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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
- Location
- Someplace USA
Well to be fair there's a lot of reasons to keep doing the soul trade even with nothing in return since it denies chaos power. But then again getting some soul eating Crocks could do that just as well.
- Location
- The United States
I am honestly disappointed in all this discussion regarding the selling of human souls.
These souls should be kept in house and devoured by humans. Human souls for humans only! /s
These souls should be kept in house and devoured by humans. Human souls for humans only! /s
- Location
- USA
The trade for those runes just doesn't seem worth it since the sirens are offering too little for what will probably take us an action to make those lakes.
@Void Stalker hey buddy when you get a chance can you tell me how much cargo space we have available? We need to sell some metal for thrones.
We don't. We had to buy some from Muspelheim during the trade.
We don't actually know if it's more or less efficient to sell souls or lakes, but like hell I'm selling Sirens tech for their equivalent of an alphabet. Lakes might be worth it, depending on how many credits we'll get per action.
- Location
- Someplace USA
Eh it's still beneficial since it can still give us some stuff and slowly opens up the chance to their better runes.
Shades of Green
@Durin
The Lord Protector's gambit has failed. The death of Warlord Krorkkrumpa did not break his WAAAGH!! Only seven hours have passed, but Warlord Rokzilla has captured the undivided loyalty of the horde and the field of blazing green power surrounding the Orks is as strong as it ever was. The battle to come will be fought on the savages' terms.
Rokzilla's horde is a funhouse mirror image of Lord Protector's forces - twisted, distorted, and considerably larger. For every nameless standing in a neat firing line there are several roaring, charging boyz. For every symmetrical, well-polished war machine there are several smoke-belching assemblies of scrapmetal. For every Krork there are several Nobz, each one grown to an adult's size but possessing the brains of a feral child. Bolstered by the blessings of the Orks' mad gods their rusty weapons slice through power armor and stone fortifications with equal ease. Even still, the Krorks' victory would be all but certain, save for one thing.
The daemons.
In lesser hordes they manifest as glowing green footsoldiers, distinguishable from their corporeal kin only by their tendency to pop out of existence should the spirit of their brethren be broken. In a WAAAGH!! of this size things are considerably worse.
A thousand-armed daemon of Mork crawls through a hole in the fortifications like an Orky millipede. Its too-long limbs descend on a tank, their wickedly sharp nails slicing through metal and undoing screws. In mere seconds the tank is taken apart and reassembled facing the other way, a jagged parody of its former self. Orks leap inside and the tank drives forward, grinding the sliced-up remains of its former crew into the dust. A walker moves forward to stop it, but a daemon of Gork smashes into it like a cannonball. With a strain of its bulging arm muscles the new daemon rips apart the frontal armor and vaporizes the pilot with a blast of its fiery breath.
Far behind the Ork lines, beyond the reach of even the most accurate artillery, a green potion bubbles in a cauldron, tended by an ethereal Pigdok. Its smaller, fleshy subordinates fill syringes with the potion and inject it into nearby food squigs. The creatures, once little more than placid bricks of meat, begin to twist and grow. Their small mouths turn to fang-filled maws. Their vestigial limbs lengthen and grow armor-piercing claws. The great majority become a biting swarm barely directed at the enemy by whip-wielding Runtherds. Many become boar-like giants and eager Snakebites clamber onto their backs, forming ragged cavalry lines. A few, jabbed over and over again by a dozen sadistic Pigdoks, grow to the size of Gargants.
Red Runnerz zip through Krork lines at hypersonic speeds, leaving carnage in their wake. Purple Sneakz take out the officers, silent and invisible. Black Stormerz walk at the front of each advance, bouncing bullets and swatting artillery shells aside with contemptuous ease. Glowing green legions manifest themselves in the middle of enemy positions, overrunning the nameless and the houseless.
Even still, the Krork hold. Their race is a perfect war machine, fully realized and finely tuned. They possess all the things their enemies have lost. Precision. Discipline. Industry. Maturity. Krork Engineers send the fire crushing down on their enemies, wiping out Ork and daemon alike with short artillery bursts. Assassins strike at the enemy leadership, sniper rounds finding chinks in empowered mega-armor of the Nobz. Guided by impeccable doctrine, officers encircle and wipe out the forward elements of the Ork horde. Whenever the battlefield clears, Doctors rush through the corpse fields, finding the not-quite-dead and getting them back on their fields almost as quickly as they were cut down. The Krork hold.
