General Discussion

[Slips]

I dunno dude.

 

It comes off as pretty lazy that you essentially went:

-these dudes are death guard

-these dudes are night lords

-these dudes are white scars

-these dudes are iron warrior

-these dudes are iron hands

-these dudes are flesh tearers

-these dudes are thousand sons

Etc.

 

The fact that their immediately recognizable doesnt do them any favors.

 

Not everything, or close to, in your legion has to be unique or have a notable defining "quirk".

Edited February 27, 2016 by Slipstreams

[Skalpynock]

I'll second Slipstreams' opinion: these clans seem too specialized, to the point where they no longer seem to be one coherent legion.

[Sigismund229]

I dunno dude.

 

It comes off as pretty lazy that you essentially went:

-these dudes are death guard

-these dudes are night lords

-these dudes are white scars

-these dudes are iron warrior

-these dudes are iron hands

-these dudes are flesh tearers

-these dudes are thousand sons

Etc.

 

The fact that their immediately recognizable doesnt do them any favors.

 

Not everything, or close to, in your legion has to be unique or have a notable defining "quirk".

Hmm so my original instinct on reading them over was right...darn. Although that's what I get for using old notes and keeping the bulk of them and just converting them a bit...

 

Trouble is, I would quite like each Clan to have their own way of doing things withoit deviating a huge amount and becoming seperate legions...oh well, back to the drawing board

[Hesh Kadesh]

Dragging up the lithographs from the Queen of the Damned's databanks, Morro studied the works with a deep intensity. The disgraced equerry, Boræo stood someways off. His time served in the Destroyer companies had wrought horror on his features. The fog-grey of blindness of his left eye was stark against the dark tan of his worn-in face, while the marbled appearance of the acid splash had given his face a slight tilt that in certain lights appeared at times sinister, at others, half smiling at a private joke. On the other side of the room stood Hennasohn.

 

The devilweb lattice that had been stitched into his skin and his soul by the accursed deep-fey, Rakarth had retracted back into his skin, so that he once again appeared as he once did, the walking nightmare that he became when featuring other extremes of emotion hidden behind the facade. His head, once kept smoothly shaved had grown the stubble of two days of growth, and his eyes showed a weariness that had hitherto not crossed his features.

 

Other Astartes dotted around the room, and in the far corner stood a creature of darker shadow, the Penumbral Angel. That it had seemingly materialised within a sanctum that had been sealed by a adamantium-tungsten alloy door that would take a lascutter over four hours to cut through, and without ingress or egress for two days had surprised few. It had an annoying habit of turning up without invitation, and not being in places at request, so why a top secret tactical plan be anything different was only to be expected. Precisely why some aeons old creature decided to spend its days acting like a spoilt puppy was beyond ken, however.

 

All were hard at work making plans, counter plans, theorising over tactical procedures of the Scions. While their Primarch had the closest relationship with the target, Pionus, that the Scions had been trained by the Drowned in the matters of thallasic warfare was something in the Drowned's favour. That they hadn't taught them all that they knew was a matter of course. 

 

Untara Prime. A planet sized oil well, and now a production centre for the synthesising of materials, it was a prime target. It was a large resupply depot, used essentially as a Forward Operating Base for the great crusade, and had been conquered nearly thirty years previously. Since then thirteen trillion barrels had been extracted each year, and had supplied the great crusades voracious appetites of both Promethium both in fuel form and the weaponised gel. Other places acted as a stockpile for munitions. The world itself was considered to be an Oceanic-1b; essentially a classification that made it ripe for human habitation of a size and overall sea biome equivalent to what had once covered nearly 3 quarters of Terra's surface, and it had been the Fire Keepers who had aided in its construction. Among the array of planetary defences, there was also a total of six Bellerophon class orbital defense lasers. The nihilism and pragmatism shown by Niklaas' men had prepared the world for self destruction so as to prevent the world from falling into enemy hands - such a lynchpin could not go undefended. All of this information skidded across the screens in front of the officers present.

