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We still need more skulls! Also maybe we should get some cherubim to go with them.
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Feb 22, 2015 06:00
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Deadmeat5150 posted:We still need more skulls! Ill find some enemy babies immediately.
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Feb 22, 2015 06:01
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Once again, no T upgrade?  Command, you dirty whore!And baleful eye sounds amazing.
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Feb 22, 2015 06:06
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Arcturas posted:Once again, no T upgrade? We got the Intermediate T upgrade, but not the Trained one. Progress!
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Feb 22, 2015 06:07
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WELP! Completely ignore that, then. I got the WP and T results completely confused. The trained upgrade I'm fine waiting on. NEVERMIND THEN JUST IGNORE ME. (Except my votes, please keep counting those)
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Feb 22, 2015 06:09
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Todays music: E.S. Posthumus Sanguinala Gamma Hive. The twin suns swept the armies, highlighting them in all their militant splendor. Winter was ended and Spring had returned, on this, the Imperium’s most Holy of Days: Sanguinala. When the entire Imperium remembered the sacrifices of Sanguinius, the Angel Primarch, and his death at the hands of the most vile traitor, Horus. It was on this day, the God-Emperor ascended the Golden Throne, from which he ruled the Imperium even still. The armies numbered in their millions. Only the most select and elite were chosen for this event, and even so, the parade through Gamma Hive took three entire days. Entire divisions had been shattered during the Tyranid Insurgence, turned to mere squads, and is those squads that marched this day. When night fell, the armies continued, following the long roads and bridges that spanned the Hive in all of its hundreds of kilometers. Huge spotlights lined the procession like pillars of heaven, and the glass of the skyscrapers themselves were turned into display screens kilometers high. In the air, dozens of thousands of artillery batteries fired their airbursts, fireworks that spanned the entire night sky. It was a most elaborate and detailed display - colors and patterns that made cathedral glass images of the events of the Horus Heresy. An image of the Sanguinius, larger than the Hive itself, looked down upon them - and then was replaced by the God-Emperor. This continued the entire celebration, the entire commemoration. A visual display of the Catechism that every Imperial child learned before they were twelve. Billions of citizens watched the parades, the endless marches. Nearly twenty million Imperial Guardsmen had died liberating the cities in the six months of the war, and ten times civilians had suffered the hand of the ‘nid. Their names ran across the heights of skyscrapers in infinite numbers, and even now their names were being cast in metal. Each name was placed on a brick, and each brick placed in the Wall - a stretch of remembrance that wrapped the entire Hive. General Quint had one of the places of honor - holding off a combined force of ‘nids and a surprise attack of Orks during a Razorstorm, he had protected Bravo from obliteration at the cost of much of his Army. As his vehicles rolled through the streets, the skyscrapers lit up with his face, key points of the battle, dramatic portrayals of Quint standing atop mountains of xeno bodies. It was much the same as every hero passed - their victories shouted to the heavens, a defiant scream against the xeno. You had another. You were riding your newly acquired Rapier Laser Destroyer, and it was strapped to your Riding Servitor like a techno-barbarian chariot. Your Riding Servitor screamed its hymns to the Omnissiah, and the crowds trembled at its voice. Many people in the Hive had been awed by your performances, the legend that you were carefully crafting. Tales of the psider, the bio-titan, the Tyrants in the depths. You had had to turn away many gifts - but you had kept the secrets and favors. In addition to the Destroyer, you had been gifted a new Guncutter shuttle - one that was much more durable than your Aquilia. You were already planning to learn how to fly it, and you had spent many hours learning the details of your Laser Destroyer. An ostentatious thing, unlikely to be used in any regularity - but a beautiful show of force, the way the Omnissiah intended. Behind you, your personal retinue. Carefully clad in Carapace armor and equipped with Cadian Lasguns, they were polished to an inch of their life. Tanya