Doomed Wombat
Let's go Darling!
- Location
- Dancing on wires!
Norn queens apparently eat stuff and stuff happens...apparently.
I wanna study one, see if we can't acquire their expertise for our own use you know.
-
Going forward, links to content from Twitter (now X) will no longer be embedded. Pre-existing links should not be affected.
The Long Night Part One: Embers in the Dusk: A Planetary Governor Quest (43k) Complete Sequel Up
- Thread starter Durin
- Start date
I wanna study one, see if we can't acquire their expertise for our own use you know.
Shard
One and Many
- Location
- Malaysia
But making the weapon out of wraithbone to let it hold a Banish Rune would be Xenotech heresy.
- Location
- Back in Cali
The reason we don't improve the stats of others and don't improve our own stats anymore is because we spend time with people who it can not improve anymore. Sigmund is still at the level where he can be helped by the spend time with action. He can get improvements in admin, intrigue, and learning still. The rest of the stats are too high but those can be improved.
The only good Norn Queen is a dead Norn Queen. We'd be studying a corpse at best. Trying to keep one captive would be a bad idea.
Doomed Wombat
Let's go Darling!
- Location
- Dancing on wires!
We spend time with Tranth he could improve his diplomacy, same with Xavier and many many more.
The main time a spend time with action resulted in a stat boost for a person was Freyr in admin and that required a nat 100.
Spend time with isn't a teaching session.
I thought it being dead was apparent.
Shard
One and Many
- Location
- Malaysia
A Nat 100 isn't strictly needed, particularly if the character has low attributes (or is <18 Years of age). But for high stat characters the DC is definitely higher than can be reached without a Nat 100.
- Location
- Australia
1. To my knowledge, tech-heresy is the technology you make, not what you make it out of, so if we made a sanctioned design out of wraithbone (assuming we could) or other xenos material it'd be fine.
2. We wouldn't be making the weapon out of wraithbone, just the rune.
- Location
- Alice Springs, Australia
good enough for a superlance would take a major favor, it needs better as it needs to be able to survive multiple firings intact. No exploits.
Shard
One and Many
- Location
- Malaysia
Look, what we should clearly do is be efficient and just get Ridcully Banish Wraithbone bullets.
- Location
- Berkeley
I wonder if it will be practical to do counter-frequency research on the Tyranid hive mind.
I mean, I doubt we'd have the psychic might to actually nullify the connections, given how specialized it is and how it can allow communication over some truly absurd distances, but I bet a few Choirs would be able to at the very least cause some very significant interference at the local level, which would be excellent for breaking cohesion. Even better if it could be used in a limited manner in the Void too.
It's unlikely that the selective pressures they faced from the Necrons did anything to encourage a psychic network that would be harder to disrupt by psychic means, after all. Tech based disruption I'm sure they're way better at dealing with than in the days of the Imperium, but psychic based is completely out of the Necrons wheelhouse.
I mean, I doubt we'd have the psychic might to actually nullify the connections, given how specialized it is and how it can allow communication over some truly absurd distances, but I bet a few Choirs would be able to at the very least cause some very significant interference at the local level, which would be excellent for breaking cohesion. Even better if it could be used in a limited manner in the Void too.
It's unlikely that the selective pressures they faced from the Necrons did anything to encourage a psychic network that would be harder to disrupt by psychic means, after all. Tech based disruption I'm sure they're way better at dealing with than in the days of the Imperium, but psychic based is completely out of the Necrons wheelhouse.
Madmen and Monsters.
- Location
- madison
Madmen and Monsters.
They were to be the heralds of slaughter. The opening act of Vects grad introduction to the galaxy in his new role. The entirety of the Drukhari stood behind them, arrayed in their cabals and hosts. Each eager to enjoy the despoiling of worlds with the blessings of their new patron. A vast and bloody celebration decades in the making.
The fleet slithered through the void, leaving screaming twisted space in its wake. Silent, deadly, blessed, insufficient. A thousand-year-old cruiser, captained by a being whose age dwarfed its own, died amidst a nonsensical cloud of expanding self-firing guns. The absurdity of it adding one final insult. A battleship older than humanity died in a torrent of fire, stealth meaning nothing against a foe who scarcely bothered to aim. Around them, centuries-old pilots, died with their guns dry and their fuel spent, surrounded by foes so numerous they could scarcely see the stars. The vanguard of the carnival of slaughter died in terror and confusion. Not a single one living to bear witness, the warning being carried by their wailing shades. The orks had come, in might and numbers beyond belief.
