WARHAMMER 40,000: A Thousand Tiny Suns (40k/Exalted Crossover!)

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Valor and Skill (3.0)
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    • "Valor and skill?" you asked.

    "Valor!" Amberly thrust out her finger, dramatically. "And skill! And for you two, it will require stealth and guile as well."

    "All right, what's the plan?" Kit asked.

    "You two advance underground in the sewer network between us and the enemy forces, reinforced by my carefully selected Cadian Shock Troops. You will arrive within the internal structure from beneath, then free the hostages and reveal...your ANIMAS!" She swept out her palm dramatically, her voice full of eagerness. "With the blazing light of the Emperor himself at their back and their leaders within range of your mighty pussiance, their common troops will be thrown into disarray! Then it is merely a simple matter of enfilading them using the old trenches that sprawl around their fortress of evil, led primarily by our most experienced troopers. The biggest danger shall be their tanks, which I shall destroy myself, using my own might and abilities."

    You blinked. "Is that a good plan?" you whispered to Kit.

    Kit shrugged. "The old general's plan was mostly just throwing troops at the problem until the troops were dead or the problems were gone," he said.

    "...okay," you said.

    You swore Amberly breathed out a quiet sigh of relief.

    ***
    ​
    The Cadian Stormtroopers - led by Barik - walked behind you as you stepped down the sewage tunnel, your Lens Lance gripped in your hands. Their stablights shone along the walls and floors, showing the gratings, the curved ceiling - cracked by the orbital impacts, but for the most part intact. There were a lot of desiccated bodies down here, meaning even the Cadians had to put on breathers. Kit stepped over a corpse that was clutching something small that you didn't want to think about. "Why did they die? They had shelter?"

    "The fires," you murmured. "The, um, sewers don't have enclosed ventilations. So...oxygen. Gone. Smoke goes down."

    "...right," Kit said. Then, softer still. "Bastards."

    "What?" You looked at him.

    "High Command," he said, shrugging. "They're bastards for doing this."

    "I..." You hesitated. Even without much training in the field of war, you had to admit, you couldn't see the logic beyond...well, the orbital drop would have caused what the ancients called a Kessler Syndrome. It would have obliterated any small craft, or non-shielded voidships. That'd have forced the enemy to deploy slower, and would have caused many casualties. It had probably gutted a bunch of the enemy forces. It also meant if they had won...and it had looked as if they had overwhelming numbers...then they would have gained a planet that would not have produced nearly so much. Protect what you can destroy - the manufactorums and habs that the Guard had shielded were small in number, enough to maintain planetary production until recolonization and reconstruction...but also, small enough that the Guard could destroy them if they were going to be...taken...

    You stepped on a body in distraction - and Kit grabbed your arm as you almost fell. "You okay?" he asked.

    "Y-Yeah," you whispered, jerking your boot free. Just bodies, you thought. THey died for the Emperor. It's an honor.

    Right?

    Right.

    Right!

    You pushed forward and, fortunately, came around a corner that led to a corridor that wasn't choked full of corpses. As you walked, you stammered. "S-So, uh, about that Amberly. What a...what a silly, um, person."

    Kit chuckled. "She's what my old DI would have called a Section-9."

    You chuckled. "My DI would have called her a Batch Faliure."

    Kit grinned. "Oh, she's not that bad. Did you notice how scared she smelled the whole time she was talking? I think she was compensating."

    "...smelled?"

    He coughed. "Well, uh...I guess my sense of smell's a bit better than it used to be. Also, not wearing a mask."

    Your hand went to your face mask, adjusting it slightly. Not that it needed it.

    Kit brushed your shoulder with his hand, then squeezed.

    You smiled with your shoulders, then started forward again. Kit and you walked in amiable silence. Then, playfully. "So, you know, Cadians have a normal ratio of five to one for their men," he said. "Wives, I mean. It's a population thing."

    You choked on nothing at all. "Kit!"

    "Just sayin', it's the most normal part of this whole...whatever is going on with us," he said, grinning impishly at you. You were fairly sure it was impish. You wanted to kick his shin, but glanced back at the stormtroopers. They were all looking around alertly - though you were pretty sure Barik was smiling, his shoulders had the right twist to them.

    "Not in front of the stormtroopers!" you hissed.

    "Sorry," Kit leaned over and kissed your plasleather-clad cheek.

    "Kit!" you squeaked.

    "Sorry again!" he kissed your other cheek.

    You stalked off as fast as you could - and were sure the stormtroopers were snickering now.

    After a few more minuets - checking your chron along the way just to make sure you were on time - you came at last to the area that you hoped to find: The subterranean entrance into the hydroponics bay. You peeked around the corner, then jerked back. There was something at the end of the corridor...and the strangest thing was that you...swore you recognized it. You peeked around the corner. The end of the corridor was guarded by a kind of...manta-ray looking creature, which writhed and twisted in the air, bending back in on itself again and again - with a kind of metallic chain wrapped around its throat and driven into the metal before the stairwell.

    "That's a Screamer of Tzneetch," you whispered. "Driven to hunt souls...it's a daemon, first circle, creation of the outer souls of Tzneetch to be used as their agents in the Wyld. Hurm." You rubbed your mask. "I wonder if the old treaties still apply..."

    "...what?" Kit asked.

    "What?" you asked him, looking back. "When the Primordials were first cast back into the Wyld, ancient treaties were carven into their innermost Fetish-Souls. Surrender oaths. If they still apply, I can probably just capture it."

    "...what!?" Kit asked, even more forcefully.

    ---
    ...well, that was an odd intrusive thought
    [ ] Spend X motes to buff your Occult with your Excellency and try and claim the Screamer for yourself. (Write in how much, the max is 6)
    [ ] Kill it.
    [ ] Have Kit kill it.
    [ ] Write in.

    STATS
    Health: Fine
    Anima: Dim
    Willpower: 5/5
    Personal Motes: 13/13 | Peripheral Motes: 28/28 (Committed Motes: 5)
    Limit: 1/10 (Trigger: Being stymied by indulges around her)
    XP: 7 | Solar XP: 8
    Major Projects: 0/5
    SXP: 46 | GXP: 15 | WXP: 3


    Kit survival roll: 3s (vs diff 2)
    41 occult roll: 5s (vs diff 3)
     
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    • The Schematic of Victory (3.1)
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    • You and Kit jerked back around the corner before the creature spotted you. You took all those...strange thoughts - schematic patterns of the Chaos Gods themselves, unfolding in your mind. You didn't want to know this. You were fairly sure it was dangerous - but you couldn't stop seeing them less as beings and more as continental concepts, floating in a vast, churning sea of endless possibilities. The fetish souls could be...fought. Talked with. Reasoned with.

    Chained.

    The Chaos Gods could be carved apart.

    They could be altered.

    They could be killed.

    You had done it before.

    You started to hyperventilate under your mask as Kit said: "...I'll go uh, kill it, aight?"

    You nodded jerkily.

    Kit stepped around the corner. With a rippling crunch you could hear his shifting and saw on the shoulders and chests of the Stormtroopers a rippling expression of shock - and then you heard a muffled squeak, thump, and squalling noise before a loud crunch and snap as cartilage and bone pulled apart. Something started hissing and sputtering as you tried to cling to the image of what you had seen, of the possibilities...but no, no, no, it was all so frustratingly vague. Dreamlike thoughts of golden blades and flashing chariots, pulled through the sky on wings of fire, and bows and arrows, knocked and ready. You groaned as Kit returned - and his massive, tigerish form loomed over you as blue blood dripped from his paws.

    "Done," he said. "You okay?"

    "...yeah..." you said.

    Then you blinked. "Wait, you don't think I was scared, right?"

    He shrugged his big broad shoulders. "It was a demon-"

    "Kit!" You kicked his shin. "I just saw something. Amazing. Victory. We can...the...Chaos Gods, they can be killed."

    "Well, yeah, of course they can," Kit said, amiably. "The Emperor would slay them, given time. That's what the Imperium's all about, isn't it?"

    "No, but we can do it, I know how!" You hissed, forcing yourself to move again. The chain was all that was left of the Screamer - the chain and the splatters of blood and gore. Blue bits of organs hung from a lighting fixture, while splatters hit the walls and the floor. It seemed that most of the body had dissipated back into the Warpstuff that had given it form. "See, each God...uh..." You glanced at the Stormtroopers. "...later. I'll draw a diagram."

    Kit grinned at you, toothily. HIs tail flowed in a sinuous sine wave, and every part of his being radiated a warm pleasure - in you. In all of you. Even your absurdity. Your cheeks flushed and you pushed aside the urge to kiss his nose. "C-Come on," you said, letting your Lens Lance float to the left of you. You grabbed onto the railings and started to clamber up the ladder, reaching the hatch. You put your arm on it, then pushed it up. When you peeked out, you found that you had entered into the lower levels of the hydroponic's bays...and breathed out a slow sigh of relief. The place was full of long, low, stacked troughs, each one full of thick slurries of water and nutrionic admixtures, with plants growing in powerful, thick shoots from them: Chirrak wheat, pittats, even some lurid yellow baneyas. There was no sign of Chaos Corruption, and you saw several civilians whose only adornment was an armband with the symbol of Nurgle on their arms. They were at work, glancing up nervously every few steps as they moved from tray to tray, watering and adjusting admixtures and checking on tubes.

    You swung your legs up, then gestured with your other hand - your Lens Lance floated up, followed by Kit, his burly form pausing as he realized that his head fit through the hole, but his shoulders did not. He gave you a sheepish, cattish smile, then shrank with a silvery shimmer back to Kit. His purple eyes danced with amusement, then he came up to a crouch.

    The stormtroopers started coming up afterwards, moving with an eerie silence and precision, their gloved hands creaking only softly, their weapons cinched tight to their backs. Barik used a Cadian hand sign to fan the squad out, moving them into cover while you and Kit slowly closed the hatch - well, you held it with both hands, straining to move it carefully back into place, and then he grabbed onto the back with one hand and gently set it down without a noise. He flashed another one of his smiles at you and you smiled back, with shoulders...and a moment later, with lips. You were...

    You were practicing smiling under the mask. Trying to time it with your shoulders.

    You know.

    Just in case.

    For later.

    Maybe.

    You turned back and found yourself face to mask with one of the heretic technicians. He was about six cycles out of the creche, with short blond hair, dark skin, and blue eyes. He stood perfectly still, his jaw opening in shock as he saw you and Kit in your raggedy uniforms. Then he grabbed onto his sleeve, yanking off the armband. He tore it off, then offered it to you, trembling.

    He was perfectly silent - not raising a scream, not shouting an alarm. The armband was...an offering?

    A surrender?

    An apology?

    You couldn't tell in those big, bright blue eyes.

    However, you could see Barik. He was doing precisely what he had been trained to do, which was to silently step out behind the heretic, drawing a thick knife from his sheath. All you had to do was say nothing and that knife would go straight into the boy's throat. One less dead heretic. Which was what you were here for. To kill heretics. He was wearing the symbol of your enemy. Right?

    ---
    What do you do?
    [ ] "Barik, hold." - question the boy about the other workers, determine if they are willing to return to your side
    [ ] Say nothing - and have the Cadians deal with the rest of the heretics down here
    [ ] Write in

    STATS
    Health: Fine
    Anima: Dim
    Willpower: 5/5
    Personal Motes: 13/13 | Peripheral Motes: 28/28 (Committed Motes: 5)
    Limit: 1/10 (Trigger: Being stymied by indulges around her)
    XP: 7 | Solar XP: 8
    Major Projects: 0/5
    SXP: 46 | GXP: 15 | WXP: 3

    Cadian's Stealth Roll: 4s vs diff 3
    Your Stealth Roll: 2s vs Diff 3

    Your Socialize roll to detect motivations/intimacies: 1s vs diff 2
     
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    • The Muck Tunnel (3.2)
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    • "Barik, hold."

