- Location
- Anchorage, Alaska
let me guess, a realative of hers kind of broke the machine and she didnt want to feel him die a horrible death?
The Lost Primarch Quest
- Thread starter Daemon Hunter
- Start date
let me guess, a realative of hers kind of broke the machine and she didnt want to feel him die a horrible death?
Nicholas Brooks
Redeemer and Destroyer
- Location
- United States
I don't think so, it's more that the Mechanicum would want the whole organization to be punished for that since it was under government authority that such a thing happened. Even if they surrendered there would be a lot of repercussions for them
Seems fair, cause yeah...went a bit overboard...and I AM GONNA DO IT AGAIN! Glad you liked it and yeah figured it wouldn't be but at least the story is there and a heartwarming bit where so few are. Here's hoping it can be canon in time. As for what I choose...I have to go for the middle one, because the +10 is nice but it's a one off, the middle is a legit shift in his character and opening that he needs long term and this is a good first step.
[X] Perturabo is slightly more likely to share stories about his background
Hehehe, yeh, glad it made you laugh, cause Leman is the sort to do this just to prove a point and not care how it looks l feel. Bjorn makes a great side pov for the interactions so I can essentially dodge describing their denseness from their own POV which tripped me up. And yeh, with everything we've known about Zunia the paranoia just seems...fitting for how she climbed to power. As for the reward...let the pattern of Zunia's bullshit ability to yeet sane time tables continue!
[X] -1 year to Zunia's current task (Going through the full Space Wolf compliance list in search for areas of improvement. Currently completes Year 34)
Niiice, glad you like the analysis and angles I took here, agreed on some stuff that doesn't fit due to outside knowledge but eh, figured with a Negaverse that sort of thing doesn't matter. TY for the liking. As for my choice...I'm going to go for the mystery box with a number, cause we don't know what project this will go to but we can at least trust the GM to make it a good one.
[X] -1 year to one of Guilliman's current projects
Thanks, I really had no idea how Magnus would basically bullshit that he's getting fed info by Ceggy and the elf clown possee, glad I could help with the world building, but I think you do a great job too so no need to be down. And yeh, Magnus is the sort to 'translate' what others say in his head I feel, it'd be a part of his hubris originally but just be a snarky commentary as time goes on I think. As for the Reward...let's stack the deck to ensure he doesn't end up canon magnus.
[] +10 to Magnus' next roll
Yes, yes it is. They are so adorable hehehehe. their reactions were so amusing to write out too and I was chuckling when I was writing. Hopefully they boost up well. Not even a question on the choice, as we really need to boost their CR here.
[] CR training for the Ultramarines is 10% more effective in year 30
Yeah, although Ullanor was one planet, so this is worse. And glad you liked, its a nice bit to keep things connected. For the choice gotta ramp up 5he CR.
[X] +10% to the White Scar's CR training in Year 30
Hah! Glad you like, become a game to come up with those names. Not surprised Kairos being ded is critical and so...MOAR CR!
[X] +10% to the White Scar's CR training in Year 30
Thats fair, that is a pretty heavy moment for him and his legion. Glad you like the idea of the cyphers, its something i saw in another quest and figured itd fit. Can link the quest if you want. As for reward...MOAAR CR! NOMNOMNOM
[X] +10% to the Iron Warriors's CR training in Year 30
- Location
- Elsewhere
It's pretty much what Nick said. The Mechanicum wanted a punishment across the board, and the planetary government refused.
When It Ends
When It Ends
Roboute Guilliman was not a man of stone. Every action he took was one that he believed to be the most pragmatic and logical, but not without a touch of humanity. He understood that he decided the fate of hundreds of billions daily, that his empire and his part in maintaining the wellbeing of the greater Imperium necessitated making difficult decisions. However, the events of Tomesir and the decision made there did not feel right. It was necessary, but that didn't make what he did any less painful or revolting in his mind.
And that he was the one responsible for it all caused feelings of doubt of his capabilities. He analyzed every possible solution straight to accepting a "defeat" and allow Tomesir to go about their business in relative isolation. It would've been easy enough; he could've even worked on some arrangement with the world's ruler, Cyria Kalishiv. Even if she failed to accept peace, he could've ordered for a blockade of Tomesir and waited for the world to beg for the Imperiums aid.
But they had to screw around with those bloody machines, and a Titan no less. The Mechancium demanded action, retribution against the so-called "heathens" of Tomesir. First, they tried with the Imperial Army, but when Tomesir refused to break, the Ultramarines were called to ensure compliance. Roboute was a conqueror, a tyrant, but he never saw himself as having any manner of "divine" right or the allowance to declare if someone was or wasn't faithful. He and Corax had argued similar points with those bloody Cathrics. But at least their God demanded only spiritual purity instead of the worship of machines that no one in this galaxy even knew how to build anymore.
He had brought worlds to heel through combined arms and diplomacy, and even though the use of exterminatus weapons. Those were hard choices, but they were so rare and few. He never used them unless he had to. The Lord of Macragge didn't kill worlds without due cause. Maybe he was too stubborn or prideful, but Robute was good at ending wars without such wanton destruction. He could do better because he had done it time and time again.
However, when his brothers asked for his aid in the war against these "warp entities" and called upon his skills to aid their personal crusade, Roboute had to deal with other obligations, and Tomesir was the one that could not escape his attention. He tried one last final approach to political decorum, asking Cyria for the technicians that had desecrated the Titan. Roboute spoke with the finality of a judge about to pass his sentence.
Cyria denied him all the same, "You wouldn't give your men up either. You'd do the same in my place. That is why people obey our orders, Lord of Macragge. They live and die by our words. But right now, you will be the one that decides how much further this war goes. I ask for peace, will you not take the offer?"
Ultimately, he did not take it. He ordered one final assault against Tomesir, hoping to break their morale and conviction. The Emperors Greatest were unable to break either, and time soon ran out. His brothers could not wait, not after they too have prepared for the coming crusade.
Roboute refused to be the weak link. He would not allow himself to be undermined by a single world, no matter how strong or resilient or the respect he owed the people of Tomesir. The world had to die now.
As Roboute watched it die in real-time, he felt something foreign yet almost familiar. It felt revolting, painful almost. It clutched at his heart and mind, hours after the death of Tomesir. His efforts working allowed for the pain to dull, but it crept back during moments of solitude.
The Primarch knew something was wrong when it occupied his idle thoughts, memories of Cyria's grim face, and her last unspoken words, and the death screams of billions dying followed by a cold silence. It took him a few more days to realize that it was the same feeling from when he was a young lord, barely out of the shadow of his father, Konor Guilliman. By then, Robotues mother had been trying to help him understand what was at stake and that his ascension to the next Lord was inevitable. She wanted him to be prepared, but Roboute was ready, had been for years now.
He called his mother's advice that of an insistent "nagging," and after a few arguments, he had enough and told her that she had no right to claim that she knew what was best. That she needed to drop the facade that she was his "mother," and she knew what was "best for her son."
Roboute would never forget the lock of shock, betrayal, and hurt that appeared on his mother's face. When she obeyed his request to leave, it took the then future Lord of Macragge to feel awful and alone. It took him the better part of a week to gather the courage to apologize to her and get her forgiveness. Thankfully, his mother was a kinder person than most believed, but that he almost burned that bridge over his ego sat with him for the longest time. Over time that feeling went away, replaced with superiority and confidence that came with seeing the Realm of Ultramar flourish and grow.
Now, however, he remembered what this emotion was called...shame. Roboute felt shame over this event. All his superiority, all his prowess of war and diplomacy, and his meticulous nature towards every little detail, the Primarch lost sight of the little picture. There was...had been a solution. He just hadn't seen it in time or perhaps refused to look at it.
He was wise enough to admit that while his arrogance wasn't the core contributor to this failure, it fed into this disaster. No one would question his decision, at least not to his face and the Imperium was content. The Machine Cult was even satisfied with the outcome, although they privately chided or moaned at the Primarchs failure to secure the technologies of Tomesir. In the end, Roboute was backed into a corner, complete with time constraints and a possible pyrrhic victory. He wasn't to waste any more time or lives or resources.
Damn the consequences, and damn those that resisted him.
Kesar understood, as did the Khan and even the Lord of Iron. "Sometimes, you are forced into an unwinnable situation. Besides, we need you here." Perturabos words were harsh and blunt, but they were also empty of rebukes or pettiness.
They also offered no substitute or answer. Roboute almost felt like he needed an affirmation that he had done the wrong thing. This wasn't like all the other times. He couldn't just display the images with cold logic or seasoned pragmatism. Such things didn't dispel the images in his mind or the sounds blaring in his mind.
For the first time in decades, Roboute felt as if he had to question what he was doing out here.
And just like before, he had no answers.
"Idle hands are the devils' playground," Corax told him that after the Cathric Compliance. Roboute didn't know the context for this "devil," but he understood its meaning. There was plenty of work to be done. A great war to help ensure went off smoothly and efficiently.
Around this point, his sons advised him that another Primarch was approaching the system they were in currently.
The Primarch of the Iron Hands and The Gorgon of Medusa, Ferrus Manus.
And that, of course, made the Ultramarines Primarch a tad on edge. Roboute and Ferrus's relationship was complicated. Both men had great respect towards one another, but neither was even sure if they'd call each other friends. Truth told Roboute considered Ferrus to be one of the greatest Primarchs among their brothers.
Ferrus had his issues, but he also had one of the most extensive lists of successful compliances among them, and none of them were easy. Corvus and Roboute both considered Ferrus and the Iron Hands the type they'd call in to help handle particular dangerous compliance. He wasn't like Mortarian or Angron; there was still a consciousness to his style of leadership. Besides, Fulgrim acted a good counter-balance to all Ferrus's shortcomings and vice-versa.
Embarrassing as it was to admit it, Roboute was sure that Ferrus didn't hold the Lord of Macragge in such high esteem. Roboute and Ferrus had also argued extensively during one of the earliest joint compliances some decades ago, back when their Father returned to Terra and wanted to promote one of them to Warmaster.
But even after all of that, Roboute still held Ferrus as one of the greatest among them. Even if Roboute still considered himself to be one of the best leaders.
In any case, when the Fist of Iron entered the system, Roboute welcomed his brother onto the Macragge's Honour with open arms. Another distraction from those infernal thoughts would do Roboute well. However, it was Ferrus that asked him to join on board his ship.
Although the last part of Ferrus's message was a tad concerning...
"Prepare for some sparring. I won't take no for an answer."
As he stepped inside the rather spacious but spartan office, Roboute was almost shocked to see an out of place object standing right above the Gorgon desk. It was a piece of artwork. Since when did Ferrus indulge in Fulgrim's hobbies? He almost laughed before he was caught staring at the painting and then felt dreadfully uncomfortable.
To his relief, the doors to the office opened, and in came Ferrus. The dour and controlled face of the Gorgon did not smile or smirk towards the Lord of Macragge, but he did approach and soundly grip the arms of Roboute in a martial greeting. Roboute felt the cold chill of the metal limbs but paid no mind to it.
"Brother."
"Ferrus." Roboute cracked a small smile; furthermore, he patted the Iron Firsts shoulder.
Even with such a stilted greeting, both men fell into a comfortable silence as they started speaking of past and current events.
Fulgrim, the exaggerated peacock, was a good influence on Ferrus. Roboute recognized that Kesar was like that for Perturbo. Perhaps in some ways, Corvus was like that with the Ultramar Lord or even vice versa? In any case, Roboute was satisfied to hear that both legions had fairly successful compliances.
Of course, that soon caused the discussion to turn to such things. It was around that point that Ferrus brought up a rather sore subject.
"I was told there was an issue with a compliance. A world called Tomesir." It was mentioned so casually, and Roboute was caught up looking at that damn painting again.
"Yes." Roboute's response was curt, "Word travels fast."
"When you hear it from Perturbo himself, I suppose." Ferrus didn't smirk or sound coy. "I was told by Kesar that it was a no-win situation for you."
Roboute heard a brief scream and saw Cyria's defiant gaze, "It wasn't ideal, yes." He pushed aside the thoughts and tried not to think about them. "I heard you are chasing a fleet that is due for some retribution and justice."
"Whose justice?" For the first time, Roboute saw Ferrus frown, "From what I can tell, it will be mostly refugees."
"And?" Roboute felt something bitter in his mouth, "When has that stopped any of us? What's another few billion to add to the butchers' bill."
There was a brief reign of black silence before Ferrus spoke up, "You don't mean that, Guilliman." The Gorgon scoffed before leaning back into his considerable large chair. "Out of all the people among us, save for Vulkan, you are one of the biggest proponents of trying not to end life."
"Is that supposed to be a compliment? Vulkan tries to save as many people as he can, and what has that given him?"
Ferrus shrugged, "A clean consciousness. Something you evidently lack right now."
Roboute was taken aback at the lackadaisical response from Ferrus, "What has Vulkan done that makes you think he has a clean consciousness? He's more than aware of the billions that died due to his actions. Especially with what will happen if he gets his reforms going!"
"Because he tries." Ferrus stared daggers at Roboute, "And you do as well. Your arrogance and superiority are a shield for your over-inflated ego, but you are one someone that also tries to save lives and resolve things diplomatically." He held up a metal hand to stop the Lord of Ultramar's rebuttal, "You aren't perfect in those regards, but neither is Vulkan. None of us are, no matter how much Fulgrim says otherwise, which means we are prone to mistakes. And when it happens, it eats away at our souls."
He almost laughed at what was happening, "Are you...trying to offer some advice over what happened at Tomesir? Ferrus, I am fine."
"You've been staring at the paint above me this entire time." Roboute blinked when he heard that. Was it that obvious? "Mesmerizing, isn't it? It's called Guernica. It's a dedication of a tragedy from Old Earth, a mass killing of civilians. A reminder of the smallest cruelties that war can afflict, both upon the victims and ourselves. Someone wanted to recall the guilt they must have felt upon seeing whatever slaughter that took place."
Roboute felt anger bubbling up now, "I am not guilty of doing anything outside of letting things escalate to the point of no return."
"I never accused you of being guilty of a crime." Ferrus remarked flatly, "But you feel guilt over what happened. Kesar mentioned feeling a sense of dread around you, almost like a spirit of apathy and regret walked into the room."
The Lord of Macragge stood up, turning his back from the painting and the Gorgon, "Kesar thinks he understands us all, that one or two meetings and he has us pinned. But he continues to assume things."
"One doesn't need to assume that what happened at Tomesir didn't get to you." Ferrus pointed out, especially without how Roboute was responding. "Roboute, brother, I am sorry about what happened. It obviously affected you greatly, more than you've let on..."
"Ferrus," Roboute sighed and looked back at the Gorgon, "What happened with Tomesir was...I could've stopped it from getting that bad. I can't make excuses for myself because I know I could have brought it into compliance peacefully. It wasn't a lack of time or outside interference. I failed to find a solution." He paused as he considered that notion, "I've had disasters, but those were for reasons I couldn't control. This was entirely preventable."
"Roboute, you do know you aren't an infallible person, correct?" Ferrus's tone could almost be considered teasing, but the Gorgon didn't tease. "I'm not going to say what happened is or isn't your fault. But you need to realize this truth: what's done is done. You have to accept and learn from what happened, something you are more than capable of understanding."
"I wish it was that simple..." Roboute rubbed his face for a moment, "I can't tell my thoughts just to ignore it."
"You aren't supposed to, but this guilt you are feeling, right?" Ferrus stood up now and approached his brother, "You have to let it go. If you feel as if you can't escape it, then find a means to make amends and put things right."
Roboute scoffed, "Put things right with who?! Tomesir...Cyria and her people are all gone. There is no one to make things right with now. Only ghosts and a single monument on some dead world to identify that they even existed." He looked away and grimaced at the thoughts that came rushing back, "When does this all end? This shame and guilt."
"Only when you allow it too. And the best way to do that is to make those amends. If you can't with the people that were harmed, then go and find someone else to help." Ferrus remarked flatly, "Roboute, I wish I can give you some answers or closer to this, but I can't. I am not suited for it, but I am here to listen and offer my advice. We both know that things aren't going to get better, and the choices ahead of us will be hard. But we both know people in the galaxy need help, and out of all of us, you are one of the few who have the qualification and capabilities to do something."
"Heh, that's..." Roboute was actually touched, "Thank you, Ferrus. Hearing that from you means a lot."
"Does it?" Ferrus was confused, "You have a high opinion of me; then, something only Fulgrim seems to have these days."
Roboute gave him a half-grin, "Well, you are the best of us in comparison."
To Roboute's surprise, Ferrus shook his head after hearing that compliment, "No, Roboute. I never will be the leader the likes of you or Horus or Fulgrim. You especially represent the best of us all, the one that can actually make a better civilization for everyone. You have Vulkans compassion but Horus's pragmatism and Fulgrims diligence, to name a few."
"Now, you are just feeding my ego." Roboute smiled at his brother, "Which I've been told several times is quite large."
"Yes, your lack of self-awareness is something to address as well." Ferrus's flat response was so dry that Roboute almost missed the humor in it, "But I have a solution for that as well. Let us go for a spar." The Gorgon's tone would broker no argument.
Roboute felt an approaching sense of danger now, "Yes...right, a spar. A friendly spar, maybe a few rounds."
Then Ferrus did something that shocked Roboute to the core. Ferrus started to laugh. Roboute doubted even Fulgrim heard his brother laugh with such vicious joy.
"Oh no, my dear brother. I do believe our spar will be a rather bloody affair." The grin on his face would've made Leman proud and probably would've caused Fulgrim to take a pict to remember the moment. "Did you know that I personally built an arena onboard the Fist for such occasions? It's designed so men like us can go all out in a fight. Allow us to test each other out to our fullest."
"Hmm," Roboute tried not to sound nervous, "Ferrus, I'm not exactly the best fighter among our brothers. Certainly better than Magnus, but his psychic powers tend to give a rather versatile edge."
"All the more reason to enjoy and learn from the moment!" Ferrus remarked loudly, "The more you bleed in training, the less you do in war!" The Gorgon was clearly excited. "Put your worries and concerns into your strikes, Roboute! Allow the arena to cleanse your soul, let the haze wash over you, just for these moments to allow for clarity of purpose and reason."
For a moment, Roboute wondered if any of his brothers would believe him when he saw Ferrus getting visibly excited over something. Perhaps he could've made an excuse to get out of this situation, but after this attempt by the Gorgon to reach out and provide some insight, maybe even a chance to vent his frustrations, Roboute owed Ferrus this much.
Maybe it would also help him.
"Very well," Roboute grimaced as he nodded, "I suppose I should get a bit of practice in the martial styles against a worthy and dangerous opponent."
"That's the spirit." Ferrus sent him another grin, "A few hours will do us both good."
"...a few hours? Hrm, right." Roboute wasn't getting any planning done tonight; that much was certain. Still, as both he and Ferrus exited the room, he spared one last glance over at Guernica. His thoughts were still filled with Tomesir and Cyria, the screams, and the blinding light, but there was also something new that grew alongside those memories.
A purpose, to do better and to make things right. Whatever that would be remained unclear for now, but Roboute would figure it out. Mayhaps Ferrus could even knock some sense into his head while they fought in this arena of his, maybe at least for tonight, the pain and exhaustion and the company of his brother would allow for a brief reprieve from the shame and guilt and grief. He wondered when it would end...but then again, nothing truly ever ended.
---
@Daemon Hunter Okay, a bit of Roboute thoughts on what happened most recently.
"One ought to hold on to one's heart; for if one lets it go, one soon loses control of the head too." - Friedrich Nietzsche.
---
---
Roboute Guilliman was not a man of stone. Every action he took was one that he believed to be the most pragmatic and logical, but not without a touch of humanity. He understood that he decided the fate of hundreds of billions daily, that his empire and his part in maintaining the wellbeing of the greater Imperium necessitated making difficult decisions. However, the events of Tomesir and the decision made there did not feel right. It was necessary, but that didn't make what he did any less painful or revolting in his mind.
And that he was the one responsible for it all caused feelings of doubt of his capabilities. He analyzed every possible solution straight to accepting a "defeat" and allow Tomesir to go about their business in relative isolation. It would've been easy enough; he could've even worked on some arrangement with the world's ruler, Cyria Kalishiv. Even if she failed to accept peace, he could've ordered for a blockade of Tomesir and waited for the world to beg for the Imperiums aid.
But they had to screw around with those bloody machines, and a Titan no less. The Mechancium demanded action, retribution against the so-called "heathens" of Tomesir. First, they tried with the Imperial Army, but when Tomesir refused to break, the Ultramarines were called to ensure compliance. Roboute was a conqueror, a tyrant, but he never saw himself as having any manner of "divine" right or the allowance to declare if someone was or wasn't faithful. He and Corax had argued similar points with those bloody Cathrics. But at least their God demanded only spiritual purity instead of the worship of machines that no one in this galaxy even knew how to build anymore.
He had brought worlds to heel through combined arms and diplomacy, and even though the use of exterminatus weapons. Those were hard choices, but they were so rare and few. He never used them unless he had to. The Lord of Macragge didn't kill worlds without due cause. Maybe he was too stubborn or prideful, but Robute was good at ending wars without such wanton destruction. He could do better because he had done it time and time again.
However, when his brothers asked for his aid in the war against these "warp entities" and called upon his skills to aid their personal crusade, Roboute had to deal with other obligations, and Tomesir was the one that could not escape his attention. He tried one last final approach to political decorum, asking Cyria for the technicians that had desecrated the Titan. Roboute spoke with the finality of a judge about to pass his sentence.
Cyria denied him all the same, "You wouldn't give your men up either. You'd do the same in my place. That is why people obey our orders, Lord of Macragge. They live and die by our words. But right now, you will be the one that decides how much further this war goes. I ask for peace, will you not take the offer?"
Ultimately, he did not take it. He ordered one final assault against Tomesir, hoping to break their morale and conviction. The Emperors Greatest were unable to break either, and time soon ran out. His brothers could not wait, not after they too have prepared for the coming crusade.
Roboute refused to be the weak link. He would not allow himself to be undermined by a single world, no matter how strong or resilient or the respect he owed the people of Tomesir. The world had to die now.
As Roboute watched it die in real-time, he felt something foreign yet almost familiar. It felt revolting, painful almost. It clutched at his heart and mind, hours after the death of Tomesir. His efforts working allowed for the pain to dull, but it crept back during moments of solitude.
The Primarch knew something was wrong when it occupied his idle thoughts, memories of Cyria's grim face, and her last unspoken words, and the death screams of billions dying followed by a cold silence. It took him a few more days to realize that it was the same feeling from when he was a young lord, barely out of the shadow of his father, Konor Guilliman. By then, Robotues mother had been trying to help him understand what was at stake and that his ascension to the next Lord was inevitable. She wanted him to be prepared, but Roboute was ready, had been for years now.
He called his mother's advice that of an insistent "nagging," and after a few arguments, he had enough and told her that she had no right to claim that she knew what was best. That she needed to drop the facade that she was his "mother," and she knew what was "best for her son."
Roboute would never forget the lock of shock, betrayal, and hurt that appeared on his mother's face. When she obeyed his request to leave, it took the then future Lord of Macragge to feel awful and alone. It took him the better part of a week to gather the courage to apologize to her and get her forgiveness. Thankfully, his mother was a kinder person than most believed, but that he almost burned that bridge over his ego sat with him for the longest time. Over time that feeling went away, replaced with superiority and confidence that came with seeing the Realm of Ultramar flourish and grow.
Now, however, he remembered what this emotion was called...shame. Roboute felt shame over this event. All his superiority, all his prowess of war and diplomacy, and his meticulous nature towards every little detail, the Primarch lost sight of the little picture. There was...had been a solution. He just hadn't seen it in time or perhaps refused to look at it.
He was wise enough to admit that while his arrogance wasn't the core contributor to this failure, it fed into this disaster. No one would question his decision, at least not to his face and the Imperium was content. The Machine Cult was even satisfied with the outcome, although they privately chided or moaned at the Primarchs failure to secure the technologies of Tomesir. In the end, Roboute was backed into a corner, complete with time constraints and a possible pyrrhic victory. He wasn't to waste any more time or lives or resources.
Damn the consequences, and damn those that resisted him.
Kesar understood, as did the Khan and even the Lord of Iron. "Sometimes, you are forced into an unwinnable situation. Besides, we need you here." Perturabos words were harsh and blunt, but they were also empty of rebukes or pettiness.
They also offered no substitute or answer. Roboute almost felt like he needed an affirmation that he had done the wrong thing. This wasn't like all the other times. He couldn't just display the images with cold logic or seasoned pragmatism. Such things didn't dispel the images in his mind or the sounds blaring in his mind.
For the first time in decades, Roboute felt as if he had to question what he was doing out here.
And just like before, he had no answers.
---
A month passed, and Roboute's mind had calmed down. He allowed himself to focus on the more important things, which gave his mind a much-needed reprieve from the previous events. He was almost thankful for the amount of work that Perturbo had in store for him and his legion.
"Idle hands are the devils' playground," Corax told him that after the Cathric Compliance. Roboute didn't know the context for this "devil," but he understood its meaning. There was plenty of work to be done. A great war to help ensure went off smoothly and efficiently.
Around this point, his sons advised him that another Primarch was approaching the system they were in currently.
The Primarch of the Iron Hands and The Gorgon of Medusa, Ferrus Manus.
And that, of course, made the Ultramarines Primarch a tad on edge. Roboute and Ferrus's relationship was complicated. Both men had great respect towards one another, but neither was even sure if they'd call each other friends. Truth told Roboute considered Ferrus to be one of the greatest Primarchs among their brothers.
Ferrus had his issues, but he also had one of the most extensive lists of successful compliances among them, and none of them were easy. Corvus and Roboute both considered Ferrus and the Iron Hands the type they'd call in to help handle particular dangerous compliance. He wasn't like Mortarian or Angron; there was still a consciousness to his style of leadership. Besides, Fulgrim acted a good counter-balance to all Ferrus's shortcomings and vice-versa.
Embarrassing as it was to admit it, Roboute was sure that Ferrus didn't hold the Lord of Macragge in such high esteem. Roboute and Ferrus had also argued extensively during one of the earliest joint compliances some decades ago, back when their Father returned to Terra and wanted to promote one of them to Warmaster.
