The Long Night Part One: Embers in the Dusk: A Planetary Governor Quest (43k) Complete Sequel Up
- Thread starter Durin
- Start date
- Location
- western US
yeah....I suppose so (I removed the question)
I really wanna see it, very different creature I think as we have not really seen the stat-sheet for a object-made-sentient I don't think.
(I imagine that the dryad, if we make it back (and it survives) would be pretty amenable to joining team sanity and in particular...the trust)
who-knows, might be a additional gift Isha leaves for us personally.
.....yes
ALL THE YES.
edit: and the abbadon one too.
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- Location
- western US
oh boy, good luck to surviving to him.
Message of Hope
- Location
- The internet
Message of Hope
A shard of Kuranos fought side by side with one of the few remaining shards of Anath Raema. They hit and fade, cutting down Nurgle's get again and again. These shards had worked together several times before, hunting the enemies of the eldar across time and space. They work together impossibly well, something that concerns some of the eldar. As they track down and slay another daemon prince of nurgle, they feel a shift in the warp, a sudden sensation that is only not forgotten because of how utterly unforgettable it is. The sudden panic in Nurgle's lines only reaffirms their hypothesis.
"Isha is free." the shard of Kuranos says, tears falling from his face.
"She isn't out of it just yet. Still, she's held out a lot better than I thought she would. She's got more spine than I thought." The shard of Anath Raema allows grudgingly.
"She was always resourceful. I'll be glad to see her again" Kuranos's shard says proudly, before giving his fellow shard a somewhat guilty look.
"Its fine, I don't like either of us being… well like this." Anath Raema says, before tilting her head in consideration. "Still, she'll probably be in a good mood when she sees you again. Do you think…"
Kuranos's shard bolts forward, hunting the disordered forces of Nurgle with increased ferocity. The shard of Anath Raema laughs, and chases in his wake.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`
"Sir, a message from the eldar. Maximum priority" One kork, more of a boy really, said to his superior.
"I see." The Marshall says, grabbing the sealed letter. "Well now. I need a line to all the men."
"Yes Marshall." The younger Kork said.
"Men, the Ancient One has come through. Isha is out of the garden. I repeat, Isha is out of the garden." The Marshall says, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Now, lets do our part, and Show our foe true War."
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRR!" The Kork yelled in glee, as they redoubled their attack.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Across the Storm of Judgement, a simple message is broadcast to the entire coalition.
"Illfare is secured, and Isha has left the garden."
Nine simple words, and yet to the coalition they were hope itself. Proof, that victory was possible, that Tyranny could be resisted.
With a roar, their hearts were reinvigorated. The Sanginour's wings shone ever brighter, as he pushed himself ever further, dancing ever closer to the precipice of transcendence. Kaldor Dargo, spoke words of long forgotten lineage, casting a spell that was until this very moment impossible as his allies rose to the battlefield once more. The concordat fought ever harder, as hope appeared in their eyes once more.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Oi, the pansie gits have gotten the healy one out of her cage." One brother says to another.
"They've krumped the blubber boy roight proppa to." The other notes.
"Is…. Is we getting shown up?" The first asks the second.
"Nah… Nah, we just hafta quit muckin about." The second replies.
"Oh, this is very much not as planned." A greater daemon of Tzeentch whimpers
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`
"Aetheric disturbances noted." A cryptek reports to his Phaeron "Analysis indicates that the construct known as Isha has escaped. However she has exited the warp on the capital of the black imperium."
"That will change the strategic calculus." The Phaeron notes. "Still for now the likely short term effect is our foe will divert resources in an attempt to capture. Ensure that we are ready to take advantage."
"Of course, Phaeron."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
One minute, Abbadon, Emperor of the Black Imperium was having a relatively normal day, standing on the bridge of his flagship, nearing Cadia. Then, all of his oracles started screaming all at once. Most spasmed, dropping dead on the spot. The greater stood firm, blood leaking from her eyes as she cried.
Woe, Woe! She Comes!
To Cadia the Disaster of Hope comes!
"Speak Sense!" Abbadon snarls, even as he slams the alarm, bringing his flagship to full alert.
The door is no more,
They found the key.
All of Chaos is in uproar,
For Isha is Free!
"What." Abbadon asked blankly
A/N: @Durin Here you go
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- Location
- western US
oooh.
"Disaster of Hope" is the perfect title for Isha here. she is both a symbol (and cause) of hope (and dasher of hope) for many and yet disaster for everyone in so many ways due to the circumstances of her escape (and thus attention towards the wrong people).
"Disaster of Hope" is the perfect title for Isha here. she is both a symbol (and cause) of hope (and dasher of hope) for many and yet disaster for everyone in so many ways due to the circumstances of her escape (and thus attention towards the wrong people).
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- Location
- Alice Springs, Australia
1. not really, the AOs precence is to distict
2. unknown, between some and a lot
3. see above
a. it would
4. no
5. might help, likely viewed as a deniale though
5a. a bit
5b. maybe lizardmen
<80: dont get out, possible bad endok, first off: @Durin if we had made/not-made the different DC's for the final emergency jump...would we have say:
<80): trapped ->>> dead or worse
80): went where? also trapped, but can roll to survive long enough to roll again (probably with penalty due to strong infections)
100): on cadia (we got 117 which is ALMOST 120...so maybe we landed in a less dangerous part? (IE: not in the middle of a fort)
120): a planet not in abbadon's domain.
140): on Avernus
do I have that right?
BTW: theres a non-zero chance that HWWO keeps almost-flobbing the escape rolls...causing him to appear on various chaos worlds over and over (rather then escaping straight to Avernus)...
and of course bringing the nurgle hoard along with him (and leaving shattered planets behind as they repeatedly use exterminatus weaponry)....
..
.
.
meanwhile in dark imperium negaverse, before Abbadon gets the full info-dump:
"WHY ARE MY PLANETS RANDOMLY BLOWING UP!?!"
lastly:
...did Isha crit-roll?
yes its a dryad-door but its STILL A DOOR DANG IT
edit: heres hoping that we get a chance to look at the dryad's statsheet.
80: in eye of terror
100: Cadia
120: Inner worlds of the Black Imperium
150: Avernus
Cadia's Fall
Shard
One and Many
- Location
- Malaysia
Cadia's Fall
Cadia. Capital of the Black Imperium. Neutral Ground of Chaos, of Undivided Chaos. In minutes it became Cadia, formerly Neutral Ground of Chaos.
Abaddon was furious. He had arrived to his capital embattled. An entire hive had just been devastated by psychic force, the perpetrators already fleeing.
Then the Exalted Daemons of Nurgle showed up, sundering the neutrality of the the world forever. He would have words with them -
The the world burned. Swift as thought, Abaddon teleported back to his flagship.
He watched the world he had fought so hard for, to which he had had even lifted the Pylons away from at great expense - Die.
Cadia was dead. It minutes the Capital of the Black Imperium was but a barren and broken world.
Psykers and Sorcerers fled, teleporting to safety as their world burned about them with no warning.
The warp churned as the Exalted moved to space to chase the perpetrators as echoes of death and teleportation rippled through the world.
Every ship and fleet was chaos, filled with unexpected fleeing sorcerors and psykers, watching a world die.
Abbadon tried to spot who the fuck did this, to shoot them down with the gathered fleet present. Except they were bloody invisible.
---
Infinite psychic multitasking. Areatha had, with a sliver of attention, cloaked the entire party with a form-fitting and perfectly optimized scaled-up invisibility, a superior version of the Sky Bastard Dragon's invisibility. With the massive eddies in the warp, she shrouded their warp presence by a firm reshaping of their signatures into the defeaneing background noice.
He-Who-Walks-Obliquely ran in the warp, carrying Isha, Areatha, The Ancient One and The Child of Hate on his back as Ridcully guided the way through the countless weapons that fired, the party effortlessly weaving through the beams of death that seeked them - All the missiles and torpedos had been diverted back to their ships or detonated explosively by Areatha's literally infinite capacity to split her psychic strength.
Isha filled the party with immense vigor, all wounds vanishing before the power of an Incarnate Goddess of Life. The party was phased, a half-step out of reality that resulted in countless weapons proving utterly ineffective to begin with against the crazy minuscule party, who altogether were smaller than an Escort Torpedo, and was also literally invisible.
As distance grew, accuracy declined, until the party reached a webway gate, kept active just for this occasion. There, they truly vanished.
Abaddon's fleet continued firing for days after they left.
Cadia. Capital of the Black Imperium. Neutral Ground of Chaos, of Undivided Chaos. In minutes it became Cadia, formerly Neutral Ground of Chaos.
Abaddon was furious. He had arrived to his capital embattled. An entire hive had just been devastated by psychic force, the perpetrators already fleeing.
Then the Exalted Daemons of Nurgle showed up, sundering the neutrality of the the world forever. He would have words with them -
The the world burned. Swift as thought, Abaddon teleported back to his flagship.
He watched the world he had fought so hard for, to which he had had even lifted the Pylons away from at great expense - Die.
