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It would be hilarious if this thing that Athena whipped together from her time's version of BattleBots can clown on a C'tan. e: hilarious and good. poor life choice fucked around with this message at 19:01 on Oct 25, 2015 |
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Oct 25, 2015 18:59
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Mars Core
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Oct 25, 2015 19:19
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Why not excavate the C'Tan? What could possibly go wrong?
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Oct 25, 2015 23:44
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Tran posted:Why not excavate the C'Tan? What could possibly go wrong? It could be what turns the tide at Golgotha. Or we could fuse it to the emperor's throne, solve our problems that way. The possibilities are endless.
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Oct 26, 2015 02:05
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Travis Wrent, Log 001 Hello Adelaide. I see you've decided to accompany me on this little excursion. I supposed I should be a good trail-guide and leave some guide posts for you. Thank you, honestly. It is nice to know I do not descend alone. I've been studying the Beast for some time. You know how they say that pets and owners grow to look like each other? The same applies to ships and their crew, but the Beast is a special creature. How many ships have been crushed together to make up it's halls? How much energy from the Empyrean has bathed this metal? How many souls have been consumed here? I will assume you have glimpsed into enough forbidden tomes to know of the Warp and how it is a projection of the mortal soul. The ship is clean now. The iron maiden and her Kreig derivatives have struck a thunderous blow to the spiritual momentum of the Beast. Have you felt the nightmares stop? I dream in grey now, the screaming echoes in this place have melted into a soft hum. You can imagine my surprise when I heard the whispers. They started not long before the suicides. Something down below does not like the grey. I am going to follow those whispers. I returned to where I encountered Grandmother Krieg. I half excepted to find knitting needles at my throat, but what I did find was a small room. Some errant cargo freighter bisected this tunnel. One of the pods was unlocked and I felt something stirring within. A quiet, small thing. Against my better judgement I threw open the hatch only to be met by darkness. I sent in one of the servo skulls I... appropriated on my departure. You can try tracking them if you like, but I know enough of the mysteries to keep hidden from the rot that has taken control of the ship. I'm getting off topic. The skull reported nothing but a standard sized, empty shipping container. I was going to leave when I heard a small voice cry out. "Help me...please help..." I couldn't see who was talking but I felt a mind. Perhaps my skull was malfunctioning. I stepped inside. The darkness was oppressive and the glare from the opening clouded my vision so I entered further. still blinded by the hall light I took a few more steps until the light dimmed. I should have counted my steps. Standard shipping containers are only a few strides deep. Looking back the door had become a tiny point of light. A small hand grasped my cloak.Looking down I met the sunken eyes of a small child. One of the dregs. A sad creature, but something was off. There were no more dregs. The system of the Iron Maiden provided, even for the tribes. This must be one of the lost, hidden in the deeps. I knelt down and give the child one of my ration packs. She smiled but was thrown aside by some larger children that materialized out of the gloom. I could only watch in distress as more figures clawed their way into the light. Emaciated things bound in rags of all ages. All clawing and pleading. My nose began to bleed as their collective suffering pounded at my mind. Backing away towards the door was only rewarded with more hands and stronger pleas. I was failing, the mental stress of those pitiful things was too great. Before I fell, the sound of heavy boot fall drove the crowd back. A man in grey armor grasped my collar yanked me back from the grasping hands. The cries grew louder, for food, for medicine, for mercy. It was met with the crack of gunfire, screams and then silence. I covered my eyes and closed my mind. Adelaide, if you do ever have the chance, ask a Psyker about death, and the echoes it leaves behind. You learn to block it out, but it rarely works. The light from the hallway began to grow as the pressure faded. I stood up to see one of the old security officers, from before the rule of the Iron Maiden. He stood stoic, drenched in blood and holding the body of the orphan I had given food. He said nothing and pointed out to the hall and then down. With no desire to anger the man nor see the carnage he wrought I quickly turned away and fled out the door and was immediately startled by the sound of a single