But even after all of that, Roboute still held Ferrus as one of the greatest among them. Even if Roboute still considered himself to be one of the best leaders.
In any case, when the Fist of Iron entered the system, Roboute welcomed his brother onto the Macragge's Honour with open arms. Another distraction from those infernal thoughts would do Roboute well. However, it was Ferrus that asked him to join on board his ship.
Although the last part of Ferrus's message was a tad concerning...
"Prepare for some sparring. I won't take no for an answer."
---
Roboute had been on the Fist of Iron several times before, most of them purely ceremonial. He never actually explored much of its inner workings. Upon arriving on the Fist, and going through the subsequent ceremonies and events befitting the arrival of a fellow Primarch and his Honor Guard, Roboute was asked to wait inside Ferrus's office as he finished some minor preparations for an event in the Lord of Macragge honor.
As he stepped inside the rather spacious but spartan office, Roboute was almost shocked to see an out of place object standing right above the Gorgon desk. It was a piece of artwork. Since when did Ferrus indulge in Fulgrim's hobbies? He almost laughed before he was caught staring at the painting and then felt dreadfully uncomfortable.
To his relief, the doors to the office opened, and in came Ferrus. The dour and controlled face of the Gorgon did not smile or smirk towards the Lord of Macragge, but he did approach and soundly grip the arms of Roboute in a martial greeting. Roboute felt the cold chill of the metal limbs but paid no mind to it.
"Brother."
"Ferrus." Roboute cracked a small smile; furthermore, he patted the Iron Firsts shoulder.
Even with such a stilted greeting, both men fell into a comfortable silence as they started speaking of past and current events.
---
A few hours passed as the two Primarchs spoke to each other. Roboute kept the events involving the Maelstrom of the discussion. Instead, the two focused on their respective empires and legion status. Ferrus was blunt, but unlike Perturbo, he spoke of his legion vast improvements and successes with the Emperor's Children.
Fulgrim, the exaggerated peacock, was a good influence on Ferrus. Roboute recognized that Kesar was like that for Perturbo. Perhaps in some ways, Corvus was like that with the Ultramar Lord or even vice versa? In any case, Roboute was satisfied to hear that both legions had fairly successful compliances.
Of course, that soon caused the discussion to turn to such things. It was around that point that Ferrus brought up a rather sore subject.
"I was told there was an issue with a compliance. A world called Tomesir." It was mentioned so casually, and Roboute was caught up looking at that damn painting again.
"Yes." Roboute's response was curt, "Word travels fast."
"When you hear it from Perturbo himself, I suppose." Ferrus didn't smirk or sound coy. "I was told by Kesar that it was a no-win situation for you."
Roboute heard a brief scream and saw Cyria's defiant gaze, "It wasn't ideal, yes." He pushed aside the thoughts and tried not to think about them. "I heard you are chasing a fleet that is due for some retribution and justice."
"Whose justice?" For the first time, Roboute saw Ferrus frown, "From what I can tell, it will be mostly refugees."
"And?" Roboute felt something bitter in his mouth, "When has that stopped any of us? What's another few billion to add to the butchers' bill."
There was a brief reign of black silence before Ferrus spoke up, "You don't mean that, Guilliman." The Gorgon scoffed before leaning back into his considerable large chair. "Out of all the people among us, save for Vulkan, you are one of the biggest proponents of trying not to end life."
"Is that supposed to be a compliment? Vulkan tries to save as many people as he can, and what has that given him?"
Ferrus shrugged, "A clean consciousness. Something you evidently lack right now."
Roboute was taken aback at the lackadaisical response from Ferrus, "What has Vulkan done that makes you think he has a clean consciousness? He's more than aware of the billions that died due to his actions. Especially with what will happen if he gets his reforms going!"
"Because he tries." Ferrus stared daggers at Roboute, "And you do as well. Your arrogance and superiority are a shield for your over-inflated ego, but you are one someone that also tries to save lives and resolve things diplomatically." He held up a metal hand to stop the Lord of Ultramar's rebuttal, "You aren't perfect in those regards, but neither is Vulkan. None of us are, no matter how much Fulgrim says otherwise, which means we are prone to mistakes. And when it happens, it eats away at our souls."
He almost laughed at what was happening, "Are you...trying to offer some advice over what happened at Tomesir? Ferrus, I am fine."
"You've been staring at the paint above me this entire time." Roboute blinked when he heard that. Was it that obvious? "Mesmerizing, isn't it? It's called Guernica. It's a dedication of a tragedy from Old Earth, a mass killing of civilians. A reminder of the smallest cruelties that war can afflict, both upon the victims and ourselves. Someone wanted to recall the guilt they must have felt upon seeing whatever slaughter that took place."
Roboute felt anger bubbling up now, "I am not guilty of doing anything outside of letting things escalate to the point of no return."
"I never accused you of being guilty of a crime." Ferrus remarked flatly, "But you feel guilt over what happened. Kesar mentioned feeling a sense of dread around you, almost like a spirit of apathy and regret walked into the room."
The Lord of Macragge stood up, turning his back from the painting and the Gorgon, "Kesar thinks he understands us all, that one or two meetings and he has us pinned. But he continues to assume things."
"One doesn't need to assume that what happened at Tomesir didn't get to you." Ferrus pointed out, especially without how Roboute was responding. "Roboute, brother, I am sorry about what happened. It obviously affected you greatly, more than you've let on..."
"Ferrus," Roboute sighed and looked back at the Gorgon, "What happened with Tomesir was...I could've stopped it from getting that bad. I can't make excuses for myself because I know I could have brought it into compliance peacefully. It wasn't a lack of time or outside interference. I failed to find a solution." He paused as he considered that notion, "I've had disasters, but those were for reasons I couldn't control. This was entirely preventable."
"Roboute, you do know you aren't an infallible person, correct?" Ferrus's tone could almost be considered teasing, but the Gorgon didn't tease. "I'm not going to say what happened is or isn't your fault. But you need to realize this truth: what's done is done. You have to accept and learn from what happened, something you are more than capable of understanding."
"I wish it was that simple..." Roboute rubbed his face for a moment, "I can't tell my thoughts just to ignore it."
"You aren't supposed to, but this guilt you are feeling, right?" Ferrus stood up now and approached his brother, "You have to let it go. If you feel as if you can't escape it, then find a means to make amends and put things right."
Roboute scoffed, "Put things right with who?! Tomesir...Cyria and her people are all gone. There is no one to make things right with now. Only ghosts and a single monument on some dead world to identify that they even existed." He looked away and grimaced at the thoughts that came rushing back, "When does this all end? This shame and guilt."
"Only when you allow it too. And the best way to do that is to make those amends. If you can't with the people that were harmed, then go and find someone else to help." Ferrus remarked flatly, "Roboute, I wish I can give you some answers or closer to this, but I can't. I am not suited for it, but I am here to listen and offer my advice. We both know that things aren't going to get better, and the choices ahead of us will be hard. But we both know people in the galaxy need help, and out of all of us, you are one of the few who have the qualification and capabilities to do something."
"Heh, that's..." Roboute was actually touched, "Thank you, Ferrus. Hearing that from you means a lot."
"Does it?" Ferrus was confused, "You have a high opinion of me; then, something only Fulgrim seems to have these days."
Roboute gave him a half-grin, "Well, you are the best of us in comparison."
To Roboute's surprise, Ferrus shook his head after hearing that compliment, "No, Roboute. I never will be the leader the likes of you or Horus or Fulgrim. You especially represent the best of us all, the one that can actually make a better civilization for everyone. You have Vulkans compassion but Horus's pragmatism and Fulgrims diligence, to name a few."
"Now, you are just feeding my ego." Roboute smiled at his brother, "Which I've been told several times is quite large."
"Yes, your lack of self-awareness is something to address as well." Ferrus's flat response was so dry that Roboute almost missed the humor in it, "But I have a solution for that as well. Let us go for a spar." The Gorgon's tone would broker no argument.
Roboute felt an approaching sense of danger now, "Yes...right, a spar. A friendly spar, maybe a few rounds."
Then Ferrus did something that shocked Roboute to the core. Ferrus started to laugh. Roboute doubted even Fulgrim heard his brother laugh with such vicious joy.
"Oh no, my dear brother. I do believe our spar will be a rather bloody affair." The grin on his face would've made Leman proud and probably would've caused Fulgrim to take a pict to remember the moment. "Did you know that I personally built an arena onboard the Fist for such occasions? It's designed so men like us can go all out in a fight. Allow us to test each other out to our fullest."
"Hmm," Roboute tried not to sound nervous, "Ferrus, I'm not exactly the best fighter among our brothers. Certainly better than Magnus, but his psychic powers tend to give a rather versatile edge."
"All the more reason to enjoy and learn from the moment!" Ferrus remarked loudly, "The more you bleed in training, the less you do in war!" The Gorgon was clearly excited. "Put your worries and concerns into your strikes, Roboute! Allow the arena to cleanse your soul, let the haze wash over you, just for these moments to allow for clarity of purpose and reason."
For a moment, Roboute wondered if any of his brothers would believe him when he saw Ferrus getting visibly excited over something. Perhaps he could've made an excuse to get out of this situation, but after this attempt by the Gorgon to reach out and provide some insight, maybe even a chance to vent his frustrations, Roboute owed Ferrus this much.
Maybe it would also help him.
"Very well," Roboute grimaced as he nodded, "I suppose I should get a bit of practice in the martial styles against a worthy and dangerous opponent."
"That's the spirit." Ferrus sent him another grin, "A few hours will do us both good."
"...a few hours? Hrm, right." Roboute wasn't getting any planning done tonight; that much was certain. Still, as both he and Ferrus exited the room, he spared one last glance over at Guernica. His thoughts were still filled with Tomesir and Cyria, the screams, and the blinding light, but there was also something new that grew alongside those memories.
A purpose, to do better and to make things right. Whatever that would be remained unclear for now, but Roboute would figure it out. Mayhaps Ferrus could even knock some sense into his head while they fought in this arena of his, maybe at least for tonight, the pain and exhaustion and the company of his brother would allow for a brief reprieve from the shame and guilt and grief. He wondered when it would end...but then again, nothing truly ever ended.
---
@Daemon Hunter Okay, a bit of Roboute thoughts on what happened most recently.
Nicholas Brooks
Redeemer and Destroyer
- Location
- United States
[X] Have his sons hold back. This was meant to be a learning experience for his nephews. While it would increase casualties, they would also learn far more.
- Location
- Elsewhere
Alright, so I'm closing the vote here. Looks like you chose to deploy to key areas. Then Khan happened. As did these dice. I've just got to say that this was incredibly out of left field for me, but here's the summary of what happens. Jagathai is told by Perturabo to harass the inhabitants as much as possible before the Iron Warriors will clean up. He took this to mean kill every military force on the planet through hit and run strikes. Essentially he just soloed the entire planet leaving nothing to do for the Iron Warriors. Then he rolled really poorly on his corruption resistance, but thankfully the fallen Astartes were fairly obvious about it, and Kesar and Khan were able to hunt them down.
Temnota's Fast Reaction Forces: 5 + 40 (Homeground) + 60 (Numbers) + 30 (AA Grid) + 20 (Defenses) = 155
Khan's Speed: 77 + 20 (Astartes) + 100 (Khan Hit and Run) + 120 (White Scars Harrassment Bonus) + 30 (Naval Supremacy) = 347
Corruption: 87 + ??? = ???
Corruption Resistance White Scars: 9 + 150 (CR) + 20 (Astartes) = 179
Astartes: 9 + ??? = ???
Noticing Cultists: 65 + 40 (Storm Seers) + 20 (Ever Vigilant, Ever Watchful) + 40 (Primarch) + 40 (Kesar) + 40 (Witch Hunters Brought in) = 245
Corrupted White Scar Escape: 84 + 100 (Disengage) + 120 (White Scar Applicable Bonus) + 20 (Astartes) = 324
Kesar: 60 + 260 (Kesar) + 100 (Khan) = 420
Information Security: 71 + ??? = ???
Your Search: 34 + ??? = ???
Temnota's Fast Reaction Forces: 5 + 40 (Homeground) + 60 (Numbers) + 30 (AA Grid) + 20 (Defenses) = 155
Khan's Speed: 77 + 20 (Astartes) + 100 (Khan Hit and Run) + 120 (White Scars Harrassment Bonus) + 30 (Naval Supremacy) = 347
Corruption: 87 + ??? = ???
Corruption Resistance White Scars: 9 + 150 (CR) + 20 (Astartes) = 179
Astartes: 9 + ??? = ???
Noticing Cultists: 65 + 40 (Storm Seers) + 20 (Ever Vigilant, Ever Watchful) + 40 (Primarch) + 40 (Kesar) + 40 (Witch Hunters Brought in) = 245
Corrupted White Scar Escape: 84 + 100 (Disengage) + 120 (White Scar Applicable Bonus) + 20 (Astartes) = 324
Kesar: 60 + 260 (Kesar) + 100 (Khan) = 420
Information Security: 71 + ??? = ???
Your Search: 34 + ??? = ???
- Location
- Elsewhere
Just updated the relationship tracker. It's up to date now. Maybe a little ahead actually.
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Shadow of the Temnota. (Must Read)
TinyGladiator
Just another SVer
- Location
- I move alot.
Hiya! Decided to make an omake on that world of Chaos Xenos that worship Be'lakor that, uh, have been rather thoroughly destroyed. Like wow, barely even good enough for the training for the Maelstrom that they were meant for. Anyways, uh, I hope that this is good and enjoyable enough to read! 0u0
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Shadow of the Temnota.
"...and then from the roiling storm that engulfed our world came the champion of Chaos!" the figure shouted, their face being displayed across screens that were jutting out of a tower. "The first and greatest prince to ascend by the side of the gods! He who is the Dark Master of us all! Be'lakor the Shadow of Gods!"
Crowds all across the world cheered along with the broadcaster, countless dark humanoid figures screamed into the air as they praised and called towards their idolised master. Black, leathery Wings were splayed out all together as screams echoed through one corner of the world to the other.
The presenter, who also looked just as excited as their audience did, slowly calmed down once more before they faced the screens again. They stood taller than the rest of their race, most of which stood at a height that was slightly shorter than that of a man. Their wings were great tapestries compared to most of their brethren too, even in a literal sense as arcane markings and ritual circles were etched into the skin of their wings.
The engravings glowing dimly against the black flesh of the creature, illuminating their form. Most brightly of all was the silhouette of Be'lakor that laid in the centre of their chest. With a wave of the golden staff they held in their right hand, that was covered in images of eyes, they continued on as the symbols across their body shifted in place.
"Today makes another anniversary of enlightenment to us all. Today is the day that marked when we and our world were reborn by the power of the Warp, where our world became Be'Khram and us as the Temnota. Today is a day of unity for all those who serve under Be'lakor."
The glow emanating from their body began to slowly fade away until they were almost invisible to see, all the symbols blurring together as they tangled up.
"Remember, today is the day of revelry. Tomorrow marks when I and my fellow rulers shall begin the time of sacrifices and announce what they shall entail."
And then, as all the broadcasting devices blinked off together, the etched sorcerer's excited expression shifted into a snarl faster than their animated engravings.
"The young ones seem to get louder each year." they growled out as they turned back and headed for a different chamber deeper within the great cathedral they were in.
At one time, a time long before Chaos had touched the world, it was once a place of learning and advancement for who the Temnota once were. A fortress-facility that held the greatest minds and created the greatest marvels, even ships that could reach the stars.
Then, on the day when everything changed, a device that could reach beyond even the stars was conceived. An engine that could harness the power of a strange realm connected to the mortal plane and use it in ways that would bring about a new, enlightened age.
And then the machine broke, and the world broke with it, and the new age came as all were infused with endless darkness and nightmares.
And, for just a few moments, the visage of a being beyond any mortal. A demigod that stood greater than all others like him, empowered by grand deities beyond comprehension. Purpose found, drenched in awe and cracking minds that screamed as twisting thoughts wormed through their souls from all that they saw, living visions carried by a storm.
Chaos. Four gods. Be'lakor.
And now the visage of Be'lakor stood everywhere, statues of them stood taller most other buildings were placed in every city as the shadows of them stretched out and touched everyone. Sacrificial altars and arenas were watched over by his form, carved into metal and stone and the bodies of the living and the dead that were thrown there. Even the bodies of the Temnota now resembled the great master they all dedicated their existence towards.
Everything was devoted to the First Prince. Everything was dominated by the Dark Master. Everything belonged to Be'lakor.
But while Be'lakor was worshiped most of all, the gods above even him were not ignored for that would be unthinkable. Temples and shrines to them were built all across the world and sacrifices were dedicated to them directly. Though the gods were venerated and prayed to mostly through the worship of Be'lakor, for as he was divine champion of all the gods would certainly represent and embody each of them too in the greatest manner.
Thus the world of Be'Khram was divided between five rulers, four lesser rulers to represent each aspect of Be'lakor that was of one of the gods and one to represent them and Be'lakor as a whole as the ruler of rulers.
Each Temnota champion desired nothing more than to serve the Dark Master, and there was no better way to do that than to guide and command the others into glory in his shadowed name. And the best way to prove their power and their conviction was to defeat the other champions and contenders to Be'lakor's service and sacrifice them to rise up to the top by his side to finally gain his notice.
"And why not?" a light voice replied from above.
The sorcerer, ruler of the Tzeentchian Temnota, paused for a moment and glanced a few floors up. Looking over from the gemstone decorated railing was something that made his snarl grow bigger.
The Temnotan figure was noticeably smaller in size than the high sorcerer, looking closer to a member of the many crowds that gathered around the broadcast towers and joyfully, passionately praised the Dark Master than somebody with the stature of a leader. But they too sported symbols and etchings across their body, ones that did not glow with power but were brightly coated with paints and dark blood, along with digging nails and hooks latched to their flesh.
The most painted symbol and bloodied was the symbol of Slaanesh that was on their tarnished chest, surrounded by a ring of deep scar tissue that, along with more paint, formed the image of Be'lakor's face screaming for all to see.
The champion of Slaanesh, ruler of the wild and mad followers of Be'lakor, leapt over the railing and flew down to the side of the sorcerer, landing right next to their rival Temnotan master.
"This is the day of celebration, after all." the Slaaneshi Temnotan continued casually, as the two leaders of the world moved together towards their shared destination. "They should all celebrate as loudly and as much as they can to show how much they worship the Dark Master. Is this not what why you speak to the masses of our history, oh keeper of knowledge?"
"Pah, what do they know of worship?" the champion of Tzeentch spat out. "All those children do is scream and pray while I recite the scared histories, they're barely able to preform a simple ritual in the name of the Great Shadow. Just a mass of disappointments with empty heads that haven't grown up yet. Useless. They will all be useless for what lies ahead."
"'What lies ahead'? Have you divined something interesting to lie about? Oh, I would love to hear whatever you come up with this time. So fanciful you are with your tales."
The Temnotan sorcerer paused and visibly hesitated for a moment, turning their head away from their hated peer as uncertainty clouded their features before responding.
"No," they said finally, expression serious and disturbed. "It is no lie. It's too important for that. I will reveal what I have seen when the council is assembled."
"Hm…," the painted rulers replied as they idly glanced around the cathedral, not even looking towards their fellow. "You almost seemed convincing then. Ah, but back to what I was saying before. If you don't want to do it so much then why not let me take over next time? I do so enjoy the fervour of the the crowd, their passion is just so... wonderful."
The mood of the sorcerer instantly shifted as they glared at the follower of Slaanesh with a look of disgust and annoyance annoyed, snarling even fiercer than before.
"You?" he growled out. "Even if you were a viable candidate, which you will never manage to be, then I wouldn't grant you this position for anything you could offer me. I complain because I have the right to, not because I wish to be rid of it. And that assumes that you would even survive next year, upstart."
"Hm, perhaps that would not be an issue if the ritual masters taught this generation properly. Although, that is apparently so difficult for you. Along with keeping them alive."
The sorcerer stopped walking and slammed the end of their staff into the ground, a twisting flame ignited from the top of it as the etchings and marks around their body began to burst into light and writhe across his flesh. The painted ruler reeled back for a moment as violent, burning sparks danced around their feet that left scorch marks on the floor.
"You dare blame me for this, child?!" the Tzeentchian shouted. "Mock me?! You are the biggest disappointment of all this year! I had foolishly thought you'd be a worthy new champion when you took your place beside us, but you are a hundred times as ignorant as your predecessor! A waste, a disgrace of power that I will gladly remove if you dare speak to me like that again!"
The Slaaneshi ruler dodged a cascade of fires and pulled out two of the largest nails that were embedded into their chest and pulled them out, wielding them as daggers. The tips of them leaked black, oily blood and another fluid that hissed and smoked as it touched the floor.
"Oh," the young ruler said, pure excitement emanating from their voice. "I dare. I always dare, you old and-"
"Arguments... hah... already?" a hoarse voice wheezed out, each word drawn out with tortuously thin breaths that marked each pause.
"Why did you interrupt them?" a deeper, rough voice growled out. "It seemed like those two cowards would finally do something good for once."
The two rulers, moments away from trying to kill each other, stopped and turned to face the two other arrivals.
The first speaker was tall, much taller than any other member of their race, looking as though their proportions were roughly stretched out beyond the length. Their body was thin to the point that it was near skeletal, their legs and arms looked as if only skin covered their bones without any other flesh.
Around their head and torso were the worming growths of tree roots and branches crawling up from their waist, through their ribs and back, and twisting around to form a sealed cage of dead, woven wood over the head. Their wings were ruined and warped too, transformed into a tangle of branches that bent upwards.
In the centre of their chest was no etching or painted image of Be'lakor but a crude depiction of them that was formed from an indentation of their body, bones bending in such a way to allow the likeness of the Dark Master to appear on the sunken flesh.
The second speaker was covered in plates of bent iron and brass that merged with their flesh, the pieces together forming a patchwork suit of fused armour around their body, most of which was taken from the armour and weapons of other murderous berserkers. A massive battleaxe was held in one hand, still freshly dripping with blood from its latest execution.
While most of their body was covered in by metal there were places that remained uncovered. Their wings remained bare and displayed numerous rips and tears, scars of various battles and victories. Their mouth was left exposed, revealing rows of savage fangs.
And in the centre of their chest was an opening in their armour, an open circle with eight jutting spikes pointing inwards, with the image of Be'lakor wielding their sword up to the sky as they stood atop a mount of skulls that was burned into the flesh of the Khornate champion.
The gnarled master and the high executioner stood together as they regarded the two rulers, in positions ready for combat, and then turned away and began to walk deeper into the centre of the grand cathedral.
The Tzeentchian and Slaaneshi ruling priests of Be'lakor glared at one another for a few more moments before they begrudgingly followed the two other Temnotan leaders, the flame of the golden staff being doused as nails were inserted back into their holes.
"I had...," the withered Nurglite began to say, their head creaking as it turned towards the armoured warrior. "Thought that... you would want... them dead... yourself? Trying to... avoid a battle?"
The furious glare that came through the eyes of the Khornate ruler would have cowed lesser Temnota in fear of their coming end, but the stretched champion didn't even pause.
"No," the executioner said "But I am more than pleased whenever the blood of the unworthy is spilt before they make things any more pitiful for those that truly believe and serve the Dark Master properly. Fools, trying to pathetically attempt a fight one another when the time of sacrifices is nearly upon us. Be'lakor would take both your heads for this disrespect when he finally comes for us."
The sorcerer clutched their staff tightly as they tried to resist the urge to start another fight, while the painted champion didn't resist anything as they began to speak again.
"I would be more than willing to prove just how powerful I truly am to the rest of you if you keep treating me as if I was just a child."
"Talk, now just more talk." the Khornate Temnotan shook their head at the threat. "If you're anything like the leader you claim to be then you should save your talk for the council and prove whatever worth you have there."
The painted ruler looked as though they had plenty more to say, and their hands drifted back to the nails on their chest for a moment, but they held their tongue even if the look of resentment that their face had become was obvious.
And then the expression of the wild champion's face changed again as the four rulers arrived at their destination, the central chamber of the great cathedral of Be'lakor.
The centre of the great cathedral was where where it had all started, once a sealed room that burst apart and was shattered to pieces as silent screams choked the world. Now there were no walls to contain what happened, no isolation. Instead it was rebuilt as a site of veneration to the one who the world, transformed into a shrine built into proportions large enough to display how devoted the Temnota race were to the divine champion.
The shrine held the first and largest statute of Be'lakor that was made by the Temnota, so tall that the head nearly touched the ceiling and its wings contacted both ends of the walls. It was carved meticulously out of the remains of the ships and stations that hung around the world when the storm came, all the broken star travellers melted together to display something more magnificent than even the greatest marvels made by the corrupted race.
It stood on top of a great eight sided star that had been painted onto the floor with the blood of those sacrificed during the time after the day of celebration, the anniversary of when the Dark Master of Chaos first arrived. One hand clutched a colossal replica of his sword and the other had the remains of the broken Warp engine laid bare in its palm for all to see, an eternal reminder of who truly ruled this world.
In front of the statute was the table that was where the Temnotan rulers gathered, a slab of stone where countless Temnota were scarified on over the many years to the Dark Master. They ruled by sitting at the foot of Be'lakor, under his gaze and his shadow as he held what made and broke the world above them in his hand.
And now the four rulers walked forward together as they passed by various kneeling priests. The young Slaaneshi ruler was the most awed. They and all other Temnota had visited and prayed by the first statue many times before, but to sit by the table and officially decide and rule for the world under the Dark Master's gaze was something they had never done.
The four rulers sat by their seats that were placed by the table, each made with the bones of the previous ruler that had been slain. Another mark of status for those that had triumphed over their predecessor or for the rival that had killed them. The symbols of the four gods were proudly displayed on the back of each chair. But the fifth chair, which sat at the end closest to the statue, wasn't made from bone or bore the symbol for any one god. It was a throne that displayed the eight sided star with no other embellishments.
And the ruler who sat on the throne arrived as the other, lesser rulers, sat down. A black cloud of fog began to emanate from the bottom of the great statue. Growing thicker and hazier each moment, stopping just before it reached the table. One priest that was close to the edge of the shadowy mist, still kneeling in prayer, was suddenly dragged into the darkness.