The reaction was swift, befitting of the newly blessed aldari. The orks had scarcely blundered into the edge of the sector when the reaction was rallied. Roving bands of freebooters dueled ancient Drukhari raiders. Brute strength and numbers meeting ancient skill and technology. Ork ships died by the score, a dozen ramshackle contraptions for each Drukhari raider. Yet heedless the orks blundered on. Orksih raiders charging forth in ever greater numbers, forcing the Drukhari back system by system. It was but a scant handful of warp jumps when the first true clash occurred, with Vect sending forth a full cabal to test the mettle of these orks and buy yet more time.
The fleet master was old, and wily, and selected his fleet with care. He could not hope to match them in brute strength, so he would not try. He would fall upon them like a legion of killing shadows. Dancing forever beyond the reach of their brutish guns, bringing to bear terrible techno sorcery to fell their lumbering hulks, while his endless legions of demon infused ecstasy interceptors would whittle down the crude Fighta-Bommas
The Drukhari fleet set out. Thousands of ships, each a deadly and blessed work of macabre art, each commanded by a thousand-year veteran. Against them came a crude howling horde. Hulks by the dozen, ramshackle ships by the thousands, and strike craft more numerous than the stars. The Drukhari fleet shattered into a hundred lethal shards, flying into a hundred directions as they unleashed their foul workings upon the brutish ships of the orks. For a dozen days and a dozen nights, they wrought their slaughter all but unopposed. Ravenous singularities tear gaping voids into lumbering hulks, moaning torpedos bury themselves deeply in the hulls of orkish cruisers, giggling demons fighters tirelessly tear through their crude counterparts.
It should have worked. The orks would not leave the system while there were foes to fight, the Drukhari shipmasters could evade them forever and whittled them to nothing. In a kinder age, against a lesser waagh it would have. Yet the gods of these orks where awake, and their numbers had roused them well from their slumber. After weeks of the Drukhari dancing away, The largest hulks, shielded from the depredations of the Drukhari, burst. A detonation that tore through not matter but space itself. A nonsensical impossible twisting of distance. A child's answer to a strategic dilemma. What do you do if you can't catch your opponent? Blow up the distance in your way.
In an instant, every ship in the system was forced into impossibly close quarters. In the first seconds a thousand ships died simply due to collisions, then the orks opened fire. So close, and so confused evasion was impossible, maneuvers where suicidal, all that was left was furry and endurance. A crude artless fight in which the orks excelled. Within an hour, the Drukhari fleet was broken and shattered, and the orkish advance resumed.
Vect has well used the time his archon had bought him. Wheeling around the forces that were to be the carnival of slaughter. Ships meant to haul away worlds in bondage found themselves carrying troops, demonships expecting to grow fat on the weak found themselves being set against eager and battle hunger orks, fresh converts beyond counting were told their first taste of slaughter under their new god would be a war of survival, demons called forth to dance and delight where set to the bloody task of battle. Throughout Vects domain, a single truth was demonstrated again and again. A truth that not even the damned could escape, in the grim darkness of the forty fourth millennium, there is only war.
The next clash was one where the Drukhari where forced to stand and fight, rather than dance away, the orks had reached their worlds. The outermost fortress world had come under attack, but the Drukhari where ready. Defense older than the god that had blessed them where awoken, demon ships to shame any in the warmasters fleet rose from fleshy berths, the armies of the Drukhari stood upon a fortress world arrayed for battle, and battle they would have.
The orks did not arrive as they had before, no piecemeal trickle of hulks and ships. The star writhed, and the world shook. Ancient defenses flaring to life and straining against the approach of doom. Reality over the world bent, bucked, and stretched, but held, and a burning moon tore its way into reality at the system's edge. Crude iron plates the size of continents shifted into a bestial face, its maw wide and gaping, vomiting forth an endless wave of brutality wrought in iron and stone.