    The words came out without you even really registering they had started from your throat. They popped out. And Barik did hold. The man before him blinked, jerked his head, flinched, stumbled away - but as he bumped into the hydroponic trough, the noise drew the attention of the other workers. They all spun around to face you - and Barik shot you an unreadable look through his visor. however, before anyone could do anything, the man who had reached to you spoke in a nervous voice.

    "A-Are you here to rescue us?"

    "Yes," you said, firmly.

    The others started over. They moved quietly, their faces furtive. Soon, their armbands were piling up, and the man who had first offered his hand to you was speaking in hushed whispers. "T-They've enslaved us down here ever since the sky fell - they said that it was all the Imperium's fault, that the Emperor was dead. That there was no hope."

    The others nodded along.

    "A-Are you..." One of them stammered. "W-We've heard stories."
    "A living saint..."

    "The Emperor reborn!"

    "Here to save us..."

    The murmured voices and the awe in their faces was almost too much. You stepped back - and Kit stepped forward to help. "She is," he said, firmly. You snapped your head around to glare at him. But before you could kick his shin or say anything, he continued. "But we need your help - we need to get up behind the Chaos forces without being noticed."

    "We can do that!" one of the habworkers said, nodding. "The muck tunnel."

    "We can't send a living saint, the Emperor Reborn, through a muck tunnel!" An old woman said, her face wrinkling up like folded pleather.

    "I-I've handled worse," you said.

    "She's got a mask on already," another man said, nodding. "Prepared she is, like the tale of the Emperor and the Four Canid Cubs." The entire group all ooohed and awwed softly. Kit managed to not hide his smile in the slightest. "Come on, show her the muck tunnel."

    "We'll be behind you, m'lady," Barik said, quietly. His voice had a faintly awed sound to it - like you had just pulled a miracle out of nowhere. You wondered what it would have been to gun these people down. How many of them would have responded with cries of joy, that the Emperor had come to save them? You frowned behind your mask as two habtechs led you and Kit towards a large hatch which they undogged and swung open. Muck splattered onto a much stained grating and you breathed slowly in through your mask.

    "Ah, to be a Kreiger," you said, smugly.

    "Heh," Kit murmured. "Dangerously close to pride there."

    You rolled your eyes, then swung up into the tube. You scrambled through the muck, finding that the tube looped around once, twice, three times - heading up and up and up in the darkness. You resisted the urge to draw forth glimmering light and instead focused on putting one hand ahead of the other, your Lens Lance hovering behind you. Kit moved with the silence and grace of a great cat. The stormtroopers were further behind them, and the only noise they made was the occasional soft swear and oath as some muck went down some crack of their uniforms, to slither against bare skin. Your boots were a bit soggy and you ignored it. Finally, the tube came to another hatch. You undogged it carefully, swung it open, and saw that it opened into a small landing that was perched before the outer balcony of the hydroponics. There was a thin railing around the balcony, and standing on it were two men with long lases.

    You were pretty sure they weren't mere slaves - their bodies had been transfigured, one with a tentacle emerging from his jaw, the other with the eyes of a huge bug. They had their backs to you. The crackling force dome that had once protected the hab from the orbital drop was gone - in its place was the familiar, smeary skies of Cathexias II. There were several rows of slabs, metal and stone, that had been set out down there, with civilians strapped to them. Two space marines moved among them - one was a black clad figure with a red cape, shuffling from slab to slab, looking down at the bound and terrified looking people.

    "Yes, one...one, sacred...hmm..." The space marine muttered.

    "Do you think sacred numbers and paltry souls will do anything?" the other voice was sarcastic and...familiar. Your eyes tracked left and you saw that the other space marine was the very sorcerer who had tried to kidnap you, who had slain so much of your squad. He was still wounded, his armor half off, revealing his broad, muscular chest, which was staunched with bandages. Hie helmet was off, revealing a bald, dusky scalp and dark, throbbing brown eyes. He had a sculpted cruelty to his features that reminded you of someone, but you couldn't say who or what. "Are you aware what has happened, Sindraxian?"

    "Shut up, you meddlesome-"

    "Or what, Sinner?" The Thousand Sons sorcerer sounded exhausted, annoyed, amused, all at once. He lounged in his chair, wincing as his extravagantly spread arms strained the rather impressive hole you had put into his side. "You'll tie me up next? I'll have your soul flayed apart with a word before you even move my way."

    "If you and Kharkameron weren't so bloody useless, then we wouldn't have been left down here!" Sindraxian snapped.

    "Hmm, well, Khark did know when the best time to leave was...before the lance battery was thrown together," the Sorcerer said, shifting in his seat.

    You knew that Amberly was waiting for your signal. Now what was the best signal. You didn't need to worry about the snipers. They were already down, their throats open, blood puddling on corrugated metal as Stormtroopers crawled on their bellies to the lip of the stage, their hellguns settling into firing positions along the railing. But you saw a few options...

    ...and strangely, an impulse to go down there and ask Sindraxian and the Sorcerer what the hells they thought they were doing.

    ---
    What do you do?
    [ ] Direct the stormtroopers to open fire on the Sorcerer and Sindraxian while you free the hostages
    [ ] Jump down there and demand an explanation.
    [ ] Jump down there and challenge Sindraxian to a duel
    [ ] Write In

    STATS
    Health: Fine
    Anima: Dim
    Willpower: 5/5
    Personal Motes: 13/13 | Peripheral Motes: 28/28 (Committed Motes: 5)
    Limit: 1/10 (Trigger: Being stymied by indulges around her)
    XP: 7 | Solar XP: 8
    Major Projects: 0/5
    SXP: 46 | GXP: 15 | WXP: 3
     
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    • Sindraxian and Thark-Thakunen (3.3)
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    • AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry for the delay! My TTRPG's kickstarter started and I got too scared to write for a bit.

    Two sorcerers, discussing the finer points of the complexity of weaving spells and harnessing daemons. In the background, there was a manse being built, piece by piece. They were so fascinating - and when you stepped forward, they turned to you. One smiled and said-

    You blinked.

    You were standing on the ground before the two Chaos Space marines. Your Lens Lance floated to your left and your great coat swirled around your hips. It settled as you finished your drop - and you realized that your body had moved you without your conscious brain realizing it. But as Sindraxian and the Thousand Son's sorcerer both goggled at you, clearly shocked, you realized why you had moved, why you were down here. You stood a bit taller - still a solid head and shoulders shorter than both giants, and said, clearly.

    "What are you two talking about?" you asked.

    "What!?" Sindraxian asked.

    The Thousand Son's sorcerer, though, simply picked up a flask that set on the table he was sitting beside. He tossed back some water, sighed, then said: "Well, do you mean, the poorly considered, badly planned, needlessly cruel waste of life that my fellow sorcerer is seeking to undertake - or do you mean our overall plans for conquest and domination of this world? Be specific, Krieger."

    You glared at him. "Don't be so smug! You killed my squadmates, you-"

    "I thought that was what you Kriegers all wanted," he said.

    "Well, yes, but..." You shook your head. "The first! Then the latter."

    "Thark! What are you doing, bandying words with a mortal?" Sindraxian asked.

    "If you did not notice, Sinner, I currently have half my extra organs hanging out," Thark - his name was Thark? - said, amiably. "Besides, what do you take me for? A running dog of the Corpsers? Did I get a wolf ears and tail while I wasn't watching? Failed to shave?" His palm rubbed his bare, dark cheeks. "Lose my melanin content and get really big into drinking ale and eating mutton." He rolled his eyes expansively. "If you want to turn your nose up at talking to the most fascinating anomaly seen since Celestine, feel free. Me? I want to hear what she has to say for herself." He paused. "That is correct, right, I didn't muck that up?"

    "Yes!" you said.

    "Good," Thark said. "Ah, the name, by the way, is Thark-Thakunen, Sorcerer, Thousand Sons. I joined the Legion in the year...12 of the prior millennium's first century, I believe. They recruited me off a space hulk, if you'd believe it-"

    "Thark!" Sindriax bellowed.

    You risked a glance back.

    Kit was looking down at you, his eyes full of...pure amusement. His lips were twisted up in a smirk.

    Well, at least Kit approved.

    "Anyway, long story short, I ended up as part of 'Lord' Cartheniax and his merry band of sociopaths with an eye towards my own particular advancement. His planned invasion route went through several worlds with remarkable artifacts I wished for my own panoply - and in exchange, I provided my somewhat impressive array of psychic powers alongside my battle-brother. When the Imperial Guard proved more sturdy than anticipated, he tasked me to break their backs and the Changer of Ways set me to you. It was nothing personal." He shrugged his shoulders. "But as you have chased Lord Cartheniax off this world, that leaves me and Sinner in a bit of a pickle."

    You swung your gaze to Sindriax. "And what are you doing?"

    "I..." He cocked his head. "I was planning to sacrifice these souls to summon a demon-"

    "First circle, or second circle?" you asked without understanding. It was frustrating. If you focused and furrowed your brows, you could draw fragments of memories into your mind. But there were so many gaps. But if you let those gaps show, if you faltered...well, you didn't want to find out what these two giants might do.

    "I...what?" Sinner asked.

    "I believe the mortal is asking if you have the temerity to summon a greater demon with its true name," Sinner said. "Though I've never heard a Greater Demon being called a second circle. What would a first circle be?" He smirked slightly.

    "Well, the way I understand it," you said, the words bubbling out as you leaned on Lens Lance, using it to prop up your back as you crossed your arms. "The Third Circle is the outermost edge of the conceptual space that any particular Infer...Chaos God takes up. Independent souls, chunks of their consciousness, given form and direction The Second Circle is the layer above that, one step closer to the totality of the God in question and likely immortal...um, the First Circle are the innermost part, the fetish souls, the diagramatic chorus that creates the paradigm by which the Chaos God takes shape. As we might have a sense of charity, or a memory, or dreams of a better world, so to do the Chaos Gods - but their individual parts are each, themselves, individual divinities. To change or kill one is to carve one's vision of the world upon the face of infinity..." You paused. "So, which demon were you trying to summon?"

    "What...what are you?" Sinner asked, slowly.

    "I..." You smiled behind your mask. "...I'm a simple Guardswoman. Medicae. Corpsman."

    Sinner almost tripped over his own feet as he stepped away from you. Thark laughed. He clapped his hands. "Oh! And Russ was just a simple brawler!" He laughed. "And Magnus merely liked to read a few books!"

    You coughed behind your mask. "Because if you thought that demon would stop us...what was your plan after that?"

    "Well, to get off this useless dirtball," Sinner growled. "To continue the war against the rotting Imperium you cling to. You see, we seek to bring you freedom, to throw off your chains."

    "It's not that hard to fix," you said, rolling your eyes. "Basic technological overhauls in a few basic areas will propagate an immediate improvement in human life. Just making the communications technology less spotty, improving the administrative records, maybe fixing up the ecosystems of a few chosen Hive Worlds, that'd already have a knock on effect." You stepped away from the Lens Lance. "See, your problem is that you are kowtowing to a...a Chaos God! It's all twisted up and insane." Your words were coming out faster and faster. You mashed your fingers together, your lips almost spluttering trying to get the words out. "You...you need to...to...to just...you need to..."

    You felt a gusting touch. A quivering, finger-like prod sticking into your mind. It was like a cold finger, plunging between your forehead.

    "Get out of my head!" You shouted, snatching your Lens-Lance out, even as Thark fell out of his chair. He cried out in shock and pain alike, his back splattering into the muck and mud. He scrambled up, grabbing onto the side of his table, blinking at you, his jaw dropped open in shock. Sindraxian, his hand dropping to the hilt of his sword, tensed and stepped back.

    "What is it, Thark!?" he barked.

