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

[DragonCobolt]

The cheering subsided - and everyone looked at you. The Magos' eyes shone with excitement - though you saw, also, some confusion. You gulped, then shifted on Kit's shoulder. You wondered why they all accepted him so easily. He was a eight foot tall beastman abhuman right now. Maybe they were too tired. Maybe there was something so compelling about his flowery language. Maybe it was just...the energy in the air. It crackled in your mind as you shifted, then got your boots under you. You stood on his shoulder, and everyone tensed, readying.

"You!" you said, pointing at a Cadian NCO. "I need five parallel trenches dug, a meter wide, ten meters long! Use your lasguns to melt the synthsand bags - setting two on constant fire ought to do it. Use those to plug your powerpacks into that." Your thrust your fingers again and again.

The NCO looked at the plasma generatoria you had gestured. He started to jog off.

"That's not-" a tech-priest started to speak.

"The adapters will work well enough! You! You!" you thrust your finger at the tech-priest and his fellow votivite. "Those trenches are going to be used for some large scale, basic smelting projects - nothing too pure will be required for it, but for the macrocircuitry, I need something with a purity of a...oh, uh..." You considered. "Six on the Lanesten-Makk Hagiographic Technosavantry Scale."

"A six!?" The tech-priest you had pointed asked. "With what, we're in artillery support."

You frowned. "Kit. Snap that in half."

You pointed at one of the earthshakers.

He shrugged, then picked you up by putting a paw around your entire waist (don't think about that don't think about that don't think about that) and then set you down next to him. He rolled his shoulders, shifted on his hind paws, bouncing a bit. You noticed that here and now he had somehow contrived to shift his leggings so they bulged around his lips like...very...tight shorts. You started doing math and looked away as he lifted a paw, clenched it into a fist, and punched the earthshaker barrel in half. It fell and as it fell, you slashed out with your own palm - feeling the vibrations in the metal. You caught them and twisted them with a tiny pulse of your fingers through your glove.

The barrel, already somewhat corroded by use, exploded into a thousand fragments. You let the impure ones zip away, some thudding into the mud, some whining past shocked heads. The ones that were suited to your purpose, you yanked from the air, arms blurring. You smashed them together in your hand, clenching your fist. Forge heat blazed as your anima flared, your caste mark blazing on your brow. You dragged the molten metal out into a haft, snatched a discarded auspex, shattered it and rebuilt it, then tied them all together with wire. Your palm swept, passing over it all to leave a perfectly balanced grav-smithy.

You tossed it to the shocked priest.

"That will do," you said, firmly. "Now! I want every scrap of metal, every shard of glass we can have!"

The entire army burst into motion.

The trenches were dug and lined. The spare metal was smelted down, and you got to work. Your gloves burned away and sparks danced along your trench coat, burning holes through it as you focused on purely the work - drawing forth the metal with your bare hands, forging it into chain links, planes, shapes. You tossed off orders - giving specifications down to the smallest decibel if needed, and the Magos and the priests followed you, working their fingers to the brass and the bone. Kit was always by your side, his vast strength somehow filling you with the energy to work and work, despite your aching bones and throbbing joints.

You cast the vast lenses in pits dug in the mud, and sparks flew into the gathering darkness. The thin shell of men around your trenchlines kept watch for enemies - but the shuttles flew into the belly of the great beast you hoped to slay, tiny pinpricks of brilliant light. And all the time, you held the shape of the lance in your mind. It was built into the hill itself, the barrel forming in a few hours, banded into place with chain and steel. The generatoria were expanded, then plugged in as you reached in to grip the condensed hydro-fuel and through a single spark of divine focus, caused them to fuse and yanked your hand back, palm smoking and hissing, face bathed in blue-white glows before you slammed the lids shut and let the generatoria flare and throb with their heat.

Dawn, at last, came, as the flames around you sputtered out and you wobbled, sagged, then fell backwards into Kit's arms.

"You've done enough, 41," he murmured.

"T-There's still calibrations we need doing..." You mumbled under your breath.

His arms snaked around you as the whole world seemed to war - dark and light. The darkness was your eyes closing, the light was the sun rising.

...how had you gotten so tired?

"Mm...warm..."

You muttered softly.

"Remember, um, the lance...mm, pulls left slightly...motonic frequencies should be...nine eight...something..."

***
​

Kit knelt beside the bed, and watched as the slender Krieger slept.

He shook his head slowly.

"How can someone so small..."

HHGNNNGKK...SNZZsshhhh...

HG...GL...GUGK...ZZZHGNN...

"...snore so...frakking loud," he muttered, his teeth flashing in a wry smile. His paw reached down - hovered over her mask. Then he simply adjusted it, to lay more comfortably, before drawing a blanket over her body. He stepped outside, while 41-22 slept. Once he was outside, the tech-priests all remained, their faces concerned. Or, at least, they smelled concerned.

"Is she-" one of them started.

"The Natural Magos, she was exposed to more radiation flux than any mortal could ever survive!" Kappa said, his voice concerned, his hands wringing. "The Omnisiah...has...has she sacrificed herself, as J.E-201 did in the fires of Pyrwenn?"

"No!" Kit said, crossing his arms over his chest, his voice harsher than such sillness required. But the idea of 41 being in danger squeezed his heart and twisted his soul. He forced himself to calm. "She just needs rest."

"We shall get every Magos Biologis here, to ensure-" Kappa started.

"She just needs rest. And maybe kaff once she's awake," Kit said, nodding. "Prepare to fire the gun."

"Lance."

"Whatever," Kit said, rolling his eyes.

Tech-Priests.

***
​

The rain was pouring onto your head in sheeting masses. You clutched the spear to your chest - slender and tipped with moonsilver. The rain felt odd...and you realized, to your horror, it was cascading down a face without a mask. You looked around, wildly. YOu were in a vast dark forest - next to a road, with a road maker on it. The sign was not in Low Gothic - but it clearly read to you.

LOOKSHY
41 Leagues
North

In the vast distance, you could see embers drifting into the sky from a holocaust, just over the horizon.

A horse stood beside you - bare faced, hooved, but she had the same pale white fur as Gitta. Her nose bumped against your shoulder and you felt Gitta's familiar assertiveness. "I-I don't know either-" you said, quietly.

A horse came down the road. A man clung to its back, dressed with a metal breastplate, a short sword at his hip. He saw you and pulled back, hard. His horse skidded slightly in the pouring rain, rearing and kicking. As he settled, he called down. "At last! Ten fangs have been sent, searching for you my lady!" he exclaimed. "You must return - the news..." He looked grave. "T-The Commander bids me to tell you - the enemy general...she...she's..." He licked his lips.

"W-What?" you asked.

"She's the Roseblack," he said.

"...what!?" you asked, even more confused.

"I don't know why either, but it- oh hells!" He snapped his head around. "They're coming!"

Screeching sounds in the air. Laughter on the wind. Dark shapes overhead.

"My lady! Fly! I will hold them off!" the man drew his blade - and it flashed green. Swirling light glowed around him. "Go! Now!"

You swung onto Gitta, heart hammering.

"For the Realm! For the Empress!" the man shouted, swirling his sword around him. The trees themselves seemed to bend to his will and the rain exploded away from him with a flash. Rose petals bloomed and you kneed Gitta into motion, rushing away, leaving behind his crackling anima banner. You looked back - and saw shapes, unspeakable and vile, dropping from the sky, cackling and laughing. Then Gitta rounded a bend to the north, and you saw nothing but driving rain.

A shadow crept after you as you rode.

It laughed and laughed and laughed - slithering, snakelike and swift.

Your dreams cannot chain me...

You have returned as a spark.

But I am free! Mars burns and I am free!

The laughter chased you and chased you - and you jerked upright, gasping, heart hammering. Your hands were numb and your chest throbbed. Your gas mask felt like it was choking you.

---
[ ] Rip it off.
[ ] Stay calm. Stay calm. Breathe carefully. Slowly.
[ ] Scream for Kit.
[ ] Write In



STATS
Health: Fine
Anima: Dim
Willpower: 5/5
Personal Motes: 13/13 | Peripheral Motes: 28/28
Limit: 1/10 (Trigger: Being stymied by indulges around her)
XP: 2 | Solar XP: 4
Major Projects: 0/5
SXP: 46 | GXP: 15 | WXP: 3

Spoiler: Rolls!

For completing a project at all, you earn 3 WXP and 4 GXP for doing it with one roll left (you'd have gotten 4 more per each interval left.) Then your charms also trigger, giving you +3 SPX and +1 GXP for completing the basic objectives.

...also, you get SXP for every 10 you rolled up to Essence x3, so +6 SXP for all your crafting rolls!

 

[DragonCobolt]

You looked around the tent you had been placed in - by Kit? - and saw you were alone. There was a thin, wan light coming through the tent flaps. You were alone. You wished that you had a proper ablution chamber for sanctification, or better yet, blackout curtains so you could be in true darkness - the risk of seeing your own face was...fairly minimal. You reached up, fingers trembling. Your gloves were gone. Your fingers found the catches and you popped them, one by one. You felt the faint slurp noise as the connection seal around your face came free and you wriggled your nose, feeling the strange sensation of non-pressure. It was, oddly, like someone had mashed something against your face. You breathed slowly, then started to clean the mask in the darkness. Even if you had no blackout curtain, you could close your eyes.

The mask was clean.

Your heart was slowing.

What am I?

A Twilight Caste.

What the frak is that!?

The Descending Suns, Children of Twilight, Copper Spiders, Arrows of Heaven, Solar Lightning, Heavenly Lamps...

Not helping, brain.

You frowned and focused.

And a story began to come to your mind. It was a story you'd heard so many times - and yet, never before in your life. Once, before there was Earth, before there was Fire, before there was Water, before there was Wood, there was the Warp. No. That was wrong. Your brow furrowed. There was the Wyld.

No...

There was the Warp.

There was the Wyld.

There was one and the same. Boundless. Infinite Chaos, pure creation, raw and unfiltered.

Then there were things in that vastness. Terrible things. Mighty things. And from the Chaos, they drew forth Order. They fashioned the Gods and the spirits, the Eldar and the Elementals, the Dragon Kings, the Old Ones, the Enslavers, the C'Tan, the Necrontyr, the races of Men. They fashioned them all. Then they took their repose in Heaven.