Cadia was dead. It minutes the Capital of the Black Imperium was but a barren and broken world.
Psykers and Sorcerers fled, teleporting to safety as their world burned about them with no warning.
The warp churned as the Exalted moved to space to chase the perpetrators as echoes of death and teleportation rippled through the world.
Every ship and fleet was chaos, filled with unexpected fleeing sorcerors and psykers, watching a world die.
Abbadon tried to spot who the fuck did this, to shoot them down with the gathered fleet present. Except they were bloody invisible.
---
Infinite psychic multitasking. Areatha had, with a sliver of attention, cloaked the entire party with a form-fitting and perfectly optimized scaled-up invisibility, a superior version of the Sky Bastard Dragon's invisibility. With the massive eddies in the warp, she shrouded their warp presence by a firm reshaping of their signatures into the defeaneing background noice.
He-Who-Walks-Obliquely ran in the warp, carrying Isha, Areatha, The Ancient One and The Child of Hate on his back as Ridcully guided the way through the countless weapons that fired, the party effortlessly weaving through the beams of death that seeked them - All the missiles and torpedos had been diverted back to their ships or detonated explosively by Areatha's literally infinite capacity to split her psychic strength.
Isha filled the party with immense vigor, all wounds vanishing before the power of an Incarnate Goddess of Life. The party was phased, a half-step out of reality that resulted in countless weapons proving utterly ineffective to begin with against the crazy minuscule party, who altogether were smaller than an Escort Torpedo, and was also literally invisible.
As distance grew, accuracy declined, until the party reached a webway gate, kept active just for this occasion. There, they truly vanished.
Abaddon's fleet continued firing for days after they left.
The Art of War
- Location
- Elsewhere
The Art of War
The Krork and the forces of the Blood God clashed and the Krork were losing ground. All could see that both forces were masters of war, but Khorne was a god of war and this focus trickled down to his followers.
The Khornates were slowly closing in on the Krork, manoeuvring them into perfect kill boxes where they could rip and tear to their supreme joy. The cries of "WAAR" were being drowned out by the feral screaming of "BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!!"
The Krork with all their experience and technical and physical might were unable to match the sheer bloody might of Khorne in close combat. A Bloodthirster tore through a War in Heaven veteran, even as bloodletters crashed into the now shaken nameless who desperately try to hold on as another Krork takes control.
The Krork knew this would happen, they had known that it would to begin with. They knew their opponent, knew that the bloody legion would force close quarters combat and excel at it.
So at an order from the Marshal, traps laid as the Kork retreated went off in the middle of the bloody advance. The rampaging legion not noticing, a Bloodthrister got cored by three Volcano Lasers, the Digi weapons appearing in Kork hands.
World Eaters who thought they were running down their foe found the ground suddenly quicksand-like. As a Jokaero weapon made the molecules in the ground less rigidly tied together, sliding around almost like liquid. Stuck in the ground, the previously rampaging Marines are cut down in an almost perfect killing field.
The Krork allies held in reserve until now spring out in hundreds of strikes, crippling ships and killing commanders. Astartes, Elite Regiments, and Xenos of all stripes fighting alongside the Krork, who called in the very best of the best from their protectorates for this fight.
More weapons of the Jokarero activate, titans that begin pummeling on bloodthirsters and exploding bloodletters as their fists fly out of portals that appear right in front of the daemons. Reactive armor that explodes out when hit by melee weapons. That and more tactics that take advantage of the bloody legion, as their champions like Angon and Kharn find themselves suddenly fighting alone.
While the Blood God was a master of war, his force's always will trend towards bloody combat and are masters of forcing that engagement. Better at it then even the Krork, the Krork are masters are masters of all warfare however and planned on being cornered by the Khornites. Taking advantage of their bloody fever, the board was flipped once again as the tides of war shifted the cries of "WAAR" matching the bloody legion once again.
The Krork and the forces of the Blood God clashed and the Krork were losing ground. All could see that both forces were masters of war, but Khorne was a god of war and this focus trickled down to his followers.
The Khornates were slowly closing in on the Krork, manoeuvring them into perfect kill boxes where they could rip and tear to their supreme joy. The cries of "WAAR" were being drowned out by the feral screaming of "BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!!"
The Krork with all their experience and technical and physical might were unable to match the sheer bloody might of Khorne in close combat. A Bloodthirster tore through a War in Heaven veteran, even as bloodletters crashed into the now shaken nameless who desperately try to hold on as another Krork takes control.
The Krork knew this would happen, they had known that it would to begin with. They knew their opponent, knew that the bloody legion would force close quarters combat and excel at it.
So at an order from the Marshal, traps laid as the Kork retreated went off in the middle of the bloody advance. The rampaging legion not noticing, a Bloodthrister got cored by three Volcano Lasers, the Digi weapons appearing in Kork hands.
World Eaters who thought they were running down their foe found the ground suddenly quicksand-like. As a Jokaero weapon made the molecules in the ground less rigidly tied together, sliding around almost like liquid. Stuck in the ground, the previously rampaging Marines are cut down in an almost perfect killing field.
The Krork allies held in reserve until now spring out in hundreds of strikes, crippling ships and killing commanders. Astartes, Elite Regiments, and Xenos of all stripes fighting alongside the Krork, who called in the very best of the best from their protectorates for this fight.
More weapons of the Jokarero activate, titans that begin pummeling on bloodthirsters and exploding bloodletters as their fists fly out of portals that appear right in front of the daemons. Reactive armor that explodes out when hit by melee weapons. That and more tactics that take advantage of the bloody legion, as their champions like Angon and Kharn find themselves suddenly fighting alone.
While the Blood God was a master of war, his force's always will trend towards bloody combat and are masters of forcing that engagement. Better at it then even the Krork, the Krork are masters are masters of all warfare however and planned on being cornered by the Khornites. Taking advantage of their bloody fever, the board was flipped once again as the tides of war shifted the cries of "WAAR" matching the bloody legion once again.
Tranquility and the Five Words
Dynamesmouse
Bzzzzzz
Tranquility and the Five Words
Abaddon was aboard his flagship, the Planet Killer, in all her majesty. In orbit over the the greatest fortress of the Imperium, Black or otherwise, she hung. She was not alone, nor was she fully intact. Repairs were afoot, for fleet and flagship. Regiments were raised and parades orchastreated. Titans were marching on his capital world, trophies proudly displayed. It was a labor of several generations of the greatest Empire of Chaos to beat down the Ork hordes that wretched traitor, Deva Pelts brought upon him, but beaten down, they were. Or will be, in a few short years of clean up. But Deva Pelts was from from Abaddon's mind. Neither Orks nor grand rituals tainted this tranquility. Alone, he had broken out the stolen bottles of Fenrisian Ale, *he was tired*. But now, as he watched his crown jewel, the Capital world of Cadia, the Warmaster of Chaos felt something resembling contentment. No Champion of Chaos could ever rest their laurels, for to do so was a moment of weakness, but Abaddon was no mere Champion, now was he? After all, Cadia was a secure as the manse of a Chaos God, and here he was the undisputed master. Abaddon went to sleep, nothing important needed his attention right now.
...
...
...
*The realm between material and immaterial shatter in a nondescript Nurgle-tainted park on Cadia, and not because of any rituals.*
Out of this crack stepped forth a Lion, who was carrying a very successful bad of thieves, and their unexpected plus one. Not one of them was sick, and not a hair on their bodies were harmed. The Goddess of Life would not allow such. Countless Nurglings tried to fit through the gap in the Material realm, but were slaughtered to a demon by the Ancient One, while the crack was repaired by the Ancient Wanderer.
The Blind Seer looked around. "You know, while there are worse places to land, the wor-"
A sickly looking Dryad interupted "Woooooow, everything is so different, why is everything so different? Where are we, I'm hungry mama. Where's the bad guys, I want to hit them moooooore~"
The Ancient One turned and said "Welcome to the Material Universe, and now we must *move*. Oracle, wher-". She interrupted again "But I wanna fight!" "No, we must go". She stomped her feet, "I wanna fight some more!"
She glared at him, "Give me power!" she pouted.
BRING BACK MY WIFE, YOU DAMN THIEVES
There was no forewarning, no grand trumpet to announce the arrival of four Exalted Daemons of Nurgle, just a desperate Chaos god expending whatever resource on hand. From the swirling and swelling Eye of Terror emerged the four, and they were *running*, more scared of failing Nurgle than of the Ancient One and the Eldar Goddess of Life.
The Child of Hate stared at the Eye of Terror. It stared back. "Maybe we should go." He Who Walked Obliquely started running, "Which way to the Webway Gate, Oracle?" Ridcully pointed to the night sky, and they were off.
"Okay, so I know we should run, but I still wanna fight".
Ridcully handed her a glowing red ball, "Take this and wait until we are in the air, and then throw thi-"
The Child of Hate did not wait
...
...
...
Abaddon watched Cadia shatter, roil, and burn, roaring as he heard echo throughout the immaterium the same five words that every Cadian heard before just before they all died.