    "S-She's...she's..." Thark-Thakunen gaped at you.

    "I'm not!" you said, hurriedly, before he could say anything.

    "She's the Emperor," he whispered.

    You hunched slightly, like you'd been kicked in the stomach.

    "She's...a Living Saint?" Sindraxian asked, slowly.

    "I have touched the minds of chosen Sisters of Battle. I have felt the scourging flames of a hexagramatical foci. I've once been burned by the touch of the Crux Terminatus...I have felt his shadow, his echo, his touch before. Would you mistake a candle flame for a star, Sinner!?" Thark boomed, shoving himself to his feet, wobbling. "She is the Emperor. He is dead. He died! I felt him die when the Crusade began - we all did, Abaddon's great work was a success, we were there. He died! But she...she is him again! How!?"

    You blinked at him.

    Sindraxian looked from Thark-Thakunen, then back to you.

    Thark...

    Thark was looking at you with...with...something approximating hope. Hope and despair. He wanted to hear something from you - but he was terrified of it. What legends and histories had he read? How did the Thousand Sons see the Emperor, in their heretical documents? Sindraxian was harder to read, but...well, he was pure hatred. He clearly was horrified at the idea of standing before the Emperor. And if he saw the Imperium as a rotting edifice, worthy of all this to take...down...

    Most of the planet wasn't destroyed by Chaos.

    Your stomach churned.

    ---
    So, if you want to convince someone of something, you need to target intimacies that support what you want them to do. You know that Thark has a Major Intimacy of (Confused Hope and Fear) towards you, while Sindrixian has a major intimacy of (Burning Hatred and Fear.) Both the pre-written and any write in that addresses both will be a Flurry, giving you a -4 dice penalty.

    [ ] Address Thark: "I'm not Him. But...part of Him is in me. So, what you want to say to Him, say to me."
    [ ] Address Sindraxian: "...I'm sorry. I never meant for it to...He didn't mean for it to...get so bad."
    [ ] Address Both, flare your anima banner and lie your ass off: "I am 41-22. I am Warpsmith and Gravity Tamer both. I am the Firstborn Natural Magos. I am the herald of a Night of a Thousand Stars. I am not the Emperor. He was of me. And if you wish to survive, you will kneel before me and thus, name me...Warptamer!"
    [ ] Address both, flare your animal banner, and tell the God-Emperor's honest truth: "I am 41-22. I am Warpsmith and Gravity Tamer both. I am the Firstborn Natural Magos. I am the herald of a Night of a Thousand Stars. I am not the Emperor. He was of me. And if you wish to survive, you will kneel before me and thus, name me...Warptamer!"
    [ ] Write IN

    Health: Fine
    Anima: Dim
    Willpower: 5/5
    Personal Motes: 13/13 | Peripheral Motes: 28/28 (Committed Motes: 5)
    Limit: 1/10 (Trigger: Being stymied by indulges around her)
    XP: 7 | Solar XP: 8
    Major Projects: 0/5
    SXP: 46 | GXP: 15 | WXP: 3

    Per+Socialize versus Guile 4 and Guile 4 to see if 41 can read their intimacies. She's got +1 stunt, so that's 5 dice in...you gotta be fucking kidding me



    In case the image dies due to link rot: She got 4s and 4s
     
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    • Grasping at Smoke (3.4)
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    • You ignored Sindraxian for the moment - the rage and fear in his eyes was too much to even process. Your eyes instead swung to Thark. He was looking at you like you were some...something. You blushed behind your mask, then said, quietly: "I'm not Him."

    He flinched. Sindraxian's hand tightened around the hilt of the sword hung from the belt looped around his hips. You wondered if Kit was already moving. You forced the words out, like they were something you were choking on. "But...part of Him is in me." You paused, then made the final connection - knowing how...stupid and small it was against a galaxy. "So, what you want to say to Him, say to me."

    Thark remained silent for a long time. "Did you...did he order it? The Burning of Prospero?"

    What was ancient history to you - a footnote in a Heresy that spanned a thousand epics, each more voluminous and poetic than the last - was burning and intense for Thark-Thakunen. He hadn't even been born at the time, he wasn't some ancient Legionarie who had been there, who had watched the spires fall and the planet burn. But...but you hadn't watched Krieg turn traitor. Had you? The sudden hammer blow of sympathy shook you to your knees. What would you say, if the Emperor had actually stood before you and told you it's okay, it's not your fault.

    You...

    You reached back, desperately. You had been reliving flashes of memories older than time, damn it. And some came easy, so easy. You could map out the circuitry of a Man of Iron or the basics of an agrav engine. You could hammer out the intermixtures of alchemical reagents that would be needed for juvinat, or craft a bionic arm you were fairly sure could far surpass the strength and speed of not just a human army, but the arm of an Astartes or Custodes. Weaponry? Forget about it - you had the schemata for hellguns blazing so bright that you could hammer one together out of scraps in a cave.

    So why was it that now, right now, when you needed most a clear, single, perfect moment of recall...

    You were grasping at smoke?

    There were...

    Flashes.

    Flashes of anger. Rage, even. Something vast and beautiful was coming to pieces. And it was all...it was all someone's fault. But was it yours? Had you made some great error? Some mistake? Or...or was it someone else's? The distances were too vast. The time was too great. A message sent now would not outpace the rippling, echoing, rebounding changes that were coming. Everything was too big. Too big. Even your hands couldn't grasp it all, not alone, and you couldn't trust anyone else to see the vision - to carry humanity through what was coming. Your eyes closed in the here and now, and you put your hands on the sides of your heads. The flickering images grew more intense - and more incoherent...

    A vast gala, everyone in their finest. A victory parade? Banners flapping in the-

    -battlefleet emerging from the Warp, wreathed in smoke and crackling lightning-

    -the xeno, older than time, regarding you with a cool disinterest and reptilian disdain. "The last of the Dragon Kings, come to this?" And you-

    -Magnus could never understand sorcery, true sorcery, it would destroy him if-

    -a wind swept prairie, a hominid standing with rock in hand. It comes down. The skull shatters and you can feel a howling screech, echoing in the distance. A tiger's scream in the night as something terrible is-

    You gasp and duck down. "I can't remember!" you say, your voice miserable, thick with the pain of a thousand mistakes.

    Thark-Thakunen regards you with eyes torn between hope and despair. He sags back slightly.

    Sindraxian's hand draws his blade with a rasp. He steps forward as the humming edge of the blade comes to a wicked, hazy life. You jerk your head up, but as he lifts his arm, ready to bring it crashing down, a massive form grows behind him - silver fire flickering. A pair of immense paws take hold of his helmeted head and twist with a vicious cracking noise. Metal distorts and his gorget becomes a garotte - tightening as it is twisted into a new, deadlier form. Sindraxian lets out a surprised gurgle, a choke, and twitches as the immense form behind him releases him, panting. Kit looks down at the pile of twitching servos and whining WALDO feedback systems, then glowers at Thark, who remains seated and unarmed.

    Thark raised his hands, slowly. "I'm not...that stupid," he said, slowly.

    Kit grunted. "You joined a traitor legion," he said, amiably.

    "And from my perspective, it is your legions who are traitors," Thark said without missing a beat.

    That less than convincing rejoinder was interrupted by the sudden, sharp sound of gunfire coming from what seemed to be every direction at once. Lasguns crackled - a sound that overlapped, susurrating and rebounding off one another as fusillades were loosed with clockwork precision. The sharp sound of three explosions at once shook the ground and beyond the edge of the small enclosure you stood in, you could see the turret of a predator tank flipping up into the air, then coming smashing to the ground somewhere else. Kit jerked with all the noise, his ears perking up. Thark remained seated, his hands up, his brows rising, while you rushed for the door, snatching your Lens Lance out of the air and started for the front doors of the habitat - but before you could reach them, Kit snagged one big, tigerish finger through the collar of your jacket and yanked you back.

    "Whoa now," he said, firmly.

    "I can handle it!" you exclaimed. "I've taken on space marines before."

    "I don't want you to get hit by the good guys," he said, firmly.

    The door burst inwards with a spray of metal fragments and a sound of a revving chainsword, a spraying scream of sparks, and a stumbling pair of immense feet. A space marine was backing into the habitat, holding a power sword in one hand, a pistol in the other. He parried and blocked blow after blow - each one coming from Amberly Cain, her chainsword gripped in one hand using a fencing style that positively dripped aristocratic snobbery. She wasn't even using the edge! She kept thrusting at him, using just the grinding tip to bring up sparks. "And again! Again! Hah-HA! Sloppy footwork, my World Bearer friend!" She ducked under his power sword, then thrust again - and this time hydraulic fluid spurted from a join his armor. he stumbled, then fell to one knee, gasping.

    "What are you!?" he exclaimed.

    Amberly, her forehead glowing with a brilliant symbol of Mars, grinned and then, her voice somehow a dramatic whisper that yet also managed to be heard quite clearly, said: "I'm the right hand of the Emperor, you traitor son of a bitch!"

    She swept her sword to the left and the space marine fell, his helmeted head tumbling away with a clank and clatter.

    Amberly twirled her sword in a dramatic flourished - spinning throughout the collected prisoners who...y-you had...sort of forgotten about in the drama of the moment - revved it twice, then sheathed it at her side. "And thus, the day is saved!"

    You scowled at her, then scowled even more as the bound and tied prisoners started to sit up, rubbing their wrists, then gathering around her, their voices soft. Murmurs of 'Thank you, Commissar!' and 'That was amazing, Lady Commissar!' started to reach your ears.

    Kit stepped over to you, shrinking down subtly, until he was just a tiger in spirit. "You're scowling, it's unseemly to be jealous," he said, his voice amused.

    "I'm not scowling," you said, scowling.

    "Mm."

    "Nor jealous!"

    "Mmmhm."

    You leaned against him.

    ---
    What do you do?

    [ ] Let Amberly bask in her victory - you have an autofarm to build
    [ ] Take charge. You will show mercy to any surrendered followers of Chaos, if they are willing to seek absolution in service. Then you will build the auto-farm.
    [ ] Take charge. The followers of Chaos will be put to death, and you will begin work on the auto-farm.
    [ ] Write In

    Either way, building the auto-farm (as you aren't going to be cramming it into a few days while under fire) is downtime! During downtime, you can spend your XP and train! You can vote for as many things as you want, and the highest winner will get XP first - any leftover XP will be banked!

    [ ] Improve your stats (GM will spend XP on improving stats - starting with lower stats first)
    [ ] Improve your [Skill] (write in which skill)
    [ ] Gain Craft Charms
    [ ] Gain Combat Charms (melee, athletics, ride)
    [ ] Gain new Social Charms (presence)
    [ ] Gain new Intellectual Charms (Occult, unless you get Lore, in which case Lore too)
    [ ] Awaken new Evocations in the Lens Lance

    ​



    Health: Fine
    Anima: Glowing (-3 to stealth)
    Willpower: 4/5
    Personal Motes: 13/13 | Peripheral Motes: 23/28 (Committed Motes: 5)
    Limit: 1/10 (Trigger: Being stymied by indulges around her)
    XP: 7 | Solar XP: 8
    Major Projects: 0/5
    SXP: 46 | GXP: 15 | WXP: 3
     
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    • A Time to Breath (3.5)
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    • You strode towards Amberly. You put your hand on her wrist, and looked into her eyes.

    "Amberly," you said, firmly. "...I'm in charge."

    "You!?" She asked.

    "Yes. Me." You were silent for a moment. "I'm...I'm not going to let you kill the surrendered. The. The prisoners. They...we're not going to do that." You reached for some rational - something other than the rebellion deep in your belly. Amberly scoffed, lifting her chin, then jerked her hand from your wrist.

    "I wasn't going to kill them!" she said, her voice haughty.

    "...you were going to shoot me!" you exclaimed. "On some...some...some...incompetent orders!