And the Gods wished...

They wished to have it all...

Your hands went to your temples. You swore you could see Mars herself - and felt a kindship with that rust red world, that forge covered paradise of knowledge. But no...

You weren't seeing Mars. You were seeing something else. Something older and vaster. Something Mars echoed, wishing to recall...

A name. Almost to your lips.

"...Autocthon," you breathed out in the darkness. Your eyes opened and you frowned. The story went on - clear in your mind, like it had been calligraphied. The primoridal Autocthon, the Great Craftsman, yearned more than any other to see his brothers and sisters brought low. And so, when the Gods plotted and schemed, he went to them and fashioned for them weapons. Those weapons slew half of the number of the Primordials - and the other half surrendered and were locked away. Thus, the First Age dawned.

But then...nothing but darkness and questions. Flashes of memories. There had been a First Age, then a Second. And now...a Third?

A dying age. The Age of Dwindling Stars. The Final Age, before all is night and chaos again - and the world sinks into an eternal nothing, for even the Primordials that birthed Creation herself are dying.

You shuddered.

Scuffing sounds came at the tent, jerking your attention to the here and the now. Not aeon's past. You pressed mask to face, strapping it hurriedly. "J-Ju...Ju...Just a moment!" You stammered.

"Take as long as you need."

Kit was outside. Your body felt warm, remembering his easy strength. You forced yourself to your feet and turned to the tent flap as it opened and Kit stood there. He was all...human. His features, unreadably strange as ever, did show you teeth. YOu were pretty sure that meant he was smiling. Why couldn't he use his shoulders and head like a normal person. But you had to admit...you did like his eyes.

"Glad to see you're up," he said. "Sleep well?"

"...yeah," you said. "No dreams."

You stepped out and he let the tent flap lower behind you. You looked around - and then started when you saw that the sun shone down and the Space Marine voidship was nowhere to be seen. You thrust your finger at it. "Where is it!?" You exclaimed. "What happened? How did- did...did....did I..." you trailed off, then looked from Kit to the tent, to the lance, to Kit again.

"It worked great," he said, casually. "They ran off into space. The Magos says their drive plume is jetting out of orbital range - they're scared of getting shot again."

"D-Did that mean we won?" you asked, nonplussed.

"There's still all their traitors on the ground, the generals we have locked up, our space transport is splattered across the orbital lanes, this planet isn't survivable long term, and however many Chaos Space Marines they still have on the surface. Also, um, I think half the tech-priests want to dissect your brain."

You stood perfectly still. "I slept through a lance battery going off?" you asked.

Kit nodded.

"How long have I been out?" you asked.

"Two days," he said.

"Two days!?" you spluttered.

Kit nodded. "I figured you needed sleep. You smelled healthy enough." He grinned. "One nice trick I've learned - only smelling the important stuff. And the good stuff." He pointed at the fleshy nob that you knew you shared under your nice and proper mask. You sighed then resisted the urge to lean against him.

"Well...thanks," you said.

"For what?" Kit asked.

"For letting me not take the spotlight. M-My place is to serve, not to ...to lead and take command...I hate doing that..." You sighed. "I just had too or we'd all die pointlessly."

Kit nodded. "Hungry?"

You considered. There was a mild pain your belly, and a faint growl. "Not really," you said.

"...I can hear you grumbling right now," Kit said.

"W-Well, I've trained for going a week," you said.

"You've trained for that?" Kit asked.

"I-I once made gold star, in private, of course, in my creche class for going longest between rations," you said. "The more you can go without, the better you can go forward!"

"Oh my God-Emperor, that's why you're so tiny," Kit said, pinching the "bridge" of his nose, if you remembered the word right.

"W-What?" you asked.

Then you squeaked as Kit threw an arm around your waist and slung your entire body over his shoulder. You yelped and kicked. "Put me down! I'm your Solar Wife! You are my Lunar mate! Unhand me at once! By Sol Invictus, unhand me!" The words popped out of your mouth without even a single moment of hesitation. Kit walked towards the western edge of the camp, boots crunching.

"Yes dear, of course dear, right away dear..." he said, and by the Emperor, he sounded amused.

The mess was running on corpse starch and ration bars - but several Guardsmen were hard at work doing their best to improve it - and when Kit sat you down before a table, half a dozen guardsmen hurried away to give you two space. Then, worse, they came back. "Here, m'lady," one said, handing you a spice packet that he had clearly kept stashed away. "Here you are, m'lady!" A kaff cup was put before you. "For you, m'lady!" Some fresh veggies rooked out of who knows where were laid before you. Before you knew it, you had a veritable nobelman's feast laid before you: Fresh veggies, corpse starch soup, two rat bars that had been spiced, a single chocolate bar, a cup of fresh-ish kaff that was half chicokra, all of it laid before you by fellow soldiers who bowed and scraped to you, despite your stammered 'uh!' and 'ah, but-' and 'wait, I!' and muffled 'merde!'s.

Kit, the brute, was laughing the entire way through.

"T-This is so improper!" you said, furiously. "I'm...I'm Krieg!"

"Even we Cadians accept fame when we've earned it - and you have earned it."

"I haven't done anything special," you said, stubbornly. Well. Kriegers were made for stubborn. The Siege of Vraks had taken seventeen years because Krieg hadn't given up, and you weren't going to give this up. You were 41-22, no more. No less. You picked up a spoon, pushing the corpse starch around in circles. Quietly, you muttered. "D-Do...the generals have astropaths?"

"Apparently, they all died shortly before, well...us," Kit said.

You frowned behind your mask. At least news about you wouldn't travel too far.

"The big issues I see right now are all the civvies. I..." Kit paused. "Shit, I think most of them just joined the Word Bearers because Lord Dipshit..." He jerked his chin in the direction of the brig-bunker. An Imperial Guard banner still flew over over it - the people here were still Guardsmen, even if they followed you. "...dropped the sky on them."

"Why would that make them become traitors?" you asked, confused.

"41..." Kit paused, then looked at you with those gorgeous eyes of his. "Most people don't want to die."

You were quiet for a moment. "...when my comrade, 7-7, was wounded...do you know what she said?"
Kit shook his head.

"Not yet," you whispered. "We Kreigers don't want to die either. We want to die...for something. A-And the orbital drop did wipe out a good half of the Chaos attacking force."

"And gave them the planet," Kit said, quietly.

Stir. Stir. Stir. You watched the greenish corpse starch swirling through your portholes.

"How, um, do you plan to eat that?" Kit asked.

You blushed. "W-We're, um, supposed to..." You patted your vest, then grumbled. "Supposed to have our meal masks. We change between meal shifts in privacy."

"Wait, Kreigers have more than one mask?" Kit asked, surprised.

"Of course!" you said. "We're not like Cadians! We don't all just wear that same damn flak pattern that seems to be in half the galaxy these days. We have many masks, for many purposes." you lifted your chin, affronted.

Kit cocked his head. "Cadians wear...we wear other clothes, 41."

Your cheeks burned. "W-Well, I...I'll just...um..." you paused, looking at the bowl and meal.

---
[ ] "I'm not hungry! Let us go and plan our next step! The generals, I think..."
[ ] "I'm not hungry! Let us go and plan our next step! The surviving enemy, I think..."
[ ] "I'm not hungry! Let us go and plan our next step! A way off planet, I think..."
[ ] "I will eat in my tent! You can stay here."
[ ] "We'll eat in our tent."
[ ] "Well, I, uh...um...ah...uh..." (Freeze as Kit slowly takes your mask off)
[ ] 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: 2 | Solar XP: 4
Major Projects: 0/5
SXP: 46 | GXP: 15 | WXP: 3

 

[DragonCobolt]

"We'll eat in our tent!" you said, snatching the bowl up, standing and walking off before anyone could say anything. Your boots crunched in the mud as you walked forward, your lips quirking up slightly in a smile. A clever way to eat and also, not have to...to...to...

We'll eat in our tent.

You slowed.

We'll eat.

You stopped.

We'll.

Your eyes widened as you stood before your tent.

We'll. Our.

You slowly turned around...and saw Kit was standing there, right next to your tent. His lips quirked up on the right side, making his eyes crinkle in a way that was positively masklike in how much emotional information it conveyed. His hand reached down, took hold of the tent flap, then swung it up and gestured with his other hand. "M'lady," he said.

"Oh shut up..." you muttered and, to your immense pleasure, Kit laughed. Annoyance. You meant annoyance. You were not smiling.

You settled onto the bedroll as the tentflap swept down and the tent dimmed down. Kit sat across from you, somehow moving like a cat despite having legs and arms and no fur. His eyes glinted in the darkness - bright as signal mirrors catching the light. "Do...you need it to be darker?" he asked, quietly.

Your cheeks burned. "Y-Yeah. People can't...see my face. It's..." you looked down. "We don't deserve it."

He reached out and tugged the tent flap down some more, thumbing the seals shut. The darkness was near absolute - he was just a faint, gray-blue blob in the darkness. You gulped slightly, and your cheeks tingled. You paused, then whispered.

"...can you see me? "

"Yeah." His voice was soft.

You looked away.

"But I won't," he said. Then, shyly, you heard him stammer out: "I-I mean, I...I could see you, if I wanted. But I won't. Because you don't want me too."

You looked down at where you were pretty sure the bowl was. Your bare hands cupped the bowl, making sure of it. The warmth of the corpse starch throbbed into your hand, the same temperature as your face right now. "Thank you," you whispered. Your fingers slowly reached up, fumbling at the catches like you were a child. Somehow, it took you three tries to undo the chin-locks, and even once the mask was loosened, you froze and couldn't...quite bring yourself to pull it all the way off. Kit's eyes were not quite as bright as they had been, but you could still see them glittering in the darkness - two amethyst pinpricks in a shape you could barely distinguish. And yet, part of you felt like if you were asked to draw a schematic of him, you could get every part of his features perfect, down to the smallest wrinkle and most insignificant pore. Your throat worked as you squared your shoulders, then finally...you took your mask off.

The pressure of freedom caressed your cheeks as you took a clear breath again - the second time today.

It was rich with the smell of food - and of Kit.

You set the mask aside.

