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Years ago, I came across an intriguing fan theory about the Machine God worshipped by the Adeptus Mechanicus and how it might hypothetically attain its own, separate existence. To reiterate, it argued that even if the being they deify is actually Void Dragon, their collective belief and acts of veneration might generate a separate entity in the Warp that turn what began as silly superstition into actual reality down the line. A self-fulfilling prophecy, if you will, in which their faith in their beloved Omnissiah winds up making it real. Seems the writers at Games Workshop have moved forward with this concept, too, if the debut of Vashtorr the Arkifane in 10th Edition is any indication. Personally, he still strikes me as too "halfway-organic" and not nearly "machine" enough to be the actual patron god of engineering and invention. In fact, while it's definitely not up to me, I find that I'd quite prefer he'd instead be a Greater Daemon to the true God of Machines — which I've taken a stab at writing myself. That all out the way, I hereby present my own spin on the "Warp-born Machine God!" idea in the form of Deus Machinarum: All in all, quite an "interesting" fan theory that I felt need to expand upon myself. Please let me know what you think; I'm new here, and the ins and outs of 40K fluff and theology are not my foremost area of expertise (especially when it involves Warp shenanigans or potential gods who've been implied to still be forming). Other than that, I'd say I've done a decent job of at least delineating the broad strokes of a Warp-born Machine God would look like and what the ramifications might be, so feel free to ask your questions and supply your comments. I look forward to reading all of them! Thank you in advance, Zyobot

This thread will be an ongoing anthology of narratives set in the 5R AU. —- The Blood-Seekers by Sim Era: The Halcyon Age Factions: Halcyon Wardens Gregory read the orders with calm patience. A century and a half of life had taught him that much. His Chief Tribune, Stefan, stood at his side. Gregory's grey eyes finished the last bit of text. “We are heading for the outer edges of Ultima. It looks like we will be maintaining our offensive stance, after all.“ Stefan, a stout marine, nodded heartedly. “Someone has to.” “Indeed,“ Gregory affirmed as he passed the datapad to Stefan. As for himself, he clasped his hands behind his back as he surveyed the bridge. The Fifth Brigade boasted a legacy that only the original four could surpass. A legacy that Gregory had done his best to uphold and to honor. The Crimson Crusaders, as they were known, contained the largest portion of Terran legionaries outside of Irvin Ruel's First Brigade. Such a simple fact, yet one that had no doubt influenced the Crusader's tendency toward aggression and assault operations. At least, compared to the rest of the Wardens. His eyes studied the stars beneath his midnight colored hair. With so many brigades being rerouted to holding and defensive operations, Gregory could not deny a fierce sense of satisfaction for avoiding that fate. Perhaps the brigade would celebrate tonight with their traditional meal of raw meat. His mouth watered as the idea gained traction. An Astartes could consume many sustenances lethal to a normal human, but raw meat would not have been considered a favorite meal for any space marine. The Crusaders were an exception since it had originally begun as a habit to maintain the Omophagea. Then came that one incident on Volska where he and his officer cadre had explicitly eaten raw flesh in front of their enemies. The Volkan Confederacy had been flirting with either defiance or submission to the Imperium at the time. After that messy meal, with blood dripping down Gregory's chin, the Volkans had chosen submission. It ahead created their nickname as the Crimson Crusaders.

