"My lord, I have no excuse. I believed my platoon to be in a situation where there was no means of survival. I willingly made use of the curse knowing your will and orders relating to it. In my haste to save my soldiers I ended up engulfing one of them in the fire I called forth to burn the undead and daemons that hunted us. The fire escaped my control and began to burn the land and forced us to retreat faster than we should have. Another of my soldiers died due to the rapid pace my fire forced upon us. I have no excuse for inciting this situation with my curse." The surviving members of Murnaro's platoon agreed in the broad strokes with his view of the recount, a handful indicated that perhaps he had enjoyed the event before learning of the cost his curse had brought forth, but other than that there was nothing to taint the report given.
"Colonel, when I taught you to control the power, it was to see if it was possible to use it wisely. The question is not only 'what happened due to the use of magic', but also 'what would have happened if magic hadn't been used'. Your choice cost two lives. What would another choice have cost? If you truly believed there was no other way to save the rest of the platoon, risking some to save the rest was, in fact, excusable. That is the nature of leadership. When I made you colonel, the responsibility to protect your men came with the power to make such decisions. Winning this war is more important than any single soldier's life, including yours or mine. That is what I have to say to you as your military superior.
"As your teacher, however, what worries me is the reports that you enjoyed the destruction the magic caused, before its cost was clear to you. That is a dangerous mindset, and the likely source of the loss in control. As I taught you, magic is an application of will. You must want to not cause collateral damage. The application must be as a scalpel, not as a hammer. You need not detach yourself to the point of emotionlessness, but you do need to remember exactly what you are doing and why.
"Perhaps, you need to carry with you a reminder."
Without warning, Mortarion raised his scythe and swung with incredible speed. Before Hundok could react, Mortarion was already dressing the wound he'd caused, and placing the single finger he'd cut off onto his healthy hand.
"Power, wielded with precision and responsibility. Preserve that finger, and carry it always with you. Enchant it into a talisman if you wish.
"Magic brings us pain. The pain to see just how easy it would be to change things if we gave up on our morality. We must understand that every change has a price, but also that sometimes those prices have to be paid. We are forced to choose, for not doing anything is also a choice. Teaching you risks damnation for us both. To know that causes me great pain, just as the pain you feel right now. And yet, I chose to do so. I could have raised an undead army of my own and conquered the Witch Kings long ago. And yet, I chose not to do so. There is a difference between these two uses of magic, or so I want to believe, which is why you are alive today."
Mortarion dismissed the Colonel, but as he turned to leave, he had one more thing to say.
In the midst of the chaotic battle against the Covenant, the mutants and their Demon Master, Lorgar, son of the Emperor of Mankind, stood tall, his relic Warhammer, Revelation of Astral Light, blazing with celestial energy. Around him, his followers fought with a newfound vigor, their eyes alight with the power of the Emperor Constellation and the Defiance constellation.
As the mutant forces surged forward, chanting dark incantations, glorifying their new found gods, Lorgar raised his Warhammer high. "To me, my brothers and sisters! The Stars are with us this day! Let their light guide our weapons and armor us from the darkness of the Primordial Annihilator!"
With a mighty roar, Lorgar channeled the power of the constellations through his Warhammer, protecting his men and women by filling their hearts and souls with celestial lights. The mutants faltered as the demonic energies clashed against Celestial lights, unable to penetrate the protection.
Seeing their chance, Lorgar's followers surged forward, their weapons cutting through the mutant ranks like a hot knife through butter. With each strike, they channeled the power of the constellations, their attacks empowered by the Emperor's righteous fury and the unyielding defiance of the Defiance constellation.
As the battle drums echoed across the battlefield, Lorgar stood firm, his presence commanding respect and determination from his followers. With a thunderous voice, he issued the order to his soldiers, "Kill the remaining priests! Destroy all symbols of the Primordial Annihilator! We must weaken the Daemon's grip on our world!"
His army roared in response, weapons raised high as they charged into battle. But Lorgar did not follow them, instead turning to the Daemon.....thing that had twisted so many of his followers.
As the battle raged on around him, Lorgar faced the Daemon Prince, his expression unreadable. He took each step towards the horror without hesitation, all the while his army worked tirelessly to destroy the it's anchor.
"I thank you," he said, his voice calm and unwavering. "You have shown me what I could become, but I reject that path. I am sorry, but I not your father, and you are not my son."
The Daemon Prince paused, seemingly taken aback by Lorgar's words. It had expected anger, hatred, or fear, maybe even joy, but instead, it was met with a simple, undeniable truth. Lorgar did not see the demon as a reflection of himself, but as a separate entity, a creature that could never be a part of him.
Lorgar stopped before the Daemon Prince, his expression grave. Across from him, M'kar glared with malice in his eyes. The air crackled with tension as it rebutted Lorgar.
"Lorgar, my father, my Primarch" M'kar began, his voice dripping with emotions. "It is time for you to acknowledge me as your son. I am the embodiment of your desires, your most fervent beliefs. I am your legacy made writ."
Lorgar's jaw clenched, but he remained composed. "You are mistaken, M'kar. I reject your claim of kinship. You are not my son, nor are you any part of me."
The demon prince laughed, a cruel sound that echoed around them. "Do not deny what is true, father. I am the result of your actions, the culmination of your choices. Embrace me, and together we can enlighten all to the Primordial Truth."
Lorgar shook his head, his gaze unwavering. "I will not embrace you, M'kar. You are a creature of chaos, a being born from the darkest depths of my soul. But you are not me, and I am not you. I reject your existence, your claims of kinship. You are nothing to me."
M'kar's expression twisted into a snarl of rage. "You cannot deny me, father! I am a part of you, whether you like it or not. Embrace your true nature, and together we can bring salvation to all!"
But Lorgar remained steadfast. "I will never embrace you, M'kar. You are a corruption, a perversion of everything I stand for. I will fight you with every fiber of my being, and I will never let you win."
M'kar, paused, before continuing "Lorgar, my father," he began, his voice resonating with power. "Then do not acknowledge me. But instead acknowledge what I offer. To Mankind. Through the power of Chaos, we can liberate humanity from the shackles of their mortality, from the limitations of their existence. We can elevate them to beings of pure potential, free to shape their own destiny."
Lorgar's brow furrowed. "And what of their humanity, M'kar? Do you propose to strip them of their very essence, to turn them into something they are not?"
M'kar snorted, a chilling sound that sent shivers down the spines of those listening. "Humanity is weak, Father. They are slaves to their mortality, to their fear of the unknown. We offer them liberation, the chance to transcend their limitations and become something greater."
Lorgar shook his head, his voice filled with conviction. "Humanity is not weak, M'kar. They are resilient, capable of great courage and compassion. They deserve the chance to live and die on their own terms, to forge their own path without interference from beings like you."
M'kar's eyes flashed with disappointment. "You are a fool, Father, just like that Corpse Emperor! Humanity will never reach their true potential without our guidance. They need us to show them the way, to lead them to their destiny."
But Lorgar remained steadfast. "Humanity's destiny is theirs to decide, M'kar. You may offer them power, but true strength comes from within. They must find their own path, make their own choices, and face the consequences of those choices. That is the essence of being human."
M'kar knowing this was not working, changed tactics. "Lorgar, my father," he began, "you speak of humanity as if they are innocent, but they are not. There is darkness within them, a darkness that mirrors our own. Chaos is not their enemy, it is their reflection, a reflection of their true nature."
Lorgar's eyes narrowed, his expression hardening. "You are mistaken, M'kar. Yes, there is darkness within humanity, but there is also light. They are capable of great kindness and compassion, of love and sacrifice. Chaos may be a part of their world, but it is not a part of their essence. It is as alien to them as a Xeno is."
M'kar, knowing his attempt was failing, made a desperate appeal to Lorgar. "You cling to your beliefs well Father, but you are blind to the truth. Humanity's darkness will consume them, just as it threatened to consume us had we not found the Primordial Truth. Chaos is not their enemy, it is their salvation."
But Lorgar stood firm, his voice unwavering. "Humanity's salvation lies in their ability to choose, M'kar. They may be tempted by the darkness, but they also have the capacity to resist it. They are not slaves to their impulses, they are free to make their own choices and forge their own path."
M'kar's expression twisted into a snarl of rage. "You are a fool, Father! Humanity will never be free from their darkness. They will always be drawn to Chaos, for it is a part of who they are."
Lorgar did not reply, instead readying his Warhammer, leaving M'kar seething with anger and frustration. The debate was over, but the war against chaos would continue, as it always had and always would.
But Lorgar's words struck a chord in M'kar's beliefs, shaking him to his core. He had never considered that his father might reject the truth of Chaos, of choosing the Corpse Emperor over the Primordial Truth. It was a thought that filled him with doubt, a doubt that would linger for a long time.
Build a newer future than the ruins of the past
All that was may be again, and more, may be surpassed
Show me ancient wonders and I'll show you hints of dawn
All that falls may rise again, for hope is never gone
Past is proof of precedent, a well-worn path to tread
Blazing trails, though overgrown, shall show the course ahead
Follow bright Polaris, set to guide you in the night
Set the course to stars above to join them in the light
Learn the ways forgotten, know the truths the world may hold
Break the holding pattern, fortune favors here the bold
Claim the light of memory, ascend the giant's spine
Stand on titan shoulders as we make ourselves divine
Heed the stellar nature, know the fundament of stars
Sing a song of futures held beyond known territoires
Rise, ascend, for all shall know the way the worlds may be
We'll shine a light of glory, guiding all the galaxy -From the notebooks of the Clocklord Sophos, crammed into the margins of a blueprint depicting a modified version of the clockwork FTL drive invented 12 years ago.
With the treaty in place the Fleet and Station were more aligned than they had been for countless centuries but hotheads among both sides moved in both the shadows and light to undo this work refusing to work alongside their previous sworn foes.
1x Grand Action on Diplomatic Overtures to the holdouts. According to the traditional laws of both Fleet and Station, see if some form of accommodation in regards to these age old feuds can be found. 1x Major Action on aiding Alpharius in setting up a counter-espionage agency to root out saboteurs, spies, assassins, i.e. all manners of foes that hide in the dark. To whatever extent possible, stress that their authority originates from the civilian authorities of the Fleet and Station. The Agency is meant to work in tandem with law-enforcement and not as a secret police beholden to themselves and no other. 1x Major Action on training Cultural Integration from Tertiary to Secondary, hopefully to some effect in aiding the Grand Action above.
5x Yearlies to bring Command (Infiltration) to Secondary from Tertiary (Hard Worker trait, Substitute 5 Yearlies for a Major) 2x Yearlies to bring Technology (Encryption/Decryption) to Tertiary 2x Yearlies to bring Weakpoint Recognition to Tertiary 1x Yearly to train Combat to Lesser
As reports from law-enforcement and informants, both belonging to the Fleet and Station, poured in, Omegon couldn't help but admit to the slightest bit of annoyance to his Superhuman level of patience. Why couldn't these holdouts just see that-!...
...
He let out a long sigh. No, no...if anyone was acting illogically, it was him. After all, for all that he was Fleetmaster and Alpharius was Station-Master, neither actually had the centuries of tradition to tie them to either society. Their superhuman abilities, not least the preternatural charisma that commanded the attention of their supposed 'lessers', had allowed them to make huge leaps in uniting the two disparate peoples. Such a whirlwind effort would obviously leave holes through which long standing grudges or just sheer stubbornness could continue to hide and fester. It was unrealistic to expect anything else.
After long hours of discussion and contemplation with Alpharius, it was decided yet another diplomatic conclave would be held. To find some accommodation in regards to these age old feuds and grudges. The years had made Alpharius and Omegon both fairly decent diplomats, or at least the younger twin liked to think so, and the task of keeping the two peoples relatively united constantly tested those skills. Omegon hoped this would be the last time, at least for a while, he'd have to bring his diplomatic talents to bare within the Fleet-Station.
-----
All said and done, Omegon realized that diplomacy had its limits. At least in this situation. Not every holdout against the newfound unity of Fleet and Station worked in the light. There were those saboteurs and rogue elements that struck from the dark, who had no intention of coming to the negotiating table. To combat these elements, unifying the Counter-Intelligence elements of Fleet and Station would be necessary. As it was, Omegon had begun training himself in commanding infiltrators. The level of skill the Twins' had previously sufficed in the work needed to take over the position of Fleet and Station Master, but to have remained in the shadows till now...these last holdout cells clearly had some skill. Such work was what the Twins were designed for by their creator, of course...
...but on some level Omegon felt a slight unease at having to do such a thing. Counter-Intelligence was necessary, no nation big or small could do without it and what was the Fleet & Station but a strange nation of its own? Yet such an organization, privy to all sorts of information could very well end up ruling from the shadows, supplanting the rightful authorities of a nation. Omegon should know, it was precisely by creating cells of such individuals that he and Alpharius seized control of the Fleet and Station after all.
Perhaps he was just being paranoid, but just in case he made a reminder to speak to Alpharius about this. To ensure that the agents of this organization realized they were to work in tandem with the other cogs in the vast machinery of the nation for the good of the people, not to take authority into their own hands and monopolize it. Hopefully.
-----
That aside, as Alpharius constantly reminded him, the Station remained a mystery. Only the 'top' layers were inhabited and relatively well explored. The depths of the Station contained mysterious Archeotech that was as intriguing as they were dangerous and Alpharius, even with his newfound 'serenity', was eager to explore as much as he could. Omegon agreed that they should, but argued that much prep work remained to be done before he would willingly 'sign off' on such an expedition.
To that end, Omegon also did what he could to help. The Twins' had some minor skill at both technological encryption and decryption. Not remotely sufficient for exploring the depths of the technological marvel that was the Station. Seeking out experts from the Fleet and Station both, Omegon became work on absorbing as much of their teachings as he could.
Similarly, in case the dangers of the Station's depths were more of the blunt kind, Omegon decided it was best to get some combat knowledge beyond that which was ingrained by the Twins' creator. The basics of dueling, of combat and of recognizing and pinpointing weakpoints were studied alongside the best combatants Omegon could get his hands on. By the end of the decade, Omegon considered that he and his twin were...still barely ready to take on the dangers of the Station. He personally hoped the station's secrets could be left in the dark for another decade, as preparations and training were made on Alpharius' end but not only was his twin insistent, but it was also undeniable that the knowledge from the depths would be a feather in their cap, more political capital for them to further cement their position...
The stars were silent in all matters, yet the inner fire burned ever on and he knew not what to do. Towards the end of the decade a human woman forced her way to him, a sword in hand and the madness born of his first work clouding her eyes. "Teach me how to fight laws." She demanded before kneeling before him not as a servant but as a student.
Hm... Her madness is unfortunate, but it is nice to see someone who views me as approachable.
"I do not know how to fight laws so directly, fellow seeker of knowledge. However, I am meditating in search of answers myself. Perhaps we could seek truth together?"
Actions:
Grand: Raise Meditation and Self Awareness to Core
Major 1: Raise Mentorship to Secondary
Major 2: Mentor my student in the arts of self actualization, with a focus on Meditation and any talents I can glean through Empathy and Astral Connection
Yearly 1: Learn Mentorship and Astral Connection at Lesser
Yearly 2-5: Raise Mentorship and Astral Connection to Tertiary
Yearly 6-10: Meditate with my student, maintaining an Astral Connection to her and attempting to form one with the sun and stars.
His world was hell. That was the simplest way to describe it. There was radiation on the soil, the water, the very air they breathed. Food and water were scarce, but foes were abundant, be they other tribes, the monstrous wildlife, or the mutant hordes. Sickness was present everywhere, having mercy for neither the young or the old. If the sun's heat didn't cook you alive during the day, it would leave you to freeze to death at night.
There was no rest from the suffering. No respite from the struggle. Life in Baal was misery from the day of birth until your eventual death. And yet, he considered himself lucky to have landed here. Because it was where his family was.
The people who found him, who took him in, had to face Baal and its challenges every day. The hunger, the sickness, the pain, the misery, they endured all these burdens without any of the advantages that he had. They didn't have his strength, his resistance to the radiation, his wings, his visions, nothing. What they had was barely enough for them to survive. And yet, they shared it with him.
Him, an outsider of the tribe, was fed, educated and protected. Him, whose body was clearly of a mutant, was welcomed with open arms amongst their midst. Him, whose origins were unknown even to himself, was given the love of people who had little besides that.
It seemed unfair to him that such kind people were cursed with so much suffering. That only his body was free from the pain inflicted by Baal. And so he decided he would give it to them.
If his arms possessed phenomenal strength, it was to ease their burdens. If his wings could carry him to anywhere in the world, it was so he always arrived in time when they needed him. And If his mind could see that which was yet to come, it was so he was always ready to face any foe who dared to threaten them.
Some called him a guardian angel. But in his opinion, those who called him such were far more deserving of the title.
Yearly actions:
-1 to learn research Medical Science (lesser)
and research radiation (lesser)
-1 to learn General research Physics (lesser) and Specialized research Motion (lesser)
-1 to learn Specialized research Thermodynamics (lesser) and Crafting (Vehicles) (lesser)
-2 to raise Logistics to tertiary
-2 to raise Command to tertiary
-2 to raise Willpower (self control) to tertiary
-1 to learn Empathy (lesser) and Psychic Theory (lesser)
1 Major action to do uplift research: feudal to industrial
1 Major action to craft Medical Vehicle and Surgery tools
1 Major Action to create military group: The Scorpion Guard
1 Major action to raiser Willpower (Self-Control) to secondary
Uplift research: feudal to industrial
Cost: 15 Skills used:
-Logistics = 4 * 0.5 = 2
-General research Physics = 2 * 0.5 = 1
-Specialized research Thermodynamics = 2 * 1 = 2
-Specialized research Motion = 2 * 1 = 2
-General research Medical Science = 2 * 0.5 = 1
-Total: (2+2+2+1) * 3 = 7 * 3 = 21
Research Finished!
Craft Medical Vehicle and Surgery tools
Medical vehicle: Small machine - Car - Feudal - Cost: 10 * 1 * 0.3 = 3
Surgery tools kit: Personal Item - Small Objects - Feudal - Cost: 5 * 0.9 * 0.3 = 1.35
Total Cost = 4.35 Skills used:
-Logistics - organizational skill = (0.35 * 4) * 0.5 = 1.4 * 0.5 = 0.7
-General research Medical Science - tech restricted skill = (0.5 * 2) * 1.5 = 1 * 1.5 = 1.5
-Crafting (Vehicles) - lesser skill = 2
Vehicle Progress: (0.7+1.5+2) * 3 = 4.2 * 3 = 12.6
Surgery tools progress: (0.7+1.5) * 3 = 2.2 * 3 = 6.6
Multi-crafting: 12.6 + 6.6 = 19.2
19.2 - 4.35 = 14.85
14.85*0.75 = 11.1375
Crafting Finished!
Create military group
The Scorpion Guard: (15*(1+1.25))*1 = 33.75
(*type mod+0.35 bonus)/2*((action+0.5)*level) Skills used
-Duel (personal combat) & Command - Tertiary - Major action
((1.35)/2)*2*(3*4) = (0.675*2)*12 = 1.35*12 = 16.2
-Logistics - Tertiary - Major action
(0.35/2)*12 = 0.175*12 = 2.1
-Military Strategy - Lesser - Major action
(1.35)/2*(3*2) = 0.675*6 = 4.05
-Diplomacy - Lesser - Major action
(0.35+0.35)/2 = 0.7/2 = 0.35
0.35*6 = 2.1
- Duel (awareness) - Secondary - Major action
(1.35/2)*24 = 0.675*24 = 16.2
16.2+2,1+2,1+4,05+16.2 = 40.65
Group Created!
Funerals in Baal were a simple affair. Due to the nomadic lifestyle of the tribes, most didn't have burial grounds, instead digging a grave in the closest safe place they could find. The ceremony was done quickly, one of the elders would lead them in short prayers after all those present had given their farewell to the deceased, and then they would leave to continue their travels. Homever, this quickness didn't mean they didn't put their heart into it.
An important part of the ceremony was the gifting to the deceased. The tribe couldn't afford to waste any resource they had, so everything the deceased had was taken and distributed among the living, even the clothes in the body, with only enough to keep their decency being left to them.
It was painful to do that to a loved one, so a tradition arose, where each one present at the ceremony would leave a small memento with the body. Something that wasn't vital, but had a sentimental value. A handmade bracelet, a lock of hair, a broken tool with some history behind it, anything that showed the departed that he was loved and would be missed.
When Anastasia died, Sanguinius left her a collar made from his own feathers. His friend used to say she wished she could have wings like him. Not to fly, just to "look half as pretty as him". Flight sounded like a terrifying experience to her, no matter how much Sanguinius offered and assured him he would never let her fall.
He was the last to put his farewell gift on Anastasia's body. And as the elder began the prayer, Sanguinius reflected on how powerless he felt.
It sounded absurd, that someone with his strength and size would feel that way, but neither of those things had been of any help in saving his friend. The foe who had taken Anastasia's life wasn't one he could face in combat, but one who had infected his friend's body and slowly killed her from the inside.
I'm not good enough. Was the thought that filled the angel of Baal with shame. What good is killing the monsters who roam the desert if an early death awaits us all the same?
His people deserved more in life than this and he would provide it. As the funeral came to a end and the tribe started to prepare for the journey ahead, Sanguinius mind began to formulate a plan on how to face a foe who he couldn't rely on his strength to defeat, determined to see it bested all the same, for no harm would come to his family if he had a say in it.
1 Yearly action to gain Medical Science skill and Radiation skill
When he requested to be taught about medicine by the healers in his tribe, they agreed promptly. The many dangers of their world meant that anyone with the necessary skills to save a life was a great boon and Sanguinius ability to quickly learn any subject taught to him during his rather quick childhood didn't go unnoticed. And the knowledge his mentors were giving to him wasn't any different. His main challenge during his lessons was when the necessary procedures would cause pain in the patient, but his teachers soon taught him to steel his heart, for it was either the pain or death. And so he chose the former.
At first Sanguinius was content. He was saving the lives of his family, keeping them safe. But unfortunately, the medical knowledge of his people had its limits. And radiation was the biggest of them.
