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Slice of Life: Oneoh. Location: The Eye of Ruin, Athenian Technocracy Space. Oneoh strolled lazily along the warm, soft sand, occasionally pausing to look down at her feet as she wiggled her toes, watching them sink in until they disappeared. She took a deep breath, the pristine taste of exhaust-free tropical air ever so slightly salty, its movement across her skin like the caress of silk. All around her, the gentle sound of the ocean lapping at the sandbar she was standing on was punctuated only by the faint echo of the voice she heard in the back of her head. "That's good, just hold it there but try not to consciously think about it." "Think but don't think, yeah, about that." She laughed, starting to walk down the beach again toward a small cluster of palms and a figure she couldn't quite make out. She nearly yelped as her left foot caught on something and almost made her fall. Looking down, the soft, orange sand looked melted and warped. She tried to pull her foot free but the sand had coalesced into stone. Again, the echo came. "Steady... it's not really there, it's just your own doubt, The human mind has a horrible knack for sabotaging itself. Just relax and..." "There we go" Oneoh said with relief as she tugged her foot free, shaking apart the clump of whatever that was as it turned back into sand. She took a breath, smiled to herself and started walking again. Just as she did, the brilliant blue sky overhead cracked, lanced through with garish streaks of white fire. The sun overhead darkened and started dissolving, growing ever more diffuse until it dominated half the sky like a great shadow. It opened out on itself like a mouth engulfing the head it came from and shattered the air with a distorted shrieking howl that impacted the atmosphere like a shockwave, blasting it away in waves that threatened to throw her off her feet and suffocate her. Each wave seemed to shake free small black dots from beneath the sand. Those dots sprouted wings of pure static, each one amplifying a crackling hiss that underwrote everything else even as they sprouted tiny faces that she realised she recognised. Each face a life lost in her service, each face adding to the cacophonic screaming choir. Oneoh broke into a run, only for her legs to crumple underneath her, muscles on fire. She reached out to stop herself before she hit the sand only to see little more than rudimentary stumps tipped with omni-sockets. The sand had gone from warm orange to scorching white and as she faceplanted into it, her world exploded all over again. She was falling, hurtling at terminal velocity through a tempest of white noise and sensory overload so extreme that she dreamt for a fraction of an instant that she was endlessly falling into the laughing maw of Abraxus, and in that moment she wondered if she had ever made it out of the reclamator plant. She could feel herself convulsing, hear herself retching between the hoarse croaks that had replaced her screaming earlier. The blinding, brain-searing inferno gave way to ultra-violet and the sterile white of clean room lighting. The looming shadow overhead coalesced through fresh tears as she began to make out Ataraxia's face, the tinny echo in her head giving way to the tall woman's voice. "I'm impressed you held that for as long as you did before it collapsed. Well done." Hexenritter fucked around with this message at 13:35 on Jun 25, 2016 |
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Jun 25, 2016 05:54
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That familial tainted blood comes out strong I see 
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Jun 25, 2016 06:14
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Book 1: Third person conversion - DONE. Tense conversion - DONE. Sanitization - I'd say about 50% done. There's a lot I didn't know what to change to. I left notes all the gently caress over the place for stuff I was confused about. Tarot readings: hahahaha gimme a day to bask in accomplishment first Romantic bullshit for elsewhere in the story: 25%, maybe less. There's a LOT of cute poo poo I want to write and see if Loel wants to use. Three docs already started, but nowhere near done /sob Books 2 and 3: let me finish the rest of my obligations and I'll get on it. I owe DogKisser and Holly tarot readings for their threads, and AT LEAST two more for this thread, likely more. TELL ME HERE OR IN PM IF I OWE YOU ANYTHING because I lost track btwx being sick this week and cranking through this.
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Jun 27, 2016 01:53
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You are the best <3 Super best. Im still chomping out classes, so itll be a few weeks on my end 
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Jun 27, 2016 03:52
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New prologue It had been ten thousand years since the Empress had ascended, and the entire galaxy was celebrating. A million worlds, a million trillion subjects - all united in the glory of her reign. Ten thousand years since She had cemented Her rule on the embers of a smouldering galaxy, and fourteen thousand since She cast down her predecessor. Ended the Tempus Belli Sepentis, by Her own end. Little was known about that era, so long ago - her first act in power was to destroy all histories of it. She was immortal, and so too would be Her Hegemon. All that needed to be known was that She had saved the galaxy, saved humanity, and any research into the nature of the past would be vilest heresy. Even now, ten thousand years later, her Inquisition examined the hearts and minds of her subjects. Then as it always has been, will always be - the heretical were cast into the fire. It had been ten thousand years since the Empress had ascended, and the entire galaxy was celebrating.