Within this thread, you'll find the winning entries to our monthly fluff challenge! I hope you enjoy reading these as we did and perhaps that you'll consider your own entries! Each month we try to have three categories: Forge world, Black Library, and Newcomer. Last month, we only had entries for one category, Black Library, while the faction being highlighted was the Imperial Army. Meanwhile, next month will be devoted to the Drowned, the XVIth Legion. Here is our winning entry. Cusp of the Storm by bluntblade Watching the landers set down and the troops disembarking, Licinius Vastelus could never shake a frisson of fear. He knew the arithmetic well enough, and besides, there was little to match a regiment of the Excertus Imperialis for sheer scale. Six million soldiers were making planetfall by his command, garbed in the deep green and silver of the Kadisian Hounds. More than two thousand troop carriers, each capable of holding three thousand people. Tanks rolled out and Titans strode free of their own landers. To the untrained eye, trying to process it would be like attempting to ascribe a size to a storm cloud. It was too vast, stretching too far, to take it all in. Unless you were the one trusted to steer this colossal engine, wielding it against the foes of the Emperor. Unless you held such power that men and women became coin to spend; provided you did not waste the Emperor’s coin, that is. Vastelus had been dealing with that power and responsibility for twenty-one years, long enough to become well aware of the limits to his power. Dizzying as the heights were, he shared them with thousands of others - men and women of his rank, fleetmasters, Mechanicum archmagi - and others stood above him. Ultimately, he was another cog in this mechanism, and it was a mere fragment of that machine arrayed before him. So much power, with which to do only that which was required of him. Not that he resented it, still less that he wished to forego his duty. His oaths were to the Emperor and the Imperium, and he had commanded armies on a dozen worlds against the traitors. Now he stood here on Revan, preparing to do his duty again, wondering if he could succeed. “An impressive regiment, Lord Commander.” He turned at that, but not out of alarm. His guards would not have permitted anyone to reach him up here unless their authority matched his. Certainly not without stepping out as well, and in any case, he recognised the face. Saerla Kantor was a surprisingly short woman, the same age as him if he was any judge. Her hair was a match for the regimental colours she wore, flint streaked with white. She wore armour - functional stuff, the only sort Medusans believed in. Vastelus bowed, the sort appropriate for a comrade of about equal rank. “Lady Kantor. I’m surprised by the praise, if you’ll permit me.” That got him a taut but not unpleasant smile. “Our Medusan pride, eh? We’re practical enough to know where that turns into antagonising your allies.” “Then I’ll return the compliment. My shuttle brought me over the Steelshod lines this morning.” Tracked by your gunners every second of the way, like as not. So many betrayals already, our trust has worn thin. “As fearsome a sight as I’d heard.” “I only hope the enemy feel the same.” She joined him at the rail, gazing out at the forest on the horizon. Those trees would likely be in flames before the month was out. Then she looked again at the Kadisians, and then to the west, where the 3rd Medusan Steelshod had entrenched themselves both in the hive and in hastily built redoubts and trenches beyond the walls. “Look at us. In another age, we might have been the masters of our own empires.” “In another age, we’d be serving the sort of men who command the Legions.” “Speak for yourself.” Vastelus gave a small smile. “But you still feel some envy for them, no?” “Only up to a point. I’m still all human, despite what my moniker might suggest.” Vastelus quirked an eyebrow. “The one thing begins with ‘steel’ and ends in a broken nose?” This time it was a broad smile that broke out on her face. “Sacred Unity, I’m that notorious?” “At least the rank are learning the consequences.” “True enough. Anyway, have you seen the Scions?” “At a distance, at the Qarith Triumph. If I recall, you…” “Yes.” She didn’t hide her satisfaction when Vastelus whistled. “Only as a captain back then, but yes, I was there for the Reckoning.” Her hands tightened on the rail, and she seemed to be looking past the assembled armies. “We were first in behind the Scions, and we fought with them until they left the land war. They were unlike anything else I’ve seen. Such precision, such power. We have legends on my world about how the Age of Strife tore us down. Those are about all I could compare to what I saw on Qarith Prime. And the Scions met the onslaught and overcame it. It never seemed to faze them.” “That sounds about right for a Legion,” Vastelus replied. “You’ve fought with one?” Her hand rested on the pommel of her sword. Medusan steel, famously sharp. Rumour held that the Warmaster’s sword was forged from it. “Two. The Steel Legion in the Carinae System and the Eagle Warriors on Hynaka. We felt so honoured about that one,” he added, unable to suppress what was a certain wistfulness on a good day, and bitterness the rest of the time. If Kantor noticed, she didn’t deem it worthy of comment. “Did you notice that control? That absolute focus of purpose? We cleansed entire hives of infected people, and that kind of work wears at the toughest mortals. The Scions? If they felt any of the horror that had my men retching -” Vastelus could just about believe that detail “- it never showed.” “Sounds like the Steel Legion. I can’t say the same of the Thirteenth.” “Yes, but my point is, that was then. The Day of Revelation did something to the Scions. Now they thirst for a chance to bring their cousins low.” Unease looked out of place on her features, and all the more unsettling for it. “Icarion’s treason has poison running through all the Legions, on our side and his.” Vastelus grimaced. “That brings me back to what I was thinking about before you joined me. We’re ammunition, here to be expended if necessary.” He shot her an uneasy glance. “Though I’m hoping I’ll feel rather differently after I meet Lord Santor. In the meantime, however…” She was, after all, really quite attractive in her way. “Would you consider dining with me this evening? I’m sure your troops could survive your absence for just one night.” Kantor laughed. “Well, that I did not expect. Not when you seemed so intimidated earlier.” “My lady - Saerla - the Warbringers are coming to this world. In light of that, there’s not much you could do to frighten me. As you’ve said, we’re still human. I’d rather like to remember that for one night.” “Well, Licinius, I can hardly argue with that. Just be aware,” she came close. “If you turn out to be a bore, I have some very good artillerists.” Vastelus grinned. “I’d expect nothing else for disappointing you.”