The main problem was, it's difficult to learn more about something that kills you just by breathing too close to it. They had a basic understanding of its nature as energy, of all the damage it could do to one's body (they had far too many examples) and what kind of materials could be used as protection. But how do they cure someone who's already exposed? How do they remove it from their already scarce resources? Was there even a way to do it? Sanguinius didn't know. And he wasn't sure how he could find out. His body wasn't affected by it like the others, but none of his medical knowledge gave him a clue as to why or how to give his family a similar immunity.
So he decided to take a different approach.
1 Yearly action to gain Physics skill and Motion skill
There was a lot about the nature of his world he didn't know besides the radiation. Maybe if he had a better grasp on it he could find the answers he needed to deal with the radiation. So with that in mind, he began to study what he considered the basic rules of the world. While at first he found these studies tedious, he eventually found some enjoyment in them. Looking at the simplest things that even the youngest child would know was true, and then questioning why they were that way was more interesting than he expected. If you throw something up, it would eventually fall, but why was that the case? Why wouldn't the object just continue to go up in the air? It was a simple thing that no one bothered to question before because it was just the way things were. And every time Sanguinius thought he found an answer, more questions would appear.
Motion in particular was a fascinating subject to study. He would talk about concepts such as how objects with different weight and mass would fall at the same acceleration speed with anyone willing to listen. Sadly most people tended to grow tired of the topic rather quickly, but that didn't dumper Sanguinius' enthusiasm for it. He was sure he would be able to do great things with this knowledge.
1 Yearly action to gain Thermodynamics skill and Crafting (Vehicles) skill
Heat was a subject that gained a lot of Sanguinius' focus, not just because of personal interest, but also because he believed it could give him a better understanding of radiation. Not because he was foolish enough to consider both to be one and the same, but because he could see some similarities in them as types of energy. And since heat was something he could actually replicate in a safe environment, he could study it without risking the lives of his friends and family.
So, he began to analyze how heat worked. How it was transferred between objects due to temperature differences, what materials had a better resistance to it and how a high enough temperature would physically affect an object. All in the hopes that this subject would give him the clues he needed to have a deeper grasp on the biggest threat to his loved ones.
But he didn't spend all his time studying. He had other duties, like defending his tribe from the many threats of the desert and doing maintenance work on their vehicles. These vehicles were essential to allow them to travel across Baal Secundus safely, but their lack of resources and the harsh environment made it difficult to keep them in good condition, so repairs had to be done frequently. Sanguinius spent enough time fixing these vehicles that he knew every inch and cranny of them like he knew the back of his hand.
2 Yearly actions to raise Logistics skill to Tertiary
Living as scavengers meant that they always had little of everything. Every bit of food and drop of water was precious because no one knew when they would find more. Sanguinius dearly wished he could change that, but much to his frustration for now it seemed beyond his capacity. So he decided to focus on the second best thing besides ending a problem: managing it. He helped his tribe keep track of all their supplies and to optimize the distribution and how much each person needed per day to survive. It was a frustrating job at times, especially when they had even less supplies than usual, but it was necessary, so he kept at it for their sake.
1 Major action to craft Medical Vehicle and Surgery tools
Sanguinius didn't like to request things from the tribe. They already had so little that he felt guilty whenever he took something from them, despite how much they said he was being foolish. He was one of them after all. Still, he avoided taking more than necessary for himself, which was why the request to repurpose one of the vehicles was something he struggled to do.
He had put a lot of thought into it, before finally deciding that creating a medical vehicle was necessary. The tent he and the other healers currently used to perform surgeries took too long to prepare and if the injury was severe, every second counted. A proper place to accommodate the patient, where their tools and medicine could be properly organized and be kept in clean conditions was needed. Thankfully his request was accepted. And he promised them it would be worth it.
He dedicated a lot of time to it. Rearranging the inside of the car to have enough space for a patient lying on a bed and a group of healers around him, making the vehicle more steady so that there would be minimal shaking in case they need to perform a surgery while driving, cleaning it as much as possible to avoid any type of contamination, making it more armored to protect the patient and so on.
He also dedicated some time to making new tools. Surgery was a very delicate process, and sometimes he felt the ones he had to work with weren't good enough. He eventually created a personal set of various tools with a different function each.
After he was done, a few of his friends asked him to draw a symbol in the vehicle, to represent the it's new purpose. After some thought, Sanguinius settled on a heart with two folded wings. He painted it on both sides of the vehicle and considered the job done, but not his friends. The vehicle was still missing something. A name. Something so important needed a name. This one took him longer to come up with than the symbol, but eventually, the perfect one came to him. Yes, it couldn't be any other.
The Anastasia.
1 Major action to do uplift research: feudal to industrial
It all started with a simple shore and then it spiraled from there.
Boiling the water was a common practice since it was a good way to disinfect it before drinking. But they had to be careful to not let it boil for too long, as due to their short supply, losing even a small amount of it to evaporation could have consequences later on. Thankfully, it was an easy thing to do, all it required was the one doing it paying attention to the boiling pot.
Sanguinius rarely did this task because he was usually busy with more important chores, but today was a strange day to say the least.
He hadn't found any mutant horde or enemy tribe, be in his patrols or visions. They were currently resting in the shadow of a rock formation and no aggressive wildlife had shown up to try to kill them yet. No one was hurt on the way there, the vehicles were fine for now, and their supplies weren't dangerously low yet.
Things… were okay. Sanguinius couldn't remember that ever being the case. So he decided to help around with the smaller shores, to keep himself busy and give those who actually felt tiredness some more time to rest.
As the water began to heat, his mind turned back to his studies and he decided to exercise his knowledge while he waited. He contemplated over what he already knew, made numerous theories for what was still a mystery, and discarded those that didn't seem to be possible, all in a matter of seconds while never losing focus on the current state of the boiling pot.
And that was the cataclysm for it. The topic in his head made him look at what was in front of him in a different way.
The boiling water is in motion. The heat agitating the water creates motion. And the steam escaping to the air is also in motion.
His mind began to race as an idea formed in it. For a long time he thought of ways to diminish the physical labor of his people, but he never managed to come up with an actual solution. Until now.
How much would it be necessary to transfer the force causing this motion into a more solid object? Then again the loss of water might be too much. Unless we can retain the steam by keeping it an enclosed space while- wait I need to put out the fire!
From then on Sanguinius would study this theory as much as he could. Every waking hour where his family didn't need his help he would be thinking about it. Said family began to get really concerned when every time they would stop their journey to rest he would make large drawings in the desert's sands that made little sense to them.
Finally, one day, he suddenly stopped in the middle of one of these drawings and laughed harder than they ever heard him do.
"I got it. I finally got it" was what he said to himself. When questioned what he was referring to, he began to describe something he called the steam engine.
2 Yearly actions to raise Willpower (Self Control) skill to tertiary
1 Major action to raise Willpower (Self Control) skill to secondary
Hordes of mutants weren't much of a challenge for Sanguinius. Whenever one approached his tribe, he would easily kill all of them in a matter of minutes. However, they would leave a different kind of challenge for him once he was done.
Sanguinius usually didn't feel thirst like the rest of his family, no matter how long he went without water, but the second he felt the delicious smell of blood in the air, he would be possessed by a strong desire to drink the spilled blood of his foes right off the ground.
He had learned to control this desire during surgery with his patients. But during a battle, were he would let his fury run wild and the blood of his enemies would paint the soil red? It was a far greater challenge.
One day, after a longer than usual battle, this urge became strong enough to paralyze him. Sanguinius didn't dare move a muscle, because he feared a single step would have him licking the red liquid straight from his foes' corpses. He must have stayed like this for quite some time, because eventually someone went looking for him.
Bosco and Sanguinius were friends from day one since the latter was found by the tribe. They would play, study and do chores together, like real friends would.
And yet, when he called for Sanguinius, asking if he was okay, the first thing that came to the angel's mind when he turned to look at his friend, was how he wanted to bite his neck and drink every drop of his blood.
And that was what finally broke his paralysis, as a horrified Sanguinius flew away as fast as his wings could carry him.
When he finally returned to his family, he had sad news to give. What happened in the last battle had shown Sanguinius that his control of his thirst wasn't as strong as he thought. He needed to train his willpower to strengthen his grip on the urge, for he couldn't live with himself if he harmed any of them. But to do this, he would need to stay away from them. He would still remain close enough to keep them on sight, in case another horde of mutants attacked them, but he wouldn't interact with them.
He promised to return when he had finished his training, but that didn't make the farewell any easier. When little Aurelia hugged his leg, crying and begging him not to go, it had been more painful than any wound he had ever felt. But it also strengthened his resolve to master this dark urge of his.
During his isolation, he kept a canteen filled with mutant blood that he would constantly smell to test his resolve, but never drinking it. The experience was maddening, he came very close to giving in to the urge many times, but all he needed was to look at the distant blur that was his tribe and he would regain control of himself.
As time went on, his will grew stronger and stronger, until finally he was confident enough it was finally safe to return to his family. A long time had passed during his training, but the love they had for him hadn't diminished. They cheered and cried when Sanguinius rejoined their midst, and a celebration was held that night for his return. And Sanguinius was peaceful in the knowledge that he wouldn't harm them.
2 Yearly actions to raise Command skill to tertiary
1 Major to create military group: The Scorpion Guard
Sanguinius' tribe had to face mutant hordes, monstrous wildlife and other tribes for ages before they had a guardian angel to defend them, so naturally they had long since learned how to fight. But, as Sanguinius watched some of their warriors training one day, he began to notice something.
They can do better.
The more he looked the more obvious it became. How a stance would be more stable if the leg was just a little to the left, how an attack would hit harder if it had just a little more weight behind it, how a parry could've succeeded if the user had reacted just a little faster, so on and so on.
It didn't seem to be as obvious to the others as it was to Sanguinius, but that wasn't surprising to him. He had learned a lot of different things very quickly during his life, but fighting? He never needed to learn that. He had always known how to.
But that wasn't the case for his family it seemed. Which meant he had to do something about it. Even he couldn't protect the whole tribe by himself, as much as he wanted to. One day a large enough mutant horde would come and he wouldn't be able to kill all of them fast enough before one of the little monsters slipped past him and reached his family and-
Better not think too much about that.
The tribe needed to be able to defend themselves without him, that was certain. The question was, how to approach this challenge? Saying he would make great warriors out of them was one thing, but there were a few issues he needed to address first.
For one thing, their lack of supplies. Most of the metal that they managed to scavenge was used to repair their vehicles, meaning there wasn't a lot for making tons of weapons.
Maybe a specialization in short weapons like daggers? They would require less metal to produce and precise enough strikes should be able to kill the mutants, but it would be more difficult to defend against an opponent with them. Maybe some thin swords could work too?
Another issue was building up their strength. The lack of food made most of the tribe skinny, without much in the way of muscles. Sadly there wasn't much Sanguinius could do about it. Instead he began to think of ways to fight stronger opponents and how to achieve victory despite the unlikely odds. This proved to be a challenge in itself, as he didn't really have experience fighting anyone even closer to be stronger than him. He had to look at his previous fights from the viewpoint of his opponents and try to think of ways to defeat himself. Not an easy thing to do, even for him.
Finally, there was the issue of time. Everyone had chores to do to keep the tribe alive, including the warriors. The time spent on these chores meant most had conflicting schedules and while a small group could plan ahead to train together, doing the same with enough people to form a army was
a far more difficult matter.
These were the issues Sanguinius would have to face if he wanted to turn his tribe into better fighters. But to keep them safe, he would accept a thousand more. When a scorpion hunts, it holds its prey with its claws before dealing a lethal blow with the stinger.
Sanguinius had seen enough fire scorpions hunting to understand how their tactics worked, which was what gave him the idea for the fighting style he would teach his tribe.
It was simple, he taught them a series of strikes meant to deflect an enemy attack, both with their hands and weapons, along with how to dodge and how to make attacks focused on opening their opponent's guard. Then he taught them how to make quick attacks to vital areas after leaving those exposed. These were called pincer and sting maneuvers respectively.
He also equipped them with weapons that favored dexterity over physical strength, like fighting knives and rapiers. Bracers and gauntlets also became a more prominent piece of armor, due to how their new fighting style might put their limbs at risk.
The training wasn't easy and Sanguinius had to learn more about how to command a large group of people, so they would fight like a true army.
The final result filled him with pride. These warriors had a great discipline and control of every movement their bodies made and were more than ready to defend their tribe.
All that was left was a proper name and Sanguinius already had one in mind. They would be his Scorpion Guard.
1 Yearly action to gain Psychic Theory (lesser) and Empathy (lesser)
Sanguinius' visions of the future were a very useful ability to have, but his lack of understanding of how he was capable of such a thing worried him. They were supernatural in nature, there was no other way to explain it, but that was all he knew for certain.
Studying the supernatural was a challenge because he hadn't much to observe or study. He had to content with theories based on his own experience when having the visions. After much frustration in trying to find the answer to something he had little way of verifying and no one to consult with, he believed he had come to understand the basic principles of how his power worked, at least in theory.
At first he was happy to have made progress in understanding his power, but the more he thought about it, the more aware he became of how different he was from his family.
Not that he hadn't noticed his gigantic size, his feathered wings or his resistance to radiation, but… He could always justify that as a case of extremely lucky mutations. Reflecting on his supernatural nature made him feel more inhuman.
Can I even call myself a human?
That made him ponder on the differences between himself and his family, besides the obvious. Like how he seemed to learn things faster, have an innate understanding of certain things and how he rarely felt physical pain. He started to reflect on how his life would be if he was just a normal human and how much harder it would be. That was the life his tribe had. He thought he understood their plight, but… maybe he didn't understand them as much as he thought he did. He had known them for years, but his experiences were different. Maybe he should reflect more on that, trying to see the world from their point of view. Maybe he wouldn't feel as different from them that way. Maybe.
Similarly, in case the dangers of the Station's depths were more of the blunt kind, Omegon decided it was best to get some combat knowledge beyond that which was ingrained by the Twins' creator. The basics of dueling, of combat and of recognizing and pinpointing weakpoints were studied alongside the best combatants Omegon could get his hands on. By the end of the decade, Omegon considered that he and his twin were...still barely ready to take on the dangers of the Station. He personally hoped the station's secrets could be left in the dark for another decade, as preparations and training were made on Alpharius' end but not only was his twin insistent, but it was also undeniable that the knowledge from the depths would be a feather in their cap, more political capital for them to further cement their position...
The coming challengers to the hard fought stability created between station and fleet soon found themselves on the receiving end of a revitalized counterintelligence effort spearheaded by a strengthened security apparatus. Nothing wastefully inefficient like a mass surveillance state ruled by paranoia, but a justice system comprised of various jurists, baillifs, and strike teams for the most radical of extremists.
2 yearlies for tertiary marksmanship
In his off time, Alpharius led some of the more technically challenging missions to dismantle terrorist cells, further honing his aim.
5 yearlies for secondary fleet command
Alpharius began to focus on honing his ability to command fleets in the interstellar void, in preparation for one of his major projects-- Exploring the great unknown beyond this system.
2 yearlies for tertiary exploration
In a hidden compartment of the Stationmaster's desk a small photograph of a smiling group of young students standing around a comparative giant lies. Inscribed upon it: To our mentor, who taught us to venture into the unknown and forgotten. Signed- The 1st Explorator Squadron
1 yearly for fundamentals of governance
The upcoming push to explore and settle the interior of the station would require some foundations in how to setup a workable frontier apparatus, especially for a pair of cultures used to continual decay.
1 grand on frontier reclamation/exploration/settlement
With his brother's diplomatic achievements allowing for an increased sense of unity between the two factions, joint colonies to the interior of the station became somewhat feasible. The technlogogical expertise of the station dwellers mixed with the engineering prowess and efficiency of void-borne would allow for a constantly accelerating push and settlement of the explored portions of the station. Much of his own effort was put into setting up various agencies tasked with exploration, cataloging novel technologies or structures for further research, reverse-engineering, and settling. While the actual material gains were somewhat limited by the end of the decade, more and more settlements would become self-sufficient enough to contribute to the reclamation of the station as time passed.
1 major is sending out exploration fleets to explore and identify any nearby systems. Hand-pick the crews and investigate any and all records pointing to nearby systems.
Rumors spread throughout the system of a mission to break the isolation which had smothered the peoples of both station and fleet for over a millennium. Highly trained, hand-picked, and self-sufficient– vessels began to venture into the void beyond the system, guided by a newly lit beacon coming from where ancient records indicated Humanities Cradle, Earth, would be. The goal of this mission would be to discover any nearby systems to mine for resources and staging points for further exploration.
1 Yearly plus 1 Planetary Action: Poke the Ruins. Take away crafting loot granting a Crafting/Blueprinting Secondary. But only for self and Heroic Astartes; lesser crafters get lesser buffs. Also learn about a threat.
1 Major: Train Military Theory to Secondary.
3.5 Yearlies: Build 'Relic-4 Cyborg SDC' and 'Relic-4 0.5-grade Mold Control' Blueprints. The minor bit of overflow goes to helping ensure people who need healing get it, and people who need cybernetics get good ones.
4 Planetary Actions: Build Sys Defense Craft. This uses the Blueprints and thus has a 1-tier quality bonus. This should produce 300 SDC's, aka 1.5x (Blueprint) of 0.5x (Planetary Economy) of the nominal expected value (100/action), aka an Average-manpower Inner System fleet.
2 Yearly Actions: Promote Psychology to Tertiary.
2.5 Yearlies and 1 Major: Acquire skill Philosophy and promote it twice to Secondary.
1 Grand plus all 5 remaining Planetary Actions: Stabilize Planet, repair stuff, ensure people are taken care of, remove the cult, handle the crazy half-Hive, fix the economy, and fight the threat below.
Out of the 300 ships in the fleet, send 100 exploring. Also use 1 Yearly helping with treaties and stuff: considerable progress. Friends and foes and a lot of "meh."
When crafting Fungicide Blueprints:
Psychic Awareness: 24*0.5 = 12
Crafting Effective Skill from Ruin Loot: 12
Physics: 12*0.5 = 6
(This also gives 5+2+1+1=9 usable Tertiary/Lesser skills.)
Mathematics, Materials Science: 4*2 = 8
Applied Mathematics, Theoretical Physics, Applied Physics, High Energy Physics, Cogitator Science (for simulations while designing), Reverse-Engineering: 2*6 = 12
Basic Skill: Blueprints +1.
Total: 12+12+6+8+12+1 = 51
Exploration Details: [100d100k1 (100 100 99 98 98 97 97 95 95 95 94 92 91 90 87 86 85 83 83 83 83 82 81 79 79 75 74 72 71 71 71 71 71 70 69 68 67 66 65 64 64 62 59 59 58 57 56 54 54 51 50 50 48 46 45 44 42 41 41 40 37 37 37 36 36 36 34 34 33 31 31 30 29 28 27 25 23 22 19 19 15 14 14 14 13 13 11 11 10 10 9 8 7 6 6 5 5 4 3 1)]
This turn: Two critical successes. 12 >=90 (one 99). 9 >=80 (zero 88s). 11 >= 70 (zero 77s).
Next two turns: Various.
Two lost to stupidity. Three lost to human action. One lost to each Ruinous Power - two to Slaanesh. Two show back up next turn. One dies to normal Xenos. One dies to Warp-unaligned.
As a note for later reference, Saruman means "man of skill or cunning."
Eärendil's Hive was able - with occasional minor assistance from other Hives - to mostly build cybernetics as necessary on their own. Eärendil took a little time from his busy schedule to ensure this went as well as possible. After all, several of his extended family needed treatment, and three of them lost limbs. Thankfully, New Menor was now able to build mediocre-but-serviceable cybernetics with the benefit of Eärendil's research, and only a minor bit of effort was ultimately needed to ensure the products were adequate.
…He briefly wondered if he was betraying his family by putting in so little effort. A quick consultation disabused him of that notion: "My right arm's working better than it has since I fell off the roof as a crazy teenager," a second cousin once removed declared, "Definitely an upgrade. Not sure what you're so worried about."
…Right. Normal standards of quality. Right.
A snippet from Eärendil's Guide To Exploring Ruins, v0.1 - copy defaced by exploration team #18623, self-named "Fortune's Favorites"
Always know your way out. Our technology can, for example, assemble a map for you in real-time, guide you to perfectly retrace your steps, and other such things. In hazardous terrain, where unforeseen events may cause such technology to fail, explorers are encouraged to place shiny stickers on their left as they traverse - taking particular care at any intersection, to prevent issues with loops. That way, to exit, you can simply keep the stickers to your right. Dead right beware of intersections.
Stickers saved our necks twice so far - from the Thin Patch and the Mauve Goop. We're doing this perpetually, now. Note to self: Ask the superelfhumangenius for a way to get Short Al to stop obsessing over the 'illogical' dorm room numbering scheme. Heh. Sent in the request. Got a 'random' text suggesting I ask Short Al about encoding systems and security through obscurity. Now he loves the numbering scheme. Heh.
Arassuil, long-time lead troubleshooter (usually not literally) of Hive Kaepora search efforts and currently leader of the Ruins exploration effort, walked into Eärendil's current office and stood at attention.
"Report," stated Eärendil, after the appropriate moment of consideration. The forms must be observed, after all, especially with Hive Kaepora.
"As per your directions, sir," Arassuil reported, "we have recovered several thousand usable tools, mostly built with higher technology than we currently possess (though not dramatically so in several cases). This includes various blueprinting tools, cogitators, and so on. We have refurbished what we could, and supplied mundane replacements where we could not. The result is by far the single best collection of tools on or above New Menor. We have designated a workspace for their use, repurposing part of a military base." He described the resulting crafting room - a Great Structure. It should give a crafter of Eärendil's skill, when using it, a single bonus Secondary Skill; the second-best crafter on the planet or some sort of hypothetical supersoldier might get a Tertiary; and a typical crafter gets a Lesser - which is still potentially useful. Crafting items (vehicles, ships, or infrastructure) larger than the structure will take some effort to manage - though a Knight is probably feasible with some finagling. "It is unfortunately not remotely usable in combat, unless you want to enter combat carrying over a ton of expensive and currently irreplaceable tools. As it is part of base Omicron-Tyndale, we have taken the liberty of designating it the Omicron Crafting Base."
"A reasonable name," Eärendil replied. "Continue."
"We have also found several components of a Construction Knight pattern that seems to have been popular here, over a thousand years ago. If we choose to look carefully enough, there are most likely several mostly-intact Knight frames somewhere, and enough components to construct several more. That said, we haven't actually unearthed a usable quantity yet, and finding them will take further effort.