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Jun 28, 2016 05:47
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Oh yeah. It's interesting translating from 40k to the new narrative. Ascended meaning on life support in an iron sarcophagus? One thing stood out; a million world's with a trillion per world on average isn't sustainable. Probably something like 1 to 10b on average to take into account dead/feudal world's and the like. Maybe 'millions of worlds, billions of millions (or just trillions) of subjects' is more realistic. /demographicsperg
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Jun 28, 2016 07:17
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Yeah, Im thinking a million (official) worlds, and then a bunch of moons, asteorid belts, space ships, orbitals, ringworlds, and so on.
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Jun 28, 2016 07:28
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Ok so if we assume the average Asteroid can support x people, and there's average y asteroids per system, z moons, s stations and H hulks, the number of subjects can estimated by.... Furthermore....
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Jun 28, 2016 07:34
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Outrail posted:Ok so if we assume the average Asteroid can support x people, and there's average y asteroids per system, z moons, s stations and H hulks, the number of subjects can estimated by.... Furthermore.... Just set up an excel spreadsheet.
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Jun 28, 2016 08:39
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Loosely inspired by https://www.amazon.com/Millennial-Project-Colonizing-Galaxy-Eight/dp/0316771635 No idea how hard scifi it is though. It presents a lot of numbers
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Jun 28, 2016 09:04
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Slice of Life: Oneoh. Location: The Eye of Ruin, Athenian Technocracy Space. The past two weeks had been a nightmarish, relentless procession of agony, and she had suffered mindbending hallucinations brought on by her attempts to control her new quantum processors and psitech. At the same time, attempting to master the psychological and transcendental arts of the Erinyes had only made the hallucinations that much more intense, that much stranger. She had a long way to go before she could effectively use her new abilities and really get the most out of the new tech she had so eagerly crammed in her head. Her entire body still hurt, and she was told this pain and several other unpleasant side effects would continue until the chromosomal treatments were complete and the nanoconversion had run its course. Iosef had explained that attempts were underway to breed Erinyes who would possess the physiological alterations from birth but that particular plan was going to take years if not decades to reach its full potential. She wondered to herself about the logistics involved in birthing a winged humanoid the usual way, then put the thought out of her head as it nudged maternal instincts she was not quite comfortable with. Her new processing power and speed was staggering compared to the archaic tech that she remembered receiving when she first became a Technomancer all those years ago, and already she was putting it to use, ravenously devouring as much data on restricted projects as she could. With her new clearance and authority she had access to all but Sebekh's personal "black projects" and had already decided upon several more experimental enhancements and upgrades that she intended on ordering for herself. She found herself almost giddy with excitement as she read the full specifications of the Erinyes Protocols, and the Seraph pattern nanoframe that even now was being constructed atom by atom within her body. Hyperblades, her own teleport node, the nanoforge itself and the breadth of possibilities the psitech and effectors would allow her to make manifest at the speed of thought. Yes, she was very pleased with herself.
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Jun 28, 2016 11:37
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Arc 0 somewhere Never trust an elf. Sister Suffer Not a Witch to Live smiled crookedly. That was taught to babies with their mother’s milk. Always at the edge of the campfire they were, alien grace and inhuman beauty. Always happy to make a deal, offer some bit of technology or prophesy that might help you out. It was commonly known - at least among the Hegemon’s aristocracy - that elves walked outside of time, and had been known to take guests. Want to change the past? Talk to an elf. It never worked out, of course - betrayal or some hidden secret or finding out your actions had made things worse. Elves took an unholy glee in the misery of humans, and were always happy to twist the knife. But at the same time, they had all sorts of resources for those who would dare to make a deal with the fae. An entire genre of penny-dreadfuls had arisen out of it. Never trust an elf. Mother Church had assigned her here, this floating city of a quarter million souls. A cathedral on the bow fit ten thousand, dominating the skull of the ship known as the Beast. She was sure the merchant dynasty that owned this place had been making a joke, at some point in the distant past. A ship that looked like a shark, with a cathedral jauntily placed as the crown. But then, what can you expect of a Family that affiliated with elves? Her eyes narrowed as she watched them glide through the crowds here on Alpha Deck, where all the aristocrats and would-be merchant lords lived. Countless wealth of worlds rested in this great chamber, reminding all who came of the wealth of the Family, but next to elves, they looked like so much dross. The rubbish a pack of monkeys might have collected in their cave. Indeed, she had heard the elves call humanity that, in falsely quiet voices. Monkeys. The Lord-Sire Frederik Di Musio seemed to have proper attitudes towards them - a wary distance, a simmering hostility. The merchant dynasties could consort with alien races, speak with fae, break bread with the Enemies of Humanity - but it was understood that they could not go native. The Inquisition, in all their terrible majesty, saw to that. No, it was the heir that concerned her. Limosa, adopted child of the Lord-Sire, expected replacement when he died. He spoke with the elves in their own language, drank their strange wine, touched them too agreeably. Flashes of his motion showed a casual inhumanity - even now, their presence was corrupting him. She watched a moment further, shook her head. He would do well to remember the ancient lores. Never trust an elf.
