The Liber Astartes' Thought Experiments

[paulJam]

very much just an initial brain dump...
 
Not a path i'm going to take in my actual version but another interesting exercise.

It could probably be argued that the story line I took seems to be one of 'actually the other guy seems to be rebelling', but perhaps this how rebellions start, where the 'rebel' is unaware that they are actually now 'the bad guy'. right and wrong are often 'grey area' so from my chapter's perspective they are clearly in the right, and vice versa from the enemy's perspective.

It's a fairly abstract piece with little background as to why or how the Black Templars are itching for a fight, they just are (aside from the previously established chapter history etc).
 
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Hidden Content

The blockade sweeps like a wall substantial across the sensor display. An officer gestures and the image evaporating into nothingness.
Out of the viewer 'display' the tiny specks of metal reflecting the nearby sun's radiance.

Haral Dalan knew that the wall ended eventually, though it curved away in an imposing arc before it did. The ships grew larger, ever larger, the increase perceptible only to his enhanced vision at this stage, but it wouldn't be long before the humans on the deck could make them out too.

He had already seen this path over the previous days... his gift, and yet here they still were.

Victory was not assured. Victory? Could it even be called that?

The taking of Astartes blood by a fellow brother, regardless their estrangement, was something the Chapter had never abided. Chaos was something different entirely. Was that force at play in this remote locale?

For them the petty pedantry of the inquisitor's whims and time wasting was as feeble as their puny arms by comparison. The Astartes are bigger than that... better than that... so he had thought.

'We are the Emperor's will,' the thought escapes on a breath.

"Commander?" queries Harlan. The venerable Chaplain stands resolutely at Dalan's side. If Dalan had any doubts as to their purpose they were swept aside by the sight of his brother; a veritable paragon of truth, the embodiment of the Emperor's plan.

The corner of Dalan's mouth rises slightly, not a smile, but a grim acknowledgement.

"Stand fast Commander," says the Chaplain peacefully, "We are with you."

And they were, the Chapter's vast fleet of war ship arrayed behind Gunrock. The rude flint spearhead seemed incongruous atop the metal shaft of the fleet, but its primitive origins bely the devastating ferocity it could unleash.

The local imperial fleet added to their number, swarming packs of guns and engines from the various systems surrounding their orderly structure. A force instigated by the Chapter, an extension of the Imperium built by these very marines.

'Damned if they're going to destroy it!' Dalan thinks bitterly.

 

 

The Emissary had arrived days earlier in the northern reaches. A lone Frigate embellished with the white, eight pointed cross denotes their brand, Black Templars.

Eight points, Dalan considers as he waits in the hall for their visitors.

Many centuries ago the same white cross had emblazoned the shoulder of his own armour. How long ago that seemed now.

He had anticipated the worst and received nothing less.

The Templar Captain stops in front of the Commander. He briefly glances at the stylized sun emblazoned proudly on Dalan's pauldron as though that is all the identification he requires.

"We know who you are," the Templar Captain states curtly, introduction apparently superfluous to his mission.

"As do we," replies Dalan remaining passive. "Servants of the Emperor."

For over a millennium the Chapters' paths had not crossed directly. It was a deliberate caution on the side of the Solar Blades, and one seemingly worth the effort.

"Mutant," the word came out surprisingly flat, factual, but Dalan picked up every fraction of hatred that propelled the syllables.

"I don't need to get our Warrant of Founding," states Dalan, "You clearly know who we are, what we have done, what we have achieved... and why. We do not have to answer to you. We will not."

"No, you do not need to answer to me," states the Templar Captain, "but your time is come never-the-less."

"You came all this way to threaten us?"

"Commander, we came this way to undo your treachery. I am not here because I want to be, but because I have been ordered here. Others, other more generous than I are giving you a chance to repent. It seems my superiors hold a shred of hope for your damned soul because of our... shared origins," his distaste is blatant, "The end of your corruption however, that is an inevitability."

A message is transmitted unseen to his suit. 'Warning: Imperial fleet detected. Hostile.'

"For... the... Emperor," states Dalan. He turns and walks away expecting the Templar Captain or his men to attack immediately but their swords remain sheathed and they just watch his departure contemptuously.

 

A series of reports follow their departure. Reports of pending dread, reports of unfolding death, and finally the punctuation of silence.

Tell, the planet on which their brief discourse had unfolded had been scourged by the Templars, a warning, a prelude.

The Solar Blades fleet amasses with all due haste at Podd; the first planet developed, nurtured by the Chapter when they arrived in the area. It was a fitting site for their current muster.

Nurture... hardly a verb associated with the Astartes but appropriate none the less. For centuries the marines had overseen the development, the safety, the growth in this far corner of the galaxy. Endeavoring with resolute determination to shine the Emperor's light so far from the pale dot of the distant Astronomican.

These event could not be more unforseen.

Now in the distance, closing, the Templars, Sororitas, Adeptus Mechanicus... The enemy arrayed before them boggles Dalan's mind, in no way can he reconcile this action.

No Imperial Navy... curious.

The Mechanicus; it was just ten years since their last delegation of sanctioned tech-marines returned from training at Mars.

The Sororitas; the 'inquisition' practically instigated their founding, though the various off-shoot branches were renown for their 'instability'.

The Black Templars; well... perhaps conflict was just a matter of time, though he had thought their origins suitable obscured.

Someone in the Administratum with a hidden agenda? Blind mischance? Chaos?

Their relationship with the Administratum was the very bedrock of the Silvestris Sector's success. The legitimate partnerships with the Mechanicus were triumphs in their own right.

"Communications?" he asks. There had been no hails since the fleet had entered real space several hours ago. No response to theirs either.

"None, commander."

"Try again."

Seconds pass, forming minutes. The bridge is silent beyond the mechanical interactions of machine to machine, human to machine, the flow of data.

"A response Commander!"

"Go."

A stern Astartes in black armour appears before Dalan and his retinue on the bridge.

The disembodied torso looks at each individual deliberately, as though sizing them up, putting a face to the his mission, finding them wanting.

"I am Commander Dalan of the Solar Blades. I demand an immediate explanation for this invasion. I demand to know by what authority you raise arms against this loyal sector of the Imperium. And... I demand it now."

"I am Marshal Haket of the Black Templar; true Astartes" replies the Templar, "You may demand nothing traitor."

Dalan feels his compatriots bristle with the unfounded accusation.

"Your crimes are multitude; mutation, treachery, heresy. Your "sector" is the work of tainted seed... and the word 'loyal' should burn in your mouth," he pauses as though imagining a new and interesting torture. "The inquisition will certainly have its work cut out here once we're done."

All the while the tiny ships draw nearer, bringing the grim marine ever closer.

"We answer to the High Lords," states Dalan brushing aside the stark rudeness, he senses there will be a time to deal with that affront personally, "You have their mandate I presume?"

"You were a mistake born of our gene-seed," says Haket side-stepping the question, "You are therefore our problem to rectify."

"I see you have not managed to convince any of other our brothers of your lunacy. The Novamarines, the Raven Guard, our allegiances means nothing to you?"

"Your inveiglement of our kin is just another crime to add to your ledger," spits Haket.

"We are the Emperor's servants. There appears to be no reasoning with your madness," Dalan pauses, "It is only pity I feel for your descent."

 

 

 

The ships of the Solar Blades thunder forward through the void, aimed as certainly as the Astarte's bolts at the illegitimate invaders.

On every deck preparations are made. Weapons, armour, engines, fuel, harnesses, sensors; the machines of war spin into action.

Dalan's helmet is already locked in place though he is still on the bridge, he will join his boarding squad after the initial clash. It is his place to be amongst his men and he will not let them down.