    "I don't recall it that way," Amberly said, sniffing as she lifted her nose into the air.

    "But-" you spluttered. Amberly's cheeks flushed and she jerked her chin up again.

    "It's something called...style, Krieger," she said, her voice full of arrogant condescension. "If I had simply said no, then the General would have called me an idiot useless lay about, or a disgrace to the name Cain, or...or other hypothetically hurtful things." She said, her eyes flicking away for a moment. You frowned under your mask. Hypothetical, huh? She continued over your thoughts. "So, I was going to make a show of being about to shoot you, then I would dramatically cast aside my weapon at the last moment, proclaiming a vision of divinity showing me I could not strike down one blessed by the Emperor, thus, melting the General's icy heart."

    "You were, huh?" you asked.

    "41..." Kit said, quietly, walking over to stand beside you. His voice was gentle. Don't keep poking Amblery.

    You harrumphed.

    "...wait, but we are going to kill him, right?" Amberly asked. "Poor civilians turned in desperation is one thing, but that yonder is none other than a member of the..." She narrowed her eyes at Thark-Thakunen. "...Thousand Suns!"

    "Sons," you muttered.

    "Sons, I said sons!" Amberly snapped. "That's what I said.

    "41, come on," Kit said. "We have bodies to police and speeches to give."

    You sighed.

    "Wait, speeches!?" You asked. "No, I...can't I just...build a...build a big thing?"

    Kit grabbed your arm and dragged you off.

    ***
    ​
    The days after the battle and the capture of the habitat were quiet and eerie. Everyone seemed to be waiting for more war...but...the war here had ended so abruptly, so unexpectedly, and so completely that no one quite knew what to do. You gave a stuttering speech, mumbling to some half hearted conclusion, then instituted a rationing system, timed out to when you were going to upgrade the farms. The chaos tainted were split into those who were completely impure and those who weren't - but those who weren't were able to be handled by Kit. He had a kind of sense that let him sniff out the ones that were still good hearted, and the ones that were not. There were a few executions - but less than would have been required by most.

    You?

    You fell into a rhythm. You would wake, slap your mask on, shuffle to your tent's work station, thumb on a luminator, and start scrawling out plans. Your first few drafts were frustratingly inconclusive - but after a few days, you had realized the issue was sustaining the feedstock. And that was easier if you worked with the lifeforms, not trying to shackle them. You threw out some old designs, tossing aside papers and scribbling new notes, muttering mathematic equations under your breath. You would sometimes glance up and notice that several tech-priests were kneeling at the tent's entrance, their hands clasped together.

    "...what are you doing?" you had asked, once.

    "Beholding a miracle."

    "Oh, no, it's very simple," you said, hurriedly. "See, the self replicating systems involved mean you only need minimal input and then...the, see, we...the just...shunt...you...here! See, look!" You had thrust diagrams at them, then went back to scribbling. The next day, you had found a shrine with the blueprints in it.

    Kit, of course, did not simply sit idle. Every few hours, he would chivvy you away from your work, despite how often you had told him that you needed to focus, to get the job done. Instead, he made sure you walked around the camp, speaking to soldiers and civilians, overseeing small disputes - usually they were silliness you could solve with a grunt and nod - and then he would get you to the rations. You made sure to eat exactly the amount you had laid out, to make an example. Sometimes, Amberly would join you and you would both snipe at one another while Kit basked in your company, not Amberly's.

    But on the third day, you had had enough.

    'I'm a Krieger!" you said, grumping and crossing your arms over your chest. "I don't NEED to eat three times a day! I can eat one time a day. And I've been trained to operate on only four hours of sleep if needs must. ANd these walks! I don't need to walk! I need to work on my designs! So that's final. You cannot get me from this tent!"

    Kit had nodded, slowly.

    Then he leaned over.

    "So what if I took you out back, peeled off every bit of your clothing, one by one, and then slammed you onto your back and fucked your brains out?" he whispered in your ear.

    You sat there, silently.

    "Um..." you muttered. "K-Kriegers don't...uh..."

    His lips started to do things to your throat as he nuzzled at you.

    "Don't...um...uh..."

    ...you ended up getting less work done...that day...

    Once the plans were done, you launched into construction. Here, you and Kit and even Amberly worked side by side - hammering out metal with your bare palms, digging ditches, and more importantly...working with plants. You needed to improve their functionality, and so, you tapped the Magos Biologis who had tended to Gitta, taking her chemicals and auspex systems, then working on the best survivable plants. After the first week, you had gotten the crossbreeds you wanted by breeding this plant with that, grafting this there, working on certain submolecular interchanges on the cellular level. Scu-Tau 41 watched with her optical dendrites boggling as you finessed the genetic structures you were trying to work with.

    With that done, the next stage of work began.

    "This looks a lot like riding your horse around," Amberly called from a ruined tank she perched on.

    You were on Gita's back, taking studious notes as you used your knees to guide her left, right, her claws digging up furrows of mud. "It's very simple!" you called out. "The best kind of automated farm is a self replicating system - which means an ecosystem that grows over time. Now, we can't wait the time required, so, we're still going to be using the primary technological structure, but I want the surrounding reforestation to be processed, and we have a lot of large herbivores remaining, which means that I want to test how Gitta works - it'll be fine with hooves, but, claws do work better, so I may want to work on the other horses we have, and the Grox..."

    "Do you have any idea what she is speaking of?" Amberly asked Kit.

    "She's happy, which is what matters," Kit said, smiling.

    "Bah!" Amberly said.

    You rode Gitta past her - and felt a kind of fluid...connection with your mount. It was like you and her were one.

    Gitta reared. Amberly squeaked - and then Gitta's clawed foreleg snatched her hat from her head and tossed it. You caught it and the two of you rode off as Amberly sprang to her feet. "You thief! You knave! You blackguard! You...you...you...scallywag!"

    ***
    ​
    The quiet times, when the chemicals were bubbling and the crossbreeds were percolating, when Kit was patrolling and Amberly was sleeping, you went to Thark-Thakunen's cell. He may have surrendered, he might have agreed to the terms, but he was still not trusted by anyone else here. He was next to the General, who raved at you every time he got a chance. Fortunately, he also slept soundly.

    "I can...almost remember the libraries, now," you whispered, quietly, in the darkness.

    "My mentor told me about them. Gold and silver bookshelves, going as far as the eye could see. Visitors from across the imperium, eager to learn, eager to see what lore we've uncovered. Tomes stolen from the Eldar, from...other aliens..." He was quiet for a moment, leaning back in the darkness. "All burned."

    "Yeah," you said. Then, grinning shyly. "I happen to have a photographic memory. It's just not my memories."

    "Huh," he said.

    "Well, it's not exactly photographic. I'm just able to...if i focus very hard, I can remember more details than I'd have thought possible." You were silent for a time. "If Kit's also of the Emperor, does that make our..." You waved your hands. "...like..." you were silent for a moment longer.

    Thark chuckled. "No," he said. "Though this is the first time I've ever imagined the Emperor might be akin to the Chaos Gods - containing multitudes."

    "How- I...tha..." you spluttered. "He...that...shut up!"

    Thark chuckled.

    The annoying thing was you were fairly sure he was right.

    You harrumphed, then crossed your arms over your chest. "So, if you've never been to Prospero, how did you become a space marine? How...how does that happen?" you asked.

    "Well," he said, quietly. "I was born outside of the Imperium. Not...on a traitor planet, or a renegade world. There are just worlds beyond your reach - planets with histories as long and varied as the Imperium that have never seen nor heard of it. Planets with their own gods, and their own ideas about how to live. I grew up on a world like that. The Thousand Sons would come to resupply and refit. They might not be able to get bolt shells from us, but they got space parts for the armor, repairs for their starships. In exchange, they used biomancy to heal the wealthiest of our citizens. It was...equitable. And every time they visited, they would take a single gifted child as a challenge. I was...running gambling scams and avoiding the Psi Corps - our, uh, inquisitors I suppose you'd call them - when they arrived in system. I killed three men and a Psi...an inquisitor to get to the proving grounds, and they sensed that dedication and sent the other students away. They took me." He sighed. "And...I was...changed. They had a gene-seed from one of their dead brothers, and I took his name...Thark-Thakunen."

    You were silent for a while. "How...normal."

    He chuckled. "The strangeness came later."

    He didn't elaborate that night.

    ***
    ​
    On the fifth week, you slept in.

    Kit actually poked you awake. You grumbled, turning your face against the pillow in the darkness of your tent, your sleep mask crumpling slightly against the pillow. "Mmmphmmm..>"

    "Don't you have work to do?" his voice was amused. You lifted one arm, waving your hand.

    "S'done."

    You heard him shift in the darkness.

    "It's done?" he asked.

    "mmmph...bumble..."

    "how can it be done? You haven't turned anything on," he said.

    "Just wait, I'm sleeping..." You curled up and, thankfully, Kit let you sleep.

    When you emerged, it was with a big yawn and a stretch. You slid your mask on, then emerged outside - and saw that you were right. The auto-farm was operating at full efficiency. The central building was mostly unchanged, whirring quietly as the hydroponics operated. The real complexity was in the surrounding landscape. The complexity came in the system of servo-skulls you had set up. They'd only run for one, two centuries, but once they were finished, their jobs would be done. They skirted by the muddy fields and sprayed out the seeds, as they'd been doing for the past week once you had gotten the new breedlines built up. Now, flowers were beginning to bloom, and trees were shooting up, growing bit by bit - fertilized by the fine ash that made up most of the landscape. Vines started to spread along ruins, and you smiled as you saw that everything was on track.

    Kit sniffed at the air. "It smells...alive," he said.

    "This area can't really support more than our army," you said, nodding. "mostly using the building proper. The spreading plants are gonna be arable in...soon. Ish." You blushed, not wanting to say a few centuries. BUt still.

    Felt good.

    Kit sighed, quietly. "Do you have a plan after this? Now that food's not going to be an issue."

    You considered.

    ---
    What is your plan?

    [ ] Wait and see!
    [ ] Write in


    Health: Fine
    Anima: Glowing
    Willpower: 5/5
    Personal Motes: 13/13 | Peripheral Motes: 28/28 (Committed Motes: 5)
    Limit: 1/10 (Trigger: Being stymied by indulges around her)
    XP: 0 | Solar XP: 2
    Major Projects: 0/5
    SXP: 4 | GXP: 17 | WXP: 6

    1 Riding Charm (8 XP)
    1 Lore Dot (1 XP/2 Solar XP)
    2 Lore Dot (1 Solar XP)
    2 Occult Dot (1 Solar XP)
    3 Lore Dot (3 Solar XP)

    Total Training Time (Lore/Occult overlap, so can be trained at the same time): 1 day for 1 dot, 2 days for 2 dots, 3 days for 3rd dot, total time - 6 days. Seasoned Beast-Rider's Technique - 2 days

    8 Day Training Total

    CRAFTING TIME

    Week 2: Use SXP to make arete shifting prana to get biotechology. Turn remaining SXP into GXP using Sublime Transferrence. Then, spend 2 GXP to make a superior slot for the new ecology building. Spend 10 GXP per roll!

    Each roll is using max excellency (so no extra SXP for 10s) and the double 9s and re-roll 10s and 6s, with +3 stunts.

