Warhammer: Unification Wars

[Karen]

The Death of the Emperor


"My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away."
--- Excerpt from 'Ozymandias' by Percy B. Shelley​

Emperor Eratas was dead. The general and king who united Europa's vassals into one great territory would be found in his bed having suffered total organ failure, his cybernetics cutting out in a similar fashion and perishing before any medical aid could be offered. Around him, his servants, officers and closest advisors gathered and watched as the man's body turned sickly and pale, as if every ounce of life was being squeezed from the withered husk beneath them. Such was how the great uniter of Europa, breaker of barbarism and the last true monarch would perish. It is said his family traces to kings of old, yet few texts exist to support such, but that didn't matter. No will was left behind, nothing to decide how the empire which he built would be distributed, all that was left was the haunting words of a distant monarch who had perished in a similar, if more untimely manner; to the strongest.

The growing empire did not crumble overnight, with Justinian being proclaimed her second emperor, but it became apparent that the army's loyalty had been to his father's banner, and, on the brink of the new year, secession was announced. First it was Jermani, a land as hostile as it was resourceful, raising its armies and trenching down in the region of Bavar against possible Europan retaliation, with rumours in Emperor Justinian's court rising of a possible cooperation between the mad Maulland Sen and and the Jermanic leadership. The government of Jermani, lashed under a warlord by the name of Kosibar, would announce itself once more as a free and independent realm, away from Globus' sphere. Initial fighting had shown the dominance of the Jermanic troops compared to the Europan army, though numerical superiority isolated the rebellion to the city and a small smattering of land around it, preventing a total collapse of the already fragile infrastructure laid down by Eratas over the last several years of his life. The Europan armies, determined to hold the line, refused to back down, and a number of generals chose to commit regardless of orders to the crushing of the rebellion in the Jermanic region, unaware of the reinforcements arriving.

​

From the north, the far more primitive but equally dangerous armies of the Nordyc warlord Maulland Sen arrived, transports supplied by the Jermanic rebellion speeding up what would've been a prolonged march through the Cobenaggen canyons. The warlord was all too eager to take up arms for his 'allies' in Jermani in exchange for territory and the industrial might of Europa to arm and equip his armies with deadly new weapons. The Nordyc armies were considered numerous but poorly equipped, as very few carried automatic weapons and even fewer carried anything more advanced than an autogun, with the most numerous things being blade weapons, typically a serrated axe, and explosives of some sort. It was this comparably unwashed rabble that the Europan loyalists met in the field, and turned the tide in favour of the rebels, burying unprepared troops under piles of bodies while the guns of hive city Jermani pummeled artillery positions at long range. The first hours of fighting already boasted a terrible death toll.

The second rebellion came from Boetia. Once a loyal subject to the emperor, Boetia's ruling elite had become increasingly more paranoid of the influence of powers beyond the hive city even moreso by the obliteration of Hive Byzant, former trading partner of Boetia. As a result, when they had learned of the death of Eratas, it was only natural that they declared themselves independent, raising an old standard and seizing the Danube biodomes along with a sizable portion of former Byzant territory, like the sea port of Nicoma, which offered access to a barely functioning pre-strife nuclear submersible, one of a kind left on Terra. The Yeselti family, one of the many aristocratic families to preside over Boetia would be crowned as its kings, with Jan Yeselti named King Jan. The Boetian economy, having a fairly potent industrial basin and providing much of the industry for Globus and Franc was a severe blow to Greater Europa, which only served to benefit the rebels as they armed and prepared themselves for battle, though it should be noted compared to Jermani, which thrived on border conflicts with the Nordycs and Albyon, the Boetian military is quite small, having lost a great deal of men on the front against the Ethnarch and his various warlord allies in the Caucasus.It seems unlikely, then, that they will hold onto their territories for long.

The hive of Globus meanwhile remains adamantly loyal, with the nobility crowning Justinian as emperor, though his title now only held a ceremonial weight, with two of four hive cities in open rebellion and war reaching into the heartland of the former empire, many hope for a quick and decisive end to the conflict, faith in the Europan army to bring about absolute victory against the far more numerous, but less well equipped formations of the warlords and rebels.

​

Franc, meanwhile, and Globus seem to remain loyal, the militant orders of the Arcquess and her various allies having entered a schism as decision making soon followed the announcement of the emperor's death. The order which dominates the city owes fealty to Franc itself, but the former Eratas did demand oaths of personal loyalty from her leaders, he did not demand them to swear fealty to the Emperor, a technicality that had proven damning after the man's death as many of the order's leadership question Franc's role in Greater Europa. Why should an order mandated by the divine align itself to a mortal king?

---

TERRA, 998 M.28​

 

[Mortis Nuntius]

Genesis of Hope



At a certain point of sophistication, or from a place of sufficient ignorance, science became indistinguishable from magic. The great works carried out beneath the mountains of the roof of the world were altogether beyond this, they were indistinguishable from the Divine. Before him were the building blocks of the universe, themselves essentially a stepping stone for life. The residual humanity within him was torn between incomprehension and pity for his fellow man, so stupendously and proudly blind to the most obvious truth in the universe. No creation myth could match the miraculous combination of factors required for genesis, mere God could never rival the power of the atom, the stars were unfathomably more unique and precious than the afterlife of the greatest of Kings. An equation held more truth and inspiration than any holy book and through sufficient education even the lowest amongst mankind would one day rule time and matter and do so with discipline, purpose and selflessness concepts utterly alien to those he protected them against.

He did not pause to reflect on the millennia of effort that had gone into this greatest of endeavors. This final stage alone had taken a decade, the end result invisible to the naked eye and utterly insignificant in and of itself. Before him, held in a golden stasis field protected by the most powerful shielding at his disposal, in the center of a fiery orb a trillion times it size was but a single strand of DNA. He had not looked away from it in months, had not left this chamber in years, but it was a small price to pay. For this single strand, infused with his own essence enhanced by the greatest instruments mankind had ever developed was perfect in every manner. From it, all others would follow. The template for Homo Novos, a stolen glimpse into humanity's future.

--My child, from you all else will follow. The Galaxy awaits, the Stars themselves will be the least of your Birthright. With you the Rising Ape shall overcome the Falling Angel, the truth shall slay the myth and God be put away with other childish things.--​

 

[Holland]

Spoiler: Great Europa Flag

--The Er'Road Network-- ​

Before his assentation to the highest post of the empire. Justinian took on many tasks for his father, the late Emperor. After the wars of the unification, the empire was in a tattered state. Many roads and rail systems where destroyed and major infrastructure was in disrepair. Justinian was one of several court members to be given leadership on the Emperor's rebuilding efforts. And while others used the position merely as a status symbol; young Justinian took to the task with vigor. Working with local groups to rebuild the transit system and improve it. For while many in the court say busy work Justinian Correctly say the opportunity to dictate lucrative trade contracts that allowed him into the favor of many powerful individuals and organization. The High Roads and Rail System where plan not only to maximize travel time and traffic flow but to benefit Justinian's personal associates and patrons. By the time the new system was finish Justinian was a much wealthier man and gain the loyalty of many.

• Rebuilt and Restructure the mass transportation system of the European mega city to allow faster movement of men and materials ​

-Diplomacy-

--Letter to NordAfrik--
To the exalted Chief Marshal Hektil Demens and the noble people of NordAfrik.

I, Caesar Justinian , wish to end this long hostility between our two great nations that has lasted far too long. As the last beacons of enlightened thought on this world we can no longer fight each other over petty squabbles. We must reopen our shared boards in mutual friendship and trade so the we can remind humanity what great feats can be achieved through peace and cooperation. Let us show that we civilized nations stand together against those that would snuff the light of civilization.

 

[Weygand]

There Is But One Monarch
- Man must kneel before what he cannot understand -
​

THE EXCESSES of rampant technological progress were brought about by Man's embrace of age-old folly. Drunk on their own genius, our species sought to supplant - even overcome - the Divine. This so-called 'Golden Age', this epoch of reason and rationality, saw man turn away from the darkest, primordial part of his being: the soul. All was the pursuit of profit and progress. Heedless, children playing at God, we forgot our histories. Our reasons for being. The myths, the legends, the countless stories of our boundless peoples which no doubt stretch millennia. How many stories, how many languages, cultures, faiths and civilisations have been erased in the scientist, the corporation, the rationalist's march toward sterile, homogenising progress? How many countless thousands perished on a statistical technicality, a grim necessity, an error on an unerring march forward?

MANKIND has never thought to question the ideology of progress, for it has been taught that life is a progression. It has forgotten the ancient truth, the hope that burns in the chest of any hale man or woman: the call of the mystical, the purpose, the animus beyond the platitudes of mere mortal science. None of us are truly rational. The Church offers you no assurances, it does not deal in tactile facts and rationalising reassurances. We are a proudly irrational people: we draw strength from our communion. And now, in the ashes of annihilation, the Divine's judgement for our hubris, they are dead. We remain.

HOW THEN has yet more folly darkened the door of our congregation? Like fools, we compromised. We turned our attention to a fallacious attempt at a balance. We presumed, naively, that it was the duty of Man to conduct the business of Heaven on Earth. We believed some indifferent, foreign, secular authority vested with the mandate from Man rather than God would prove our salvation from the barbarians that have now loosed themselves upon us again in the wake of his passing. When Our Lady was led to the pyre, willingly, she made no such compromises.

