Within your home in the depths of the imagination, you dream of a hundred years, your awareness lightly drifting from place to place, guided by the gentle voice that brought you you the words of the Chosen.
Grant them the blood of the Earth, that they might reach to the stars
Your will drifts to the archives, where a grand experiment is in the works.
"So" Elliot says, looking over the representatives of the Weaver Sect who had found an interest in this project. "What we have here is a rare opportunity to surpass the boundaries of merely physical construction, and delve into the mysteries of the arcane." He snapped his fingers, a hologram projector snapping to view and displaying several diagrams of the more impressive works the Sect had completed since their formation. "The primary bottleneck that barred our advance in previous years was the limitations of available biomass--in the end, mere plant matter and animal byproducts can go only so far--even supplemented by minerals and ores pulled out by the newly discovered techniques." A murmuring of agreement filled the room, and he smiled, gesturing broadly as the next slide moves forward--a carving pulled from the Aeldari raider crash.
"This is the primary material used by the Eldar in most of their construction. The term they use translates to Gothic as "Wraithbone", approximately. It is a non-conductive, self-regenerating metamaterial made up of imaginary elements as opposed to the exotic Iron compounds developed through extreme compression of our Adamantium. In terms of tensile strength, it's slightly surpasses common steel, but otherwise falls behind the more sophisticated blends--so why would they employ it exclusively--save for their own modern warships?"
The slide flicks forward, an overlay of green on the previous fragment of material--an aethyric reading.
"This is the answer, it is the most psionically conductive material in existence. It consists entirely of solidified warp-matter sung into existence by specialists. The mediocre hardness is mitigated by reactive strengthening, and in the end you get a material perfectly suited to the use of the Aeldari Dominion. Early efforts to copy it had some limited success by the Maiden's Grace--but we could do better."
He clicked the button in his hand--the next slide showing a fragment taken from the Flayer warship. "Blackstone as we've been calling it. It contains properties of mineral and metal simultaneously, held together by the most ingenious molecular lattice we've ever observed. When damaged, the disrupted portions dissolve into a metallic fluid, which gradually returns to an undamaged state--pulling from other sections of the structure as required to make up for loss from impact. Positively the hardest and most durable substance ever recorded--attempts to duplicate this by the Weaver Sect also showed some limited results--but we rapidly ran into problems scaling the system up. Initially? The thought was to abandon the project."
He clicked forward again--and the bustling of Weavers as it was revealed.
"We have attempted to apply this philosophy to our own efforts to draw material from the Warp. The new substance is not as durable as Blackstone, nor is it quite as capable of amplifying psychic energies as Wraithbone. However, where it falters in both of these fields--it makes up for in its sheer recovery potential. This new material emerges as a non-newtonian fluid. We pour it into a mold and introduce a slight psychic charge--when conducting such energies, the structure hardens to a material with approximately 80% of the tensile strength of Adamantium."
Displays of tests of the principle are shown.
"The most revolutionary attribute is that when the structure is disrupted by sufficient force or strain--the material liquefies--but remains bonded to the rest of the structure. Once the pressure is no longer being applied, it 'Pours back' into its original state and hardens once more. Early tests for mass production have shown promising results, as long as you're not worried about your manufacturing facilities being mysterious caves in the depths of the earth." There's a tittering of laughs at the joke.
Elliot smiles back. "Our job is figuring out how to produce enough of this to replace our need for the other refined materials needed for large scale construction projects. I'll be answering questions for the next hour--the rest of the day is workshopping solutions. This is the final piece we need to secure our safety in the days ahead, so we can consider our budget to be unlimited..."
The talking went on, but the seed had been planted. What wonders will they build?
[PROJECT EARTHBLOOD: Completed, 'Verdant Metamaterial' technology available for mass deployment. Will be implemented by default on all upcoming major projects.]
Your will fuzzes, and your grasp of time drifts away--the voice speaks to you once more.