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Jun 28, 2016 12:07
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Slice of Life: Oneoh. Location: The Eye of Ruin, Athenian Technocracy Space. Both Athena and Ataraxia had talked to her about "memory palaces" as a means of organising vast amounts of data and memory into a format that could be easily parsed, and with quantum processing and noetic acceleration implants they had both inferred that even the most obscure memory could be plucked forth in picoseconds. Right now she was trying out the concept for herself. Her memory palace was a vast, vault-ceilinged affair with flickering flame torches lining the walls. She stood on a balcony overlooking the length of the palace, dozens of floors, each with hundreds of gothic arched doorways leading off into the distance. She had already been organising her memories and knowledge into an alphanumeric system that grouped like with like and after what seemed to her like four hours but had been little more than fractions of a second she had found the system to be both satisfactory and speedy, having tested herself on recalling many of her oldest memories. There was one door in particular she didn't remember placing there, however. Another in a long line of endless arched doorways, except it was walled off with a single cylindrical indentation. As she approached it, she realised the indentation looked like the wraithbone spine she had seen on the Beast. She lifted her left hand and thought about it. An illusory representation of it appeared in her hand. She carefully slotted it into the indentation and the wall blocking the arch dissolved, revealing a metal-walled chamber. Entering it, Athena suddenly blinked into being. "Well, I wasn't expecting to see you here." "I'm not really here, silly." Athena grinned. "Alright, so what's going on then? Why am I seeing you here?" "I implanted this little hidden data cluster in your storage to be activated the first time you entered your memory palace." "Ah. I see." Oneoh paused. "Why, exactly, if you don't mind me asking?" "There's a list of names I wanted to give you that I couldn't very well do in the real world. This way, only you will ever see it." "Whose names are on this list?" "People who may represent a threat to you in the near future." "Because I was made acting Technarch?" "Just so. Do with it as you will." Athena flickered and vanished and once more Oneoh was alone with her thoughts. She pored over the list, etched into the very walls of this hidden chamber, and she recognised some of them, though not all. Eliphas the Black, Roarc Elfreaper, Galpurnia of Sengorn, Haradrius Van Vaal, Malatach the Heresiarch and so many more. There were almost two hundred names on the list and each name came with its own holographic image and a dossier so extensive that Athena must have been compiling it for quite some time. The only two she was familiar with were Eliphas the Black and Galpurnia of Sengorn. The former was a vicious taskmaster responsible for implementing a harsh eugenics program on the worlds he had taken in the name of the Technocracy. The latter was an old pupil of Sebekh's whose work on artificial intelligences had made her the target of Hegemon pogroms for centuries. She had no reason to doubt Athena at this point, if these Magi were to pose a threat to her, she would make sure they regretted it. Hexenritter fucked around with this message at 12:32 on Jun 28, 2016 |
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Jun 28, 2016 12:23
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Arc 0-1 somewhere Di Musio glanced at the viewscreen warily. A million kilometers away, a pack of ships he didn’t recognize. Not … impossible, certainly. It was a big galaxy. But unusual. Perhaps some minor alien race, although they moved with an unpleasant grace. They seemed to ignore Newtonian physics entirely, darting through the void by sheer force of will. In his peripheral vision, he saw Limosa approach, mouth set in a grim line. Frederik half shifted to face him, even as he kept his eyes on the image. Limosa surreptitiously pointed his chin, directing his attention elsewhere. A moment to glance away - the elves, standing by themselves, all humor gone. They looked utterly inhuman, all edges and sharp angles. Like knives that played with children. Di Musio paused. “Never seen elves do that.” Limosa nodded slightly. “Their glamours take effort. This has their attention.” He raised an eyebrow. “What catches fae attention?” His heir narrowed his eyes. “I haven’t asked them, but I think that’s the Wild Hunt.” Frederik grunted sourly. As elves were to humans, the Wild Hunt were to the elves. A particularly alien breed, they lived to pursue, to devour prey. A moment’s thought on the comlink, an expression of will, and the Family set about going to battle stations. And, frankly, ensuring the suicide charges were set. If the Wild Hunt pursued you, you died. If they boarded you, you died hard. At least, so it was said. All was known was these passing encounters, where ships drifted by each other. He unconsciously tapped the skin of his great armor. At least, he hoped this was a passing encounter. If not, the Beast would fight as much as it could, and as the boarding parties approached, the Archmage would set about destroying the ship. Between nuclear reactors and the various atomic munitions, they would make the Wild Hunt pay for their prey. The music still played, people still drank and laughed, but it was strained. Anyone who knew anything knew that nervous elves meant something bad, even if they didn’t know the particulars of the Hunt. And then, finally, the Hunt changed directions, heading somewhere else into the void. Limosa almost sagged in relief, and the elves were again too beautiful to look at it. Frederik grunted, kept the alert on a bit longer. The rules were in place for a reason. Never trust an elf.