"Additionally, we have tried to archive all available data-stores to the best of our ability. One of these seems important, but is encrypted well beyond our ability to analyze at this time. The others are useful for granting a view of our last few thousand years of history, and the occasional minor technological breakthrough. By far the most important and useful of these was a user's manual for one of the Genetics tools that has been included in the Omicron Crafting Base; while the manual is a few versions off, it still appears to be 98% accurate, which is (obviously) incredibly helpful - the mere implications in certain paragraphs have forced our best Biologists to reconsider many of their theories.
"On the downside, we also discovered a notably toxic fungal strain slowly taking over the underhives. Eleven out of the sixteen (currently at least partially standing) Hives are infected. Worse, it seems to be capable of slowly eating away at even our more advanced alloys - suggesting that, with sufficient time, it will eventually destabilize our homes altogether."
Eärendil: "Do we have any high-quality fungicides?"
"Not sufficient to this task; not unless we pour the entire planet's total resources into it."
Eärendil: "…I'll design something effective, then. At the end of the day, it's just applied materials science."
Eärendil asked around for the most prestigious institute of military studies on (or above) the planet, and was told to go one of two places: Salamandastron Academy in Hive Brocktree, or Lagrange University in Zetaron B. He studied his options carefully - both inherited military traditions thousands of years old; both had graduates consistently command brilliantly; both were now using the best equipment Eärendil's newly recovered technology could produce; both had ethics Eärendil thought he could live with (with different, slight, disagreements in the two cases).
After much consideration, he decided to attend both.
Military academy; more crit-fishing than anything, with a side-note of "how many people flock to the academy(ies) to try to attend with Eärendil or - for those who can - get the prestige of having taught him"; even a chaos crit is probably more a matter of needing to reform an academy than anything else
1d100=85.
Well above average; no crits.
To his joy (but not surprise), several old legends of the field - even a few he'd fought against not long before - competed for guest lecturer slots.
In a few short years, (ab)using his notably superhuman comprehension and action speed as well as the planet's now-somewhat-working telecommunications network, Eärendil had a pair of shiny new degrees.
He framed them, and left the originals in his parents' house. They were the ones who got the most joy out of them. For Eärendil, photocopies were all he ever expected to need.
Eärendil's parents now had a wall of certifications for their son. Not the ones they'd expected to have, necessarily, but still. Diplomas from several local colleges - all in his teens. Honorary degrees from the rest - generally given in his twenties. Photocopies of Eärendil's Driver's and Pilot's Licenses - since he needed the originals in most Hives; nearly all Hives recognized each others' licenses with minimal fuss, but several required you to keep the original license with you. Various awards from the aftermath of the War of Quarters - or copies, for the wearable ones that Eärendil had to wear or give offense.
Eärendil appreciated not having to store all that stuff in his own house (or, rather, fortified and spartan bunker). Or, worse: take all those items with him. How would he ever get anything done, juggling all of that stuff!?!
But for all the convenience? He appreciated more, far more, how proud they were of him.
He could, probably, have gotten several more certifications, but he knew that - with his level of fame - showing up and looking/sounding convincing was generally just as effective and much less prep work. It was only in the most annoying-to-bypass cases - or the cases where the certification was a practically-free side-effect of something he actually wanted to learn anyway.
Like, for example, Military Theory! The art of war - or, the art of diplomacy by other means, and figuring out ways to minimize the number of your own people who die.
That was definitely a passion of Eärendil's.
Eärendil had promised, years ago, to return to his family. He'd kept that promise.
He'd also promised to start seriously trying to understand people, at more than a surface level. This promise, it was high time to fulfill properly.
Now, obviously, large sections of Psychology weren't directly applicable to Eärendil - "the human brain can hold 7 +- 2 'pieces' of information at a time" was obvious blatant nonsense as far as Eärendil was concerned. But even those bits helped tremendously in understanding normal/typical/baseline people.
Psychology was, of course, a thing to study. But Eärendil found himself learning, as much as anything, from helping raise his nieces and nephews. Children offered a simplified case of adult psychology and mentality, and the lessons learned there typically translated well to general psychology.
For example, one of his nephews lost a baby tooth, biting down on a toy that a niece had (perhaps inadvisably) waved before him. This delighted the nephew but nearly had the niece in tears, worried she'd hurt her brother.
Lessons included:
Other people may not see the world the same as you do - your catastrophe may be their delight, or vice-versa.
Proprioception is important. Consistently, things look different than they feel.
People, absent a grounding force like strict discipline or decades of life experience, do the darndest things. This is not bad, but needs to be accounted for.
Eärendil had also run a pseudo-RPG for several nieces and nephews, tailored to their age, maturity, and interests - cooperative storytelling, and generally good fun for all involved. He had to admit, though, that he wasn't an expert, and sometimes made mistakes in the telling. He thought that including the Fae was a mistake, in hindsight - even with a literal in-universe signpost of ways to avoid them. Including Memetic Hazards, on the other hand, was probably a good thing despite the fact that his little niece Andreth now utterly hated them - though he'd now promised her to someday take the theoretical in-story countermeasures and make sure they really worked.
Eärendil had to put in a tiny modicum of effort to resist a certain jealousy, watching the better part of his generation getting married and raising children. He loved parenting, but had… a strange lack of desire as far as romance was concerned. Then again, perhaps it was for the best - where he would find a woman anywhere close to his equal was beyond him. And he might, for all he knew, still be a child of whatever strange hybrid species he was. He took some psychological advice: For every negative, three positives. "I'm not lonely, I have great friends and family, and I have nieces and nephews aplenty to help raise," he decided.
In the aftermath of his madness and the madness that had come of his world, Eärendil did what he always did: he sought to understand.
1. "Cogito, ergo sum."
5. "Homo sum, humani nihil a me alienum puto."
11. "Shut up and do the impossible." (Brilliant, insightful, and yet mere inches from self-destructive arrogance.)
17. "The unexamined life is not worth living."
24. "Think about how people run in a race. All the runners run, but only one of them receives the prize. You must run like that, to win the race."
29. "Listen to your heart because then it can't betray you."
34. "That which does not kill you only makes you stronger."
35. "That which does not kill you has made a tactical error."
40. "It does not do, to dwell on dreams, and forget to live."
42. "God promises you not, the grace to endure every possible tribulation and suffering (including the mutually contradictory ones) all simultaneously in the present moment. He promises, however, the grace to endure the actual hardship that is upon you - which, for the moment, is fear of the future and what troubles it may bring."
50. "What is past is prologue."
59. "Look at the hand before yourself. See the back of your hand, yes? Now focus on the sensation of seeing it - the vaguely brownish/tanish blob you are sensing. What is that sensation? Is it physical? The thing you are sensing certainly is - but is the sensation itself? No. Ergo, the universe is not ultimately purely physical."
65. "Insanity is trying the same thing and expecting a different result."
70. "What does it profit a man to gain the world but lose his soul?"
75. "It is a kingdom of conscience, or it is nothing."
81. "The world changes. Human nature does not." (With caveats to abhumanity, yet mostly true even of one so odd as myself.)
83. "Given enough to do, intuition will develop."
89. "…there is no effort without error and shortcoming… at least fail while daring greatly…"
99. "To truly test a man's character, give him power."
100. "There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach."
Entire categories of analysis. Ways to look at the world. Dozens of overarching theories of morality - and, on occasion, claims morality was nonsensical in the first place.
Beware the 'greater good.' Or, opposed: The end justifies the means. The end does seem to justify the means, technically, but people who use that reasoning to commit some current atrocity are almost inevitably working toward a greater evil instead, knowingly or otherwise. Beware: your few years of experience and analysis may not prove greater than the laws of millennia, learned in tragedy and written in blood. Beware also that your 'good' may be not so.
"An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth." But, then again, "mercy triumphs over judgment." Both obviously correct, in some cases. Yet many cases exist that would seem to call for both. The contradiction is fascinating - consider the application of game theory for disambiguation?
Suggestions for living well, that he could analyze and mentally devour - keeping in mind that none of them were perfect - or if any of them were, his understanding was insufficient.
Excellence is not an act but a habit. Oh I love this one.
"All my life," Eärendil beamed, with tears running down his cheeks, "I have kept going because I knew existence had to make sense somewhere. Now I actually understand."
Design a Relic 4 (Ostentatious) Blueprint for Cyborg-grade Warp-capable System Defense Craft. Costs 2.525… Yearly Actions; 0.356 Yearly Action overflow after 25% loss.
Design a Relic 4 (Ostentatious) Blueprint for 0.5-quality-grade Fungicide. Throw in half of a Yearly Action. Cost is 0.6538 Yearly Actions; 0.152 Yearly Action overflow after 25% loss.
New Menor was the most nearly defenseless it had been in eons. Zetaron might have been a cruel gatekeeper, but gatekeeper they were - many an eyewitness from Zetaron B (and a few from C and D) remembered fighting off some low-tech space-fleet before, and one old cyborg SDC crew from B even claimed that an Antimatter Missile had once been deployed against the same hostile fleet nearly a century ago. So, Eärendil thought, it would be wise to set up a defensive fleet.
New Menor retained quite a bit of data on good spacecraft, if you only knew enough context to make sense of it.
While Eärendil worked on other projects, he made sure to note and memorize any info on starfighters and such that he came across. He learned quite a bit - and quite a bit about good Blueprint design, too.
And he needed to, because his planet's economy was in remarkably bad shape to start with. One of his priorities, always, was to find ways to produce reliable results despite poor starting materials. And ways he found.
He worked with the craftsmen and designers and the closest thing his planet had to industrial magnates, all to set up a fighting force to ensure the War of Quarters never occurred again. This was, unsurprisingly, a very convincing argument. Many people were also interested in seeing if they could mine asteroids - which might help the struggling economy, unused as it currently was to global integration (or, indeed, a non-decaying techbase).
Zetaron B (and C to a very limited degree) retained a few war-capable System Defense Craft, and a fair number of supersoldiers capable of piloting them. They were willing to train further pilots for a (mostly) reasonable fee, and their institutional experience was invaluable in keeping the overall fleet competent.
But mass-production of System-Defense Craft was a new matter, and Eärendil poured time and effort into it. He poured his brilliance, able to keep the whole blueprint in his head at a single time and review it for flaws. He poured his encyclopedic knowledge of technology, correcting flaws nobody else would have seen. He poured his brilliant knowledge of mathematics - and his knowledge of people - to ensure that the resulting systems were both fault-tolerant and easy to manufacture. And he poured in something else.
The first draft of the Blueprints went in for a test run, and all was normal. Just a few basic craft; some tweaks would be needed, but nothing odd.
The second draft of the Blueprints went in for a test run, and… They were slightly too effective. Craftsmen following them reported unprecedented productivity. Eärendil carefully monitored the results with his Sight - and discovered that the Immaterium was assisting the work in some way.
His inborn knowledge of Warp Safety - while clearly a bit incomplete - reported nothing ominous about this, and indeed suggested that such things were safely possible. Relics, they were termed.
So Eärendil doubled down on the process, infusing his knowledge, his skill, his cosmic power, and the crafting expertise of New Menor, all into a single Blueprint.
"One SDC Fleet, to protect them all," as he joked to his cousins and siblings at the family reunion. A niece took the opportunity to throw corn at his face. He laughed with the rest.
(He noticed himself reaching a wall, a limit to the quality he could produce. Some part of him/not-him raged at the imperfection, but he noticed, stopped, recognized the Hunger pushing for this, and added a note to self. "'Within Tolerances' is definitely wise.")
Perfect though it wasn't, the final result was still potent. A Blueprint that resisted efforts to directly copy it, but when followed - allowed the craftsmen of New Menor to produce System Defense Craft of modestly higher quality than normal, significantly faster and massively cheaper than normal.
And that was the fleet Eärendil had needed.
Planet: Build Sys Defense Craft 4x Action of 10. This uses the Blueprints and thus generates Cyborg quality ships (from an 80% Human / 20% Cyborg production base), +50% constructed ships, and an 80% smaller Economy penalty. Ships are Warp-capable.
State of New Menor halves production compared to nominal expected values.
4 x1.5 x0.5 = 3. So an Average-manpower Inner System scale SDC fleet.
Once New Menor had built a respectable force of System Defense Craft, they thoroughly explored their own star-system.
The system contained four planets and an asteroid belt: Nargon, Emyn Muil, New Menor, the aforementioned asteroid belt, and Turavilya.
Nargon and Emyn Muil were both lifeless rocky planets. Nargon was expected to be particularly hazardous due to the extreme temperature (solid ground was rare) and hazardous atmosphere, but Emyn Muil was fairly settleable. Indeed, Emyn Muil had apparently once held a small colony, and a few ruins dotted its landscape, though it had clearly never been fully populated like New Menor.
The asteroid belt was once a full planet as well, it seemed, but it was detonated some thousands of years ago, in the Age of Strife that broke so much of the galaxy. Eleven major fragments of the former planet remain, plus countless smaller ones. Nobody knows what the missing planet was once called, and a joke - "the Lost Wanderer" after its status and the original meaning behind the word 'planet' - eventually morphed into nicknaming it "Elldubyuh."
Within the asteroid belt, the largest fragment of Elldubyuh (large enough to have a faint gravity field) had collected a massive pile of scrap and debris. It appeared that, long ago, a major fleet battle was fought over this rock, and the resulting ship fragments had collected here. No working ships remained, nor really anything close, but the raw resources were invaluable for producing more ships and other things - and the System Defense Craft were perfectly capable of towing said resources. Any particularly interesting scraps were scanned, of course - with most of them being ferried within Eärendil's perception range so he could memorize them and filter out anything particularly useful or hazardous.
Turavilya was the system's only gas giant, and had four moons of its own. One (Turavilya A) had an oxygen-neon atmosphere and some surviving plantlife; it was believed to be inhabitable with no further effort. Two could be settled with time and effort - one was very much on the small side, but still. And the fourth could support an outpost, but had very light gravity and not a lot of living space; it did have some interesting minerals that might be worth mining in the future.
As soon as scientists started deeply scanning Turavilya A, however, they discovered a mess of underground tunnels - with active heat and other signatures! With time, and effort, they dug in… and found a lost human colony, that apparently had been hiding underground to escape the Age of Strife and similar.
The people of the colony were at roughly Interplanetary technology, and barely maintaining their life-support systems. A few scientists from New Menor were immediately loaned to them to try to teach them the higher technology they had lost. Eärendil made a note in his TODO list: "Create technology primer."
On the upside, their colony had mined a fair amount of several minerals not easily found in New Menor, putting both sides in a good position to trade. And trade they did! While being found by the outside was a deep surprise, being found by friendly outsiders was rather enheartening, and Eärendil didn't need to intervene much (beyond all the interaction he was already doing to help New Menor unify).
Finally, ignoring the Asteroid belt, the system had twelve notable asteroids and comets, with properties ranging from "unusual size" to one that was mildly active in the Immaterium. Indeed, that one had been visible in the sky when Eärendil himself landed on New Menor (indeed, he remembered it from his childhood, and had mourned when it disappeared just a few years in), and it was expected to be visible again in another century or so.
Eärendil had not forgotten the request for a good Fungicide. It was trivially to formulate something truly nasty. It was far harder to create something mostly survivable by ordinary humans and their infrastructure. It was actually difficult to make this affordably mass-producible.
He made a point of working his skills and Power into the results, and iterating over them with others, until (again) he got something effective for others and not just himself.
(He was used to inventing mundane things, things that needed to be able to be replicated indefinitely, by anyone. That was, frankly, the essence of his uplift research - his writings and researches had to apply, not just to his own Hive, but to all the world. He had developed quite a knack, he saw in hindsight, for reining his Soul in, and even channeling it to increasing his own chances of quickly understanding - and that was, perhaps, one of the great reasons that Research came so easily to him. This Blueprinting work was very much the opposite.)
Rare was the Mold infestation that Eärendil had to handle specifically, thanks to the rest of the planet happily making use of the super-antifungal agent, but the one under Hive Vincent was a particular exception.
Roughly a third of Hive Vincent was gone, and another third was extremely debatably livable, in the aftermath of the Antimatter warheads. Hive Vincent had a terrible reputation elsewhere, and Eärendil's own experiences suggested that they had likely earned it fair and square. However, that didn't stop him from needing to prevent the infestation from infecting other Hives - nor, truly, did it stop him from being willing to try to extend a hand, even knowing it would likely be rebuffed.
(He walked in assuming a trap, with considerable backup. This wasn't without risk - but he walked in with his eyes open and his Soul ready.)
Hive Vincent had, after alternating death threats and utter silence, eventually given permission for the rest of the planet to access their Hive for long enough to eliminate the fungus. It seemed to be causing their people enough problems that they were finally willing to cave.
Which made their plan to assassinate him the moment he dropped his guard almost amusing, in a grim and apathetic way. He walked in with his Psychic Awareness at full, used Telekinesis to casually sabotage their aggressively mediocre summoning ritual chamber, and spent a week and a half with various others systematically removing about twenty miles of the infestation, while dodging daily assassination attempts - a trivial exercise when you are blatantly superhumanly fast, and already know the entire plan before they begin trying to execute it.
Then, on the eleventh day, Hive Vincent decided to just start shelling the workers.
1d100=7.
Nurgle.
OK.
At least it wasn't 6.
Note that this turn's been rewritten enough that the roll was originally for a different group to anger Eärendil. I moved it here because that group no longer exists (or at least doesn't yet) and because it was just too fitting here.
Eärendil carefully used Telekinesis and recorders, and livestreamed to all the world the planned perfidy of Hive Vincent. He quietly evacuated his people. They, at one point, tried to stop him. He Telekinetically shoved them aside and slowly, inexorably, apathetically, walked out.
Once out of the Hive, none of his people having taken a single scratch, he gave the order.
The entire Hive went under quarantine. Nobody was to be allowed out without decontamination and questioning. The questioning, as long as it was held near Eärendil and his superhuman sense for lies (and implants, bombs, hostility, brainwashing, Immaterial taint, and pretty much anything else he knew to look for), didn't have to be particularly hostile - indeed, Eärendil would probably have to intervene to keep them relatively friendly to the relatively innocent.
For Hive Vincent was, alone of New Menor, on its own. No technology. No teaching. No supplies. No repairs. No spaceships. No news. Nothing. Just a grim quarantine wall, with posters of "Accepting refugees who haven't wronged us and are willing to live peacefully" dotted across it.
Hive Vincent was perhaps a half-century from failing to internal lack of maintenance. Hive Vincent was perhaps thirty years from failing to this particularly virulent fungus.
"It will be interesting," Eärendil heard a news-anchor grimly muse, "to see how many Vincents are stupid enough to stay there until the Hive collapses on them."
On the brighter side, Eärendil ensured that a carefully (gravitically) contained sample of the fungus was kept around, isolated, for research purposes. Biotech that could digest high-tech alloys - fascinating!
(If some corner of his mind thought it would make a good bioweapon… well, that was on the "if we have to, ugh" list.)
Orbital Hive Cluster Zetaron had taken quite the beating. Even ignoring the closure (and wreckage) of all the linkages to Zetaron A, it needed some serious repair.
Eärendil spent what time he could there in orbit. Any discomfort he felt, he quashed with his superhuman Self-Discipline. And he put his considerable technological and research skills to use repairing (and explaining) subsystems and technologies left and right. The Hives' Machine Spirits were particularly helpful, often far more than the actual people - and even those generally weren't uncooperative, especially after he found a few cases of guards from the planet misusing their power and ensured those individuals were fairly punished (and, obviously, not trusted with such power again).
He gave several speeches - much helped by his Psychology and Philosophy lessons, and perhaps more helped by his preternatural ability to read the crowds. The gist came down to, roughly, "We don't need to Reject them. Those who devastated our planet are dead; justice has been done. We are the people of New Menor; we will not make Outcasts unnecessarily."
While his height wasn't immediately obvious on a viewing screen, Eärendil's two-inch blond hair, light beard (a fine, silky half-inch), and generally inhumanly pretty visage were striking, to say the least. Even among the people of New Menor, where remnants of DAoT genework left normal hair colors spanning the visible spectrum and beyond, and superhuman appearance a rare but known possibility, he stood out - like it or not. Never one to spend time complaining, he gave a brief sigh at the lost opportunities of 'normalcy' and 'looking handsome,' shrugged his shoulders, and made use of what he had.
Zetaron D and the surface hardly needed any speeches to sympathize with each other. Eärendil was free to spend most of his time just repairing infrastructure and teaching everyone - both of which were desperately needed - and ensuring that those in power were relatively non-corrupt and mostly competent (with "simply prove their crimes / failures" being generally sufficient to ensure he could demote people with minimal fuss).
But Zetaron B and Zetaron C each had a further complication. On Zetaron B, it was the matter of making sure that the worst of the Mind-Control devices were destroyed without backup - while also ensuring that the better principles were studied and generalized into better stuff. He ultimately had to accept partial defeat on both accounts - if a genius scientist worked with their surviving experts and infrastructure and science, a few decades could produce some truly frightening Mind-Control implants (though none on the same level - Morpheus' Hooks, as they were called, really were something else); on the other hand, there were a few concepts he eradicated from all backups that he thought were probably potentially useful for teaching and other genuinely good uses, given admittedly a similar (or greater) degree of focused effort.
One fact Eärendil was largely ambivalent about: he kept, tucked away in his own memory, backups of everything he had deleted from the systems - this was fantastic and terrible, both at once. Once again, his superhuman Self-Discipline kept him from truly suffering from this knowledge, reflexively horrifying and disgusting as it was, by the simple expedient of just not thinking about it.
He did get two fascinating ideas from the research, however - ways to fulfill his promise and build Memetic Hazard Countermeasures, and a few different theoretical methodologies on extending his multiple thought-processes into a full-fledged mental defense (and possibly enhancement) package.
He also had several of the cyborg supersoldiers - including several newly-inducted in recent years, inducted with considerably less brainwashing naturally - challenge him to fights on various terms. His pure Psychic Might was, naturally, forbidden in nearly all of them - but his agility and near-omniscience within his own Soul's Sight left him the victor in 121 of the 140 matches. Hmm… want to learn more about Teaching, he mused at one point. They're definitely learning from me, but I could teach them so much more if I actually knew what I was doing instead of just brute-forcing it by Watching them.