A few moments later emerged a figure, walking slowly out from the sudden cloud towards the table as they clutched the broken yet still living form of the taken priest.
A Temnota child might have mistaken the figure to be the Dark Master himself, finally appearing on the world of Be'Khram to meet with his loyal race, and would have been punished for their ignorance. The four rulers who were already seated all bowed their heads immediately as the ruler of rulers lifted up and placed the maimed priest into the sacrificial altar.
The figure was blessed to most resemble the great Be'lakor more than any other member of their race, their body wreathed in shadow and darkness and more power than anyone else of the world. The eight sided star was carved on their chest. They were said to be the first Temnotan to witness the sight of Be'lakor. The first to spread word and worship of him to the rest of the world. The first to kill in his name. The first champion, the first leader and the first follower.
They were the first Temnota ruler, the ruler of rulers, and all others bowed to him.
Four skulls were hung by chains attached to a golden belt around his waist, each one belonging to the first of the rulers that worshiped the aspects of Be'lakor that reflected one of the four great gods.
There was no fifth skull. To achieve the rank of a ruler was to for one to already possessed it to die, but none could challenge the first ruler and lived.
The priest that bled on the altar began to pray once more, now more fervently and happily as they prepared for what was to come and where they would go.
The Temnota ruler pulled out a sword from the dark fog, one that was personally crafted by him to look exactly as the Blade of Shadows that Be'lakor wielded, and then stabbed it through the heart of the priest who shuddered for a moment before collapsing. Black blood pooled from the corpse unto the table.
"And as the first sacrifice of the year is given," the ruler stated, their voice low and quiet. "Now this council can begin. Praise the Dark Master."
"Praise the Dark Master." the other four rulers chorused, giving a prayer to Be'lakor together as the blood flowed all around them, dripping unto the floor.
After the prayer finished, the Khornate ruler wasted no time as they immediately began to speak.
"The decision of how and where the sacrifices should be focused on this year is clear. The Blood God's war on the Orks. You have all sensed it by now, the echoes left by it reach all across the Warp and even the physical realm. A war greater than almost any that I have heard of, a battlefield that is a test like no other. We must join that war, show our might and worth to Be'lakor as we triumph in his name and the name of the Blood God."
The champion of Nurgle slowly nodded their head at this, they had other ideas in mind but they could not deny the merit of what the high executioner proposed. The sorcerer Temnota remained silent, which did not go unnoticed to the ruler of rulers or the painted priest of Slaanesh.
"I have many of my own ideas," the young leader began, channeling their excitement of sitting on the table and next to the great high follower of Be'lakor himself towards each word. "But I seem to recall that the keeper of knowledge and sorcery had something 'important' that they wish to tell us all."
The Tzeentchian Temnota shot a glance of derision towards their wild rival as the head of the first ruler slowly turned to face the sorcerer, their expression unchanging yet somehow feeling more intense as it focused onto the magician.
"My thanks for allowing me to speak, oh youthful replacement." the joyful look of the Slaaneshi soured immediately at that. "But, yes, through my power I have foreseen that a great enemy is advancing to our world, one that is already very close and getting closer with each moment."
The Nurglite ruler bent forwards as they considered this, body creaking as they moved.
"Do... the Orks... come for us... instead of us to... them?"
"It is not them, it is a different threat altogether. I see flashes of what can only be the humans, arriving in numbers and strength that I can not see wholly but I know that it eclipses us. I see a symbol that they carry, a two headed bird. I believe that this must be the fabled Imperium. They come for us."
The three other lesser rulers looked surprised and suspicious at this claim, then each head turned towards the first ruler to see what his reaction was to this news.
The dark servant of Be'lakor narrowed his eyes and one of the skulls that hung from his belt began to glow a pale, blue light from its sockets. The sorcerer ruler clutched their staff tightly as they felt a sudden cold sensation worm around their head, spreading across it until it covered it completely. Were it coming from anything else they might have fought against it, to threaten whoever dared to try invading their mind, but they merely kept still and tried to show no reaction because they knew what would happen if they did.
"You speak the truth." the ruler of rulers simply said. The Tzeentchian master nearly sighed in relief as the freezing sensation left their mind, while the other three members of the table reacted with shock.
"The Imperium?" the painted ruler asked, looking between the sorcerer and the high champion of Be'lakor. "I have only heard a few scant rumours of them, of what they've done, but... surely they cannot be as the stories say?"
The Nurglite master turned towards the youngest of the table and shook his head. "Chaos... would never lie... of such... things like... that, and neither... would the ruler of... rulers. It is the... truth."
"They would be a worthy foe to face," the armoured warrior mused. "But would whatever we face, no matter how strong, be greater than what a battle between gods of war promise? I do not believe such a thing."
"No," agreed the sorcerer of Tzeentch, enjoying how momentarily confused and disgusted that the Khornate ruler looked at the agreement. "But it would be greater for us. We must all think for a moment what would truly show our worth to the Dark Master. We immediately join this great war of blood, or open the gates for it as they come for us, and whatever victories we have would be small. Even with all our power, we are but one world compared to the countless others that fight there. How can we show how great we are, how mighty we are, if we are but one army competing against millions, or even against the greatest of Khorne? Whereas this would be solely our own battle, on our own world, and it would prove our worth all the more to the First Prince."
The other lesser rulers saw where the Tzeetnchian Temnota was going with their little speech, but while the Nurgle champion looked thoughtful the Khornate warrior still looked undecided.
"You may be correct, but this battle is an opportunity that may never come again. To turn away from seeing Khorne himself fight, to perhaps see Be'lakor join the battle, is unthinkable."
"The war will still be there when this invasion comes for us, and as I said it will come soon. Think of it like this, we prove our strength here then we have the perfect sacrifices for Be'lakor and the Blood God and enter the war even better than we could have before. We will give every Temnota soul to Be'lakor and fight to the last if we must. And are you really considering to shy away from a great battle that directly comes for us? Let them defile our home, all we have given to Dark Master and created for him, hm?"
The high executioner considered this for a few moments before they growled out in frustration and simply nodded in acceptance. The master of the dead slowly nodded their head too, branches around their neck twisting slightly to allow the movement.
The painted ruler of Slaanesh looked as though they wanted to argue about something and bring up their own ideas, but they too nodded their head along with the other lesser rulers.
"Then we are agreed," The dark ruler of rulers declared, now sounding more loud than before as their voice echoed through the dark fog. "Now we will continue the discussion of the sacrifices, and the matters of preparation for of this... invasion that comes for us."
-----
Shadow of the Temnota.
"...and then from the roiling storm that engulfed our world came the champion of Chaos!" the figure shouted, their face being displayed across screens that were jutting out of a tower. "The first and greatest prince to ascend by the side of the gods! He who is the Dark Master of us all! Be'lakor the Shadow of Gods!"
Crowds all across the world cheered along with the broadcaster, countless dark humanoid figures screamed into the air as they praised and called towards their idolised master. Black, leathery Wings were splayed out all together as screams echoed through one corner of the world to the other.
The presenter, who also looked just as excited as their audience did, slowly calmed down once more before they faced the screens again. They stood taller than the rest of their race, most of which stood at a height that was slightly shorter than that of a man. Their wings were great tapestries compared to most of their brethren too, even in a literal sense as arcane markings and ritual circles were etched into the skin of their wings.
The engravings glowing dimly against the black flesh of the creature, illuminating their form. Most brightly of all was the silhouette of Be'lakor that laid in the centre of their chest. With a wave of the golden staff they held in their right hand, that was covered in images of eyes, they continued on as the symbols across their body shifted in place.
"Today makes another anniversary of enlightenment to us all. Today is the day that marked when we and our world were reborn by the power of the Warp, where our world became Be'Khram and us as the Temnota. Today is a day of unity for all those who serve under Be'lakor."
The glow emanating from their body began to slowly fade away until they were almost invisible to see, all the symbols blurring together as they tangled up.
"Remember, today is the day of revelry. Tomorrow marks when I and my fellow rulers shall begin the time of sacrifices and announce what they shall entail."
And then, as all the broadcasting devices blinked off together, the etched sorcerer's excited expression shifted into a snarl faster than their animated engravings.
"The young ones seem to get louder each year." they growled out as they turned back and headed for a different chamber deeper within the great cathedral they were in.
At one time, a time long before Chaos had touched the world, it was once a place of learning and advancement for who the Temnota once were. A fortress-facility that held the greatest minds and created the greatest marvels, even ships that could reach the stars.
Then, on the day when everything changed, a device that could reach beyond even the stars was conceived. An engine that could harness the power of a strange realm connected to the mortal plane and use it in ways that would bring about a new, enlightened age.
And then the machine broke, and the world broke with it, and the new age came as all were infused with endless darkness and nightmares.
And, for just a few moments, the visage of a being beyond any mortal. A demigod that stood greater than all others like him, empowered by grand deities beyond comprehension. Purpose found, drenched in awe and cracking minds that screamed as twisting thoughts wormed through their souls from all that they saw, living visions carried by a storm.
Chaos. Four gods. Be'lakor.
And now the visage of Be'lakor stood everywhere, statues of them stood taller most other buildings were placed in every city as the shadows of them stretched out and touched everyone. Sacrificial altars and arenas were watched over by his form, carved into metal and stone and the bodies of the living and the dead that were thrown there. Even the bodies of the Temnota now resembled the great master they all dedicated their existence towards.
Everything was devoted to the First Prince. Everything was dominated by the Dark Master. Everything belonged to Be'lakor.
But while Be'lakor was worshiped most of all, the gods above even him were not ignored for that would be unthinkable. Temples and shrines to them were built all across the world and sacrifices were dedicated to them directly. Though the gods were venerated and prayed to mostly through the worship of Be'lakor, for as he was divine champion of all the gods would certainly represent and embody each of them too in the greatest manner.
Thus the world of Be'Khram was divided between five rulers, four lesser rulers to represent each aspect of Be'lakor that was of one of the gods and one to represent them and Be'lakor as a whole as the ruler of rulers.
Each Temnota champion desired nothing more than to serve the Dark Master, and there was no better way to do that than to guide and command the others into glory in his shadowed name. And the best way to prove their power and their conviction was to defeat the other champions and contenders to Be'lakor's service and sacrifice them to rise up to the top by his side to finally gain his notice.
"And why not?" a light voice replied from above.
The sorcerer, ruler of the Tzeentchian Temnota, paused for a moment and glanced a few floors up. Looking over from the gemstone decorated railing was something that made his snarl grow bigger.
The Temnotan figure was noticeably smaller in size than the high sorcerer, looking closer to a member of the many crowds that gathered around the broadcast towers and joyfully, passionately praised the Dark Master than somebody with the stature of a leader. But they too sported symbols and etchings across their body, ones that did not glow with power but were brightly coated with paints and dark blood, along with digging nails and hooks latched to their flesh.
The most painted symbol and bloodied was the symbol of Slaanesh that was on their tarnished chest, surrounded by a ring of deep scar tissue that, along with more paint, formed the image of Be'lakor's face screaming for all to see.
The champion of Slaanesh, ruler of the wild and mad followers of Be'lakor, leapt over the railing and flew down to the side of the sorcerer, landing right next to their rival Temnotan master.
"This is the day of celebration, after all." the Slaaneshi Temnotan continued casually, as the two leaders of the world moved together towards their shared destination. "They should all celebrate as loudly and as much as they can to show how much they worship the Dark Master. Is this not what why you speak to the masses of our history, oh keeper of knowledge?"
"Pah, what do they know of worship?" the champion of Tzeentch spat out. "All those children do is scream and pray while I recite the scared histories, they're barely able to preform a simple ritual in the name of the Great Shadow. Just a mass of disappointments with empty heads that haven't grown up yet. Useless. They will all be useless for what lies ahead."
"'What lies ahead'? Have you divined something interesting to lie about? Oh, I would love to hear whatever you come up with this time. So fanciful you are with your tales."
The Temnotan sorcerer paused and visibly hesitated for a moment, turning their head away from their hated peer as uncertainty clouded their features before responding.
"No," they said finally, expression serious and disturbed. "It is no lie. It's too important for that. I will reveal what I have seen when the council is assembled."
"Hm…," the painted rulers replied as they idly glanced around the cathedral, not even looking towards their fellow. "You almost seemed convincing then. Ah, but back to what I was saying before. If you don't want to do it so much then why not let me take over next time? I do so enjoy the fervour of the the crowd, their passion is just so... wonderful."
The mood of the sorcerer instantly shifted as they glared at the follower of Slaanesh with a look of disgust and annoyance annoyed, snarling even fiercer than before.
"You?" he growled out. "Even if you were a viable candidate, which you will never manage to be, then I wouldn't grant you this position for anything you could offer me. I complain because I have the right to, not because I wish to be rid of it. And that assumes that you would even survive next year, upstart."
"Hm, perhaps that would not be an issue if the ritual masters taught this generation properly. Although, that is apparently so difficult for you. Along with keeping them alive."
The sorcerer stopped walking and slammed the end of their staff into the ground, a twisting flame ignited from the top of it as the etchings and marks around their body began to burst into light and writhe across his flesh. The painted ruler reeled back for a moment as violent, burning sparks danced around their feet that left scorch marks on the floor.
"You dare blame me for this, child?!" the Tzeentchian shouted. "Mock me?! You are the biggest disappointment of all this year! I had foolishly thought you'd be a worthy new champion when you took your place beside us, but you are a hundred times as ignorant as your predecessor! A waste, a disgrace of power that I will gladly remove if you dare speak to me like that again!"
The Slaaneshi ruler dodged a cascade of fires and pulled out two of the largest nails that were embedded into their chest and pulled them out, wielding them as daggers. The tips of them leaked black, oily blood and another fluid that hissed and smoked as it touched the floor.
"Oh," the young ruler said, pure excitement emanating from their voice. "I dare. I always dare, you old and-"
"Arguments... hah... already?" a hoarse voice wheezed out, each word drawn out with tortuously thin breaths that marked each pause.
"Why did you interrupt them?" a deeper, rough voice growled out. "It seemed like those two cowards would finally do something good for once."
The two rulers, moments away from trying to kill each other, stopped and turned to face the two other arrivals.
The first speaker was tall, much taller than any other member of their race, looking as though their proportions were roughly stretched out beyond the length. Their body was thin to the point that it was near skeletal, their legs and arms looked as if only skin covered their bones without any other flesh.
Around their head and torso were the worming growths of tree roots and branches crawling up from their waist, through their ribs and back, and twisting around to form a sealed cage of dead, woven wood over the head. Their wings were ruined and warped too, transformed into a tangle of branches that bent upwards.
In the centre of their chest was no etching or painted image of Be'lakor but a crude depiction of them that was formed from an indentation of their body, bones bending in such a way to allow the likeness of the Dark Master to appear on the sunken flesh.
The second speaker was covered in plates of bent iron and brass that merged with their flesh, the pieces together forming a patchwork suit of fused armour around their body, most of which was taken from the armour and weapons of other murderous berserkers. A massive battleaxe was held in one hand, still freshly dripping with blood from its latest execution.
While most of their body was covered in by metal there were places that remained uncovered. Their wings remained bare and displayed numerous rips and tears, scars of various battles and victories. Their mouth was left exposed, revealing rows of savage fangs.
And in the centre of their chest was an opening in their armour, an open circle with eight jutting spikes pointing inwards, with the image of Be'lakor wielding their sword up to the sky as they stood atop a mount of skulls that was burned into the flesh of the Khornate champion.
The gnarled master and the high executioner stood together as they regarded the two rulers, in positions ready for combat, and then turned away and began to walk deeper into the centre of the grand cathedral.
The Tzeentchian and Slaaneshi ruling priests of Be'lakor glared at one another for a few more moments before they begrudgingly followed the two other Temnotan leaders, the flame of the golden staff being doused as nails were inserted back into their holes.
"I had...," the withered Nurglite began to say, their head creaking as it turned towards the armoured warrior. "Thought that... you would want... them dead... yourself? Trying to... avoid a battle?"
The furious glare that came through the eyes of the Khornate ruler would have cowed lesser Temnota in fear of their coming end, but the stretched champion didn't even pause.
"No," the executioner said "But I am more than pleased whenever the blood of the unworthy is spilt before they make things any more pitiful for those that truly believe and serve the Dark Master properly. Fools, trying to pathetically attempt a fight one another when the time of sacrifices is nearly upon us. Be'lakor would take both your heads for this disrespect when he finally comes for us."
The sorcerer clutched their staff tightly as they tried to resist the urge to start another fight, while the painted champion didn't resist anything as they began to speak again.
"I would be more than willing to prove just how powerful I truly am to the rest of you if you keep treating me as if I was just a child."
"Talk, now just more talk." the Khornate Temnotan shook their head at the threat. "If you're anything like the leader you claim to be then you should save your talk for the council and prove whatever worth you have there."
The painted ruler looked as though they had plenty more to say, and their hands drifted back to the nails on their chest for a moment, but they held their tongue even if the look of resentment that their face had become was obvious.
And then the expression of the wild champion's face changed again as the four rulers arrived at their destination, the central chamber of the great cathedral of Be'lakor.
The centre of the great cathedral was where where it had all started, once a sealed room that burst apart and was shattered to pieces as silent screams choked the world. Now there were no walls to contain what happened, no isolation. Instead it was rebuilt as a site of veneration to the one who the world, transformed into a shrine built into proportions large enough to display how devoted the Temnota race were to the divine champion.
The shrine held the first and largest statute of Be'lakor that was made by the Temnota, so tall that the head nearly touched the ceiling and its wings contacted both ends of the walls. It was carved meticulously out of the remains of the ships and stations that hung around the world when the storm came, all the broken star travellers melted together to display something more magnificent than even the greatest marvels made by the corrupted race.
It stood on top of a great eight sided star that had been painted onto the floor with the blood of those sacrificed during the time after the day of celebration, the anniversary of when the Dark Master of Chaos first arrived. One hand clutched a colossal replica of his sword and the other had the remains of the broken Warp engine laid bare in its palm for all to see, an eternal reminder of who truly ruled this world.
In front of the statute was the table that was where the Temnotan rulers gathered, a slab of stone where countless Temnota were scarified on over the many years to the Dark Master. They ruled by sitting at the foot of Be'lakor, under his gaze and his shadow as he held what made and broke the world above them in his hand.
And now the four rulers walked forward together as they passed by various kneeling priests. The young Slaaneshi ruler was the most awed. They and all other Temnota had visited and prayed by the first statue many times before, but to sit by the table and officially decide and rule for the world under the Dark Master's gaze was something they had never done.
The four rulers sat by their seats that were placed by the table, each made with the bones of the previous ruler that had been slain. Another mark of status for those that had triumphed over their predecessor or for the rival that had killed them. The symbols of the four gods were proudly displayed on the back of each chair. But the fifth chair, which sat at the end closest to the statue, wasn't made from bone or bore the symbol for any one god. It was a throne that displayed the eight sided star with no other embellishments.
And the ruler who sat on the throne arrived as the other, lesser rulers, sat down. A black cloud of fog began to emanate from the bottom of the great statue. Growing thicker and hazier each moment, stopping just before it reached the table. One priest that was close to the edge of the shadowy mist, still kneeling in prayer, was suddenly dragged into the darkness.
A few moments later emerged a figure, walking slowly out from the sudden cloud towards the table as they clutched the broken yet still living form of the taken priest.
A Temnota child might have mistaken the figure to be the Dark Master himself, finally appearing on the world of Be'Khram to meet with his loyal race, and would have been punished for their ignorance. The four rulers who were already seated all bowed their heads immediately as the ruler of rulers lifted up and placed the maimed priest into the sacrificial altar.
The figure was blessed to most resemble the great Be'lakor more than any other member of their race, their body wreathed in shadow and darkness and more power than anyone else of the world. The eight sided star was carved on their chest. They were said to be the first Temnotan to witness the sight of Be'lakor. The first to spread word and worship of him to the rest of the world. The first to kill in his name. The first champion, the first leader and the first follower.
They were the first Temnota ruler, the ruler of rulers, and all others bowed to him.
Four skulls were hung by chains attached to a golden belt around his waist, each one belonging to the first of the rulers that worshiped the aspects of Be'lakor that reflected one of the four great gods.
There was no fifth skull. To achieve the rank of a ruler was to for one to already possessed it to die, but none could challenge the first ruler and lived.
The priest that bled on the altar began to pray once more, now more fervently and happily as they prepared for what was to come and where they would go.
The Temnota ruler pulled out a sword from the dark fog, one that was personally crafted by him to look exactly as the Blade of Shadows that Be'lakor wielded, and then stabbed it through the heart of the priest who shuddered for a moment before collapsing. Black blood pooled from the corpse unto the table.
"And as the first sacrifice of the year is given," the ruler stated, their voice low and quiet. "Now this council can begin. Praise the Dark Master."
"Praise the Dark Master." the other four rulers chorused, giving a prayer to Be'lakor together as the blood flowed all around them, dripping unto the floor.
After the prayer finished, the Khornate ruler wasted no time as they immediately began to speak.
"The decision of how and where the sacrifices should be focused on this year is clear. The Blood God's war on the Orks. You have all sensed it by now, the echoes left by it reach all across the Warp and even the physical realm. A war greater than almost any that I have heard of, a battlefield that is a test like no other. We must join that war, show our might and worth to Be'lakor as we triumph in his name and the name of the Blood God."
The champion of Nurgle slowly nodded their head at this, they had other ideas in mind but they could not deny the merit of what the high executioner proposed. The sorcerer Temnota remained silent, which did not go unnoticed to the ruler of rulers or the painted priest of Slaanesh.
"I have many of my own ideas," the young leader began, channeling their excitement of sitting on the table and next to the great high follower of Be'lakor himself towards each word. "But I seem to recall that the keeper of knowledge and sorcery had something 'important' that they wish to tell us all."
The Tzeentchian Temnota shot a glance of derision towards their wild rival as the head of the first ruler slowly turned to face the sorcerer, their expression unchanging yet somehow feeling more intense as it focused onto the magician.
"My thanks for allowing me to speak, oh youthful replacement." the joyful look of the Slaaneshi soured immediately at that. "But, yes, through my power I have foreseen that a great enemy is advancing to our world, one that is already very close and getting closer with each moment."
The Nurglite ruler bent forwards as they considered this, body creaking as they moved.
"Do... the Orks... come for us... instead of us to... them?"
"It is not them, it is a different threat altogether. I see flashes of what can only be the humans, arriving in numbers and strength that I can not see wholly but I know that it eclipses us. I see a symbol that they carry, a two headed bird. I believe that this must be the fabled Imperium. They come for us."
The three other lesser rulers looked surprised and suspicious at this claim, then each head turned towards the first ruler to see what his reaction was to this news.
The dark servant of Be'lakor narrowed his eyes and one of the skulls that hung from his belt began to glow a pale, blue light from its sockets. The sorcerer ruler clutched their staff tightly as they felt a sudden cold sensation worm around their head, spreading across it until it covered it completely. Were it coming from anything else they might have fought against it, to threaten whoever dared to try invading their mind, but they merely kept still and tried to show no reaction because they knew what would happen if they did.
"You speak the truth." the ruler of rulers simply said. The Tzeentchian master nearly sighed in relief as the freezing sensation left their mind, while the other three members of the table reacted with shock.
"The Imperium?" the painted ruler asked, looking between the sorcerer and the high champion of Be'lakor. "I have only heard a few scant rumours of them, of what they've done, but... surely they cannot be as the stories say?"
The Nurglite master turned towards the youngest of the table and shook his head. "Chaos... would never lie... of such... things like... that, and neither... would the ruler of... rulers. It is the... truth."
"They would be a worthy foe to face," the armoured warrior mused. "But would whatever we face, no matter how strong, be greater than what a battle between gods of war promise? I do not believe such a thing."
"No," agreed the sorcerer of Tzeentch, enjoying how momentarily confused and disgusted that the Khornate ruler looked at the agreement. "But it would be greater for us. We must all think for a moment what would truly show our worth to the Dark Master. We immediately join this great war of blood, or open the gates for it as they come for us, and whatever victories we have would be small. Even with all our power, we are but one world compared to the countless others that fight there. How can we show how great we are, how mighty we are, if we are but one army competing against millions, or even against the greatest of Khorne? Whereas this would be solely our own battle, on our own world, and it would prove our worth all the more to the First Prince."
The other lesser rulers saw where the Tzeetnchian Temnota was going with their little speech, but while the Nurgle champion looked thoughtful the Khornate warrior still looked undecided.
"You may be correct, but this battle is an opportunity that may never come again. To turn away from seeing Khorne himself fight, to perhaps see Be'lakor join the battle, is unthinkable."
"The war will still be there when this invasion comes for us, and as I said it will come soon. Think of it like this, we prove our strength here then we have the perfect sacrifices for Be'lakor and the Blood God and enter the war even better than we could have before. We will give every Temnota soul to Be'lakor and fight to the last if we must. And are you really considering to shy away from a great battle that directly comes for us? Let them defile our home, all we have given to Dark Master and created for him, hm?"
The high executioner considered this for a few moments before they growled out in frustration and simply nodded in acceptance. The master of the dead slowly nodded their head too, branches around their neck twisting slightly to allow the movement.
The painted ruler of Slaanesh looked as though they wanted to argue about something and bring up their own ideas, but they too nodded their head along with the other lesser rulers.
"Then we are agreed," The dark ruler of rulers declared, now sounding more loud than before as their voice echoed through the dark fog. "Now we will continue the discussion of the sacrifices, and the matters of preparation for of this... invasion that comes for us."
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Oh...I am so glad we put him in charge this level of validation...this level of trust...yeah I think he's floored if he was anyone else...and the IW...they're filled with hope, validation and more...not because they expect to live...but because they get a chance to die for something that matters...big oof.
Year 29 Part 7 Rapid Conquests
- Location
- Elsewhere
[x] Have his sons assist in key areas. A good middle ground, where the Wardens fight in the most critical of locations, the White Scars and Iron Warriors would still learn much about the Archdaemons.
In a star system close to the Maelstrom, three Primarch sat within a meeting room, one filled with dozens of data slates and multiple maps of the planet in question. Normally, only one of the three would concern themselves with this task, but this was not just an extermination mission. It was a training mission as well.