"Make your home within the Spire, may it be a tree that grants succor to the people"
The Spire looms--can you call it a Spire anymore? It is a great tree, Earthblood scaffolding anchored to adamantium spine, taking on the weathered look of a well aged oak. Vines and moss find a home upon it--the aura of clean air and pure water making the realm a paradise for all flying and climbing creatures. Within lie the veins of a great sleeping giant, comfortable and welcoming to friends. The canopy breaches the heavens themselves, reaching far to drink from the light of the sun--and offer it upon the people of the world through the roots.
The Spire--no, it was the World Tree now--was one of the bigger projects of the century. The early efforts were fraught with issues, the altitude limit of the plants originally used for construction balking at the roots--it was only when Earthblood became a common enough substance that work could begin in earnest.
But what a sight it was.
It still retained all of the functions it used to have--the Colony Core had long since decayed to uselessness without the placation rituals of the fled Mechanicus keeping its machine-spirit quiescent. But not before the World Tree could replace its functions. Earthblood was synthesized from the roots, drawn up into the weaving studios and ateliers occupying the great roots. The Canopy served as one of the most efficient solar collectors ever designed, providing reliable power at all times of the day to the people of the capital city--they were calling it Redwood City for some reason.
Maybe had something to do with the color of the tree when they were getting started?
"Meh" Dana said, curled up on her throne while going through the day's reports. "At least they're letting me put cushions on this, I have no idea why it started as just a metal slab."
That'll be a nice place...
[PROJECT WORLDTREE: Completed, 'World Trees' may be constructed by the Cult of Verdance--a project of considerable length and expense which serves as a fortified center needed for any successful colony. A peerless planetary shielding device, terraforming engine, and anti-orbital weapons battery in one--the canopy also collects a wealth of solar power to maintain operations, as well as sustaining atmosphere around the many branches--many of which can be repurposed for the docking of voidships and potentially future construction of your own home-grown craft]
Your heart feels a sense of tugging--of urgency. You roll over in your slumber, and the voice shifts to your other ear.
Teach the children, help them to sheathe their sword
That's kind of hard though... Your dreams shift further down.
It was a meeting that few would expect. The Chosen of the Green Maiden, that creature that smells of life and care.
A monkeigh just like the rest. Niamh's ears bristled as she looked upon the favored child--why were they not approached? Their tribe is mightier! Their speed and cunning and magic alike, they could repulse the filthy creatures and claim this realm for the children of Isha and Asuryan--as it should be.
And yet, the Favor was granted to this thing, the blessing and right to speak in the Green Maiden's name--and as much as it galled her to submit to the false skinned witch, she felt the pressure of the God's attention.
+speak then+ You send--at least you don't need to sully your voice with the clumsy tongue of the plodders. +What is the Maiden's will+
"She's made it clear--through her herald." The lagomorph creature, yes, Niamh was familiar with it. "That she would like you and yours to cooperate more closely with our people."
Niamh bristled further, restraining an instinct to go for her knife. +unacceptable+ She transmitted. +You and your fellows must we submit to--it is the right of those favored by the Goddess to hold deference, regardless of your nature. But I would not be responsible for violating Her will when my people break her Peace.+
The human raised an eyebrow. "And why would that peace be broken?" She asks--Niamh scoffs, Monkeigh could never understand. +You are slow, clumsy, rude, your thoughts filthy and your spirits stagnant. They are an affront to good taste--it is the Goddess' will that we be at peace, and I understand this--but the others are not so in control of their emotions. They will lash out, and your people will die by the score until we are at peace again.+
She took a moment to think. "You and yours aren't quite paragons of class yourselves" She presents--and even the Goddess' injunction is not enough to stay her hand. Niamh's body flows to the top of the clumsy table, and she squats before her, crouched over her head as she looms over the Chosen +That our numbers are few and our tools broken does not change the fact a dragon is greater than a monkey, test me at your own peril+ She looks you over--raising one eyebrow, and calmly reaching for her tea.