LET THIS DECLARATION affirm, then, that there is no government upon Earth save for that of Heaven. There is but one King, one Emperor: the Lord. And, blessed by the words and the ordination of the Stigmata, the Arcquess will serve as his preeminent and loyal vassal. So it has been promulgated, so it shall be enacted.

 

[Hyvelic]

A Thorn of the Kalagann, his Bodyguard and highest Commander
​

Ursh was a land of pain and suffering for the many. Millions die against the defenses of outsiders. Their hatred and desire for what the other great tribes have are what drives them, for if it is not the hate, it would be the lash. Once the Kalagann left the front lines, there was little stopping the troops from leaving, except the fear and threat of the Kalagann's retribution against them.

So they fought, died, and destroyed at the orders of their leader. The Kalagann returned to his home and gathered his strongest and most loyal warriors. There he trained them to perfection, to be extensions of his will across Ursh. They fought like cornered animals with the cunning of a master hunter, they are armored in the strongest armors and granted the strongest weapons... even if they are like the technology the Kalagann oh so hates. They became his Thorns, to bleed the enemy and all who would stand against the word of the Kalagann.

The focus of his ire in this age, however, is not the Pan-Pacific Empire, the Ethnarchy of the Caucasus, or the Confederacy. No, the ire that held his eye were the Clans of Terrawatt. The others would have to wait for the time where they will be crushed, but the affront of the Terrawatts continued existence is a black mark on Ursh, so until either the Terrawatts submitted, were destroyed, or Ursh was defeated so utterly that their empire may never recover, The Kalagann would wage war on the West.

---

The Dregs of the War Host of Ursh
​

There was a cry of pain as a body is thrown into a group. A heavily armored figure steps down from their throne and draws their spear. "You are a coward, a pathetic worm who would dare try to strike down your betters. Perish for your crimes of raising a blade against me. Perish for raising a blade against the champion of the Gods. Perish for the crime of failing to win." And with that, the figure impales the fallen man. Blood leaks from their wounds and in their last moments the armored figure twists the spear with the intent to cause as much pain as possible. Letting out a roar of victory the rest of those present follow suit and roar alongside the spear-wielding warrior. "Long Live the Kalagann! Let Conquest Reign Supreme!" they cheer.

After a few moments of cheering the Kalagann returns to his throne and shouts, and the others cease to speak as he does. "Come, warriors, it is time to lead a crusade against our enemies. Where I go, will you arm yourselves in my name? I shall lead you to victory and glorious conquest. Onwards slay them all in my name, and the name of our gods."

And so they did, an army marches to the west, bearing the banners of four gods. Jakob, the Lord of Ash, who rules over the aftereffects of conquest. His symbol is that of a torch. Kaligan, Queen of Children, from whose blood comes, warriors, chieftains, and warlords. Her symbol is a river. Haluna, Son of war, who leads the charge and fills the mind with words of war and tactics. His symbol is a Hammer. Geal, the Father of shadows, who finds plots and trickery as his prime weapon, tearing down what cannot be destroyed by brute force alone. His symbol is a bloodied smile.

Ursh is coming, the world should prepare. It marches to wage war, to slaughter and conquer all that can be seen, and only a few shall stand against their might. So says the Champion of the Gods, The Kalagann of Ursh.

The Flag of Haluna, Son of War​

 

[Dovahsith]

The sun crept down, back over the rim of the valley, as the shadow of the mountain once more came flooding in, leaving the cloaked figure and his guest sitting in companionable silence next to the dirty brown trickle of silty water ebbing its way to parts unknown.

"Truth be told, I've never really understood his obsession with gold." Malcador began, breaking the quiet. His companion said nothing.

"Not that I do not see the value in it all. Gold hints at the sun, of the stars and such. It is the metal of Kings, Emperors..." He went on, glancing at his visitor with a conspiratorial knowing smirk "and the divine, though he'd be most put out if one were to mention it."

"But given leeway and resources, I fear dear Revelation would coat the halls, the walls and even the doors to our little secret in gilding. Were I not aware of his augmentations, I'd wonder if poor Valdor's vision were to begin to be in pain. I know my own eyes can start to blur when forced to stare at that wretched ornamentation for long enough."

His companion, a tall, statuesque figure, marble white, said nothing. For how could it? It was but a statue, dug out of one of the treasure vaults dotting the planetary surface, it's original "owners" if such a term could be used for scavengers now coating the floor about them. After all, when one had desperation and weapons, one did not simply give away your newly discovered treasures to a mere old man, no matter how worthless you thought them. Which was probably why a smokey layer of ash now wafted down onto the valley floor, carried away by the chilly dust filled night winds.

"Now Silver" Malcador began, considering his thoughts. "Silver has potential."

The ancient statue of a man who once stood against giants looked away from the carnage, dead eyes faced ever onwards as it was pulled along on its journey to a new vault, ready to preserve the past for the future.

 

[Awetduck]

​

Stepping off the Philonicus-class airship and into the open air above the out-hive market to check in on this districts Bureau Head Ahura began thinking of the nature of Capacity.

Capacity: the maximum amount that something can contain.

Capacity: the amount that something can produce.

The Great Hive of Nabeate, without its hundred million souls grinding into a slow grist the Empire would not exist, the Holy Cities of Petra and Hegra would not be allowed as monuments to the wonders and traditions of humanity. And for that action he would love it for eternity.

If only it didn't smell so awful.

Its like these people went out of their way to be squalid. With all the money and effort sunk into the reclamation systems still dung ended up in the streets, up some 2% since last year if the Factotum was to be believed. "Unregistered Growth" the ministers were calling it. "Population Migration", the Bureau heads complained.
The desert took more of the surface every year, pushing more and more into Nabeate's crowded interior. Some day only those living in the domes would regularly see daylight and whole generations of people would live in the under-hive without ever stepping foot outside the metropolis.

The Governatore wanted more of the Vidarna Militia allocated to their cause to "Keep Peace" while the Imperial Legate was desperate to push more legions of militia into patrols along the three contested borders. The homeless thronged in the gutters and would gladly take up arms but the cubiculum droned monotonously about how much more water the militia consumed than civilians and how much of it was lost to the desert.

Capacity: At the current rate of growth in 30 years Nabeate would be unable to regularly afford its civilians the 30 gallons of water a day it takes to make most humans tolerable. Just Ten Billion Nine Hundred and Fifty Million gallons a year.
Capacity: Time to build more treatment plants, enough to water an extra 2% of the populace a year.

Ahura become bored with the report of the Bureau Head of the Out-hive Markets, he was skimming taxes from the market but it fell well within acceptable limits. The reason for The Consul to receive this brief in person was to remind all the Bureau Heads, Proconsuls, Legates, Governatore and even and especially the Senate that Ahura knew exactly how much they were stealing from the city, and what level of graft he was willing to permit.

Capacity: Ahura's Capacity to put up with peoples shit was fixed at 2%

​

 

[Holland]

--Secret Letter to Arcquess Joan IV--


I am indeed shocked to hear about your decision to succeed from our union of nations. It was not long ago that we talked in person about crossing into Brittanie together to reclaim the land so wrongfully stolen from you and your people by the barbaric Alybon King. How we stood together in the High Court to levy for religious freedoms and Francish economic programs. What great feeds we were to venture upon together. But nay, you have chosen the dishonorable path of sedition and at the worst time for your own cause.


Your sudden abandonment to your chivalric vows saddens us greatly. For not only do you abandon your oaths of mutual friendship and defense, but you do so at the cost of your own safety. You and your people who are facing imitate invasion from the Jermani Rebels and their Nordic overlords now stand alone. Rest assured, they will not stop at their own borders but will continue to burn and destroy all that is good and pure in this world until nothing is left. For they have been driven mad by voices of a foreign mad man, who seeks to destroy our way of life. His twisted God or GODS are not of you and your ilk but of darkness and depravity.


How can you come to such a decision at such a dire time in history? You know full well as I do the dangers of the mad priest in the north. The twisted voices he hears in the night. How he turns sane men rabid and wild.


But now here we stand, apart and alone against the coming storm of darkness from the north. I do not wish you an enemy Joan, let us site together and reason. For the betterment of all that we hold dear. Let us not fight one another as the darkness consumes us to take all that we hold dear.


-Justinian


​

 

[Weygand]

-A reply to an Emperor-
​

Honoured sovereign, know that as your fellow vassal to Our Lord that whilst I deny your authority over me, I do not deny your hand in friendship. Indeed, you are wise to recall those years of peace, before the revelations dawned upon me, for I think fondly of the glories we might have won driving - as my forebear once did - the barbarians from the plains of Franc. Your respect for our people's sovereignty must now extend, I fear, to an acknowledgement of our independence, if not our mutual submission to God.

Your words of warning are well-received, though my Order has long laboured to drive the rabble of Jermani from our borders. This heathen priest, who has risen a conquering horde, thinks to win himself a new Empire on the corpses of both our own inheritances. He will find himself resisted, and fiercely, by the vanguard of the faithful. My terms are thus, as you know them well: our traditional borders within your Empire will remain respected as the new boundary between our nations.