As expected, Perturabo was given overall command while Kesar simply made sure no mistakes were made. The Lord of Iron's experiences on Cadia shone through, as beyond two clarifications regarding the foes they would face, the plan could be considered near flawless. The first stage involved the White Scars running a high-intensity harassment campaign, crippling planetary infrastructure, and decimating military formations. The second stage would involve the White Scars and Eternal Wardens performing an orbital landing under fire before constructing a series of forward operating bases. The third stage would be comprised of a slow sweeping advance across the planet that would link up the landing sites before the fourth stage would begin and planetary hives and cities would be broken.
Perturabo had his battle plans, detailing step by step how the war would unfold. The only part that irritated him was the need to work around Khan's insistence that the White Scars have a much more flexible part in the war to come. He knew that he agreed to this, but ceding control of the battlefield rankled him. Having to predict the actions of his subordinates was not a trivial task at the best of times, let alone when it was a Primarch.
But despite his misgivings, the Lord of Iron understood that he simply couldn't get his way. Even if it would be more efficient, the fact remained that the first stage of the war was out of his control. All he could do was give the order. "Khan, harass the cultists as much as possible. Inflict as much damage as you can without risking your forces."
There are stories among the White Scars of what happened next. Some of the more enthusiastic serfs claimed that the Khan responded with the entirely out of character phrase. "Kill everyone and everything as fast as I can, got it." What really happened was that the Great Khan simply nodded his head telling Perturabo that, "it would be done."
The war that followed ended in the first stage. Temnota had seen the Imperium coming, but their preparations were for a war of attrition, a slow grinding slog through dozens of battlefields. Jagathai Khan looked at their preparations and he decided to sidestep the issue entirely. The people here worshipped the Yaksha Kings, and no quarter would be given. Why then, would he care about civilian casualties?
The war began when ten thousand White Scars struck hundreds of separate locations. Breaking apart into companies carried by dozens of Stormbirds or Land Raiders carrying single squads, the White Scars attacked everywhere.
There was no predictability to their offensive, no possible way to understand where they would strike next. And every attack was swift, without hesitation or pause from the White Scars. They charged, they killed, and they left. The lucky of Temnota's reaction forces arrived late, the unlucky ones never arrived at all for they were attacked as well.
The Khan had no mercy, and Temnota burned. Statues to Be'lakor were toppled, and carvings to his glory were demolished and defaced. The cultists screamed in apocalyptic rage, but their deaths silenced their complaints. The Khan had ordered his sons to kill everyone on this world that they could, and the White Scars were happy to apply their father's orders.
The initial stage of the war was meant to take a week. That much was met, but there were supposed to be several stages after it. Instead, Perturabo and Kesar gazed in awe at the carnage their brother had wrought.
Staring at the ruined husk of a planet, Kesar looked at Perturabo, whose expression betrayed his surprise and irritation. "So, did you expect that?"
The Lord of Iron looked at his brother, his face utterly blank. "If I had, I would have asked him to hold back like you."
Remembering the request for Kesar to stay far from the frontlines, the Daemonsbane suppressed a smile at the pride he took at receiving such a request. Knowing Perturabo, however, the Primarch was likely displeased at the lack of training for the Iron Warriors. "Does it give you ideas for the crusade?"
"Several in fact." Kesar recognized the calculating expression on his brother's face. One that he had been getting more and more familiar with as time passed. "Designated fleet elements, opening ground assaults, extraction teams, everything needs to be revised thanks to this." At the end of his words, the Lord of Iron nearly threw up his hands. So much work, all for naught because the Khan was far more effective than he initially expected. It was frustrating.
Noticing this, Kesar moved closer, gently placing a hand on his brother's shoulder before speaking. "If anything, I'm more surprised than you are. I've spent months of time with him, and I never realized how devastating he could be. To think that he'd run them down over and over again until there were none left. All in the span of a week."
The Lord of Iron turned his head fractionally, glancing at Kesar out of the corner of his eye. "And yet he did. I'll have to make sure that my misconceptions of him don't affect the deployments in the Maelstrom."
Understanding that his brother was mentally kicking himself, Kesar tried to cheer him up. "Come now, brother. You shouldn't be so despondent at such an incredible victory. Even if Jagathai was the one to end them, it was your plan that he followed. It is as much your victory as it is his. You cannot be blamed for the weakness of our enemies."
Letting his hand fall from his brother's shoulder, Kesar waited to hear Perturabo's response. When it came, the Lord of Iron's voice was steady. "I suppose not, although I was hoping that there would be more to learn new experience for my plans rather than having to change them." Letting his eyes roam across the planet's surface, the Lord of Iron knew that this was a victory, but one that came with as many problems as it did opportunities. The White Scars would learn much from this, but the Iron Warriors hadn't even taken the field. But, there was nothing that could be done at this point. "Still... you're right, this is a victory and what was understood from this battle will be a vital thing for the coming war."
"You're a brilliant general Perturabo, I'm sure you'll find some way to make use of this trip." Finally letting a smile slip, Kesar's tone edged into the jovial. "And hunting down cultists would be an interesting bonding experience."
"There are a few ideas that I have. I'll need to use your sons for them."
Waving away the request, Kesar easily accepted. "Of course, take them for as long as you need."
Perturabo's brow wrinkled, he had expected Kesar to agree, but he expected him to ask first. "Are you not curious about what I had planned?"
Blinking, Kesar was surprised at the question. But looking at the situation, he could see that most people would have asked for more details. "Well, yes. But I've known you long enough to understand that you never ask for anything you don't need. Now that you mention it, what were you planning for them?"
"A series of lectures from them. Every one of my sons has studied your past battles, but a series of in-person lectures with the possibility of clarifications and hypotheticals could prove useful." At hearing his brother's explanation, Kesar nodded. Completely understanding of his motives.
"If they're successful, I might have to consider expanding them to other Legions. Spreading knowledge of how to fight daemons can only help." Thinking to himself of the logistics that would entail, Kesar noted that the Lord of Iron had begun to plan out the lectures the Wardens would give. Mentally switching gears, Kesar began to suggest several of his sons present that would be best for such a task.
On the world of Temnota, one of the last bastion's was falling. One of the oldest temples to the Dark Master, was under assault by a squadron of White Scars under the command of Sergeant Khenbish Khan.
The defenses had already been ravaged by his previous raid, and now the local forces were either dead or dying. The mockeries of shamans within the temple had held out longer than most, a combination of fanaticism and a fortified location strong enough to hold out the Astartes. But when their numbers began to dwindle, time was all the White Scars needed.
The front gates were torn open by two rockets, and ten Astartes charged in. Firing at cultists hidden behind pillars and barricades, the White Scars effortlessly cleared the main hall before entering a maze of hallways that did nothing but slow them slightly. Anyone they found perished as they made their way to the inner sanctum.
Their attack had been swift, and it had been relentless. Only a bare handful of cultists had managed to barricade their holiest of artifacts within, but Khenbish Khan was not one to let them continue to cower. Breaking through the black doors, Khenbish and his brothers raised their volkites and scanned the room for hostiles.
What met their eyes were corpses that formed a pile, their blood draining into unholy symbols on the floor. Then Khenbish looked at what seemed to be the remains of a warp engine, and he saw what no Astartes was meant to see.
The world broke, and with it, a new age began in Khenbish's life. One infused with endless darkness and nightmares.
The visage of a being beyond any mortal. A demigod that stood greater than all others like him, empowered by grand deities beyond comprehension. Purpose found, drenched in awe and cracking minds that screamed as twisting thoughts wormed through their souls from all that they saw, living visions carried by a storm.
Chaos. Four gods. Be'lakor.
And Khenbish knew then, that he had seen something greater than anything he had seen before. A glimpse of unending power, and a being beyond his father. And he understood what Temnota had tried to teach.
Everything was devoted to the First Prince. Everything was dominated by the Dark Master. Everything belonged to Be'lakor. He belonged to Be'lakor.
The voice of Sergeant Khenbish rang out across the vox channels. A voice that the White Scars collectively agreed would never be spoken of again. None of the Astartes present would ever reveal what it was they heard, and the Khan would never even tell his brothers of what transpired. All Kesar and Perturabo were told were that some of his sons fell and that they were killed afterward. For the truth was something no mortal was meant to hear, and one that Khan could not trust to any. Not even the Daemonsbane.
Even the Khan barely heard more than a few words before he ordered every one of his sons not to listen and crushed his vox within his fist. Most of his sons followed his orders, and some that missed it were whole of mind and soul. But a few of the unlucky ones had to be put down by their brothers, as their minds shattered and demented laughter rang forth from their mouths. The end result was a hundred White Scars having perished, more than the rest of the compliance. It was a horrific outcome to the Khan, one he had expected but not been ready for. But now that he had seen how insidious the Yaksha Kings were, he would prepare for them. And he would make sure that they learned to fear his name.
*White Scars Gain +15 Anti-Daemon*
*White Scars Gain +10 CR*
*Iron Warriors Gain +2 CR*
In another part of the Imperium, First Captain Oriacarius looked over the reports for Imperial compliances. It was the second year in a row that he was in charge of such a task, and he would have to keep the responsibilities in the year that followed. It was daunting to have Kesar's workload on his plate, but he would make sure to do everything he could and that every contingency was in place.
Available Assets
170k Astartes
Oriacarius, Maticus, Solarus, Doom Slayer, Otto, Baldur
Cherished Son, Vigilance
Titan Legion, Knight House
Night Watch
[] The Mitu Conglomerate - While the Xenos had previously been embroiled in a conflict with the Orks, a series of reverses has occurred allowing them to end the threat of the Xeno menace. However, this leaves the Mitu still capable of military conflict, albeit diminished after Sanguinius' actions, and as such the Wardens have been assigned to deal with the situation. If needed, Sanguinius has tentatively offered the assistance of his first captain. Threat Level: Maxima Extremis
[] The Fractured Conclave - After Ashani was released and subsequently executed, the Fractured Conclave fell apart. While the Alpha's death has introduced some semblance of order, their military strength has fallen drastically. Moreover, a subversive cult worshipping Kesar has been causing them no end of problems. The situation has temporarily stabilized, but the Wardens have been tasked with bringing the worlds into the Imperium. Threat Level: Hard
[] Arbelis - A brutal dictatorship in the midst of a rebellion, the local Imperial Army commander was minutes from supporting the dictatorship before several incidents came to light following a desperate push from rebel forces. Following the incident, a section of the upper hives on Arbelis was bombarded by Imperial forces before anti-orbital weapons forced a withdrawal. Initial reports show a highly skilled rebel force with high support among the local populace. Nonetheless, the upper hives have proven to be deathtraps for the Imperial Army. Perhaps Astartes may be different. Threat Level: Extreme
[] Galain - A world of bloodsport, several thousand extremely skilled gladiators fight within artificial urban stadiums on a daily basis. These men and women form the elite of their military elite, only subservient due to a highly addictive drug dispensed weekly. The Imperial Army has reported that the enemy forces are incredibly dangerous within the urban hives, but are far more manageable in open terrain. Threat Level: Extreme
[] Moreau - A forge world run by heretical tech priests. The local mangos have focused on creating hybrids of xeno, human, and animal DNA. Their creations have been wildly uncontrollable, and the use of live test subjects disgusted the local Imperial Army commander. Moreover, there is evidence they have been incorporating artificial intelligence within their hybrids, a crime for which death is a must. Threat Level: Hard.
[] Typhon - An isolationist world containing an understrength but highly skilled Titan element, the locals were dealing with a routine raid by Galain forces. Acting quickly, the local Imperial Army helped drive back the raiders, and negotiations were reluctantly opened up by the Typhon government. Thus far, they have proven to be incredibly stubborn and protective of their Titans. Even the Mechanicum is impressed at the lengths they are willing to go to keep their Titans operational and whole. Despite this, the goodwill earned by assisting in the defense of their world has opened negotiations to a world that normally would have spurned such things. *Threat Level: Hard*
[] Garrison - In case of assault on some world, it may be useful to have a garrison force. Threat Level: Unknown.
Other Primarchs
[] Hamarus - A planet surrounded with a massive amount of debris and natural asteroids, even navigating the area is hazardous. Compounding the issue is a series of defenses acting as ablative shields and multiple defense stations covering the few approaches to the planet. Nonetheless, the Red Tear may be enough to force its way through. But that may not be enough. Nonetheless, Sanguinius is sure to have a plan. Threat Level: Maxima Extremis. (Primarch's Present: Sanguinius)
[] Veerana - Information on this world has been scarce. A planet near the border of Khan and Konrad's domains, almost initial reports claimed that there were just techno barbarians present. The Imperial Army task force present has stopped responding to all communication after sending an emergency distress call and claiming that they were detonating their plasma reactors and to fire upon their vessels if they were found. Threat Level: Unknown.
Distant Compliances
*Helghan - A former Dark Age fortress, this facility is currently under the control of an unidentified Xeno race. They have defiled the technology within the fortress and have rendered it nearly unrecognizable. The Gorgon has broken off his pursuit of the Exodus Fleet in order to deal with the threat and he expects to be occupied for several years. Threat Level: Maxima Extremis. (Primarch's Present: Ferrus)
*The Exodus Fleet - A fleet being pursued by Fulgrim, information has been heavily restricted in the past few months. Threat Level: Unknown. (Primarch's Present: Fulgrim)
Temnota's Fast Reaction Forces: 5 + 40 (Homeground) + 60 (Numbers) + 30 (AA Grid) + 20 (Defenses) = 155
Khan's Speed: 77 + 20 (Astartes) + 100 (Khan Hit and Run) + 120 (White Scars Harrassment Bonus) + 30 (Naval Supremacy) = 347
Corruption: 87 + ??? = ???
Corruption Resistance White Scars: 9 + 150 (CR) + 20 (Astartes) = 179
Astartes: 9 + ??? = ???
Noticing Cultists: 65 + 40 (Storm Seers) + 20 (Ever Vigilant, Ever Watchful) + 40 (Primarch) + 40 (Kesar) + 40 (Witch Hunters Brought in) = 245
Corrupted White Scar Escape: 84 + 100 (Disengage) + 120 (White Scar Applicable Bonus) + 20 (Astartes) = 324
Kesar: 60 + 260 (Kesar) + 100 (Khan) = 420
Information Security: 71 + ??? = ???
Your Search: 34 + ??? = ???
Khan's Speed: 77 + 20 (Astartes) + 100 (Khan Hit and Run) + 120 (White Scars Harrassment Bonus) + 30 (Naval Supremacy) = 347
Corruption: 87 + ??? = ???
Corruption Resistance White Scars: 9 + 150 (CR) + 20 (Astartes) = 179
Astartes: 9 + ??? = ???
Noticing Cultists: 65 + 40 (Storm Seers) + 20 (Ever Vigilant, Ever Watchful) + 40 (Primarch) + 40 (Kesar) + 40 (Witch Hunters Brought in) = 245
Corrupted White Scar Escape: 84 + 100 (Disengage) + 120 (White Scar Applicable Bonus) + 20 (Astartes) = 324
Kesar: 60 + 260 (Kesar) + 100 (Khan) = 420
Information Security: 71 + ??? = ???
Your Search: 34 + ??? = ???
Last edited:
- Location
- United States
We gave up all personal actions and research for the Ritual, unfortunately. But we might be able to do that after the Ritual is over.
I wonder what actions we should take given the Ritual is consuming everything we have in just a few years.
The last thing we want is another Tomesir situation because we ran out of time. At the same time will some problems get to that stage by leaving them alone...
These two won't tie up our resources too much:
The Fractured Conclave - looks interesting, a cult that worships Kesar?
Typhon - looks like an easy one for our impressive diplomat and shouldn't take too long.
The rest should only be taken if we can spare resources given our focus on the ritual
Moreau - This planet will need to be dealt with ASAP or it will be an even greater mess in the future.
Veerana - should have be scouted for now until the cause of the threat is determined.
Arbelis - lets find out what caused the rebellion and put the governor on trial for injustice (Or heresy). Then force the rebel army to negotiate a surrender.
Galain - Gladiator army addicted to drugs? Let's send the night watch and command them to focus on taking fights where they have a clear advantage. Avoid the Hives and perform hit and run tactics to cut off supplies. Once the hives are isolated and blockaded can we work on capturing the hives one by one.
The last thing we want is another Tomesir situation because we ran out of time. At the same time will some problems get to that stage by leaving them alone...
These two won't tie up our resources too much:
The Fractured Conclave - looks interesting, a cult that worships Kesar?
Typhon - looks like an easy one for our impressive diplomat and shouldn't take too long.
The rest should only be taken if we can spare resources given our focus on the ritual
Moreau - This planet will need to be dealt with ASAP or it will be an even greater mess in the future.
Veerana - should have be scouted for now until the cause of the threat is determined.
Arbelis - lets find out what caused the rebellion and put the governor on trial for injustice (Or heresy). Then force the rebel army to negotiate a surrender.
Galain - Gladiator army addicted to drugs? Let's send the night watch and command them to focus on taking fights where they have a clear advantage. Avoid the Hives and perform hit and run tactics to cut off supplies. Once the hives are isolated and blockaded can we work on capturing the hives one by one.
- Pronouns
- Human/Form/Keyblade
Yeah, everything is in hard, let's make the night watch only support the astartes and learn. I don't want to put them or Matticus through that again.
Speak Softly and Carry a Big Stick: The Accidental Metamorphosis of a Space Marine into a Diplomat and Spy Now With Even More Crazy Decisions (A Great Crusade Quest as a Space Marine of one of the Censured Legions)
Altered
Duality | Redeemed
- Location
- Terra
Omake.
Speak Softly and Carry a Big Stick: The Accidental Metamorphosis of a Space Marine into a Diplomat and Spy Now With Even More Crazy Decisions (A Great Crusade Quest as a Space Marine of one of the Censured Legions)
Time was... fluid. Quick to come, even quicker to leave at times. Others it hung about, a slow crawl that never seemed to end. The Warp only made this feeling a thousand times worse. Yet humanity traveled through the forsaken hell, each time testing fate - testing their own will against the unending horros that populated the immaterium. How brave! How bold! How utterly idiotic. If it wasn't for the fact no one, not the Lord-Primarch, not the vaunted Mechanicus, and not even the the Emperor of Mankind had managed to create an alternate form of faster then light travel that was equally as fast... well, he'd be shaming the Imperium's usage of it as a means for travel through the galaxy. Alas the universe was a dark and unhappy place, it was full of life. Where hope went to die. Hope of not perpetually endangering everyone, of threatening the safety of a interstellar body.
Baldur hated it. He hated the Warp, he hated the Immaterium, and above all else he hated the blasted misbegotten foul-smelling abominations known as Daemons. Ugly creatures born of hate, despair, and whatever other abominable practice the unsettling Archdaemons that patronized the lesser scum managed to dream of. Oh, he hated them. That was why everything in the room he sat in managing the logistics, the command, and even reading the assignments First Captain Oriacarius had proceeded to give him just so happen to be shaped akin to a purity rune with lesser banishment runes adorning various items that stood within the bounds of the shape of purity.
One could never be too safe, one could never be too prepared and one really needed to ask the First Captain if he was certain this was all absolutely necessary? The venerable Space Marine in lieu of Primarch Kesar's absence had seen fit to update the current attack formation as well as firing patterns to form runes of banishment and purity. What made this worse was the fact that the change in attack formation for both the voidcraft and their firing patterns happened to actually both increase the demand for certain weaponry but inflict far more damage against the enemies. How the hell Oriacarius had managed to work this out Baldur was certain not even the Emperor knew.
It was times like this that Baldur's mind just didn't full grasp how Oriacarius managed to pull a Solarus and defy what many analysts would point to as the broken remains of logic and constraint, all while working within their boundaries. The man was blessed. Huh, he thought amused, there's another name for our paranoid freak of a leader. Oriacarius the Blessed. It'd really churn his guts and trigger his paranoia. He'd have to see about getting such a title spread throughout the Wardens as revenge for what Oriacarius had decided to do after what happened with that one barbaric women, a queen of them, if he remembered right. She had been one of the women rulers of the many worlds he'd wooed into compliance had thrown herself at him in order to ensure the world she ruled happened to have the finest heir for the next generation.
So he'd done it. A small price to pay for the continued support of the planet and the Queen's willingness to actually bring the people in-line to absolutely improve their current standards of living as well as industry and technology. It's not like he'd traveled around charming the women into loving him before leaving after he managed the diplomatic conquest of the planet. That would be absurd. All he did was work to ensure that the Primarch and by virtue the Imperium got the best deal possible when it came to these talks with the rulers of the planets. It wasn't his fault that the Universe had decreed the majority of them would be women and that he unfortunately seemed to be quite cunning with his tongue. He rued the silver-tongue that he had and Oriacarius's desire to poke fun at him after having managed to catch the man off-guard in one of the rare moments of relaxation.
Shaking his head, he found it clear of his previous thoughts. Revenge against Oriacarius was something that would come with time, for now, he had to decide how he'd spend his time this year. Already the First Captain had assigned him a mission - Typhon, a nice isolated community who unfortunately happened to be assaulted by the forces of Galain. A blood-thirsty place that in his eyes was better fit to be handed over to Primarch Angron. If any survived the surivivers could be tossed into one of the numerous battlefields against Xenos across the galaxy for the advancement of Humanity. Probably better that they did that anyway. Wait. Galain was within reach. Ahah!
Baldur admitted he was a brilliant bastard and right now his thoughts proved it. Well, this wasn't even brillaince but pure logic. How the local Imperial forces had missed this, how the Eternal Warden's own diplomatic corps had managed to fail in actually noticing it was something that really drove home the impact that the fall of mankind had wrought. That and likely the effect of the Warp upon all of reality. Really the Emperor should look into doing something about that he mused to himself.
Typhon is attacked by Galain Forces, Imperial Army helps drive them off. Goodwill engendered. Check. Baldur smiled with that. This meant Typhon immediately rather then getting hit with many of the unfaltering brutish crude hammers that the Imperial Guard was made up of felt only the soft gentle caress of saviors who died and bled for a cause they didn't have to. That was something beautiful, something that made his cold pragmatic heart smile. He hated having to resort to violence, it was unnecessary in negotations and honestly showed that as a diplomat he failed. Would he do it? Yes. But here, it didn't look like any sort of violence against Typhon would have to be engineered, just pure craftmanship of words.
So he'd approach these isolationists. Applaud them on how hard they worked regarding the Titan Legions they held, approve of the dedication - the work they put in. It was admirable, it was worthy and he couldn't find fault. In fact, he'd ask for permission to bring a member or so of the Eternal Warden's attached Titan Legion as well as Mechanicus members. You know, bringing some material need to help repair smaller issues with them would likely be another boon. He wrote that down. It was most definitely important.
Heck, he could talk to Mechanicus representatives about getting the world declared a Homeworld of a Titan Legion and building it up to adqueately house, repair, create those glorious machines of war. One of the best ideas he'd had yet. But more then that was the thoughts of how to draw Typhon into the Eternal Warden domain, into the arms of the Imperium. His thoughts were great, they'd help - they'd flatter and smooth things out, catch their attention, make them happy. But he wanted these people happily joining the Imperium.
Protection, that was an immediate offer and boon. They'd station Imperial Forces to fight off any more Galain Raids, they'd help build up defenses and also Galain would cease to exist as an enemy. They'd go after it. They'd take it down. Destroy it. Commit to ending this threat to the Typhon people. All for Typhon. In-exchange Typhon would join the Imperium. It'd have smaller tithes for a while, it'd enjoy more trade - technology, experienced individuals of the Mechanicus chosen with care to help them improve their facilities all for making their Titans continue to function. Material goods could be given at low costs, no costs. Give them what they want, and let us draw from them their Legion after we strengthened it. The Wardens didn't need all of it, even just half of it would be useful. And the Wardens, the Imperium, the Mechanicus would exchange much to see it brought to fruition.
Now, with the thoughts on the approach for Typhon handled - his yearly assignment was knocked out. From here it was all what he was going to do for the rest of the year. He had to think of how he was going to spend his free time. What work he wanted to do with his company. Heck any new implementations of practices amongst the ships he commanded or simply working to better relations with the Army and Navy if not the Mechanicus. There was also Malcador's report and any thing special he could do to help his mentor, boss, and technically other commander.
The men of his company had gotten a bit rusty, hard not to when he's constantly just wowing worlds into joining. Less conflict overall for them outside of times when they served besides the Primarch or obeyed orders by Oriacarius to help take on other troublesome planets. Baldur's own words had stopped a couple of wastless last stands and even gotten a garrison to lead them right into the enemy's heart. His men had liked that. On the whole while his company might have had a small degradation of their fighting skills, he knew out of everyone these were the ones able to actually act human and manage to thrive in a society. He had personally ensured they could talk to others without flubbing somehow.
But what to do with them this year? Training them would bring them up to speed, get them back at their previous edge and potentially go further. But why? He could have them training the Imperial Army regiments attached, working with the Valhallan Groups and even just testing the diplomatic corps security. Each of those would absolutely retain their current skills if not push them just enough to get back to their last level.
Also all of those served to leave more contacts, happier people, and secure the Imperium and the Warden's domain. It also helped that the Diplomats would have better security leading to less lives loss in hostile contact scenarios, they'd be able to hold off longer for Eternal Warden or Imperial Support. The Regiments themselves would absolutely be bettered. They'd be more secure in cooperation, as well as individual skill depending on how they went about working with them. Those men would have better expectations and be able to react faster to threats, not to say the boon in and of itself fighting transhuman genetically engineered supersoldiers who'd be able to show them what it was like fighting the numerous xeno threats that tended to unfortunately be stronger and faster then a normal human.
Heck, he could work on the cooperation with their units leading to a greater amunt of skill being shown on the battlefield. Likely less casualties too as the forces worked on fighting together and deploying together. It'd also make those men happier. Always a good thing he thought. Besides each man that survived was a loyal potential colonist and most definite resource for uncovering any systematic corruption and other issues that needed to be dealt with... quietly.
Speaking of quietly... he still retained the service of some of the assassination temple rejects Malcador had seen fit to send his way both as a reward and to further his investment in him. He really needed to get them training some men or even use them to gather information and potentially take down foes that would have stymied any diplomacy. Baldur was nothing but pragmatic even if he didn't like some of the ideas and thoughts.