    ROLL ONE: 10 10 10 10 9 9 8 8 7 7 6 6 6 6 6 5 5 5 5 4 4 3 2 1
    RE-ROLLS: 10 7 7 7 4 4 3 3 1
    RE-ROLLS: 8
    TOTAL SUCCESSES: 24s vs diff 5 = 19s

    ROLL TWO: 10 10 9 8 8 8 8 7 6 6 6 6 6 5 5 5 5 4 4 4 2 2 1 1
    RE-ROLL: 8 7 5 5 4 1
    TOTAL SUCCESSES: 14s vs Diff 5 = 9s (28s)

    TOLL THREE: 10 10 9 9 8 7 7 7 6 6 6 6 5 4 4 4 4 4 3 3 3 1 1 1
    RE-ROLLS: 10 9 9 8 8 7
    RE-ROLLS: 1
    RE-ROLL: 7
    TOTAL SUCCESSES: 24s vs diff 5 = 19 (47)

    Ecology Built! Total Time: 5 weeks
    Reward: 3 white XP + 13 GXP +3 SXP
     
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    • A Time to Work (3.6)
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    • You paced back and forth before Kit, rubbing your chin. Thinking spilled out of your mask. "We're not the only ones out there, Kit, so unless Amberly can pull an astropath out of her as-, er, um, hat! I said hat! We're going to have to ether build or find a starship so that we can find out how much of the Imperium is left. In the meantime we have a lack of supplies outside of food and little transportation besides the horses so building a manufactorum or two would be good and there may be other survivors out there so we should send out more scouts (if that hasn't been done yet) and build a vox station to see if anyone is transmitting or listening and expanding food production to handle any increases in numbers those may result in...also the broken orbitals need to be salvaged and while I'm sure 871-Kappa and the other techpriests can handle it I want to build a shuttle to go up to orbit to see if anything up there can be saved." You sighed, then slumped slightly. "There's just so much that needs to be done."

    Kit nodded.

    You squared your shoulders and lifted your head. "I guess I mean to say that we need to expand... a lot!"

    "Mmhm," he said.

    Then he grabbed your arm and dragged you off as, overhead, a glittering shooting star streaked through the sky - a bright pinprick that foretold of a future that seemed nigh infinite.

    It was a time to work.

    ***

    Amberly Cain and 41-22 Have A Late Night Conversation That Goes Well! ...Eventually!
    ***
    ​
    It was late night and you were out getting rekaff. You were still working on the basic outlines for the new manufactorum that would have to go up to support the launch operations for orbital salvaging and you needed just that little bit of extra juice. As you walked into the large building that had been thrown up to be the center of food processing and distribution - and was now called the Caff by pretty much everyone in the makeshift hive city that was growing around what had once been an army base - you were quite pleased to see that the place was nearly empty. No one to gawk at you, or worship you or...worse, talk to you. You walked over to the kaff machines and slotted your cup into them. You waited as the sludge driblled and slurped out - then noticed something.

    There was a strange, soft, sniffling noise in the place.

    You looked left and right - then blinked as you saw that you had missed Amberly, sitting by one of the tables, her face mashed against the metal tabletop. Her shoulders were shaking and it looked like tiny droplets of water were leaking from her eyes. It was an autonomous response humans had to clear their eyes of irritants, and it was sometimes triggered by emotional or physical distress. Fortunately you, like most Kriegers, had been conditioned to not cry unless under the most intense extremis.

    You walked towards Amberly, about to tell her that you were much better at not crying when you noticed she wasn't...just crying.

    She was crying crying. Her face was scrunched up and her hands were balled against her head.

    You blinked slowly. "Um..." you said, quietly.

    Amberly jerked her head up. She sniffed and wiped with her hand against her nose, leaving a big gleaming smear on her gloves. She sniffed again, then stammered. "W-What? Oh, good morning, 41, nice...ceiling...we're having!" She blushed - and even with her impressive ability to settle herself in remarkable time...she still had puffy red eyes from tear irritation. You sighed, then walked around and sat down across from her.

    "I don't like you," you said.

    Amberly scowled at her. You realized that might have been the wrong first sentence.

    "I-I mean...that is, I don't...like you! But, uh," you said. "That is, I mean...I was going to say-"

    "Yeah, I know," she said, standing up, chair scraping on metal.

    "No, wait!" you said, blushing behind your mask, shoulders slumping. "I...damn it, I...when Kit talks, he has this thing where he'll sometimes start on one...tack then, i'd...he'd switch around to another, and like, it makes everything all good in context and...and just..." You sighed. "I don't want you to cry and be sad. So, um, t-tell me what the problem is, and I can fix it!"

    She blinked at you.

    "You're terrible at this," she said, then sat back down.

    "W-Well, I...they don't teach this in basic..." you muttered.

    "Heh, that's the first thing they taught me," Amberly said, sniffing. "Important daughter, sent to the Schola Progenium, earmarked to be a commissar..." She cupped her hands together. She looked sad. "I studied every course. I took every note. I memorized every lesson I was taught. How to spot heresy and mutation, when to execute an officer, how to communicate between people. I learned three languages, and four dialects!" She blushed. "I...I just...I just had to be...to be...to be..."

    "Like your father?" you guessed, unsure. Could that be her motivation? It felt strange. You never had such an overwhelming impulse to follow an impossibly idealized fantasy - it must be a non-Kreiger thing. Kriegers, after all, were quite able to accomplish their fates in the field of battles without much chance of failure, beyond cowardice.

    "Yeah," Amberly said, quietly.

    You nodded, slowly. "And how did you do?"

    She blushed, then looked down at her cup. "V-Very well, thank you."

    You remembered some things you had heard. The way the high general talked. You shifted in your seat. "Okay, but did you?"

    Amberly ducked her head down. Her shoulders hunched. "I, um...I tried..." She whispered, softly. "And it didn't...exactly go how the lessons say. And my Dad...my father...his first mission ever, he saved an entire planet. I...I couldn't even talk my general out of killing one." She ducked her head forward. "A-And everyone else was nodding along, and it just...my father wouldn't have done that."

    You blushed behind your mask.

    "But it's worse," she said, quietly. "N-No one...recognizes me anymore."

    "Huh?" you asked.

    "Every day, people just...stop noticing me. No one remembers a Commissar Amberly Cain. They remember my father. But they don't remember me. Kit remembers me. Y-You do. I checked. But..." She sighed. "I can reach into minds and make them think of me as anyone but myself. And h-how far does this go? Does my mother remember me? Does my father?" She gulped. "W-What if I...I do everything to be as big a hero as he is, and he doesn't even know it's me?"

    You were silent for a while. "Doesn't it matter more that you did good, Amberly? Like...real, material good - not just stuff that makes you popular?"

    She was silent as well, looking down at her hands. "I...think it does." She smiled, a bit weakly. "A-And you're right." She perked up, then. "And you're a genius! You can make a thingy that makes people remember me!"

    "I, uh, am not sure-"

    "That sounds great to me! Thanks 41!" she said, springing to her feet. Her hands went to her hips and she lifted her chin. "Commissar Amberly Cain rides once more to valorous victory!" She beamed with pride at this image, then started to walk off.

    "But wait, I don't-"

    SHe leaned over and kissed the top of your head.

    "Thank you," she said, then turned and headed off. You almost thought she meant for what you said said.

    Then her words drifted back to you.

    "In advance!"

    You scowled. And blushed. Hard.

    ***

    Vigorous Exercise Improves the Mind
    ***​
    You were sitting on the green hill that overlooked the army camp - on grass that was growing at a remarkable rate - and tapping a pen against your mask's seal when a stranger came walking towards you. He was a handsome stranger, but still...you didn't recognize him. His skin was the most remarkable shade of dark-brown, with rich highlights that only human skin tones could have. His hair was short and curled and his eyes were warm and purple. Familiar, even. You frowned as he approached and beamed at you - then frowned harder and cocked your head. Something about him was so darn familiar and you couldn't place your finger on it.

    "Hey," he said, and despite his voice sounding different, the tone and the way he said it was-

    "...Kit?" you asked.

    His skin melted and shimmered with silvery fog. When it was gone, Kit was standing before you, his eyes gleaming with delight.

    "Neat, huh?" he asked.

    "How did you do that?!" You asked.

    "Hunted him," he said. "Asked permission first. It was an instinct."

    "I...what?" you asked.

    "Well, i noticed...if I hunted, say, one of these..." He stepped - and silver flowed. Between blinks, he smoothly turned into one of the razor bladed, sleek, long beaked avians. Fire flashed and he stood before her as himself again, grinning down at her. "I can become it. So, why not with men? Well, I didn't want to kill, so I focused on that, learned a...a different route. I go through the whole hunt like it's practicing firing, with the lasguns set low, so they only singe. Like that."

    "Fascinating..." You said. "Whats it like? Being another man?"

    "Interesting," he said. "but...less different than you'd think. The Emperor did make us all." He was silent for a moment. "What are you working on?"

    "Oh trying to solve the pipeline issue in the manufactorum designs," you said, sighing and grumbling as you glowered down at your documents. "The issue is the essence flow through the crystallic manifolds - I could use Adamant, but all known sources of purified Adamant crystals is orbital, and we can't even begin to make an orbital infrastructure for, like, years at this rate." Your hands went to your hood, yanking it further down against your head. "Auugh. They call me the Warpsmith and I can't even figure this out! It's impossible! I'm...I'm failing the Emperor!"

    Kit nodded. "I know how to help."

    "How?" you asked, lifting your head. "And don't-"

    He did.

    He does! That is, he fucks 41's brains out with a new charm he's showing off!
    Kit took your mask and whipped it off your face as he gently also pushed you down. The two of you tumbled down the hill and, in the reverse slope, far from prying eyes, he pinned you under his lithe strength. The breeze on your face felt so decadently, impossibly wicked that your cheeks burned, your nipples grew hard enough to cut plasteel, and you were afraid you had permanently ruined this particular pair of battlefield ready panties by getting immediately, soaking, sopping wet.

    Kit grinned down at you, impishly. "You need this."

    "N-No I don't," you whispered, squirming weakly. Very weakly under him.

    "Mmm, yes you do." His mouth found the thumping, thudding pulse of your heart, thrumming through your neck. His tongue darted along your skin, leaving a gleaming patch that the wind caressed and oh, it felt like heaven itself. Your skin crawled and gooseflesh rose as your back arched and you squirmed against him - words chased out of your mouth by the sensation of it all. You gasped out.

    "M-Mask, though!"

    "If I hear anyone coming close, I'll scare them off." Buttons popped on your jacket.

    "Mmm...monster..."

    "Sorry, your work ethic is just...very sexy..." He nuzzled against your chest. His tongue darted along your bare skin, and he found your bra, tugging at it with his teeth. You whimpered as the cool air brushed along your sensitive nipples. It only got worse when he started to kiss and suck on you. His mouth knew you better than you knew yourself, and he teased you with teeth, lips, tongue, breath and soft nuzzles so much that you were left whimpering and biting the back of your glove to keep from moaning loud enough that the whole army could hear you. ANd this was just him attacking your chest...his hands were gliding along your sides. Somehow, while barely touching you, his expert fingers undid belt buckle, unzipped leggings, unbuttoned clasps. Your sleek, hairless cunt came free next as he leaned his head against your sternum. His nose nuzzled against your skin as one of his fingers glided up and down your sex, stroking the sopping wet flesh he had so eagerly unwrapped. His croon was blazing hot against your chest.

    "God-Emperor, you're fucking soaked, 41."

    You weren't even close to being able to speak words right now. So, quietly, you just nodded and bit your lip.

    "Want me to try something special?" his grin was lopsided.

    Nod nod nod nod.

    "I, um...admit...I was practicing just for you..." He murmured, softly. His voice was warm against your ear as he nuzzled. "Know how I can become a big tyger man?"

    Nodnodnodnondondodnod. Your neck actually twinged.

    "And I can become an animal I hunt. So. Why not combine the two?"

    Your eyes bugged.