 

Truthfully, it had already been committed to their eidetic memories through the psycho-mnemonic machines, but there was something different with actually going through it in a physical format, the visual senses played out in their heads. Schemata for the standard template construct buildings which made up the demersal wells drawing out the unprocessed raw materiel were already being loaded up into the tactical similators, the hangar sized foundries within the ships loading up practise killing rooms to match the known specifications of the various layouts. Squads of veteran XVIth varied between practising running these gauntlets and taking to training the Auxilia in how to take down Astartes. Questions regarding such were ignored, although several continual offenders had been referred to med-arrays. They weren't ready to be briefed on the nature of the foe. 

 

While all of these standard operating procedures were initialised during this final month of preparation, it was something that all knew. Although they had come to blows with Astartes in the past, it was not the full scale war that was due to be committed now. The Drowned had rarely deployed in this strength before. Although among the most numerous of legions, and had rapidly built up numbers since the loss of their Primarch's arm, they operated with a wide dragnet, various tendril fleets seeking out targets of opportunity and identifying others which would then be marked out to other fleets, which would close in, and strangle their prey, striking at all possible levels; psychological, information, insurgency, economic, endemic, proxy war, and even meteorological, before striking home a killing blow. Against the Astartes, there could be no such demoralization. No such preliminary victory that could be won. Despite the advantage in numbers, the true advantage stood with the Scions Hospitaller.

 

In addition to the neutralisation of the Bellerophon orbitals, and the defense monitor vessels alongside the Scions fleet, there were a further three primaris ranked targets; the Districtas Facilitas Majorum, The Omnium, and the Crucible of Embers. The former was rather self explanatory in its role. It was the primary loading hub, and could keep up the refueling of twenty immense Super-Capital or Magna-Conveyer Ships; the transfer umbilicals at times over fifty metres wide for these. Although Morro knew his brother would not be stupid enough to stack all of his capitals at once in dock, the ever cautious nature allowing the defense protocols to take a premium, that perhaps ten of the most dangerous vessels could be eliminated with comparative ease ensured that this needed to be killed. The Omnium was another target. Again, with the intimacy of friendship, Morro knew that if there was a place for Pionus to be, it would be here. The Omnium was the de-facto capital, and typically where visiting dignitaries and commanders who were using the facilities would pay their respect. Ever one to observe the ways of anothers culture, even that sickening "chakai" tea ceremony had been observed. His brothers had attempted to explain it to him, and even Coch'ise had despaired, but Morro had found a small sense of pride in his obstinance regarding heated water and a leaf. His thoughts drifted off to a time over twenty years prior, the memory waxing in his minds eye. You ask me why I do not sit and sip a beverage in some ritualised custom. It is not my culture. I do not force you to partake in the sacrifice of newborns or virgins, or whatever other rumours precede me as to what passes for tradition within my house. I see no harm in joining with you, yet I also see no harm in not doing it, other than it offends your sensibilities. In which case, do us both the courtesy of acknowledging our offending of you, princess, and we continue on with other matters."

 

That had been the last time that he had seen the meekling Alexandros von Salim. Promoted above his betters simply because he was malleable and less contradictory. One who sought a compromise was not a Warmaster, and the condescension in his brother's face apparent after his mask slipped at the disappointinly base insults was apparent. Returning to the present, Morro reviewed what tactical data was present on the Crucible of Embers. Ostensibly a Fire Keepers garrison, it was in truth a gaol. The Witchbreakers sons were often plagued with a psychic ability that in other legions would have been welcomed. But to Niklaas, they were little more than shovel-jawed goatsons who should be hidden from site, and punished. There was space for over two thousand, although the number of "residents" was nearer probably less than a tenth of that - they were little more than a dangerous self destructive weapon, and better sent to die in conflict while causing as much damage as possible, and Niklaas had taken shipment of many. Getting them on-side would be the job for the Albatross himself, Hennasohn. He had served with the Firekeepers for a few years, and had implemented specialist Terminator armour seeker deployments and they'd proven highly effective. If the Fire Keeper's battlemages could be brought on side, then it was almost guaranteed to be Pionus who would be rotting in the Sea-Between...

 

It's very rough, and WIP. I tried to get this written last night, but had too much on. I hope this is enough?

[Doctor Perils]

 

 

I dunno dude.

It comes off as pretty lazy that you essentially went:
-these dudes are death guard
-these dudes are night lords
-these dudes are white scars
-these dudes are iron warrior
-these dudes are iron hands
-these dudes are flesh tearers
-these dudes are thousand sons
Etc.

The fact that their immediately recognizable doesnt do them any favors.

