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All arms, Prepare It could shape up to be a fine war, really. From his command tent, perched on a massif over the staging area, General-militant Quint Zetkin could see rows of Basilisks numbering in their thousands, the barrels of their 300mm 'Earthshaker' cannons turned upwards as if dipping to greet him. A low fog hung over the hulls, leaving the guns to salute the Emperor in some scene out of legend. In front, pack upon pack of Chimeras, around which teams of technicians were working. Behind them, lined rows of mighty Leman Russ tanks, bulky turrets obscured in the mist. A massive undertaking, to be sure, but no bigger than erecting the thousands upon thousands of tents, for barrack quarters, supply dumps and aid stations, and here the aid of Departmento Munitorum quartermaster-adepts were invaluable. The Imperium stood erect on a plinth of alliances between organizations large and small. In principle, all men were united in the purpose of the Emperor, guaranteeing an expeditious result. In practice, he was stuck with frag-for-brains retarded saps who would rather play political games for their lords' pleasure, than pursue a relatively straightforward campaign. He looked around his command tent, and sighed deeply. The commissariat and sect leaders he could deal with: Hard men whose subordinates were now dying in droves buying his own corps the time to assemble. The mercenary leaders were likewise men of arms, with a narrow focus on wealth and results that he found delightfully close to his own mind. Then there were, all the others. "What is wrong, General?", one of the merchant house prelates enquired. He was well-fed, with small eyes set deep in an placating face. Besides him, three two-bit aristos hovered closer, vying for his attention as well. "Nothing, my augmetics are giving me vapours" he barked, not even trying to lie well. He turned to the maps set out before him, pict-casters set into the faces of tactical servitors showing force overlays, when he was buzzed by the tech-priest (and emissary!) Ohone. Taking it, he finally received some good news. “Good. Decisive action. Tell the emissary we will try to move up a relief force before then. HQ out.” he finished the conversation, before ordering the activation of cavalry assets to bolster the tech-priests forces. Yes, it could shape up to be a good war after all! ((and Future Quint(tm) is in the house. Happy new year, thread! I'm happy and honoured to part of it.)) Tias fucked around with this message at 00:37 on Jan 1, 2015 |
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Jan 1, 2015 00:19
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| # ¿ Apr 29, 2024 01:31 |
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B. Whatever is going on with Mother, I'm sure it can be made to guide a fleet of bulk haulers with
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Jan 1, 2015 15:22
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GhostStalker posted:Jumping on the B We'll pawn it off to a ship manned by someone we don't like!
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Jan 1, 2015 21:03
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; we need to recover that processing plant, and these tech-aborigines can probably be convinced to come with us when we repair the elevator and help run the thing, especially since they kinda want to return to the surface anyway. We'll deal with Mother later, there's still a Sanctioned Astropath at the bottom of the collective, but the witch probably will need purging afterwards. Depends on how helpful it is, I guess.
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B seems prudent. If they wanted us dead, they'd kill us in some underhanded fashion right after Mother read our thoughts the first time. Also, can we not eat the mushrooms? Creepy psyker sect like that, the mushrooms can't contain anything good.
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Jan 2, 2015 08:08
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Needs more explosions.
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Jan 3, 2015 14:09
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B. Use the skull.
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Jan 4, 2015 21:52
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B. Also, Red Skull, then we can colour-code the next ones we get as well 
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Jan 6, 2015 13:38
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In an interstellar energy economy largely resting on tortured souls, it has a certain staying power 
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Jan 6, 2015 13:51
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Souls. Skulls are more, like, a basic element.
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Jan 6, 2015 14:03
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Disassemble it some more. I'm sure it can power an elevator on our ship with
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Jan 7, 2015 21:12
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Green Intern posted:Seconding this. Also Recruit every person of any worth. Mother would have wrecked Ohone in a straight fight anyway, so it's just as well that she screwed off on her own. Agreed. Restock and help all the humans we can. I will add that I don't think we necessarily have to let Mother get away with this poo poo. She's a floating corpse pod that hasn't been aired since Horus was a babe - shouldn't be too hard to kill her with an army at our back.
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Jan 10, 2015 13:55
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Outrail posted:Mother is nothing but a potential ally. She gives me the heebie-jeebies, which has always been more than enough reason to smite someone in this setting 
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Jan 10, 2015 16:33
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my dad posted:1 - gently caress you Quint, you're an rear end in a top hat. (Sorry Tias It's not like he has an army of xenos to put down or anything!
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Jan 10, 2015 19:19
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SECUTOR!!! War-child of the machine god, with a loving array that can mount gun-tentacles! .
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Jan 10, 2015 20:39
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I have ninety nine problems, but faulty comms isn't one - Quint Intermission! Because the fragging comms were down. General Militant Quint Zetkin was having a long day. A hundred and fifty klicks of ruined wasteland once home to industry and imperial workers now sprawled across theater he was trying to control, and surveys couldn't really make heads and tails of it all. The enemy could be waiting underneath the rusting awnings of factorum parks, or they could be completely absent, preparing to strike from another angle. Perhaps one of the upstart nobles, or one of the disloyal generals, could be convinced to take in a force. Or perhaps.. He caught a brief sight of Ohone, the liaison tech-priest for the family holding the linchpin of his entire logistical infrastructure, the Beast. That one was good, very good, completing a dangerous breakout and helping the war effort - if she died, she would be a great asset wasted in an unfortunate misadventure (but one proving that there was indeed danger in the industrial badlands), and if nothing happened, well, nothing was lost. Unbidden, another memory rose in his head. That of one of the wheedling nobles, Katallus Onslaw, showing him a fair hunting dog bought at price from the markets downland. The creature had razor sharp fangs, bulged with muscles, like a swollen plant-pod, and a fair bit of insanity gleamed in its eyes. He lookeded at Onslaw, now carousing with the other nobles in their decadent lean-to full of drink and gossip. The poo poo he had to put up with just to pursue war.. As it was, he tried to put both dog, noble and war out of his mind, and focused on the surveillance missions ahead. Oh, to have some proper Aran or Catachan scouts, and not this morass of hivers, penal scum and Emperor knows what else!