gunshot. I looked behind me, expecting to see a pile of purged dregs in the dark. The whole container was lit from the doorway, the inky blackness gone. There was a single skeleton, clad in armor and cradling the body of a child. The gun in his hand and most of his skull missing told of his fate. Maybe he felt guilt, maybe he purged one too many. It didn't matter anymore. What did matter was what it represented. I sealed the container and marked it hazardous, euclid class at most but you can't be too cautious. I think it's safe for normals. The psychic energy is fairly low. You might get an uneasy feeling around the corpse. Guilt is a powerful emotion. I'm following the spirits advice. Heading down another deck. I don't think this little bubble of strangeness will be the last. Like bubbles of of the past, festering under the wallpaper of the Abrograte hive-mind. I wonder if Amacita knew it would happen, and corrupted their thoughts inward. The introspection broaching pockets like these and fueled by long dormant warp energy. I expect to find more on my journey into the depths. When you talk to the Black Priest, do mention the Explorators. I figure if I'm already a dead man, why not share all my suspicions. There is something old and rotting below. I'm going to find it. Until next time, -Trent
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Oct 26, 2015 02:59
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Dang y'all, or maybe it's just a rad as heck bit of machinery gone wild. e: re: the Mars-Core, not the neat writing above me. poor life choice fucked around with this message at 03:06 on Oct 26, 2015 |
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Oct 26, 2015 02:59
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The Breach The Gunslinger fled into the desert, and the Dark Man followed. Cadia had never fallen. Never. So when the vast majority of the fleets and garrisons retreated, fell back to other sectors, the forces of Chaos looked at it in bewilderment. Surely, it was some sort of trap. A trick and stratagem to annihilate another contingent of the Fallen Space Marines - destroyed an inch at a time since the Horus Heresy, with few or no replacements. But then whispers came in from the Warp, the sorcerers and soothsayers of the Chaos Gods. It was not a trap - this one infinitesimal moment, a collection of chances upon chances, Cadia was vulnerable. And so all the forces of the Black Crusades, collected and built, birthed and summoned over ten thousand years, spewed from the Eye of Terror. Their destination, as always, Cadia - this time, success was guaranteed. It would have been a simple matter to simply destroy the planet, but the malign intelligence in command of the Black Crusade envisioned greater things. A beachhead in real space, Cadia becoming the breach in the Imperium of Man. For if Golgotha was false, holding Cadia remained the highest goal. And then it would be the Imperium, throwing themselves upon the walls. The Cadians left behind - those bravest, who were certain to be killed - showed valor never before seen, in all the history of the Imperium. And never to be seen, for the only witnesses were the forces of Chaos. Each Cadian was carefully emplaced, in a fortress world dedicated to this cause for a hundred centuries. Each Cadian killed a score, a hundred enemies before falling. But what did that matter when cultists were dropped in their billions? Even as Cadia and her sister worlds were being secured, the Eye continued to spew vileness. It would for months, years to come, as all of the Eye was emptied. War parties broke off, attacked each other, spread to other systems, for such was Chaos. But the main body, forced by iron will, remained on track - the goal of Golgotha. For I am Abaddon. I am Horus’ most favored son. And I will not be denied. 
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Oct 26, 2015 04:31
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gently caress yeah. Progress the story! Thought: We have instantaneous communication with Athena. Can't she email us the STC?
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Oct 26, 2015 04:35
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 Cadia...
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Oct 26, 2015 04:46
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Planets are for people who can't do energy to matter conversion. Where we're going we won't need fortress worlds 
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Oct 26, 2015 04:53
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LowellDND posted:Luna or Mars-Core? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4qwKCQ4M2Nw Edit: Alternatively, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=15bvpznQP5M Tomn fucked around with this message at 05:11 on Oct 26, 2015 |
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Oct 26, 2015 04:55
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Outrail posted:gently caress yeah. Progress the story! Our data plan isn't that generous. And the roaming charges are killer. It would bankrupt us.
