It would only take a single word to describe what happened in the Orpheus sector, chaos. Not the face of the arch enemy, but a far more mundane yet altogether more serious threat. Over a single period of 24 hours whenever one fell asleep they beheld visions. Deathless and skeletal horrors rising from their graves. Led by a pale figure riding a horse made of lightning and wielding a scythe that was used to carve the sun from the sky.
The malevolent visage of this stormlord caused each and every human and abhuman to awake in utter terror as deep inside their soul, they knew death itself was coming for them. The Caracol system however had it even worse. Where the dreams, nightmares truly, continued for an entire week. Worst of all was the fate of those astropaths blessed by the emperor as the visions of torment came over them even during their waking hours.
"We have tried so much to bring them hope and we fail again and again... yet we have to try once more... as we always do. Send what we can. Make them feel seen. Let us protect our children... even if we may fail again" Not that you will fail of course. Your plans are perfectly only subject to the vagaries of your tools. The tarot was simply too vague for this warning.
"... This one is entirely on you, be careful next time." The accusation is shrill, but you aren't sure if this voice is talking to you or the previous whisper.
The response to this was panic at all levels of society. Innumerable death cults arose preaching the end of days and turning both to the Emperor and darker powers. Many noble houses packed up their holdings in their entirety and charted ships out of the sector while those unable to book passage fortified their hab spires. A dozen inquisitors and their retinues descended on the sector looking for the source of this apocalyptic vision.
"You worthless disgrace, why must you always ruin everything you touch with the most basic of mistakes. Send them hope, fool. Rekindle their lost flame with Slyst, we will see the worth of his new doctrine when he fixes your mistake." The angry whisper's advice is at least pertinent. You directed the Ecclsiarch to spread the message of hope and certitude for precisely this sort of situation.
You watch for a little while longer. Some of the planets in the sector are refusing to pay their tithes. They cite the need to use all their resources to defend themselves. The administratum takes a dim view of this of course, and sends the navy to deal with the holdouts.
"Order must be restored - Optimal Asset already provided: Celestine - Provide Direction." More visions, Slyst, Celestine, the voices certainly have opinions on this. You aren't certain they are necessary. The navy's presence has increased and worlds are fortifying all across the sector.
The seers cast their bones and consult the runes and deliver their verdict to the Great Wolf. The All Father requires that he seek out the Spear of Russ and wrest it from the hands of the Great Enemy. The Old Wolf gathers the Night Runners and sets out on an expedition into the darkest depths of the galaxy to find a warp rift through which to recover the spear.
Meanwhile in another sector entirely, the priests and tarot readers relay to the High Marshal the tidings of the emperor. He is to find and slay xenos warlord, Imotekh. This only confirms the High Marshal's grim resolve and he immediately pushes forward with his plans to find and destroy the xenos's flagship.
Despite the insistence of his peers the Lord Solar believes that the best defense is a good offense and so when his seers present evidence to him that the tarot depicts a war of monstrous proportions he is quick to assemble a crusade to ride into the Armageddon Sector.
The Lord Solar leads an armada a hundred ships strong to reinforce the mechanicus siege force under the command of Commissar Yarrick. Together they work to clear the planet of Golgatha of its infection quickly and swiftly. However the hated Ork Warboss Ghazghull continues to evade them, and in fact the severed heads of failed assassins are found by the advancing Imperial army as mocking gifts from the ork prophet.
The tarot is clear. Kryptman must be aided. However the tarot is just one tool in the arsenal of the Inquisition and not one that every Inquisitor trusts implicitly. As such a rift soon forms in the vast Ultima Conclave. The supporters of Kryptman form the Ordo Tyrannus to carry out his grand design while the more Puritanical Inquisitors decry the new Ordos as the worst kind of cabal.
"These detractors have merit, there is no shortage of corrupt fools amongst this Inquisition. Were it not for our hand in correcting Kryptman, their actions would be a boon to countless souls. Here are volunteers, bless them so their faith in the tarot returns and then give them more deserving targets." This time the whisper is calmer. It seems to be restraining itself in order to deliver its advice.
The Puritans are joined by members of the Ordo Xenos who view the new group as encroaching on their territory, and a clandestine war erupts in the shadows of the Ultima sector. Nevertheless the increase in resources allows Kryptman to proceed with his massive Firewall project.
The Tarot is an indirect method. To use it you must weave the threads of fate to bring the necessary signs and portents. You are a master at this, but humans are still fallible and do not always interpret your signs correctly. Much to your anger and frustration.