Then, you started to eat. The spoon found your lips in the darkness and you slurped and drank and licked the food with the desperate need of someone who hadn't trained in abstinence for nearly long enough. It was embarrassing how easy it was to want food, to be hungry. But...frak it. Kit had already forced the issue. As you ate, you heard him shift slightly in his seat. When the bowl was empty and you were licking nothing but spare metal, he said: "You really wear this all day?"

You froze. "...are you...holding my mask?"

"Oh. Uh. Is that taboo?" he asked.

Only bonded people do that! Your brain screamed. It's the ultimate sign of trust and affection!

"N-No, uh, it's normal, d-do it all the time!" you lied.

"It's...beautifully mate, actually." His fingers were touching where only your face had touched. You swore you could feel him touching the contours of your face. "More comfortable than I'd think - this seal feels like you can wear it all day."

"T-Thanks."

Silence hung between you. You could feel a faint motion - then a pause. Your nose twitched. You had that tingling feeling of almost contact. Then...

"...damn it all, Kit, what is wrong with you..." He whispered, so soft you almost didn't hear him. The mask slapped your chest - he had tossed it back to you. "I-I'm sorry, you're just...I'm just-"

"What?" you asked, clutching your mask to your chest, holding it close, but not quite putting it on.

Kit's eyes were closed. "I-I think you should put your mask on. Or else..."

"Or else?" you asked, tingling with excitement.

"Or else I'm...going to kiss you."

Your entire face was on fire. You remained sitting on the bedroll, legs crossed. Your jacket felt several sizes too large and your flak vest felt several sizes too tight. Your lungs were finding no air, and your heart was trying to pump too much blood. Your temples thundered and your ears roared and you opened your mouth and closed it, trying to find words. Somehow, you could tell a Magos exactly how to build an inverted phase mirror or a gravitine motonic culverat...but right now, you couldn't say no or yes - and both words jammed up.

Though...

It was less yes and no.

More... yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyes and ...no...

Which was the problem. Why was it so yes? You barely knew him.

But everything you do know about him makes you feel warm inside...

You'd only just met.

You'd been through war together....

You didn't know him.

That only meant there was so much to learn...

You'd never been kissed.

You've always wanted to learn...

Instead, what popped out of your mouth was: "Wait, Cadians kiss?"

Kit snorted. "I was gonna start explaining what kissing was if you sat there quietly anymore, blushing."

"H-Hey you said you can't see me!" You said, setting your mask aside.

"I can smell it on you."

Your entire face went red. How much of you could he smell? Why was that idea so...tingling? You tried to control your expression and scowled at him. "A-And how dare you, we Kreigers know what kissing is. You just...rub your masks together. You know. Filter to filter."

"We do it a little different."

"Oh yeah?" you asked.

Kit's hand touched your cheek, a sudden blooming warmth. Contact. You froze - feeling those roughly calloused fingers brushing along your skin. Some cradled the curve of your jaw, but his trigger finger brushed the softness of your earlobe, then circled up and around. He tilted your head ever so slightly, cradling it in his hand. He paused, his breath warm on your lips.

"Are we doing this?" he whispered.

"...yeah..." you whispered back, too drunk on the touching and the warm scent of his breath on your lips to think beyond the next second. Your skin burned and your clothing felt too tight. "Yeah we are."

And you leaned in and kissed him.

Your lips missed and hit his chin.

Spoiler: Sex Scene Spoilers!

Kit and 41 make love for the first time. It's 4,000 words long. Welcome to Exalted, baybeeeee!

Spoiler: Sex Scene!

He chuckled, grabbed onto your hair, fingers sinking against your scalp, tugged your head back, and kissed you on the mouth.

His tongue and yours touched and you moaned into mouth. His contact was warm and fierce, and overpowering. Your hands flailed, found his hips, and grabbed on as he leaned in and kissed and kissed and kissed. He even kissed like a tyger - fast, feral, eager. His teeth dragged on your lower lip - and you groaned aloud as his lips moved off your lips. He kissed along your face in the dark, planting one kiss over one closed eye, over the other, then on your forehead. His voice was husky as he whispered. "41..." You'd never heard two numbers, assigned at...at...pure random, just to signify a disposable soldier, ever given such feral want. Your cheeks burned and you shook your head. This was wrong. Kreigers who found a designated alternate had found a death-partner, someone to wile away the days, to keep watch for hesitation and recalcitrance. The dream was to die with your alternate, side by side, in glorious battle. But every kiss that Kit pressed to your blazing-hot skin was a promise.

Life.

Life.

Life.

It was sinful. It was wrong.

You gasped as his hand grabbed onto the collar of your flack vest and he ripped the whole thing off you like it was tissue paper - though, in truth, only the straps broke, stinging against your undershirt. "H-Hey!" you squeaked.

"You can fix it..." He was grinning. You could feel his teeth, you could feel his fingers, undoing button after button. Oh.

Oh he was...he was...

Oh.

Your cheeks burned and you gasped as bare air hit your chest. Your nipples. Your belly. You were achingly hard. Your head turned aside as his fingers caressed your belly, feeling the lines of your muscles, circling the smoothness. He paused. "You have a belly button?" he murmured, softly. Your shoulders rolled almost despite yourself - and your great coat slithered off your arms, puddling behind you. The warmth of the tent air brushed your shoulders and your back started tingling. You blushed and murmured.

"...why wouldn't I?"

"W-Well, just-"

"The replicators still use...ahhh!" You gasped.

He had decided to cover for the faux pass by...by...

Kissing...

Oh...

His lips closed around your nipple. And he sucked. The pressure. The warmth. The heat of it. Your eyes half closed in the darkness and you arched your back, moaning so loudly you had to clap your hand over your mouth - no Krieger was ever supposed to make that noise. Kit's grip on you shifted, then pushed - and you found yourself pinned onto the bedroll. He was atop you and your right arm was over your head, leaving your lips uncovered. He didn't kiss your lips, though. He licked your neck. Nibbled. Bit. The noise you made at that was so unregulation. You squirmed and tried to bite back your own mewling, but you couldn't. Instead...you gasped out. "K-Kit, Kit, Kit!"

"Hmmm?"

He drew back.

"...can you..." you hesitated.

Go slower.

Go faster.

Go harder.

Go softer.

"...be a tyger?"

WHAT!? It was like a daemon had possessed you for a second - and brought out the thing you had kept locked up so tightly that you had been sure it would never escape. But now that it was out, you couldn't stop yourself thinking of his size and his exotic fur and his...God-Emperor forgive you, his balls. Your brain had hooked on those and you were trying to not think about them, but...but they were so...so...

Then the mechanics of them filled your brain - knowledge, blooming into your head, unwanted, unbidden...delicious.

Those balls were where his seed came from. Men used that to...to breed...but no, no, no, men weren't meant to fertilize women with those. The proper way was clean, sterile. In a nice uterine replicator.

And yet, they were built for that. They were made for that. They were so obviously procreative and that was so...so wrong! Women weren't meant to spend months heavy and unable to fight, they weren't meant to risk their lives in somewhere as stupid as a birthing bed. They were meant to die on the battlefield. Medica were for fixing shrapnel wounds, damn it. But you couldn't stop thinking about those heavy, swaying balls and what they meant and how they'd feel in your hand, on your face, licking them-

"Oh God-Emperor, I'm a pervert!" You squeaked, while Kit chuckled.

He didn't say as you wish. Or sure. Or yeah. Or anything.

He simply changed. And when he changed, a silvery fire bloomed on his body - and you could see clearly, eyes stinging slightly in the light. His caste mark - shifted now to a different shape than it had been before, a circle overlapping a circle - throbbed on his brow as the pale white-silver hue of the flame showed those massive, broad shoulders, the slabs of muscle, the paws so big that they could encircle your entire waist and touch claw-tip to claw-tip, the arms like lightposts, the belly that was so soft and luxuriantly furry, the heavy pale white-furred balls that swung between his thighs, the sheath that concealed his exotic, bestial cock...and the bright red tip as it started to harden more and more and more. Your eyes widened - and you realized he could see you now.

Those purple eyes of his, bright and slitted, looked down at you, and softened.

His cock hung low, and dripped a warm line of his pre-cum onto your belly, sizzling hot. You remained still.

"You...are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life..." he whispered, sounding as if he had been struck by a stun grenade.

His eyes traveled along your body - along your petite breasts, your flat chest, your thighs. He hesitated, then touched the Aquilla that spread above the soft folds of your sex.

"I-It's a birthmark," you mumbled.

"W-Where's your hair?" He asked.

"Oh, that's been engineered out, causes too much issues with the clothing requirements, the contamina-hahhh!" You gasped as his thick finger thrust, gently, between the folds of your cunt. Your back arched and you grabbed onto the bedroll, shame and joy blazing in you. He could see you. He could see you. The flat tip of his finger concealed the claw-tip, and the dangerous thrill of that as he pushed up to the first knuckle, almost made you quiver to completion then and there. Your teeth bit your lip and you tried to control yourself, but then Kit growled. His left paw planted itself beside your head and he thrust his finger fully into you and found a spot inside your cunny that made your eyes widen. Your back arched and you cried out in purest bliss as your sex clenched around him, like a fist. Your hips bucked and bucked, and bucked again.

"Kit!" You gasped out. "Oh...oh god-emperor, I'm...ah...I'm sorry!"

He grinned down at you, muzzle showing teeth. "What for?"

"I-I...I came so fast!" you stammered.

"...and?" he cocked his head.

"Y-You didn't cum at all!" you said, nervously.

His eyes sparkled. "41, women can cum many times without needing a break."

You blinked, sweat beading on your skin - catching the silvery light of his anima.

"...really?" you asked, shocked.

"I intend to prove it."

His finger slid free of your cunt. You let out a little squeak, then blushed, watching with wide eyes as he licked his finger with a rough, textured tongue. His eyes sparkled and his ears twitched up. He grinned toothily. "Delicious. You know, I haven't broken my fast yet either, 41."

"W-What...what does that-" his paws cupped your ass, lifting you up, your shoulders pressed against the bedroll. You squeaked. "-mean!?"

His nose, soft and wet, pressed to your clit. his mouth opened. His warm breath swept along the folds of your sex and your sensitive skin tingled like you were being run by a low powered shockstick. Your toes curled and you gasped in - and then moaned in pure bliss as his tongue swept along your pussy. He licked from base to top, then from top to base, then thrust his tongue into your cunt. The texture of him, the warmth of him, the skill that he used. It was too much. Your hands scrabbled, found sheets, bedroll, anything to grip onto, and you squeezed with a desperate white knuckle. He licked and kissed, then kissed and licked, then groaned and shifted his mouth up and kissed the aquilla spreading above your cunt, then went back to feasting on your sex. And the pleasure inside you built, swept up, overwhelmed you. You cried out, so loud you were sure you were going hoarse - and came.