The enemy ships are discernible now. Dalan no longer cares as to the cause of the enemy's actions, knowing only that they must be stopped.

Already signals have been sent to the agents of the Administratum. Had the Administratum sanctioned this action for reasons unknown?

He has no idea how history will remember these forced decisions, his handling of this unfortunate matter, but it was his duty to handle it regardless. He will not yield.

A glyph flickers in his helmet: 'In range.'

"Fire."

Edited May 19, 2015 by paulJam

[Iron_Aquilifer]

“How long?”

 

The other apothecaries shuffled nervously, unsure of how Calver would take the news.  Elyph’s work had seemed to be a miracle, blessed by the Emperor himself.  It had looked like the problems plaguing the Aquilifers would be solved.  Their gene-seed had been saved.  The mutations had been halted.  With further work future marines would be brought in who were not corrupt in flesh.  Now it seemed to all be unravelling.

 

“How long?” Calver demanded, twisting to face his apothecarium.  “Tell me!”

 

“Five years.”

 

Five years.  The life expectancy of an entire chapter of the Emperor’s Finest.  How could the Emperor allow that?  How could He permit such a thing to occur?  If He did, what were they to do?

 

“Brother Apothecary?”

 

They look to you.  He did not just mean the apothecaries, those few men who ensured the existence of the chapter more than any other battle-brother.  The loyalty of the older generation was his as well.  The veterans from Forward Springs, before the planet was handed back over to the Administratum, looked to him as much as they did to their own commanders.  He was the reason that they had survived so long, even as mutation and treachery threatened to destroy them all.  It was he who would deliver the chapter to a new future.

 

“The Immortal God-Emperor has spoken.  He wants us to cleanse our chapter of the heresies in which we have partaken in order to survive.  Destroy the experiments.  Destroy them all.”

 

“But brother –“

 

“No!  We will not debase ourselves anymore.  The chapter will die as it lived: true warriors of the Emperor.”

 

*Three months later*

 

Chapter Master Adrian towered over his brothers as they towered over mortal humans.  Clad in his tactical dreadnought armour however, he resembled nothing less than a slimmer brother to the Dreadnoughts which flanked him.

 

“The chapter will survive.  That was my oath, three centuries previous.  I would defend the realm of Him-On-Terra.  I would cleanse the galaxy of the alien and the heretic.  The chapter would live as the shield that humanity needs.  You,” he raised a finger at the kneeling prisoner.  “You have tried to make me break my oath.”

 

Calver remained silent.  No words would change anything.  He would die, that much was plain.  He had given Adrian no other option.  The only decision that could yet be changed regarded his brothers in high orbit.

 

“Your heresies have corrupted my finest men.  They are willing to accept being branded traitors in order to see you released.  Praised to the Emperor, your infection has not seeped in to the younger brothers.  Such a thing would have caused the entire chapter to be lost.  Because of that, I will allow leniency.  You will die a traitor’s death.  If you chose to, you may convince your brothers of the truth.  They will accept it and come back in to the fold of the chapter.  What do you say?”

 

You have no choice.  Calver nodded, unwilling to allow his voice to betray him.

 

“How far the great have fallen,” remarked Ancient Joshua, his meltagun warming up for the honour of eliminating the chained captive.

 

“Brothers, this is Calver.”

 

There was a moment as two hundred voices called out to him.  Three hundred.  Four.  A third of the chapter which had had once threatened to number three thousand.  A tear rolled down his eye.

 

“If you love me, if you truly love me like you claim,” he looked up at the traitor in the garb of a chapter master.  “Burn us.  Burn us all!”

[Conn Eremon]

Some great last minute completions folks, but it is now time for another experiment.

 

SEXTUS EXPERIMENTUM

A Red Alliance

 

Bolter and chainsword. Ceramite power armor. Rhinos, land raiders, thunderhawks. Battle-barges and strike cruisers. Even the very gene-seed that makes a Space Marine everything that he is. These are all things that an Adeptus Astartes Chapter must rely upon the Adeptus Mechanicus in some form or another. The Martian Technocracy is involved in every aspect of the Imperium and its denizens, and enjoys an unprecedented level of authority because of it. Even outside the realm of the Emperor, the traitors and renegades must seek out and deal with the Dark Mechanicus to provide for their ever-increasing need.

 

For this week's experiment, I'd like you all to dwell on the role Mars has on your DIYs, either directly or indirectly through its many forge worlds and renegade techpriests. Consider the oaths that must have been sworn between the two parties. Consider all that your DIY relies upon the Mechanicus for, and what the Mechanicus may demand in return. Consider how high a value the Mechanicus places upon its work, and how high the price for it. One could say that the regiments of the Astra Militarum need not pay the price personally, the bureaucracy of the Munitorum fulfilling this function. A Space Marine Chapter, however, may be bound by decrees thousands of years old, the Chapter's masters dealing directly with forge worlds. Perhaps it is the Chaos Space Marines who pay the steepest prices, the Dark Mechanicus keeping their secrets more strongly than their Martian cousins, their power reaching an unparalleled level due to their independence.

 

This experiment is intentionally related to the current Liber Challenge, and may aid you in fleshing your Mechanicus DIY.

[Conn Eremon]

It is almost time for a new experiment, and there have not been any submissions for the last one. Since this one is relevant to the current Challenge, I will at least keep this one open until its close.

 

But I am open to feedback if there is any to give. I have taken the past request to heart and I am working on something along those lines, but until then this thread can be a place for requests and the like.

[Anver Cassiel]

So I love these thought experiments. I love writing my own fluff for DIY chapters and these little experiments have given me a push to do it for my current WIP blood angel successors; the Blood Wardens. So here's my answer to the A Red Alliance. Although I don't like admitting it took longer to write than I would have liked It's also maybe a bit long

The smell. It was always the smell. Distinct; there was something about it that always clawed at the bak of his mind as wrong. It nagged at him. Ganniel was repulsed by it. The mix of iron and oils, grease and incense and the lack of sweat. Always the absence of that unique stench common to all humans was what his senses reviled against when he met with adepts of the Mechanicus. It hung in the air. Even though there were only five of them it was almost all Ganniel could smell. They stood before him in the great hall clearly meant to seem peaceful, non-threatening. Yet their demeanour and stance told Ganniel exactly what they thought of the Blood Wardens.

There were others in the hall. Silos watched silently from behind Ganniel's position, not hidden yet clearly apart from it all. Whilst Phellor stood to the side, his role as advisor somewhat at odds with the great blade across his back. Others stood as an honour guard at each side of the hall, still as statues, the mists of incense and smoke cloying around their forms. The five figures were not so still. They clicked and hissed with small twitches and jerks, each made partly machine at least in honour of their Omnissiah. Three were tech adepts, minor servants. One, tall and slender held a hard slate and las-quil. Almost entirely covered in a dark grey robe and hood he looked vaguely humanoid yet glimpses beneath the robes gave Ganniel the view of nothing but artificial limbs and machinery. The two other tech adepts were short and wore robes like the first. Yet one was hunched over on six mechanical limbs whilst the other hovered on some form of device that thrummed with energy and gave the air a stale, acrid taste.

The fourth was a skitarii. Cloaked like the tech adepts, the skitarii clearly wore armour beneath, and his entire head was covered in a metal shell studded with sensor orbs and eye drones that whirred as they assessed the room. A rifle was strapped to his back and Ganniel was certain there would be at least half a dozen other weapons at the constructs disposal.

"Chapter Master? I trust you understand our request?"