"FIRE BURN SO PRETTY MAMA"
Abaddon was aboard his flagship, the Planet Killer, in all her majesty. In orbit over the the greatest fortress of the Imperium, Black or otherwise, she hung. She was not alone, nor was she fully intact. Repairs were afoot, for fleet and flagship. Regiments were raised and parades orchastreated. Titans were marching on his capital world, trophies proudly displayed. It was a labor of several generations of the greatest Empire of Chaos to beat down the Ork hordes that wretched traitor, Deva Pelts brought upon him, but beaten down, they were. Or will be, in a few short years of clean up. But Deva Pelts was from from Abaddon's mind. Neither Orks nor grand rituals tainted this tranquility. Alone, he had broken out the stolen bottles of Fenrisian Ale, *he was tired*. But now, as he watched his crown jewel, the Capital world of Cadia, the Warmaster of Chaos felt something resembling contentment. No Champion of Chaos could ever rest their laurels, for to do so was a moment of weakness, but Abaddon was no mere Champion, now was he? After all, Cadia was a secure as the manse of a Chaos God, and here he was the undisputed master. Abaddon went to sleep, nothing important needed his attention right now.
...
...
...
*The realm between material and immaterial shatter in a nondescript Nurgle-tainted park on Cadia, and not because of any rituals.*
Out of this crack stepped forth a Lion, who was carrying a very successful bad of thieves, and their unexpected plus one. Not one of them was sick, and not a hair on their bodies were harmed. The Goddess of Life would not allow such. Countless Nurglings tried to fit through the gap in the Material realm, but were slaughtered to a demon by the Ancient One, while the crack was repaired by the Ancient Wanderer.
The Blind Seer looked around. "You know, while there are worse places to land, the wor-"
A sickly looking Dryad interupted "Woooooow, everything is so different, why is everything so different? Where are we, I'm hungry mama. Where's the bad guys, I want to hit them moooooore~"
The Ancient One turned and said "Welcome to the Material Universe, and now we must *move*. Oracle, wher-". She interrupted again "But I wanna fight!" "No, we must go". She stomped her feet, "I wanna fight some more!"
She glared at him, "Give me power!" she pouted.
BRING BACK MY WIFE, YOU DAMN THIEVES
There was no forewarning, no grand trumpet to announce the arrival of four Exalted Daemons of Nurgle, just a desperate Chaos god expending whatever resource on hand. From the swirling and swelling Eye of Terror emerged the four, and they were *running*, more scared of failing Nurgle than of the Ancient One and the Eldar Goddess of Life.
The Child of Hate stared at the Eye of Terror. It stared back. "Maybe we should go." He Who Walked Obliquely started running, "Which way to the Webway Gate, Oracle?" Ridcully pointed to the night sky, and they were off.
"Okay, so I know we should run, but I still wanna fight".
Ridcully handed her a glowing red ball, "Take this and wait until we are in the air, and then throw thi-"
The Child of Hate did not wait
...
...
...
Abaddon watched Cadia shatter, roil, and burn, roaring as he heard echo throughout the immaterium the same five words that every Cadian heard before just before they all died.
"FIRE BURN SO PRETTY MAMA"
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The Name of the Game is War
The Name of the Game is War
His name was Captain Yarrinix, just Yarrinix. He was a Krork that earned his name on the world of Yarin IV, after having fought alongside the Black Tusk dropship company. He considered it a good nameday, very memorable. That was decades ago, and during that time, Captain Yarrinix served the Krork Army with distinction and commendable effort. He had 44 successful drops under his belt, making him a seasoned veteran. Krorks like him were instrumental in the grand scheme of things, the type of soldier that didn't need to be told twice to do any sort of mission. And now, during the wars of the Grand Ritual, he was called into serving a different type of duty: commanding his own company. Not only that, but a company also made up entirely of Nameless.
When the Marshalls explained it, it would've sounded like a suicide mission of sorts. Captain Yarrinix would take control of a brand new company and also play a key role in offensive operations against the Khornates by dropping deep behind enemy lines. It was all part of a renewed effort to disrupt ritual sites and destroy Khornate forces across several fronts. But to a Krork, it sounded like a fantastic opportunity!
Not only that, but he'd also be given the chance and honor to lead Nameless into battle and provide the opportunity to gain their first names. Hell, perhaps this would allow for Captain Yarrinix to even earn a title as those humans had, he'd fancy having something profound and inspiring. Such selfish desires aside, it was a great honor and one he accepted with pride. True, the risk of death was a lot higher in Nameless companies, but with risk came faithful service. Besides, no Drop-Krork would cower in the face of such dangers.
---
Captain Yarrinix was given command of about a 1,000 Nameless. That was the most they could fit on a Hammerdown-class dropship anyway, so the Captain wasn't too surprised to see he was going to be marching into a warzone with only that many troops. Besides, he was part of a massive assault anyway, so it wasn't like his company was going to be alone.
The Krork officer didn't have too much time to get to know his new troops. Not that it was critical, you don't give a Nameless anything past their unit designation until they were blooded.
To those that understood the Krork, they saw only creatures who embodied the deadliest aspects of war. They were a race that was unapproachable, ready to strike at a moment's notice and kill anyone that stood in their path to victory. The Krork were discipline and determination made manifest, instruments of war, and bringer of ruination upon their enemies. War was a way of life for their entire race.
"Pack up your troubles in your new war-kit
And fight, fight, fight,
While you've a shoota to slag your foes to bits,
Fight, boys, that's the style.
What's the use of worrying?
It never was worthwhile
So pack up your troubles in your new war-kit
And fight, fight, fight!"
But even the Krork understood that sometimes you had to have a little bit of fun in the pre-battle stages of things. And that meant singing for Yarrinix's company. A few of the Nameless scoffed at the idea of a song, but once they got into it, they certainly tried out their singing voices with pride. Death might be upon them all, but that didn't mean they couldn't find some joy between comrades.
It would be time to land soon. Captain Yarrinix idly thought to himself as he finished his final preparation. The doors would open, and he would lead his company through the first part of this operation. The chances of him dying were high, the chances of his Boys surviving past the first hour were low. Daemon activity had reached peak levels now, which prompted the Drop-Krork companies to be deployed en-mass. The Marshalls weren't desperate, that word didn't exist in the military vocabulary for the Krorks, but they weren't interested in any more setbacks.
But the Marshalls had been preparing for this moment for some time. No doubt they had some masterstroke strategy in place, it just required enough bodies to succeed. Well, if it meant victory in this warzone, it would be worth it. And here would be the chance for his Boys and the company to earn their names. It was a tradition among the Krork: Survive your first battle, you get a company name, survive your second battle, then the Krork can pick their name. The Krork didn't hand out names unless you earned it. Even failure guaranteed a name; you just had to survive that failure. But while a name was important, it wasn't the be-all, end-all goals.
His Boys were going to fight and win, even if it meant all of them dying to the last Krork. There would be no fear or hesitation in what happened next. Yarrinix would have to hold back for the initial attacks, even with all the command and communication at his disposal, he still had to make sure everyone was moving towards an objective, and all the proper support was in play. Of course, the Marshalls would also be wanting real-time updates, which meant the Captain would have to deal with division politics as well.
Even the Krork weren't excused from the internal politicking that the other races face. No disciplined military was without those that had different perspectives of what constituted "winning" in wars such as these. He idly wondered if the Khornates had such goals, but he doubted it. Yarrinix had been part of the initial offensive operations, and all he saw was men and daemons hooting and hollering about skulls, blood, brass, and whatever other nonsense.
Honestly, even after all this time, the Krork wasn't impressed by the enemies they faced here. Oh, they were dangerous and even cunning in some forms, but they lacked purpose and direction. The humans tried, to their credit, but still held notions that conflicted with what it meant to embrace war that went beyond just a concept entirely. Their Aeldari understood war, but they steadfastly refused to embrace it.
No one called them cowards, but many Krork thought the Aeldari better than that. They knew what actual war was like, and they still acted as if it was something they never embraced before, it was tragic, at least to Captain Yarrinix. In this galaxy of conflict and strife, it seemed most prudent to embrace the better parts of it, perhaps to survive. One didn't have to become a monster in doing so, but one would have to sacrifice certain "luxuries" if it meant enduring this harsh reality.
But, he was just a Captain. No, it wasn't his place to judge. Besides, he had more important things to worry about right now.
---
It was almost time.
Now there was silence in the transport. Gone was the singing and vocal comradery. No one spoke, no one moved, and one could almost mistake the silence for that which accompanies a funeral procession. To many, it would've been unsettling. Even the descent down to the planet was far too quiet. The Jokaero created internal dampeners, and grav-shielding would ensure that the Krork company inside the Hammerdown would have a "smooth" ride down towards their assignment. But even such technologies couldn't stop the bone-rattling inertia altogether. That wasn't also considering the possibility of getting blown out of the sky. But that risk came with any orbital insertion.
