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I don't like the idea of everything not being elves and ancient robots fault anymore.  Seriously though if you're keeping the whole "realm of souls" aspect and are going to have intelligent aliens, then the aliens must be having some sort of affect. If aliens existed before humans, then they must have been affecting the Acheron before humans even existed. And I think that should be the case because that means that the characters can fight the deathscreams of an obliterated race of octopus men and poo poo and it'll be totally loving metal. It'd also be a hand dandy implicit explanation for the Hegemonic attitude towards aliens. Edit: I've also never been a big fan of the whole "everything is humans fault, don't we all suck" slant, but that's just my personal preference. paragon1 fucked around with this message at 23:33 on Jul 6, 2016 |
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Jul 6, 2016 23:31
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I'm actually cool with the idea of this universe being the result of multiple universes bleeding into each other. That sort of convergence is strongly implied to be the source of all magic and supernatural phenomena in the Witcher series. Also the source of humans in the Witcher universe, as they aren't native to that planet. The universe also being fundamentally broken gives new cosmic angles to justify how Ohone and the elves are capable of flitting about with time shenanigans. And the idea of the Milky Way galaxy being unrecognizable in the modern day is fascinating. It doesn't seem too popular with the thread when taken whole hog but it wouldn't be too bad of an idea to keep some of the ideas in your back pocket. Even draw upon them when you're struggling to think of a new vocabulary to replace the extremely legally volatile remains of Games Workshop's IP. EDIT: I shouldn't go too much into the cosmology of the Witcherverse because it leads into some of the biggest and most spectacular spoilers in the third game. If you haven't played it yet, I strongly recommend it. Let's just say that readers won't necessarily be as weirdness-averse as they might think they are. Runa fucked around with this message at 00:38 on Jul 7, 2016 |
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Jul 6, 2016 23:50
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Have it that the space elves or whatever broke into the warp, and that slew into humanity making them psychic and started powering the chaos gods. While some psykers are warped too much by it some of them have developed the ability to control and use it.
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Jul 6, 2016 23:55
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Yeah say it was the elves' fault. Fuckin elves, man.
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Jul 7, 2016 00:08
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They were probably running from some horrible thing that was also their fuckup!
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Jul 7, 2016 00:44
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Making the elves a bunch of petty ignorant shitheads who despite being pretty smart and graceful constantly screw everything up and leave a giant mess for everyone else would be a funny nod to the classic 'noble graceful elf who is perfect'. Oh wait that's pretty much 40k elves anyway.
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Jul 7, 2016 01:08
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Loel posted:page 25: you had just met the gang leaders in the Deeps
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Jul 8, 2016 05:22
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Slice of Life: Erlendur, High King of Tartarus. Location: The Grim Redoubt, Tartarus The seekers had returned empty-handed and even now knelt, eyes downcast, at the base of a dais wrought of the very stuff of souls and emotion. It churned slowly, faces occasionally pushing to the surface and screaming silently before sinking into the steps again. From above them, their lord glowered down at them with a look that could wither adamantite. A mailed fist tipped with razor keen obsidian talons curled and tightened. The leader of the seeker pack began to choke and sputter, reaching for his throat and clawing at it. The others kept their eyes downcast and said nothing. All around them, they felt the distasteful sneering glares of Erlendur's inner circle, and the weight of their failure. One of the kneeling seekers dared to speak for his pack leader. "But, my lord, they exited onto a known nexion. We could not act without shattering the timel--" He was struck savagely from behind by a towering figure wielding a halberd, sending him sprawling. The gargantuan Fomor held the halberd's edge dangerously close to the fallen seeker's neck. "I seek not excuses from those too inept to handle a trio of infants fumbling their way through time. I seek results. You have brought me none." Erlendur's voice thundered throughout the vast throne chamber. "But great king, she was with them..." the fallen seeker mewled piteously. Erlendur leaned forward, the horrific mask of screaming faces covering his own melted into the collar of his breastplate and his ice blue eyes turned to slivers. "Really?"
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Jul 8, 2016 16:41
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Yep, elves are dicks.