Beyond this, I offer you the gift of peace and plenty. Though righteous fury deems I turn sword and fire upon Franc's enemies for the first time since my ascendancy, I realise the wisdom of your plea. Our peoples have more in common - if not religion - than not. The free passage of our missionaries and your traders must be guaranteed if there is to be order in the shadow of Europa.

I ask that you meet with me again, as we did often before your coronation, in hopes both that I might convince you of the righteousness of my awakening and we may plan our campaign to destroy this heretical coalition which harasses both our borderlands.

-Walk ever in the light-​

 

[Noco]

In the Workshop​

Amplified by the voluminous cavern in which it was situated, the thrum of the cogitator-farm filled the Theologitek workshop with a cacophony of noise, the wondrous sounds of moving parts and exchanged data bouncing between the grey walls. It was of no bother to the Theologitek, as his work busied his mind to the point where little could remove his singular attention. With a combi-tool, he tinkered away, alone as always, for he forbade any other living being within his den.

"Guuugrgh," said Ulv.

To name Ulv a living being would be an overstatement, rendering the Theologitek's rule maintained. Once a techno-barbarian of unknown repute, Ulv bore the grave misfortune of being the personal project of the Theologitek. First examined and then properly disassembled, what was once a man became a motley mixture of parts. What remained was the head, affixed with a micro-cogitator embedded within the skull and an anti-grav generator affixed where the neck should be. Rotted flesh clung, in parts drooping like an ill-fitting suit. Where it had fully exposed bone, new skin was grafted, recycled meat from other unfortunate Urshmen.

The Theologitek's newest upgrade to Ulv was a modified voicer, which allowed the abomination to communicate, in theory. But in practice, it only grunted and moaned, its pained noisemaking filtered through static. But even this could not distract the Theologitek from his most pressing project.

The device stood thrice his height, made of dark metal and topped with an orb. As the THeologitek finished a turn of his tool, the tower gave its own hum to the overall sounds of the workshop, its top-piece emitting a bright light. The sound emitting from the device reached higher and higher and with a shudder, the lights of the workshop stopped and started, their precious energy diverted now to this singular tower. Once it reached its apex, the device was blinding, but still the Theologitek was pleased, a shadow of a smile on his parched lips.

With a switch, he deactivated the device, the air smelling of ozone and something else, a burnt scent that mingled with the rank smell of rotten flesh and oil that permeated the workshop. More, thought the Theologitek. We need more. And so he became working anew.

 

[Revan4221X]

​

Merica was rising as President Washington entered his office and sat down. By the door we're two of his personal retinue of bodyguards dressed in suits hiding Kevlar armor and the traditional shades and radio gear before a sudden jolt of greenish lightning and accompanying thunder shook him out as he turned to the outside rad-storm as rain batters against the reinforced window.

"The world must have looked so beautiful before man, a shame that our ancestors squandered their chance." Washington said as he shut a metal cover over the window and moved towards his desk, which had an assortment of papers and visual devices displaying Greater Europa and the surrounding barbarian warlord states.

Greater Europa was the only other mostly civilized nation(they long since stopped being Warlords or "Techno Barbarians") that Merica had consistent contact with, if only because of the ability for actual diplomacy even capable of being done.

Washington was sad to say that it's in a very bad position with the nation being divided and possibly going to be overun by the nearby warlords. Losing Europa would be a great loss for civilization and the possibility of an ally in this world is simply to great to lose. Justinian the sole heir to the throne of the Europan throne is the best choice to aid because of his actual claims to the throne and just civilized nature. The only other would be Joan although she is rather tense so he would prefer to leave her alone for now. "Get me Chairmen Rusev." He told one of his bodyguards who calmly nodded and called the Chairmen of the Joint Chiefs Alred Rusev, who walked through the office door and said "Yes Mr. President?" In a mechanical fashion.

Infact that would be apt considering that Alred Rusev has cybernetics all over his body not out of misguided worship or upgrades, but for necessity because of the injures he has sustained while out in the field earlier in his service. Without even batting an eye however Washington motions to his map of Europa while simultaneously saying "I need your take on the situation, I will also need to know what we can spare.

"The situation is dire sir. Two of the hive cities Jermani and Boetia have revolted from Greater Europa and while Boetia is mostly harmless it still is a nuisance that divides the more numerical forces of Greater Europa from combating the threat of Jermani and it's massive horde of "allies" under command of the Warlord Maulland Sen. It is unlikely Greater Europa could survive this without help soon, we can spare some assets however." Droned out Rusev as Washington, despite the lengthy assessment, assessed the situation before replying. "What kind of assets? With the ever looming threat of the Pan-Pacific Empire on our western border I'm unsure of what we can spare without sacrifing to much of our integrity?"

Rusev quick as ever replied in a quick and straightforward fashion. "We can spare some manpower without sacrificing to much of our overall strength although I would recommend that if we do attempt to send them over to Europa, we do so under a guise so to not give the impression we might be weakened. Secondly we can also send some Military Advisors to Europa although their usefulness and effectiveness remains to be seen."

Washington firmly responded with "Get it done I don't want to see Europa fall to barbarism just because an Emperor decided to finally take a vacation from this hell hole of a planet." With that Rusev took his leave, leaving Washington alone in his office as the President silently took out a folder labeled

Project: P.I.C.A​

 

[Atomicwalrus]

Caius stood before his congregation raising his arms summoning a hololith before him. In the Hololith an orb of a planet hung pristine, blue oceans only occasionally mared by the green and brown of continents and the sublime white of her ice caps.

The orb begun to rotate, soon scaterings of light in its dark side bloomed, more rotations and the lights spread like a spider web across the face of the world. Now the billiant greens and browns of the continets where mared in grey where the lights glowed. Ever did it grow, slowed, sometimes burnt others but never ending.

Inevitably even the blue of the seas concedes and the orb was a shinging jewel of light. In an instant the orb blazed with brilliant light only to turn dark just as suddenly. The once brilliant light of civilization replaced with the rudy red glow of catastrophe.

Soon even the red glow faded leaving naught but a burnt cinder rotating slowly above the congregation.

'So is the tale of Old Earth mother of us all' proclaimed the Priest King to his congregation

'Mother of us all' chorused the congregation in reply.

"Now our mother lies burnt with mutants and arsonists squatting in the halls of our ancestor." proclaimed Caius.

"Only in Haven does the light of mankind survive, its shining beauty hidden under the ice. Who does our seclusion serve?
Old mother Earth burnt and ruined?
Mankind orphaned and in hiding?
Mankind scattered and lost across the stars?
The arsonist and the mutant?
Or Fear?"

'Fear, Fear, Fear' chanted the congregation in reply.

'Are we to serve Earth or Fear?' asked Caius

'Earth' thundered the congregation in reply.

 

[averagename]

In the mountains of the Cacussus.

'Grug see bright light today it very pretty Grug no like bright light....'
The innane rambilings of the experiment were cut off by gurgle as the mechadentridte mounted scalpel cut the experiments throat. The ethanarch sighed as the medadrite folded back into his spine. Lad assassins cowered out of sight fearing catch the eye of the Ethanarch. The ethanarch was not having a good day and it was best not to get his attention when he was having a bad day. The latest experimental bath, while showing improved strength, had displayed a unacceptable decay in cognitive function. The bleeding mass of flesh had been in the latest attempt and while it had shown improvement over its simiarly worthless cousins, namely not instantly flying into a bumbling physcotic rage, it was still a drooling imbecile of no use.

'recycle it' the Ethanarch croaked as servitors ambulated forth to drag the expirment which had now finished gurgling mass over to a dissection table. Looking over the augements genome the Ethenarch thought he discovered a reason for the incompetence and a day later he had made the necessary alterations to correct for that error in the gene. In another part of the underground facility a screaming innocent was dragged towards an 'upgrade' chamber. While this subject likely wouldn't be satisfactory with another couple dozen test subjects the Ethanarch may get something useful.


Far away, across the boarder in Boatiean occupied Europa a sentry was bored. The sentry, a new recuit, had been sent along with his unit to watch the border with the ethanarchy. The volunteer had signed up, dreaming of conquest and glory, and now was stuck in the arse end of now where. while the fearsome armies of the ethanrchy had been routed and turned back by the forces of Boeotia (or atleast that was what he was told growing up) the border had been quiet for months. The sentry wished he was in combat, fighting for the independence of his nation against the oppression of Europa. The sentry should have been paying atention, for if he had he would have heard the bushes russle. If he had hear that ... well it wouldn't have really made a difference.
Springing from the bushes a horrific cross between a man and what appeared to be a snake lashed out and grabbed him. He oppened his mouth to scream but the snake thing did not try to stop his screaming; it only started cutting. The sentry didn't wish for excitement anymore.

When the sentries comrades reached the site they found their friend still screaming; he was alive, if barely. He had been mutilated horrifically and his mangled body writhed on the wooden post it had been tied too. When the sentry was finally put out of his misery but a bullet to the head he wasn't the first to die in the Ethanarcies invasion; up and down the border a thousand more skirmishes had taken place. A thousand more atrocities commited. This though, was just the begining.