Until they are hammered apart.
Rokzilla has reached the thick of the fighting and is doing what daemons and gargants could not. The blows of his Klaw rip apart entire forts and the dozens of guns mounted on his left arm slay battalions with each burst. When he roars the nameless turn on their officers and slay them in the name of their new warlord. If nothing is done, Rokzilla will single-handedly cleave the Krork army apart.
Something is done.
The Lord Protector takes the field. He emerges from behind an electronic cloak a mere dozen feet in front of the ork warlord and rushes to meet him. Unstoppable force meets an immovable object, twice, as the giant greenskins' weapons clash against armor. The shockwave sends the smaller greenskins around them flying as the two giants, each one empowered by the belief of billions, clash again and again.
Rokzilla is an old ork. In his youth he clashed against the Dark Eldar. As a nob he fought Space Marines. As a warboss trying to make Krorkkrumpa submit, he challenged Red Runnerz. But even so, he finds the Lord Protector's speed too much for him. The Krork's blade, produced by the best Engineers and empowered by its own legend, slices through the mega-armor, separating the Ork's Klawed arm from his body. A second later it flickers again and sends the other arm flying. With a contemptuous push the Lord Protector sends Rokzilla to the ground and stands over him, raising the blade to deliver the final blow.
But before he can strike, Rokzilla's severed left arm twitches. Even without the Ork to guide them, the daemons empowering his gunz know the will of Gork and Mork. They turn their barrels on the giant Krork. Each barrel becomes three then bursts apart in a desperate barrage that blows the Krork leader's head clean off and sends his wayward soul back to Gork and Mork. Rokzilla grins and dies a moment later when the explosive device embedded in the Lord Protector's chest detects his death.
In the middle of the Krork army the Lord Protector's second in command, now himself the Lord Protector, orders the reserve elements forward. At the same time the fleet high in orbit and the saboteurs hiding in the Ork worlds both spring into action, trying to strike at the fault lines they created after Krorkkrumpa's death. The goal is a to cut the Orks apart. If the horde can be cut apart long enough for the underbosses to turn against each other, if the kaptains of the fleet and the overseers of the planets can be pushed to rebel, if the WAAAGH!! can be broken into smaller, mutually opposing forces, the calculus of the war will change. The worst of the daemons will disappear and the shattered Ork forces will be handed a defeat in detail. But if the gambit fails for the second time and the childish gods' demand for bigger bosses produces another quick victor, there may not be a chance to try for the third time. The Orks may triumph over their civilized brethren and drown the whole Protectorate in madness, fire, and a violence without purpose or end.
Shades of Green
The Lord Protector's gambit has failed. The death of Warlord Krorkkrumpa did not break his WAAAGH!! Only seven hours have passed, but Warlord Rokzilla has captured the undivided loyalty of the horde and the field of blazing green power surrounding the Orks is as strong as it ever was. The battle to come will be fought on the savages' terms.
Rokzilla's horde is a funhouse mirror image of Lord Protector's forces - twisted, distorted, and considerably larger. For every nameless standing in a neat firing line there are several roaring, charging boyz. For every symmetrical, well-polished war machine there are several smoke-belching assemblies of scrapmetal. For every Krork there are several Nobz, each one grown to an adult's size but possessing the brains of a feral child. Bolstered by the blessings of the Orks' mad gods their rusty weapons slice through power armor and stone fortifications with equal ease. Even still, the Krorks' victory would be all but certain, save for one thing.
The daemons.
In lesser hordes they manifest as glowing green footsoldiers, distinguishable from their corporeal kin only by their tendency to pop out of existence should the spirit of their brethren be broken. In a WAAAGH!! of this size things are considerably worse.
A thousand-armed daemon of Mork crawls through a hole in the fortifications like an Orky millipede. Its too-long limbs descend on a tank, their wickedly sharp nails slicing through metal and undoing screws. In mere seconds the tank is taken apart and reassembled facing the other way, a jagged parody of its former self. Orks leap inside and the tank drives forward, grinding the sliced-up remains of its former crew into the dust. A walker moves forward to stop it, but a daemon of Gork smashes into it like a cannonball. With a strain of its bulging arm muscles the new daemon rips apart the frontal armor and vaporizes the pilot with a blast of its fiery breath.