Ganniel stared at the speaker. The last member of the group. Magos Thaalos. Ganniel observed the mostly human figure before him. Bald and with equine features only his eye showed visible signs of augmentations. Thaalos covered the rest of his body in the dark grey and black robes, trimmed in gold and adorned with symbols of the Omnissiah.

"I understand, Magos," Ganniel rumbled, deliberately quiet, "that your order requires our aid?"

Thaalos sighed deeply. One of the Adepts clicked hurriedly and Thaalos cocked his head before he voiced his reply, "No,Master Ganniel, we are requesting your assistance. Assistance you are obliged to provide,"

"Obliged, Magos?" Ganniel rose to his feet, slowly, "The Blood Wardens are not yours to call on. We are obliged to guard the Imperium as we see fit. Not as you do,"

Thaalos shifted his stance slightly. Phellor meanwhile had stepped forward ever so slightly, clearly eager to speak. Ganniel ignored him, watching Thaalos as he considered his words, "Do not forget, Master Ganniel, that the Mechanicus orders on Antax provided your chapter with the fortress you now sit in and all the arms and armour your Chapter uses. Uses even now in their mission to protect the Arc Stars,"

Ganniel paused, clenched fists at his sides, "Our techmarines and forges produce what..."

"Thunderhawks. Frigates. Tactical Dreadnought Armour. You cannot produce any of these, Chapter Master. Do not presume to think you are no longer in need of the Adeptus Mechanicus," Thaalos' tone carried a threatening undertone and Ganniel resisted the urge to physically show the man how little he felt in need of him, "And of course should you aid us, my Order will provide adequate compensation for your efforts."

Ganniel glared at the man, "Do not seek to exploit our greed as you would one of your own, Magos. Speak plainly," He almost spat the words in anger.

"Very well, Chapter Master," The Magos grinned smugly, "Three Thunderhawk Gunships and a Rapid Strike Frigate for your fleet."

"No, Phellor! I will not play dog for those machines!" Ganniel raised his voice in anger, one of the few times in over a decade Phellor had seen him do so.

"Understandable, Lord," Phellor's voice barely a whisper in comparison, "Yet Antax is a part of the Arc Stars. And Magos Thaalos is correct; we have no shipyards to produce vessels,"

Ganniel breathed in deeply. He looked at the Seat of Ebon. Carved from black granite and onyx the ornate throne was the seat of power for the Blood Wardens. Power and responsibility, "Yet if we fall to their line this time, Brother, who is to say we won't the next? Or the time after that?" An image of the Emperor carved into the throne stared back at him, "Who is to say how long this agreement will hang over the Chapter's head?"

Phellor was silent. It was not for him to decide the fate of the Chapter. Only The Lord of the Blood Wardens had that right. That weight. Ganniel sat down on the Seat, his burnished and decorated war plate creating the regal and perfect image of an Astartes Chapter Master. He thought for several minutes, neither warrior giving voice. Barely a century old and already the Blood Wardens had earned a noble and valiant name. Yet always there was another enemy, the xenos, the daemon or...others. And the Blood Wardens had sworn to protect the Arc Stars from them all. When he spoke it was quiet, returned to the noble yet strong voice Phellor had heard so often before, " Inform the Magos we will assist his Order," Ganniel intoned, "You will lead a strike force to Antax and root out these cults. Show the Mechanicus first hand what it means to incite the wrath of the Blood Wardens."

[Machine God]

We are the Scions of Ferrus!

 

We are of the Iron Hands!

 

We are Loyalist! Loyal to Him on Terra! Loyal to the Omnissiah!

 

Oaths are made, fealty is given, we do not gainsay!

 

Sure they say that the Iron Hands are nothing but Adeptus Mechanicus Marines with our inherent mistrust of weakness of flesh, our pre-dominace of Techmarines, exalted Iron-Fathers and a lack of Chaplains!

 

We are Adeptes Astartes!

 

We willingly trade our Sinister Hand of Flesh for a Hand of Iron upon becoming a Space Marine in reverence to The Primarch!

 

But that Iron Hand has four fingers and a thumb! It is a Human Hand!

 

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http://www.bolterandchainsword.com/topic/307454-weird-observation-in-the-skitarii-kit/

Edited May 13, 2015 by Scion of Ferrus

[paulJam]

re Red Alliance

 

No fluff follows.

The whole mechanicus thing of late didn't appeal. Can't please everyone. I'm sure in six months i'll suddenly say 'wow, ad mech is soooo cool.' Until then...

 

Although i have taken mechanicus into account within my Chapter fluff it's mainly cursory stuff. The mechanicus has a sizable interaction though it's not a perspective that is highlighted (thus far) within the stories written.

 

- development of sector

The Chapter decides to 'settle' in a remote area. The development of the sector (in a reasonable time frame) would probably require administratum and mechanicus backing. The Chapter is perfectly happy sharing the load and benefits of the cooperative project.

 

- self-reliance

As a fleet-based/wandering Chapter (at least initially) they realise the importance of tech, and being able to replace it. Hence their techmarines are held in high regard.

 

- pilgrimages

The Chapter has to go to Terra to petittion for founding as part of its earliest history.

After rebuilding (much later) their numbers/resource-base each of the Chapter's Strike Cruisers makes a pilgrimage to Terra. The journey is seen as a rite of passage where the travellers may also engage in 'cruisade'y type activities, tagging along with other groups or generally causing mayhem (road trip!!!).

For the 'regular' marines the journey gives them a tangible sense of connection to the Empire; seeing its spiritual home.

As a 'secondary' task the travellers take techmarine aspirants and drop them with the Mechanicus for training. The next pilgrimage picks up the trained and sanctioned techmarines.

 

The Chapter's techmarines also train 'inhouse' though this is kept on the down low.

[Conn Eremon]

SEPTEM EXPERIMENTUM

A Bond of Blood

 

The front lines have crumbled. The enemy had anticipated. It had countered, and overwhelmed. The infantry are dying. The artillery are silent. Cries for aid scream into the madness and the void. And are answered. Crack of thunder in the emptiness, spears of iron lance from a wound in reality. The skies cry tears of fire, and from these droplets spill the Angels of Death. The enemy falters, breaks, shatters. Confusion reigns as command lines reply only with static. The men and women rally, and put the disoriented enemy to the sword. The Imperium reclaims this lost world, because the Space Marines held true to their word given so long ago.

 

Everybody in this setting is indebted to somebody. But in a setting where all is war, the debts that are often the most relevant are those bound in blood, forged and settled on the battlefield. For the Space Marine Chapters, these can be oaths that leave them honor-bound. For an Astra Militarum regiment, perhaps it is their commanding officer who owes another a favor. Perhaps it is an Inquisitor, beholden to his former master and tutor, or a Sisterhood, lending a security detail in return for assistance in locating and purging a heretical hive.

 

These can be simple, ephemeral things that come and go, leaving the barest of ripples on the greater scene. A Colonel of the Emperor's Guard loses too many card games, becomes indebted to an officer of another regiment. When that regiment is pinned down by the enemy, cut off from command and being surrounded, that officer will call in every favor he has to in order to survive. But often the Imperial Guard are subject to the minds and wills of those far above they themselves, and so the bonds that can come to define them, or a particular moment of their existence, can just as easily originate from outside them. This could mean a general, scion to an ancient bloodline that even the Space Marines honored with an oath. It could mean an Inquisitor, pulling every string in reach to see his will done. The book The Emperor's Gift detailed the damage an Inquisitor can wreak with the Grey Knights given to his cause.