Zetaron C was its own problem, on two accounts: first, the people and the surface were at odds with each other; second, a cult (of The Hand And The Hunger) had taken up residence there and proven difficult to fully eradicate. This, Eärendil thought, was a Problem.
His Sight, however, had grown by leaps and bounds, and he now had the power to just watch most of a Hive. He also had some particularly hard-to-corrupt assistants - about a tenth of the population of district W111 from Hive Kaepora proved to be unusually strong-willed, due to a long running cultural tradition of only allowing people to count as adults once they passed a series of grueling physical and mental trials (their old rules had some limited allowance for disabilities, but the district actually rather liked a trio of minor suggestions by Eärendil that significantly improved their accessibility and modestly improved their effectiveness).
Working together for months, they carefully scoured the Hive from base to tip. No corner was unsearched; no hidden Sigil left standing. A few hundredths of a percent of the Hive's populace was slightly but not critically Tainted and had to be carefully quarantined and monitored across the decade. But, by the decade's end, Eärendil could state with confidence that this Immaterial plague had been eradicated.
Eärendil's Notes to Self
Warp - Entity - Types
<Quarantine - Possible Memetic Hazards>
<If rereading this, please clear your mind, prepare all mental barriers, and prepare for hostile mind-affecting. Expected potency: Superhuman but sub-Cosmic.>
Note that five categories of Warp Entities have been discovered:
1. The weird-shaped ones that maybe eat data.
2. The angry red ones.
3. The diseased ones.
4. The perfection perverted ones.
5. Various oddballs that don't fit any other category.
Note: Greater and lesser instances of each category have been seen.
Note: The Hunger seems to be related to the 'perfection perverted' Warp Entities. Perhaps a particularly powerful instance, or perhaps a council of many lessers working in concert - or, most concerningly, possibly their leader.
Note: At minimum, the 'perfection perverted' Entities have been repeatedly confirmed to be actively hostile to Human wellbeing (including, of course, my own).
Note: I once had a surge of HATRED that seems akin in some manner to the 'angry red' Warp Entities. I have spent most of my life rigorously resisting any mental state related to the 'perfection perverted' Warp Entities. Therefore, it seems very probable that the other categories have related mental states, and that those may well need guarding against.
<When done considering this matter, flush all relevant data from your memory, count to five, and then run an eleven-second mental stability check.>
<…Check passed: all parameters normal.>
As for ending feuds… he tried dozens of strategies, iterated repeatedly, and kept at it until he found himself making progress. Ranging from putting Surface and Hive forces together and forcing them to team up or suffer together, to giving further speeches, to going over the relevant legal codes with a fine-toothed comb to ensure everything was as fair and helpful as it reasonably could be, to handpicking many of the judges that would oversee any legal disputes, to inspiring and assisting a dozen different artists to make incredible masterworks (always with 'jolly cooperation' as a background theme - and often also with 'trust but verify' as a background theme), to to writing treatises.
The first time he tried writing a treatise, putting down his thoughts on how New Menor should work together, the first person to read it was a second cousin of his for proofreading. The instant she started reading the words, something happened - some Immaterial effect began to twist her. In an instant, he jerked the offending treatise out of her hands.
Thankfully, she made it through with nothing worse than the titular phrase "A House United - A Treatise on New Menor's Future" showing up in her dreams periodically.
Also thankfully, deliberately limiting the treatises to baseline human quality (or, near-equivalently, cyborg quality) effectively fixed that particular problem.
And, while his efforts didn't fix everything - they massively eased the integration and turned the tensions between Zetaron C and the Surface from 'not quite mortal enemies' to 'we're keeping an eye on you.' An acceptable state, altogether.
Eärendil spent years stabilizing the surface of New Menor - and this was a mixture of repairing material (and the ever-helpful Machine Spirits) and helping people learn to cooperate.
Hives Kaepora and Brocktree were apparently historical rivals. Now Eärendil requested, then asked, then bent his knee and begged Brocktree to genuinely help Kaepora without any catch or mockery - and at last had the answer he needed.
He then turned around and had to ask Hive Kaepora's proud leadership to take the help in the spirit with which it was meant. He wound up, to their horror, bending the knee to them and begging them exactly the same thing - which left them willing to try.
And, with time and effort? The old grudge started to heal - rivals they still were, but no longer hostile ones.
Dozens of times, Eärendil played peacemaker - often among different districts within a Hive; sometimes on particularly fractious political elections (being able to prove both candidates were systematically lying to the people had an… odd effect on elections - among other things, after the tenth time he did it, deliberate lies grew much scarcer). And, slowly but surely, the planet of New Menor reunited.
In Hive Kaepora, severe but not complete destruction had left a horrifying number of orphans. Eärendil ran monthly checks on the adoption system for a decade - his Sight paying amazing dividends - and ensured no genuinely-abusive caretakers were allowed to retain control of children. There were an uncomfortable number of borderline cases, but overall things went adequately.
Eärendil, ultimately, adopted only one of them - but he fostered over a thousand for brief periods, as necessary. The most notable of his fosterees were twins - brother and sister, Lumillia and Lyon - that he fostered showed extraordinary intrigue and combat prowess, profiting greatly from the slightest of teachings. He paid to ensure they would get the best possible education, and his second cousin wound up adopting them. (1d2=1; Lumillia is a Hero Candidate now; Lyon may become the same later.)
Meanwhile, a boy (Samuel Vimes) born on the same day as Eärendil's rampage through Zetaron A proved to have incredible, ferocious bloodlust, and near-superhuman physical abilities. All others despaired of controlling or properly raising him, until Eärendil came along.
"I know. I know you can fight. But it's our wits that make us men," Eärendil said a hundred times if he said it once. He would occasionally poke Sam on the forehead, and remind him yet again "First you have to use this," then gently holding his fists, "then you can use these."
There didn't seem to be enough time, but where there was a will, there was usually a way. (Before his Philosophy lessons, Eärendil might have despaired - but pressed on from sheer self-discipline, until his intellect discovered a way. Now he assumed it was possible from the first, impossible though it seemed.)
Eärendil considered several options, and eventually managed to yet-further extend his telepresence tricks. He could use Telekinesis and Psy Awareness to control several virtual avatars (using computer-like tricks to simulate multitasking) and interact remotely with a half-dozen people at once (from their perspective) while hiking through miles of ancient corridors - or trekking under the open sky - with his adopted son.
…Sam's favorite moments were "when we get to stop and eat snacks" - or "whenever it seems like there's danger." Not that Eärendil brought him anywhere truly dangerous, but he got a kick out of spraying vast quantities of fungicide on the last stubborn remnants of the fungal plague.
Parenting wasn't easy, but Eärendil persevered nonetheless, taking his adopted son on many travels around (and above) the globe. And his adopted son slowly learned bits of the Self-Discipline that Eärendil had grown up embodying.
(Eärendil regularly asked his parents for advice. They regularly gave it. Not all of it was good. All of it was appreciated.)
(Writer: Note to self: Roll next turn for survival/hero. Surviving at all probably implies he now has Self-Discipline (or possibly Philosophy) as a Human Grade Secondary skill. Eärendil will, sadly, have to actively focus to notice something that minor - it's a 0.5-grade skill by Primarch standards, where even a Lesser is a 2-grade skill.)
It was obvious that New Menor needed a united government of some sort, loose or tight. Eärendil, ironically, was campaigning against the majority who wanted a fairly powerful government setup. Eärendil wanted a relatively thin planetary government - something with relatively few responsibilities and (thus) relatively simple to keep effective.
The art of negotiation was the art of getting all involved parties as much of what they wanted as could simultaneously be managed. The art of negotiation was the art of multiple people getting what none of them precisely want. The art of negotiation was often grueling, and typically frustrating, but also essential.
So it was this time. Eärendil ultimately accepted a somewhat thicker government than he'd wanted in exchange for ensuring the various relations between different Hives would generally not involve one exploiting the next. He wound up getting crowned planetary king by the end of it (as the various Hives trusted him in charge, but not each other), but managed to keep his title short and snappy ("King Eärendil" or occasionally "The Cosmic Swiss Army Knife" - yes, that was an official title, complete with the use of 'Cosmic' to denote Eärendil's strange and ridiculously powerful nature) and his dress robes reasonable. He also ensured the individual Hives would largely keep a democratic form of government (or at least not become less democratic) - up to the Hive level, and to some degree up into the planetary government.
Perhaps inadvisably, the Council of Elros had, in the documentation, ultimately let him choose the government's name. On a very old family in-joke, he named the planetary government "…the Organization!" - or, where strictly necessary, "Organization XI."
Much more advisably, one of the rules of "…the Organization!" - loosely put, ignoring the legalese and the handful of caveats to prevent abuse - was "Complaints are welcome, as long as you include at least one sincere compliment per complaint." This served two purposes: reminding people what they had to be thankful for, while simultaneously ensuring "…the Organization!" had a helpful mix of positive and negative feedback.
(Freedom of the press was guaranteed in its own way, if somewhat limited compared to what Eärendil would have preferred to implement. 'Freedom to have the government listen' was not.)
The first big job of "…the Organization!" was to fix the economy. Which was a bit difficult, since the best economy worked naturally and didn't require much government intervention.
However, jump-starting an economy was, relatively speaking, a known science. Not an elegant matter, and certainly outside Eärendil's proper wheelhouse, but brute-force number crunching, application of mathematics more and less theoretical, blatantly supernatural awareness, and extensive hard work were able to mostly carry the load.
After that, the main goals were to remove blockers - ensure the economy wasn't bogged down by absurdly large amounts of often-contradictory regulation (but that it had enough to protect the people), ensure the tax rate was reasonable, and so on. This was somewhat more difficult than it could have been, due to his government's relatively low power over individual Hives. This was somewhat easier than it could have been, due to his own considerable fame and notable persuasive powers.
There was also the coordination of System Defense Craft usage rights - when many a private enterprise wanted to borrow them for some action, often towing resources back to the Orbital Hives and other lesser Starbases. While this wasn't a huge revenue provider on a planetary scale, every bit helped, and it was large by Hive standards.
Overall, the economy improved noticeably, and was definitely in an upward trend now.
About five years into the decade, almost immediately after ascending to the throne, newly-crowned King Eärendil gave a speech - and for once, it wasn't about internal affairs at all.
"I came before you, New Menorians, years ago, and declared, 'The galaxy is vast and full of wonder!' I also told you, 'The galaxy is vast and full of danger!' Look out and see: it is so; even within our own system we have found friends. We have a choice now, to stay hidden in our small system, blind to the threats and unable to help those who could be our allies. This is, for a time, the safe way - but not for long. Only until the galaxy turns its attention to us.
"But we shall go first. Into danger in the short run - and safety in the long run. We shall walk the stars once more, as our people did in ages past. And we shall see dawn rise on a thousand worlds once more.
"New Menorians! Do you hear me?"
"YES!" they chorused.
"Will we meet the galaxy?"
"YES!" they chorused.
"And will the galaxy expect us?"
"NO!"
"And will we craft wonders?"
"YES!"
"THEN GO FORTH!" he shouted.
And the first exploration flights began.
New Menor started with a very shrewd idea where many nearby civilizations were - a neighbor ten or twenty lightyears in any given direction could easily be proven to have been using radio or higher communication technologies, ten or twenty years ago - and that was all the directional data many of the exploration attempts needed. The fact that Zetaron retained a few fragmented maps, was just the icing on the cake.
Once again, Arassuil reported to Eärendil. Little had changed, in truth, aside from his address changing from "sir" to "sire." His duties had changed considerably, however, from fixing mold problems to collating reports of hyperspace.
"We have found, sire," Arassuil stated, "that New Menor sits in a nexus of Warp-lanes."
Narrative significance? Eärendil wondered. Does that correlate? Does my presence change things? But which is cause and which is effect?
"We have only heard back from 37 of the hundred ships we sent out. Three were destroyed - alas - one seemingly by a distant human Forge-world, one by Xenos," here he made a noise of distaste, "and one from what seems to have been their own sheer stupidity. On the brighter side, 34 surviving ships contacted us. Fourteen found some sort of civilization. Of those, only three are notable.
"First and most tragic, is a cluster of nine dead worlds that distant light-based observation reveals used to be highly technological and generally quite productive. They appear to have squabbled over some sort of incredible relic, and eventually resorted to trading blows with superweapons - ultimately destroying all nine worlds. Our men have claimed the relic, which somehow survived, and are returning it here.
"The second is a ship that found a low-technology rural world, named Cobas by its inhabitants. It bore traces of former higher technology… and also orbital bombardment. Upon descending to the surface and contacting the natives, our people found them friendly.
"They declared that star-farers stopping by to destroy their civilization was common, but ones stopping by to talk suggested that the old days might be returning.
"While it took over a year to gain a measure of true trust, our team quickly noticed that some of their smartest individuals - particularly their storytellers - puzzled out our technology at a frightening pace.
"It eventually transpired that their people had somewhat-functional intelligence-boosting gene-mods from a bygone era. The top percent of their populace were, thus, geniuses beyond compare*- and from that pool their storytellers recruited exclusively, allowing them to retain a ludicrous level of knowledge for a civilization that had been bombed back into the Feudal Era repeatedly."
* Technically true - though inverted from the usual meaning if compared to a Primarch. Mechanically, they're only significant in terms of being able to provide a massive number of individuals who can and will get up to speed technologically very very quickly, and provide about 4x the per-capita bonus that you'd normally expect from a Research organization.
"They claim that another sweep of their foes - which our scans have identified as likely the same group that Hive Cluster Zetaron beat back from our own system - will most likely occur in about fifteen years.
"The third is a contact with a 5-world technocratic polity called 'Ice 'n Guard.' One Interstellar world ruling four much lower ones. They are, supposedly, the remains of a megacorp headquarters. So far as we can tell, they are only just barely moral enough for our own people to do business with them without regret. However, they are extremely fond of technology.
"The negotiations were looking to be another 'we do not want to attack you but leave us alone,' as we have repeatedly experienced before, when Captain Charles (of the ship that contacted them), proposed 'We could have a research agreement.'
"All crew report that this suggestion appears to have sparked their interest. Charles made several more statements, and eventually got the chance to bargain with The Clever One, the leader of their council and an ancient Magos with a small order of Mechanicus followers.
"He is reported as having chuckled for a while at one point, and looking at Charles, stated, 'Your skill at saying the right thing is uncanny; it's almost like you can read my mind or something…'
"Regardless, the two negotiated. And Charles, following some of the orders you gave when sending out the fleet, offered full access to our technology (notably higher than theirs) in exchange for their Research apparatus assisting ours for a decade or two.
"…So, in summary, for better or worse, one of our men took the initiative of setting up a treaty for you to sign - or refuse, if you wish."
Eärendil replied, "Hmm… it looks good to me, but I'll run it by several others just in case anyone spots something. Meanwhile, let's propose a treaty to the Cobas people…"
The rest of the report was a discussion of the various other systems found: some inhabited but uninterested in diplomacy; the majority outright uninhabited.
As the decade came to a close, ships from Ice 'n Guard started trickling into the system. The confirmation arrived that the people of Cobas had signed the treaty - a detachment (already en-route) of twenty-five System Defense Craft to assist them, and another twenty-five a decade in the future, in exchange for the right to recruit excellent scientists from their populace.
Then one of New Menor's own ships entered, triumphantly bearing a relic. Eärendil flew out to meet them-
"Fuck," Eärendil stated. And without another bit of hesitation, he ordered full maximum quarantine measures.
For the relic they bore should have been some sort of super-constructor. But it was but a shell; elegant and convincing, sustained by the Immaterium; a lie that Eärendil's eyes could see through in an instant. A lie that had already hopelessly tainted the crew.
He put in a minimal attempt to save them, but gave it up almost immediately as hopeless, as scrapcode began to spread to the systems of Orbital Hive Zetaron. Before this threat, and before much damage could occur, Eärendil crushed the ship in an instant and destroyed crew, 'relic,' and all.
Once again, Eärendil mused sadly, The cognitovores attack Orbital Hive Zetaron. The Erasers of Information. Ugly things.
Charles is a subconscious psyker.
The Forge-world that destroyed one of our ships is going to tear them apart to analyze them, …and probably servitor-ize everyone aboard just because. There's also a system that nobody can seem to survive entering (remnant higher-tech automated orbital defenses sitting on a semi-populated Orbital about a dead-ish world).
Eärendil's Notes to Self
Warp - Entity - Types
<Quarantine - Possible Memetic Hazards>
<If rereading this, please clear your mind, prepare all mental barriers, and prepare for hostile mind-affecting. Expected potency: Superhuman but sub-Cosmic.>
Note that five categories of Warp Entities have been discovered:
1. The weird-shaped ones that maybe eat data.
2. The angry red ones.
3. The diseased ones.
4. The perfection perverted ones.
5. Various oddballs that don't fit any other category.
Note: Greater and lesser instances of each category have been seen.
Note: The Hunger seems to be related to the 'perfection perverted' Warp Entities. Perhaps a particularly powerful instance, or perhaps a council of many lessers working in concert - or, most concerningly, possibly their leader.
Note: At minimum, the 'perfection perverted' Entities have been repeatedly confirmed to be actively hostile to Human wellbeing (including, of course, my own). Same with the Infovores. One can reasonably assume Disease and Anger are not - generally speaking - particularly helpful either. Warp Entities shall be considered Hostile until further notice - seek further information if it can be acquired with minimal risk of memetic hazard; seek information on mundane memetic hazards if and when possible. Note: I once had a surge of HATRED that seems akin in some manner to the 'angry red' Warp Entities. I have spent most of my life rigorously resisting any mental state related to the 'perfection perverted' Warp Entities. When dealing with Hive Vincent, I felt a surge of overwhelming APATHY that seemed linked to the 'diseased' Warp Entities. No mental state has yet been detected related to the data-eaters, with a slight (and somewhat disturbing) possibility that my own native curiosity is (in fact) vaguely related in some manner. <When done considering this matter, flush all relevant data from your memory, count to five, and then run an eleven-second mental stability check.>
<…Check passed: all parameters normal.>
Gain Learning at Tertiary, gain Time Management at Tertiary.
Gain a Hero Candidate (aka a 1-point Skill) and her brother as named people.
Research groups are being reworked and clarified now - but you have a National one even after that. Though they don't give research multipliers anymore. But you get an effective 20 Hero Candidates, hurray!
You do gain a fairly stable System Government group. Governments now explicitly bonus all Crafting (except Personal Items).
Traits:
* Aeldari Genetics (Beta psyker, can build psitech, innate Secondary Skill for Dueling (does not take a slot, cannot be upgraded), amplified emotions, natural 2 Soul Wounds, under constant attack by Slaanesh)
* Agile
* Adamantine Will+ (+5 Soul Wounds; no other effects).
* Energy Weaver (can learn to weave various forms of power/energy into physical form)
* Theoretical Polymath: provides 1.5 action value to research actions, halves time to bring research skills to Core (anything below Ascendant).
* See Through The Veil: Can sense the nature of daemons beyond the Veil providing a narrative resistance to being tricked, can examine mortal souls in the same manner. (This is not unblockable, but it will work without fail on normal daemons below Favored.)
* Hard Worker
Core Skills: (5/5)
-Self-Discipline (becomes slotless as turn ends - gained Turn 1; Corruption Resistance / Emotional Control; bonus to getting Hard Worker)
-Uplift Research (Narrow) (slot - gained Turn 2)
-Machine Spirit Studies (slot - gained Turn 2)
-Psychic Awareness (slot - gained Turn 3; aka "I'm semiconsciously aware of my surroundings at all times"; prevents surprise; counts as a 0.5 mod Core skill at everything; Null is now miserable; disadvantage fighting Daemons)
-Psychic Combat (slot - gained Turn 3; Combat skill; all Psychic skills now count fully as Combat skills) Secondary Skills: (4/10)
-Dueling (Innate Skill; slotless; cannot be upgraded)
-Physics (slot - gained Turn 1; Research / Crafting; 0.5 mod but applies widely)
-Celestial Navigation (slot - gained Turn 1; Research / Space Fleet Command)
-Military Theory (slot - gained Turn 4; Research / Military Crafting (especially Blueprints) / Military Command)
-Philosophy (slot - gained Turn 4; Corruption Resistance / Emotional Control / Influence) Tertiary Skills: (6/15)
-Influence/Other: Psychic Empathy (Psy / Influence; disadvantage fighting Daemons), Psychology (Research / Influence)
-Uplift Research: Materials Science, Mathematics
-Learning
-Time Management Lesser Skills: (19/20)
-Warp: Empyrean-Safety, Warp Studies
-Uplift Research: Applied Mathematics, Theoretical Physics, Applied Physics, Reverse-Engineering, Cogitator Science, High Energy Physics, Homeworld Research (the state of my Homeworld's research and researchers; Research caps at my planet's Infrastructure level)
-Research/Social: Decision Theory, Theory of Negotiation, Oratorical Principles
-Military: Theoretical Warfare Analysis, Concepts of Low-Imperial War, Organizational Studies, Military Command
-Combat: Telekinesis, Stealth
-Psychic Materialization (can turn Magic/Emotions/etc into physical items)
(List of dropped skills, kept for my future reference: Quantum Mechanics, Computer Science (caps at ~High Interstellar).)
Notable Gear:
-Orb of HATRED D:
-Blueprints: 'Relic-4 Cyborg SDC' and 'Relic-4 0.5-grade Mold Control'
Corruption Tokens: 13 Repulsed (I think?); 1 each at 0.25, .5, .75.
The Emperor nodded as he moved to follow his son, the second to be found and an impressive figure. He frowned for he was displeased with the technological level on display, his son should have been able to improve beyond this level by now, but perhaps there was a greater hand at play. This world was one of the few with an active world spirit after all. When they came to a place a fair reach away from the celebration, the Emperor dropped his cloak and revealed himself in full, "YOU ARE MY SON, AND I HAVE ARRIVED TO BRING YOU TO TERRA. HOWEVER, THERE IS YET TIME TO LEARN OF THE OTHER BEFORE WE MUST LEAVE."