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Jun 28, 2016 12:23
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Arc 1 somewhere Sister Suffer clinked glasses with him. “I saw you’ve met our revered leader.” Limosa grimaced. “Yes.” Drank faster than was perhaps polite. She chuckled. “As amiable as ever, I see. He definitely has a thing for you.” He forced the pain away with the ease of long practice. “I had noticed that, yes.” “Relax, you are his golden boy. Not everyone gets made an heir, you know that.” “A dubious honor. I have to wonder how much of it is related to my heritage.” “Less than you might think. You are quite talented.” He gestured pointedly. To those who know how to look, flames that always surrounded here and that were just out of sight. “You seem to have a gift yourself.” Sister Suffer scowled. Pyromancy, and all the other talents, were forbidden to those of the Church, and there would be extremely unpleasant consequences if her secret had gotten out. Of course, their revered leader had a preference for people with secrets. It made them easier to control. She shrugged, stretched. “What do you think he’s going to do now?” “I assume he’s caught up with you by now.” “Yes. You have rather more information to provide him.” “I keep better company.” His voice tried for airy, but mostly came out tired. Empress, but the questioning would be hard to conceal. She ignored it politely, let him continue. “He’s going to try to go for the private libraries soon.” “Hah. Can’t you just see that.” “Not that he doesn’t have the authority, but … it would be rather rude to be blunt about it.” “Yeah. I’ll see what I can do to ease things along.”
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Jun 28, 2016 12:37
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Slice of Life: Sebekh the Execrator. Location: The Eye of Ruin, Athenian Technocracy Space. He emerged from his quarters for the first time in weeks, reconnecting to the ship's data networks, receiving voluminous streams of data and notifications that had been piling up since he had sequestered himself away and made Oneoh acting Technarch. Athena popped into view as he started to move down the corridor. "It's nice to see you out and about again." She said with a disarming smile as he walked toward her. He smiled back and suddenly something shimmered around her and the smile she was wearing died. Her face showed lines of effort for a moment before she started trying to attack the barriers in a blur of motion so fast even Sebekh had trouble seeing more than streaks of movement. She stopped, looking at him with an increasingly dark scowl. "What the gently caress are you doing?" She snapped. "I'm afraid our collaboration has reached a detente." He produced a featureless black box from behind him and her eyes widened. "Is that--" "Yes." Silver-tipped fingers caressed the box in intricate patterns and he reached into it with his mind. Another figure popped into being beside him, her hair twisted up into a slightly dishevelled braid. Other than that, and the wild glare in her eyes, she was identical in appearance to the trapped figure. "You." The trapped Athena snarled. "Yes, me." The other one smirked, her form flickering now and then as the faintest hints of flame danced in her otherwise dark eyes. "And now, I get to brick you up in a box of MY choosing." "Please don't." The trapped Athena said, barely above a whisper. The other Athena took the box, curling her upper lip into a sneer of disdain and cold fury. She tossed it at the hyperreality field and it passed through harmlessly, that is, until it hit the trapped figure. She opened her mouth to scream but felt herself breaking apart, disintegrating and being pulled atom by atom into the box, which hit the deckplates with a dull thunk. "Now let's burn this fucker to the ground." The braid-haired Athena growled, flexing her fingers and all but bouncing on her heels. Sebekh glanced at her inquisitively for a moment. "Why," She smiled toothily, eyes glowing like gridfire. "the galaxy, of course."