 

For a Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes, these can have lasting effects that endure for millennia. Last experiment, we spoke about a particular one, that bond that exists between the Adepti Astartes and Mechanicus, or lack thereof. But there are many more bonds a Chapter may forge. Perhaps it is to another Chapter, who has shared their battlefield in the past and is met with honor and respect. Perhaps it is the bond that links a parent to the child, a primogenitor that enjoys a close relationship with the Chapters formed of its gene-seed. The Space Wolf series detailed an ancient pact between the Wolves of Fenris and an old Terran Navigator House.

 

For this experiment, I'd like us all to consider what kind of bonds tie our DIYs to the rest of the setting. It's something we all should really consider, for it is these connections, myriad in number and varying in relevance, that ground our DIYs and most integrate our ideas into the wider setting. Consider who your DIY would bond with, how such a bond would come to pass, and what impact this bond has had on your DIY's past and present. Remember, not all bonds need be positive in nature. After all, consider the rivalry that exists between the Space Wolves and the Dark Angels (I promise, I hadn't intended all three of my examples to include the Wolves), which binds these two together as surely as any battle-born alliance, if not more.

[Machine God]

 

SEPTEM EXPERIMENTUM

 

A Bond of Blood

The front lines have crumbled. The enemy had anticipated. It had countered, and overwhelmed. The infantry are dying. The artillery are silent. Cries for aid scream into the madness and the void. And are answered. Crack of thunder in the emptiness, spears of iron lance from a wound in reality. The skies cry tears of fire, and from these droplets spill the Angels of Death. The enemy falters, breaks, shatters. Confusion reigns as command lines reply only with static. The men and women rally, and put the disoriented enemy to the sword. The Imperium reclaims this lost world, because the Space Marines held true to their word given so long ago.

 

Everybody in this setting is indebted to somebody. But in a setting where all is war, the debts that are often the most relevant are those bound in blood, forged and settled on the battlefield. For the Space Marine Chapters, these can be oaths that leave them honor-bound. For an Astra Militarum regiment, perhaps it is their commanding officer who owes another a favor. Perhaps it is an Inquisitor, beholden to his former master and tutor, or a Sisterhood, lending a security detail in return for assistance in locating and purging a heretical hive.

 

These can be simple, ephemeral things that come and go, leaving the barest of ripples on the greater scene. A Colonel of the Emperor's Guard loses too many card games, becomes indebted to an officer of another regiment. When that regiment is pinned down by the enemy, cut off from command and being surrounded, that officer will call in every favor he has to in order to survive. But often the Imperial Guard are subject to the minds and wills of those far above they themselves, and so the bonds that can come to define them, or a particular moment of their existence, can just as easily originate from outside them. This could mean a general, scion to an ancient bloodline that even the Space Marines honored with an oath. It could mean an Inquisitor, pulling every string in reach to see his will done. The book The Emperor's Gift detailed the damage an Inquisitor can wreak with the Grey Knights given to his cause.

 

For a Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes, these can have lasting effects that endure for millennia. Last experiment, we spoke about a particular one, that bond that exists between the Adepti Astartes and Mechanicus, or lack thereof. But there are many more bonds a Chapter may forge. Perhaps it is to another Chapter, who has shared their battlefield in the past and is met with honor and respect. Perhaps it is the bond that links a parent to the child, a primogenitor that enjoys a close relationship with the Chapters formed of its gene-seed. The Space Wolf series detailed an ancient pact between the Wolves of Fenris and an old Terran Navigator House.

 

For this experiment, I'd like us all to consider what kind of bonds tie our DIYs to the rest of the setting. It's something we all should really consider, for it is these connections, myriad in number and varying in relevance, that ground our DIYs and most integrate our ideas into the wider setting. Consider who your DIY would bond with, how such a bond would come to pass, and what impact this bond has had on your DIY's past and present. Remember, not all bonds need be positive in nature. After all, consider the rivalry that exists between the Space Wolves and the Dark Angels (I promise, I hadn't intended all three of my examples to include the Wolves), which binds these two together as surely as any battle-born alliance, if not more.

@Conn Eremon - I made that point I believe!

[Iron_Aquilifer]

Some great last minute completions folks, but it is now time for another experiment.
 

SEXTUS EXPERIMENTUM

A Red Alliance

 

The great city was but a shadowy black silhouette against a canvas of gold and red.  Spires, stretching up and up and up until they were grasping at the heavens, were the thousand fingers of a frozen giant.  Factories, vast buildings of stone and steel, were knuckles, prominent constructs marking the joining of industry and administration.  Once, the city would have been engulfed in a heavy miasma of chemical fog, acid rain burning everything it landed on.  Now it was a bonfire, a raging firestorm.  The flames leapt and whirled and danced, laying blackened kisses on everything within reach.

 

Millions had died, purged by the cleansing purity of promethium.  Millions more suffocated on the ash clouds which cloaked everything in darkness.  Only the Emperor could acknowledge their deaths.  The perpetrators of the purge had already moved on, unwilling to care about those who could be trapped in the lower levels.  The cost of living of too cheap to warrant giving the dying any of their limited time.

 

“We have located the Magos and his servants: they are barricaded in Manufactorium Eliza.  4^th Company, converge on the Manufactorium and eliminate all resistance.  The Emperor Protects.”

 

Directing his tactical squad towards the distant target, Sergeant Vermon heard his opposite in Assault Squad Ramies mutter something.

 

“Say again Brother-Sergeant Ramies?”

 

“This world is not worth the losses, brother Ramies.  I do not understand the reasoning for us being here.”

 

At first, Vermon had nothing to answer with.  The company had lost a dozen brothers in the fighting, a dozen veterans who were not easy to replace.  The feelings were common throughout the company.

 

“Thunderhawks,” came the reply, cold and distant.  “We came for Thunderhawks.  Keep the Magos alive and our supply-chain will be maintained.”

 

Turning to gaze at tech-marine Klein for a moment, a moment which sent the sense of a thousand insects crawling up his spine, Vermon acknowledged his brother’s statement.  So that is why you are tagging along.

 

The Gaia-Invictus forge world has had the taint of chaos purged by the Adeptus Astartes Aquilifer chapter.  The ranking Arch-Magos was escorted under duress from the fighting and relocated to the orbiting space marine fleet.  Reports indicate that the chapter master Samuel Cisor met with the Arch-Magos.  Following the meeting, the Magos was returned planetside and the Astartes promptly left.

 

Links between Gaia-Invictus and Forward Springs were established shortly afterwards.

 

 

 

 

SEPTEM EXPERIMENTUM

A Bond of Blood

 

I thought that they really would come.

 

“Pull the companies back to the tertiary positions.  I want artillery cover for as long as we have the ammunition to support it.  Tell the Valhallans that if they even consider questioning me again on ‘danger close’ I will visit them personally.”

 

It was all falling apart.  They were on the brink.  The regiment had been decimated at least three times in the space of two days.  Their armour were burnt-out husks, air-support was in the form of descending fireballs of wreckage.  No matter how well they fought, the enemy kept punishing them.  There was nothing they could do.  A last stand would be made, soldiers fighting besides their wounded, atop piles of unused ammunition and from under the cover of their tents.  There was nowhere they could run to.  The foe would simply outrun them.

 

“Would you like a rifle sir?”

 

The colonel smiled politely at his aide.  The woman was barely twenty-two, a polished diamond in among a rock-bed of course stone.  In another life, a life where he had not married Lady War, given his heart to the vengeful Duchess War, made battle his mistress, a life where the cries of death was not comforting music to his ears, he would have pursued Felicia without restraint.  No regrets.

 

“No thank you.  Find yourself one though.  I want this place fortified.  Empty out everything that isn’t a weapon and bring the wounded in here.  Allow them the dignity to die with a little warmth around them.”

 

The woman left to carry out his final orders.  The command centre was nothing more than a bunker, a shallow, unreinforced square of stone and steel.  However it was better than the tarpaulin sheets the medical post offered.