To be in this metal container as it sped down to the surface of war blasted hellscape at the velocity that would kill most non-Astartes. Ordinary men would've lost consciousnesses during the first thirty seconds of the drop from orbit, that lurch every Krork felt was designed in mind to get their blood flowing. But for the soldiers inside, they used it as a time to meditate and review. It was time spent wisely, as they planned the first minute of landing, then the first hour, the first day, and so on before the operation started. All this preparation might have been in vain, as no plan survives first contact with the enemy. However, it allowed them not to let their minds drift to unnecessary concerns. The thought of dying before even making it past the first minute drifted across their minds, but they didn't care. Death was a hazard, something to try and overcome—nothing more, nothing less.
Fear and death, glory, and honor were just words uttered by those that didn't understand what war truly meant. When war itself was the purpose, the problem, and the solution, it was freedom, even would many would call it slavery. But again, they didn't understand. No one, save perhaps the Aelderi, could genuinely fathom the depths of the Krork's dedication to war. Not just in the application of it, but the art and philosophy that surrounded it. Their struggle would never end because the concept of war in itself would perpetrate among their collective consciousness. They were the Tip of the Spear, the First and Last, the Everlasting Army, and the Timeless March of War.
A yellow siren alerted the Krork troops that it was time to land soon enough. Now the silence ended, and their meditation completed. It was soon time for the killing, time for the war.
"Alright, listen up!" Captain Yarrinix bellowed over squad-comms to get their attention. Each of his troops saw their micro-holo emitters display inside their helmets as well, showing possible enemy strength, the position of their allied dropzones, and critical objectives. "We are going to break out of our dropzone, kill any Red Bastards, and make our way to an anti-orbital gun facility that has been hounding our ships."
Captain Yarrinix heard the pilot mention touch down in 30 seconds, "When the doors open, you start moving and don't stop! You keep your weapons raised and fire at anything that moves! If you die out here than nice meeting you! If you survive this battle, then Happy Nameday gents, you earned it! I'll see you wherever the battle takes us!"
They soon felt the Hammerdown fire off a small arsenal of weapons towards the ground, clearing their dropzone of any enemies. The very second the dropship landed, it would also proceed to act as a bunker. But Captain Yarrinix didn't plan on hiding inside this ship. As soon as the door cleared, they would be out and fighting.
"WWWWWWAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRR!!!!!" The Captain yelled over, vox.
And a thousand Nameless responded in kind, "WWWWWWAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!"
---
"Split your lungs with Blood and Thunder!" A Khornate berserker called out to those around him as they rallied inside their camp. This particular warband had been attacking the local Krork defenses, about ~50 kilometers from their camp, for perhaps the 11th time that day and getting ready for the 12th attempt. None of the followers of the Blood God gave a shit that they were dying in droves. They loved this, all of it, and thanked the Blood God for allowing them to partake in this feast by fighting the so-called Everlasting Army. These new Greenskins were indeed something else, no denying that, but they were still flesh and blood Xenos that stood in the way of greatness.
But while the Krork's were a worthy fight, they never stayed too long. For the Blood God's soldiers, they were getting tired of these ploys. The Krorks gave up ground, but they never surrendered territory. Every action they took was part of some grand strategy it seemed. The Greenskins were more than capable of putting up a fight against cultists, marines, and daemons, but they always seemed to pull out at the last minute.
Annoying didn't begin to describe the feeling of the Blood God's forces, but the armies of Khorne still pressed on all the same. So day after day, they bashed their head against the defensive lines of the Greenskins. Until finally, they were breaking through on perhaps the 16th attempt. It became clear now that this time, the Blood God would have their skulls.
Around this point, a planet-wide message was sent out to all Khornate forces, "Inbound dropships! Prepare for Greenskin attack!" It was short, but it got the message across. But it might as well have come too late. Anyone looking up in the sky could see hundreds of thousands of Krork vessels screaming towards the surface of the planet. The anti-air defenses and fighter wings responded in kind. Still, the Krorks have supported this assault with all manner of Jokaero defensive weapons, including what looked to be hundreds of millions of servo skull sized drones intercepting munitions and attacking aircraft like a swarm of insects.
Many dropships were destroyed, but tens of thousands landed after unleashing hellfire on their landing zones. Suddenly, hundreds of thousands of Krorks were rampaging and attacking behind Khornate lines, and just around this time, the rest of the Krork began their attack in earnest as well and started to leave their defensive lines.
The war began again in earnest, and the worlds within and around the Gate of Fire trembled in conflict.
---
The operation was deemed a success by the Krork Marshals. Ultimately, it was decided that this particular strategy, the so-called "Backstab" doctrine, was useful when coordinated successfully with ground side assets. In some ways, though, the cost of such an endeavor was weighed against the practicality of it. The Marshals, however, could not deny that the amount of Nameless who earned their names increased significantly.
Casualties were high, though, but that was to be expected. Among them was a Captain by the name of Yarrinix. His death was tragic, but the tactical insight he provided for the entire operation and in real-time with the Marshals proved the viability of the Backstab Doctrine. For his efforts, his posthumously promoted to Major. A few marshals quietly gave him the title of "Drop-Commander" as well, which might, in time, turn into a rank.
Unexpectantly, Captain Yarrinix company, suffered only minor casualties. A few contributed to their captains' leadership and example, it made the former Nameless have an example of what a true Krork looked like and to follow. To honor their Captain, they named their newly founded company...the Sons of Yarrinix. Perhaps the title of father would've been a good one for the Captain.
---
@Durin A bit of exploration of Krork mentalities, perceptions, changing doctrine in the face of the Khornate threat, and the Krorks sense of comradery.
"When you have resolved to fight a battle, collect your whole force. Dispense with nothing. A single battalion sometimes decides the day." - Military Maxims of Napoleon, XXIX
"What's in a name?" - William Shakespeare
"What's in a name?" - William Shakespeare
His name was Captain Yarrinix, just Yarrinix. He was a Krork that earned his name on the world of Yarin IV, after having fought alongside the Black Tusk dropship company. He considered it a good nameday, very memorable. That was decades ago, and during that time, Captain Yarrinix served the Krork Army with distinction and commendable effort. He had 44 successful drops under his belt, making him a seasoned veteran. Krorks like him were instrumental in the grand scheme of things, the type of soldier that didn't need to be told twice to do any sort of mission. And now, during the wars of the Grand Ritual, he was called into serving a different type of duty: commanding his own company. Not only that, but a company also made up entirely of Nameless.
When the Marshalls explained it, it would've sounded like a suicide mission of sorts. Captain Yarrinix would take control of a brand new company and also play a key role in offensive operations against the Khornates by dropping deep behind enemy lines. It was all part of a renewed effort to disrupt ritual sites and destroy Khornate forces across several fronts. But to a Krork, it sounded like a fantastic opportunity!
Not only that, but he'd also be given the chance and honor to lead Nameless into battle and provide the opportunity to gain their first names. Hell, perhaps this would allow for Captain Yarrinix to even earn a title as those humans had, he'd fancy having something profound and inspiring. Such selfish desires aside, it was a great honor and one he accepted with pride. True, the risk of death was a lot higher in Nameless companies, but with risk came faithful service. Besides, no Drop-Krork would cower in the face of such dangers.
---
Captain Yarrinix was given command of about a 1,000 Nameless. That was the most they could fit on a Hammerdown-class dropship anyway, so the Captain wasn't too surprised to see he was going to be marching into a warzone with only that many troops. Besides, he was part of a massive assault anyway, so it wasn't like his company was going to be alone.
The Krork officer didn't have too much time to get to know his new troops. Not that it was critical, you don't give a Nameless anything past their unit designation until they were blooded.
To those that understood the Krork, they saw only creatures who embodied the deadliest aspects of war. They were a race that was unapproachable, ready to strike at a moment's notice and kill anyone that stood in their path to victory. The Krork were discipline and determination made manifest, instruments of war, and bringer of ruination upon their enemies. War was a way of life for their entire race.
"Pack up your troubles in your new war-kit
And fight, fight, fight,
While you've a shoota to slag your foes to bits,
Fight, boys, that's the style.
What's the use of worrying?
It never was worthwhile
So pack up your troubles in your new war-kit
And fight, fight, fight!"
But even the Krork understood that sometimes you had to have a little bit of fun in the pre-battle stages of things. And that meant singing for Yarrinix's company. A few of the Nameless scoffed at the idea of a song, but once they got into it, they certainly tried out their singing voices with pride. Death might be upon them all, but that didn't mean they couldn't find some joy between comrades.
It would be time to land soon. Captain Yarrinix idly thought to himself as he finished his final preparation. The doors would open, and he would lead his company through the first part of this operation. The chances of him dying were high, the chances of his Boys surviving past the first hour were low. Daemon activity had reached peak levels now, which prompted the Drop-Krork companies to be deployed en-mass. The Marshalls weren't desperate, that word didn't exist in the military vocabulary for the Krorks, but they weren't interested in any more setbacks.