"Yes", Niamh thinks. "The Goddess would forgive me this". Her knife rises from your belt and moves to stab at the hand. The feeling of grafted plant matter giving way and piercing through flesh and bone is always such a soothing sensation, an insult properly avenged, as it should be.
But in that moment, something changes--the blow strikes home--and it is the Eldar's hand that bursts into agony. She shrieks, stumbling back at the lancing waves of pain emerging from her hand! A fatal blow! A wound like this would be beyond healing! The arts are lost and the powers are at bay! It is only a moment later that she understands what was going on--her wound was untouched.
And the wraithbone dagger impaling the Chosen's hand barely slows her as she takes a sip.
"You don't have a monopoly on pain" Dana speaks, and she knows her words as Truth. "You aren't the only ones who can be hurt, and a helping hand doesn't need to be slapped away from petty pride." She casually withdraws the knife, her own blood still adorning it as she neatly sets it aside.
"You and your people need help" The Priestess of the Verdant Maiden decreed--and the Chieftess felt her heart--and knew it to be true.
She clambered back to her seat, shrinking back.
"... what must we do" she whispered, in Gothic--and Dana smiled.
You smile in your slumber, you think it'll be okay from there.
[PROJECT INTEGRATE completed. Over the first few years of the century, a heroic effort is made by the Weaver and Mender Sects to aid the Aeldari of the Thorn Tribe integrate with the greater society of Equinox. Slowly, inch by inch, the Maiden's power is used to regulate their emotional range to mitigate the bipolar extremes, and their incredibly optimized and sophisticated biology are slowly scaled back to something more sustainable for civilian life. By the end of the Century, they are... Well, honestly they've still built their own little settlement and still mostly keep to themselves in the new Deeproot Province, but they're growing to maturity--and even having their own kids on their own now without needing the vat! Quality of life for Eldar (Now calling themselves the Sithe folk), vastly increased. Civilian physical abilities have degraded, but the handful that sign on with the militant arms can usually be provided symbiotes that temporarily reactivate their old abilities, letting them rise to positions of expertise. Sithe Druids added to military forces]
The flow of time proceeds, ambitions made and peoples finding their way. The population grows, as do those who believe in you.
The voice speaks.
Give them the tools, the arts to thrive.
Funny, that wasn't really your thing--but you'll do your best!
"Woo!!!"
Layla had to admit it--life was pretty fucking great since the Cult took over the planet. Before, it used to be that she'd have to carefully budget where she was going, calculate how much fuel it was going to need, and then make sure to pop in and out before anyone got upset that someone was outside the colony borders.
Now?
Now she was riding a fucking solar-powered hoverbike over the seas, screaming up a gigantic wake, and pissing off every bloody beastie still in the waters.
"Come on!" She leaned to see the space behind her, her hair blowing back as she did so. The bike didn't shift--her bindings kept her secure and aware of what was ahead of her. "You're going to have to swim faster than that to catch me!"
Then the big squid monster burst out in front of her, beak opened wide for lunch. Without turning around, her Will controlled the bike's heading, the plastic Earthblood sheath rippling as thrusters shifted to the bottom of her bike, jetting her up and over the ambush, riding up the kraken's head and sailing off into the skies.
She surveyed the surroundings with a grin--townships sailing the sea like living islands, Leviathans transporting goods and services across the Colony. Even the buildings often were taking up the glossy sheen of solidifed Earthblood as they were hooked into the power grid that was spreading across the planet.
This was a great time to be alive!.
Your sleep turns, as your focus turns to something you didn't like
[PROJECT: UPLIFT completed, Equinox completely weathers the collapse of the Colony Core, maintaining the current standard of living across the land, replacing worn out components with new-grown devices and structures as needed. Basic Biomechanisms completed. Colony is entirely self-sufficient.]