 

[Bones]

In the dark hours of the night, long after most of those who inhabit Hive Nordafrik had gone to bed, a light shown in the study of the Chief Marshal. It was not unusual: between his extensive augmentation, and his own tireless nature, he rarely slept. He had increasingly little need for it, and increasingly large amounts of work. Nordafrik's enemies were many and surrounded the nation on all sides, ever trying to erode her strength, to leech away her lands, her people, and her technologies. But that would change with time. Nordafrik would reclaim its place in the sun. And the missive before him offered to greatly speed up that process.

The question was, dare he take it.

Nordafrik and Europa had bleed each other for years and years and years. The Akores were Nordafrik by right and they would be Nordafrik again by blood if needed... if needed. If not, all the better. Nordafrik was not lacking in other foes to make up the difference. Europa was an old foe, but a tired one with its own problems. Burying the axe with them would allow for greater focus on the treacherous dogs of Gyptus or the upstarts of Midafrik. And, perhaps one day, Ursh. He thumbed the comm to talk to one of his aides.

"The Emperor knows what we want. If he is willing to provide, I am willing to talk."

It would do for now. His advisors would be notified when they had awaken, and the following day a more substantial message would be composed. But that would only take care of only one of the three immediate adversaries. The situation with Midafrik was deteriorating, but under control for the time being. But even with the potential reinforcements from the Europan front, Gyptus would require more to fall. A creative touch, perhaps. A smile crept to his face as he contemplated the conversations he would be having with the teknologians and siegeworkers in the coming days.

 

[Holland]

Spoiler: Great Europa Flag

---Diplomatic Core of Great Europa---​

Even before the rebellions; Justinian send forth his diplomatic core to all of the great power surrounding his domain. He wished to secure his holding and borders through dialogue rather than brute force. Although things unraveled quite more quickly then expected the agents sent forth were able to bear fruit in several of his endeavors.

The first of these actions was to Nordafrik Conclave. The ongoing hostilities, although having cooled as of late, needed to end so that the Empire could devout its attention elsewhere. When Jermani rebelled with the help of the Maullend Sen Confederation this became of the utmost importance.

Negotiations were costly but ultimately successful. Europa would breathe easy now that the scimitars of the south where lowered in peace.


--- Peace Treaty of Europa and Nordafrik ---

The nation-states of Europa and NordAfrik shall henceforth end all military and otherwise hostile acts of aggression against one another.

In this agreement, summarized here, Europa shall leave the islands of Akores in their entirety and in return Nordafrik shall enter into peaceful trade relations with Europa and all its current trading partners, allowing supervised and administered flow of approved men and materials through each other's territory.

Let the Peace we create today last an Eternity

• Justinian ​

Merica was always a distant trading partner. but do to some fundamental cultural connection the Diplomatic sent to Merica was able to convince the Government that supporting Europa against the invader would be massively important. Economically important but also incredibly Symbolic. As the Merica and Europa shared values of individual prosperity and national governance, values the invaders did not share.

And thus, with the Merican President declaring military assistance the Diplomatic core drafted agreements and declaration of friendship. As part of it Justinian made a formal declaration to the European people.


---The Crusader Act---

People of Great Europa,

I, Justinian Caesar of Great Europa, declare that the Merican Crusaders shall be allowed within the borders of our nation so to combat the invading barbarian hordes. Europa and Merica shall battle beside one another brothers-in-arm

Allow them the utmost curtesy and support for they are our kin in these most troubling times. Let the alliance we forge today, shine bright against the darkness and burn away the barbarian hordes that would lay waste to our civilized and enlightened nations.

Glory to Civilization, Glory to Europa!

• Justinian ​

---Alybon Intrigue---

Before the rebellions, there was a three-way stand-off between Great Europa, the Kingdom of Alybon, and the Maulland Sen Confederacy. Although small-scale border raids are common, no major battle between the northern powers has taken place in a decade. Any large-scale offensive into one of the northern nations could rope in the other neighboring powers. At least that was the case until the Jermani betrayed their good senses and allied themselves with the Nords. He needed to release the pressure from the northern front.

A year ago, what might as well be century, the plan was to have agents agitate the Alybon warlords along the Maulland Sen border with the goal of instigating a full-on war between the two nations. This would allow Great Europa to swoop in and take back the Franc and Jermani territories that were occupied during the Unification War. Since then the Agents have still be active. Perhaps with the Maulland Sen invading the south, the Alybon will be more hospitable to the idea of taking a bite out of its neighbor to the east.

 

[Revan4221X]

---The Crusader Act---

People of Great Europa,

I, Justinian Caesar of Great Europa, declare that the Merican Crusaders shall be allowed within the borders of our nation so to combat the invading barbarian hordes. Europa and Merica shall battle beside one another brothers-in-arm

Allow them the utmost curtesy and support for they are our kin in these most troubling times. Let the alliance we forge today, shine bright against the darkness and burn away the barbarian hordes that would lay waste to our civilized and enlightened nations.

Glory to Civilization, Glory to Europa!

• Justinian​
• President Washington​

 

[bookwyrm]

The Defenestration of Jermani Hive 998.37 M28



The Grand Diet of the Gewerkschaftbund, called to order in grevious mourning of the august Emperor Eratas the Great, and in the coronation a new Emperor-Elect in his beloved memory, finds its solemn and due process disturbed by the unlawful corruption of its sacred purpose at the hands of the Imperial Prince Justinian. Notwithstanding the inherent violation of the imperial dignity for the Prince to hold both the mandate of the holy Emperor of Europa and the lesser earthly office of Grand Chancellor of the Gewerkschaftbund, the Imperial Prince Justinian has stopped at nothing to compel the false election of himself as Emperor in Jermani. Destitute of all morality known agents of the Imperial Prince Justinian have attempted to bribe, intimidate, blackmail, and bodily threaten the persons of the Grand Diet if they would not comply with his illegal usurpation. This has been presented by the loyal and good friend of the empire Marshal Kosibar with sufficient evidence to force the Grand Diet to forever oppose the candidacy of the Imperial Prince Justinian. As the response of the tyrant of Globus has be the military invasion of Jermani to suppress this assembly and win by right of conquest what he cannot by law, this Diet has no choice but to promulgate an Imperial Execution making outlaw and excommunicate all who aid in this criminal and most barbaric action. This promulgation is entirely within the bounds of lawful procedure, as with the absence of a lawful Grand Chancellor within the Diet a Deputy Chancellor may be made to carry the great Imperial Data-Seal and speak with the voice of the Emperor until such time as a new Grand Chancellor can be appointed.

In the name of the Empire of Europa and our beloved shepherd Emperor Eratas, AMALIE-CECYLIA SOKOL GENANNT FALLEK is hereby declared Deputy Chancellor of this Grand Diet on account of her many years of service in previous Grand Diets. By her imperial writ the Execution of persons found to be abetting and conspiring with the false Emperor Justinian will be held over their title of aerocraft, their legal and civic rights, their goods and possessions, and over their very lives. The following members of the Grand Diet have been duly found to be unable to answer to these charges and have been declared enemies of Jermani; JAREK PTASKA, Supreme Burgrave of the Diet, VILLEMA ESTRIGA, Reverend Procurate of the Diet Rolls, PAUWEL UTSCHEL, private secretary to the Grand Chancellery, KANON CHAVA KOVAS, Grand Prior of the Diet, and MATEVOS SAAZGAJ, High Magistrate of Jermani. They who have abused their office to maliciously affirm the evils of Imperial Prince Justinian and betray the whole of the Gewerkschaftbund have thus been expelled from this body... onto the irradiated ground below. Thus always to tyrants and to all those who would enslave Jermani and strip her of her imperial rights!

Pursuant to the fulfillment of the Imperial Execution in a just and timely manner, the Deputy Chancellor grants a warrant to Marshal Kosibar for the creation of an Executive Council of Regents to complete this mission and maintain the stability of Hive Jermani in this present crisis. In recognition of the leadership and bravery of Marshal Kosibar he would be appointed chief officer of this council and Interrex of the Europan Empire until such time as the Gewerkschaftbund may legally elect a suitable candidate for the throne. This council will be granted leave to deputize a Army of Imperial Execution in defence of the law of Jermani and all associated war powers which would prove necessary. Quotas of resources and crews would be drawn up and asked to be supplied by each Spire-Graviate in the manner they are best fit and all loyal Jermanii citizens are called to aid this force by whatever means they are availed. Long live Europa and long live Jermani!​

 

[RobespierreLives]

Societies of the Empire​

In the sprawling and diverse hive cities of the Pan-Pacific Empire, secret clubs, associations and groups form and wither away as fast as bullets travel, and the secrets of the groupings die with their members. Some groups however, manage to survive the harsh realities of the Empire, grow large and influential with some even having direct connection to the Imperial Court, and help determine the lives of billions. A faction can lose the Emperor's favour rather quickly though and it only takes few misstep or a couple of wrong words to anger the Imperial Majesty, and if his annoyance is not soothed a faction will not live long.

Order of the Heavenly Warriors
A group zealously devoted to the Emperor of the Pan-Pacific Empire, whom they see as a deity who, in their belief descent from the Gods themselves. The group became well known by the public due to their numerous pogroms against so-called 'undesirables', and it is speculated whether or not the Emperor himself ordered these pogroms to occur or whether the members of the group did so on their own volition. The only known member of the group is Pojihaka Tojo, friend to the Emperor and minister of war.