As for his personal time? Well, that was a lie. His personal time was spent smoothing over relations, or buttering someone up somewhere. Heck half the time it was also spent on work. Why the secret project he'd been working on alongside the Witch Hunters was finally blossoming, a fruitful affair all told. But man it had a dreadful amount of work. Hopefully the seeds would continue to lower the Chaos Cultist numbers found in Kesar's domain further, not to mention cut down any issues within recently assimilated planets.
With that done Baldur sighed in relief. Organizing the lists, deciding his year it was all hardwork. And the Lord-Primarch, Oriacarius.... they didn't even know the half of it. He wondered if they would? It was a fun thought. To see the recognition for all his work heaped upon him. But the thought died before it could really live. As much as he wanted them to know and to respect him for it, this was something best left in the shadows.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
Here we go folks, what the Baldur Negaverse Questors see regarding the Wardens and everything. All of it is filtered through Baldur who in the negaverse's quest happens to be a bit... more.
Speak Softly and Carry a Big Stick: The Accidental Metamorphosis of a Space Marine into a Diplomat and Spy Now With Even More Crazy Decisions (A Great Crusade Quest as a Space Marine of one of the Censured Legions)
Time was... fluid. Quick to come, even quicker to leave at times. Others it hung about, a slow crawl that never seemed to end. The Warp only made this feeling a thousand times worse. Yet humanity traveled through the forsaken hell, each time testing fate - testing their own will against the unending horros that populated the immaterium. How brave! How bold! How utterly idiotic. If it wasn't for the fact no one, not the Lord-Primarch, not the vaunted Mechanicus, and not even the the Emperor of Mankind had managed to create an alternate form of faster then light travel that was equally as fast... well, he'd be shaming the Imperium's usage of it as a means for travel through the galaxy. Alas the universe was a dark and unhappy place, it was full of life. Where hope went to die. Hope of not perpetually endangering everyone, of threatening the safety of a interstellar body.
Baldur hated it. He hated the Warp, he hated the Immaterium, and above all else he hated the blasted misbegotten foul-smelling abominations known as Daemons. Ugly creatures born of hate, despair, and whatever other abominable practice the unsettling Archdaemons that patronized the lesser scum managed to dream of. Oh, he hated them. That was why everything in the room he sat in managing the logistics, the command, and even reading the assignments First Captain Oriacarius had proceeded to give him just so happen to be shaped akin to a purity rune with lesser banishment runes adorning various items that stood within the bounds of the shape of purity.
One could never be too safe, one could never be too prepared and one really needed to ask the First Captain if he was certain this was all absolutely necessary? The venerable Space Marine in lieu of Primarch Kesar's absence had seen fit to update the current attack formation as well as firing patterns to form runes of banishment and purity. What made this worse was the fact that the change in attack formation for both the voidcraft and their firing patterns happened to actually both increase the demand for certain weaponry but inflict far more damage against the enemies. How the hell Oriacarius had managed to work this out Baldur was certain not even the Emperor knew.
It was times like this that Baldur's mind just didn't full grasp how Oriacarius managed to pull a Solarus and defy what many analysts would point to as the broken remains of logic and constraint, all while working within their boundaries. The man was blessed. Huh, he thought amused, there's another name for our paranoid freak of a leader. Oriacarius the Blessed. It'd really churn his guts and trigger his paranoia. He'd have to see about getting such a title spread throughout the Wardens as revenge for what Oriacarius had decided to do after what happened with that one barbaric women, a queen of them, if he remembered right. She had been one of the women rulers of the many worlds he'd wooed into compliance had thrown herself at him in order to ensure the world she ruled happened to have the finest heir for the next generation.
So he'd done it. A small price to pay for the continued support of the planet and the Queen's willingness to actually bring the people in-line to absolutely improve their current standards of living as well as industry and technology. It's not like he'd traveled around charming the women into loving him before leaving after he managed the diplomatic conquest of the planet. That would be absurd. All he did was work to ensure that the Primarch and by virtue the Imperium got the best deal possible when it came to these talks with the rulers of the planets. It wasn't his fault that the Universe had decreed the majority of them would be women and that he unfortunately seemed to be quite cunning with his tongue. He rued the silver-tongue that he had and Oriacarius's desire to poke fun at him after having managed to catch the man off-guard in one of the rare moments of relaxation.
Shaking his head, he found it clear of his previous thoughts. Revenge against Oriacarius was something that would come with time, for now, he had to decide how he'd spend his time this year. Already the First Captain had assigned him a mission - Typhon, a nice isolated community who unfortunately happened to be assaulted by the forces of Galain. A blood-thirsty place that in his eyes was better fit to be handed over to Primarch Angron. If any survived the surivivers could be tossed into one of the numerous battlefields against Xenos across the galaxy for the advancement of Humanity. Probably better that they did that anyway. Wait. Galain was within reach. Ahah!
Baldur admitted he was a brilliant bastard and right now his thoughts proved it. Well, this wasn't even brillaince but pure logic. How the local Imperial forces had missed this, how the Eternal Warden's own diplomatic corps had managed to fail in actually noticing it was something that really drove home the impact that the fall of mankind had wrought. That and likely the effect of the Warp upon all of reality. Really the Emperor should look into doing something about that he mused to himself.
Typhon is attacked by Galain Forces, Imperial Army helps drive them off. Goodwill engendered. Check. Baldur smiled with that. This meant Typhon immediately rather then getting hit with many of the unfaltering brutish crude hammers that the Imperial Guard was made up of felt only the soft gentle caress of saviors who died and bled for a cause they didn't have to. That was something beautiful, something that made his cold pragmatic heart smile. He hated having to resort to violence, it was unnecessary in negotations and honestly showed that as a diplomat he failed. Would he do it? Yes. But here, it didn't look like any sort of violence against Typhon would have to be engineered, just pure craftmanship of words.
So he'd approach these isolationists. Applaud them on how hard they worked regarding the Titan Legions they held, approve of the dedication - the work they put in. It was admirable, it was worthy and he couldn't find fault. In fact, he'd ask for permission to bring a member or so of the Eternal Warden's attached Titan Legion as well as Mechanicus members. You know, bringing some material need to help repair smaller issues with them would likely be another boon. He wrote that down. It was most definitely important.
Heck, he could talk to Mechanicus representatives about getting the world declared a Homeworld of a Titan Legion and building it up to adqueately house, repair, create those glorious machines of war. One of the best ideas he'd had yet. But more then that was the thoughts of how to draw Typhon into the Eternal Warden domain, into the arms of the Imperium. His thoughts were great, they'd help - they'd flatter and smooth things out, catch their attention, make them happy. But he wanted these people happily joining the Imperium.
Protection, that was an immediate offer and boon. They'd station Imperial Forces to fight off any more Galain Raids, they'd help build up defenses and also Galain would cease to exist as an enemy. They'd go after it. They'd take it down. Destroy it. Commit to ending this threat to the Typhon people. All for Typhon. In-exchange Typhon would join the Imperium. It'd have smaller tithes for a while, it'd enjoy more trade - technology, experienced individuals of the Mechanicus chosen with care to help them improve their facilities all for making their Titans continue to function. Material goods could be given at low costs, no costs. Give them what they want, and let us draw from them their Legion after we strengthened it. The Wardens didn't need all of it, even just half of it would be useful. And the Wardens, the Imperium, the Mechanicus would exchange much to see it brought to fruition.
Typhon: An isolationist planet just so happening to hold a rather understrengthed, but highly skilled Titan Element. Unfortunately for the planet and fortunate for the Imperium, the locals faced a raid from the forces who called the planet Galain home. Thankfully the Imperial Army in the region happened to be commanded by one of the rare intelligent beyond combat members and he quickly counter-attacked the Galian Raid, helping drive them off. Light casualties were taken, it was a small force. But the act has seen Typhon accepting our diplomats. Commendations and a recommendation for higher posting have been sent to Imperium Army Command and this man's files have been forwarded to Captain Oriacarius so that he might add him to the ever-growing list of Imperials we wish to support and see placed within positions of influence throughout the Lord-Primarch's Domain and the Imperium itself.
Now son of Kesar, the Master of the 11th Legion. Servant of Malcador. Eternal Warden. How shall you proceed with diplomacy?
Diplomacy Strategy:
[] - These men, these women, these people have a duty. It is called join the Imperium. Attack with all your words, push them to the very brink. Aggressively draw them in. Pour insult after insult, brow beat them into Submission. They must join the Imperium. Or else. (Ahaha, what a fucking joke. No. You're not stupid. Kesar isn't stupid. Oriacarius isn't stupid. Malcador would strangle you. Please try again.)
[] - Canonical Thoughts: It is with great and almost divine insight - logic and rationality - that the plan was devised. The Imperium has bled for Typhon, unnecessarily, unfalteringly, all for their good. Screen everyone moving who is assigned to the diplomacy, push everyone to be at their best. Keep the act up. Never let it down. Draw upon this good fortune, the act of protection with sacrifice. Use it as the keystone of the diplomacy, followed by the fact that the Eternal Wardens and the Imperium will be acting to end the rogue Galian state that would so cruelly attack a fellow human planet. This comes free of them joining, but it is with great hopes they would join. Bring gifts of material goods, stuff to fix cosmetic issues and aid the overall populace. Mind, Hearts, Presentation, Safety, Security, and Stability. All through promises, actions, and gifts. Draw upon this vile act and use it.
Subvote: Wanna change the focus of the above plan? Vote here. As usually BB is allowed an additional subvote. Please don't.
-[] Agressive: Be a bit more agressive in your style of negotiation
-[] Balanced: The normal approach
-[] Espionage: While you're diplomating, find out some blackmail - utilize that to add to your approach. Push this annexation in that way.
-[] Ballad of Baldur, the Collector of Broken Hearts: Please, don't. Not again. Titans are piloted by people, people are quite easily charmed. Women, men, they all fall before love. Seduce some of the Titan controllers and suddenly you can have them petitioning the Government and now the very strength we both coveted has been turned against them. A house divided cannot stand, especially not when feelings complicate matters.
[] - Write In: Because I'm not good enough for you, I'm never good enough. You hate all my effort. You think your better. Oh do it already, shoot me now. I'll be in this corner crying as you write in your own plans....
Now son of Kesar, the Master of the 11th Legion. Servant of Malcador. Eternal Warden. How shall you proceed with diplomacy?
Diplomacy Strategy:
[] - Canonical Thoughts: It is with great and almost divine insight - logic and rationality - that the plan was devised. The Imperium has bled for Typhon, unnecessarily, unfalteringly, all for their good. Screen everyone moving who is assigned to the diplomacy, push everyone to be at their best. Keep the act up. Never let it down. Draw upon this good fortune, the act of protection with sacrifice. Use it as the keystone of the diplomacy, followed by the fact that the Eternal Wardens and the Imperium will be acting to end the rogue Galian state that would so cruelly attack a fellow human planet. This comes free of them joining, but it is with great hopes they would join. Bring gifts of material goods, stuff to fix cosmetic issues and aid the overall populace. Mind, Hearts, Presentation, Safety, Security, and Stability. All through promises, actions, and gifts. Draw upon this vile act and use it.
Subvote: Wanna change the focus of the above plan? Vote here. As usually BB is allowed an additional subvote. Please don't.
-[] Agressive: Be a bit more agressive in your style of negotiation
-[] Balanced: The normal approach
-[] Espionage: While you're diplomating, find out some blackmail - utilize that to add to your approach. Push this annexation in that way.
-[] Ballad of Baldur, the Collector of Broken Hearts: Please, don't. Not again. Titans are piloted by people, people are quite easily charmed. Women, men, they all fall before love. Seduce some of the Titan controllers and suddenly you can have them petitioning the Government and now the very strength we both coveted has been turned against them. A house divided cannot stand, especially not when feelings complicate matters.
[] - Write In: Because I'm not good enough for you, I'm never good enough. You hate all my effort. You think your better. Oh do it already, shoot me now. I'll be in this corner crying as you write in your own plans....
Now, with the thoughts on the approach for Typhon handled - his yearly assignment was knocked out. From here it was all what he was going to do for the rest of the year. He had to think of how he was going to spend his free time. What work he wanted to do with his company. Heck any new implementations of practices amongst the ships he commanded or simply working to better relations with the Army and Navy if not the Mechanicus. There was also Malcador's report and any thing special he could do to help his mentor, boss, and technically other commander.
The men of his company had gotten a bit rusty, hard not to when he's constantly just wowing worlds into joining. Less conflict overall for them outside of times when they served besides the Primarch or obeyed orders by Oriacarius to help take on other troublesome planets. Baldur's own words had stopped a couple of wastless last stands and even gotten a garrison to lead them right into the enemy's heart. His men had liked that. On the whole while his company might have had a small degradation of their fighting skills, he knew out of everyone these were the ones able to actually act human and manage to thrive in a society. He had personally ensured they could talk to others without flubbing somehow.
But what to do with them this year? Training them would bring them up to speed, get them back at their previous edge and potentially go further. But why? He could have them training the Imperial Army regiments attached, working with the Valhallan Groups and even just testing the diplomatic corps security. Each of those would absolutely retain their current skills if not push them just enough to get back to their last level.
Also all of those served to leave more contacts, happier people, and secure the Imperium and the Warden's domain. It also helped that the Diplomats would have better security leading to less lives loss in hostile contact scenarios, they'd be able to hold off longer for Eternal Warden or Imperial Support. The Regiments themselves would absolutely be bettered. They'd be more secure in cooperation, as well as individual skill depending on how they went about working with them. Those men would have better expectations and be able to react faster to threats, not to say the boon in and of itself fighting transhuman genetically engineered supersoldiers who'd be able to show them what it was like fighting the numerous xeno threats that tended to unfortunately be stronger and faster then a normal human.
Heck, he could work on the cooperation with their units leading to a greater amunt of skill being shown on the battlefield. Likely less casualties too as the forces worked on fighting together and deploying together. It'd also make those men happier. Always a good thing he thought. Besides each man that survived was a loyal potential colonist and most definite resource for uncovering any systematic corruption and other issues that needed to be dealt with... quietly.
Speaking of quietly... he still retained the service of some of the assassination temple rejects Malcador had seen fit to send his way both as a reward and to further his investment in him. He really needed to get them training some men or even use them to gather information and potentially take down foes that would have stymied any diplomacy. Baldur was nothing but pragmatic even if he didn't like some of the ideas and thoughts.
As for his personal time? Well, that was a lie. His personal time was spent smoothing over relations, or buttering someone up somewhere. Heck half the time it was also spent on work. Why the secret project he'd been working on alongside the Witch Hunters was finally blossoming, a fruitful affair all told. But man it had a dreadful amount of work. Hopefully the seeds would continue to lower the Chaos Cultist numbers found in Kesar's domain further, not to mention cut down any issues within recently assimilated planets.
Remember folks, Baldur has 7 Actions - 5 General, 2 Personal
General Actions:
[] - Make A Man Out Of You: You gotta be as swift as a coursing river.... The singing is a bit overkill, but the normal humans have shown historical evidence that music improves the impact of training and work.... Your men have fallen below their normal skill level, its time to push them. To train them. To break... Okay, not break them. They're needed. But they need to regain that edge and hopefully make a push into new heights of talent. (Return to Previous Combat Modifier, Potential +10 to Combat)
[] - Diplomatic Security Overall: Train the Security Guard for the Diplomatic Corps, doing so prevents diplomatic casualties meaning the Lord-Primarch's Diplomats retain their effective skill. This also means those diplomats are able to continue to improve and that this security's skill could hopefully be disseminated to ensure other brothers diplomats have the same protection. One change here, could lead to a thousand changes later. May the butterfly flap her wings. (Diplomatic Bonus is Retained, +10 to Combat for DSC, +10 to Defensive Combat for DSC, and +10 to Last Stands for DSC)
[] - Monsters and Man: Today the Imperial Army shall know once again why the Space Marines are super soldiers. The Wardens shall take up the role of Xeno Soldiers in facing Army Regiments hoping to stregthen both their skill and body alongside their commanders tactics. More then that is the desire to make these men more then they were. (Veteran I Imperial Army Regiments become Veteran II Imperial Army Regiments, Lowered Morale for a Turn)
[] You and I, Against the World: Training the Guard is great, but the one thing the Imperium seems to perpetually lack is cooperation and teamwork. To often the Army, the Space Marines and more act as uncoordinated individual units. Now Baldur pushes that the Wardens under his command and the Imperial Army assigned actually work together. Increases the ability of both in combat, allowing them to hit harder and punch above their weight class. To often have the Space Marines forsaken their mortal brethern, not today. (Boosts Combat by +10 whenever Company III and Hammer of Justice Imperial Army Regiment are deployed together. Greater coordination between Mortals and SM, IA Relations +, More Contacts Cultivated)
[] Reviewing Strategies: The current Naval strategies could do with some innovation and drilling, but first you have review the past actions taken by commanders and naval crewman. See what failed, what worked, and what just managed to bridge the two. Then implementation of better can occur. (Identifies failings and success of the Naval Forces under Warden Command, allows for actions to amend it issues to be taken.)
[] Customer Success Manager Baldur, Target? The Nobles: The Warden Domain is full of Nobility, an unfortunate reality of the current state. Their like, their aid, everything is important. It means a life or death difference for mortals and also happens to have the effect of making them far more willing to go along with Lord-Primarch's decrees or use their personal funds for providing pensions to military members - on the whole this has a multitude of effects. (Potential Raising of Nobility's Like for the Wardens and Kesar, Potential Failure, Cultivation of Contacts, Potential Beneficial Boons.)
[] Mechanicus? You Mean Our Dear Personal Friends?: Only a few other Legions rival the favor the Wardens hold with the Mechanicus. Baldur intends to challenge this. How? By making friends with local Mechanicus members. Mezoa remembers him and he will certainly remember them. But now its time to deepen the bond and ensure the Wardens can call the local Mechanicus up as friends and allies for any future reasons. (Local Mechanicus are Happier, Favors Accrued, More Materials and Work Applied to Technological Uplifting of Wardens Domain, potential notice of Kesar over the improvement but unlikely that he will be able to track the cause.)
[] The Bad Batch: Rejects, Failures, and yet useful. Malcador Steward of the Imperium, and unknown to most - the Master of Assassins has sent Baldur a rather small group. Less then 100. Each and every single one of them are failures, incapable of meeting the high standards for his Temples of Assassination. Yet he gives them to you. A test for you, a test for them. Forge them into something workable. Choosing this will allow you identify their abilities, their skills. A small black-ops group that can train more able to effectively serve as force multiplier in battles? Perhaps. A espionage group capable of destroying a planet's society? Possibly. Rejected they were by Malcador, they won't be by you. Learn more of them and see to it they are forged into the ultimate tool. (The Bad Batch Project Begins. Potential pathways? Well... the 40k Scenario could mean a Baldur focused Chapter may or may not happen to suddenly pull out a gigantic group of Assassin Expies. This is rather useful. Malcador Relationship ++. Kesar may learn of this. Could be bad. Probably going to be good. Or he could not find out. And we can continue working in the Dark to save the Light! Woo, edge!)
[] Patching Things Up: Despite all the diplomacy as the planets we bring in slowly assimilate there are some issues, ones that require a specialists intervention. On the way on over you're free to intervene hopefully for the better. Soothe over mistakes and perhaps come away with boons and favors. Or even another treasure map like the one that earned you an STC. Kesar still doesn't know about that. But Kelbor did like it the last time you happened to be on Mars with Kesar and saw it discretly handed over to him. So did Magos Artemis. (Improved Standings With Planets, Uplifting Proceeds Smoothly, Random Benefits, ???)
[] A Father To His Men: While you aren't their father, you certainly appreciate chatting with all your men and making sure their mental state and wellbeing is up to snuff. Maybe you ought to schedule your chats again? (Warden Mental State Restored, Corruption Resistance gains +10 for a few turns, Wardens Morale is improved.)
Personal Actions:
[] Mending the Broken-Hearted: Oriacarius presented you with a Ballad once upon a time. He called it the Ballad of Baldur, the Collector of Broken Hearts. Its left you a little guilty. And so you've decided you should likely take some time to check in or simply communicate with those you managed to charm a little more then superficially. Ensure they aren't turning against the Imperium thanks to your actions. (Fixes Issues Caused by the Ballad of Baldur, ???, ???, ???)
[] Cult of the Heartless: The Witch-Hunters of Valhalla have brought to your attention a new Cult that seems to be small if somewhat prevalent throughout Warden Domain. It focuses on an entity known for destroying the hearts. Essentially the center of both people and society, planets. They've requested your aid. While it's a current non-issue. It could grow to be worse. The Witch Hunters have admitted confusion as to the lack of violent action demonstrated by this Cult but are none-the-less investigating and hoping to burn it out. [Note, Oriacarius will pay. They originally reached out fearing that Baldur was the Mastermind of the Cult given his Ballad.] (Cult is Investigated, Important Members Silenced, Their Motives and Entity are Found Out, Allows for Combat Options to be taken in following turns.)
[] A Fly on the Wall: Malcador has his network, Alpha Legion their own. Both are great both are strong. But sometimes you need your own. Working in cohort with the Valhallan Witch Hunters the domain of the Eternal Wardens has a small, but growing spynetwork that you believe Malcador may or may not have compromised. You will continue to help ensure it's growth though you do believe within a few years it'll need to be reviewed and new security drawn up. (Outis Continues to Grow, ???, ???)
[] Lessons of the Steward: Malcador didn't let you go without giving you work. Study hard, study well. These are his personal lessons adapted to fit you. Understanding and learning them will allow for you to grow in ability and skill. He also expects that you expand your tea-making skills to be at least on-par with the best in the Imperium. (Random Character Trait Added, Potential for Another Action per Turn)
General Actions:
[] - Make A Man Out Of You: You gotta be as swift as a coursing river.... The singing is a bit overkill, but the normal humans have shown historical evidence that music improves the impact of training and work.... Your men have fallen below their normal skill level, its time to push them. To train them. To break... Okay, not break them. They're needed. But they need to regain that edge and hopefully make a push into new heights of talent. (Return to Previous Combat Modifier, Potential +10 to Combat)
[] - Diplomatic Security Overall: Train the Security Guard for the Diplomatic Corps, doing so prevents diplomatic casualties meaning the Lord-Primarch's Diplomats retain their effective skill. This also means those diplomats are able to continue to improve and that this security's skill could hopefully be disseminated to ensure other brothers diplomats have the same protection. One change here, could lead to a thousand changes later. May the butterfly flap her wings. (Diplomatic Bonus is Retained, +10 to Combat for DSC, +10 to Defensive Combat for DSC, and +10 to Last Stands for DSC)
[] - Monsters and Man: Today the Imperial Army shall know once again why the Space Marines are super soldiers. The Wardens shall take up the role of Xeno Soldiers in facing Army Regiments hoping to stregthen both their skill and body alongside their commanders tactics. More then that is the desire to make these men more then they were. (Veteran I Imperial Army Regiments become Veteran II Imperial Army Regiments, Lowered Morale for a Turn)
[] You and I, Against the World: Training the Guard is great, but the one thing the Imperium seems to perpetually lack is cooperation and teamwork. To often the Army, the Space Marines and more act as uncoordinated individual units. Now Baldur pushes that the Wardens under his command and the Imperial Army assigned actually work together. Increases the ability of both in combat, allowing them to hit harder and punch above their weight class. To often have the Space Marines forsaken their mortal brethern, not today. (Boosts Combat by +10 whenever Company III and Hammer of Justice Imperial Army Regiment are deployed together. Greater coordination between Mortals and SM, IA Relations +, More Contacts Cultivated)
[] Reviewing Strategies: The current Naval strategies could do with some innovation and drilling, but first you have review the past actions taken by commanders and naval crewman. See what failed, what worked, and what just managed to bridge the two. Then implementation of better can occur. (Identifies failings and success of the Naval Forces under Warden Command, allows for actions to amend it issues to be taken.)
[] Customer Success Manager Baldur, Target? The Nobles: The Warden Domain is full of Nobility, an unfortunate reality of the current state. Their like, their aid, everything is important. It means a life or death difference for mortals and also happens to have the effect of making them far more willing to go along with Lord-Primarch's decrees or use their personal funds for providing pensions to military members - on the whole this has a multitude of effects. (Potential Raising of Nobility's Like for the Wardens and Kesar, Potential Failure, Cultivation of Contacts, Potential Beneficial Boons.)
[] Mechanicus? You Mean Our Dear Personal Friends?: Only a few other Legions rival the favor the Wardens hold with the Mechanicus. Baldur intends to challenge this. How? By making friends with local Mechanicus members. Mezoa remembers him and he will certainly remember them. But now its time to deepen the bond and ensure the Wardens can call the local Mechanicus up as friends and allies for any future reasons. (Local Mechanicus are Happier, Favors Accrued, More Materials and Work Applied to Technological Uplifting of Wardens Domain, potential notice of Kesar over the improvement but unlikely that he will be able to track the cause.)
[] The Bad Batch: Rejects, Failures, and yet useful. Malcador Steward of the Imperium, and unknown to most - the Master of Assassins has sent Baldur a rather small group. Less then 100. Each and every single one of them are failures, incapable of meeting the high standards for his Temples of Assassination. Yet he gives them to you. A test for you, a test for them. Forge them into something workable. Choosing this will allow you identify their abilities, their skills. A small black-ops group that can train more able to effectively serve as force multiplier in battles? Perhaps. A espionage group capable of destroying a planet's society? Possibly. Rejected they were by Malcador, they won't be by you. Learn more of them and see to it they are forged into the ultimate tool. (The Bad Batch Project Begins. Potential pathways? Well... the 40k Scenario could mean a Baldur focused Chapter may or may not happen to suddenly pull out a gigantic group of Assassin Expies. This is rather useful. Malcador Relationship ++. Kesar may learn of this. Could be bad. Probably going to be good. Or he could not find out. And we can continue working in the Dark to save the Light! Woo, edge!)
[] Patching Things Up: Despite all the diplomacy as the planets we bring in slowly assimilate there are some issues, ones that require a specialists intervention. On the way on over you're free to intervene hopefully for the better. Soothe over mistakes and perhaps come away with boons and favors. Or even another treasure map like the one that earned you an STC. Kesar still doesn't know about that. But Kelbor did like it the last time you happened to be on Mars with Kesar and saw it discretly handed over to him. So did Magos Artemis. (Improved Standings With Planets, Uplifting Proceeds Smoothly, Random Benefits, ???)
