guard regiments specialized in boarding at the close range she had chosen to maximize casualties to the transports before the warships had return.
Sargent Andres Cortés of the Vanaheim Guard 143th Regiment had his orders and they were simply, just how he liked it. Kill the Xenos, disable their weapons, blow up the engines. The Cruiser shook as another team blow something important while his platoon made their way to the bridge. Planting their demo charges they stormed to bridge to a hail of plasma from the guards station there, losing a full third of the platoon to take it. As they set about disabling all they could a groan made them spin around to face the command throne. Pinned to the throne by pieces of the door was a female Dark Eldar fading in an out of consciousness muttering in pain. Stepping closer to hear he smiles as she lets slip her identity.
Ar'usmea woke to her own confusion as she remembered the door slamming into her. Why did that not kill her? Why did the leader of her bodyguards not use it as a chance to rise himself to the role of Archon? Her questions were answered when the mon-keigh doctor came into view. Her only thoughts were of how high she had rose to Archon of a vast fleet, and how far she had fallen to prisoner of a mere mon-keigh.
(A/N, came back to read it after 15 minutes just to relies how bad I suck at writing. Hope the Dark Eldar don't get a boost for it.)
) OMAKE
Raising to the top, Failing to the bottom.
Ar'usmea, former third in command of the Kabal of the Calamitous Tear, was having a very good day today. A minor Kabal before the impenitent mon-keigh fleet had came to this strong hold of Eladrith Ynneas their fortunes had rose as the computations had fallen in the course of the battle. Starting with a mere 2 Cruisers and 17 Escorts at the start of the battle they had been in the third wave of the attack striking the mon-keigh fleet. Thou they had lost their flagship with their Archon and Hierarch and 6 Escorts the devastation of the other Kabals had seen 2 more Cruisers and 7 Escorts swear to her command leaving them by far the largest Kabal left on the field at 3 Cruisers and 18 Escorts. And she saw a way to Rise even father. The leader of all of the space forces had shifted his flag to one of the Defence Stations after his Cruiser had got shot out from under him. If that Station was to fall and him with it leaving her the undisputed leader of the Eladrith Ynnea fleet .... well that would just be to bad wouldn't it.
Admiral Freyr was concerned with the Eldars Fleets movements. Only a few Cruisers and Escorts were protecting the Defence Station Headmaster Ridcully and his Diviners had point out as holding his opponent among the Dark Eldar but the majority retreated out of range and only protected the other Station for no reason he could see. Some of his subordinates believed it to be a trap, to lure him in and close it with their fleet as the stationary defense hammered them or to make a run on the transports as he fought the Stations. But as long as he had a open shot at that Defence Station he could decapitate their leadership and a majority of their stationary defenses before their mobile assets could entrap his forces. A risk, but if it worked it could change the course of the battle. A risk, but maybe, just maybe also a golden opportunity as well.
Ar'usmea smirked as she saw the Station buckle under the combined firepower of the mon-keigh Battleships. Leaving her former leader to his fate she brought her forces around to attack the transports as their defenders were busy with the stationary defense. Slowing to kill more lightly armored and unarmed ships she could only smile at the pathetic attempt to disgorge their passengers as shuttles frantically left their carriers only to frown as a number of them rather than turning planet side turned to face her fleet. Ordering a better scan of the shuttles the frown turned to panic as it was revealed that rather than planetary assault shuttles she was facing waves of Vanaheim Guard regiments specialized in boarding at the close range she had chosen to maximize casualties to the transports before the warships had return.
Sargent Andres Cortés of the Vanaheim Guard 143th Regiment had his orders and they were simply, just how he liked it. Kill the Xenos, disable their weapons, blow up the engines. The Cruiser shook as another team blow something important while his platoon made their way to the bridge. Planting their demo charges they stormed to bridge to a hail of plasma from the guards station there, losing a full third of the platoon to take it. As they set about disabling all they could a groan made them spin around to face the command throne. Pinned to the throne by pieces of the door was a female Dark Eldar fading in an out of consciousness muttering in pain. Stepping closer to hear he smiles as she lets slip her identity.