And came.

And came.

Your juices dripped down around his muzzle as his other paw reached down and he actually lifted you bodily up, angling you down. Your thighs snaked around his neck and shoulders, ankle hooking over ankle. You bucked your hips against his muzzle as the massive beastman held you, and ate your pussy like there was nothing else in the world - and the pleasure actually reached such a level that it nearly hurt. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and you sobbed. "E...Enough! Oh! God! You're driving me insane!"

And...

He kept eating you out.

White bliss exploded through your eyes and your back arched, a strangled noise barely escaping your lips as your spine arched.

Finally, Kit drew his mouth away. He laid you down as you trembled and quivered, your legs still bucking up, your knees half bent, your toes curling, your back twitching. "O...Oh...oh...oh..." you gasped the words out as your heart thundered in your head. Dazedly: Is this what sex is for Cadians? How do they ever fight a war?

"Heh," he said. "You know, this is a lot easier without everyone providing the ball-counting."

"Ball...count?" you mumbled.

He laid next to you, then rolled and tugged. You found yourself sprawled in the vastest, most luxurious, most warm, most deliciously firm cushion you had ever been on in your life. After twenty some years of subjective sleeping on regulation mats, it was as if you had suddenly learned that clouds, rather than being water vapor, were actually capable of love. Your face mashed into white and black fur, burrowing in, as a paw so big that it covered your entire shoulder blades swept along your back.

"Well, yeah, you know, how many times they slap," he said, sounding amused.

You blinked.

"You have sex in public!?" you asked.

"No!" He said, shocked. "In the barracks. And only the real cads will actually watch, ball-counting is more of a pornolith invention, ya know, for entertainment. Heh. I'm guessing you Kriegers don't even touch yourself in the showers..."

"They're only six minuets long, by regulation, there's no time!" you said, hurriedly, trying to come to grips.

"So, when do you touch yourselves?" he asked, grinning. His paw was brushing along your ass.

"K-Kit!"

"Hey, we're married now," he said, casually. "I'd like to know."

You flushed, then buried your face against his fur more. Softly, you mumbled. "...solitary sentry duty for the men, it's their curse."

"On duty?" He asked.

"N-No, no, no!" you scrambled - planting your hands on his broad, broad chest and pushing, so you were looking down at him. he was looking at your face. Your bare face. And it was so natural, you had almost forgotten it was happening. God-Emperor, what was wrong with you. But you had to defend Krieg first. "S-See, They rotate solitary sentry in a safe zone, um, and they get to be alone and...it's not...not actual sentry...they get twenty minutes."

Kit blinked up at you. "You have regs on it?"

"R-Reg 422-112-2A," you said, nodding. "Doesn't everyone?"

"Wait, you say they. And men."

"Well, yeah, women don't touch themselves!" you said, chuckling. "Men can't help themselves, it's their curse! We're blessed and they're cursed - we bleed for the Emperor every month. Well, we do until we get the contraceptive implants. That's our sacrifice - we surrender the monthly pain that we offer up to the Emperor f-for security in case we...um...find a designated alternate."

He blinked at you slowly.

"...I enjoyed your tongue a great deal," you said, shyly.

Kit was shaking his head. His grin was wry. "You all need to speak to a Chaplin, holy hell. You have some serious issues."

"Hurmph! So says the ball counter!" You looked back. He was still...hard. And...huge. And...

You licked your lips. You laid on your belly again - inverted from him, your toes almost touching his face as you crawled forward along his broad expanse. On your belly, looking up, his dick was even bigger. It was impossibly huge. And god-emperor, if you didn't love it. His member wasn't exactly human either. He was red and covered with small little nubs. They had a kind of feral appeal to them, and you leaned in, nosing at him gently, breathing in his scent.

"Man, I just realized how...heh, weird it is to be with a girl on her own the first time," Kit was saying. You detected a faint sense of nervousness -was he afraid you'd be repelled by his dick in this form. Your hand reached out and you tried to grip him. He filled your palm and your fingers didn't even show on the far side. Good God Emperor, you thought. Well, he had licked you. You gulped, then slowly slid your tongue along those little nubs, feeling them shift against your tongue. Kit tensed, and whispered softly. "F-Fuck. A-Anyway, uh, it's...it's just...you're sure you've never been with anyone? Cause, we kids, back on Cadia, we were in the youth fireteams, never did anything alone, so the first girl I was with had four of her friends to make sure I didn't-"

Liiiiiiick.

You kissed his tip.

"Oh fuck..." He groaned, laying his head back.

You drew away, his male taste tingling on your tongue. It was overpowering. You wanted more. You opened your lips and took the head of his dick into your mouth, your hand stroking him up and down, up and down. Your other hand caressed the muscular inside of his thighs, then swenpt down. His balls filled your palms, overflowing. He groaned again - and hearing that almost pained-pleasure sound wringing out of that throat was enough to make you feel like you were in command of ten thousand men. Your lips pulled away and a thick string of his pre-cum connected your lips and his dick. You licked it up, groaning quietly. "Y-You taste good," you whispered.

"Thanks..."

He was rumbling. He was purring. The buzzing of his purring thrummed through your body. You almost felt yourself cum from it alone. You glanced over his shoulder, wrapping your hands round his dick, pressing it to your belly, to your breasts. You ground yourself against him. "It won't fit..." you whispered.

"It will," he said.

"It will not!" you laughed.

"You know, that's what Katie and Une said when I was with Gia," he said, his grin fierce.

"Y-You aren't...you're...not the same anymore!" you said.

"What can I say?" he chuckled. "I have a good feeling about you. It'll fit."

Your cheeks burned. You turned back to his cock. Your hand reached down, fondling his balls again. "You seem to like those," he murmured as you leaned forward, licking the head of his cock, teasing the glans, nuzzling against his red thickness. His musk was burning in your nose like a chemical weapon - but every breath made your head feel hazier, made your heart hammer faster. You kissed the side of his dick. Kit rumbled quietly.

"You can lick them."

You could lick his balls. You could nuzzle and lick and suck those balls. You could taste his fertility. Yeah. You could. You squirmed, slid off his belly, crawled around - foot almost touching the tent. It was so easy to think of this dark space, lit only by his glowing anima, as being the only place that was real. Your nose pressed to the join between scrotum and cock, and you breathed in his rich scent. It was like kaff, it was like wild jungle, it was like nothing you'd ever smelled before. You kissed his balls, then licked them, then nuzzled them. They were so rich and so full and so...so good. You sucked one partially into your mouth, then pulled back. "K-Kit?"

"Hmm?"

"...did you fuck Katie and Une too?"

"What!? No!" He exclaimed. "It wasn't an orgy the first time."

"G-Good!" You chuckled. "I was worried that you'd have had sex lots of times. But zero and one are almost the same!"

Kit was very quiet as you leaned back down, nuzzling the base of his cock. Your eyes peeked past his girth, up the expanse of his body, and to his tygerish face. He was looking quite guilty for a great cat. You slowly leaned around his dick.

"...Kit."

"I wasn't lying, it wasn't an orgy. The first. Time." He gulped. "You just...you know, when you make your placements, you're all...excited."

"I spent ten hours in penance after my placements!" You exclaimed. "And you had an orgy!?"

He grinned, sheepishly. "It does mean that I am going to make your first time quite special. Note, the number of orgasms I have already provided for you, m'lady!"

"Hurmph!" You went back to licking and nuzzling his balls. Kit laid there, happy as a Chimera getting a checkup, as you licked from his balls to his cock. Your hand squeezed the base of him and you squared your shoulders and took his head into your mouth again. You pushed forward, then drew back. He groaned quietly, his eyes half closed, his paws locked behind his head as he reclined and let you take your own pace. But oh, he was starting to purr. You bobbed your head faster and faster now, grunting as you felt the tip of his cock bumping against the roof of your mouth, then the back of your throat. You drew back, gasping - and were a bit dismayed at how little of his dick glistened with your spittle. You blushed. "A-Am I doing...good?"

"Oh you're doing amazing," Kit rumbled, softly. "F-Fuck!" He grunted as your hand tightened around him and started to work faster. Faster. You licked the tip of his cock, then went back to bobbing your head on him, groaning quietly. HIs eyes closed to slits, then closed entirely. He rolled his head back, and his paw reached down, brushing your hair. His voice, soft and eager, added to the pleasure of the moment - and at least this was a somewhat pure act. Helping a soldier relax. Get more focused. At least it wasn't...

Your cunt tingled.

"OH God, yes, ah, 41, fuck, your...oh holy shit..."

It wasn't...

You drew your lips back, panting. "K-Kit," you said.

"Y-Yeah?" he blinked, his cock throbbing.

"...c-can you...can you s-show me...can you..." you blushed, then looked aside. "Can you love me...like your fireteam?"

He was still for a long moment.

Then, in a blurr of motion, he was on you. You were swung around, planted into the bedroll, pinned. The weight of him atop you was overpowering and intoxicating. It turned out, by hunching and ducking his head forward, Kit could press his muzzle to your mouth. It turned out? Kissing a beastman was not only possible. It was positively decadent. Your hands brushed through his fur as his arms enfolded you...and his massive cock ground against your thighs, spreading them open. His mouth drew away and he whispered. "41...I'm...going to be gentle."

"Oh," you said, a bit dazed.

His cock pressed to your folds - and then he started to ease into you. You could feel his muscles tightening and bunching under your fingers as he used every inch of his control, every part of his body to move himself with utter precision. Even with the form and finesse of a god, he still felt impossible - stretching you, pushing you to the edge of pleasure and pain. You turned your head to the side, eyes closing and gasping softly as he nuzzled against your neck. He hesitated - remained still. His dick throbbed inside of you and his purring thrummed through your body. The nubs that covered his cock ground against the innermost part of your cunt and the pleasure you felt was more intense than you could have imagined. Panting, you gasped.

"S-See...it's not...not so ba-"

You cut off.

His dick was only a third of the way into you.