[] A Father To His Men: While you aren't their father, you certainly appreciate chatting with all your men and making sure their mental state and wellbeing is up to snuff. Maybe you ought to schedule your chats again? (Warden Mental State Restored, Corruption Resistance gains +10 for a few turns, Wardens Morale is improved.)
Personal Actions:
[] Mending the Broken-Hearted: Oriacarius presented you with a Ballad once upon a time. He called it the Ballad of Baldur, the Collector of Broken Hearts. Its left you a little guilty. And so you've decided you should likely take some time to check in or simply communicate with those you managed to charm a little more then superficially. Ensure they aren't turning against the Imperium thanks to your actions. (Fixes Issues Caused by the Ballad of Baldur, ???, ???, ???)
[] Cult of the Heartless: The Witch-Hunters of Valhalla have brought to your attention a new Cult that seems to be small if somewhat prevalent throughout Warden Domain. It focuses on an entity known for destroying the hearts. Essentially the center of both people and society, planets. They've requested your aid. While it's a current non-issue. It could grow to be worse. The Witch Hunters have admitted confusion as to the lack of violent action demonstrated by this Cult but are none-the-less investigating and hoping to burn it out. [Note, Oriacarius will pay. They originally reached out fearing that Baldur was the Mastermind of the Cult given his Ballad.] (Cult is Investigated, Important Members Silenced, Their Motives and Entity are Found Out, Allows for Combat Options to be taken in following turns.)
[] A Fly on the Wall: Malcador has his network, Alpha Legion their own. Both are great both are strong. But sometimes you need your own. Working in cohort with the Valhallan Witch Hunters the domain of the Eternal Wardens has a small, but growing spynetwork that you believe Malcador may or may not have compromised. You will continue to help ensure it's growth though you do believe within a few years it'll need to be reviewed and new security drawn up. (Outis Continues to Grow, ???, ???)
[] Lessons of the Steward: Malcador didn't let you go without giving you work. Study hard, study well. These are his personal lessons adapted to fit you. Understanding and learning them will allow for you to grow in ability and skill. He also expects that you expand your tea-making skills to be at least on-par with the best in the Imperium. (Random Character Trait Added, Potential for Another Action per Turn)
With that done Baldur sighed in relief. Organizing the lists, deciding his year it was all hardwork. And the Lord-Primarch, Oriacarius.... they didn't even know the half of it. He wondered if they would? It was a fun thought. To see the recognition for all his work heaped upon him. But the thought died before it could really live. As much as he wanted them to know and to respect him for it, this was something best left in the shadows.
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Here we go folks, what the Baldur Negaverse Questors see regarding the Wardens and everything. All of it is filtered through Baldur who in the negaverse's quest happens to be a bit... more.
Last edited:
- Location
- Elsewhere
As Xemness said, with the Ritual it'll be a few years before that's possible.
You can, such an action will increase casualties but also increase XP gain.
Rock and Stone
Rock and Stone
To: Alpharius
From: Cawl, Belisarius
Subject: Mineral Operation - Related to Project Kingfisher - "Delicate Touch Required"
Attachments: System Coordinates, Mission Reports Alpha-01 through Delta-04, "Planetary Mineral Reporting," "Mining Contract"
Encryption Level: OMEGA-BLACK
Alpharius,
I hope you do not mind the lack of formality in this message. There is a certain unspoken rule among the Majestic council that we address each other by a preferred name than our assigned titles. It makes for an easier conversation in these messages, especially due to the distance and time each one takes to arrive. Do not worry about security concerns. The ciphers in each correspondence are created directly by Godfather.
And yes, he's aware of the content of these messages. In any case, if you wanted to speak to me through your own means, then you are free to do so. However, the information I have for you isn't exactly pertinent to just Majestic, but perhaps also towards your brother, Lord Dorlin. The attached information will explain it further, but I'll give you a summary of events before you dive into the attached files.
For starters, a fellow councilmember, Lord Harlow, passed this along towards me. One of his Rogue Trader fleets investigated a unique rumor circulating along the "wilderness" of the galactic north. Majestic only came across it before the Sigillites due to the rather bizarre nature of it. For context, Imperial Armada elements have been investigating increased pirate activity along nearly a hundred subsectors. Now, that isn't what I am writing about. Instead, it is what Lord Harlow and the Imperial Armada reported that garnered Majestic's attention.
The pirates were all using a strange fuel source in their ship engines and plasma reactors. It was unlike any mineral composition known to even the records within Mars. At first glance, my science teams thought it to be a new type of Promethium, but its similar qualities to metal than any combustible material. I suspect that it has a less volatile state in its "liquid" form but maintains the same energy output in its solid composition. And this was later confirmed when we finally found a secured container of the substance in its solid form.
Upon interrogations of surviving pirate captains, we learned that this substance was called Morkite (and we confirmed this isn't anything Ork related) and that they, and likely hundreds of pirate and raider clans, purchased the fuel substance from a single vendor out in a system of space called the Stop-Over System. They all spun a similar tale: they entered the system that lies next to a warp storm. Inside it is a "massive" refueling station (images in report Alpha-04), and it is there they purchase this Morkite along with other materials, including adamantium and refined palladium-3. It explains how these bandits were able to maintain their ships and also produce more macro-cannon shells.
What makes this whole situation all the more intriguing was the sellers themselves. At first, our agents didn't believe the claims of the captains, but once Lord Harlow's fleet was able to arrange a meeting in the system, which I should note over 500 ships were waiting on the "vendor" to arrive, they confirmed that it was a fleet of Squat ships.
You can imagine our surprise. It has been generations since anyone has seen one ship from the abhumans, let alone an entire installation and a fleet of them selling mining goods. They effectively control the Stop-Over System, but that was just a trader post for a much, much bigger operation inside the warp storm itself.
Godfather requested that Lord Harlow and Rose handle this situation, especially as these Squats were selling directly to the Imperiums enemies. The Imperial Armada is already paranoid, especially with recent events in mind, and we'd like to prevent a small-scale war from breaking out between our respective parties.
Once again, you can read the exact details and exchanges that happened in report Delta-01, but Rose and Lord Harlow learned that these Squats represent a Deep Rock Galactic, a corporation of several dozen Squat clans and humans void-guilds. It took the better part of four weeks of negotiation to learn that much information. Still, it was only after that Lord Harlow presented a rune from your brother Rune World that the Squats suddenly took a bigger interest in our group. We also had to offer a rather large payment for "consultation fees" and "information requests" due to their mining operation's sensitive nature.
(I'd advise not telling your brother that the Squats described the Master rune as "shoddy" and "pathetic" compared to their own.)
After that, Lord Harlow had to pay additional fees for DRG Mining Operation tour on a world called "Hoxxes," the source of the Morkite. Majestic likely paid enough money for about three or four battleships to be commissioned. Still, the Squats have also accepted our organization and, by extension, the Imperium as "trusted and verified" clients instead of just customers.
Reports Delta-02 goes into greater detail of the journey towards Hoxxes by Majestic agents who were brought on board a "Ku-tun" Class Carrack the "Iron Bastard." They were unaware of how exactly the Squats traversed through the warp-storm, but they claim that the runes applied by the Squats might have seriously contributed to the success and safety of the journey.
Upon arriving in this Hoxxes System, the agents spent the better part of several weeks in closed negotiations with a board of directors made up of squats and humans representing the DRG. A rather extensive history (at least 11,000 pages worth) details the abhumans and their collective rise to power following the collapse of the Golden Age and all the way towards discovering the world of Hoxxes. The Squats have made it very clear that they claim ownership over this entire world, its resources, and the surrounding systems.
We finally got the approval needed by the Directors actually to learn about the world of Hoxxes. Please see the attachment labeled Planetary Mineral Reporting for further details, but I do believe these Squats have found one of the most mineral-rich worlds in the entire galaxy. The planet itself is about the size of Great Saturn but somehow maintains a bio-atmosphere, leading me to suspect that this world might be artificial in nature. However, this is still speculation on my part, and the DRG gave us only the barest information. However, the scale of the wealth of Hoxxes defies all logic.
From what I can tell and if my math is right (and it always is), at a basic glance, there is enough gold on Hoxxes to finance an absurd number of economic ventures, enough adamantium to build ten thousand Gloriana class vessels, and even support craft. The palladium-3, Tungsten, and Titanium levels are off the charts; there is more than enough for a hundred forge worlds to produce hundreds of millions of armored vehicles, aircraft, tanks, and even Titans for the next thousand years. But the Squats claim that those are just the "little riches" that this world has to offer.
Our agents were given a few samples of the unique minerals on Hoxxes. One was Morkite, but the others were called Croppa and Jadiz, which I can safely say are unlike anything I've ever witnessed in my entire life. I dare say only the Emperor might be able to discern their secrets if given enough time.
For example, Croppa can be made into a hyper-dense alloy that makes Ceremite look brittle. Simultaneously, Jadis seems to be another energy reactive substance that acts like fissionable material, minus any radioactive harm. Yet, it still maintains a nuclear isotope range of the Holy 234 Element.
But then they showed up the Ommorite. Upon reviewing the lab reports that the Squats have taken on it, they are completely aware that this material is a chunk of raw warp energies that can form into a physical substance in this reality. This is how they make their runes, and they have spent the last thousand years refining the process. They are jealously guarding the secrets to Ommorite, and they allowed our agents to view it only because they study one of the Wardens runes.
Godfather declared it necessary due to the possible strategic value, but I would advise not telling your brother that we sold one of his runes in exchange for this meeting.
Now, we need to address the rather large issue surrounding this whole operation: how exactly has the Deep Rock Galactic or this coalition, or anyone else for this matter not completely strip-mined Hoxxes. I'm sure you've already come to several conclusions upon seeing that this world was located inside a warp storm.
And yes, it is just as bad as you can imagine.
Once again, I will provide some context in this situation because the exact histories of the mining operations on Hoxxes are quite detailed and showcases several follies. When asked why the squats continue to throw so much at this operation, the agents described it as "solemn fury" mixed with "necessity" that drives the DRG. This world, this entire system, was sold to the squats nearly 2,000 years ago by an unknown cabal of Eldar Corsairs. The story goes that one of the squat's ancestors, Ivan Stormsblood of the Stormsblood Clan, which was part of the Boatsmen Alliance (a precursor to the DRG), secured the location after saving some 100,000 Eldar civilians from what we suspect to be a destroyed Chaos aligned xeno faction.
Records indicate that the Eldar told them on a world rich in mineral wealth that it would take the squats a thousand generations to mine it all, but they would have to pay for such riches in blood and sweat. Once again, this shows that the Eldar embodies the old saying, "No good deed goes unpunished."
In any case, the Squats and their human counter-parts seemed more than capable of taming this system, so they left their old worlds and holdings to establish a permanent settlement in Hoxxes. The journey itself was described as harrowing, but not dangerous or with serious loss of life.
No, it arrived at Hoxxes that turned into the true test and became a subsequent nightmare. The Squats, still operating under the Boatsmen Alliance, attempted 29 colonization attempts over a period of a hundred years. Each one of them failed catastrophically. Psykers, mutants, diseases, and natural disasters. Hoxxes is a Deathworld, in more ways than one, but the Squats attempted to tame it.
They are stubborn people, and that stubbornness ultimately allowed them to finally get a successful colonial operation on the 30th attempt, Karak Jiron. They could finally begin mining operations. But just like with all colonization upon a Deathworld, the real challenge soon started once the settlers started working. To quote Godfather, "they dug too deep."
Unsurprisingly, there are creatures on Hoxxes, but most of them stay underground due to the warp energies and radioactivity bleed out for the system's trinary stars. Even so, something changed them. Made them aggressive, hostile, and territorial. They are insectoids by nature, but they also seem to have been twisted by the warp storm's proximity. The same minerals that the squats covet are both the source of nourishment and enhancement for this strange multi-genius species call the Glyphids.
I've attached a separate document that details nearly 1,000 years of prolonged warfare against these beasts. The Glyphids appeared only a year after the mining operations began under Karak Jiron, and the first contact almost resulted in a massacre of the Karak. The squats lost nearly twenty million of their people, including some forty million humans. After that disaster, the Boatsmen Alliance also fell apart until a cadre of miners, soldiers, and industrialists combined their resources to maintain control and protection over Karak Jiron. Thus Deep Rock Galactic was created, and within a hundred years, they took control over the Alliance entirely.
It was probably for the best, as they could keep up the demand and engage in mining operations for the next nine centuries. However, these Glyphids are a true nightmare to fight against, especially in a pitched battle. That document I mentioned also specifies their capabilities, and I would strongly recommend taking a look at the reports of so-called "witch bugs" that have appeared most recently. Based on my current conclusion of the given evidence, I would also advise that any Imperial operations on Hoxxes require full Legion and Primarch support if we were to plan any major headway into taking and holding anything down on this planet.
I've already reviewed this with our military leaders, but some Astartes input would be welcome.
In any case, the squats have begun to review our proposals, especially regarding purchasing their runic masters' support. However, they have advised that trade secrets are just that. They will not authorize the sale of anything related to anything rune related unless we offer them up a rather interesting bargain.
However, I already know what they want, as do Godfather and Rose, and you will too once you read the report. However, I will summarize it for you: they are losing the war for Hoxxes. They've been selling fuel and minerals to raiders and pirates because they hemorrhage money and personnel like the Imperial Army during a nasty campaign, but they no reserves to call upon. Godfather will ask you to review this situation and see if the Alpha Legion can do something about this.
But more than anything else, Godfather wants the Eternal Wardens to assist. There are massive concentrations of warp corruption in this world now, perhaps in light of the most recent events. DRG won't be able to go any further than perhaps twelve or thirteen thousand meters down below before the start running into the truly awful and dangerous creatures, but that is just a theory on my part.
And what do I know, I'm only a genius...
All the files are here for you to review, including the offered contract. Godfather, Rose, and several other members of the council have reviewed it already. Still, your vast and considerable skills at statecraft and military planning would be sorely missed regarding how we in Majestic and the Imperium can benefit from a long term arrangement with the DRG.
There is still quite a considerable amount of groundwork to cover, and this doesn't require your explicit attention as it isn't one of your projects. Still, I would advise that any aid in this would certainly gain you a few allies among the council and likely placate Godfather for a short time. Our established leader does enjoy watching us helping and playing nice with each other. If nothing else, you and your brother would also stand to benefit from this in multiple ways.
I expect you to be sending agents regardless of the attached files before deciding on any action. Believe me when I say you will need as much context before proceeding further.
Your ally and compatriot,
-Cawl
P.S. Remember, Godfather is watching...
Accessing the Deep Rock Galactic "CONTRACT"
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Contract for Mining Services and Purchases under the Deep Rock Galactic™ Corporation
KNOW ALL MEN BY THESE PRESENT THAT DEEP ROCK GALACTIC™, a national corporation organized under the Boatsmen Alliance of Stonecutter Year 876, Gold Era, and the contracting party (from now on known as the "Imperium") do hereby contract, consent, and agree to the following terms concerning the creation of a mining expedition into the dreaded and bountiful world of Hoxxrs. May the Ancestors bless this contract and may Rock and Stone guide all parties involved towards wealth and riches.
All provisions in the attached stipulations shall be in force in addition to the rights, responsibilities, and provisions put forth herein. Conditions and stipulations not included in either the stipulations or this document are neither guaranteed nor denied without further negotiation and a written agreement or another suitably witnessed arrangement between all known entities/persons/parties. Said entities/persons/parties are defined as those with a signed agreement Deep Rock Galactic™.
Duration
The active duration of this contract shall last for one decade, starting _______ until the Imperium decides to either extend or terminate the contract. The contract may be terminated early by mutual consent of all signatories and extended by the same. The continuing responsibilities of this contract shall only be released with the written consent of a representing Director of Deep Rock Galactic™.
Risks and Warnings
Mining Rights/Expeditions
The signatory below is responsible for ensuring the contract is adhered to by all other signatories, their contractors, and agents. In the event of a contractual dispute, adjudication may be taken to a ranking member of the Board of Directors within Deep Rock Galactic™. If one cannot be obtained for a ruling in a timely fashion, the sole right of adjudication shall be retained by Deep Rock Galactic™. Should the contract ended due to violation, wealth owed to Deep Rock Galactic™ for the remaining duration of the contract may be given to the Deep Rock Galactic™ expeditionary memorial and orphans/widow fund. Should the contract ended due to violation, Deep Rock Galactic™ retains the right to file a letter of debts towards the associated parties involved. Failure to do so will result in a grudge by the Deep Rock Galactic™ corporation against the related parties for all time.
The parties hereby confirm that they do not or cannot agree to indemnify Deep Rock Galactic™ or its representatives in the event of a failed expedition. These actions are prohibited, but Deep Rock Galactic™ shall compensate all parties involved if they take on a life insurance policy. Distribution of the provisions of this Mining Contract Agreement shall be deemed to create the object code. You may choose to fund an expedition, but Deep Rock Galactic™ will not represent the terms of any such warranty or additional liability or in the event of death. THE ACCOMPANYING INFORMATION IS PROVIDED "AS IS" AND ANY EXPRESSED OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO, PROCUREMENT OF SPECIALISTS OR THEIR SERVICES; DAMAGES AND DEATHS ARISING OUT OF THE EXPEDITION IS PROVIDED ON AN "AS IS" AND WITHOUT ANY EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING, WITHOUT LIMITATION, DAMAGES OR LOSS OF LIFE OR LOSSES SUSTAINED BY YOU OR THIRD PARTIES OR A FAILURE OF THE POSSIBILITY THEREOF.
From: Alpharius
Subject: RE: Mineral Operation - Related to Project Kingfisher - "Delicate Touch Required"
Encryption Level: OMEGA-BLACK
Cawl,
I've taken the time to review the attachments. A physical document is preferred, but as Godfather seems to partake in reading through our messages, I will instead send a private courier towards you at a later point regarding a longer-lasting private and secured correspondence. If our esteemed employer has issues with it, then I will take care of it personally.
Regarding the contents of these messages, I will admit that I am quite intrigued by the prospect of a joint effort with this Deep Rock Galactic. However, I have various questions and concerns over the details of a lasting equal and equitable partnership. Name the contents of this contract are blatantly designed to favor the DRG. How are we to gain any favorable position in the long term if the squats can deny any or all contract re-negotiations? They also control the "market pricing" for all resources, which is baffling to consider as you need quantifiable market competition to have fair pricing. And this mention of survival and fatality rates? They give no real indication of what an expedition could be walking into, so are we to send humans and Astartes into a deathworld on the prospect of potential profits?
However, the Imperium's prospect of gaining access to these resources could be a potential windfall in the long term. Of course, I assume that Majestic wishes to make the best use of them, rather than allow for the greater Imperium to waste them on just building more weapons and ships. The squats mentioning superior runes is also a long term strategic asset that we should make all attempts to obtain. Certainly, the Eternal Wardens could make great use of having a supply of runic materials, and if these squats claim to have better rune smiths, we should see about purchasing their skills.
Furthermore, we need to get DRG to stop selling this Morkite fuel to pirates and raiders to stop the attacks on our outposts and for the Armada's sake. That alone is worthy of our attention, but we shall be taking steps to end it if a peaceful resolution is impossible.
There are also many other questions I have, namely about the nature of this world. The Eldar knew about it, but they gave it up to these squats? The Eldar never gives up anything unless it serves a purpose that benefits only them or seeks to undermine those four abominations in the Warp. You've also suspected that there is something more to Hoxxos, and I agree. There is no such thing as a world that is this mineral-rich. Again, Majestic and Alpha Legion operatives would need to investigate further, either by confronting Deep Rock or sending down expeditions ourselves.
As such, I ask this question, what are the exact intentions of Majestic here? I am prepared to do what is necessary to ensure that we gain resources and information to develop runic-based technologies and practices. But does Majestic also stand to benefit from gaining access to this world's resources for another purpose?
-Alpharius
To: Alpharius
From: Cawl, Belisarius
Subject: RE: RE: Mineral Operation - Related to Project Kingfisher - "Delicate Touch Required"
Attachment: Combat Footage -Corpse Valley Expedition-
Encryption Level: OMEGA-BLACK
Alpharius,
I am not at liberty to discuss what my department or anyone else at Majestic has in mind, but knowing that Godfather is reading this, I can tell you that I have a few things in mind. But you are correct; we stand to benefit just as much as the Eternal Wardens do by gaining access to a lasting alliance with the DRG. If you truly wish to know Alpharius, then help Majestic and me with this operation. I promise you in doing so; I will assist you and your brother with their runic development.
Your message also reached me at a good point. We've recently, well as recently as this correspondence allows, a recording of a mining operation by the DRG. I hope the review of the situation helps highlight just how deadly these expeditions have become and why some Astartes assistance might be beneficial to all parties involved.
Please take the time to review and consider my proposal.
Your ally and compatriot,
-Cawl
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Date: Zeni 14, Diamond Era, Year 899
Location: Sector Z-09 (Magma Core), Position 89-122-09, "Corpse Valley"
Distance: -12,983 meters below insert point
Mission Start: 0:23:56
Ops Directive: Collect three tons of Morkite minerals
Threat Level: HIGH
Hazard Level: HIGH
Terrain Complexity: HIGH
Mineral Wealth/Value: EXTREME
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Playback begins...
But they were on the final approach now. He and the other twenty squats in his platoon were the first into the breach to clear the miner's and engineers' area. The scouts hadn't reported back yet, which likely meant that they either had to escape into another cave network or died to the last squat. Scouts were a dangerous position for anyone, but that also made them some of the hardest fighters in the expeditionary corps.
"Best check your weapons again, lads." Thorrotum barked out over team comms, "The heat plays havoc with your onboard sensors. And for ancestor's sake, watch your bloody footing and don't step into any magma rifts!" A round of affirmative resounded out while Captain Darkriver checked his Thunderhead. His platoon of gunners was equipped with autocannons, assault guns, plasma and melta, and even a few runic death-arrays, granted only the BET-C could mount that bastard of a gun.
Captain Darkriver didn't like the combots. They weren't like the Mules or Boscos. The BET-C was an autonomous weapons platform designed by the old Boatsmen Alliance. A remnant of the first attempts to tame the caves and caverns of Hoxxes. Alas, it was quickly discovered that a local species of parasite, Xynarch Charge-suckers, loved nothing better than to corrupt the BET-C units' programming by gorging themselves on the copper wiring and electric charge within. What a disaster that turned into in the long run. There were still expeditions that encountered a corrupted Betsy. Once Deep Rock took control, they ultimately decided that a BET-C was allowed for special gunnery teams and that a kill-switch was to be ready at all times.
'I'd have preferred a runesmith, but you can't get everything you want, I suppose.' A runesmith used to be attached to every unit. But then those damn bugs started to target them on every mission intentionally. Deep Rock knew that the Glyphids were intelligent, but that was beyond simple animal desires. Every decade the bugs got deadlier. Two hundred years ago, a team might have seen only one Praetorian once a month.
Now you saw three or four during any mission.
It used to be that Glyphid Wardens and Psy-Mactera were just legends, and yet Captain Blackriver had fought against each of them a dozen times in the last five years. Nothing worse than psykers that could either fly or burrow into the walls. Then the Dreadnoughts and Oppressors and the Royal Guards started to surface.
Hoxxos itself had become a danger as well. The biomes becoming increasingly difficult and deadly the further down the expeditions went, and somehow the Glyphids were there at every corner. Their filthy nests and hives had to be burned out entirely. The Boatsmen Alliance tried to kill them all with atomics, but all that did was cause the radioactive zones to surface. This planet was alive; Thorrotum was sure of it. Otherwise, how does a planet use atomic fallout to its advantage?
The rumbling ceased in any instance, and the entire platoon felt the vibrations end as the massive melta-drill finished burning its ways down into the very earth of Hoxxos. "Here we go, lads, out now and watch the fucking walls!" Sub-Captain Ulvid Rockwell called out to the others as the squats quickly untangled themselves and brought up their weapons. The drop-pod ramp lowered itself, and the blast-shielding opened.
Captain Blackriver felt a wave of oppressive heat even through his protective power-armor, and a bright light filled their inside of the pod. As the platoon exited their ride, a pair of Mules and several Bosco mining bots followed them. While not a dedicated miner, each squat proceeded to mark locations of minerals after they finished storming out of the drop-pod. They all had power pick-axes, and thanks to the mini-forges of the mules, each squat could gather up enough minerals for processing without having to worry about needing to carry them for too long.
Several seconds later, Captain Blackriver heard one of his troops shout over comms, "Contact! Swarmers and grunts!" Those were easy enough, even if there were hundreds of the bastards. The sounds of assault and auto-cannon fire sounded off even as the Captain finished exiting the craft and sent the return signal to it just as the BET-C disembarked and the chilling sound of the runic deathray vaporized a spawn of crawlers.
Soon there were the sounds of gunfire, the breaking of molten rock by pick-ax, and the dying screams of monsters—just another day at the office, as the humans liked to say now.
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*FILE CORRUPTED*
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Attempting to rebuild the file, stand by...
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Mission Time: 02:34:56
It is a cruel joke to play among those attempting to live on this planet and those who died for it. His men and those of this scout team were just another lists of names to add to the Memorial Hall. Ancestors preserve all of them, but their war was ever-expanding and devouring their civilization. The day they had to expand that blasted hall because there was no more room to carve in the fallen names was when the people of Deep Rock realized that they would either tame this world or die on it.
Every squat and human that existed on Hoxxes was now part of a long line of dead men who tried to tame this place. Thorrotum's family was no different. His father had been a miner, his father-fathers an engineer, and his father-fathers-fathers a soldier. They couldn't just leave either. To do so would be a disrespect to all those that fell to get them this far. Even the most bitter and pessimistic squat was adamant at staying on Hoxxes.
Besides, all those that truly wanted to leave died long ago. No one spoke of those events, but sometimes a name or event would get mentioned, and the room would go quiet. Thorrotum found himself keenly aware of what the Boatsmen Alliance and later Deep Rock Galactic had to do to keep this entire venture stable. Still, it didn't make it right, but it was necessary.