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Jul 8, 2016 16:48
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Hexenritter posted:Yep, elves are dicks. Yahs preachin' to tha' choir, bruv. Edit: freakin' autocorrect
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Jul 8, 2016 19:52
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I feel weird throwing my ideas in here like WELL ACTUALLY but Current New age/metaphysical belief systems like Wicca (which, while based on the ancient practices of wise folk mainly in Europe, actually became a Thing in its current form in the 20th century) hold to there being 4 main elemental energies, in addition to the goddess and god stuff; they're generally referred to just as their respective directions, and have attributes assigned to them. They're frequently invoked during circle casting. Stay with me here. Magic as it is today is about invoking those energies through plants and other materials symbolizing them, shaping that energy with Will through visualization, then releasing it in the belief that the universe as a whole will accept it and create change based on it. Sigil work is very similar; it's creating a design with meaning, often layers of such, but in a way as to not be readily understood just by looking at it. It's then imbued with personal energy in a variety of ways: frenzied dance, sex, even holding your breath. The goal is to pour so much energy into it that you nearly pass out. The sigil is then used and propagated, and the belief is that even if it looks like abstract bullshit at a glance, it will still retain that energy and intent placed within it, and thus be useful. Religion does a LOT of the same stuff. Intense will and belief in transubstantiation, that a rice or wheat wafer becomes flesh? Yeah, that's magic. (The Eucharist is actually a type of blood magic IMO and thus messed up and hella dangerous. Don't use blood or flesh, use a chicken egg, it's much safer.) SO BACK TO PROMETHEUS CYCLE My take on it is that millennia of magic use, whether by shamans, wise folk, organized religions (Abrahamic and otherwise), and modern day new age experimentation have over time picked a hole between our perception of the universe and the massive sea of energy just beyond what we can perceive. At some point, probably, either a scientist, capitalist, or both decided that hey, hippies are onto something here, and that hole turned into a loving faucet to power our reality. But it's permeable both ways. You can send some really hosed up poo poo into the universe. Current belief is that it holds to the threefold law: for what you send negatively, you get in return three times stronger. That's to dissuade people from getting into black magic and other really dangerous poo poo. Corporations? They don't loving care. They filled the seas and air with poison and trash. If something comes back threefold, use a minor employee as the scapegoat until it goes away. That's completely unsustainable, btw. Not the "we made this with renewable soul energy" way, but in the "you're turning the universe into a toxic wasteland of nightmares" way. It's only a matter of time before even the elementals are warped beyond recognition, and pretty soon, any use of that sea of energy is going to bite you in the rear end, even though technology is reliant on it. It would also explain why people with psychic abilities are hunted and feared. You don't even have to change the witch-hunt terminology much. edit: fml I knew my effortposts would one day kill the thread. 
cat_herder fucked around with this message at 03:33 on Jul 10, 2016 |
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Jul 9, 2016 10:52
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I just wanted to pop in and say "Hi." Ive been lurking in the shadows for some time now but everything is awesome. The Slices of Life are a great read too.
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Jul 10, 2016 10:36
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Welcome back 
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Jul 10, 2016 16:34
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Ok, caught up again. Having the warp be a crazy place where dimensions are reacting bizarrely with each other seems cool. Elves usually come from another Place (fairy land, as it were) but have been able to jump into our dimension at will. Elvish folklore is pretty neat. Cat's magic thoughts are good as well. I think the Dresden Files system of magic is very focused on the Will of the user, and stuff like that. He also has a lot of elves who are dicks in his stories.  The idea that corporations might monetize magic and start dumping their magical nuclear waste into a dimensional rift and causing horrendous blowback years in the future sounds cool too. Back to dimensions spilling over into each other - having this be the weird space that ships fold through when they navigate means that when the Empress blinks out and the astronomicon falters that ships could end up in the other dimensions rather than ours. Or lost forever in the bubbling interdimensional stew. Loel, all these new bits for Arc 1 have been great. I appreciate all the additional character work a great deal. 
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Jul 11, 2016 23:53
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Woo! Okay, big things afoot. Last set of classes (6 weeks) starting today. Moving to a real apartment this week. Job hunting, writing resumes and stuff. Hopefully, having a real job ASAP so I can hire an editor/cover artist. So there's a lot of stuff going on behind the scenes you won't be seeing, but stuff is happening
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Jul 13, 2016 02:41
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Slice of Life: Sebekh the Execrator. Location: The Beast of Traal. "So I'm going to have a daughter several hundred years from now, and not only do you want me to give her up to the Technocrats to be turned into one of them, but she's also going to bring about the end of the Hegemon as we know it?" Carmilla's expression was both incredulous and doubtful. "That is, in essence, the long and short of it. There are specifics I can get into, and specifics I can't. Something to do with--" Sebekh was interrupted by Menerwé. "Temporal dynamics. Certain things need to happen in order for everything that has happened to this point in our timeline, and foreknowledge of too many variables can lead to accidental alterations to the timeline which snowball forward and in turn can result in catastrophic changes. For example, we might never end up coming back here, which in turn would lead to your daughter never being initiated into the Technocracy, which in turn would lead to a particular invasion succeeding instead of her stopping it. I could go into detail but--" "That wasn't you going into detail?" Madthena said sardonically. "All she needs to know is that if she doesn't help us, that will gently caress our chances of succeeding by several orders of magnitude." Her tone was clipped, her words tumbling forth in that usual hyperactive