Not everything, or close to, in your legion has to be unique or have a notable defining "quirk".

Hmm so my original instinct on reading them over was right...darn. Although that's what I get for using old notes and keeping the bulk of them and just converting them a bit...

Trouble is, I would quite like each Clan to have their own way of doing things withoit deviating a huge amount and becoming seperate legions...oh well, back to the drawing board

 

 

On reading it,a lot of it doesn't come across tooo strongly, until you read the Myrvallen (Myrvallii sp?) who each have the distinctive weapons of those legions, or whose planet of origin sounds suspiciously like those planets of these other canonverse legions.

 

For instance, that chap who comes from "Mortax" and wields a scythe ? Make him an über-moritat dude who comes from a cowboy-themed hive world (hence the gunslingers of the black guard). And call it something different then Mortax...

 

Basically, lose all the unique weapons from other legions and replace them with generic+ (or your own legion special weapons), change the homeworlds to something a bit different (ie, the siege people come from a large flat world.)

 

 

 

 

 

As a side note, I'm no historian or anthropologist, but mountains and hills (or other difficult terrain) seem to tend to make people go towards guerilla warfare more then castle up (see the Scottish highlanders and the Afghans), its flat lands where people need to protect themselves behind big walls, choosing the most defendable places (which happen to be in mountains)...

That might not be very clear, but basically I think in the real world, siege warfare appears more in places with interesting landmarks (river bridge or ford, isolated peak etc.) where people want to live for long times but that need to protect their homes, whereas totally flat lands with nothing interesting will tend to make people more nomadic (huns and mongols, bedouin...) and very hilly places with nothing particular will make people tend towards guerilla warfare

Edited February 27, 2016 by Lord Thørn

[Sigismund229]

@Hesh. 1. Nice piece, looks great and helped clarify my image of the Drowned and Morro. 2. I shall include these things in the Underwater Madness!

 

As for re writing the Clans fluff...this any better? Clan Karakal are now essentialy Glaswegians.

 

Clan Karakal

Numbering 6000 astartes, Clan Karakal is commanded by the infamous Myrvallen Tyros Karakal, a grim, unsmiling and brutal man recruited from the world of Heyrath, a world of towering hives and churning industry, given over entirely to mining the raw resources which fuel the industry of the Mechanicus. His brutal and unforgiving character, along with the bloody nature of the wars they have recently been fighting along the northern fringes of the empire of Mycenae, have made Clan Karakal infamous for mercilesness and brutality. The epitomy of this are Karakal's Pezhetairoi, the Black Guard. While forbidden from using rad grenades(something these brutal warriors would doubtless do if they could), they show no mercy to anyone they come across, be they man, woman or child. Painting their armour completely black save for the shoulder guards and where they have painted on white bolts of lightning, the Black Guard march into battle wielding "Kuthi", literally clubs in Heyrath lower hive dialect. While those used by the Black Guard use a similar technique as that used in the making of falcan blades to make them very effective chopping weapons, their appearance remains as such that it wouldn't be judged graceful by any.

 

Clan Daran

Numbers 12,000 astartes, commanded by Myrvallen Erran. Not particularly distinguished for good or bad reasons except for Myrvallen Erran's habit of using a falx in battle, a sword which is a longer and more curved varient of the falcan blade used on most of Mycenae, whereas the falx is unique to the northernmost tribes.

 

Clan Briganda

Numbers 23,000 astartes. Commanded by Myrvallen Serenos, the largest Clan in the III legion.

 

Clan Ikenos

Numbers 8000 astartes, commanded by Myrvallen Tincomos. Famed amongst the Crimson Lions for Myrvallen Tincomos' and his Pezhetairoi's usage of long slashing power swords(similar to those used im the Kingdom of Jurfik during the Age of Strife)as opposed to falcan blades.

 

Clan Senonos

Numbers 18,000 astartes, commanded by Myrvallen Vellocatos. The most adept at siegecraft of the Clans of the Crimson Lions, largely this is due to experience and recruitment. The experience comes from Clan Senonos' first independent campaign having been against the Antaran's, a human empire who had survived old night by turning their worlds into a series of interconnecting fortresses. The mark of this campaign can still be seen in how Clan Senonos equips itself, with the Clan choosing to maintain higher ratio of heavy weapons squads and to equip its breachers for close range fire fights of the kind encountered in the coridoors of the Antaran fortresses. In addition to this, approximately 9.5% of the Clan are recruited from the more barbarous worlds of the former Antaran empire, which maintain a strong tradition of siegecraft, supplying very capable regiments of siege troops to the Arpine Auxilia.