wasn’t even trying to hide the awe from her eyes as you passed another skyscraper, and her joyous face was suddenly a kilometer high. Matthias was trying to be more stoic, as befitted a future Tech-Priest, but it was a near thing. Standing astride your Destroyer, surrounded by a cloud of Servo-skulls, your own face was impassive. You had concealed your Eldar possessions for obvious reasons, but the Gargant-Slayer looked quite impressive in its shoulder-sling. You thought back to when you had returned about the Beast, intending to meet your Magos. Awaiting you at the docks, your Lord-Sire. He had greeted you with the twenty-one Suonas - a sign of prestige that put you among his most favored servants. They wailed keenly, and your Lord-Sire clasped your hand. “With you, I am well pleased.” You couldn’t help but recognize the reference - the God-Emperor had said it to Sanguinius during the Great Crusade. It was one of the highest of compliments, and you couldn’t help but smile at it. Lord-Sire continued, “I’ve had the Quartermaster go over a few things. Now that you’ve shown you can perform, it’s time you begin presenting yourself as a ranking member of the Dynasty. Take a look, see what you like. The Magos has a table ready when you are.” With a faint smile and the slightest of bows, he swept away, followed by his own retinue of aides and hangers-on. Awaiting you, rows upon rows of augments - from a hundred worlds, Imperial Guard, Forge-Worlds, even bandit kings or items that looked xeno in craftmanship. You thought of the two augments you had collected earlier, prying them out of your enemy’s skull, and giggled to yourself. Today, you were finding your True-Self, cast in steel and silicon. There were more augments then you could fit in an Astartes, although you were rather tempted to try. In the end, you selected the half dozen that might be most useful - Auger Arrays, Skull Tines, Logi Upgrades - all the things that would make you perceive the world better than poor deaf and dumb Humanity. With a nod at the Quartermaster, who bowed deeply, you went to visit the Magos. It was quite a change from the last time you were there. Last time, you were barely noticed, just another cog - now you were a favored Scion, and a Deacon. The cogs bowed near to the ground and waited for you to pass before going on their way. You wondered how long it would be before this stopped feeling strange, like someone else’s life, and began to feel like your due. The Magos greeted you in a similar way to your Lord-Sire. If they were an organic, they would have probably hugged you. Instead, they simply send you waves of pleased binary. It seemed they were comfortably sure of what was on the data-slate you had, even before you showed it to them. <How did it go?> <Well, Magos. I have the slate here for you.> The Magos waved it off. <Hold on that. How did the combat drugs go?> You blinked, thought back. Ah, right. You had used an inhaler gas on a wave of pilgrims, sent them to the genestealers. Nearby, a distance of dozens of meters, xeno troops. They had made it across the river. They looked half-human, faces all sharp edges. Their hands were vicious cutting claws. The two forces crash into each other like continental plates. Blood is spraying into the air, hangs in a thick mist. Both sides are ignoring horrific wounds, damage that would put a Guardsman into fatal shock. <They went well. They were able to perform against low-generation genestealers.> <And the after-effects?> <I wasn’t there to observe - the test subjects went into the wilderness.> The Magos sounded disappointed. <No squigs then?> You paused. <There were many squigs.> They brightened. <Excellent. The life cycle continued then? Gretchen, Orks?> <Yes Magos. The Nallani took several months to disperse them.> <A fine training for them, I’m sure. Do they have any idea where they came from?> <No Magos. A ‘spontaneous sporing’ is what its called.> <Excellent. A most excellent combat drug. Send a few penal units in, and a month later, the enemy is fighting Orks as well as you.> <Yes Magos.> <Now…> The Magos’ voice was almost greedy. <What have you got for me?> You handed the slate over. <The local Magos fused herself with Tyranid DNA for unknown reasons. These are her notes.> The Magos seemed to stop dead in their tracks. After a pause: <Did she survive?> <No, Magos. The hybridization had gone too far.> The air seemed to go out of them. <Ah. Well, let’s see her notes.> They flipped through the notes, the diagrams. The final marks about a xeno plague. <Ah, did you see this?> <Yes, Magos.> <Planning to sell it to the IG then?> <Ideally.> <How do you plan to explain it?> <Local Magos made a research breakthough but was killed in the fighting.> Their tone, if anything was sad. <Has the benefit of being true. What were you thinking of selling it for?