Fortunately when you talk with Baldo Slyst you are not limited to such vagaries. Your immense spiritual might presses down on his limited psyche with a million threads of knowledge. The names of the priests that are most corrupt. The words necessary to convert worlds. How to organize a galaxy spanning religion without inviting heresy or corruption.
You hate this. This goes against everything you believe in. Setting yourself as a god. This was Lorgar's mistake. The festering corruption that led to your own sons turning against you. You would stamp out this Ecclisiarchy if you could. But then again you did try that with Lorgar, and your methods failed.
So perhaps you can try a new tactic here and allow the deluded masses to believe in you for just a little longer. If you can just maneuver humanity through this latest crisis there should be time. Time to correct these mistakes and bring back the light of Truth.
So you do not crush Slyst's mind. You do not make him into an automaton of faith. Instead even as you imprint the knowledge of a galaxy into him you use a fraction of your power to breathe light into his soul. You give him the strength to carry out your will with humanity and humility intact.
When the Ecclisiarch next emerges from the Throne Room he is not carried, but walks with the stride of a younger man. His eyes burn with righteous fire in a way that is far more than metaphorical. The very shadows seem to draw back from him and his words inspire rapturous awe.
In robes of simple white he overturns the Ecclesiarchy of Terra. Some holy cardinals and priests are irredeemable, and they burn on the pyres. But far more are swayed by the zeal of his words. Tearing off their ceremonial robes they sell the holy relics of the Ecclisiarchy and use the funds to feed the people of Terra. And from this great exultation missionary ships are launched to take this new doctrine to the rest of the Imperium.
The Throne Wrights find their cogitative processes running more smoothly than ever as they meditate on the mysteries of the Omnissiah and the throne. They delve into the deepest recesses of the noosphere and the scrap code seems to melt away before them as they bring their collective attention to recesses not opened for millenia.
"The knowledge to repair the throne! To increase your power! That of this decayed husk lies within your mind. Simply commune with yourself and take it!" You sense more than a simple desire here. The whisper wants more than it is saying.
The Throne Wrights are already beginning to formulate a new mystery of the Omnissiah. Piece by piece they are assembling a replica of the Golden Throne on Mars. This Steel Throne is to be their test. A prototype to see if they can replicate the forces that drive the Golden Throne and determine what originally caused the damage that is driving it to failure.
"Mantra: Innovation leads to Progress - Progress leads to Strength - Strength leads to Innovation - Work Processes Returning to Full Functionality: The Machine Offers Aid: Additional power required, but a start nonetheless."
[ ] [FREE] Blessing (1 Point) - The Steel Throne:
Steel to Heal Flesh. The Golden Throne was never meant to be life support - It was meant to be enhancement. Replace the weaknesses. Integrate the Flesh into the Steel. No longer two - But One.
This time there is more than a whisper. This voice has a gift of power. It is offering that power to you to advance your plans, but you know such things are not without a price.
"Hurry up! hurry them! Everytime you close your eyes years pass! I don't want to wait anymore and the foes of cadia aren't waiting." The whisper is accompanied with a rattle of drum beats heard faintly, an impatient drummer barely sticking to its own tune.
Celestine struggles to return to real space. She can hear her sisters cry out for aid, but the darkness in her heart holds her back. She is not worthy of the Emperor's light. She has failed and will fail again. The doubt and fear press against her like physical things. Like the creeping hands of daemons clutching at her limbs.
However suddenly another hand reaches out. A child's hand takes hers and pulls her out of the morass of the warp. Celestine finds herself with a faceless child made out of celestial light. They pull her forward and through the gates of a grand palace. Its halls are made of massive blocks of marble, and she sees ornate carvings on every surface. But everywhere is also decaying and rotting.
They pass a thronebound skeletal ancient overlooking what appears to be a prison. Within it a machine, a lamb, a drummer, a beast, robbed figures and more she can't quite make out, but all staring right back at her. The Child of Stars explains to her that what once was a beautiful mosaic, now lies shattered - that divinity must be pieced together, one by one, made whole.
The child doesn't give her time to respond when they move outside towards what appear to be the battlements of a monumental fortress. Staring out from the peak the child and saint can see an immense battle field. Warriors of light fight an unending tide of demons under the gaze of a baleful star. The child turns to her and implores her to fight once more. They give her a spear tipped banner, and ask her to rally the defenders.
"Go forth and rally a crusade of the righteous, Saint Celestine. Tell them of the good news. Tell them that I am coming soon. Lead them to victory in the shores of Hell, and know that I shall always watch over you, my child."