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Jan 25, 2015 22:13
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I wouldn't assume our victory a foregone conclusion. Let's slip word to as many friendly forces as possible that he's a rotten traitor egg, and preferably blow him up in transit when he's vulnerable.
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Jan 31, 2015 14:31
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Yes. It does come off as slight overkill to me, but then I'm a big softie. D, and maybe they could leave him intact as a pawn, I kind of like him.
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Jan 31, 2015 15:12
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A. There could well be something important we've overlooked, but gently caress having him creep up the joint anymore
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Jan 31, 2015 21:38
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B. We use our words only to hide our ideas, and our ideas only to hide our evil. We don't know who they are, and even if they're ordos, they may be attached to someone who doesn't like us. The Inquisition isn't your friend, even if you're a member.
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Feb 2, 2015 08:38
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B. It's bad news, we need to get access
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Feb 5, 2015 10:06
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LowellDND posted:Oh, sorry. I got the idea from SCP (a site you should read). Basically, a meme is an idea that replicates. Religious ideas, catch phrases, the various images we have online. It's a big part of the hard-science worldbuilding project Orion's Arm, in which galaxy-spanning god-like AIs use cultural, social and psychological "warfare" to shift lesser sapience intelligences (like people, other AIs and robots) to their own faction or current goal. On a down-to-earth level, media talking points, propaganda or even pop music can be considered memetic actions.
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Feb 5, 2015 10:44
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Same poo poo, different day. Quint finished putting on the "Penitent Cowl" mk. XXVII Atomic-Bacillus-Chem-Warfare protection suit, his cybernetic arm catching an angle of the suit before he, gingerly, sealed it up. With the amount of nerve gas his artillery tanks were dropping on the front line, a stray shell could easily end him and his entire HQ. Now sweating and uncomfortable, he nevertheless had to react quickly: An entire supply ship had given their system the heave-ho, dropping a space elevator on top of their army corps, killing tens of thousands of Death Korp. They probably enjoyed that, masochistic fraggers - but nevertheless, it was a good idea to commit to an assault. "Get me air command" he gasped. The voxx crackled alive. "Command?" "This is General Zetkin, authorizing immediate atomic strikes on pre-plotted targets 9, 23 and 27." "Authorization code?" "Pious-Imperator-Dimmamar-Death, sending bio-lock as we speak". He pulled a vial of his own blood out of the suit, and gave it to an attending adept, who slotted it into a complex encryption servitor, sending the requisite final part of the authorization for the strike at the blinding speed alpha-level psychofibre cables could manage at peak efficiency. Skies above The pilot of the Voss-pattern "Lightning Strike" fighter double checked the encryption runes hesitatingly, when the vox comm lit up. The voice at the other end only said one thing: "Imagine". The word, rarely if ever used in daily imperial parlance, activated the mnemonic hypno-indoctrination deep within the pilots brain, and he mindlessly activated the firing sequence for the 10-megaton atomic missile he did not even know his fighter-bomber carried. Elsewhere, two other navy pilots did the same.  Back at Nallani HQ Even before the after-images of the mind-numbingly powerful blasts had faded, Quint was mapping out vectors of attack, trying to get troops ahead fast enough to capitalize on the disruption caused by the atomics. "Send 5 divisions through that gap." he ordered, jabbing a part of the map. A staff colonel turned, aghast. "The atomic beam exposure will be too high!" "No" Quint said, after calling up a spreadsheet. "They will reach 100% casualties within 96 hours. Have Divisio cook up new targets for atomic strikes once the front settles." "Sir" the man acquisced, and drew up the relevant orders, sending wave after wave of men into the breach. Tias fucked around with this message at 20:07 on Feb 9, 2015 |
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Feb 9, 2015 17:37
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Atomics are still pretty Serious Stuff(tm), but when you have enough divisions of Krieg who just love fighting the most horrible poo poo you can find to throw at them, and consider a nuked hellscape "kind of like home", well, you get Quints response.
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Feb 9, 2015 18:10
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Deadmeat5150 posted:Krieg suits have 100% rad protection, they can go through a hot nuked hellscape without issue. And probably take a picnic. A lot of other troops than Krieg out there  Good thing their survival is not A Priority.
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Feb 9, 2015 18:25
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Also, the Imperial Guard general is probably the one with the strictest RoE. Inqusitors and Terran Lords can nuke poo poo willy-nilly, likely using a code written down on the back of their power fist.
Tias fucked around with this message at 21:11 on Feb 9, 2015 |
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Feb 9, 2015 20:06
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LowellDND posted:Thank you! Aw shucks  I had help.
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Feb 10, 2015 12:24
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I was a little unsure of the bar scene, getting all experimental and talking about 'What is it to be human', but I think I got a good response. I think Ill make it a regular theme.
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So I'm 470 pages behind.. Is there any way to catch up that doesn't involve reading them 
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Dec 19, 2016 11:26
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