> <Krieger units and their support staff.> <Oh? Not combat-servitors or Skitarii?> <No, Magos. I’ve had good experiences with the Kriegers.> <Very well. Proceed with your plan. And when you get back?> <Yes Magos?> <I have a few things I’d like to add to the Quartermaster’s gifts.> In a matter of days, the Tyranids just started to fall over and die. The virus seemed a mixer of Smallpox and Pneumonia, if revamped for a ‘nid form, and their incredibly immune systems seemed utterly bewildered by it. Thousands of jets flew the sky, using crop dusting tanks to drop the virals all over the planet. It had no effect on the Orks, but with the Tyranids gone, divisions could be moved to reinforce the Nallani. The Imperial Guard couldn’t thank the Mechanicus, and you, enough, and planned to test the mixer on Tyranids on other worlds. You had warned them that it was experimental, but penal units were a dime a dozen. It would be worth testing, and might teach the Penal units something about life. Like not becoming caught in a Penal unit during a Tyranid war. After that, it was just the surgeries on the Magos’ table. Your skin was opened up and peeled back dozens of times, leaving long criss-crossing scars. Your skull was cracked open, reinforced with rivets and plates, and the meat of your brain stuffed with augmentors, cogitators, logic machines, and all the other tricks you could find. Your guts were replaced by mechanical worms, and your blood became a soup of nanomachines. And when it was all done, your skin was sprayed back on curving ceramic plates. Even your eyeball was scooped out and replaced with a weapon. It was unbearably painful, and you felt a new respect for the Skitarii for going through dozens of operations like this. Even as your mind slowly pushed through the painkillers for a new found clarity, your body felt like it would never stop hurting. At one point, you could see the Magos above you, clawed and bearing scalpels. They smiled down at you, and said that now that your lungs were gone, you had room for internal mechadendrites. They were slender things, and would launch from small pods under your shoulder blades. You had finished healing only barely in time for the holiday. You blinked, brought back to awareness. The parade was wrapping up, coiling like a great snake on a courtyard at the Hivecap. There were probably a half a million troops here, lit under the shining face of the Primarchs. Around you, the towers of the individual Hive aristocrats, shining down multicolored beams of light upon you. Somewhere in this crowd, you knew, Jeb would be driving his discotank. The lights from that could probably perform their own Sanguinala, come to think about it. Around you, the choir of a hundred thousand voices sang the Hymns to the God-Emperor. It was an Epic worthy of them, and lasted nearly as long as the fireworks. They sang of the God-Emperor being placed on the Golden Throne, and Guilliman standing up to repair the Imperium. A final burst of fireworks, a final shout of artillery, and the formal events of Sanguinala came to an end. Your unit had their own destination, you knew. After the formalism of Sanguinala, a party that wouldn’t be seen for a full year swept over all the cities of the Imperium. Due to the millions of people involved here, each unit had been ‘advised’ to what Tower they could celebrate in. You knew that every IG soldier on this planet would get a more than warm welcome. All the units had their own uniforms, to aide in where they were supposed to go. You had had the demin cut into coats, similar to what the Grey Cloaks wore, and now your Retinue were all in matching attire. They even had names and badges, including the Mechadendrite Cat that you had taken for your sigil. Even better, you expected they would resist some minimal amount of knife or pistol attack. Commissar-General Fabiyan was there too. He had brought a company of his Kriegers, but they seemed to lack understanding on how to party. They were following the orders, sure enough, but not the spirit of the orders. You glanced at Fabiyan. “They are wearing party hats.” He nodded. “Yes. You’ll note the coloring - its a predator on the world of Krieg. The cone horn is a vicious weapon that kills many cadets.” “You attached noisemakers to their gas masks.” “The sound is the howl of the same predator.” “You have a company of Kriegers, holding some very fine booze, standing in the middle of a party, with party hats and noisemakers.” “Yes. Its how Krieg remembers the sacrifice of Sanguinius.” “... I can never tell when you are loving with me.” He waved. “Shoo. Go have fun, I have to stay here and not smile for the next few hours.” You wandered about the party, sipping some booze you stole from one of the Kriegers. You were startled to see familiar faces - Erasmus and Father Kraig were talking