"Oh come on!" You exclaimed.

Kit chuckled. "Gentle. Gentle." He nuzzled your ear. Licked. Licked. His dick pushed further into you and you felt him stretching you more and more. HIs hips drove down and he let out a little growl as the last few inches pushed in and his hips and yours met with a lewd smack. HIs gloriously heavy balls clapped against your ass you gasped heavily, feeling stretched and complete. Your eyes half closed and your arms cupped around his back - but he was so broad, your fingers never had the hope of meeting. He covered you completely, his head above your head, his legs below your legs, his arms on either side of you.

"Oh Kit..." you moaned, desperate, needy.

"Is your implant...rrr...on?"

God-Emperor, you so badly wanted to reach down to your thigh, find the trigger, flick it off, beg him to sire a child in you, a thousand children.

You nodded instead.

"Fuck," he laughed. "I was hoping for no."

You almost came right then and there.

Kit began to make love to you. The incomprehensible words, heard in a crooning song played by some other regimental band during the long trip across the Warp, now suddenly came clear. There was something being made here, forged in chains of gold and silver, with every motion of his hips, every caress of his paw, every lick of his tongue. Your voice grew higher and higher as your pleasure crested, peaked, overflowed. Your juices splashed against his balls as your ass began to grow red as, moment by moment, your tightness transformed into acceptance, eagerness. Your fingers clenched and your cunt clenched and your eyes clenched and your whole body rocked with orgasm after orgasm, so profound that it was like your first time hearing the voice of the Emperor, the first time you had seen your world below you, the first time you had had a mask of your own...

"Kit! Kit! Kit! Kit!" You moaned. It was the only word, the only sound that made sense in the malestrom of a galaxy you were in.

He threw his head back, and he roared. "41!"

His balls tightened.

The flood was utterly overwhelming.

His cum pumped into you. Stretched you. Flowed out of you. Splashed you. It burned hot against your skin, decadent and perfect. And still, he thrust - churning his cum into you with every powerful thrust, spending himself again and again and again. Your head spun and you collapsed back into the bed. You almost passed out, gasping quietly.

Slowly...Kit eased out of you. Then he laid beside you, crooking his arms, careful to not squash you.

His voice, a deep, satisfied rumble, purred in your ear.

"How was that?"

You gasped quietly.

"Re...Re...re..."

"Really?" he offered.

"Re...regulation..." you whispered, the highest compliment you could give.

Kit's grin was big enough to eat worlds.

"So..." he panted. "It's been..." He pulled a wrist chron from nowhere. "...six hours!?"

"Oh wow. That's why it feels so-" you jerked your head up. "SIX HOURS!?"

You shoved your mask on, then stuck your head out of the tent flap, showing just your mask, your hair, and your neck.

The Magos Kappa, half the tech-priests, and several upper ranked NCOs and junior officers were standing by the tent. One of the NCOs - the big buff Mordian with the hairlip, still holding the hellgun you had made her - gave you a huge smile. You swore half of them were about to applaud.

You jerked back into the tent, the flap closed tight.
---
Immediate reaction?
[ ] "Kill me."
[ ] "Kill them."
[ ] curl into a humiliated ball
[ ] Write IN

And post-panic, what do you deal with first?
[ ] the general staff
[ ] the surviving chaos traitors
[ ] the army's food supplies
[ ] 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: 2 | Solar XP: 4
Major Projects: 0/5
SXP: 46 | GXP: 15 | WXP: 3

 

[DragonCobolt]

You jerked back so hard that your not-quite latched mask fell off.

"Kill me!" you whispered to Kit.

Instead, the traitor, scoundrel and heretic dressed you. He tugged your flak vest on over your shirt, shoved your leggings up around your hips - pausing to only kiss your belly, then swung your great coat on. Finally, he slid your mask on, fingers touching down the seals. "There. Perfect." He sad, smiling.

Then he shoved you out.

The Magos bowed low to you.

"Uh, m'lady," the other Cadian said. "I'm Lt. Borden, the highest ranked officer that's...um...alive." He gulped slightly, then turned to the though Mordian. He gestured to her. "Staff Sergeant Kerr, Mordian 109th. She's the highest ranked NCO we have left. Staff, the slate."

She unhooked the dataslate from her belt, then handed it to you, looking at you with a fishy frown - which made sense, she was a senior NCO and your collar tabs were a Corpsman. Still, the officer was at least...treating you...totally incorrectly. You gulped, then looked down at the slate. For weapons, armor, gear, the army was actually doing remarkably well: The lasguns had been husbanded and power packs could be charged at the base, so everyone had ammo. The medical supplies were low, but that was less of an issue than one would think...for one thing, bolters didn't seem to leave many casualties. Mostly KIAs.

Then you got to the food.

"Well, that's...not the...that...uh..." You trailed off. "According to this, the corpse starch is going to run out in a month and a half."

"The corpses will be out then," Lt. Borden said.

You tapped the dataslate with your palm, thinking.

"We don't exactly have a way to exfiltrate," the LT said. "And the astropaths are dead. We...believe maybe we could see about taking any surviving food supplies from...enemy positions." He glanced at the Staff Sergeant. Her face was so blank that you weren't sure if she approved of his idea or disapproved of his idea. You bit your lip behind the mask.

"W-Well, uh, actually," you said, slowly. "I think I can fix it."

Borden glanced at the Magos, who was looking at you with awe. "She is truly the truly natural Magos..." his voice was soft, sounding awed. "She knows the way."

"How can we help?" Lt. Borden asked.

You blinked at him.

...right.

RIght!

"Basically, I need to build a hydroponic system that can grow foodstuff fast enough to support us. Maybe algae to produce the vitamins and protines, then we can resequencing it with a kind of molecular lattice system...and some vats for carni-culture matrixes. Suspended in some kind of suspension fluid. Could work that up alchemically...humm..." You started to pace back and forth. "Need metal, need plant matter, need seeds, maybe. Water. Clean water. Purification systems. Power." You cocked your head. "Uhhhh, we have some of that. But we'll need to find the rest of it."

Lt. Borden frowned. You were about to try and simplify your words when he said: "There were some force domes that were thrown up around hydro-bays. THe domes are down, but those bays might still be intact. They're not under our control anymore."

"Then we got a plan," Kit said, firmly.

"Yeah, I'll just head out-"

"Ma'am," Kerr said, cutting in. "But you are...well, they call you the natural magos. It's in the regs, don't send a Magos out into the field if you can help it. The Adeptus Mechanicus tends to get a mite annoyed if they get their head blown off, ma'am."

You felt like someone had flicked you right in the middle of your nose. "I'm replaceable!" you said.

"No soldier is replaceable, ma'am, if you don't have a shuttleport," Kerr said. "Mordian saying."

You frowned behind your mask. Mordians sounded very strange.

"She's got a point," Kit said.

"Whose side are you on!?" you asked.

"The side where my wife doesn't get her head blown off," Kit said.

"We're not married!" you said, blushing hard. "He's just my husband." You said, to the two others. "Not my husband! That is. Alternate! He's not that either. He's...I'm...we're..."

Kerr's face remained emotionless, but Lt. Borden grinned slightly. "We understand, m'lady. A Cadian and a Krieger isn't exactly a normal love match, but-"

"Shut up!" You said, while Kerr's face got even more expressionless if that was possible - but you swore, you swore, there was an ever so slight smile on her face. Like she was laughing inside. You shook your head. "What if I went out with a bodyguard?" You said, firmly. "Just straight to the nearest hydro-dome."

"I suggest you wait until we send recon in force, m'lady," Lt. Borden said, firmly. "We may not have many rough riders left, but there are enough light infantry to go, check out the place and come back without risking your life."

"Or, uh, I could go," Kit said, shrugging. "I'm pretty tough."

Your urge to exclaim that you can't slammed right into the fact that you'd seen him shift.

"There's also the brig, sir," Kerr murmured.

"Right. The, um, the former commanding officers of the army are awake and causing a ruckus, m'lady," Lt. Boden said. "Based on your words, some of us wondered if you wanted them, um...ahem. Punished in full accordance to the regulations relating to unlawful execution orders on Adeptus Mechanicus personale."

"We cannot servitorize them at this time, but execution by auto-" Magos Kappa said.

"Execute a general!?" you asked, shocked. "Are...we...are we allowed to...do that?"

"The Magos' assistant, um, did find the relevant article," Lt. Boden said. "And I've discussed it with the other officers and senior NCOs. How did you put it, Staff?"

"I believe I said that the General would serve significantly better as a sandbag, sir," she said. "More likely to get the job done."

"Quite so," Lt. Boden said, smiling at you.

They expected you to make these decisions!?

---
They sure do!
[ ] Head out by yourself
[ ] Head out with Kit
[ ] Head out with Kit and a squad
[ ] Head out with a squad
[ ] Send a recon force
[ ] Send out Kit
[ ] Write In

ANd...
[ ] Wait for later on the generals
[ ] Execute them
[ ] Go and talk to them. (Only if you are staying at camp)

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: 2 | Solar XP: 4
Major Projects: 0/5
SXP: 46 | GXP: 15 | WXP: 3

 

[DragonCobolt]

You rubbed your palm along your mask, making sure it was settled. "Uh, okay. Um...Lt. Borden, um..." You tensed as he came to attention, like you were in charge. Cause you were. Right. "G-Go and get a recon force and, um, send them out. You're in charge of them, though!" You added, hoping that might help him remember that he was in charge, since he was the Lieutenant, and you were a corpsman. Instead, he bowed low.

"M'lady, I will do as you as," he said.

"I'm not, I..." you trailed off as he and his staff sergeant turned and started off, already discussing who to send from the hodgepodge of surviving units you had left to you. You paused, then glowered through your mask at Kit. "Stop that!"

"What," he said, smiling with his shoulders. "I'm perfectly stone faced."

"This is all so wrong!" you exclaimed. "I'm a corpseman!"

"There have been several major engagements, historic even, in Cadian history that got commanded by corpsmen in the end. You fight a war for ten thousand years, weird things will happen. Amd then they'll happen more than once."

"You are a brute. A beast. A...a...a Cadian!" You kicked his shin, then turned your back on him, angry and scared and happy all at once. His arm snaked around you and he hugged you, openly, right before everyone! Though, at the moment, that was just the tech-priests, who were watching you all with intent curiosity. A soft whisper in binaric trilled and warbled from one to Kappa, and Kappa held up his hand, chittering back. You flushed under your mask, whispering. "The Tech-Priests are watching."