But the Marshalls had been preparing for this moment for some time. No doubt they had some masterstroke strategy in place, it just required enough bodies to succeed. Well, if it meant victory in this warzone, it would be worth it. And here would be the chance for his Boys and the company to earn their names. It was a tradition among the Krork: Survive your first battle, you get a company name, survive your second battle, then the Krork can pick their name. The Krork didn't hand out names unless you earned it. Even failure guaranteed a name; you just had to survive that failure. But while a name was important, it wasn't the be-all, end-all goals.
His Boys were going to fight and win, even if it meant all of them dying to the last Krork. There would be no fear or hesitation in what happened next. Yarrinix would have to hold back for the initial attacks, even with all the command and communication at his disposal, he still had to make sure everyone was moving towards an objective, and all the proper support was in play. Of course, the Marshalls would also be wanting real-time updates, which meant the Captain would have to deal with division politics as well.
Even the Krork weren't excused from the internal politicking that the other races face. No disciplined military was without those that had different perspectives of what constituted "winning" in wars such as these. He idly wondered if the Khornates had such goals, but he doubted it. Yarrinix had been part of the initial offensive operations, and all he saw was men and daemons hooting and hollering about skulls, blood, brass, and whatever other nonsense.
Honestly, even after all this time, the Krork wasn't impressed by the enemies they faced here. Oh, they were dangerous and even cunning in some forms, but they lacked purpose and direction. The humans tried, to their credit, but still held notions that conflicted with what it meant to embrace war that went beyond just a concept entirely. Their Aeldari understood war, but they steadfastly refused to embrace it.
No one called them cowards, but many Krork thought the Aeldari better than that. They knew what actual war was like, and they still acted as if it was something they never embraced before, it was tragic, at least to Captain Yarrinix. In this galaxy of conflict and strife, it seemed most prudent to embrace the better parts of it, perhaps to survive. One didn't have to become a monster in doing so, but one would have to sacrifice certain "luxuries" if it meant enduring this harsh reality.
But, he was just a Captain. No, it wasn't his place to judge. Besides, he had more important things to worry about right now.
---
It was almost time.
Now there was silence in the transport. Gone was the singing and vocal comradery. No one spoke, no one moved, and one could almost mistake the silence for that which accompanies a funeral procession. To many, it would've been unsettling. Even the descent down to the planet was far too quiet. The Jokaero created internal dampeners, and grav-shielding would ensure that the Krork company inside the Hammerdown would have a "smooth" ride down towards their assignment. But even such technologies couldn't stop the bone-rattling inertia altogether. That wasn't also considering the possibility of getting blown out of the sky. But that risk came with any orbital insertion.
To be in this metal container as it sped down to the surface of war blasted hellscape at the velocity that would kill most non-Astartes. Ordinary men would've lost consciousnesses during the first thirty seconds of the drop from orbit, that lurch every Krork felt was designed in mind to get their blood flowing. But for the soldiers inside, they used it as a time to meditate and review. It was time spent wisely, as they planned the first minute of landing, then the first hour, the first day, and so on before the operation started. All this preparation might have been in vain, as no plan survives first contact with the enemy. However, it allowed them not to let their minds drift to unnecessary concerns. The thought of dying before even making it past the first minute drifted across their minds, but they didn't care. Death was a hazard, something to try and overcome—nothing more, nothing less.
Fear and death, glory, and honor were just words uttered by those that didn't understand what war truly meant. When war itself was the purpose, the problem, and the solution, it was freedom, even would many would call it slavery. But again, they didn't understand. No one, save perhaps the Aelderi, could genuinely fathom the depths of the Krork's dedication to war. Not just in the application of it, but the art and philosophy that surrounded it. Their struggle would never end because the concept of war in itself would perpetrate among their collective consciousness. They were the Tip of the Spear, the First and Last, the Everlasting Army, and the Timeless March of War.
A yellow siren alerted the Krork troops that it was time to land soon enough. Now the silence ended, and their meditation completed. It was soon time for the killing, time for the war.
"Alright, listen up!" Captain Yarrinix bellowed over squad-comms to get their attention. Each of his troops saw their micro-holo emitters display inside their helmets as well, showing possible enemy strength, the position of their allied dropzones, and critical objectives. "We are going to break out of our dropzone, kill any Red Bastards, and make our way to an anti-orbital gun facility that has been hounding our ships."
Captain Yarrinix heard the pilot mention touch down in 30 seconds, "When the doors open, you start moving and don't stop! You keep your weapons raised and fire at anything that moves! If you die out here than nice meeting you! If you survive this battle, then Happy Nameday gents, you earned it! I'll see you wherever the battle takes us!"
They soon felt the Hammerdown fire off a small arsenal of weapons towards the ground, clearing their dropzone of any enemies. The very second the dropship landed, it would also proceed to act as a bunker. But Captain Yarrinix didn't plan on hiding inside this ship. As soon as the door cleared, they would be out and fighting.
"WWWWWWAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRR!!!!!" The Captain yelled over, vox.
And a thousand Nameless responded in kind, "WWWWWWAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!"
---
"Split your lungs with Blood and Thunder!" A Khornate berserker called out to those around him as they rallied inside their camp. This particular warband had been attacking the local Krork defenses, about ~50 kilometers from their camp, for perhaps the 11th time that day and getting ready for the 12th attempt. None of the followers of the Blood God gave a shit that they were dying in droves. They loved this, all of it, and thanked the Blood God for allowing them to partake in this feast by fighting the so-called Everlasting Army. These new Greenskins were indeed something else, no denying that, but they were still flesh and blood Xenos that stood in the way of greatness.
At the very least, the Krork was a worthy fight. They fought with extraordinary tactics and discipline in one battle and then fight like utter bastards. In one battle, they used a series of micro-holo projectors to make it seem like they were getting ready for a tank charge. Once the Khornates attacked their lines, they ran headfirst into a series of carefully laid out plasma-land mines, and then the tanks came rolling out. But while the Krork's were a worthy fight, they never stayed too long. For the Blood God's soldiers, they were getting tired of these ploys. The Krorks gave up ground, but they never surrendered territory. Every action they took was part of some grand strategy it seemed. The Greenskins were more than capable of putting up a fight against cultists, marines, and daemons, but they always seemed to pull out at the last minute.
Annoying didn't begin to describe the feeling of the Blood God's forces, but the armies of Khorne still pressed on all the same. So day after day, they bashed their head against the defensive lines of the Greenskins. Until finally, they were breaking through on perhaps the 16th attempt. It became clear now that this time, the Blood God would have their skulls.
Around this point, a planet-wide message was sent out to all Khornate forces, "Inbound dropships! Prepare for Greenskin attack!" It was short, but it got the message across. But it might as well have come too late. Anyone looking up in the sky could see hundreds of thousands of Krork vessels screaming towards the surface of the planet. The anti-air defenses and fighter wings responded in kind. Still, the Krorks have supported this assault with all manner of Jokaero defensive weapons, including what looked to be hundreds of millions of servo skull sized drones intercepting munitions and attacking aircraft like a swarm of insects.
Many dropships were destroyed, but tens of thousands landed after unleashing hellfire on their landing zones. Suddenly, hundreds of thousands of Krorks were rampaging and attacking behind Khornate lines, and just around this time, the rest of the Krork began their attack in earnest as well and started to leave their defensive lines.
The war began again in earnest, and the worlds within and around the Gate of Fire trembled in conflict.
---
The operation was deemed a success by the Krork Marshals. Ultimately, it was decided that this particular strategy, the so-called "Backstab" doctrine, was useful when coordinated successfully with ground side assets. In some ways, though, the cost of such an endeavor was weighed against the practicality of it. The Marshals, however, could not deny that the amount of Nameless who earned their names increased significantly.
Casualties were high, though, but that was to be expected. Among them was a Captain by the name of Yarrinix. His death was tragic, but the tactical insight he provided for the entire operation and in real-time with the Marshals proved the viability of the Backstab Doctrine. For his efforts, his posthumously promoted to Major. A few marshals quietly gave him the title of "Drop-Commander" as well, which might, in time, turn into a rank.
Unexpectantly, Captain Yarrinix company, suffered only minor casualties. A few contributed to their captains' leadership and example, it made the former Nameless have an example of what a true Krork looked like and to follow. To honor their Captain, they named their newly founded company...the Sons of Yarrinix. Perhaps the title of father would've been a good one for the Captain.
---
@Durin A bit of exploration of Krork mentalities, perceptions, changing doctrine in the face of the Khornate threat, and the Krorks sense of comradery.
- Location
- western US
actually, this brings up a valid point
we have no idea what personality this dryad has....other then presumably hating Nurgle beyond even khorne greatest berserkers considering they are named "Child of Hate".....
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- Location
- madison
daww, what an adorable little girl.
- Location
- western US
I'm not entirely sure we would be okay with this. the only figure of "justice" around this-here-parts to act as judge?
is...um....
yeah,....NO.
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Tzeetch: Your honor, I will be representing the mother in this case!