As the vision fades away Saint Celestine feels the doubt and regret fade from her soul. She bursts from the warp over a small unnamed world. Unimportant if not for the sisters of battle fighting a valiant defense there. Landing saint Celestine unfurls her wings and the defenders are filled with awe.
In her right hand she holds a sword of light, and in her left a banner of hope. Its face depicts a shifting field of stars and sigils that speak directly to the soul of those who see. A cog for the mechanicus, a caring parent for the common folk, a rampant beast for the warriors, and many more. For it is not a physical banner, but a psychic herald that speaks of a new dawn and a light against the darkness.
"Sorry to interrupt the vision, but... Celestine could accomplish a lot more if you too focused your attention on them. The others are rightfully afraid of you, but... But I think we can work together. We can't stay angry at ourselves for all eternity, right? I know your reasons to even consider empowering the Saint are different, but... Think of it as an olive branch."
A muffled, barely distinguishable voice could be vaguely heard, sounding something like "why'd you tell him?"
"I-yes, we have far bigger enemies to face than ourselves, right now. We can help you help the Imperium, as our mechanical colleague has demonstrated. Simply give us a call, and we'll see what we can do."
This is the first time the whispers have acknowledged each other. They are growing in coherence and strength. Are they entities of the warp or fragments of your own shattered soul? It is hard to differentiate between the two, but you are sure they have their own agenda either way.
Colonel Creed carefully watched the battlefield through his binocs. A lock of hair obscured part of his vision, but he didn't push it away. It was serving its own purpose. Switching to thermal he watched as the cold spot crept closer to his position.
In the corner of his vision one grey hair became two, then three, then many as the color fled from his hair. It was time. "All companies fire. Basilisks on grid four and six." All along the front line disciplined troops opened fire and las volleys shot out into seeming nothingness. The soldiers trusting their colonel above even their own eyes.
The las bolts suddenly halted and seemed to hang in the air. Distortions rippled through them as they inched forward. And as the xenos were distracted by restraining the obvious assault a volley of artillery shells came down right on their. The strange temporal fields failed and the enemy came into view at last as a mass of limbs and putrid matter blown apart by the artillery.
It was impossible to know how many xenos died, but it was not nearly all of them, for the strange distortions continued to advance. Fortunately that wasn't Creed's only stratagem. "Task force theta advance!"
Bunker doors that had once been welded shut burst open as sentinels emerged from the depths. Protected by extra layers of ceramite armor against the onslaught of centuries they unleashed a torrent of fire into the flanks of the xenos force before rapidly melting away into the hills.
Twice more hidden bunkers unleashed their forces before the colonel decided it was time. Directing his vox operator to a different channel he ordered his armor units. "All squadrons advance." The engine underneath him roared to life as the leman russ shuddered forward. Slowly at first, but with increasing speed as rust was forced from the tracks.
Cannons added their voices to the battlefield as the Cadian 8th advanced. Heavy gunners and regular riflemen alike poured more and more las fire at the embattled xenos. Bit by bit the strange temporal fields fell revealing more and more of the battlefield from the distorted air.
Time twisted as the Cadians fought for what was either a minute or centuries. Seconds twisted into day and then back into hours as the xenos desperately attempted to seize control of the battlefield's chronology. The guard took countless casualties, entire squads aged into dust and tanks decomposed into rusted hills, but not clearly not as many as the xenos were aiming for.
Through sheer cunning and nerves of steel Creed maneuvered through time itself and played his forces around the xeno horde anticipating their every move. Sentinels were deployed and retreated. Artillery strikes were launched. Tank squadrons broke through strange xenos emplacements. Until the last xenos was vanquished.
The Cadian 8th would need to be reconstituted. Its soldiers had been aged into infirmity and their vehicles were rusted derelicts. Creed himself was not immune as his wrinkled heads were spotted with age, but as he gazed out over the battlefield he knew that the planet was safe, and all its billions of citizens would live their lives in full. Humanity had once more prevailed.
"For ten thousands years, mortal men and women have held the line and shielded us from our own failure... Please watch over the little people." You do what you must for humanity. You cannot help every individual. Their lives will be better once your plans are completed anyway.
"Heal them. It would be trivial for us to turn back the clock and rejuvenate these unfortunate soldiers, their weapons, and their vehicles. We will have need of the Lord General soon, and he would be better off with his trusted comrades besides him, instead of new and unknown faces." Trivial is an understatement. It would take a portion of your power that could be used for other things. Mundane means will work just as well for the practical matters New troops for the regiment and rejuvenants for the colonel will get them into fighting shape. You consider whether a miracle to restore them instead would offer enough morale benefits to offset the cost, but the threads of fate are indeterminate.