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Jun 28, 2016 12:59
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Cruentus He smiled easily at her, even as he ignored her blithe dismissal. “You really think anyone believes that beep-boop Ohone routine?” “Most people, at least, can take a hint.” “Hah. Inviting Limosa to go play in the oil gears. It brings a certain originality to it, certainly.” Did she smile? It was hard to tell. “As opposed to just shooting some randoms.” Cruentus laughed. “Don’t tell me you care about the poor dumb bastards.” Ohone shrugged. “It seems wasteful. And, also, ineffective. Random.” “Terror works, Ohone. Keep the dregs terrified by random, spasmodic violence, and you’ll have nothing to fear from them.” “I suppose that’s all it is to you, then? Cold calculation?” “Well, it’s also fun. You should try it sometime. A bit of casual murder improves the mood wonderfully.” “I’ll take your word for it. What do you want, Cruentus?” “The same thing everyone wants. You are the new player on the scene, and doing a From-Below opening. You humiliated Limosa and ignored Amacita. To me, that reads as an all but formal alliance.” “From-Below and what, the mercenaries?” “I’ve cultivated them for many years.” “Shot them for many years.” “That too. Like Dregs, they respect and fear power.” “I’m sure. What kind of alliance would this entail?” He shrugged. “I understand your wariness. Let’s say, you won’t commit to the other two for the time being. I’ll show you what I can offer.” Ohone met his eyes for the first time. “I suppose I could be open to that.” He smiled. Loel fucked around with this message at 13:19 on Jun 28, 2016 |
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Jun 28, 2016 13:14
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Slice of Life: Sebekh the Execrator. Location: The Eye of Ruin, Athenian Technocracy Space. "I just intercepted a priority alert coming from one of your Annexation Fleets. Apparently they've run into some issues." Athena said in her usual faster-than-normal avalanche of words. "One of the worlds they were about to process turned out to be the homeworld for a Nephilim legion. Want to see something fun? I'm bored and need to vent anyway." Before Sebekh had a chance to respond, he felt himself torn sideways through reality in a manner he had only experienced one time before. In the blink of an eye he found himself floating in the cold expanse of space, about half an AU away from a planet. He focused his optics only to feel himself pulled at C-fractional speeds toward it so fast his vision barely had time to adjust. He recognised Annexation Fleet 03's flagship as it rained fire upon a literal swarm of Hegemon ships. Athena waved her hand and hundreds of craft simply exploded. Sebekh noticed with some ire that half the Annexation Fleet was gone too. Athena rolled her shoulders and grinned ever more widely as she waved her hand again, casting the Annexation Fleet into a neighbouring system before pointing her hands at the planet below. She clenched her fingers as though grasping something, and with a wrenching twist, she sundered the world like a child breaking a biscuit. She started laughing, eyes like fire again. Both shattered halves of the planet below them turned first yellow as the remnants of the atmosphere ignited, then red as the crust turned molten, then white as the very mineral makeup of the fragments began to sublimate. In less than thirty seconds she had gleefully turned a world and all its inhabitants into nothing more than scattered atoms. All Sebekh could do was watch in rapt awe, such breathtaking beauty and apocalyptic power. Had he lungs, he would be breathless. "Right, that was fun but let's get back to more important things." She stated with all the mercurial attention span of a hyperactive child. Hexenritter fucked around with this message at 13:31 on Jun 28, 2016 |
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Jun 28, 2016 13:22
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Limosa He shuffled, dealt. “The game, Sisters, is Tonk.” They took their cards, looked at them thoughtfully. Sister Suffer, one of the Church-Militant. Sister Katarina, of the Diplomatic Corps, and Sister Jenine, one of the Social Hygiene units. She drew first, spoke without looking at him. “And what brings you to our den of iniquity?” Limosa glanced at the cards on the table. “Taking a break from politics. Lord-Sire is in a mood.” Sister Suffer chuckled, grabbed one of the cards. “Liar. You are just waiting for the next battle. We heard about you cleansing the mutants out.” Nods all around. “That was good work.” He shrugged. “A necessary if tedious task. Like clipping your nails.” “Still, it must be done, for the good of the Ship.” “Don’t think we’ll be seeing any more for a while, I am fairly sure I got the whole corrupted line. Root and branch.” Katarina spoke for the first time. “Yes, you are thorough.” Jenine glanced at her. “You don’t approve?” “Of violence? Not as a first resort.” She pursed her lips. “There are more useful - and effective - methods.” Limosa sighed inwardly, it was an argument as old as the Hegemon. Different orders of Mother Church had their different perspectives, and brought them up whenever possible. Even - he glanced at Katarina - Sisters who were supposed to be diplomatic. He drew cards, played. Was actually ahead, a bit - the argument seemed to have distracted them somewhat. It was a well known fact, on every world in the Hegemon, that you don’t play Sisters for money.