"Captain!" Sergeant Ironbunker approached carrying their vox-caster. He was missing his right arm, torn off by a Glpyhid grunt. He didn't seem to mind or care. "Command just sent down a priority order. Scans from the engineer detachment detected a Heartstone about two kilometers from our current position. We get the honor to secure it. A runesmith team is already on the way."
And just like that, things got a lot more complicated. Because they couldn't pass up an opportunity to acquire a Heartstone, each one was pure and concentrated Ommorite. Where a single expedition could maybe locate a shard or two of the material, these stones were the size of a Mule and could produce a thousand runes.
And that was with a flawed Heartstone. If the purity was exceptional, it be could turn it into a powerful and dangerous weapon or perhaps one of the more esoteric runes. Whenever Deep Rock detected one of them, they were almost always within the interiors of a hive. Those operations would require using the Drilldozers and hundreds of thousand Squats to breech them.
The Glpyhids, of course, guarded such things viciously. It was theorized that the Heartstones acted as a sort of power source or perhaps even a psy-reactive control node for the beasts. Each time a Heartstone was retrieved by Deep Rock, the bugs suffered. So that was an additional incentive to acquire such stones.
"Getting the ammo from the fallen, and get that wound looked over, Sergeant. We'll move in thirty."
File repair at 67% completion
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Mission Time: 03:54:51
Things had gone from bad to worse. The arrival of the Runesmith, one Bran Blacksun, and his team should've been a sign of good fortune. He was a master Smith, apprenticed to the legendary artificer Olaf Psysmith. A veteran of two deep-dives and even hive exterminations, he knew whatever hell awaited him in the Core of Hoxxes. While not anything like a psyker, Bran still unnerved Captain Darkriver and his men. The Runesmiths always seem to notice strange things around them. Bran kept a necklace of Jadiz gems around his neck and even held a rare Bittercrytal scepter on his person.
Runesmiths were a strange caste within DRG these days. They were relatively untouchable due to their power and influence. They still drank, fought, and argued like Squats, but sometimes they would become distant and speak of strange things. They closely guarded all secrets of the runes and even took drastic steps to prevent anyone from learning about them outside of the "Runic Departments" within Deep Rock.
In any case, Bran and his kin were still Squats. They fought and bleed for Deep Rock and Kharks just as hard as the miners and gunners. They were also the most sought after foe of the Glyphids as well. No one was safe, even though those with the runes at their beck and call.
So when did things start going wrong? The first indication was when they encountered a "convoy" of sixteen Royal Guard and nearly a thousand Glyphids escorting that blasted Heartstone. However, that didn't stop the Captain. They were put in a dire encounter, but he enough troops and firepower to down even the Royal Guard.
Runesmith Blacksun and his squats were also capable of unleashing hell upon even the Royal Guard. Watching him unfold gravity and transmute the very earth into pits of molten plasma, defying all laws of physics and matter, was a glorious sight. The Glyphids deserved to die, especially for the scout team's deaths and those lost on this expedition.
"KEEP UP THE FIRE!" Thorrotum yelled as the constant hammering of his mini-gun tore through a dozen Grunts and dozens more of the crawlers. The beasts kept coming, but each one that died also caused a nice wall of corpses to form and gave the Squats plenty of protection from the acid spitters.
Nine of his troops were dead now, the Boscos were destroyed, and their BET-C was a smoldering wreck. They were done to one Mule. At this point, they had failed utterly in their mission to retrieve the necessary amount of Morkite, but the Heartstone was more than worth the loss. That's what Thorrotum told himself anyway.
Then he saw them on his scanners—a hundred additional contacts...followed by the sounds of horrendous buzzing.
"Macteras!" Sub-Captain Rockwell called out as he turned a discarded Autocannon towards the flying beasts. The damn things had been waiting for them. The bloody Glyphids were meeting up with reinforcements!
Captain Darkriver angled and pointed his minigun up towards the bugs, "HOLD THE LINE LADS, ROCK AND STONE!"
"ROCK AND STONE!" The rest of the Squats screamed as they prepared for the next wave to fall upon them.
File repair at 100% completion
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Mission Time: 05:03:22
Captain Darkriver and his team were down to only seven squats now. Their last Mule had the Heartstone secured to its back as they sprinted towards the Drop Pod location. Sub-Captain Rockwell was dead, as was Runesmith Blacksun and his team. Thorrotum had enough foresight to grab all the runes and gems off Bran's body. The rest of his team gathered up ammo from the dead.
The Glyphids were chasing them, trying to get back their precious Heartstone. Thorrotum wanted to believe they were panicking. It made him think that the bugs were afraid. But from angry buzzing and howls, they sounded more pissed than anything. Either way, Deep Rock was getting its due for all this suffering and loss.
As they ran to their escape, Captain Darkriver suspected that he and the rest of his team would be back to work tomorrow even after escaping from this nightmare. There was a lack of experienced deep divers and captains these days. He could probably retire and try to train new ones, but what was the point? Why send fresh meat into a meat grinder when they can send an old soldier like him to do this dangerous work.
He idly realized that his son would be training for a position soon. Maybe he could pull some strings and have him work in the factories or research sectors. He didn't need to follow in his father's footsteps and try to fight in this hell. The sad truth was that Thorrotum was waiting for his end on Hoxxes. But it didn't look like today was when he cashed out.
The Drop Pod out wasn't near any outlandish outcropping or in some hazardous slope. It was flat and with enough open space to allow for decent firing lines. The automated weapons on their ticket out of here activated, providing additional fire-support. Even so, the Glyphids stormed their position even as the pod's crane and captured the Mule and deposited it inside. They had done it; the Heartstone was secured!
"Inside, lads!" Thorrotum screamed as he held down the trigger to the minigun. He was down to a thousand rounds as he slowly backed towards the ramp-up. The rest of his team provided additional support, and Thorrotum wasn't even aware that he was inside the pod until Sergeant Ironbunker closed the blast doors.
Within seconds, the drop pod engines began to rumble, and soon the effects of gravity took over, causing all the Squats to tumble as the machine screamed up towards the surface. The Glyphids were trying to get on board during the entire time, even as they burned under the engines' fire.
As the squats stumbled into their seats and strapped themselves in, Captain Darkriver noticed the many empty seats. "Sergeant Ironbunker?"
"Aye, Captain?"
"You are Sub-Captain now."
The sergeant didn't sound surprised, "Aye, figured as much."
Sub-Captain Ironbunker would one day take control of this platoon. Someday, Thorrotum was going to die in the darkness of Hoxxes. It didn't fill him with dread, only a sickening realization that this was all that Deep Rock and its people had in store now. This was their home and quite possibly their tomb.
He tried not to think of it, only thinking about the payout and how drunk he was going to get tonight before needing to find new greenbeards to fill his ranks.
"Rock and stone," Thorrotum remarked quietly to his new sub-captain.
He nodded back, "Rock and stone, Captain."
To: Cawl, Belisarius
From: Alpharius
Subject: RE: RE: RE: Mineral Operation - Related to Project Kingfisher - "Delicate Touch Required"
Encryption Level: OMEGA-BLACK
Cawl,
I've finished reading all these reports. Very well, you have my support in this operation. However, I cannot take part in any long term operations with these abhumans. That said, I know someone whose close by that can assist. He might not have the "delicate" touch that Godfather requires, but he will do well among the Squats of Deep Rock Galactic that I can promise.
Details will follow shortly. I will dispatch agents to assist and monitor. If there is nothing else, we can table this discussion for now and allow events to play out.
-Alpharius
It was business as usual inside the Stop-Over System. Once again, a host of pirates, raiders, merchants, and other entities bought fuel and weapons from these strange Squats. All things considered, the little bastards made a killing each time. Yet, they were also becoming quite desperate now for other things. First, it was machine-parts, then medicine, and now even food. Whatever the reason, it made it easier to buy their goods.
However, things changed one day. During the early hours, every ship detected a massive warp breach into the system, followed by a massive power signature and hundreds of others in its wake.
Like a bunch of roaches upon sensing a light turn on, all the prospective buyers promptly scattered or tried to look "innocent" while sending out Imperial IFF codes and transponders. The great ship and its fleets ignored them as they approached the Deep Rock Galactic trade station.
A transmission was sent out, broadcasted across the entire system. "Greetings in the name of the Imperial Fists and the Imperium of Man. It is I, Rogal Dorn, Primarch of the Imperial Fists Legion. I have come to parlay with the 'Deep Rock Galactic' organization."
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@Daemon Hunter Okay, squat omake completed.
To: Alpharius
From: Cawl, Belisarius
Subject: Mineral Operation - Related to Project Kingfisher - "Delicate Touch Required"
Attachments: System Coordinates, Mission Reports Alpha-01 through Delta-04, "Planetary Mineral Reporting," "Mining Contract"
Encryption Level: OMEGA-BLACK
Alpharius,
I hope you do not mind the lack of formality in this message. There is a certain unspoken rule among the Majestic council that we address each other by a preferred name than our assigned titles. It makes for an easier conversation in these messages, especially due to the distance and time each one takes to arrive. Do not worry about security concerns. The ciphers in each correspondence are created directly by Godfather.
And yes, he's aware of the content of these messages. In any case, if you wanted to speak to me through your own means, then you are free to do so. However, the information I have for you isn't exactly pertinent to just Majestic, but perhaps also towards your brother, Lord Dorlin. The attached information will explain it further, but I'll give you a summary of events before you dive into the attached files.
For starters, a fellow councilmember, Lord Harlow, passed this along towards me. One of his Rogue Trader fleets investigated a unique rumor circulating along the "wilderness" of the galactic north. Majestic only came across it before the Sigillites due to the rather bizarre nature of it. For context, Imperial Armada elements have been investigating increased pirate activity along nearly a hundred subsectors. Now, that isn't what I am writing about. Instead, it is what Lord Harlow and the Imperial Armada reported that garnered Majestic's attention.
The pirates were all using a strange fuel source in their ship engines and plasma reactors. It was unlike any mineral composition known to even the records within Mars. At first glance, my science teams thought it to be a new type of Promethium, but its similar qualities to metal than any combustible material. I suspect that it has a less volatile state in its "liquid" form but maintains the same energy output in its solid composition. And this was later confirmed when we finally found a secured container of the substance in its solid form.
Upon interrogations of surviving pirate captains, we learned that this substance was called Morkite (and we confirmed this isn't anything Ork related) and that they, and likely hundreds of pirate and raider clans, purchased the fuel substance from a single vendor out in a system of space called the Stop-Over System. They all spun a similar tale: they entered the system that lies next to a warp storm. Inside it is a "massive" refueling station (images in report Alpha-04), and it is there they purchase this Morkite along with other materials, including adamantium and refined palladium-3. It explains how these bandits were able to maintain their ships and also produce more macro-cannon shells.
What makes this whole situation all the more intriguing was the sellers themselves. At first, our agents didn't believe the claims of the captains, but once Lord Harlow's fleet was able to arrange a meeting in the system, which I should note over 500 ships were waiting on the "vendor" to arrive, they confirmed that it was a fleet of Squat ships.
You can imagine our surprise. It has been generations since anyone has seen one ship from the abhumans, let alone an entire installation and a fleet of them selling mining goods. They effectively control the Stop-Over System, but that was just a trader post for a much, much bigger operation inside the warp storm itself.
Godfather requested that Lord Harlow and Rose handle this situation, especially as these Squats were selling directly to the Imperiums enemies. The Imperial Armada is already paranoid, especially with recent events in mind, and we'd like to prevent a small-scale war from breaking out between our respective parties.
Once again, you can read the exact details and exchanges that happened in report Delta-01, but Rose and Lord Harlow learned that these Squats represent a Deep Rock Galactic, a corporation of several dozen Squat clans and humans void-guilds. It took the better part of four weeks of negotiation to learn that much information. Still, it was only after that Lord Harlow presented a rune from your brother Rune World that the Squats suddenly took a bigger interest in our group. We also had to offer a rather large payment for "consultation fees" and "information requests" due to their mining operation's sensitive nature.
(I'd advise not telling your brother that the Squats described the Master rune as "shoddy" and "pathetic" compared to their own.)
After that, Lord Harlow had to pay additional fees for DRG Mining Operation tour on a world called "Hoxxes," the source of the Morkite. Majestic likely paid enough money for about three or four battleships to be commissioned. Still, the Squats have also accepted our organization and, by extension, the Imperium as "trusted and verified" clients instead of just customers.
Reports Delta-02 goes into greater detail of the journey towards Hoxxes by Majestic agents who were brought on board a "Ku-tun" Class Carrack the "Iron Bastard." They were unaware of how exactly the Squats traversed through the warp-storm, but they claim that the runes applied by the Squats might have seriously contributed to the success and safety of the journey.
Upon arriving in this Hoxxes System, the agents spent the better part of several weeks in closed negotiations with a board of directors made up of squats and humans representing the DRG. A rather extensive history (at least 11,000 pages worth) details the abhumans and their collective rise to power following the collapse of the Golden Age and all the way towards discovering the world of Hoxxes. The Squats have made it very clear that they claim ownership over this entire world, its resources, and the surrounding systems.
We finally got the approval needed by the Directors actually to learn about the world of Hoxxes. Please see the attachment labeled Planetary Mineral Reporting for further details, but I do believe these Squats have found one of the most mineral-rich worlds in the entire galaxy. The planet itself is about the size of Great Saturn but somehow maintains a bio-atmosphere, leading me to suspect that this world might be artificial in nature. However, this is still speculation on my part, and the DRG gave us only the barest information. However, the scale of the wealth of Hoxxes defies all logic.
From what I can tell and if my math is right (and it always is), at a basic glance, there is enough gold on Hoxxes to finance an absurd number of economic ventures, enough adamantium to build ten thousand Gloriana class vessels, and even support craft. The palladium-3, Tungsten, and Titanium levels are off the charts; there is more than enough for a hundred forge worlds to produce hundreds of millions of armored vehicles, aircraft, tanks, and even Titans for the next thousand years. But the Squats claim that those are just the "little riches" that this world has to offer.
Our agents were given a few samples of the unique minerals on Hoxxes. One was Morkite, but the others were called Croppa and Jadiz, which I can safely say are unlike anything I've ever witnessed in my entire life. I dare say only the Emperor might be able to discern their secrets if given enough time.
For example, Croppa can be made into a hyper-dense alloy that makes Ceremite look brittle. Simultaneously, Jadis seems to be another energy reactive substance that acts like fissionable material, minus any radioactive harm. Yet, it still maintains a nuclear isotope range of the Holy 234 Element.
But then they showed up the Ommorite. Upon reviewing the lab reports that the Squats have taken on it, they are completely aware that this material is a chunk of raw warp energies that can form into a physical substance in this reality. This is how they make their runes, and they have spent the last thousand years refining the process. They are jealously guarding the secrets to Ommorite, and they allowed our agents to view it only because they study one of the Wardens runes.
Godfather declared it necessary due to the possible strategic value, but I would advise not telling your brother that we sold one of his runes in exchange for this meeting.
Now, we need to address the rather large issue surrounding this whole operation: how exactly has the Deep Rock Galactic or this coalition, or anyone else for this matter not completely strip-mined Hoxxes. I'm sure you've already come to several conclusions upon seeing that this world was located inside a warp storm.
And yes, it is just as bad as you can imagine.
Once again, I will provide some context in this situation because the exact histories of the mining operations on Hoxxes are quite detailed and showcases several follies. When asked why the squats continue to throw so much at this operation, the agents described it as "solemn fury" mixed with "necessity" that drives the DRG. This world, this entire system, was sold to the squats nearly 2,000 years ago by an unknown cabal of Eldar Corsairs. The story goes that one of the squat's ancestors, Ivan Stormsblood of the Stormsblood Clan, which was part of the Boatsmen Alliance (a precursor to the DRG), secured the location after saving some 100,000 Eldar civilians from what we suspect to be a destroyed Chaos aligned xeno faction.
Records indicate that the Eldar told them on a world rich in mineral wealth that it would take the squats a thousand generations to mine it all, but they would have to pay for such riches in blood and sweat. Once again, this shows that the Eldar embodies the old saying, "No good deed goes unpunished."
In any case, the Squats and their human counter-parts seemed more than capable of taming this system, so they left their old worlds and holdings to establish a permanent settlement in Hoxxes. The journey itself was described as harrowing, but not dangerous or with serious loss of life.
No, it arrived at Hoxxes that turned into the true test and became a subsequent nightmare. The Squats, still operating under the Boatsmen Alliance, attempted 29 colonization attempts over a period of a hundred years. Each one of them failed catastrophically. Psykers, mutants, diseases, and natural disasters. Hoxxes is a Deathworld, in more ways than one, but the Squats attempted to tame it.
They are stubborn people, and that stubbornness ultimately allowed them to finally get a successful colonial operation on the 30th attempt, Karak Jiron. They could finally begin mining operations. But just like with all colonization upon a Deathworld, the real challenge soon started once the settlers started working. To quote Godfather, "they dug too deep."
Unsurprisingly, there are creatures on Hoxxes, but most of them stay underground due to the warp energies and radioactivity bleed out for the system's trinary stars. Even so, something changed them. Made them aggressive, hostile, and territorial. They are insectoids by nature, but they also seem to have been twisted by the warp storm's proximity. The same minerals that the squats covet are both the source of nourishment and enhancement for this strange multi-genius species call the Glyphids.
I've attached a separate document that details nearly 1,000 years of prolonged warfare against these beasts. The Glyphids appeared only a year after the mining operations began under Karak Jiron, and the first contact almost resulted in a massacre of the Karak. The squats lost nearly twenty million of their people, including some forty million humans. After that disaster, the Boatsmen Alliance also fell apart until a cadre of miners, soldiers, and industrialists combined their resources to maintain control and protection over Karak Jiron. Thus Deep Rock Galactic was created, and within a hundred years, they took control over the Alliance entirely.
It was probably for the best, as they could keep up the demand and engage in mining operations for the next nine centuries. However, these Glyphids are a true nightmare to fight against, especially in a pitched battle. That document I mentioned also specifies their capabilities, and I would strongly recommend taking a look at the reports of so-called "witch bugs" that have appeared most recently. Based on my current conclusion of the given evidence, I would also advise that any Imperial operations on Hoxxes require full Legion and Primarch support if we were to plan any major headway into taking and holding anything down on this planet.
I've already reviewed this with our military leaders, but some Astartes input would be welcome.
In any case, the squats have begun to review our proposals, especially regarding purchasing their runic masters' support. However, they have advised that trade secrets are just that. They will not authorize the sale of anything related to anything rune related unless we offer them up a rather interesting bargain.
However, I already know what they want, as do Godfather and Rose, and you will too once you read the report. However, I will summarize it for you: they are losing the war for Hoxxes. They've been selling fuel and minerals to raiders and pirates because they hemorrhage money and personnel like the Imperial Army during a nasty campaign, but they no reserves to call upon. Godfather will ask you to review this situation and see if the Alpha Legion can do something about this.
But more than anything else, Godfather wants the Eternal Wardens to assist. There are massive concentrations of warp corruption in this world now, perhaps in light of the most recent events. DRG won't be able to go any further than perhaps twelve or thirteen thousand meters down below before the start running into the truly awful and dangerous creatures, but that is just a theory on my part.
And what do I know, I'm only a genius...
All the files are here for you to review, including the offered contract. Godfather, Rose, and several other members of the council have reviewed it already. Still, your vast and considerable skills at statecraft and military planning would be sorely missed regarding how we in Majestic and the Imperium can benefit from a long term arrangement with the DRG.
There is still quite a considerable amount of groundwork to cover, and this doesn't require your explicit attention as it isn't one of your projects. Still, I would advise that any aid in this would certainly gain you a few allies among the council and likely placate Godfather for a short time. Our established leader does enjoy watching us helping and playing nice with each other. If nothing else, you and your brother would also stand to benefit from this in multiple ways.
I expect you to be sending agents regardless of the attached files before deciding on any action. Believe me when I say you will need as much context before proceeding further.
Your ally and compatriot,
-Cawl
P.S. Remember, Godfather is watching...
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Accessing the Deep Rock Galactic "CONTRACT"
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Contract for Mining Services and Purchases under the Deep Rock Galactic™ Corporation
KNOW ALL MEN BY THESE PRESENT THAT DEEP ROCK GALACTIC™, a national corporation organized under the Boatsmen Alliance of Stonecutter Year 876, Gold Era, and the contracting party (from now on known as the "Imperium") do hereby contract, consent, and agree to the following terms concerning the creation of a mining expedition into the dreaded and bountiful world of Hoxxrs. May the Ancestors bless this contract and may Rock and Stone guide all parties involved towards wealth and riches.
All provisions in the attached stipulations shall be in force in addition to the rights, responsibilities, and provisions put forth herein. Conditions and stipulations not included in either the stipulations or this document are neither guaranteed nor denied without further negotiation and a written agreement or another suitably witnessed arrangement between all known entities/persons/parties. Said entities/persons/parties are defined as those with a signed agreement Deep Rock Galactic™.
Duration
The active duration of this contract shall last for one decade, starting _______ until the Imperium decides to either extend or terminate the contract. The contract may be terminated early by mutual consent of all signatories and extended by the same. The continuing responsibilities of this contract shall only be released with the written consent of a representing Director of Deep Rock Galactic™.
Risks and Warnings
- The Imperium assumes full liability for any death, dismemberment, loss of consortium, loss of limb, mental anguish, warp madness, or physical, psychical, or spiritual pain and suffering inflicted, and agrees that DRG™, its agents, devisees, successors, employees, and attorneys, shall NOT be held liable for the same. The Imperium agrees that should the Imperium bring suit in derogation of this clause, that such matter shall be heard before a Director or other arbitrator of DRG's™ exclusive choice, and that the Imperium shall be responsible for 100% of said fees to said, Director.
- All parties further agree that this contract shall be considered legally binding. The parties agree that this contract shall be governed by the laws pertaining to those assigned by the ancient Boatsmen Alliance and that the Board of Directors is the forum and venue of convenience for any dispute regarding this contract.
- The parties further agree that if the Imperiums expedition should meet with misfortune while in the service of DRG™, the Imperium is not eligible to collect their earnings.
Mining Rights/Expeditions
- Decisions regarding particular instances of mining concerns faced by all parties involved shall be directed by the member or members of the assigned councilmembers and representatives with the most specialized knowledge in that area.
- In the absence of specialized knowledge relevant to challenges experienced by all parties involved, decisions shall be made by an executive decision.
- Decisions about expeditions to take shall be decided by consensus and prioritize the expedition members' survivability and the overall profit margins for all affiliated parties and the expedition's backers.
- All mining profits will be split among a 60-40 cut; this can be negotiated later if the outside parties wish to do so with a member of Deep Rock Galactic™.
- During expeditions, information must be shared freely and as completely as possible to ensure the expedition's safety and efficacy.
- Previously existing factional, contractual, or personal commitments to secrecy on various topics shall be overridden to ensure the expedition's survival and the safe return of all mining acquisitions.
- Division of wealth shall proceed as described in the stipulations as well as the provisions below. The value of acquired mineral wealth will be based on Deep Rock Galactic™ standard market value.
- Costs for identifying minerals and their warp properties will be based on Deep Rock Galactic™ standard market value.
- All Warp reactive substances are to be taken to the expedition assigned Rune Smith. In the event the Rune Smith is killed, all warp reactive substances are to be left behind. This is non-negotiable.
- Any party member guilty of attempting to undermine the assigned value in recovered goods shall have the difference between the asserted value and the actual value removed from their take in addition to any costs associated with assaying the value of the goods. All concerns and arguments will need to be taken up with Deep Rock Galactic™ standards and practices.
- All recovered relics and alien artifacts, henceforth known as Progenitor Items, shall be returned to Deep Rock Galactic™ Containment, Research, and Development teams. All affiliated parties shall be compensated handsomely for the return of such items.
- The destruction of Glyphid Hives will be compensated as well. The death of any Glyphid King or Queen shall be reimbursed at standard market value, while the capture of one shall receive a unique payment via the Board of Directors.
The signatory below is responsible for ensuring the contract is adhered to by all other signatories, their contractors, and agents. In the event of a contractual dispute, adjudication may be taken to a ranking member of the Board of Directors within Deep Rock Galactic™. If one cannot be obtained for a ruling in a timely fashion, the sole right of adjudication shall be retained by Deep Rock Galactic™. Should the contract ended due to violation, wealth owed to Deep Rock Galactic™ for the remaining duration of the contract may be given to the Deep Rock Galactic™ expeditionary memorial and orphans/widow fund. Should the contract ended due to violation, Deep Rock Galactic™ retains the right to file a letter of debts towards the associated parties involved. Failure to do so will result in a grudge by the Deep Rock Galactic™ corporation against the related parties for all time.
The parties hereby confirm that they do not or cannot agree to indemnify Deep Rock Galactic™ or its representatives in the event of a failed expedition. These actions are prohibited, but Deep Rock Galactic™ shall compensate all parties involved if they take on a life insurance policy. Distribution of the provisions of this Mining Contract Agreement shall be deemed to create the object code. You may choose to fund an expedition, but Deep Rock Galactic™ will not represent the terms of any such warranty or additional liability or in the event of death. THE ACCOMPANYING INFORMATION IS PROVIDED "AS IS" AND ANY EXPRESSED OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO, PROCUREMENT OF SPECIALISTS OR THEIR SERVICES; DAMAGES AND DEATHS ARISING OUT OF THE EXPEDITION IS PROVIDED ON AN "AS IS" AND WITHOUT ANY EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING, WITHOUT LIMITATION, DAMAGES OR LOSS OF LIFE OR LOSSES SUSTAINED BY YOU OR THIRD PARTIES OR A FAILURE OF THE POSSIBILITY THEREOF.
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To: Cawl, Belisarius
From: Alpharius
Subject: RE: Mineral Operation - Related to Project Kingfisher - "Delicate Touch Required"
Encryption Level: OMEGA-BLACK
Cawl,
I've taken the time to review the attachments. A physical document is preferred, but as Godfather seems to partake in reading through our messages, I will instead send a private courier towards you at a later point regarding a longer-lasting private and secured correspondence. If our esteemed employer has issues with it, then I will take care of it personally.