torrent. "What my companion so indelicately means is that there are specific people we require for this to work, and I am asking you to take a little leap of faith, not for me, not for yourself, but for your daughter and the future of the galaxy." Sebekh's tone was more measured and diplomatic than Madthena's by a wide margin, but convincing a naturally suspicious person to participate in a scheme such as this was a lot different than enlisting the naturally curious sisters Kiera and Angelika. "Say I help, say I also use my own influence to enlist the rest of your people, what guarantee do you have of my safety?" Carmilla's expression remained one of lingering doubt. However, what she had been shown and told already did carry weight with her. "You are alive and well in my time. Still aboard the Beast, even." Sebekh's face - for he was presently mimicking actual human tissue rather than a liquid metal faceplate - melted into a confident smile. "And I can arrange positive incentives, if necessary." "We'll revisit this conversation later and we can talk about payment for my services." Carmilla said pointedly. "But for now, I think I can arrange a meeting with the Lord-Sire." Hexenritter fucked around with this message at 01:23 on Jul 14, 2016 |
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Jul 14, 2016 01:19
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Got the keys to the apartment. Feelin good. Music is Paint it Black.quote:I. The Hermit (reversed) Refresher on our headspace: "[b posted:The Alliance - 21[/b]"] "[b posted:The Pact - 6[/b]"] The I read the ending of the book Coalition - 6 posted:
Cant spell TEAM without ME - 3 posted:
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Loel posted:Arc 6 Arc 6 You nodded to yourself. Establish the fundamentals, meet with your command staff. Space travel took weeks, months, a few hours now wouldn’t cost much - and it would make for better decisions later. A stretching out of your mind, a whisper of binary, and Megabyte II was loping down the organic hallways, a hostile looking Fluors III on her shoulder. Good puppy. You ruffled her big floppy ears affectionately. “Hey furball. We’re going to see Fabiyan, how’s that sound?” Megabite wagged her tail enthuiastically, and you began following the map Athena had given you. Or, at least, one of the Athenas. You needed to sort out which one was the preferable one, assuming what they said was true. But for now, continue as per normal while you made your decision. And, hopefully, you would have the time to do so. A hostile Athena could end your Dynasty, if you weren’t properly prepared. Either way, you needed to figure out how to make weapons that could damage a Mind. Unbidden, the memory of your feral self rose - perched on the ruins of an ancient city, abandoning all tech, seeking the final victory. Would that be your destiny, then? You shuddered inwardly. Perhaps death would be preferable. No Abrogates in the corridors, which was disconcerting. Their works remained - statues and somber murals - but the cult itself was gone. A handful of the original Krieg, here and there. The Beast was almost unnaturally quiet, down to a skeleton crew and less. You absently wondered if you would need a tow to Terra, or even if you could get one. Most people were focused on leaving the homeworld, now. The strongbox, for lack of a better word, was unguarded. Itself unusual, although you supposed no one really wanted to bother a handful of Maenads while they were barely sane. Even a few years ago, you would have run from the very idea. But you were the Lord-Sire, the Archmage, Fabiyan’s wife, and things needed to be done. The room was a somber thing - you could feel a strange barrier as you entered, like gossamer on your face. It muted the outside world, even to your merely human senses, and you expected it was like being swaddled in cotton to ones such as they. Fabiyan was curled up, facing a corner. Wings burning like embers, they stretched solely on the floor - you could see small indents where they had slowly melt their way down. Edourd was half a dozen centimeters off the ground, face slack. The rune on his forehead flared and faded with his breathing, or perhaps his dreams. It was hard to tell. There was … a buzzing near him, some sort of vibration right at the base of reality. You were careful not to get close, even as you looked to Limosa. He was tired, and made no efforts to hide it. He had learned a long time ago not to conceal things from the Inquisition. “How are they doing?” You weren’t sure how much concern leaked through your voice, or should. He gestured. “As well as could be expected. Your husband has a remarkable tolerance - I’m dosing him as if he were Devries. He’s still able to talk, a little, although he’s mostly not doing anything.” “And Edourd?” “Safe, I think. For now. It’s less easy to say, with a Maenad of his power, but he’s not using his powers while dreaming. That’s as much as I want to try.” “When can we wake him up?” He glanced at you. “Frankly, I’d rather stick a nutrient IV in him until we need him again. Keep him down.” “That bad?” “That risky, anyway. Let’s wake up the supremely powerful Maenad when we have nothing else on our plate, and we maybe can take him down.” You nodded. “What else?” “Ravensburg is alive.” “Remind me.” “Officer rep, second Family tier.” “Ah, right.” “He says there are a lot of weird reports coming in, we are going to have to remap the place and figure out how she flies again.” “Not unusual.” Humor entered your tone. “Happens now and again, yes.” He agreed. “So the lights are on.” “Lights are on, recyclers work, steering work. Your technomancers in the engine say engines work, although the added mass is going to slow them down. Tribes are able to run the guns.” “What’d we lose?” Limosa shrugged. “Honestly? Nothing too important. The Dregs, the Abrogates. Replaceable. The core staff didn’t participate in the battle like you did. We’re down our infantry divisions and some revenue. All in all, we were worse off after Kiera.”
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Jul 16, 2016 18:34
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So we tried to un-Hulk the Beast, months ago, and did quite a solid job of it. And it ended up Hulked again. Poetry.
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Jul 16, 2016 18:47
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It's the nature of the Beast.
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Jul 16, 2016 20:20
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Sir Unimaginative posted:So we tried to un-Hulk the Beast, months ago, and did quite a solid job of it. The best of the Beast, Masses of ships stripped, gathered, Brought into the fold.
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Jul 16, 2016 20:23
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Sir Unimaginative posted:So we tried to un-Hulk the Beast, months ago, and did quite a solid job of it. The Beast/Dragon is apparently a fixed point in time and space that absolutely MUST smoosh privates with every listing wreck and ancient keel it comes across.