The Four Candles Association
A group branded as traitorous by the previous Emperor, the Hanjol Emperor, supposedly for being a terrorist organization but more likely because they displeased him. During their meetings the members wear masks coloured red, white, and black, and keep them on during meeting and while committing their rituals. Allegedly the group attempted to convince the Hanjol Emperor to limit his own power, but now they adhere to violent methods to get their message across, even if though it rarely does.

The Red Brotherhood
The Brotherhood is the most prominent of all the Coloured Brotherhoods (e.g. the Blue Brotherhood, Purple Brotherhood etc.), and is a mix of a religious cult with a political program. The members wear a bright red robe with a dark red eye drawn on the back. Their religious beliefs are unknown to the uninitiated but their political program is well known. Extremely conservative and bound to tradition they support the Emperor and his heavenly right to rule unquestioned. At court the Red Brotherhood is very influential, and the Emperor, erratic and unwavering as he might be, allegedly speaks to courtiers from the Brotherhood before deciding anything.

Yellow Dust Society
Violent, unpredictable, and speak the language of the lowest levels of the hives, the Yellow Dust Society has been a nuance to both the Empire and the Coalition, striking from the shadows the second soldier has his guard down, and the unknown leadership, if it has any, are rumoured to have organised several tax-related revolts in the lower levels of the hives, all of them violently suppressed by the Imperial army. Tax collectors hate the Yellow Dust Society, and in areas dominated by said group, any tax collector would be unwise to enter without a guard.

 

[Karen]

Ave Imperator,
morituri te salutant
​

Hundreds had been gathered in the roughly hewn hall before the massive doors, catered to and looked over by six golden giants known by them as the Custodians. It was quite the collective, nobles from all over Hymalazia and parts of the southern Mauryan realm, all taken or summoned to this one place to see the opening of the doors. Many were tense, having been disarmed and forced to share space with bitter rivals or tinpot dictators who had little care for the ways of high society and culture, yet, they had been forbidden from drawing blood by a man they did not know, the Sigilite, Malcador.

Malcador had not been inefficient at his task, the silent dagger which follows the Emperor was more than capable at reaching out with agents and heralds into the territories not occupied by fanatic cults and seed the word of Unity. Already, rebellions against barbarian warlords were lighting up the clobbered together Mauryan Confederacy which had banded together in response to the rising Yndonesiac power, while Hymalazia had seemingly come completely to standstill with Malcador's efforts, the lightning banner of Unity flying high above the various cities and forts that dotted the mountainous landscape. The Xeric tribes, meanwhile, resisted openly and violently, killing those who preached philosophical beliefs and strongly placing the gun over the pen.

The Achaemid empire, on the other end, was far more susceptible to the scholarly aspects of Unity, particularly the apparently more plausible way of Terran hegemony and a return to the stellar theatre. This was helped a great deal by the Consul's own desire to reopen the investigation towards the stars, scraping together a great deal of resources in the twin scholar cities in order to begin the construction of large chemical rockets manned with satellites, the process primarily delayed by the actual lack of any space-worthy equipment that could feasibly function as satellites, and massive amounts of interference from radiation storms caused by the collision of a pair of orbital plates. Malcador's agents promised the scholars and scientists of Babylonia's descendant the stars, and they were all too eager to look and listen and see what the Sigilite's master had to say.

So it was, at the base of the mountains, that tens of thousands of soldiers and pilgrims had gathered from all over the land, ranging from simple vagabonds seeking a new life to elite formations of violet-clad soldiers from five regiments of the old Europan armies. Other minor military formations had gathered, and with hailers raised dotting the various mountains, the gates began to open.

Every eye turned and stared as the massive titanium doors swung open, and, flanked by six demigods in gold, stood one man. To some he looked like a golden giant in brilliant armour, face unmarred by age and brimming with determination and a fierce intelligence, while others saw brutal cunning and a warlord set to bring down the very galaxy itself to his whim. Some say that the very mountain lit up as the Emperor strode into the marble-laden halls of his Imperial Palace. A young man by the name of Alasteir Gundi was among those who saw the Emperor first hand, and contrary to the superstition of old, he did not see a god, he did not see an angel come to life or some messianic figure bestowed by a celestial power. He saw a man, the pinnacle of what man could become if placed on the route of progress and enlightenment through science, not fanaticism and dogma. Others saw it also, and as the man spoke with a thousand tones, ranging from the honest soldier to the enlightened gentleman, he alleviated their worries, speaking of truth and the same thing all those heralds and messages were whispering; Unity. It was no surprise then that all of Hymalazia, and great tracts of Maurya's leadership swore fealty to the Emperor and his nascent realm, his brilliant light burning away primordial greed or bloodlust.

​

From there, the Emperor's genius saw the rise of great factorums and academies, bringing in the army that had sworn to Unity and turning them into the first Imperial regiments, while those with the skill to work would begin forging the first guns and tools as to which unity would be achieved. To his surprise, he would receive a gift from Nabatae in the form of the third eldest son, Damian Vohu Khvaraenah, with the Bucephalus-class strider schematics, a rare piece of archaeotech and among the many marvels which Nabatae housed.

Things were not so bloodless, however, as in the mountainous crags held by the Xeric of old Myanba and Yunzhu, the Thunder Warriors struck first blood against these resilient folk. They had resisted unity initially, raising armies to battle the Emperor and had surprisingly managed to hold on, inflicting minor casualties to the Emperor's forces though taking hundreds of losses in return. Not a single Custodes died, and the few Thunder Warriors that did were far more easily replaced now that more manpower and equipment was readily available to the nascent Imperium. The Xeric tribes would eventually be subjugated, its leadership kneeling and accepting the Emperor's rule, with Valdor slaying all but one of the tribal elders to ensure rebellion would never come again. An old soldier from the Xeric armies spoke of the Custodes as talons, tearing out the throat of their warbands and bringing the far larger formations down gasping and bleeding over the harsh mountains.

​

Raised from the nomadic tribes of the empire and protecting the scholarly cohorts, the militias of the Achaemid Empire arrived on what was known as the 'borderlands', a stretch of land which bordered three realms, where a dark relic of failure stood; the ruins of Hive Byzant. With the archaeologists embarking into the deep ruins and chasms of the old hive's outskirts, the militias took to patrolling the dunes and salt flats, manning listening posts and setting down new communication lines with headquarters not too far from the first spire of Byzant which lurched out of the sands at a daunting angle. Discoveries ranged from the bones of fallen soldiers to their equipment, various pieces of vox equipment and the bones of the massive generators which had powered Byzant before they went critical in the atomic blast. The hive itself was massively irradiated, but that did not stop the daring teams of the Achaemid. And they were rewarded for their exploration, discovering several half-buried suits of mostly complete powered armour from pre-Strife days, tooled and built on Mars and shipped to Terra before the dark times. The armour was far from perfect and consumed large amounts of power judging by chemical burns on the back, but the fact they were mostly whole meant that reverse engineering was entirely possible.

​

Before the Dhul-Qarnayn would find the latent powers of twin brothers Ahzek and Ohrmuzd, prized twin sons of the Consul, they would receive a vision. In that moment of stark clarity, Ahzek would see a red giant, a mane that resembled sorcerous flame, and a single, baleful eye. The boy, when interviewed by the scholars did not view it was a sign of the Empyrean, or some sort of malicious presence, but a sign of a possible future, one that promised glory to the Ahriman name beyond the globe of Terra. Similar visions were shared by Ohrmuzd, though he had frequently complained that his own dreams became chaotic and irregular at a certain point, his whole body seizing up and the total loss of control, a sign, according to the charts and tomes of Dhul-Qarnayn, that a terrible fate awaited young Ohrmuzd should the future they saw come to pass. They awoke too quickly to see the treachery that followed.

The order itself found a surprisingly high amount of candidates, just a number under two thousand possible psychically gifted individuals, a rapid increase from the last several generations which only brought a hundred or so possible candidates, in addition, they discovered a trait that had been largely subdued in the prestigious and wealthy families of Nabatae; the Navigator gene. This piece of genealogy had apparently disappeared in the Age of Strife, with the powerful families that still coveted disappearing into bunkers and sealed away mausoleums anticipating an end to Terran society as a whole, though, as the call of Unity came, so did these houses. They did not pledge fealty to the Consul or the Empire, sending a small cadre of their elders in order to begin training Dhul-Qarnayn psychics for the purposes of bringing Unity to the Achaemid peacefully. Hegra, the home of the Aeon Schola was glowing once more with contained psychic power, as the painful knowledge of the past had given the leadership plentiful knowledge in preventing a similar disaster. Many of the younger recruits not affiliated the emergent Navigators also showed incredible affinity for divination and telepathy, with all sharing the same set of dreams related to the stars, and of Terra's place in the galaxy. Unity, it seemed, had reached them too.

What the Consul and his courts didn't realise was that the opening of the Aeon Schola for new recruits had been in part a plan sprung by the agents of the Sigilite and by extent the Emperor himself, opening briefly the psychic channels and allowing a large number of young and potent recruits for future plans to be raised by the talented hands of the Aeon Schola for purposes not yet revealed.