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Oct 26, 2015 05:17
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Consolidation The scribe reverently handed the scroll to him, ornate and gilded. A copy of the day’s messages from the Astronomicon - his big hands dwarfed the large roll of vellum, and he read it as he had every day for the last seven hundred years. Started to roll it up, as was his custom, then stopped. Looked at the scribe. “Is this true?” The scribe looked down. “Yes, Chapter Master. All ships.” “I don’t believe it. This has the stench of a Chaos feint all over it.” “Yes, Chapter Master.” He considered for a moment, superhuman intelligence going over the odds. “Send out an alert anyway. All units, all Successor Chapters, return to Ultramar. If it’s a lie, it’ll be a good use of a drill. If it’s true, we can strike in force.” “Yes, Chapter Master.” 
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Oct 26, 2015 05:20
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LowellDND posted:He considered for a moment, superhuman intelligence going over the odds. “Send out an alert anyway. All units, all Successor Chapters, return to Ultramar. If it’s a lie, it’ll be a good use of a drill. If it’s true, we can strike in force.” All that paranoia over Amacita, and everyone forgot about the Ultramarines. Tsk, tsk.
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Oct 26, 2015 05:23
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Tomn posted:All that paranoia over Amacita, and everyone forgot about the Ultramarines. Tsk, tsk. The Ultramarines plot made no sense and was a mis-step in this CYOA, I feel. Still my favorite thread by far.
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Oct 26, 2015 05:27
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The Greater Good “Another system lost.” “The galaxy is …. a harsh place.” “The Third Sphere of Expansion may … have been hasty.” “Are the numbers confirmed?” “As much as can be said. An alien fleet for every soldier, civilian, and ally we have.” “An extra-galactic invasion. Has anyone stood against them?” A shifting of notes. “Yes. The Human world of Macragge.” “Very well. Begin evacuation of the Empire. Request Macragge accepts our surrender. We offer all technologies and labor known, and request our internal hierarchies are maintained.” “For the Greater Good.” “For the Greater Good.” 
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Oct 26, 2015 05:30
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VanSandman posted:The Ultramarines plot made no sense and was a mis-step in this CYOA, I feel. Still my favorite thread by far. It really was some terrible writing 
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Oct 26, 2015 05:32
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Oct 26, 2015 05:33
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LowellDND posted:The Greater Good https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uOapqJ_x3G0
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Oct 26, 2015 05:37
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LowellDND posted:The Greater Good
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Oct 26, 2015 05:40
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Everything is fiiiiiiiiiine.
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Oct 26, 2015 05:46
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Adelaide pushes away the frightened Friar Thomas as he was about to pick up the body. She proceeds to sit on the lap of the Abrogate corpse, and brushes his hair slightly. "Shhh Thomas. Everything if fine. Right, Oswaald?" Adelaide makes the head nod, and then opens and closes his jaw, performing a grotesque ventriloquism act. "Right Adie! Everything is juuuuust fiiiiiine."
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Oct 26, 2015 06:03
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Abbadon posted:Everything is fiiiiiiiiiine.
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Oct 26, 2015 06:03
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Arkanomen posted:Travis Wrent, Log 001 This is a cool and good post. Onward, brave soul! LowellDND posted:The Breach gently caress yeah  HiHo ChiRho posted:Adelaide pushes away the frightened Friar Thomas as he was about to pick up the body. She proceeds to sit on the lap of the Abrogate corpse, and brushes his hair slightly. The meek and studious Friar Tomas just kind of  backs slowly away and excuses himself. Time for an unscheduled bowel movement.
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Oct 26, 2015 06:15
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HiHo ChiRho posted:Adelaide pushes away the frightened Friar Thomas as he was about to pick up the body. She proceeds to sit on the lap of the Abrogate corpse, and brushes his hair slightly. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sKd0b__AUPc
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Oct 26, 2015 06:21
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You know, the really scary thing about the Black Legion is that they're just in it to win. They don't really care about personal glory, or religious duty, or whatever. It's what truly sets them apart from other Chaos forces.