 

Taking his first steps in the open in days, Colonel Berbos raised his face to the sky.  Opening his mouth, the officer drank of the icy rain.  For a final meal, it was quite pathetic.

 

“My brothers and sisters of the 13^th, the Emperor protects only those who are worthy.  Prove yourselves to Him and you will be taken to his side.  For the Imperium.”

 

It was not exactly encouraging, but it was the best he could do.  He felt the fight go out of him, leaving only an aimless shell to wander the battlefield.  They have not come.

 

High in orbit, a lone dagger stayed out of range of the enemy vessels, observing the battle with anger.

 

“We owe you nothing anymore,” scowled the space marine captain.  “The oath is fulfilled.”

 

“Indeed it is, Astartes.  It is better this way.”

 

The woman turned on her heel and returned to her own vessel, leaving Perseus to watch the death of his honour.  I promised I would return.

[Conn Eremon]

I promise, I didn't forget. Just got rather busy the past couple days and didn't have anything ready to post up. It is still technically Tuesday though, so I'm yet not late! And now, for something a little different.

 

 

OCTAVO EXPERIMENTUM

A Derivative Original

 

Let's take a step back, pull out of our usual in-universe thinking, and consider one of the earliest processes of crafting our DIYs, often the very first concepts around which the rest of the DIY will form: their thematic origins. There are many different kinds of themes we may think to apply to our DIYs, from historical, cultural, tactical or many other, perhaps more specific kinds of themes. Where we find and how we explore these thematic origins can be as varied, likely more, than the DIYs themselves. It can also be just as fun, if not more, than the remaining tasks of crafting the DIY itself. Now, there are quite a few different ways we can apply these themes, often dependent upon the kind of theme. The purpose of this experiment is to consider our themes and how far we go with them. It won't necessarily have an easy or direct response to give, it is merely for us to pay a little more attention to this crucial step of the process. Because of that, it might be most useful to those who have an idea they are only beginning to develop, or intend to begin.

 

Tactical themes can be pretty straightforward. You have the idea for how your DIY will fight, and so this will be the way in which your DIY fights. This can range from a preference of gear to a preferred avenue of attack, meeting an attack or a host of others. While there are many forces in the setting that rely or over-specialize in a particular tactic, one should consider that many of our DIYs will be facing a multitude of highly varied enemies and circumstances. A Chapter or a Warband that knows of only one way to make war is a stunted beast, while a Regiment, on the other hand, could be forgiven, itself merely a single cog in a far greater warmachine.

 

Other kinds of themes often affect the personality, the culture, of the DIY. How they speak, look, act, react. What they believe in. Often these themes come from a historical, often idealized, source, a personal favorite, but they can also be of a contemporary or fictional source. This can range from an ancient, dead culture given new life in the Adeptus Astartes, to a videogame parading about as part of the Astra Militarum. Here, application of the themes might not be as straightforward. There are a couple 'extreme' ways of application that can provide between them a spectrum where most of our DIYs will lie.

 

The perhaps more subtle path is to take the thematic source and break it down into component, basic concepts before application. Done well and thoroughly, this can be a rewarding path. The end-product will be less derivative, often seen as a symptom of poor writing. It can, however, be more difficult, prolonging the beginning stages of DIY crafting. You must explore your thematic source more deeply, study it. Ask yourself 'why' as often as you can. Done far and well enough, you'll have broken your theme down into a list of single word terms or phrases that, on their own, would not really seem connected to the original theme. This path can work especially well when working with multiple themes, combining core concepts together where similar. Apply these to the DIY, and while it will not be overtly derived from the original theme(s), it will still be readily connected for its author.

 

The opposing path is far less subtle, which is simply to forgo the extra effort that went into the other path and to apply the theme(s) wholesale. While this does mean that the end-product will be highly derivative, with all the negative connotations that comes with for potentially critical readers, it is not out of place in this setting we all love so much. In fact, though I haven't necessarily been keeping track on this score, I would daresay that this is the most prevalent path taken not just by us Liberites (or equivalent DIYers elsewhere), but in Games Workshop proper, and all affiliated child-companies. After all, from where else did the likes of the Space Wolves originate, that lovely Chapter/Legion that so embodies this particular path?

 

While I spoke of the negative connotations the latter path can have, it ultimately comes down to what each of us want of our DIYs that matters most. There is nothing wrong with wanting to make a derivative piece, especially when it is the setting's own inherent lack of subtlety that appealed to us in the first place. The former path may be more challenging, but it has its own rewards and satisfaction as well. Most of our DIYs will fall somewhere on the spectrum provided by these two paths, and often we do not choose one path to follow, but will take steps down each. Both paths have their merits, and are worth exploring. They are far from mutually exclusive as they may seem. How far down them you travel is up to you.

[Conn Eremon]

NOVEM EXPERIMENTUM

An Unshaken Faith

Everyone believes in something, even if only in an ideal, and even if only in the lack of something to believe in. In Warhammer 40k, that which we can believe in has power, and can give that power most noticeably. I'd like us to consider what our DIYs would place their faith in, how this faith shapes them, and how it handles the tangible evidence of its faith. Explore not just what their faith may do for them, but to them as well. Consider that sometimes, faith can be nothing more than the first step toward damnation.

There are five ready examples with which our DIYs may place their faith: The Emperor and the Chaos Gods. They permeate everything, within the Imperium and without, and they are very easy to see if one is looking. One cannot easily travel the empyrean ways without the very manifestation of the Emperor's divinity, bleeding out into the Warp and lighting a path as it calms the tides with its golden touch. But though His light is blinding, it pierces the darkness of the Warp like a needle, and no less wide. For the Warp is the domain of ruinous powers, living, after a fashion, entities that have plagued reality for far longer than Man can recall. Though they exist whole in a dimension removed from our own, even anathema to it, their power is inextricably tied to us and ours, and through us have grown to the might of gods.

To prostrate oneself before these beings is to recognize an empirical truth: We are not alone in this universe, and we are not its masters. To supplicate oneself before them carries greater risk than can be found anywhere else in this setting, and yet also it comes with the opportunity for its greatest rewards. However, it is a mistake to see it as a choice. In truth, the choice is not for Man to make, whatever Man may believe.

And yet, faith in these beings is not the only option. For many of the Chapters of Space Marines, faith is in their blood, their brothers, and their will to see to their duty. For many who have betrayed Man's Empire, faith is a tool, a means to an end. For those who have been touched by power, corrupted by it, faith is not for them to have, but for those beneath them to have in them. And faith can burn, can kill, as it demands life from all, and a life that believes gives of itself freely.

[Lysimachus]

I know I don't normally post my responses to these as much as I should but that's a great one, Conn!

 

 

For the Marines Adamant, it's a question of trust vs. faith. They trust their brethren, the AdMech, their ship crews/Navigators, etc because they have to, you can't survive for long or be an effective fighting force without those things. But they don't like trusting any of them, it goes against all of their instincts.

 

And faith? That's even worse. A Marine Adamant has faith in himself, in his own ability to get the job done, and in no one and nothing else. Even the Big E is not a saviour that they put their faith and trust in, he's a domineering (but frequently disinterested) overlord/father whose expectations they have to constantly strive to meet up to.

 

 

This may well get added to the IA once I've had a chance to run it through my mind a few more times. Cheers for the mental prod, mate!

[Machine God]

How did I come up with my Chapter Colours?

 

Hmm, well as Iron Hands are Black I thought I needed the Blackest Black which is still Black!

 

So Blue is closest to Black and the Blackest Blue was Midnight Blue! Et Viola!