​

What good is provocation when the enemy comes forth themselves? The technicians and specialists mounted in gunnery positions across the dark rocks of the Urals could hardly believe what they saw. Ambitious warbands, numbering a significant amount storming up towards the main complexes where the Terrawatts built their great machines and worked wonders from a lost era, trudging through snow and makeshift obstacles crafted decades prior, until they saw them. What appeared to be simply smooth globes peeking from the snowy caps suddenly exploded, sparking, and burning flesh rained as flashes of light turned warriors to dust. The armies of Ursh broke. The armies of the Kalagann ran. The technicians of the Urals chalked up another success.

The few survivors who were either struck and burnt but did not perish in the initial blasts were left lobotomized, their nerves burnt out as servitors rolled out into the snow and dragged them into the deep vaults. Those who were less fortunate were carved up then and there, organs stolen and bodies used for target practice. The Urals were not so easily tamed. Ologo, a brilliant mind driven to extremes with augmentation and the sciences which he preaches found himself visiting the lone signal tower which reached to Mars. Terra's sister had been mysteriously silent for several months, but, as if the very world has been shaken to the core, an encoded transmission began to cycle on loop. Curious codebreakers did make an attempt at it initially, though only one word had been pulled from the scrambled message: Unity.

The Kalagann however did not view this as a defeat, but a reason to take another direction. With his camp mustered close to the border with the Pan-Pacific Empire and a number of massive hosts gathered in the Sibir wastes, the first raiders were more than eager to into the empire and strike across the bastions and attack convoys travelling between the empire's hive cities. Striking at the hives themselves for the armies of Ursh was suicide, lacking any heavy artillery or anything larger than a rocket launcher. Raiding into the Caucasus had proven as futile as ever, though fighting against the Nordycs reaped both fresh meat for the slave pits and new weapons for some of the more underequipped warbands.

The master of Ursh was not deaf to the possibility of retaliation, and had spent a great deal of time creating 'fortress cities' from broken metal raised to act as diversions and obstacles for the armies of the Pan-Pacific tyrant. The broken remnants of former mega hive Nihon made up the majority of the material used, the vast, flat landscape of what once was the outskirts of the second biggest city on Terra proving an ample supply of metal for this purpose, with artificial canyons and trenches being blown out to thicken the roughshod defensive lines. In addition, a series of artillery guns from the Monstrok garrison were uncovered by slave diggers would be set up on display, though the lack of any shells to fire from said cannons made them little more than a show of force, an impressive one, though.

​

In the spires of the Jade Citadel, the emperor, ignorant of the pains of his people, celebrates an old Terran tradition; his birthday. For thirty-three years, the man lived, and in that time he had much to think and decide as to what he would do on this fateful day. He had chosen, in his endless wisdom, for the jade emperor is very wise, to grant gifts to his most loyal subjects, accepting only loyalty and good wishes from those same subjects. It was a very thinly veiled, but masterfully executed plot to weed out the dissenters and possible rivals to the leadership of the Pan-Pacific Empire, the ploy achieved desired results.

On the frontier of the Empire things seemed relatively stable, as officials reported little lost in the convoy raids that couldn't be replaced - the main fuel of trade was slaves, after all, and manpower was plenty in the massive empire. Indeed, the focus for the emperor on his day of birth and the wider year was in the dungeons with all dissidents and captured raiders. Screams of tortured men and women as they were subjected to cruel and unusual tortures, injected with toxic concoctions to break and bend their minds to the will of other men. The process of creating a servitor in a resource stretched empire like this one was not feasible, though some still roamed the Jade Citadel. Slavery was a difficult practice, something best left unspoken in the high courts which benefit off them, and that etiquite is what kept kings deaf from the woes of the lessers, but his keen interest in bypassing involuntary service by simply removing the option to resist was both seen as excessively tyrannical and brilliant by the various warlords who owed fealty to that jade crown.

​

Around Jermani, brutal fighting raged on as a massive withdrawal was made in stages. Justinian's worst fears came true and he had decided that attempting to hold onto the rebellious vassals was of little strategic worth, instead choosing to withdraw the frontier and professional formations once protecting the borders of Great Europa. Fighting continued the whole way as Maullend Sen pursued the loyalist Jermanian soldiers while Kosibar held back and let the warlord commit. The Execution Army was far more better suited to internal affairs, which it did, carrying out brutal repression against closeted or blatant loyalists while those who could be swayed to Kosibar were upraised and formed the core of a new inner circle to rule the Hive-League. Their alliance with the Nordyc granted them a huge supply of manpower, one that could be exploited but not controlled as the warlord's armies swept towards the Alpine reaches, being stopped just before the gates of Globus by the valiant armies of Justinian, and, to their surprise, geno troopers from Geno Ten-Three Chiliad, a Merican formation. The advisors proved somewhat difficult to adapt to the standards of the Europan military, as one army bred soldiers from the cradle to fight and die in harsh climates, while the Europan army mainly consisted of conscript soldiers, not warriors.

Justinian's strategic redeployment of forces seemingly went off without a hitch, though the high rate of mutinies and entire regiments being lost to fanatic nationalism had shown that the once indomitable bulwark that was the professional army could not be counted on for absolute loyalty, less so from the officers of which few actually came from Globus and the halls of the emperor. Many soldiers dug in and held the lines that were lost, surprised that few attacks save Sen's attempted push through the Alps would occur over the course of the year, all culminating in Boetia.

​

The Boetians may have had limited forces to exert past the hive city, but that did not mean they were entirely lacking teeth. The Home Guard, an elite formation of infantry would be sent to pacify the rebels only to find themselves pounded by artillery stations they could not respond to. Elite soldiers they were, the Home Guard was one of the few formations in the Europan military to not carry heavy artillery due to the ceremonial nature of their assignments, usually, as they would normally have access to the massive canons of Globus itself. Now, they were facing a smaller, but well entrenched foe who could batter them from afar while they had to hunker down and fight off punitive raids from the Caucasus, be it the half-machine men of the ethnarchy's war hosts or irradiated techno-barbarians from the northern wastes. Though they managed to retake the biodomes and other strategic locations, much of former Byzant territory would fall to the ethnarch and local warbands. It would be a long siege for Europan forces, even if they did bring up heavier weapons to battle the Boetians.

Franc did not act as expected, instead choosing to fortify the massive hive as paladins and holy women raised various banners and iconography, embracing the holy significance of Franc upon this sinful earth. Paladins and inquisitors roamed the streets, expelling loyalist officials and baptizing those who resisted with fire and bullet, while those who joined would be hauled into chapels, baptized and pushed into the clergy. Though things changed little in terms of how one did their work, prayer was added to schedules and timetables, while the more zealous found more worthy tasks for these apparent infidels.

The Arcquess, who had expected to sleep soundly after her communion with the lord would awake to a bright light, God's own, shining through her mind, illuminating it as if a dark haze had been lifted, pointing her to distant Hymalazia, where a distant lightning lord stood atop a mountain, his face creased in age and boundless wisdom. A thousand names followed him, but only one kept sticking to her memory - the Emperor. Divinity followed where this man stepped, his flaming sword burning away the unclean, the doors to the truth opening, and with it, the dream, the dream of a galaxy united under this one lord.

Her warriors stood in quiet vigilance when all this occurred, ordered to the walls and battlements in preparation for attack, but no attack came, though a number of agents captured sent from Globus had exposed the plot to rouse the witch-kings of Albyon, attempting to bring them to the war against Maullend Sen and the rebelling factions.

​

Pumped full of drugs and augmented with terrible electro-whips, buzzsaws and other weapons of mass murder and cruelty, the hosts of the Ethnarch were a terrible force indeed when unleashed. Veteran soldiers broke and fled at the sight of them, reminded of horrible pain from the past while younger men struck by fear fired uselessly against the stretched hides of these monstrosities. An ideal diversion, the mad thing that toiled in the workshops of the Caucasus, as towers and bunkers were raised, planting bioweapon traps and explosives in these fortified mountaintops.

The Ethnarch's focus, however, was primarily on the minions which he sent out. See, the creatures which he produced already were powerful, but each one was a work of art, a piece of sculpture personally made by the flesh workers beneath the mountains. To this extent, he had seen reason and applied logic, creating a problem that needed to be fixed - in the situation that his domain was put under the albeit unlikely scenario that it is attacked in force, it needed enough power and warriors to fend such an invasion off, and, the conclusion was simple; a more efficient way of processing humans into the perfect soldiers.

Passing massive sentries and the coiling hands of the generators which fuelled the entire facility, the Ethnarch would enter what is known as the Tempest Galleries, the deepest part of his realm and a massive generator from the days of the war against the Men of Iron that had been created by the men to provide an infinite source of power for their wars. The generator, in the tens of thousands of years of activity, had become sapient, achieving some level of thought as it thrashed and writhed against its constraints, overloading any circuitry that dared transfer the massive consciousness from the grid into another machine. The ethnarch, sensing opportunity, offered a deal. The massive intellect of the Tempest Galleries would streamline the production of a new warrior breed, the Ur-Khasis, and he would grant it a powerful enough body to travel freely, and a mind large enough to hold the massive consciousness. It was to be expected that such an offer would be accepted without hesitation.