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Oct 26, 2015 06:25
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Crusade From time to time, the High Lords of Terra would dedicate a focus of the Imperium. This could be limited in scope, such a subsector or handful of years, or it might be an entire arm of the galaxy, with the expectation of centuries. The Macharian is one of the most notable of these - in seven years, Lord Solar Macharius conquered a thousand systems. In general, though, the custom is to outfit a Crusade with a planned operation of twenty-thirty decades. This can be the expected peak of an excellent general, with the Crusade winding down as age sets in and planets become consolidated under the new regime. At any given time, there might be half a dozen major Crusades going on in the galaxy, and Warmaster de Vadallio was not unusual in this. Warmasters could die, Crusades could fail, traitors might fill the ranks, the enemies might overrun you, the Crusade might splinter or be lost to the Warp - it was rare, however, for a Crusade to be called back. In general, a Warmaster was expected to handle the sector for the rest of her career, and it was the high water mark of any general to be granted the title of Warmaster. To be recalled, then, was usually a sign of massive failure or great suspicion. De Vedallio couldn’t remember a time when a Crusade had been redirected, particularly back on its own supply lines. Oh, a Warmaster might do so as a strategic feint, but the High Lords were rarely in the position (or felt the need) to give such an order. With messages taking years or decades, it would be useless to try. And yet, here we were. Golgotha. Tens of thousands of Imperial Battleships dropped out of orbit, escorted by their hundreds of thousands of cruisers and frigates of all classes. Behind them, folded behind teratons of weaponry, were millions of troop carriers, trillions of troops. It was incredibly rare to try to stack a entire Crusade in one system, seen perhaps only at the beginning and end of the operations. Sensors measured small but noticeable changes in orbits, in tidal patterns, as the mass filled the void. The skirmish line was already engaging with the Hunger-Fleets of Samech. Grotesquely outnumbered, the Dark Mechanicus had little hope of survival, instead bunkering down inside the Hive Cities. They would have to be forced out, and quickly. Even as De Vadallio spoke, the fleets were establishing orbits all through the system, landing billions of Imperial Guard on every moon and planet. Loel fucked around with this message at 15:07 on Oct 26, 2015 |
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Oct 26, 2015 07:25
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And then the Tyranids came back and the end.
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Oct 26, 2015 07:32
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'nids would be the awkward fifth wheel at this point.
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Oct 26, 2015 07:35
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Grognan posted:'nids would be the awkward fifth wheel at this point. 
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Oct 26, 2015 07:40
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lol if you don't want literally every wheel involved. I want Abbadon giving a speech about the Ruinous Powers outside of the hive Athena's under, and then I want an ork the size of a bus (pre-mega-armor) to smash into him from orbit and roll around for a few thousand words. Bring everything. e: hahahahahahahaha I contemplated looking for that gif. With fewer mouths. 
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Oct 26, 2015 07:41
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 40k has too many wheels. Im fixing the problem.
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Oct 26, 2015 07:43
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And then the Squats showed up.
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Oct 26, 2015 07:44
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poor life choice posted:And then the Squats showed up. Slice of Life??? Novice Thomas stared at the vox-scope intently as his fourteen-hour shift neared a close. While he lacked recaf, he did not lack in faith, and he certainly did not lack in a healthy regard for his own survival. Everyone on the ship had a job, and while the fleets of the Great Enemy were terrifying and numerous, the tiniest scrap of information gleaned from their chatter could be key in survival. Given how horrible the messages from the void often were, faith was of the utmost importance anyway. But today was a little different. The chanting coming from the void had shifted in tone. The screams of the damned had fallen away, and a simple, repetitive mantra had taken its place. It seemed to be growing in strength too, as if it were approaching Golgotha from afar. Thomas breathed a sigh of relief. He knew what it was! One of the great crusades of Man was returning, and this was their warning to the Enemy! He relayed the good news up the chain of command, and the great ship's communication equipment was brought to bear on the signal. While a pict-link was being established, the chant was amplified, and echoed around the vessel... slam sector slam sector Slam Sector SLAM SECTOR SLAM SECTOR SLAM SECTOR SLAM SECTOR SLAM SECTOR! SLAM SECTOR!!! 