near one of the walls. You ambled over. “I thought you wouldn’t come out of your den unless the ‘nids pulled you out” Erasmus chuckled. “I thought you would fly in on your starship when they did.” You raised your eyebrows. “They got to your town?” He nodded. “Swarms of them. So many they could climb over each other onto the walls. So many that the Church doubled the number of gargoyles.” “Yeah? What happened then?” “The God-Emperor’s own breath came down. Even as the ‘nids were swarming about us, they felt his vengeance, and fell to the ground, dead.” You laughed. “You are full of poo poo.” Erasmus held up a finger. “Never tell a storyteller it’s just a story. Now you tell one.” Father Kraig cut in. “I have one. Hey!” He shouted to someone near the food trays, all beard and legs. “Henderson! Henderson!” The beard shuffled over, mumbling incoherently. “You old son of a bitch, they didn’t tell me you were on this poo poo world!” Father Kraig glanced at you and Erasmus. “We were in the same unit together. After,” The beard seperated into an expression that could melt steel. “Ah, afterwards, we joined the Church together. I didn’t know he ended up here.” Erasmus pushed him. “That was a terrible story.” “Fine. Henderson, you tell the next one.” The beard began mumbling again as you walked away, shaking your head. You found Skade and de la Torres sharing a wine bottle under some stairs. Well, several wine bottles. They waved you in. “Hey, boss! Give us the scoop.” “The scoop?” “You know, the gossip. You’ve been up there, who is he?” They giggled together. “Boss, really? She has a boyfriend. You didn’t notice?” “I’ve been on a surgery table for the last few months. Who?” “Amacita! She has a boyfriend!” You blinked. “What? No, she just works.” They laughed. “Shows what you know. Surely you noticed. Change in personality? Happier? Laughs all the time? Not focused on conversations?” “Thats starting to ring a bell, yeah.” “She’s in love! So who is he?” “No idea. I haven’t seen her much.” Skade attempted to throw the bottle at you, but barely raised it. “Bah. You are worthless.” You raised your eyebrows. “Ill leave you to it then.” You wandered about the party, sipping your drink, making conversations. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, although you were still feeling the ache of the surgeries. Even though you healed faster than you used to, being opened up so much had left a mark, both physically and emotionally. You had been told some people after surgery were traumatized for months afterwards, and you rather hoped that wouldn’t be the case with you. Somehow you ended up in the main ballroom again, working on various nibblies. That was something you would miss with your True Form, you thought. Some of this food was outright divine. Maybe when they replaced your brain with metal they would let you keep your tongue. You were mulling over the possibility of this when Limosa approached you. “Cousin.” He smiled at you. “Congratulations on your many recent endeavors.” “Thank you.” Limosa chuckled. “You don’t have to sound like its being torn out of you. I did suggest it, after all.” “Suggest what?” His smile grew wider. “A mission is coming for you, I do hope you accept. I’m glad you did, our Family will benefit from it.” “And you?” “And me. If the God-Emperor wills it.” He fished out a bit of roasted squig from a platter. The things had become quite popular on this world, which was fortunate. They were everywhere, and needed constant hunting to be kept even close to in check. There were whole industries growing out of it. “Now cousin, I would like to propose something you might like.” He popped the squig cube into his mouth, chewed. “We are developing a common enemy, who I think you know. I would like to propose,” he coughed. “I would like to propose that we ally against them.” He coughed again. “You know as well as I do that we need to address this person before our own,” Limosa took a deep breath “our own differences can be.. be resolved.” He continued coughing, went to one knee. It looked like he was trying to say something, but you couldn’t tell. Then he fell on his side, as other guests rushed to his aid. You glanced about you, at the staring faces. “Some party.”
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Feb 22, 2015 08:39
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As an aside, Im really loving pleased with how this one came out.
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Feb 22, 2015 08:42
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Congratulations to Amacita and Xeno-Artefact on their upcoming nuptials!
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Feb 22, 2015 08:48
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A Darker Porpoise posted:Congratulations to Amacita and Xeno-Artefact on their upcoming nuptials! 