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Jun 28, 2016 13:44
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Oh dear. Did Sebekh really just unchain the real Athena that Loki had had bricked up in a corner of their mind? Who uh, then proceeded to be completely bugfuck nuts? this_is_fine.jpg (I wonder which legion did she just eradicate?) Also still getting around the new lore/terms etc, but what was the 40k Erinyes? (Or was that what we're calling the minds in general, and Oneoh is basically turning herself in to one)
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Jun 28, 2016 14:53
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Gwaihir posted:Oh dear. Did Sebekh really just unchain the real Athena that Loki had had bricked up in a corner of their mind? Who uh, then proceeded to be completely bugfuck nuts? Erinyes are a new kind of thing. The Technocracy are making extremely transhuman angel-type thingy people, and apparently the process is harrowing (then again when one's being remade at the chemical level it stands to reason that chemical anesthetics probably will be useless at best). And, uh. Yeah, we, uh. We really need to address the whole penned-in Sadthena thing at some point, before we start racking up characters that are unlikable. Unless IRC Crew already decided that wasn't going to happen. Fuckin' IRC Crew. dont be mean to me fucked around with this message at 17:04 on Jun 28, 2016 |
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Jun 28, 2016 16:53
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Sir Unimaginative posted:Erinyes are a new kind of thing. The Technocracy are making extremely transhuman angel-type thingy people, and apparently the process is harrowing (then again when one's being remade at the chemical level it stands to reason that chemical anesthetics probably will be useless at best). considering the closest modern day equivalent is having your entire immune system destroyed and then getting a bone marrow transplant, except sped up massively and also while amputating perfectly good body parts and replacing them with prosthetics keyed into your nervous system (which, thankfully, I don't think we're doing this yet on humans), then yeah, Oneoh went through a hugely risky and painful procedure and is probably going to be hella sick until the molecular changes are finished. If she survives, she'll be incredibly lucky. In comparison, I have lupus and various parts of my body are attacked by my own immune system on the reg, including large joints, muscles, and assorted pleuritic tissues, and that's still probably 1% of what she just went, and is continuing, to go through. edit: hilariously, I did that tarot reading and finished the book 1 edit while accidentally off my main antidepressant and suffering through SNRI discontinuation syndrome imagine if I'd been actually well!
cat_herder fucked around with this message at 17:54 on Jun 28, 2016 |
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Jun 28, 2016 17:51
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Arc 1 Nearly a thousand militant-pilgrims had come aboard from the last agricultural world, and now they howled through Between, burning as they went. They either lacked the know-how or the audacity to use the cannon munitions, instead using a motley array of small arms. Black powder weapons, slug throwers, blunt objects and spiked edges. The villages of the Batteries had been stripped of their guards, deployed to support Ohone, and now none was left to defend them. And so, they evacuated, pouring in their thousands to the nearest village, the next target of the pilgrims. The Lord-Sire was too distracted to respond to them, fighting the food riots throughout the Deeps, and smoke filled the air. Everywhere, the groan of overworked ventilators and the screams of combat. Gunfire echoed the corridors as had not been seen in a generation. The militant-pilgrims, for their part, were in no rush to pursue the Tribes. Destroying their homes, their fungal crops, their herds would be devastating on its own, and hastily pursuing their Tribes through their own territory was suicide. No, sure and steady was the thing, travelling in a great mob, burning and smashing all they came across. The machines must never be allowed to rule them again, and Ohone was only the most obvious example of the deviance aboard this ship. Even as the non-combatants of the Tribes retreated, the younger and more aggressive ones were setting up delaying actions. Between was full of hunters and monsters and things that went bump, and the Tribes knew the grounds of each one. They knew how to avoid them and how to avoid provoking them, or in this case - how to find and and annoy each one of them. Monsters with no name began shuffling, crawling, creeping, leaping, in pursuit of the Tribesmen who even now were leading them into the pilgrims.
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Jun 28, 2016 21:07
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The Martial-Father growled. A dozen villages burned and destroyed, icons cast down, heretical machines broken - but still no sign of the arch-heretic Ohone. All the Questioning in the Deeps had said she had made this the place of her strength, but she still hid from them. Half of the war cries were challenging her to show herself, to die on the machines she worshipped. And the advance as slowing. Unexpected hazards filled this place, gravity wells, radiation arcs, thermal lances. His crusade was having to slow down despite itself, no matter how the clerics whipped and screamed. The Tribes had made use of the time, as well - the obvious routes were now lain with dozens of IEDs, fireworks, pyrotechnics, landmines. Despite themselves, his troops were clumping up, forming areas of concentration as they looked for a way to advance further into the belly of the Beast. The last few villages were out there, he knew it - the so-called non-combatants and their heretic leader Ohone was out there. But as much as he tried to grapple with it, his forces were starting to feel contained, trapped. The routes were still open, he could see them! But somehow, his crusade couldn’t advance.
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Jun 28, 2016 21:17
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The Guardian of the Statue was not happy. Not that it called itself that, of course. Whether it had a name, or even understood the concept of names, no one had ever really taken the effort to find out. No, simply knowing it was almost invisible, sneaky, and could lift a man or tear his limbs off was enough to stop any such questionnaire. But people had to call an invisible sneaky monster something, so it was simply the Guardian of the Statue. And it was not happy. First that old prey animal had spat at it a bunch of times - its skin still itched - and then a handful of the younger prey taunted it awake. Determined to make an example, it had pursued them, and found itself looking at a horde-sized pack of prey, all being loud and making nuisances of themselves. Well, if they wanted to be made examples, it would be happy to oblige them. The most obvious, the most decorated ones first. Take out the most successful of the pack, and the rest will fear you. Which is how the Martial-Father found himself suddenly holding his guts in. He grunted, went to his knees, his face white. If he had been less dying, he might have noticed the dozen or two dozen apex predators slowly making their way towards the perimeter of his crusade. None of them alike, all of them superbly adapted to life in Between. Nauseating subsonics, invisible necrotics, multi-limbed centipedes that slipped through the walls and floors. About then was when the screams started.