    Silvery fog and fire flowed around Kit as he loomed above you. It washed over your scarlet face like a cool tide - and when it cleared, the sun shone along broad, broad, broad shoulders of rippling, pale white-gray muscle. Hairless but starkly defined, the musculature your eyes drank in was bulkier than even his tyger form. His head, though, was more familiar than you expected. Long and snouted, with two wide set eyes, dark and deep, with a thick neck and curved, bald head. The fangs, normally concealed by an implanted respirator, glinted in sunlight as he sat back on his haunches, his thick, powerful toe-claws digging into the green loam that spread beneath the two of you. And there, thrusting out from between his hips, was the biggest, darkest cock you'd ever seen: Thickly ringed around the middle, with a flat, equestrian tip. His balls nestled between his thighs, just...begging for you to...cradle them and lick them and...

    "O-Oh," you whispered.

    His clawed hand rubbed along his snout. Impossibly, a human voice came from that fierce visage. "Never knew Krieg steeds had fangs."
    "T-They can drink blood if need be," you stammered. "A-And are...uh...not normally so, um, anthr...anthropm...mo..." The ability to form low Gothic was leaving, dribbling out of your brains as your eyes went down to that dick.
    Kit chuckled. "Blood, huh?"

    "Uh...what?" you asked, quietly. "I was...I wasn't listening, what?"

    His heavy, pale, clawed finger grabbed your ass and hauled you up, so your butt was in the air, your legs were kicking wildly, and your shoulders were scrunched against the earth. Then his long muzzle pressed between your thighs and a very long, very broad, very rough tongue thrust into your cunt like you were a bit of brakish water and his mask was off. Your eyes widened and you grabbed onto your mouth with both hands to keep quiet as every foul moan tried to escape your lips. And still, Kit held you and licked you and licked you and licked you, his nose flaring and whuffing in a very equine way with every long, delicious caress of his tongue. His fangs grazed against your thighs - both of them at once - as your legs were locked around his head, your body reacting before your brain could recover as bliss grew and flowered. Your hands tightened and your back arched hard as your ankles hooked over the back of his bald head.

    "Mmmphhh!" You moaned int your hands as your juices pattered onto the grass and his cock - even kneeling before you, his dick jutted enough to...catch...

    Oh Emperor, you thought. I'm going to die.
    Kit let you gently slump back down, then leaned forward. his tongue flicked your ear and he rumbled. "Hands and knees or belly or..."

    You blushed. Your hands released your mouth.

    "I...ah...I ah..need...ah...to work more-" you managed to gasp out.

    He grabbed you.

    Flipped you.

    Lifted you up onto your hands and knees.

    Then he slammed into you with a merciless thrust - like he really was a Krieg Steed, pouncing on an enemy. His clawed fingers pinned your shoulders right back down, mashing you into the dirt. Your cheek pressed against the grass and you felt a delicious rush of pleasure - pleasure not just at the sensation of his cock bottoming out into a place you hadn't thought possible...but pleasure in the fact that he was keeping your face hidden.

    Then?

    Then he started to absolutely fucking destroy you.

    And, by the time the moon was overhead, and you were hoarse, he slumped back, panting. Warm steam whistled into the air, two twin thin streams of moisture. Kit regarded his handiwork, tail swishing.

    "How was that?" he asked, sounding like he hadn't just been using the most vigorous exercise in the galaxy upon your poor body. Barely able to move, you lifted one arm, and gave him a very, very, very weak thumbs up.

    He grunted happily.

    You reached out and tried to grab your discarded notes - but before you could scrawl one half-legible equation, his arm looped around you, he hauled you up, slung you over his shoulder, and started to swagger over the hill, cockily naked as if he owned the planet. The only thing he did before starting down towards the camp and your tent was firmly hook your mask back on with one clawed hand.

    ***

    The Ping
    ***
    ​
    You, Amberly and Kit sat together around the heavy auspex while 871-Kappa touched his dendrites together.

    "M'lady," he said, humbly. "I apologize once more for-"

    "It's not your fault, Magos Kappa," you said, hurriedly, your hand going to make sure your mask was settled firmly on your face. It had been a rambunctious morning - Kit had been frisky - and your plans still felt only half done. But this was important. "You were right to call us here."

    "I see not why," Amberly harrumphed.

    "It's a detected ship in system - approaching our world on a full burn," you snapped.

    "It's probably either the Imperium or it's one of our foes - either way, simplicity itself," Amberly said, cockily.

    Kit snorted. "I think a lot of the imperium isn't going to be happy with us." He slid his hands into his pockets, his brow drawing in. "But if it's aliens, or Chaos..."

    You sighed, then leaned over to the auspex. It was hooked to all the sensoria that the Tech Priests had managed to scrounge together. You considered your options. Considering what you had gotten done...


    ---
    What have you gotten done? Pick two!
    [ ] You've refurbished the manufactorum (your soldiers are better armed)
    [ ] You've collected the survivors into a single city and provided homes for them (you have more soldiers)
    [ ] You've refurbished the surviving orbitals, including long ranged sensor satellites (you have orbital defense/better intelligence)
    [ ] You've built a very basic monitor - non-warp capable voidship (you have a voidship capable of flying around in the solar system)

    Health: Fine
    Anima: Glowing
    Willpower: 5/5
    Personal Motes: 13/13 | Peripheral Motes: 28/28 (Committed Motes: 5)
    Limit: 1/10 (Trigger: Being stymied by indulges around her)
    XP: 0 | Solar XP: 2
    Major Projects: 0/5
    SXP: 4 | GXP: 17 | WXP: 6
     
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    • The Greatest of Our Children (3.7)
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    • You crossed your arms over your chest. "Hmm, at least City-1 is well established..." you muttered quietly, provoking quiet snickers from Kit and Amberly that you ignored. Kit had spent a great deal of time roaming as a bladehawk, and racing as a Krieg steed, rushing across the world...and here and there, across the blasted landscape, and far from the orbital drop zones, he had found people. Some had hidden in caves, some in basements, some had simply been far enough and lucky enough to not get hit. They had arrived, in drips and in drabs, guided by Kit, succored by his abilities. They all had similar stories. Sirens, screaming, stars falling from the sky...you had met a few of them, purely by happenstance, and you were increasingly prone to avoid them...you didn't like how they looked at you when you build them a house.

    It wasn't hard to build a house that was nice. Then you just needed to hook them to the power grid, which wasn't even difficulty, like, anyone could...do it...maybe not as fast as you did...

    You shook your head, trying to focus in again. With the people and the gathered supplies, you were able to focus on the space orbitals. A few of the skyhooks were still just barely intact after the Cascades and the drops - and by sending up the right signals, you could get cargo and people into space. It just involved some pretty...um...acrobatic moments that...it helped Kit was so strong...and tough...

    And, it seemed, could survive unplanned reentry. To be fair, he did become a bird partway through.

    Either way, you'd gotten the auspex sats on and now it was just a matter of coaxing the machine spirits. You tapped up a few binaric orders. Nothing but a smudge of thrust-plume came back on the grainy green display. "Come on.." You grumbled quietly, then kicked the terminus of cobbled together junk that you had made and-

    The image fuzzed out into a wave of static and sparks.

    "Damn it," you grumbled.

    Kappa leaned over, whispering quietly in binaric - but before he could finish the litany, the screen fuzzed again and snapped back into focus, showing a crystal clear image of a flat, hammerhead shaped spaceframe that you recognized as a Space Marine battlebarge. Heavy lance turrets were studded along the spine, while heavy macrocannons sprouted from the front. However, your eyes were more drawn from the weaponry to the heraldics: A massive, familiar U.

    "Ultramarines," Amberly said, her voice showing a bit of awe.

    "Oh," you whispered, softly.

    "The Emperor's most favored children," Kit said, grinning and leaning forward. "How do you think they'll take learning about us?"

    "Uh..." you said.

    "Most honored Warpsmith," Kappa said. "We are receiving a beamed message from the ship - identified as the Hammer of Jove - do you wish I to transmit it before your hallowed eyes?"

    You nodded.

    The screen fuzzed out again as Kappa murmured his soft prayers, then started to caress the side of the computer. He flicked one more switch, then the screen snapped into the image of a power armor clad figure, helmeted and identifiable only as a Space Marine - their voice coming through the grainy speakers. "Cathexias II, this is the ship Hammer of Jove, of the Chapter Ultramarines. We have been dispatched to render aid in the battle against the Archenemy you are now undertaking. We also bring humanitarian aide for your stricken population. Send current tactical and logistical datum back on this channel and prepare for our arrival. This message shall repeat until confirmation or we attain orbit."

    "Well, they seem friendly," Kit said, nodding as he did so.

    You could hardly imagine it. You'd heard the stories of the Ultramarines - the finest and most noble of the Imperium's many Space Marine Chapters. They had stood as heroes against enemies uncounted, saved countless millions of lives. They had often been stories in Krieg books about what it was supposed to be that you would want to be. There was legends that 01-01 himself had been chosen to become one of them, in a field of battle where Kreiger and Ultramarine had fought side by side.

    The idea of meeting them was intimidating and thrilling in equal measures.

    You slowly glanced out of the tent, at the modest cities and buildings that had started to grow. A mutant was ambling past, carrying a heaping load of apples from the orchard. You leaned back into the tent, tapping your fingers together, your brow furrowing behind the gas mask.

    Seem.

    Yes.

    "Hmm..." you murmured, tapping your fingers together.

    ---
    What to do?
    [ ] Transmit the whole story and where to land
    [ ] Transmit...some of the story and where to land (pick which parts)
    [ ] Your exaltation​
    [ ] the arresting of the general​
    [ ] the accepting of chaos turn coats​
    [ ] The peaceful situation right now​
    [ ] Tell them where to land, you'll explain stuff when they get hiere
    [ ] "Uh, we're find here! We're all fine down here! Uh, how are you?"
    [ ] Write In

    Health: Fine
    Anima: Glowing
    Willpower: 5/5
    Personal Motes: 13/13 | Peripheral Motes: 28/28 (Committed Motes: 5)
    Limit: 1/10 (Trigger: Being stymied by indulges around her)
    XP: 0 | Solar XP: 2
    Major Projects: 0/5
    SXP: 4 | GXP: 17 | WXP: 6
     
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    • Captain Brutus (3.8)
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    • You gulped. "Okay...um..." You shifted in your seat, then turned to Kappa. "C-Can...can we send?"

    "Yes, my magos," he said, bowing low.

    "Right..." you whispered. You closed your eyes and tried to...call forth another memory. Something from an earlier time, something that might help you with this, right now. You breathed in behind your mask, feeling the pressure shifting. Then you breathed out. The camera was on and recording. "My name is 41-22. I am a Corpsman for the Death Korps of Krieg. Approximately a month and a half ago, an...unusual event took place during the fighting on this world. I seem to have been gifted with...a spark of the Emperor's divinity." You ducked your head forward and let the words flow from someplace you had never really realized was waiting behind your tongue. Your forehead glowed, and a tiny spark of light shone between your brow. Through leather and synthplast, it shone: The half circle of your caste mark, a pure golden radiance. "With this spark, I saved who I could and fought those I couldn't - the General of our operations, fearful of what he did not understand, tried to have me summarily executed but..."

    Maybe be more polite about Amberly...
    "...his Commissar saw the foolishness of his actions and chose to side with me."

    Mostly true, even.
    Amberly lifted her chin and nodded, quite smugly. You resisted the urge to kick her under the table.

    "Now, the survivors of the great conflict here are gathered in a city - things are peaceful but...by the Emperor's name, we need those humanitarian supplies. I...will be there to meet you, alongside my, um..." You coughed. "S-Staff."

    You hit send before you could delete everything you had just said. Your body trembled as Kit put his hands on your shoulders. "Well said," he murmured.

    "You could have stood to outline my position more clearly in our current hierarchy," Amberly said, nodding. "Maybe mention that without my guidance in the field of battle, the final redoubt of the enemy might never have fallen so bloodlessly...you know, just for future advice. As I was taught by my father, in the very sitting room of his home..." She made a arcing gesture with her hand, as if to encompass the vastness of space. "Always let em talk about you, the telling works out about half the time, which is better than being a nobody, which works out none of the times."