Once again, cold calculation stole over the Primarch's face, so quickly there and gone that an ordinary human would never pick it up, all his superhuman senses and intelligence focused on the Emperor. This was followed by a series of emotions; surprise, anger, happiness, and suspicion flashed in and out in only seconds, before his expression settled into brittle hopefulness, fragile yet growing. "You're... You're still alive?" Leman croaked, struggling to wrangle his feelings into words, "I'd always thought... When a baby winds up alone in the wilds of Fenris, and his parents still wanted him, like I always knew you did... I don't know how I knew that, but I... You're still alive! I'm not the only one! I'm not the only one!" He threw back his head and barked with laughter, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, "HAHAHA! I'm not the only one! I have a father!" Arms spread wide, teeth bared in an inhumanly pointy grin so wide it made the corners of his mouth ache, Leman thundered toward the Emperor like a charging bear, seeking to sweep his father up into a spine-cracking hug.
The Emperor frowned minutely before returning the hug, stiffly but with real warmth to it. "IT WAS NEVER MY INTENTION FOR YOU TO LIVE UPON THIS WORLD. MY ENEMIES WENT BEYOND MY EXPECTATIONS TO STEAL YOU AND YOUR BROTHERS AWAY FROM MY SIDE." He waved a hand and the world responded. Reality frayed before reforming as if nothing had occurred, yet there was a sense that something had changed, "A GIFT OF POWER TO THE SPIRIT OF THIS WORLD, TO BE FOUND IN THE WILD DEPTHS. PAYMENT IN EXCHANGE FOR YOU LEAVING THIS WORLD FOR TERRA." The Emperor's words echoed through the air, a myriad of concepts and truths and lies in each word, an array of concepts beyond understanding, and yet a kernel of warmth existed in the cold words.
"I was making plans to keep Mother Fenris and my clan provided for in the event of my absence," The Primarch mused with a bit of embarrassment, sensing the Emperor's discomfort and letting him go, "But I'd hardly started on carrying them out before you arrived. I'm going to have to make some adjustments, move up my schedule... Ah, but I'm neglecting my manners, Father. I know not what you had intended to call me by, but my name is Leman, Rune-Priest of the Russ clan, and these furry great lumps are Freki and Geri, my wolf-brothers, whose mother saved me from a death by exposure upon my arrival to this world. There's much to do, both to prepare for my departure with you, and so that I may begin planning to hunt whatever dead thing walking dared to tear our family apart, but now is a time to celebrate our reunion, not to dwell on such darker things! We can speak of business come the morning. Let me show you my hospitality! I'd be a poor host if I didn't offer someone who's traveled from a whole other world to see me a hot meal and a tankard of my finest mjod. And I'm told I'm a rather good cook," He exclaimed pridefully, "Even by those rare few these days who don't sing the praises of whatever I do simply because I was the one to do it
The Emperor smiled faintly before nodding towards Leman and taking once more the form of a humble man. "UNDERSTANDABLE, YOUR TECHNOLOGICAL PROGRESS IS LACKING, BUT YOUR ACTIONS ARE WORTHY IN THEIR OWN RIGHT. BE CAUTIOUS WHEN USING THE WARP, AND BE AWARE THAT THERE ARE LIFEFORMS WITHIN THAT ARE HOSTILE TO YOU AND ALL OTHERS. YOU ARE NOT CAPABLE OF HUNTING THOSE FOES AND MOST LIKELY NEVER WILL BE. BUT THERE IS TIME ENOUGH TO SPEAK OF THIS IN MORE PRIVATE SETTINGS SOON TO COME." The Emperor followed Leman back to the cooking zone and sampled the dish, "AN INTERESTING FLAVOR, LACKING REFINEMENT, BUT PASSABLE FOR A FIRST ATTEMPT." This set the trend, The Emperor would sample a dish and provide a critique of it most often referring to it as a merely passable attempt or interjecting his thoughts on the world at large, but only to Leman, all others heard other statements.
As night fell, Leman invited the Emperor back to his home, a simple, slab-sided construction of rock and thatch large enough for both to move comfortably about within, even in the company of two very large canines. And it was there that the Emperor saw that not all technology on Fenris was quite as primitive as it seemed at first glance. Though Leman's collection of surgical tools and medicines had clearly been crafted by hand from herbs, minerals, iron, and animal parts, and most likely discovered through trial and error based on the numerous failed experiments littering his shelves, it was a set of equipment better than what many Imperial doctors had access to. And once the Emperor decyphered the runic script his son wrote his notes in (a work of moments once he recognized it as a heavily drifted Icelandic dialect), he found several hidebound treatises on bonding with Fenrisan wolves, mathematics, agriculture, medicine, hunting, wood, stone, and bone-working, and the production of different types of mjod for recreational, water treatment, and ritual purposes. While some were more advanced in their content than others, and all were written by hand, they showed that Leman had discovered a higher level of learning in many areas, but simply hadn't gotten to spreading it around before the Emperor's arrival. In fact, the first item at the top of his half-finished uplift plans, vigorously underlined, was 'UNIVERSAL LITERACY!', in big, capitalized runes for extra emphasis.
"I was planning to use the runic script, because it's the only writing I know, but if your Empire has an official language and the learned men and women to spare, teaching that would be better for my people..." Leman remarked, before quickly laying out his modified plan for getting ready to leave Fenris. To provide for Fenris, Leman intended to reorganize the Wolf Wardens, the existing loosely affiliated group he'd relied on to spread knowledge up until now. With a more formal structure, a wider remit, and ideally some assistance from Imperial scholars, they'd be able to spread the knowledge of medicine, agriculture, hunting, mathematics, and literacy across the clans of Fenris, especially since Leman had lured so many Jarls here with his promise of kraken loot in order to get them on board with his plans. Leman was already planning to give the Wardens a set of trials to use to recruit more members for themselves, but it wouldn't take a lot of modification to also use those trials to select potential new candidates to support his endeavors working with the Imperium. This would give him a pool of quality recruits upon his return, improve quality of life, and prime the world for uplift. "We'll have to be careful about that, though," Leman cautioned, "Mother Fenris is still wary of you, even after your generous gift. She's only spent the last forty years panicking over a great golden doom approaching to bring prosperity or calamity and telling me all about it every chance she got. Hard to kick that habit quickly, and entirely aside from that, if she feels like her people aren't facing tough enough challenges for her bounty, she will escalate. I don't know how far that could go or who would win, and I don't want to know. The oldest sagas say the Allfather's people, who came from the sky, tried to tame Fenris, and were smote by volcanic eruptions, earthquakes, and storms the likes of which have never been seen since until the Allfather made peace between the first men and the spirit of the world. But a bond with Fenris makes the difference between a Rune Priest, controlled and helpful, and a witch calling all sorts of monsters and disasters down. I've had to kill three witches, and it was never hard, not for me, but it was never pleasant, and most people aren't so lucky as to be me."
On a more personal note, Leman would prefer to carve the runes for his new weapon and shield before he leaves. He did not want to complete them, because there might be ways to improve them through the use of technologies he didn't understand yet, but the runes would be more potent if carved in a place they resonate with, and Terra didn't have oceans anymore.
To provide for the Russ in Leman's absence, mentioning he might be looking for apprentices on his return, and could be inclined to look favorably upon clans who helped support his clansmen... That ought to motivate the other Jarls. And if they assumed he was looking to teach the arts of war, and not medicine, mathematics, or boneworking, well, that was on them for not asking.
The Emperor smiled a cold yet caring smile, as he examined the work of his son and the plans intended to be made. The requests were simple and already intended to be given, "WHAT YOU ASK IS NOTHING I WOULD WITHHOLD. IN ORBIT I HAVE SHIPS WITH MEN AND WOMEN THAT WILL SPREAD TECHNOLOGY AND EDUCATION ACROSS THIS WORLD. CARVE THE RUNES YOU WISH BEFORE WE LEAVE. THAT SHOULD NOT TAKE MUCH TIME, AND THE RESONANCE WILL ASSIST YOU IN THE FUTURE. HOWEVER, THERE IS SOMETHING THAT SHOULD BE DONE. YOUR SONS ARE ABOVE IN ORBIT WAITING FOR MY SIGNAL, TO DESCEND AND MEET THEIR GENE FATHER. WHERE WOULD YOU WISH TO MEET THEM. AND THE MEN AND WOMEN THAT WILL UPLIFT YOUR WORLD?"
"I'll gather the Wardens. They'll be doing the heavy lifting with integrating your people with mine, and making sure we don't upset the world's spirit by pushing too hard, so they should be told first," Leman said, "There's a lava field about two leagues to the west where a volcano flattened the forest last summer. Nice, big, relatively flat and open space, good for mingling a lot of people, far enough away that we probably won't risk causing trouble by sharing information too fast with someone who might do something stupid. We can-" Leman cut off with a cough as he processed the last of the Emperor's statement, "Wait, sons? My sons? Correct me if I'm wrong, but there's certain prerequisites to having children, and I'm reasonably sure I'd remember if I'd romanced and laid with a woman, and then by some miracle didn't split her in half in the doing." He made a rather crude but illustrative gesture of the process he was referring to, complete with an explosive hand wave to show what happens when a 18 foot tall man tries to have children with an ordinary-sized woman.
The Emperor's lips quirked into a smile, "GENE SONS, ONES FORGED THROUGH THE SCRAPS OF GENETIC DATA THAT I HAD RETAINED FROM YOUR THEFT. BORN OF YOUR BLOOD AND SOUL, THEY ARE EAGER TO MEET THEIR PRIMARCH. ONLY A PORTION OF THEIR NUMBERS COULD TRAVEL HERE NOW. FIVE THOUSAND WAIT ABOVE OUT OF THE FIFTY THOUSAND THAT EXIST. THE MEETING GROUND SOUNDS IDEAL. I SHALL BEGIN THE LANDING PROCEDURES AS WE WALK THERE. I WILL PROVIDE OF COURSE THE METHODOLGY TO UPLIFT SONS OF FENRIS INTO YOUR LEGION, AS I WILL TO ALL YOUR BROTHERS." The Emperor stated, seemingly unconcerned with anything about this massive revelation.
"You... Created them? Just like that? Through the arts of medicine and magic? Fascinating," Leman exclaimed with eager curiosity, "I would love to learn such arts myself! The trials I was planning for the Wolf Wardens could easily be modified to select the mightiest sons of Fenris to join them, or more ordinary auxiliaries. Fifty thousand is a mightier army than any I've ever considered before, but compared to the number of stars in the sky, it is but a drop in the ocean, so I assume that there is a place for those who do not qualify for the highest augmentations among them. Only... Why only sons? By depriving shieldmaidens of the honor, do you not cut your recruiting pool in half? Or is it some quirk of the process?"
The Emperor grimaced, "IT WAS AN UNAVOIDABLE RESULT OF THE METHODOLOGY IN THE CREATION OF THE ASTARTES. THEY BY NATURE REFLECT YOUR SOUL AND NATURE, THUS BECOMING REFLECTIONS OF YOUR POWER. AS YOU ARE MALE ONLY MEN CAN REFLECT YOUR SOUL. OF COURSE I SHALL PROVIDE ALL THE INFORMATION ON THE ASTARTES CREATION AND TESTING PROCESSES TO YOU AS I WILL ALL YOUR BROTHERS. PLACE LITTLE CONCERN ON THE NUMBERS, EACH ASTARTES IS WORTH THOUSANDS, PERHAPS EVEN TENS OF THOUSANDS OF HUMANS, AND THE BEST OF THEM ALL WILL SAVE MILLIONS OF LIVES THROUGH THEIR MERE EXISTENCE." His words were irritated it was obvious when discussing the gender issue, but that was all that could be detected before he waved a hand and a data slate of gold fell into existance and was tossed to Leman, "THE METHOD BY WHICH A HUMAN IS TURNED INTO ASTARTES, AND HOW TO HARVEST GENESEED FROM YOUR GENETICS." Was all he said as an explanation.
"I've never felt particularly strongly about being a man. Mayhaps I'll figure something out in my studies. No matter how accomplished you are, a fresh perspective can still turn your studies upside down," Leman chuckled ruefully, "I knew the resilience of Fenrisan wolves came from their fur, but it never occurred to me to try to weave it into armor until I said it aloud to Freki and Geri, and my first attempts were sadly lacking until one of the clan's weavers suggested a better way to layer the fabric. Now I have cloth and rope stronger than the finest iron." Leman was clearly tempted to dive right into the slate's secrets, or possibly to take it apart to try to figure out how it changed its display, but with visible effort fastened it to his belt instead. "Even if it doesn't work out, there'll still be a place for women amongst my troops, if only because if my sons have inherited even a fraction of my stature, they'll be struggling to fit into anywhere designed for ordinary men. I'm certain I've left an imprint of my face in every doorframe in the clan's longhouse by now..."
The Emperor frowned, "I HAD EXPECTED SUBCONSCIOUS ACTIVATION OF REALITY ENFORCEMENT TO NUDGE SUCH CONCERNS INTO THE BACKGROUND. TO INDICATE OTHERWISE IS STRANGE. GENERALLY SIZE CORRELATES DIRECTLY WITH POTENCY AND POWER AND SKILL. THIS IS SOMETHING I WILL HAVE TO INVESTIGATE IN MY OWN TIME IT SEEMS. AS FOR TRANSMUTING YOURSELF, INTO A FEMALE FORM WOULD NOT BE ENOUGH. IT WOULD HAVE TO REACH INTO YOUR SOUL TO ACHIEVE A TRUE TRANSFORMATION. IT WOULD ALSO CAUSE ANY MALE ASTARTES TO DIE PAINFULLY. I WILL NOT FORBID IT, BUT WILL CAUTION AGAINST IT."
"EEesh, best not to risk that," Leman allowed, "I won't have anyone suffer for my curiosity. And as for the height, I don't recall it being a problem before, but I had a sudden growth spurt after my adventure with the kraken, and the adjustment period was not easy. Thought I was out of being a teenager physically by my thirties, but then I put on four feet and half a ton after eating its brain." He stopped short, blinking, "...Maybe I should have expected eating a brain the size of a longhouse while its owner was trying to pry me from inside its head with psychic force I barely survived to have consequences beyond the cracked ribs, muscle strain, a full-body bruise, and five lost teeth. I'd not considered it before, because I'm evidently not as smart as I'd like to think I am, but there's no way that ought to have fit inside my stomach."
The Emperor for the first time showed shock before gesturing and a seeming screen of light appeared before them showing the fight from an external position. "THAT IS UNEXPECTED. AN ADAPTION TO HIGHTENED STRESS WAS ANTICIPATED, MANIFESTING A BOTTOMLESS PIT OF A STOMACH WAS NOT. WHEN WE GET BACK TO TERRA I WILL BE EXAMINING YOUR BODY AND SOUL FOR NOTABLE DEVIATIONS. HOWEVER, AS YOU SEEM TO BE FUNCTIONAL I AM NOT EXPECTING MUCH TO BE NOTABLE FROM IT. INTERESTING MYSTICAL ABILITIES, PRIMAL ASPECT, ELEMENTAL SUBTYPING, SOMETHING I HAVE NOT SEEN FOR SEVERAL MILLENIA." The Emperor gestured and another golden dataslate fell into reality, "ALL THE LORE THAT I KNOW OF THE PRIMARL ARTS, IT IS USELESS FOR ME AND I EXPECT MOST OF YOUR BROTHERS, BUT IT SHOULD SERVE YOU WELL."
This one, Leman did briefly skim over before stowing it with the first, "It's similar to Rune Priest lore in a lot of ways, but fills in quite a few gaps I'd not had the time to look into. I'll have a lot to keep me occupied for the voyage back. Ah, how the time flies when you're having an interesting conversation, we've arrived, and- OI! GERI! I SWEAR BY THE ALL-FATHER'S HOARY BLACK NOSE HAIRS, DON'T YOU DARE ROLL IN THAT!"
Geri looked down at the rotting elk carcass, sitting at the edge of the massive clearing, then directly into Leman's eyes. Maintaining eye contact the whole time, he flopped down into the putrid corpse and rolled around in it with obvious relish. His anguished (and blatantly false) howls of terror fell on deaf ears as Leman hauled him out of the corpse, kicked the festering thing hard enough to send it miles away, and hosed the wolf down with icy water pulled from a nearby stream with a quickly scribed rune. "Oh, don't you give me that, you furry maniac, you knew exactly what was going to happen when you did that. No, I'm not letting you go, you smell like death! You're not meeting my sons like this!"
It was to this scene that the Wolf Wardens arrived, milling around in uncertainty as gazes snapped between the familiar scene of Leman dealing with his wolves' antics and the unfamiliar figure of their founder's mysterious father. Eventually, in a manner exceptionally reminiscent of Terran penguins shoving one of their own into the water to see if the leopard seal is still there, Kristoff and Aethelbert were pushed out towards the two transhumans. Grumbling in remarkably similar fashion, the greying hunter and silvering wolf stomped their way through the snow to stand before the Emperor. Kristoff looked up at the Emperor, then down at the wet, snow-covered ground, visibly resisted the urge to take a knee in the slush with some effort, and bowed towards the golden giant instead. "So you're the big lug's father. I can see the resemblance," The old man remarked with far less casual indifference than he was trying to project, straining to keep his composure in the face of the Emperor's presence, "Last time the Wolfson called us all together like this, he only wanted us to help butcher a kraken the size of an island. And the time before that, he wanted to turn everything we thought we knew about clothes and armor on its head. You know, because he just does that sort of thing. So, what even crazier scheme are the two of you getting us into now?" Aethelbert, for his part, dropped his ears and tail as far as they could go, baring his neck to the Emperor and trying to make himself as non-threatening and submissive as a car-sized canine with foot long fangs can. But no matter how he whined and shoved at Kristoff to do the same, the old hunter stubbornly stood tall and tried to meet the Emperor's gaze. He couldn't quite bring himself to do it, but he refused to give in.
The Emperor smiled before removing the illusion of mortality and took his more proper form. Twenty five foot tall, towering over even Leman with armor of golden metal blazing with golden fire and runes of light, a sword burning with eternal flames on his right and a claw of metal on his left. A blood red cape hung from his shoulders, "I AM THE EMPEROR OF MANKIND AND THE FATHER OF LEMAN OF FENRIS, I HAVE COME TO BRING HIM BACK TO TERRA AND TO LEAD HUMANITY TO A NEW ERA. MY PEOPLE ARE IN TRANSIT AS WE SPEAK AND WILL ARIVE NOW." The moment his final words were spoken the sky thundered as metal craft descended into sight and golden figures jumped out, crashing to the ground and forming an honor guard around the Emperor, soldiers shorter than Leman but with armor of impossibly perfect quality, reminiscent of the Emperor's own. Next came another wave of smaller figures howling in joy as they jumped to the ground, their helms removed, revealing faces bearing the features of Leman's own, their bodies unlike human norm but powerful indeed. "BEHOLD THE ASTARTES OF THE SIXTH LEGION, THE SONS OF LEMAN." The Emperor thundered as he raised his sword and the golden army lifted their spears in tandem while the Astartes posed in glory. The next moment the vehicles landed, and men and women began to disembark, of all forms and types, including those that were more metal than not.
Leman, half-covered in mud, with a soaking-wet Geri secured in a headlock, blinked at the men and women in shining armor and modern fabrics, assembled in perfect formation. Their silence as they waited for his response got a bit awkward as he managed to juggle the squirming wolf into a secure enough hold to wipe most of the mud off his face. "I may be a bit under-dressed," The Primarch remarked casually. Kristoff fell over sideways, laughing the whole way down. Aethelbert gave his partner a distinctly scandalized look.
The silence from the golden men was deafening, while the Astartes stared at each other in silent argument before a handful raced forward to assist their genefather in his struggles to bath the beast. The Emperor seemed entirely unconcerned with the event and simply stood silently watching the entire event. "IT IS NOT OFTEN SOMEONE LAUGHS IN MY PRESENCE. KRISTOFF, FIRE BURNS HOTTEST IN ICE," The Emperor stated, the final words somehow distorted even more than his usual speech.
"Ah, and yet nothing breaks the ice quite like your boy trying to be formal," Kristoff said, with the casual air he'd been trying to affect earlier now firmly in place as he picked himself off the ground and shook the slush out of his furs, "You've got a presence like a great fire-drake, Jarl of Jarls. Only more intense, and without the sense you're fixing to eat me. So maybe not really all that much like a drake, but that's the closest I've seen before. Still, you can't hunt the wilds of Fenris for forty years without a hells of a sense of humor, sir. You'll drive yourself mad in the first decade if you can't find it in yourself to laugh under pressure. Well, maybe you could, but most of us aren't built quite like that."
Meanwhile, Geri used the addition of yet more men to the attempts to wrangle him to his advantage, wiggling out of his brother's grip to lead the Astartes on a merry chase. Leman could have easily ended things with his runes if he really wanted to, but instead decided to use the experience as a teachable moment. He shouted encouraging yet ultimately unhelpful advice over to the pursuing space marines as he began moving among his less impulsive sons, exchanging a few words with each, or more than a few when he found an officer or someone else who interested him.
The Emperor inclinded his head towards the mortal in silent approval, before turning to stare at the abject failure of the Astartes project on display before him. Valdor shifted silently next to him, wondering if he could believe his eyes. "My lord, should we stop this madness?"
"LET IT PLAY OUT FOR NOW. LEMAN IS USING THE TIME WISELY. THIS WILL SERVE AS A VALUABLE LESSON FOR THE FOOLISH ONES." He responded telepathically to Valdor, before turning to watch Leman interact with the less reckless astartes.
"Lord Father Primarch, it's an honor to meet you at last." One of the astartes cheered as Leman neared him, "I am Champion Servigo. I fought on Sedna, even if I won no tales of glory for your lineage there. At last the 16th legion will not be the only Legion to have their Primarch in command! What are your orders, my Primarch?" His boisterous demeanor was on full display, even as the humans waiting in the back seemed unsure of what to do.
"Orders? I'd hardly be worthy to lead you if I gave orders before I even got to know you!" Leman exclaimed, "I know not how you fight, your skills and limits, what your equipment can do, or who we might be fighting. But I have learned more than a few lessons about jumping into things without thinking. It usually hurts, and for a leader, the hurt will fall on their men. Orders will come in time, when I am prepared to give them with the skill and wisdom you all deserve. Glory? You fought in a battle, a battle your brothers have spoken of as quite the struggle, and you're still standing here before me. Who says you have not glory? You met the enemy in battle and came out alive, whole, and victorious. You did your part to keep your brothers and your people safe. That is all the glory I would ask, and if you still crave more, you're still alive, aren't you? That means you will have another chance.