Isha: No, no way, this man is not my lawyer!
Cegorach: Besides, who would defend Nurgle in this situation?
Malal: Dibs!
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Winter knight
Winter knight
Long have the Fae been bound by their rules of acting in the Immaterium. Only allowed to act against Chaos in times of incursion on Avernus. Never allowed to journey beyond its borders. They are fierce, ruthless and amoral Guardians for Avernus. Fear Gota a mass of Mouths and eyes that is endless hunger. The Red cap with its cap the color of the blood of its victim, always meeting people with a friendly smile that never leaves its face. At the top stands the Lord of the wild hunt and the Queens of Winter and Summer.
On this day the queen of winter begins her long project because she has found a loophole. At the base of a tree she takes the body of a human grown with Alkestry, human blood and poor human soul captured at its time of death. She tenderly picked up the 2 and half meter man and carried him to her palace. Actus Tor the ice palace and birth of winter.is a Amazing Place that is almost unassailable to any force since it sits between the Materium and the Warp in a pocket Dimension. The Palace itself is a wonder that is breaktaking and takes your breath away, sometimes literally.
She carries the man into her and baths him in a tube of warm water. Caring for him and gently loving him. Then she dries him, dresses him in bed ware that keeps him warm and is soft as fur. As she tucks him into bed looking at him loving she grabs a pillow and tries to smother him gently with it. Her knights struggle but she keeps it up. Until he uses the full force of his body and pushes the pillow away. She smiles at him and tells him' 'Tomorrow we will continue your training my knight.' than she leaves him to rest.
So begins the Knights training where man trains him and tries to kill him at least one a day.. He is almost drowning in the bath when the room floods and has to find a way out. One time his food comes alive and tries to eat. He is thrown from the roof and has to land in a lake. But every day is brutal training from Sidhe. He is trained to use every weapon possible. He is physically broken and then healed by Mab. Always she greets him with a smile and cares for him even when she tries to murder him. His days are known nothing but training, murder attempts and Mabs face. He is taught to kill without remorse, to be a knight, a weapon for Mab. He does this because he knows nothing else. Mab tells him if he does enough for her she will return his memory of who he was. So the knight does his tasks because he knows nothing else.
Than Mab sends him to the planet to complete tasks for her. Sometimes it is to kill someone, sometimes it is to threaten someone but easy it is mabs will. For he is the knight of winter and the power of winter flows through him when he acts in her will. Monsters thought unbeatable are destroyed with a wave of his hands. His strength is great and unmatched by most things he meets. He even fights and kills demons as his queen commands.
For see while she can not act upon Avernus her knight can. Her knight can make deals, punish those who break her deals, and complete tasks for her. Then one day the knight gets called to the palace. At the grounds hundreds of thousands of Sidhe can be seen preparing for war. As he approaches the palace they Sneer at him and make quibs at his expanse. But he does not care because they learned long ago that he is a killer and trying to attack him has consequences. He walks the halls till he comes to the throne room. As he approaches he sees 6 Giant mirrors that show battles across the galaxy. His queen looks at him and says" My knight I can not act outside Avernus but you can. Let the Galaxy know the power of the Fae Sidhe. Let them know the power of Winter. Now all that is left is to choose where to send you that will benefit me the most."
@Durin going to sleep but I always thought the Fae should be expanded upon sine they are terrifying and the closest things we know that are too demons without being demons.
Long have the Fae been bound by their rules of acting in the Immaterium. Only allowed to act against Chaos in times of incursion on Avernus. Never allowed to journey beyond its borders. They are fierce, ruthless and amoral Guardians for Avernus. Fear Gota a mass of Mouths and eyes that is endless hunger. The Red cap with its cap the color of the blood of its victim, always meeting people with a friendly smile that never leaves its face. At the top stands the Lord of the wild hunt and the Queens of Winter and Summer.
On this day the queen of winter begins her long project because she has found a loophole. At the base of a tree she takes the body of a human grown with Alkestry, human blood and poor human soul captured at its time of death. She tenderly picked up the 2 and half meter man and carried him to her palace. Actus Tor the ice palace and birth of winter.is a Amazing Place that is almost unassailable to any force since it sits between the Materium and the Warp in a pocket Dimension. The Palace itself is a wonder that is breaktaking and takes your breath away, sometimes literally.
She carries the man into her and baths him in a tube of warm water. Caring for him and gently loving him. Then she dries him, dresses him in bed ware that keeps him warm and is soft as fur. As she tucks him into bed looking at him loving she grabs a pillow and tries to smother him gently with it. Her knights struggle but she keeps it up. Until he uses the full force of his body and pushes the pillow away. She smiles at him and tells him' 'Tomorrow we will continue your training my knight.' than she leaves him to rest.
So begins the Knights training where man trains him and tries to kill him at least one a day.. He is almost drowning in the bath when the room floods and has to find a way out. One time his food comes alive and tries to eat. He is thrown from the roof and has to land in a lake. But every day is brutal training from Sidhe. He is trained to use every weapon possible. He is physically broken and then healed by Mab. Always she greets him with a smile and cares for him even when she tries to murder him. His days are known nothing but training, murder attempts and Mabs face. He is taught to kill without remorse, to be a knight, a weapon for Mab. He does this because he knows nothing else. Mab tells him if he does enough for her she will return his memory of who he was. So the knight does his tasks because he knows nothing else.
Than Mab sends him to the planet to complete tasks for her. Sometimes it is to kill someone, sometimes it is to threaten someone but easy it is mabs will. For he is the knight of winter and the power of winter flows through him when he acts in her will. Monsters thought unbeatable are destroyed with a wave of his hands. His strength is great and unmatched by most things he meets. He even fights and kills demons as his queen commands.
For see while she can not act upon Avernus her knight can. Her knight can make deals, punish those who break her deals, and complete tasks for her. Then one day the knight gets called to the palace. At the grounds hundreds of thousands of Sidhe can be seen preparing for war. As he approaches the palace they Sneer at him and make quibs at his expanse. But he does not care because they learned long ago that he is a killer and trying to attack him has consequences. He walks the halls till he comes to the throne room. As he approaches he sees 6 Giant mirrors that show battles across the galaxy. His queen looks at him and says" My knight I can not act outside Avernus but you can. Let the Galaxy know the power of the Fae Sidhe. Let them know the power of Winter. Now all that is left is to choose where to send you that will benefit me the most."
@Durin going to sleep but I always thought the Fae should be expanded upon sine they are terrifying and the closest things we know that are too demons without being demons.
- Location
- western US
well, seems like a long shot to spontaniously create, what, a paragon? multi-paragon? with fae-blessings...
but worth said long-shot none the less!
- Location
- Back in Cali
This is the only issue. There are no War of Heaven veterans the only Kork that were around are the Leadership of the Kork as a whole. The ones broken out from the museum the rest are Korks that were raised from orks and turned into korks.
- Location
- Elsewhere
That doesn't change my statement, the bloodthrister took out one of the marshals :/
- Location
- western US
its probably kinda awkward for the krork....to have no veterans around.
course they probably still know war better then most members of (most) species cas its programmed in their blood and stuff.
course they probably still know war better then most members of (most) species cas its programmed in their blood and stuff.
The Fate of Monsters and Men.
- Location
- madison
The Fate of Monsters and Men.
Upon the dark world of Cadia, deep within the outpost of decay, in a secret cyst hidden from all, in a sealed vault designed to mirror the cell of Isha herself, Malkoth the emissary of despair has a debate with a captive audience.
"The galaxy is a wretched place. Hope is a lie, a comforting delusion. How can you not see? How have you walked the galaxy for so long and not understood?"
With a rattle of chains, the maimed woman turned to face her tormentor, heedless of the miasma of despair inducing diseases surrounding her. "Oh I understand all right, I'm just not li'l bitch Abou-"
With a tired sigh, Malkoth interrupted the Shieldmaiden's crude rebuke, swollen fingers closing gingerly her prosthetic jaw, before tearing it free with a sickening squelch.
"More bravado and defiance, will you cease your immature prattle now that you're finally out of false flesh to lose?" With a crunch the masterwork of bone and steel crumbled to ruin, its rotting debris falling amidst the rusted remains of the shieldmaiden's arms and the decaying crystal that was once her right eye.
He resumed his speech in the tone of a patient lecturer. "You fight and struggle and try to matter, to protect, what has this gotten you? You have reworked your very soul into a perfect shield, and yet you fail time and again. It is not that you are incapable, it is that the very task you've set yourself to is impossible. Surely you have to be aware of the fate of those you tried to die for? "
The shield of the Concordat glared at her jailer with her remaining eye, her reply naught but a spray of blood and saliva.
"Oh yes, you fell before they were bundled up, didn't you? Ilfeliare, Zaeed, Khohthos, Valanar, all carried off for the Glory of the true gods. Your pretty little light in the dark is done, snuffed out, such is the fate of all such lights. Only the dark, the eternal night has ever truly known victory. Your own lover leads the remnants on a last doomed charge even now, ensuring even their embers shall fade to cold, dead ash."