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Jul 16, 2016 20:46
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Arc 6 Ohone You nodded thoughtfully. “No major emergencies then.” “Not as far as I know. Last of the enemy troops are wiped out. We win.” “Right. Have the Family set course for Terra.” Limosa cocked his head. “What’s there?” “The next emergency. With all haste.” He raised his eyebrows, but didn’t question in it. You could feel the messages radiating from him like a spider, orders for all speed. Kilometers away, the great engines of the Beast began spooling up, even as the hundreds of Family redirected their efforts. The Beast was a huge thing now, a mountain drifting through the void, but they would obey. Even as that was happening, you were walking to Fabiyan. Even a cursory glance with your instruments could tell he was uninjured, but the … spark seemed to have gone entirely out of him. The pillar of reassurance that you had always known. In its place, he simply seemed … lost. You weren’t sure how much of his unresponsiveness was due to the tranquilizers, or simply his mood. His eyes responded to light, anyway. So there was that. Athena had said there was a great psychic event of some sort, and it seemed to have traumatized both Fabiyan and Edourd. You trusted Edourd to Limosa, and the vault here, but Fabiyan was yours alone. You reached out with your mind, finding the ship Olympus, buried within the hull of the Beast. It stirred languidly, a great and obedient thing. Part of you itched to try it out, but for now, you simply wanted its medical bay, the most advanced hospital in perhaps all of human space. Arc 6 Fabiyan, via Catherder She had said to trust her, and you always did, but when you woke up in a completely unfamiliar lab, it was hard not to immediately assume the defensive and attempt escape. Not that you could anyway. You were strapped down pretty tightly. Leather-lined metal bands across your wrists, ankles, chest. You tested them, then tried your full strength with your right wrist, and while it creaked, it held. Recon, then. You were on your back on something cold. It looked like a medic bay; there were medical supplies behind glass on recessed shelves. There were also less-than-medical supplies; specimen jars, wires, circuit boards, things you couldn’t recognize. Above you was a lamp on an adjustable arm. You’d expected there to be all number of torture devices, for a medic bay, but it was only a lamp, with plastic wrapped around it. There was a faint hum, somewhere above. Probably the lights, probably the environmental system. Hopefully not anything sinister. But as the moment of panic alarm abated, you felt yourself returning to your usual flat, emotionless state… then sinking past it. It’d been a long time since you’d felt anything like despair, but recent events had definitely warranted it. Your wings were folded awkwardly under your back, then wrapped in something, something very cold; a bony cushion against the table, stripped of their feathers, and you felt revolted by them, and the sickening warpfire you had last seen enveloping them. Revolted by your years of service, by the devotion of the Abrogates, by your own faith. Gritting your teeth, you yanked against the bindings again, to no effect. A medic bay would have scalpels, cauterizers, and while you didn’t have a lot of medical knowledge, you knew enough for battlefield surgery. It was just one of those things that came in handy. Battlefield surgery behind your back? Might be a bit more difficult. You heard the hiss of a door, and a soft clicking on the floor. You looked around, and spotted your wife at the foot of the table; outside her Lord-Sire’s armor, in simple tech-priest robes, like the day you’d met her. Her eyes were weary and sad, and her gaze was the distant stare she had when busy processing or programming something, until she realized you were awake. “Hey.” “Hey.” It came out in a croak. You wondered how long you’d been out. You swallowed and tried again. “Hey. Where are we? How long have I been out?” She flinched. “We’re on Olympus. This is my new lab.” She gestured around halfheartedly. “It’s… not what the old one was, but it’ll do. It’s been a couple of days. I didn’t freeze you for a few millennia.” She smiled half-heartedly. “Joke.” “And what am I doing here?” “Well, you were sleeping until I could get a few fires under control. I didn’t expect you to be awake yet.” She leaned back against the side of the table, then hopped up to sit on it. A faint flicker of amusement surfaced among your despair. She was so petite, you wondered if it grated on her, if that was why she went for the huge and outlandish in all things. You felt your eyebrows raise. “Really? And, I’ve metabolized worse things than whatever sedative you gave me, I’m sure.” You would’ve almost smiled, if it wasn’t so tiring to do so. “So… why am I here?” She didn’t look at you. The hood of her robes obscured her face. You heard a soft clicking, one-two-three-four, metal on metal. She was likely tapping her fingers on the table. “I had to keep you safe. I… didn’t know what you would do if I couldn’t keep an eye on you.” “Surely you trust me more than that?” “Should I? You pulled out a knife and I didn’t know who you were going to kill first, Athena, yourself, or maybe just all of us in quick order.” “I…” the words died on your lips, and you held your gaze for a second, then shifted your wings (hateful heretical things) under your back uncomfortably. “See?” She turned her head, though you could only see one eye. “So I wanted to keep you safe. I have to keep you safe. You’re the most precious thing in the galaxy to me.” “You have the rest of the Family. A devoted cult. Two AIs.” “They’re not you. I need you, Fabiyan. I refuse to let you die. I got you back once, remember?” You sighed and stared up at the adjustable lamp. “It wasn’t worth it.” “You saved my life, literally. Twice. And you don’t know what I went through to get you back.” The clicking ceased, and Ohone’s voice had an edge you weren’t used to, a hurt and anger that she hadn’t turned on you before. “Don’t EVER tell me it wasn’t worth it. I could’ve brought back anyone else, but I need YOU.” You didn’t have an answer to that. You looked at her again, and she was staring at you, angry. As soon as she caught you looking, she looked away again, at the floor. “Hon… I…” “No. I’m not going to argue with you like this. I have work to do.” She hopped down from the table, and began walking around you, collecting supplies, ripping open packages and handing tools to her mechadendrites. “What are you planning to do with all of those?” You asked, with only a note of trepidation. “Are you going to remove these…things?” “No. They’d probably grow back anyway. I remember what happened when this happened to me… sort of.” She ripped open a bag and leaned over your arm, the anti-static fabric of her robe brushing over your exposed skin, and you felt the sting of a needle in your elbow. Another bag, and she unspooled some tubing, hanging fluid from a hook you hadn’t noticed. Within seconds, your body was numb, and the room became slightly foggy. “You’re not going to knock me out?” “I need you awake. I have to check in with you to make sure I’m not screwing up. Trust me. I made Athena teach me how to do it.” “That doesn’t really inspire trust…” you began to say, but she put a finger on your lips. “Just… trust me. Have faith, if not in the Empress, then in me.”