Far behind the Ork lines, beyond the reach of even the most accurate artillery, a green potion bubbles in a cauldron, tended by an ethereal Pigdok. Its smaller, fleshy subordinates fill syringes with the potion and inject it into nearby food squigs. The creatures, once little more than placid bricks of meat, begin to twist and grow. Their small mouths turn to fang-filled maws. Their vestigial limbs lengthen and grow armor-piercing claws. The great majority become a biting swarm barely directed at the enemy by whip-wielding Runtherds. Many become boar-like giants and eager Snakebites clamber onto their backs, forming ragged cavalry lines. A few, jabbed over and over again by a dozen sadistic Pigdoks, grow to the size of Gargants.
Red Runnerz zip through Krork lines at hypersonic speeds, leaving carnage in their wake. Purple Sneakz take out the officers, silent and invisible. Black Stormerz walk at the front of each advance, bouncing bullets and swatting artillery shells aside with contemptuous ease. Glowing green legions manifest themselves in the middle of enemy positions, overrunning the nameless and the houseless.
Even still, the Krork hold. Their race is a perfect war machine, fully realized and finely tuned. They possess all the things their enemies have lost. Precision. Discipline. Industry. Maturity. Krork Engineers send the fire crushing down on their enemies, wiping out Ork and daemon alike with short artillery bursts. Assassins strike at the enemy leadership, sniper rounds finding chinks in empowered mega-armor of the Nobz. Guided by impeccable doctrine, officers encircle and wipe out the forward elements of the Ork horde. Whenever the battlefield clears, Doctors rush through the corpse fields, finding the not-quite-dead and getting them back on their fields almost as quickly as they were cut down. The Krork hold.
Until they are hammered apart.
Rokzilla has reached the thick of the fighting and is doing what daemons and gargants could not. The blows of his Klaw rip apart entire forts and the dozens of guns mounted on his left arm slay battalions with each burst. When he roars the nameless turn on their officers and slay them in the name of their new warlord. If nothing is done, Rokzilla will single-handedly cleave the Krork army apart.
Something is done.
The Lord Protector takes the field. He emerges from behind an electronic cloak a mere dozen feet in front of the ork warlord and rushes to meet him. Unstoppable force meets an immovable object, twice, as the giant greenskins' weapons clash against armor. The shockwave sends the smaller greenskins around them flying as the two giants, each one empowered by the belief of billions, clash again and again.
Rokzilla is an old ork. In his youth he clashed against the Dark Eldar. As a nob he fought Space Marines. As a warboss trying to make Krorkkrumpa submit, he challenged Red Runnerz. But even so, he finds the Lord Protector's speed too much for him. The Krork's blade, produced by the best Engineers and empowered by its own legend, slices through the mega-armor, separating the Ork's Klawed arm from his body. A second later it flickers again and sends the other arm flying. With a contemptuous push the Lord Protector sends Rokzilla to the ground and stands over him, raising the blade to deliver the final blow.
But before he can strike, Rokzilla's severed left arm twitches. Even without the Ork to guide them, the daemons empowering his gunz know the will of Gork and Mork. They turn their barrels on the giant Krork. Each barrel becomes three then bursts apart in a desperate barrage that blows the Krork leader's head clean off and sends his wayward soul back to Gork and Mork. Rokzilla grins and dies a moment later when the explosive device embedded in the Lord Protector's chest detects his death.
In the middle of the Krork army the Lord Protector's second in command, now himself the Lord Protector, orders the reserve elements forward. At the same time the fleet high in orbit and the saboteurs hiding in the Ork worlds both spring into action, trying to strike at the fault lines they created after Krorkkrumpa's death. The goal is a to cut the Orks apart. If the horde can be cut apart long enough for the underbosses to turn against each other, if the kaptains of the fleet and the overseers of the planets can be pushed to rebel, if the WAAAGH!! can be broken into smaller, mutually opposing forces, the calculus of the war will change. The worst of the daemons will disappear and the shattered Ork forces will be handed a defeat in detail. But if the gambit fails for the second time and the childish gods' demand for bigger bosses produces another quick victor, there may not be a chance to try for the third time. The Orks may triumph over their civilized brethren and drown the whole Protectorate in madness, fire, and a violence without purpose or end.