Regarding the contents of these messages, I will admit that I am quite intrigued by the prospect of a joint effort with this Deep Rock Galactic. However, I have various questions and concerns over the details of a lasting equal and equitable partnership. Name the contents of this contract are blatantly designed to favor the DRG. How are we to gain any favorable position in the long term if the squats can deny any or all contract re-negotiations? They also control the "market pricing" for all resources, which is baffling to consider as you need quantifiable market competition to have fair pricing. And this mention of survival and fatality rates? They give no real indication of what an expedition could be walking into, so are we to send humans and Astartes into a deathworld on the prospect of potential profits?
However, the Imperium's prospect of gaining access to these resources could be a potential windfall in the long term. Of course, I assume that Majestic wishes to make the best use of them, rather than allow for the greater Imperium to waste them on just building more weapons and ships. The squats mentioning superior runes is also a long term strategic asset that we should make all attempts to obtain. Certainly, the Eternal Wardens could make great use of having a supply of runic materials, and if these squats claim to have better rune smiths, we should see about purchasing their skills.
Furthermore, we need to get DRG to stop selling this Morkite fuel to pirates and raiders to stop the attacks on our outposts and for the Armada's sake. That alone is worthy of our attention, but we shall be taking steps to end it if a peaceful resolution is impossible.
There are also many other questions I have, namely about the nature of this world. The Eldar knew about it, but they gave it up to these squats? The Eldar never gives up anything unless it serves a purpose that benefits only them or seeks to undermine those four abominations in the Warp. You've also suspected that there is something more to Hoxxos, and I agree. There is no such thing as a world that is this mineral-rich. Again, Majestic and Alpha Legion operatives would need to investigate further, either by confronting Deep Rock or sending down expeditions ourselves.
As such, I ask this question, what are the exact intentions of Majestic here? I am prepared to do what is necessary to ensure that we gain resources and information to develop runic-based technologies and practices. But does Majestic also stand to benefit from gaining access to this world's resources for another purpose?
-Alpharius
To: Alpharius
From: Cawl, Belisarius
Subject: RE: RE: Mineral Operation - Related to Project Kingfisher - "Delicate Touch Required"
Attachment: Combat Footage -Corpse Valley Expedition-
Encryption Level: OMEGA-BLACK
Alpharius,
I am not at liberty to discuss what my department or anyone else at Majestic has in mind, but knowing that Godfather is reading this, I can tell you that I have a few things in mind. But you are correct; we stand to benefit just as much as the Eternal Wardens do by gaining access to a lasting alliance with the DRG. If you truly wish to know Alpharius, then help Majestic and me with this operation. I promise you in doing so; I will assist you and your brother with their runic development.
Your message also reached me at a good point. We've recently, well as recently as this correspondence allows, a recording of a mining operation by the DRG. I hope the review of the situation helps highlight just how deadly these expeditions have become and why some Astartes assistance might be beneficial to all parties involved.
Please take the time to review and consider my proposal.
Your ally and compatriot,
-Cawl
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Accessing vid file...
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Date: Zeni 14, Diamond Era, Year 899
Location: Sector Z-09 (Magma Core), Position 89-122-09, "Corpse Valley"
Distance: -12,983 meters below insert point
Mission Start: 0:23:56
Ops Directive: Collect three tons of Morkite minerals
Threat Level: HIGH
Hazard Level: HIGH
Terrain Complexity: HIGH
Mineral Wealth/Value: EXTREME
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Playback begins...
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The rumbling of the drop-pod rattled the teeth and bones of even the most stalwart squat, but Captain Thorrotum Darkriver was instead enjoying a brief rest while strapped into his seat. Whenever any drop-pod went down into the magma core, there was a 27% chance of instant death. That might have worried others, but for Captain Darkriver, that just meant that if he died, it would instant, and he and his compatriots would be absorbed into the Rock and Stone, as was the final fate of all those under the employment of Deep Rock.But they were on the final approach now. He and the other twenty squats in his platoon were the first into the breach to clear the miner's and engineers' area. The scouts hadn't reported back yet, which likely meant that they either had to escape into another cave network or died to the last squat. Scouts were a dangerous position for anyone, but that also made them some of the hardest fighters in the expeditionary corps.
"Best check your weapons again, lads." Thorrotum barked out over team comms, "The heat plays havoc with your onboard sensors. And for ancestor's sake, watch your bloody footing and don't step into any magma rifts!" A round of affirmative resounded out while Captain Darkriver checked his Thunderhead. His platoon of gunners was equipped with autocannons, assault guns, plasma and melta, and even a few runic death-arrays, granted only the BET-C could mount that bastard of a gun.
Captain Darkriver didn't like the combots. They weren't like the Mules or Boscos. The BET-C was an autonomous weapons platform designed by the old Boatsmen Alliance. A remnant of the first attempts to tame the caves and caverns of Hoxxes. Alas, it was quickly discovered that a local species of parasite, Xynarch Charge-suckers, loved nothing better than to corrupt the BET-C units' programming by gorging themselves on the copper wiring and electric charge within. What a disaster that turned into in the long run. There were still expeditions that encountered a corrupted Betsy. Once Deep Rock took control, they ultimately decided that a BET-C was allowed for special gunnery teams and that a kill-switch was to be ready at all times.
'I'd have preferred a runesmith, but you can't get everything you want, I suppose.' A runesmith used to be attached to every unit. But then those damn bugs started to target them on every mission intentionally. Deep Rock knew that the Glyphids were intelligent, but that was beyond simple animal desires. Every decade the bugs got deadlier. Two hundred years ago, a team might have seen only one Praetorian once a month.
Now you saw three or four during any mission.
It used to be that Glyphid Wardens and Psy-Mactera were just legends, and yet Captain Blackriver had fought against each of them a dozen times in the last five years. Nothing worse than psykers that could either fly or burrow into the walls. Then the Dreadnoughts and Oppressors and the Royal Guards started to surface.
Hoxxos itself had become a danger as well. The biomes becoming increasingly difficult and deadly the further down the expeditions went, and somehow the Glyphids were there at every corner. Their filthy nests and hives had to be burned out entirely. The Boatsmen Alliance tried to kill them all with atomics, but all that did was cause the radioactive zones to surface. This planet was alive; Thorrotum was sure of it. Otherwise, how does a planet use atomic fallout to its advantage?
The rumbling ceased in any instance, and the entire platoon felt the vibrations end as the massive melta-drill finished burning its ways down into the very earth of Hoxxos. "Here we go, lads, out now and watch the fucking walls!" Sub-Captain Ulvid Rockwell called out to the others as the squats quickly untangled themselves and brought up their weapons. The drop-pod ramp lowered itself, and the blast-shielding opened.
Captain Blackriver felt a wave of oppressive heat even through his protective power-armor, and a bright light filled their inside of the pod. As the platoon exited their ride, a pair of Mules and several Bosco mining bots followed them. While not a dedicated miner, each squat proceeded to mark locations of minerals after they finished storming out of the drop-pod. They all had power pick-axes, and thanks to the mini-forges of the mules, each squat could gather up enough minerals for processing without having to worry about needing to carry them for too long.
Several seconds later, Captain Blackriver heard one of his troops shout over comms, "Contact! Swarmers and grunts!" Those were easy enough, even if there were hundreds of the bastards. The sounds of assault and auto-cannon fire sounded off even as the Captain finished exiting the craft and sent the return signal to it just as the BET-C disembarked and the chilling sound of the runic deathray vaporized a spawn of crawlers.
Soon there were the sounds of gunfire, the breaking of molten rock by pick-ax, and the dying screams of monsters—just another day at the office, as the humans liked to say now.
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*ALERT, TIMESTAMPS UNRESPONSIVE*...
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*FILE CORRUPTED*
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Attempting to rebuild the file, stand by...
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Mission Time: 02:34:56
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They found the scouts, what was left of them anyway. It had been almost six hours since the expedition had started, and this discovery had not helped things. Captain Darkriver had already lost four squats and one of the Mules. They had found plenty of morkite, croppa, and even some red-steel, but Thorrotum didn't think any of this was worth the cost of lives; however, these resources were the lifeblood of Deep Rock.It is a cruel joke to play among those attempting to live on this planet and those who died for it. His men and those of this scout team were just another lists of names to add to the Memorial Hall. Ancestors preserve all of them, but their war was ever-expanding and devouring their civilization. The day they had to expand that blasted hall because there was no more room to carve in the fallen names was when the people of Deep Rock realized that they would either tame this world or die on it.
Every squat and human that existed on Hoxxes was now part of a long line of dead men who tried to tame this place. Thorrotum's family was no different. His father had been a miner, his father-fathers an engineer, and his father-fathers-fathers a soldier. They couldn't just leave either. To do so would be a disrespect to all those that fell to get them this far. Even the most bitter and pessimistic squat was adamant at staying on Hoxxes.
Besides, all those that truly wanted to leave died long ago. No one spoke of those events, but sometimes a name or event would get mentioned, and the room would go quiet. Thorrotum found himself keenly aware of what the Boatsmen Alliance and later Deep Rock Galactic had to do to keep this entire venture stable. Still, it didn't make it right, but it was necessary.
"Captain!" Sergeant Ironbunker approached carrying their vox-caster. He was missing his right arm, torn off by a Glpyhid grunt. He didn't seem to mind or care. "Command just sent down a priority order. Scans from the engineer detachment detected a Heartstone about two kilometers from our current position. We get the honor to secure it. A runesmith team is already on the way."
And just like that, things got a lot more complicated. Because they couldn't pass up an opportunity to acquire a Heartstone, each one was pure and concentrated Ommorite. Where a single expedition could maybe locate a shard or two of the material, these stones were the size of a Mule and could produce a thousand runes.
And that was with a flawed Heartstone. If the purity was exceptional, it be could turn it into a powerful and dangerous weapon or perhaps one of the more esoteric runes. Whenever Deep Rock detected one of them, they were almost always within the interiors of a hive. Those operations would require using the Drilldozers and hundreds of thousand Squats to breech them.
The Glpyhids, of course, guarded such things viciously. It was theorized that the Heartstones acted as a sort of power source or perhaps even a psy-reactive control node for the beasts. Each time a Heartstone was retrieved by Deep Rock, the bugs suffered. So that was an additional incentive to acquire such stones.
"Getting the ammo from the fallen, and get that wound looked over, Sergeant. We'll move in thirty."
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File repair at 67% completion
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Mission Time: 03:54:51
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Things had gone from bad to worse. The arrival of the Runesmith, one Bran Blacksun, and his team should've been a sign of good fortune. He was a master Smith, apprenticed to the legendary artificer Olaf Psysmith. A veteran of two deep-dives and even hive exterminations, he knew whatever hell awaited him in the Core of Hoxxes. While not anything like a psyker, Bran still unnerved Captain Darkriver and his men. The Runesmiths always seem to notice strange things around them. Bran kept a necklace of Jadiz gems around his neck and even held a rare Bittercrytal scepter on his person.
Runesmiths were a strange caste within DRG these days. They were relatively untouchable due to their power and influence. They still drank, fought, and argued like Squats, but sometimes they would become distant and speak of strange things. They closely guarded all secrets of the runes and even took drastic steps to prevent anyone from learning about them outside of the "Runic Departments" within Deep Rock.
In any case, Bran and his kin were still Squats. They fought and bleed for Deep Rock and Kharks just as hard as the miners and gunners. They were also the most sought after foe of the Glyphids as well. No one was safe, even though those with the runes at their beck and call.
So when did things start going wrong? The first indication was when they encountered a "convoy" of sixteen Royal Guard and nearly a thousand Glyphids escorting that blasted Heartstone. However, that didn't stop the Captain. They were put in a dire encounter, but he enough troops and firepower to down even the Royal Guard.
Runesmith Blacksun and his squats were also capable of unleashing hell upon even the Royal Guard. Watching him unfold gravity and transmute the very earth into pits of molten plasma, defying all laws of physics and matter, was a glorious sight. The Glyphids deserved to die, especially for the scout team's deaths and those lost on this expedition.
"KEEP UP THE FIRE!" Thorrotum yelled as the constant hammering of his mini-gun tore through a dozen Grunts and dozens more of the crawlers. The beasts kept coming, but each one that died also caused a nice wall of corpses to form and gave the Squats plenty of protection from the acid spitters.
Nine of his troops were dead now, the Boscos were destroyed, and their BET-C was a smoldering wreck. They were done to one Mule. At this point, they had failed utterly in their mission to retrieve the necessary amount of Morkite, but the Heartstone was more than worth the loss. That's what Thorrotum told himself anyway.
Then he saw them on his scanners—a hundred additional contacts...followed by the sounds of horrendous buzzing.
"Macteras!" Sub-Captain Rockwell called out as he turned a discarded Autocannon towards the flying beasts. The damn things had been waiting for them. The bloody Glyphids were meeting up with reinforcements!
Captain Darkriver angled and pointed his minigun up towards the bugs, "HOLD THE LINE LADS, ROCK AND STONE!"
"ROCK AND STONE!" The rest of the Squats screamed as they prepared for the next wave to fall upon them.
---
File repair at 100% completion
...
...
Mission Time: 05:03:22
---
Captain Darkriver and his team were down to only seven squats now. Their last Mule had the Heartstone secured to its back as they sprinted towards the Drop Pod location. Sub-Captain Rockwell was dead, as was Runesmith Blacksun and his team. Thorrotum had enough foresight to grab all the runes and gems off Bran's body. The rest of his team gathered up ammo from the dead.
The Glyphids were chasing them, trying to get back their precious Heartstone. Thorrotum wanted to believe they were panicking. It made him think that the bugs were afraid. But from angry buzzing and howls, they sounded more pissed than anything. Either way, Deep Rock was getting its due for all this suffering and loss.
As they ran to their escape, Captain Darkriver suspected that he and the rest of his team would be back to work tomorrow even after escaping from this nightmare. There was a lack of experienced deep divers and captains these days. He could probably retire and try to train new ones, but what was the point? Why send fresh meat into a meat grinder when they can send an old soldier like him to do this dangerous work.
He idly realized that his son would be training for a position soon. Maybe he could pull some strings and have him work in the factories or research sectors. He didn't need to follow in his father's footsteps and try to fight in this hell. The sad truth was that Thorrotum was waiting for his end on Hoxxes. But it didn't look like today was when he cashed out.
The Drop Pod out wasn't near any outlandish outcropping or in some hazardous slope. It was flat and with enough open space to allow for decent firing lines. The automated weapons on their ticket out of here activated, providing additional fire-support. Even so, the Glyphids stormed their position even as the pod's crane and captured the Mule and deposited it inside. They had done it; the Heartstone was secured!
"Inside, lads!" Thorrotum screamed as he held down the trigger to the minigun. He was down to a thousand rounds as he slowly backed towards the ramp-up. The rest of his team provided additional support, and Thorrotum wasn't even aware that he was inside the pod until Sergeant Ironbunker closed the blast doors.
Within seconds, the drop pod engines began to rumble, and soon the effects of gravity took over, causing all the Squats to tumble as the machine screamed up towards the surface. The Glyphids were trying to get on board during the entire time, even as they burned under the engines' fire.
As the squats stumbled into their seats and strapped themselves in, Captain Darkriver noticed the many empty seats. "Sergeant Ironbunker?"
"Aye, Captain?"
"You are Sub-Captain now."
The sergeant didn't sound surprised, "Aye, figured as much."
Sub-Captain Ironbunker would one day take control of this platoon. Someday, Thorrotum was going to die in the darkness of Hoxxes. It didn't fill him with dread, only a sickening realization that this was all that Deep Rock and its people had in store now. This was their home and quite possibly their tomb.
He tried not to think of it, only thinking about the payout and how drunk he was going to get tonight before needing to find new greenbeards to fill his ranks.
"Rock and stone," Thorrotum remarked quietly to his new sub-captain.
He nodded back, "Rock and stone, Captain."
---
To: Cawl, Belisarius
From: Alpharius
Subject: RE: RE: RE: Mineral Operation - Related to Project Kingfisher - "Delicate Touch Required"
Encryption Level: OMEGA-BLACK
Cawl,
I've finished reading all these reports. Very well, you have my support in this operation. However, I cannot take part in any long term operations with these abhumans. That said, I know someone whose close by that can assist. He might not have the "delicate" touch that Godfather requires, but he will do well among the Squats of Deep Rock Galactic that I can promise.
Details will follow shortly. I will dispatch agents to assist and monitor. If there is nothing else, we can table this discussion for now and allow events to play out.
-Alpharius
---
It was business as usual inside the Stop-Over System. Once again, a host of pirates, raiders, merchants, and other entities bought fuel and weapons from these strange Squats. All things considered, the little bastards made a killing each time. Yet, they were also becoming quite desperate now for other things. First, it was machine-parts, then medicine, and now even food. Whatever the reason, it made it easier to buy their goods.
However, things changed one day. During the early hours, every ship detected a massive warp breach into the system, followed by a massive power signature and hundreds of others in its wake.
Like a bunch of roaches upon sensing a light turn on, all the prospective buyers promptly scattered or tried to look "innocent" while sending out Imperial IFF codes and transponders. The great ship and its fleets ignored them as they approached the Deep Rock Galactic trade station.
A transmission was sent out, broadcasted across the entire system. "Greetings in the name of the Imperial Fists and the Imperium of Man. It is I, Rogal Dorn, Primarch of the Imperial Fists Legion. I have come to parlay with the 'Deep Rock Galactic' organization."
---
@Daemon Hunter Okay, squat omake completed.
Nicholas Brooks
Redeemer and Destroyer
- Location
- United States
[X] Plan Concluding Business
-[X] The Mitu Conglomerate - While the Xenos had previously been embroiled in a conflict with the Orks, a series of reverses has occurred allowing them to end the threat of the Xeno menace. However, this leaves the Mitu still capable of military conflict, albeit diminished after Sanguinius' actions, and as such the Wardens have been assigned to deal with the situation. If needed, Sanguinius has tentatively offered the assistance of his first captain. Threat Level: Maxima Extremis
--[X] Oriacarius + Otto + Vigilance + 70000 Astartes + Titans
-[X] The Fractured Conclave - After Ashani was released and subsequently executed, the Fractured Conclave fell apart. While the Alpha's death has introduced some semblance of order, their military strength has fallen drastically. Moreover, a subversive cult worshipping Kesar has been causing them no end of problems. The situation has temporarily stabilized, but the Wardens have been tasked with bringing the worlds into the Imperium. Threat Level: Hard
--[X] Night Watch + 100 Astartes
-[X] Typhon - An isolationist world containing an understrength but highly skilled Titan element, the locals were dealing with a routine raid by Galain forces. Acting quickly, the local Imperial Army helped drive back the raiders, and negotiations were reluctantly opened up by the Typhon government. Thus far, they have proven to be incredibly stubborn and protective of their Titans. Even the Mechanicum is impressed at the lengths they are willing to go to keep their Titans operational and whole. Despite this, the goodwill earned by assisting in the defense of their world has opened negotiations to a world that normally would have spurned such things. *Threat Level: Hard*
--[X] Baldur + 10000 Astartes
-[X] Galain - A world of bloodsport, several thousand extremely skilled gladiators fight within artificial urban stadiums on a daily basis. These men and women form the elite of their military elite, only subservient due to a highly addictive drug dispensed weekly. The Imperial Army has reported that the enemy forces are incredibly dangerous within the urban hives, but are far more manageable in open terrain. Threat Level: Extreme
--[X] Solarus + 30000 Astartes
-[X] Arbelis - A brutal dictatorship in the midst of a rebellion, the local Imperial Army commander was minutes from supporting the dictatorship before several incidents came to light following a desperate push from rebel forces. Following the incident, a section of the upper hives on Arbelis was bombarded by Imperial forces before anti-orbital weapons forced a withdrawal. Initial reports show a highly skilled rebel force with high support among the local populace. Nonetheless, the upper hives have proven to be deathtraps for the Imperial Army. Perhaps Astartes may be different. Threat Level: Extreme
--[X] Maticus + 25000 Astartes + Knights
-[X] Moreau - A forge world run by heretical tech priests. The local mangos have focused on creating hybrids of xeno, human, and animal DNA. Their creations have been wildly uncontrollable, and the use of live test subjects disgusted the local Imperial Army commander. Moreover, there is evidence they have been incorporating artificial intelligence within their hybrids, a crime for which death is a must. Threat Level: Hard.
--[X] Doom Slayer + 30000 Astartes
-[X] The Mitu Conglomerate - While the Xenos had previously been embroiled in a conflict with the Orks, a series of reverses has occurred allowing them to end the threat of the Xeno menace. However, this leaves the Mitu still capable of military conflict, albeit diminished after Sanguinius' actions, and as such the Wardens have been assigned to deal with the situation. If needed, Sanguinius has tentatively offered the assistance of his first captain. Threat Level: Maxima Extremis
--[X] Oriacarius + Otto + Vigilance + 70000 Astartes + Titans
-[X] The Fractured Conclave - After Ashani was released and subsequently executed, the Fractured Conclave fell apart. While the Alpha's death has introduced some semblance of order, their military strength has fallen drastically. Moreover, a subversive cult worshipping Kesar has been causing them no end of problems. The situation has temporarily stabilized, but the Wardens have been tasked with bringing the worlds into the Imperium. Threat Level: Hard
--[X] Night Watch + 100 Astartes
-[X] Typhon - An isolationist world containing an understrength but highly skilled Titan element, the locals were dealing with a routine raid by Galain forces. Acting quickly, the local Imperial Army helped drive back the raiders, and negotiations were reluctantly opened up by the Typhon government. Thus far, they have proven to be incredibly stubborn and protective of their Titans. Even the Mechanicum is impressed at the lengths they are willing to go to keep their Titans operational and whole. Despite this, the goodwill earned by assisting in the defense of their world has opened negotiations to a world that normally would have spurned such things. *Threat Level: Hard*
--[X] Baldur + 10000 Astartes
-[X] Galain - A world of bloodsport, several thousand extremely skilled gladiators fight within artificial urban stadiums on a daily basis. These men and women form the elite of their military elite, only subservient due to a highly addictive drug dispensed weekly. The Imperial Army has reported that the enemy forces are incredibly dangerous within the urban hives, but are far more manageable in open terrain. Threat Level: Extreme
--[X] Solarus + 30000 Astartes
-[X] Arbelis - A brutal dictatorship in the midst of a rebellion, the local Imperial Army commander was minutes from supporting the dictatorship before several incidents came to light following a desperate push from rebel forces. Following the incident, a section of the upper hives on Arbelis was bombarded by Imperial forces before anti-orbital weapons forced a withdrawal. Initial reports show a highly skilled rebel force with high support among the local populace. Nonetheless, the upper hives have proven to be deathtraps for the Imperial Army. Perhaps Astartes may be different. Threat Level: Extreme
--[X] Maticus + 25000 Astartes + Knights
-[X] Moreau - A forge world run by heretical tech priests. The local mangos have focused on creating hybrids of xeno, human, and animal DNA. Their creations have been wildly uncontrollable, and the use of live test subjects disgusted the local Imperial Army commander. Moreover, there is evidence they have been incorporating artificial intelligence within their hybrids, a crime for which death is a must. Threat Level: Hard.
--[X] Doom Slayer + 30000 Astartes
Last edited:
- Pronouns
- Human/Form/Keyblade
[X] Plan Concluding Business
Kamangr
Stella!!
I bursted something vital of my guts reading this. It was the last of straws that started piling up from 'silver tongue'.
Dorn and Squats. Now, that's some match-up.
And the mineral rich planet near a Warp storm? Yeah..... I would say the planet is fishier than a fermented skate. A slumbering daemon world, maybe.
I'm not good at strategy. So, I will just point out something that seems ill-advised.
I mostly agree to this plan. Except NW deployment with Witch Hunters. The Conclave's threat level is the same with Moreau, and yet you send them without Astartes support. Considering the current NW is diminished in number and the Witch Hunters is needed when the Ritual War commences, I say it's not a wise decision.
December 24th Omake Rewards
- Location
- Elsewhere
Alright, Omakes for today. First up is a continuation of the Pert negaverse. Just got to say that the second quote was just amazing. Also, the cypher where you explained Pert just wants to retire to a nice house was great. I fully agree with it, and I imagine that one day maybe he'll have a chance to do so. As for your reward:
[] +5 to a roll of the GM's choice
[] +10% to the Iron Warriors's CR training in Year 30
[] +10% to the Iron Warriors's Anti-Daemon training in Year 30
Next up is a Vulkan negaverse, and let me say that I really enjoyed reading this. The incorporation of your letter from Kesar into it was great, and I could feel the frustration in the playerbase. It fits what I'd expect from them, and the inclusion of the extra action mention in it fit very well. As for your reward:
[] +5 to a roll of the GM's choice
[] -1 year to one of Vulkan's current projects
[] Konrad gains an extra action in Year 30
Then we have a hilarious omake of Leman and Zunia's continued sitcom. You know, I'd read a book just about their interactions. For the omake, I really enjoyed it. It fits perfectly with their characters, and the skepticism of Leman would definitely be understandable albeit annoying. Capturing that in Zunia was great, and thankfully for my sanity, she didn't repeat this on her next task. As for your reward:
[] +5 to a roll of the GM's choice
[] -2 years to Zunia's current task (Going through the full Space Wolf compliance list in search for areas of improvement. Currently completes Year 33)
[] -3 years to Zunia's next task (Implementing Changes Based on Areas of Improvement. 5 Years of Work)
Now this was absolutely a treat to read. It completely in character for Kesar, and Emps carving the names of Custodes into his armor was a great touch. The weight that was clearly on Kesar formed of all the dead was wonderfully done, and soon we shall see if the number of dead matches or surpasses expectations. Perhaps it will even surprise all of us and be less than expected. As for your reward:
[] +5 to a roll of the GM's choice
[] +5 to the Emperor's Roll for the Ritual (Will Max Out the Bonus)
[] +10% effectiveness to one of Kesar's actions in Year 30 (Chosen by GM)
Well, I can also completely agree that I never actually expected you to pick 35 worlds. However, you guys did come up with a pretty good plan, and one I didn't expect. Also, can I just say that this quote is amazing? "Sorta, his rolls helped but it was Leman's nat 100 that got her on board, and she'd probably have strong words, with punchy vowels, if you called her "Leman's squeeze." I imagine." It's just absolutely glorious. As for your reward:
[] +5 to a roll of the GM's choice
[] Ask the GM a question and they shall answer (subject to veto)
[] +10 to the Emperor's next social roll