 

Clan Askar

Numbers 9000 astartes, commanded by Myrvallen Hothor. Known as the Wardens of the Cadian Gate, Clan Askar stand guard over this volatile region of space, located on the outskirts of the Empire of Mycenae. Clan Askar is also known for recruiting extensively from the Knightly Order of Caliban(with some estimates putting the number of astartes in Clan Askar from Caliban at 17%), leading to the practice of quartering the Clan's sigil with the personal sigil of the astartes in question. However, Clan Askar is also the most spread out of the Clans and the Clan which is least frequently seen on the frontlines of the Great Crusade as they are, due to their role as Wardens of the Cadian Gate, spread out garissoning many strategically important worlds across this section of space.

 

Clan Garda

Numbers 12,000 astartes. Commanded by Myrvallen Venutius.

 

Clan Atrebetos

Numbers 16,000 astartes, commanded by Myrvallen Belonos. Is rumoured amongst other legions to contain Space Wolves although no Crimson Lion has ever spoken on the matter to any outside their legion.

 

Clan Tauran

Numbers 2000 astartes. Commanded by Myrvallen Tyrconus and includes Madros Caratacal, Tiarnos of the Garaia cluster. While Clan Tauran is the smallest of the Clans of the III legion following its near destruction on Treyatan, it has since begun to re build using the resources of the Garaia cluster. While most of the resources drawn by Clan Tauran from this region of space are recruits(mainly from the desert world of Ayni Prime) with whom Clan Tauran supplements the recruits they draw from Mycenae, they also exploit the small scale forges of Garaia itself. While these small forges, barely bigger than the blacksmiths of ancient Terra, would be insufficient to equip one of the larger Clans, they are capable of equipping Clan Tauran due to its small size. However, the methods used to produce these suits are different to those used by the Mechanicus in that the work is done by hand, forging the plates using hammer and fire rather than machinery. While it still falls far short of the artificer armour of the Mechanicus, the armours produced by Garaia tend to have greater decoration than that mass produced by Mars or Iyacrax, small things like having "Mycenae" acid etched into the chest plate or a III etched in gold filigree on one knee pad. While Clan Tauran still relies on the larger forge worlds for their weaponry and ammunition, many of the pieces of armour worn by astartes of Clan Tauran are small works of art.

 

Clan Balda

Numbers 5000 astartes. Commanded by Myrvallen Antathos. The principal difference between Clan Balda and other Clans is that they mainly recruit from the islands of Mycenae. In these places, both Imperial Gothic and Mycenaean are unheard of, meaning a distinguishing feature of Clan Balda's astartes are their thick accents which make them difficult, some would say incomprihensible, in Imperial Gothic. They also tend to have their war plate styled to resemble the drakfaraige that surround the islands.

 

Clan Siluros

Numbers 9000 astartes. Commanded by Myrvallen Tynos. Clan Siluros and their Myrvallen are known to be rigid adherents to what they see as the fundamental rules of war and so will always grant their enemies an opportunity to surrender before attacking. However, if this chance is refused then they, like any other Crimson Lion, give no mercy to fighting men, nor do they expect any.

 

Clan Enthos

Numbers 11,000 astartes. Commanded by Myrvallen Antron. Clan Enthos maintains a garisson on the world of Medusa, a duty they agreed to take up in order to relieve parts of Clan Askar to join the Great Crusade. As part of this garisson, they also draw recruits from the world as well as from Mycenae, as the Medusans make extremely good recruits for the III, being used to cramped conditions as they are, making them perfectly at home in the tight spaces of boarding actions.

 

Clan Mycenor

Numbers 6000 astartes. Commanded by Hectarion Mycenor himself, Clan Mycenor fulfils the role of a 1st company in the Crimson Lions. While it is mainly composed of the Hypaspists, Clan Mycenor also contains the Improdoi(the only Crimson Lions to wear cataphractii plate) and the Inroiar(planetary assault specialists).