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- Location
- Leeds
I guess every cathedral needs a choir.
As one of the strongest supporters of the soul trade at the time I agree. Continuing it as a matter of convenience is not worth the political damage it would cause. I still think opposition to the soul trade is hypocritical and deeply stupid but that buys no yams as the saying goes.
- Location
- western US
I bet this won't happen till/unless sanguinus himself comes back somehow....
or maybe enough of them coming back to life from said curse eventually spawns sanguinus's soul or something?
OOH, I know! the curse of undeath happens when a astartes has failed somehow in a drastic way and their hatred of such forces them to come back in agony which they must push past.
maybe the curses are building up to sanginious coming back? If thats the case I would think the curse of undeath would be the last one followed by some kind of involuntary ritual between all of them.
that would be epic.
- Location
- western US
maybe we can ask the eldar to adapt their old soul circitry to hold human souls till emps returns/manifests?
I don't think we have anywhere near enough favors for that even if we burned everything.
Ook
- Location
- Toronto, Ontario(occasionally)
@Durin, an idea came upon me and clubbed me over the head:
God omakes: Ook
Almost unknown to the galaxy at large is the crippled god of the Jokaero, now called Ook, whose true name has been lost to either time or enemy action, or was Ook all along, the histories are not clear. In fact they are not even histories, they are Jokaero light sculptures, interpreted and expanded upon through an unusual mix of intuition, divination, pure luck, and the Krork just mentioning some details in relation to their efforts with the Jokaero and difficulties with Gork and Mork and starting the whole inquiry in the first place. It's is at present unconfirmed how exactly the Jokaero were able to learn of the events that their art depicted, but it is suspected that the information was transferred by means of dreams, hallucinations, or instinctive understanding, not entirely dissimilar in principle to the hallucinations of Sanguinius' final conflict that are transferred to his sons.
It is similarly unclear what specifically Ook is a god of, certainly Jokaero, possibly others as well, and indubitably something to do with technology, it's creation, or something related to one of those two things, with it being uncertain as to whether or not it is even possible to figure out all of the details. It's not like those who worship this god are capable of explaining it, as such worship is achieved through an instinctive and unthinking similarity of thought, belief, and faith.
During the War in heaven this God was attempting some sort of grand semi-technical ritual to an unknown end, this was judged a threat or perhaps a weakness. The C'tan struck by surprise in some depictions, by taking advantage of Ook's inability to draw away from their working at so critical a phase in others, their weapon, sometimes a blade, others a proboscis, jaw of gnashing teeth. or brush of energy, stuck at the god, and in doing so pierced through or slid past Ook's defences. The Silver Star God struck horrifically into the brain of the Warp god, and drank deeply of its logic, ripping it away from Ook. Perceiving a terrible danger to the universe should the Star God learn all it knew the god of Jokaero reached a paw into its cracked open skull and flung its knowledge away into the depths of the warp, where it would be beyond the reach of the C'tann, eventually struggling free and surviving the Star god's assault.
Closely bound to the psykic presences of the Jokaero as it was while its work neared completion the wounds of the battle rebounded on them, rendering them incapable of complex logic and almost without knowledge, forcing them to fall back on the fighting and building instinct that had admittedly been a central aspect of their nature from their inception. They maintained their fundamental relationship with the Krork, if under slightly greater supervision now, and things moved on.
Why is this relevant? well it probably isn't, but somewhere out there is an ape god constantly shaping chunks of the warp into machines and devices, contributing to the rise of other technology gods as others interact with its creations or its creations outgrow being simple tools, somewhere out there there is a Jokaero that is drawing the others together for a holy purpose and grouping, as defined by their closeness to the creations of their god, somewhere out there is a radical Adeptus Mechanicus sect that believes their ability to reverse engineer or emulate Jokaero technology is a sign of the Omnissiah's favor on their use of one particular shape of runic microcircuitry and their augmentation towards complete eradication of conscious thought and relegation of all thought processes to the basic logic of impulse and programmed response, and Ook's knowledge has to have ended up somewhere, even if that place is within the Hidden Library of Tzeentch.
————————————————————————————————————
The Orks and Eldar have gods, what about the Jokaero? Would you really want to make a god that acts like a Jokaero, or does that seem more likely to be divine battle damage?