​

Orioc, hidden away as it was, did find itself having the time and patience to raise the painstaking new generation of soldiers. The veteran regiments, namely the Lucifer Blacks, were disinterested in taking any recruits that were not the cream of the crop, and as a result strongly resisted the attempt to expand the limited forces of Haven. Though, instead, new regiments were raised, the cunning priest-kings well aware that any soul could be bought, and Lucifer Black veterans, particularly those who had retired, were easily tempted back into service as instructors and officers for the new regiments. If there was no interruption, the army would double in size before the end of the next decade.

As tunnels bore their way through ice caps and old technology, particularly highly valued heating units and prefabricated shelters were discovered in abundance, the drills of the Orioc engineers reaching all the way to the Tasmanian Plateau, far from watching eyes, and a listening post was established. Comparably cutting edge and free of the interference from ice and snow, a clear sky promised a signal, one that had reached out on old federation channels, asking, begging, if anyone was out there. They would briefly hear a pulse, a signal traced to a world not far from Terra itself, the click of a reply from a world identified with a local moniker; Inwit. The signal broke shortly after as if the planet left the position in space as to where it could reach out to Terra and was once more obscured. Other blind signals only returned static or half-blurted encoded frequences, ghosts nearly five thousand years old asking for reinforcements for armies and fleets that didn't exist anymore. Only one thing stayed among the recordings, the Emperor's speech of Unity.

​

A world away, Nordafrik won a battle from a dead war. The recapturing of the Akores thanks to a hidden agreement by valiant Nordafrik troops was something that the marshal was far too quick to exploit, speaking of the war with Europa done and dusted with, and that now, the focus would be on the breakaway insurgent states of Gyptus and Midafrik, the promise of reuniting the Conclave with her lost tribes was becoming increasingly feasible as fighting slowly turned for the Nordafrik soldiers, though limited territorial gains across the wastelands meant that without a major offensive plans, things remained relatively stagnant.

The Marshal did not limit himself to simply throwing men to a new front, as speeches and meetings saw a revival of this irredentist push towards reclaiming Gyptus, swaying the civil administration to his favour and bringing the army from turning guns north to instead face east. New fortifications would be commissioned and raised, punitive expeditions launched and trade deals secured with Merica.

​

A land consumed by fashion and the artistic, it was surprising that the president, of all things, would focus on such an insignificant project. P.I.C.A, as it were, had been the sole task of kicking the Department of Defense's R&D department out of stagnation and pushing it to actually do something, namely the development of far more efficient suits of powered armour for their infantry. The geno troops, which made significant amounts of money for the various 'breeders' which produced them were incredibly useful high standard troops but they were also fresh stock and could not be relied upon to always be there, and the regular man could hardly compete with the drugged up or augmented warriors of the various techno-barbarian states. Something had to be done, and before the end of the year Washington would receive a brief, if fruitful message, namely the schematics to a rough framework capable of housing the plating and man to protect him from some of the more heavier hits, though the suit's design was far from airtight or capable of withstanding long exposure to the extreme heat that some battles - particularly those with plasma weapons involved - tend to reach.

Otherwise, the president spent his time on call with the officials of Vhnori, namely in the regards of creating a strong friendship between the distant city state and Merica. Talks were fruitful, though inconclusive as the formerly Pan-Pacific leadership of Vhnori was incredibly adept at stepping around commitments and making little promises of their own, and whatever they did say with sincerity was so minimal it mattered little in the grand scheme of things.

Minor complaints did arrive from the security police of Columbion, namely the vandalization of massive sculptures and pieces of art from pre-Strife days by 'street hooligans', painting grafitti featuring the lightning bolt or the word 'unity', a minor fad that will wear off in no time, to be sure.

---

TERRA, 999.M28​

 

[Revan4221X]

T-45 Power Armor Propaganda​

Washington observed the newly made suit of power armor, T-45a Power Armor from the P.I.C.A project he authorized a few months ago. When he ordered the project he was worried it would fail but in fact it succeeded in dividends.

"Mr. President, we are ready to begin the demonstration." Said the scientist which broke Xaen out of his thoughts and back to the real world. "Yes please do begin." He responded as as he was shown what looks like some kind of exoskeleton.

​

"That is the newly designed Power Armor Frame for use with all suits of power armor. It greatly enhances strength on all levels, the ability to jump from large heights and sustaining zero damage, and even some protection thanks to the frame. It only requires just a few days of training for anyone to wear the frame. But the real Power Armor is the suit of T-45 armor we came up with all previous models failed to meet expectations but the T-45 has been a near total success!" Exclaimed the scientist as the exoskeleton was moved to the side. Washington could only watch in awe as someone wearing T-45 power armor jumps down from a raised platform nearly 20 meters in the air and lands on solid metal creating a shake that dents the metal. The man or women stand up completely unharmed and promptly salutes the stunned president.

"The T-45 Power Armor frame includes near immunity to small arms fighter, great protection from heavy weapons, added strength, a built in hud that monitors the suits status, the wearer's health, and targeting assistance software. The suit also is nearly immune to the elements although we have had trouble making it completely air tight it will greatly prolong your lifespan in hostile environments. The only draw backs are the suits power supply that can run out quickly although it can be switched out swiftly, lowered maneuverability, and the very real possibility of overheating in hot environments that some battles particularly those with plasma weapons have a habit of reaching. All this with nearly no speed lost and the T-45 is highly modular and we can add more systems with time. Overall it's a great success that with time we can improve upon."
The scientist said to Washington who said nothing back and only stared at the power armored soldier in glee.

 

[Awetduck]

The Aeon Schola at Hegra
​

Watered by 130 wells cut deep into the mountains Hegra has never wanted for drink, The Thamudic art of the city preserved for nearly 27 millennia by the will of its ancient keepers. Unto this strange Oasis City Psykers were brought from across Achaemid by the thousands, the largest group of such students in living memory.

Their training would be grueling and arduous, six months without stepping outside the Aeon Schola's living as aesthetics pruning away the flaws and vices of their previous lives. Then the long walk of apprenticeship began.

​

In the vast sprawling desert around Hegra lay deeper wonders of antiquity, the 130 tombs of the Kings of Nabatea. Here in cohorts of seven the neophytes of the Crimson Aeon would study the secrets of the scholar-kings of the past, read their histories and learn of their triumphs and failures. Some mastered the secrets of the lost kings in days, others weeks, some became lost on the path to enlightenment and never left their chosen king, setting up camps like Bedouin and tending the shrine-tombs as guardians.

Each class of seven is guided by a Hermetic Aeon, an elder of the path of Dhul-Qarnayn for whom this second pilgrimage is its own test. In the Sojourn Normally takes five years and those who survive are taken to the chamber of the First King, to look upon the face of Dhul-Qarnayn himself, feel the weight of his shield, learn the secrets of his wall which separates Gog and Magog. For Six months they stay in the halls above the Final Temple and on the day of their graduation, seven years from their humble origin they are granted their new Title, Their First Discipline and in Service to House Khvaraenah, authority to act in his name.
They Become the Golden Aeon of Dhul-Qarnayn

​

 

[Awetduck]

@Holland

The Court of Globus had always held a certain appeal to the scions of house Khvaraenah and the current head of the house had the privilege of being the current Consul of Achaemid and so it was his distinct pleasure to wait for a pause in the ongoing warzone that was Boetia to slip through a piece of diplomacy to the embattled and newly crowned Emperor of Europe.

​

Using his powers of prognostication and one of the increasingly rare Aquilifer-class Orinthopters Consul Ahura Mazda Ariman of House Khvaraenah, Patre Familiaris of Khvarenah and Proconsul of Hegra, The Silent Aeon, bearer of the Staff of Seven Serpents and the Rod Incandate decided to send Justinian Caesar a belated inaugural gift.

​

"Hail Justinian Caesar, Master of Europe by the blood spilt for a thousand crowns. It is my great sorrow to see one of the bright lights of terra brought low by the infidelity of his own leigemen. From my own Eries I give to you five mating pairs of Psyber-Eagles unpaired to any psyker and breed to appear as your own Eagle Standard of Antiquity. I hope they serve you well! May Dhul-Qarnayn shield your thoughts from your enemies and your soul from evil."

​

After the giving of gifts and the kind words is a request to establish a new diplomatic mission in Globus, as the one previously used by Achaemid was housed in Boetia and is undergoing dramatic and unforeseen remodeling.

 

[Karen]

Look upon the light,
And praise the abyss



[ This benighted Emperor of Unity is little more than a warlord! ]
[ His word, his so-called writ goes against the very will of the Gods above, for They Who Sit In the Stars do not require explanation ]
[ They are simply all that is, and all that was, and all that will be ]
[ Hear me, subjects, hear the words of the gods Who have awaken my eyes to the Void, and reject the fallacies of this Lightning Lord! ]
​

When the Emperor's seal upon Terra which blocked out the malignant energies of the warp had closed, it prevented the creation of new psykers on the homeworld which had effectively ended the generation of witch-kings and empowered tyrants on the barren soil, replacing them with more conventional warlords. Psykers alive on Terra at the time of the work remained as they were, muted, and forced to live in hiding as the silent guardian of the planet hunted them with his golden talons. The tendrils which probed minds and awoke their third eye were forced to writhe and scream at the veil of reality towards Terra. That was until the spell was briefly broken, the guard slipped to allow the psychic awakening which had swept the Achaemids, which had brought the Navigator houses from obscurity and to the Imperium of Man. Indeed, the soulfire which had long been absent from Terra was once more lit as generations of potential psykers were all suddenly unleashed into the shrinking population of Terra. This hadn't been a perfect task, though, as the Emperor could not simply control the ebb and flow. He opened Terra's eyes for but a split second, but that was all needed to complete his plans, but at the same time, he had stirred something terrible.