[Skalpynock]

Wrote this in a whim, further reflexion on the Void Eagles' character as individual, and heraldic variety.

 

Hieron's jump pack roared as he took to the sky, providing a clear overview of the battlefield under him. In the distance, he could see the armoured divisions of the Ghosts engaging the dropships that had deployed him. His gaze returned to the ground, and he fired at a scattered support squad of the XXth. He landed right after the grenade blasted, its incendiary contents setting the targets ablaze in their armour. "Served 'em right!" came a voice over the vox. "Can't bear the sight of them. They can't paint their armor right." he replied, while looking for possible survivors to finish off. As his chainaxe chewed through one of the half-corpses, he heard the muffled voice of his sergeant: "Brothers, brothers, please be rational. At least they're not the eagles-that-are-not-us!". The entire squad agreed on that point. "By the way, got a funny one from the remembrancers" Cavaraz, the squad's second in command, announced, "Apparently, the rest of the Imperium believes we all wear the green. The only propaganda they get are from the fleets of the Father and Culica." Hieron laughed, as he remembered how far from the truth that was. His own shoulderpads were a dark, dirty blue, an heritage of admiral Qalie's birth-world. He remembered the red of dry blood on Limtoc's warriors, the Terran white of the Third, and the legendary black of Alvator's forsaken Fifth. Few actually cared for the heraldry of the main fleets half the Galaxy away. "Bah, colors don't matter, when all they will see is clouds of fire falling on their faces!"

[bluntblade]

Hesh, I like that a lot. Nice to get a bit more of Morro's character coming through

[Kelborn]

"Dear Misses Khorne.

Do you want this dress?"

(throat sliced, dress is covered with blood)

"Yes, I will! Who's next?! My little Khorny wants some skulls!"

 

Guys, you made my day. :D

Don't have enough likes left, so

 

I like you all! <3

"Dear Misses Khorne.

Do you want this dress?"

(throat sliced, dress is covered with blood)

"Yes, I will! Who's next?! My little Khorny wants some skulls!"

 

Guys, you made my day. :D

Don't have enough likes left, so

 

I like all of you! <3

"Dear Misses Khorne.

Do you want this dress?"

(throat sliced, dress is covered with blood)

"Yes, I will! Who's next?! My little Khorny wants some skulls!"

 

Guys, you made my day. :D

Don't have enough likes left, so

 

I like all of you! <3

[Sigismund229]

Wrote this in a whim, further reflexion on the Void Eagles' character as individual, and heraldic variety.

 

Hieron's jump pack roared as he took to the sky, providing a clear overview of the battlefield under him. In the distance, he could see the armoured divisions of the Ghosts engaging the dropships that had deployed him. His gaze returned to the ground, and he fired at a scattered support squad of the XXth. He landed right after the grenade blasted, its incendiary contents setting the targets ablaze in their armour. "Served 'em right!" came a voice over the vox. "Can't bear the sight of them. They can't paint their armor right." he replied, while looking for possible survivors to finish off. As his chainaxe chewed through one of the half-corpses, he heard the muffled voice of his sergeant: "Brothers, brothers, please be rational. At least they're not the eagles-that-are-not-us!". The entire squad agreed on that point. "By the way, got a funny one from the remembrancers" Cavaraz, the squad's second in command, announced, "Apparently, the rest of the Imperium believes we all wear the green. The only propaganda they get are from the fleets of the Father and Culica." Hieron laughed, as he remembered how far from the truth that was. His own shoulderpads were a dark, dirty blue, an heritage of admiral Qalie's birth-world. He remembered the red of dry blood on Limtoc's warriors, the Terran white of the Third, and the legendary black of Alvator's forsaken Fifth. Few actually cared for the heraldry of the main fleets half the Galaxy away. "Bah, colors don't matter, when all they will see is clouds of fire falling on their faces!"

Sounds like they'd get on well with the Crimson Lions(although I suppose they'd have to to keep their supplies of nerith coming)

[Nomus Sardauk]

"Dear Misses Khorne.

Do you want this dress?"

(throat sliced, dress is covered with blood)

"Yes, I will! Who's next?! My little Khorny wants some skulls!"