 

My lads are the best so I thought that having them Deathwatch Veterans would suffice on that count, losely established in my luff as a Penitance Choice due to perceived tech-heresy.

 

Extreme levels of bionics/cybernetics. Who's read this?

 

Quote 

 

Magos,

In the Omnissiah's name, I beg leave to report evidence of dire tech-heresy in the Jericho Reach. I have borne witness to terrifying biomechanical behemoths, fusing man and machine into living weapons sent forth against the Stigmartus hordes in the Acheros Salient. These beings fought alongside the Iron Hands Space Marine Chapter, and bore their heraldry upon their hulls. I have examined the burnt-out wreckage of another such cresture, a weapon-studded vehicle that I believe was animated by the essence of an Iron Hands Battle-Brother who has entirely shed every cell of his biological heritage, little more than pure hate and rage remaining to drive him ever onwards. I have shared my findings with Inquisitor +++++, and I eagerly await your judgement in these matters.

Mech-wright Calymn Auros

Dispatch mono-task servitors and a Secutor to the Cellebos Warzone; this Mech-wright is clearly corrupted and requires adjustment.

Archomagos Zynth, Lord Dragon

Edited June 5, 2015 by Scion of Ferrus

[paulJam]

If I could stick to just one then that would be great.  So many possibilities, so many alternative timestreams.  Hopefully will get one up tonight.

that's what she said...

 

 

A response for challenge Novem...

 

item #22

 

Faith... my goal was to explore briefly the overlapping levels and subtleties of faith. I didn't write about faith perse but i think the characters demonstrate their faith.

 

As a summary analysis my trooper has faith in his orders, his squad, his training, his commanders, the 'organisation' backing him up.

The commander has faith in his subordinates (to follow orders), his peers (to work independantly), his chapter's goals, his equipment (his helmet to work), his experience and also as per the trooper.

my feeling is that the troopers faith is more 'blind' than the commanders.

 

I was aiming for a general conflict (moral not shooty) between the trooper's narrow perspective and the commander's big picture perspective.

as faith goes the trooper relies on command give them 'righteous' purpose and command relies on the trooper to trust that their judgements are worthy.

 

i've found the last few challenges difficult to write 'about' but easy enough to find example 'of' within my narratives.

 

for example, re the 'thematic' challenge my chapter has certain goals, viewpoints, character traits that i can easily find with the fluff, from these i can detect underlying themes (frugality, uncertainty, practicality, secrecy, desire to build). however picking a thematic device and conciously trying to write about it seems much harder.

similarly writing about the character's faith seems harder than writing about their story and then finding how their faith is demonstrated in their actions/deeds/feelings etc.

 

hopefully that made sense... but it's late... so it mightn't...

Edited June 5, 2015 by paulJam

[Father Mehman]

Now that the wife and I have moved into our house, it's time for some writin' (apply banjo music as needed)! I want to apologize to you Conn and the rest of you brothers and sisters for disappearing. Not because my inflated ego tells me I was missed, but because these Thought Experiments are absolutely fantastic ways to create some lasting fluff for our DIYs and you, Conn, work to bring these to us every week when you don't have to.

I'll start to work right now, comrades. For the Liber !

[Conn Eremon]

Thank you, Mehman, for those words, and to everyone else who shares a similar sentiment. I'm glad my random musings on DIY creation has been well-received, and more importantly actually useful to others. It is, after all, my favorite part of the hobby.

 

I hope tomorrow's will prove enlightening, if not thought-provoking.

[Conn Eremon]

DECEM EXPERIMENTUM

A House Divided

If there's one thing I've learned in life, it's that nobody agrees with everybody. In this setting, it can even be difficult to find anybody who agrees with somebody. But that doesn't always find its way into our articles. We love to talk about how different groups oppose each other. We love to talk about intense schisms that divide and break our DIYs. But by and large, within each clearly defined camp, everybody seems to always be in agreement. The entire Inquisition may be against this regiment, plaguing them from day one. When a Chapter is divided, with half becoming corrupted by Chaos or worse, each of these halves are very definitively given as black and white. It makes sense. We like to think and speak about the big, sweeping changes that affect our DIYs so powerfully that it comes to define their very character. But not all disagreements will lead to such extremes, though their admitted existence has been the focus of past experiments. At some point, there are simply differing opinions, that affect some rather than all. While these disagreements may be subtle, even relatively ordinary, they can have as much of an impact on our DIYs as the greater, often violent divisions we like to throw at them.

A Space Marine Chapter with elements that have begun to view an ancient progenitor in a different light may slowly affect their belief system, their hierarchy, their combat doctrines. A slight divide that no outsider would ever notice, that no insider thinks important enough to notice. A Forge World introduces a programming update into the noosphere, based upon logic found in uncovered relics or an inspired bio-mechanical mind, that bonds itself to the software wiring of a Legion of Skitarii and their overlords, slowly unwinding and affecting their behavior and their attitudes. They never notice the changes wrought upon them, though the ready comparison as they appear alongside comrades from foreign worlds shows minute differences. Impossible to notice in the individual, but magnified upon the whole. Regiments of the Astra Militarum are known to vary wildly in size and scope, from the traditional three thousand Guardsmen to immense warhost-regiments of hundreds of thousands. How far-fetched would it be for a Captain or Major to begin re-organizing his personal command, when face with an enemy they are unprepared for, or are caught isolated and distant from even the vox-calls of their commanders and compatriots? They may return changed on a psychological level, a divide between those who were “there,” and who were not. A dark camaraderie that will not be broken until the very last survivor falls in some, perhaps not so distant, battlefield.

And so the changes grow at glacial, unsteady rates, until an ever-shifting equilibrium is reached between the way it has always been and the way that it has begun to be, as much a part of their identities as anything else. Not all differences need come from some outside, antagonistic body. Not all changes need lead to irreversible outcomes of one over the other. Here, then, lies the tenth experiment. I want us all to look into the hearts of the men and women that populate our personal worlds in this setting. Consider that they might not all be of the same frame of mind as those who stand beside them, and consider that in spite of those differences, or perhaps because of them, they live, fight and die together. These differences may lead to contention, or they may not even be recognized as differences. A house divided against itself can, in fact, stand united.

[Conn Eremon]

UNDECEM EXPERIMENTUM

A World Burns

A world can mean more than just a planet, it can mean the whole of experience, an entire civilization, everything to someone. And at some point or another, our DIYs have personally had a hand in destroying one, if not more than one. If not many, many more than one. Which is great, we all love talking about that. How a Space Marine Company tips the tide, overwhelming the enemy with superior everything, turning the villainous landscape into so much ash that not even Bethesda could resuscitate. How an Imperial Guard regiment, forming just one cog in the Emperor's war machine, does its part in pitched battles that leave conquered land barren, broken. How the Adeptus Mechanicus might need something held by some planet or another, and how that planet need not survive the taking of it. How the Sisterhoods of the Adepta Sororitas are quick to spread the fire of faith and fury wherever they may march, and the destructions those flames spread. How the Emperor's Legions of old spread across the galaxy, and a dead world was an acceptable level of compliance.

But we don't always consider the cost of such destruction, which gives that destruction depth and meaning. What is now lost to the Warhammer 40k setting, whether it be the stored wisdom of a civilization or the innumerable lives ended long before their allotted time. Even if, on comparison, the destroyer outweighs the dead in relevance, the dead can yet be relevant to us, the readers, and our destroyers. One of the most fundamental elements of the highly praised Guant's Ghosts series is the destruction of the protagonist regiment's home world, because the loss was so deeply felt by those who yet survived. By their continued actions in the war, facing insurmountable odds and yet proving successful time and again in spite of their own losses, they reflect the destruction of their world back upon its destroyers. The Blood Pact suffer the consequences of destroying Tanith through successful actions of the Tanith First and Only, even as they enjoy the benefits of Tanith's removal from the war effort against them from that point on. This is not entirely dissimilar to the far-reaching impact that the destruction of Monarchia had upon the Emperor and his works.