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Feb 22, 2015 08:49
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Rip Limosa 
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Feb 22, 2015 08:50
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We didn't do that did we
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Feb 22, 2015 08:51
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Xun posted:Rip Limosa We knew him well.
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Feb 22, 2015 08:52
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Requim en pax el cousin-dente.
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Feb 22, 2015 08:53
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Well, glad to see that problem took care of itself.
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Feb 22, 2015 08:53
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I would say "well, that's awkward" but I don't know how much anyone will care if we killed our creepy psyker cousin. What's going to matter now is, what the hell has Limosa been up to while we've been running around playing soldier? Edit: also, now we've just got to get ourselves a food-tasting skullprobe. Pirate Radar fucked around with this message at 09:29 on Feb 22, 2015 |
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Feb 22, 2015 09:26
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 Shame we haven't trained on our medical equipment yet, we might have been able to save him. Call in the best medical aid available to see if he can be saved. While that arrives, see if we can get him to gasp out a name--or write one down on a pad. Take the roasted squig platter as evidence; analyze for poison, see if we can trace where it might have came from. Devries? Amacita? A new player? An old friend, even? I really, really think we need to be more scared of Amacita. We never followed up on the inconsistencies in our recordings of her.
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Feb 22, 2015 09:34
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Have a servitor watch the Amacita videos and record what it sees. Maybe it'll be immune to the aliens? Also talk to the servitor we have guarding her and ask it what it saw. Maybe the artifact manipulates images but not things witnessed in person Edit: If our body can identify poisons and withstand their effects we should try a piece of what he was eating to identify what the poison was.
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Feb 22, 2015 09:46
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I noticed an image that kind of looks like Ohone that was linked in the chat. Problem is the robes weren't red enough, the skin isn't blue enough and one of the eyes isn't fake enough. So I modified it to look a little more appropriate: Anyone who thinks they can do better feel free, I'm kind of an editing amateur.
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Feb 22, 2015 10:48
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With Limosa dead or out of action for a while, Amacita theoretically doesn't have an excuse to keep the artifact anymore - we really should get our hands back on it.
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Feb 22, 2015 10:59
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Numeron posted:With Limosa dead or out of action for a while, Amacita theoretically doesn't have an excuse to keep the artifact anymore - we really should get our hands back on it.
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Feb 22, 2015 11:05
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Points of note: 1) Wait, the Magos is deliberately experimenting with Orks? Am I understanding that right? He's using some kind of combat drug that turns people into Orks and allows them to perpetuate the Ork life cycle? Jesus loving Christ! Why does every goddamn Magos, including ourselves, insist on playing around with things that will explode in their faces later?! (It's because they're mad scientists, I know, but still, goddamnit!) 2) Looks like our deployment of the Tyrannid virus saved Erasmus and co. Not bad! 3) We're going to need to keep an eye on Amacita. Odds are she's turning to chaos or something. 4) Damnit, I'm going to need to comb over old posts to really figure out what Limosa is talking about. Was the mission he was talking about just being the IG representative? And who's the common enemy he's referring to? Amacita, the sole remaining rival for our eventual ascension to Rogue Trader? She doesn't exactly seem like a serious rival, even if there's things going on with her beneath the surface. Devries, then? Why would Limosa care about Devires? And if not either…who exactly is he proposing an alliance against?
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Feb 22, 2015 11:53
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Perhaps the common enemy is the new boyfriend?
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Feb 22, 2015 11:58
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Tomn posted:1) Wait, the Magos is deliberately experimenting with Orks? Am I understanding that right? He's using some kind of combat drug that turns people into Orks and allows them to perpetuate the Ork life cycle? Jesus loving Christ! Why does every goddamn Magos, including ourselves, insist on playing around with things that will explode in their faces later?! Orkenephrine has a proud tradition among goon tekpriests. The Magos is doing good work.
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Feb 22, 2015 12:04
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I have a sneaking suspicion that it might be DeVries that's got to Amacita.
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Feb 22, 2015 13:06
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I am inordinately annoyed that Limmy is going to croak like this and not through getting abandoned with a swarm of nids. Also blame is going to fall on us for this, and it just looks tacky. Poisoning a rival at a celebration. Ugh.