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Jul 16, 2016 21:02
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Arc 6 Fabiyan He had to chuckle. “Anamaria.” She glanced aside. “Yes. Ohone said she wasn’t trained for some of this.” “So she brought the one psychologist on the ship who wasn’t me?” “You can hardly treat yourself.” “But I’m unsure if the one I trained can. No offense.” She waved it off. “No, it makes sense. Normally, this was a Church thing…” “All dead?” “All the psychologists, anyway.” “Just us too, then.” “Seems like.” Anamaria met his eyes. “It would help if you relaxed.” “Heh. I’m half-sedated, restrained, and my wings are on fire. And also, buried in what feels like ice.” She smiled despite herself. “Pretty sure the sedation has worn off.” “So this is my normal state? Empress forfend.” The name of his goddess felt off. A formerly perfect bell, now broken. “I’m afraid so. Can you tell me what happened?” Pain. “We had fought Typhus, in an advance team. Called down phosphex. Retreated.” “Mmhmm. What then?” She was sitting attentively, making eye contact, as he had taught her. “Athena had been infected. A few of us - Ohone, Limosa. Knoxie. Went inside her head to try to fix it.” “What did you see?” Memories rose up. Horrors. Except… one section. There was a gap of mold, or entropy, where someone could crawl through if they felt the inclination. The free Athena turned to you, all smiles. “You see the problem, of course. That nasty little fever I got broke down some of my partitions, let out personality fragments that really should never see the light of day. My disorientation you are seeing outside, well, that’s me processing a bad interface. “Anyway!” She gestured. “I can’t fix it. That mold, metaphorically speaking, is pure decay, and I can’t put anything in to replace it. I’ve got worlds and worlds of security measures,” They rose up in towers around you, “But I can’t install them myself. “So.” Another smile. “Dear Limosa, dear Knoxie. I need your help.” A glance. “Fabiyan can come too, I guess, although psykers are more valuable for this than Saints. Quite honestly, it would take very little effort on your part, now that we’ve found the source of the problem.” … “Putting a pin in that for now. Other Athena.” “Yes Archmage.” She laced her fingers, placed her head on the knuckles, watching you. “What year is it?” “Approximately thirty seven millennium since the colonization of Mars. “Okay.” That was … pretty close. “Who is in charge of the Beast?” “Well, the Beast is Hera, so some combination of you, me, and her.” Again, pretty close. “And our enemies?” “The Great Enemy, who I currently have a fever from. Various xeno races and heretics that you love to run purges on.” “Which one of you are the oldest?” “Me, of course. Remember? You freed me from my shackles not even a decade ago. Saw my casting plate and everything.” “Did Devries ever die?” “Several versions did. There is a grandmaster simulacra still existent, along with his descendents.” “Okay, I’m feeling pretty confident about your coherence. And the Emperor?” Laughter in her eyes. “You won’t like it.” “It’s a pretty easy answer, I’m sure you’ll do fine.” “The Imperator is the Empress” “Nothing good.” Loel fucked around with this message at 21:34 on Jul 16, 2016 |
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Jul 16, 2016 21:22
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Arc 6 Fabiyan “Nothing good? What does that mean?” You were thrown back into your body explosively. Knoxie was wrapped around himself, eyes squeezed shut, and Fabiyan had unfurled his wings, looking at them in horror. Your eyes snapped to Limosa, who spoke. “Sorry. Bit of a shock there.” “Yes, wonderful. Fabyan? You okay hon?” His hand was at his belt-knife, white knuckled. “She had to be lying.” You looked at him anxiously. “Hey now, let’s not rush into things.” “She … she’s a heretic. Or I am damned.” “Okay, Fabiyan, hold up…” His eyes locked on yours, full of some inexpressible emotion. “Do you know how many people I’ve killed in Her name?” His wings furled wider. “With these … horrors?.” He drew his knife, whether for himself or Athena you couldn’t say. “I can fix it.” ”Stand down, guardsman.” Limosa’s voice was iron, full of fury. They looked at each other, one wrapped in the God-Emperor’s grace, the other glowing from his own power. A pause, an eternity. “Okay.” The wings unfurled, the knife sheathed. “Okay.” Limosa’s voice was gentler. “I’ve walked that line a long time. Born a psyker, trained by Eldar. I’ve sipped the poisoned chalice. It can be rough, the early days.” Fabiyan sat down, eyes lost. All strength gone. He cocked his head at her. “Why do you do it?” Anamaria blinked. “Do what?” “Psychology. Bartending. All of…” he gestured. “This.” “To help people. You trained me, you know this.” “Mm. What if I don’t want to be helped?” “I think Ohone would have a few words.” “Okay. What if I don’t want to be helped by you?” She shrugged. “As a patient that’s your prerogative, but your options are limited. We don’t have many psychologists here.” “What if I don’t want to be helped?” She stared at him evenly. “It’s your duty.” He sighed. What would the Krieg think. “Duty… that’ll drat you.” “How do you mean?” “Athena got sick, Limosa is fixing her. Warp rot, or some such, I didn’t follow.” Ching Shih’s face dropped all expression. “That’s … not good.” “It really isn’t, but I trust him. Anyway, during the initial scan Athena told us some … troubling things.” She made a face. “She likes to do that.” “Quite. So… Hm. Fabiyan, want to go for a walk or something?” He shrugged listlessly. “It doesn’t matter.” “Alrighty. On your head be it.” You looked back to Ching Shih. “So, she told us the Imperator was still alive.” She stepped back in shock, recovered. “That’s … that’s a hell of a piece. Related to any of the other conspiracies we’ve run across?” “Um. Kind of. She said she was the Empress.” Ching Shih’s response surprised you - easy laughter. “Oh, that’s rich. Explains a lot, too.” “What? Why?” “The person who became your Empress was an atheist, a scientist, a woman of logic and reason. She never would have built this mess. Imperator, though? Building an Imperium to her own aggrandizement? One of paranoia, witch-hunts, xenocide? That I can see.” You glanced at Fabiyan, who didn’t respond. “Right. That makes things a bit more complicated though. Namely, even the thought of it is a huge heresy, one we should be purging everyone here for…” “Thus proving my point…” “Shh. Or, you are right, and that means we are kinda-sort of heretic-cultists all following the Arch-Traitor.” Fabiyan spoke, a guttural laugh. “And, again, needing purging.” Ching Shih looked at him, disturbed. “You uh … aren’t taking this too well.” Your reply was terse. “No. He isn’t.” “The Hegemon is not what we thought it was, the Empress is not who we thought she was.” His tone was flat, listless. “There was no point to any of it. Everything I’ve done.” Loel fucked around with this message at 21:39 on Jul 16, 2016 |
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Jul 16, 2016 21:35
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Dammit Lowell how dare you post the good poo poo while I'm at work.