I couldn't help but picture this:

http://www.best-horror-movies.com/image-files/carrie-pigs-blood.jpg

 

I'm also now imagining "little Khorney" as that snot-nosed, swear-spewing, hate-filled, rage-inducing, homophobic immature little punk you always encounter while online in violent videogames that he's way too gorram young to be playing, because Misses Khorne, like all parents, apparently can't read ESRB ratings.

 

It explains a lot to be honest.

[MikhalLeNoir]

 

Dragging up the lithographs from the Queen of the Damned's databanks, Morro studied the works with a deep intensity. The disgraced equerry, Boræo stood someways off. His time served in the Destroyer companies had wrought horror on his features. The fog-grey of blindness of his left eye was stark against the dark tan of his worn-in face, while the marbled appearance of the acid splash had given his face a slight tilt that in certain lights appeared at times sinister, at others, half smiling at a private joke. On the other side of the room stood Hennasohn.

 

The devilweb lattice that had been stitched into his skin and his soul by the accursed deep-fey, Rakarth had retracted back into his skin, so that he once again appeared as he once did, the walking nightmare that he became when featuring other extremes of emotion hidden behind the facade. His head, once kept smoothly shaved had grown the stubble of two days of growth, and his eyes showed a weariness that had hitherto not crossed his features.

 

Other Astartes dotted around the room, and in the far corner stood a creature of darker shadow, the Penumbral Angel. That it had seemingly materialised within a sanctum that had been sealed by a adamantium-tungsten alloy door that would take a lascutter over four hours to cut through, and without ingress or egress for two days had surprised few. It had an annoying habit of turning up without invitation, and not being in places at request, so why a top secret tactical plan be anything different was only to be expected. Precisely why some aeons old creature decided to spend its days acting like a spoilt puppy was beyond ken, however.

 

All were hard at work making plans, counter plans, theorising over tactical procedures of the Scions. While their Primarch had the closest relationship with the target, Pionus, that the Scions had been trained by the Drowned in the matters of thallasic warfare was something in the Drowned's favour. That they hadn't taught them all that they knew was a matter of course. 

 

Untara Prime. A planet sized oil well, and now a production centre for the synthesising of materials, it was a prime target. It was a large resupply depot, used essentially as a Forward Operating Base for the great crusade, and had been conquered nearly thirty years previously. Since then thirteen trillion barrels had been extracted each year, and had supplied the great crusades voracious appetites of both Promethium both in fuel form and the weaponised gel. Other places acted as a stockpile for munitions. The world itself was considered to be an Oceanic-1b; essentially a classification that made it ripe for human habitation of a size and overall sea biome equivalent to what had once covered nearly 3 quarters of Terra's surface, and it had been the Fire Keepers who had aided in its construction. Among the array of planetary defences, there was also a total of six Bellerophon class orbital defense lasers. The nihilism and pragmatism shown by Niklaas' men had prepared the world for self destruction so as to prevent the world from falling into enemy hands - such a lynchpin could not go undefended. All of this information skidded across the screens in front of the officers present.

 

Truthfully, it had already been committed to their eidetic memories through the psycho-mnemonic machines, but there was something different with actually going through it in a physical format, the visual senses played out in their heads. Schemata for the standard template construct buildings which made up the demersal wells drawing out the unprocessed raw materiel were already being loaded up into the tactical similators, the hangar sized foundries within the ships loading up practise killing rooms to match the known specifications of the various layouts. Squads of veteran XVIth varied between practising running these gauntlets and taking to training the Auxilia in how to take down Astartes. Questions regarding such were ignored, although several continual offenders had been referred to med-arrays. They weren't ready to be briefed on the nature of the foe. 

 

While all of these standard operating procedures were initialised during this final month of preparation, it was something that all knew. Although they had come to blows with Astartes in the past, it was not the full scale war that was due to be committed now. The Drowned had rarely deployed in this strength before. Although among the most numerous of legions, and had rapidly built up numbers since the loss of their Primarch's arm, they operated with a wide dragnet, various tendril fleets seeking out targets of opportunity and identifying others which would then be marked out to other fleets, which would close in, and strangle their prey, striking at all possible levels; psychological, information, insurgency, economic, endemic, proxy war, and even meteorological, before striking home a killing blow. Against the Astartes, there could be no such demoralization. No such preliminary victory that could be won. Despite the advantage in numbers, the true advantage stood with the Scions Hospitaller.