The guns of the Drukhari sang, a mad chorus of horrifying variety. Warp rifts swallowed space hulks, mirror-covered ordnance crushed Deadnots with their own bulk, scintillating beams of unclean rainbow light peeled Kroozers into flowers of iron and flame, voids of light cut terror ships into perfect halves, giggling lighting arked though escort swarms, leaving gifts of flame in its wake, all this and weapons stranger still tore into the oncoming orks. The orks answered in kind, their own barrage no less impossible. Shells that unfurled into vast arms wielding vast choppas to cut into ancient battleships, gigga shock attack cannons hurled entire escorts through the warp at unfortunate orbital fortresses, globs of supa red paint out raced light, gigga graba sticks dragged ships to their doom and crackling green cords of gravity smashed all resistance. Two great and terrible forces of madness fought with sanity rending weapons tormenting the void.
The fleets of the excess sold themselves dearly, but they had no answer to the vast snarling moon, soon it was all they could do to flee, leaving behind the defenders to die buying yet more time. As the vast effigy vomited forth an endless stream of roks, and the defenders readied themselves to meet their new god, a small aldari craft slipped away unseen. The scent of rot and decay carefully hidden among the waaghs history. Where an enraged god would be sure to find it, as they desperately worked to turn even this grand madhouse to their purpose.
@Durin the confligation and vet getting to know each other.
They were to be the heralds of slaughter. The opening act of Vects grad introduction to the galaxy in his new role. The entirety of the Drukhari stood behind them, arrayed in their cabals and hosts. Each eager to enjoy the despoiling of worlds with the blessings of their new patron. A vast and bloody celebration decades in the making.
The fleet slithered through the void, leaving screaming twisted space in its wake. Silent, deadly, blessed, insufficient. A thousand-year-old cruiser, captained by a being whose age dwarfed its own, died amidst a nonsensical cloud of expanding self-firing guns. The absurdity of it adding one final insult. A battleship older than humanity died in a torrent of fire, stealth meaning nothing against a foe who scarcely bothered to aim. Around them, centuries-old pilots, died with their guns dry and their fuel spent, surrounded by foes so numerous they could scarcely see the stars. The vanguard of the carnival of slaughter died in terror and confusion. Not a single one living to bear witness, the warning being carried by their wailing shades. The orks had come, in might and numbers beyond belief.
The reaction was swift, befitting of the newly blessed aldari. The orks had scarcely blundered into the edge of the sector when the reaction was rallied. Roving bands of freebooters dueled ancient Drukhari raiders. Brute strength and numbers meeting ancient skill and technology. Ork ships died by the score, a dozen ramshackle contraptions for each Drukhari raider. Yet heedless the orks blundered on. Orksih raiders charging forth in ever greater numbers, forcing the Drukhari back system by system. It was but a scant handful of warp jumps when the first true clash occurred, with Vect sending forth a full cabal to test the mettle of these orks and buy yet more time.
The fleet master was old, and wily, and selected his fleet with care. He could not hope to match them in brute strength, so he would not try. He would fall upon them like a legion of killing shadows. Dancing forever beyond the reach of their brutish guns, bringing to bear terrible techno sorcery to fell their lumbering hulks, while his endless legions of demon infused ecstasy interceptors would whittle down the crude Fighta-Bommas
The Drukhari fleet set out. Thousands of ships, each a deadly and blessed work of macabre art, each commanded by a thousand-year veteran. Against them came a crude howling horde. Hulks by the dozen, ramshackle ships by the thousands, and strike craft more numerous than the stars. The Drukhari fleet shattered into a hundred lethal shards, flying into a hundred directions as they unleashed their foul workings upon the brutish ships of the orks. For a dozen days and a dozen nights, they wrought their slaughter all but unopposed. Ravenous singularities tear gaping voids into lumbering hulks, moaning torpedos bury themselves deeply in the hulls of orkish cruisers, giggling demons fighters tirelessly tear through their crude counterparts.
It should have worked. The orks would not leave the system while there were foes to fight, the Drukhari shipmasters could evade them forever and whittled them to nothing. In a kinder age, against a lesser waagh it would have. Yet the gods of these orks where awake, and their numbers had roused them well from their slumber. After weeks of the Drukhari dancing away, The largest hulks, shielded from the depredations of the Drukhari, burst. A detonation that tore through not matter but space itself. A nonsensical impossible twisting of distance. A child's answer to a strategic dilemma. What do you do if you can't catch your opponent? Blow up the distance in your way.