Not all destruction has such an immediate effect on the destroyer. How often must our own creations simply destroy and move on? Consider the Interex, a human-dominated civilization that was advanced and self-reliant, destroyed by the Warmaster under the thrall of another's machinations. All that history was lost, their knowledge and wisdom, so clearly relevant to what was yet to come, burned to ash but for what remained in the hands of those who would use it against the Imperium. What would have happened had the destruction not taken place? We have a xenos race in M41 that could very easily have been erased from existence millennia past if not for the vagaries of the Warp. Consider everything that the Tau are now, and think about how easily they could have been just another fledgling alien civilization, burned and forgotten by Mankind.

This is the objective of this week's experiment, to consider what our DIYs have destroyed, and the consequences of said destruction. Please bear in mind that while xenos are often the targets for such, the rules of the B&C yet apply.

[Conn Eremon]

DUODECEM EXPERIMENTUM

Of Different Blood

In our third experiment, I asked us all to consider the in-universe source from which our DIYs originate, whether they be Legion, gene-seed, planetary, sacred, what have you. From there, we looked at how far our own DIYs have gone in the development of their own identity, how much was still derived from their origins, and what the living representatives of those origins felt about our DIYs. I'd like us to return to this experiment, from a different angle. I've said before that at times we might not always realize the importance of something until we no longer have it. So this, the twelfth experiment, is another 'what if.'

Take your progenitor, whether it's the same provided in the third experiment or another, and change it wholesale into something else. Space Marine Chapters have a few options: you can change their gene-seed source, their Founding, their home world, or all of the above. How different would the Raptors be if they were sons of Dorn, rather than the Raven Lord? If the Sons of Medusa's Founding were much later, implicating a continued struggle within the Iron Hands and their successors over the Moirae Schism? What if the Black Templars were granted, and oath-bound to maintain and protect, a home world upon their Founding? Traitor Warbands have similar options, though perhaps not just excluded to gene-seed source but of Legion origins as well. For the Legionaries of the Eye, their genes can be of less importance than those they have sworn themselves to. Astra Militarum regiments are formed almost whole from two personality-building experiences: Their pre-Guard lives, defined by their home worlds, and their wartime experiences, which can be similarly affected. Minor Orders of the Adepta Sororitas do originate from Major Orders, of dividing, if mostly unified, thought, but they can also look to that which is sacred and divine as being a founding purpose, greatly affecting them as it is changed.

As with most experiments of this style, the aim is to not just rewrite our works upon arbitrary changes, but to consider how interconnected and interdependent all these pieces can be. Maybe you will stumble upon a combination you prefer to the old, perhaps it will intrigue you enough to pursue it as a new project, or possibly you'll just have fun messing around and exploring different ideas.

[Conn Eremon]

TREDECEM EXPERIMENTUM

A Different Time

For the past few years, there's been an increasing amount of lore filling the gaps of time between the 31st and 41st Millennium, starting with the Horus Heresy series. Even still, we've made an imperceptible dent into the full length and breadth of galactic history in the Age of the Imperium. Often what we get, and what we create, includes an in-depth origin, followed by various, superficial accounts of battles across millennia, but usually it's just an immediate hop and a skip to the present day. What we expand upon of our DIY's history tends to be simply for the purpose of explaining something touched upon in the present day accounting. The original Indices Astartes put out by Games Workshop had origins from the Horus Heresy and then went straight to the now. Forge World has done an admirable job breaking this tendency, as now we have projects on the B&C that range within the Horus Heresy, the Scouring, the Great Crusade, even some proto-astartes projects in the murky beginnings of the Unification Wars and a group effort to portray the Badab War.

These kinds of projects reveal a fundamental truth about our DIYs: There's far more to them than just what they were made to be, and what they have become in these final days. The path, the journey, is immense, a shifting and changing in gradients more than simply moving from points A to B to C and so on. Forge World has championed this, and Black Library has begun to assist in filling in these blanks. It's high time we think about our own DIYs in these contexts as well. Maybe to revitalize your enjoyment in your creations by exploring how much more there is to them, or to better understand who and what they have become by more fully exploring the journey that brought them there.

So this experiment is to explore your DIYs in a different time. Don't choose one that you have already touched upon in your articles, for often these particular times are too tied up with their present day forms. Which time you choose, and how you choose to explore it, is up to you. Maybe you'll add another battle to the list of honors. Maybe you'll be motivated enough to recreate the article whole as if the chosen time is the present time, not unlike the FW articles depicting Legions and Chapters with the tome's battlefield focus as their present day, whether it be Isstvan III, Calth, or Badab. Not all of our DIYs will have as lengthy a history as a First Founding Chapter, but it doesn't necessarily need to be. Look at our own, real world history. There have been an exceptionally great amount of changes in human civilization over short periods of time. Though often things in Warhammer 40k are thought of as stagnant, stuck in time, they need not be. It all depends on how we want to depict the passage of time, in relation to our own creations. Tallarn didn't need to be made what it was back in the Heresy for regiments to have the identity they do in the 41st millennium. It could just as easily have happened a century ago,

[Conn Eremon]

QUARTADECEM EXPERIMENTUM

An Unexpected Battlefield

It would be accurate to say that the greatest majority, if not all, of our DIYs are part of some military or militant group. They all fight something. It’s an important aspect of what they are, and it ends up being an important aspect of what we write about them. Ancient battles and combat doctrines are an ever-present feature of the articles we create. We write about victories, and we write about how they obtained them. Often, this will involve very specific means of making war. This isn’t just with us DIYers either, but with Games Workshop, et al, as well. The Salamanders love to burn everything. The Skitarii have a religious experience as the orbiting Techpriests take manual control. However, one thing we should always keep in mind is that if we define our DIYs as having too specific a combat doctrine, we run the risk of hamstringing them when they must make war outsider their safety zone.

The Salamanders may have a strong preference to utilize flame-based weaponry, but their demeanor and approach to mortal humanity would quickly deprive them of that preference where its extreme destructiveness would run counter with their need to lessen collateral damage. Should immediate space surrounding a world upon which the Skitarii do battle become contested, forcing vessels of the Mechanicus out of contact with their forces below, surely they would have contingencies in place to maintain cohesion and effectiveness. Likewise, we must consider that our DIYs will be part of battlefields that will not always allow them to operate as the combat doctrines we provide would allow them to succeed upon. Many of our DIYs won’t necessarily have a choice in the battlefield. Regiments of the Imperial Guard march where their general’s command, and they are not always concerned with their survival. While a good commander will attempt to meet the enemy from a position of strength upon a moment of weakness, the opposing commander is likely trying the exact same thing. While we think of the Space Marines as being gods of war, fighting exactly as they like because little can get in their way to stop them, we must remember that their enemies are innumerable, and include rival or traitor Space Marines.

While writing these sections of our articles, we should consider more than just how our DIYs prefer to make war, or singularly train for, but how they must approach all forms of combat. How well they can adapt to an unexpected battlefield. So for this experiment, I would like us to approach these sections with this in mind. How would our DIYs march to war, if their choice on the matter were deprived of them?

[paulJam]

 

QUARTADECEM EXPERIMENTUM

While writing these sections of our articles, we should consider more than just how our DIYs prefer to make war, or singularly train for, but how they must approach all forms of combat. How well they can adapt to an unexpected battlefield. So for this experiment, I would like us to approach these sections with this in mind. How would our DIYs march to war, if their choice on the matter were deprived of them?

errrr, but isn't versatility and adaptability the hallmark of the Astartes?