 

In addition to the neutralisation of the Bellerophon orbitals, and the defense monitor vessels alongside the Scions fleet, there were a further three primaris ranked targets; the Districtas Facilitas Majorum, The Omnium, and the Crucible of Embers. The former was rather self explanatory in its role. It was the primary loading hub, and could keep up the refueling of twenty immense Super-Capital or Magna-Conveyer Ships; the transfer umbilicals at times over fifty metres wide for these. Although Morro knew his brother would not be stupid enough to stack all of his capitals at once in dock, the ever cautious nature allowing the defense protocols to take a premium, that perhaps ten of the most dangerous vessels could be eliminated with comparative ease ensured that this needed to be killed. The Omnium was another target. Again, with the intimacy of friendship, Morro knew that if there was a place for Pionus to be, it would be here. The Omnium was the de-facto capital, and typically where visiting dignitaries and commanders who were using the facilities would pay their respect. Ever one to observe the ways of anothers culture, even that sickening "chakai" tea ceremony had been observed. His brothers had attempted to explain it to him, and even Coch'ise had despaired, but Morro had found a small sense of pride in his obstinance regarding heated water and a leaf. His thoughts drifted off to a time over twenty years prior, the memory waxing in his minds eye. You ask me why I do not sit and sip a beverage in some ritualised custom. It is not my culture. I do not force you to partake in the sacrifice of newborns or virgins, or whatever other rumours precede me as to what passes for tradition within my house. I see no harm in joining with you, yet I also see no harm in not doing it, other than it offends your sensibilities. In which case, do us both the courtesy of acknowledging our offending of you, princess, and we continue on with other matters."

 

That had been the last time that he had seen the meekling Alexandros von Salim. Promoted above his betters simply because he was malleable and less contradictory. One who sought a compromise was not a Warmaster, and the condescension in his brother's face apparent after his mask slipped at the disappointinly base insults was apparent. Returning to the present, Morro reviewed what tactical data was present on the Crucible of Embers. Ostensibly a Fire Keepers garrison, it was in truth a gaol. The Witchbreakers sons were often plagued with a psychic ability that in other legions would have been welcomed. But to Niklaas, they were little more than shovel-jawed goatsons who should be hidden from site, and punished. There was space for over two thousand, although the number of "residents" was nearer probably less than a tenth of that - they were little more than a dangerous self destructive weapon, and better sent to die in conflict while causing as much damage as possible, and Niklaas had taken shipment of many. Getting them on-side would be the job for the Albatross himself, Hennasohn. He had served with the Firekeepers for a few years, and had implemented specialist Terminator armour seeker deployments and they'd proven highly effective. If the Fire Keeper's battlemages could be brought on side, then it was almost guaranteed to be Pionus who would be rotting in the Sea-Between...

 

It's very rough, and WIP. I tried to get this written last night, but had too much on. I hope this is enough?

 

Very good read, even if it is only a rough sketch.

I loved the tea party. The warmasters face must have looked funny at that moment.

[Hesh Kadesh]

I wonder if anyone recognises the 'shovel jawed goatsons' from little 'Nicky' Niklaas ;)

[Sigismund229]

Alexandros walked down the ramp of the stormbird that had carried him and his men to the surface. Ahead of them was a coridoor formed by Interex soldiers, their armour gleaming in the sunlight, and beside them a Minotaur gunship that had carried Hectarion and his men to the surface. Using his pyschic powers, Alexandros asked his brother Are you really sure you're properly dressed for the occasion brother?. While his brother had been a King on his homeworld, he was remarkably naïve about diplomatic matters in the galaxy. While he was dressed in what Alexandros assumed was an outfit worthy of royalty on Mycenae, a tartan tunic and purple trousers, with his stone lion cloak pinned in place by a magnificent ruby broach and an enormous gold torc around his neck, with his equerry being dressed in a simpler version of the same thing, Hectarion and his equerry still looked incredibly out of place, as did the Myramodons(who had insisted that they keep their full battle plate, although Pyrrhicles had persuaded them to polish it at least and go unhelmed). I'm dressed like a King. What could be wrong? came Hectarion's thoughts into Alexandros' mind. Don't you think you stand out a bit? I mean I known you and Leman enjoy playing the part of the barbarian but really. And couldn't you talk your sister into wearing something more formal?. He made eye contact with Hectarion who shrugged and thought If they don't like how I look that's their problem. As for Karrimandua, how about you try next time? The most I managed was to get her to wear her medals. Alexandros sighed inwardly as he looked at his brother's adoptive sister. She was wearing the grey green carapace armour and white tunic of the Arpine Auxilia, although thankfully she wore her medals and epaulettes and her long raven black hair tied back so that she at least looked the part of an Imperial Army commander, although the vox bead in her ear and the accompanying squad of Jorrok heavy foot revealed just how far she trusted their hosts. However, knowing that Mycenaeans could be difficult at the best of times, Alexandros dropped the issue. In stark contrast to his brother, he was dressed in a relatively simple tunic and cloak and most of his Myrimodons were wearing their ceremonial plate, something which the Crimson Lions did not, apparently, possess.