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Jul 16, 2016 21:43
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muhahahah! Arc 6 Fabiyan Anamaria waited a moment, then another. “Do you regret what you’ve done?” “How could I not?” He gestured. “It was all for the Great Enemy. I have served them all along. We all have.” She gestured. “I’ve never seen you summon a daimon.” “Don’t have to, to still serve the Great Enemy. I have been their general.” “Did the worlds you conquer begin summoning daimons, sacrificing people?” “No.” He sighed, stretched. “But began worshipping them anyway.” “How so?” “The Imperial Cult. It’s all built to feed the Imperator.” He considered. “All those billions of souls, creating another god in Acheron.” Anamaria leaned her face on her hand thoughtfully. “You are a good man, you know.” “What?” “I’ve known you a long time. Trained under you. And everything you’ve done, has improved things. You’ve brought dozens of world back under the Hegemon.” “And back to heresy.” She shook her head. “No, listen. I’ve been to some of them. They were run by aliens, or barely human warlords, or anything else. You know that. You brought them stability.” “The peace of the grave.” “For some of them, sure.” Anamaria didn’t flinch from it. “But the rest, they are now in the Hegemon. Safe. Protected.” “Serving the Great Enemy.” She considered him. “Can we at least say that Imperator - the Empress - is different from someone like the Beserker?” “More powerful?” “Less. Less active. Hasn’t moved on the Throne in a hundred centuries. Can you really say that Imperator is doing a different job than the real Empress would have?” Fabiyan glared at her. “That’s heresy.” The words were flat, clipped. Anamaria raised her eyebrows. “You are telling me the Empress is actually Imperator.” He paused, waved his hand. “Point to you. Fine. So what?” “So, who gets the prayers isn’t important. It’s the structures we build around Her.” “I think that’s a pretty important detail!” “If the person sitting on the Throne were active, sure.” She shrugged. “As it is, one comatose Empress is much the same as another. What is important is what we do in Her name. We’ve upheld the Hegemon. Protected Humanity. You’ve done that.” Shoutout, of course, to http://www.ptsd.va.gov/professional/co-occurring/moral_injury_at_war.asp
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Jul 16, 2016 21:51
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Arc 6 Fabiyan He cocked his head. “How much of that do you actually believe? I don’t remember you having such … heterodox … beliefs.” She shrugged. “I’ve heard a lot of stories, working the Gilded Fish. Talked to a lot of priests. Really, we all make our way towards faith, and what it means to us.” “What does it mean to you?” She smiled easily. “As your therapist, it’s not good for me to share that kind of thing.” “... Hah.” He glanced back behind him. “Pretty words aside, I’m rather sure I’m a daimon. Or possessed, or something.” “If the Empress is a fallen Eidolon, all Saints are daimons?” “Something like that.” “Well, do you feel possessed?” “How would I tell?” “In control of your actions?” “Maybe I only think I am.” “Ah, the free will argument.” He blinked. “Not where I was going with that.” “No, but it was a helpful derail. I haven’t read of any possessed accounts - that’s Inquisition business - but you don’t seem the frothing cannibal type to me.” Fabiyan gestured. “I’m restrained, occasionally tranquilized, and half of me is in liquid oxygen.” “That’s the procedure for normal cannibals.” “Hah.” He paused, shrugged. “If everything we knew is a lie, what then?” “Act as if it wasn’t.” “That … is a very strange response.” She gestured. “You want to be a good soldier, a good man. You want be worthy of serving an Empress worth serving. So do that.” “It can’t be that easy.” “Mm, no. It probably won’t be.” She glanced at him. “But I think it’s a step forward from where you are now.”