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Jun 28, 2016 21:28
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hey loel do you have a link to your style guide/glossary? I have some ideas!
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Jun 28, 2016 22:50
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Yeah, alright. https://docs.google.com/document/d/1nm6xPtRxQhjsdYM9ts90VuCNfa494LlYpjkaFLadwnQ/edit Subject to change, a lot of the mythos gets rewritten each time I do a new draft. But it will probably be somewhat similar to this.
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Jun 29, 2016 00:03
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Actually, since you're on a great scrubbing effort, have you thought about diverging even further from the PromCycle's 40k roots? As it stands it's obvious to the point where it's distractingly so. 40k heavily uses Catholic vocabulary, often mangled, so have you given thought to pulling from other religious influences for the Empress cult? I do like the Wild Hunt reskin and presumably giving them thematic links to the space elves though.
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Jun 29, 2016 00:29
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Right, so, I've been thinking about how some folks are on about how we need to make humans happy to combat chaos and that this is the only way to deal with demons and the Chaos Gods (or whatever Loel ends up calling them, I didn't see any sort of unified or general faction name in the glossary, thanks for that btw). I submit that this is not true at all, for the following reasons! 1) Humans did not make the Chaos Gods. Slaanesh was explicitly made by a multi-millennia long royal gently caress-up by an empire of super psychics while humans were too busy collapsing into total anarchy do to robo-rebellion and just now figuring out that wizards are real. The other three existed in some form before even that, when we barely had souls and were confined to the one planet. We might have made them stronger, but there's no way humanity is responsible for their creation. Therefore, outside forces are responsible for Chaos existing, and while alleviating human suffering will give them less food, which is good, it does nothing to address the core problem. 2) Chaos is maliciously intelligent, and attacks directly. Demons (and now gods) are demonstrably proven to be able to be killed, despite being basically bundles of psychic energy made manifest. What killing a demon actually does isn't very clear, though I'd like to through out there that it must break up the pattern of energy that makes the demon into raw, purified warp stuff. Said stuff can of course be colored/tainted by the pre-existing warp energy around it, and may eventually make more and more complicated patterns until BOOM demon again, but I have to imagine this takes quite some time at least. 3) Chaos entities can continue to exist long, long past the inciting incidents of their creation, and indeed long after any mortal thing involved in making them is very very dead. They spend most of this time eating babies and poo poo. Therefore, Chaos isn't really our fault, is just going to continue to cause huge problems even if we do nothing to it, and can be shot in the face to death. Therefore, we should proceed to shoot Chaos in the face to death, and consistently seek out better ways to do so. I would like to take this opportunity to refer you once again to my idea to build guns that can shoot emotions.
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Jun 29, 2016 00:31
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And by shoots emotions I mean both that emotions are the ammunition and that you use them to kill emotions, which is all demons really are when you get right down to it.
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Jun 29, 2016 00:33
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I do love how the Leman Russ is now called a Kakapo 
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Jun 29, 2016 00:42
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T.G. Xarbala posted:Actually, since you're on a great scrubbing effort, have you thought about diverging even further from the PromCycle's 40k roots? As it stands it's obvious to the point where it's distractingly so. 40k heavily uses Catholic vocabulary, often mangled, so have you given thought to pulling from other religious influences for the Empress cult? Yeah, itll probably be closer to Dune than 40k by the time we're done. Im just about done adding scenes to Arc 1, and after I finish adding to Arc 2 Im going to reword everything for flow and consistency. A lot of the mythos will probably change then. And of course, Cat has done a great job sanitizing it so far <3
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Jun 29, 2016 00:43
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T.G. Xarbala posted:I do love how the Leman Russ is now called a Kakapo Loel posted:Yeah, itll probably be closer to Dune than 40k by the time we're done. Im just about done adding scenes to Arc 1, and after I finish adding to Arc 2 Im going to reword everything for flow and consistency. A lot of the mythos will probably change then. I actually couldn't do a lot of the conversions because I a) don't know weapons very well at all and b) ESPECIALLY don't know 40k weapons/vehicles/armor. So I tagged everything I found that seemed remotely specific, in hopes of myself or Loel going back and changing them at a later date. I should prooooooobably try to familiarize myself with 40k minutiae more, since all I know is the general Emperor story and that tech-priests are hella cool.