The older astartes seemed contemplative at the words before nodding in understanding, as the Emperor moved forward, "I AM GLAD THAT YOU ARE NOT FOOLISH WITH REGARDS TO THIS DUTY BEFORE YOU. BEFORE WE LEAVE FOR TERRA PROVIDE YOUR ORDERS REGARDING TECHNOLOGICAL IMPROVEMENTS TO THE MEN AND WOMEN WAITING. AFTERWARDS YOU WILL HAVE THIS WEEK TO COMPLETE ANY FINAL TASKS AT HAND."
Leman, alongside Kristoff and Aethelbert, did his best to get the Wolf Wardens and the Imperial scientists, tech-priests, and bureaucrats on the same page. Things got a bit heated at times as the rough-and-tumble Fenrisans ran headlong into certain assumptions about the intelligence of feudal-worlders, but as he only had to break up seven fistfights, and the worst injuries were bruises, Leman considered this a rousing triumph of reason and diplomacy. Nobody even got headbutted unconscious, an astonishingly rare turn of events for Fenrisan negotiations.
He laid out his plans for the improvement of Fenris to them all. His insights into locally-sourced medicines and the wonders of modern medical technology would be shared freely, as would new crops and methods of agriculture. Imperial Low Gothic would become the official written language of Fenris, with literacy and numeracy being spread as widely as possible, but it would share official spoken language status with the native Fenrisan (Icelandic) tongue. Education would be offered to all who had the time and will for it, but every child would be expected to have a basic proficiency with letters and numbers, as well as in topics such as natural sciences and wilderness survival that are valuable for living on Fenris.
However, while steel and synthetic fabrics could be made available, Leman did not want to see any more advanced weapons or powered armors distributed at this time. He'd revisit that question later, when he saw how Fenris reacted to her healthier, better-equipped, better-fed populace. He also insisted that care be taken to minimize pollution and environmental disturbance. One particularly obstinate tech-priest got treated to an extremely detailed "Do you want a volcano under your factory? That's how you get a volcano under your factory." speech to convince him to toe the party line. The Jarls would be allowed to remain in power, and the clans would remain intact but they must acknowledge the primacy of the Emperor as "Jarl of Jarls", and allow the Wolf Wardens and bureaucrats to do their thing if they wanted to receive the benefits of being an Imperial protectorate.
As for the Wolf Wardens themselves, Leman created a set of four trials for them to administer to volunteers of any age. Completion of one trial would make you a citizen of the Imperium. Completion of two trials would make you worthy of becoming one of the Vylka Astrya, the Space Wolves, the forces under Leman's command in service to the Imperium. Completion of three trials would make you eligible to become a Wolf Warden, and learn the secrets of bonding with a Fenrisan Wolf. And completion of all four trials would qualify you to, be you otherwise compatible with the geneseed, attempt to become one of his Astartes. All four trials would need to be completed without the assistance of any clansman or Imperial, and while on a trial you were considered to have no clan or citizenship. The Trial of Endurance required aspirants to survive a full changing of the seasons on Fenris with limited equipment. The Trial of Wisdom required aspirants to travel to a remote, wild place, drink a preparation of less-watered-down-than-usual Icemjod, and survive the resulting vision quest. The Trial of Strength required aspirants to hunt a kraken, and carve a weapon from its bones. The Trial of Knowledge required aspirants to pass a rather nasty set of exams prepared with the assistance of the Tech-Priests and bureaucrats. While Leman made no implications one way or the other, these trials were designed such that only those who realize they can work together with other aspirants, and choose to do so, were likely to survive and succeed. In this way, all five things he feels are of greatest importance in being a true hero would be tested.
With all that work completed, taking a couple days to travel back into the depths of the abyss with the Emperor and prepare the runework for his new weapon and shield felt sweeter than any fruit or pastry.
The Emperor followed Leman into the Abyss, noting the strange workings of the world as they fell deeper into the darkness. A lack of light that went beyond natural, a rejection of light itself, an imposition of Struggle and Strife by the planet itself. A force that sought to drive everything that lived upon it to the furthest reaches of their abilities and then beyond. It could not blind him fully, but he could feel it trying. As they came upon the place where Leman had feasted upon the Kraken, the Emperor nodded, "THIS IS THE PLACE. CARVE THE RUNES HERE AND THE WORLD WILL FLOOD THEM WITH POWER. A PLACE OF POWER FOR YOURSELF INDEED. I CAN NOT ASSIST IN CARVING THE RUNES. AS A WORD OF INSIGHT, CARE NOT FOR THE RUNES THAT YOU KNOW, BUT CARVE WHAT IS NEEDED." With his piece said the Emperor seemed to simply fade into the background.
Into the bone that would become a mighty shield, a two-foot-thick slab hewn from a vertebra, Leman carved abyssal runes of the crushing depths of the abyss. The great, fathomless distance into which light and warmth are not meant to penetrate, miles upon miles of frigid water and crushing hate for all those who do not belong, these things would blunt and devour the strikes of his enemies before they even met the nigh-impenetrable surface of his defense. With this power, he would protect himself, and all who relied upon his strength. Into the long, comparatively slender fin-bone that would become a mighty hewing spear, one part sword and one part polearm, Leman carved abyssal runes of the endless motion of the abyss. The deep currents that flow, swift and unseen, throughout the world, bringing bitterly cold and yet lifegivingly rich waters to the surface and sweeping the unprepared down into the lightless depths, would be his lance. With this power would he drown his enemies, and lift up his allies. Both items would be not just relics of power, but focuses for primal spells of the abyss that aligned with their nature.
As Leman carved the items the sea roiled and stirred under the will of something deep and powerful, something beyond anything else upon this world. A sense of challenge and desire came into his mind as the Emperor stared towards his son's hands carving sigils of power into bone, even as the Primarch's face turned towards him with unnatural stiffness. The power flowed into Leman, and stared at the Emperor, "I SEE. FENRIS ITSELF. I HAD KNOWN OF YOUR KIND, BUT NEVER TRULY MET ONE PERSONALLY. THE POWER TO GIVE RISE TO GLIMMERFROST WAS GIVEN FREELY." Fenris was wearing the skin of Leman and it was not a possessing daemon, but more as if Leman was simply for a moment in tune with the world such that there was no difference between the two. The Emperor waited unsure of what would happen as Fenris finally spoke.
"ADVERSITY, STRENGTH, EXTREMES, UNRELENTING, NATURE, PRIMAL. GLIMMERFROST INSUFFICIENT. BLOOD," The Emperor of Man frowned as the words were spoken a tongue of elemental power and primal intent, one without language and reason but instead driven intent and will made manifest. A price of blood not unexpected in the end, with a flick of a blade several pints of blood poured into the Abyss. Fenris nodded as it withdrew from Leman,
"ARE YOU INTACT MY SON?" The Emperor asked catiously as Leman seemed to be coming back to himself.
"She really ought to learn to ask," Leman grumbled, rubbing at his temples with irritation, "I know no one's heard her as clearly as I do since the Allfather, but I'd speak for her without all that. But no, she's must be all dramatic about it. 'GIVE ME A REAL PRICE. BLOOOOD.' Could be a skald if anyone else could hear what she was saying. Didn't even let me hit the icemjod first. I'm going to have a headache for hours. Argh, I'll be fine. It's a pain if I'm not ready for it, but that's as far as it goes."
The Emperor nodded accepting the words of Leman, it was not the same as a daemonic invasion or possession. There was no sense of the oily, slimy nature of Chaos, merely the power of nature in its most intense forms. "THE PRICE WAS NOTHING, EASY ENOUGH TO PAY. I DOUBT THAT FENRIS CAN USE MY BLOOD FOR ANYTHING OF NOTE. ANOTHER THING TO INVESTIGATE. A PRIMARCH SHOULD NOT BE ABLE TO HAVE A HEADACHE. THE NEUROBIOLOGY I USED IN YOUR CONSTRUCTION SHOULD BE INCAPABLE OF SUFFERING SUCH A CONDITION." The Emperor spoke as he examined Leman once more before nodding.
"If it was physical I could treat it. It's the damn planet yelling in my ear. It's all mental, psychic, soul stuff," Leman explained with an illustrative wave of his hands, "The only volumes she knows are so quiet you can barely hear a thing, and so loud it rings whatever the soul uses instead of eardrums like a bell."
The Emperor frowned, "YOUR SOUL SHOULD NOT BE ABLE TO BE ABUSED IN THAT MANNER. I AM GOING TO HAVE TO EXAMINE IT TO ENSURE NO UNWANTED ALTERATIONS HAVE BEEN MADE. WHEN WE ARRIVE ON TERRA I WILL DO A FULL EXAMINATION." He declared even as he watched Leman carve some more runes, noting that the planet seemed preoccupied most likely with his blood he knew.
"I feel fine, but you can have a look if you think it'll help," Leman shrugged, returning to his work. No sense worrying about it until there's something he can do about it.
"I WILL, ON TERRA, BUT I BELIEVE THAT YOU HAVE DONE THE CARVING NEEDED. DO YOU WISH TO SPEND THE HOURS IN A VESSEL TO REACH ORBIT OR TRAVEL THERE INSTANTLY?" The Emperor offered as he extended his hand.
"I think it would be helpful to see how ordinary people do it at some point," Leman said as he took the Emperor's hand, gathering up his things, "But in this case, I think I'd rather make sure I don't waste any of the time we have together. Let's do it the quick way this time."
"UNDERSTOOD." The Emperor spoke and the next moment stretched into an eternity and then a moment as the chaos of the world beyond was revealed. The endless crashing madness of the warp materialized all around them for a moment that was both instant and an eternity. Metal creaked as they materialized into a massive hangar, the Emperor unaffected while Leman was left retching from the experience.
"You would think I'd learn that the fast choice isn't always the right choice," Leman groaned from his hands and knees, having been hit significantly harder by the experience than the Emperor was expecting, "You would think I'd learn." He visibly decided to ignore his heaving stomach and clambered upright, still looking vaguely green. "So this is a starship. I know you'd said metalwork was more advanced in your Imperium, but seeing it for myself is... Impressive."
"IT IS MORE ADVANCED THAN MOST OF MY EMPIRE, THIS IS MY PERSONAL SHIP. YOUR FLAGSHIP IS WAITING IN MARTIAN ORBIT WITH FINAL TESTS BEING CONDUCTED. I WILL NOT LIE ABOUT THE FACT THAT YOUR PERSONAL FLAGSHIP WILL NOT BE COMPARABLE TO THE TECHNOLOGY WITHIN THIS VESSEL, BUILT AS IT WAS SEVERAL THOUSAND YEARS AGO." The Emperor declared as he lead the way into the inners of the ship, revealing priceless treasures of history and masterworks everywhere, but perhaps most interesting of all were the men wearing that golden armor walking the halls managing the ship. "MY CUSTODIAN GUARDS, SIMILAR TO THE ASTARTES YOU HAVE MET, BUT ELEVATED TO A HIGHER LEVEL. THEY WERE FORGED FROM VIABLE INFANTS BY MY OWN HAND." As a response to the unasked question.
"Well, if the ship's not made of wood, it will be better than anything I could have gotten on Fenris, and I'm sure it will serve me well once I've familiarized myself with how things are done in the sea of stars," Leman said, "Besides, it's not as if the knowhow to make better ships will stay where it is forever. If it could be done once, it can be done again. Maybe I'll find a way to help with that. All this talk of augmentation and gene-forging has got me thinking. There's several Fenrisan animals who can produce things beyond what any human hand can alone, at least that I've seen. Fenrisan wolf fur, well, I'll have to do some tests to see exactly how it measures up to the work of your tech-priests, but kraken bone? It's tough, tough enough that even I can't break it without the right tools. If it could be grown into shapes through the scientific arts, rather than needing to be harvested and carved at the expense of a kraken's life and a whole lot of blunted chisels and planes, I think there's a lot of potential to the stuff."
The Emperor seemed to consider the ideas for a time before speaking, "A REASONABLE IDEA. I WILL ENSURE THAT THE ADEPTUS MECHANICUM WILL HAVE SEVERAL SAMPLES OF KRAKEN BONE MARROW AND STEM CELLS TO ATTEMPT GROWTH PROCEDURES." As he gestured and several containers that Leman could sense were full of various kraken parts appeared next to them, before they entered a room that had ghostly weapons drifting in the air. "MY WORKSHOP. IT IS HERE WHERE I PLAN THE CONSTRUCTION OF WEAPONS AND OTHER ITEMS IN MY FREE TIME. IT ALSO HAS A FULL LIBRARY OF ALL THE RELICS I HOLD AND HAVE BUILT. ALL PRIMARCHS UPON THEIR FINDING HAVE THE RIGHT TO CHOOSE A SINGLE WEAPON FROM MY VAULT." The Emperor gestured indicating that Leman could begin looking through the weapons on offer.
Having already started work on making himself a melee weapon, and quite intrigued by the implications of this new technology, Leman gravitated towards the guns.
Thousands of guns and other ranged weapons were listed through the database of the Emperor, an array that contained effectively every idea imaginable was there waiting to be chosen. The labor of countless eons was listed in cold static words and images, quickly Leman noticed filtering methods to refine his search including such things as technological typing, range, power, time invested, xenos relics, personal work, and more.
Leman thought back to his fight with the kraken. Against less formidable foes than that, ordinary warriors and his gene-sons would be able to help, so he should get something that will help him face similarly dangerous opponents. His biggest problem fighting the thing was that it was so big and tough that he didn't have a way to reach its vitals without crawling inside it. Anything his size or smaller could be dispatched with his spear and fists, but for larger and tougher things, he needed a weapon with more reach and penetration, ideally without sacrificing too much in other areas. Leman thus immediately searched for the sorts of weapons that would be typically mounted on a tank, with a particular eye towards autocannons and volkite weapons.
Within the vast listing of weapons, several caught his eye that would fit his needs. Labeled with unusual names and descriptions, the five that he found himself drawn to were universally massive weapons that would need two hands even for him to wield, designated as Knight weapons, for whatever that meant. The first that he examined was labeled simply 'Failed primitive adrathic prototype Knight scale lance' with the Emperor's notes stating that it was lacking in sustained power, and that it was extremely fragile for its power, The Emperor shook his head "THAT WEAPON IS USELESS FOR A PRIMARCH. I HAD BEEN INTENDING TO MELT IT DOWN TO RECOVER THE AURAMITE." Leman nodded in acknowledgement before turning towards the other weapons on offer. The second was more interesting. The Dual chambered neutron-electron projector lance seemied to be designed for combat against exceptionally tough foes, though it was better against machines than flesh. The third that he pulled the data up for was more conventional, a Handcrafted Volkite Knight lance, basic yet passable, with no exceptional features worth his father's noting. The fourth weapon was an Antimatter Annihlation Cannon, a weapon that was described as being exceptionally hard to use yet was one of the most potent weapons in the armory. "IT IS VIABLE, BUT IT WOULD COST A NOTABLE AMOUNT TO PROVIDE AMMUNITION FOR IT. IF YOU WISH TO FIGHT MONSTERS IT WILL SERVE WELL." The Emperor interjected as he saw the file being read. Leman moved onto the last one that he had drawn to examine out of possibly thousands more that would fit his desires, the Prototype Elemental Infusion Physical Rifle. A weapon handcrafted by his father, it could somehow infuse into physical bolts elemental energy, listed as including cold, fire, lighting, and radiation. "ANOTHER EXPENSIVE WEAPON, AS THE PHYSICAL AMMUNITION IS CUSTOM MADE FOR IT. HOWEVER, IT IS CHEAPER THAN THE ANTIMATTER CANNON."
Leman considered expanding his search parameters further, but the Emperor's words earlier, and the treatise on Primal magic burning a hole in his belt pouches, had given him an idea. So instead, he selected the Volkite Knight Lance. It wasn't the flashiest or most exotic weapon on offer, but the efficient simplicity of it spoke to him. And the lack of exotic effects meant that it was also something of a blank slate, rife with potential for the half-finished designs already whirling through his head. "This one, I think. It's reliable, it won't put a strain on my supply lines, I can practice with it without costing an enormous amount of wealth, and... I think I may be able to build on it into something neither of us could create alone, with the right runes and Truths."
The Emperor nodded and placed a keycard into the system and the file of the weapon expanded revealing more details on it. "A SUITABLE CHOICE, A MOCK UP WILL BE PROVIDED FOR PRACTICE WHILE IN TRANSIT. IT WOULD HAVE BEEN POSSIBLE TO PRACTICE WITH MOCK UPS OF THE OTHER WEAPONS, BUT THERE WOULD BE MANY IMPERFECTIONS TO ACCOUNT FOR." He stated even as a fabractor churned out a one to one model of the weapon. Even without having seen the original, it was clear that this model was somehow lesser than the one listed on the readout.
Guided by instincts he only now recognized as being legacies of his creation, Leman picked up the massive cannon with a grunt, keeping his hands far away from the trigger mechanism as he checked the safety and energy reserves, only balancing it across his shoulder once he was sure there was no chance of an accidental discharge. "You have a target range on your ship? For weapons on the scale of a siege catapult, but advanced in craftsmanship beyond that by orders of magnitude I still don't fully comprehend? Now this I must see."
"OF COURSE. HOW ELSE WOULD I TEST MY WORK?" The Emperor stated as he led the way through the golden halls to a massive room where targets of light were waiting for them. "THIS ROOM IS SHIELDED. FIRE AS YOU WISH." He waited for Leman to act for this was his son's trial and a chance for him to prove that the inborn instincts had yet remained.
Leman tried several ways of holding the cannon, shaking his head with a grumble each time, before stomping back to the fabricator and managing to get it to spit out a bipod, which he fastened to the front of the Volkite Lance. With this sorted, he laid out flat, with the cannon stretched out in front of him, to provide the most stable possible firing platform. His first shot struck off-center, as the sheer heat radiating from the blast made him flinch. But every subsequent shot struck Leman's (usually correct) best guess as to where a vital organ or system would be on his targets, and his rate of fire increased as his familiarity with the weapon grew, until it was limited not by his pace but the physical limitations of the trigger mechanism. A feral, razor-sharp grin spread across the Primarch's face as he started experimenting with trick shots, frying groups of small targets with near misses, toppling larger ones down with shots to the legs, wheels, or treads, even intuiting exactly how close he could place a warning shot without causing any permanent harm. And with his practice and reading, the days crept on.
As Leman's studies continued, it was clear that the Emperor was looking forward to something, becoming slightly more animated as time wore on. Soon, he called Leman to the bridge and the ship transitioned into a system, extremely close to a planet. A great metal ring of factories encircled a world of red sand and dark clouds of obvious pollution, laid out like a shining marble in the void before Leman's eyes. "BEHOLD MARS, THE CENTER OF PRODUCTION OF THE IMPERIUM, AND YOUR FLAGSHIP." The Emperor declared as he pointed towards a set of the largest hangars on the Ring, where twenty four great ships waited, with swarms of lesser ships drifting around. "YOUR BROTHER HORUS HAS ALREADY CLAIMED HIS FLAGSHIP FROM THE TWENTY FOUR I ORDERED FROM THE MECHANICUM."
"I hope the sight of a new world from above never loses its wonder," Leman whispered, "The galaxy would become a lesser place…. But I must confess," He continued at a more conversational volume, "That beyond expressing confidence in your taste in ships, Father, and that they have an impressively imposing look to them, I do not have the knowledge of starships to comment on these vessels without sounding like a fool. I shall have to rely on my sons and your sailors until I have gained enough experience for myself."
The Emperor nodded slightly before adjusting the display of the room to provide more details on the ships, denoting them between size, armor and weaponry, along with certain unique differences between the twenty three remaining ships. "THE NEEDED INFORMATION IS PROVIDED. MAKE YOUR CHOICE, MY SON." He stated as the readouts expanded once more revealing massive details on each ship individually and as a class, it was clear that this was another action that the Emperor would not weigh in on.
Leman was originally planning to stick to a generalist design, as he still did not feel confident in his ability to judge what might or might not be most useful for void combat. However, he found his gut pulling him towards one ship in particular. "This one will be my flagship," He declared, indicating a vessel equipped with more advanced and extensive sensors than the rest, "She shall be named Veidikrona, and like the Fenrisan constellation that shares her name, she shall watch over my sons. None will escape her gaze, or her arrows."
The Emperor nodded simply and typed several lines into a dataslate and before Leman's eyes the chosen ship's attending vessels shifted and the numerals of his Legion were quickly painted onto its massive hull, followed by its new name. "WE SHALL MAKE WAY FOR TERRA NOW, THERE WE WILL MEET HORUS, YOUR BROTHER AND SOME OF THE CHAMPIONS OF THE LEGIONS." The ship shifted and began to move away from Mars and towards a distant spot of light, moving closer towards the star. Leman could feel a Primal Resonance forming with the sun, almost as if the light was welcoming him home as Fenris had bid him bye when he left.
"There is a spirit here!" Leman exclaimed in awe, "Not of any of the worlds, but of the sun itself! It feels…. As if she is welcoming her wayward scion home. I will have to make time to commune with her, but my family comes first," The Primarch rubbed his hands together, bouncing from foot to foot with excitement, "I have been looking forward to meeting my human brothers since you told me of them! I- Bollocks, we did bring Freki and Geri along, right? With the teleportation and all the new experiences I didn't think to ask."
"THEY WERE BROUGHT ABOARD AFTER US. CALM YOURSELF, THEY ARE SAFE AND WITH US." The Emperor smiled as Leman reamined looking at the star, it wasn't a spirit of the same nature as Fenris. But it was something close, something more indistinct, something lacking the harshness of Fenris' bite. As time passed, it became clear that the ship was crossing the void with impossible speed, seemingly accelerating faster and faster as the light of the sun became brighter, then the door opened and Freki and Geri entered the room.
"Ah, I had worried," Leman caught Geri in a hug, spinning around to bleed off momentum before letting the great wolf down, while Freki prowled more sedately to his brother's side. "Ever since I got back from hunting the Father of All Krakens, they've been reluctant to leave my side, and not without reason. I learned much of myself in that battle, and much of what I learned was a bitter brew indeed. I was arrogant, and impatient, uninformed, and unprepared. Until that day, I can't think of a single injury I ever had that persisted more than an hour. After returning home with the corpse of that kraken, I slept for a week straight while my wounds healed, and as I was the only healer in the clan, none dared to try to wake me, and risk making things worse. Small wonder that they don't trust me out of their sight anymore."