You curl up in your sleep, a memory of what you dislike--but the voice continues to speak to you, and you understand the neccessity.
Strengthen their arms, aid them in protecting their charges
To the training camps, to the citadel your attention flies.
The Flower Knights have come a long way from being a simple gimmick. The ideal place for the young and unattached girls of the Colony to find a measure of honor, they were the tip of the Cult's spear, and as new techniques were mastered, so too did the Knights grow to match it.
Amelia tugged on her gloves, settling in on her saddle. There were jokes made on the topic in the past, but this new structure could not be supported with a mere seven binding points.
Seven lining the spine, the core of the heart. These were the bindings familiar to all of the Flower Knights, to the Storm Riders, to all who interacted with the great works of the Maiden and her Servants. It was enough to manage a Belladonna or a Rosemary, and the Forty-Nine Bindings of a Leviathan could be distributed across enough people that nobody needed more than seven.
This new ride though required thirty-five, all to a single rider.
It required some changes to operation as a result.
Climbing up to the new Floraplate model was a trial. One could get into one of the lighter biosuits just by hopping up on the knees or the arms and tucking yourself in. Not so with the new Rafflesia. A vine was lowered from the back when not in use, recognizing an authorized wearer through communion of authorized symbiote to its own rudimentary intellect. It would then retract to the opened control cavity.
Within was a device not entirely dissimilar to a racing bike in overall shape. The operator would sit upon the saddle and receive the first bindings in the usual place. This would cause the sealing of the control cavity, and the flooding with vitae. Each leg would be inserted into the newly opened pockets at this point, where each would receive an additional seven bindings. The arms (Which finally had something to do!) Would be plunged into the control yokes, which would seal around them and implant the next two-pair of seven bindings.
The final structure was just another example of how the Maiden for all her kindness and good intention, just never failed to give the wrong impression. Goodness.
Amelia accepted the bindings with her usual grace--and looked upon the monitor implanted into the control seat, angled just a bit before face level. She pulled on the control yoke, and witnessed the secondary set of arms match her moves. Her own kinetic sense handled basic controls--taking advantage of the bifuricated perspective though to add some valuable subweapons though? Why not?
The biggest advantage of Heavy Floraplate boils down to having the sheer mass to integrate proper sensory organs and display mechanisms. Being able to direct one's sisters-in-arms through the Heart-Link while also carrying enough heavy firepower to suppress any threats?
It was just a good plan, the Maiden's difficulty grasping that people don't want to be pierced by a bunch of roots notwithstanding.
Combined with the complete training of the conventional army?
Amelia was confident that the Cult of Verdance could stand against any threat that would threaten them--and endure it all, given time.
[PROJECT HECTOR AND RAINFOREST Completed, Belladonna and Rosemary Floraplate handle close combat and ranged support, led by the four-armed, thirty metre Rafflesia Heavy Floraplate, equipped with biomechanical auspex and information collection abilities, along with firepower sufficient to counter any known threat. Verdant Cult Army formed from combined Huntsman, Sentinel, Guardian, and Druid forces, and is entirely self-sufficient save for limited transport capacity. The Cult has sufficient force to be able to expect victory against all but the most determined assault]
Everything was just lovely.
You feel awareness returning to you--slowly, surely.
You blink awake, eyes looking at the adorable bunny friend who was whispering in your ear!
"Greetings Lady *****" Your Name fills you with a pleasant vibration, fully solidified and secured once again. "Your people have done well!"
"That's wonderful! You smile, and sit up. "Oh goodness..."
You see a veritable menagerie of the little guys carrying things around! Your little place has expanded to a little estate! You're coming up in the world and they're just doing such a swell job keeping things in line!
I mean, they're also you, but you have such good taste! There's even two carrying big knives standing at the gate and they're just eeeeeee
"I am happy to be of service" Rainkeeper bows, and steps back. You stretch yourself out.
Ah
It was going to be good to get back in the swing of things.