"Let them take notes..." Kit said, nuzzling. Through some magic of human noses, he found the exact seam between great coat, flak vest, shirt collar and mask edge to touch bare skin. You squirmed and squeaked.

"W-We should, uh, uh, uh, see the generals! The command staff!" YOu said. "We need to...to decide what to do with them..." You licked your lips slightly, while Kit nodded.

"Then lets go."

You started off towards the brig, walking with your...with your Kit. As you walked, your hands slid into your pockets. You still didn't have gloves. Softly. "...do you..." you paused. "Do you remember things that you didn't ever see?"

Kit looked at you oddly. "You mean the dream?"

You froze, then turned to face him, nodding.

"Yeah," he said. "I remember...a jungle, like Catachan. I remember a...temple to the Emperor. But it was all wrong somehow. He had four arms, not two. He was carrying lance, a bit like yours. I remember hating him." His eyes were distant. "Why would I ever hate the Emperor? It must be some kind of weird warp trick." He considered it, then shrugged. "Ah well. It's just dreams so far."

"Just dreams!?" You asked. "How can you be so blasé?"

"Because I'm loyal," he said, firmly, with such simple and utter conviction that it felt like he had taken off your mask and slapped you in the face. In three words, he revealed to you a shining core of something pure and untouched and unsullied. Was this what made Cadia so strong that it survived in the face of being destroyed? The knowledge that they had never slackened, never turned their back, never warred one on the other, never...never...

You looked down at your feet. "I...my dreams are just as confusing..."

Kit put his hand on your cheek, right where mask met flesh. His fingers were gently. "You worry for nothing, 41-22. Everyone knows there's no one more dependable or loyal than Krigers."

He meant it too.

Your eyes began to fill with tears. You let out a quiet whimper, trembling slightly.

"Are you-" Kit started, then snapped his head up, his entire body going tense. "Do you hear that?"

You blinked the tears away, sniffed hard...then heard it as well.

Laughter.

Braying, jovial laughter. Drunken laughter. You and he started to run, full out, towards the brig. You reached the makeshift redoubt just in time to see five jovial Scintillain fusiliers, their faces flushing, aiming their rifles at the Regimental Commissar, who they had dragged out and tied to a post. You opened your mouth - and they opened fire as one, their rifles cracking and hissing as the beams slammed into the wooden post and shattered it apart.

You blinked. "What are you shooting at!?" you asked, angrily.

"W-We...uh..." The men looked at the smoking post. "Uh...we was practicing, ma'am!"

"You were practicing to do a summary execution? The most sinful method of dealing with traitors? Are you- Argh!" You threw up your hands. "Put those guns away! Are the rest of the officers in there?"

"Y-Yeah, the general, the COs, uh...and that's it," the Scintillian said. "Oh, and a few churchies that got kinda riggy."

You nodded. Right. General, your CO, the CO of Kit's regiment, some ecclesiarchs. Wait, what did riggy meant?

...you frowned.

"Something is wrong here," you said. "What happened to...don't we have...uh, I know most of the Commissars died in the battle, but what about the head Commissar, the Regimental Commissar?" You asked, curiously.

"We didn't have one, right?" Kit asked.

You scratched your chin.

---
Huh...
[ ] "I guess we didn't!"
[ ] You definitely didn't.
[ ] Stop thinking about her.
[ ] No, this isn't right at all. Come on, 41. You...hmm...arrgh!
[ ] "Chejop you FUCKING ASSHOLE! Stop FUCKING WITH MY HEAD! STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP 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: 2 | Solar XP: 4
Major Projects: 0/5
SXP: 46 | GXP: 15 | WXP: 3

 

[DragonCobolt]

Your head throbbed...and a memory exploded into your brain with such sudden, fierce intenseness that it was almost overwhelming. Your fingers went to your temples. "Chejop you fucking asshole! Stop fucking with my head! Stop it! Stop! It! STOP IT!"

Your voice rose to a fever pitch as the half-formed memories tumbled through your head.

Betrayal.

Friendship, closer than steel.

Stinging hurt.

Bronze and Gold.

Secretively sprinting through a darkened structure, hand in hand, led through twisting, winding corridors. A vast, dark city where laughter and play rang through the air...

Then they were gone, a confused mass of images that left you reeling. The guardsmen were looking at you curiously, but Kit had knelt down to put his hand on your shoulder. Despite the fact he was in his human form, he was still bigger than you. "41? What is it? What happened?" He asked, his hand tightening, his voice full of fear. You closed your eyes behind your mask, breathing carefully. You touched each seal, a calming gesture, then spoke, evenly.

"The commissar is still here," you said. "We just...we just...need to remember her."

Kit frowned. His ears, despite not being a tiger.

"I see you're more clever than I thought, traitor!"

The sudden voice that spoke from the nearby muddy hills jerked everyone's heads around. Standing there, her body dressed in her commissarial greatcoat was none other than the Regimental Commissar. You had heard something about her being some bigwig important person, but since commissars were not very important - the Kreiger ones were mostly for integration and deployment difficulties, not like the did anything of value - you hadn't really paid attention. Now you were kind of wishing you had. She was a tall figure, statuesque and with a tumbling cascade of brilliant blond hair. Her eyes were ice blue and...it wasn't that you noticed she was statuesque. It was just hard to not notice, the way her uniform was so...clingy and showy. Her large hat was at a jaunty angle, and she had a laspistol in her hand, cocked up, her other hand on her hip.

"She's not a traitor!" Kit said.

"You put me on the back foot - but I learned from my father's example-"

"Commissars are raised in the schola progenium!" you said, angrily. "They don't have fathers."

"Some do!" she said, scowling. "How could I not follow in his footsteps - for I am..."

Her forehead blazed with a glowing symbol, bright red and familiar: The symbol of Mars, of all things. Red light crackled around her body and she lifted her free hand into a dramatic point. Strange red flakes started to drift through the air - almost organic, they swirled around her as a shimmering banner unfolded from nowhere, spelling out words in High Gothic.

"AMBERLY CAINE!"

You squinted and saw the words read...

HERO OF THE IMPERIUM - FIRST AMONG COMISSARS - MISTRESS OF WAR - GODDESS QUEEN OF LOYALTY
BEARER OF THE RUBY-SEAR PIECE​

You jerked back in surprise. "What!?" You spluttered.

"You didn't hear?" Kit asked.

"No!" you exclaimed. "You're related to that...that...that...BLOWHARD!?"

The Commissar jerked slightly, like you'd just slapped her. Her hat almost fell off, though her crackling red flame anima continued to swirl around her shoulders. "Bu-"

"The proper place for an Imperial Guardsman is anonymity!" you shouted, thrusting your finger at her accusingly. "Not to gobble after glory constantly! And he never even died once!"

"Yes he did!" Commissar Cain shouted back.

"Well he came back then!" you said.

"Enough!" She waved her hand. "Loyal men! Arise!"

From the hillside, bursting from cover so perfect that you hadn't seen it, emerged heavily armed and armored Cadian shocktroopers, their red leggings and sleeves darkened by mud, their carapace armor gleaming as they aimed their hellguns down at the shocked guardsmen that gathered around you. Commissar Cain smirked, putting her foot up on a rock to stand dramatically, as if posed for a battlefield shot. The rose petals kept swirling through the air as her hair caught in the wind and billowed almost as much as her cape. "You're now at a bit of a disadvantage, oh traitor! Your wickedness ends...TODAY!"

You were pretty sure she was talking exactly like how her father would have talked in this position. You scowled and then paused. "Wait, when did we have Cadian shock troopers?"

"We didn't," Kit said, sounding bemused. "Yo! Yo! Barrik!" He pointed at one of them. "When'd you get here? You were repple deppled out to Oppa-Kap II, weren't you?"

The stormtrooper he pointed at blinked, then shifted his heavy pyresense goggles - which made his face look buglike and dangerous. "Oh. Hey Kit!"

"Stop fraternizing with the traitor!" Commissar Cain snapped.

"Sorry, ma'am," Barrik said, then adjusted his helmet.

Kit frowned, counting the heads. "I see an entire damn platoon of stormtroopers. Less than we got - but they're Cadians good and true. We can't just kill them all."

"I wasn't going to kill them!" you whispered back. Cain, you noticed, was still posing and waiting - clearly expecting you to declare something about how evil you were. Maybe rip off your mask and start cackling like a crazed lunatic. You were half tempted too - well, rip your mask off and cram it over her stupid face. Now that you looked at her, you were pretty sure you could recognize that famous mugging gormless...you shook your head slightly, then stepped forward.

"Listen here, Commissar Cain," you said, hefting your spear and aiming it up at her. ...shit that was dramatic. Now you were being dramatic! Without even meaning too, rose petals were swirling around the base of your Lens Lance and...you felt wind tug at your hood and your own hair began to billow in the wind, shimmering beside you like a cloth of bright red, contrasting against her blind. Red caste mark, blond hair, versus gold caste mark and red hair. Ugh! Even your colors were opposite! You hated her so much right now...

"Yes, traitor?" She sneered.

You narrowed your eyes.

---
What say you, Traitor Guardsman? Note, trying to stay multiple things at once is possible, but if you want to, make it a plan vote, and know that jumbling it up will make things harder, since there's more of a chance that Cain will just attack you mid speech.
[ ] "Our real enemies are out there - the Chaos worshipers! I'm NOT a traitor, and I can prove it!"

[ ] "I built a lance battery!"​

[ ] "I killed a chaos space marine!"​

[ ] "I'm...I'm the goddamn Chosen of the Sun! A shard of the Emperor's fire burns inside of me right now! Just as it burns in you! You can feel it, can't you!? We were both chosen - and we need to work together!"​

[ ] "Because you're stupid! And your general was stupid! And his orders were stupid! That's the only reason I arrested you! For gross incompetence!"​

[ ] "...wait, where did you get the Cadians? Like, really, where did they come from? How does that work logistically? you didn't just pull them out of thin air. Can you break that down?"
[ ] "Frak you! Your dad's hololith series was overrated!"
[ ] 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: 2 | Solar XP: 4
Major Projects: 0/5
SXP: 46 | GXP: 15 | WXP: 3

 

[DragonCobolt]

You had what felt like a million things you wanted to say or ask all at once to this pompous blowhard. But as you juggled the thoughts around and tried to pick the one that was actually relevant, your mouth opened behind your mask and you found yourself saying: "...wait, where did you get the Cadians? Like, really, where did they come from? How does that work logistically? you didn't just pull them out of thin air. Can you break that down?" You scratched the back of your neck as you did so.