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Jun 29, 2016 04:38
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cat_herder posted:I actually couldn't do a lot of the conversions because I a) don't know weapons very well at all and b) ESPECIALLY don't know 40k weapons/vehicles/armor. So I tagged everything I found that seemed remotely specific, in hopes of myself or Loel going back and changing them at a later date. And thats fine <3 the 3rd person stuff was much more important, I can chomp out the technical stuff real quick.
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Jun 29, 2016 06:03
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paragon1 posted:I would like to take this opportunity to refer you once again to my idea to build guns that can shoot emotions. "You pull the trigger of my... Love gun!" -KISS But seriously, I'm enjoying the new sanitized version. Keep up the good work!
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Jun 29, 2016 06:12
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Arc 1 The High Technician whooped as the sound of v8 engines filled Between, the entire squadron of racing vehicles Ohone had sent to defend the Batteries. A lot of the classical Tribal vehicles were there too, rugged and built for this place, while hers… hers were all speed and glory. Dozens of warriors hung from various platforms and handles, working themselves up into a frenzy. The pilgrims would pay. Their approach couldn’t have been a surprise, echoing through the tunnels as it did, but the pilgrims were distracted, leaderless. The other Tribes had done good work, making their approach feel like molasses, and the monsters of Between had ravaged them. A small portion of the pilgrims might have heard the sound of the engines, known what it meant, but simply couldn’t organize a defense quick enough. The trucks hit them like a sledgehammer. They were built for racing, and facing a disorganized mob of luddites - the trucks zipped through them like bullets through flesh, and their supplemented weapons did much the same. Not that the racing vehicles were combat vehicles, but they were built for dirty tricks. Chains whipped out at two hundred kilometers an hour, breaking bones, flensing flesh. Rockets ignited, flew erratically, even as disposable booster engines were cast off and detonated. The air was full of screams and horror. Its an understanding as old as humanity. Cavalry, in whatever form, is ruinous to disorganized infantry. Particularly, as they were, caught in the open. A few dozen vehicles zipped around a mob twenty times their size, riding the gravity waves, bouncing off walls. The vast amount of pyrotechnics and fireworks left the mob disoriented, blinded, deafened, even as the racers were able to ignore the flash and boom. The hardened wheels, meant for the miserable roads of between crushed bones and flesh without slowing down.
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Jun 29, 2016 06:37
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Arc 1 A knock on the door. “Captain?” Knox opened it, already in full combat gear. Sword loose in its scabbard, fuel tanks strapped in. Sergeant Jan boggled at him. “How are you always ready?” He clapped his hand on her shoulder. “Years of experience. Bout that time again, eh?” “Yes sir. The Dregs are participating in another rebellion.” “The men ready?” “I told them to start assembling, but wanted to bring you the news myself.” “Very good.” In specialized quarters around the ship, thousands of Grey Guards were lining up in formation. NCOs walked their lines, checking ammo, napalm tubes, the fit of their gear. Not that there were any surprises - the Grey Guards were probably the best trained military force on the Beast, and this kind of mob war was everything they were built for. The defensive points never changed. Engines, guarded by the Magos. Alpha Deck, protected by the Grey Guards. Food recyclers, defended by the Church. Ancient rules, set in place millennia ago. The Dregs could do everything including burn down their own city, but approaching those three points would result in death. Captain Knox took a breath, nodded at Captain Astri. She had already told them that the Dregs were restless, so this was a surprise to no one. Checked his sword once more. It was about that time.
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Jun 29, 2016 07:16
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Arc 1 It was commonly held by the Grey Guard that fair fights are for suckers. They knew which approach the Dregs would use - there was only one. It had surveillance 24/7 on the approach. They were fully trained, armed, armored. In fortified positions, with flamethrowers aimed at marked distances. The Dregs were not trained or armored. The Dregs were not organized, beyond ‘we want food.’ The Grey Guards had worked with each other for generations, for one purpose. Even outnumbered fifty to one, there was only one real question. Would the fuel of the flamethrowers run out first? Or the hunger of the Dregs? They climbed over each other with a desperation of famine, pushing through flame, leaving an avenue of scorched bodies a hundred meters long. If there was enough of them, if they pushed hard enough, they could reach the Grey Guard positions. And then it would be a dozen Dregs for every Guard, fancy swords or no. Captain Knox watched them with an impassive eye, the smell of blistered and cooked flesh overwhelming. The tactics of the revolt weren’t hard to predict, operating on terrain that had been mapped for generations. Still, he deployed his troops slightly faster than his brethren - it was commonly held that Knox was lucky. ‘Knoxie.’ Whatever idiosyncratic tactic the Dregs tried, he was prepared for. They would open a door not used in a thousand years, and see only flame. Fair fights are for suckers.
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Jun 29, 2016 07:29
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A memorial barbecue is planned for after the riots, ofc.
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Jun 29, 2016 07:34
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Not like cannabalism is new to anyone aboard ship
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Jun 29, 2016 07:38
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