In an instant, every ship in the system was forced into impossibly close quarters. In the first seconds a thousand ships died simply due to collisions, then the orks opened fire. So close, and so confused evasion was impossible, maneuvers where suicidal, all that was left was furry and endurance. A crude artless fight in which the orks excelled. Within an hour, the Drukhari fleet was broken and shattered, and the orkish advance resumed.
Vect has well used the time his archon had bought him. Wheeling around the forces that were to be the carnival of slaughter. Ships meant to haul away worlds in bondage found themselves carrying troops, demonships expecting to grow fat on the weak found themselves being set against eager and battle hunger orks, fresh converts beyond counting were told their first taste of slaughter under their new god would be a war of survival, demons called forth to dance and delight where set to the bloody task of battle. Throughout Vects domain, a single truth was demonstrated again and again. A truth that not even the damned could escape, in the grim darkness of the forty fourth millennium, there is only war.
The next clash was one where the Drukhari where forced to stand and fight, rather than dance away, the orks had reached their worlds. The outermost fortress world had come under attack, but the Drukhari where ready. Defense older than the god that had blessed them where awoken, demon ships to shame any in the warmasters fleet rose from fleshy berths, the armies of the Drukhari stood upon a fortress world arrayed for battle, and battle they would have.
The orks did not arrive as they had before, no piecemeal trickle of hulks and ships. The star writhed, and the world shook. Ancient defenses flaring to life and straining against the approach of doom. Reality over the world bent, bucked, and stretched, but held, and a burning moon tore its way into reality at the system's edge. Crude iron plates the size of continents shifted into a bestial face, its maw wide and gaping, vomiting forth an endless wave of brutality wrought in iron and stone.
The guns of the Drukhari sang, a mad chorus of horrifying variety. Warp rifts swallowed space hulks, mirror-covered ordnance crushed Deadnots with their own bulk, scintillating beams of unclean rainbow light peeled Kroozers into flowers of iron and flame, voids of light cut terror ships into perfect halves, giggling lighting arked though escort swarms, leaving gifts of flame in its wake, all this and weapons stranger still tore into the oncoming orks. The orks answered in kind, their own barrage no less impossible. Shells that unfurled into vast arms wielding vast choppas to cut into ancient battleships, gigga shock attack cannons hurled entire escorts through the warp at unfortunate orbital fortresses, globs of supa red paint out raced light, gigga graba sticks dragged ships to their doom and crackling green cords of gravity smashed all resistance. Two great and terrible forces of madness fought with sanity rending weapons tormenting the void.
The fleets of the excess sold themselves dearly, but they had no answer to the vast snarling moon, soon it was all they could do to flee, leaving behind the defenders to die buying yet more time. As the vast effigy vomited forth an endless stream of roks, and the defenders readied themselves to meet their new god, a small aldari craft slipped away unseen. The scent of rot and decay carefully hidden among the waaghs history. Where an enraged god would be sure to find it, as they desperately worked to turn even this grand madhouse to their purpose.
@Durin the confligation and vet getting to know each other.
Last edited:
- Location
- western US
always nice to see some chaos fighting the pointless fight against the orks(instead of us), cas you know they will be back...
also, are you implying at the end that the aeldari hid a nurgle-bomb/disease on a ork-ship or something?
that actually makes me curious about how resistant orks are to chaos.
@Durin
(1): how resistance are orks to chaos ?
(1b): that is, can orks get infected by nurgle disease?
(1c): how about falling into slaneshian debauchery?
(1d): can orks go mad(er) if they look at a tzeetchian greater deamon as the wiki says (most) mortals would?
(2):are any particular gods better against them? (IE: khone)
(3): if khone diden't exist, would gork/mork be stronger? (IE: are gork/mork and khone having the share the violance-energy? or is ork-violence inherently tied to gork/mork? I'm trying to asertain the nature of the semi-shared domain they have.
Last edited:
- Location
- madison
its realted to the "A Path Obscured" omake. they are framing nurgle as part of an attempt to get slanish to take a shot at him.