Anticheese fucked around with this message at 08:28 on Oct 26, 2015 |
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Oct 26, 2015 08:03
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Bwhahahah
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Oct 26, 2015 08:07
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LowellDND posted:
Do you think the Eldar Farseers will say to get involved or to run far far away? Edit: The Necrons must be hella confused right now.
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Oct 26, 2015 08:28
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The Fall “If I were a creepy eater of Tech-Priests, where would I hide?” <I cannot answer that.> “For a Machine-Spirit, you are disappointingly unhelpful.” <I am sorry.> “Bah.” You waved off the strange version of Athena’s voice, your bodysuit moving with you, brushing the cave walls. Metal walls? It was hard to say. You were running some low-level harmonics just to spook things around you, and the ecosystem was responding appropriately. Although you’d never seen so many varieties of rat. You briefly wondered what the Dwarf would think of them, shrugged. The Titan was easier to move in then your own skin - you felt far more dextrous, with perfect balance, although your descent into the core was taking an irritating long time. The Magi had pointed you to a big hole, so had you jumped in. You had been rather expecting a long drop, maybe some wind currents, which there were. To begin with. The hole emerged out of the Fabricator-ship, leaving you in freefall over a dead city. Internal sensors helpfully noted how far you were to impact (12,000 meters and falling) and estimated damage (0%), so you waited it out. It reminded you of the Beast in some ways, buffeting you with random winds and variable gravity. You hit the ruins at a truly ludicrous speed, smashing dozens of meters down, and then stood up. By all accounts, you were nowhere near the core, and the entire landscape was full of these half floating blocks of cities, slowly crashing into each other under barely noticeable gravity. With a shrug, you took another leap. Say, ten klicks per jump, five thousand klicks to the center? Five hundred jumps to go. You made a mental note to ask Athena for swooping wings, or something. And also to ask the Fabricator where precisely his monster was. Things were certainly getting … weird, down here. You didn’t recognize the language used on any of the billboards or warning signs, nor any of the species that flew or flitted about. Small things so far, probably rodents. And the ruins of uncounted expeditions before you. Literal tons of destroyed servitors, torn apart tech-priests, bits and pieces of sparking machinery and slowly whirring gears.
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Oct 26, 2015 08:40
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When the signs are in English--- er, sorry, "a bizarre language you have never seen before that looks slightly similar to Low Gothic"--- you know poo poo is hosed.
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Oct 26, 2015 08:58
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'Enjoy Coke' could be translated to a dozen conflicting endpoints.
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Oct 26, 2015 14:38
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Slice of Life: Lieutenant Rick-045, Abrogate Youth Brigade, Company C, 1st Battalion Rick-045 snapped to attention in front of the Youth Guard Commissar, an adult Abrogate wearing a red arm patch bearing the crossed chainswords over white shield of the Youth Guard, and the distinctive peaked cap of his rank. Beside him, a large wagon with stack upon stack of recruitment and propaganda posters of varying sizes, from handbills to lifesized. The Commissar turned to look at the young Lieutenant. "Report." "District 037 complete, Sir. Optimal dispersion pattern achieved. All thoroughfares have been papered sufficiently that there are always at least 2 posters visible from any vantage point." "Acknowledged. Instruct your platoon to resupply and proceed to District 038. Same dispersion pattern." "Yes, Sir." he replied before tapping his commbead. "Platoon, report to supply station for resupply and proceed to next District." With most of the Youth Brigade deployed throughout the hab sections on this recruitment drive, it didn't take long before the posters were literally everywhere. The Domines and Saint Fabiyan would be pleased. 
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Oct 26, 2015 23:58
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