God omakes: Ook
Almost unknown to the galaxy at large is the crippled god of the Jokaero, now called Ook, whose true name has been lost to either time or enemy action, or was Ook all along, the histories are not clear. In fact they are not even histories, they are Jokaero light sculptures, interpreted and expanded upon through an unusual mix of intuition, divination, pure luck, and the Krork just mentioning some details in relation to their efforts with the Jokaero and difficulties with Gork and Mork and starting the whole inquiry in the first place. It's is at present unconfirmed how exactly the Jokaero were able to learn of the events that their art depicted, but it is suspected that the information was transferred by means of dreams, hallucinations, or instinctive understanding, not entirely dissimilar in principle to the hallucinations of Sanguinius' final conflict that are transferred to his sons.
It is similarly unclear what specifically Ook is a god of, certainly Jokaero, possibly others as well, and indubitably something to do with technology, it's creation, or something related to one of those two things, with it being uncertain as to whether or not it is even possible to figure out all of the details. It's not like those who worship this god are capable of explaining it, as such worship is achieved through an instinctive and unthinking similarity of thought, belief, and faith.
During the War in heaven this God was attempting some sort of grand semi-technical ritual to an unknown end, this was judged a threat or perhaps a weakness. The C'tan struck by surprise in some depictions, by taking advantage of Ook's inability to draw away from their working at so critical a phase in others, their weapon, sometimes a blade, others a proboscis, jaw of gnashing teeth. or brush of energy, stuck at the god, and in doing so pierced through or slid past Ook's defences. The Silver Star God struck horrifically into the brain of the Warp god, and drank deeply of its logic, ripping it away from Ook. Perceiving a terrible danger to the universe should the Star God learn all it knew the god of Jokaero reached a paw into its cracked open skull and flung its knowledge away into the depths of the warp, where it would be beyond the reach of the C'tann, eventually struggling free and surviving the Star god's assault.
Closely bound to the psykic presences of the Jokaero as it was while its work neared completion the wounds of the battle rebounded on them, rendering them incapable of complex logic and almost without knowledge, forcing them to fall back on the fighting and building instinct that had admittedly been a central aspect of their nature from their inception. They maintained their fundamental relationship with the Krork, if under slightly greater supervision now, and things moved on.
Why is this relevant? well it probably isn't, but somewhere out there is an ape god constantly shaping chunks of the warp into machines and devices, contributing to the rise of other technology gods as others interact with its creations or its creations outgrow being simple tools, somewhere out there there is a Jokaero that is drawing the others together for a holy purpose and grouping, as defined by their closeness to the creations of their god, somewhere out there is a radical Adeptus Mechanicus sect that believes their ability to reverse engineer or emulate Jokaero technology is a sign of the Omnissiah's favor on their use of one particular shape of runic microcircuitry and their augmentation towards complete eradication of conscious thought and relegation of all thought processes to the basic logic of impulse and programmed response, and Ook's knowledge has to have ended up somewhere, even if that place is within the Hidden Library of Tzeentch.
————————————————————————————————————
The Orks and Eldar have gods, what about the Jokaero? Would you really want to make a god that acts like a Jokaero, or does that seem more likely to be divine battle damage?
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- Location
- Leeds
Maniacally laughing in binary.
Aren't Ork Daemons just more Orks?
My theory is that larger Waaaghs can spawn weirder daemons, like a Mekboy with a thousand arms with tools for fingers.
- Location
- western US
point, so maybe just the tech itself like what they did with the psi-nova cannon.
- Location
- The Bayou, Everglades
... Okay.
free_shrugs.jpg
What a twist.
But that wouldn't be any of our problem.
Who would flee to Avernus?
Aren't they already united?
HanEmpire
Delicious
That's the case in Red Flag's quest, but not here. Here the ork daemons are just really Big n' Tuff Orkz, because all orks know that a deadlier entity is just a bigger ork.
To which the Trust would answer: "You needed leaflets to tell you that? You are Chaos, any way to kill you is fair game."
- Location
- The Bayou, Everglades
Those are just called "false flags". And yeah, that was my thought, too, but this isn't a traced and remote-controlled rok crushing a pre-determined target, these orks are likely to actually do some damage to something beside a well-ensured pile of asbetos.
But maybe Amir-Ka's particular government form needs particular circumstances to get any real work done.
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- Location
- madison
or the hope is for the current president to screw up, and let the person who arranged this beat them in the next election