Last edited:
- Location
- western US
oh, right, I remember you adding that. sorry I made you explicitly give it away just cas I'm oblivious.
I thought Vect was doing it for some reason.
although, I recall realizing a while ago that Vect being on Chao's side is obviously bad, but the worst part is they now have a transcendent SANE(mostly) intique guy....which means that shenanigans exactly like this in fact, might be harder to pull off, especially when targeting slanesh.....here's hoping durins ok with it passing by since Vect is undoubtedly very far from this particular battle.
- Location
- The Bayou, Everglades
But that's only one per turn. IIRC We could get 1,4 favors a turn if we committed all his actions on it. I'm not suggesting we do that, because we first and foremost need to survive, and having the Eldar protect us all the time will get us unwanted attention. Might still be worth it, I'm not sure. Secondly, we do want that high-level psi-research done, and that does require Ridcully.
That worst case scenario still sounds way better than all of them eaten by space-bugs.
They're tasked with keeping an eye on everyone in the Trust already. If they can't do as well with all their resources, over several years, in a controlled environment (quarantine) as Ridcully can apparently in a single year across several planets, what the hell are we paying them for anyway?
- Location
- western US
-----edit, I just realized how long this post is------
..literally all I was saying before was, "if this thing ends up as too expensive for the amount of people it helps, I'm voting against it"..(.or something along those lines..).......and I stand by that statement....maybe durin will let us have it with a cheap action, or maybe not.....
I still don't really know what the proposed idea is really looking for details-wise, if a few billion people come from a dozen different planets, how on earth, (errr...wrong planet) is ANYONE rids or not, going through that many people within the next century? how much resources are you thinking we sink into this? because the amount of time and resources we sink into it and how much security we lose via lessened man-power in our inquisition is going to be roughly proportional to how many people we accept.
In other words, our discussion/argument(?) is not even exactly a "do we pick action X or don't do action X?", its a "how much between: the full-shibang-, and: nothing, do we do?".
...so really durin will have to do a range-of-options thing like what he does when he had us pick how much air force to effectively spend on harassing the ork-airships during (one of the battles? I forget). when he does that we can vote on it then and only then....trying to argue the semantics now is kind of pointless.
for the sake of putting this conversation down however, because it is worth hashing out a general idea of what it would involve.
@Durin
on the subject of inviting people displaced by the nid/ork-invasion to travel to a recently cleansed planet to get quarantined till we can ensure they are not infiltrators/heretics,
(1): how expensive would it be, (in terms of our inquisitions ability to protect us from infiltrators), to save the amount of people estimated to start coming in the:
(a): most likely case, with most reasonably expected expenses and the actual estimates for the amount of people displaced by the nid-attacks.
(b): how much deviation do our advisors give for how expensive this would be.
Last edited:
- Location
- Alice Springs, Australia
1. Pretty resistant but not immune
2. Khrone
3. A small amount
1. It would stretch the inquisition to the limit. Billions of people you know absolutely nothing about so have to watch all of them as high priority. Given vent that you know that the Alpha Legion, one of the galactic spy heavyweights is looking into you they are sure to be riddled with highly skilled spies,
- Location
- Asia
So if we research the psychic frequency of the hive fleet, can we jam it or spoof it to send nonsense or wrong data back to the mother ship ?
I wonder what happens after Avernus gobbles up tyranids.
I wonder what happens after Avernus gobbles up tyranids.
Doomed Wombat
Let's go Darling!
- Location
- Dancing on wires!
@Shard if Durin doesn't close the vote in the mean time, can you modify this action so that we also get a look at what she currently has to trade?
Shard
One and Many
- Location
- Malaysia
Doesn't seem likely to be relevant on the planetary scale. She's one trader.
Doomed Wombat
Let's go Darling!
- Location
- Dancing on wires!
On Avernus the world of psychic stuff unknown to man.
Look maybe she just sells us one of her eyes maybe she's got an enchanted item maybe a full on spell book, but I would not discount what she could provide.
Doomed Wombat
Let's go Darling!
- Location
- Dancing on wires!
Why? It shouldn't take her long to offer her stock to us, nor to ask her to acquire things on our behalf.
We've got ostentatious wealth lets use it.