Hi this is brotherblur, and this is my fanfiction for the War of Light project. In case you haven't heard, its a growing collaboration between Twenty plus community members telling an alternative universe set during the great crusade with whole new characters, plot, artworks and yes new factions that would shape the future to come if your interested please check out the link below and enjoy the story. War of LIght AU Project ************************************************************************************************************************************************* 850M30, Rangdan Xenocide, Planet Cimmerian dark side. Galactic Northern quadrants/ Mid rim. This is a deary world; dark clouds hang over my head ever since we arrived from our thundering hawks. I can't even see the stars but what I do see is the heat. Its unsettling at first; such as when a child dips their head underwater for the first time and opens their eyes. Everything appears in shades of red. The venting thermal heat from the earth, the power cores resting on the backs of my battle-brothers, even my own left hand seems like bright orange-red polygons to these new eyes. I've been told by Priest Hebi that the Jungian binding offered our legion many new gifts with our rebirth. Its startling to think I have more to learn about my physic then when I was a neophant. The crunch of granite and raw silicon beneath the plasteel soles of my boots is one voice among a chorus of foot soldiers. Two hundred battle brothers march down a dried river canyon by my side with fresh arms and armor. From the youngest apirant to the oldest veteran, we hoped this battle would turn the tide of fortune to our colors and signal to the remaining legions that the the third were no longer dead men walking. But so far we found little more then scuttered rock lizards and some sort of decapods hiding around small rocks for camouflage. Our enemy is clever; Referred to as the Rangdan, they have used this world's night side as a cover while harassing the imperial garrisons gathered on the twilight's edge and when our troopers have been exhausted, seep past gaps in the lines to terrorize the civilians with their necro lances that paralyze its victims so that the horrid creatures can fest upon their brains. Or become living bombs that destroy the fragile morality of this planet and the cause across the northern galactic quadrants. Even the bulls are having a hard time with these Cerebraovres. But we plan to change this. I look over to my right where Librarian Ryce Naga scans the mountains ahead with his outstretched mind. A long time friend whom I have relied on since our training together on terra; Inquisitive but loyal. Often giving me cool sound advice. Even convinced me to take the vacant captaincy for the third company after Great Jormu died from the belcher's gland. But since the Jungian binding Ryce has become more distant as his own psychic powers grew. His slitted golden eyes glance my way for a moment with so much focus I think he was reading my thoughts. Or perhaps he was sizing me up like a cat does to another stray cat. I just ignore it for now as I bead in to our scouts ahead, but I still feel the chill. An hour later we meet up with the scouting part near a looping juncture in the canyon's path. Assault Fang Rho, comprised of hot headed youths with some wildman named Damon Boa leading them. Damon approaches me with some sort of swagger in his stride. His scaled face grinning like he was some sort of Cheshire cat. Too confidante this one, like the rest of his ilk from the fifth company. I just stand my ground with both hands resting on my eviscerator, crimison like it was my own walking staff. He tells me he found the Rangdan stronghold four clicks down the canyon path but its heavily guarded. Then with one arm he points skyward; toward the ledges above us at smoke rising to branch the dark clouds with the earth. With jump packs, we vaulted to higher grounds. Assault Fang Rho leads us with careful leaps while myself and two other assault squads follow in pursuit. I left Ryce in charge of the ground forces to proceed on foot to the fortress's main entrance and wait for my signal. No matter what changes come between us, I knew Ryce would act to protect the company. We finally made it to our destination; a thermal exhaust vent burrowed deep in the granite foundation of this high rise. I could see the heat rising like a pillar out of the hole like a torrent of water released out of a pipe. I looked at Damon who gave a friendly chuckle showing off his copper tipped fangs. According to him, this vent feed out external heat from the Rangdan base underground and left it open for a breach. All we had to do was survive the descent; It was a crazy idea from a crazy man hailing from a company of crazy daredevils. I wouldn't' even consider it a viable option if I knew there was another way. I sigh as all three squads approach the lip of the thermal vent where my armor shout out temperature alarms on my HUD. I take crimison in both hands with a solid grip, voxed on a private channel to Ryce to begin the assault, then stepped forward into the super heated steam cloud. The heat felt like stinging or biting