​

A massive, horn-like structure deep in the wastes of Sibir had stood silent for generations, no tyrant, no priest, no god could lay claim to it as theirs, for none knew how to wield it, how to invoke it. Until the Kalagann. Ursh was a place of superstition, her religions being as varied and diverse as the people ranging from the worship of the land to men in crimson, azure and emerald robes praising gods in the stars, yet all of them felt a strange magnetism to the great horn with no name. Yet, when the Emperor's spell slipped, the horn, silent for so long, let out a long and deep thrum, roaring across the wasteland. In seconds, hundreds went mad, bursting into flames and turning into little more ash, yet dozens were... enlightened. The singers, artists and crude storytellers of Ursh had been enlightened by the gods, given mission and purpose, to bring their decisive vengeance upon the anathema. So were the first Wrathsingers of Ursh born.

 

[Dovahsith]

The Sound of Silence
​

Warning: Contains depiction of violent behavior towards a child.
It doesn't end well for those responsible.




Clutching her treasure to her chest, Jenetia ran. She forced her body to keep moving, despite the aches and pains that wracked her underdeveloped frame, despite the sharp sting of cracked ribs stabbing at her lungs as she sucked in another breath. As the angry voices closed in behind her, she felt the first object flung, overshooting her to crack against the walls of the hive, clanging against the metal paneling to fall downwards to the levels beneath. Though her eyes had long since adjusted to the perpetual twilight of her home, she couldn't make out what it was as it was engulfed by the shadows below. A pipe? A knife? It was hardly as though the dying city had any lack of scrap to fling at one of the damned, nor those unwilling to cast the first weapon at her. Being born wrong had taught those lessons young. In another time and place, she might have considered the fact she'd lived so long, approaching the end of her first decade to be some sort of perverse luck. As it was, all she could think was where to hide, her pursuers catching up to her malnourished frame with practiced ease, seeking to kill the creature that stole their food, hid in the dark places and just felt so very wrong.

She failed to notice the darker patch of shadow at the next sharp turn of the corridor, nor the blow that sent her to the floor, rotting bread flung from her small, weakened hands as she lay limp and dazed, a patch of red trickling from the back of her skull as her head wouldn't stop ringing. Everything seemed suddenly so bright, so loud as blurred shadowy figures towered above her, kicking at her, seeking to prolong her misery before they finally ended her and the wrongness she brought like a curse.

And suddenly, as if by the act of some higher power, as she mumbled a prayer for anything, anyone to save her, not believing such a savior would come for something like her, it stopped. The air stank of ash, slowly being filtered away by the stale chemical stench of the air filtration systems humming loudly from the walls. And all that was in the corridor was her. Her and the strange man.

He didn't seem to look like much, his cloak dark and spun from cheap materials. Yet he seemed so very old, not just at first glance, his skin stretched out over his face like the vision of what someone who actually managed to reach the limits of what a human body could age without dying of malnutrition, the constant state of low level warfare the gangs of the hive engaged in or disease. She wondered if he was from the higher levels, one of the nobles come to take his amusements on his lessers yet he seemed to be simply waiting for her.

"Fear not child. It is not your fate to die in so wretched a place for so pitiful a cause." He said as she slowly picked her meal from the floor, holding it protectively to her chest, ready to limp away into the underhive at a moments provocation. He seemed much weaker up close, as though through sheer proximity, something about him, something intrinsic to his being was stripped away, leaving the old man behind.

"Quite the silent one you are." He jested, his face falling as he noted her lack of reaction. "I offer you a choice. Stay here and die at the hands of those who consider you a curse. Or come with me and never feel fear again."

It took a mere heartbeat for her to make that choice. For it was no choice at all.

 

[Mortis Nuntius]

King of Kings
​

Christ entered the holy city on an ass as a sign of humility. The Emperor entered the last bastion of learning on a mechanical wonder as a sign that he had no use for limitations and empty vanities of self denial. He rode an open topped Bucephalus Strider, flanked by two Silver Guardians leading a hundred hulking soldiers armed and armoured unlike any other warriors on Terra, following them were regiments of more mundane soldiers though their uniform appearance and equipment was unique in and of itself in this time of troubles.

Their Lord and Master found himself unusually contemplative as he approached this reborn Babylon. He had entered its forefathers time after time, as a scholar, a warrior, a wiseman, a healer, a conqueror, he had strolled through the gardens by the light of the moon with Roxana held close to him. He had broken the walls with a ram held in his hands, argued with Kings and Priests and the Masters of the World. He looked at this rusting heap of metal and humanity and he saw the cruel hand of history, was this the progress that he had struggled for? How could it be at once so much greater and so much less? This was why his humanity needed to be constrained so tightly behind mental and spiritual walls, this was why the sooner he removed it wholey from his being. The great work had no room for error, sentimentality or weakness. He would raise these lost children from the depths of ignorance, and with them forge new glories that would leave the feeble ghosts of achievement that their forefathers had left them nothing but a shadow, a precursor to something ever greater.

He looked again and saw not laughing children, the loving smile of a beautiful woman or the passion of men determined to shape a young and exciting world. He saw defences, raw materials, a range of genetic material suitable for cultivation or in need of pruning. He broke down all before him into base components which he could use to further his Imperium.

Where Mankind's Master walked, it's guide followed. The Sigilite was a shadow in the reflection of his master's illumination, ever cowled, ever wreathed in dark robes. Where the Emperor was strength, he was aged, where the Emperor exceeded humanity, he merely outlived his own.

One gnarled claw of a hand clutching at his staff of office, he seemed to forever be a skeletal scowling face lurking in the depths of his hood, judging who was worthy, seeing potential, leverages and so very much waste.

To drag humanity from the depths it had allowed itself to regress into was beyond even his talents, but at the Emperor's side, perhaps he might help make the vision of another, far greater being come to life.

Practical concerns and the scope of Nabatea limited the grand procession to only the ten miles from the Eastern Ascension Gate to the top of the artificial plateau where the dome cities of antiquity rest at the edge of the skyline an even kilometer above the desert floor. The Palatial Dome of the east held a faithfully restored Abu-Dabi and the twelve Pater Familiaris of the Empire held court in the grand hall of the what was the Grand Mosque. Millions thronged the Grand Avenue and received a stipend of bread and water from the coffers of of the Consul.
All the great and mighty of Achaemenid awaited the arrival of the Lightning Lord of the East some called Revelation.

Ahura Mazda knew fine was successful his own importance in the world would be greatly diminished, but through his action a greater future for humanity would be possible. A future in which he would not strive so hard to insure his people had water to drink and blood free of mutation and plague.

Atop a pedestal, raised above the swirling masses Ahura Mazda addressed Nabatea and all it's great houses. Two items of terrible power and unbearable history draped in silk beside him.

To his left the Master of the order of Dhul-Qarnayn, not his equal in power but far better versed in histories and a much firmer hand on the Aeon Schola. To his right the recently emerged Paternova of The Navis Nobilite, bent with age and terrible with the psyker power of his kind.

"People of Achaemid, for too long we have been an Empire without an Emperor, too long have we struggled to preserve the greatness of humanity against the depredations of barbarism alone. Today that ends. All Achaemid knows the great works of Dhul-Qarnayn, his power echos in our blood and his sigils ward our halls and homes from the Beasts of Magog."
At his signal a massive Hologlyphic broadcast displayed the face of Dhul-Qarnayn as it exists in the faceplate of his tomb.
"This Lightning Lord is known by many names and those who see him see many faces, but my Vision is pure and unfailing, he is our greatest king returned to us to lift us out of the ashes and return us to the stars which are our birthright! We will see oceans restored and forests regrown. We will cleanse the radiation of the wastes and retake our lost cities! Our children will grow straight and tall fed good food and clean drink!"
Turning to the representative of the 12 tribes and the ranks of the Imperial Senate behind them.
"I have the Crown of Achaemid! The Eagle Crown. None but the greatest scions of Dhul-Qarnayn may even touch it lest their minds be torn asunder, would any of you gainsay my right to return an Emperor to our Empire?"

In the crowd, coordinated criers began a chant as the march of the lighting king approached the podium "Re-Va-La-tion! Re-Va-La-tion!" Soon it spread to a million throats and across Nabatea as it was rebroadcast into the 39 Domes of the Platue and echoed into the depths as the sub levels of the hive played it in their arched public caverns.

To the unknowing eyes of his audience he placed the crown atop his head without heasitation in a single natural movement as if he had done so a thousand times before, in truth he had carefully inspected it, deduced its nature and probed the psychic energy of the room for danger before he let the device touch his brow. For a moment there was a contest, two great forces of psychic will thrown against each other. His own might set against the technologically imprint of Dhul-Qarnayn, to the ignorant his ghost. In the end there could be but one outcome. He stood before them crowned and unbowed.