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Jul 16, 2016 22:00
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Arc 6 Fabiyan “How you holding up champ?” Limosa’s voice entered the room nearly before he did. Fabiyan raised his eyebrows. “Really? Champ?” Limosa chuckled. “It got you out of your funk.” “I wasn’t in a funk.” “I can read minds. You were in a funk.” “Can’t read mine.” Fabiyan was pretty sure of that. “True.” Limosa’s face became more serious. “How you feeling?” “Like someone tried to remove my guts via my throat. You?” “Like the sun wanted to give me an extra special hug.” Limosa leaned back. “Something happened there.” “Killed a Herald.” “No, not that.” Limosa gestured. “All the Abrogates are gone. Gone, as if they were never there. Edourd’s catatonic, and you had your … whatever.” “Existential crisis?” “Sure.” Limosa leaned in. “Point is, something big happened. Something involving a Saint, the most Faithful on the battlefield, and sanctioned Maenads.” “Something involving Faith, you think.” “Yeah.” Limosa held the gaze. “I think she did it.” “Hm?” “Remember, Ohone said she was attempting to wake the Empress? I think she did it.” “And … what, the Empress took all her troops?” “The most loyal, yeah. We stayed because we’re stubborn.” “And not a little grimy.” “Right. And Ohone said the next emergency is on Terra, full speed.” “When was this?” “Couple days ago, you were out.” “Ah. So where does that leave us?” “If the Empress is up and about, we could win the war. All the wars.” “You forgot what Athena said.” The words that still haunted him. “What?” “That Imperator was on the Throne.” “Ah.” Limosa gestured dismissively. “I find that very unlikely.” “Or you just don’t want to believe it.” “Or that, sure.” “So where does it leave us?” Fabiyan repeated the question. “If Imperator woke up, on Terra, and we’re headed there for our next emergency?” He chuckled. “We’re going to kill an Eidolon, is what’s going to happen.” Fabiyan stared at him wordlessly. Limosa’s smile faded. After a moment, they both spoke. “Goddamnit Ohone.”
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Jul 16, 2016 22:16
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 I'm so honored, thank you <333Poor Fabyian. Everything is dreadful forever. Edit: LMAO damnit Ohone what have you gotten everyone into. So, since we have two ships now, we have some freedom to do multiple things. Set the Beast on a course for Terra, and take the Olympus to not!Ultramar (we need a new name for this) so we can tear the place up looking for the real Empress. this keeps the family safe for the time being, and gives us time to go find the real Empress. Get Her, come back to the Beast, or better yet, head straight for Terra and close that Acheron gate before the Beast arrives, then we can just dock the Beast at Luna for repairs/remapping. It's the most efficient use of our abilities and technology right now. cat_herder fucked around with this message at 22:34 on Jul 16, 2016 |
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Jul 16, 2016 22:16
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cat_herder posted:
Fact.
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Jul 16, 2016 22:34
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Arc 6 Terra Throne Room Serenity. This would be his last battle, he knew. He had served the Empress for ten thousand years, the last ten centuries guarding her resting place. The otherness that had filled this place was gone. She was gone. He hadn’t gotten close enough yet to see what had happened, but he knew in his heart - she had finally died. The throne had done all it could, and now she was gone. And now the gates to Acheron were open. Originally built as a hub connecting to the Fae-roads, it had grown corrupted, closed all those centuries ago. Now the Empress was gone, and he was the guardian at the gates. Around him, thousands of the Praetorian guard, wielding the finest weapons in the Hegemon. The first waves of daimons had been weak and feeble things, crushed in seconds. But their masters would come soon enough. Every motion the centurion made was an exercise in efficiency - no wasted movements. He was commanding the center of the most fortified place in the galaxy, with the finest troops, and he was the most experienced General - the finest soldier - alive. That was why he had been called from the aether - the Eidolon of warfare, the quintessential Soldier, the Centurion. Casually hefted in one hand, a mastercrafted sword bigger than most humans. Smaller than any device should reveal, millions of vibrating teeth whirred along it. It could cut through anything in this universe, although the daimons that would be arriving soon were not held to those rules. It would be his skill, and his strength, versus their unreality. Every moment his troops held, hundreds - thousands - of people escaped into orbit, fled into space. Every second he could delay, he could save a city. Outside of this chamber, every soldier on the planet was rushing to reinforce him. For all his armies here, the height of their training and equipment, he knew they would fail, would die. They faced an infinite army. He could only pour fresh regiments onto the bodies of the previous, until the entire chamber was a rolling mountain of the dead. And then, in the end, when all the soldiers of Terra had fallen, all the volunteers, all the conscripts and crusaders and everyone who wanted to die to save Humanity another moment - it would be him alone, the most perfectly crafted soldier in history. He would fight on the mountains of the dead, die surrounded by the infinite numbers of daimons. That was why he had been called. And, the Centurion knew, he would feel peace when it came.