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Feb 22, 2015 14:03
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Do not allow the food he was eating to be destroyed It's evidence
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Feb 22, 2015 14:06
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When he went to one knee I was momentarily terrified that he was going to propose to us in the middle of this crowd... And then I was relieved that he was only dying.
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Feb 22, 2015 14:08
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JT Jag posted:We didn't do that did we Clearly Ohone ordered it during her months-long surgery session, and just forgot. JT Jag posted:
Not nearly imposing enough.
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Feb 22, 2015 14:34
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Tomn posted:3) We're going to need to keep an eye on Amacita. Odds are she's turning to chaos or something. I gotta say, that one part of the 40k verse that's so amusing is that we hear: "Your sister/cousin/friend is blissfully happy with her new beau" and we immediately think: "Chaos, Psyker, Corruption, KILL IT WITH FIRE." And the funny thing? We're pretty much RIGHT to think that! Green Intern posted:Not nearly imposing enough. Nah, we're a Deacon now. We're the iron mechandrite in the velvet tentacle warmer. We're supposed to look fluffy and non-threatening because our job is to con the normals into lowering their guard before we cut off their head, scoop out their brains, and install jets and a camera into their flesh-less skull. I say it's perfect.
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Feb 22, 2015 15:06
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New boyfriend is Devries, we can't find him because of Amacitas artifact, he's using Amacita for the family ties and cloak of invisibility
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Feb 22, 2015 15:20
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Toughy posted:New boyfriend is Devries, we can't find him because of Amacitas artifact, he's using Amacita for the family ties and cloak of invisibility I have no doubts it is this. We may just have to wage war aboard the ship.
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Feb 22, 2015 15:38
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Prepare for the worst: create a bioagent tailored to Devries' DNA and make a move to control the air recyclers. Hopefully it won't come to that, but we must think ahead. E: what number of casualties would be acceptable on the Beast? By popular demand fucked around with this message at 16:55 on Feb 22, 2015 |
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Feb 22, 2015 16:28
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Poor Amacita just can't catch a break
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Feb 22, 2015 16:35
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I'm a 40k newb, ive just read the CYOAs here. Can someone explain to me why an ancient AI on a derelict ship is telling us what to do and not the other way around?
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Feb 22, 2015 17:24
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The mainstream dogma about strong A.I. is that it's an abomination. We on the other hand see it as a priceless relic and a future ally. Its a delicate balancing act. Edit: I mean that we are balancing our devotion to the machine cult (relic) and our duties to the family (ally) By popular demand fucked around with this message at 17:46 on Feb 22, 2015 |
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Feb 22, 2015 17:30
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drat it. I think everyone who says Devries is hiding with Amacita is right. gently caress, what a mess. Oh, and find out who poisoned the dead obstacle.
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Feb 22, 2015 17:39
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Grab some of the meat that Limosa ate and analyse it for poisons. Contact Sincera to hear any news on her mission, inform her of our suspicion regarding Amacita and Devries. Toughy posted:I'm a 40k newb, ive just read the CYOAs here. Can someone explain to me why an ancient AI on a derelict ship is telling us what to do and not the other way around? Humanity has regressed a lot in terms of technology since the ship stranded there, we could either leave or ask it if we could tag along, but we would have no chance of overpowering it or anything similar. Oasx fucked around with this message at 18:00 on Feb 22, 2015 |
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Feb 22, 2015 17:48
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Man, I wanted to make Limosa bend knee, not kill him. You have any idea how hard it is to replace a psyker like that? 
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Feb 22, 2015 17:59
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paragon1 posted:Man, I wanted to make Limosa bend knee, not kill him. We should screen the children in the deeps and other parts of the ship for psychic potential and ship a few off to undergo the sanctioning process if we find any that are promising. Hopefully in 10 years or so we'll get a few psykers who are personally loyal to us.
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Feb 22, 2015 18:05
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Wait is Limosa actually dead? It's hard to believe someone who is an expert in high level politics could so easily succumb to food poisoning.
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Feb 22, 2015 18:15
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