    You were silent.

    "I don't think that means what you think that means, Amberly," you said.

    "Silence," she snapped.

    ***
    ​
    The landing field outside of City-1 was showing some wildflowers, blooming from between the mud. It was also raining. You stood in the rain without even noticing as water streamed down your slicker. Then a loud fomp sounded as a trench umbrella was deployed and fanned over your head. You turned, about to reprimand whoever had done it - trench umbrellas were for only fragile documents that couldn't get wet, not for people - and started in surprise to see the familiar gas mask of 55-95 and, behind him, 7-7. The two other Kriegers looked better than the last time you had seen them, and guilt started to gnaw at your stomach at having left them behind to focus on...on building things.

    As if he could sense your thoughts, Kit murmured in your ear. "As the first of us to...get whatever this is...this...exalted status, I think you deserve the deference."

    "M'lady," 7-7 said, her voice humble and uncertain.

    You felt smaller and more distant than ever. Right now, you wished you could get on Gita, then ride and ride and ride away from here.

    Instead, you watched as the clouds parted. A pair of streaming white plumes cut through it with a distant rumble of thunder, then swelled overhead. Agrav impellers hummed and the mud five hundred meters away started to roil and slosh like water. The wings of the two Thunderhawk gunships - both of them rigged for cargo transport rather than combat - flared out and they skidded the last few hundred meters with a slow humming. The sloshing mud stopped well before it got to you, and you...blinked a few times. They were like Valkyries, yes, but larger. Heavier. And their missile pods and side sponsons had been swapped out for massive cargo containers, which themselves started to lower to the ground with a quiet hum. The mud sloughed away from them as their agrav units almost touched them down, then shut down to let them slump down into the dirt and grime with a wet splash. The gangplanks lowered with a series of hydralic hisses, while Amberly shifted from foot to foot beside you. She had her own umbrella, and her commissar's hat, and her greatcoat, and her laspistol, and her chainsword. She fingered the brim of her hat, trying to stand as tall as she could without actually getting up onto her tip toes.

    You blinked, taking a second glance.

    "Cain, did you put a feather in your hat?"

    "Shut up," she hissed as the first figures appeared on the gangplanks.

    "Cain, are you wearing high heels?"

    "Shhhhutup!"

    The first of his majesty's Angels of Death coming down the gangplank were exactly as you had always imagined them from the illustrated children's books and holovid dramas: Their armor was bright blue and gleaming, and they moved with shocking, fluid grace despite the ceremite armor and synthsteel muscle covering their massive frames. Their helmets glittered and glinted in the raindrops, the water beading and cascading along them as if it didn't wish to stick to their sacred forms. They carried bolters - wrong, wrong, it should be Vulkites, Cavalier models, maybe a D8 or a D9 - and they fanned out to an honor guard formation around the gangplanks. Their armor too was wrong. Too simple. Missing parts. You reached up, trying to find a good way to smack these intrusive thoughts, these memories that weren't your memories out of your head.

    My children. My poor children. Look at how you must work, with tools not fit for the Auxilia's levy conscripts.
    The sensation was almost overpowering. You wanted to cry behind your mask. Instead, you stood up taller as another Ultramarine emerged. He was the Captain that had send the signal ahead of his ship. His helmet had a broad fan spreading from the top, and his armor had gold decorations that marked his rank. He looked around himself, then strode forward to the arrayed Guardsmen who waited and watched. You drew up a bit - and then blinked in shock as he dropped to one knee, bowing his head to you.

    "Don't do that!" you exclaimed. "I-I'm Krieg!"

    He reached up, taking his helmet off. His head was bald, save for a thin strip of gray-white hair that ran along the back of his scalp. Despite kneeling and bowing his head, he was still almost taller than you.

    "It is for you being Krieg that I bow, honorable one," his voice was soft. "You fight, without implant, without armor, without bolter, and often, without hope. And yet, you fight and give your lives - many times so that we Ultramarines might be feted in honor that would better be laid at your feet. It is our way to return what we can to those who have given so much for so very little."

    "T-That's wrong! Don't do that!" The words popped out before you could stop them.

    The Captain chuckled and stood. "I have heard that before as well, from a man I believe was named 12-98," he said, his voice wry. "He was a corporal, and the last of his squad to survive. I remember him, and his men, and will do so until the Emperor sees fit to return me to his side. Now..." He looked down at you from his towering height. "I am Captain Brutus, of the Ultramarines. And my Librarian has...pondered what you have said. He says that there is no known iconography of the, ah, forehead symbol that you displayed in his records. But, also, he sensed no Chaos taint - either on your person or from the world itself. While that is no assurance, it is enough for me to take you at your word - that you have been...chosen, somehow."

    You blushed, hard, with hands, shoulders, and behind your mask. You put your hands behind your back, wondering if this...this Angel himself - who had bowed to you? Bowed to...to Krieg? To your people? Not to your spark of divinity, not to what...what you were, but who you were? You were about to pass out as Brutus continued.

    "We have brought down what are most needed in cities like this - medicae supplies, Chapter Serfs that know to use them with an apothecary leader. We have beacons for landing additional construction materials, and servitors who can assist in their establishment. However there is yet the question of where the Chaos forces have gone. Our navigator claims that a ship did leave this system a few days hence...it could be that our best chance to give chase to the fiend is to leave near immediately."

    Your head was still spinning. Brutus turned to face you and Kit and Amberly. His bald head gleamed in the rain as he stood without worrying. Then he seemed to start. "Oh, forgive me, I do sometimes go on when I'm thinking. What was it you wished to say?"

    "Uh...uh..." you said, brain spluttering.

    ---
    Well?
    [ ] "I'm sorry. About, um...the...the everything."
    [ ] "T-Thanks. I...are all Ultramarines like you?"
    [ ] Splutter incoherently, then go silent
    [ ] "This is Kit! He's my husband. He's also Exalted." (Use Kit to distract the Ultramarine from you)
    [ ] Write In

    ALso...
    [ ] Give chase to the Lord Cartheniax and his foul flock on the Battle Barge - taking all the important people of City-1 with you as adjutants, guides, advisors and assistants.
    [ ] Leave Cartheniax to run - you need to head to the capital of the sub-sector, to make it known what you, Kit and Amberly can do
    [ ] Call a council of everyone together to debate what must be done. You're not the Emperor, you can't give orders to his Angels!
    [ ] Write in


    Health: Fine
    Anima: Glowing
    Willpower: 5/5
    Personal Motes: 13/13 | Peripheral Motes: 28/28 (Committed Motes: 5)
    Limit: 1/10 (Trigger: Being stymied by indulges around her)
    XP: 0 | Solar XP: 2
    Major Projects: 0/5
    SXP: 4 | GXP: 17 | WXP: 6
     
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    • Vect (3.9)
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    • You were almost buzzing with so many thoughts. Pride. Confusion. Shame. Anger. The anger surprised you - you wanted to grab onto Captain Brutus and just...explain to him, lay it out, the theological arguments why he was wrong, wrong, wrong. Kriegers didn't get bowed too. They served! there was just so many supporting pieces of evidence, and you were sure that a properly trained Kreiger theologian could quote verse, scripture and Creed. But you only knew the fundamentals and knew they were right, so...you felt so completely tongue tied by the fact you didn't know the right words. but there was also his...his...his!

    "I'm sorry! This is, uh, driving...driving me crazy I just, just..." You walked around him, then put your hands on your head. "...can I please take a look at your equipment for a short minute?"

    Brutus blinked at you. "My equipment? I, uh, of course-"

    You snatched his bolt pistol off his belt and started to examine it. "Hmm, I could add self deploying stabilization fins...maybe, but the mass production...no, the issue is ammo, could it be replaced with motonic induction, warp manipulation, uhh...Elsewhere...that could be it!" you started to pace back and forth. "Can we still tap that interplexing manifold, though?"

    "She is blessed once more with a sight from the Omnissiah," Kappa said, leaning in to add his two chits to the conversation, while Kit chuckled quietly.

    "Uh, honey, focus?" he asked.

    "Hmm? Oh, right, uh...I-I can't...give...orders..." she said.

    "She says that a lot before giving us a bunch of orders," Kit said, his grin playful.

    "And you are?" Brutus asked - his voice polite, but measured.

    Your entire face went red. "He's Kit!" you said. "A...Cadian."

    "I did notice that," Brutus said, his lips quirking up slightly.

    Kit shifted, then cocked his head. He looked at Brutus and had a very...odd expression on his features. He opened his mouth, and then whispered. "The bastard did it," he said, but...you could see, hear, the other echoing in his head. He was having a memory. A shard of realization. Kit shook his head, then put his hands to his face for a moment. "Forgive me, my lord," he said, falling back on habit and memory. His palms rubbed against his cheeks. "A...striking memory. It's not even a shock...she knew, she had to have known..."

    "What are you talking about?" Brutus asked.

    "Does the name...Erda mean anything to you?" Kit asked, hesitantly.

    Brutus shook his head. "No."

    Kit pursed his lips. "Huh. Well." He slid his hands into his pockets. "That's a story i don't know, then."

    And that was all he said for a while. You blushed and walked forward, figuring you had to make a decision - but you didn't want to just...order people around. What you wanted was everyone to get together and have a discussion. Wait. That was a genius idea. You brightened, and said: "W-We shall have a council! The Adeptus Mechanics, the Guard, the Space Marines, we shall meet and discuss what shall be done."

    "Wisely said," Brutus said.

    "Finally," Amberly said, stepping forward and standing up just a bit taller - coming to the Space Marine's lower torso. "You could have handled the introductions a bit more smoothly than that, 41-22."

    "This is Cain," you said. "She's annoying."

    Brutus chuckled.

    ***
    ​
    Before the council, you and Kit found a quiet room - normally used as a place to hang coats when coming into the refurbished bunker that made up the heart of your growing city. Surrounded by musty great coats, you looked into his eyes and he looked down, pensive. "I saw...a flash," he said, without even needing you to ask. "I was...a woman. But she wasn't just me. Or the part of me that was once something, someone else." He tapped his chest. "She was every part of that me - like...an ant colony, clinging together to survive the floods. Like a fireteam that get bonded in a ceremony, and have the same last name, but more so." He nodded. "Do you understand?"

    You chewed your lower lip.

    And...

    To your shock?

    You did.

    You started to pace. "Okay, imagine...a human soul." You held up your hands. "Two parts, one's the corporeal element that dies and chains us to the materium, and the other is the higher level esoterica soul, similar to the Emperor or other gods - that is tied to the immaterium. One departs this world, the other decays into it, but both are recycled endlessly. The, uh, Mundis Soul we'll call one, it is recycled into the biopsykeinetic energy of the greater ecosystem of the galaxy - even lost in space, the energy will return to a world someday, seeding life on lifeless worlds over billions of years. The Ecstatic Soul, heads into the Warp, where it is cycled and memories are lost, then, back into the human bodies. The lack of a proper oversight by some kind of moderating...entity...that's why there's more psykers! Of course! There has to be, more Ecstatic Souls are returning exposed to warp energies, that's gotta be it!"

    You were almost bouncing off the walls now in excitement. "There has to be a way to test for it! We wait until someone is about to die - natural causes, obviously, say, five, six centuries, or, maybe, we find someone who wants to volunteer. No, that's unethical. Even if we ask, we might ask too well. Can you get someone to want to kill themselves by asking? If they thought you were a god-"

    "Honey," Kit said. "Erda."

    You blinked.

    "Right!" you said, trying to get your brain back on track. "...Erda is to the Emperor as the Emperor is to me. I think."

    Kit frowned, cocking his head.

    "We have two souls! Ecstatic and Mundis," you said.

    "I follow that," he said. "Mostly."