 

When Alexandros reached the Interex delegation, he made a small bow and said "Greeting Xenot Thul. It is a pleasure to meet you once more. I hope that this time we can finally agree upon the terms on which you will be inducted into the Imperium". Xenot Thul smiled and said "I too wholeheartedly hope this Alexandros Darshan vonSalim", his speach accompanied by the strange musix of the meturge players. Nodding, Alexandros said "With me is my own equerry Pyrrhicles, my brother Hectarion Mycenor, his equerry, Vericos, and Karrimandua Mycenor, a representative of the Imperial Army" forcing himself to maintain a smile as he did so, despite being able to hear the Myramodons of his brother discussing something in Mycenaean, from what Alexandros understood they were making jokes about the Interex armour. Alexandros thanked his luck that Xenot Thul didn't have a primarch's hearing and didn't understand any Mycenaean, nor was he likely to do so any time soon.

 

While the formalities went on a while longer, with Xenot Thul introducing various representatives of the Interex before inviting them to eat at his villa. While the Crimson Lions remained tense, evidently uneasy about the presence of the Kinebrach, an alien race the Interex co operated with, as did Karrimandua and her escort, Alexandros had been quick to agree and Hectarion had told his men something in Mycenaean that Alexandros hadn't understood(although he was thankful his brother had said it as the Myramodons were now suiting their role as a diplomatic escort far better).

 

Mostly, the rest of the evening went by without incident and Alexandros and Xenot Thul had drafted a treaty which would bring the Interex into the Imperium peacefully without any fighting(a wise move on the behalf of the Interex as there were 50,000 astartes on the edges of their empire). However, one incident had occured the shame of which Alexandros would never live down. One of the Crimson Lions had accidentaly broken a plate whilst trying to find out what it was made of, following which a comrade had picked his own plate up and broken it with his head, an act which caused great laughter amongst the Crimson Lions and Hectarion and Karrimandua as well as looks of horror from Alexandros and Xenot Thul, with the Mycenaeans only being silenced when Hectarion, still laughing, had said something which Alexandros had, from the snippets he'd understood, deduced to mean "Stop it, I'm trying to be serious". How Alexandros would ever live it down he had yet to decide...perhaps he should send the III to campaign in the Ghoul Stars...

[MikhalLeNoir]

I wonder if anyone recognises the 'shovel jawed goatsons' from little 'Nicky' Niklaas ;)

I only now shovel face, but I see no glistening vampires in our universe

Edited February 27, 2016 by MikhalLeNoir

[simison]

Sigi, you've given me an idea for a 4th unique unit or a new rite for the Halcyon Wardens. 

[simison]

Can Frater make polls?

[Slips]

You should be able to.

[simison]

Ah, then I'm ignorant of the process. Little help?

[Slips]

On mobile right now so I cant help all that much ^_^ I might also be ignorant on the process too since Ive never had to make one...

[MikhalLeNoir]

What a poll? Maybe I can set it up.

[simison]

I do, I just need to figure out how to set it up

[Slips]

AHA!

 

Alright, you need to use the full version of the Website. When you click on "Start new Topic" look to the Right you should have a "Manage Poll" Button. Click and voila, set up your poll. Easy Peasy.

[simison]

Hmm, hit the 'Start New Topic', didn't see a poll option. I've even CTRL-F the term 'poll' and still didn't see anything.

[Slips]

If you did it in-topic it might not show up. Go to the BOTL page where you can see all the topics and try from there.