The shield maiden's eye narrowed, and her head cocked as she thought deeply, before curling the bleeding remains of her tongue, and sending a glob of bloody spit directly into Malkoth's face with a jerk of her neck.
"Do you hope I will tire of hurting you?" The Chaos Lord leaned forward before grabbing her tongue at its root and tearing it free in a burst of bright red blood. "It has grown tedious, true, but I am well acquainted with tedium." The mortal paused before continuing in an inquisitive tone. "Oh, are you trying to stall?" he chuckles. "Do you think Zahhak's going to save you? Oh, how endearing, but no truer than any hope of survival. She thinks you dead, and seems set to join you in her futile charge."
For the first time the shieldmaiden showed fear, for just a second and then it was gone, swallowed by a sullen rage.
"Ah, I am getting through to you. Good, good. I do understand your hesitation, truly, I do. Standing among the horrors of the night is unpleasant, and the light is warm. But you in particular could withstand it better than most. Your mistress truly, deeply loves you. Should the truth of things come from your enlightened lips would she not listen? Could you not warm yourself in her coils as she feasted upon the weak?" The man smiled widely, showing rotting teeth. "Is that not what you have always sought? A way to keep your beloved from harm? Falling is easy; simply let go of your pride, your delusions of a brighter tomorrow, and you will at last free her from her inevitable fate. She will be the hunter rather than the hunted, what greater act of love could there be than that? To make her at last safe!"
The battered and bleeding daeva let out a wet gurgling laugh that ended in a wet cough and a spray of blood As Malkoth disappointedly drove the blades upon his armored boots into her ragged lungs.
"How many terrible things must happen to you before you grow tired of it? The night and its horrors stand invincible and enduring while all hope is dragged away for meat or pleasure, bad things simply don't happen to the horr-"
Malkoths lecture ended abruptly as a furred paw the size of his torso slammed into him, a great furred beast visible for seconds before scrambling into some hidden sub realm. Power flooded the room and the door erupted into a diseased, screaming dryad, the jagged roots of her hair whipping around as her burning eyes fell upon the scene before her.
Power pulsed and the room shifted, wards turning to healthy and vital moss and insects before skitting away to feast upon rot. The swollen lord scrambled back amidst the sound of shattering stone and rattling metal as the apparition approached, eyes of burning wrath boring into his soul.
"No, you are not mine to kill." With that, she simply turned and dashed away towards the sound of strife and battle.
Malkoth burst into laughter, "See! See! Even now I am sa-" A claw of impossibly hard amber erupted from his chest, tearing at his very soul.
"I told you,'' said the shieldmaiden, with a tongue of fresh moss through lips of Malkoran mahogany. "I ain't a lil bitch." Amber ripples and Malkoth collapses into a half dozen piles of wet meat.
The maiden paused, tolding the soul of Malkoth over the abyss that was her self. With a dispassionate act of will, she carved a simple message into the rotten thing, before she sent it whole and undigested to her lord, her once tormentor bearing four words to her beloved.
Don't you dare die.
A millisecond later she stood between the blind seer and a wash of devouring rot he'd seen no need to dodge, her new limbs spread into a wide shield, ready as ever to stand between the dark and the lights that defied it.
@Durin a thing. boy, it sure is weird Zahhak, a goddess who's gone to genocidal lengths to survive was willing to charge the abomination huh? almost like she thought the reason she had to fanatically cling to life was gone.
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Plots Within Plots
- Location
- Elsewhere
Plots Within Plots
On Cadia, a solitary soul waited. He had waited on this street for nearly 9 hours and 9 minutes. Sorcerer Saetv smirked in the knowledge of what was to come. Blessings from the Changer of Ways pulsed as his plans came to fruition. His foes had been manipulated into a hundred different locations through a myriad of ways that were so clear to him. All he had to do was survive what was to come.
The ninth hour ticked by, and yet, Saetv did not move. Everything would proceed according to his plan, his patience was all that was needed. Around him, Cadia continued to act, as followers of all the Dark Gods lived under an uneasy tension. A gentle trickle of what he was pretty sure were men and women continued to walk as he waited. By now, his presence was taken as just another one of Tzeentch's infinite yet utterly incomprehensible plans.
The warp began to crackle, his finely honed senses picking up the disturbance. Around Cadia, sorcerers paused as they felt what was to come. Tzeentchians plotted as the followers of Nurgle grew more agitated by the second. Saetv bent his knees slightly, restoring blood flow to his legs as the crowd around him moved further away from the sudden motion. An arm stretched out, as he twisted the warp to his will, channeling a ritual that he had prepared so long ago alongside 99 other sorcerors. Of the hundred that initially lived, he was the last, the others having been killed by his plots so long ago.
The warp began to howl, as what was to come neared. Saetv's grin grew as the followers of Nurgle seemed to grow mad. Possibilities and unending fates flashed in his mind as the time to act neared. Then, after standing for exactly nine hours, nine minutes, and nine seconds, the warp tore a hole to Cadia in front of him and out walked an Exalted of Nurgle.
Sevenfold Scudjon exited the warp as Saetv shuddered at the very presence of the Exalted. Without giving the daemon a moment to think, the Tzeentchian sorcerer smiled. "Looking for somebody? Perhaps six somebodies?"
The Exalted restrained itself, enraged yet still aware enough to know of its location. Here on Cadia, the Dark Gods had a truce, and Scudjon would not be the one to violate it without Grandfather's orders. Instead, the daemon's eyes narrowed, the very action draining life from the sorcerer. "Where are they?"
Sorcerer Saetv stood to his full height, utterly dwarfed by the Greater Unclean One. His staff appeared in his hand, twirling lazily as he spoke in a taunting voice. "Now, now, nothing I give is free." The staff stopped twirling as he placed one end on the ground and leaned upon it. "What does this information give me?"
Scudjon took a breath, carefully making sure the plague washed around the sorcerer. "Whatever you want."
Saetv openly smirked as he tapped his finger upon his chin theatrically. In a coy voice almost fit for a Slaaneshi cultist, he spoke to the daemon once more. "Hmm, what do I want?" His hand rose up as if an idea had just come to him. A single clap echoed in the streets as his smirk turned into a radiant smile. "Swear to serve me, and I swear to tell you all I know."
The deception was plain to the Exalted, although, with Tzeentchians one never knew what their true goal was. Scudjon leaned forward, diseased flesh rippling with the motion as a stench poured from his body. "Do not play your games with me."
Saetv couldn't help but shiver at the sheer intensity of the Unclean One's gaze. His eyes flinched away before he regained his composure. "And yet, I hold all the cards." His staff twirled in the air once, as he tossed it upwards. "If you refuse," the staff landed in one hand, as the sorcerer leaned forward, eyes filled with mirth, "then Isha escapes." Against all instincts, Saetv took a step forward, getting closer to the daemon as his body seemed to scream at the Unclean One's very presence. "And here on Cadia, you can't force me to speak."
Sevenfold Scudjon snarled, phlegm and saliva falling onto the ground where the road began to rot. The plagues and rot upon the daemon were unleashed by the smallest fraction, as Saetv's eyes widened. The Sorcerer took an involuntary step backward, before turning away and collapsing to his knees, the contents of his stomach spilling onto the floor. "If your next offer isn't better, I shall leave."
On the ground, Saetv vomited once more, before shakily standing up. His biomancy flaring as he did. Even with the barest fraction of their true strength, the plagues ravaged his body, as the Tzeentchian Sorcerer laughed. "Then begone daemon and watch as the Goddess escapes."
The Unclean One made a mental note to kill the sorcerer if they ever met once more, before beginning the task at hand. Far and low the daemon would search, leaving not a single stone unturned. Even if it took centuries, the Goddess would be found once more.
And as the daemon left, Saetv let his biomancy boost not himself, but the plagues inside his body. Horrific toxins turned a hundred times worse as the rot and pestilence spread throughout his frame. As the rot appeared on his skin, and his flesh turned pustulent, the sorcerer forced open the veil as he leaped into one of the Undivided hospitals, where the Black Legion maintained order. There, his disease-ravaged body said a single sentence as his plans came to their long-awaited conclusion. "The Forces of Plague are invading!"
@Durin An Omake of a Tzeentchian Sorcerer faking a violation of the truce on Cadia.
On Cadia, a solitary soul waited. He had waited on this street for nearly 9 hours and 9 minutes. Sorcerer Saetv smirked in the knowledge of what was to come. Blessings from the Changer of Ways pulsed as his plans came to fruition. His foes had been manipulated into a hundred different locations through a myriad of ways that were so clear to him. All he had to do was survive what was to come.
The ninth hour ticked by, and yet, Saetv did not move. Everything would proceed according to his plan, his patience was all that was needed. Around him, Cadia continued to act, as followers of all the Dark Gods lived under an uneasy tension. A gentle trickle of what he was pretty sure were men and women continued to walk as he waited. By now, his presence was taken as just another one of Tzeentch's infinite yet utterly incomprehensible plans.