    "But we...have a third soul," you said, interlacing your fingers. "We have...an Exaltation. A shard of power, crafted and forged to find humans that are worthy. The Exaltation provides the ability to directly channel Essence."

    "...psychic powers?" Kit asked.

    "No, think of psychic powers like...like...like...like..." You tried to explain the complicated theomechanical underpinning to the multivarious cosmologies that were exploding in your brain like an artillery barrage. The basic math was simple enough...but every time you started listing out the equations, you realized you'd need to actually teach Kit something like, six years of remedial motonic physics before he'd even get the basic principal. Argh! You started pacing again. "...ah!" You turned back to him. "Imagine there's water."

    "Okay," Kit said.

    "A psyker...is like a bowl," you said. "They can dip into the water, they can carry the water around, they can overflow and break."

    Kit nodded, pursing his lips.

    "If you wanna do anything with the water in the bowl, you need tools. A spoon to stir it. A straw to drink it. A plant to pour it onto," you said. "These tools are learned talents, like, biokinesis and telepathy. Understanding so far?"

    Kit nodded.

    "Okay. Essence is the...the smallest parts of the smallest pieces of the hydrogen in the water," you said.

    "Hydrogen is in...water?" Kit asked, slowly. "I thought it was just water."

    "It is! Hydrogen, and oxygen."

    "Honey, we breath oxygen, how can water drown us then?" Kit said.

    "Actually, we mostly breathe nitrogen! It's really interesting - though, we do need oxygen, about, 20%! Too much oxygen, things get bad. We get sick, fire's more likely, but too much nitrogen, and we also die. It's really fascinating how fragile we humans can be you know. And how tough. We can survive so much pollutants, in aggregate at least. Since, well, if we pass out-"

    "Honey," Kit said, hand on your shoulder.

    Your brain was going again. You flushed. "R-Right. There were a lot of solar exaltations. They combined together to survive a great catastrophy...into the Emperor. I thought it was all of them. But...my memories are so...hazy." Your hands went to your temples. "Everything from before my life...it's like trying to hear through a thick wall. BUt if there was another like the Emperor...Erda...what do you know of her?"

    Kit blushed. "This is going to sound insane," he said.

    "Kit! Hear! Me! My words!" you flailed, trying to gesture at everything you had just said. "I am the crazy sounding one."

    He chuckled. "True, you did just say water is a gas," he said.

    "Steam!" You spluttered.

    "That's different, honey," he said, firmly - but you could see his wry little grin. His face went serious, then. "I remembered...the thing, the overwhelming thought in my head. It was the sensation...of a mother, seeing her children grown up and in a profession she despises. It's seeing her hard work undone, her desperation to save them shattered. It was the most...intense heartbreak I've ever felt." He looked away. "I don't think Erda would be happy to see what the Adeptus Astartes have become."

    You frowned. "But the...Emperor made them. They're his Angels of Death. Right?"

    Kit gave you a sad, uncertain look. "...did he?"

    You both stood in the closet, surrounded by coats, thinking.

    In the silence, a feeling started to bloom, like a candle being lit in the night.

    "I remember Erda," you whispered. "She was my wife. As you are my husband."

    "Luna," Kit said.

    "Sun," you said, back.

    The two of you looked at one another.

    "Then who the hell was the stars?" Kit asked.

    The door to the closet opened and Amberly stuck her head in. "The Council's ready you two! Put your pants on!" she snapped.

    "We didn't take them off!" You exclaimed.

    Amberly snorted, rolled her eyes, then closed the door again.

    Kit grinned down at you. "Next time," he said, ruffling the top of your head. You blushed and started to make a noise like a boiling teakettle.

    ***
    ​
    The Council was made up of your commanding officer, 9-19, Kappa, Kit, Amberly, you, Captain Brutus, and a newly arrived member of the Space Marines: The Librarian, Aurora. You had goggled when her helmet had come off, revealing that she had a rather short buzz cut, a formidable jowl, and...it was strange, she was a very female person, but still was...masculine. How did that work? You had stood there in quiet confusion until Kit had whispered in your ear. "She's butch."

    That explained very little.

    Still, you took your seat at the circular table and the council began. Kit started, which surprised you.

    "I think this planet's safe for now - the population's got food, defenses, and I don't think Chaos is coming back any time soon. We need to get my wife to the capital - she needs manufactorums and laboratories," he said, nodding.

    You blushed and stammered. "Well, I-"

    "Nonsense!" Kappa exclaimed. "The foundries and laboratoria on Trevian Prime aren't worthy of the time of a chosen of the Omnissiah! No, the Natural Magos requires an immediate pilgramage to Mars!"

    "Mars?" Brutus asked. "Would that not take decades?"

    "Only two," Kappa said, levely. "And that's assuming average rates, we can get much faster..."

    "Or much slower," 9-19 muttered, drumming her fingers. "I believe we need to get our orders again - this is technically an army, despite...everything."

    "There's also the matter of the imprisoned space marines," Amberly said.

    "The who?" Brutus asked.

    "I think-" you started.

    Then your tongue stopped moving. You felt like you couldn't move at all. Your entire body was frozen in a kind of...chilled ice. You tensed and tried to move. Then you tried to scream. it didn't work. Your jaw was shut. You weren't tensed though - and the argument was going above and around your head. Kit glanced at you - and he seemed to be mildly concerned. He looked like he was about to try and interrupt everyone, so they'd all listen to what you were saying. But as he opened his mouth to speak...the world started to bleed of its color. The feeling of being trapped grew overwhelming. Your brain was on fire now, prickling and tingling. Then the room around you started to melt into a slurry of grayish glop.

    A bored, tired sounding voice came from your upper right.

    "Is it working yet?"

    "Give me but a moment, oh Master of the Black Heart... I must...calibrate our transmission system." The sneering, squeaky voice that came from your lower left made you want to squirm. You heard/felt something tugging at your sleeve, then your head twisted a bit, cocking to the side. "There we go. I believe the Mon-Keigh can hear me."

    "Very well," the bored voice said. "Mon-Keigh, say something in that...bland grunting you call a language."

    You tried to scream. Instead, what happened was...nothing.

    "No, say it with your mind, don't try and use your neurons for anything else, Mon-Keigh," the sneering voice squeaked at you.

    You wanted to close your eyes. You couldn't. Instead, you thought: Who the hell are you!? Let me GO!

    "Mmm, very good work, Tythen, I may not kill you today." The bored voice sounded a felid, playing with their food. "Now..." A figure stepped around and into your line of sight. They were taller than a human could be, more slender, with pointed chin, pale cheeks, and dark, dark, dark eyes. He was beautiful, but all wrong - from the proportions to the expression. His ears were pointed and he wore a slender black suit of complex armor, covered with long spines and elegant blades. He crooked one leg up, propping it on your thigh as he bent himself almost in half to peer at you. "...tiny thing, aren't you?"

    Xeno!

    "Hmm, observant too," he said, sneering. "I am Asdrubael Vect. You do not know my name. However, I am under the impression that you might be able to solve a problem of mine. You see, there are some...extremely unusual entities that have decided that my home is their home. They're...very Mon-Keigh in that way, but they are not Mon-Keigh. In fact, they appear to be made entirely of warpstuff. Mon-Keigh that are both daemons and not daemons...it was almost fascinating enough that I didn't try to have them skinned alive for their temerity!" He smirked. "Unfortunately, this...self styled Sol Invcitus and his cronies are more trouble than they're worth and I want them delt with. Since beings like yourself are connected to them, I...offer you whatever treasure you wish from my vault, whatever favor you want from my personage to get rid of them."

    I don't want anything from you, you growled.

    His eyes flashed. "If you refuse, I will destroy six hive planets, each with a population of no less than a hundred billion people each."

    I'd like to see you try... you thought back at him. hive worlds were some of the most heavily defended planets in the Imperium - and for good reason too. Their logistic value was beyond belief. Vect smirked at you.

    Then...he explained the exact method, using very simple mathematics, how one might transport a sun from one area to another. A normal human would not have been able to follow it - it would have been a struggle for even the most adept Magos to even begin to grasp what he was talking about. Once he was done, he added: "Do you know what that all means?"

    ...yes.

    Vect actually looked rather put out. He scowled. "Oh?"

    You can...steal suns. You can kill a solar system without even engaging their battlefleets.

    His scowl became a smirk. "I see you recognize why your vaunted defenses do not matter, if we Eldar put our mind to it? Now. Can we put the coordinates into her head?"

    "We simply need stencil it into the transmitter's neural pattern like...so..." There was a whirring sound and...a sensation of screaming. But it wasn't your screaming. You squirmed, and you knew that someone was hurting - even as the information seared into your brain.

    Stop it! Stop it! STOP IT! STO-


    A sword seemed to flash from nowhere and press Vect's throat. His eyes widened and, for a moment, pure shock flashed across his features. He vanished with a crack and the sensation of being trapped in ice vanished. Everyone in the room was gaping at you - and at Amberly, who stood on the table, her sword out and held around where Vect had stood. She scowled. "He's gone!"

    "What is going on!?" Aurora boomed, springing to her feet.

    You gasped and thumped against the table, the ability to move making your entire body feel as if you had been turned to putty. "D...Drukari!" you gasped out, shoving yourself back up. "They're...city! Attack! Gods! The...thing!" You flailed, trying to get the words out. The Council burst into murmurs - but Kit growled at them. Everyone shut up. You closed your eyes. It was not the time to be all...Krieg about this. You started to speak, clearly, firmly. "In the webway of the Eldar Empire, there exists a city. It is currently under attack by...entities that claim to be Gods. Human. Gods. Non-Emperor gods. They're enough of a problem that the leader of this city...is threatening me to help."

    "What kind of threat?" Brutus asked.

    "Multiple hive planets," you said, rubbing your palm against your face.

    "This man can't fight off some daemons," Aurora said, frowning. "And he can destroy Imperial planets?"

    "Easily," you said, rubbing your palm against your face. "Our worlds spin about suns, they need their heat and light to survive, even hive worlds. He can move the suns."

    Brutus nodded, slowly. "There...have been tales of Drukari doing this..." He admitted, quietly. "But I always heard they were rumors."

    "My question is how did the message get here," 9-19 said. "Honorable Libarian, did you..."

    "No," she said, frowning. "It wasn't psychic, or if it was, it was of a psychic power I've never seen before."

    "I could study her brain, see what transpired!" Kappa said, nodding.

    "Urgh," you said, rubbing your temples.

    "Obviously, we must go and slay both sides of this conflict," Amberly said.

    "Or at least find out what's going on," Kit said. "Maybe scope the place out."

    Brutus frowned and rubbed his jaw. "We Ultramarines have some contacts with several of the craftworld Eldar - while we have fought many times, there to exists many examples of cooperation between humanity and Eldar. The campaign of Gabriel Angelos, or General Sturn..." He shook his head. "They might know more about the dangers and potential of this mission."

    You frowned, hard. The transmission system...if it hadn't been psychic, how it had been transmitted. Direct neural stimulation at range, utilizing some kind of human template?

    A template that had screamed.

    ---
    What do!?

    [ ] Head to Vect using the coordinates (Openly)
    [ ] Head to Vect using the coordinates (Sneaky)
    [ ] Take up Brutus' offer - find Craftworlders to ask.
    [ ] Write In

    Health: Fine
    Anima: Glowing
    Willpower: 5/5
    Personal Motes: 13/13 | Peripheral Motes: 28/28 (Committed Motes: 5)
    Limit: 1/10 (Trigger: Being stymied by indulges around her)
    XP: 0 | Solar XP: 2
    Major Projects: 0/5
    SXP: 4 | GXP: 17 | WXP: 6

    Int+Occult roll, diff 5! ...you got 8s

    Willpower vs Diff 5: 3s!? Not enough????

    Int+Lore vss Diff 6! 8s! AGAIN!
     
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