The Emperor seemed to smile faintly even if there was still that distance between them that had been clear from the first meeting. He looked out through the window and the distant star and planet were now closer. The moon obvious in the window orbiting a barren dusty world, absent any true life and water. Even from this distance it was clear that the world was dead, any life that had once lived was long gone and only a few embers yet remained. "TERRA, OLD EARTH, MY HOME. BEHOLD THE SINS OF MAN." The Emperor rumbled as he stared out into the space, at the world and the melancholy aura grew in strength to the point where Geri and Freki whined and laid flat on their bellies. "YOU AND YOUR BROTHERS WERE MADE TO LEAD HUMANITY TO A NEW DAWN. TO HEAL THE WOUNDS OF THE PAST. TO END THE THREATS THAT LINGER IN THE VOID. YOU WILL DO THIS. YOU WILL LEAD HUMANITY TO GLORY ONCE MORE, MY SON. LOOK UPON THE FALLEN CRADLE OF HUMANITY AND KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN TO ALL WORLDS IF YOU FAIL." The Emperor's rumbling voice echoed out unnaturally, reaching into sounds and words that thrust spikes into Leman's brain even as a vision of the past resolved before him, where the dusty, dead world was now a gleaming jewel of blue and green drifting in the void, great plates of metal hanging in the sky and the atmosphere drifting over the peaceful world below, where millions of native species called it home. Even though it was but a vision he could feel the life of the world as a strong pulsing heartbeat. Then it faded revealing the dead world, empty of water and life.
Tears fell from the Primarch's eyes. He could not have stopped them if he had wanted to. The vision of Terra as it had been was beautiful beyond anything Leman of Russ had ever imagined before. Man and machine, wilderness and civilization, in perfect balance atop a shining jewel of the cosmos. His transhuman mind went into overdrive, extrapolating from what he had seen, to not a single jewel in a sea of airless void, but a vast string, a net of glorious gems shining across the galaxy, everywhere humanity raised their homes.
Leman of Russ would have fought for the Emperor. For what his father had done for Fenris and his son, Leman could do no less. He would have fought to make humanity whole, to fulfill the oaths his gene-sons had sworn to the Imperium, and to keep Fenris and her people safe from the horrors lurking in the vast darkness.
Leman of Terra would fight because he believed in his father and their vision of a brighter future. Of what mankind had held and lost to the ravages of foes without and rot within. Of what mankind would achieve and in time surpass. "For the past we have lost, and the future I will help us someday gain, Father, I will strive with every scrap of strength within my heart," Leman vowed quietly, "This I so swear. May the gods and the stars bear witness, and tremble."
The Emperor smiled sadly, "I SEE THAT YOU UNDERSTAND AS MUCH AS YOU CAN WHAT HAS BEEN LOST. WITH YOUR PERMISSION, I WOULD ASK FOR FLORA AND FUANA FROM FENRIS TO SERVE AS PROGENITORS OF LIFE UPON TERRA ONCE MORE, IT IS MY HOPE THAT ALL OF YOUR BROTHERS WITH LIVING WORLDS TO CALL THEIR OWN WILL GIVE LIFE TO TERRA. TERRA WILL NEVER BE WHAT IT ONCE WAS, BUT IT CAN BE MADE TO LIVE ONCE MORE. I GLADLY ACCEPT YOUR OATH IN THE SPIRIT GIVEN AND I TRUST THAT YOU WILL BRING HONOR TO THE IMPERIUM." His words thundered with power, a chorus of intent and concepts behind each of them and yet underlaying them all was a current of immutable and unmistakable hope that was almost horrifying in its intensity and what it said to Leman about what his father truly was.
"If it will help, it shall be done," Leman promised, "I wish to learn about what you plan to do with them, and other, related arts of science. Not because I have any doubts as to that they will be put to good use, but because I find the idea of restoring dead worlds, and improving the living, to be utterly fascinating. There is so much potential to help mankind, and Fenris, and all worlds under our rule! And more personally... Fenrisan wolves do not live much longer than men, and I would like to share this bright future with Freki and Geri, when it comes."
The Emperor nodded his head, seemingly pleased with this in some way that Leman failed to understand, before turning towards Freki and Geri, "A SIMPLE MATTER. THE BOND OF MAN AND CANINE IS ONE WORTHY INDEED. THEY HAVE EVER BEEN AT OUR SIDE AND EVEN IF THEY DO NOT CLAIM LINEAGE FROM THE WOLVES OF TERRA, IN THEIR HEARTS YET BEAT THE SAME SOUL." The Emperor raised his hand and stared down upon the three of them, his son and his chosen companions, and spoke once more, "WITH PERMISSION I WOULD BIND THEIR SOULS UNTO YOUR OWN. YOUR LIFE SHALL BECOME THEIR LIFE AND EVEN IF THEY SHOULD DIE THEY WILL REMAINED ANCHORED ETERNALLY TO YOUR SOUL." Golden fire burned into life above his hand and Leman knew in his heart that it was no lie, no manipulation but a simple truth stated without deception in the offer.
"I could ask for no greater boon. And I am certain they will happily accept anything that means I shall never have to leave them behind when I march into peril," Leman agreed, and Freki's psychic signature shone with similar resolve. ...Geri didn't quite understand what was on offer, but would follow his brothers without hesitation. Wherever they went, he would follow.
The Emperor nodded and the golden fire reached out somehow gently to the three, before entering Freki and Geri more deeply, seemingly becoming part of them. It formed into glimmering chains of golden light and energy that linked to Leman. Leman felt it when their souls connected to his own, their emotions became clearer to him than ever before and even their thoughts drifted across his own mind, and his across theirs. He knew Geri wanted to play, and had an annoying itch right behind his back leg that he couldn't get to properly. He knew that Freki understood more than he had expected, and seemed to have memories of feeling the touch of Fenris herself. The Emperor smiled, "THIS WAS NO BOON, NO GIFT OF MINE. IT WOULD BE CRUELITY BEYOND REASON TO ENSURE A PARTING OF FAMILY WHEN THE SOLUTION LAY AT HAND WITH NO EFFORT TO GIFT IT. IF YOU WISH TO LEARN OF THE ARTS OF TERRAFORMING AND THE SCIENCE OF GENETICS THEN THAT IS A BOON I WILL GLADLY OFFER. THE CUSTODIANS AND ARCHMAGOS THAT WORK IN MY LAB WILL BE GIVEN ORDERS TO INSTRUCT YOU IN THEIR ARTS IF THAT IS YOUR WISH." The Emperor rumbled as he reached down to gently pat Geri's head and rub the ears of the wolf in a way that Leman could now feel the bliss that came from the attention of his wolf brother.
"It is. I still wish to learn of terraforming and genetics, for their usefulness and their value in achieving the restoration of Terra," Leman stated, "And for my own personal interest. But first, I believe I have a brother to be introduced to."
The Emperor nodded, opening a communication channel to another ship within the system. A man clearly similar to the Emperor in features and appearance, one that felt familiar to Leman when he saw himself in the mirror, answered. "HORUS, ANOTHER OF MY SONS HAS BEEN FOUND, MET YOUR BROTHER, LEMAN OF FENRIS." The Emperor spoke before stepping back to let the two brothers meet each other without his direction.
As Horus walked forward, Leman felt much the same innate awe and glory he felt when gazing upon their father, the Emperor. It was much less, of course, like gazing into a bonfire when next to an inferno, but his appearance still naturally drew the eyes of all in attendance. He was in full battle regalia, the complex network of servos, auramite, and artificial muscle fibers subtly whirring with a low but pleasant sound. It was almost disarming, and totally at odds with the imposing figure which rivaled Leman's own. After a second, Horus stepped forward, a pleasant smile on his face. "Greetings, Leman of Fenris: Brother!" Horus barked, "I am Horus the Luprical, and it is my pleasure to meet you."
Next to his father and brother's commanding presence, Leman's psychic signature was nearly imperceptible, a sliver of bitter cold hidden from view, submerged beneath still waters. A wild, vicious force, yet held quiet, content, and ever-watchful. His expression too started out cold, seeming to pierce into Horus and dissect his every action, his every choice, with surgical precision. But within seconds, cold analysis was overtaken by a joyous and extremely sharp grin.
"Horus! Brother!" Leman threw his arms wide, causing the colorful beads braided into his long hair and beard to rattle together. "I've heard many things about you from our father and my sons! I've been looking forward to this since we left my home!" The contrast between the two brothers was striking. Where Horus was clad in the finest arms and armor the Imperium can provide, Leman wore rough furs and homespun cloth, half-carved hunks of bone and an entire, utterly out of place volkite artillery piece slung over his back with ease the Sixteenth Primarch might struggle to match. Where Horus was clean-shaven, neatly groomed, and regal, Leman made a shaggy, distinctly understated fashion statement. With his serrated smile and chest as wide as Horus' even in his armor, the Wolfson appeared jarringly out of place, a specter of humanity's savage, ancient history brought back to mingle with her future. And yet, his eyes sparkled with wit and humor at odds with the image of the primitive brute, and something about the shape of his jaw and brow made it impossible for there to be any doubt. Horus and Leman were brothers, connected by history and blood.
Horus took great note of his Brother, feeling as though he was about to plunge into icy water as he etched his Brother's features into his mind. The subtle hints of ferocity, barbarism, and most especially his inhuman teeth reminded Horus that he was not alone. That, perhaps for the first time since he was mere days old, Horus stood before a being which was actually on his level. Not an Astartes, Xenos, or baseline human which required his teaching and help. Not an ancient, nigh-unknowable being like his Uncle, Malcador, or the insurmountable mind, body, and soul of his father. But a true equal. A being that he would have to struggle to match, much less exceed. But more than that, it it reminded him of just how different he was from a normal man. Horus didn't like either of those feelings, but he tried to keep an open mind nonetheless, and kept both emotions off his face lest they ruin a wonderful opportunity. "All good things, I hope?" Horus half-joked, his smile growing wider at Leman's warm reception as the worst of his fears were disproven, "And I hope I live up to their kind words. But more than than that: I wish to know more of you, Brother. Please, tell me more about yourself. What is the first thing you wish to do upon returning to Terra?" Horus' voice was clearly excited at this point, and in the back of his mind it reminded him of two puppies greeting each other after a long absence.
"To meet you face to face, of course!" Leman declared, "And then to find the barrels and ingredients to brew my whole legion a tankard of Mjod, so that I can adopt my sons in the traditions of Fenris. After that, well, you know as well as I how much work we have to do. For that, I may need to ask of your assistance, brother," The Wolfson's smile turned somewhat sheepish, "I am many things, but I have never been a leader of men in battle before, nor have I ever fought someone who could truly be called my equal. My sons spoke highly of your skill as a warrior and commander during the battles for Sedna, and I think I will need the aid of your greater experience. I have accomplished much as a hunter, a healer, and a craftsman, but I know little of war on this scale. But my sons expect me to lead them, and I will not let them down."
"Then I shall meet you right when you land! Horus declared, just as boldy, "Perhaps I we can make this Mjod together, and as one entreat the Mechanicum for proper wargear for you." Horus looked up at that, gesturing vaguely to space, "And then, we shall Crusade together for some time, I think. I shall teach you all that I know. As I have attempted to teach your sons, and all of our nephews." Horus looked conflicted for a moment, as though he could not tell whether to feel depressed by his inability to prepare your sons without you, jealous, or overjoyed that he can spend time with his Brother. After a moment, he seemed to decide, turning back to the screen and his eyes locked with Leman's own. "It's...good to have you back, Brother."
"I'm sure you've given my boys a firm foundation to grow on, brother," Leman attempted to reassure Horus, "And it's good to be back. There's far more to the world than I'd ever dreamed, back on Fenris. But whether it's wonders or horrors we find, with a family like this? We'll be ready, together."
1 Yearly spent crafting the Ostentatious Relic Abyssal-Runed Kraken-Bone Storm Shield "Challenger Deep".
1 Yearly spent crafting the Ostentatious Relic Abyssal-Runed Kraken-Bone Power Spear "Midnight's Needle".
5 Yearlies spent brewing mjod for his entire legion, and then throwing a wild party and adoption ceremony for them all in the ancient traditions of Fenris.
1 Yearly spent socializing with the Sisters of Silence.
Conviction (See Father's Dream Realized) gained at Lesser for free thanks to Leman's actions when meeting his father.
1 Grand Action spent studying terraforming, biotech, and gene-forging in the Emperor's labs.
1 Major Action spent wargaming while leading the as-yet-unnamed Sixth Legion.
1 Major Action spent practicing leadership and fighting skills with Horus.
Leman spent 2 Yearlies finishing his new spear and shield, before handing them off to the Mechanicus to have power fields installed.
Personal item x large object x feudal tech x ostentatious relic = 5 x 1.25 x .3 x 32 = 60
He then spent 5 more crafting a truly prodigious amount of mjod, before he held a formal adoption ceremony in which all of his gene-sons shared a drink with him. How could he call these men his sons without doing that?
Leman spent a further two Yearlies (cost reduced thanks to gaining Hard Worker after last round) to bring his Cooking skill up to tertiary.
The last yearly, rather than investing into any great projects, he spent visiting among the Sisters of Silence. While their unsettling auras kept the null-maidens largely isolated from their comrades, Leman found a great deal to appreciate in the feeling, as imperfect and temporary as it was, not being a nigh-invincible psychic demigod. He was also drawn to their ability to ignore his awe-inducing aura, and conversations, via the sign language he rapidly picked up, with others who understood exactly what it was like to feel alone in a crowd.
Leman spent a grand action studying in the Emperor's labs with his tech-priests and Custodians, learning everything he could on the subjects of gene-forging, biotechnology, and terraforming. These skills would be essential for his mission to bring life to Terra and other dead or dying worlds of humanity.
He spent a major action embroiled in wargames with anyone willing to serve as opposing forces, custodes, Astartes, Imperial Army, and even (if they accept the offer) the Sisters of Silence. He went through countless scenarios, recreations of past battles and imagined events alike, as Leman tried to prepare himself for leadership with a brutal crash course of practical tests intended to get the inexperienced Primarch the beginnings of the skills and tactics he needed no matter how many times he had to lose to do so. He found himself well-suited to maneuver warfare, picking apart enemies with wolf-pack tactics until a weakness could be found and pounced on, and quite uncomfortable when forced into defensive positions, seeking to break out no matter how reckless it might be as the thought of being trapped clawed at his patience.
His final major action was spent alongside his newfound brother Horus, learning everything he could from the Luprical's experiences as a warrior, leader, and diplomat. Leman would likely never be his brother's equal as a wordsmith, or general, but he would still need these skills in the times to come. And as a warrior, he found a great deal of pleasure in sparring with someone against whom he didn't need to hold back.
In the aftermath of the victory won and the rising of Arcturus, the people found a new god of their own: Kaiben the divine one that wove the light of the heavens into wonders beyond mortal ken, his Herald Starstrider the titan of wonders and power reborn in the astral forge of his divine might. Yet, even as a divine walked the world so did devils in the guise of men, those that rejected the divinity of Kaiben and Starstrider instead proclaiming them devils and demons, the last few of the invaders that now wandered the land destroying all in their path.
Kaiben worked to expand Arcturus and end the Age of People living outside Arcturus. There can't be bandits if there's no one to raid after all.
Focal: Expand Arcturus (Leveling up Architecture to core)
Creating 1 Glorious district and 7 new Ostentatious districts. 3 exist as expansions to Arcturus, while the other 5 are inside. The Glorious level district is marked, the rest are ostentatious.
The 3 outside are The Moonlit Garden (Food/recreation district), The Black Gates (Fortification ring around the city), Glorious level Nursery of stars(Power production district, works by having/creating new mini caged stars)
The 5 internal districts are: The Sacred Springs (Water/Sanitation district), Nerves of the City (Admin district, massive amounts of offices), Herbalist's groves (Medical district), College town (Education district), Star Forge (Manufacturing sector)
Remaining overflow is used on an office for kaiben (This is mostly for flavor, though it is still psitech and a Extravagant relic because Kaiben)
First five yearlies on various admin tasks around the city, helping get everything established.
Last five jamming Starstrider's Reforged in an Astral Forge Narrative into Kaiben's tattoo.
1 Grand Action: Implement Legion Tactical Reforms to allow for greater Legion independence when away from their, or any, Primarch and significantly more Legion specialization.
1 Major Action: General Legion Command (Take Control of as many Legions and as possible and conquer as many systems through diplomacy or, more likely, force of arms.
1 Major Action: Teaching Leman how to Crusade. Things like tactics, Imperial Tech, and what he can expect from Astartes or guardsmen in a wide variety of situations.
1 Major Action: Wargame-ing the Conquest of Sedna. Hypnotherapy, combat simulations, detailed analysis of all the tactics should help the Legions reach operational goals sooner rather than later. Besides, what better examples are there to prepare for the trials and tribulations of the Great Crusade?
4 Yearly Actions: Create more military factories to churn out Imperial Guard equipment, as well as stockpiles for where to store it. Preferably, we should be able to produce and stockpile enough guns, grenades, armor, and vehicles to stockpile the Imperial Army's needs five years ahead of time. Even with our massive production this is a big ask, however, which is why such policies need to be put in place now rather than later.
1 Yearly Action: Telepathy and Divination to Lesser. Both of which should help my diplomacy bonus, and the second my combat bonus under most circumstances.
Horus was not sure how he how he felt about not being alone anymore.
No, that's not true. When he broke each and every micro-second into a series of events he could, in retrospect, judge with nearto absolute certainty how each individual revelation, action, and reaction made him feel. But what he felt, and what he thought, were incredibly polarizing.
On one hand, he had found his Brother! Leman Russ was an interesting sort too. Respectful, or at least respectful enough, when Horus spoke, humble about his faults and where he was ignorant. He was the one being Horus had ever know that was like him. The only other being so supremely transhuman that it was difficult to interact with baseline humans. Leman, though he was by no means learned, was the only other being that didn't think painfully slow compared to him. Or was so ancient and unknowable that they were beyond reproach. Leman was a good man, a good brother, and with him being found the Imperial Family was more whole. With him being found billions, if not trillions, more lives were saved every day and with his blood the number of Astartes galaxy-wide skyrocketed.
But Horus wasn't alone anymore. Now, he had a little brother to share Father's already divided attention. The Legions now had another figure to idolize. The Imperium knew that Horus was no longer alone and his position as the Emperor's right hand man, already threatened by Constantine, was growing more tentative by the day. Soon, Horus realized, if he didn't do something he would fall back into being only one of his father's twenty sons.
And Horus really, really hated all of those things.
But family was important to him, and Leman had done him no wrong. At least not yet, so Horus resolved to simply work harder. Maintain his tentative position as first amongst his Brothers by enacting wide-spread reforms and doctrine updates across the Legions. Modifying their tactics to work better across the radically different worlds they may encounter.
To instill understanding of how to change ones doctrine as necessary he wargammed his conquest of Sedna. Examining each and every second so that his soldiers could work through and understand when to adhere to doctrine and how to pioneer tactics when you could not. So that they could safely learn how to work around the strange and alien oddities that would dot countless worlds.
He instituted orders to stockpile trillions of weapons, millions of tanks, and heavy ordinance across Sedna and Mars fighting the cult Mechanicum all the while.
Finally, and what to Horus was both the most conflicting and rewarding, he scheduled entire years to fight alongside his Brother and train him in all the methods of warfare. A difficult task, given how strange and small Leman's world was. But he was a Primarch, and so Horus had full confidence his Brother would master such things soon.
After decades of preparation, Mortarion was finally satisfied with his forces for the final conquest. Most of the Witch Kings would be easy, complacently sitting in their palaces. Necare wouldn't. Facing his magical might, alone, while weakened by the atmosphere of the highest mountain was less than ideal, but from experience, Mortarion knew there was little he could do to draw Necare to the lowlands. He'd have to persevere. The speech he held to the Dusk Raiders was short.
"It is time."
They were all well-trained enough to know there was only one thing that could mean. Nothing else needed to be said.
Focal action: With the Dusk Raiders, liberate Barbarus from the Witch Kings. Delegate where possible, focusing personal attention on the toughest fights, such as Witch Kings and powerful daemons. Colonel Murnaro should act both as a leader and as a living artillery piece with his psyker powers. Assault Necare's keep and duel him personally.
Yearly: Train Anti-Daemon Command and Anti-Psyker Command to Lesser
2 Yearlies: Train Anti-Daemon Command to Tertiary
2 Yearlies: Train Anti-Psyker Command to Tertiary
Yearly: Train Anti-Daemon Dueling and Anti-Psyker Dueling to Lesser
2 Yearlies: Train Anti-Daemon Dueling to Tertiary
2 Yearlies: Train Anti-Psyker Dueling to Tertiary
Conquering most of the Witch Kings was as simple as Mortarion had expected. His forces cornered them to their mountains, and Mortarion went in to face them by himself, trusting his armour and adapted body to outlast the toxins in the air. Some were powerful magicians, others had unclean spirits as bodyguards, but Mortarion prevailed. The magicians he took by stealth; they couldn't strike at what they couldn't see. The unclean spirits required chains and bind and rites to banish, both of which were difficult to apply in the midst of combat by his lonesome. For anyone else, it would have been impossible, but not for him.
However, Mortarion had underestimated the highest mountain Necare kept his mansion on. Despite all his efforts, he found the atmosphere corroding through his armour far too fast for it to be of much use, and he felt his body weakening. He couldn't face Necare with so little of his strength. He had to turn back. He had succeeded in everything but the last part. Even amid the Dusk Raiders' celebrations, he felt that he had failed. Almost all of Barbarus might be free, to the point that he'd have to start thinking about politics, but Mortarion couldn't rest easy before his "father" would be brought down. Necare was cornered, but he was still dangerous, and still the instigator of Mortarion's trauma.
But perhaps he was approaching the problem from the wrong direction. He had attempted to train himself to survive on the highest peak, and failed. What if, instead, he made Necare come down? Or what if there wasn't a peak anymore...