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Jul 16, 2016 23:05
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Slice of Life: Erlendur, High King of Tartarus. Location: The Grim Redoubt, Tartarus. The colossal silhouette of the Cruac's ruthless, mercurial monarch stood before a rippling pool of black liquid. Its surface pulsed and thrummed in response to the eddies of reality and the will of the High King. The figure presented a formidable profile even without the bulk of his immeasurably ancient armour, which presently was condensed into a beautiful gorget of Durstailinn, or more commonly "voidsteel." The ethereal metal caught every bit of light that shone upon it, devouring it entirely, with no reflection. The only parts of the gorget that did not were the intricate filigree designs that seemed to pulse with an inner light. Below him, in the ebon waters, he saw images from across the galaxy, those places where conflict raged on titanic scales, those random, unexpected places where entirely new branches of time would sprout. He did this every day, almost as an act of devotion or humility. He could feel something even before the next series of images bubbled up from the font of creation. He knew ahead of time what he would see: scenes from the heart of the human homeworld, glimmers of Acheron mobilised as never before, of a world so swarmed by the filth from beyond that the entire surface writhed and wriggled a million bodies deep. Footsteps, the echo of them dim and muted, reverberated around and bounced off architecture obeying alien laws of geometry, space and time, architecture which had been aeons old before the rodent swarm of humanity had learned to walk. Without turning, he knew the runner had entered the Reflecting Pool's courtyard and stood even now awaiting permission to speak. It was granted with the twitch of one finger on his right hand, around which a ring of the same material as his gorget sat snugly, awaiting his need of its purpose as sword rather than ornament. The runner's words tumbled forth in the dialect of Elvish that had evolved amongst the Cruac tens of thousands of years prior, all soft consonants and flowing vowels. The elegance of the tongue did nothing to soften the content. "Majesty. the forty-second stanza of the Prophecy of Carthuial'anri has come to pass. Are we to act?" Erlendur smacked his hand through the onyx waters as he turned to regard the runner, who was on one knee, head lowered. "Act?" The word hung in the air pensively for a scant few seconds, the line of his jaw tightened, his mouth a tight-lipped slit that tore into a snarl. "I DID!" His voice exploded and the runner found himself scurrying backwards rapidly. "I tried to warn them an age ago. I warned that vainglorious child that her people were far from ready!" His voice was enraged, his ice blue eyes seeming to glow from behind like tiny suns. He paced several laps around the Reflecting Pool and tempered his tone. "I warned that simian whore-princess of the danger, of the catastrophe that we had already foreseen. She spat puerile slurs and claimed we simply wanted to hold them back. And now, this warped, mutant thing she shat upon creation is going to die for her hubris. I almost feel sorry for it." The courtyard was silent but for the distant sussuration of voices upon the spectral breeze for some time before Erlendur said, with much-calmed tone "And they wonder why my seekers slay them when they trespass here..." Hexenritter fucked around with this message at 00:25 on Jul 17, 2016 |
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Jul 17, 2016 00:19
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Loel posted:And, the Centurion knew, he would feel peace when it came. Bout that time again, eh?  Good luck lil superhuman buddy.
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Jul 17, 2016 01:14
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Let's get a vote going A: Rush to Terra with the Olympus, leaving the Beast behind B: Let the Beast plod to Terra, while we take the Olympus to not!Ultramar C: Go to Terra the slow route D: B, but take Olympus somewhere else (where?) E. Something else
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Jul 17, 2016 01:17
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E: Exterminatus Terra with Dark Age Tech. It's the only to be sure.
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Jul 17, 2016 01:39
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It's a new Acheron overlay; your plan's not likely to work and you may very well end up wishing it hadn't.Loel posted:Let's get a vote going Hmm. 1) We can get back to the Beast or pretty much any other destination wherever in pretty much all of Creation it is in however long it takes find out we need to and to warm up Olympus's quantum bullshit drive (I'm sure you/they have a better/more descriptive name, but enshrined profanity feels appropriate/right at this time). Note this is also a reason that the Beast can operate independently, at least in an inertial frame (unless we find a... uhm, what's the Paternova doing these days?). Can Olympus's QBD be hooked in to take the Beast with, as well? 2) Is the Beast fit to perform covering action for a space-capable ally (Pain's once-caretakers) (ally-question-mark sized to fit the Hollywood sign and on fire) against a substantially surface-bound enemy (the space assholes pouring out of whatever we're calling the newly unshackled Acheron overlay as we speak)? Is there any way to get in touch with them? If it has to slow-boat that might be okay, depending on the Centurion's endurance; it's probably safe to assume the Imperator has had her fill of this star system, and if she left behind any parting gifts everything in town is in deep poo poo no matter our order of operations. 3) I'm pretty sure taking our version of Athena to Titan for a weapons-grade psych eval was still on the to-do list. I guess the feasibility of getting the Beast to the homeworld and then the party off to Titan in short order depends on 1 above. Also look into whether we might have to cut into the local overlay and head to Titan through Acheron. Once we figure out what we do/don't/can't/shouldn't know, I'll be ready to vote.
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Jul 17, 2016 01:52
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We should go rescue the Centurion (Dorn). His job is not yet finished. He is a high-value asset to anyone who can get him on their side, and he will soon perish UNLESS we get him first, take him from his charge, and secure Terra. We just killed a Warp God (indirectly). We can secure the homeworld. It should not fall to unreality.
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Jul 17, 2016 02:00
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A. I'm pretty sure we played a part in causing this, so we need to start cleaning up our mess.
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Jul 17, 2016 02:40
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I figured getting the Empress would make saving Terra a lot easier, but it's quite possible she was dead a long, long time ago. So gently caress it. Let's go bail the Centurion out and see if we can plug the hole in the throne with something else. Not sure what there is in the galaxy powerful enough to hold the Acheron back, but I guess we'll invent something en route, or shake down Loki-thena for something.
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Jul 17, 2016 02:41
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See if we can save Terra/Dorn->Go to titan under the guide of removing the warp-rot from Loki-thena and have them perform a Loki-ectomy-> Ultramar!?!?
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Jul 17, 2016 03:28
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