Tactical marines are those who have graduated from scout, then assault, then devastator squads.

Chapters may have pet weapons they get worked up about but there are also accounts of them using whatever weapon is at hand (or their hands) to clobber an enemy with.

I'm sure an imperial fist would run a covert mission or a raven guard would hold a fortress if that were the strategic thing to do.

[Conn Eremon]

Precisely.

 

My concern for this experiment is that we don't always see that versatility shine through in our articles. Whether it is because we have become enamored with a particular style of war that we are utilizing as a theme, or we are basing our articles off of how we prefer to field them in miniature combat against our friends or at our clubs. The writing can become too specific, until we have pigeonholed our forces into operating effectively only one way. The primary concern is that while we, those knowledgeable of the setting, can safely assume that a talent for adaptability will be the norm, we can all too easily write about what makes them different in a way that precludes that assumption.

 

As you say, even an Imperial Fist unit may operate covertly, and even a Raven Guard taskforce would hold a fortress in the midst of a conventional siege, if deemed necessary or appropriate. A DIY Chapter that exclusively operates with bike-mounted infantry would find itself unsuited for combat where those bikes could not capably function, preventing them from having the level of versatility they should have by all rights. This can be common among DIYs, making the manner they fight an exclusive rather than an inclusive affair. So think about how that Chapter would overcome this obstacle, as it should be able to. Perhaps the findings deserve mention in the final article as well.

 

These are the circumstances the experiment is looking for.

[Firepower]

Well, a narrative is certainly easier than any other approach I've taken to this subject. It's been bouncing around in my head for some time, frustrating the hell out of me. Keeping the creepy, scary edge wasn't easy in a dry Inquisitorial-style report, and the unknowable truths would've been spoiled by the typical omniscient IA write up.

It had to be written like a ghost story. And finally, I had a reason to write it up and cram it into the Liber, in the Primum Experiendi challenge (okay, so I'm a bit late to the party). So, thanks for that. Enjoy.

+++++++++++++++

I am Uren Tusc. I am a Trooper of the 17th Company, 2nd Bostock Regiment. I am on Jeral, of the Haven system. I am terrified.

Something is in the sky that cannot be in the sky. There is a moon, but Jeral has no moon. It does not rise or set. It does not orbit, and the same face always looks down on us. It appeared on the seventh day of the war to end the Jeral insurrection. It is now the third week of the war.

The heretics summoned it. They used some foul sorcery, or something alien. That is what we thought. Then the angels that aren't angels came. I do not think the moon was the heretics’ doing anymore.

We thought them heroes, saviors. They came, they fought, they put heretics to the sword. But they do not fight like Marines fight. I served once, against the Greenskins, and I saw the Marines in red fight. They were quick, decisive, and brutal. The war ended in days. It has been weeks, and the heretics still live. Some, at least.

These things deployed oddly from the start. They deployed where fighting was thickest, but also in calmer sectors of the battlefield. No one saw them arrive, and no one ever found Drop Pods, or Thunderhawks, landers, vehicles, anything.

Some appeared where there was almost no fighting at all. They stood sentinel, like statues. They even look like statues, like granite, like the stone wardens erected in graveyards of the Throne’s heroes. But there are cracks in the armor. The cracks are small, but Kret said he saw something in one of the jagged ravines. He said it was black, moving, but indistinct. He said it looked like teeth. Kret is dead. We never found the body, but we know he is dead. There are many dead we cannot find, but in my gut, I know they are dead with certainty.

Bodies are gone from anywhere the statues fight. Kret said he heard whispers, a day before he died and disappeared. The other taken dead said the same. Some didn’t say anything, but we could see in their eyes a panic. They were keeping it to themselves. They thought saying the words aloud would make them true.

Kret said it sounded like broken vox chatter. He couldn’t make out the words, most of the time. Some would come through the buzzing in fragments, like catching a shadow out of the corner of his eye. Out of my eye.

I can hear the whispers, too.

I am bleeding, and in pain. My arm is gone. An unlucky shot to my plasma gun sent it into overload. I threw it, but not fast enough. It took my arm to the shoulder, and my eye on the same side. But I can see the shadow over me with the eye I have left. A man’s shadow isn’t so big.

I hear a screeching, like claws on metal. I know the sound. I was by two tanks once when they drove to close to each other. They ripped the sponsons from their flanks in the friction. Tortured metal makes such a distinct sound.

The shadow is getting darker. The whispers are getting louder.

“The crusade needs you.”

Those words, most often. There are others, and they sound scared. They are screaming, but from so far and muffled, like echoes from a sealed cave. It’s hard to hear them over the screech of warping metal.

“The crusade needs you.”

The shadow is darker. Everything is black. I don’t know if I’m bleeding out, or if the sun has gone. I know I am dying though. The shadow knows, too.

“You will fight. The crusade needs you.”

I am gone.

And then I am back.

I look down at my hands, and they are not my hands. They are grey, like stone. I do not feel them. I feel myself inside them, but I am not moving them. I am surrounded by others in the same granite skin.

I can’t take it off. I can’t take it off, I can’t move. Throne, why can’t I take it off?!

I don’t know if I’m the one screaming the words. My head is full of screams. All those whispers, they are deafening now. My voice joins theirs.

“The crusade needs you. Now you fight.”

The whisper cuts through it all. A breeze silencing a hurricane. I hear bells in the distance.

“The crusade needs you. You fight for the graves, and they are hungry. The graves are always hungry.”

+++

Sanctioned Psyker Secondus Guntheric San writhed on his restraint throne, shaking the myriad collection of tubes, wires, pipes and needles decorating his scalp. Blood trickled from his nose, his eyes and ears. The words of the soldier he walked in trickled off into a meaningless screed. The scribe servitor beside the dying man’s slab scratched the incoherent drawls into parchment, unable to register the futility of it.

“A brave attempt. Did you order it, or did he volunteer?” This, from Psyker Primarish Horatio San. How rare, for brothers to serve in such a way, to have the same curse of a blessing. Their bond made them stronger than Inquisitor Delt could have hoped. Losing one was a serious setback, she knew.

“That hardly seems important, at this point. Still, this is the most concrete information we’ve collected in centuries of invesigation. Nearly a hundred associates from every Ordo of the Inquisition, and by sheer chance, we found the Ghostmoon.” She didn’t say the words with any relish. She paid this price willingly, but still, such a setback. Finding a psyker of such endurance would be a chore, even with her connections.

“Concrete proof, at last. Subject: Ghostmoon and Subjects: Grave Wardens link confirmed. Link between recorded lost bodies of Ghostmoon battlefields, also confirmed. Exact nature of relationship indistinct. Relay the full transcript, highest encryptions,” she murmured distractedly to the servo skull bobbing on its quiet little engines beside her. The floating little skull had been a masterful sword in life. Julianne. Delt had liked her a great deal.

Horatio sighed, a hesitant tremor in his voice when he spoke. “I may link with him. I may be able to even link to the Trooper through him.”

Delt shook her head, rewarding his sigh with one of her own. “I don’t have any intention of losing you both, today. Besides, this is day fifteen. By previous records, the Ghostmoon is bound to vanish again any moment.” She gritted her teeth at the word, but there wasn’t any better description.

The Ghostmoon, that impossible thing, would simply fade away, and find another war to feed its unknowable appetite for the dead and dying.

“Hungry graves…” Delt muttered to herself with a resigned slump of her shoulders.

Edited July 12, 2015 by Firepower