Ar'usmea woke to her own confusion as she remembered the door slamming into her. Why did that not kill her? Why did the leader of her bodyguards not use it as a chance to rise himself to the role of Archon? Her questions were answered when the mon-keigh doctor came into view. Her only thoughts were of how high she had rose to Archon of a vast fleet, and how far she had fallen to prisoner of a mere mon-keigh.
(A/N, came back to read it after 15 minutes just to relies how bad I suck at writing. Hope the Dark Eldar don't get a boost for it.)
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- Location
- Northish
I don't want sound like a defeatist here but things like the Timeless Army we cannot actually get replacements for and losing something like 50% of this force is not something we can shrug off. The Imperial Guard could loose millions because it had huge reserves, we have nine planets several of which keep dropping into the warp and one post civil war mess. Massive casualties are too be expected but we cannot sustain losses like these.
- Location
- Australia
This is akin to the expenditure of the Super-Heavies against the Ork invasion. A formation that you dare not use bears no purpose in life beyond consuming your upkeep budget. The Timeless Army's casualties are (really) unfortunate, but for a Tenth World ready to roll, it is a trade we should make decisively.
If even conquering a Dark Eldar terraform world is not worth the Timeless Army's blood, then nothing is worth the Timeless Army's blood, and it would thus be worthless to the Nine Worlds.
- Location
- not telling
durin, has the warp storm completely cut us off or is there a few, small, twisted paths we could get ships through to search for stranded Imperial Guard and Navy ships, maybe even some Adeptus Astartes companies no longer able to return to their Chapter and looking for a safe harbor to recruit for us? If we could get just some small parts of the old Imperiums forces we could bolster our forces enough to hold till we can make enough for our own needs.
- Location
- Northish
I'm not saying we don't use our specialist units, more like the standard tactic of "throw enough bodies at it" is not feasible. My main concern is we walk away from this with another planet to protect and a devastated invasion force. Thought I must complement the GM this quests gives the feeling of balancing of sending enough forces to do the job while building up for the next hit really nicely.
- Location
- Alice Springs, Australia
you aer completely cut off
- Location
- Alice Springs, Australia
thank you
- Location
- not telling
True but we're burning thru ships faster than we can make them. Ground Troops can be brought up to stuff every five years for us but ships take time and yard space we don't have. We need outside reinforcements every now and again or a lowl in invasions to keep this up.
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- Location
- Australia
And getting and keeping the necessary shipyards requires keeping Vanaheim afloat, part of which means keeping the place from rioting, which in turn means getting them a colony world to release the pressure.
- Location
- Northish
As I said earlier those ship losses are going to hurt. Every ship we have is one we can't lose. But in the end OneirosTheWriter is definitely right, we need this planet and the Dark Eldar gone. I suppose the number cruncher in me is just wincing at the costs.
EDIT: If this does get us enough breathing room we might just be able to pry enough secrets out of the Well of Urd to start making up the difference in hull numbers that get thrown at us.
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- Location
- not telling
Aw crap. We need to start pouring resources into the shipyards and have a talk with Vanaheim. See if we can't get two or three world able to make escorts and have them focus on building Cruisers for the next decade. We just have to hope we get lucky and have a Imperial Navy Patrol group chance it and get through. Maybe have a look around and see if there was Adeptus Mechanicus explorator fleet stuck in here somewhere.
Edit: Just for the heck of it. Random reinforcements appear! (for us, not them). Dice roll (Marines, Navy, Explorator Fleet.) Well that sucks.
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- Location
- Australia
Also, even an Exterminatus requires us safely getting that Inquisitorial Cruiser into position over the world. This means this naval attack always had to occur, and either way we still have to drive into the teeth of the orbital defences.
That these naval losses are utterly unavoidable may not be entirely comforting but...
That these naval losses are utterly unavoidable may not be entirely comforting but...
- Location
- Alice Springs, Australia
yes there is no chance that even the stealth tech on the Velvet Glove would be able to hide it from the Dark Eldar