"Maybe she's just great," Kit said, shrugging one shoulder.

"Kit!" you exclaimed. "She can't be great, she's a pompus blowhard!"

"I'm just great!" Cain said, lifting her hand dramatically - one last swirl of rose petals flickering around her hand. "Cast from the cruel confines of your vile dungeons, sepulcher like in their infinite blackness-"

"They're just normal brigs!"

"-I found myself stealing through the inky darkness of night, stygian and impenetrable and full of unknown dangers. But within me burned a desire beyond imagining to cast off the vile evil that had claimed the heart of this army!" She sprang forward, sailing up and then landing down before you. She smirked. "But you never considered that, did you!"

"Consider what!?" you exclaimed. "Your story is just...flowery...stuff that...words be!"

"Prose?" Kit whispered.

"It's called giving a report in style," Cain said, smirking at you, shaking her head, clicking her tongue. "Poor, benighted traitor. I learned the art of this craft from my god-aunt, the doughty and unstoppable General Sulla." She paused. "Now, where was I?"

"Crawling around in muddy ditches!" you snapped. "Which must be the first time you ever got even close to being a proper gu-"

"Yes!" Cain snapped her fingers. "I was stealing through the redoubtable defenses, labyrinthine in their complexity. I knew, burning within me like a coal of fire-"

"That-" You spluttered behind your mask.

"-that my only hope was to find allies. I peeked into bunkers, but alas, found nothing but corpses and the occasional carrion eater. Rushing from shadow to shadow, holding my trusty las-pistol to my chest, I then saw a cargo pod, crashed upon the surface of the world. Clearly, it had been part of the bombardment that laid this world low..." She narrowed her eyes, her voice dropping to a dramatic whisper. "I rushed to it and found the key-lock was palm coded. But fortunately, the lock had also been struck by debris, smashing it open and meaning I needed but push a single button to awaken the machine spirits of the auto-door!"

"Wait, wait, wait, the...the key...lock...was smashed with a bit of rock...and instead of jamming shut and sealing the door, as it's machine spirit is meant to do..." you said, holding up your hands. "It instead was set to open."

Cain beamed and put her hands upon her hip. "Such fortuitous events often are the purview of bold heroes."

You put your hands over your mask. "And let met guess! The container had an entire platoon of stormtroopers in stasis."

"Indeed it did!" Cain said.

"Just waiting for you, right, right, of course, of course..." you groaned.

"Huh," Kit said. "Lucky break."

"Was it luck? Or was it planning?" Cain murmured. "Some say the one and the other are nearly identical."

"No one says that!" you hissed.

"Hey, come on, 41," Kit said, grinning sheepishly. "She has...energy. That's good."

"Why are you sticking up for her?" you asked.

"Well, obviously, he has instantly fallen madly in love with me," Cain said, nodding confidently. "I feel a deep, abiding connection between us...almost as if we have met before..." She said, rubbing her chin with her fingers. You blinked at her, then almost exploded.

"He's mine!" You grabbed onto his shoulder.

"U-Uh..." Kit stammered, blinking, as Cain smirked and then brushed her hand through her long blond hair.

"Hmm, and yet, the raw, crackling, animal passion between us seems to be nearly overwhelming..." she said. "Alas, he is a traitor and a heretic...but..." She bit her lip, looking him over. "Maybe I could forgive his crimes."

"He hasn't done any crimes!" you spluttered. You wracked your brain - why would she feel a connection to Kit? You had a sense that was wrong. And not just because you were jealous. Not that you were jealous! It was absurd, the very idea that Kit might be interested, just because she was tall and broad and had actual breasts and...and...you blinked behind your mask, then shook your head. "Wait, we're getting off track."

"It's true, your surrender is waiting," Cain said, smugly. Like a felin herself. Which...was that why she felt a connection to-

A memory flashed in your mind. Four women. One men. A smithy, crackling. Bands, glittering on fingers. A circle.

Then the memory flashed away and you blinked slightly.

"Okay, how about instead of surrendering, we work together?" Kit said, amiably, his hands sliding into his pockets. "My wife and I aren't actually demons or traitors. You can tell, since we're not spikey."

"Hmm..." Cain said, narrowing her eyes. "Wait, no, that's not the qualifications."

"It's the basic visual spot check, though," Kit said, still sounding like the most level headed of the three of you which seemed wrong to you. You were the one who was supposed to be level headed here. It was just everything about Cain rubbed you the wrong way. Her arrogant assumption she was important. Her having a name. And a name that was even famous before you'd even been decanted. Her shooting flirty eyes at your Kit...you crossed your arms over your chest as Cain narrowed her eyes, then started to walk around you. Then around again. Then she walked around once more.

"...you're not a traitor!" she said, sounding surprised.

"That's what I've been telling you!" you shouted, throwing your arms up in frustration.

"Well! Better safe than sorry," Cain said, chuckling. "Stand down, men!" She lifted her hand to the stormtroopers. Stormtroopers going from tense and ready to relaxed showed almost no difference between the two postures - the subtlest changes in their stances, and their attention flickering from you to the surrounding areas, it was a little eerie. Cain turned back to you. "He's right, you have no spikes - also, no poxes, no signs of secondary or tertiary limbs, no extra eyes, horns, tails, tongues, you have no soporific musk, you aren't dressed in any of the various forms of pain or pleasure giving attire that are favored by certain branches of the Ruinous Powers, you have functional purity seals on your equipment, and last but not least...I can tell, in your heart, you are loyal to the Emperor on Earth." She said, nodding as she did so.

You blinked at her. "...wait, you know all that?"

Cain nodded. "Yes!"

"Wow...that's...a surprise," you said.

"Ah, well, I like to- hey wait!" Cain glared at you.

Kit breathed out a slow sigh. "Okay," he said. "The second most dangerous thing dealt with."

"What's the first?" you asked, frowning.

Kit kicked at the ground, then looked at the sky. His hands were in his pockets. "...I think we're married."

"Hah! Told you!" Cain said, Cainly. Which was a new adjective you had invented, for her.

"We're also married!" Kit said, gesturing to you. "First, too." He slid his arm around your shoulder. Never before had you wished something so sinful, so vile, so against everything you had been taught...but Lord on Terra, if you had no mask, you would be sticking your tongue out at her like a pre-mask juvie right now. Instead you simply leaned into Kit, like he was a big, stolid pole. "So don't get any ideas."

Cain harrumphed.

"...how can a man be married twice?" you asked.

"Lots of planets have multi-marriages," Kit said, casually. "It's pretty common in the southern fortification on Cadia too." He paused. "Was."

You looked down at your feet. Was. Right. Your anger and ire faded in the face of the enormity of the galaxy. Cain nodded, her voice solemn. "A sacrifice, greater than any man need bear alone," she said, solemnly. "We shall ensure that the name of Cadia lives on forever more - in the piled bodies of our foes, if nothing else."

"Yeah," Kit said. He squeezed you tighter.

Nyaahhh! a juvie you hadn't had in your skin for almost two decades stuck her tongue out mentally at Cain.

---
[ ] Tell them about your memory - about the Circle, the rings, and try and remember more
[ ] "Well, Amberly, lets go and get the recon report."
[ ] 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: 2 | Solar XP: 4
Major Projects: 0/5
SXP: 46 | GXP: 15 | WXP: 3

 

[DragonCobolt]

You put your fingers against your temples, stepping away from Kit purely so you could think clearly. It was like there was some natural groove of a relationship between you and Cain and Kit, that you had all fallen into without thinking. You'd heard old fireteams were like this, if they had survived a mission or two, and started to operate together. A term floated in your head.

Circle.

You frowned. There were memories that weren't yours, dreams that weren't yours, relationships that...maybe you really had been possessed...but then the thought of what if Kit and you were just from some demon hit you and made you more terrified than you ever, ever, ever wanted to admit. The very idea made your stomach cramp and your throat go dry. You breathed in and out, slowly, carefully. Stay calm, 41. Stay calm. You turned back to face Cain and Kit. Cain was posing pompously and Kit had his hands in his pockets. It felt so...familiar...and almost comforting...it made you want to smile behind your mask.

Instead, you shook your head and crossed your arms over your chest - and Emperor Above, if that wasn't familiar too.

"We have to see the rest of the command staff," you said, firmly. "M-Maybe you can convince them that we're not traitors too?"

"Maybe I can!" Cain said, brightening. "After all, we have served together for months now and they all..." She paused, then nodded. "T-They all were very impressed with my service!"

"Were they, thought?" you asked.

"Yes!" she snapped, in a way you were almost positive meant...no. You grinned behind your mask.

When the three of you stepped into the brig proper, you saw the surviving officers were each in their own cells. There was the Mordian commander - a large, muscular man with a strange growth on his lip that bent sharply upwards at the tips, which he had kept neat despite his current condition. He prowled back and forth in the cell like a caged Kit. Next to him was your officer, 9-19. She sat in her cell, motionless, her mask still tight to her face. Next to her was the commander of the Scintillians who looked the most hard done by. The Fusiliers had had a remarkably fancy uniform, with high hats and red and gold all over them. Well, most of the gold had been ripped off and ragged rents covered his red jacket, revealing the white undershirt beneath, like a weird inversion of a man hit by stubberfire. He was laying flat on his cot, staring up at the ceiling.

The last of them was the Cadian. He had purple eyes, like Kit, and raven black hair, and your brain kept wanting to think he looked like Kit, despite the fact that on closer inspection, he was really nothing alike at all. It was the eyes and the hair, really. You frowned intently, while Cain stepped forward. "Fellow officers, I have returned with good news!"

The men and women all looked at her.

"Who are you?" the Cadian asked.

"I'm Amberly Cain!" she said, puffing up her chest. "Your doughty and dependable Regimental Commissar! I have returned from the depths of despair and darkness to bring news of a glorious dawn of victory and triumph!"