insects trying to nibble their way into my power armor with each passing meter. The paint on my gauntlet begins to burn off before the rest of my armor does. I can see the teeth of my giant chain sword start to glow. My Hud keeps track of my squads following in pursuit via green triangles. One triangle with the call sign AFS-4 begins to blink out. I hear his deathly shouting over the local vox channels as his armor burns out. When we finally get to kill these Rangdan, we'll offer their lives as prays to our own fallen. And I will make it a habit to learn that brother's name. Damon calls out the entrance we need to enter. We use our jump packs to slow down our descent as we head down into the smaller connecting vents. We press on and cut a hole through the ventilation. As we enter, my boots press down on squisy organic padding that seems to crescent across the structure of the articulate. It was like stepping into a giant blood capilar. There is little resistance at first. Damon takes the lead looking for what ever these foul xenos call a barricks. He runs headlong into a patrol of Rangdan who were on their way to the front. The wildman took little time to dispose of them with his furious chain sword strikes. We ran into more patrols after that, using speed and the element of surprise to take out most of them without a scratch. Crimison in my plated hands worked through Rangdan hunters like they were made from cheap scroll paper. When we started hearing bolter fire I knew it was time to hunt down the leaders of this base; so I called in Assault Fang Sigma as my backup as I broke off to find the center most point in this base. I follow the pulsating, crescent walls to their source using crimison to carve open any barrier along the way. In the center we met heavy resistance from the leadership. They used the main entrance as a bottleneck while continually fire wave after wave of Necro blasts from their necro lances. I click off my belt a frag grenade and toss it inside. Seconds later a bang kicks up miasma and small meaty chucks out of the chamber door. We rushed in with jump packs flared to maximum. My boost tackles me into one of the larger body guards and we both trip over some bio-mechanical organism. Training and instinct cause me to roll on to my feet en guard. My opponent rises to its full height of three meters with whip like tendrils and a mushroom looking head with lashing Cerabvore tongue. It moves its tendrils too fast for me to get a strike in so I use its reach to my advantage. When the creature threw its tendrils at me again, I allowed my eviscerator to get caught then began to rev the engine several times. The chain teeth cut through the strange alien flesh which caused the creature to gaggle in pain. I ran forward to ram Crimison right where its Cerabvore tongue is and started cutting through its internal organs. Thick gooey chuncks ran out of the giant hole Crimison made in its fleshy husk as I pulled my sword out. The bodyguard fell over gurgling to death while I quick scanned the scene playing around the chamber. Most of Fang Sigma was engaged with one or more surviving Rangdan but we couldn't clearly identify the leader among the carnage. So I revved up Crimison again and started to cut down any bio-mechanical organism still standing in the room. When we were done I order Sigma to begin torching the chamber as we leave it. Myself and Sigma grouped up with Damon boa and the rest of the assault force. Then we caught up with Ryce and the rest of the company, whose devastor and tactical squads did clean sweeps of the base's canyon section. Ryce informed me there was heavy resistance at first but with the aide of his psychic illusions did the company have enough cover to reach the entrance and siege the base. The devastators were able to riddle down the door with heavy bolter fire and multi-meltas. The tactical squads then moved in to engage the Rangdan in CQB. Thirteen were injured, seven critical but all were expected to live after the ordeal. Ryce asked what to do with the base. So I told him and the other Sargent to lit the structure a blaze. When we left, the strange Rangdan miasma fueled the promethium fire for hours. Some of the fire burned into a trail behind us creating this burning path that winds with the dried river bed. Damon laughed about it, saying it reminded him about the tale of the Fire Wyrm whose body was living flame that trailed across the sky. Some of the more impressionable members of the company started to associate myself with this legend and started to call me this every time we found and destroyed a rangdan base for the next thirty two days. When we finally returned to the twilight front, my new nick name seemed to have spread to the common trooper as they called me "Fire Wyrm! Fire Wyrm!" And so I adopted the name into my formal title as Captain Noctran "Fire" Wyrm of the Third company of the Ouroboros. The assault trooper who died in the vent I found out was a member of Assault Fang Sigma named Rygos. I gave recommendations to Fang Sigma in my reports for their actions on that dread, gloom of a planet. I think I may have further use of them down the line of this crusade should fate be kind.