Spend remaining time left this turn meditating to remove Chaos Corruption. After the battle against the Covenant and the defeat of the Demon Prince M'kar, Lorgar found himself in a moment of rare solitude. The chaos of the battlefield had given way to a quiet stillness, and he took the opportunity to meditate on his virtues and vices, seeking to cleanse himself of the remnant corruption left by M'kar.
Seated in a secluded chamber, Lorgar closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, centering himself in the present moment. He began to reflect on his virtues, recalling the teachings of the Power of the Constellations that had guided him throughout his life. He thought of his unwavering faith in the cause of humanity, his determination to protect the innocent and uphold justice. He remembered the compassion he had shown to those in need, the strength he had found in unity with his brothers and sisters.
As he delved deeper into his virtues, Lorgar also confronted his vices. He acknowledged the pride and arrogance that had led him astray in the past, the anger and hatred that had clouded his judgment. He recognized the temptation of power that had once seduced him, threatening to corrupt his soul.
With each breath, Lorgar sought to purify himself, to cleanse his soul of the lingering corruption left by M'kar. He embraced his virtues, allowing their light to shine brightly within him and drive out the darkness. He confronted his vices, acknowledging them without judgment and resolving to overcome them.
As he meditated, Lorgar felt a profound sense of peace wash over him. The remnant corruption left by M'kar began to fade, replaced by a renewed sense of purpose and clarity of mind. He knew that the battle against Chaos would never truly be over, but he was confident that with the strength of his virtues, he would always prevail.
The fifth decade of life came to dawn and with it the completion of a city built by his hands. That was but the first sign of the changing world the next was when the Knightly Orders of the world sent warnings across the land. At first he thought that it was to warn of Beasts invading from the Forests once more, but then it turned out that it was regarding him. Thirteen Orders seemed to be in the grip of foul magic for they believed him to be a Beast that had taken humanoid form to infiltrate society and to bring it to ruin in the shadows. Another thirty seven of the Orders believed him to be a human twisted by magic from the forests into an unwitting pawn of the Beasts for much the same purpose. Another seventeen of the Orders proved their perfidy in their letters that made it clear they truly sought him to join them rather than anything else, and the last thirty three Orders simply proved craven cowards in their fear of the changing world.
During another long night working with Tiamat in one of her most psionically active gardens, a hole in the veil of the world split open as Crystial emerged dragging a malformed creature dripping blood and a sword made of blood dragging behind it. "Sophos! You're here, this is a wonderful event. Come help me prepare this malignant ideoform for supper." With a thought the Crown shifted towards Null as he stared down at Crystial, unsure of what the hell was going on.
From his mountaintop he saw the figures waving the signs carrying scraps of the manifesto he had penned decades ago somehow recovered from the fire that he had burned the thing within. Men and women were being twisted once more by his work and yet, the women that had found her way to him stood silently seemingly uncaring and he felt pain as he knew just how much harm he had done to her and the others like her.
Even though the Covenant's power was shattered and the ground salted for the next thousand years, the daemon M'kar banished into the realm it came from. Not all were ended, bands of priests of the old ways wandered the hinterlands waylaying travelers and harming those under his protection.
The Void Feeder activated once more, only this time it was far more active, the cosmic background radiation pouring inward towards its hungry maw. The energy that came off the black hole consumed far quicker than before. The Fleet and Station both knew not what to do for the last awakening had proven how difficult it was to affect.
Within the Sol System three Primarchs met as one, brothers under their Father gathered together for a single decade even as two of their peers left for the stars beyond. Ferrus, Kaiben and Rogal all found themselves brought together within their Father's grand vessel and together they beheld the fallen ruin of Terra and the planets within the system.
Transmission to the people of the Phonin Empire. "I am Roboute Guilliman. Son of Konor Guilliman, Lawfully elected President of the United Worlds of Ultramar. Your leaders have failed you. They dragged you into a fruitless war. That has seen your fleets sundered, your armies broken. Your son's killed, Your worlds layed bare to our fleets and armies. If I was like your leaders. I would take your possessions, children, and your lives. But I am not like your leaders. I believe in being the better man. I believe that people should be treated as equals and should be free to make their own decisions.
Which is why I have come to you the people with an offer. I invite you to stand beside me as equals. To eat from the same table. To have the same opportunities as me. To have the freedom to choose your own destiny. All that is needed is your assistance in stripping your tyrant's of power. To show them that the only thing that separates you from them was the illusion of superiority. That free men and women can not be cowed. That no chain real or imagined can hold down your spirits. Rise up and declare your freedom. Welcome it with open arms and hearts. May the fires of freedom burn bright.
-Transmission from President Roboute Guilliman to the worlds of the Phonin Empire.
(5 Yearlies Used)
1 Focal to uplifting the 16 Worlds of Ultramar to Low Imperial. (Math done by Sophos)
1 Yearly to Get Parenting Lesser and Mentorship Lesser
2 Yearlies to adopt a child from all 25 worlds of Ultramar
2 Yearlies to raise the Children with assistance form Guilliman's other grown kids.
During another long night working with Tiamat in one of her most psionically active gardens, a hole in the veil of the world split open as Crystial emerged dragging a malformed creature dripping blood and a sword made of blood dragging behind it. "Sophos! You're here, this is a wonderful event. Come help me prepare this malignant ideoform for supper." With a thought the Crown shifted towards Null as he stared down at Crystial, unsure of what the hell was going on.
"Crystial, what the fuck?" he did not say. He was better than that.
Instead, he tried to discretely glance at Tiamat for help. She glanced back; she had none to provide. Crystial was, if anything, more confusing to her than him. This was extremely inconvenient.
That millisecond's communication completed, Sophos directed his attention back to Crystial and the... thing she had dragged with her. The thing had six horns coming out of its head, two of which he was quite certain were coming out of the thing's cheeks. There should not be any bones for it to connect to there. And that tongue, already lolling out of the thing's mouth, was cut in such a way that Sophos was quite certain it was supposed to extend for another foot or so, and there was simply no way that that would fit inside the thing's mouth. Those were only the obvious aspects, frankly; the entity's entire biology was, to the eyes of somebody who knew how bodies worked, grotesquely nonsensical. Though he supposed it certainly looked 'evil', as far as things went. That probably counted for more, in ideoforms. Though despite its blood sword, he was pretty sure all that dripping blood was more likely wounds. There seemed to be mangled brass extruding from its skin, which seems like they might have been armor at some point.
He sighed. And here, two centiseconds in, came the standard-issue headache that accompanied Crystial.
"Crystial. What, exactly, are you doing? Metaphysically, not just physically. If I'm going to help, I need to know what this process entails and how to make sure that you don't hurt yourself. Please do not try to spare me the details, I need to understand for this."
Which is why I have come to you the people with an offer. I invite you to stand beside me as equals. To eat from the same table. To have the same opportunities as me. To have the freedom to choose your own destiny. All that is needed is your assistance in stripping your tyrant's of power. To show them that the only thing that separates you from them was the illusion of superiority. That free men and women can not be cowed. That no chain real or imagined can hold down your spirits. Rise up and declare your freedom. Welcome it with open arms and hearts. May the fires of freedom burn bright.
-Transmission from President Roboute Guilliman to the worlds of the Phonin Empire.
(5 Yearlies Used)
The Phonin Empire quickly surrendered, there were some minor snarls to handle but for the majority it was already done. The worlds that the Phonin culture had conquered were not expecting much to come from their new overlords and when they learned that they would be treated well, they jumped at the chance. There was some strife upon the heart of the fallen empire, but with the adjustment of logistical lines and the diplomats trained in cultural unification, everything preceded apace and soon the worlds began to see prosperity flow in as the other worlds within the realm of Ultramar were raised up to heights not seen in centuries.
Managing the millions of variables that directed and hindered the various uplift proceedings was tedious but also enjoyable for it was clear already the results pouring in. Production and values exploding upward, the Nation exceeding its previous production capacity by a margin many would consider impossible, a near seven fold increase across the board in all sectors.
Once more the people cheered for their President and his rule, the votes once more a landslide in his favor no one even running against him beyond a few odd balls that simply wanted a few minutes of fame.
He sighed. And here, two centiseconds in, came the standard-issue headache that accompanied Crystial.
"Crystial. What, exactly, are you doing? Metaphysically, not just physically. If I'm going to help, I need to know what this process entails and how to make sure that you don't hurt yourself. Please do not try to spare me the details, I need to understand for this."
Crystial smiled like the cat that ate the canary, as she revealed a shackle on the neck of the ideoform. "While you were busy helping your family I found this glorious toy within these labs. I think the mind of iron Solomon was hoping it would trap me, but who knows, oh I could know but where's the fun in knowing all the answers?" Her face twisted in distaste seeming to gaze at something to the side of Sophos for a moment, "I am so much happier knowing you and not a certain grump. Well anyway! I had a null shackle and I want to become more, for as good as I am, one can always improve themselves and why wouldn't I wish to improve myself?" Sophos sighed as Crystial purred her next sentence, "What luck it was, what a whim of fate it was to all but stumble across a Bloodmaster of Khorne in the wild wastes. A rare breed of servant of one of the four rulers, I just had to capture it and with its blood and essence I can improve myself again. You remember how I was born right? Oh you do thats so kind of you, so I knew that I need to replicate the situation to a degree to recreate that event. So where could I go to find someone that had the psychic abilities to let me manifest and also the null technology to enable me to prepare this most delightful meal. So pretty please bring the null knives and a null pan, we have a ideoform to carve and cook, don't worry you can have a serving." Sophos blinked before sighing as Crystial bounced away to pester Tiamat for a time.
Once more the people cheered for their President and his rule, the votes once more a landslide in his favor no one even running against him beyond a few odd balls that simply wanted a few minutes of fame.
"Citizens of Ultramar I am honored by the faith you have in me and my ability to govern. But I am not the sole reason for our prosperity. No, our prosperity is because of you, the people. It was your blood, sweat, and tears that allowed for this. It was your faith in a better tomorrow that pushed our children to see it to completion. It was the wisdom of our mothers and fathers that allowed all of us to make the first steps. It was the will of the people that let us band together and prosper. So do not clap for me. No congratulate yourselves because you are the true force behind this government."
"So where could I go to find someone that had the psychic abilities to let me manifest and also the null technology to enable me to prepare this most delightful meal. So pretty please bring the null knives and a null pan, we have a ideoform to carve and cook, don't worry you can have a serving." Sophos blinked before sighing as Crystial bounced away to pester Tiamat for a time.
Sophos' brow furrows, and he resists the urge to rest his forehead upon his palm.
"No, Crystial, we're not done here. What in the depthsof Tartarus would you actually be getting out of absorbing... this thing? You have never seemed to be inclined toward brute force, and I cannot see how such a being as that... 'bloodmaster' would provide anything else."
The mangled monster snarled at him, and a broken limb swung roughly at his leg. He stepped through shift 1 and pinned the limb under his foot.
"Case in point, this thing is needlessly aggressive and does not appear to be particularly bright. I know damn well that you are just as much constructed out of concepts as this thing is. Are you absolutely certain that you want to risk contaminating your conceptual core with... this?"
Its warbled warcry, gurgled through a mouthful of blood, was frankly almost pitiable. Almost.
Even though the Covenant's power was shattered and the ground salted for the next thousand years, the daemon M'kar banished into the realm it came from. Not all were ended, bands of priests of the old ways wandered the hinterlands waylaying travelers and harming those under his protection.
Spend 2.5 Years cleaning up the covenant remnants. In the aftermath of the Great War, the Covenant city lay scarred and broken. Among the ruins, Lorgar walked with purpose. He had long known the false promises of the Chaos gods, seeking instead to redeem the people of the Covenant and bring order to the chaos they had wrought.
With a determined stride, Lorgar led his men in their mission to cleanse the remnants, a faction of Chaos-worshipping heretics who still clung to their misguided beliefs. They hunted them down relentlessly, offering them a chance at redemption through renouncing their faith in the foul Chaos gods.
Some, swayed by Lorgar's conviction and the hope of salvation, willingly abandoned their allegiance to darkness. They joined his cause, seeking penance for their past sins and a chance to rebuild their shattered lives.
But not all could be swayed so easily. Some had become too corrupted by the taint of Chaos, their minds twisted beyond salvation. For these individuals, Lorgar offered another path: judgment.
Gathering the captured heretics, Lorgar presided over a solemn trial, his voice resonating with authority as he listened to their crimes and weighed their fates. Those who had committed unspeakable atrocities were sentenced to face justice, their punishment swift and decisive.
Yet even in the face of their sins, Lorgar showed mercy, offering them a chance to repent before their inevitable fate. Some chose to embrace redemption in their final moments, while others defiantly clung to their beliefs until the end.
As the last echoes of judgment faded, Lorgar stood amidst the remnants of the Covenant, his heart heavy with the burden of his duty. But in the wake of their cleansing, he found solace in the knowledge that he had offered them a chance at redemption, a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that had consumed them.
And so, with renewed determination, Lorgar and his men marched forth, their path illuminated by the promise of redemption for all who dared to seek it.
"Case in point, this thing is needlessly aggressive and does not appear to be particularly bright. I know damn well that you are just as much constructed out of concepts as this thing is. Are you absolutely certain that you want to risk contaminating your conceptual core with... this?"
Its warbled warcry, gurgled through a mouthful of blood, was frankly almost pitiable. Almost.
Crystial frowned cutely, her lips turning downward as she stared at the crushed Bloodmaster and sighed, "I apologize for in my passion I forgot that you are woefully untrained in the mysteries of magic. This is no standard minion of Khorne, for you are right that almost all of his brutes are ill fitting for me, but the Bloodmasters are unique they are his commanders. As for the risk of contamination, why thats what the null cookware is for. With null I can strain out the conceptual linkages leaving the purified concepts behind." A strange light grew in her eyes as she stared at him and Tiamat before giggling, "Oh this is perfect, I think I shall teach both of you more of my kind. I know how you feel about eating speaking creatures, your reluctance to even try those ork steaks still pains my heart, or those steaks I carved out of that beast below. What a waste of good food that was, but there is no moral question here. I promise that it is by all human moral standards an unalloyed good action to assist me in consuming this Bloodmaster. It is but a mindless beast, incapable of true thought and direction, it is less than even the minds of iron that live within this facility. The greatest servants of the Tyrants of the warp might pretend to awareness, but all bar the Princes and Princesses are lying when they claim as such. Even I am not exempt from this fate at least not yet, with the conceptual truth of Khorne born into my heart, I will be one step closer towards completion." She sighed morosely as she poked the ideoform with a finger, it flinching away from her before she grabbed it and forced it to heal regaining some fading stability.
She turned to look at him with pleading eyes, "If you assist me in this I will set aside the majority of its combat skills if you wish to partake of them. and a special gift an intuitive understanding of my home. You would be able to know it as if you were one of my kin, without the ages of pain and strife that it would take you to naturally gain the wisdom. For my part I seek its magic of flame and blood, along with its mastery of battle command. Will you assist me in this attempt to improve myself Sophos?"
Gathering the captured heretics, Lorgar presided over a solemn trial, his voice resonating with authority as he listened to their crimes and weighed their fates. Those who had committed unspeakable atrocities were sentenced to face justice, their punishment swift and decisive.
Yet even in the face of their sins, Lorgar showed mercy, offering them a chance to repent before their inevitable fate. Some chose to embrace redemption in their final moments, while others defiantly clung to their beliefs until the end.
As the last echoes of judgment faded, Lorgar stood amidst the remnants of the Covenant, his heart heavy with the burden of his duty. But in the wake of their cleansing, he found solace in the knowledge that he had offered them a chance at redemption, a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that had consumed them.
And so, with renewed determination, Lorgar and his mdn marched forth, their path illuminated by the promise of redemption for all who dared to seek it.
Even though they had professed redemption he could not trust them fully yet and so guards and watchers were put to observe them and to ensure that they would not affect the recovery of the world, but with the last remnants of the cults shattered and all that remained small powerless bands, the power of Defiance faded from his soul as the Constellation that had burned within him ever since his arrival faded from the skies above, its purpose no longer tenable for his cause.
The fifth decade of life came to dawn and with it the completion of a city built by his hands. That was but the first sign of the changing world the next was when the Knightly Orders of the world sent warnings across the land. At first he thought that it was to warn of Beasts invading from the Forests once more, but then it turned out that it was regarding him. Thirteen Orders seemed to be in the grip of foul magic for they believed him to be a Beast that had taken humanoid form to infiltrate society and to bring it to ruin in the shadows. Another thirty seven of the Orders believed him to be a human twisted by magic from the forests into an unwitting pawn of the Beasts for much the same purpose. Another seventeen of the Orders proved their perfidy in their letters that made it clear they truly sought him to join them rather than anything else, and the last thirty three Orders simply proved craven cowards in their fear of the changing world.
Grand action - unite the knightly orders
- secondary trait charisma -12 assign diplomacy- 2
organisation creation - 20 government x 5 plantary x 1 (open)
14 x 8 =112
This era of disunited knightly orders ruling caliban has done nothing but make powerful nobles who mostly feared the lose of their own power when better ways of doing things came along. He will bite the bullet and reach out to the ones reaching out to him for their own benefit seeing as at least these ones will talk to him even if only so they can benefit and the ones who think his a mutant cause at least those don't see him as a mallious beast whos sole purpose is to destroy humanity. 1 yearly action getting diplomacy at lesser
1 yearly -adopting three kids from he rescued from slavers while traveling from order to order.
Sorano, Erza and Benedikta three young girls one with white hair, one with red and the other with blonde hair sitting in a wooden cage wearing rags and chains around their legs as its being pulled along by horses and around are several men in power armor.
When they hear a deep male voice call out "its funny they call me beast when filth like you are allowed to exist cause some of the orders benefit from you"
They see a blonde haired man in a green power armor land in the middle of the slavers around them, the slavers all look in shock as one says "its the beast?"
The large man sighs and says "and of course you call me that, sure the one who sells humans for profit is human but the one who doesn't isn't."
The slavers surrounding them react by pulling out their power swords but it doesn't take the large man long to make short work of them without any sign of trouble. He then walks over to the cage they are in and breaks the cage door of and kneels in front of them as they back away into the back of the cage saying hey you 3 don't have to be afraid I am here."
Tame a group of wolf-lions -major action secondary action teirtary beast taming
To take his mind of the idiocy of the knightly orders and the fact his new daughters want some pets he decided on will track down a group of wolf-lions a race of creatures that are red and look like a mixture of the old wolf and lions to be his campions.
1 major action reforge my armor with the scales of the beast I slayed - cost 45 (originally 60 but cause of it being remade its now 45)
assign skills, crafting and eldritch crafting and reforging 20 x 3
1 yearly action into getting reforging
2 yearly actons into getting reforged at teirtary
5 yearlies into getting into getting crafting to secondary
its time he repaired and improved his armor with the spoils of his fight against the beasts
Even though they had professed redemption he could not trust them fully yet and so guards and watchers were put to observe them and to ensure that they would not affect the recovery of the world, but with the last remnants of the cults shattered and all that remained small powerless bands, the power of Defiance faded from his soul as the Constellation that had burned within him ever since his arrival faded from the skies above, its purpose no longer tenable for his cause.
1 Yearly spent learning skill Astrology and Channeling the Light of the Astronomican
1 Yearly spent learning skill Storytelling and Properties of Astral energies.
2 Yearly action spent raising Daemonic Psychology to Tertiary.
2 Yearly action spent raising Daemon Prince Psychology to Tertiary.
2 Yearly action spent raising Narrow Skills Channeling the Light of the Astronomican to Tertiary.
2 Yearly action spent raising Meditation to Tertiary.
Spend 7.5 Years Making a New Planetary Constellation. Constellation of the Hearth
Aspects: 1. Protection, 2. Warmth, 3. Light, 4. Food, 5. Home Time taken - 1 Focal Discount - Revelation of the Astral Light - reduces Actions to design and create Constellations by one fourth.
Time Spent - 7.5 Years. After years of battle against the forces of Chaos, Lorgar Aurelian returned to his home in Zerzura, weary but determined. The scars of war were still fresh, but within him burned a newfound purpose: to create a beacon of hope and stability amidst the turmoil of the world.
With a determined resolve, the relic Warhammer in hand, and the power of the Emperor in his soul, Lorgar raised his hammer to the sky and called upon the light of the Astronomican. He felt a surge of energy flow through him, filling him with a sense of purpose and strength. The light from the Astronomican coalesced around him, forming a radiant aura that surrounded him like a protective shield.
With this newfound power, Lorgar began to shape the light into a new constellation. He envisioned five stars, each representing a different aspect he sought: Protection, Warmth, Light, Food, and Home. This constellation would embody the fundamental aspects of home and hearth that had sustained him through the darkest of times.
The first Aspect, Protection, he imagined, would take the shape of mighty fortifications and defensive structures that would shield his people from external threats. With the Astral Light's power, these spectral defenses were raised in a fraction of the time it would have taken, their strength and resilience unmatched.
Next came Warmth, as Lorgar channeled the Light of the Astronomican, he envisioned a network of geothermal heating systems that would keep his people warm even in the coldest of winters. The comforting glow of these systems served as a reminder of the warmth of home and hearth.
Light followed, as Lorgar envisioned towering lighthouses and beacons that illuminated the night sky, guiding travelers safely home. The light was not physical but symbolic, a beacon of hope and safety in a dark and uncertain universe.
Food was the next Aspect, as Lorgar envisioned vast agricultural domes and hydroponic farms that would ensure his people never went hungry. The bounty of the land would be plentiful.
Finally, Home itself took shape, as Lorgar envisioned grand halls and dwellings that would provide his people with a place to call their own. These homes were more than just buildings; they were a reflection of the love and care that went into creating them.
It took years of tireless effort, but finally, the Constellation of the Hearth was complete. Lorgar stood atop the highest tower, surveying his creation with pride. The constellation shone brightly in the night sky, a testament to the enduring power of home and hearth.
As his labours was finally complete, Lorgar felt a sense of peace wash over him. The stars shone brightly in the sky, a beacon of hope and renewal for all who gazed upon them. The people of Colchis looked up in awe, their hearts filled with a renewed sense of purpose and determination.
As he looked out over his people, Lorgar knew that the battles against Chaos were far from over. But with the Constellation of the Hearth to give them a reason to fight, he was confident that they would weather any storm that came their way.