The four officers all glowered at her. 9-19 stood, then walked to her bars. "Our Regimental Commissar died on the first day of the fighting, as a hero. This is a sick joke." She pointed past Cain to you. "41-22, how can you dare to hide your face from your crimes?" Her voice was bitter. "You wearing that sickens me."

"I-I..." you stammered, your stomach tightening as the furious tones crept into your brain, like worms, wriggling.

Kit stepped past Cain. "Well, wait, Commander Quinn, do you recognize me?"

"Hey Kit," the Cadian said.

"Fhew," Kit said. "I think it's just you, Cain. 9-19 recognizes 41-22, and my cuz recognizes me."

"Hurm!" Cain said, rubbing her chin. "Maybe it's because I am not related to any of them, unlike the byzantine family trees of the Cadians, nor the vile machine-vat clone laboratories of fallen Krieg!"

"Hey!" you said. "Uterine Replicators aren't cloning!" They can just be used for cloning, you thought.

Kit sighed. "So, Commander Quinn, I know that this has all been really crazy, none of us has expected this. But...frak it, I'm not gonna mince words, or dance around what I think is going on here." He nodded. "I think I've been chosen by the Emperor. To protect her." He pointed at you - and made your tummy do summersaults and backflips. "And her." He pointed at Cain. "Since they're both important enough. He appeared to me, saved me from the fire at the aid station. He gave me these powers. That's gotta mean something, sir."

His words were firm and intent. The Scintillian had sat up from his torpor, frowning as he listened to this. The Mordian man crossed his arm over his chest, frowning. "Can you prove this Emperor gift?" he asked, his accent very thick.

9-19 shook her head. "They can't," she said.

"Um, I, uh, built a lance battery," you said. "An entire lance battery."

9-19 was silent for a long moment.

"...you did?"

***
​

The four officers stood on a hill, looking down on the massive beam weapon, its barrel lifting into the sky, the huge rotary turret it was trussed on surrounded by plasma genratoria and tents for the operating crew. The entire army was entrenched around it, and they had been working on building out the lines of slit trenches and firing lines and sandbags since the day had started. Clamoring voices came from the mess halls, and the faint sound omniatic prayers from the Tech-Priests sang out quietly. 9-19's shoulders were slack in shock, while Commander Quinn whistled slowly.

"Well, damn," he said. "That's a lance battery, alright."

"Technically, it's a single lance weapon," the Mordian said.

"A-Actually it's a quick firing rapid spool lance, on par with a doubled Titanforge, which means it, um..." You trailed off as they all looked at you. You coughed behind your mask.

"I think you might be blessed by the Omnisiah," Commander Quinn said. "Not the Emperor."

"Well, yeah, I am," you said. "Kit never said I was blessed by the Emperor. He just said he was. I'm...important." Saying that made you feel dirty.

9-19 shook her head slowly. "You are not Kreig..." she whispered.

But it wasn't condemnatory anymore. It was...wondering. Awed.

You took a step backwards. "N-No, I am! I just want to serve! I'm not special!" You said, hurriedly.

"No, I see what Kit says," 9-19 said. "You have been blessed by something greater. Emperor? Omnisiah? Maybe both, I don't know theology. But I do know us, as well as you do. You have been lifted from our people. Made...exalted above us." She nodded. "You are not Krieg anymore."

This felt almost worse than the condemnations.

---
As a note, no matter what you choose, the recon force will arrive next update
[ ] "Yes i am! I'm just...gonna...do stuff. Anyway! Looks like the recon forces are."
[ ] Accept that you may not be exactly Kreig anymore...and take off your mask. Of course, it's still very muddy and...there's lots of grit on the wind, so, you'll put these goggles and maybe a cloth cover over your mouth and nose!
[ ] She's right. You're not Krieg anymore. You're...

[ ] Write in your name (Kit provides it)
​

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: 2 | Solar XP: 4
Major Projects: 0/5
SXP: 46 | GXP: 15 | WXP: 3

 

[DragonCobolt]

Your brain skitters around something close to theology - you wonder if heresy feels like this...or if this was how 01-01 felt, when he first cast aside his name and became the first Krieger, when he laid down the acts of Penitence. You wondered...were you just being arrogant? Was this just megalomania? Or were you onto something?

Were you a light to lead the Krieg?

Where would you lead them too?

Anywhere I wish.
The thought was one of those crystal clear spikes of some other you, some echoing thought that had come from a past that wasn't your childhood. It was unnerving. No, scratch that, it was downright terrifying - not just for what it was, but what it said.

Anywhere you wish...

You let your brain taste that possibility and almost immediately jerked away as your mind threw out...a blue world, covered in glittering cities, looking up at the light of distant suns and dreaming of humanity everlasting. Heady, impossible visions of plenty and happiness and peace. The idea that no one would have to die. Ever. Not even once. You had to not think about it.

It hurt too much when you were standing in the muck.

How would you say all this out loud? What could you say to 09-19 that would have her see this - and not have her cast you back into the role of heretic, traitor, mutant? Your tongue had never felt fatter and more useless. Low Gothic had never felt like such an imprecise, and useless language. You could show her, you knew, with the schematics and diagrams - motonic reactors and food synthesizers, automated transit systems and manses, clockwork servitors without flesh that needed to suffer - but you also knew she'd never understand. You felt a pang of loneliness. A future where the only people who understood you were...were Tech Priests.

And Kit...

And, ugh, Amberly.

Behind your mask, your lips thinned and you finally spoke, quietly. "12-12 said that being chosen a Medic didn't make me less Krieg. This doesn't make me less Krieg either."

09-19 regarded you.

Then she nodded. "Maybe," she said.

And that was enough.

Amberly, who had been standing nearby, looking increasingly awkward, coughed. "Behold! Yonder recon force hath returned! Let us learn what they have sought so valiantly to recover!"

Kit just kissed the top of your head - which caused you to squeak, splutter, and boil over.

***
​

Sergeant M'Kuul was a Catachean, meaning he was roughly as big as you, skinny as a trenchrat, and was perpetually sharpening a knife. The map he had laid out was marked with his infantryman's signaler, and was pretty remarkably detailed - you saw the double rectangle shape of the hydroponics bay, yes, and could immediately see that they had to be functional - there were no damage markers that had been laid down and their shape was entirely unbroken. Based on their size, they had barely enough hydroponic carrying capacity to manage a quarter of your army. That wouldn't matter once you got your hands on them. You were honestly not sure if you should go for something simple and mass production...maybe alterantively, something more wide spread. Recreating the planetary ecology was a kind of craft. Hmm. That was a possibility, actually. Less work in the long term-

That long term is centuries, you thought, like probing a tooth with your tongue.

The thought didn't change.

Less work. Long term.

You felt a cold prickle of fear run along your spine.

"So, um..." you paused, then said, quietly. "Should be easy enough."

"Are you blind?" Amberly snapped. "There's two armored platoons, power armor, and a division's worth of dug in infantry!"

You blinked, then shifted your gaze from the promising rectangles. There were all the force markers.

"Oh," you said. "Right, sorry, I...I meant fixing the hydroponics."

"No need to fix em, m'ld" M'kuul said, contracting m'lady down to a mumble. Catacheans, based on your few interactions with them, ate parts of words that they considered unnecessary, making them feel a bit like malformed, almost Kriegers. Kriegers simply used precise, short sentences, which gave their Low Gothic a certain bevity and wit. Catacheans were just mumblers. "The w'ho thin work j'st fine."

"No, I know, it's just I can make it better," you said.

"So you claim," Amberly said, snorting. "But there remains the issue that it is currently entrenched by a force greater than our own - they, unlike us, did not deconstruct their heavy armor into a lance battery."

"I only deconstructed our earthshakers!" you said.

"Which is all that's left of our heavy armor," Amberly said. "We have better infantry, I think, pound for pound, but look." SHe pointed. "There's at least one marine down here - not sure why he was left behind..."

"Horns," Sergeant M'Kuul said, using his knife to indicate a horn jutting out of his head.

"What color?" you asked.

He shrugged. "Blue."

"Oh my Emperor," you whispered. "It's the guy!"

"What guy?" Kit asked, frowning.

"Um...before this all happened, there was a...well, I suppose he was a sorcerer," you said. "He tried to kidnap and sacrifice me."

A low, angry growl came from Kit.

"But I did throw a lance at him!" you said, nodding. "He was quite badly wounded. Maybe he survived..." You rubbed your finger along your chin.

"Seemed fine," M'Kuul said.

"Hurm," you said, frowning slightly. "What was he doing?"

"Chay stuff," M'Kuul said, drawing his knife along his sharpening stone with a slow scrape, scrape, scree screen. "Tyin' up folk. Cutten' 'em."

You jerked your head up. "We have to rescue them!" you said, immediately.

"While normally, I would hasten to point out that they are traitors, and thus, deserve any fate that befalls them...none deserve the fate of being captured and used by a vile Chaos Sorcerer," Amberly said, her voice so thick with portentous gravity that you had to check and make sure the Lens Lance hadn't been turned on. You frowned at her.

"Not just gonna shoot them?" you asked, angrily.

"I wasn't just going to shoot you!" Amberly said, huffily.

"Wow, sure seemed like it," you muttered.

"Girls," Kit said, frowning.

Amberly hurmphed, and then looked away - her cheeks flushed...and for a moment, there was a flicker of shame that crossed her face. It was an emotion you knew well. It was almost the only emotion you could easily spot on faces. You'd seen it often enough in the creche, when someone hadn't been acclimating to their masks and, rather than asking their fitters to adjust them, had instead tried to take them off. Oh yeah. You knew that look easily. You narrowed your eyes at her behind your mask - but Kit remained focused.

"Can we take them in a straight fight, with us tipping the balance?" he asked.

"Yes," Amberly said, with utter certainty. "Us and the stormtroopers I think make it even enough that if we attacked with valor and skill, we could rout these fiends."

You frowned.

The answer...seemed obvious...

---
What do you do?
[ ] Attack with Amberly's plan (she has War 5, she'll have a good plan.)
[ ] Come up with your own plan! 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: 2 | Solar XP: 4
Major Projects: 0/5
SXP: 46 | GXP: 15 | WXP: 3

 

[DragonCobolt]

"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

Spoiler: Rolls!

Kit survival roll: 3s (vs diff 2)
41 occult roll: 5s (vs diff 3)