The 28th Founding was much like any other. The cities of Terra were scoured for the hardiest gangers, most valiant nobles, and most desperate citizens. Millions were subjected to the aspirant trials to find potential astartes. By far the vast majority of them failed, but from the successes rose ten thousand space marines.
Their officers were drawn from veteran chapters and their armor provided by the forges of Mars itself. Despite certain initial obstacles all contributed to the founding for it heralded a new age of imperial dominion. The Blood Scythes, the Dark Krakens, the Silver Drakes, and many more boarded their chapter fleets and burned for the edge of the Sol system with determination.
For they would go into the galaxy not as a thin guard against the dark, but as the vanguard of the Emperor's wrath. Behind them a billion solar auxilia assembled. The Custodes shield hosts boarded their golden ships. And the Iron Crown of Mars birthed a thousand new ships every day. Soon the Imperium would launch a grand crusade and show the xenos the true might of humanity.
Kargash laughed as the beakee runt in front of him tried once again to lunge forward with its laughable excuse of a choppa. The warboss countered by swinging his massive claw and disarming the runty beakee. At the shoulder.
Roaring Kargash charged forward followed by his nobz. They smashed into the next group of humiez. Dakka sparked off of Kargesh's armor, but even when a round smashed into his eye he just continued laughing. This was more fun than he'd ever had before. He'd been skeptical when the strange shiny boy had told him there was a proppa fight to be had here.
After all he'd been fighting other war bosses for years, and they hadn't really been a challenge. Forcing them to submit without a fight wasn't proppa orky. But with the shiny boyz help he had done it, and he'd told his mek boyz to prepare for a proppa fight. It had been an annoying chore keeping all the nobz in line without a fight, even with the shiny boyz help.
But then the humies had attacked. Lotz of em. All sealed up in their tin canz. And then, then it had been a proppa fight. So much dakka, so much chopping, so much loot. The Waagh had grown and grown. Kargash had enjoyed it all more than any fight of his life. This was what it meant to be an Ork!
He could already imagine what he would do after the last beekie boy had died. Taking his collected warband and launching a never ending waagh. He laughed again. Truly Gork and Mork favored him.
The Emperor's power is tremendous but so are the draws upon it. Every turn, you only have a limited amount to spend on actions to guide the galaxy.
Plan voting only please.
You have 10 points to spend.
[ ] Guide the Tarot (1 Point)
Use your influence to give cryptic advice to people through the Imperial Tarot. You must write-in what messages you want to send and to whom. The more detailed and complex the message, the more likely that it will be misinterpreted or only understood in part. You can target these messages broadly, like to all governors in a sector, or specific, like sending the message to a single Inquisitor that fulfils a set of criteria you define.
[ ] Observe (1 point)
Sometimes you need more information than what your own visions of the present and future can reveal. Spend some time observing a specific place, person or something else.
[ ] Aid or Hinder Navigators (3 points)
The currents of the warp are treacherous and many a war was decided by one side receiving reinforcements just at the right time. You can put your finger on the scales by trying to alter the travel time of a fleet, though the gods of chaos might counteract you, especially if you try to influence their followers.
[ ] Send Visions (5 Points)
You send a prophetic dream and portends to specific people. Only one individual can receive this guidance, but you can communicate much more detailed information this way with a vastly lower chance of being misunderstood.
[ ] Displace Fleet (6 points)
The right person at the wrong place can make all the difference. Exert your will to fling a fleet off course to a different destination than it intended. This is unlikely to work on chaos fleets.
[ ] Commune (10 points)
Through a great exertion of your power, you can directly communicate with the soul of another being while shielding them from being overwhelmed by your presence. Communication in this way is always perfectly accurate and your touch will linger on the recipient, making it apparent to anyone that they are acting in your name. This power only costs 4 points if the target has been brought to your throne room on Terra.
[ ] Create Warp Storm (10 points)
The warp is never a calm place and with the right infusion of your vast might, you can conjure a storm in it that will make travel in an area all but impossible for anyone without divine guidance. However, your control over this storm is not perfect yet, so the storm might grow larger than intended and you can not control when it calms down again.
[ ] Blessing or Curse (variable)
Many call out for you to guide their hand every day. Sometimes you do. With this action, you can directly aid a mortal with a fraction of your power. Investing more points increases the effect. Blessing larger groups or giving very broad blessings will weaken the effect.