The warp began to crackle, his finely honed senses picking up the disturbance. Around Cadia, sorcerers paused as they felt what was to come. Tzeentchians plotted as the followers of Nurgle grew more agitated by the second. Saetv bent his knees slightly, restoring blood flow to his legs as the crowd around him moved further away from the sudden motion. An arm stretched out, as he twisted the warp to his will, channeling a ritual that he had prepared so long ago alongside 99 other sorcerors. Of the hundred that initially lived, he was the last, the others having been killed by his plots so long ago.
The warp began to howl, as what was to come neared. Saetv's grin grew as the followers of Nurgle seemed to grow mad. Possibilities and unending fates flashed in his mind as the time to act neared. Then, after standing for exactly nine hours, nine minutes, and nine seconds, the warp tore a hole to Cadia in front of him and out walked an Exalted of Nurgle.
Sevenfold Scudjon exited the warp as Saetv shuddered at the very presence of the Exalted. Without giving the daemon a moment to think, the Tzeentchian sorcerer smiled. "Looking for somebody? Perhaps six somebodies?"
The Exalted restrained itself, enraged yet still aware enough to know of its location. Here on Cadia, the Dark Gods had a truce, and Scudjon would not be the one to violate it without Grandfather's orders. Instead, the daemon's eyes narrowed, the very action draining life from the sorcerer. "Where are they?"
Sorcerer Saetv stood to his full height, utterly dwarfed by the Greater Unclean One. His staff appeared in his hand, twirling lazily as he spoke in a taunting voice. "Now, now, nothing I give is free." The staff stopped twirling as he placed one end on the ground and leaned upon it. "What does this information give me?"
Scudjon took a breath, carefully making sure the plague washed around the sorcerer. "Whatever you want."
Saetv openly smirked as he tapped his finger upon his chin theatrically. In a coy voice almost fit for a Slaaneshi cultist, he spoke to the daemon once more. "Hmm, what do I want?" His hand rose up as if an idea had just come to him. A single clap echoed in the streets as his smirk turned into a radiant smile. "Swear to serve me, and I swear to tell you all I know."
The deception was plain to the Exalted, although, with Tzeentchians one never knew what their true goal was. Scudjon leaned forward, diseased flesh rippling with the motion as a stench poured from his body. "Do not play your games with me."
Saetv couldn't help but shiver at the sheer intensity of the Unclean One's gaze. His eyes flinched away before he regained his composure. "And yet, I hold all the cards." His staff twirled in the air once, as he tossed it upwards. "If you refuse," the staff landed in one hand, as the sorcerer leaned forward, eyes filled with mirth, "then Isha escapes." Against all instincts, Saetv took a step forward, getting closer to the daemon as his body seemed to scream at the Unclean One's very presence. "And here on Cadia, you can't force me to speak."
Sevenfold Scudjon snarled, phlegm and saliva falling onto the ground where the road began to rot. The plagues and rot upon the daemon were unleashed by the smallest fraction, as Saetv's eyes widened. The Sorcerer took an involuntary step backward, before turning away and collapsing to his knees, the contents of his stomach spilling onto the floor. "If your next offer isn't better, I shall leave."
On the ground, Saetv vomited once more, before shakily standing up. His biomancy flaring as he did. Even with the barest fraction of their true strength, the plagues ravaged his body, as the Tzeentchian Sorcerer laughed. "Then begone daemon and watch as the Goddess escapes."
The Unclean One made a mental note to kill the sorcerer if they ever met once more, before beginning the task at hand. Far and low the daemon would search, leaving not a single stone unturned. Even if it took centuries, the Goddess would be found once more.
And as the daemon left, Saetv let his biomancy boost not himself, but the plagues inside his body. Horrific toxins turned a hundred times worse as the rot and pestilence spread throughout his frame. As the rot appeared on his skin, and his flesh turned pustulent, the sorcerer forced open the veil as he leaped into one of the Undivided hospitals, where the Black Legion maintained order. There, his disease-ravaged body said a single sentence as his plans came to their long-awaited conclusion. "The Forces of Plague are invading!"
@Durin An Omake of a Tzeentchian Sorcerer faking a violation of the truce on Cadia.
Loyalty
Loyalty
The Krork were losing ground, slowly but surely. Utterly disciplined and implacably hardened they were, but against the unending tide of the Blood God's servants they found their advances halted, and their lines buckled as overwhelming savagery made manifest tore into them. The soldiers of the Old Ones responded with utmost skill, for they were masters at war: defensive feints lured in overeager foes who were then eradicated by brilliant flank maneuvers; fields of fire were calculated so precisely to inflict maximum damage and minimal interference; and daring drops were made behind front lines to destroy high-value targets. Despite all this and more, the forces of Khorne continued to gain.
But then, something unforeseen occurred.
In a flash, a warp rift opened, and from it issued a vast army that hurtled headlong into the surprised Khornate hosts, an army as unanticipated as it was varied: the mercenaries of Zaeed.
From the lowliest warpspawn to the mightiest deva, and every regiment of renown known, they had come one and all for the sake of their patron god, to fight and die against the might of the Blood God. Some did so out of eagerness or resignation for the fight ahead; many did so out of desperation, for they might be forcibly turned to the Blood God's service should the ritual succeed. But above all, one reason compelled them forward, a reason surprising to many, even themselves:
Loyalty.
In an instant, the hosts of the Blood God retaliated, and daemon met daemon in furious combat. Cannon fodder perished by the thousands every second as they bore the brunt of the first counter-attacks, shielding their compatriots in death. Hired guns charged forth with abandon, weakening the Khornate lines even as they were butchered in return. Soldiers of fortune fired as they marched, holding steady despite horrendous casualties. Dogs of war formed the vanguard, drawing on all their skill as they struggled onward. But it was the legions of legend that fought at the very forefront.
The Legio Chrimirs advanced as one, each titan unrelenting in fury as their gun barrels glowed white-hot from continuous firing. A horde of daemonic war engines drove forth, and were met in turn by the tanks of Betty's Behemoths; with ferocity the latter fought, bringing down Brass Scorpions and Blood Slaughterers by the dozens even as they were overrun. The Twisted threw themselves at a wave of Bloodcrushers, warp-wrought monsters facing brass-coated beasts, as Kor'La's Cadre darted amongst enemy strongpoints, each pilot desperately pushing their battlesuit to the max. At the very tip of the spear strove the Eternal Company, every Astartes among them brimming with power and deed, before which even the mighty Heralds of Khorne faltered; And yet, even they paled before the might of the one who led them all.
At the heart of the formation stood the driving force behind this doomed, momentuous endeavor: the Numinous. Fueled by righteous hatred, guarded by the consumate abilities of the Professional, the warp-infused Alpha psyker unleashed every ounce of power they could bring forth, casting down Bloodthirsters and sundering swathes of Bloodletters, bestowing boons and countering curses. With singular purpose the Numinous marshalled the army onward, driving heedless of casualties ever closer to the ritual's center; For this was a fight more personal to them than any other present. Beyond loyalty to an employer, beyond loyalty to a friend, the Numinous accorded the God of Mercenaries much greater; for when the former was mortal and frail, overwhelmed by warp energy and on the brink of falling, the latter had come upon them and protected them, giving them hope and purpose at great cost and effort.
Zaeed had saved them from damnation, and the Numinous would repay that debt or die trying.
A forlorn hope, yet the mercenary host persevered. Assailed on every front both body and soul, they continued on. By their tenacity, the mercenaries made a breach in the Khornate line, and the Krork instantly took advantage of it; in perfect synchronicity their forces maneuvered, and regiments of armored Nobles struck hard into the opening. Weapons flashed, blood flowed, and millions died; yet on still did the foes of the Blood God march.
Suddenly, rising high to bar their path came the Court of Carnage: 88 Honoured Bloodthirsters, horrifying in their gore-drenched prowess. But the Numinous had one more ace to play; with a great expenditure of power, another rift was torn open above the churning melee, and from it erupted the Serial Peacemaker. The massive flagship, equal to entire fleets, poured all it's firepower into the Court, and from it's hangars came flights of fighters, the Crypter at their head, zeroing in on the airborne Bloodthirsters. Dozens of craft died in moments, and even the Peacemaker began to burn and break as it was targeted in full, but they had achieved their goal: the Court was halted and occupied, and down below the allied hosts surged past.
The hordes of Khorne were unending, brutality incarnate, and the mercenaries fell as wheat before a scythe. Yet against all odds, they did not break; against all expectations, on they pressed. Here and now, they showed their true colours:
They were determined, they were relentless, and above all, they were loyal.
@Durin
Kudos to @random_npc and @Doomed Wombat for the original ideas
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This is almost certainly a terrible idea, but I wonder how much mileage you could get by holding Cadia hostage to Abbadon, probably not enough to do anything super productive (Get me a shuttle to the webway gate or your shiny capital is going to hell, but even more literally this time!), but maybe it could be used as a momentary distraction?
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